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sehodreams · 13 days

Text

extra points

TW and tags: professor!Eunseok x student!reader, anxiety (lots of it, with added overthinking), pet names, reader is a crybaby, clothed humping, fluff (comforting I believe), even if everything sounds nice here, obviously a relationship with your professor is not okay (there's power imbalance just for the fact she's a student and he a professor).

WC: 5.2k

Summary: You want to always make him proud of you.

Comment: A bit self-indulgent since I've had a crush on a professor each semester and I also had anxiety when they praised me. Hope it makes other academic weapons here feel a bit seen. Also, tried to check the grammar and times, but idk, now it feels a bit robotic, please tell me if I should write everything in the past time again, just wanted to try something new. A bit ass, sorry, it feels as if I've forgotten how to write.

Staring at the words on your screen that no longer make sense, you try to calm your nerves down, except, you can’t forget the way your professor looked at you before he dismissed your group.

You want to cry, but you have already cried enough. Then you want to scream, but it's 3am and your parents will kill you. You start to ponder your last choice, kill yourself, but even in your head that’s a bit too much.

You just don’t know what to do with everything you’re feeling at that moment. Wishing you could be as nonchalant as your friends, you want to stop thinking about his disappointed face when you finished your exam, because maybe you’re overthinking it, perhaps it wasn’t even that bad.

No, you’re wrong. It wasn’t perfect, and for you, that’s already bad enough.

You try to go to sleep, that should help you. You watch the bottle of melatonin in your nightstand, so closing your laptop, you grab it, take three pills instead of one, and beg the gods you’ve never believed in to make you sleep until the next morning.

Of course, before you drift away, you set your three alarms to arrive on time to his class.

You’re used to walking there filled with anxiety. You always wonder if you’re going to have the answers he wants to hear that day, or if you did good in your last test. It’s terrible, stressful, and the knot on your chest is, for anyone else, a sign that they should chill out, but to you, is a sign that you should do better.

Your mother always says that the person who knows they’ve done everything they could has no reason to feel nervous, and that has pushed you to think you never do enough because she also says you can always do more.

It’s always been the same since that semester started, you go there filled with anxiety, you raise your hand whenever he makes a question to the public, and you feel the knot loosening with each minute that passes and with his smile when you say the correct answer.

You have to admit that, when the class finishes and he says goodbye with that proud smile, you feel as if all your stress and your time invested in reading all the material he has shared makes sense. It feels a bit good, and you’re addicted to that sensation.

He only wants you to reach your full potential. He has said it to the entire classroom, that all those articles and books he has shared are only for them to always have an answer out there in the real world. He says it to the public, but the extra material he emails you makes you feel special.

You’re special, right? He wouldn’t be going out of his way to give you more knowledge if it wasn’t like that.

When you arrive to the classroom you’re pale, and your friends try to tell you that everything will be fine to calm you down, but you can’t.

You’re spiralling into anxiety, and not because you have done bad, but because you have disappointed him.

When he dismissed you, he hadn’t smiled at you, he hadn’t shown you that happy expression he always has when you’ve met his expectations, and even more, he hadn’t said well done.

And if you weren’t his best student, you didn’t want to be there.

Not much later he arrives and tells everyone that he will share the grades in his office, so all of you should go to have a private talk with him when you have time if you want feedback, and if you don’t, the grades would be in the platform the next day.

The class goes as it usually does, smooth, and silent.

He does a couple questions, and you answer them after no one raises his hand and you leave the five-second space in case anyone else wants to talk first, so everything is as normal as it can be, but instead of feeling relaxed with the time passing, you feel worse.

One of your friends tells you to meet her in the cafeteria after you finish talking with the professor, that she will buy you a coffee to cheer you up, and you smile to pretend you’re okay, but you’re fucking not.

You feel like throwing up while walking to his office, but you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, what would you throw up at that point?

It doesn’t take too much time for him to tell you to come in after you respectfully knock on his door two times. You hear him moving papers inside when you open the door, and when you walk in, you both say good afternoon before you sit.

He doesn’t search for anything, the paper he had in his hands was yours, as if he knew you would be the first person to go and see him.

‘’Well done’’ it’s all he says.

He gives you a sheet with your grades until that date and you want to feel relaxed because all of them look good, just one, the last one, is not the perfect grade you’re used to, by one point. Then, you look at his eyes, waiting for more words from him, anything, just something, a praise you hope.

‘’Are you okay?’’ he asks you. You don’t need to be a genius to know how your face must look at that moment, pale and unfocused, like any person at the border of fainting.

You’re not about to faint, you’re about to cry, which is even worse.

Your eyes prickle and your shoulders shake. They’re coming, and you wish they didn’t, because they’re the kind that can’t be stopped for a long time.

‘’Yes’’ you say and almost immediately you start crying. ‘’I’m sorry’’.

Eunseok’s eyes open and he circles his desk to meet you. He doesn’t know what to do to help you, you’re shaking, and your tears come out like a flood that nothing will dry.

‘’What’s wrong?’’ you feel he wants to say another word, maybe a baby, but of course, it is not appropriate.

‘’I’m sorry’’ it’s the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

It breaks him to see you like that, his best student, falling apart.

He knows a lot of things, he has a career teaching, yet he’s completely lost there with you shaking in front of him.

His hands move before he can think, which is a stupid move for someone his age, used to always thinking twice before doing anything.

He had to think about taking that position a month before he accepted. He was never one for teaching, more into working on his own. If he had to admit it, he was never into interacting with a bunch of kids even when he was a student, but you had changed his perspective, making him happy to go to work every morning you would sit in his class, knowing someone would happily answer instead of leaving him talking all alone for two hours.

‘’It’s okay’’ he murmurs, caressing your shoulders with his wide palms. ‘’You did good, what’s the problem?’’

You don’t answer him, standing and denying with your head, trying to go to the door.

Looking at your trembling lip and your furrowed eyebrows, his heart flinches, and he doesn’t let you leave, holding you in his arms instead.

Your arms wrap him back, tearing face pressed against his chest while he caresses your hair and lets you sob.

It’s so embarrassing you feel like crying even more, because what would he think of you from that moment on? So pathetic, crying like a child when you were a grown woman.

You’ve tried to look perfect for him for so long, and everything had gone to shit in just a second.

Still, you don’t want to let him go.

He is warm and comforting. His aroma is earthy, woody, manly. His hands feel good against you, one on your back, slowly patting you to soothe you, and the other on the back of your head, feeling your hair. However, the best thing has to be his voice so close to your ear, deep and calming you with the way he doesn’t shush and lets you cry as much as you want.

‘’It’s okay’’ he murmurs, letting you hug him even harder. He doesn’t want to think you’re crying because of him, but what else could be the reason for those fat tears bothering your pretty eyes? ‘’Is it me? Have I done anything to you? Am I being too much?’’ he had never thought he was pushing you that much, but now that he realizes, he had never treated another student, or person, like he had treated you. He wants to excuse himself with the thought of all the potential you have, you’re so smart, he couldn’t treat you as if you were just any student.

But in the end, he reminds himself, you’re just a student. He doubted you had even worked once in your life, because no one working or that thought about other things that weren’t his classes would be able to keep up with everything he was giving you.

You denied his questions, even if it was, you couldn’t tell him it was because of him. It was because of you and your stupid head not letting you sleep with the thought of disappointing him.

‘’No’’ you sob, and your hands grip his shirt, wrinkling the pristine fabric. ‘’It’s just me, I’m sorry’’.

His arms get tighter around you, almost too much. You sniffle to make your cries stop. ‘’It’s okay, I’m sorry too’’ he says because you hadn’t said out loud, but he knows you’re like that because of him.

‘’Please don’t treat me differently’’ you beg because you don’t want him to change. You want to continue receiving his emails with more work, you want him to keep having expectations of you, and you want him to keep being proud of you.

You want to be special to him because he’s special to you. You weren’t like that for any other professor, and not any other treated you like that either.

You have good grades with everyone else, but none of them make you want to give all of you to their courses. You do exactly what’s necessary and then you leave it there. But, again, none of them were him.

It’s not something that you wanted that to happen.

The ability to follow him with your eyes, concentrating on every of his moves while your hands moved on your keyboard on their own was something that had developed with time, like your feelings for him, and everything started with that silly smile gifted to you when you made him a question about something you hadn’t understood in one of the articles.

‘’It’s the first time anyone has asked me about it, I had started to think no one read the material’’ he had said, innocently smiling at you, no idea forming in his head about what your insides felt when he showed it to you.

Everyone said that he was evil, grading all his students without compassion and telling them without an ounce of fear if they didn’t meet his expectations. He said there was only one person who did good in his class all the time, and everyone (including you) knew who that person was even if he didn’t say the name. All that had made you feel things you shouldn’t for him.

Another knock on his door startles you two, and you have to move apart. He looks at you, and one of his hands goes to your cheek to clean the gleaming left by the tears, but you’re faster and clean your eyes with your hands before you say you should leave, not giving him time enough to say anything.

The same afternoon everyone starts to get anxious in the group chat and you silence them. The student who saw you running out of his office says that you were crying, so everyone believes that you flunked, and if you did bad, none of them had hope to even pass.

When your friend calls you and asks why you were crying you say that it was nothing, just stress, and that you didn’t do as bad as everyone thinks.

She believes you because, of course, you're a good girl and you don't have a reason to lie. You have no reason to feel you’ve done anything wrong, but you feel as if you had done something you shouldn’t.

First, you were embarrassed for crying in front of him, but if you had done only that, you doubted you would be having that pressure in the pitch of your abdomen. Then, you recognized what you were feeling, desire, and you definitely shouldn't be feeling that towards your professor.

It’s weird, even if it’s not okay for you to feel that way, you admit to yourself that it felt good to be held by him. He shouldn’t have hugged you, you know that, and you fool yourself thinking it was the only thing he could’ve done in that situation and that he’d have done it with anyone too.

When you receive his email with the extra material you notice that there’s less than usual and that he has written something extra apart from the typical small message listing the titles with a Best regards, Dr. Song.

He starts with a Miss next to your name, and you read it with his voice, hearing him close, just like when he whispered next to your ear. If there is any occasion in which my office or advice is needed, please do not hesitate to come to me, my door is always open.

You don’t know what to say.

You want to say thank you, but an apology feels more correct, and just like in those exams in which you get points deducted for answering wrong, you prefer to not answer at all.

The next class, you sit way in the back, and you don’t answer any of his questions after your five-second stop, to what other students, not daring to let the silent tension stay, start to give short unsatisfactory answers that make Eunseok nod instead of proudly smile.

By the end of it, you slip out of the room with your friends, which is unusual for them since they’re used to waiting for you in the cafeteria.

‘’Don’t you have any question today?’’ one of them asks you.

‘’Not today’’ you say with the excuse of not feeling good, walking faster for them to follow you.

You feel ashamed every time you’re in front of him. The sensation of his arms around you keeps replying in your head, and you shiver when you hear his voice in your head at night. You want him in a way you shouldn’t, and it doesn’t feel like an innocent crush anymore.

You can only continue like that for two more classes before he calls your name and asks you to stay back.

Your friends don’t ask anything, but they direct a suspicious sight at you two. They had joked before saying that you two had a love quarrel when you didn’t answer his questions the second time, which had started to feel weirdly real.

‘’Don’t be silly’’ you laugh. ‘’I just don’t want to stress myself more than necessary anymore.’’

What you say makes sense in everyone’s ears, you really had to chill out, especially after that last crisis.

You nod at them, and they leave without question.

You stay away enough from him, waiting for him to talk. He sees it and sighs, shoving papers into his portfolio without a second look.

‘’I can’t help but notice there’s something different in your participation in class’’ he says. ‘’And I’m sure is related to what happened in my office.’’

‘’Nothing happened Sir, I just haven’t been feeling good’’ you don’t entirely lie. You can’t seem to function around him anymore, even in that moment, you have to resist the need of pressing your thighs to stop that need you’ve developed for his touch since that day.

When he folds his arms in front of his chest and leans back into the big desk, you gulp. He looks so fucking good you can’t pull away your eyes from the way they flex and how they look covered by his simple black shirt with the first button open.

‘’I expected more from you Miss’’ he says, and you, like instinct, feel incredibly bad again.

‘’I’m- I’m sorry’’ you say, trying to stop your eyes from prickling again.

He notices your change. It’s not hard to recognize. Suddenly, you become smaller, and you blink faster, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘’I’m not scolding you’’ he clarifies. His hand gets closer to you, touching the border of your hoodie to get your attention on him instead of the floor. You didn’t notice the way you had moved your eyes from his arms to the floor, and when you see his focused eyes on your face, you feel vulnerable. ‘’You’re my student and if you’re acting this different, I can’t ignore it’’ his eyes are on yours and his thumb and his index are still holding your clothes, playing with the fabric, ‘’I just want to know you’re okay’’.

Warmness floods you. You want to hug him again, you want him to hold you, and for him to whisper that everything is okay over your ear. No, now, you want more than a simple hug.

‘’I’ll do better Sir, I’m sorry’’ you say, and he feels you’re saying the truth this time, so he slowly nods, and his hand leaves you.

You have to gulp the whimper that wants to leave your throat after he smiles at you.

You’re fucking disgusting you tell yourself when that night you want to find relief with him in your mind.

The next days are full of pain. You want to feel him so bad you don’t even know what to do anymore. Your hands are not enough, and the hands of the boy you had let touch you on that stupid Tinder date weren’t enough either.

You had started to answer his questions in class again, lifting his mood and freeing everyone from the uncomfortable moment of having to talk to fill the silence.

‘’Did you reconcile?’’ someone jokes.

‘’We never fought to start’’ you laugh and push their shoulder to leave you alone. ‘’I just want to keep my good profile and my grades’’.

Wanting to be closer to him, you’ve even volunteered to help him grade his tests, reason why you were on his office’s couch at that moment, with a thousand papers spraddled in the little coffee table in front of you and a hand full of red tint marks.

You have less time for yourself now that you’re his little assistant, but you continue reading everything he sends you at night, feeling a bit more tired from the lack of hours of sleep.

Still, everything is worth it when you receive his texts asking for your help or when you buy yourself a cup of overly sweet coffee with the card full of coffee cash he had gifted you.

‘’For your time’’ he timidly slid the gift card to you, and you couldn’t believe your eyes because you were sure no professor gave their assistants anything at all.

You wanted to say no, and you were about to, but the wide smile on your face had been faster than your brain.

‘’I was afraid you were going to reject it’’ he laughed, showing you a new face of him you hadn’t seen before. When he truly laughs, you notice, his cheekbones become more notorious, and his grin is big, showing a bit of the gummy area of his teeth, to what you tell yourself, you wouldn’t dare to deny him anything anymore.

Waking up to the sound of your alarm, you see that it is not the alarm for waking up, but the one that tells you to go out if you don’t want to lose the bus.

You get ready quicker than ever, only brushing your teeth and running out, thanking the world that you took a late-night shower just in case.

Your look is terrible, not that you dress nicely every day, but not as bad as that day, and the world you thanked before seems to laugh at you now, making you lose your bus and making you spend money that you don’t have as cab fare.

When you arrive, you’re almost an hour late, and you don’t dare to push the door open, watching through the little window how your professor is already talking loudly inside.

Eunseok doesn’t turn to you, and you prefer that. You know that he’s exigent with times, he doesn’t even give extra minutes to people that talk too much in presentations. We have to respect everyone’s times he has said on too many occasions for you to forget.

It’s the first time you’re late to his class, and you blame yourself for not putting in more alarms when you went to sleep so late after reading the last paper he had sent you.

You don’t dare to stay there; you don’t even dare to go to the only coffee shop around to wait until your next class because you feel undeserving of spending the coffee money he had given you. You walk to the library with sad eyes and hide in the archaeology section to cry.

No one studies archaeology in your school so you cry in peace until you receive a couple of texts from your friends asking where you are and one from him.

Are you okay? you read.

Yes, I’m sorry, you reply.

Come to my office.

You knock on his door and wait for him to talk even when he has told you multiple times to just go in if you don’t hear voices inside, but you still don’t dare to do it.

‘’Come in’’ he says, and you finally open the door. You don’t walk inside as soon as he talks. He’s ruffling between documents, and you first stand and just look at him from where you are, and then, when he makes eye contact with you, you close the door behind you and give a few steps closer, leaving your bag on his coffee table before you sit in front of him. He waits for you to talk and when he notices that you won’t, he does it, ‘’What happened?’’

‘’I was late…’’ you say, ‘’It’s my fault, I’m sorry’’.

‘’But why? Did anything happen to you on the way here? I need you to talk to me, I don’t know what happened to you if you don’t’’ what he says makes sense, but you feel like saying more would be making excuses. Your parents hate excuses and have always taught you to only say what’s necessary if you’ve done something wrong. In this case, you’re sure you did something wrong.

‘’I’m sorry’’ your breath starts to get harder, and your eyes get a bit wet.

He stands up and walks to you. You think he’s going to lean on the desk like he usually does when he explains something to the room, but he surprises you by moving your seat and caging you in it, slightly bending and inspecting your face.

‘’I’ll repeat my question, and I want you to stop saying you’re sorry’’ he talks, obliging you to maintain your eyes on his with how close he is. ‘’Did anything happen to you when you were coming here?’’

‘’No’’ you answer like you can.

‘’Then what happened?’’ he asks.

‘’I-I fell asleep’’ you finally say.

He sighs, looking relieved, however, you think he sighs because that's the worst reason you could’ve given, and that makes you more embarrassed.

‘’No, wait, it’s okay’’ he smiles when your eyebrows frown to contain what he recognizes as dangerous tears with how shiny your eyes are getting. ‘’Such a crybaby’’ he laughs then, cupping the side of your cheek and cleaning one of the tears that escaped with his thumb.

‘’I’m-‘’

‘’For fucks sake, stop saying you’re sorry, you’ve done nothing to be sorry for’’ he interrupts you before you finish talking and you have to contain another sorry inside your chest. ‘’Sorry’’ he says, making you smile without knowing why. ‘’I’m just glad nothing bad happened to you, I was so worried the whole time, it’s the first time you’ve ever been absent from my class.’’

‘’I was almost an hour late’’ with his palms still on your cheeks, you felt a lot calmer, ‘’I know you don’t like late showers, so I didn’t dare to knock on the door’’.

‘’Oh doll, you should know by now that you’re always the exception.’’

He’s so tender with you, and his voice is so comforting, that you want to close your eyes and just stay with him in that position.

So, you do it, you close your eyes and exhale through your nose, feeling all anxiety disappear from your insides, and you only open them again because Eunseok is kissing you, and you can’t believe what you’re feeling.

The kiss is so soft. His lips feel perfect against yours, smooth and slightly damp. You don’t know what makes you so bold, but your hands go to his neck to not let him move away. At first it was superficial, just lips touching, to then get deeper after you showed equal eagerness.

It’s not much after, as if both of you had been needing to feel each other for a long time, that his tongue caresses your lips to make you accept him, which you do immediately.

The kiss is getting so messy that for a second, he has to breathe over your mouth. Both breaths are hot and fall over each other’s open mouths, making you let a low moan out with the sensation.

Everything is really happening, and you feel your panties get wet with his simple kiss.

He takes your breath again with a groan, making you stand from your seat to pose his hands on your back and press you against his body.

You whimper feeling his belt pinch you and his hand on your back getting lower. Your hands want to do something, so instead of staying still on his neck, they go to feel his hair.

Even his hair felt good.

Silk on your hands, you let him press his thigh on your sex, moving your hips to feel him more.

‘’Fuck, this is so not okay’’ he frowns, lips going to attack your neck while you close your eyes and let him move your hips to meet his thigh and make you more of a mess inside your pants. He stops for a minute, frowning because of how his common sense screams that what he's doing is wrong in so many aspects.

‘’No- don’t stop, please’’ you beg in a whisper. You can’t be loud, you know that what you’re doing is not okay, yet you’ve been needing him for so long, you can’t stop him, and he doesn't want either.

‘’Such a good girl, always making me so proud, fuck, I won’t be able to let you go’’ he says, retaking his past action and making you hump him with both of his hands pushing your hips back and forth his tailored pants.

They’re black, simple, elegant, like him, and you want to cry because it feels like a dream.

‘’Always being so good to me, you’re gonna cum for me like this, right?’’ he asks, biting the side of your neck, making your eyes roll with how close you are to finding your orgasm.

You can’t talk or you’ll moan, you know your body, so you bite your lip and nod while gripping onto his shirt.

His chest is big, and you can’t help but rub your own to his. There, you notice that your sports bra and your hoodie do nothing to impede your hard nipples from feeling good.

He must notice the way you desperately need his attention on your chest, so one of his hands goes from your hip to directly touch you under your shirt.

‘’My pretty girl, can’t believe I’ve endured so long without touching you’’ you can’t believe he calls you pretty when at that moment you feel you look like shit, but he proves you wrong, groping your chest with need, fondling it, to then play with your nipple. His thumb is sweeping it with experience, making you dizzy with all the stimulations together.

Your cunt clenches when you press your clit on his leg, you start to hump him on your own, setting your own pace to cum, and opening your eyes to look at his face, you see shiny white dots.

Your drunken expression makes him let a breathy laugh free, and you cum with a louder whimper the moment you see his smile directed at you.

He stops his attention on your chest and lets you ride down your high while lovingly caressing your back and holding you in his arms.

You need a minute before all clearance is back in your mind and shame starts invading you because you just… well, you haven’t fucked, but you know you’ve done a lot more than a simply making out session.

Your trembling legs and the mess inside your pants are enough proof of that. You’ve never felt anything close to that in your life, so good you had no doubt you could get easily addicted.

Shame is not enough to stop you, and feeling his erection against your abdomen, you feel bad for being the only one who has had an orgasm.

‘’I- I want to make you feel good too’’ you say, inhaling his aroma and hiding your face on his shoulder.

‘’We can’t do more…’’ his arms get tighter around you, not letting you get away before he can finish, knowing the ideas that were already forming in your head about him not wanting to touch you. ‘’Not here.’’

You nod relieved.

Your phone starts ringing, and he lets you get apart enough for you to grab it out of your pocket to see who’s calling you. It’s your alarm for your next class.

‘’Busy?’’ he asks, reading the clear Math II that appears on your screen.

‘’Nah’’ you say. You hate math, and you like Eunseok, so it’s not hard to choose between them. Shoving your phone in the back pocket of your jeans, you press your body to his and hug him again.

He laughs and his hands move from the small of your back to your ass, to where your phone is, and he gives you a soft smack on the free area.

‘’Go to class, can’t let my star student get distracted if I want to keep showing off how good you do in mine’’ he says, and you feel so happy with the idea of him talking about you with others that you become weaker in his arms. ‘’I’ll call you later.’’

You reluctantly move apart from his arms when he pushes you to the door and gives you your bag. In front of his door, before he opens it for you, he gives you a long-lasting kiss that feels more like a peck. Then, pushing you out softly, he makes you leave his office, and when you turn back to see him one last time, he’s smiling at you, which makes you smile the rest of the day too.

#riize smut #riize x reader #eunseok x reader #eunseok smut #riize fluff

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uplatterme · 1 year

Text

playing dangerous.

—this has been rotting in my google docs for a while but i finally finished it, thank god. i also got too into this omg, very self indulgent.

—sub!bottom!heizou/dom!top!reader, amab!reader (no gendered terms or pronouns) | yandere!reader/obsessive!reader, handcuffs on reader, blowjob (chara!receiving), dumbification, degradation, breeding, overstimulation, belly bulge

The incidents happened a month ago. A rise of crimes within Inazuma right after the Vision Hunt Decree was deemed no more. Of course, it would make sense for there to be riots as lots of lives were lost and ruined. And while that should be the most logical answer, the Detective certainly doesn’t think the same way…

There was something strange about these cases, something that he just can’t put his finger on.

His wall is plastered with different clues and yet none of them seemed to connect, except for the fact that they were always done on a Sunday.

That would usually be his day off but because of these incidents, he has been staying far longer in his office than he should be. All he does is pace around his room, annoyed that this was happening.

The incidents were too far from each other. Arson, Robbery, Trespassing, Blackmailing…

He reads the letter again from the latest case. It is nothing to note off, just a few words of threat.

Perhaps he should get the handwriting examined, see if it matches with anyone. Unfortunately, that would take too long. Who knows what would have happened by then?

He drops the letter, ready to move on to another piece of evidence when he feels something strange.

Heizou stares at his fingers. “Wax?”

A part of the letter is covered in waxy material. He smells to check, to see if it is wax.

The letter surprisingly smells of cherry.

“What?”

Why would a letter threatening someone that they’ll kill them if they say anything smells of cherry?

He eyes it in confusion.

The detective leaves his room, wanting a second opinion from someone. Someone who can answer this for him, preferably.

He grabs the first person he sees, urging them to come with him. They immediately follow, already used to the detective’s usual quirkiness. He’s the one who earns the station their meal tickets, so they don’t really find themselves complaining.

They are in awe at the state of his room. “Detective? Is something wrong?”

He holds the letter up. “Can you smell this?”

The worker stares at it before hesitantly taking the object. “It’s sweet.”

Heizou hums.

“Right. Do you have any idea what that may be? It seems to be a wax of some sort, from a candle maybe?” He deduces.

“Pardon me, sir. But I don’t think it’s from a candle.”

“Oh, is that so?” He lets them continue.

They nod. “It’s uh, an ointment. A new one. I think this brand is really popular.”

An ointment? Does that mean that the perpetrator got injured from one of their crimes?

“What’s the ointment for?”

“It’s a…beautification product. The ointment prevents dry lips, keeps them plump.”

“Huh.” Heizou says, stunned.

He did not expect that at all.

“Is that all detective? Shall I go now?”

“Yes, you may leave.”

That…just brings more questions unanswered. Was this whole thing planned? Did they plan for him to notice this clue or was this just an accident? If it wasn’t, then why? What’s the purpose of the letter being tainted with the ointment?

This was turning out more annoying than it should be.

Another Sunday, another crime.

Heizou hasn’t left his office despite it being his day off, knowing that he’ll be called once again if something happens.

He sits with his feet both up on the table, waiting.

Once the door slides open, he immediately stands up, wondering what he’ll face today. Will it be a repeat of the previous crimes? New ones? Or perhaps, they’d finally gone out of their way to take someone else’s life.

“Detective. Is something wrong?”

“No? I’m quite fine.” Heizou responds, confused by the accusation.

“You were smiling, so…”

The detective bites his cheek. He shouldn’t be enjoying this, and yet…

It’s been a while since he’s been faced with such a challenge. He can’t wait to unravel this piece by piece.

“Poison? That’s a new one.” Heizou checks the scene, seeing the mess that unfolded. There was dried blood on the floor, something that the victim coughed up.

Close.

They were just tipping over the line of possibly killing someone. If help wasn’t called, he probably would have died. It’s lucky that the victim is only suffering from a bruised throat.

He’d want to ask them questions but since that victim is in a comatose, he can’t exactly do that.

“Where’s that person who called for help?” Heizou asks.

He’s brought to the residence next door. He reads the name outside and finds that he has never once crossed that name in his investigations. That kind of thing is rare. Almost everyone has some kind of dirt relating to them. So it’s either that this person is as innocent as they come, or…

Once he knocks on the door, the person on the other side is quick to respond.

“Yes?” You answer.

“I’m here to ask a few questions? You are aware of what happened, yes? Since you’re the one who called for us here.” Heizou states.

He waits for an answer from you, only to receive none.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“Is there a need for this? I assure you I haven’t done anything.” You say.

“Just making sure, we all do this with the people involved in these incidents.” He explains.

“If that’s the case…you may take your time.” You tell him, smiling at the detective and letting him inside your residence.

Heizou searches your place and he finds…nothing. Everything is clean. Not a trace of anything suspicious.

What’s strange instead, is your behavior.

He notices how you watch every single move he makes, eyeing him up and down. Perhaps you were merely curious. Otherwise, he isn’t sure why you’d do such a thing.

“I’m not your suspect, am I?” You ask.

Truthfully, you were far from it. You saved the victim’s life unintentionally.

“What is it that you work again?” Heizou knows but he asks anyway, seeing if you’ll slip up.

“I’m a writer. I write mostly romance novels, I assume you aren’t familiar with my name? After all, I’m sure the great Shikanoin Heizou has experience with romance in real life that he doesn’t need to turn to fiction, no?” He irks his tongue, knowing that you were only complimenting him. However, that with the way you look at him seductively suggests another thing.

That you were flirting.

He takes the bait and bites back, smiling as he replies. “I haven’t heard. Would you mind giving an example of the things you write?”

You chuckle softly. “A sample, you say? Oh, you know. Just your usual flirtatious lines.”

“Like what?”

“I’m afraid they’re a bit too…provocative. I shouldn’t say such things when you’re working.” You admit, though he’s sure you’re only saying that to be polite.

“I can take it.” Heizou says.

“Can you, pretty boy? Are you sure I’m not too much to handle? Ah, why don’t you use those tight handcuffs of yours? I might be unable to keep my hands off you if you keep talking like that.”

The detective stills. He stares deep into your eyes, not expecting that. He stumbles a bit with his words, unsure of what to say. Heizou keeps his trembling fingers in his pockets, not wanting to seem as if he’s that easy to fluster, though that doesn’t shy away from the slight reddening of his cheeks.

“That’s…a good one.” He simply states, keeping his eyes on your soft lips.

“Is it, Mr. Shikanoin?”

He’s aware that you’re teasing him, he knows that it’s all for fun. Yet, that doesn’t stop the fastened rate of his heart.

Next thing he knows, his own hands are moving and he’s clasping the handcuffs around your wrists.

He drowns in the approval your eyes give him, letting him know that he’s doing such a good job.

“Oh? Have I done something wrong, Detective? Or is this also protocol?”

He nods.

“You’re under arrest…for stealing my heart.”

You laugh at his statement. “You’re so cheesy. Is this how you usually act with your suspects?”

“I…Hold on.”

He lets you go, continuing to search your house. There has to be something in here, it’s too suspicious that there’s nothing. He can’t have himself distracted by you toying with him like this.

Then, he spots something inside the bedroom. He didn’t notice it at first, thinking it was a picture frame because of the way that the bedside table was covering its bottom half but now that he realizes it, he’s sure that it’s a door.

“May I move this table?” He asks.

Heizou sees you grin. A grin that sends shivers down his spine. Was he onto something after all?

“Sure, the key’s inside the drawer.”

He opens the drawer and takes the key. He then shakily opens the door right after he removes the obstacle that is your bedside table.

Heizou doesn’t like how eerily silent you get, how you’ve bruised your bottom lip from biting too hard.

He almost hesitates to open the door, intimidated by what he’ll see inside. His fingers hold the key tightly, he breathes deeply and looks back at you.

You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly amused. “Scared?”

“Yes.” He admits.

“You shouldn’t. I’m the helpless one in handcuffs, not you.” You reassure him.

While he knows you’re right, there’s still an uneasiness in his chest.

“I-I suppose.”

Heizou turns the key, expecting a crime scene. He had his choices in his head. Maybe you kidnapped someone and put them in there. Or, a dead body rotting inside that you had no way to get rid of.

However, what he sees is something unexpected.

That’s because Shikanoin Heizou sees himself.

Newspapers about him solving different crimes, arranged from when he just started to his most recent one. Pictures of him were taken discreetly, some of them even being done while he was sleeping in his office. Paintings of him, strands of his hair, and clothes that he thought went missing. It was a collection. Sort of a shrine even, but the center of it all is him.

He turns back as he hears you snickering and he has never been this glad to put someone in handcuffs in advance.

“W-What is this?” He questions.

You stare at him, confused. A confused look on your face.

“My love for you.”

“Love.” He restates.

You smile widely. Too wide that he sees your gums. Heizou’s fight and flight senses were tingling but were left with one option when you close the door with your back.

He reassures himself that it’s fine. He has a vision, you’re in handcuffs. If things were to go out of hand, he’ll end up being the victor.

“I really wanted to kill that guy.” You tell him.

“That guy?”

You nod, tightening your fist. “He was insulting you. I wanted to rip his throat out, show him what he deserves for saying such things.”

Heizou continues for you. “But you didn’t.”

It’s stupid. You know he’s a detective and yet you’re telling him all of this, as if you’re certain that you’ll come out of this without any repercussions.

“I didn’t! I knew you’d hate me if I did.”

It slowly starts to click in his head. You wanted to see him in public during his day off, that’s why you always orchestrated it at the start of every week. The letter with the beautification product, you were probably kissing it while you wrote it, knowing it’ll land in his hands.

As he thinks, the detective gets occupied and doesn’t notice that he’s centimeters away from you.

“I like that.” You say.

“Huh?”

“You’re smiling.” You point out.

Heizou uncomfortably relishes that fact. This is the second time that he’s been told that.

He hates the fact that this whole mystery has brought him such great entertainment. He’s been so focused on dealing with political problems within Inazuma that a mystery just like this brings him that thrill that he’s longing for.

This is so much better than that.

He shouldn’t enjoy it, and yet here he is.

The little detective is caught off guard as your lips smash on his. He tastes the blood from your bruised lips, how you press your mouth, your tongue sliding inside. He’s dizzy, unable to figure out whether he’s starting to choke because of how you tickle the back of his throat with your tongue or due to the lack of air.

He wants to escape, to take a breather. However, despite your hands being tied down, that doesn’t prevent you from putting pressure on his crotch to keep him still. Pleas escape from his mouth as you continue pressing down.

Heizou’s not fighting back and it stresses him. Instead, he takes your tongue so obediently as if he’s not the one who has the power to keep you locked up.

He pants as you separate from him, head buckling down and trying to focus on standing up. The fact that everything he sees is his face doesn’t help.

“Oh, I love you. I want to keep you all for myself.” Heizou sees the lovesick eyes that focus on him.

It amazes him how you’re able to handle him so easily.

You let your mouth do all the talking. Your tongue licks every sensitive part of his body, trailing saliva all over him.

“Haaa—Fuck~” He feels his knees weaken.

“Make more of those sounds, Heizou. Let me hear you more. More, more, more…”

Your insanity is nothing to laugh at, and yet he follows exactly what you say.

He pulls at your hair, tugging at your scalp as feels the same tongue on his shaft. He cannot stand up for long, whimpering with each and slow agonizing lick. He’s aware that you want to hear him beg, to scream out how much he needs you to cum.

He bears being on the edge…until he starts to get desperate.

“Please…!”

“Please, what?”

He’s too drunk on the feeling of being edged that he can barely answer, only a stuttering mess as his cock rests in your mouth.

“M-More…N-Need to cum!”

His back meets the wall as he tries to stay on balance, holding onto your head. He keeps mewling, forgetting the reason why he’s here in the first place.

“That’s right, baby. I won’t let your dick forget, make you unable to cum without me.”

He tilts his head back as he cums, sweet noises flooding your ears. His thighs shake and he’s this close to hitting the floor hard if not for your assistance. He lays meekly on the floor, white drenching his legs.

“Sweet detective, so fucked dumb. Here I thought you were a genius.”

“H-Hard again—Want to cum…” Heizou replies, showing off his ass while starting to get on all fours.

“You’re fucking your stalker. Such a pervert, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you’d let anyone get with you?”

Heizou whines as you say that. That’s not true at all, you just don’t understand. He wishes he could explain, but with the way he is right now, he doubts if that’ll be possible.

The noise that leaves Heizou’s mouth as you stretch his hole out and penetrate him is embarrassing. He sounds like an animal in heat like this is what he’s made for, to mate with your dick inside of him.

He quivers as he feels your hand on his back, pushing him down but in doing so, keeping his ass up as he pushes on his own deeper into you.

He breathes in between moans, your cock screwing into his walls while his cum spills easily on the floor.

“S-So good—C-Can’t think!”

“That’s right, squeeze your walls onto my cock. Remember my shape. You’ll be taking no one else’s but mine, my love.”

He thinks that you’re so vulgar with your words, your tone encourages Heizou into another orgasm.

He cries and shivers while he gets hit with it, his walls clenching tight.

Heizou’s body is so sensitive at this point, his body being as limp as it can be.

He flinches as you empty into him, your warmth dripping to his thighs since his tiny hole can’t take all of it.

He watches it in shame, wanting all of it, wanting every single drip to be contained inside of him. The look he gives is so seductive, it would put kitsunes to shame.

You thought of ending it but with that face he made, you reconsider this decision and flip him, having his face in front of you this time.

The detective doesn’t know what he’s just gotten himself into.

Heizou sees his own cum pool onto the ground, the tears blur his eyes, he can’t stop crying at how you pound so roughly into him.

He’s lost track of the time of how long he’s stayed in this god-forsaken room. The logical part of his brain should tell you to stop, if this keeps going on, he’ll for sure be unable to even walk himself to the bathroom. Unfortunately, his mouth says the complete opposite, blabbering and even encouraging you to keep going.

“Hmpf—! Cock—Too good!”

His nails grip the tatami as he cums again. He doesn’t know how he’s still able to go on when his clothes are soaked to the brim.

He hears you laugh again. “How about a change in profession? I heard the brothel’s hiring, detective.”

He understands you’re teasing. You would absolutely not let that happen, you would kill whoever lays their hands on Heizou.

For such a person with a small stature, he has quite the stamina and skill. He sheathes you in so easily, though of course, with the necessary moaning and gasping of your name. Not only that, he perfectly warms your cock like he’s been doing this for years.

“Shit. With how much cum you’re taking, I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn up pregnant.” You say, spreading his ass to see his beautiful hole leaking cum.

“Please…” He cries out.

“Hm?”

“Please do…”

It doesn’t take much to rile you up. It’s also very obvious that anything Heizou says, you will follow.

You slam hard into Heizou, each thrust has it that the detective’s insides are being flipped, his guts being adjusted just so he could take more and more of you.

He can see your cock’s shape in his belly, his thin figure doing nothing to hide it. It’s starting to round up due to his belly that’s filled with your cum. You keep fucking him hard, until your load spills inside his walls.

When Heizou wakes up, he realizes that he can’t move an inch. He’s clean, his clothes are changed and he smells good.

He’s in your bedroom. He concludes this because he sees a glimpse of your strange room filled with things of his. With the amount of time he’s spent in there, he gets light-headed even from just thinking about it.

The doorknob turns and he sees you come in, a bowl of warm noodles in your hands.

He blinks.

You’re not wearing the handcuffs.

He wonders how you got out and where you put them instead.

He looks down.

Heizou sighs.

#plattered writings #heizou x reader #dom reader #sub genshin impact #dom!reader #sub genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #sub heizou #sub!heizou #heizou shikanoin

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chososdoll · 1 year

Text

ZzzZzzzzzzzZz - falling asleep during the act feat. my JJK faves.

- headcanons feat. gojo, geto, nanami, mahito & choso x fem!reader

**MINORS DNI: 18+ INTERACTIONS ONLY - you will be blocked**

c/w: SMUT, (consensual) somnophilia (duh), dubcon/passing out (mahito/geto), ROUGH SEX (mahito; he comes with his own warning tbh), praise, pet names, oral (f!receiving), penetration, multiple orgasms/implied overstimulation, squirting, tiny bit of daddy kink (gojo), cream pie, mating press

a/n: BACK FROM THE DEAD! some headcanons i wrote a lil rushed but starting to branch out into jjk so watch this space for more! beta read and with approval by the loml @tkagayamass

gojo “my girl getting sleepy?” his voice murmurs in your ear as all you can manage back is a feeble nod. what you don't expect is for him to pick up the pace, hips hammering faster against you as he’s determined to feel you clench around him again. yes, with gojo, it can last hours. who can blame you for beginning to drift off? now on your sides, your back clasped to his chest as he ruts up into you. “don’t have to do anything princess”. exhausted, spent and ruined long ago, he finally notices you beginning to reach your limit. he may fuck like a blue-eyed demon but gojo’s not cruel….. just determined. all that repeats in his mind is “one more.” it’s the soft kiss he plants on your cheek that makes you melt in his arms and you will yourself to stay awake at the sound of the next words out of his mouth.

“just know you can give daddy one more.”

that’ll do it. geto geto always enjoys caging you in against the bed with his big frame, his intimidating figure assuring him that you're not going anywhere anytime soon... as well as allowing him to intently watch all exquisite faces you make on the end of his cock. “t-too much,” you manage to whimper out, only to be met with a chiding huff of a laugh. too easy.

he licks a stripe up your neck as you whimper again, a dizzying arousing purr of “so weak” as he pushes your legs to your chest; the small spot of mercy you thought he had reserved for you gone. your next orgasm has you screaming out, gushing around his thick cock so hard it makes him proud. your vision blurs as your finally black out, surrendering completely to him.

you don’t know how long it takes to him to finish this time. only waking up again to his head nestled between your thighs; cleaning you up in his favourite way

nanami nanami more than anyone understands a long, hard day. he’s more than happy to indulge in whatever will make you feel better - bonus if that involves using himself to see out the rest of the stress still lingering from a dismal day of work.

when you're in bed with nanami, nothing else in the world matters. only you. his attention to your body, facial expression, the sounds that leave your drooling mouth is unparalleled; he’s focused only on you. so when he notices the way your eyelids droop, his thrusts falter, a gentle palm cupping your cheek as he muses over you. “my love, you’ve had enough for now.”

he pulls out of you gently, shushing as you let out soft whines of protest. watching him paint his seed all over the folds of your pussy is the last image before you finally drift off to a peaceful slumber. mahito we all know that ever since mahito learned what sex is (i blame geto) it quickly became his most favourite game with his favourite human. another way to experiment…

he loves it. it reminds him of what you truly are - just a fragile, little human. his plaything. pushing your limits in most delicious ways until your legs shake and your pussy gushes gorgeously all over him and the sheets. his only goal pure pleasure and leaving you a complete wreck. he doesn’t care if it hurts, if it’s too much or especially if you’re completely exhausted.

honestly? it really isn’t that unusual for any intimate moment ending in you passing out with mahito. your pleads of “enough” fall on deaf ears, giggling as he forces your head further into the bed, propping your ass up further for him to take you. “but doesn’t it just feel so good?” and it does. so you give in every time, falling limp against the sheets, letting mahito have his fun.

sometimes shoots his load on your face when you’re asleep

choso oh sweet, soft, pussy-whipped choso. no matter how late it is, I truly believe this man can’t sleep without at least tasting you. choso kamo practically gasps with with each roll of his tongue against your clit, completely entranced by your taste. every suck, flick and lick is laced with love. the problem is, he just doesn’t know when to stop. spurred on by incessant need to have you come undone again and again. your whines raising an octave higher and higher after the third, fourth, FIFTH orgasm. after a while he notices the way your eyes begin to flutter shut softly, exhaustion taking over.

“sleep away, angel.” he murmurs gently from between your legs, “just let me make you feel good, yeah?”

and so with a shaky, shy nod - you let him. relaxed into the sheets, closing your eyes as you let choso enjoy himself. waking up over and over from your hazy slumber to the achingly sweet rush of another and another and ANOTHER orgasm. sometimes it's like you don't even wake up, just an endless stream of semi-conscious pleasure as this man drinks in your essence like he's dying of thirst.

don’t worry, he’ll always clean up and make sure you’re all tucked in once he finally gives himself a break. can you tell he's my favourite?

✨ tell me your favourite, feedback/reblogs/asks v appreciated :} ✨

!! DO NOT REPOST!!

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #mahito x reader #mahito smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #my writing

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moni-logues · 8 months

Text

Across a Crowded Room

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Strangers-to-lovers, idolverse, smut

Word count: 10.7k

Summary: Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don’t belong, in a country where you feel like you don’t belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he’s what you’ve been missing.

Content: alcohol consumption, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, I guess slight exhibitionism since it all happens up against a window lmao

A/N: Ok, so I 1000000% thought I had re-posted this here already?? but Lia has informed me that I have not and since I got a nice message about it on the old blog, I figured now's as good a time as any to repost!! The start of this fic is literally the first writing I had done for over a decade. I started writing even before I had a writing blog. Then the rest of it was written... last November? ish? idk. anyway, I read this myself the other day and it's alright! ETA: LOL, you can tell it's old because it's written in present tense LMAO

* * *

You tug self-consciously at the hem of your dress; it’s a little too short for your liking, but Hanjae likes you in K-style clothes and, once you’re there, it’ll be fine. It’s always a little nerve-wracking the thought of going to a party where you hardly know anyone, but it always turns out fine. Fun, even. Positive thinking. You sigh and inhale deeply before leaving your apartment and heading down to the car he’s sent for you.

When you first met, you were both taken with each other. He was intrigued by your foreignness and enchanted by your clumsy negotiations in a foreign culture; you were reassured by his confidence and excited by the access he had to hitherto hidden worlds of luxury and indulgence. He wasn’t rolling with Elon Musk or anything (and you’d have had nothing to do with him if he were), but he lived with an ease and security that you yearned for. Which, you suppose, is why you’re still letting him parade you around at parties like this.

It was fun at first. You liked the attention – who wouldn’t? Instead of feeling freakish and out of place, you felt interesting and cherished for your differences. You felt like they were laughing with you when you told funny, embarrassing stories of when you’d got it wrong, or how you do things back home. It felt like people were fascinated by you and you were warmed by their curiosity. You didn’t mind when they reached out to touch your tattoos or asked personal questions, because they didn’t mean any harm. Hanjae gave you a social life that you hadn’t quite managed to create for yourself in this new place and got you out of your apartment, out of your comfort zone, and you clung to that.

Recently, though, you’ve been feeling different. When you show up to parties with him and see his friends you’ve met before, they’re surprised you’re still around. They joke to your face that they would’ve expected Hanjae to have moved on by now. They ask what his parents think (but you have never been introduced to them). They’re not so charmed by you anymore. These friends barely spare you a second thought once they’ve registered their surprise and the attentions of new friends aren’t as welcome as they once were. You started feeling uncomfortable with the way Hanjae paraded you around a couple of weeks ago and now, you’re frankly sick to your stomach. When people reach out to touch you, you flinch away; you don’t tell funny, embarrassing stories because you feel like you’re being laughed at; you stay quiet, for the most part, because your Korean is still not very good and, when they correct you or laugh at your mistakes, you don’t feel like they’re doing it kindly. Standing, mute, next to Hanjae while he laughs and drinks makes you feel like an object, a trophy, an oddity. If Hanjae were a Victorian-era Englishman travelling to the ends of the Earth to ransack a foreign place and bring home stolen goods, you were the buried necklace of an Aztec noblewoman he would give to the eligible girl in the manor house whose hand he is trying to win. He is showing you off because other people are impressed, but you no longer get the feeling that he is.

You hand over your phone and lip balm to Hanjae when you meet him outside the venue; this became a habit early on, so you wouldn’t have to hold a bag and he was happy to keep them in his pockets. Now, it feels a little bit like handing over your freedom.

“Cheer up!” he says as you lean back in your seat. “This’ll be fun, won’t it?” He smiles at you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He’s not a bad guy. He really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure if he even realises what he’s doing with you, if he knows that he doesn’t really like you but the idea of you, if he knows that there’s no future with you, if he’s realised that this relationship is rapidly approaching its expiry date. He’s been extremely good to you and you owe it to him to try. However much you want it to end, you don’t want it to end badly and you don’t want to hurt him; there’s no need for that.

You walk into the party amongst a sea of black suits. You scan the crowd, looking for other women you can compare your outfit to. A terrible thing to do, you know, but your insecurity needs reassurance that you’re dressed appropriately for this event. Hanjae is already leading you over to his friends, two of whom have brought their girlfriends, who are dressed in outfits similar to yours, so that’s something at least. You greet them brightly and Hanjae hands you a drink before launching into a conversation you can’t quite follow. That’s the other thing about these parties; they’re so loud, even if everyone were speaking English, you’re not sure you’d be able to hear them properly, so you hardly stand a chance in Korean. You’ve improved dramatically and can get by in your day-to-day life, but you don’t feel like you’re good enough yet to have a proper conversation, to really talk to anyone. It’s quite a lonely feeling and another reason you’ve spent so much time with Hanjae: he speaks fluent English; although he uses it less and less often these days and he gets more impatient when you need things repeating. You suppose it must be difficult for him, too, having to use a second language so much.

You gaze around the room, looking at nothing in particular. You sip your drink and wonder what everyone else is thinking about. You barely notice the looks you get anymore – most of them are meaningless anyway and people pass their eyes over you before turning back to their friends – but out of the corner of your eye, you see someone looking at you. You don’t recognise him, but you’ve never been very good with faces and the lighting is weird here. You raise your glass and nod slightly; even if you don’t know him, it’s nice to be polite. He looks a little flustered that you’ve noticed and quickly looks away, and then back again and raises his glass a little before turning and walking away. You smile, what a cutie.

Your glass is empty and your feet hurt from standing still for so long, so you tell Hanjae you’re going to get another drink. He asks you to get him a whiskey, so you traipse to the bar and order. You hand the drink to Hanjae without a word and wander off; there must be somewhere to sit in this place.

The main room is cavernous and you’re worried there will be no open doors to anywhere else. There is a small group of tables in one corner, but they are all already occupied. You look around as you walk, and suddenly bump into someone.

“Oh, so-“, you start to say, but you realise it isn’t someone; it is a mirror. The whole back wall is mirrored. For a moment, you are completely disoriented and slightly embarrassed, but as you edge along the mirror, you realise that the wall doesn’t reach the other side and the room continues beyond it. As you cross behind the mirror, the din of music and voices is subdued significantly. There’s another partial wall from the other side as though the room is zig-zagging. You’re wary of going too far, but the increasing quiet is soothing. You turn another corner and there’s a bench opposite a large staircase. You immediately sit down along its length and lift your feet. You wonder what the time is and how much more of it you’ll have to kill before you can go home. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Hanjae is a good man and you are very fortunate and suffering from very glamorous problems. A few months ago, you’d have given an arm and a leg to be at a party like this. Be careful what you wish for, you think to yourself.

As you fidget on the bench, you realise you are not alone. There is a man coming down the stairs. You take your feet off the bench and try to look like you’re doing something (what? What could you be doing? There is absolutely nothing to occupy you here!); you settle for just looking awkward. You nod your head and raise a hand as he reaches the bottom.

“Are you ok?” he asks. His hesitance reminds you of someone and you realise with a flash that he is the man who was looking at you earlier.

You clear your throat.

“네. 괜찮아요. 감사합니다,” you answer falteringly, embarrassed at having been caught hiding out. You rise to leave.

“오, 정말요? ……………?”

You don’t understand the second half of what he said and you curse yourself for having answered in Korean; if you’d just spoken English and pretended you didn’t know any Korean at all, this would’ve been much simpler!

“Sorry, I didn’t understand,” you tell him. “갈게요.”

“No, wait,” he cries, with more force than he intended. “You don’t have to leave.” He gestures to the bench. “I was also looking for somewhere quiet.”

He speaks shyly and you assume he doesn’t have much practice at speaking English and don’t have the energy for locking you both into a conversation where neither of you can quite understand the other. On the other hand, it would feel rude to just walk away now. You stand, not leaving but not quite staying, both of you trapped in an awkward moment that seems to last forever.

“You can leave if you want,” he says, finally. “I am going to stay.” He sits on the bottom step and takes a sip from his drink. “It’s ok, we don’t have to talk- but I can speak English a little bit if you want.”

You slowly return to the bench and sit down. You feel like you should say something, but your mind is blank. It’s like you’ve never had a conversation before in your life; what do people say? Does he even want you to say something? Why was he staring at you earlier? In the same way that everyone else always does or was there a specific reason? You feel your hands start to sweat and you inwardly roll your eyes at yourself and tell yourself to get a grip, literally nothing is happening.

He is looking out of the window and you are staring into the corner on the opposite side; you each take glances at one another, praying the other doesn’t notice. You can still hear the music from the party, quiet in the background, and you wonder if Hanjae has noticed your absence yet; you expect not. You glance at the man opposite you and catch his eye. You both chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m ________,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he answers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“I saw you earlier; I didn’t think we’d met before.”

“No, I’m not really invited to these things,” you explain. “I just tag along with my b-,“ you stop, the word ‘boyfriend’ weighing heavily on your tongue.

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

Dammit.

“Uh, Kim Hanjae?”

“Ah… Don’t know him.”

“He’s…” How on earth did you get to this subject so quickly? Do you really want to talk about Hanjae to this random man? More to the point, does this random man want to hear about your boyfriend and how you actually don’t want him to be your boyfriend anymore? Doubtful. “He’s nice,” you finish, lamely.

“Just don’t like parties?”

Part of you wishes you had just left when you had the chance. Then you realise how ridiculously you’re behaving; hating the party because no one will talk to you and, now, as soon as someone starts, you want to leave. ‘Get a grip, girl,’ you say to yourself.

“I like parties,” you answer, “but it’s-… I’m-… This-…” You pause as you try to work out how to give an honest answer that isn’t simultaneously dumping all your crap onto him. “These are all his friends; I don’t really know anyone here.”

He nods.

“I have a different problem: everyone knows me and wants to talk to me all the time.” He laughs. “I don’t like big parties. They’re… so much… too much.”

You nod. The two of you lapse into silence again, but it’s more comfortable this time. You’ve broken the ice a little. He seems nice and you feel a pang of sympathy for him: to be a big deal at parties like this sounds exhausting, especially if you don’t even like parties to start with. No wonder he’s hiding out with you.

“It’s hard for me to talk to people at these things,” you tell him. “My Korean isn’t very good and Hanjae doesn’t like speaking English when we’re with his friends because some of them don’t speak it.”

“I think your Korean sounds good.”

You laugh; that was a sweet thing to say given that he’s heard you say all of three words.

“It’s ok, but we couldn’t have this conversation in Korean. Sorry.” You smile weakly and feel pathetic; you knew it would be a process, moving to a new country and learning the language as you go, but you weren’t prepared for how embarrassed and ashamed you would feel all the time about your failings.

“Don’t be sorry!” He grins at you. “I can try my English! But, actually, it is not very good either. Sorry.”

You laugh again. Koreans and their modesty; his English sounds just fine from where you’re sitting.

“Did you move here recently?” he asks.

“About four months ago,” you answer. “I was… looking for something new, I guess. I don’t know… I needed new horizons, new experiences.”

“And how do you think about it now you’re here?”

You wonder if he knows what a loaded question that is. You exhale with a huff. Where to begin?

“It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” you tell him. “I feel very… different. Being looked at so much is not something I was used to… I think Hanjae likes it, but it’s awkward for me. I feel like…”

“An object.”

Your eyes meet and your chest is flooded with the warmth of familiarity. He’ll understand, won’t he?

“When we met,” you start, looking away self-consciously, “he was charmed by my foreignness, y’know? And he liked how different I looked and found it cute when I made mistakes in Korean and didn’t know things. It gave him clout, y’know? Dating a foreigner? I was spoilt by it, the attention; I thought it was for me and when he bought me dresses and took me to parties to show me off, I thought it was because I was special, not just because I was foreign. I loved it at the start.

“I think the appeal is wearing off, though,” you continue, stealing a quick glance to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you patiently, intently, concentrating, probably, on understanding what you’re saying. “He gets annoyed sometimes now when I don’t know things and-“

You tell him everything. Once you start, you find you can’t stop. You don’t know whether to be angry or sad about it, so you vacillate between the two. Jungkook listens, never interrupts; he drinks and nods and keeps looking at you with those huge brown eyes.

“I know it’s over,” you say, resolute. “I just-” you realise it as you say it, “I’m scared that I won’t have anything if I don’t have him.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment.

“But you met him in Korea, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you still have the person who moved all the way here to start a new life; that seems like a lot to me.”

For a split second, you don’t know whether to burst into tears or fling your arms around him and give him a kiss. ‘Is he looking at me,’ you wonder ‘or staring into my soul?’. You feel seen, seen for the first time in months. You decide then and there that you would walk on hot coals for this man; he’s got you whether he wants you or not. His kindness streams out from him like rays of the sun from behind clouds. Such a bright, young thing, hiding in the dark.

“What about you?” You ask. “You’re hiding back here, too.”

“Ah.” He finishes his drink and places the glass next to him on the step. “I prefer quiet places. I like to keep things small and…-”

“Intimate?”

You blush furiously as he looks at you. That isn’t what you meant and you’re not sure how he’s taken it.

“Yeah, intimate. Big crowds are not my thing.”

“Not when they forget that you’re a person, first.”

He nods.

You stand and move to look out of the window, closer to him. He rises, too, and stands next to you. Your arm is a hair’s breadth from him; you daren’t move.

“Do you like the view?” he asks.

“Actually, I don’t really like a cityscape. I prefer country views.”

“What are the views like where you’re from?”

No one has asked you about home like that. They ask for funny differences between here and there or ask you to debunk or confirm stereotypes, but no one has really cared what you actually think. You smile, picturing in your mind’s eye cloudy, wind-swept beaches, rolling hills, pier arcades, church spires and so much green. You tell him everything. You turn your back to Seoul and, leaning against the glass, describe the house you grew up in and where your grandparents used to live; you describe the places you took holidays when you were a kid and the specific smell of the sea that isn’t the same anywhere else in the world. He’s been to your home country before, but he hasn’t been to your hometown; he asks questions and shows interest and you realise how starving you’ve been. Starved of this sort of attention – focused, interested, penetrating. You’ve had a taste and you want more and more.

You ask him about Seoul; did he grow up here? No, he tells you about Busan in the South. He speaks slowly and thoughtfully about his childhood and his dreams and moving here at such a young age, growing up so far from everything he’s ever known. He’s achieved more than he ever thought was even possible, more than he had ever dreamed, he explains; sometimes he still can’t believe it’s real.

While he talks, you study his face. He’s happy now, but you feel for the scared, little boy thrust into the industry machine before he even knew who he was. Now’s not the time, you know that, but you want to gently crack him open like a soft-boiled egg. Such depth in his eyes, so much soul. You resist the urge many times to put your hand on his arm, hold his hand for a second, reach out and physically touch him somehow. You feel connected to him in such a way that you need it to be physical for a moment, to close the circle, to just… touch.

You’re still standing by the window, deep in conversation, when a man appears from behind the wall and beckons to Jungkook. They talk quickly and Jungkook returns.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Your heart falls.

“Do you want one?”

A wash of relief. You shrug, sure.

“Ok, wait here. I won’t be long.”

He leaves and you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. You wonder what time it is, where is Hanjae, what’s he doing, is he even still here, has he noticed you’re missing, is Jungkook actually coming back? You take some deep breaths.

With no watch, no phone, and no clock in this dark, little hideaway, you have no way to tell how long Jungkook has been. One minute? Could be ten. You wonder if he’ll make it back to you; after all, he was hiding back here to avoid being grasped in the clutches of all the many, many people out there. Maybe he’s been waylaid. He’s got stuck with a chatterbox who won’t be quiet; he’s got trapped into a business conversation that he can’t leave. Maye he’s seen some friends and is having fun out there.

You sigh, knowing that if he doesn’t come back soon, you’ll have to go out there, too. Hanjae will be missing you, you tell yourself; it’s rude to abandon him completely when he’s the reason you’re even here in the first place. You take a deep, resolute breath and stand, smoothing out your dress. You bump into Jungkook as you round the corner.

“Oh,” he says as he sees you. “Are you going?”

He hands you a drink and you take it, the cold glass sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Uh, well, no, well yes, I was but I didn’t know if you were coming back.” You hope you didn’t sound accusatory.

“I’m sorry, it is hard to avoid people out there,” he replies, continuing around the corner and sitting on the bench. You follow him and he places a hand on the bench, indicating you should join. You feel bad; he shouldn’t have to apologise. You sit next to him on the bench and sip your drink.

“You can go back out there, if you want, you know; you don’t have to stay here with me,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you!” he laughs. “That was enough. Maybe I will show my face again a bit later.”

“Good.” You spoke without thinking and are just about to regret it when he smiles at you.

“Yeah. Good.”

You place a hand down on the bench and he reaches out a finger to touch your bracelet. When you packed your whole life into one suitcase, a lot of brutal cuts had to be made and there are so many parts of your heart at home, abandoned by you, but not this one. It’s a tiny gold chain, with a tiny gold J attached.

“That’s not the letter of your name,” Jungkook says, still studying your bracelet.

“No… No, it’s from my best friend’s name,” you explain. “She gave this to me a long time ago; I like to wear it when I feel like I need her, to feel like I’ve got a little bit of her with me.” You rub your wrist, self-consciously, and wonder what she’s up to right now.

“Does it help?”

“No, not really.” You laugh, a little sad. “It reminds me that there are people in the world who love me, which is nice, but it also reminds me that those people are thousands of miles away.”

“All of them?” His penetrating eyes beam at you and you feel like no matter what answer you give, it’ll be the wrong one. You shrug.

“I thought maybe you told me a fake name before,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t think that would’ve ever occurred to me! Why, do you do that?”

He nods. He smiles but it’s sad, the mirth not reaching his eyes.

“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t get away with it so easily if I wore one of those, right?”

You unclasp the bracelet’s fastening and it slips off your wrist and, taking an end in each hand, hold it out to him. He looks uncertainly at you and you nod. He offers his wrist and you fix the chain in place.

“There’s no getting away from who you really are,” you tell him, knowing full well that it doesn’t matter where you go, ’cause there you’ll always be. He grins. “For tonight.”

“For tonight, I can be your best friend?”

You laugh and nod, thinking, ‘god, can he be my best friend forever?’.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, gently moving the bracelet around his wrist; you wonder what he’s thinking and take a sip of your drink.

A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence until Jungkook speaks again.

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“What?”

“In return.” He indicates the bracelet. “I don’t have anything I can give you.” He takes off a ring and considers it. “I think they will all be too big.” He holds it out and you offer up your hand; he slips it onto your index finger and you lift your hand up, swirling the ring around so that it very nearly flies off the tip.

“Too big,” you confirm with a grin.

He pulls his sleeve up to reveal a watch and you notice the tattoos running underneath.

“I think this will not go with your dress, right?”

You nod absently, trying to make out what you’re looking at. You take the edge of his sleeve and lift it a little higher to get a better look and then become aware of what you’re doing and drop it, apologising instantly.

“That’s ok,” he says and he undoes the cuff, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. He turns his arm slowly so you can get a good look (or as good a look as you can manage in the dark light). You nod approvingly.

“That’s why I was looking at you earlier,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I was trying to look at your tattoo.”

Well, that explains the intensity of his focus earlier. You turn so that he can see. You feel, for a second, his hand above your skin and your stomach clenches, praying he won’t touch you like everyone else does: ‘just please don’t let him touch me; please, please don’t let him touch me’. But the touch never comes. You sense his hand moving across your back and down your arm and you twist your head to see his finger, an inch above the skin, tracing the lines of your tattoo. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body back towards him.

“They’re very beautiful.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he answers and you’re struck again by the feeling of being seen and not merely looked at. Neither of you looks away this time. You hold the moment between yourselves, pausing time just for a second. You break the connection and look down, tracing a finger over your bracelet on his wrist. You know it’s only a coincidence that they share the same initial – it’s not exactly uncommon – but something about it feels right.

“Do you want it back?” he asks.

No, you don’t. Not yet. You feel like he’s wearing a part of you while he’s wearing it; he has accepted a part of you as a part of himself. You feel warm in the glow of that tiny, tremulous thread between you. You think, and the thought shocks you, that you would be alright he kept it forever. It’s immensely precious to you, so much so that you brought it with you thousands of miles away into your new life, but, somehow, Jungkook’s wearing it brings more to you, more comfort, more confidence, more certainty in the knowledge that there are people in the world that love you. Love is not diminished when given away, it is doubled. You suddenly wish that you did have something of his you could wear, if only for tonight.

The silence lapses and you talk, nursing your drinks, knowing that one of you will have to leave if either of you needs another. You forget the passing of time and everything outside of this little bubble. It’s the most fun you’ve had at a party for ages.

The man who appeared earlier returns and, once again, beckons to Jungkook. Jungkook stands and goes over to him and they, once again, talk quietly. Jungkook returns and the man remains.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jungkook asks and you feel shattered all of a sudden. You had forgotten all about Hanjae, truth be told, and you are overwhelmed with guilt and shame that you’ve spent the whole night away from him, talking to another man. He isn’t my boyfriend, that’s what you wanted to say: he’s definitely not my boyfriend, or even if he is, I don’t want him to be and he won’t be for much longer! Why is Jungkook asking? Whatever bubble you were in has been popped from the inside. A part of you feels heartbroken and a part of you feels betrayed. It was just you and Jungkook; there’s no need to bring anyone else into this.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” you stutter in response. “Probably… somewhere…”. You have no idea where he will be; you assume that he is still here (you hope he is still here because he still has your phone), but who can say for sure?

“Do you want to leave with me?” Jungkook asks and you are stunned into momentary silence.

“What?”

“Do you want to leave with me?” he repeats. “We don’t have to go anywhere; I can take you home if you want, but would you like to leave?”

You feel like that is too many mixed messages to cope with right now so you nod dumbly and stand.

“Hanjae,” you say abruptly as your brain sputters back into gear. “He has my phone and my things.”

“Ok, shall I meet you outside? I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be quick.”

Breathless, you walk as quickly as you can back into the cavernous room, the noise building to a roar, the throng of people overwhelming. You stand on tiptoes and crane your neck, looking for anyone you recognise, cursing the organisers for the dim lighting and all men for their interminably boring black suits which make none of them stand out. You notice movement in your peripheral vision and turn to see a waving arm, beckoning you. It’s not Hanjae; it’s one of his friends.

“Where have you been?” they exclaim as you approach. “Han was looking everywhere for you; thought you must’ve disappeared! Anyway, he had to leave earlier – some work emergency – so he told me to give you these if I saw you.” He hands over your phone, lip balm, and a lipstick you’re sure isn’t yours. “He told you you can order a car if you like, but he won’t be back so you’ll have to get home on your own.”

You see that his friends clearly have no idea of entertaining you or keeping you company for the rest of the evening, which is just as well, given you were about to leave with someone else.

As you make your way outside, you look at the lipstick you were given. You try to think what might constitute a ‘work emergency’ on a Friday night; it’s not like the guy’s a doctor or fire fighter! You try not to let suspicion creep in, because Hanjae has never given you any reason to doubt his fidelity before, but then, you’ve also never considered it, because you’ve never really considered the two of you to be in an actual relationship. Maybe he hadn’t either. And if that’s the case, then there’s no need to be hurt or angered by it. But there is a niggle. There’s something crawling, digging up, trying to plant its seed in your heart. You decide if it’s going to happen at all, it will have to be tonight. As you approach the doorway, you stand to one side and dial Hanjae’s number.

“여보세요?” he answers just as you were about to give up.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the party.”

“Oh. Where did you go? I tried to look for you earlier; I’m not there anymore. I’ve had to come to the office.”

“Yeah, I know; I found Seongyoung and he gave me my phone.”

“Right yeah, yeah.” He sounds distracted.

“So, are you in the office now?” you ask.

“Yeah, but I can’t see you; there’s been a huge mistake and it’s going to take a long time to fix.”

“Please; it’ll be quick. I promise.”

He sighs heavily but agrees. You hang up the phone with a small weight sitting in your stomach.

You turn back to the entrance and walk out, scanning for Jungkook. There are a few dark cars sitting in front of you but you have no idea if any one of them belongs to him. You hesitate, not sure where to turn, standing awkwardly in front of drivers and security officers. A door on one of the cars opens and a hand waves; you approach and Jungkook beams up at you from inside.

“Quick!” He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you in. He speaks quickly to the driver in Korean and turns back to you. “Are you alright?”

“Um, actually, can we go somewhere?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I… have to do something. It won’t take long, please.”

“Of course, that’s ok. Where do you want to go?”

You give him the address of Hanjae’s office building and he relays it to the driver. You sit, slightly on edge, compulsively flicking the edge of your phone case off and on, off and on. The building isn’t far and you sit in silence while Jungkook hums along to the radio. You are barely even aware of what song is playing. The driver slows and you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Just give me like, five minutes. I’ll be quick,” you say as you open the car door.

“It’s ok; you can take as long as you like. I will wait.”

You wonder what Jungkook thinks you are doing, where he thinks you are. You wonder if he knows. Part of you assumes he does, since he seems to intuitively understand so much about you. You enter the building and approach the reception desk. The woman behind it barely looks up as she opens the barrier to let you in. You’re not sure if she recognises you from times you’ve been here before or just does not care about her job. If you had to man a reception desk in an almost entirely empty building on a Friday night, you probably wouldn’t care much either. As you call a thank you to her and walk past, the lipstick suddenly flashes into your mind. Could it be hers? You suppose it could be. It could be anyone’s. It might not have anything to do with Hanjae at all. Maybe Seongyoung handed you his girlfriend’s lipstick by mistake. Maybe not. It won’t matter soon.

You reach Hanjae’s floor and can see him in his glass-walled office: jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled up, standing and on the phone. You walk with purpose to his door and wave. He gestures for you to come in, so you stand inside the door and wait for his conversation to end.

“What’s up?” he asks, putting his phone on his desk.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” you begin, your resolve holding firm for now.

“Right now? I really don’t have time-“

“I said I’d be quick and I meant it.” If you aren’t quick, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go through with it.

“Ok then, shoot.”

You hadn’t actually planned what you were going to say. None of the words sounded right; you wanted to be clear and direct but kind at the same time; is it even possible to tell someone kindly that you don’t want them to be in your life anymore? You clench and unclench your fist and decide to rip the plaster straight off.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I don’t think we should be together. I think we should end things. This is over.” The words tumble out without your being able to stop them. Hanjae’s eyebrows raise and he looks surprised.

“Oh.”

He looks a little dumb-founded but you had expected him to say more and aren’t sure what to do now. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, waiting for something else to happen. You haven’t actually broken up with anyone before so you’re not sure how this usually goes.

“Can I ask why?”

“We’re not a good fit.” You hope that this will suffice but you know it won’t satisfy him.

“What does that mean? Don’t we have fun together? Don’t we like each other?” Ay, there’s the rub.

“Actually, I don’t really think you do, no.” You try to explain to him all the things you’ve been feeling recently; you try not to blame him for any of it because you don’t want this to turn into an argument; you tread as carefully as you can but you’re so desperate for this to be over now it’s started that you can’t stop your mouth running on and on.

“You’ve given me so much and I’m so grateful to you for that and I really value all the time we have spent together and I do think you’re a nice person and I don’t want to hurt you but… well, this is how I feel.” You feel a little breathless as you come to a stop. Hanjae doesn’t say anything for a while and you can’t read his face. You don’t know what he’s thinking and the longer the silence lasts, the sicker and sicker you feel.

“I’m sorry that you feel that my attention has been so unwelcome,” he finally answers, speaking slowly and coldly. “I don’t really know what else I could have done to show you that I value you: I buy you things, take you places, I introduced you to all of my friends, I show you off; is that not loving? You say you don’t even think I like you, but if that’s true, why would I bother to see you? Why would I waste my time with you if I didn’t? I hadn’t, until now, considered our time together a waste, but it seems as though my efforts have been just that. You’ve been feeling this way for weeks, have you? Well, why are you here, then? Why did you come tonight at all if all of my friends ignore you and all of my attention is so unwanted? If the time we spend together makes you feel so awful, why have you waited this long to say something? You disappeared very early this evening; I tried looking for you everywhere. You said you were getting a drink and then I didn’t see you again. Perhaps it’s not that my attention is unwanted but that you’ve found someone else whose attention you prefer? Were you just putting up with me for long enough to find a higher roller, someone richer, or more famous perhaps? Am I a step on your ladder to the top? You have never, until tonight, given me a reason not to trust you, but you have to admit that this is rather out of the blue and your behaviour at the party was… not very polite. You abandoned me-“

You scoff at that, unable to stop yourself. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. Hanjae raises his eyebrows and waits for you to explain yourself. You’ve no idea how. You say nothing. You’re the first to break eye contact and you look at the ground, then the window, the desk, anywhere but Hanjae’s face.

“Fine,” he says. “Have it your way. What a horrible boyfriend I was to you, to treat you to presents and dinners and parties, to be so impressed by you that I want to show you off to everyone I know, to speak English with you and help you with Korean, to help you get settled in, to give you a social life, to show you what Seoul has to offer, what I have to offer, to never treat you like-“

“A person. You didn’t treat me like a person, Hanjae. I’m not a prize to show off; I’m a person first, not an object.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. How can you get him to understand?

“Oh, I objectify you?” It is his turn to scoff. “And yet I am the one who has been used.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“No, I- it’s- we- I-“

“Whatever, you can leave now.” He turns his back on you and picks up his phone again. He turns around with the phone to his ear and nods at the door, shooing you away. You turn around and leave the office on trembling legs. As soon as you step into the lift to go back down, the tears come. You’re not even sure why you’re crying; you wanted this after all. It was just horrible. You feel sticky with sweat all over, and shaky with the stress of it. You know that Hanjae isn’t right, saying those things about you, and he was lashing out defensively, but it hurt all the same. Or maybe he is a little bit right. You said yourself that he’s given you so much, access to things and people and places you wouldn’t have had otherwise; you said yourself that you enjoyed that. Maybe you are in the wrong, at least a little bit. You both are, you suppose. You exit the lift and walk briskly out of the office, not turning to look at the receptionist on your way out in case she sees you crying. You step out of the door and hide behind a pillar, catching your breath, drying your tears and trying to put on a happy face. Leaning against the cold stone of the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“____?”

Shit. Jungkook is right there in front of you, looking concerned.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

You shake your head and hold up your hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You stand up straight and give yourself a body shake. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You can’t think of much worse than going home to your poky apartment to spend the rest of your night miserable and alone.

“No… Can we, can we get a drink? Do you want to get a drink?”

Jungkook grimaces slightly. “Ah, that’s kind of difficult for me. I can’t really just go to a bar on a Friday night, y’know?”

Your heart sinks; of course he doesn’t want to go to a bar with you.

“We could have a drink at my house, if you want?” he offers.

Your heart rises. God, yes, please.

You drive back to Jungkook’s apartment in silence. The presence of the driver makes you feel somehow inhibited, self-conscious. You feel conspicuous, even though you’re sure the driver couldn’t care less about who you are or what you’re doing there. He’s just doing his job. You, nevertheless, don’t want to say anything yet, not until you’re alone with Jungkook. He’s scrolling on his phone, and you take the opportunity to study him more closely. His face changes with the changing light: suddenly brightly lit as you stop at traffic lights under a lamppost, then hidden in shadows. He has a kind face, open and bright, deep, soft eyes… You wanted to reach out a finger to trace his profile, the line of his lips, study him as if you were about to embark upon a masterpiece of him. Not that you would be able to capture his spirit if you tried. There’s a light in his eyes that seems to lie so deeply within them but shine so close to the surface.

You can’t work out what you’re feeling – too much, honestly. You need a minute to step back, step out of yourself – out of your life – to sort through everything that had happened. You feel a little as though you have accidentally stepped on a travelator and things are moving faster than you can keep up with. You wonder if you’ll regret any of this in the morning, if sleep will clear your mind and show your actions up as mistakes. You hope not. You think not. You catch the glint of your bracelet, still around Jungkook’s wrist and you nod to yourself. No, this – if this alone – is not a mistake.

When you arrive at Jungkook’s building, he shows you in and your mouth gapes. This was much bigger than Hanjae’s place. Wow. Just how famous was this guy? You are reminded forcefully of how little you actually know about him, whatever your feelings might be saying.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks, crouching in front of a cabinet. He opens the door to reveal all manner of spirits and liquors.

“Oh, anything,” you answer, without thinking. He laughs and you’re embarrassed by your answer but making another decision at this point feels impossible. You feel like a swan, calm on top, but flailing wildly underneath. You begin to think that maybe you should have let Jungkook take you home, so you could’ve gone to bed, or stared out of the window blankly until the sun rose. He’s too stimulating. Questions constantly rise to the surface of your mind like bubbles in boiling water: what’s his family like? What’s his favourite film? What’s his favourite food? Is he single? What’s he thinking? What does he want out of life? He’s already achieved his career dream so what’s his next dream?

He hands you a glass and you take a sip without even looking. It’s strong, good. You follow Jungkook to the sofa and flop onto it, thankful to be sitting comfortably. He asks if the drink is ok and you just nod and take another sip. You’re torn with conflicting desires: to stare at him endlessly, to fall into his chest and listen to his heartbeat, to tell him everything, to listen to him tell you everything, to kiss him, to never kiss him, to be his best friend, to fall in love with him, to fall in love with him and love him from afar from the rest of your life. It’s exquisite, the confusion, the keenness of your muddled feelings. You wonder briefly if you are just drunk but shake the thought from your head: you haven’t had that much to drink.

You drink in silence for a while and when you’ve finished, you stand. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you wander over to the bookcase, full of not books but DVDs and figurines. You scan the titles, your eyes not really seeing. They linger on a small figurine of a tiger at the edge of a shelf. You pick it up.

“Year of the tiger?” you ask, brandishing the figure at him.

“It is.” He stands and comes closer to you, taking the tiger in his hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. 24 years old, you were born two tigers ago. You take the figure back and wiggle it in his face. He laughs.

“I’m an ox,” he says, kneeling down. He opens the door of a little cabinet and reveals figurines for each of the zodiac animals. You laugh picking them up and inspecting them. He takes the ox from the cupboard and the tiger from your hand and puts them both back on the bookshelf. Feeling silly, you move the tiger and make a sound that’s neither quite a roar nor a meow as though the tiger is talking to the ox. Jungkook laughs and responds in kind, lowing deeply as he turns the ox towards the tiger. This is the sort of nonsense you need to lift you from the deep water of your confused feelings.

You move to the window as Jungkook refills your glass. It’s probably a good view that he probably paid a lot of money for but you can’t be enamoured with so many lights and so much modern architecture. You can just barely make out the dark shape of the mountains beyond and you smile; that’s more like it. Jungkook joins you at the window. You talk quietly; you don’t want to tell him that you broke up with Hanjae, because it implies something that you don’t really want to imply, but it comes out in the course of conversation and you actually feel relieved. You don’t know what Jungkook feels about it, if anything, but he seems pleased for you. You feel like everything is so fragile, delicate, precarious. You stay talking at the window for what feels like hours (maybe it is) because you feel that to move will be to ruin the moment somehow, force a shift in the atmosphere that you don’t want.

Your eyes settle on the gold chain at his wrist and your fingers reach out for it, toying with it. Jungkook’s hand moves, into yours, his fingers dancing on your palm. You flick your eyes back to his and he’s smiling at you, shy and sweet. You let him take your hand and suddenly it’s a handshake and you’re snorting, laughing, leaning towards each other as your shoulders shake. You lean your head on his shoulder as your breath comes back and Jungkook moves his hand to waist, pulls you closer to him.

He’s still smiling when you lift your head to look at him and you’re staring back at him, wide-eyed and unsure. He pulls you closer still, his arm snaking around your waist and he kisses you without hesitation. His lips are soft but he isn’t; he’s sure and confident and he brings his thumb to your chin to gently press down, gently open your mouth and let him inside. You’re responding before you’ve had the opportunity to think. Your hands grab at the collar of his shirt and you move against him, a leg between his legs, his bottom lip between your teeth. You’re dizzied and light-headed, grateful to the cool glass at your back and Jungkook’s arms secure around you.

When he pulls back, with apparent effort, he rests his forehead on yours, nudges your nose with his and looks at you from under his thick, dark lashes.

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says, his voice hushed in the silence of the apartment, and then he barely brushes his lips against yours again, as if he just can’t help himself.

If you were confused earlier, you aren’t anymore. The world around you has faded to a fuzzy, black blur, eclipsed by the soft bloomings of want in your chest.

“I’ve wanted you to do that all night,” you whisper back, aware only as you’re saying it that it’s true. You have wanted him to do that. You want him to do it again and then a whole lot more.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, lightly, gently.

“I don’t usually do this,” he says, eyes alighting on yours for only a second before he’s looking at your lips again. “It’s not… This isn’t like me but…”

“I know,” you reply. “Me, too.”

“I feel…”

“Something.”

“Yeah.”

Your heart skips a beat when he looks at you and the world holds its breath; you almost feel time slow down, the seconds that it takes for his hands to fall from your face, glide down your body, and encircle you again stretch into minutes. The distance between your lips – not even inches – stretches far into the horizon. You almost feel each of the chambers of your heart squeeze, a rush of warmth heating your cheeks, your chest, your core.

And then his lips are on you and you’re like a Catherine wheel, spinning and sparking and wild. Time snaps back like an elastic band and you’re frantic now, all hands and lips and tongue.

You slip your fingers into his shirt, flicking open the buttons, running your hands over his body, soft and supple and flushed. His hands push your dress higher and higher, over the slope of your hips and he lifts you, pushing you against the glass and pushing his body into yours. You can feel the arousal pooled at your core and you can feel him straining against his trousers. You’re wet like you’ve been waiting all night for it, like you’ve been anticipating this very moment since you first laid eyes on him. You push his shirt to the floor, watching it float down like a white flag of surrender: surrendering yourself to him, he to you, to this, whatever this is or could be.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

Soft whispers tumble from you as Jungkook’s fingers slide past your underwear and press into your wet heat. Your cunt squeezes against them and your hips cant towards him as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your whimpering, whining, mewling barely drowns out the squelch of his fingers working inside you, arousal dripping down his hand. You’re climbing steadily to your peak, moaning against his mouth as he rolls his tongue with yours. You pull on his hair, his head tipping back, his throat exposed. He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a slack jaw. Then he grins, thrumming faster, pressing harder and you’re squirming. You let go of his hair to clutch around his shoulders, holding on hard as your own head tips back, thudding against the glass.

Jungkook brings his face close to yours and nudges your nose with his, gently guiding your attention back to him. He holds your gaze as your legs quiver and shake, as your breath hitches and you close your eyes, so, so close now.

“Look at me.” His voice is low, soft, but demanding. “I want to see you… I want you to look at me when you come.”

And you do. Your eyes don’t leave his as you fall apart in his arms, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning strike. You’ve barely finished before he’s crashing his lips into you, urgent and needy and then suddenly neither of those things. He slows. He removes his fingers from your soaking wet slip and he holds you close to him, just barely grinding his hips into you. His kiss is deep, languorous, like he’s really tasting you now. The quiet moan he makes as his tongue rolls with yours makes your heart skip a beat and you’re weak. So weak that, when he drops you, lightly, your feet returning to the floor, you almost stumble, almost fall. But he’s got you.

He pushes your dress back down, smoothing it out so he can unzip it. He finally breaks your kiss as he pulls it from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms. You’re braless and goosebumps sprinkle all over your skin, your nipples shivering to attention. You run your hands through Jungkook’s hair as he dips his head, lowers himself to kiss your neck, your chest, to run his tongue up the underside of your breast and suck your tight little bud into his mouth. The glass at your back is cold but he is so warm in front of you.

He drops to his knees, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls them to the floor. You step out and he flings them away.

“I want to make you come again.”

He looks up at you and his eyes are wide, imploring, asking, seeking, searching and it’s all you can do to just nod. You’ve had one-night stands and hook-ups and situationships and even boyfriends who haven’t said that to you, who haven’t cared enough to try for one, let alone more.

He’s still looking at you when he puts his mouth on you and runs his tongue through your folds. You let your head fall back again, eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook grunts, the vibration against you a little shock. You look back down at him and he nods, swirling his tongue around your clit, and you understand: he wants you to look at him, he wants to see you and wants you to see him seeing you, as you have all evening. Because he does. See you. He sees you like no one else has. You can already feel it bubbling up within you. You can sense his soul reaching out to yours as yours reaches back to him. You think to yourself that you would probably have fallen in love with him even if he weren’t so good at—

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook. Fuck. Yes, like that.”

He’s fucking you with his fingers again with his mouth sealed around your clit, the soft plane of his tongue pressing against it, sucking and then lapping. You grab onto his hair, hard, grounding you, something, anything to tether you to this world as you feel yourself floating away.

He groans and you understand his instruction, having to drag your eyes back to his. His brows are furrowed, eyes shining bright. Looking into his eyes at this moment is like falling into an abyss. Tumbling and twisting, your body writhes with pleasure, shuddering against the window as you come again, a cry strangled in your throat, legs shaking and then you’re literally falling, sliding down the glass. Jungkook follows you down, his fingers still pressing against you as he kisses up your stomach, your chest, and then he’s holding you. You’re in his arms and he’s kissing you, your own arousal all over his lips and his tongue.

“You ok?” he asks, his voice thick and low.

You couldn’t speak. Could only take his face between your palms and kiss him again. He lifts you up into his lap, so you’re straddling him, knees either side of his hips, and you can feel him, pressing against his trousers, trapped and tensed. You sit down a little further and roll your hips over him; he groans into your mouth and his hands on your glutes squeeze tight.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he whispers your name back. “Please.”

He lifts you from his lap and kneels up, hands working at his belt and his zip. He stands to shuck them down his legs and kicks them off. You look up at him and ask,

“Do you have…?”

He nods, crossing the room to his wallet on the sideboard by the door. You press your hands against the cool glass of the window, but rather than cooling you, it warms, too. There is heat all over you, burning around you.

Jungkook returns and falls to his knees, condom in hand. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and mumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he stands once more to push them all the way down and off. You giggle, reaching out for him, rising on your knees as he slides the rubber over his length. He pulls you to your feet and cages you in against the window, lips capturing yours.

He bites down on your lower lip and you can feel him at your entrance. He’s rubbing his length along your slick slit and you’re whimpering, walls fluttering, heart racing. He breaks the kiss to look you in the eye as he pushes into you. A soft gasp leaves you and your hands circle tight around his biceps. You can feel him slow, his eyes watching you carefully now.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop. It feels good. Please.”

He continues, still slowly, and, when he’s all the way in, he kisses you again, pressing his body against yours.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, but whatever you were about to say disappears into a moan as he drags his cock out and then pushes back in. He moans back and brings a hand to your breast, his thumb rubbing light circles against your pert nipple. You’re already not sure how you’re still standing and then he lowers his lips to your neck and sucks at just exactly the right spot. Your legs tremble and your cunt quivers and you feel his hot breath against your skin as he chuckles.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

He says no more and his lips return to the sweet spot on your neck. You cling to him, gripping tightly, every pass of the head of his dick against your g-spot a test of your strength, fading rapidly as you start to drown in him. He thrusts deep and slow with little grunts of effort, like he’s holding back.

“Jungkook, I—”

“Yes?”

He’s looking at you again and, up close like this, he takes your breath away.

“I want more. More. I-… I can’t stand, but I wan—oh.”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you, his hands at the backs of your thighs lifting you, taking all your weight onto him. You wrap your legs around him and he moves faster now, harder, looking down at where he disappears into you. He’s more vocal, louder, as he fucks you into the window and the sound of him, his pleasure, his pleasure in you, stirs you. You’re fucked out and weak but your desire renews your force. You squeeze your walls against him and he curses.

“Shit.”

You do it again and a tiny chuckle bubbles up in his throat.

“Baby, you are dangerous. You’re—fuck, hngh—you’re going to make me come.”

He’s panting and breathy and his hair sticks to his forehead. You wrap you arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, his jaw, bite at his earlobe.

“Isn’t that the point?” you whisper.

A shudder runs through him and he growls, his grip on you tighter, even painfully tight. You pull back to look at him and his eyes are black, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. But he’s still looking at you; his eyes aren’t glazed, aren’t elsewhere, aren’t looking through you. He’s seeing you and you feel naked but not afraid, not exposed. You hold his face and kiss him and he grunts, groans; it’s open-mouthed and sloppy, your breath mingling as your tongues slide past and over each other.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and his stare is so intense, from that alone you would know he was close. He’s cursing lightly, repeatedly, fucking you hard, and then he’s coming, too, with a shudder and an animal groan, guttural and low.

He lowers you both down to the floor and lays you down, kissing you lightly, almost politely, as he brushes your hair from your face. He turns away and stands, disposing of the used condom and grabbing the blanket from the sofa. You just watch him return to you, settling next to you on the floor, covering both your bodies.

You look at the window where your heat and sweat have condensed in an already fading cloud. You laugh and point it out; he laughs, too.

“It’s almost gone already,” he says, watching it shrink, disappear, self-effacing.

You hum. This is usually when you’d feel awkward, make a show of being polite, get up and go but you don’t want to leave; you want to stay right where you are and watch the sun rise with him. You want to yawn and stretch yourself like a cat before curling against him and sleeping through the morning. You want to kiss him both goodnight and good morning. You look at him looking at the window and imagine an entire life with him, spanning years and decades in a second. Your heart beats heavy in your chest and you wonder if he can feel it, if he feels it, too.

When he finally looks back at you, you know. He kisses you like you’re precious, gently traces the shapes of your face with featherlight fingers. You shiver and he pulls you closer into his warm body, pulls the blanket tighter around you.

“Y’know,” he says, pausing to kiss you again. “I’m really glad I went to that party.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts x reader #bts smut #mmm repost

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fried-peaches00 · 1 year

Text

“Neteyam Standards”

Neteyam Sully x Human!reader

Ratings: SFW, Fluff

Word Count: 800

Notes: Man wtf why do I gotta indulge like this. This is me dipping my toes into the world of posting fan fiction, let me know what you think. Also I can’t figure out how to add a read more option help.

“You must’ve been the most beautiful creature on earth.” Neteyam murmurs into the crown of your head, his hand slipping into your considerably smaller one playing in the grass. You always admired the contrast of your skin tones next to each other. You scoff, “Hardly, but I appreciate the sentiment Teyam.” You left your voice drift off into the forest sounds, you prefer to let them speak for themselves but Neteyam has a different idea,

“I don’t think I could imagine anything more beautiful than you, Navi or human,” He ponders for a moment, “I wouldn't be surprised if you would rival the personified beauty of Eywa herself.” You laugh at this, sitting up to face him behind you only to be met with a drowsy, lovesick smile painted on Neteyam’s face as he listens to you with undivided attention, ”Do not say these things!” He catches your hand as you lightly shove him in the chest,

“ I can’t have Eywa upset at me, can I now? It’s hard enough just surviving on this planet without an ethereal deity out for me.” He laughs heartily, pulling you down to rest against his chest looking up into the canopy and at the sun shining through. It’s nearing eclipse, just close enough to see the first sliver of Polyphemus through the trees but not enough to worry about your return yet. Either way, you know that Neteyam could protect you against anything you may find in the dark. Out of the corner of your eye you see Neteyam’s ears twitch. Picking up all the chirps, hoots and howls of the forest. Two Atokirina dance between each other, floating down just far enough to tickle the finger tips of your outstretched hand.

“And besides, Eywa is much too beautiful. I don’t think I’d want to rival her. Nothing would seem beautiful to me if I was the most beautiful.” You add, only for your lover to squeeze your shoulder, his hand reaching out to join yours against the backdrop of the sky,

“I would like to believe Eywa thinks we are beautiful…” He murmurs before rolling on top of you, deciding he would much rather look at you than the leaves of the trees,

“Either way, you must be the most stunning creature on earth at least.” His bright eyes gaze up into yours. You can’t seem to find any hint of playfulness or doubt, he's fully sincere. So sincere it almost makes you tear up,

“Not particularly, I’m not exactly conventionally Earth beautiful either.” You give him a shaky smile, But he perseveres, cupping your face in his large hand, pressing his forehead to yours,

“I don’t buy it, my love. The way you speak of earth, burnt and devoid of life. I can’t imagine the people must be any better. All of the Humans I see here on Pandora are destructive and violent.” You hum, feeling the light rumbling of a purr in his chest against yours. You think for a moment, it might be nice for Neteyam to keep thinking that you are so beautiful that the Earth should weep for forgiveness for ever letting you leave, but you feel like you should tell the truth. That for earth standards, you were really, quite below average. Even though you don’t have to feel the pressure to look the way everyone wants you to look anymore, you would like to be able to be vulnerable with Neteyam, your mate,

“Earth… Has a very steadfast expectation on how you should look. So many humans would do anything to look that way,” You smile for a moment but it fades fast. “We would kill our planet for it. The plants and animals,” Neteyams huffs, pulling back for a moment,

“They did. Not you. This is not a matter of we.” He pouts. You will not bear this guilt alone, not on his watch. This makes you smile again,

“Whatever,” You roll your eyes. Never have you met anyone so stubborn to let you know how cared for you were, “I don’t meet that standard, Teyam, I think you would be stunned by those who do.”

Neteyam’s face softens. He can’t even fathom how you perceive yourself. To him you were the most empathetic, intelligent, caring person he’s ever met, not to mention the very love of his life. He moves to sit on your outstretched thighs,

“I don’t care about ‘Earth standards’.” He creates bunny ears with his fingers,

“In Nettayam standards, You are the most stunning being in the whole galaxy.”

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam sully x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

Note

Hi!! How do you think potential meet cutes with Jason would go? Do you think he’d be instantly smitten? He strikes me as the type to get a crush on you since the first meeting but maybe I’m just delusional 🥰

My honest opinion but I don’t think Jason likes smut books. He doesn’t mind a little bit of smut but would much prefer if it was nonexistent or didn’t take up a ridiculous amount of pages/chapters in the book in general.

I’m also a delusional twat anon who believes Jason would feel something upon first meetings, but firstly I have to heavily disclose that most of your run ins with one another would be in a book store/cafe, at least more so then anywhere else. (Book reader Jason supremacy!)

So to say that your interest was peaked upon first spotted a six foot something, beast of a man standing in front of the romance section, holding two different books -which were both written by the Jane Austen- in each hand was an understatement.

Normally you wouldn’t expect a man like Jason in the romance section of a small, quite but quaint bookstore/cafe, withholding an internal conflict over some books in his head as though his life depended on it. However the fact still stands that you deeply appreciate a man with good taste in his personal readings, and wasn’t afraid to indulge in the romance genre.

It probably also didn’t help that he was a conventionally attractive man with short dark hair with a tuft of white embedded in his fringe and wearing a simple read hoodie and jeans, a simple attire that anyone could wear, but on him he made it seem as though it were a main staple of his wardrobe.

Jason, knowing when he’s being watched, as quick to look over his shoulder but what he wasn’t expecting was to see someone as cute and stunning as you standing there. He’s a little tongue tied but that was mainly from surprise, and for all of Jason’s hard attempts of trying to act natural, it only made for a spectacle that you couldn’t help but view as endearing and kinda cute.

‘You alright there?’ You’d ask with a smile.

‘Yeah. I’m good, fine even.’ Jason replied, internally cursing himself for being caught off guard because he was too involved in debating which book to take home to read.

‘So…You like Jane Austen?’ You asked, trying to make room for a conversation to occur between the two of you.

‘Wha-‘ Jason looks down at the books in either of his hands and chuckles. ‘Yeah, she’s one of my favourite alongside the likes of Mary Shelley and Louisa May Alcott.’ He answers and he could tell that he had gotten your approval with the little hum of acknowledgment.

‘Do you come here often?’ You then said before adding with an awkward laugh of your own, ‘I mean I come here quite frequently as it’s the only bookstore in town that has proper books that aren’t smut books, and i have never seen you before until well…today.’ Jason smiles, finding himself growing to like you with every passing moment as he felt himself grow relaxed within your presence, especially now that he had long deducted that you weren’t a real threat.

‘I’m with you on that pretence, it’s seems that nowadays all the bookshelves in most stores are prominently smut books of lacklustre quality and story structure.’ Jason agreed, noting being a fan of those types of books himself, Jason had found it becoming increasingly difficult to find decent books that weren’t smut, badly written girl boss self inserts, or just poorly written in general. So when he stumbled across this little book store on his way home and took a chance by entering the store, only to find himself spending way longer than he had initially thought.

And that was just in the romance section alone. That’s how Jason knew this bookstore was unlike all the rest in Gotham.

‘But as to answer your question, I come here on the off chance when I’m looking for a new book to read, seeing as I have read and re-read the books in my personal possession multiple times over.’ Jason admitted and feeling a little bashful but reading had proven to be a form of escapism for him- especially after everything he has been through recently- he felt as though this escape from reality was severely overdue.

‘You’ve got your own collection of books? Am I allowed to assume that they’re mainly Jane Austen’s body of work or?’ You trailed off, feeling yourself growing more confident with talking to Jason as though it was as easy as breathing. Finally you had someone to indulge in this sort of conversation with without it feeling forced and fall to the wayside, leaving you both to soak in the awkward and stifling aftermath.

Jason smiled genuinely as he bowed his head and raised his hands. ‘You got me down to a science…’ he trailed off once realising that he didn’t know your name and cursed himself for his lack of even the basic of etiquette.

‘Y/n.’ You told him with a smile.

‘Y/n.’ He tested out your name, letting it linger for a little bit and quickly came to the conclusion that he liked it. He liked it a lot. And you liked it also, especially when he was the one saying it the way he did just now.

‘Well it’s nice to meet you y/n. My names Jason.’ Jason then said and he knew that he’d come to like the way you said his name as though it were a mythical word;

‘Jason.’ You uttered, saying every word with care and respect that it left a weird feeling within Jason’s chest that only seems to grow and spread throughout his body the more you talked.

You two would talk for literal hours about your favourite book genres, characters and so on to the point that the owner of the bookstore would have to remove you both from the premises himself. He’d then proceed to go on about how you both were just taking the piss at this point and muttering about having to stay an while longer to properly close up shop, count the cash float, and so on before then making the journey home.

He honestly didn’t care about the books in Jason’s hand, just lets him have them for free on the pretence that both he and you get the fuck out before shutting and locking the door behind you both.

‘Well…’ Jason trailed off, tucking the books under his arm. ‘Will I see you again? Preferably here?’ He asks and you smiled sheepishly.

‘Depends, will you?’ You countered and Jason could feel the smile on his lips grow at it’s own accord. ‘Yeah, I’m definitely coming back if I get free books for every time I stay until closing hours.’ He jokes and you lightly smack his bicep, keeping your hand there for an unreasonably long time but it’s not like either you or Jason cared in that moment.

‘Then I guess I’m obligated to come back here to help you piss off the bookstore owner.’ You replied with a smile of your own as you both kept looking into the other’s eyes. You both knew something had blossomed here today at this run down bookstore, and you both hoped that it could continue like that for a long while, but neither of you were willing to admit your embarrassingly rapidly growing attraction to one another. That could wait for another time.

‘Great.’ Jason said.

‘Great.’ You echoed. ‘See you soon I guess.’

‘Soon can’t come fast enough.’ Jason replied ask you both went your separate ways with eager anticipation of your next interaction.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfiction

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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

Text

Fucked Up - Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Words: 5.3k+ Type: Smut Summary: Hangman makes a mistake in training that could've cost your safety, and you've had enough of his way of being. Warnings: Fem!Reader [no mentions of race or bodytype]. Mentions of a possible accident in the jet, being a naval aviator, and lack of teamwork. SMUT [sex in communal shower, piv, no protection (she's on the pill), risk of getting caught, hair pulling].

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

By clicking to read more you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and mature enough to read mature scenes :)

Jake knows he fucked up. Truly, fucked up bad. He has been called out by people like Phoenix or Maverick about how he’s not exactly a team pilot. He has always begged to differ. He has always been there in the case of emergencies and helped people out when they needed. Yet, his thick skull could never really understand how bad he is in tests or training.

You and him never really became friends in the years that you’ve known each other. You are closer to Phoenix and Fanboy than anyone else, but Jake likes what he has with you. It’s a healthy mixture of playful banter and insults whenever you two fly together.

You tease one other on everything. It has been like this for years and never changes. Jake likes to have someone to annoy. It’s just a little extra something for his ego to have someone that actually fights back.

Yet, even in the middle of all the fights and bantering, he always loved the way you would crack and eventually shine a smile at him. You would always turn your head so he wouldn’t see and think he won something in your discussions. And, even when it’s not as common as he would like it to be, he thrives on every bit of those days.

There are also other days that he swears that you are flirting with him. It may be after a few beers, but he indulges every word.

But, today was different. Whenever Jake screws up with you in the air, he gets an earful in the coms. He's your wingman, he’s supposed to make your flying feel safer by either his coms or his firepower.

Yet, not only is it difficult to keep up with his speed - something Maverick made sure to switch you up with Phoenix since you seemed to have an easier time with it -, he is almost dead silent the whole time.

If doing canyons and pulling 4G’s on each wasn’t bad enough, having to follow a reckless speedy pilot who doesn’t even get to use his coms whenever he needs to is simply a bonus you get to have. Jake is able to communicate, sometimes, but not always. And that is exactly how he messed up today.

He was going too fast because, even though you were constantly telling him in his ear to slow down, you were able to keep up with him, and he likes that. He thrives on that too with absolutely no shame. Yet, speed and tight spaces don’t go too well. The two of you were too close for the speed you were going in and, as soon as Jake noticed how close he was to the side of the mountain, he didn’t have time to say anything and simply decided to pull himself off.

You had good reflexes. You were able to not hit the mountain, but when you pulled off from Jake’s back, he also moved, meaning that you had to pull much farther back. If adrenaline wasn’t already high in your body, it was so much worse now. You almost hit Jake.

The circuit that you had to do is tight. It leaves no space for errors, and you two just so happened to do one.

Right as you were pulling away from Jake, you pulled upwards and directly in range of the missiles. A voice in the coms informed you right after, and your hold on the stick tightened with anger.

Your backseater was the one to explain in the coms what happened to Maverick, and Jake continued on with the course nonetheless.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so angry. You expected that as Jake continued on and you were left in silence on your way back, your anger would cool you down, but it didn’t.

You were annoyed. It was a mistake, sure, but one that could’ve been avoided with communication. If the two of you had reacted at the same time, this would’ve gone well. You probably would’ve finished it. But, no... Now, you have to try it all over again tomorrow.

Minutes later, you are still quiet in the coms, not really finding any strength in you to speak after what happened, but you still speak enough to do your job.

“You alright there, Chaos?” Hangman asks through coms.

You don’t answer, but your backseater does once noticing your silence.

“We’re good.” He said for you.

Jake lands before you, which you're happy with since it means he will be out of your way when you leave your own jet.

You let out a little breath as you wait your turn to land. With the golden sunlight hitting your face, you are silent, still trying to get yourself back to normal.

You’re called in for permission to land after a few minutes, and you easily do so.

It takes everyone some time to get out of the landing strip and then park the F-18, but you only feel relief when you're done.

The canopy hisses open as you calmly unstrap yourself, and the light breeze hits your face. You let your backseater leave first, and, only once he's a few steps back, you make your way off your seat and down the ladder.

Helmet off your head and get ready to leave, you're facing the building where the locker rooms are. You really only need a shower and go to bed. You truly do not want to have to deal with anything else.

No one really says anything to you, knowing it’s better to just leave you to cool off. Yet, not even ten steps after, you already hear a familiar voice in the wind.

“Hey, Chaos!”

You didn’t look over your shoulder, you simply ignore everything. And seeing you walk away without a word to everybody was worse for Jake than your silence in the coms. He was waiting for your lecturing and your disappointed sighs, but neither ever came to his ears.

He watches you walk away, unstrapping some of the things across your chest with a helmet in one hand as you do it. Jake waited with some hope in his heart for you to turn to him and just scream at the top of your lungs. But you never began to think to do such a thing.

Jake walks off from the conversation he was just having, not even remembering to excuse his abandonment in the first place, and starts over to you. You don’t turn to see whose steps are getting close, you only push the door of the building open and walk inside, not caring to hold it for Jake, behind you.

When he is able to get in as well, he takes a look at you. He doesn’t say anything and you don’t ever look at him, not even when you have to turn around the corner. Your eyes don’t ever lift to his, and your mouth doesn’t ever open.

Deep down he knows you wouldn’t listen to a single word if he spoke. Hangman never apologizes for any of his fuck ups. He simply finds excuses on why he fucks up. Never even comes close to muttering the word "sorry". And, because of it, you do not care.

As you get to the locker room, you expect him to stop following you, but you are very wrong. Jake walks side by side with you and stands there watching as you open your locker and begin to unzip your flight suit.

You unzip it at your thighs, undoing the laces right after, and Jake just stands there, watching you ignore him.

No one really gets in the locker rooms at this time, and you know you two were the last ones in the air today. You're completely alone with him for a good following minutes.

Right as he opens his mouth to speak, words are said by you first.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

Jake shuts his mouth and looks at you as if in shock. He feels a little bit of every emotion bubble in his chest, but the fact that he got you to talk just now, it’s still annoyingly a win in his book.

“Come on. Don’t be like that.” He says to you, and you hear the smile on his words. God, as if you could get any angrier. “Can you at least look at me?” He asks.

You slip your arms out of your flight suit, appearing in your white tank top, and continue ignoring him. The suit stays secure on your hips, and Jake begins to think of something else he could do.

He needs to ignore all that is going on in front of him. Ignore the way your skin is shining under the light because of sweat, how tight the tank top is to your chest, and especially how he can very much peek into your shirt on accident from where he stands.

“About what happened-” He tries again.

You stop moving to speak.

“But I do not want to talk.” You speak slowly, “Nor do I want to see your stupid fucking face, right now. So… leave.”

As soon as you had let anger get the best of you as you spoke, even when it was just a slip-up, you regret everything. Insulting someone like Jake was like adding fuel to a fire. It doesn’t make him angry, it excites him.

“My stupid fucking face, uh?” He repeats, and you don’t answer him.

Jake begins to move. In fact, he doesn’t walk away from where he stands, but his arms and hands do the work. Jake Seresin is beginning to undress too.

Your eyes quickly go over to him, but he’s not looking at you, his eyes are focused on every strap he’s undoing and every lace he’s untying. As soon as his hands come back to his chest, you force yourself to speak.

“What are you doing?” You ask him.

Your eyes meet and neither of you tries to look away. You just stare at one another. The looks of both of your eyes clash. Your hardened eyes are filled with anger, and his with nothing but mischief.

“Getting ready to shower.” He answers easily.

“This isn’t your locker room.” You remind him.

“I need to get you to talk to me, don’t I?” He says, pulling at the last strap on his chest as he finishes the sentence. “Nothing like making you have to see my stupid face for a little longer to make you talk.”

You watch him for just a few seconds, and Jake finally unzips and slips his upper body out of the suit. He has a tank top under it as well, but his tan skin shines with the light, and his ridiculously muscular arms and shoulders reach your field of view.

“I’m not talking” You assure him.

“And why not?” He doesn’t stop with the undressing, but he keeps his gaze on you constantly.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed already. I’m fucking mad at you.” You tell him, “Now, leave.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Leave.”

“Just talk to me.” He tells you, a grin appearing as he says that to you, his hands pausing the undressing.

You force yourself to look away and restart your undressing. The message is easily received by Jake as well. It’s entirely weird how neither of you even hesitates on continuing with stripping.

You’re one step ahead with the process as you now stand in the locker room with just your tank top and underwear. Jake swallows dry at the sight of your legs, but he keeps on going strong.

“You-” You begin to speak once more, ready to remind him that he cannot take a shower here and the many reasons why, but something stops you.

Jake’s shirt flies over to the bench beside you, and you swear that you have to hold your head in your hands to not blatantly stare at his naked chest. You slow down your breathing, trying to seem absolutely calm and collected, and, to your every bit of distaste, Jake notices it.

“I what?”

“You can’t shower here.” You tell him while staring forward into your locker. At this point, you’re spitting your words with anger. “Your stuff isn’t here.”

He stays quiet for a little bit and, out of habit, you look at him to find a reason for his silence. He offers you a shrug with a tight lipped grin, dismissing whatever you just said as if that wasn’t a great argument against his decision. As id someone will take a shower without something other than water.

“I’m sure we can share.” He tells you all so seriously.

You look at him for a little longer, forcing your eyes to stay on his face, and finally turn your entire body to face him. You two stand just a few inches away from each other, but neither of you hesitates or thinks of taking a step back.

You carefully look at the door of the room, scared that anyone could very much walk in on both of you, even when, deep down, you know how improbable it is. And then look at him, forcing yourself to remember what he did and how risky today was only because of him, and soon, annoyance covers your face again.

“Leave, Hangman.” You tell him in a low and stern tone.

He lowers his head so that the two of you stand eye-to-eye and he whispers, trying to match the low tone of your voice.

“No.” And his perfect white smile shines on his face.

You grab your towel from the bench, and as you go to grab the rest of your things, you pretend to forget about the man that is standing beside you. The same one that is just now standing in his boxers. You swear that you don’t even order your eyes and head to turn, but they try.

With all of the things you need in your hands, you hold them close to your chest, and you notice him step a little closer, leaning his shoulder onto the metal door of your locker.

You finally are ready move to the showers and slam your locker closed, turning your back to him. Jake is right on your tail yet only after a few seconds of distance due to his sight-seeing. You put down your towel by the last bench, the one closest to the exit, and enter the white room of the communal showers.

You can’t believe he’s still following you.

You put some things down on the ground by the shower head you’re going to use, and look over at Jake. The two of you standing in minimal clothing, looking at each other as if to see who will be the first one to pull out. It's a bad plan since the start because the two of you are the most stubborn people on the entire base.

You bring your hands over to your tank top and pull it up, throwing it over to the bench - right on top of your towel. Next up is your bra, and even Jake turns his head just in time to give you privacy.

It’s unbelievable how the two of you actually finish getting undressed and, without any hesitation, turn on the water.

If the two of you weren’t already tense, the cold water didn’t really help your case.

As the water turns automatically off (navy showers), you grab your soap and casually just lather yourself with it, acting as if everything is totally normal.

Your stomach turns and twists, yet also bubbles with some sort of anxiety as you stand near Jake. Jake eventually needs the soap too, and it doesn’t help that he takes it from your hands right as you’re done with it. The feeling of his larger hand against yours made some sort of heat run through you. His hand is larger, more calloused, strong, and with surely longer digits. Okay. You need to calm down.

“Let me know if you need help washing your back.” His voice echoes in the open room.

You pathetically aren't able to hold back a grin with his words.

“I’m sure you’d love that.” You tell him, trying to sound bitter.

He doesn’t answer, and you find yourself looking at him. Your grin is already gone. Jake is looking at you in the eyes, but your staring ends as you move to turn back on the water.

It’s difficult to have to keep looking at him in the eyes when his body is right there. When his hands are moving over his muscular arms, his hairy chest, or his abs.

The cold water shuts off your mind right away, calming down the heat of your own body. Jake doesn’t look away as quickly, but he finally has to force himself to do such a thing. He needs to stop thinking about how the water is washing and running down your skin, the way the soap must have looked all throughout your body, or the way your hands could feel on him.

Jake turns the cold water as well and looks at the ground as it hits his warming skin. You look at him for just a second as you finish up with the rinsing off the soap. You watch him as he closes his eyes under the water, and you shake your head while looking away again. Your staring will get you in trouble.

Your water is cut off shortly after, and you look over at Jake. He’s already looking at you. You don’t look as mad anymore, but he knows that as soon as he mentions the training again, which he will have to eventually, all of it will go down the drain.

“Can I have my soap back?” You ask him, seriously.

Jake smiles at you and right as he’s about to hand you the soap, his water cuts out, leaving you two to stand in silence. You bring your hand closer to his, and you carefully grab the soap from his palm. Your fingers touch, even with so much effort.

All of the warmth the two of you were able to wash away with the cold water has now come back, stronger than ever, right as the two of you stand completely naked before each other and try keep your eyes on each other’s faces.

“Still mad at me?” He asks over the overbearing silence.

You expected his words to reawaken your anger, but they don't. You still have some deep-rooted anger bubbling down when you remember the exact moment of your error as a team, but not as strongly as before. You look at him for just a little longer and shrug.

“Wouldn’t you?” You ask him fairly, “If I were the one that screwed up?”

“Maybe.” He nods, voice still low, “But not for too long.”

You almost laugh at his words. Jake Seresin is one of the biggest perfectionists of all time. Any pilot is, yet he takes the cake. He hates every time someone screws up his perfect timing, his perfect mission, his literally anything. You know he's lying, through and through.

“Is that so?” You ask him, tilting your head attentively.

His eyes quickly look over at your collarbones as he stares at you. Your words are enough to pull at his full smile, and, soon, his eyes are back on your face.

“Always.”

You hum at him, obviously doubting everything, and he is only more amused by it. You two stare at one another for a little bit in the same silence as before.

“Am I your favorite, Seresin?” You ask him. “Must be. With how quick I’m able to be forgiven.”

He chuckles at you, and you smile.

“Depends... Who’s your favorite wingman?”

The real answer floats in your mind, but you definitely have other plans.

“Rooster.” You nod as you speak, but your smile is your biggest enemy. It makes it obvious to the blonde that you never lied so hard in your life. “He’s the safest.”

Jake takes a step closer with your words and his perfect smile still shines on his face. You look up at him, noticing how the two of you have totally grown more than natural about your lack of clothing, and force your own entertainment to not seem so apparent.

“Is that so?” He asks, and you nod, “Safest.” He repeats as if he’s testing the word out loud.

He leans his head down closer to yours, worsening the heat spreading over your body, and you stare back at him.

“He never put me in danger.” You recall back at him, “Whereas for my second favorite…”

“Second favorite?” He smiles at that too.

“Coyote.” You smile back, “He's less safe, but still up there as one of my faves... And then, there's you. The worst of them all.”

He chuckles in your face at your choices and then nods.

“That’s fair.” He comments, “I actually had Phoenix as my favorite this whole time.”

You smack the side of his head for that and it makes the two of you laugh. Your eyes fall on the skin of his chest, and you take in the view. When you look back up, Jake catches you red-handed. Two complete seconds of silence and both of you with only one idea in mind.

Your lips touch and your heart practically jumps out of your chest. Jake was the one to close the space between you two. Your hands slide over to his neck, and you don't hesitate to kiss him back. Jake’s hands lay across the skin of your sides, and he pulls you closer.

Your naked bodies brush against each other, and Jake is the one to move you two around, while still in the kiss, and lean you against the wall.

Jake’s tongue touches your bottom lip and, as soon as you open your mouth and your tongues touch, the whole demeanor of the kiss and your touch changes. Your grip on the back of his neck, pulling him down harsher and closer to you; and Jake’s rough hands running through your body, touching every bit of skin he can reach.

Your fingers run through his wet hair, pulling at the strands when the kiss roughens exactly how you want it to. You sigh when Jake pulls away from the kiss and his lips begin to move down your neck. He bites onto the skin that he notices you to be more sensitive.

One of your hands comes down from his shoulders to his chest, running through his perfectly sculpted body, feeling every hilt of muscle as your other hand still grips onto the strands of his soft hair. Jake comes back up to kiss your lips, and you let out a soft moan. One that makes Jake’s whole body react as the vibrates against his lips.

He pulls away from the kiss and, for a split second, the two of you look into each other’s eyes.

Jake grabs your hips and turns you around.

“You’re on the pill, right?” He asks, and you sigh your answer.

“Yes.”

You lay one of your hands on the tiled wall and take a discreet deep breath, trying to hold yourself together.

Jake never really leaves your body untouched. His lips come back to kiss your shoulder, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he moves up to your neck and jaw. You lay your hand on the back of his head as he’s close enough, and his hands continue to grip your hips.

You arch your back, leaning closer to him as Jake continues to kiss your neck. His hands on your hips slide across your skin and feel one of them move in between your legs. His palm lays over your pussy, never trying to not do anything further, and you lean your forehead on your outstretched arm.

His fingers slide in between your folds, and you cling to his hair all over again. His middle and ring finger slide down to meet your entrance and he groans on your neck at the feeling of your juices covering his fingertips.

His other arm wraps around your torso and pulls you flush against him, letting you feel his cock, already hard, behind your back.

Jake’s fingers slide slowly inside of you, and you gasp. They're a severe difference from your soft hands, but that only worsens your ability to stay quiet and still. His fingers are much bigger and rougher than yours.

He begins to move them inside of you, letting all of your juices wet his skin, and then you feel his thumb over your clit.

You lean your head back, biting down at your bottom lip to stay quiet, and your head lays against Jake’s shoulder, exposing your neck further to his mouth. His fingers move inside you, curving and sliding into you. All in ways that make you have to fight the urge to close your legs, and that is soon abandoned, as Jake notices.

“You want to cum on my fingers first, sweetheart, or-” He asks against the skin of your neck.

“Just fuck me, Jake.”

He smiles at your words and before pulling his head back, he makes sure to nip at your abused skin one last time. His fingers are pulled out of you, and you groan ever so slightly at the fast action.

Jake maneuvers you with such ease that you almost don’t notice the way he pulls you away from him ever so lightly, lifts your hips, and just aligns the tip of his cock with your cunt. The arm he had around your torso stays tight, and slowly, you feel him slide inside of you.

Jake’s hand flies and covers your mouth faster than you expect him to and you cannot keep yourself quiet for much longer.

Any noise in the showers echoes. Anything. Any noise seems louder than it really is in the room. And when you have to control the sounds that leave your mouth as Jake slides his cock inside of you, it's harder to keep quiet. Much harder. He’s bigger than you thought, a lot bigger, and you swear that you feel like being slowly ripped in half.

The hand you have on his head comes to hold onto his wrist, feeling his soft skin against your palm. Jake gives you time, leaning his cheek on the side of your head, trying to control his breathing too as he feels your smooth wet walls squeeze him with anything he does.

After some time, Jake begins to move his hips and you hold onto him tighter. His thrusts into you make you close your eyes and lean your head back further, feeling and loving the way he stretches you and already fucks you so well.

His movements gain speed and remaining quiet gets harder for Jake too. He holds back any grunts or groans, he closes his eyes tightly and holds you closer to him to fight the urge of letting anything past his lips. Soon, the sound of his thrusts is also audible in the room and no matter how much you two try to hide it, they’re there. Everything is so silent, you can hear the sound of your skin slapping loudly and both of your heavy breathing.

A little moan escapes both your lips and Jake’s hand as you feel his dick directly hit your g-spot. It sounds like a little scream, even though muffled, it still echoes and makes Jake almost feel himself go entirely crazy. He leans his head back against yours, and repeats what he just did, secretly wanting you to slip up again. And he accomplishes exactly that.

Your hold on his arm gets tighter and soon your hips move against his as he drills into you. You continue to let out soft little noises, all of them echoing through the room and possibly ruining your plan to stay secret to everyone that could be outside of the locker room. The walls of your pussy have grown impossibly wetter and tighter around Jake, and he knows that you’re already close.

It’s all a mixture of the pleasure from the sex with the risk of getting caught. It all makes another type of adrenaline course through your blood. Your every action can be risky as you can be very much caught by anyone that could either need something from the room or simply clean it. Any of your superiors can walk in on you two too.

You sob out a moan against Jake’s palm, and he forces you closer to him. He uncovers your mouth for just a second and uses his hand on your chin to turn you to him. Your lips and tongues touch into a messy and sloppy kiss. The two of you almost can’t even concentrate enough to do it. You force yourselves to stay quiet, and you feel like you’re going to explode already.

Jake covers your mouth again and feels you grind your hips against his every time you connect. Your walls squeeze him tighter and tighter, and your small moans become louder underneath his hand. Jake never falters on his thrusts, sliding his dick back and forth inside of you just like before, and, with just one harsher thrust, you come undone around him.

Jake covers your mouth, trying to make you stay as quiet as humanly possible, but your moans do spill. A hand can only muffle so much, and Jake is secretly praying to hear every single one of them, fighting his urges to just uncover your mouth entirely.

Your walls squeeze him so tight, and you move against his body in tiny spasms in a way that it doesn’t take Jake much longer to cum as well. He brings the arm he has around your torso over to your hips to hold you in place. You let moans spill out due to the overstimulation, and Jake’s thrusts get faster yet sloppier with each one going into you.

His head comes to the crook of your neck once more, and your hand comes back to cling to his hair. The small pain of the pulling at the strands drives Jake to his last needed stimulation, and he finally feels his muscles contract much tighter than before. You grind your hips against him, and Jake finally reaches his climax as well.

Your movements never pause, no matter how tightly he holds onto your hips, and the ropes of his cum fill your insides. He groans onto your neck and you turn your head to pull him into a kiss. The kiss is softer than before and you’re the one that dominates it, this time. Jakes kisses you back and even chases your lips whenever you try to pull back.

Jake loosens his hold on you and you two finally pull away from your kiss. He disconnects your hips, and you gasp out loud at the feeling. Jake eyes you down as he does it, watching his cum slowly slide out of you, and the image alone makes him close his eyes to stay sane.

You turn back around slowly as Jake still holds onto you, and your chests are held flush together. The two of you are breathing heavily while looking at one another, and he’s the one to break the silence.

“I better be your favorite wingman, now.” He whispers, his tone never so serious.

As if he wasn't already.

Hope you enjoyed this!

#jake seresin #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x yn #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x fem!reader #glen powell #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #hangman smut #hangman x you

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bingoboingobongo · 1 year

Text

the right thing to do (i)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call of Duty) x Reader

Type: Fluff

Summary: You’ve become a distraction to Ghost, and so he’s started keeping his distance for the sake of the team. But when a mission goes awry, he finds himself stuck with you.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of/allusions to sex, brief mention of dacryphilia, brief mention of blowjobs, canon-typical violence, mentions of injury, forced proximity, pining

A/N: hiii, ngl i’m actually really proud of this fic, like deadass this shit had me giggling and kicking my feet in the middle of starbucks. anyways i was thinking of including smut in this but changed my mind bc that shit’s hard to write so it’s pretty pg-13. i plan on making this a bit of a series (with smut hopefully) so while this chapter is gender neutral now (i think, don’t quote me tho) in the future the reader will be written as a girl. as always, likes/reblogs and constructive criticism are always appreciated, enjoy :)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2

It wasn’t right for Ghost to be paying you as much attention as he was. It felt right, and he wanted it to be right, but that didn’t mean it was. What was right was what kept the most people safe. What was right was what kept the most people alive. Usually that was what Ghost did. Ghost did what kept most people safe. He did what kept the most people alive. The problem, however, was that doing the right thing and indulging in his feelings for you were two diametrically opposing things. Indulging in his feelings — indulging in you — was wrong.

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with you; there could never be anything wrong with you in his eyes. How could there be, when he was seeing you through rose colored glasses? Although in his case, he supposed, they were more dark red than rose. Trivialities aside though, the real problem wasn’t anything that you were doing, it was what he wasn’t doing.

He wasn’t peering around every corner anymore. He wasn’t focusing on covering his tracks as well as he should. He wasn’t triple checking every piece of intel the task force got their hands on. He tried to, he really did, but with a thousand thoughts running at a hundred miles per hour — and a large majority of them having to do with you — it was only expected that a few things slip through the cracks.

For the most part, nothing too bad had happened as a result of his carelessness. A few scrapes and maybe one-too-many close calls, but nothing that would have gotten anyone in trouble. Maybe, if he weren’t a lieutenant or if he were in a completely different field, he would’ve been content to let it slide. But as corny as it sounded, he was part of a team, and he wasn’t going to let more people get hurt on his watch. Not again.

So for the safety of the team, Ghost started avoiding you. It always hurt him to push past you in the hallways, ignoring your little attempts at small talk; or to use Gaz as an example for takedown demonstrations, when in reality all he wanted was to be able to savor the warmth of your skin, even if it was with you pinned under him. Although, if he were being honest, he wasn’t opposed to pinning you down in other contexts. But as much as he hurt, he knew he had to do it. It wasn’t fair to you or the rest of the team if he wasn’t at his full capacity at all times.

He had made that decision two weeks ago, and it was already starting to get to him. Sleep was harder to get by, he was snapping at his teammates more, and when he rubbed the eyeblack off, it was only replaced by the sunken shadows under his eyes. He missed you too. Missed the way you would always offer him a bite of your food during dinner even though he would never eat it; missed the way you would always shoulder him to get his attention while you were walking to the training room, your hands in your pockets as you began telling him about something you had read the night before; missed the way you would grip onto his arm and try to goad him into taking off the mask or telling you what he looked like. Always the utilitarian though, he shouldered the problems in stride. They were nothing, he told himself, he had been through worse and he would go through worse. That was just how it was in the military. Besides, Laswell had just told them about a new mission, and a new mission meant new problems and new distractions.

It had gone fine in the beginning, but after a certain point everything started going to shit. On paper, their mission was simple; extract Krasimir Zhelyazkov, an arms and ammunition dealer with the Bulgarian mob who had allegedly dealt with one of Makarov’s right hand men, Demyan Solovev. Zhelyazkov would take them to Solovev, and Solovev would take them to Makarov. Simple. Of course, nothing was ever that simple when it came to war.

For one, Bulgaria in the middle of winter was cold, and with cold came snow and ice and wind. And of course, with snow and ice and wind came slippage and extra gear and low visibility. Ghost had been worried about the weather going into it; while all the members of the 141 had training in multiple environments, it was never easy going into a fight with snowfall as thick as blanks in a lottery.

The other problem was Zhelyazkov. While Ghost and Laswell both confirmed the validity of the intel they had received, there was no guarantee that Zhelyazkov would turn. Makarov was an intimidating man, and the stories of what he did to snitches were not pleasant. Either way, Zhelyazkov was unlikely to make it out alive, Ghost just had to make sure he got the information out of him before he died.

And of course, the other problem — which Ghost admitted was not unique to this mission but was still a problem just the same — was you. Even though he had tried to put distance between the two of you, he couldn’t help himself from stealing a glance in your direction every once in a while, just to admire the way your breath condensed in the frigid air or how you scrunched up your nose as if to make sure it was still there.

Ghost knew about these problems before they happened, and so he prepared for them. Worried about slipping on the snow covered ground? Request boots with better traction. Worried about Zhelyazkov not snitching? Get his family involved; it was unethical, yes, but if it was what it took to get the information then so be it. And you. Ghost knew he couldn’t afford spending anymore time eyeing you in the field, so he only increased the distance between the two of you.

Typically, if a target heard that someone was coming for them, they tucked their tail into their legs and ran — usually to a foreign country or some sort of island. But with Zhelyazkov, there was nothing to tip the 141 that anything was amiss; no sudden airplane rides, no sudden stoppage of shipments, nothing. Zhelyazkov kept living and doing business as he always had, seemingly unaware of the intel the 141 had on him.

Which is why when they approached Zhelyazkov’s compound, they expected it to be an easy takedown. In order to save personnel and to preserve stealth, the task force only sent one team out. For this particular mission, the team included Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, and of course, you. Ghost was conflicted about your inclusion on the team; on one hand, you were a valuable asset to the mission, but on the other hand, seeing the way you rubbed your hands together for heat in the cabin of the helicopter filled him with an aching urge to reach out for you and was an obvious distraction that impacted his ability to protect his team. In the end though, he couldn’t hold his inability to focus over you and besides, you had experience from your time before the 141 working in similar conditions, not to mention the general tactical expertise you brought to the table.

The mission had started like any other routine extraction would. A chopper flew the five of you to a forest on the edge of the compound, the thick snowfall helping to cover you. Once on the ground, Price did a quick headcount to make sure everyone had landed alright, before readjusting his rifle and leading the group forward. The five of you traveled in a line, with Price at the head and Ghost at the rear. You were positioned behind Price, but even with Soap and Gaz in front of him, Ghost was still acutely aware of every step you took.

At the moment, it seemed as if there was nothing to worry about. The snowfall was heavy of course, but not too heavy that it hampered the team and besides, it covered their tracks and kept them hidden. At least it should have.

The sudden shower of gunfire actually wasn’t the first thing that tipped Ghost off that something was wrong. It had been their radios. Laswell had told them she would be checking in on them after they landed, but five minutes had already passed with no sign of communication. At this point, they had left the forest and Ghost tried calling in, but to no avail. His radio provided nothing but crackly static, buzzing and impatient. He knew something was wrong and he tried to call for Price, but that was when hell started raining down on them.

The thing about gunfire is that you could actually see the shot happen before you heard it. It had always been an odd phenomenon to Ghost, the slight delay between sight and audio. For a brief moment, Ghost watched the snowy skies in front of him become aglow with a barrage of flashing lights. In a weird sense, it was dreamlike. Mesmerizing. And then the sound hit him. Even with earmuffs on, the gunfire was deafeningly loud. It was like watching a fireworks display, except the pops were louder, harsher, and there would be no delighted children looking up at the air in awe.

He tried screaming at the others to take cover, but the combination of winter winds and cracking bullets was hard to cut through. Somewhere to his right, he heard Price yelling, but his words were constantly interrupted by the enemy’s fire. Ghost tried looking for the others, but suddenly the snow was too thick, the bullets too loud, his teammates too far away. He did the only thing he could: run to the treeline for cover.

Between the sheer magnitude of bullets being aimed at them, the time Ghost spent looking for his team, and the time it took him to get to the treeline, Ghost had taken more than a few hits. Nothing detrimental, thankfully, but he could feel the familiar sting of a bullet that brushed him a little too close than he would have liked. He keeled over against a tree, listening as bullets flew past his face or struck the thick wood behind him. He tried using his radio again but it was no use; he couldn’t get a signal.

He tried to turn around, but the gunfire was too constant. He couldn’t get a clear look. He swallowed down an unceremonious groan as he considered the situation. Returning fire was an option, of course, but not a smart one. Considering his lack of a decent vantage point and the fact that he couldn’t even clearly see where the shots were coming from, even the best sniper on the force — which was him — wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot. Besides, he only had so much ammo on him, and if the attack was coming from Zhelyazkov, which he assumed it was, then he was seriously outmatched in terms of equipment. The man was an ammunition dealer, for Christ’s sake, if he couldn’t shoot Ghost, he could certainly keep him waiting long enough for hypothermia to set in.

“Shit, Ghost!” he heard from his right. He turned to look, and there you were, sitting with your back against a tree and your rifle in your hands. He was overwhelmed with relief at the sight of you, before cursing himself under his breath. He was in the middle of being fired at, why was he letting you distract him? “Where’s everyone else?” you cried, your voice barely carrying over the roar of bullets.

“Safe, hopefully,” he yelled, “I didn’t see where they went.” He watched you shake your head, you were probably cursing to yourself right now.

“Did you see who was with Zhelyazkov?”

“There was someone with Zhelyazkov?”

“Not just someone,” you yelled, looking at him grimly, “Fishers.”

Ghost turned away from you, leaning his head against the tree. “Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself, before turning to look at you again. “You sure?”

You didn’t say anything in response, only giving him a grave nod.

“God damn it,” he muttered. “Well, we don’t have time to worry about that, understand? Right now we just have to get somewhere safe.”

You nodded again, turning back to look at the source of the fire. “Most of the fire is coming from an MG3,” you called out, “they’ll have to change the barrel soon, we can move then.”

Ghost nodded at you, briefly looking back as well. It wasn’t long before the gunfire began to die down and the two of you moved from your positions in the trees, running further into the forest. But whoever was operating the gun was well-trained, and it didn’t take long for them to replace the barrel of the gun and restart the fire. Ghost ducked behind another tree, his eyes watching you do the same as he took a breath.

That was the only way the two of you could move for a long time. Waiting for what felt like painstakingly long minutes for the barrel to have to be changed, just to be able to run maybe a few yards before the spray of bullets picked up again and you had to take cover. It was a painstakingly slow process, and throughout all of it, Ghost couldn’t help but worry that you wouldn’t get to cover in time, and he would have to watch as you died in front of him. He also couldn’t stop worrying about the rest of the team. It concerned him that you were here but Price, Gaz, and Soap weren’t. If they had died when the gunfire started he would have been able to see their blood in the snow, he supposed, as if that thought was supposed to comfort him. It didn’t do much, and he could only hope that the three of them had at least found each other.

Finally though, the deafening roar of gunfire began to quiet down, either due to distance or to lack of ammunition, and Ghost felt like he could breathe again. “Are you alright?” he called out to you, quickly scanning over your body.

You nodded, your chest heaving as you gulped in the freezing air. “You?” He nodded. You sighed, rubbing your hand over your face. “What the hell happened back there?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, stomping to you through the thick snow. “You get hit anywhere?” he asked, his hand reaching tentatively for a scrape on your face.

You reached for your own face, freezing his hand in its tracks. He might have been a weathered war veteran, but even he got nervous in front of people he liked. He watched you wipe the blood off your face and stare at it, “It’s fine,” you told him, “it’s just a scrape. Motherfucker must have clipped me.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t scar.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m pretty enough to pull off a face scar. What do you think?” you asked, the minx-like grin on your face providing a sharp contrast to the sheer gravity of the situation the two of you were in. That was another thing you did that distracted him. Those snarky quips and sly suggestions that made Ghosts stomach flip and his cheeks heat up.

“Stop worrying about appearances,” he chastised, trying to regain his focus, “we don’t have time.”

“You were the one that brought it up!” you cried, throwing your hands up.

“Quiet,” he said, “just because they stopped firing doesn’t mean we’re safe. For all we know they could have men on the ground looking for us.”

You dropped your hands to your side, “So now what do we do?”

He pursed his lips, surveying their surroundings. “We make our way to the secondary location as planned. Look at the tree branches,” he said, gesturing above him, “trees will grow their branches towards the direction that gets the most sun: south. The secondary location was north of the drop site and we’ve been traveling in a relatively straight line. If we keep moving in this direction we should come across it in an hour or so.”

You chewed on your lip, “Do we even know if it’s safe? Fishers was with Zhelyazkov, for all we know we could be walking straight into an ambush.”

“You sure it was Fishers?”

“Yes, it couldn’t have been anyone else.”

“Are you one hundred percent sure?” Ghost asked again, “the snow was thick, I couldn’t even see anything besides Gaz and Johnny.”

“I’m sure,” you insisted, “Me and Price were at the front, we saw the wall of Zhelyazkov’s compound. One of his cronies was up there with Fishers. He was standing next to an MG3 and pointing at us, I know it. I would recognize that stupid cowlick anywhere.”

Ghost groaned. Fishers wasn’t someone Ghost had known very well, so at the very least he was spared the painful feeling of being betrayed by someone he cared about — not that his feelings mattered. The traitor, Colten Fishers, was an American soldier. A veteran to military service, no doubt, but still considered a rookie in special operations. The official report would probably say that Fishers turned in exchange for some quick cash, that he was a cowardly traitor who betrayed them, but that answer didn’t satisfy Ghost.

Honestly, Ghost wasn’t even sure how Fishers had gotten onto the task force in the first place. Compared to the rest of the people on the team, Fishers’ resume was weak, his experience was subpar and his track record was a little too spotty for his liking. The fact that Fishers’ was even in a place to betray them worried him, almost more than the actual betrayal, because if Fishers was able to get on the task force with his lackluster résumé then that meant he had bad friends in high places.

“God damn it,” he muttered, “you have a point, but there’s not much else we can do. The more time we spend out here the more likely we are to get shot.”

“Or get hypothermia,” you said.

“Or get hypothermia,” he added. He reached for his radio, clicking it on only to be met with static again. “Bravo team, this is Bravo 0-7, do you copy?” No response.

“They probably set up signal blockers,” you pointed out, “either that or the storm is so bad it’s messing with our signal.”

He groaned, “Does yours work?” he asked.

“No,” you said, gesturing lamely at the damaged radio next to your chest, “motherfuckers clipped it while I was looking for Price. Scared the shit out of me too, thought they had gotten me right in the chest for a second.”

He walked up to you, bending down as he inspected the broken radio. He could feel you suck in a breath, and for a moment he let himself wonder if he gave you butterflies the same way you did to him. “Yeah,” he said, looking up at you, his mask inches away from your face, “this thing’s been shot to hell, there’s no way it’s gonna get a signal, even without a storm.” He lingered for a split second, captivated by the way your eyes stared up at him, large and round like a marble, before pulling back.

“Let’s get a move on,” he said, adjusting his rifle. “We can’t afford to be stuck out here when night falls.”

Walking in the snow was hard, walking in the snow and feeling you glance over at him every other minute was even harder. He didn’t want to look at you, well that was a lie, he did want to look at you, but he knew he shouldn’t look at you. He needed to put on a brave face, that was his job as a lieutenant. He needed to be serious, to have a plan, to not get hung up on distractions, and he couldn’t do that when he was watching you.

Instead, he tried to think about everything that could go wrong from this point. It seemed pessimistic, he knew, but he needed to be prepared. You had a point about the second location. While Fishers hadn’t been told everything about the mission, he knew enough to severely compromise them. Besides, if he did have one of the higher-ups on his side, there was no telling how much he knew. The secondary location had once been a logger’s cabin; it was small, kitted with only the bare necessities. A bathroom, a small kitchenette, and an empty bedroom they had planned to keep Zhelyazkov in. In other words, it wasn’t an easy place to set up an ambush. But they could’ve rigged the outside, set up tripwires connected to shotguns or planted mines along the perimeter. The forest around it was dense, which once would’ve been helpful to keep them hidden but now only provided a wide array of hiding spots for Zhelyazkov’s men to hide in.

Additionally, there was no telling how many men Zhelyazkov would have waiting for them. Even by himself, Ghost could hold his own and with you, their chances only increased. But Zhelyazkov practically had an army, and it would only take one well-aimed shot before it was all over. Granted, some of his men would likely be looking for the others, and if they also went to the cabin, the five of them could probably hold their own.

But there was no guaranteeing the others were heading to the cabin, let alone breathing. For all Ghost knew, their team of five could’ve been cut down to two long ago. “What are you thinking about?” you asked, pulling Ghost out of his thoughts.

He turned to look at you for the first time since you had started walking. There were snowflakes on your eyelashes and your face was tinged red from the cold. He wanted to be able to cradle your jaw, to warm you up until your face was flushed from something other than the cold weather. He wanted to tell you that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, that you would always be safe when you were with him, that he would kill anyone who tried to touch you and would do anything for a chance to hold you. “Just thinking about what you said earlier,” he said instead, “about Zhelyazkov ambushing us.”

You hummed, “Me too. I don’t know how likely that is anymore though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean think about it,” you said, “we flew over the cabin on our way here and everything looked fine, no footprints or anything. And by the time we did that and the time they started shooting, maybe ten minutes had passed. That would mean Zhelyazkov had ten minutes to get his men there, and they wouldn’t have been able to take a direct route or else they would’ve ran into us. Besides, why waste his manpower by setting up an ambush we might not even show up for? I mean, the plan was probably to kill us all right from the beginning, so why plan for us showing up at the cabin if we’re not even supposed to be alive? I mean, who in their right mind would do that?”

“Let’s not assume Zhelyazkov is in his right mind. It’s thinking like that that gets people killed,” he said, harsher than he intended. “Not that you don’t have a point,” he added when he saw you look down in embarrassment. He didn’t mean to hurt you, but he had fallen into that mindset before and he knew how dangerous it was. “For Zhelyazkov to waste his manpower on an ambush would be tactically unwise, you’re right, but we don’t want to go in expecting an empty house and get caught off guard.”

“So then what? We go in expecting to get immediately gunned down by another machine gun? How is that any better? It’s not like there’s anything we can do to prepare for that.”

Ghost grimaced, once again, you had a point. “Still, it’s better to be prepared,” was all he could say. You looked at him as if you wanted to say more, but your mouth stayed shut and your eyes turned to focus ahead of you once again.

The two of you walked in silence, with nothing but the sound of crunching snow to indicate that anyone was even in the forest at all. After what felt like ages, Ghost paused, holding out a hand to stop you too. He felt you looking at him, but he didn’t respond. He was studying your surroundings, scrutinizing the snow on the ground before searching the skies.

“What is it?” you finally asked in a hushed whisper.

“Checking for traps,” he said, his gravelly voice so quiet he could barely hear himself. “The cabin should be just beyond that treeline,” he whispered, pointing. You followed his hand, but you couldn’t see anything behind the dense wall of tree trunks. “Let’s go,” he said, “get your gun out.” You complied, mirroring him as he unshouldered his rifle and held it against his chest. He turned to look at you, your lips pursed into a tight line and your hair sprinkled with snowflakes. He wished you weren’t at risk of walking into an ambush, that way he could capture the way you looked with a camera.

He began slowly stalking towards the cabin, cursing to himself at the snow crunching under his feet. He arrived at the edge of the treeline, coming onto an open clearing with the small wood cabin at the very center. His head swiveled around, constantly checking for the familiar glint of gunmetal hiding in the trees. He turned back to you, “Let’s split up,” he said quietly, his voice muffled by his mask. “I’ll go left, you go right. Meet in the back and then sweep the house.” He watched you nod, and his eyes followed you briefly as you began to move in the opposite direction before he returned his focus to the task at hand.

The perimeter of the clearing wasn’t necessarily large, but it still took him a painfully long time to reach the back. “You see anything?” he asked when you arrived. You shook your head, and he cocked his head towards the cabin. “Let’s go,” he said, turning back to check on you as the two of you made your way towards the front of the house.

There was a small porch on the front, with a pair of steps leading up to it. Ghost skipped them, choosing to step over them and go straight to the porch. You weren’t so smart, and when you put your weight on the first step, it squealed and groaned. Ghost whipped around at the sound, and you rolled your eyes back and cringed, “Shit,” you muttered quietly.

The two of you were frozen for a second, you with your foot still on the step and Ghost with his eyes trained on the door. When nothing happened, you lifted your foot and stepped over the stairs, copying Ghost like you should have before. When you were both on the porch, Ghost gestured for you to open the door. You reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly before swinging it open.

Ghost walked in, his rifle swiveling as he made his way to the bathroom. He could hear you following behind him, the snow on your boots crunching slightly as you went to the bedroom. He swung open the door of the bathroom, only to be met with his own reflection in the mirror above the sink. His helmet was covered in snow, only accentuating the darkness of his eyes. When he had confirmed that the room was empty, he exited, watching as you came out from the bathroom.

“It’s clear,” you said, before he could ask.

“That’s a relief,” he said, letting out a sigh, but he didn’t lower his rifle.

“You think the others will be coming here too?” you asked, looking around the tiny house.

He wanted to say yes, but honestly he had no clue. The forest was huge, and he had no idea where the others might have been. They could be looking for the cabin as well, but there was no guarantee they’d find it.

He took off his helmet and cracked his neck. “Night’s about to fall, get some rest. I’ll take the first watch,” he said instead, reaching into his pack and tossing you a bedroll.

You caught it easily, but made no move to set it down. “It’s fine,” you told him, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep, you deserve the rest.”

“That wasn’t a request,” he said sternly, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah it’s an order, isn’t it? Geez, you sound like Price.”

“Price is right. You need your sleep, a sniper could spot your eyebags from a mile away.”

“Rude,” you shot back, “and by that logic, wouldn’t a sniper be able to see you from, like, two miles away from all of your eyeblack?

“If they see me, they’re already dead.”

“Wow,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I’m so scared.”

“You should be.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, “I’m gonna take a shower then, you got any soap?”

He threw you a small plastic container, “Suave three-in-one? What are you, a high school boy?” you asked, shooting him an incredulous look.

This time it was his turn to roll his eyes, “Beggars can’t be choosers, darling, you want luxury toiletries bring them yourself.”

You were silent for a moment, and Ghost started to feel worry bubble up in his chest. He didn’t mean to say that nickname out loud, it just happened. He was exhausted and paranoid and hungry and he was stuck in a room he could cross in about ten steps and it just slipped out. And if this was how it ended, in this stupid, tiny, suffocating house that could have gone in so many other directions; if he ruined everything because he couldn’t control himself, he would have never forgiven himself.

“You think I’m darling?” you asked with a grin, and Ghost could practically feel a weight being lifted off his shoulders.

“Just go take your shower,” he said, but even he could hear the smile in his voice.

“You sure you don’t want to join me?” you asked, pulling out a towel from your bag. Ghost stilled. He could tell you were just joking, you had to be. But there had to be at least some truth in it, otherwise you wouldn’t have even thought to say that right? Suddenly the house felt uncomfortably warm. It was too small, too cramped, too stuffy. He thought the house’s lack of heating would have been a problem, but for some reason it felt like there were a thousand heaters in this tiny room.

“Geez, Ghost,” you said, giggling, “I was just messing with you. Dang, is it really that easy to get you speechless? Guess I have a new party trick to show the others when we get back.”

He stared at you, trying to come up with something to say. “I’m gonna set up outside,” he said finally, changing the topic, “leave the soap in the shower, will you?”

You hummed, slinging the towel over your back. He watched you step into the bathroom, his eyes lingering on the door as it shut behind you. He could hear the shower turn on, but he made himself leave before he could hear your clothes come off.

The crisp, winter air provided a sharp contrast to the tense atmosphere of the house. The frigid winds nipped at his eyes and he could feel a shiver rack through his chest but he didn’t mind it. It was refreshing, feeling the freezing air fill his lungs and watching his breath condense in front of him. He sat down on the porch steps and reached for his rifle, checking the magazine. He picked out one of the bullets, thumbing it thoughtfully as he stared at the snowstorm in front of him. He put the bullet back and looked back at the house, making sure that you weren’t around before he pulled off his mask. He let out a sigh, thumbing the hard plastic skull in his hands and letting the frosty air kiss at his exposed skin before pulling the soft, black, skull-marked balaclava he wore normally out of his bag and over his face.

Ghost wasn’t the kind of person to let his mind wander. He knew a lot of people did, Soap did, Gaz did, even Price did, but not him. It was just easier that way, he never really had a good place for his mind to wander to anyways. His mind had a tendency to lurk around dark places, and it always left him worse than he started. Once, he had tried to speak to someone about it, and that had only ended up with another dead body to his name. Instead, he distracted himself by focusing on the task in front of him: watching the treeline for enemy soldiers.

Somehow though, you started to linger around the edge of his thoughts, and he didn’t push you away. He kept staring ahead at the snow-covered trees, but in his mind he was seeing you. He was seeing your stupid teasing grin, your fidgeting fingers that never stayed still, that smooth skin on the junction of your neck and your shoulder that he wanted to kiss and lick and bite. He could almost see your lust-drunk face in front of him, starry-eyed and teary, your lips swollen and red from how hard he would kiss you. He could practically hear you under him, all breathy and pitchy, your voice raw from how much he would make you beg for him. God, he knew he needed to stop these thoughts but he needed you more. He needed you pressed against him, your skin warm and soft and supple, he needed to feel you on top of him, to be inside you. He needed to know how it would feel to have your mouth around him, your eyes lidded as you stared up at—

“Hey,” you said, tiredness leaking through your voice. Ghost suppressed the urge to jump, turning to look at you. “You see anything interesting?” you asked, taking a seat beside you.

“Nothing,” he said, hoping you wouldn’t notice the way he had to slightly readjust his pants. You didn’t, thank god, for a special forces operator you surely weren’t the most observant, but he wasn’t complaining. You weren’t wearing much, only a pair of thin pajama pants, a tank top, and a hoodie. He was surprised you weren’t shivering.

He could feel you staring at him, partly because of the way your warm breath fanned over him and partly because you stared at him like he was the most interesting thing in the world. He had to fight the urge to look back at you because he knew if he did, you would be able to see the star-struck in his eyes. “You need something?” he asked, trying to fill the silence.

You turned away from him, your eyes scanning the treeline. “Not really,” you hummed, “but it’s lonely inside, can’t sleep.”

“Lonely?”

“Well— Not lonely, but— I don’t know. It’s just… unsettling, I guess.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” he said, with a slight chuckle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snorted.

“It means I’ve seen you do things that would make a grown man cry and you're scared of sleeping alone.”

“Uh, that is not it,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m not scared, I’d just rather stay out here. Besides, it’s easier to fall asleep in the cold.”

“Is it really?” he asked teasingly, “or do you just like me that much?”

You yawned, letting your head rest on his shoulder. He tensed up at first, but when he realized how nice it was to feel you against him, he relaxed. “You got me pegged, Ghost,” you said tiredly. He had to suppress a groan when he saw the way you looked up at him. Your eyes were large and slightly damp from the yawn, and he could see the smallest speckle of teardrops on your eyelids. Everything about you was just so damn intoxicating, and for what? It wasn’t like he could act on it like he wanted to. He couldn’t push your slightly damp hair out of your face like he wanted to, he couldn’t run his hands up your body and squeeze you in all the right spots like he wanted to, he couldn’t push you down against a table and fuck you until you cried out for him like he wanted to. He wanted to do so much to you and he just couldn’t.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your voice sweet and tired.

He stared at you, it’s not like he could tell the truth but it hurt him so bad to lie to your face. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re interesting,” you said simply.

“Am I?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, staring back at him, “are you gonna give me an answer?”

“Not tonight. You gonna sleep out here?” he asked, watching as you let out a yawn.

“Do you want me to?” you asked, picking your head up off his shoulder and staring up at him.

Ghost was silent for a moment, “I don’t have a problem with it,” he said finally. You gave him a sleepy smile which made his heart melt before resting your head against his shoulder again. “Aren’t you cold? You’re barely wearing anything and your hair is still wet, you’re gonna catch a cold.”

You groaned, burying your face into his shoulder, “Now you really sound like Price,” you mumbled, voice muffled by his jacket.

“And Price is right, again. You’re gonna get sick or catch hypothermia, go get a blanket,” he said, nudging you off of his shoulder gently. He didn’t want to have to push you away, especially since you looked so comfortable, but he was worried for your health. In this weather and in this line of work, catching a cold could have unforeseen effects, and god forbid you get hypothermia. Slowly, you pulled yourself off of Ghost, shooting him a pointed look as you turned back into the house. He turned back to the treeline, trying to remember the way your head leaned against his shoulder. He could still feel the shadow of your touch against him, the warmth and the weight of it. He wanted it back again, regretting sending you off.

It wasn’t long until you returned though, carrying a large wool blanket. “Happy now?” you asked, quirking your brow up at him as you returned to your spot beside him. “I stole it from the bedroom, figured nobody else would be using it.” You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, pulling your knees in so you could cover them too. You let your head fall back on his shoulder again. “The stars are beautiful, aren’t they?” you asked, your eyes fixed on the sky.

He looked up, he hadn’t paid much attention to them, but you had a point. The sky was a dark sapphire blue, punctuated by a canyon of stars down the center. Even with the snow falling, the beauty of the stars shone through, their light bright and blinding. He let his eyes wander down to you for a moment, and he could see the night sky reflected in your glassy eyes. Your eyes flickered to his and you grinned, “Like what you see, L.T.?” you asked.

Ghost looked away, “Go to sleep,” he said, missing the way you scrunched your nose in annoyance at him.

Although he wasn’t looking directly at you, he could still see you in his periphery. He could feel you too. Feel the way you nuzzled into his shoulder, one of your arms snaking up to wrap around his like you were a koala clinging onto a branch. Feel the way your chest rose and fell against him as you breathed, small puffs of air condensing in front of you. He could feel the soft flutter of your eyelids on his arm as you buried your face into his shoulder, trying to shield your face from the cold. It wasn’t long before your breaths began to even out next to him, the puffs of condensed air arriving slower and more evenly.

He turned to look at you again, his eyes raking over your body. The blanket pulled tightly around you, your hair which fell slightly in front of your face, your lips which he swore were pulled in the smallest smile, the bridge of your nose, the ends of your eyelashes, that little scrunch in between your eyebrows. You were the most beautiful thing in that moment, stars be damned. He would’ve given anything to be able to snap a photo of you right now, but he couldn’t, so he resorted to tattooing the image of you into his brain. Not that it was hard, looking at you, admiring you, treasuring you, it was the easiest thing he would ever do.

Ghost shouldn’t have been paying so much attention to you, not here, not when you were so vulnerable and he was supposed to be keeping watch, to be protecting you. It wasn’t right. But wasn’t it? Couldn’t it be? It felt right, and he wanted it to be right. He needed it to be right. He had spent so much time focusing on everyone else; what was safe for everyone else, what was healthy for everyone else, what was right for everyone else. But now, just now, couldn’t he just focus on himself for once? Couldn’t he just be selfish for once, to savor and relish in this moment? You were here and you were safe, and he was here and he was safe, and wasn’t that all that mattered in this tiny moment devoid of reason or time or outsiders? This had to be right. This was right. You were right. You always were.

He looked back at the stars again, taking in a deep breath as he savored the smell of you. You smelled like gunmetal and cheap soap. You smelled like him. He let your fragrance continue to fill his nose as he stared up at the sky. He watched in awe as a streak of bright light arced across the vast canvas of dark blue sky: a shooting star. He thought back to what his mother used to tell him in the backyard of their old flat in Manchester. “Look Simon,” she would say, tracing the path of the star’s tail with her finger, “that’s a shooting star. You make a wish, and you don’t tell anyone, and then it comes true.” Back then, he used to wish for allowance, new toys, a pot roast for dinner, one time for his dad to go away. They never came true, and he knew it was because he always told his mom what he wished for.

This time though, this time would be different. He would keep it a secret until the day he died. Another weight for him to carry, but one that would be worth it if it came true. He wouldn’t tell anyone what he wished for that night, with your sleeping form against him, soft and warm and comforting. He wouldn’t tell anyone that he wished you would love him like he loved you.

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suggs444 · 7 months

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Bad For Buisness:

William Afton/Steve Raglan x Reader

Sypnopsis: You find out your boss, Steve, who is also your secret lover, has a false identity. As well as an unknown history. You attempt to be reasonable, to set things right, but your boss .. well, he knows you all too well.

TW: swearing, degrading, manipulating, implied sexual actions.

Authors note: Hi, Suggs here. So this is my first x reader that I’ve written in a long long time. And it’s my first ever William Afton based one too. I literally saw the movie and I was 🙈🙈 whenever peepaw was on screen. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy and lmk if you want more / a part two. Thanks for reading !! <33

Gif by brotherdusk

“I should tell everyone!”

You protest, boldly, standing on the other side of Afton’s desk. Your arms cross in an attempt to assert your dominance in this situation - which is rare. William was usually the one with the upper hand. You were foolish to think otherwise, even now.

There he sat with his sunken frame, slouched in his office chair, hands loosely intertwined in his lap. Brows raised in mocking surprise, almost expecting, as if waiting for you to come to your senses. He stares, and you find yourself stuck for words.

You gulp, hard. Frozen in his icy gaze.

“I mean — you’re lying to our consumers! To your staff - to me! Your names not Steve Raglan ..” Your words drift off, lacking much defence and reason.

“It’s bad for business.”

You continue, proudly, pointing your chin upward. As though that sentence completely justified your debate.

William’s head tilts slightly,

“Since when do you care about business quality, y/n?”

You didn’t care. He knew it, and he knew you all too well. Well enough to know you didn’t give a shit about the business, or anyone else. You were upset about not knowing every little detail about him. You’re obsessed. Needy, he knows. Only the two of you mattered. The secret of your intimacy. The sneaking off, the inappropriate relationship. Now, that? That was bad for business.

“Hm?” He presses, condescendingly, brows raising more while waiting for an answer as he sits forward out of his slouch. His exposed forearms coming to lean against the table.

You’re quiet, already. Defeated.

He sucks on his teeth.

“That’s what I thought.”

He leans back into his chair with an exhale, shaking his head.

“I’ve done some things, y/n.” He confesses, “-bad things.”

You can only stare at him.

He pushes himself out of his chair, eyes remaining pinned to yours. You knew your boss wasn’t a good man, fuck, maybe that’s what drew you to him, but you hadn’t expected this.

“What things?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He cuts you off, stern. Stern enough that you know not to push it any more. You bite your tongue, suddenly feeling small by his towering height. William wasn’t a necessarily attractive man, or at least not for everyone. He was older than you. Much older. But clever, so very clever - and wise. Something about his stability, the way he carried himself. The reassurance he gave you and the praise. You could hardly resist him.

“Had to cover my tracks. Tie up loose ends, do you understand? That’s my business, it’s need to know and you don’t.” His voice, a nasal drawl as he slowly rounded the desk, the pads of his fingers drawing along the old wood as he reached you.

“And I certainly don’t need you,” he pauses, pressing his torso against your back. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his scent, a mix of cheap cologne and tobacco.

“-running your sweet mouth and spilling my secrets.” He continues. You melt against him despite the firmness of his tone. You were a slave to your desires. Only he could make the meanest things sound so indulging.

You hum at the closeness. Trying to remain strong headed despite your vision clouding from the intensity of the lustful haze you had for this man. You weren’t weak, just devoted.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You do.

“Do you understand?”

You nod stubbornly. He tuts,

“Use your words, y/n.”

“I understand.”

He shoots you a unsatisfied look.

You sigh, “I understand, sir.”

He smiles then, cockily, knowing he had won this time. His eyes creasing beneath his glasses.

“That’s my girl.” He coos, a warm hand coming to cup your cheek. Your eyes close, savouring the action, leaning into his palm. He was always so busy, so intimacy came slim. A rarity. You learnt to enjoy the small gestures.

The warmth was gone the next second. Opening your eyes to find him returning to his seat. You whined softly, turning to him as he settled back in his chair - instantly going back to his paperwork.

“That’s it?” You plead.

His eyes shot up to you over his glasses. Almost surprised you were still there. He sighs through his nose.

“Tell you what,” he lifts his head to give you his full attention.

“You’ve got the rest of this week to prove you can keep your mouth shut. I wanna trust you, y/n. I can do that, can’t I?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Mr Afto-“ You stop yourself, realising you’re using his real name, his secret name. He’s glaring.

“-Mr Raglan.” You correct yourself, smiling wearily.

“Much better. Keep that up, and I’ll make up for lost time. I’ll give you what you need.”

You sigh sweetly, nodding. The mere thought of that making your knees weak.

“I won’t let you down, I promise.”

You reassure, shooting him one last smile as you turn and leave.

The week can’t end soon enough.

#william afton #william afton x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #matthew lillard #steve raglan #five nights at freddy's

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years

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Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Yes, all 8 of them)

Words: 13,318

Warnings: One stabbing mention. Seonghwa gets a little handsy at one point. The boys are very horny for the OC. I make too many direct references to the song and its lyrics, don’t at me please. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: You know, I never expect a simple Drabble to turn into this beast right here, but I'm happy with the way it turned out. Not gonna lie, this fic is a bit self-indulgent at certain parts, but what fic isn’t? Lmaoo anyways, I do not believe Ateez would ever act like this. This is just my interpretation of this particular Drabble request and the yandere archetype. I really hope you all like this one; feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~ (Seriously though guys, please don’t let this flop haha)

Extra: The whole time I was writing this, I had a chubby!reader in mind, but I don’t explicitly describe anything that would indicate that so I don’t feel right tagging it as such. Just know it’s heavily implied, but anyone can read this!!

Mini Masterlist

Driving down the dark desert highway, cool wind whips through your hair. The sun has slowly been setting, its last few rays of light drifting over the land and casting shadows in their wake.

You've been on the road all day, having had the urge to take a spontaneous road trip by yourself. Work has been really hectic lately, so since you have the next three days off, you decided to use them to your advantage.

The only problem is, the last sign of civilization you passed was forty minutes down the road, and you're not quite sure when the next hotel, or even a place to stop for the evening might pop up. Luckily, within the next five minutes, it seems as if your thoughts have been answered, for a hotel appears in the distance.

Pulling into the parking lot, you eye the place skeptically. For a building right smack in the middle of the desert, it sure doesn't look like one. The bright stone walls practically shine beneath the light of the now risen full moon, the place looking more like a resort than anything. Hopefully it's not too expensive then.

Cutting the engine after rolling up the windows, you let out a long breath through your nose. Slowly, you step out of the car, rolling your neck all the while. Standing only makes you realize just how stiff your entire body is, stretching your arms and back out slightly before you slam the car door shut.

Oddly enough, there are no other cars in the parking lot, save for your own. Your brow furrows slightly as you make your way towards the front entrance. Though, you suppose it makes sense. You are in the middle of the desert.

Pushing open the door, you immediately feel the affects of the air conditioned lobby, your shoulders subconsciously relaxing as you step inside. Your eyes skim the name of the hotel as you enter- HALA HALA- it's modern design seeming to fit it well.

Walking up to the reception desk, you notice that no one seems to be in sight. Perhaps you missed someone on your way in, so you opt to turn around, giving the lobby a quick sweep with your eyes. Still, you fail to see anybody, so you turn back around. Maybe there’s a bell you can ring or something.

Your whole body jumps as you see a man now standing behind the counter, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. His split dyed black and blond hair is slicked back and a smile rests on his features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He says. "My name is Hongjoong, and I'm the manager of this hotel here. How may we be of service?"

You blink, needing a moment to collect your thoughts before you're able to remember the reason why you're here.

"Oh, right." You chuckle, somewhat awkwardly. "How much is a single room for the weekend? Two nights in particular?"

"Hmm, let's see," Hongjoong hums, typing something into the computer in front of him. His eyes scan the screen, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're in luck. We're having a special this weekend only on our single rooms. Two nights for the price of one."

Your jaw nearly drops at the amount he tells you. "Seriously?"

"Of course." He smiles.

"Great." You say, shock still clear on your face at the outrageously low amount he's quoted you. "I'll take it."

"Perfect." Hongjoong purrs out, eyes becoming hooded as he gives you a quick once over.

Again, you blink, and as soon as you do, his expression is back to being chipper once more. Without another thought, you're reaching into your purse to pull out your credit card, handing it over to Hongjoong in the next moment.

It only takes him a few minutes to ring you up, handing you your card back in the next moment.

"If you have any bags, Wooyoung will be more than happy to help you with them." Hongjoong smiles at you yet again, to which you return.

Thanking him with a nod of your head, you take the keycard he hands you. A shiver runs down his spine as his fingers graze yours, but luckily, you do not seem to notice.

In the next moment, you go to turn around, coming face to face with yet another man who seemingly appears from thin air.

"Need any help with your bags?" The new male asks, completely oblivious to the startle he just gave you.

"Oh, uh," you stammer out a reply, eyes drifting to another man who now sits on one of the front couches reading a newspaper. You swear he snorts out a laugh at the scene that's just played out before him. Weird, you could have sworn there was no one else in the lobby before. "I think I'm okay, but thanks for the offer."

"Really, it's no problem at all." He insists, already following you out of the front doors and back to your car.

"No, really," you huff out a faint laugh, reaching into the front seat to grab your backpack. "I only have the one."

What you fail to see as you lean into your car, is the way Wooyoung eyes you up and down. Licking his lips, his gaze settles on your ass, thoughts already running wild with what he wants to do with you. Finally, you’re here.

Blinking to clear his thoughts as you pull yourself back out of your car, he grins. Before you can protest, he's slipping your backpack out of your hand and slinging it over his shoulder.

"After you." Wooyoung's eyes shine as he watches disbelief paint your features, followed slowly by acceptance.

Pride fills his chest as you begin to lead him back into the hotel and to your assigned room for the weekend. He can feel Yunho's eyes piercing into his back as he walks past with you in front, the jealousy clear as day within the older male's gaze. The sound of paper rustling from behind him has a smirk pulling on Wooyoung's lips.

Reaching your room, you go to unlock the door.

A gasp escapes your lips as you step through the threshold, and Wooyoung knows that he's going to have to share with his brothers later the memory of that beautiful awestruck expression painting your face. Only, in the next second, worry takes its place.

"I don't think your boss gave me the key to the right room." You say, eyes taking in the grandiose space. "This looks like the Presidential Suite."

"It is." Wooyoung hums, placing your backpack carefully onto the chair beside him once he fully steps into the room.

"This can't be right." You shake your head, moving to rush past him and back into the hall.

"You asked for the single room, didn't you?" He quirks a brow, stepping in front of you to block your path.

"I did, but-"

"Then this is the right room." He assures you. "It is what you payed for."

"I don't think it is," you say, sidestepping him and moving into the hallway.

You manage to make it all the way back to the lobby in no time, walking straight up to the reception desk to see if you can catch Hongjoong once more. Unfortunately, he doesn't appear to be anywhere in sight, nor does that man from earlier that had been sitting and reading the newspaper on the couch. Wooyoung has up and disappeared on you, too. You sigh.

"How may I help you?"

"Holy-" you startle, spinning around to see another unfamiliar man now standing behind the reception desk. Yet again, it's like he’s appeared out of thin air. You clear your throat. "Uh, is Hongjoong around? I need to speak with him."

"He's busy at the moment, unfortunately." The man smiles kindly at you. "I'm Seonghwa, the assistant manager. I'm more than happy to help if there's something wrong. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, uh, there's no problem, really," you clarify, a nervous pull to your lips. "I just think Hongjoong gave me the key to the wrong room."

"Did he?" Seonghwa hums, somewhat amusedly. He doesn't blame Hongjoong one bit. The poor male was probably too distracted by your beauty, and the fact that he was finally seeing you in person for the first time. "Let me check for you."

"Thanks, I really appreciate it." You smile, handing the key card to him over the counter. This time, it’s Seonghwa who shivers as his fingers brush your own. ”I think he accidentally gave me the card to the Presidential Suite or something."

Swiping the card through the reader, Seonghwa types a few things on the keyboard. A few moments later, he's placing the keycard back in front of you on the counter.

"No, everything's right on our end. That's the correct key." He informs you.

Your eyes widen, lips parting as clear disbelief takes over your features. "You're sure?”

"Positive." Seonghwa smiles, purposely sliding the card closer to you. "Our policy here is to always put our guests' pleasure above anything else. So really, your reaction to the room is the highest compliment you could give us."

"I- uh-" you blink, taken aback by his words. "Sure?" You don't quite know how to respond, but you take the keycard back, nonetheless. "Thanks."

"Of course." Seonghwa straightens the front of his blazer out, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "I live to serve."

Though he fails to add a key word to the end of his sentence. Most certainly does he live to serve, to please. Most importantly, though, he lives to serve and please you.

“Okay…" Brushing off his words, you turn back around, shooting him a subtle side eyed look at his last comment once he can no longer see your face.

Heading back to your room, you shake your head, muttering about how odd this place is. First, it's literally in the middle of nowhere. Secondly, the exterior and interior looks brand new, much too pristine for the likes of the desert. Third, you've barely seen another occupant in this hotel besides the staff and that one guy from earlier. Fourth, a single room means the equivalent of a Presidential Suite. And finally, the prices are apparently dirt cheap.

Seriously, just what is going on here?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts once more, you reenter your room. Well, if you’ve technically payed for it, you might as well enjoy it.

Ten minutes later and you finally figure out how the jacuzzi tub works, allowing your body to sink into the frothing bubbles. The scent of lilac and honey drifts through the air, the complimentary soaps feeling fancier than anything you've ever experienced in your life.

Soaking in the tub for a bit, you allow yourself to relax, basking in the way the water seemingly eases the tension from your body. The only thing that could make this better would be a glass of wine, and maybe a massage, but that can wait for another time.

You close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the headrest as a content sigh leaves your lips. You haven't felt this relaxed in a long time.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of lustful eyes watches from the shadows. More than anything, wanting desperately to join you. To truly help you relax, in any and every way you desire.

Once you're done, you're quick to dry off, changing into a fresh pair of clothes. Smiling at your reflection in the mirror, you wink at yourself, blowing a kiss in the next moment. You need to start appreciating yourself more. Besides, you look damn good, if you do say so yourself!

Immediately, a thud sounds from behind you, making your heart skip a beat in your chest. Whipping around, your eyes scan the bathroom, searching for anything that could have made that loud noise. Nothing seems out of place, so it doesn’t look like anything could have fallen.

Odd. If you didn't know any better, it almost sounded like someone ran into something, or even stubbed their toe.

You frown, shaking your head. You've had a long drive, and an even longer day. You're probably just imagining things. Besides, you could really use that drink now.

Making your way back towards the lobby, you wander aimlessly, not really sure where to go. You're sure this hotel has a bar somewhere, you're just not sure which direction it would be in. Luckily for you, a plaque that you hadn't noticed before on the wall points you in the direction that you're looking for.

Stepping into the bar area, once again you're taken aback by how empty the place is. Well, empty except for the lone man standing behind the counter wiping at a glass with a cloth in his hand.

Walking up to the counter, you sit down at one of the stools, returning the kind smile the bartender sends your way.

"What can I get for you, pretty one?" The man asks, placing the glass onto the counter in front of himself.

You look down at the pristine wood beneath your hands as a warmth blooms on your cheeks. "Surprise me."

The man takes a moment to observe you carefully, his lips twitching upwards at the corners from seeing the affect his words have on you.

"I know just the thing," he replies, already moving to grab all of the ingredients he'll need to make you a drink. Two minute later and he pushes the now full glass towards you. "Et voila."

"Wow," grabbing the glass with a wonder filled expression, you take a sip. "This is my favourite drink. You must be a mind reader!"

You fail to see the way his brow quirks ever so slightly at your words, his smile turning nervous in the blink of an eye. Just as quickly as the expression appears, it's gone.

"So, what has you here on a Friday night?" He leans against the counter, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he rests his forearms on the edge of the wood. "Lover got you down?"

Your eyes widen, and you're quick to shake your head. "Oh, no. Definitely not."

"Huh," he has to hide the pleased smirk that threatens to pull onto his lips as he confirms what he and his brothers have only hoped. This makes things so much easier. "That's hard to believe, given a pretty one like you."

For the second time this evening, pride swells in his chest at seeing the affect his words have on you.

"Thank you," you mutter, not quite used to men being this bold with you upfront. "You're very kind, uh-"

"Mingi." He replies. “Please. Call me Mingi."

"Well, Mingi," the way you say his name has a pleasant shiver running down his spine. "You're sweet."

The smile that radiates from him nearly knocks the breath out of you.

"Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you," he says, and his eyes flash. "Anything at all."

"Yeah, actually," you nod a few times, looking around the room as if you’re afraid of being overheard. "Be honest," you lean in slightly and he can feel his heart beginning to race in his chest, "is the room service here good?"

"Uh," his brain malfunctions as his eyes glance down to your lips, a completely different form of room service other than what you probably intend flitting through his mind. One which he and his brothers would be more than happy to provide for you.

He swallows the sudden dryness in his throat. Thank fuck you don't seem to notice.

"You know, since you probably have an in with the cooks cause you're the bartender, and all." Your voice manages to pull him back to reality, and out of his all too vivid thoughts of what kind of room service he could provide for you. "Anything you would recommend? I'm starving."

"Oh, if you're hungry, why didn't you just say so?" He chuckles. "I'll order something for you, and have them bring it over to you here."

"That'd be great, thanks!" You reply happily, taking another sip of your drink. "I don't have any food allergies, by the way. Well, except for lactose, but it's more of an irritant than anything. No heavy creams or full glasses of milk."

Mingi blinks at you, and your mouth parts, a heat once again rising up your neck and all the way up your face. You can't believe you just said all that. To a stranger, no less.

A smile spreads across his lips, "got it. Thanks for letting me know."

Of course, they all know everything about you. Well, not everything. Yet. Still, it means so much to him how open you already are with him. Mingi knew you'd be perfect for him, for all of them. This just proves it even more.

Heading over to the tablet that he's left at the end of the bar to place an order for you, Mingi's heart warms. Already, he and some of his brothers have been able to show you how well they can take care of you, how well they can provide for you. All so that you will become theirs. And you will be, all in due time. After all, once they have you in their sights, you’ll never be able to leave them again.

"Lucifer Morningstar!" Mingi curses as he rounds the corner of the counter, the thud echoing in your ears as his knee makes contact with the side of the bar.

"Oh my god! Are you okay?" Your eyes widen, watching as he hunches over, hands placed over his one knee as he balances on his opposite foot.

You fail to see the way his eyes flash for the briefest of moments at your own exclamation.

"Yeah," he lets out a breath, easing into one of the barstools beside him. "I'll be fine."

"Ouch," you wince, thinking of how hard he must have banged his knee to have exclaimed that loudly. Speaking of, his words echo through your head, and you cannot contain the laugh that escapes you. When you see him turn his attention from the tablet to look at you, you wave a hand apologetically in the air in front of you. "Sorry, I've just never heard anyone use that exclamation before. Usually, they swear, or say ‘Jesus Christ’, or something like that."

It's low, but you swear you hear a growl reverberate throughout the room.

"Oh," Mingi laughs awkwardly, a nervousness to his demeanour all of a sudden. "Yeah, it's just something my brothers and I always say instead of your typical exclamations."

"Huh," you nod, turning back to the drink still held in your hands. "Interesting."

Not even ten minutes later, another man is entering the bar area with a plate of steaming food in his hands. Jealousy flares within him as he sees you conversing so casually with his brother, a soft smile he's only ever dreamed about being directed towards him resting on your face.

You hardly notice the new presence in the room, but Mingi does, causing a smirk to subtly pull at his features. You're simply too busy conversing with him at the moment. That is, until movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention.

"One freshly cooked meal for the lovely lady," the man says with a flirty smile as he places the plate of steaming food in front of you.

Thanking him politely, you're quick to turn back to Mingi once more. The men at this hotel certainly are something else.

"Okay, have we met before?" Your eyes narrow teasingly at the bartender who sits a few seats away from you. "Twice now you've made my favourite things."

"Hey now," the other man chimes in, a teasing lilt to his voice. "I was the one who cooked it. He didn't make squat."

He continues to stare at you, almost expectantly now, and you're quick to avert your gaze. Turning back to your food, you grab the fork that's been provided, and take a bite.

"Holy shit." You say once you've swallowed the food in your mouth. "This is incredible."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Lovely." The man replies, eyes shining with a certain fondness as he watches you eat what he’s prepared for you.

"Seriously, this is best dish of this that I’ve ever had," you say, placing another forkful into your mouth.

He chuckles, loving the way your praise has Mingi glaring dagger at him. Serves him right.

"Oh, where are my manners?" He tuts at himself. "My name is San, and I am very pleased to meet you."

Suddenly, your hand is in his, and he's bringing his lips down to place a gentle kiss onto your skin. Tingles erupt throughout his own body wherever he makes contact with yours, and he has to stop the rumble of contentment that builds within his chest from escaping.

Again, you're taken aback by his boldness, and you swear you see something in Mingi's eyes flash black as San does this. Only, when you blink, it's like nothing ever happened. Weird.

The next hour is spent with the both of them at the bar, simply conversing with each other. You can't count the amount of times they've successfully made you laugh, or even shy at some of the things they say, but they are.

Purposefully, each time one of them does something that has you reacting a certain way, the other is sure to do the same. There's no way they're letting each other one up them. That is, until Hongjoong is scolding them within their mind's link to knock it off.

All too soon for their liking, you're heading off to bed, much to their disappointment. It is late at night, and you have had a long day. Needless to say, it's starting to all catch up to you. You can feel the exhaustion beginning to claw at your mind.

Falling into the plush bed, you're practically out as soon as your head hits the pillows. Funny, you could have swore you saw something shift within the darkness of your room just before you closed your eyes. Only, you find you're too tired to care, quickly falling into the realm of your subconscious as sleep takes hold.

Within the confines of your room, two figures materialize from the shadows. Carefully, one moves to stand beside you while the other gently sits on the opposite side of the bed.

"I still can't believe that she’s here," Jongho says breathlessly, hand reaching out to caress the side of your face.

"Finally, we have her," Yunho replies, feeling as wonderstruck as Jongho right now.

You shift slightly, breath hitching in your throat.

They both freeze. Luckily, you don't seem to wake, allowing them to breathe a sigh of relief as they continue to watch over you as you sleep.

“She's so beautiful," Jongho watches you in awe, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek as his heart soars in his chest.

Yunho hums his agreement, his eyes flashing briefly in the darkness. "Ours."

"Ours." Jongho confirms, a content smile pulling at his lips as his own eyes flash, watching over you like he always should. Like he always will be. From now, until forever.

Morning comes with bright light streaming in through the large windows, the sun's rays warming you as you stretch your body out on the bed. A yawn escapes your lips as you rub at your eyes. Sitting up, you throw off the covers, making your way to the bathroom to freshen up for the day.

One look outside the windows, and at your weather app, has a sigh escaping you. It's going to be awfully hot today, the sun shining unapologetically in the sky with few clouds drifting along. In the back of your mind, you begin to wonder what else there is to do in this hotel.

Opening the door to your room, you go to step into the hallway, only for your path to be blocked. Sitting there in front of you is a trolley, what appears to be an extravagant spread of food placed precariously before you. At least, you're hoping that that's what's beneath all these trays with metal food coverings on them.

Leaning out into the hall, you shift your head from side to side, attempting to see if this cart was meant for anyone else. When you don't see anyone around, you look back at the cart. This time, your eyes catch on a folded card placed just beside the small vase with a single red rose held within.

Picking up the note, you're quick to open it, seeing as it's addressed to you. You blink as you read the note over a few times, a soft smile painting your features, yet still surprised, nonetheless.

Please enjoy this complementary breakfast from us to you.

~ Your friends at HALA HALA

Rolling the cart into your room, you're quick to remove all of the coverings. The smell of your favourite breakfast foods greet you as you take in the fresh spread before you. Your jaw nearly drops, torn between thinking that this is incredible, and that something strange is going on here.

Oh well, at least you're getting free food out of this.

Once you're finished eating, you clean up as best you can and head downstairs for the day. A book rests in your hand, figuring that you can find someplace quiet to read and pass the time. Maybe you’ll even listen to music while you do so.

Reaching the lobby, you figure you can ask Hongjoong or Seonghwa where the best place to read in the hotel might be. Someplace that’s quiet. Someplace that’s comfortable. Luck seems to be on your side this morning, too, for you see both Hongjoong and Seonghwa standing behind the reception desk. They seem to be in a pretty heated discussion, their voices too low to hear even as you approach them. Once you get close enough, they're both turning to you with fond smiles on their faces. You didn't even know they saw you approaching.

"How can we help you, dear?" Seonghwa is the first to speak, meeting your gaze.

"Uh, a bit of a weird question, I know," you begin, somewhat nervously, "but where's the best place to get some reading done around here? You guys don't have a library, do you?"

Even though you say it jokingly, Hongjoong's response surprises you.

"We do," he hums, and seeing your mildly shocked expression, eyes widening and all, has a warmth flooding his veins. He knew he'd be able to impress you with the amount of time and effort they put into this place. "Unfortunately it's closed for cleaning today."

"Aw," your expression falls slightly, "darn."

"I would recommend our outdoor seating area beside the pool," Seonghwa motions a little ways off to the side, and you can see a set of glass doors leading to a courtyard of sorts. "It'll be warm today, so you can also benefit by taking a swim if you'd like.”

"Oh, no, I don't think I'll do any swimming," you shake your head.

At this, they both frown. Your words manage to pull them from their thoughts of holding you in their lap with their arms around you, their head resting on your shoulder as you read.

"Why not?" Before Seonghwa can stop himself, the question escapes him, and even the younger male beside him shoots him a look. Though, where yours is of confusion, Hongjoong's is of warning.

"This is really the best I have," you reply sheepishly, motioning down towards your outfit- a simple t-shirt and shorts- with a tilt of your head.

"Go ahead and at least dip your feet in." Hongjoong replies, softly assuring you with his next words. "No one will judge you here."

"Okay," you smile softly, "maybe I will, then."

Again, you thank the two men before you as you begin to head towards the glass doors Seonghwa pointed out to you.

Stepping through the archway, the heavy desert heat surrounds you immediately. You let out an exhale through your nose, taking in the sight of the tropical plants around you. There's a small path leading further into the courtyard and to the pool which you can see sitting right in the centre of it. At least there appears to be tons of shade. Just how you like it.

Setting yourself up in one of the plush outdoor chaises, you kick off your sandals.

Leaning back onto the comfortable pillows, you bring your feet up to rest on the cushion, keeping your knees bent so you can hold your book on your lap. You smile softly as a gentle breeze flits passed.

Opening your book, you begin to read.

Not even five minutes later, a man approaches you, a glass held in his hand. You tense, worried that something's about to happen considering you're the only one sitting outside by the pool. Or so it seems.

"Here, I thought you might like a glass of water," he smiles kindly at you as he hands you the glass. "You should stay hydrated in this heat."

"Oh," you reply, placing your book down momentarily so that you can take the glass of water he's offering to you. "Thank you."

"Damn, beat me to it already," another voice says from the opposite side of you, successfully managing to startle you as you hadn't heard anyone approaching. "That's our Yeosangie for you."

"Yunho," the man you've now learned is apparently Yeosangie says, his eyes narrowing slightly at the taller male, "what are you doing here?"

The man - Yunho - is one that you recognize form last night. He was the one reading the newspaper in the lobby.

"Seonghwa told me that our very special guest here was sitting by the pool, and that I should bring her some water to help keep her hydrated." He replies, and sure enough, you see another glass of water being held in his hand. "Like I said though, it looks like you beat me to it."

"One can never have too much water," you say, catching both of their attention, and snapping them out of the pointed looks they had just been sharing.

"Right you are, gorgeous," Yunho grins, handing you the second glass.

Your brows raise slightly at the name he calls you. Hell, it seems almost all of the male workers at this hotel have called you some variation of a nickname or pet name at some point or other. Needless to say, it's a bit odd; you aren’t used to this kind of attention.

"Anyways, I'm Yunho," he says with a grin, pointing over at the shorter male in the next moment, "and that grump over there is Yeosang. If you look over there," again, Yunho points in a specific direction, drawing your gaze to the two men that have appeared on the opposite side of the pool, "that's San and Jongho. Though, I heard you already met San last night."

You nod in response, noticing how the one you've recently been told is Jongho waves quite enthusiastically at you with a large smile on his face. You huff in amusement, lips quirking upwards as you send a polite wave back. If you didn't know any better, from the way the male averts his gaze in the next moment, you'd say that you've just made him blush.

"If you need anything, do not hesitate to let us know. " Yeosang draws your attention to him once more, a certain spark lighting behind his eyes. A spark which you do not understand, but the other males do. One that is practically begging for you to come to them, to seek them out for anything and everything you might need. Anything at all.

"Thanks," you smile. "I appreciate it."

Really, you'd just like to be left alone to read your book now in peace.

"Well, we'll leave you to read in peace now," Yunho grins, walking over and wrapping his arm around Yeosang's shoulders. “Enjoy.”

Blinking in shock, your whole body tenses. Okay, this is starting to get a bit freaky. It’s almost as if Yunho just read you mind.

Shaking your head slightly to clear your thoughts, you grab your book once more. No, that isn’t possible. You’re just overthinking things due to the stressful week of work you’ve just had. This is your chance to relax, and you have every intention to do so.

Opening your book once more, you begin to read.

Across from you, the four boys converge.

Jongho is still reeling from having you smile so brightly at him, and you waved back. Yeosang, on the other hand, crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing at the three males before him. Yunho watches you carefully from across the pool, his eyes subtly trailing over your form. Even San cannot help but drink in the exposed skin of your legs on full display, the sight of your bare thighs making his mouth water.

What each wouldn’t give to be between them right now…

“Control yourselves,” Yeosang hisses through his teeth, sending pointed looks towards San and Yunho, “the both of you.”

“Like you haven’t been thinking the exact same things since you saw them.” San rolls his eyes, keeping his voice low while Yunho just chuckles from beside him.

“At least I have some subtlety,” Yeosang huffs, annoyance clear on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest. “The decency to not have my thoughts project themselves into everyone else’s subconscious.”

Well, I for one, was rather enjoying the mental image of her lounging in that chair by the pool. Wooyoung’s voice echoes through all of their minds. I’d much rather be out there spending time with her, you lucky bastards. Instead, I’m stuck inside on cleaning duty.

Stop complaining. They can all practically hear Hongjoong roll his eyes. You’re the one who begged to be the one to tidy up her room.

That I did. Wooyoung hums. Really, you guys are missing out. Her scent is everywhere.

Now you’re just rubbing it in. Mingi sighs, and they can all hear the pout in his voice.

Oh, panties! Wooyoung cheers, and they all practically let out a groan in need. And they’ve been worn! Don’t mind if I ‘yes’.

Wooyoung. Seonghwa’s voice echoes through their heads, serving as a warning. That is, until they hear his next words. Save some for the rest of us, yeah?

You’re all despicable. Yeosang has to resist the urge to shake his head.

Says the one who was peeping on them having a bath last night. San adds, hiding his smirk behind his drink as he takes a sip.

Immediately, Yeosang’s cheeks flare, his harsh gaze landing on the aforementioned male. That’s different!

Relax. Yunho chuckles, leaning back in his own chaise as he watches you turn the next page of your book. So beautiful, and so oblivious to the desire swirling within each of them for you, and you alone.

We’ve all thought about it before. Jongho adds.

Well, some more than others. Hongjoong’s laugh reverberates through all of them. Let’s just make sure everything is ready for tonight. Then we can really have our fun.

Without hesitation, they all agree, and unbeknownst to you, four pairs of eyes turn to look at you from across the pool. You don’t even look up from your book. At least, not until movement catches your attention. Then, you cannot help the way your eyes widen, gaze flitting between the pages of your book and subtly attempting to check out the male making his way over to the edge of the pool.

"Put a shirt on, you heathen." Yeosang hisses at San. "You're making them uncomfortable.”

San simply quirks a brow, turning to face Yeosang in the next second. His expression says it all.

A smugness soon settles over his features as he feels your gaze trailing over the expanse of his back. The skin of which he knows would look even better if it were covered in your marks. He rolls his shoulders.

Turning back around, San watches you quickly avert your gaze, focussing a little too intently on the page you’re now on in your book. He smirks, slowly sitting at the edge of the pool so that he can lower himself in. Purposefully, he tenses the muscles in his arms as he sinks in, wanting- no, needing- your gaze on him. As soon as he feels your stare, he knows he’s captivated you once more.

See? See how toned his arms are? How well they would look wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear? San bets you would sound so divine as he makes the sweetest love to you, but he knows that you’ll taste even better.

He doesn’t even need to probe your mind to know you’re thinking about him, too.

Okay, now you’re just showing off. Mingi whines.

Not my fault you got caught having to set up for tonight. San smirks, and he watches as you seemingly come back to reality, only to see that smug expression on his face.

You avert your gaze, embarrassed you got caught staring yet again. Reaching for one of the glasses of water on the table beside you, you suddenly feel your body going hot. All of these attractive men will be the death of you, you’re sure.

You fail to see the way their lips quirk upwards as a result.

Taking a sip of water, you feel yourself start to relax at the coldness that meets your tongue. Carefully, you tilt your head to the side, placing the cool of the glass onto the skin of your neck. You let out a content hum, eyes fluttering closed as a result. At least this is helping to cool you off.

Jongho swallows the sudden dryness in his throat, and he’s knows he’s not the only one affected by your actions. The sudden display of your neck as you tilt your head back, so open and vulnerable, is practically begging for them to have a taste of your delicate skin with their tongues. Perhaps a few bite marks would suffice as well…

Thoughts of tonight, and what is still yet to come fill Jongho’s head, and he can feel the anticipation eating him alive. Making you theirs could not come soon enough.

Speaking of… Hongjoong’s voice resounds through the younger’s head. Jongho, it’s time.

The other three watch as Jongho stands from his spot, beginning to slowly make his way over to you. There’s a sort of nervousness to his steps, one which they all understand. Your answer right now will depend on how the beginning of this afternoon and evening with them will begin.

Glancing up from the pages of your book, you notice Jongho now hovering near you.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” A soft smile rests on his features as he meets your gaze, an air of nervousness surrounding him.

“Uh, sure.” You blink, quirking a brow at him in curiosity in the next second. “Those guys bothering you too much, or something?”

Even though you say it teasingly, Jongho lets out a chuckle, “you could say that.”

Slowly, and with each move deliberate, Jongho takes the seat directly beside you. It’s the closest he can get to you currently without sitting in the same chaise with you, and pulling you into his lap like he so badly wants to do.

Soon. He tells himself. He’ll be able to do that soon.

A few minutes pass by, and it kills him not to have your direct attention on him like his is so attuned to you. No, you’re still much more focussed on your book for the moment. That is, until your tongue clicks loudly, your book slamming closed once you place your bookmark carefully back inside.

“That bad, huh?” He jokes, one of his eyebrows raised in amusement as he looks at you.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you roll your eyes. “But it’s the last book in the series and I’ll be damned if I don’t see it to completion.”

“Why do you continue to read it if it’s that horrible?” Jongho’s head tilts, genuine curiosity shining in his eyes.

“Spite.” You reply immediately. “Pure spite.”

Jongho blinks, intrigued. “What’s it about?”

So you tell him, and fuck, if Jongho doesn’t fall harder for you right then and there. The passion in which you speak with, the fire he sees light behind your eyes as he watches you wave the book around in your hand, even going to far as to hit the cover a few times to emphasize your points, has him hanging on to every word.

You’re so captivating; mesmerizing to watch and listen to, that he doesn’t even realize just how much time has passed since he first came to sit beside you. Plus, he’s gotten to learn so much about you in such a short period of time. Ecstatic doesn’t even begin to describe how he’s feeling at the moment.

The only thing that would make this moment better would be if you agreed to what he’s about to ask you.

“Anyways, sorry for the long ass rant,” you apologize, somewhat sheepishly. “There’s just so much I could say about these books and this author.”

“Never feel like you should apologize for something you’re passionate about.” Comes his honest reply. “Especially not to me. I could listen to you talk for hours.”

Jongho’s words catch you by surprise, stunning you into a shy silence. In the back of your mind, his bluntness makes something within you question his words. You’ve only just met, and he’s being very forward. Still, his smile is kind, and it causes you to crack a small one of your own.

“Really, though,” he adds, a calculating look to his gaze now. One which you miss. “We’re hosting a special dinner tonight for everyone. You should join us.”

“Everyone at the hotel?” You question, a minor furrow to your brows.

“You could say that.” Jongho nods. “We’d really love it if you could attend.”

“How fancy are we talking here?”

Jongho smiles. You seem interested, and he could not be happier. “Wear you finest.”

“Oh.” Immediately, your expression falls. “I don’t think I’ll be able to attend, then. I’m afraid I don't have anything with me that’s appropriate for a dinner like that.”

“No need to worry,” Jongho assures you. “There’s a tailor’s shop that Seonghwa runs at the far end of the hotel. I’m sure there’s something there that you can wear for the evening.”

“That’s…” you try and find the right word. Suspicious. Convenient. “Interesting.”

“Great! We’ll be expecting you around eight.” Jongho stands, and it’s only now do you realize that the other three males have vacated the vicinity, leaving the two of you utterly alone. Something in his eyes flash, the smile that paints his lips serving to unnerve you slightly. “Don’t be late.”

Without another word, or even giving you the chance to respond, Jongho is leaving you to yourself by the pool.

Glancing around, you blink a few times, hardly able to wrap your head around not even seeing the others so much as leave. Checking the time, you see that it’s about halfway past two in the afternoon. Perhaps you should go check out this tailor’s place Jongho had mentioned earlier. The last thing you want to do is be stuck without an outfit for tonight, especially if they’re now expecting you for dinner.

A few minutes later, and after dropping off your book back to your room, you’re standing in front of the doors to the tailor shop. Taking a breath, you step inside.

Quite a spacious room greets you, fairly open concept in design with clothes scattered along the walls on different racks. They seem to be organized by type, and a part of you wonders if some of these clothes have been accidentally left behind or forgotten by previous patrons of the hotel.

The sound of a curtain sliding on a rail catches your attention, and your eyes are drawn to the back of the shop where Seonghwa seems to emerge from.

“Ah, there you are. I’ve been expecting you.” He smiles, and at your questioning look, he adds, “Jongho was just here to fill me in on what you need.”

“Uh,” there’s a certain drawl to the way he says those words that have your lips parting slightly. You clear your throat. “That was quick.”

“Come.” Seonghwa seemingly brushes off your statement, turning around to step back through the way he came. “I’ve got a few options you might like.”

Following him into the back of the shop, you realize that there’s a small fitting area with a large panelled mirror positioned around a raised circular stand. A dressing room rests just beside it, another curtain drawn in front of it for some semblance of privacy. To the opposite side of the mirror, a rack rests with eight different dresses hanging delicately on silk hangers.

The awe filled expression that rests on your face has his heart racing in his chest, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Pick out your favourite, and then you can try it on.”

You step closer to the rack, hands ghosting the material of the gowns.

“Are you sure these aren’t too…” you hesitate, searching for the right word as you turn to meet his gaze, “extravagant for me?”

“If anything, none of them could ever do you justice.” His honest reply has a heat rising to your cheeks, and even though you turn to continue inspecting the dresses, you can feel his gaze piercing your back.

Saying nothing, your gaze lands on one dress in particular. Pulling it slightly out from the rack, you examine the lace material. The black colour which starts at the swooped neckline slowly transitions into a navy, until it fades into a royal blue at the very bottom of the floor length skirt. Plus, as an added bonus, there are lace sleeves which look as if they’ll reach all the way down your arms and to your wrists. You’ve never seen a dress more perfect for you, or that you’ve loved more at first glance.

“Do you like that one?” Seonghwa’s voice manages to pull you out of your own thoughts, an eagerness to his words. He knew he picked right when he grabbed that gown for you. The thought alone of you wearing it nearly sent him to his knees, and it’s in his favourite colours, too.

“I do.” You confirm with a hum, looking over the dress for another time.

There’s only one slight issue that you can see. The dress appears to be slightly form fitting, and you’re not sure how it may look on you.

“Well, go on then,” he encourages with a smile, motioning to the dressing room behind you. “Try it on.”

For a brief moment, you hesitate, your hand pausing halfway when you go to reach for the hanger. That is, until you decide that there’s really no harm in simply trying it on. If you don’t like it, there are several others you can choose from. Besides, the red one you see hanging right next to it is definitely not a bad second choice.

Gently, you remove the dress from the rack, stepping into the small dressing room in order to change. Fortunately for you, the dress seems to fit like a glove - having no issues slipping into it, and pulling the zipper up with ease. Unfortunately for you, there’s no mirrors in this little dressing room, which means you have to step outside in order to see how you look wearing the gown.

Really, in hind sight, you saw this coming. However, faced with the prospect of stepping out in a slightly form fitting gown in front of a man you don’t know, a handsome man who has complimented you, nonetheless, you find yourself feeling a bit self conscious. Perhaps this dress wasn’t the best choice after all. Still, you really do want to see how you look.

Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves, you slide the curtain open.

“Wow,” Seonghwa’s breath gets stolen right from his lungs as he sees you step out in his dress. His desire for you, which roars unashamedly beneath the surface of his skin, becomes the most difficult it’s even been to hold back. So much so, that he lets his eyes slip for the briefest of moment, the darkness swirling within.

Thank fuck you don’t seem to notice, too busy smoothing out the front of the material as worry seems to tug at your features.

“That bad, huh?” You grimace, fingers twitching at your sides as you stand there in front of the mirror, tense as anything. “I knew I shouldn’t have-“

“You look beautiful.” His raw voice- a few tones deeper than usual and on the verge of sounding strained- rumbles out from his chest.

So badly does he just want to walk over to you, rip that dress right off, and pull you into his arms as he pleases you in any and every way he knows how. He’s glad he blocked off his mind link with the others for this occasion, otherwise they’d receive his much too vivid thoughts about taking you up against the wall right now and claiming you as his like he’s always longed to do.

Besides, they wanted who’s dress you wore tonight at dinner to be a surprise.

Seonghwa’s lips part as he swallows the dryness in his throat, attempting to at least control his breathing to no avail. You really have no idea the effect you have on him, on all of them, do you?

Lifting your head to meet his gaze through the reflection of the mirror, you’re caught off guard by how dark his eyes have become. Even his breathing has gone irregular, his chest rising and falling dramatically with each inhale that he takes.

When you blink, you expect it to all just be your imagination. Only, this time, that does not seem to be the case. Seonghwa is still looking at you with those eyes when you reopen your own - dark eyes filled with an undeniable lust for you.

Slowly, Seonghwa begins to close the distance between the two of you, stalking towards you like a predator would its prey. You cannot help but freeze, eyes following his every movement as he comes to stand behind you. The way he places his hands tenderly onto your waist, holding onto you so gently, completely contrasts the darkness continuously swirling within his irises.

Tilting his head forward, Seonghwa presses the lower half of his face against your shoulder, placing his lips onto your bare skin. His eyes flutter closed, nose slowly trailing up the side of your neck as he shifts to breathe in your scent.

A shiver runs down your spine as you feel the ghost of his breath tickle you right below your ear. Your heart jumps into your throat.

Of all the words he could use to describe you right now - sinful, breathtaking, gorgeous, his - he finally settles on the perfect one.

“Divine.” He exhales, voice low as he leans forward to rest his head against your own.

Your breath hitches as you feel his grip tighten around your waist, fingers sinking into the softness of your skin as he scents you once more. The uncertainty he can sense coming off of you has him halting in his tracks, a sense of dread washing over him. He might have taken things a bit too far just now. You’re not even officially theirs yet.

He silently curses himself. What good is control when he apparently doesn’t seem to have any around you? You make him go crazy. You’re just so irresistible.

Feeling his grip slacken ever so slightly, you move to turn around in his arms. Only, when you twist your body to face him, he’s no longer standing behind you. Instead, he seems to be rummaging around in a box off to the side, not even looking at you.

Did you just imagine what just happened?

You shake your head. That can’t be possible. You aren’t that touched starved so as to imagine intimate scenarios with the first handsome man who gives you an ounce of attention. At least, you don’t think you are.

“Oh, are you finished looking over the dress?” Seonghwa hums, head lifting to meet your gaze. Straightening himself back up with a small smile on his face, you notice an elegant pair of shoes in his hands. “You’ve been staring at your refection for quite a while. Is everything okay?”

You blink. Did you really just zone out for the last few minutes?

“Yeah-” you clear your throat. “Yeah. Everything fine.”

“If you’re still not sure if you like the gown, why don’t you try it with these?” He offers you the shoes that he holds in his hand. “They should fit.”

“Oh,” you take the shoes from his outstretched hand, “thanks.”

It was only for a second, but his fingers grazed your own. Immediately he felt that all too familiar beast stirring within him, and after he had just managed to calm it down, too. His hands are still burning from being able to feel you beneath his touch.

Slipping the shoes onto your feet, you turn to your reflection once more. This time, a smile rests on your features as you take in your appearance. You really do look stunning.

“Are you really sure I can wear this tonight?” Your voice manages to call Seonghwa’s attention once more. “I mean, is it really okay if I borrow it?”

“Of course!” His answer is immediate, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles at you. “In fact, why don’t you keep it? It looks far better on you than the hanger, anyways.”

Again, a warmth spreads itself across your cheeks as you glance away shyly. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Darling.” He hums, a fond look shining within his eyes. “Now, why don’t you change and I’ll wrap up that dress for you?”

“Alright,” you reply softly, already heading back into the little dressing room and sliding the curtain shut behind you.

In no time at all, you’re back into your regular clothes, gown resting on the hanger once more. You take a moment to admire the material again before exiting the dressing room, the dress draped over your arm.

Handing it over to Seonghwa, he places it into a carrying bag for you, careful not to damage the material. The sound of the zipper closing pulls you out of your thoughts, many of which you’ve been attempting to sort through in the past few minutes alone.

“If you need any help with your makeup, I’m sure Hongjoong would be more than happy to assist you.” Seonghwa tells you, handing you the bag with the gown held within.

“I didn’t know he could do makeup,” you hum, impressed. “That’s pretty cool. I think I’ll be okay, though.”

With a nod of his head and a final farewell until tonight, Seonghwa watches you leave the little tailor’s shop. His eyes follow you for as long as he can, and as soon as you disappear from his sight, a sigh is falling from his lips.

Running his fingers through his hair, he shakes his head.

You really have no idea what you do to him. To all of them. How long they’ve waited just to catch a glimpse of you in person, planning everything out perfectly down to each and every last minute. Nothing is going to stop them from finally claiming what they’ve all long since desired.

By the end of the night, you will be theirs.

Making it back to your room, you’re quick to step inside. Carefully, you hang the dress off to the side for later tonight, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Glancing at the time, you see a few hours have passed already, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

There’s no way time should have moved that quickly! It should have only taken you an hour, maybe an hour and a half at most to have tried on that dress with Seonghwa. You could have swore it was only half passed two when you first made your way over there. So, how can it already be five o’clock?

You huff, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. Maybe you really are losing it. First, you’re missing seeing people that are apparently right in front of your eyes. Then, you keep swearing you’re hearing things, like that weird thump in the bathroom last night. Now, you’re pretty sure you’re starting to hallucinate things.

Perhaps it’s best if you leave this place after dinner tonight instead of in the morning like you originally planned. You would leave sooner, but they’re already expecting you for the evening, and you do not want to be rude. Especially given everything they’ve done and provided for you in the past twenty-four hours alone.

Either way, you just hope this evening passes quickly, and without a hitch.

An hour later and you begin to get ready for the evening. You’re just glad you remembered to pack your makeup bag. Once you’re finished, you still have a bit of time to spare, so you spend the remainder reading some more of your book while you wait. Around five to the hour, you head to the lobby.

Emerging from the hallway, you actually see someone standing in front of the reception desk wearing a finely tailored suit. You watch as the man turns around, and you come face to face with Yeosang whose eyes light up as soon as he sees you. You return his kind smile with a polite nod of your head.

“I’m here to escort you to dinner.” He says, extending an arm out to you. “Shall we?”

You loop your arm around his, “we shall.”

As Yeosang walks with you down a separate hall and to a section of the hotel you have yet to traverse, he revels at your touch. The feeling of your arm wrapped around his is like no other, skin tingling beneath the material of his suit wherever you touch. The whole time, he cannot help but steal glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

When he first saw you emerge from the hallway, his breath got caught in his throat. You look absolutely divine, even if you’re not wearing the dress he had picked out for you in hopes that you would wear it.

His jaw had twitched at that, slight irritation flooding his veins at the thought of you wearing Seonghwa’s gown tonight. Well, let’s see what the others make of it, and if they think the eldest might have influenced your decision as well.

After a solid minute of walking, in which you make idle smalltalk with Yeosang, you reach a set of intricately carved wooden doors. You marvel at both the size and design as they open, seemingly on their own, to reveal a finely decorated room. A room which looks much too small to house all of the guest that you were sure were going to be joining you for dinner.

A single table with nine place settings sits in the centre of the room, lit candles lining the middle.

Around the table, the other seven stand precariously placed throughout the room. Some converse with each other while a few others sip on the drinks they all seem to be holding in their hands. Each wears a finely tailored suit, wanting to look their absolute best for you.

As soon as those doors open, and they see you walking through the threshold being escorted by Yeosang, all of their focus immediately belongs to you.

Heartbeats accelerate all around, shivers running down a few of their spines as they take in the ethereal being that is you standing before them. Each man takes his time trailing his gaze over your body, drinking in the image that is you, and searing this moment into their memories for years to come.

Finally, after all of their planning, after all of their efforts and hard work, there you stand. Ready for their taking.

A few send pointed looks in Seonghwa’s direction at seeing the choice in dress you’re wearing, but they can deal with that later. Even if you are not wearing their own chosen gown for you, there is no denying your beauty.

Mingi is the first to seemingly snap out of the spell you’ve captivated them in at your arrival. Instantly, he’s appearing at your side, offering you a glass similar to all of theirs. You take it with a small nod in thanks, noticing how Yeosang already seems to be holding one of his own. You didn’t even notice him take one.

Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes search the room once more.

“Not to be rude, or presumptuous, or anything,” you begin, a look of mild confusion on your face, “but isn’t this dinner supposed to be for everyone staying at the hotel?”

“It is,” Hongjoong confirms, a gentle expression taking over his features. “Everyone is already here.”

He seriously cannot be telling you that you are their only guest at this hotel. It’s impossible.

“I know,” Yunho chuckles. “It’s hard to believe that you’re our only guest.”

There he goes again, seemingly reading your mind.

“Please,” Hongjoong motions to the table before you, “join us.”

A smile that you’re sure is meant to assure you appears on his face, only serving to unnerve you at the way his eyes lock onto your figure, watching your ever move.

Stepping towards the table, you see Seonghwa already pulling a chair out for you to sit in. Of course it would have to be the one right in the centre of the set of three.

Four chairs rest across from you, while two more sit at each head.

Slowly, you take your seat, allowing Seonghwa to tuck you in while thanking him politely.

As if they’ve done this countless times before, the eight men slide up to the table beside their own respective seats, moving fluidly as one to sit down. Hongjoong sits to your left while Seonghwa takes the seat to your right. Mingi sits at one head of the table, while San takes the other end. Across from you rests Yunho, Yeosang, Jongho, and Wooyoung in that order exactly, starting from your left.

You’re starting to think you stumbled upon a cult or something by accident.

Wooyoung has to cover up a snort of laughter just as he goes to take a sip of his drink, choking on the liquid in the next second. Jongho pats his back comfortingly.

“Are you alright?” Your brow furrows in concern as you look at the male across from you.

“Never better.” He clears his throat, offering you a cheeky grin in response.

In the next moment, Yunho is drawing your attention onto him as he asks you a question, a casual conversation soon starting between the nine of you. The more time you spend surrounded by these eight men, the more you start to relax. You don’t necessarily feel uncomfortable around them, it’s just the hotel that’s giving you such an ominous feeling.

Perhaps that’s where you go wrong.

It happens so suddenly, that you almost miss it. One second the place settings in front of you are empty, and the next, a steaming plate of food appears before your very eyes.

You startle in your seat, pressing yourself as far into the back of it as you can. With wide eyes, you stare down at your meal.

“Is something the matter?” Hongjoong asks, and you look up to find eight pairs of eyes all staring at you.

“Uh-” your voice catches in your throat, not quite sure how to describe the phenomenon that has just occurred in front of you.

“San worked very hard all evening on the meals,” Hongjoong adds, a glimmer in his eyes.

“I hope you enjoy!” Said man calls from just off to the side.

“Right,” you reply, somewhat warily. How can they all be acting like nothing abnormal just happened? “Thanks.”

Picking up your utensils, you clutch the steak knife tightly in your hand. Intently, you stare down at your food, half expecting your asparagus to come alive in the next second and start swishing from side to side like dragon tails.

“Go ahead,” Jongho catches your gaze from across the table, a piece of steak already speared on his fork and poised in the air halfway to his mouth. “Dig in.”

Immediately, you comply, worried you might appear rude for hesitating for so long before taking a bite of your meal. Softly, you chew the bite of your steak, the flavour melting on your tongue.

“Well?” San looks to you, almost expectantly.

“It’s delicious,” you reply, your whole demeanour calming as you see that look of joy take over his features. “Like always.”

“Our Sannie really knows how to cook,” Mingi says, a teasing lilt to his voice despite his praise.

“He’s the only one who won’t burn down the kitchen if left alone in one.” Yeosang replies, and you notice the way Mingi looks almost scandalized at his words.

“I would never!” He gasps dramatically.

The laugh that they all hear fall from your lips is like music to their ears.

The more they continue to bicker, the more you seem to ease back into your own comfort around them. You even go so far as to chime in here and there once again in the conversation, much to each of their pleasure, and relief in some cases. Just as you’re beginning to converse with Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang about your favourite books, Wooyoung spares a glance around the table, locking gazes with the man sitting across from him.

So, are we going to discuss how our eldest here influenced our beloved to wear his dress? Wooyoung’s eyes narrow ever so subtly at the man before him.

Do you really think that little of me, brother? Seonghwa hums in response, quirking his brow slightly in challenge.

He’s not the only one suspicious of what your intentions were. San chimes in, resting his elbows on the table in front of him and clasping his hands beneath his chin, seeing as he’s finished his meal for the time being.

I had no influence over her decision what-so-ever. She made that choice all on her own. Seonghwa replies. It’s not my fault you all seem to lack taste.

Mingi chokes on his drink, blood rushing to the tips of his ears as annoyance floods his veins. At least you spare him a concerned glance, your inquiry into whether he’s okay or not immediately soothing his anger.

Watch it, Hwa. Hongjoong warns, sparing a glance at the male from the corner of his eyes, only to get enraptured by your excited expression in the next moment.

What happened in there, anyways? Yeosang adds without so much as breaking eye contact with you.

Wouldn’t you like to know? Seonghwa leans back slightly in his seat, a certain smugness surrounding him.

Yes. Jongho’s voice echoes through their heads. I think we’d all like to know that.

What did you do? Yunho asks, somewhat accusatory. He’s still suspicious that the eldest had something to do with which dress you picked for this evening, just as the rest of them are.

Fucking hell. Seonghwa lets out a small puff of air, low enough that you do not take notice. In a flash, Seonghwa is sharing his memories with the rest of them. Well, only certain aspects of them. There. Happy now?

No. Mingi grumbles. Now, I just feel worse.

Somehow knowing you were telling the truth makes my blood boil. Yeosang adds bitterly.

Can we not focus on how wonderful she looks instead? Jongho questions, a glint of awe shining in his eyes as he looks across the table at you while resting his head in the palm of his hand.

Has anyone thought to compliment her yet tonight? Hongjoong’s brow furrows only slightly as he doesn’t recall any of them showering you with any of the praise you deserve.

“By the way, I must say,” Wooyoung speaks, drawing your full, undivided attention towards him, “you look absolutely riveting this evening. That dress looks wondrous on you.”

“Oh, uh,” instantly, heat flares to your cheeks and your eyes go wide. A mental image of your little escapade, or rather, what you think you had simply imagined in that shop with Seonghwa flits through your mind. You blink, unaware of how the males around you all stiffen, the air in the room shifting in intensity. “Thank you.”

Park Seonghwa. The way Hongjoong drawls his name out has the elder male holding his breath in anticipation. Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of us?

Not particularly. Either Seonghwa is incredibly brave to continue hiding this from his brothers, or incredibly stupid. As soon as he feels seven mental spears probing at his mind, he knows it’s the latter.

A thwack resounds around the room as Yunho bangs his knee from beneath the table, the sound enough to make you jump.

“I thought we agreed not to touch her, to indulge in her until she was finally ours.” Hongjoong’s voice is low, ominous, as he stares right past you to the male directly to your right.

“You can’t blame me!” Seonghwa replies. “I know any of you would have done the same if given the chance. Don’t act so innocent here.”

Your eyes widen, heart hammering in your chest at his words. You have no idea what’s going on now, and you don’t think you want to stick around to find out.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mingi warns, making eye contact with you just as the thought of fleeing crosses your mind.

“Okay, just what the hell is going on here?” Your voice draws all of their attention to you once more, and you end up shrinking back in your seat when you suddenly find yourself beneath the gazes of all eight men’s stares.

“There’s no point in keeping it from you any longer. You were bound to find out anyways, this is just not how we planned on telling you.” Hongjoong sighs, leaning back in his chair as he closes his eyes for a brief moment. “I’m sure you’ve noticed something’s amiss by now.”

“Tell me what?” Fear spikes within you. “That you guys are all part of some weird cult?”

Wooyoung, Yunho, San, and Mingi all burst out laughing at your words.

“You could say that,” Yeosang sighs. “It certainly feels like it sometimes.”

Your heartbeat rings in your ears.

“Stop that, you’re scaring her.” Jongho frowns.

Before you can say another word, someone is beating you to it.

“No, we’re not cultists.” Seonghwa sighs. “Though, I don’t think you’re going to feel much better learning what our true nature is.”

“Your ‘true nature’?” The furrow in your brow deepens, panic clear now on your features. “Don’t tell me you all think you’re vampires, or some shit like that.”

“Not quite,” San chuckles from the end of the table.

“More like demonic entities, if you will.” Again, that unnerving smile is back on Hongjoong’s features.

Your heart jumps into your throat. “You’re demons?”

“More or less,” Yunho shrugs casually, as if this is a conversation they have every day.

“No.” You state, placing a hand onto of the table to brace yourself with. “No. This isn’t possible.”

“Anything is possible, my dear,” Seonghwa grins. Truly, a chilling sight which sends a shiver right down your spine.

“This is insane.” You hiss, shaking your head as you stare at your hand placed on the table. Your fingers brush against something familiar.

“The first step towards sanity is embracing the insane.” Hongjoong replies, and you turn to see him stand from his chair.

“Do you really think that everything that’s happened to you within the past thirty-six hours has been natural?” Hongjoong cocks his head at you as he tilts your chair slightly to face him. “We have powers that you cannot even begin to comprehend, Love.”

You swallow the dryness in your throat. “I don’t believe you.”

“It wasn’t some random force that compelled you to take a road trip on your one weekend off,” Hongjoong grins, his eyes flashing black. “It was us.”

A gasp escapes you as his dark eyes lock onto yours. So you haven’t been imagining things. Their eyes really do shift black.

With your heartbeat ringing through your ears, you lean as far back in your seat as you can to get away from him. Your one hand still rests firmly on the table beside you, and you can feel the other’s eyes on you, watching your every move. Waiting with bated breath. For what, you’re not quite sure, but if they have strong powers, and what you’ve been experiencing- been assuming- is all true, then they can also read your mind. Your thoughts are no longer safely your own.

“What is it that you want from me, then?” You meet Hongjoong’s gaze, and you watch as it softens.

“I thought we all made that obvious by now,” he shares a quick glance with the males all sitting around the table, grins pulling onto all of their faces. “We just want you.”

“Me?” To say you’re caught off guard would be an understatement. “You mean you want my soul?”

“Sure, your soul would be nice.” Mingi nods.

“To have and to hold,” Jongho agrees with a nod of his own.

“To cherish and protect,” Wooyoung adds.

“To love and to care for.” San hums, taking another sip from his drink.

“Only if you give it to us willingly,” Seonghwa’s voice is surprisingly soft; tender.

“But never for us to take.” Yeosang shakes his head slightly, as if to emphasize his words.

“Or to keep.” Yunho assures you.

You spare a glance around you as best as you can, confusion clear in your eyes. “I don’t follow.”

“What we’re saying is,” Hongjoong takes a moment to meet your gaze, a tender look shining behind his irises as a smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “we want you. All of you. Mind, body, and soul.”

You can do nothing but stare at him, words failing you as your lips part. You swear your heart is about to burst with how intensely it thunders away in your chest.

“Of course, we would love it if you agreed to become ours willingly,” Hongjoong adds, and you can hear the underlying threat beneath his words. At the sense of fear that spikes within you, he’s quick to assure you. “I promise you that we would never hurt you.”

“We only want to love you,” Seonghwa adds softly.

“To cherish you,” Mingi breathes.

“To protect you,” San voices gently.

“To worship you,” Wooyoung says, voice barely above a whisper.

“To live out the rest of our lives together,” Yeosang’s breath catches slightly in his throat.

“To always be there for you,” Jongho nods his head assuringly in your direction.

“You are everything to us,” Yunho whispers, voice raw with the honesty of his words.

“So please,” Hongjoong draws your attention back to him, his forehead coming to rest against your own as he stares deeply into your eyes, “won’t you let us?”

A small silence settles over the nine of you as you allow their words to sink in. You can barely form any cohesive thoughts, sitting as still as you possibly can as you attempt to wrap you head around this turn of events. Never did you expect for this to happen.

Your lips part, and they all find themselves holding their breaths, greatly anticipating your answer.

“No.”

Hongjoong blinks. This time, it’s his turn to be stunned by your response, pulling away slightly in his shock. “No?”

“No.” You repeat, much firmer this time.

Before any of them can say anything, or even react for that matter, you’re stabbing Hongjoong with your steak knife and pushing him off of you. Standing from your seat with enough force to knock your chair off its balance, you send it toppling to the floor. Not even a moment later, you’re sprinting for the door and out of the dining room, fleeing down the hallway in which you first arrived from.

Your footsteps echo down the corridor as the eight men can only sit there, stunned for the moment at this turn of events. Well, that didn’t go at all how they had planned.

In the blink of an eye, San, Wooyoung, Mingi, and Yeosang have disappeared, chasing after you without a second thought.

“She stabbed me.” Hongjoong voices incredulously, disbelief clear on his face. “She stabbed me.”

“Yes, and?” Seonghwa quirks a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watches Hongjoong pull the knife out of his shoulder, blood dripping onto the floor as he stares intently at the weapon in question. “How does that make you feel?”

“Honestly?” Hongjoong looks over at the older male, nodding his head slightly in awe. “Impressed and horny.”

“Come on,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes at his leader. “Let’s go get our girl.”

Nothing but the sound of the knife clattering to the ground echoes throughout the room as the remaining four of them teleport to where you managed to run off to. You didn’t get very far, only able to reach the lobby before the first half of their group found you. They had appeared in an instant, surrounding you on all sides, and preventing you from escaping. Your pleas to let you go fall on deaf ears.

As soon as you see the other four appear out of thin air, your panic rises. Any and all chance of escape that you had had just now becomes slim to none.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Hongjoong pouts. “And after all that we’ve done for you, too.”

“Just let me leave, and we can pretend that none of this ever happened.” Comes your reply, noting the way a small blotch of red stains the front of his shirt where the knife had pierced him.

“I don’t think you fully comprehend your situation right now,” Hongjoong shakes his head, tutting all the while. “I already told you. You’re ours, and we’re not going to let you go so easily.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” you explain, voice coming out much firmer than you thought it would. “I’m going to grab my bag from my room, and then I’m checking out of this godforsaken hotel. I’m going to get into my car, drive home, and none of you will ever see me again.”

“Sure, you can check out of here any time you’d like. This isn’t even a real place,” Hongjoong chuckles as he watches your expression fall, horror at the realization of what his words mean painting your features. “We tried to be reasonable, to give you a choice. Now, you’ll just have to accept the terms you’ve signed yourself up for. You’re ours, and you’re in our domain now, Love. You can never leave.”

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multi-fandomsfreak · 5 months

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Just wanted to put this in your head..

Imagine this video:

But instead of Xenophanes simping for Needlemouse he's simping for demon reader. 😏

Xenophanes simping over demon reader

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

Thanks for feeding into my delusions lol. Really appreciate it. I already like Xeno enough and like to think he does this even though I know damn well he’ll probably do some stuff to me.

Also for now requests are closed. Mostly because it’s almost Christmas and I want to spend the time between now and then with my family. Anyways all aside hope you enjoy it reading this. ~J/Blaze

Pronouns: Not Mentioned

Warning: ⚠️ Obsessive/Possessive behaviour + Murder⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Xenophanes + Mentions of the EXE’s (Mostly Lord X and Fleetway)

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by komiplier on Twitter + Banner by 5macc13 on Pinterest

———————————

- Let me tell you when this man simps for you, he simps for you hard. Although he doesn’t admit it, he really likes you. He likes having your company, he likes it when you join him in whatever he is doing it gives him more joy than doing the thing by himself. He’s kind of gotten attached to you. Both emotionally and quite literally. He’s always seen around you, kind of like a bodyguard constantly keeping you to himself. Not letting anyone near you and if someone needs to speak to you he’ll be there standing right next to you.

- He definitely gets made fun of due to how much he likes you, mostly Lord x and Fleetway though. Lord X is a smug little shit once he finds out about Xeno’s little obsession over you he’s teasing the hell out of him. Making slight passive aggressive comments about his love for you at him and when he calls him out on it Lord X acts like he didn’t say anything wrong. Fleetway on the other hand oh he’s not even trying to hide that he’s teasing Xeno. In fact he indulges in the reactions that Xeno gives off, seeing him act like a child denying their crush makes him laugh. Fleetway may have hinted that Xeno simps for you directly but quickly gets shut down.

- He can get a little possessive around you. Well a little is an understatement for someone like him but regardless possessive. He has to be around you regardless of the situation. Yes he’s fully aware that you are a demon yourself and that you can and have dealt with some disturbing shit as well as causing some disturbing shit but is that going to stop him from acting like this? Nope it won’t. I’d suggest getting comfortable with his possessiveness because it really is something.

- With him being possessive he’s also very obsessed over you and sometimes fawns over you. Not in public though he’s not getting more embarrassed by the others than he already does. Don’t get me wrong he does show his appreciation in his own way just don’t expect to see like an exaggerated reaction. In private though, he’s completely different. If you so much as give him a compliment as soon as he’s alone and he knows that he is alone he could feel himself becoming slightly giddy. It’s like a fan who got recognised by their favourite artist. He does tell himself to not get too into his emotions but at the same time he can’t help but feel this way you do or say anything positive towards him. A simple praise like ‘good job’ is enough to make him feel like this.

- That’s just the tame stuff he does, don’t even get me started on what else he might do. Considering what and who he is I doubt that he won’t murder someone who gets close to you. If someone even dares to look at you or show interest in you he’ll make sure that they learn something and leave you alone. If he’s feeling nice enough he might let them live, not fully intact but being able to recover but most of the time he isn’t. It’s even worse if the person talks shit about you. He’ll make it worse for them.

- You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, congrats. You can basically make him do anything you want. No matter how extreme it might seem or see if you tell him to do it he will. Everyone definitely notices this because he doesn’t do the same to them. If they need something from him or need him to do something they immediately go to you and ask him to do it. Some of them only do this when they have to because they understand that it can be annoying when you're constantly being told to do something for them but for some of the others they tell you to ask him to do some embarrassing stuff and he’ll do it no doubt.

- Overall, for some reason you don’t question his behaviour. You know that sometimes Xeno can have some moments and despite things listed above he can be fun to hang around so you don’t really pay much attention to what he does.

———————————

#sonic.exe #sonic.exe x reader #xenophanes #xenophanes x reader #xenophane #xenophane x reader #lord x #fleetway #fleetway sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic series #sonic series x reader #sonic #sonic x reader #x reader #request

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sapphiresgarden · 8 months

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oh my god i just KNOWW furina is the best at dancing a waltz.

such a fine lady she is. <3

summary ☾⋆⁺₊ how would dancing with her look like, you ask? notes ☾⋆⁺₊ furina x gn!reader, this work is meant to be read as sapphic. very short drabble + hcs. can be read as a second part of this post. and omg anon you are SO RIGHT. i wrote 90% of this at night and just formatted later in the morning so it is terrible not proofread AJSHSJ men dni.

Given lady Furina's dramatics, you expected her to try to show off while dancing, try to make herself the main attraction but... it turns out she was a great, great dancing partner.

She led you carefully, a gentle but firm hand on your back while smiling at you all the time. She twirled you with a laugh, and you couldn't help but laugh too, enjoying the dance far more than with anyone else in the ballroom.

You weren't the best at dancing, but with Furina holding your hand and leading you across the floor, it felt so natural that you didn't worry about misplacing your feet or tripping.

And despite not even trying, she still caught everyone's attention with how happy she seemed while dancing with you.

→ just imagine her dancing. so effortlesly leading you across the floor... she wouldn't mind letting you lead, but i feel like majority of the time it's would be her in the lead. i think she'd be happy just dancing with you! it's such a fun thing to do, maybe one of her favorites to do together <3

→ if you don’t know how to dance a waltz, she’s happy to teach you the steps and once you fall into the rhythm, she'd remind you to not worry about misplacing your feet and keep your eyes on her, voice dropping a little lower, just between you two. did your heart just skipped a beat? you think it did.

→ she wouldn’t let you fall if you happen to trip, instead she would secure you and totally make it look as if it was a part of the dance all the time. yes, you were meant to twirl right now and then step here. yes, it was planned. she liked being a little extra, so what wrong in adding a little more to the dance?

(you didn't miss how she told you to be careful, though, because she doesn't want you to trip and fail, alright? that'd be no good. her voice was really pretty, a thought passed your mind. you wished to hear it more.)

→ do you think she talks while dancing? because i think she does. she’d be so happy to dance with you, it'd be hard to stay quiet and so she wouldn't. you'd probably get distracted by her voice and colorful words, but it's alright.

→ the move where the leading dancer twirls their partner is her favorite. if she was leading, she'd think that you looked really pretty during this move and she would grin, compliments slipping past her mouth. if you were leading, she would laugh and think how funny it is, to twirl around the room while holding your hand.

→ be it in the privates of her room or in front of everyone, if furina gets the chance to dance with you, she will take it and enjoy it to the fullest. please, indulge this little lady!

#sapphires ☾ garden's flowers #genshin impact x reader #furina x reader #gender neutral reader #genshin x you #furina x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact imagines

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 4 months

Text

“Guilty” Little Pleasures

Some of these will have references to my HCs about their family so check out my HCs here! (if you want) (also some of these are not guilty bc there are a few boys that are straight up shameless so...)

HEARTSLAYBUL Riddle - He’s done this since he was a kid. It started off as a tiny rebellion, and he never got caught, so he never stopped doing it. But late at night, if he happens to wake up, he’ll go to the kitchen and just slice a piece of butter to eat Just Like That. When he was younger he would only take what he could get without there being a visible difference, but in a dorm there’s no telling who’s using the butter and when, so taking a bigger chunk isn’t an issue...right? Trey - He’s a brony. He started watching MLP as a joke with his little siblings and then suddenly he was tucking away merch carefully in his room so that they wouldn’t find it. He’s more embarrassed about his family finding out than he is about friends finding out, so if he lets it slip somehow, please let him nerd out. Please. (Trey and Idia don’t interact much but now they have to) Cater - He has a love/hate relationship with catfishing/ghosting people. Not for long, mind you, he doesn’t want to genuinely lead anyone on, but using some photo of a hot model and a few minutes setting up a fake dating profile, he matches with everyone he can. He knows the compliments are meant for the picture of the person he posted, but for just a few minutes, he can pretend they’re for him. Instead of coming clean, he just leaves them on read and never talks to them again. Deuce - We already know how conflicted he is about his favourite food (eggs) so the mild guilt only gets worse when he finds he enjoys both the sound and the feeling of crushing the shells in his hands, especially after hard boiling eggs and parts of the shell are all connected and he can just make them CRUNCH. Ace - He likes to sneak out of his room at night- but not for troublemaking. He likes to go sit with the hedgehogs since they are nocturnal and just chill with them, because when nobody else is around he gets to babytalk them. Cater has caught him Once. (everyone else is below!)

Savanaclaw Leona - Similar to Trey, he watched Bluey with Cheka and Falena once and now he binges it when he needs a good cry, he will NEVER tell anyone he owns the vinyl for it though. Ruggie - Oh man my dude LIVES for starting drama without getting involved. He likes watching from the sidelines. HC that he will get paid by folks around the school to use his signature spell to get petty revenge on someone. It’s never meant to hurt anyone, but kinda just ruin their day. Someone landed the entire class detention with Crewel? Yeah, they might end up stuck standing in a water fountain for a half hour with their homework. Jack - To me, Jack is the youngest in his family (I expand on that in my family HCs ^^) and while he feels a little guilty, he is the #1 offender for licking a knife of peanut butter and putting it back in the jar to continue using it. He’ll do the same for jam and jelly. He drinks straight out of the milk jug. He got caught once by his sister and she made him pay for the jar of peanut butter in hopes he wouldn’t do it again- but it didn’t work. Octavinelle Azul - He spends a lot of money on outfits he wants to wear, but he doesn’t think he ever will, whether it be confidence issues or once he gets it its not what he expected, but its a self punishment to not return it and get his money back so that he can just look at it and think about whether he’ll ever be brave enough to take that first step and just try it on. More often than not, it’s a lot of extravagant dresses that he’s too shy to try on, but he loves shopping for. Jade - He prides himself on his composed personality, though when the mostro lounge closes for the night, when not even Floyd can see him, he likes first watching the lobsters in the tank like a cat, pupils blown up and grinning, ready for his little self indulgent time. When he finally gets bored, he partially reverts into his mer form, plunging his hands into the tank and grabbing one to snack on. He makes sure to write it off to “waste” before Azul can find out. Floyd - Eating things he knows he’s not supposed to. It’s not his fault land items look so yummy, and his teeth need something to sink into, harder than would be tolerated for affectionate bites. Anything with something tough on the outside and soft on the inside or makes a popping noise is the best, like tightly bound leather or bubble wrap or pop cans. Scarabia Kalim - I have a rather dark HC for him here, but if you’re looking for something lighter, he has a really bad habit at picking at his lips. When he does remember to wear chapstick, he usually licks it off because it tastes good... Jamil - TV dinners, man, this poor guy loves to cook, he genuinely does, but sometimes when Kalim makes him cook unexpectedly for 20+ people, he does not want to even eat what he’s made by the time he’s done cleaning up. At least when it’s under those circumstances, he can justify eating microwave dinners, but a lot of time he just has them when he’s straight up EXHAUSTED. Pomefiore Vil - Aw man, his weak spot is pizza. Sometimes he calls to place an order with a voice modulator and picks up his order in disguise just outside of campus and just....destroys two large pizzas a a 1 liter bottle of cola, hiding in a very specific spot in the walls by the gate of campus where there’s a gap just big enough for him to stuff himself into and hide his Gremliness.

Rook - Does this man even feel guilt for things he should feel guilt for? I don’t know. What he does do though, is watch potential couples on campus, and if he thinks they’re going to fall apart before they get together, forges a love letter from one to another. Epel - In case pocket onions weren’t enough, Epel likes sneaking into Vil’s room and trying on his clothes, only to mock him in his mirror. He is meticulous in putting everything back where it’s meant to be, but also shifts everything on Vil’s vanity just slightly to the left to fuck with him a bit. He always leaves through the window, he does not want to be found in the hallway by accident. Ignihyde Idia - He has so many...but his biggest guilty pleasure is doomscrolling Leona’s magicam page bc....Beeg kitty (I don’t ship them, sometimes people are just Nice To Admire) Ortho - (this is sad I’m sorry) he looks through photos of his human counterpart and wonders if he is filling the shoes that have been left for him properly. If he’s developing the way the human Ortho would have. Diasomnia Malleus - Obviously, he enjoys sneaking out, but sometimes when he’s out he just likes to go fishing. He could, catch a fish by hand in seconds, but he enjoys the peaceful quiet and patience the sport requires. He only fishes until he’s caught one worth eating, guts it, then takes care to cook it to perfection using his flames before eating it. Lilia - This man canonically picks his nose in public how tf am I supposed to top that. Silver - When someone other than his dad is cooking/baking something in the oven, like fish, he likes to peel up bits and pieces of the oil/seasoning and just eat it. If there’s the skin of something on there, yeah he’s eating it. Sebek - He has a stuffie collection that hides under his bed, which is part of why he was so enamoured by his stuffie in Harveston. RSA Che’nya - He likes to eat his bananas without peeling them. Just Because. Neige - He will drink shots of ranch. Sorry. Cheka - licks his play-dough. Knows not to eat it. But He Likes The Salt

#v talks #twst #twisted wonderland #twst hcs #twst heartslaybul #twst savanaclaw #twst octavinelle #twst scarabia #twst pomefiore #twst ignihyde #twst diasomnia #twst nrc #twst rsa #twst fluff #twst crack #twst angst #twst fanfic #twst scenarios

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deandoesthingstome · 1 year

Text

Hall Pass - Chapter 2

Paring: Henry Cavill x Reader (RPF)

Series Summary: You run into Henry Cavill at the start of a two-week house-sitting vacation. You had some previous plans. Some were ruined by your now ex-boyfriend. Some were made better. Guess by whom?

Series Warnings: I’ll be honest, this whole thing is just self-indulgent smutty fluff. Here’s what I offer: meeting, making out, and having sex with Henry Cavill (rpf). I’m probably NOT going to be adding chapter warnings unless I get a bug to re-write and something worms it’s way into the story that I wasn’t expecting.

A/N: I started this story shortly after the fiasco of The Witcher and Superman announcements. I thought about how great it would be to try and cheer him up a little. For the purposes of this story, he is single. No hate to anyone in his life right now, in whatever way you imagine that to be. I also understand if you do not read rpf. Feel free to scroll on by. I don’t need to hear about it.

This was going to be a looooong one-shot, but solicited feedback prompted me to break it up for you.

Playlist: I will add to Spotify with each chapter.

Word Count: 3.8K

Chapter 1

In the morning, the smell of freshly brewed coffee forced your eyes open. You hoped you had enough time to shower before heading out to say goodbye to Henry. Plus you needed to tame the lingering fantasy from your dreams the night before. Somehow while reaching for the bottle of body wash on the floor of the tight shower cubicle you almost slipped and fell out, cursing loudly and grabbing on to the shower curtain, praying it held while you found your balance again. You heard a sharp knock at the bedroom door.

“Everything alright in there?” Henry called.

“It’s fine! I’m fine. I’ll be right out,” you hollered back from the bathroom.

You tried to hurry while still taking your time to keep your footing. One more quick rinse, then a dry off with a fluffy towel and you were back in the room slipping into fleece-lined leggings and a comfy oversized sweater.

He had another fire roaring in the great room and was sitting next to two mugs of coffee at the breakfast bar.

“Good morning! I heard a shout when I came to see how you took your coffee. Everything okay?”

“Oh, just clumsy me. I’m fine. And black is fine, thank you very much.” You glanced at your watch. So little time left.

“Yeah, I should probably get going soon. The store said 10 and I recall it was about 30 minutes out?” You nodded in response to his query. “Yeah, so a quick cup and then I should run.”

You hoped your face hadn’t fallen too low. Could you fake a need in town so you could head in with him? Ooh, go back for the honey! No, too desperate.

“Henry?” Might as well try, desperate or not.

“Yes?”

“Do you… where you’re staying… Is there any reason…Would you want to…I mean, there’s a table that gets good natural light you could take over and work on your model…oh, but Kal…shoot, nevermind.”

“Were you offering this farm as my hiatus home?”

“Yes? I mean, you could take up more space than a table. Plus the grounds are inspiring to wander around. And the goats. You barely had time to meet them while you were making out with the horses yesterday.”

Henry gave a hearty chuckle. “That’s really sweet of you. Very kind. But I’ve got…”

“Yeah, right, of course. Ignore me. Please. This must be so weird for you. A total stranger offering you a room in a home that isn’t even hers.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call you a total stranger and I’ve often found that Henrys make the best friends, but yes, I do have Kal and my assistant to think about.”

“Yeah, of course. No worries.”

You offered to jot down the directions back to town while you finished your coffee with Henry. He asked you to text him the details instead, reciting his cell number for you.

“I can trust you won't just go handing this out now, right?”

“Never!” You clutched your chest in mock dismay.

Too few moments later, you waved down the drive with a bittersweet smile on your face as you watched him go, then turned to re-enter the house and settle into your non-anniversay day. It had started out so lovely, but now that you were alone…

Oh, but not! You shifted gears and headed into the barn, where Caleb was mucking stalls.

“Did you have a visitor last night?” the old man greeted you with a cheerful smile.

“Sort of? The strangest thing…”

“And where’s your better half this morning?” He watched your face fall and tried to recover. “Everything okay?”

“It will be.” You paused for a moment. “We’re done. He just couldn’t tear himself away from work, not even for our anniversary.”

“That stinks. I’m so sorry. Was that him I heard leaving just now?”

“Not exactly…” you hedged as Caleb laughed at your reticence.

“Okay, well, keep your secrets then,” he winked. “Want to help out here?”

You jumped at the chance to get a little more familiar with the care and handling of the horses. Caleb helped you lead Mikka and Sadie into the field. You asked if you could have Butterscotch saddled for a ride in a little bit, which meant Telly would stick nearby. He never went far without her. Caleb recommended waiting to saddle the horse until the work was done so she wasn’t uncomfortable for the duration. The manual labor kept your mind off both Henry and your ex for the time being. As soon as the stalls were done, you headed back inside to pack some provisions for the afternoon. When you headed back out to the barn, you turned your attention to the goats who were ready for mid-morning nibbles.

Caleb was just about to saddle Butterscotch when a familiar vehicle wound its way up the drive.

“Holy shit,” you whispered under your breath.

“Any idea who this is now? Wait, isn’t that the SUV I saw on my way in?”

“Sure is,” you were almost beaming. Henry Cavill was driving back up the road to you with what looked like a large bear in the passenger seat.

Henry parked and stepped out of the car, making his way toward you and offering a hand to Caleb in greeting.

“Good afternoon! I’m Henry. You must be the horse master?”

“Sure am. Name’s Caleb. Nice to meet you.”

“Henry, what on earth are you doing back here?” you asked.

“Well, I got to thinking. First of all, we forgot to grab some photos for your hosts. And second, why would I spend my hiatus in a fancy hotel in the city, when I could just as easily enjoy this beautiful country-side? If the offer still stands, that is.”

“You a photographer or something?” Caleb asked, and it was all you could do not to laugh at the older gentleman.

“Uh, no. Nope. Not a photographer,” Henry smiled.

“Caleb, Henry forgot to give you his last name. Seems that’s his schtick. This is Henry Cavill, he’s an actor. Plays Superman,” you offered, thinking it would be the easiest character for Caleb to identify with.

“Well, played, yes,” Henry countered and you almost fainted from embarrassment. Of course! He’d just had some terrible news about that role. And after leaving The Witcher, no less. Poor guy was having a hard time of it lately.

“Oh, yeah. Think I knew that. Well, what’s a big Hollywood celebrity doing all the way out here?” Caleb asked.

“I was picking up some items from a store nearby when I got sidetracked and wound up at this wonderful farm last night. And now I’m hoping I can impose for a little while longer.” He smiled at you with a genuine sincerity and you couldn’t stop grinning back. Suddenly a sharp bark sounded from the SUV.

“Oh, yes, and Kal! Caleb, are the horses good with strange dogs? I’d love to let him run free, but happy to keep him inside if it’s a problem?” Henry asked.

“As long as he’s good with horses, they’re good with him. Sadie and MIkka are out in the pasture right now, but Telly and Butterscotch can show him around.”

While Henry retrieved Kal from the car and introduced him to you and Caleb, an idea began to form and before you knew it you were giving it voice.

“Caleb, would it be too much trouble to saddle Telly as well? If Henry’s up for it, I’d love to take him for a ride this afternoon,” you gave a questioning glance toward Henry, hiding your panic that he might think you were once again insinuating a different kind of activity altogether.

“Oh, well if it’s not too much trouble for Caleb, that would be a wonderful treat.” If he did notice the double entendre, he wasn’t showing it.

“Sure. Happy to saddle ‘em up for you. Think you can get ‘em untacked when you're back?”

You nodded, noticing Henry did as well, and Caleb proceeded to get the horses ready for you while you led Henry back into the house.

“Oh, and here, for you” Henry handed you a small brown paper bag. You opened it and peered in to find two jars of honey. “I wasn’t sure which flavor you preferred, so I just asked Josh if I could have one of each.”

“Well, thank you!” You put the honey in the kitchen and continued down the hall to drop Henry’s bags in his guest room. While he used the bathroom, you took the time to gather a few more items to add to the bag you’d already packed to take with you on your ride, then led Henry back out to the barn.

“Alright, you two. I’ll be back this evening to gather the other two and get them all in the barn for the night. See you later!”

You waved as Caleb took off, then headed into the barn to grab a helmet. Henry followed.

“Do you think I could borrow a helmet as well?”

“Oh, I didn’t even think. I usually wear one because, you know,” you gestured to yourself, “clumsy. But I didn’t want to assume, since you ride so often.”

“Well, it’s always a good idea to take precautions, I think. Maybe just to stay on the safe side,” he winked at you. Or tried to.

Once you were settled in the saddles, Henry asked where to.

“There are a few different paths around the property. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take an easy ride through the pasture and around the woods.”

“Sounds just fine.”

Henry and Telly fell in line with you as you led Butterscotch down the lane and into the field at a slow pace. Kal ran ahead and returned every so often to make sure he was headed in the same direction you were. You asked Henry how he managed to switch up his plans.

“I just felt so welcome and unbothered here last night, I really didn’t want our time to end. I called my assistant and had her bring Kal to meet me in town. Gave her the rest of the hiatus off and hoped for the best. I just texted her while I was settling my things in the guest room to go ahead and cancel the suite as well, since it seems I have another lodging option now.”

A warmth spread from the tip of your head to your toes. Henry Cavill wanted to spend more time with you. It seemed you wanted the same. You let your sincere smile speak for itself and enjoyed the rest of the ride in a serene quiet, listening for the sounds of nature instead. Every so often, you snuck a glance to see if the videos you'd watched online did any justice to the way this man sat in the saddle.

They did not.

Soon, you turned Butterscotch to enter a small copse of trees and Telly followed suit, barely requiring a nudge from Henry’s reins. A short distance in, you pulled to a stop and turned to see how Henry was reacting to the landscape in front of him.

“What in the world…?” he marveled.

“It’s a small natural hot spring. The next town over is famous for them. There’s a hotel, spa, roman bath house, the whole works. It’s their tourist draw. My friends were lucky enough to find this small pocket on their land. They set the flagstones surrounding the pool and even created some stone seats once you step in.” You paused, realizing Henry had just told you how unbothered he felt here and now it seemed you were making a play to see him practically naked. “If you want to, that is, no pressure at all.”

“Well I don’t know if I’m prepared…”

“I snagged a pair of swim trunks while you were settling in,” you admitted, sheepishly. “I was already packed and getting ready to head out here when you showed up. I really hope you don’t mind.”

“How could I mind? And the water’s safe?”

“Absolutely. They test it just about every week, but it stays consistently warm and without bacteria. It’s really a wonder!”

“Well alright then. Let’s do it!” Henry smiled wide and dismounted with such ease you were almost embarrassed to get down in front of him.

It honestly felt like you were flopping yourself to the ground every time you got off a horse. But once you were on solid ground, Henry approached to help you unpack the saddle bags. You let the horses saunter around the clearing, trusting Butterscotch to keep Telly close.

“There doesn’t seem to be a changing room out here,” he joked, making a show of looking around.

“Yes, well. I thought you could just step behind that rather large pine over there and change while I get in. There’s no one around for miles, I swear it.”

Henry accepted the trunks and towel you offered, then marched off to the makeshift dressing room. You set the food and drink you’d packed on the side of the spring, then peeled off your clothes down to your bathing suit and stepped in, sitting quickly to fend off the brisk, wintery air, keeping your back towards Henry, lest he actually be too big to fit behind the tree as well.

In a moment, you heard a rustle and footsteps heading your way, so you turned and almost lost your breath. He was striding toward you, jeans and sweater in hand, towel draped around his neck, and looking just fine in the borrowed swim shorts. They fit him snuggly and it may have been the best idea you’d ever had, short of actually inviting him to stay with you at the farm.

As he got closer, you moved to the far side of the spring to give him room to enter. He sat and released the same satisfied sigh you had when you first entered the warm water.

“I didn’t realize how chilly the air had gotten until you had me strip naked behind a tree. But this is just phenomenal.”

You laughed and apologized, but he waved it off.

“I’m glad you suggested this. It’s a welcome treat. And I see you have champagne?”

“Yes, well. My plan was to come out here and drown my sorrows alone…”

“Oh, right! Ah, today’s the actual day, is it?”

“Was. Yes. So would you care to toast the demise of my most recent blunder with me?”

“Absolutely. And his loss, by the way. Absolutely.”

You ducked with a sudden shyness and took a sip of the champagne.

“Did you also bring strawberries for this? That’s a pretty standard anniversary thing, isn’t it?” Henry teased with a wink.

“I would have if they didn’t wreck my insides. I can’t stomach the tiny seeds. But here,” you turned and grabbed a small container to open and hand over. “Have some grapes?”

Henry thanked you and grabbed a few, then apologized if his strawberry joke was in poor taste.

“You had no idea. How could it be?” you assured him.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“For not treating me like a celebrity. With kid gloves and as if the whole world revolves around me. It’s been refreshing from the moment you bumped into me. You’ve listened to my ramblings about my hobbies and haven’t asked once about that Witcher fiasco. Or Superman for that matter. It made it very easy for me to accept your offer of a few weeks of quiet country time and I really appreciate it.”

“Confession?”

“Yours or mine?” he asked.

“Mine.”

“Ok, go.”

“You’re my Hall Pass.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Hall Pass. It’s like…”

“Yes, I think I’m aware, but you aren’t in a relationship anymore, right. Not since the very minute we met, if I’m not mistaken. Do you need a pass now?”

“No. No I suppose I don’t.”

“Good. Because I really wouldn’t want this to ruin anything you’ve got going.”

You blinked your eyes with confusion. “This?” you asked, not sure if you were afraid he would give you the answer you assumed he’d give, which was something along the lines of anything that hinted he had no real interest in you. Or if you were afraid he’d give you the answer you hoped for and that he meant he had the same undeniable attraction to you as you had to him.

He licked his lips, tilted his head, and furrowed his brow ever so slightly. You could see the way his mind sought the right words.

“I suppose it’s my turn to apologize and hope I’m not being terribly forward when I say that I don’t mind saying I’d like to kiss you.”

You blinked again trying to decipher the words that sounded like a jumble and yet also appeared to mean exactly what you wanted them to when combined with the sexy drop in his voice and the way he leaned in ever so slightly.

Don’t shake your head to clear the cobwebs, you idiot. But do something soon so he doesn’t regret what he’s just said.

“I think I’d like that, too,” you managed to whisper, afraid of the tremble you were sure would accompany the regular volume of your voice as he inched closer.

“Is now okay?” and he waited just long enough to see you nod before he bent his head left and captured your lips between his.

It was sweet and warm, a tender, gentle touch. At first. But the groan that escaped his throat as you swiped your tongue across his bottom lip when you very much couldn’t hold back sent shivers down your spine and a heat wave through your core. Henry placed a hand against your neck to hold you firmly in place as he tilted your head back and answered your silent ask with his own deepening of the kiss, tongue swirling into you.

The various ways you imagined kissing Henry Cavill could go each time you pressed play on one of his movies or shows did absolutely no justice to the real thing. And maybe you were naive, but this didn’t feel like an “acting kiss.” No, this was real, at least for you. Every tingle, every spark, every butterfly struggling for release. And yours wasn’t the only body reacting.

Henry pressed closer, pushed you gently against the side of the small pool, one hand behind your back to cushion you against the stones. You felt his knee wedge between your thighs and when your hand touched his side to hold him close you could swear you felt goosebumps. But that must just be the cold air.

Suddenly he pulled you away from the wall, backing himself up to the other side and dragging his hands down your back before lifting you onto his lap and coaxing your legs to either side of his thighs. He never once let go of your mouth, so you had no choice but to moan wantonly into his as you could now feel what else this kiss was doing to him.

His hands roamed your body, fingers pressing and squeezing gently before settling on the small of your back so he could shift you closer into the grind of his hips. After a few moments of even more passionate kissing with heads tilting back and forth in a carefully choreographed dance of lips and tongue, you felt him pull back and reluctantly let go.

“If we don’t stop, I’ll likely come right in these borrowed pants and I wouldn’t want to mess with the pH of the hot spring,” Henry confessed with a little sadness in his voice. “I’m sorry, I know I started that.”

“Please stop apologizing to me,” you answered kindly, attempting to retreat to the opposite side of the spring. “If nothing else, on my darkest days I can at least remind myself of a hot tub makeout session with Henry Cavill.”

Henry didn’t let go.

“Oh, well, I was hoping…I mean, is it presumptuous of me to imagine there could be something else, more than … well.” The way he simply stood up as he shifted your legs to wrap around his waist and turned to set you on the ledge. “Is the air too cold for this?”

“I have a feeling you can take care of that,” you grinned, accepting his arms around your shoulders as he bent for another taste of your lips. All his residual body heat was keeping you warm and even if it wasn’t, your mind was decidedly on other things for the entire time his mouth was on yours.

Suddenly, your phone’s alarm sounded and you jumped, knocking your head against his once again.

“Shit! Sorry! That caught me by surprise,” you apologized.

“That phone seems to cause you more trouble than it’s worth,” he teased, letting you free so you could stand up and grab your cell from the bag.

“Oh, I'd rather say this phone has provided me a unique experience," you replied before glancing down to silence the alarm. "Oh…fuck,” you tried to keep your flash of concern to a whisper but Henry heard.

“Everything alright?” he asked, already slipped back into the warm water where you also wished you could be at the moment.

“Uh, yeah. It’s…oh, god. I swear. You are going to think I am just trying to take all kinds of advantage of you,” you offered, while wrapping yourself in a towel to stay warm.

“I mean, I’m not exactly protesting here, am I?”

“No, I suppose not. But this whole day is just..okay, well it was supposed to be an anniversary date, if you recall. So what’s happening now is that we need to pack up and head back to the house because in sixty minutes I have a massage booked.” You grimmaced, hoping it didn’t sound like just another excuse to be next-to-naked next to Henry Cavill. “I could just cancel, eat the fee, it’s not a big deal…”

“Absolutely not. Unless that’s what you want to do. This is your day, right?” He watched you nod. “And do you want to have a massage?”

What you wanted was to continue your time with Henry in a hot spring, but you had also shelled out some major bucks to schedule two in-home 90-minute massages for you and your dolt of an ex. Canceling now would mean losing the entire fee. And Henry was here for another two weeks. There’d be plenty of time to get back here, literally and figuratively, if that’s where things were really going to head.

Plus, the stress of everything over the last several months left you longing for the sensation of palms and knuckles and fingers kneading into deep tissue to release stubborn tension. You could send one of them home, maybe. Eat that cost. Unless…

“Would you be interested in one as well?”

Henry paused for a moment. “There might be some things to consider with that…ah, fuck it. Why not?”

Chapter 3

Tags: Please let me know if you want on or off or moved.

@littlegreenplasticsoldier - you opened this floodgate. Sorry.

Anything: @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @geralts-yenn @sillyrabbit81 @kittenofdoomage @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @aireraume @kebabgirl67 @marantha @sweetdreamsofgelato @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @dedicated-to-mr-cavill @alexakeyloveloki @feelmyroarrrr @raccoon-eyed-rebel @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @kingliam2019 @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka

Hall Pass: (askers and likers, though if you liked the teaser post and you aren’t here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you) @crymeariversworld @tess-lecter-blog @codykosuckmytoe @casadutti @fefa-la-printcessa @kaylamontaniz @kemillyfreitas @urmom3sposts @alicasalime @florxdexcerezo @lothbrokcore @straightforwardly @fuzzyugly-blog @livesinfantasyland @thereisa8ella @coldmooninthedark @12dilucswife @ms-angiealsina @7eamfan7asy @band-of-brothers-memes @ms-betsy-fangirl @cavillsslut

#henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #hall pass #mine #deandoesthingstome

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