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writingsbychlo · 6 months

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HIDE AND SEEK | mattheo riddle

summary; you and mattheo play a little game on hallowe’en.

word count; 9058

notes; don’t forget to check out the sister fic to this one by @azrielscrown, we did a lil joint thing, and you can see me making some cameos if you wanna hang out 😉 we’ve been keeping this lil secret for WEEKS and I’m so happy we can finally share it with you all <3

“Sit still, will you?” Your giggle echoed off of the stone walls in Mattheo’s bathroom. He scoffed, shuffling between his feet once again.

“S’not my fault it tickles! I don’t know how you girls do this every day, don’t the brushes make you want to sneeze?” His nose scrunched up as he spoke, but he let you continue to set the wet paint around his face with powder. His eyes focused on you, you could feel the stare as you observed the photograph he was holding up, a cut-out piece of a magazine. “You’re pretty when you’re focused.”

“And you’re distracting me,” You switched brushes, slapping at his hand as his fingers began to tease at your thigh. Returning it to its place on the counter beside your thigh, he shuffled between your legs impatiently once again, and pouted. “I can’t do your makeup like that. Smooth your face out.”

“Kiss.”

“Mattheo—”

“Kiss!” He repeated, and the smile you wore was against your control as you leaned in, pecking his lips softly, doing your best not to smudge the makeup you’d already applied around the centre of his face. It was too short and chaste for his liking, that much was clear when you pulled away as he licked at your lower lip, a whine coming from him as he chased you forward, only to be foiled by a chuckle, and a hand on his chest.

“I’m not redoing this for you if you make a mess of it! I don’t have time, I still have to get ready myself. Party starts in less than an hour, you know.”

“I know.” Mattheo grouched, smoothing his features out as you ran a thumb over his lips, refocusing on painting the skeletal features onto his face. “Y’know, you still haven’t told me what your costume is going to be.”

“You’d know if you’d gone for a couples costume with me. Stop moving your mouth.”

“That’s not fair!” He cringed and the brush slipped right into his mouth, leaving a streak of wet paint across his tongue, and you raised your brows. “I had to go with the boys, I couldn't be the only one who didn’t join in!”

“I’m messing with you, honey. Now, stop talking.” He merely grumbled behind closed lips, but his eyes were sparkling. He remained still and quiet, letting you paint the final pieces of his makeup around his mouth, stretching the creepy, toothy grin across his cheeks. Plucking the picture from his fingers and holding it up, you glanced a few times between it and your boyfriend, shrugging with a sigh. “That’s as good as it’s gonna’ get.”

Standing straight and moving to the mirror, his jaw dropped a little, hand rising but fingers never quite touching his face, tipping his head side to side to observe it. “Damn, baby, this is better than just ‘good’, it’s great!”

“Yeah? Good enough for your little boy’s night scare fest?”

“Don’t call it that, but yes.” Reaching for his hand, you tugged him back toward you, standing him before you and shaking the bottle in your hand. “What’s that?”

“Special setting spray. Close your eyes.” He did as told, eyes closing as you unpopped the lid. “I warn you, it may take some serious scrubbing after this to get the paint off, might leave some stains.”

“Wait, what—” You sprayed it across his face, and a choked sound between a gag and a cough left him as you covered his skin in a thick layer of the spray. Flapping your hand over his face to help his glistening skin dry, his frown deepened, hands reaching for you blindly, and gripping your hips. “I feel like my eyelids just got glued shut.”

“You’re so dramatic.” He cracked his eyes back open, several blinks and a few funny faces to adjust the stiffness, before he was tapping lightly at his skin, fingers pulling away clean. “You should still be careful with it, but it should hold. Just don’t… rub your face, or get any drinks thrown at it by scared party-goers.”

“Always ruining my fun.” Mattheo’s wistful sigh had you laughing once again, slipping down from the counter and slipping your hands under the edge of his baggy shirt. Lifting it up carefully and guarding his face, he raised his arms up, helping to slip off the shirt without disturbing the makeup on his face, leaving it heaped next to the paints and brushes on the counter. “Always helping me out.”

“Yes, well, someone’s got to keep your hopeless arse out of bother.” You leaned in, placing a kiss on his chest. “What does the rest of this group costume consist of?”

“Suits. Not sure whose choice that was, probably Dray’s one condition on joining in.” Pretty brown eyes rolled at his friend, even if his lips were raised in a wide smile. “I’ll get ready, and then we can go to your dorm and get you all ready before meeting the rest?”

“I’ll go start getting ready now, while you do. Save some time.” He only hummed, your heart skipping a single beat as the first deception of the night passed seamlessly through your lips.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

You only nodded, pecking his lips delicately one more time, before slipping from his arms, out of his dorm and into the corridors. Your feet were moving fast, like a sprint through the halls towards your own dorm. Fifteen minutes was barely enough time to grab the things you need and escape from the Slytherin dorms without your boyfriend seeing you. You dragged out the bag you’d already packed from under your bed, and the pre-written note you’d hidden in your bedside drawer.

His name was written neatly across the front, and you flipped it open, double-checking the message inside. In perfect, neat cursive;

‘Find me before midnight xo’

Folding it back up and propping it on the bed where you knew he’d see it, you eyed it for a second. Putting down your bag and rooting through, you gave your lips a half-hearted swipe of red lipstick, blotting them for a second before pressing a kiss to the note over his name, a single clue to start the game, before returning it to its spot.

With that, you were off, leaving your dorm unlocked and enchanted, for his entry and his entry alone.

The common room was packed with groups gathered, ready to leave for the Weasley twins’ party, making it easy for you to blend in and disappear. The halls were just as busy, decorated and overflowing with chatter, the castle ghosts crowding and gathering happily to add to the atmosphere.

Everyone else seemed to be heading down and out, leaving you as one of the few people heading up, to the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor. It was empty as you arrived, the sound of your bag hitting the floor creating an echo to bounce off of the walls.

Tugging on your costume only took minutes, stashing your clothes back in the bag and leaving it open as you fished through for your makeup kit. It was as you were leaning across the sink, one eye closed as you swept eyeliner into a sharp point in one corner that the door crashed open once again. Jess stumbled through it, arms full of whatever costume the Weasley boys had forced upon her, and you stood straight up, trying not to blink and smear the wet liner before it dried.

“Pushing it late, huh? Party starts in fifteen minutes!”

“Don't remind me…” Jess shucked off her robes, dumping the cloak on top of your empty bag, and beginning to undo the buttons of her shirt as you turned back to the mirror once again.

When you were satisfied with your makeup, two sharp wings on either side and red lips to match your dress, you gave a happy nod to your reflection. With a few minutes to spare and a bottle of nail polish waiting to be used, you hopped up onto the sink. Costume now donned, Jess was lacing up heeled boots that reached all the way to her thighs.

“Are you trying to scare the masses, or seduce them?” With only a sly smirk of her own in return, Jess made her way to the mirror beside yours, plucking the red lipstick from your makeup bag.

“I’m supposed to be a bloodthirsty sorceress,” Popping the cap, she applied a coat. “Know any men who wouldn't mind having their hearts ripped out?”

“A few. The boys will be in skull makeup tonight, so aim for them first.” Your legs swung as you chuckled at her statement, focused on the brush moving across your nails. You wondered just how many of the boys were ready, and what Mattheo was doing right now. Surely, he’d already be on the hunt. “Save the curly one for me, though.”

Jess only beamed in response. “You’ve sent Riddle out on that wild goose chase yours, then?”

You shrugged, ever the picture of easiness as you blew on your wet nails to dry them. “He’s got until midnight to find me.”

Excited knots twisted at your stomach with the mere thought, the thrill of the cat-and-mouse chase. It would likely drive Mattheo insane, knowing you were toying with him as he searched. “What happens when the clock strikes twelve?”

“Let's just say, that I’m fully prepared to live up to my house name, and let him slither in.”

Zipping your makeup bag up with the nail polish inside, you packed all of the clothes into your bag, stashing it behind one of the sinks. “At least one of us is having fun tonight.”

Oh, that was no doubt. You weren’t sure ‘fun’ was even a fair word to use, knowing that the way you were riling your boyfriend up was more like a first-class ticket to seeing Heaven. “Who says you can’t? You may owe Fred a favour, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cause a little trouble.”

Jess shared a devious smile, sliding a gold mask into place as you slipped your own red one on to match, “I like the way you think.”

Placing the final part of your costume onto your head, the small horns on the headband complete your ‘devil’ look, and you hopped down to join her.

With your arm linked through your friend’s, the two of you set off. At the pathway marked as the beginning of the no-doubt terrifying journey ahead, Jess split off, a wink in your direction as you blew a kiss in hers, wishing her luck on the night of haunting ahead, mind set on your own task.

Mattheo had told you where the boys all planned to meet, leaving you plenty of time to slip into the throng of people and disappear into the masses. Your plan: to remain hidden in plain sight.

Weaving through the crowds, eyes scanning over every person there, it wasn’t long until you spotted your boyfriend. Leaning against the trunk of a tree, flanked by only Enzo and Draco so far, he was already searching for you amongst the hordes. You followed closely behind a group, slipping into their ranks seamlessly, as Mattheo’s focus moved across you, flickering over the group and dismissing them quickly as strangers. A spark of excitement shot along your spine.

Just like that, you were walking straight past him. Your cover merely being that of standing among people you didn’t even know meant letting him look right through you like fog in the early morning.

Slipping inside one of the hidden walkways, darkness encased you, hiding you from view as all the horrors and thrills Fred and George had managed to create took place.

Actors in costumes, enchantments to create realistic scenes, and laughter poured from your lips as much as screams did, your heart was pounding as you cleared the tunnel minutes later.

Surrounding the clearing on all sides were various attractions. How they’d managed to pull all this together, you had no idea, but the twins never failed to impress you. Several hexed bonfires filled the clearing, a hazy setting washing over your skin from that very first sniff of woody smoke pulled into your lungs.

A haunted hayride, pulled along no doubt by the thestrals that Luna seemed so fond of took off on your right, a speakeasy-style building to the left, a haunted house with screams filling the chill night air right before you. Bobbing for apples, a spooky corn maze with moving scarecrows, everything that would send chills down your spine.

Mattheo and the boys would likely catch up any moment, more visitors pouring in around where you’d paused at the end of the tunnel to admire, so you spurred yourself into action. The night couldn't end just yet, you still had hours of fun ahead of you.

Angling yourself towards the speakeasy first, you stepped through the door, the subtle smell of gin and perfumed musk washing over your senses as you stepped up to the twisted staircase, flickering lights disappearing into darkness before your very eyes.

Down, down, down, you moved. Swallowed whole by the shadows, your shaky laughter would doubtless have clouded your breath with the sudden chill that took you over, so dark for a moment you couldn't even see your hand before your face. Then, just as your hand skimmed towards your wand for a Lumos spell, a curtain swept aside, a couple stumbling out between fits of tipsy giggles, guiding you with flashes of coloured lights and the beat of unconfined music.

The moment you were inside, all silencing spells wore off, blinding lights flashed across the dance floor, with the music that was pounding through the room so deep the base travelled up your legs. The floor was packed, everybody dancing to their heart’s content, and those who weren’t were gathered around small tables for card games, or crowding the bar.

It wasn’t long until you located a group of your friends, some with their dates, some solo, and you were quickly immersed under the cover of the group. The beat had your eyes slipping closed, rhythm flowing through you as your body swayed. A drink was pressed into your hand by a friend, the fruity taste coating your tongue and leaving your body in a numb haze.

You had to say, you were impressed by the effort the twins had gone to. Despite the student-body having only found out about this party a few weeks ago, you knew for them to have pulled this off, they’d have to have been planning since Valentine’s Day. Songs passed by in a blur of dancing and more drinks, a shot came soon, so spicy your eyes watered and throat stung, only soothed by the lime you were handed to follow.

Wiping a stray droplet of juice from under your lip as you pulled the slice away, you almost missed the flash of skull makeup and blond hair in your peripheral. Draco was on the dance floor, making his way across, a smirk on his lips as a hand with manicured nails reached out to clasp his tie, trying to tug him into a dance.

You didn’t have to search for long to find the face you knew so well, the one you’d painted yourself only a couple of hours prior, also on the dance floor. Hands reached for him too, trying to pull him this way and that, but he wasn’t stopped. No, he was searching. Looking at every face with your hair colour, checking under masks and turning dancers around despite their protests, just to rule them out from the game.

And he was heading right for you.

Spinning away from him, you ducked across towards a friend, her arms looping around your body as you neared, none the wiser to the game you were playing, and the distraction she provided. Swaying your body with her own, you pushed your lips close to her ear, watching Mattheo over her shoulder. “I need another drink, you want one?”

She only shook her head, released you near the back of the group and let herself get swept back up, as you were hidden away behind the crowd, sneaking towards the bar.

Padma and her sister were serving quickly, wands in hand as they floated several cups through the air all at once. Slices of fruit and cubes of ice drop, tinkling into plastic cups ready for them to fill.

Flagging down one of the twins, a shaky breath of pure excitement leaves you, as you turn your focus back to your boyfriend. He looks like he’d been having fun. A little dishevelled, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his tie loosened, smudges of dirt and glitter on his clothes from wherever he and his boys had been playing, scaring unsuspecting patrons and gathering screams.

His hair was no longer the neat style he’d doubtless have gelled it into, the stands messy from running his fingers through it, and curls beginning to form in the heat of the bar. A single curl fell across his forehead, brushing through the paint, and your fingers itched to brush it out of his eyes, like always.

He’d reached the group now, searching idly in the area you’d been occupying, not finding you where you’d once been, chasing only steps behind and having no idea.

The visible frustration he wore gave you a cocky smile, a rush of pride filing you up, watching as he made to move on, to more fruitless endeavours.

Then, a hand shot out.

A hand in a black lace glove, attached to a girl in a full-body leather jumpsuit, hugging every inch of her body, the little cat ears you knew well. A member of your former dance group, poking up into the air. Pulling him to a stop, he bowed his head, lips moving and a conversation you couldn't hear taking place, and his head snapped up in your direction.

For a second, your breath caught, swearing he almost looked right at you as he scanned his gaze over the bar. Someone had told him you’d been there, that you’d headed for the bar, and he filled with renewed vigour, eyes twinkling with mischief even from this distance.

Motioning to Draco— who now had the rest of the owner of that manicured hand wrapped around him— to head to the bar, he moved like a man whom wild horses wouldn't be able to stop. The crowd parted around him as he moved, leaving nobody in his wake, not until he was right up to the bar at the other end. He motioned for one of the twins to take his order.

Padma finally arrives to take your drink request, your order only adding to the floating display over their heads, and the display is utterly mesmerising. Much like the floating candles in the Grand Hall, light shimmers and reflects through every drink and piece of glass, light bursting out across the room.

Following one trail of light, you spot Jess entering the bar, followed quickly in tow by someone in matching skull makeup, this one with shaggy blonde hair, his eyes locked on her like she’s the only girl in the room. You quirk a brow, sealing that little piece of information away for later.

You’re so caught up with your people-watching that you almost forget the game afoot, that Mattheo is so close, until the rough grate of his voice only a few seats down breaks you from your reverie. Snapping your eyes to him, he’s leaning on one arm, back to you as his focus scans out across the crowd. Somewhere on the dance floor is Enzo, you’re sure, and Draco has his lips on the neck of his mystery girl, completely ignoring Mattheo’s summons to the bar. You know where Theo’s interests lay, and you’re not sure where Pansy and Blaise will have snuck off too, likely some dark corner where they won’t be seen.

Your boyfriend was the only one in the group not dancing tonight, something that had you smirking. Swiping up your drink and bringing the straw to your lips, you admired his jawline as he stretched his head, once again searching. That was until a girl in a tight black dress and black feathered angel wings made her way over to him, clearing her throat lightly to bring back his attention as he continued the hunt.

“Hi, Mattheo. Over here all alone, why aren’t you out there—”

“I have a girlfriend.” His curt response was flat and bored, and you almost snorted some of your drink trying not to laugh. Her expression wavered, a pout forming on her lips as she tried again, undeterred, reaching out to take the end of his tie between two fingers.

“I don’t see her.”

Smoothing his hand down his front to remove his tie from her hold, he scoffed, shaking his head; “Neither do I, that’s the damn problem.”

This time, you were too slow in holding back your laughter, the sound bursting from you against your control. You hoped the music would cover it, but Mattheo heard it, whipping his head around in your direction, as he began to analyse every person at your end of the bar.

Taking your drink and quickly ducking behind a man dressed as the Phantom at the Opera, you ducked and dove between people, daring a look back at the bar to see Mattheo stood where you had once been, looking amongst the people, but thankfully, not in your current direction.

Glancing around for some quick cover, you spotted Jess, making your way over to her and watching as the boy she was with parted with a lingering kiss to her cheek. She clocked your approach, a wide smile bursting free on her lips, and her hands reached for you, tugging you into a dance with her as soon as you were near enough.

“I take it Riddle hasn’t found you yet?”

“No, but he’s close.” You have to shout over the music, tipping your head in the direction you last saw him. She glances over your shoulder toward the bar, where her dance partner seems to have found himself too, along with the others.

“Gettin’ colder, he and Draco are heading toward the exit.” Spinning you around smoothly, a smirk pulled on your lips. A determined-looking Mattheo began to chase a cold lead, the unsuspecting girl who did look rather like you from behind leading him off-course.

Twisting back to face her, your brow hitched up as the mystery man began to make his return, two new drinks in hand. “Is that Theodore Nott you’re flirting with?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” It was her turn to smirk, shrugging and brushing her hair from her shoulders. “He doesn't know it’s me, though, so if he asks you, you have no idea who I am tonight.”

“My lips are sealed.”

With a final wink, you slipped away, knowing she’d only be alone for a second before your boyfriend’s best friend was all over her once again. Following in the direction Mattheo had just left, you reentered the dark halls. The glow of his and Draco’s wands ahead, that and their murmured chatter bouncing from the walls, was your pin-point to follow through the new maze of tunnels.

Too busy looking ahead, he had no idea you were right behind him.

Hands reached out, faces flashing before your eyes as actors and other fear-mongers stalked the dark tunnels, and if it wasn’t for your boyfriend’s light ahead, you’d have screamed and given yourself away a long time ago. When you reached the central clearing once again, it was even busier than it had been before, you emerged not long after the boys, from a hidden alcove between the cornfield maze and a stand selling hot cider.

Mattheo and Draco were gone, disappearing faster into the masses than you could comprehend, likely to find more of their little group, and you grabbed a cider, digging a galleon out of your pocket and tossing it into the collection jar, before taking a stroll around the maze. It was in there that you found Pansy and Blaise, hidden away in a darkened corner, just as you suspected.

Both had swollen lips and glossy eyes when you cleared your throat at them, grinning at the blush spreading across your friend’s pale cheeks, as Blaise only smirked.

“Ah, well, look who it is.” He mused, covering Pansy as she attempted to adjust her costume once again, and your laughter wasn’t lost on her, only getting flipped off as she tried to pull the corset top back up over her bra. “By your absence of lover boy, I take it Mattheo hasn’t found you yet?”

“So, he’s told you about the little game I’ve laid out, has he?”

“Oh, absolutely. We have a little bet going. By all means, keep this up, you have me winning. I bet he wouldn't find you at all.” Your head tipped to the side, a little sip of your hot cider as you considered his words, before Pansy was snatching it from your hand, sniffling it, and taking a gulp.

“You bet against him?”

“Of course, look at you. Over halfway through the night and he still hasn’t found you. Pansy, on the other hand…” He teased, and she smacked at his arm. You gasped.

“Pans, you bet against me? And to think, I was sharing my drink with you.” Snatching it back, she pouted, but shrugged.

“Hey, nothing against you. He just had better odds, he’s recruited everyone to help him find you!”

“And a marvellous job you’re all doing of that. Tell me, did you find me hiding behind Blaise’s tonsils?” Her cheeks went red again, along with a burst of deep laughter from the other culprit that had him clutching his stomach. She shushed him quickly, despite the silencing spells cast over the maze for an added air of creepiness.

“Well, here you are, are you not?”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes fondly, stepping away from the pair. “I’ll let you get back to your intense searching. Don’t tell Matty you saw me!”

And with that, you slipped back into the darkness, the bushes around you rustling and creaking as they changed with every step you took. It wasn’t until you’d successfully given up, growing bored as the chill of mist rose goosebumps on your skin that the hexed forestry finally freed you, a pathway clearing and opening up ahead of you to release you back to the party.

Seeking the moon in the sky, you found it not long until midnight, Blaise had told no lie, your game coming closer and closer to the end, where you would be crowned the winner. Taking a seat before the fireplace, you settle in to watch the flames, and peer around to spot your hunter.

There. It only took a second to find him but there he was, a little clearing across the way, leaning against some haybales with a blunt balanced between two fingers. Bringing it back to his lips, he took a drag, smoke filtering out into the cold air and obscuring his face, before passing the roll to Draco.

When the smoke cleared, his eyes locked on your own.

Just a second. A moment across the field, so far away, but he knew. Your breath hitched, his back straightened. Then he was moving, without even warning the rest of the group, he was taking long strides across the field, closing the distance between you both, and adrenaline surged through your system as you shot to your feet.

Your closest building was the haunted house, his eyes narrowing, a silent warning when a smile curved on your lips, already knowing your next move.

You bolted, a giggle breaking free as the true chase began, and he called your name, the sound lost amongst the chatter and amusement of everyone else gathered around. Slipping through the hoards of people, you stumbled through the front door, watching as Mattheo rounded the porch, trying to snake his way through to catch up.

A kaleidoscope of colours, screams and shouts and music, different rooms with every theme as you were ushered through in a rush, the whole attraction feeling like a fever dream as you searched for the exit. The game was reaching its peak, midnight neared, the moon called it into the sky, and being so close to the last moments, you were determined to win.

Stumbling out into the cold night air once again, you headed for the tree-line, secluded enough that you could lean on the thick trunk of an old oak. You watched the entrance to the haunted house, a red-painted lip caught between your teeth, eager for him to emerge in your wake.

You waited.

Waited.

Seconds ticking by, and the thunderous race of your heart in the moment finally began to slow. Gasping breaths became softer pants, calling to you the silence of the world around you when blood was no longer pumping in your ears.

A twig snapped behind you, and before you could turn to acknowledge the sound, a hand was sealing over your mouth, an arm banded around your waist, dragging you back into the darkness.

Spun around in their arms, your panic lasted barely a second, before soft lips were pressing firmly to your own, the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and woodsy cologne filling your senses. Your arms came up, gripping him just as tightly as he walked you backwards, pressing you to a tree as he left a dozen kisses on your lips, longing and loving after hours apart.

“You’re a little minx, do you know that?”

“Actually, I’m a little devil.” You snickered, hands on his chest to push him back enough to look down at your outfit, motioning to the horns still on your head. “See?��

“I see it, baby. I have to say, I love this costume.” His hand fell to your thigh, callouses scraping across soft skin until he found the short hem, tugging and twisting the flowing skirt around his fingers. “I’ve been searching every girl for red lipstick all night, thanks to your little clue. Should have known you’d be decked out in all red, too. Standing out, right there, the whole time.”

His mouth descended upon your own once again, a happy sound rumbling in the back of his throat as you kissed back just as eagerly, one hand sliding up into his hair. His hand squeezed at your thigh, slipping back down as far as your knee, only to hike your leg up around his hip, shocking you into a gasp.

“I’ve been running around all night trying to find you, and you were right under my nose the whole time, weren’t you?”

His kisses descended to your neck, a shaky sound slipping free as his teeth teased a spot on your jaw that made you tremble, gripping tighter to his suit for stability. Your breath was shaky as you spoke, desperate to reclaim some power, despite the way he was undoing you already, “What, you didn’t like my little game?”

“Oh, I loved your little game, baby. But, I think I just won. It’s a few minutes to midnight.” Licking a stripe across the underside of your jaw, you mewled, head tipping back against the tree, hips bucking up to meet his own, and he grunted. “What’s my prize?”

His gaze came back up, dark and challenging and sultry as he stared down at you, smirking. Licking across one red lip, his attention focused there, his own lips parting, getting closer, needy for another taste. “The second part of the costume, of course.”

Gripping his wrist and sliding it up and under your skirt, his fingertips smoothed over the lace of your panties. He didn’t hold back his groan, gripping your ass tightly in his hand and tugging you forward to rub against him once again. “Red, I assume?”

“Smart boy.”

“My dorm?” He whispered, forehead falling to your own, a needy sound your only form of reply as your hips rolled together, friction dragging and sparking heat across your body.

“What, you want to leave the party already?”

Your teasing words weren’t appreciated if the squeeze to your rear was any indication. “Game is over, don’t play with me anymore, my love. I need you, now.”

“Then let's go.”

The two of you stumbled along, barely keeping your hand to yourself as you hurried back through the woods, avoiding the crowds and teasing whistles of your friends by taking a more covert route instead. You certainly weren’t the only ones with the same thoughts, various couples were dotted through the woods, wandering hands and desperate kisses exchanged behind the trees and throughout the branches.

His hand was tight around yours, tugging you along with his pace, but when he stopped short, you almost crashed straight into his back. Following his line of sight, you huffed, pushing him with a hand on his back to get his feet moving again.

“Is that Theo over there, zipping his pants back up? Who’s he out here with?”

“You want gossip, or you want sex, Matt?” His body jolted at the insinuation, feet stumbling over one another as he picked the pace again. Guiding the two of you through one of the tunnels he had likely discovered during his night of scaring, the two of you paced back through the speakeasy.

Up the haunted stairs.

Through the woods.

Along the halls.

Past the common room.

And then, he was backing you up against his dorm door, fingers fumbling with the lock, pressing frenzied kisses to your lips as he slid the mask off of your face and threw it to the floor.

"You taste like cinnamon and wine." Mattheo moaned, practically sucking the taste of mulled cider from your tongue as you ground against his clothes cock.

"You taste like cigarettes and whiskey." Your words are bitten off as he nips on your lower lip, a whine spilling from you as his hand snakes back up your skirt, toying with the lace of your panties again. Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he snapped them against your hip. The sting of the elastic on your flesh made you gasp, and he only chuckled into your mouth in response.

“Godric knows, you’ve been driving me crazy tonight, baby, thinking about these red lips, lookin’ for them everywhere. Now I want to see what that red looks like around the base of my cock.”

Your fingers trailed across the front of his body, shaky fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, tugging it more and more until it hung open, only his tie in the way as you peppered his chest with open-mouthed kisses. A moan spilled from his throat, his head tipping back, and he yanked at the tie, throwing it to the floor, quickly joined by his shirt and blazer until his torso was bare and exposed to your ministrations.

Your hands gripped his hips, spinning his body with your own until his back was to the wood instead. Mattheo only smirked, eyes half-lidded as he watched you, your red lipstick already smeared across his mouth, printed on his chest, his own makeup smudged to match.

One heavy hand found your shoulder, pressing you down, until you were on your knees before him, tugging at his belt as he lifted his hips from the door. His arrogance only grew, lifting one hand to comb through your tangled hair as you struggled with his trousers, pulling at them until they were halfway down his thighs. His cock sprung free, a hiss on his lips as the cold air of the dorm met his flushed skin.

Gathering your hair up and out of your face, he gripped it in a bunch behind your head, not pushing or pulling, just waiting as you peered up at him, licking over one kiss-bitten lip. His other hand fell to your cheek, smudging streaks of black and white facepaint as he went, tracing his thumb across your lower lip.

“You’re so beautiful, my love,”

Your smile made his thumb fall to your chin, a single squeeze, before he was retracting his hand, and manoeuvring your head towards his cock. Slipping the tip past your lips, a shudder passed over his body, his thighs clenching under your hands as your nails dug into his flesh, and his head ‘thumped’ on the wood of the door as it fell back.

“Salazar fuckin’ save me,” He panted, slipping further and further, his grip in your hair tightening with every inch, until he was tapping the back of your throat, your gag buzzing along his flesh in a way that made his hips buck. “Love your pretty little mouth. Make it so good for me, baby.”

Smiling as best you could with every inch of his cock slipping into your mouth, his hand tightening in your hair, pulling back just enough to let you take a breath before his hips were bucking again. This time, as he sank back into your mouth, your lips tightened around him, sucking suddenly, and his broken moan bounced off the walls of his dorm.

Again, and again, he was pushing you further, until you were comfortably taking him deep into your throat, tears lining your eyes, threatening to spill over your cheeks in a way you knew he loved to see. “Fuck, you’re so good down for me,”

Tracing your tongue around the head of his cock, you took control, sinking down against him and dragging your tongue along his cock, feeling the throb of that prominent vein. You moaned against him, and his body tensed at the feeling, making you pull back, just enough to have him gasping as the pleasure was ripped away.

You kissed at his hip, nipping his hip bones where they pressed to his skin, and a babbling mess of your name was all you got as he panted, flushed skin rising and falling.

Your hand took over, pumping his spit-slick shaft slowly, dragging up until his hips were following your hand with a pathetic groan. He finally had enough, enough of your teasing as you caught your breath, his head tipping back forward against his shoulders and blissed-out eyes narrowing on you.

“Tongue out for me, pretty girl.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, at the gravel in his tone, the way he yanked your hair back to control you as you opened your mouth, tongue falling out as he’d asked.

His cocky smile grew as you grinned back at him. Guiding his cock back to your mouth, he let the weight of it sit on your tongue, rubbing softly, pre-cum leaking and the taste of him made your thighs clench together.

He didn’t miss the action, not at all, his hips thrusting lazily in and out of your mouth as he gave you a nod. Sealing your lips back around him, you moved enthusiastically once again, bobbing up and down along his cock, wringing every bit of pleasure from him that you possibly could.

“So fucking good, baby, just like that. You like sucking my cock, huh? Always so eager for my cum in your mouth.” Pulling back, his cock fell free of your lips, spit tainted with red lipstick and pre-cum connected his tip to your lips, and he gathered it on his fingers. That same hand cupped your cheek, smearing it across your skin, “Not today though. Today, all my cum is going in that pretty pussy of yours.”

Kissing across his abs as you rose to your feet, his mouth was slamming onto your own. Tongue plunging in, your moan was lost to his lips as he worked at your clothes too, tugging at your dress, horned headband falling to the floor as he yanked the garment over your head.

Kicking off his trousers and stripping himself the rest of the way, he panted, eyes wide, admiring the lace set you’d donned for his eyes only tonight. “You’ve been wearing this all night, and you let me chase you ‘round for hours?”

His hands skimmed over your body, almost reverent with the lightness of his touch, tracing the corset top that hugged your chest, pushing your tits up to the perfect fullness. The panties with their tiny straps, sitting perfectly on your hips, across your cheeks to make your arse look round and shapely, the strings and ribbons that had his mouth watering as he stared in awe. “You like it?”

He only growled, a flash of cold travelling across his eyes as you fuelled the carnal desire boiling within him. He was moving in a flash, sitting on the edge of the bed and bending you sideways across his lap, his wet cock prodding your stomach as you gasped at his manhandling. His hand smoothed over your flesh, across the seam of your panties, chuckling at the wetness he found on the material, and swirling at your clit. “How many times, huh? How many times did I almost get to you, but you escaped me?”

“Th-Three.” Your mind was foggy, hazy as pleasure began to take over. Your eyes fluttered shut as you hung limply across his thighs, core clenching around nothing. He hadn't even touched you properly yet, and you were already falling apart for him. Your gut was tightening, hips rocking and pressing back onto his fingers as you neared that peak, the excitement and electricity of the night had had you worked up for hours now, all moving toward this.

“Three times. Three times you ruined my victory, so I think three times, I’ll ruin yours.”

His words had barely even registered in your mind when his touch left you, a cry of protest being cut shut by a sharp slap across your ass, your body jerking forward at the force, and pleasure zipped through you, despite your denied orgasm. “Damn it, Matty…”

“That’s what you get, baby.”

You pushed yourself up, shaky hands, putting on your best pout as you turned to face him. He only mimicked the expression, mocking you. Tugging you in instead, he licked his way into your mouth, filthy, panting kisses taking over as he made sure to ruin whatever was left of your makeup. You adjusted yourself across his body, settling down to sit against one thigh, nipping on his bottom lip and rocking your hips.

Slow, so slow, you moved over him, feeling the muscle of his thigh tense up underneath you, his hands roaming your body, distracted and oblivious of the pleasure you were taking for yourself as that fiery pleasure rekindled once again. He reached for the back of the corset, tugging at the hoops, undoing them roughly until it was falling to the floor and he was catching one nipple between his lips.

“Oh, fuck, Mattheo…” You whispered, arching closer to him, pushing your chest further into his face as he teased his teeth across the taut bud. A sob left your lips, fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the roots to convey words that were melting to nothing on the top of your tongue.

His arm caught around your waist, tugging you closer into his body, making it harder for you to move as you tried to squirm in his lap. His breathy laugh spread over the skin of your chest as he littered it with hickies, switching to the other side and leaving one wet, perky nipple cool in the air of the room.

“Matt, please!”

“Please, what? What do you want, my love?” When he was satisfied with the havoc he was wreaking on your body, his attention moved to your neck. Your arms around his shoulders, head tossed back, panting and whining as you ground against his thigh. “You wanna’ come, baby?”

“Y-Yeah.” The feeling was burning through your veins, taking you over, your eyes rolling back as your pussy throbbed.

He pulled you in, a finger and thumb on your chin to guide your face back to his own, lips brushing. “Too bad.”

He gripped you once again, both arms holding you steady, unable to chase any kind of pleasure, as he kissed your neck, his smirk on your skin showing he knew just what he was doing.

“Thought you’d get away with that, didn’t you? I’m not even going to count that one.” Tugging your panties to the side, two fingers sank into you, and your back arched into his body as he touched you at last. “You can’t win at my game. My little loser, huh? What a shame.”

You were shaking atop him, the feeling of his fingers, the curl and the pump he knew so well. Mattheo could read your body like a map, he knew just what you needed, just how to touch you, and he was using that to his advantage. Two fingers became three, stretching you out deliciously and yet it still wasn’t enough. You collapsed against his body, desperate to come, moaning like a whore and forever on the edge as he toyed with you.

Your forehead was pressed to his, crying his name, begging against his mouth as he licked at your lip, tipping his head up to catch you for a kiss. When he pulled away this time, you could feel the tears in your eyes, nails digging into his skin, pleading with sounds that no longer resembled words.

You could feel his frustration; every time he’d almost found you, every dead-end, every narrow escape.

A sick, twisted part of you was loving every second of this delicious torture, and you found yourself face down in the sheets, panties around your thighs and his cock slamming into you, so hard that a scream ripped through you.

“Shh, you can take it, my little demon. I know you can.”

“I can, Matty. I can take it. I can take more.” You wanted it, you wanted it bad, spurring him on. Your hands scratched in the covers, legs spreading even further, body rocking with every deep thrust he gave you. His kisses travelled over your spine as your tears smeared mascara and eyeliner into the sheets. His body smothered you, one hand coming around to clasp your own, love shining through in his actions even as he ruined you, took you apart until your mind was shattered.

You’d be wrecked in the morning, you’d surely be unable to walk, sore legs and trembling limbs, you’d have to spend half the morning just recovering from the way he was fucking you now. Brutal, fast, slamming in and out and making you sure your eyes would never come back from how far they were rolled into your head.

Nerves were lighting up, electricity shooting along every cell of your body as his slick skin slid against yours, one hand in your hair, tugging your head back as his lips brushed your ears.

“Wish you could see yourself, pretty girl. Wish you could see what I see. Shaking, dripping, my cock sliding in and out of this pussy like you were made for me.” He slowed his pace, for just a second, and you keened back into him, chasing the pleasure that was already building once again, even if you knew it would be fruitless.

You may have lost the ability for sentient thought, but his count was ringing in your head, only two of three failed orgasms served. Your body tensed with a shudder, the anticipation lingering in the air like a sword over your head.

“You really do belong in the pits of hell, don’t you? Look what you do to me.” His teeth grazed over your shoulder, biting down on your skin enough to make you cry out his name, bucking against his touch as he soothed the bite with gentle licks. “There’s nothin’ angelic about you, you’re nothin’ but a sinner.”

His name spilled from your lips, again and again, like you were begging for redemption.

“You’re on your knees, but you’re praying to me.”

His hand snaked around your body, finding your swollen clit and brushing his fingertips across it, pitching the bud harshly between his fingers. “Matt—”

“You want to come?”

“Yes!”

“What a shame.” He slipped himself out of your cunt, spewed curses in anger leaving your wobbling lips, more tears spilling over as he took away the last part of your dignity.

Twisting your entangled bodies, he guided you until your back met the bed sheets, pushing you up as he crawled over you. Hooking his fingers into the edges of those panties and pulling them away, he spread himself over you.

He barely gave you time to recover, the stimulation all too much, as he lifted your legs to hook them over his shoulders plunge his cock back into the sopping heat of your cunt.

This may have been his game, but when his forehead came to rest on your own, hands frantically bunching in the sheets beside your body, you knew the last round had begun. The ball was in your court, his own need displayed clearly on his face as he rutted into you desperately. His rhythm was lost, sloppy and out of control, and you squeezed yourself around his cock.

You pressed sweet kisses to his lips, tempting him over the edge with a drag of your teeth across his lip, a lap of your tongue, and he was done for.

Finally, your peak crashed over you. Waves and waves, blinding pleasure that left you with silent, open-mouthed screams. Twitching underneath him, your fingers tore down his back, your legs snapped against his hips, holding him to your body as white-hot bliss drowned you.

He only needed a few more thrusts, your back arching and his name a chant, enough profanities to scar anybody passing by as the lewd sounds of your movements covered your moans. He came with a groan, thrusting through until the sound tapered off into a whimper, his own unsteady body collapsed down on top of you. Dragging breaths into his lungs to recover as his sweaty body covered you, you hooked your arms around him, hugging him close, unwilling for him to move even a fraction.

You felt numb, the aftershocks of pleasure racing through your body, still twitching and shaking despite his weight on top of you. Freeing one hand, he smoothed it up your body, dragging from your thigh to your ribs, stroking softly in soothing motions, as his lips gave delicate pecks, shushing every lingering whimper that escaped.

You reciprocated the action, raising one hand to land in his hair, fingers brushing through sweaty curls, as his cheek found your shoulder.

“That… was some of the best sex we’ve ever had.” Your words were still breathless, and he laughed lightly, nodding against you where he lay.

His skin was littered with lipstick, smudges of his facepaint on every part of your body, painted with love and lust everywhere you’d touched one another. The night was still heavy on your skin, the festivities outside still raging even if your night had come to an end.

Maybe minutes had passed, maybe hours, but eventually, Mattheo dragged himself up, pulling himself free from your body, and smirking down at every mark he’d left on your skin. With unbalanced steps, he wandered away to the bathroom of his dorm, the squeak of the taps and the splash of water in the basin signalling the running of a bath.

He offered you a hand as he returned, pulling you to your feet, the two of you wobbling your way through to the bathroom and taking stock of your mess as the water ran. Elixirs and salts, the fresh smell of jasmine and honey filled the air, and then you were sinking in, leaning back against Mattheo’s body as the two of you revelled in the hot water.

His hand looped around your body, fingers lacing with yours and resting on your stomach, as his chin hooked over your shoulder. For a while, the two of you remained just like that, chasing the cold of the night from your bones and merely enjoying one another’s company.

“Tell me, was that your little friend— the one who was ripping out hearts for the Weasel-twins— that I saw running from Nott in the woods, this evening?”

“Oh, Matty,” You chuckled, turning to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You have no idea the games she’s been playing tonight.”

He only grinned, head resting on the edge of the tub. “I fear those two together, they’ll rip each other’s hearts out.”

“Maybe so,” You mused, his fingers dragging along your ribs, and you shuddered happily. “Or maybe, they just found their perfect match together.”

“Just like I found you.” He whispered, lips brushing along your cheekbone, and you scoffed.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“It was your game!”

Your hum echoed off of the walls. “Don’t tell Theo. I want to see how it plays out.”

“What, and ruin the surprise? I would never.” He smirked, “Besides, Theo didn’t help me find you, let him search for a while.”

Holding onto his forearm banded around your waist, your fingers traced up and down, before his hand caught yours, holding tight and weaving fingers your together.

“I love you, but don’t you ever run from me again. There is not a place on this earth you could hide that I wouldn't find you. I’d search forever.”

“You know,” You whispered, turning in his arms to sit across his lap, and he made a happy sound, face tipping up to brush his lips on your own. “That sounds vaguely threatening. You’re a little bit fucked up.”

“That’s because it is a threat, and a promise. Besides, you’re a little bit fucked up too, because I know you love it.”

You couldn't deny it, only able to snicker in response instead, and press a firm kiss to his lips, which he was happy to return. “I love you too, Matty. Now, let’s try and scrub off all this makeup, hm?”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle/reader #mattheo riddle/you #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin boys #benjamin wadsworth

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tarjapearce · 9 months

Note

Now I’m curious of how wife!reader and Miguel meets again 😭 and how they started dating. Do they meet again at a different hosted party and Miguel asks her for a dance this time ((and her name 💀))

🤭🤭 Actually

Pt. 3

The whistling from the referee echoed through as the men on the field began playing. Jessica, once more, had kidnapped you after finding you were in a blue mood after you got ditched in a date.

"Never going through Tinder again." you had mumbled as she offered you tissues.

But of course, partially the reason why you had came was

1. Shirtless men playing

2. Jessica and another red headed woman and you, were in charge of the water and refreshing drinks.

You found out that Mary Jane Watson was her name, or MJ for shorts was dating Peter, the guy that had hosted the carneada. She was pretty easygoing. However, the familiar hulking figure running through the field stood out like a sore thumb.

"Hey" You name was called by Jessica that followed your eyes and smirked

"Oh, that's Miguel."

"I know. Met him at the party remember?"

"Heard he has a girlfriend. But doubt it. "

You shrugged.

"Okay? He just helped me out a little."

"Hmm."

A little disappointment settled in your chest.

In any case, your attention was snapped back to the field and the little ruckus on the field. Miguel was held by Peter and another man called Ben, as the rival player kept provoking him. Gabriel pulled him back.

"Oh, Drácula is pissed"

"You kidding? They're playing dirty." MJ spoke, concern plastered all over her face as Peter tried to calm the situation.

You watched from the water station, eyes following the ball, but they couldn't help but to land on Miguel. Shirt soaked in sweat, hair down, some strands sticking to his forehead, and neck, pouty mouth panting and cursing.

"Pasámela, pendejo!" (Pass it, you dumbass! )

A giggle escaped from you as he pinched his nose bridge with one hand. He moved but the crowd gasped. One minute he was walking away and the next he was on the floor, cursing and limping. His knee was scrapped and it bled. The good thing was that the guy that had injured him, got a red card.

"Do you happen to have any first aid kit by any chance?" Peter approached as Jess and MJ shook their heads.

"I think I have one in my car. I'll get it."

Peter smiled and went back to Miguel, mahogany eyes immediately following your form.

When you approached him, he had removed his shirt to dry the sweat off his forehead, to then slick his hair back. Eyes staring at you with a little smirk.

"Pitufina, eres tú?" (Smurfette is that you?)

"In the flesh, Gargamel."

You both chuckled as you sat before him, he was about to wipe the caked blood and dirt with his sweaty shirt. Your hand slapped his away

"¿Estás loco? Se te va a infectar!" (You're crazy? It'll get infected)

"It's just a scrap"

"Cállate. God, your girlfriend must be a saint to put up with you."

A swab of cotton was soaked in alcohol, he quirked an eyebrow at your words and chuckled.

"No tengo-" (I don't have-)

He hissed as your hand wiped the blood first. The chemical stung on his raw skin, but seeing you focused, a little furrow on your pretty face made the sting to slowly fade . You then grabbed a gauze and wiped gently the excess of fluid.

You looked up at him and pursed your lips

"So I can..."

"Sorry, Out of game for now." You laughed at his words and shook your head.

"Who said I wanted to?" He chuckled at yours

"No, I was meaning to do this without remorse." You sprayed him some antiseptic and he batted your hands away with a mild panic expression, as the initial burn was a bit too much.

"Hija de la chin-" (Son of a-)

You laughed. as he fanned the scrap

"Esa mierda arde!" (That shit burns!)

"Ay, no estés de llorón. It's just a scrap remember? " (Don't be a cry baby)

"Not fucking funny" He grumbled as you gave him a bottle of water and a towel. His fingers brushed against yours, the touch lingering for a bit longer than it should.

"For me it is. I'll put a gauze on it okay?

"Déjalo así" (Leave it like that)

"No. It's too fresh for you to keep it exposed"

He was about to bat yout hands away when you loomed the antiseptic spray directly on his wound. He stopped and frowned, a finger trying to threaten you.

"Cuidadito" (Careful)

"Haz caso entonces." (Do as you're told, then)

You just glared at eachother.

"Get a room already." Gabriel casually mumbled as he picked another bottle of water. The rest just looked your way with silent mirth. They had been watching cautiously the interaction between the two of you.

The comment instantly made you pout, a soft flush on your cheeks. Gabriel left.

"Ese pendejo..." (That dumbass)

He grumbled and scratched his neck awkwardly.

"Anyways..." You sighed and applied some vaseline at the wound. Your hands were gentle, caring and soft.

"Pitufina"

You grumbled your name as you finished covering his wound.

"Right." He nodded with a tiny smile

Silence.

You were putting the things back in the kit. Eyes following your every motion, you were nervous. He smirked

"Wanna go... and get some food later? My treat"

He blinked at your sudden question. All smugness vanishing from him.

"After you've taken a shower and changed of course" You giggled and looked up at him.

His heart beat a bit faster and he gulped almost imperceptibly.

"Si quieres, claro" (If you want to, that is)

You smirked with a shrug. His mouth gaped softly

"¿Es un si? " (Is that a yes?)

He just nodded, still a little shaken from what just happened.

"Bueno, Adiós Drácula." (Well, see you)

You left after patting his thigh gently, His ears went a little pink.

He didn't see that coming at all. He smiled inwardly. Yeah, he'd better step his game up. He was rusted, but you'd definitely worth the shot.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#miguel atsv #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #t writes✨

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another-lost-mc · 11 months

Text

➤ kissing in the shower

pairing: solomon x gn!reader

content: nsfw (18+). making out and smut. wc: 0.7k.

“This always feels like coming home,” Solomon murmurs against your lips between lazy kisses. You’re both wet from the showerhead spraying down a gentle stream of warm water. One of his hands is curled around your nape, and he scratches lightly at your scalp when he brings you forward for another deep, unhurried kiss. His other hand is draped loosely around your waist, a gentle embrace to make up for days of not being able to hold you like this.

You lick your lips when you pull back from another kiss, and his bright eyes open slowly and drink in your naked body like he hasn't seen anything so wonderful in ages. He smiles at you fondly, but the intensity of his gaze makes you feel weak-kneed.

You smooth your palms down his bare chest, flicking away traces of the soapy lather you massaged him with earlier. The steamy air around you smells like the vanilla-sandalwood soap you both like to use.

“Want me to wash your hair next?” you ask him as you turn around slightly in his arms to reach for the bottle of shampoo.

He considers your offer for a moment and shakes his head with a grin. “Not yet, darling,” he suggests, and he takes the bottle from you and sets it aside. He puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around so your back is to him. “I think I’d like to take care of you first,” he whispers against your ear, and he chuckles when you shudder.

His lips pepper your shoulders and bare neck with lazy kisses and occasional nips of his teeth as he plasters his chest against you. His weight is heavy against your back and you let him nudge you forward until your upper torso is pressed flat against the cold tile of the shower wall. The fingers curled around your hip pull your body into a deeper arch; you can already feel how hard he is when he grinds against you.

His other hand slides up the gentle curves of your belly. He snakes into the space between your bare chest and the wall until one of your nipples is caught between his splayed fingers. He pinches your nipple gently when he squeezes his fingers together, and your quiet moan encourages him to do it again. You rest your forehead against the wall and close your eyes; you’re already so needy for him. The sight of his hand sneaking over the top of your thigh and between your legs threatens to undo you already.

“I missed this,” he groans when he drags his fingers up and down against your arousal. “I missed you.”

“M-missed you too,” you whine, your needy declaration trailing off into another moan when he touches you with more urgency. Days without him have taken their toll on your restraint and you want to lose yourself in him. You would be embarrassed by how touch-starved you feel, except his hips rock against you with desperation that mirrors your own.

“Not gonna last,” you admit breathlessly, and you gasp when he tweaks your sensitive nipple in rhythm with the skillful hand working you relentlessly towards release.

His hot breath against your neck and he drags his lips across the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping and sucking lightly at whatever skin his greedy mouth can reach. “Come for me, darling” he urges you with a groan. “Come on my fingers.”

It’s impossible to deny him anything when he begs you in that rough, lustful timbre, and your thighs shake when he finally pulls you over the edge. The running water barely drowns out the sound of your broken cry that echoes in the small room, and your body jolts as he teases you through the aftershocks.

You whimper from sensitivity when you can’t possibly take anymore, and he finally pulls his hand away. Warmth blooms in your cheeks when he holds his hand up for you both to watch your cum trickle down his nimble fingers. You stare at him with wide eyes when he draws the slick fingers to his mouth and licks them clean with his greedy tongue.

“You taste so good, darling,” he coos gently as he rocks his hips against you. His hard cock is still trapped between your bodies, and the hungry look in his eyes reminds you that he’s not quite done with you yet.

read more: solomon masterlist | obey me! masterlist

#obey me #omswd #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #solomon smut #obey me smut #omswd smut #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader #jes.2k event

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svnoohe4rts · 1 year

Text

GAME OVER ! ― part one

masterlist . . . next

↳ PAIRING: lee heeseung x fembodied!reader

↳ SUMMARY: by accidentally ruining heeseungs chances of getting laid, you slowly but successfully start tearing down his reputation. heeseung, however, isn’t going to let it pass that easily.

↳ WORDCOUNT: 13,4k

↳ WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, brief mention of someone vomiting, smut! fingering, brief marking minors dni! let me know if there’s anything else i should add.

↳ TAGLIST: @ktnblrz @ckline35 @bteeznation @amourhee @hoonicookies @aliensrme @deobitifull @sweetjaemss @heeswifeyy @mulligrubsss @han8ul @flower-lise @asyleums @jksecret @bwljules @heersheysblog @dearhee @25dejulho @loves0ft @sunghoonmybeloved @heesuengs @tokina @rikakhai @wonieeee @entiways @sunghoons-hand (the ones in bold could not be tagged)

HEESEUNG COULDN’T EXACTLY PINPOINT THE EXACT MOMENT THE TWO OF YOU BECAME ENEMIES.

To him, it didn’t really matter. He didn’t even really see you as an enemy to begin with, you were just an extremely easy target, making it almost too easy for him to annoy - sometimes even humiliate you throughout the years; something he enjoyed doing maybe a little too much.

You, on the other hand? You knew exactly when Heeseung became your number one enemy.

You’d like to think that if Heeseung never slipped you that note in math class back in middle school, maybe you and Heeseung wouldn’t be where you were today. But sadly, Heeseung did slip you that note in math class and twelve-year-old you stupidly opened that note.

Maybe if you just threw that note away instead of reading it, you wouldn’t have to go through years of enduring Lee Heeseungs stupid ways of ticking you off. Maybe, just maybe, you would have avoided the incident that changed your and Heeseungs relationship for all eternity. But you were twelve years old, after all, and which twelve-year-old wouldn’t become curious if the cutest boy in their class slipped them a note?

Well, curiosity killed the cat. It didn’t make sense as to why the whole class was looking at you in anticipation, nor did it make sense as to why Lee Heeseung had just slipped you a note asking you to go out with him. He had never paid much attention to you before, so why would he suddenly be asking you, someone who he’d spoken to about three times in total, out?

Oh, how you wished it would’ve stayed that way.

The picture of his stupid grin as you walked up to him after class was practically burned into your mind at this point, holding the note in your hands as you told him your answer. Of course you said yes, who wouldn’t?

And as his loud laugh, the laugh you swore made your stomach turn inside out, echoed through the hallway, pointing his finger at you with his friends laughing alongside him; Lee Heeseung became your number one enemy.

Your classmates got over the whole thing quickly, only having to endure a couple of days of their endless teasing about you actually believing he was serious when he asked you out. Middle school was hectic, and by the following Monday morning, the whole school had long forgotten about your embarrassment. Heeseung, however? He was not going to forget about it that easily.

The look on your face as he told you it was just a joke was something Heeseung would remember for the rest of his life. The way your ears turned red from sheer embarrassment and how you quickly ran off with your hair covering your face, was most definitely the funniest thing 12-year-old him had experienced; not even Sunghoon tripping on his own shoelaces during soccer practice could beat the look on your face.

That’s when Heeseung made it his number one goal in life to make your life as miserable as possible.

And he most certainly did not disappoint. From shaking your bottle of coke during lunch without you noticing it only for you to get sprayed the second you twisted the lid open, to accidentally tripping you in the hallways; he did all of it, just to see the furious expression on your face.

As high school came around, you couldn’t be more relieved. After having to put up with Heeseung for years on end, you would finally be free; a completely new school, with new friends, new teachers, and most importantly, no Heeseung.

But as you walked through the doors of what you had pictured as heaven, a place where you could finally breathe without having to look behind your shoulder every step you took; your whole world came crumbling down and so did your dreams of having a peaceful high school experience.

With his stupid grin and his hands shoved down the pockets of his jeans, Lee Heeseung stared at you as you walked through the doors; the sparkle in his stupid doe eyes telling you everything you needed to know. At that moment, it became clear to you that getting rid of Heeseung wouldn’t be as easy as you had originally thought.

Not only did you have to endure another four years of Heeseung endless torment, but the boy also had decided to step it up compared to his childish middle school tactics. You were now in high school, and tripping you in the hallways no longer sounded appealing to Heeseung. So with his newfound status as a popular high school boy, he decided to do what people with that kind of status do best; spreading rumors.

As the news reached everyone else, it also eventually reached you. The news got everyone whispering as you walked down the halls, small giggles leaving the girls' lips and boys rolling their eyes as you walked by; leaving you completely clueless.

Until the amazing news of you being all over Heeseung at a party he attended the weekend before, a party you never even sat foot in; a party you didn’t even know existed reached you that being said. You had been quick to storm off, looking for the culprit himself, only for him to laugh in your face as you approached him. Apparently seeing the furious look on your face was amusing to him, like he hadn’t just ruined your entire high school experience. ‘’What? I’m not going to hook up with you if that’s why you’re here, I thought I made that clear at the party.’’ Had been his exact words, that shit-eating grin accompanying his words as he spoke.

For the entire four years, the four years that were supposed to be the prime time of your youth, that one rumor haunted you. All thanks to Lee Heeseung, your teenage fantasy came crashing down two weeks into your freshman year; no one forgot about the fact that 16-year-old you had tried getting in someone's pants the second you entered high school, not even four years later when the 18-year-old you graduated.

So when you entered college, you knew better than to expect a peaceful college experience. In some way, you were thankful you had mentally prepared yourself for Lee Heeseung to magically appear. Because if you hadn’t, you probably would’ve gone insane the moment you realized that Lee Heeseung would as a matter of fact be attending the very same college as you.

Something you however forgot to prepare yourself for, the most important thing to every boy attending college; what they would personally describe as the prime of their youth - fraternities.

Now, the fraternities itself wasn’t really the problem.

Sure, you never found it very appealing, not really understanding the thrill of living with a bunch of other men which you would call your brothers and using the precious fratboy term as an excuse for their shitty grades. Everything for the brotherhood, right?

But no, that still wasn’t the problem. The problem?

Lee Heeseung. More specifically, Lee Heeseung joining a fraternity.

With his tall figure and the doe eyes that every girl seemed to love, it wasn’t exactly hard for Heeseung to join a fraternity, any fraternity as a matter of fact. The fraternities wanted Heeseung more than Heeseung wanted them it seemed, while the other boys had to fight for their lives to prove themselves worthy, to even get to the recruitment part - Heeseung had every single fraternity in his Instagram DMs; practically begging him to join them.

And so he did.

Overnight, Heeseung went from the cute, lanky popular high school boy to your typical frat boy. He was still the very same Heeseung, he still wore the same grin as he walked down the hallways and he still wore the same dangly earring in his left ear; the same earring he had worn every day ever since he was a freshman in high school. Most importantly, however, was the fact that he was still the very same jerk, just worse. Much worse.

You guessed that it was the frat boy status that got to his head, when the attention he already received during his high school years almost tripled. Maybe it was all thanks to the number of people that showed up to the parties Heeseung and his stupid fraternity threw.

Which brings you to your current situation, sitting on a couch in someone's living room with loud music blasting through the room - a red cup in one of your hands and a very drunk girl hanging off your other arm. You had stopped listening to the girl rambling a long time ago, tuning out her voice as you sipped on the alcoholic beverage you had grabbed from some random kid standing in the kitchen.

You had no idea who the drunk girl sitting beside you was, nor did you know how much she had had to drink. But judging from the way she had practically tripped on nothing but air and from the way she had giggled with her eyes half shut when she apologized, she definitely had one too many drinks that night.

Not only had she clung onto your arm like the two of you had known each other for years, like you were a friend she hadn’t seen in a long time - when in reality, you had never even seen her before; but she also decided to go on a long rant. What the rant was about, however, was something you could not answer.

You were already uncomfortable as it was, being dragged to a party against your own will. Not necessarily because you didn’t feel like going to a party, no, that wasn’t the case.

You enjoyed partying. It was fun and you usually had a blast, as long as there was no one around to ruin your night. That special someone being no other than Lee Heeseung, of course. And with tonight's party being hosted by no other than Lee Heeseung and his stupid fraternity, you just couldn't bring yourself to enjoy it.

How could you, when Heeseung was lingering right around the corner, ready to ruin your whole night with a simple grin?

And an incredibly drunk girl telling you her whole life story only made the party even less appetizing. ‘’But I just don’t know how to get his attention, like why is he after my best friend and not me?’’ The girl whined beside you, causing you to hum in response; pretending like you were actually listening to anything she was saying as you scanned the room, looking for a way out of the situation you currently found yourself in.

‘’Do you have any tips for me? To like, get his attention or something’’

‘’Get who’s attention?’’

You immediately realized what you had just said, your eyes widening as your gaze shifted over to the girl now leaning on your shoulder. You practically just gave it away that you hadn’t been listening to a single word that had left her lips for the past thirty minutes.

She just stared at you for a moment with her eyebrows furrowed together, her eyelids still heavy before a giggle left her lips. ‘’Heeseung, stupid! I’ve been talking about him the entire night, were you not listening to me?’’

An uncomfortable chuckle left your lips as you shifted your gaze away from the girl once again as she playfully hit your arm. ‘’No, I have,’’ You tried defending yourself. ‘’I just forgot his name and needed you to remind me.’’

You almost laughed at your own lie as soon as it left your lips. Like you needed any reminding of who Lee Heeseung was. The girl beside you, however, seemed to believe your lie as yet another giggle trailed off her lips. ‘’Don’t be silly, I know you know who he is!’’

Her words caused you to once again look her way, now it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. She just looked up at you with a grin spread across her lips, still holding onto your arm. ‘’What do you mean?’’ You asked. There was no way this random girl knew that you had known Heeseung almost your entire life, considering the fact that you only met her for the first time tonight. ‘’Well,’’ She sighed, finally letting go of your arm as she sat up straight for the first time since she slumped down next to you.

‘’I know you hooked up with him back in high school or whatever,’’

Your jaw almost hit the floor as soon as the words left her lips. When did the rumor of you allegedly trying to hook up with him turn into you actually hooking up with him? ‘’I what?’’ You almost stuttered as you spoke, the shock causing you to stumble over your own words. She nodded eagerly, the same grin still plastered on her lips. ‘’C’mon, it’s not like it’s a secret! Everyone knows you were like, one of the first girls he ever hooked up with,’’

You almost felt the need to pinch yourself, trying to figure out if this was some sick joke or not. One of the first girls he hooked up with? ‘’No, I never h-’’

‘’You don’t have to act like you didn’t, I mean, look at him! Who wouldn’t want to hook up with him?’’ She interrupted you before you even had a chance to deny the words coming out of her mouth, a sigh trailing off her lips as she finished speaking; her head hitting your shoulder once again. ‘’Isn’t he just so dreamy?’’

With one of her arms now extended, her index finger pointed toward something, or someone in the crowd. Your eyes followed her finger, your eyes eventually landing on the one and only, Heeseung himself.

Leaning against the wall, one hand shoved down the front pockets of his black jeans and a cap sitting on top of his head; his upper body leaning down as he spoke to the girl standing right in front of him. You could see him grinning as he whispered something into the girl's ear, the grin you swore you hated more than anything on the entire planet, causing you to clench your jaw in disgust the second he trailed his fingertips up and down the poor girl's bare arm, the girl you assumed to be the drunk girl sitting beside you’s best friend.

Not only had he made people believe you tried hooking up with him, but apparently that the two of you actually hooked up. A sour taste filled your mouth as you saw the girl across the room giggle into his touch, his eyes glued to her like she was the most delicious thing he had ever seen.

The lustful look on his face only made you even angrier. Someone needed to humble him, and they needed to humble him badly. ‘’So do you have any tips or not? Since you’ve already been with him, you probably know what he likes and stu-’’

‘’He’s shit in bed.’’

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even think, taking yourself by surprise. Instant regret hit you, fighting against the urge to slap yourself across the face as you realized what had just left your lips. You could tell by the way the girl suddenly sat up straight that your words surprised her just as much as they had surprised you. ‘’What?’’

You considered just laughing off, telling her you were just joking and that she should just go for it. But with your eyes still glued to Heeseung standing across the room with his hand now placed firmly on her waist, disgust once more filled your senses. That’s when the idea popped into year head. ‘’Yeah, like he’s really bad, he has no idea what he’s doing,’’ You continued speaking, looking over at the now shocked girl.

Her eyelids were no longer droopy like they had been a few minutes earlier, her eyes now wide open as she stared at you in pure shock. ‘’But,’’ She stuttered, almost like she refused to believe your words. ‘’Everyone says he’s like a sex god or something!’’ She blurted out. A dry chuckle left your lips as you shook your head. ‘’Heeseung? He’s the furthest thing possible from a sex god.’’

The girl sitting beside you only stared at you for a moment, her lips parted in shock before leaning back on the couch; mumbling something indistinctive under her breath. ‘’Are you sure? The two of you hooked up in high school after all, maybe he’s gotten better?’’

Your eyes darted over to the wall which Heeseung was leaning against once again, a small grin forming on your lips as you spotted him now pressing kisses against the girl's neck. ‘’We’ve hooked up in college too,’’ You let out. ‘’And he’s still just as bad.’’

If Heeseung got to ruin your reputation, not only in high school but apparently in college as well, it was only fair that you got to tear his reputation down as well. What could such a little lie possibly do to his indestructible reputation, anyways?

The girl beside you let out a gasp before slapping one of her hands over her mouth, her eyes darting over to Heeseung as well. ‘’But there’s just no way,’’ She mumbled, leaning forwards as she kept her eyes glued on the boy standing across the room. ‘’Like bad how, exactly?’’

‘’Like can’t make girls cum at all type of bad.’’

Another gasp left the girl's lips as you brought the red cup you had been holding in your hand this entire time to your lips, a small smile still plastered on your lips as you sipped on the alcohol. ‘’But everyone says he’s amazing,’’ She mumbled, her eyes gaze shifting over to you. Another chuckle left your lips as you shook your head in response. ‘’Well, that’s just what Heeseung wants everyone to believe,’’ You replied, leaning back on the couch.

‘’Have you ever heard another girl saying that he’s good?’’

Your eyes met the girl's eyes, silence falling upon the two of you for a moment as she thought about your question. You had no idea if she was just drunk and going with whatever you were saying or if she had actually never heard another girl saying that Lee Heeseung was in fact a sex god, but you had to hold back a laugh as she shook her head in disbelief. ‘’You’re right, I don’t think I have.’’

Was he really that bad?

‘’Exactly.’’ You chuckled. ‘’He just wants everyone to believe he’s some type of sex god, when in reality he doesn’t even know how to finger a girl.’’

In reality, you had no idea what Heeseung was like in bed. As a matter of fact, you didn’t even want to know; but you could sure as hell pretend like you knew. And in your head, his good looks were incredibly deceiving as there was actually no way Lee Heeseung knew how to satisfy a girl. Not with that foul mouth of his.

‘’Oh my god,’’ the girl mumbled under her breath, her eyes still wide from the sudden shock of having her whole image of the Lee Heeseung being ripped to pieces. ‘’I can’t let my best friend hook up with him then!’’ Her words made you chuckle as you looked over at Heeseung once again.

A small smirk formed on your lips as you watched the girl stumbling across the room, making her way towards where her best friend and Heeseung were standing; his head dipped in the crock of her neck. The girl grabbed her friend's arm, the way she practically ripped her away from Heeseung's grip almost made you laugh out loud as you watched Heeseung stare at the two walking away from him with a confused look plastered on his face.

Game over, Lee Heeseung.

‘’You what?’’

The boy sitting in front of you almost choked on his drink as you told him what had gone down the previous weekend. ‘’I hope I ruined his chances of getting laid that night.’’ You chuckled as you shook your head, remembering the look on Heeseungs face as his potential hook up was ripped away from him.

‘’This isn’t about him getting laid or not Y/N, why would you even tell someone you hooked up with him in the first place? Like the rumor wasn’t bad as it was,’’ Sungchan exclaimed, his eyes wide as he stared at you. You just rolled your eyes in response, crossing both your arms over your chest.

Sungchan wasn’t wrong. He had been there with you in high school when Heeseung first started spreading the rumor of you being all over him at some party. Sungchan was also the only one who believed you when you said it wasn’t true, considering the fact that he had been with you the entire night you were supposedly at the party as Heeseung claimed you were.

‘’The girl was drunk, like out of her mind drunk. I don’t think she even remembers speaking to me.’’

The boy sitting across the table from you let out a sigh, shaking his head. ‘’It’s gonna bite you in the ass, I’m telling you.’’ He mumbled, raising both his eyebrows as he spoke. You just stared at him, shooting him a sarcastic smile. ‘’C’mon, you can’t deny that it was a good way of ruining his night though.’’

A chuckle left Sungchans lips as he leaned forwards, wrapping his fingers around the drink placed in front of him. ‘’I guess it was.’’ His words caused a grin to form on your lips, leaning forwards; wrapping your own hands over his which was still wrapped around the plastic bottle. ‘’Of course it was, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it smartass.’’

Sungchan chuckled as he spotted the playful grin on your face, pushing your hands off his own. ‘’Careful, you don’t want people thinking you’re trying to get me into bed as well.’’

You met Sungchan in biology class on the first day of your freshman year in high school. The Sungchan you met back then however, was nothing like the Sungchan sitting in front of you now.

The Sungchan you met back in high school was nothing but a quiet, introverted and awfully shy kid. You, however, were so excited to make new friends that you had practically forced yourself onto the poor boy as you got assigned to sit next to him in biology.

Looking back, you almost cringed whenever your mind flashed back to your first encounter with the boy. He had stared at you like you were crazy for talking to him, something you completely missed back then. You were just so excited to make new friends, someone who didn’t know you from middle school.

But no matter how cringe it was looking back at it, you were thankful you actually did speak to him. And you knew Sungchan was just as thankful. In a way, Sungchan had you to thank for turning him into the boy sitting in front of you today.

Only within the first couple of months of your blossoming friendship Sungchan went from the introverted and lanky high school kid to this new almost extroverted and cheerful kid. Not necessarily because you were the most extroverted kid ever, but mainly because the friendship the two of you shared was so genuine. It was his first time ever sharing that kind of friendship with someone, as well as your first time.

Rolling your eyes once again at his witty reference, you playfully hit his arm. ‘’In your wildest dreams.’’

Not only had your best friend dramatically changed in terms of personality, but lookswise as well. He was no longer that lanky, almost awkward looking boy he used to be, he was more mature looking now. Sure, he still had that boyish look to him, but it was nothing compared to what he used to look like.

His shoulder had gotten significantly broader and his jawline had gotten more defined as the years passed, and you almost even dared to call him handsome.

Or you knew he was. There was no dancing around it, he was attractive. And if it wasn’t because of the relationship the two of you shared, maybe you would’ve actually considered hooking up with him one day; if you weren’t best friends, that being said. But you were, and there was no way you’d ever even consider it.

You realized you had been staring at the boy sitting across from you for a little too long, snapping out of your wandering thoughts as you unlocked your phone laying on the table in front of you to check the time. ‘’I need to go, I need to use the bathroom before my next class starts.’’

Sungchan nodded in response, shooting the drink in front of him across the table, the plastic bottle grabbing your attention; a confused look plastered on your face it slid across the table. ‘’Take it, in case you get thirsty during class.’’

A small grin replaced the confused look on your face as you stood up, grabbing the already half-empty drink. ‘’Be careful, we don’t want people to think you’re in love with me or something.’’ You winked, causing Sungchan to roll his eyes as he pretend to gag. ‘’Don’t make me take it back,’’ he warned you, causing you to quickly shove it down your bag. ‘’See you after class, Chan!’’ You exclaimed, already walking away from the table; waving him goodbye with a smirk on your face, watching as he shook his head before going back to eating his food.

With one earbud placed inside of your ear and the other hanging down your body, you walked through the hallways; music blasting through your headphones as you made your way toward the bathrooms.

The hallways were almost always empty at this time of the day, with every student busy eating their lunches. Lunchtime was always your favorite time of the day, mainly because you got to hang out with Sungchan but also because everything felt almost peaceful.

No one could've prepared you for how noisy college would be. You thought nothing could top the high school corridors, with a bunch of teenage boys yelling and fighting each other in the hallways and girls giggling while gossiping about something on their phones. You were fully convinced that college would be nothing like that, because when you enter college you’re no longer a kid. You’re grown, and the boys no longer fight in the hallways and the girls no longer stand huddled together against the lockers.

You were wrong.

Even though it was nothing like it was in high school, the boys no longer argued about football practice, and the girls no longer gossiped about the cute boys; in a way, maybe it was just like high school. But football got replaced by arguments consisting of when they should host their next frat party and the giggling about cute boys got replaced by gossiping about how the fratboys fucked their brains out.

Maybe college was just like high school after all. But that’s why you appreciated lunchtime, because the hallways felt awfully quiet for the first and only time during the day. Today, for example.

You couldn’t help but nod your head to the beat of the song blasting through your headphones, enjoying the peace and quiet as you walked down the empty hallway. That was until you heard distant arguing over your loud music, that being said.

Just as you were about to turn the corner, your steps came to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you slowly pulled your earbud out of your ear, lowering the volume as you tried to make out where the arguing came from; wanting to avoid bumping into a group of friends arguing, or even worse - a couple arguing.

That’s when you heard a familiar voice. The voice made you raise your eyebrows, your lips parting as you pressed your back against the lockers behind you; trying your best to hide yourself so the people arguing further down the hall wouldn’t notice your presence.

You listened intensely, trying your best to make out what the people were saying. But most of all, you were desperately trying to figure out whose familiar voice it was you were hearing. It was a voice you knew all too well, and the voice almost sent shivers down your spine, yet you just couldn’t figure out who it belonged to.

You know you shouldn’t look, you really shouldn’t. It’s none of your business, and you don’t want to make it your business either. But curiosity got the best of you and you can’t help but slowly peek from behind the lockers as discreetly as you possibly can, only to get a glimpse of the people arguing.

As soon as your eyes land on the figures standing further down the hall you realize just why the voice sounded so familiar to you. His lanky figure was leaning against the lockers, a girl standing in front of him with her back facing you, playing with her fingers nervously behind her back. You immediately recognized the boy as Heeseung, and the girl, well, as the girl from the party the previous weekend.

The girl you had ruined his chances of getting into bed with.

Your back hit the lockers behind you once again as you slapped your hand over your mouth to prevent a gasp from leaving your lips, your eyes wide as you realized the situation unfolding right in front of you.

You couldn’t help but notice the look in his eyes during the quick glance you got at him. His big doe eyes were no longer sparkling like they normally did, no, instead he almost looked sad. Something you had never seen before, something you didn’t even think Heeseung was capable of feeling.

‘’I just don’t get it Yunjin,’’ Heeseung let out, both frustration and hurt lingering in his voice as he spoke. You discreetly peeked your head around the lockers once again, trying your best to remain quiet so they wouldn’t notice you literally spying on their ongoing discussion. Heeseung dragged one of his hands through his hair in annoyance, his eyes still glued to the shorter girl standing in front of him.

‘’It’s just, I don’t think this is going to work out,’’ The girl whose name you noted to be Yunjin let out nervously, still playing with her fingers behind her back. ‘’But why? Where is this coming from?’’ Heeseung pressed, his eyebrows slightly furrowed together as he spoke.

Your lips slightly parted as you listened to the two speaking, your eyebrows slightly furrowing together as well as you tried figuring out what was going on. What was Heeseung doing standing in the middle of the hallway during lunchtime, arguing with the girl from the party? Was he really that butthurt from her getting dragged away?

A sigh left Yunjins lips before she mimicked Heeseung's actions by running her fingertips through her hair as well. ‘’Look, Heeseung,’’ She mumbled, Heeseungs eyes still glued to her as he waited for her to continue speaking. ‘’I’m sure you’re a great guy and all, I mean, the past two weeks we’ve spent together has been great,’’

So she wasn’t just some random girl. The two of them had actually been seeing each other, your eyes widening as you realized what was going on. Were you about to witness Lee Heeseung getting dumped? ‘’It’s just that I’ve heard some things about you and I just no longer see you and me being a thing.’’

You had to hold back a gasp as the words trailed off her lips. You knew that if you made as much as one single noise, they both would hear you and Heeseung would’ve probably killed you for listening to their conversation; considering the look on his face, you knew this wasn’t the right time to mess with him.

But you also couldn’t help but wonder what things she had heard about him. Maybe her friend actually did remember speaking to you and had told her everything you had told her, about how shitty he was in bed? You quickly disregarded the thought, remembering how incredibly drunk that poor girl had been. There was no way that your little lie was the reason behind this.

‘’What things? You can’t just tell me you want to stop seeing me because of something you heard, at least tell me what you’ve heard so I can clear things up!’’

Yet another sigh left Yunjins lips, her gaze meeting the ground. You could tell Heeseung was only getting more and more frustrated with the girl standing in front of him by the way he was now nibbling on his bottom lip. ‘’Just accept the fact that I don’t want to see you anymore, Heeseung.’’

If it wasn’t for the fact that you absolutely despised Heeseung, you would’ve felt bad for him. You could tell that her words hurt him and for a split second, you actually did feel the tiniest bit of compassion for him. That was until you realized it was Lee Heeseung, and the tiniest bit of compassion you had just felt went away. ‘’I need to go now,’’ Yunjin mumbled, picking up the bag she had placed beside her on the floor.

You watched as she walked past Heeeung, making her way down the opposite way of the hallway; Heeseungs lips parting like he was about to say something. He turned around, his back now facing you as he watched the girl make her way down the hallway but not a single word left his lips.

You should’ve turned around and left ages ago, yet you couldn’t force yourself to actually walk away; yet look away. Your eyes were still intensely watching Heeseung as he ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a loud curse as the girl went around the corner.

It wasn’t until Heeseung turned around and his eyes met yours you realized you were in fact still staring. Your eyes widened, quickly placing your back against the locker once again. You held your breath, praying that he hadn’t actually seen you peeking from behind the lockers, mumbling curses as you shut your eyes.

Suddenly, you heard him make his way down the hallway. You immediately opened your eyes as you realized his footsteps were approaching your end of the hallway, and not the opposite. You quickly grabbed your bag, sprinting the way you came; still mumbling curses as you ran down the hallway.

It wasn’t until you reached the classroom where your next class was being held you slowed down, panting as you bent over, placing your hands on top of your thighs as you desperately tried to catch your breath. You looked behind you, scared that you would spot Heeseung standing there; but to your surprise, the hallway was completely empty. You let out a sigh of relief, placing your bag on the floor as you ran your fingertips through your hair.

You were thankful that it was still lunchtime and no one had seen you running down the hallways like your whole life depended on it, embarrassment washing over you as you realized that there was a possibility that anyone had seen you.

Including Heeseung.

The thought of Heeseung seeing you, spying on him and then running for your life made you want to sink through the ground. You prayed that he hadn't actually seen you and you had been quick enough for him to miss your eyes peeking from behind those lockers. You squeezed your eyes shut at the thought of Heeseung endlessly teasing you about it, making your life even more of a living hell.

By the time the first student arrived, you had managed to catch your breath and you were even able to shoot the other student a small smile as they greeted you. The small amount of sweat that had formed around your hairline however was still visible and you noticed how the student slightly furrowed their eyebrows together at the sight.

Wiping your forehead, you let out a sigh as you realized you didn’t even get to go to the bathroom. Spying on Heeseung and seeing him get dumped wasn’t as worth it as you originally thought as the urge to use the toilet crept upon you.

Lee Heeseung and his ways of constantly ruining your life.

The picture of Heeseung getting brutally rejected kept lingering in your mind the following days. You had to hold back a laugh from leaving your throat every time the image of his furrowed eyebrows popped up in your mind, like right now for example; a small smile forming on your lips as the image of him running his hands through his hair in frustration once again flashed through your mind.

Not only had you caused Heeeung to not get laid, but you had also witnessed him getting dumped - all within the spawn of three days.

Some might call it luck, some may say it was unfortunate for him; but you? You’d like to call it karma. He had it coming, after all.

To your surprise, however, Heeseung hadn’t bothered you all week - something that was incredibly unusual. Normally, he’d go out of his way at least once a day to annoy you, everything from some smart remark about the clothes you were wearing to blocking your locker.

But every time you walked past him, he didn’t even look your way.

At first, it surprised you. You had prepared yourself for some remark of some sort as you spotted him walking in your direction. But the remark never came, instead he just simply passed by without even laying his eyes on you. It left you confused, purely because something like that hadn’t happened in years. And as the week passed, and Heeseung didn’t even look your way once; you started to feel accomplished instead of confused.

Maybe you truly did manage to humble him by ruining his chances of getting laid that night.

‘’Earth to Y/N,’’

Sungchans voice snapped you out of your thoughts, the image of Heeseung getting blurry as Sungchan waved one of his hands in front of your face; leaning over so he could get a better look at your face. You blinked your eyes, clearing your throat as you put the pencil you had unknowingly been chewing on down on the bed. A chuckle was heard coming from Sungchan. ‘’What are you thinking about?’’

His question almost caused a grin to form on your lips once again, shaking your head in response. ‘’Nothing important,’’ You replied, flashing him a taunting smile as you leaned back on your bed.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Sungchan to hang out after school. Normally, Chenle would join the two of you as well; if he wasn’t busy hanging out at the frat, that being said.

You had met Chenle through Sungchan. The two of them knew each other before you even met Sungchan, and even though they weren’t exactly friends they usually hung out in a group of other people through out middle school. It wasn’t until Chenle showed up at some high school party you and Sungchan had attended together, however, that you met him.

That night had been the first time Chenle had ever gotten drunk and Sungchan was the only person he could recognize in his drunken state, which led to him following him around the whole night like a lost puppy. You had been there to help clean himself up after he had vomited in a bush outside the party, before he begged both you and Sungchan with tear-stained cheeks never to tell a single soul about what had happened. With a crying Chenle and with small giggles trailing off both your and Sungchans lips, a new friendship formed.

Chenle, to this very day, still denied that night ever happened. You weren’t sure if it was because he was still embarrassed about it, or if he just didn’t want his new frat buddies to find out about his miserable first experience of getting drunk. But one thing was for sure, he did not give up on his party life because of that minor incident. Which is why it didn’t come as a surprise to you when he decided to try getting into some of the fraternities the second he sat foot in college.

You were happy for him when he finally got into one of them, excited about all the parties he’d be able to get both you and Sungchan into with his new position as an official fratboy. But just like always, the universe seemed to have something personal against you when it turned out that Chenle had, as a matter of fact, gotten accepted into the very same fraternity as Lee Heeseung.

To make things even worse, the two of them became friends. Not only did they become friends, but good friends. Chenle hadn’t been around in high school like Sungchan had, therefore he didn’t exactly know the history you and Heeseung shared - even though you had told him about it multiple times. He always just shrugged it off, he never really understood why it was such a big deal anyways. To him, it was just a harmless rumor that hadn’t actually caused you any harm.

Maybe if he knew about the torment Heeseung had put you through ever since middle school, he would’ve actually understood why the rumor of you trying to get in his pants was a big deal.

‘’Whatever you say,’’ Sungchan mumbled, leaning against the headboard of your bed. ‘’Have you even been listening to what I’ve been saying?’’ You looked over at him, a small apologetic smile on your lips. Sungchan let out a groan as he spotted your smile, indicating that you hadn’t been listening to a single word that had left his lips.

‘’I asked you about the party tomorrow night.’’

Now it was your turn to let out a groan, leaning back so you were laying flat on your back. You put your hands over your face, rubbing your eyes in annoyance as your friend reminded you of the upcoming party. Chenle’s upcoming party. ‘’I really don’t want to go,’’ Your words came out muffled due to your hands covering your mouth as you spoke. ‘’You have to, it’s his birthday Y/N,’’ Sungchan argued, lightly slapping your legs; causing you to peak through your fingers.

The serious look on his face told you he wasn’t playing around. You stared at him for a moment before a sigh escaped your lips, letting your hands fall off your face. ‘’I know, I know.’’

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to attend your friend's birthday party. There was no way you’d actually miss it, he was one of your best friends after all; the only problem was that you knew you’d bump into Heeseung.

With Heeseung and Chenle being practically best friends, and with you and Chenle also being best friends, there was just no way you’d be able to avoid him. You were there to celebrate your friend, and so was he; leaving you with no other choice but to hang out with Lee Heeseung - against your will. ‘’You can’t avoid it just because Heeseung will be there,’’ Sungchan let out, his eyes still glued to you.

You rolled your eyes in response. ‘’I know and I won’t. I’m not going to miss my friend's birthday party just because he’s there.’’

Well, a part of you wanted to do exactly that. But you know that would make you a shitty friend, knowing how fed up Chenle already was with the relationship you and Heeseung shared. He just wanted the two of you to get along and not argue every time the two of you as much as walked by each other, how hard could it possibly be?

Well, harder than he could possibly phantom. ‘’Whatever you say,’’ Sungchan mumbled once again, tearing his eyes off you as he picked up the notepad laying in front of him; placing it in his lap. ‘’You can just avoid him as much as you can and no one ends up getting hurt.’’ His words made a dry chuckle leave your lips. ‘’Like avoiding him is possible when Chenle is so far up his ass.’’

You could tell Sungchan was holding back a laugh by the way his lips almost twitched into a smile. He knows he shouldn’t laugh, he knows he should tell you off for speaking about your friend like that; but he also knows it is true. He knows Chenle views Heeseung like he’s some type of higher being, when in reality he’s just a jerk. But he fits the frat boy stereotype perfectly, and Chenle wanted nothing more than to fit right into that role as well.

‘’Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the big bad monster,’’ Sungchan playfully grinned at you, your lips parting before playfully kicking him in the arm, a chuckle trailing off his lips as he dodged your kick. ‘’You better, or he might come after you next.’’

Now standing in the hallway where your friend's birthday party was being hosted, you immediately regretted coming. The smell of men's perfume filled your nose the second you stepped into the house, making you scrunch your nose in disgust as the scent only continued to get worse. What did you expect of a house filled with nothing but boys?

‘’Do you want me to hand him the gift or do you want to do it?’ Sungchan mumbled into your ear as you walked through the already packed living room, greeting people as you walked past. ‘’You can do it, you were the one who bought it anyways.’’ You mumbled back, shooting a smile at some familiar faces in the crowd as you continued making your way through the crowd.

You had practically begged Sungchan to be the one buying him a gift, claiming you had no idea what to get a frat boy for his birthday. Not that Sungchan knew any better, but at least he was a man himself and had a somewhat better idea of what to get another boy his age for his birthday. He eventually decided to go with a nice bottle of whiskey, a bottle that you knew Chenle would proudly place on top of one of the shelves in his room as decoration.

‘’Not only do I have to be the one buying it, but the one giving it to him as well?’’ Sungchan muttered into your ear, causing you to roll your eyes. You were about to argue back, but a loud yell coming from in front of you interrupted your thoughts. ‘’You made it!’’

Your eyes shifted over to the direction where the voice was coming from, a big smile spreading across your lips as you spotted Chenle making his way toward you. ‘’You really think I’d miss my best friend's birthday party? Who do you take me for?’’ You giggled as you felt his arms wrap around your body, pulling you into a tight hug. He slowly rocked your body back and forth, a chuckle trailing off his lips. ‘’I’m just joking, I know you wouldn’t.’’

You watched with a big smile on your lips as Chenle pulled the taller boy beside you into a tight hug as well, a chuckle trailing off your lips as the two slightly stumbled backward. ‘’Be careful, I don’t want to drop your birthday present,’’ Sungchan let out, pushing the shorter boy off himself with a chuckle trailing off his lips. An ironic gasp left Chenle’s lips as he spotted the brown bag Sungchan was holding in one of his hands.

‘’You got me a gift? Guys, you didn’t have to do that!’’

Sungchan only rolled his eyes in response as he handed him the bag, which he didn’t even bother wrapping before leaving for the party. With his shaky handwriting and a pen that almost didn’t even work, he had written ‘To: Chenle, From: Sungchan and Y/N’ across the brown paper bag. You had scolded him for it when you had met up with him, to which he only replied that you should’ve done it yourself if you weren’t pleased with his efforts.

Chenle was quick to tear the paper bag off, only to reveal a nice bottle of whiskey. This was the first time you even saw the bottle, putting your trust in Sungchan when he said he’d buy the fanciest bottle he could find. And he did not disappoint, it was a nice bottle. And judging by the way Chenle’s eyes lit up as he held the bottle up, you could tell he found it just as nice.

‘’Dude, I’m totally putting this in my room for everyone to see,’’ You had to stifle a laugh as the words trailed off his lips, confirming what you had originally thought. Maybe you knew your friend better than you thought. Before you knew it, you were pressed firmly against his chest once again; a squeal leaving your lips as he lifted you up into the air. ‘’Thank you so much,’’ He excitedly let out, refusing to put you down even though you were now giggling and playfully hitting his arm, begging him to put you down.

After Chenle ran off to show his friends the bottle he had just received, boosting about it being the nicest bottle he had ever seen, the night went on.

You stayed by Sungchans side the entire night, chatting with each other over the loud music. Even though Sungchan was no longer the same awkward and introverted kid he once was, he still wasn’t the type to enjoy parties. He could appreciate the social aspect of it, but the drinking? Not so much. But Chenle had managed to get him to drink various drinks throughout the night, something Sungchan usually never did, but it was his best friend's birthday party after all; and who was he to refuse his requests?

‘’When do you think they’re bringing out the cake?’’ Sungchan let out, his eyes scanning the packed room from the corner where the two of you were standing. A chuckle left your lips as your eyes scanned the room as well, spotting Chenle dancing in the crowd. ‘’Not anytime soon,’’ You sighed, taking a sip of the alcohol Chenle had poured you. ‘’Then I have time to run to the bathroom,’’ Sungchan mumbled beside you, placing his cup on the table beside him. You only nodded in response, your eyes darting over to look at him again.

‘’Just be quick,’’ You let out to which he chuckled. ‘’Are you scared the big scary monster is going to get you?’’ He smirked at you, causing you to roll your eyes at the mention of Heeseung. ‘’You’re so funny.’’ You let out, glaring at him as he winked at you before disappearing into the crowd.

Your eyes scanned the room once again, the small smile returning to your lips as you watched Chenle dancing across the room. For a moment, you considered joining him; it was his birthday after all, and he looked like he was having way more fun than you judging by the big smile on his face as he danced with his friends.

Speaking of Heeseung, you had yet to even see him.

The thought, however, barely even crossed your mind before you felt a strong grip around your wrist. You didn’t even get to look at the person who was now holding onto your wrist before you were suddenly dragged up the stairs leading to the second floor, the second floor which Chenle had made very clear was off limits.

‘’I mean it, do not go on the second floor,’’ The serious look on his face as he told you had almost made you laugh, like he was telling you the most serious thing ever. ‘’I wasn’t planning on going up there begin with.’’ You chuckled, raising one of your eyebrows. Chenle let out a sigh before shaking his head. ‘’No, I mean it Y/N,’’

‘’Do not go on the second floor.’’

This time, you could no longer hold back your laughter. Chenle just rolled his eyes at your reaction, getting annoyed that you weren’t taking him seriously. ‘’I’m serious,’’ He whined, watching as you bent over the bed laughing, holding your stomach. ‘’The boys hate when people go up there and they’d literally kill me if they ever found out my friends went up there.’’

The boys, as he liked to refer to them as, were in fact his fellow frat buddies. You wiped your eyes, rolling them before shaking your head. ‘’Don’t worry, you can tell the boys that I wasn’t planning on it.’’

Well, you weren’t. But with the person now dragging you up the stairs, you had no other choice than to follow them as their grip around your wrist was stronger than you; despite your desperate efforts to try to snatch your arm away. The darkness made it almost impossible for you to see who the person was, which only made you even more nervous.

‘’What the fuck,’’ You let out as you reached the top floor, the person in front of you finally letting go of your wrist. ‘’What are you doing?’’ You exclaimed, your gaze darting down to look at your wrist which was now slightly throbbing in pain from the steady grip. ‘’No, what the fuck are you doing?’’

You recognized the voice faster than you would’ve liked. Your eyes immediately darted back up, only to come face to face with Heeseung. Your eyes slightly widened as you scanned his face, his eyebrows furrowed together and his lips pressed into a thin line; he was angry. He was really, really angry.

A chuckle trailed off your lips after a second of nothing but silence. ‘’Careful dragging me up here, people might think you’re trying to fuck me.’’ You hissed at him, knowing your words will only tick him off even more.

Over the years, you learned how to bite back whenever he tried getting on your nerves. The first time you had talked back, his eyes had widened for a split second; something he never expected you to do. But as the years passed, it no longer surprised him and now he found himself laughing in your face at your desperate attempts to defend yourself.

Only he didn’t laugh this time.

‘’Everyone already seems to think we’ve fucked so it doesn’t really matter, does it?’’

Another dry chuckle left your throat. ‘’Your own lie biting you in the ass, Heeseung?’’ You glared at him, A sarcastic chuckle leaving his lips as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, just like he had done when you witnessed him getting dumped; his eyes looking everywhere but at you.

‘’Why are you telling people I can’t make a girl cum?’’

His eyes met yours as he finished speaking, his big doe eyes squinted as he stared at you. You just stared at him for a moment, both shock and amusement washing over you. So the girl had remembered what you had told her after all. And not only had she remembered, but the words had somehow reached Heeseung which meant that she was now telling other people about it.

‘’You haven’t even slept with me, so why the fuck would you even say that?’’ He continued as you only stood there, staring at him while trying to process what had happened.

You had unknowingly spread a rumor about Lee Heeseung, the boy who once ruined your whole reputation by once spreading a rumor about you.

‘’For the exact same reason you told the whole school I tried sleeping with you!’’

Heeseung clenched his jaw as he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. ‘’Really? That was years ago now Y/N!’’ He exclaimed, his eyes still glued to you. ‘’Well since someone came to me claiming that we slept together the rumor still seems to be relevant,’’ You hissed, crossing your arms over your chest. Heeseung let out a curse under his breath as the words left your mouth, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘’You should be thankful, it’s not like it’s a bad rumor.’’ He hissed back. ‘’Are you kidding me? You made everyone believe I was some kind of attention whore,’’ You defended yourself. This was the first time you ever spoke about the whole rumor thing with Heeseung, and only now did you realize that he had no idea how his stupid rumor affected your high school years.

Heeseung once again let out a groan in annoyance. ‘’So you decided to make that rumor even worse by adding even more lies to it?’’ He spat at you. You shook your head in response, a small smile forming on your lips. ‘’No, I just did it so you wouldn’t get laid.’’

‘’Well now I won’t be getting laid ever again! Why would you tell Chaeryeong out of all people? She never knows how to keep her mouth shut!’’

You raised one of your eyebrows in confusion. You had no idea who Chaeryeong was, you had never even heard of her before; until it hit you. The girl you had told all about Heeseung and how incredibly bad he was in bed must’ve been Chaeryeong. Even though you felt like laughing in his face, you decided to not do so. You didn’t feel like putting your whole life on the line today.

‘’I’m going back downstairs.’’

You had already turned around as the words left your mouth, your back facing him as you made your way towards the stairs. However, Heeseung was not done with the conversation the two of you were having; causing him to once again grab onto your wrist, this time to prevent you from walking away.

You were about to curse him out, anger building up inside of you as you once again felt his tight grip around your wrist. The sound of someone coming up the stairs behind you, however, interrupted your thoughts.

You immediately looked over at Heeseung, fear replacing the previous angry expression you had worn on your face. Heeseung wore the exact same expression on his face, his face going pale as he remembered his own rule. He wasn’t even supposed to bring someone up there in the first place.

‘’Heeseung?’’

Your panic only grew as you recognized the voice as no other than Chanle’s. You kept your eyes glued on Heeseung, who only looked at you with the same amount of fear in his. You wanted to slap him across the face for not quickly thinking of a solution, for a way to avoid Chenle walking up the stairs and spotting the two of you; he had been the one who had dragged you up there after all. Not only did you not want your friend to see you standing alone with Lee Heeseung, but you knew he’d scold you for even going up there in the first place.

But Heeseung just stood there, not moving an inch - his grip on your arm only tightening for each second that passed.

‘’Bro, are you up here? We’re gonna bring out the cake soon,’’ Chenle’s voice only got closer which only contributed to your panic. You could tell Heeseung panicked as well judging by the way his eyes were now darting around the hallway, looking for a way out of the current situation he found himself in.

You were about to snatch your arm away, not wanting to stand around anymore, getting ready to quietly slip into one of the doors beside you. At this point you didn’t even care about the one rule Chenle had ordered you to follow, you’d much rather he found you in one of the bedrooms rather than him spotting you with Heeseung.

Heeseung, however, seemed to have other plans. Before you could even consider where to escape, you felt yourself being pulled to the side; almost causing a yelp to leave your throat as you suddenly felt Heeseung press his hand over your mouth.

Your back suddenly hit his chest, causing your eyes to widen. You had never been this close to Heeseung in your entire life and the fact that his hand was firmly placed over your mouth was stopping you from making as much as a single sound. Not only could you feel Heeseungs hot breath fanning across your neck, but the room he had just pulled you into was pitch black as well; making it impossible for you to even see your surroundings.

But judging by the way Heeseung had you pressed up again this chest, you figured the room couldn’t be that big. You knew Heeseung well enough to know that he would never hold you this close voluntarily.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, and it most definitely wasn’t the type of shiver that sent butterflies flying in your stomach. No, you almost felt sick to your stomach as you realized it was the Lee Heeseungs hand placed over your mouth, his rough fingers touching your lips - and breathing down your neck.

‘’Don’t you dare make a single sound, okay?’’ He hissed into your ear, speaking so quietly that you almost didn’t even hear him. You only nodded in response, too scared to even utter a single breath.

The whole situation almost felt surreal to you.

The closest you had ever been to Heeseung was whenever his hands ruffled through your hair or whenever he’d accidentally bump into you walking through the hallway, but other than that he always kept a safe distance from you. But there you were, closer to him than you had ever been before with your back pressed firmly against his chest - something you never thought would happen, nor was it something you had wished for.

You could hear footsteps approaching from outside the door, feeling the grip that Heeseung had on you tighten as they came closer. You weren’t too sure as to why he was holding onto you, almost like he expected you to run out of there if he let you go. Not that it mattered, you were too paralyzed by the whole situation to even consider moving anyways.

As you heard the footsteps slowly descend back down the stairs, you allowed yourself to breathe; grabbing onto Heeseungs hand that was still covering your mouth and ripping it away from your face. A gasp left your lips as you were finally able to breathe properly, slightly stumbling forwards, trying your best to get away from Heeseungs presence.

‘’What the fuck!’’ You hissed at him, turning around to face him; not that you could see him. The room was still pitch black from Heeseung never turning on the light. Not that it really mattered, you hoped that he didn’t need to see the angry expression you wore on your face for him to understand how mad you were - the anger lingering in your voice speaking for itself.

But to your surprise, it seemed like Heeseung didn’t quite catch onto your hints as you once more felt his hot breath against your throat; causing your eyes to widen. ‘’I told you to be quiet,’’ He hissed into your ear, causing you to slightly panic now that you couldn’t see just how close he was standing to you.

You desperately put your hands on top of his chest, getting ready to push him away from you. Your panic only continued to grow as you felt him quickly grab onto both your hands, bringing them down to his side; his hands still holding onto yours. ‘’Why do you always have to be so goddamn difficult?’’

You swore you could feel his lips brush against the skin of your neck as he spoke, sending shivers against your spine once more. This time, however, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what the feeling now rushing your body meant. You weren’t sure if being in the dark, pressed up against Heeseung had made you lose your mind or if your heart actually skipped a beat as his lips slightly touched your neck; you weren’t too sure if you wanted to find out either.

All you knew was that you needed to get out of there. And you needed to get out of there quickly.

But it seemed like your legs picked the perfect timing to deceive you, refusing to move as much as an inch as you stayed frozen to the spot; Heeseung still holding onto both your hands, now feeling his hot breath against your face. It wasn’t until a quiet chuckle escaped his lips that you realized you were still in fact staring at him, your eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. ‘’I can feel you staring at me, you know.’’ He whispered.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw yourself out of the door, get away from his presence; anything. Yet no matter how hard you tried to get your body to move, you simply just couldn’t. Not only was your body refusing to move, but your ability to speak also seemed to be gone as not a single word left your lips. Heeeung remained quiet for a second, before leaning even closer to you.

‘’Don’t tell me that’s your heart pounding?’’

His words only freaked you out even more as you realized that your heart was in fact pounding. You hadn’t even realized it until he pointed it out, turning you into even more of a nervous wreck. You weren’t sure if you were nervous because of your best friend almost catching you pressed up against Lee Heeseung, or if it was Heeseungs presence that made you nervous. Both options seemed equally bad to you.

Another chuckle trailed off Heeseung's lips as you failed to respond to his question. ‘’Never knew I had that effect on you,’’

Normally, you would’ve just rolled your eyes or told him to fuck off. But in a situation like this, in a completely dark room where you had no vision of your surroundings with him only moving closer and closer to you, those options were completely off the table. You wanted to tell him how wrong he was, that he did not have that effect on you, but your heartbeat definitely told not only Heeseung, but you as well, otherwise.

You had been preoccupied with your own racing thoughts to even notice that he had let go of your hands, both of them now hanging by your sides. It wasn’t until you felt him place one of his hands on your face you realized that he had let go of them, his touch almost making you flinch.

A series of curses ran through your mind as you felt him place his thumb under your chin, tilting your face up; your eyes still wide from the shock. Maybe you were happy that he never turned on the light, you knew he’d endlessly tease you if he could see the look on your face. Although he didn’t even need to see your face, the faint sound of your pounding heart told him enough.

You felt his head dip in between your neck and shoulder, the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin causing you to let out a gasp. ‘’Should’ve told me sooner and you wouldn’t have to lie about sleeping with me.’’ He mumbled, his lips finally meeting your skin.

Upon his rough lips meeting the skin of your neck, you grabbed onto the surface right beside you, your hand coming into contact with a sink; making you realize you were in a bathroom.

You had no idea how you ended up in this situation. You had no idea how the fuck you ended up in a bathroom with Lee Heeseung, the person you swore you hated more than anyone else on this entire planet, with his lips leaving wet kisses down your neck. What you did know, however, was the fact that you desperately needed to get out of there.

Heeseung wasn’t going to let you get away that easily though. Almost like he read your mind, he grabbed onto your waist; pushing you up against the counter beside you. A small yelp left your lips as your lower back hit the counter, Heeseungs lips still attached to your neck.

‘’Maybe you’ll let me prove you wrong, Y/N?’’

His lips left your neck, now slightly hovering above your own lips instead. You felt your breath quickening as you felt his top lip slightly brush against your own; one of his hands was still placed on the side of your face, his thumb tilting your head upwards.

‘’Prove me wrong?’’ You managed to stutter out, not even sure if he could hear you due to how quietly the words left your mouth. He hummed in response and if the room hadn’t been completely dark, you’d be able to see the grin that had formed on his lips.

‘’You’d let me prove to you that I can make any girl cum, wouldn’t you?’’

As soon as the words left his lips, you could’ve sworn you stopped breathing for a second. Normally you probably would’ve cringed at his words, but the shock that had washed over you was making it almost impossible for you to even utter a single word.

Or maybe it was the way his lips brushed against yours that had made you question your entire existence, making it hard for you to breathe properly; how were you supposed to know when all you could possibly focus on was the way he was now pressing his body up against your own?

You knew this was just his way of messing with you. He probably found it amusing, seeing how you became a stuttering mess with him this close to you. You knew he was only doing it for his own amusement, your mind flashing to the future for a split second - a future where Heeseung would tell everyone how he had you quivering in his arms by doing nothing but press soft kisses against your skin.

There was no way you’d ever let that happen.

‘’Yes.’’

Or maybe you would. The word trailed off your lips so softly, so softly that Heeseung almost missed the way they fell off your lips so perfectly. But he didn’t, he didn’t miss the way you whimpered a ‘yes’, which was his cue to press his hovering lips against your own.

It all happened too fast, too fast for you to even realize the fact that your hands had wrapped themselves around his neck; pulling him deeper into the kiss. Your mind was too foggy to even try to comprehend what was happening, simply accepting the fact that you found yourself pressed up against someone when you should be downstairs celebrating your friend's birthday.

Your brain just choose to ignore the most important part, that the person you had just pulled into a kiss was in fact no one other than Lee Heeseung.

His lips felt almost too soft against your own. His touch, however, was not nearly as soft. You could now feel his fingernails digging into your skin as his hand slipped under your shirt, the grip he had on your jaw only hardening the deeper the kiss got. A small whimper left your lips as you felt him run his tongue over your bottom lip, asking you for permission to enter your mouth.

The darkness definitely contributed to the whole situation. If you had actually been able to see him, there was no way you’d let him even come remotely to close to you. But you couldn’t, and the darkness made it almost too easy for you to fall into some sort of fantasy where the boy who was now slightly tugging on your bottom lip was someone completely different.

Someone who wasn’t Heeseung.

So that’s what you imagined as his tongue come into contact with yours, causing the kiss to become much messier. You almost whined as his lips left yours, only to travel back down your neck; this time leaving much wetter and harsh kisses. A small whimper left your lips as you felt the dangly, silver earring he was wearing brush against your skin; the cold sensation only heightened the feelings you were already experiencing.

The feelings you refused to accept were indeed rushing through your body, you refused to accept that you were indeed starting to rub your thigh together in order to relieve the throbbing now coming from your core. Heeseung seemed to catch onto you trying to discreetly but desperately relieve the aching feeling, a chuckle trailing off his lips as he felt you uncomfortably shift underneath him.

His fingertips suddenly started tracing up and down your bare thigh, causing a small gasp to leave your lips; his sudden action taking you by surprise. You weren’t complaining though, feeling his fingertips lightly drag across your skin, moving closer and closer to the spot where you needed him the most.

It wasn’t until he pulled the skirt you were wearing up, rolling it up by your waist and his fingertips traced over your clothed core that he let out a groan. His fingertips immediately came into contact with the growing wet patch that had formed in your underwear, causing him to slightly bite into your skin. ‘’You’re incredibly wet for someone who claims to hate my guts,’’ He grunted against your skin, causing your eyes to flutter close as he lightly tapped your clothed clit.

‘’Shut up,’’ You hissed through your teeth, the last thing you wanted right now was for him to tease you. The only thing you needed was for him to touch you, and you needed it badly. Too badly. A dry chuckle trailed off his lips, pressing his lips onto the skin right below your ear as he slipped his hand into your underwear.

You let out a sigh of relief as his fingers came into contact with your clit, running two of his fingers up and down your slit. A hiss left his lips as your arousal covered his fingers, feeling his cock twitch in his jeans; something he chose to ignore as his fingertips reached your entrance.

The first finger slipped into you with ease, your slick walls welcoming him with a moan trailing off your lips. He had to hold back a moan himself as his knuckles came into contact with your sticky entrance, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you before eventually slipping in yet another finger.

Your hands grabbed onto his hair, slightly tugging on it as the new sensation took over your body. Never had someone ever fingered you before, and you surely never expected Heeseung to be the first one to do so. But with the way his index and pointer fingers were now pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, you simply couldn’t help but fall into the pleasure of it all.

Even though it was the fingers of the person you hated more than anyone else making you feel good, you simply just couldn’t deny the fact that he was indeed making you feel a little too good.

‘’You gonna take back what you said?’’ He mumbled against your skin, his fingers still pumping in and out of you. You had to bite back a moan, shaking your head. ‘’Never.’’

Your words only riled Heeseung up even more, a grin forming on his lips as he pulled his fingers out of you completely. You were about to whine in protest, an empty feeling washing over you as his fingers slipped out of you. But before you could utter a single word, he slammed his fingers into you once again; a loud gasp leaving your lips, slapping one of your hands over your mouth to stop the whimpers about to leave your lips.

‘’We’ll see about that.’’

The previous speed he had set changed into something almost sinister, the sound of his knuckles hitting the wet skin surrounding your entrance filled the room as you spread your legs further apart, making it easier for him to slam his fingers into you.

At this point you couldn’t even control the moans spilling past your lips, nor did you try to. You were too lost in the bliss of his fingers pumping in and out of you at just the right speed to even notice the way you were moaning into his ear. It wasn’t until he curled his fingers, his fingers now hitting just the right spot you realized how loud you were being as a loud yelp left your lips.

Heeseung quickly realized that he had found the spot that made you weak at your knees as he felt you grab onto his bicep in order to stabilize yourself, your legs becoming slightly shaky as he continued to pound his fingers into you. ‘’Don’t tell me you’re going to cum already?’’ He whispered into your ear, your moans almost deafening his whisper.

You, however, were too lost in the pleasure to even realize he had said something. The only thing you could focus on was the way a familiar feeling filled your stomach, your legs starting to fail you as you felt your orgasm slowly approach you. You were too lost in the pleasure to even notice the way he had leaned over you, his fingers still pumping in and out of you.

Almost like you had forgotten who the person in front of you was, you were painfully reminded as he suddenly flipped the light switch; the bright light causing you to squint your eyes. With a grin on his face and your lips slightly parted, you only stared at him in utter shock as the realization hit you.

You had just let Lee Heeseung finger you in his very own bathroom.

A whimper left your lips as his movements stopped, his fingers slipping out of you. The knot in your stomach came undone, but not in the way you had hoped for; no, he simply just didn’t let you cum. You just stared at him, your eyes wide from the realization. Not only had you actually let him finger you, but he also left you hanging by not letting you cum.

The two of you just stared at each other, a taunting grin still plastered on his face as your heavy pants filled the room, your eyes still wide. You could tell he was holding back a laugh as he scanned your fucked out expression, a proud smirk replacing the grin on his lips as he leaned closer to you once again.

Brushing your hair behind your ear, he placed his hand on the side of your neck; breathing down your neck. ‘’What a shame,’’ He whispered into your ear. ‘’I guess I don’t know how to make girls cum after all.’’

If you weren’t speechless before, you most definitely were now. You were too deep into your own thoughts, your shaky hands trailing up your face; covering your mouth as the fact that you had just let Lee Heeseung finger you settled in to even notice the boy washing his hands beside you.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat you looked over at him. He just smiled at you, scanning your body; slightly shaking his head while clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ‘’I’m gonna go back downstairs now,’’ He let out, placing his hand on the door handle. ‘’You should probably make yourself look at least presentable before going back down there.’’

You stared at him as his eyes darted down to your skirt, your eyes following his. Your lips parted as you realized your skirt was still pulled up by your waist, revealing your now drenched and side-looped underwear. You quickly pulled your skirt down as Heeseung opened the door, a laugh leaving his lips as he watched you straighten your skirt back down using your hands.

You were still fixing your skirt as he stepped out of the door, his head suddenly peeking back from behind the door. ‘’And Y/N?’’ His words caused you to snap your head towards him, not daring to say a single word; feeling both embarrassment and resentment towards the boy standing in front of you.

And with the very same shit-eating grin he always wore on his lips, he took one last look at you.

‘’That was just for spying on me earlier this week.’’

You were done for, something telling you this was only the beginning of Heeseungs revenge. Not only were you done for, you were fucked.

2K notes · View notes

silentglassbreak · 2 months

Note

What if the reader and Noah have been training together with Ash, doing kickboxing and all that. They haven't hung out together, but one day, Noah invites the reader over. They find out that they have more in common than they realize.

You can make this cute, romantic, fluff, smutty...you do you :)

Ahhh mi mayor amor, this ask holds a special place in my heart. I trained martial arts for a long time. This sounds like a lot of fun. Now, I will forewarn you, I’ve never done a reader perspective fic before. I’m nervous. The Y/N thing scares me, but I’m going to take a crack at it. Honest feedback is appreciated! After writing notes: I'm so FUCKING evil. :)

Ratings: Explicit

Warnings: Hehehehehe.......

Vices

“Damn it!” My hand tapped the leg cinched around my throat, my mouth guard nearly choking me as I struggled.

The grip loosened and I rolled backward over my head, fist punching the mat beneath me. The Dutch braids my hair was in was faltering, and I stared at the man in front of me.

“What the fuck am I doing wrong?!”

“Calm down, Y/N. You’re going to get this.” Ash, despite being covered in a thin layer of sweat, was smiling warm at me, trying to calm my frustration.

“We’ve been at this for twenty fucking minutes, dude! I keep getting locked the fuck up!” My hands gestured in front of me, my backside rested on my heels.

“You’ve only been doing Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu for three months. You’re still learning. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He moved to stand. “You want to take a break?”

I stood as well, leaning down into my stance. “No. Let’s go again.”

Ash quirked a brow, defeated, and shook his head, bending down as well. Before I could reach for him, a voice echoed from behind me, disrupting my focus.

“You’re too tense. You need to shake off some of that rage you got there, doll.”

I snapped my head over, inadvertently whipping myself in the mouth with the end of my braid.

Noah stood, tall and sweaty, leaning against one of the heavy punching bags lining the back wall of the room. A towel was draped over his left shoulder, his water bottle in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“If I wanted your opinion, dick, I would’ve asked for it.”

He threw his hands up defensively. “Just trying to help.”

Scoffing, I turned back around to ready myself. “Sure. I believe that.”

If there was anyone in this gym that I considered a nemesis, it was Noah ‘Dickwad’ Sebastian. I couldn’t fucking stand him. He was arrogant, unbearably fucking tall, and insanely fucking irritating.

We met for the first time when I joined the gym three months ago. He had been training here only six months longer than I, and from the beginning, he was constantly poking a fucking stick at me. It didn’t make sense, and I didn’t fucking care.

I learned through whispers in the gym that he was in a band, so when I googled him and learned what he did for a living, I wasn’t impressed in the slightest.

So what if he could sing? Didn’t make him any less intolerable. He wouldn’t sing too well if I stuck my foot down his throat, anyway.

Had I added a few of his songs to my workout playlist? Maybe. That's beside the point.

Ash wrapped me up in the arm bar yet again, my wrist screaming at me to tap out before it snapped in two. My fingers tapped his leg, and he released me.

“Alright Fireball, that’s enough for one day.” He stood, walking over to his corner where he kept his bag and water.

I noticed Noah had left, so I relaxed, straightening my shirt and making my way over to my own bag next to Ash.

“What am I doing wrong, dude? Seriously?”

He shrugged. “Honestly? You’re just off right now. Did something happen today?”

Rolling my eyes, I sprayed water into my mouth. “My bitch of a mother called me this morning.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That angered you?” His question was sincere. I didn’t share a lot about my personal life with my gym mates.

“It did.” Was all I gave before I slung my bag over my shoulder and slipped my slides on.

He nodded in approval. “Trying to train angry never works. It makes you unfocused. That’s why we do breathing exercises beforehand.” He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Try to let it go. We’ll work on it more tomorrow.”

His words calmed my fried nerves ever so slightly, and I grinned at him.

“Thanks Ash. I’ll see you then.”

Life really fucking blows sometimes. The last week had been a shit show and a half, and I was exhausted. I hadn’t been back to the gym because work had kept me busy, then I got rear-ended, totaling my ‘98 Corolla, and had been dodging calls from my Mom every hour like clockwork.

Needless to say, when I stepped foot into the gym, the smell of perspiration and mat cleaner was like a breath of fresh air.

My eyes searched, noticing an unfamiliar class going. I spotted Ash, whose eyes flashed over to me before he halted his spar, and jogged over.

“Hey, you okay? Haven’t seen you in over a week.”

I nodded. “Rough few days, but I’m good now.”

He smiled, but a look of concern crossed his face.

“Gosh, Y/N, I’m sorry, but we’re not running regular classes this week. There’s a tournament on the weekend, we’ve got to train our competitors.”

My mood fell, my shoulders going with it. I needed the relief. I needed to train.

Ash saw my eyes, and a sympathetic look crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called.”

I shook my head, waving a hand. “No, no. That’s okay. I totally understand.”

He chewed the inside of his lip, peering around the room. A sly smile perked up on his lips.

“Come here.” He motioned for me to follow, which I did, kicking my sandals off before entering the mat, giving a quick bow.

When we rounded the corner into the back of the gym, my feet halted just before the line of bags. Only one person was there, gloves and shin guards on, practicing his combinations.

Oh hell no.

“Y/N, why don’t you spar with Noah?”

My jaw dropped as he stopped mid-hook, pulling an earbud out. “What’s up?”

His chestnut brown hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes were widened slightly. I suddenly felt very exposed, only in a sports bra and fitness leggings.

“Would you be willing to spar with Y/N?”

Noah’s eyes made a show of looking me up and down, a devious grin creeping over his face.

“Oh, of course.”

I snorted, looking at Ash. “Are you insane?”

He shrugged. “You’re my only two not competing. It gives you a way to train.”

Holding up a hand toward Noah, my voice raised several octaves. “How am I supposed to spar with him?! He’s a fucking tree!” I motioned to my own height. “I’m only five fucking three!”

Ash’s eyes narrowed at me, clearly not amused with my tantrum.

“Listen, this is the only solution I have for you this week. If you don’t want to, totally fine.” He interlocked his fingers. “But I think it would be good for you.” He glanced between us. “Both of you.”

And just like that, he left.

Noah stared at me now, waiting for my decision. I just shook my head and snarled. “Fuck this.”

Turning to leave, I heard his voice call after me. “Yeah, figured you’d be too scared.”

I froze mid-step, craning my neck to look back at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I get it. I’m intimidating.” He was unhooking his shin guards, tossing them to the side.

“Are you, now?” I turned back around, arms crossing over my chest.

His gloves went next, falling next to his bag. “Obviously.”

“You’re way out of my weight class, Noah.”

He smirked. “Calling me fat?”

I rolled my eyes. What a fucking douche.

“You have an unfair advantage with your long noodle limbs.”

He sucked his teeth, taking a short drink of water. “Having fun insulting me today, huh?”

“Doesn’t change the circumstance.”

“You joined martial arts for self defense, right?”

I jutted my hip out. “So?”

He set down his bottle, running long tattooed fingers through his damp hair.

“So, you think every attacker is going to be the same size and weight as you?”

This gave me pause. He had a point.

I let my bag fall casually off my shoulder, holding my arms up in defeat.

“Fine.” I stepped forward to the middle of the mat. “You want to spar? Let’s do it.”

His eyes sparkled, which made my breath catch for a second, as he walked over to me.

His long form bowed forward as I did, before we bent down in our stance.

It was as I expected; infuriating.

His arms could nearly wrap me around twice. His legs were surprisingly strong, his thighs much more muscular than I had originally anticipated. I kept having to tap, which was making me angrier with each match.

“This is bullshit!”

He hopped on the mat, keeping his blood flowing. “You’re overthinking it. Going rigid.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Fuck that. I’m just too fucking small for this.”

He shook his head, eyes locked on my face. “You’re not. You need to let go. Quit thinking about it so hard.”

We restarted, and I let his words soak in. Feeling my heart beating, my lungs breathing, I let my body instinctively take over. Noah’s thighs wrapped around my waist, but I managed to wrap and arm between them, breaking his grip. Before I could celebrate my victory, he wrapped an arm around my neck, holding me in a reverse choke.

I had to stop and think. Lifting my arm, I found his neck, and locked in tight, causing him to double over, and his arm to slip.

I flipped away from him and stood back up, hands out and waiting. He grabbed me, but I was faster, sprawling low and taking out his right leg before wrapping his ankle in a crushing grip.

I felt his fingers tap my leg three times, and released him, squealing in excitement.

Jumping to my feet, I clapped my hands together, smiling wildly.

“I fucking did it!”

He laid flat on the mat, breathing heavily, and gave me a weak thumbs up. I stood over him, bent at the waist, and smiled as sugary as possible.

“You okay Daddy Long Legs?”

He lowered his eyebrows and licked his lips. “I like when you call me Daddy.”

Snickering, I stood up, reaching a hand out for him to use to stand up. Once on his feet, he padded over to his water bottle.

It had already been an hour, when I had the sense to check the time.

“Damn, I’ve got to get home. The cat needs to be fed.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Same time tomorrow?”

I smirked, shouldering my bag. “If you’re not too scared.”3

After three training sessions with Noah, I could feel my perspective of him begin to change ever so subtly. Sure, he was still a perverted douche, but he was also a really dedicated sparring partner. He was always on time, he was interested in my progress, and gave some pretty honest feedback about my technique.

Did I hate seeing him every day? No. Not exactly. I didn’t want to go as far as to say I enjoyed his company, but maybe I wore my nicer sports bras to the gym? Maybe my braids were pulled a little tighter because he was rough with them? Maybe I wore a light mist of body spray before I got there?

Maybe.

So, to my disappointment, come Wednesday, our fourth day training together, he wasn’t already there when I walked in. My face fell when I rounded the corner, expecting to catch him warming up on the bag. I had come to look forward to our banter back and forth prior to training. I also looked forward to watching him hit the bag, but I knew that was just because of his form. It was…exceptional.

Considering he could be stuck in traffic, or had a prior engagement, I decided to start warming up without him.

I made quick work of wrapping my hands and slipping my gloves on before starting my music and assaulting the bag in front of me. I let my mind wander while I pushed each combination out, using my emotions to channel the force.

Before I realized, I had listened to nearly half of my workout playlist, and there was still no sign of him. My head glanced around, and a deep feeling settled on my chest.

As much as I didn’t like the guy, it would’ve been nice for him to mention he wasn’t coming today. When I saw him yesterday, he didn’t say anything about skipping today. I couldn’t ask him myself. I didn’t know his number or any way to reach him.

Deciding it wasn’t worth the irritation, I stepped back from my bag, and began removing my gloves, tucking them back into my bag. As I did so, a flash flew by my peripheral vision, and I stood straight, noticing him.

Noah had walked - no, stomped on to the mat, flung his bag down, earbuds already in and blasting loudly in his ears, and hastily grabbed his gloves out, slipping them on.

I just stood, staring at him, leaning against my respective bag. He paid me no attention, not even glancing in my direction. Something had him pissed. His face had turned a harsh shade of crimson, only darkening as he went at the bag, his voice letting out sharp exclamations every so often.

Carefully, I took three steps closer, touching the bag next to him, eyes searching all over for a sign of what made him so angry. What had happened? Noah was one of the coolest cucumbers I had met in a long time, never bothered by seemingly anything.

Who had hurt him?

Deciding to chance it, knowing he couldn’t hear me, I let my fingers lightly touch the bag he punched during one of his ten second breaks.

For the first time, his eyes looked at me, and were almost black with the rage they held. It made me startle, my eyes widening.

“Noah?”

He rubbed at his ear with his glove, making one earbud fall out. “Not today, Y/N.”

His words didn’t leave room for pressure or questions.

Unfortunately for him, I’m not one to heed a warning.

Narrowing my eyes, I took a step forward as he raised his gloves again, standing between him and the bag still swaying.

His shoulders tensed, and he lowered his gloves, glaring at me.

“Move.”

I crossed my arms, and raised an eyebrow.

“Or what?”

“Or I will move you.”

Pursing my lips, I contemplated this. He could, if he wanted to.

“No.”

“Y/N, I’m not asking.” His voice was deadly.

“I’m not moving. Not until you talk to me.”

He furrowed his brow, incredulous. “About what?”

“What has you so upset?”

He bared his teeth, irritation rising. “Since when do we talk? You don’t even like me.”

Uncrossing my arms and opening myself a bit to show I wasn’t trying to be a complete pain in the ass, I shrugged. “I don’t dislike you.”

He scoffed, slipping his gloves off. “Since fucking when?”

“Since you turned out to be more tolerable than I originally thought.”

He shook his head, taking a long gulp from his bottle. “Thanks, doll. Appreciate that.”

Still raging, but slightly more approachable, I took a step toward where he stood at his gym bag.

“C’mon Noah. Maybe sparring will make you feel better?”

He waved at me, disregarding me. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Because…?” I leaned closer to where he was bent over the bag, unwrapping his hands.

“I don’t want to talk about it, alright?”

Standing up straight, I adjusted my sports bra, which I noticed his eyes caught.

“Then grapple with me.” My solution was simple.

After a moment of careful consideration, he eventually stood back up, staring as I made my way to the middle of the mat.

We bowed, and he leaned down, hands up. “I’m not holding back today.”

I smirked. “Please don’t. I want it all, baby boy.”

This triggered him, his hips dropping to the mat in a hard sprawl, arms wrapping up my waist, dropping me like a hot rock on my back. The air rushed from my lungs before I could prevent the grip he held on my torso. His arms squeezed me in a hard choke, but I wasn’t tapping today.

I managed to get a hand under his left thigh, bending it back at a long angle, making his grip falter just enough to get turned around in his arms. My head slipped loose, but he was back on me. Impossibly strong hands gripped my left thigh, flipping me onto my back. My legs instinctively wrapped around his midsection while he tried to get a grasp on my forearm, to which I squirmed, putting pressure on his rib cage with my legs.

A heavy, deep growl escaped his throat, which made my thighs involuntarily twitch around him. I don’t think he noticed. He was angry, fighting something other than myself at this moment.

His arms came up under mine, and he lifted me off of the ground, and dropped me back into my ass hard, popping my legs open.

My limbs sprawled out on the mat, my breath coming heavily, I looked up at him, wide-eyed. He kneeled over me, hair hanging off of his face in sweat-soaked tendrils, threatening to touch my forehead.

We sat there while I watched the darkness in his eyes dissolve, his breathing getting more and more even. The scowl on his face softened for a moment, and I couldn’t help when my hands reached up to grip his sides, squeezing in a hard grasp.

Noah was hurting. I didn’t know why. Something or someone had hurt him. And here, in this moment, I had him.

We knew so little of each other. Only having spent time in this safe haven together, we had bonded over the last few days, and I knew I was the only person who could relax the fire raging behind his chest right now.

“Noah?” I whispered into the space between us, fighting the urge to touch his face.

“Thanks.”

I quirked a brow. “For what?”

“Being here.”

Smiling, I pressed my fingers harder into his sides. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did. You don’t even know it, but you did.”

I did know, but hearing him say it gave me a small flutter in my chest.

“Anytime.”

I tapped my code into my phone, and opened the Uber app. Zipping my sweater against the cool spring air, I began the process of searching for a driver to take me home.

“Hey.” I turned to see him walking out behind me. “Headed home?”

I nodded. “Yeah, just got to wait for a driver.” I waved my phone for show.

“You have to call an Uber? Where’s your car?”

Shrugging, I looked back down at the app that stated it was still looking for a driver.

“Got totaled last week.”

He walked over to me. “Damn, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No big deal.”

His eyes bounced between me, and the parking lot where his shiny black Navigator sat under the moonlight.

“Want a ride?”

I shook my head. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can get an Uber.”

He smiled, all sense of his earlier anger wiped clean. “I promise I’m cheaper.” His keys twirled around his long fingers.

I smirked, and closed my app. “Alright.”

The drive to my house wasn’t long, but before we even made it out of the parking lot, he looked over to me. “Hungry?”

I was leaned back, sending my mother a text. “Uh,” I locked my phone. “I mean, I never eat heavy after a workout.”

He nodded. “Same. But there’s a Yogurtland up the street?”

My lips pinched together. “What’s that?”

He turned out of the parking lot, but still managed to stare at me. “Frozen yogurt?”

I just threw my hands up. “Never had it.”

The look he gave me was as if I was insane. “You’ve never had frozen yogurt?”

“Isn’t it essentially just ice cream?”

He shook his head. “No. Not at all. It’s better.”

“Pfft. I doubt that.”

He turned into the parking lot of the yogurt place, and enthusiastically jumped out of the truck. In the few minutes it took for us to get there, I had been working my Dutch braids out, letting my dark hair loose, waves set in from the style. Letting myself out of the truck, I stopped short when I noticed him standing in front of the store, staring at me.

“What?”

He had the smallest, most amused smile tugging at his lips. “Your hair.”

I walked toward him. “What? Is it all fucked up?” I started tousling it, pulling at the tangles.

“No. It looks nice. I’ve never seen it down.”

I thought about it. I always kept my braids in at the gym. I wasn’t trying to have it ripped from my scalp.

“Oh.” A hot blush crept up my neck. “Thanks.”

I slipped in the door past him toward the counter. He proceeded to spend five whole minutes explaining flavors, toppings, mixes, and syrups to add.

After I finally elected for a simple vanilla with raspberries on top, and he went with chocolate with Oreo pieces, we found a small table and sat down.

He watched intently as I tried it, waiting for a reaction. I was pleasantly surprised.

“So?” I glanced up at him. “What do you think?”

Swallowing my spoonful, I nodded. “I’m impressed. Still like ice cream better.”

He rolled his eyes digging into his own cup.

“So,” I started, mixing my raspberries in. “you think you’re ready to talk about it?”

He stopped, his spoon halfway to his mouth, and eyed me curiously. “Why do you want to know?”

My yogurt was already starting to melt. “I’m just wondering. You were pretty upset tonight.”

He just nodded, looking into his cup, pushing the Oreos around. “I was.”

“You don’t actually have to tell me. I just know from experience that it usually helps.”

“Does it?” He still wasn’t looking at me.

“It can. Especially with someone who doesn’t know about it.”

I watched as his throat moved when he swallowed. “I’ve got a friend…” He stopped. “Had a friend. He passed away a couple years ago.”

I just sat, watching him, giving him space.

“We released a song with his band. It was a tribute sort of thing.” Dropping his cup, he leaned back. “Anyway, it came out about a week ago.”

He had stopped speaking, fingernail picking at the cuticle on his thumb.

“And it made you upset?”

“It hurt.” The sound of his voice was a soft echo, the words catching behind his tonsils.

The overwhelming temptation to stand up and wrap my arms around him gnawed at me as I watched his eyes well up, his face twisting to try and push them back down.

Instead, I settled on reaching a hand across the table, slipping my fingers around his wrist.

His eyes gazed up at me, and he gave me the most heartbreaking smile.

“I’ll be alright. It was just a gut punch, you know?”

Grazing a thumb over his tattoos, I stared at him deeply, attempting to convey my condolences.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Noah.”

A sniffle cleared the air, and he lifted a hand to make quick work of wiping his eyes.

“Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it.”

After yogurt, I made it a point to make sure Noah had my cell number in case he ever needed to talk. I almost regretted it, as he had been sending me memes nearly since we parted ways last night.

When I stepped into the gym, the energy was fervent. Fighters rolling around the mats in all directions, preparing for the approaching competition.

I made my way to the back, now quickly becoming a normal routine, and hid my excitement when I was met with chocolate brown eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile.

Noah was sitting on the mat, stretching his long limbs, so I quickly set my bag down and joined him. Each time I would change positions, a finger would come up to poke me in the side, making me almost fall.

“Knock it off!” I swatted at his hand, an involuntary giggle escaping.

“Just making sure you’re loosened up! I’m not taking it easy on you!”

I shook my head, standing back up straight. “Is that what yesterday was? Because I think my tailbone is bruised now.”

He cackled. “You want me to rub it for you?” He threw a wink at me, and I felt my insides spasm.

“Not necessary. Just remember, I’m a lady.”

He scoffed loud. “Yeah, and I’m an acrobat.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh, you’re in for it Sebastian.”

We had been grappling for longer than normal, each round both of us wanting more. We would laugh when we made the other tap out, mocking each other playfully, forcing the other to be even more savage during the next match. Our bodies were both broken out in a heavy sweat, slipping over each other and leaving a wet sheen on the mat.

"Motherfucker!" I squealed when he pulled me up in another arm bar while I kicked my legs up, trying to hook onto him anywhere I possibly could.

"C'mon doll, tap out."

I snarled at him, trying not to jostle my arm too much. My hips fought for leverage, but his legs over my stomach made it impossible to lift myself.

"You're not getting out of this, Y/N. Tap out."

"Fuck you!"

He chuckled. "If you insist."

Fucking perv.

After another two minutes of struggling, I finally huffed and tapped his shin. He released me instantly, popping up on his feet.

"Sorry, doll. We need to work on that one." He sprayed water in his mouth and I glared at him from where I sat on the mat.

"Quit calling me doll."

He smirked, walking over to hand me my own water. "Why? You know you like it."

I snorted. "No, I fucking don't."

"You do."

Rolling my eyes, I kicked at his legs. He just laughed at me.

Plopping down on the mat next to me, he bumped my shoulder. "You're improving a lot, you know."

I smiled. "Thanks. I feel like I am."

"The arm bar is the worst. I can barely get out of them myself."

Leaning back on my hands, I stretched. "Ugh, I should get home."

Rising up on my feet, I made my way over to my bag.

"Oh."

This made me turn around. Did he sound...sad?

"What?" I asked him while wiping my forehead with a towel.

"I was just having fun." He stood, walking to his bag and mirroring my actions.

This made me smile. "Same time tomorrow?"

He pulled his lips to the side, thinking about something he wasn't saying out loud. I ignored it, now wiping the sweat from the back of my neck.

"I mean, or we could," He hesitated, grinning and looking nervous. "hang out?"

I dropped my towel back in my bag. "Hang out?"

"Yeah, like last night."

"You want to get yogurt again?"

He shouldered his bag, and I did the same. We walked toward the edge of the mat, bowing out.

"We don't have to. Could get pizza?"

"Mm, I don't eat heavy after a workout."

He nodded. "Right." We made our way out of the gym. "We could...go to my place?"

My eyebrows shot up, surprised. "Your place?"

His eyes popped open wide, just now realizing what he had suggested, and how it sounded.

"I just mean to hang out! We could like, order food and play video games or something?" His words came out rushed, nearly stumbling over one another.

I smirked, pulling my hoodie over my head to protect from the chill. "I'm a sweaty mess."

"So am I." Noah took a step into my space, eyes looking down at me. "Doesn't bother me."

Ending up at Noah Sebastian's house was not on the agenda for today. Somehow, however, I stood in his living room, eyes darting around, hand firmly grasping my gym bag.

"You want something to drink?"

I snapped out of my trance and looked at him. "Uh, sure."

My feet followed him while he listed off the options. "I've got water, Gatorade, green tea, and Dr. Pepper."

Opting for water, he reached into the fridge and tossed it at me, grabbing one for himself and motioning for me to follow after him. He lead me up a tall, wrapping staircase down the hall to a bedroom at the end. The room was obsessively clean, making me feel wrong just stepping foot inside.

"This is it. It's not much." He ran a hand through his hair, spreading his arm out toward the room.

His words were comical, given the room was massive. A large, king sized bed the centerpiece. A rolling trunk sat on the floor at the edge, and his comforter and pillows were black. Tucked into the corner was a computer desk with a double monitor gaming setup perched on top. There was a loveseat futon sat on the side of the room with a small table sitting in front. Various anime figures adorned the surface of the table, and LED strip lights hung along the perimeter of the room.

"I didn't, uh," His face was turned up in a grin. "really think about what we would do once we got here."

Taking a careful step into the room, I smiled back at him. "Food?"

His eyes widened, and he pulled his phone from his pocket. "Right! What do you feel like?"

Attempting to ease the awkward tension, I walked over to the couch and sat down. "I'm pretty simple. Anything works."

He was scrolling, looking at his screen. "Sandwiches?"

I leaned back on the couch, nodding. "Sure."

After about an hour, we had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of him sitting in his computer chair, and me on the couch, while he chatted between bites of his sub.

"We've only been back from tour for like, two weeks?" He set his sandwich down, wiping his face with a napkin. "We haven't made plans for any more shows yet. We need to take some time to prepare the re-release of the album."

I was chewing my food, being wildly careful not to drop anything on the couch. "Have you decided when it will be released?"

He shook his head. "It's more up to the label, but it's not ready yet anyway."

"The last album was good."

His eyes became almost glittery, hearing what I said. "You've heard it?"

"I listened to it once or twice." I smirked, trying to hide my face with my sandwich.

"Just the last album?" He had me. He knew I was bluffing.

"Well, I pulled you up on iTunes when I realized you were a musician."

His tongue darted out of his mouth, licking his bottom lip. "Which is your favorite song?"

Without thinking, I spoke. "Dethrone."

The shit-eating grin that crawled over his face had me giggling nervously.

"I like working out to it."

He stood, crumpling the paper from his sandwich and tossed it in the garbage. He flopped down next to me on the couch, only inches between us. I set the half of my sandwich on the paper laid out on the table.

"Well, I'm glad you like our music." He was balancing his head on his palm, triumphant smile on his face.

"Are we just going to talk about you the whole night?"

"Oh, you want to talk about you? We can do that."

I leaned back. "Like?"

"Favorite movie."

"The Crow."

He quirked a brow, but didn't question further.

"Favorite TV show?"

"Buffy The Vampire Slayer."

He laughed at that. "Seriously?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't hate on Buffy."

He threw his hands up in defense. "Hey, it's a classic." He tapped a finger on his chin. "Favorite place?"

"Place, as in...location?"

"Or whatever it means to you."

I had to think about this one. "My room."

"Really?"

I just nodded. "It's mine. I have it set up exactly how I like it. My roommate is mostly who decorated the rest of the apartment. It's nice, but my room? My room is all me."

Tightening his lips, he gave a look of approval.

"Fair enough." He took a moment to think. "Favorite food?"

"Ah," I stretched my arms out. "Probably Japanese."

He smiled. "Yeah? Same."

He took a while to think over his next question, really working on it.

"Favorite anime?"

Uh-oh, he caught me.

"Oof." I averted his gaze. "I actually don't really watch anime."

I expected a more energetic response, but instead he just said, "No? Why not?"

I shrugged. "Could never get into it? I watched one all the way through, but I couldn't find another that interested me."

"Which one?"

"Tokyo Ghoul."

His eyes lit up. "That's my favorite." He reached over, grabbing a PlayStation controller off of the table and switching it on. When the device surged to life, the background showed an illustration of Ken Kaneki in his ghoul mask, red eye bleeding.

I smiled. "It's the only one that held my interest."

"You've never tried Attack on Titan?"

Shaking my head, I looked back at him. "Never heard of it."

"Want to give it a try? It's dark. You might like it."

"Sure."

He took a few moments to get the show prepared, and I took the opportunity to finish my sandwich, tossing the paper out.

"You want a blanket?" He turned the room light off, turning the LED's up to a warm white light, giving the environment a comfortable feel.

"I'm okay, for now."

He sat down, keeping at least half a foot of distance between us, and began playing the show.

I wanted to pay attention, I really did, but his hand was resting on the couch, fingers splayed out right next to my leg, and it was all I could think about. His eyes were trained on the TV, which made it harder not to stare at him. His features were so striking; eyes a deep brown, hair pushed back and hanging lazily, tattoos littering nearly every inch of his skin. I felt myself salivate while wondering where all he was tattooed, and if I would have the chance to see them.

In an attempt to distract myself, I began removing my braids, taking a second to shake my hair out before I ran a hand through it, trying to get comfortable. I tucked legs underneath myself, my shorts making me feel more exposed than I would've liked.

That's when I felt his eyes on me, covering every inch of me. His fingers were so subtly slipping closer to my thigh on the couch. I tried breathing, but keeping a steady pace was impossible when he was staring.

How far could we take this? How much did I want to allow?

I shifted casually, clearing my throat, and letting the skin of my leg brush his hand. I watched as his eyes shot down to the connection, not moving an inch. His fingers were cool against my warm skin. I leaned back on the couch, pressing my leg closer to him.

His hand slipped, then, up the side of my leg, coming to rest on the top of my thigh. I felt my lip twitch, so I leaned into his hand, pressing my skin into his palm.

When I finally dared to look over, he was staring directly at me, face unwavering, looking absolutely ravenous.

The tension struck me, ripping a cord inside my chest. I wasn't going to sit like this forever.

I leaned forward, taking hold of his shoulder, and pulled my face impossibly close to his. His eyes roamed over me, contemplating his next move. The hand he had on my leg was now wrapped around my back, holding me in place as I stared at him, waiting.

I counted six calculated breaths before he finally leaned in, pressing his lips to mine, and I took my time inhaling his scent. He smelled like the woods; earthy and pine mixed with salt.

The hand he had holding my back pulled, pressing me closer to him. I opened my mouth to allow his tongue to slide across my teeth, licking into my lips. A low moan escaped me, and it was like a switch had flipped.

His mouth was hungrily attacking mine, using the same energy he typically exhausted back in the gym. His arms flipped me back, landing me on the cushions, and pressed himself against me.

I hooked my left leg on his hip, using steady pressure to keep his waist pushed flush to my body, my hips grinding against him.

Humming into my mouth, he pulled his face back, studying me for a moment. I laid, mouth open and breathing heavily, staring up at him.

"You're so fucking sexy, you know that?"

Rolling my eyes, I leaned my hips up, pressing against the hard bulge in his shorts. "You seem to think so."

He hissed, applying the same pressure back against me. "I have for a while now."

"Yeah?" I let one hand snake down between us, pressing against his cock over the fabric. "Now that you have me here, what do you plan to do?"

A soft, whispering whimper left his lips. "I've got some ideas."

He crashed his lips back down, nipping and biting at my lips, and began making his way down my jaw. His teeth grazed my pulse point, licking a stripe up my windpipe.

"Well," I breathed out. "you going to act on those ideas? Or just lick me all day?"

His head snapped up, and the darkest, most mischievous grin graced his features, which made a chill run up my spine.

"So fucking glad you asked."

#fanfic #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 9 months

Text

Comet Donati [Chapter 5: I Should Have Kissed You]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), drugs, alcohol, smoking, mental health struggles, bodily injury, sloths, public indecency, another important conversation on a balcony, angst!

Selected Chapter Quote: “I’m sorry about what happened tonight.”

Word count: 8k (+1 meme).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis @juliavilu1 @amiraisgoingthruit @lauraneedstochill @wintrr13 @r0segard3n

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

There’s turbulence over the Indian Ocean as the jet staggers towards Singapore, pitching and reeling, dark clouds churning beyond the windows like the malevolent brew of a caldron. Each time the plane plummets fifty or a hundred feet, you clutch reflexively at your armrests and try not to think of Cast Away. No one else seems bothered by it; that’s what years spent on international flights will do to people, you suppose. It dulls their instincts, tames them, sands down vestiges of primeval survivalism like a file taken to canine teeth. Cregan is ostensibly napping beneath his sunglasses, Daeron is propelling Mario through a maze of toxic fumes, Luke is watching The Crown on his laptop with Rhaena and Baela, Jace is applying shimmering, gelatinous, golden under-eye masks with great care, Criston is answering emails, Aegon is being forced by the label to click through online substance abuse education modules and sighs dramatically and often. And Aemond…

The jet loses a dozen meters of altitude and your stomach drops. You stifle a yelp with one hand as tears—unwanted and unforeseen—prickle into your eyes. You peek across the aisle to see Aemond watching you with his gaze of two blues: one like a clear cool river, the other an otherworldly maelstrom like the atmosphere on Neptune, beautiful yet barren. His expression is intense and searching, his brow low. You try to ignore him. You try to collect yourself.

“Honeybunch?” Shelby croons. Yes, she calls him honeybunch, freaking honeybunch, and occasionally Honey Bunches of Oats. It’s almost as nauseating as the turbulence. He turns to her after the briefest of hesitations. Shelby is crouched by a table, her project for the past hour: artfully arranged red roses, glass bowls of fruit that she spritzes with a spray bottle of water—like you’d use to discipline a cat—to keep it glistening, and bubbling flutes of pink champagne. When the careening of the jet sends anything sliding precariously towards the edge of the table, she casually pushes it back into place. Shelby is no stranger to flying either. She is an angel, born with wings.

“Yeah?” Aemond says distractedly.

“Can you come over here for a sec?”

The jet shutters; ripples quake through your ginger ale. You swallow down a pathetic mewing like a wounded animal’s, swiping a tear from your cheek. You nestle against the window so no one will notice. “Sure,” Aemond tells Shelby, casting you another glance as he stands. He goes to her—gripping the backs of chairs to keep his balance—and, after looking back at you one last time, swipes one gleaming strawberry from a bowl.

“Don’t!” Shelby whines, knowing that now she’ll have to rearrange things.

If Aemond heard her, he gives no indication. He chucks the strawberry as hard as he can at Aegon; it hits the side of his head with a wet thump. Tiny black seeds pop free. Juice like blood stains his blond hair.

Aegon rips out his earbuds and spins around in his seat. “Okay, what the fuck?”

“Whoops,” Aemond says dully.

“How does someone do that by accident?! How does that even happen?!” Rubbing his head with one hand, Aegon stretches and peers around the jet. His eyes—not a blue like clear water, but a deep murky cobalt, a difference you cannot help but notice again and again like the stinging of a papercut—catch on you. “Aww, Stargirl, what’s up?” He drags himself over, knocked to his knees once by the swerving of the jet, and plops down into the chair beside you. “You okay? Don’t worry. I’m a good swimmer. I’d drag you to shore.”

You laugh, pressing a napkin to your eyes. It comes away shriveled and damp. “I’m sorry. We get tornadoes back home sometimes, I can’t stop picturing wreckage.”

“You should have seen this flight we took last year over the Pacific. The jet was practically sideways. Jace threw up like ten times.”

“Three times,” Jace says, peeling off his under-eye masks like little gold jellyfish with his feet kicked up on an ottoman.

“Ten times?” Aegon replies innocently. “Ten, you said?”

“Three, you idiot.”

“Ten?”

“Three.”

“Ten!” Aegon confirms merrily.

Jace holds up an under-eye mask and jiggles it in the air, soft and wiggling and shapeless. “Hey guys! This is what Aegon looks like naked.”

“I don’t want him getting any of the money from my donut merch!” Aegon shouts. “Criston? You hear that? Criston? Hey Criston? Criston?!”

“Do your modules,” Criston replies without looking away from his emails.

“Fine,” Aegon huffs. The jet is gliding over the ocean more smoothly now. Still, he says to you after smacking a single sloppy kiss against your temple: “Follow me. You can help.”

You accompany Aegon back to his seat and laptop, a neon green MacBook Air. Shelby is snapping photos to post on Instagram, recording clips for TikTok: the meticulously arranged table, her long fingernails decorated with palm trees and Merlions and the flag of Singapore, selfies of her and Aemond…always taken to show his good side, of course. Your guts twist with hostility, mistrust, envy, wrath.

As you pass Jace, he holds out his discarded under-eye masks. “Wanna touch?” Jace invites you, leering. You peel one gluey under-eye mask from his open palm and examine it. As you massage the pool of viscous gold, Jace ogles, dangerously close to drooling.

“So soft,” you admire. “So smooth. Not a single wrinkle.” Then you fling it back at Jace. The adhesive side sticks to his forehead. “Just like your brain.”

Everyone howls, even Cregan—not asleep after all—and Criston; he tries to choke it down until his face floods red. Aemond is staring at the floor, but he is beaming. Shelby recaptures his attention and begins posing his hand around a glass of champagne, readjusting fingers like a physical therapist stretching and flexing half-healed limbs. She gets to touch him. She gets to speak to him.

“You’re always so mean,” Jace tells you as he pries the under-eye mask off his skin, unfazed, simpering, flirtatious. “You might have to make it up to me one day.”

“Unlikely.”

“We’ll see.”

“We certainly won’t.”

Aegon shows you the quiz that has popped up in his modules. “Okay, Stargirl. Time to prove yourself. Does coke make someone’s pupils bigger or smaller?”

All you can hear is Shelby’s high, sing-songy voice; all you can picture are her exquisite fingernails skimming their way down the ridge of Aemond’s spine. “I honestly can’t recall at the moment. Go snort some and we’ll find out.”

Aegon grins. “Don’t tempt me.”

Fifty minutes later and under blessedly clear skies, the jet touches down at Changi Airport: 88 degrees Fahrenheit, 80% humidity. Aegon groans as he trots down the airstair, slides on his aviator sunglasses, and wipes away sweat—already beading on his pink forehead and wetting the hair at the nape of his neck—with the back of one hand.

“Jesus Christ, I need a Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino.”

“Do you really?” Jace jabs, and you don’t have to scold him this time. Baela gets there first, hissing something to him that is brief and fearsome. You’re only half paying attention. Once Comet Donati makes it through security, there may be paparazzi waiting for them inside the airport. Everyone knows this; it’s the same in every city and on every continent. And as Shelby strolls across the tarmac with one arm looped through Aemond’s, you cannot help but see—you cannot help but absorb like nicotine through the capillary beds of a lung—that she reaches out with those beautiful yet claw-like fingernails and taps the front pocket of his button-up shirt, black with white lilies, until he pulls out a pair of sunglasses and shields himself from the pitying eyes of the world with them.

And you think with puncturing clarity like a shard of glass through flesh: I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Pan Pacific Orchard Hotel is brand new. You can’t breathe without inhaling fresh paint, glass walls, the bakery, the greenery that climbs steel like a trellis, the roomy emptiness of starting over. You wake up tangled in a nest of white sheets that your body has heated into an inferno. You don’t remember your dream, only that Aemond was there. It was the opening of the door that woke you. Aegon stands in the slanting early-afternoon sunlight, vivid red swim trunks and matching Crocs, his sunglasses knotted in his hair.

You yawn and peer blearily at him. “Aegon? What are you doing?”

“Every day I wake up hoping you’re still here,” he says. And then: “We’re all headed down to the pool. You wanna join?”

You smile; you can smell him in the air, Axe body spray, Tiger Beer, sunscreen that he never seems to apply often enough to stop his skin from burning. You haven’t been with him—not in that way—since that day in Paris. But time never feels quite linear with Aegon. He swings wide and then comes in close again, and when he does it’s like he never left. He’s with you always, and never, and sometimes, and forever. “Yeah. Give me ten minutes.”

“Cool.” He turns and studies himself in the full-length mirror that hangs on your bedroom wall. His eyes wander down to his bare chest and belly. He frowns, pensive, far-away, critical. It is an expression that looks entirely unnatural on him.

“Hey.”

He spins back around, running a hand self-consciously down the front of his torso. “Hm?”

“I think you’re perfect exactly the way you are. I am wildly, helplessly, pathetically attracted to you. I would fight off twenty fangirls with my bare hands for you. I think you’re one of the most ludicrously gorgeous men I’ve ever met in my life. ”

He grins, radiant again. “One of them, huh?” And he winks at you as he clops towards the door in his Crocs. “Maybe it runs in the family.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“So. College applications season will be here in a few months.”

Baela looks at you, started. You’re in a whirlpool with her, Rhaena, Luke, and Aegon, sipping pina coladas and kicking feet idly beneath water misty with bubbles. “Okay?” Baela says. Her swimsuit is an elegant white one-piece that—unintentionally you think, unconsciously, and yet truthfully—closely resembles a ballet leotard.

“Elaborate?” Luke says, then slurps noisily on his pina colada.

Aegon already knows where you’re going. He chuckles into one closed fist; you can see yourself reflected in his sunglasses. In the massive main pool punctuated by an arcing bridge and a miniature island, Cregan is lounging on a float shaped like a pineapple and eating his way through a heaping plate of juicy slivers: papaya, mango, starfruit, banana, lychee, rose apple, dragon fruit. Criston is sitting under an umbrella and reading a New Yorker profile of shipping tycoon Viserys Targaryen—a Greek by birth and a Brit by choice—with narrowed, vexed eyes. Jace and Daeron are attempting to do a TikTok dance for Shelby to post on her account and repeatedly screwing up, laughing hysterically and pushing each other into the pool. She always wears eye-catching patterns, leopard prints and retro geometric shapes and plaids and Swarovski crystals and tassels. Currently, she is dressed in a scarlet bikini and a sheer coverup of tropical flowers. Her blond hair flows down her back and swings like a horse’s tail when she leans in to direct her cast, pointing and waving. You see her like this, not in whole but in pieces: long beachy waves, nimble ankles and wrists, lip gloss, veneers, sugary perfume, tall like Aemond. Shelby has no idea why you’re here. She made a few tentative inquiries—So who introduced you to the band? So how did you and Aegon meet?—before being discouraged by the ensuing stilted silence. Aemond rarely acknowledges you. Presently, he is wading in the pool up to his chest, occasionally talking to Cregan but otherwise content to be left to his own…reverie? Observations? Machinating? Brooding? With his sunglasses on, it’s difficult to tell.

Back in the whirlpool, you ask Baela: “What if you applied to a few ballet programs?”

“What?”

“Just to see what happens. Just to have options.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that.” She says this so quickly it’s clear that it’s a reflex: something she does not think about, something she’s trained herself not to.

“Sure you could. You click a few buttons and it’s done.”

“I’d have to send in video clips and stuff.”

“Okay. Rhaena and I will help record you.”

“Absolutely,” Rhaena agrees right away. She drinks her pina colada with large, skittish eyes, watching you like you’re poking a tiger, a viper, and dragon. She’s tried to have this conversation before. She knows how it usually goes.

“I’m really not in shape right now,” Baela protests.

“You still have time to work on that. It’s only July.”

“And who says I want to work on it?” Baela snaps. “Have I ever mentioned ballet school? Have I ever said that I want to go?”

“But you do,” you say simply.

She frowns as she casts her gaze across the pool. Beefy men dressed in black—security guards, some employed by the band, some by Shelby—mill around aimlessly like ants when you lift a rock.

“I think you should apply,” you tell Baela.

“I can’t,” she replies, pained.

“Why not?”

“Because.” She’s flustered, cross. Rhaena and Luke look between the two of you anxiously. Aegon just smiles and gnaws on the hunk of pineapple that came perched on the rim of his pina colada. “Am I supposed to send Rhaena off into the world without me? Nothing against you, Luke, I like you, I trust you, but when you’re on stage or in an interview you can’t watch out for her. What if something happens to Rhaena? Or what if I go back to school and I’m a failure? What if I humiliate myself? What if I’ve lost whatever talent I once had? What if I couldn’t keep up with my classmates? What if I get injured and have to drop out? What if I’m too old, or too out of practice, or what if I don’t even enjoy dancing anymore? What would I do about the band? What would I do about Jace?”

“Those are all valid concerns,” you say. “But they’re also concerns for after you’ve applied to schools. If you get acceptances, that doesn’t mean you have to go. But it does give you options. And options are always good.”

Baela shrugs. She catches handfuls of bubbles in one cupped palm, preoccupied. “It just seems like a waste of time.”

Aegon snickers as he tosses the pineapple rind over his shoulder. One of the security guys snatches it up off the concrete and throws it in a trashcan. “Baela, please babygirl, don’t give up on your dreams for freaking Jace.”

“And who the fuck solicited your life advice, blond Nikki Sixx? If I want to know what Narcan feels like, I’ll ask you.”

Aegon sighs, rubbing one eyebrow. “You are never going to let that go.”

“I bet you’d get in,” Luke tells Baela. “To at least one school. You’re too good not to, even with the time off. Rhaena’s shown me old recital clips. You were fantastic.”

“Were,” Baela mutters. “Past tense. Very distant past tense.”

“If you don’t get in, then you know it’s off the table,” you say. “And you’re in the exact same spot you are now. But if you do get in, you have time to figure out what to do with that information. You have nothing to lose except application fees, and I don’t think those are much of a barrier for you, oh great connoisseur of Gucci and Hermès.”

“I’ll think about it,” Baela replies, and her intent to end the conversation is clear. A few awkward moments creep by like afternoon shadows stretching across pavement. “So, what are we doing for dinner?”

“Something quick, right?” Luke says. “Takeout? We have a meet-and-greet in two hours.”

“Jollibee!” Rhaena exclaims, clapping her hands. “They have coconut pineapple pie!”

“Chicken Up,” Aegon says.

Luke laughs. “What the hell is a Chicken Up?”

“A chicken restaurant.”

“Groundbreaking” Baela quips.

“I’ve been to one in Seoul. Great wings.”

“But…but…Jollibee!” Rhaena pleads. “I need a coconut pineapple pie!”

“You’re literally drinking a coconut pineapple smoothie right now. When am I supposed to get my wings?!”

“Out of loyalty, I will have to vote for Jollibee,” Luke informs Aegon apologetically.

“I saw a Five Guys when we were driving here from the airport,” Baela suggests.

“Oh, I love Five Guys!” you say…and then you realize how it sounds. All of you giggle so loudly that Aemond looks over at the whirlpool, a little intrigued, a little miserable. He sinks down into the transparent blue water, Godzilla retreating from his wreckage.

Baela teases you: “Like, all at the same time, or…?”

“No, definitely one after the other. I don’t want an audience.”

Aegon chuckles, low and devious. He sets his empty pina colada glass on the rim of the whirlpool. Then, unprompted, he takes off his aviator sunglasses and puts them on you instead. Strange.

Rhaena is saying: “Okay, but seriously, I cannot overstate the merits of Jollibee…”

Beneath the water, obscured by riotous bubbles, Aegon settles a hand on your thigh. You glance over at him. He glances back, so subtly that the others don’t notice; they are deeply entrenched in their dinner debate. Now Baela is pitching MOS Burger.

Aegon arches an eyebrow. Okay? he’s asking. In reply—and after a moment’s hesitation—you open your thighs a little wider for him. His lips curl into a furtive smile. His palm skates excruciatingly slowly over your skin, taunting, electrifying, fingerprints dragging lightly. He’s still carrying on a conversation with the others, gesturing with his free hand. You sip your pina colada and try to act just as casual.

“Look,” Aegon is saying. “I’m not gonna eat someplace where they serve spaghetti with hotdogs in the meat sauce. It’s unnatural.”

His fingers slip beneath your swimsuit bottoms. You gasp before you can stop yourself.

“You okay?” Baela asks with concern.

You nod, blood rushing in your cheeks, blood rushing everywhere. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I saw a bug.”

Luke says: “Man, the insects here are insane, some giant buzzing black-and-gold thing flew into my face earlier today and I almost cried.”

“A cicada,” you murmur. You grip the rim of the whirlpool and try to keep still, fixing your gaze on the palm trees that surround the pool, waving lazily in a hot humid breeze. “We have them in Missouri too. But ours are green.”

Rhaena is saying: “Apparently Singapore is famous for some super-rare beetle that’s been around for like 50 million years…”

Aegon’s expert fingers are circling, applying pressure, experimenting with different rhythms. He knows he’s found the right one when you suck in a breath and almost drop your pina colada; his smile is filling up his face, he’s fighting a grin. That feeling—a heat, a glowing, an unfurling like an opened letter—builds until it hits a blissful yet constraining plateau. It’s a ceiling, it’s a landing with no more steps. You stare at the swaying palm trees and try to relax, grateful for Aegon’s aviator sunglasses to hide behind. He’s half-watching you as he chats nonchalantly, wondering what more you need from him.

The conversation that whirls around you has revolved back to dinner: Shake Shack, Yoshinoya, Nene Chicken, Marrybrown, Wingstop.

“We should go somewhere that has vegan options,” you say shakily.

“What? Why?” Rhaena asks; she has forgotten, but you never do.

“For Aemond.”

You steal a glimpse of Aemond over in the main pool and see him taking a piece of starfruit off Cregan’s plate. Aemond bites into it—those pristine, glistening, golden angles—and wipes juice from his lips with the back of one hand. Then he looks over at you: two people pretending they don’t see the other, two pairs of sunglasses meant to render certain things invisible. And immediately, without planning to, you are thinking about Aemond touching you. You are thinking about his lips and his fingers, his shoulders, his throat, his eye devouring parts of you he’s never seen. You are thinking about where you would both be now if Reykjavik had never happened. And as Aegon’s hand works beneath the veil of bubbles, you are close, so close, agonizingly close. You are incapable of following the conversation. It takes everything in you not to moan and reach down into the roiling water to press him even more forcefully against you. His fingers glide through folds that are slick and achingly ravenous. Your pina colada is melting.

Someone makes a restaurant suggestion; you can’t register it. Aegon holds up the index finger on his free hand. “One moment. Allow me to consult my associate.” He leans into you, his hair brushing against your face, smelling like beer and sunscreen and pina coladas and Axe body spray. And he whispers as he pushes two fingers inside you and strokes you insistently with them: “Come for me, pretty girl. Right now.”

And while these words are in Aegon’s voice, for a split second you image them as Aemond’s; and then your climax shudders through you, silent by necessity but mind-numbing, a reset button, a deleted message, an echo chamber of nothing, nothing, nothing. For a moment, there’s no past and no future, no Kansas City, no Rome, no Reykjavik, no Singapore, no shame and no guilt and no desire for anything. And then slowly, like drops of rain, the world begins to fill back in again.

Aegon turns your face towards him so your lips are to his ear. You have to say something. “You’re unbelievable,” you exhale, so softly no one else will hear. “You can’t be real.”

He tells the others: “She says she votes for Chicken Up.”

When Aegon leaves the whirlpool, you follow after him a few minutes later, just long enough of a gap not to arouse any suspicions. You find him alone in the band’s private cabana and talking to someone on his iPhone. You kneel down beside his lounge chair and bend over his neon red swim trunks, palming him through the fabric—almost immediately, he is hard—and untangling the knot of the drawstring.

“Okay. Sounds good. I gotta go. Emma? Hey, Emma? I gotta go now. Yeah. See you soon. Uh huh. Bye.” Aegon hangs up and sets his phone down. Then he hooks a finger beneath your chin and lifts it. “What are you doing?” he asks, amused yet kind.

“Taking care of you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

Your hands go still; your face is lined with wounded bewilderment. “You don’t want me to?”

“Well obviously I want you to,” Aegon says. “But only if you’re really into it. Not just because you see it as a debt to be paid. This isn’t about reimbursement. This isn’t an ATM transaction. And, you know…” He shrugs, rueful. “I can tell you’re kinda going through it. And you’re the one who needs to be taken care of right now. That’s cool. That’s not a problem.”

You sit back on your ankles, feeling guilty but undeniably relieved. “It seems unfair to you.”

“Stargirl, I don’t mean this in a braggy way, but at all times I have a line out the door of women begging to take care of me. I think I’ll survive.”

“Okay.” You smile up at him. “Okay, Aegon. I get it. Thank you.”

His sunburned brow crinkles. He is confused. “For what?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Comet Donati is scheduled to play three nights at the National Stadium. On the afternoon of the second show, Luke and Rhaena go to Fort Canning Park to explore the archaeological excavation site, Jace and Baela depart to procure his tattoo to commemorate Singapore (a Merlion on his left pec), and you, Aegon, Cregan, Criston, Daeron, Aemond, and Shelby receive a private tour of the Mandai Wildlife Reserve to promote the conservation of endangered Southeast Asian species. There are conversations with the staff and generous gift baskets and photo ops—which each time you quietly step out of the frame for, while Shelby steps in—but what snags in your mind, what you will remember forever about this day is Aemond. Because when he holds the animals, he lights up like you haven’t seen since those YouTube videos of Comet performances before the accident in Tokyo; he becomes at peace, he becomes whole again. He lets a blue tarantula creep across his palm and forearm, he feeds pumpkin slices to Asian elephants rescued from circuses, he walks around with Bunny the sloth draped over his chest like a napping toddler. And he smiles wistfully the whole ride back to the hotel…even when Aegon makes Criston stop the Escalade at Starbucks so he can get a venti-sized Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino.

Shelby likes to be in the front row with you, Baela, and Rhaena, but she spends less time dancing and cheering than she does taking selfies and recording video clips. During your now least-favorite song, A Girl Named After A Car, you spend a few minutes covertly scrolling through Shelby’s latest Instagram posts. She’s been sharing Stories relentlessly, but her last photo is from the private jet: her beaming smile, Aemond’s more reticent one (and only his good side, his smooth cheek and clear river-blue eye), a meticulously-arranged bouquet of flowers clutched to her chest like a gift. The comments are a waterfall of praise worthy of a saint. I was praying you two would get back together! You have such a kind and selfless heart, Shelby! You are so good for him! You are so brave! Thank you for showing the world that beauty is only skin-deep! Like she’s goddamn Mother Teresa. Like she deserves an Olympic medal for finding the strength to love him.

And you think once again, not for the first time and not the last: I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.

After the concert is a ritual, like drawing a pentagram or burning sage. People converge in Jace’s suite to mingle and drink and smoke and find someone to fuck if that vacancy isn’t already filled. You loiter by the bar even after you are handed your Bramble, a drink that should be poisoned by the fact that Aemond introduced it to you; but you can’t stop craving it. Criston is pacing and trying to make a call out on the balcony; from the look of his expression, the person isn’t answering. Cregan is in a velvet lounge chair with three models on his lap; they are taking turns feeding him the dripping cherries that bob in their cocktails. The rest of the band is sitting nearby and discussing their plans for next year once the tour has ended. You overhear Rhaena saying that she wants to visit the Mammoth Site in South Dakota. Luke wants to finish writing a new album. Aemond is conspicuously quiet.

Security guys float through the room between currents of musicians, label executives, friends, acquaintances, assistants. Shelby has her own detail that follows her everywhere; approximately every eight hours they switch out and new faces show up. Sometimes you recognize them from a prior shift, sometimes not. They look through you like you don’t exist at all.

A seat is waiting for you between Aegon and Baela, but you are in no hurry to sit opposite of Shelby and be forced to bask in the radiance of her flowing zebra-print dress, red-lipped, California-sun perfection. As you procrastinate with your Bramble, you listen to Daeron ask her about the Met Gala next May.

“Yeah, I finally made it onto the planning committee!” she gushes.

“Yay!” Baela trills, palpably sarcastic.

“Make it donut themed,” Aegon slurs. He has had a lot of Tiger Beers.

“I was thinking a masquerade ball, actually,” Shelby says, then looks at Aemond and settles a hand on his thigh. “We can go together, honeybunch! The timing never worked out before, but I’ve always wanted to attend with you.”

Luke asks: “And what’s the inspiration for the masquerade ball…?”

“Well, you know.” Shelby gestures vaguely. “Aemond won’t have to feel bad.”

Because everyone will be wearing masks. There is a long lull as people piece together what she means. Jaws drop open. Eyes grow large and then blink at her, incredulous, appalled.

Finally, Jace chuckles awkwardly. “Oh fuck, did you really just say that?” He looks around at everyone else. “Did she really just say that?! I mean, I wouldn’t even have said that!”

“It’s fine,” Aemond says, getting up off the couch.

Shelby reaches for him. “Honeybunch, wait, you know I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he repeats roughly. He takes his Bramble with him as he escapes to the balcony. Criston returns inside just as Aemond goes out.

“What’s his problem?” Criston inquires. Nobody answers.

Shelby sighs and—as furious blood swirls hot in your veins—approaches the bar. “Can I get a gin and tonic?” She takes out her phone, scrolls for a while, sighs again. You are glaring murderously at her. Shelby doesn’t even notice. The bartender slides her a tall glass full of clear carbonated liquid, ice, cucumber slices. She takes a picture of it before she plucks out the straw, lays it on the counter, and swallows a single, ladylike sip straight from the glass. She says to the bartender: “Drinking out of straws gives you wrinkles, you know.”

You say to her suddenly: “What is wrong with you?”

Shelby turns to you, startled. “Excuse me?”

You take a step closer, your pinkish Bramble still clasped in your hand. “I’ll ask again: what the fuck is wrong with you?”

She’s backing away, jumpy, clicking in her black heels. “What are you talking about?!”

“How dare you say something like that about him. In front of him.”

“Oh, so now I’m a bitch?” Shelby snaps. “Because I want him to have a good time at the Met Gala? Because I don’t want him to be humiliated?”

“No, because you think there’s anything humiliating about him at all, that’s what makes you a bitch—”

She shoves you backwards, only a few steps. You throw your Bramble in her face. She screams like you’ve stabbed her; it’s a scream that says I don’t know what it’s like to be hurt. And instantaneously, one of her security guards has his monstrous hand around your wrist.

You hear the pop before you feel it: bubbles bursting, tethers snapping. Then the pain explodes into your consciousness like a flashbang grenade. You’re shrieking, and suddenly there are voices all around you and people tugging in every direction. The security guy still has a grip on your wrist; each time he moves, he yanks you along with him, igniting fresh flairs of agony, impossibly red Morse code.

“No no no no no!” Aegon is shouting, pawing at the security guy. “She’s with us, she’s with us—!”

“Let her go!” Criston booms. Rhaena is crying. Baela is punching the security guy in the kidneys. Comet’s security guards clash with Shelby’s security guards, a miniature civil war. Within seconds the misunderstanding is resolved and you are freed. You are engulfed by Aegon and Criston, who try to examine your wrist; you are holding it gingerly to your chest, not even aware that you are sobbing. Baela is berating the rogue security guard. Rhaena, Luke, Jace, Daeron, Cregan, and Cregan’s soon-to-be one night stands are gaping at the scene. Shelby is being comforted by several fellow influencers; they coo sympathetically and give her napkins to mop the Bramble from her face.

Aegon, drunk but not far-gone, coaxes your wounded arm from your chest. “Shh, shh, you’re okay, let me see it…”

“Broken,” Criston pronounces. “Or dislocated. Time to go.”

“I can’t go home,” you say, petrified. Your thoughts are muddled by shock and pain.

Criston shakes his head. “No, not home. To the hospital.”

“I can take her,” Aegon volunteers, lurching as he grabs a barstool to keep his balance.

“No!” you, Baela, Rhaena, Luke, Jace, Daeron, and Cregan burst out simultaneously.

“I’ll take her,” Criston says. “But you can come along, if you behave yourself and don’t try to steal morphine or anything. Bartender, I need ice…”

There is a commotion as Aemond bolts in from the balcony, moments too late. He looks at your swelling wrist, Shelby dripping with a Bramble, Baela taking a cloth full of ice cubes from the bartender and passing it to Criston. “What happened?!”

Aegon seethes as he pushes him aside: “Ask your fucking girlfriend.”

And Aemond watches, thunderstruck and horrified, as Criston escorts you out of the suite with Aegon and Baela following like shadows. When you glance back at him, he is growing smaller and smaller, like an object fading away in the reflection of a rearview mirror.

Under bright white lights, a gentle and mild-mannered Singaporean doctor maneuvers your bones back into place. It feels like you’re dying; Aegon tries to distract you with stories of shenanigans from tours long past, Baela finally begins to talk about ballet schools, which programs she likes and which she doesn’t and what exactly she’ll have to show in her audition tapes. The doctor informs you that you have a mild dislocation, no surgery needed, no cast, only a splint. He tells you to rest it and try to keep it elevated. He gives you pain medication that doesn’t do enough.

“That is an interesting saying,” the doctor says when he glimpses your tattoo, black ink between the straps of your pale pink dress, like the color of a healthy lung or brain: I’ll come back for you if it kills me, Comets clip by again after eons and so can I. You try not to think about these words. You don’t know what to make of them anymore. “Is it from a poem? Or a movie?”

“From a song,” you reply, studying the tiles of the floor. “One I used to love.”

Criston goes to pay the bill. Baela goes to get you a soda from the vending machine. “I’m sorry,” Aegon says miserably when the two of you are alone in the hospital room. Beer and remorse sweats out of his pores. “I’m sorry I fucked everything up in Reykjavik.”

“I know, Aegon. I’m not mad at you.”

“I shouldn’t have said it. I had way too much Icelandic beer, that was my bad. But it was supposed to be a compliment.”

“It was kinda sweet. In an unhinged, debaucherous sort of way. An Aegon way.”

And he burrows his head against your chest, and you comb your fingers through his messy blond hair with your uninjured hand, and you wish you understood why the coincidences of the world had brought you together if it was only a blip, an error, a momentary crossing of orbits before you returned to your designated places on opposite ends of the universe.

In the elevator, as the four of you zoom up to the top floor where the band’s suites are, you check your phone to discover that in addition to well-wishes from Luke, Rhaena, Daeron, and Cregan, Jace has sent you a WhatsApp message: A meme to make you feel better…

“Ugh,” you groan, and toss your phone back into your purse. You try to ignore the fact that there is nothing from Aemond, not a single word, not a missed call, nothing.

“You good?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah. The drugs the hospital gave me aren’t quite cutting it.” That’s very true, although that’s not the whole problem.

“You want some Vicodin?”

“No thank you, Aegon.”

“Oxy? Percocet? Klonopin? Codeine? Demerol? Coke? Speedball? Valium? Weed gummies?”

You blink at him as Criston and Baela stare at the elevator walls, trying not to listen in. “I think I’ll just go to sleep now.”

“Okay, Stargirl. Sure. Whatever you want.” He grabs your face, lands a kiss on your forehead, staggers off to his suite when the elevator doors ding and open. You walk in the opposite direction to yours after thanking Criston and Baela. As you pass Aemond’s suite, you can hear people arguing inside, heavy footsteps and sharp words.

“You need to get better control over your people,” Aemond is saying.

“Who even is she?! I know she’s not Aegon’s girlfriend. Aegon doesn’t have girlfriends.”

There is a gap of silence, and you wonder what Aemond will tell Shelby. She’s a fan, she’s an employee, she’s a groupie, she’s a slut. At last he says, drained: “She’s a therapist.”

“Oh, for you?”

And you can hear Aemond sigh through the door, perpetually a broken thing now, forever someone in need of being stitched back together; they got the flesh back in December, but the soul is still unmended.

You go to your suite, wash the night off of you, and pull on your Cookie Monster pajama pants and an oversized One Direction t-shirt. You can’t sleep yet; the pain in your wrist is too bad, the chaos in your mind is too loud. You take another pill from the bottle the doctor gave you and go out onto your balcony and sit in the sounds of Singapore past midnight: sparce traffic, buzzing cicadas, the ocean, the wind rocking the palm trees. When you hear the sliding glass door open, you aren’t sure who to expect: Aegon, Baela, Criston, Cregan, Jace. It is none of these people. It is Aemond. He stands there rigidly, like he hadn’t planned to get this far. He is in black—as usual—but he wears no sunglasses.

“Criston really needs to start keeping a closer eye on those extra room keys,” you say.

“I’m sorry about what happened tonight.”

“You don’t need to pretend to be worried about me. It’s fine, just leave.”

“I feel responsible.”

“I’m not someone you consider worthy of concern,” you say. “You want me to be honest with you? You want to keep a running list of my sins in your little black-paged notebook? Alright, sure. I’ve been hooking up with Aegon. Only after Reykjavik, and not…like…all the time or exclusively or anything. But occasionally. And I know exactly what you think of me and how I’ve chosen to live my life. So don’t come out here acting like you care when you clearly don’t.”

“I know what you told Shelby. I don’t…” He stares at you, a little mystified, a little grateful. “I don’t understand why you keep defending me after what I said.”

Because I believe you deserve better. And I care about you. And I can’t stop. And honestly it fucking sucks and so if you could just leave, that would be great. “That’s just what I do.”

You expect Aemond to go. Instead, he sits down in the other chair, lights one of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes, takes a drag and exhales smoke in a long, slow breath like a hushed confession. “I once asked what made you want to be a therapist.”

“And I didn’t tell you.”

“No.”

Your eyes list to him like a ship in a storm, groggy, clawing for purchase. “Do you still want to know?”

“I do.”

The night sounds like wind in clattering wet leaves, car horns and rolling tires, ocean waves, indistinct echoes of laughter like a memory. Aemond waits for you, patient, eternal, or at least so long-lived it’s practically the same thing. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you like this. You wonder why you can’t outrun what you feel for him, a curse or a spell or both tangled up together like veins beneath skin. “I had a boyfriend when I was in high school,” you say. “And I took pictures for him. Because he asked me to, yes, but also because I wanted to, because it made me feel desirable, and powerful, and like I was choosing to share something special with him. No one talked me into it, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. And when we broke up, he sent those pictures to his friends. And they sent them to their friends, and they sent them to their friends, and I’m sure you can do the math from there.”

Aemond doesn’t look disgusted or horrified or pitying. He looks furious, and not at you. “That’s illegal, right?”

“In some places, sure. In Missouri? Ten years ago?” You smirk cynically, shaking your head. “The only person anyone was condemning was me. And it wasn’t just the students. They said things, obviously. They wrote notes and they whispered. But it was the teachers too, and the parents, and the administrators. It was everyone. Staring at me. Talking about me like they understood who I was.” You meet Aemond’s eye. “And you called me a slut.”

He voice is hoarse. “I didn’t know.”

“But you still said it.”

“What I said…” he sighs shakily, rubbing his face with one hand. He crushes the end of his cigarette beneath his Adidas sneakers and then lights another. “What I said wasn’t a reflection on you or what you did with Aegon. That’s not what it was about. It was about me, it was about how I interpreted things, and…I mean, you get that, right? You know that. You’re a professional. I took what Aegon told everyone and I bounced it off a few mirrors and ran it through my filter of how I’ve been taught to believe the world operates, and that’s why I said what I did in Reykjavik. It wasn’t about you. It wasn’t true. And I could never express to you how sorry I am.”

Tell me the whole story, you think, you plead, watching him like parched earth looks for rain. That you were afraid my feelings for you weren’t real. That you wanted me then and you still want me now. That you’ve never wanted anything the way you want me. But that’s not what Aemond says.

“What happened next?” he asks gently.

“What do you think? I had to be homeschooled. I lost every friend I’d ever had. I was terrified to leave the farm and go anywhere…to Walmart, to McDonald’s, to 7-Eleven, anywhere. And my parents…they’re Southern Baptists, okay? They tried to be supportive. They really did. They didn’t shame me, and that alone was a huge leap for them, and I’m very grateful. But they had no idea how to talk to me about what had happened. What they did do was find someone else for me to talk to. She was a therapist, and she saved my life. And when I got into UChicago, I decided that the only thing I wanted to do was help people in the same way.”

“Why didn’t you stay in Chicago?” Aemond says, bewildered. “I mean, why would you go back to Kansas City after the way people treated you there? So fucking closed-minded and hypocritical and…and…and evil? You were a kid. You were a goddamn kid and they tried to destroy you. Why would you go back there? You could have gone anywhere else. You still can.”

“I considered it,” you admit. “But my family has lived in Missouri for almost 200 years. It was once a place of opportunity, somewhere for people who had nothing to carve out a piece of the world and make it their own. Why should I let anyone banish me without my permission? And besides, I think Missouri could use more people like me. I can make a difference there. Someone like me in Chicago or London or Los Angeles or New York or Miami? I’m a dime a dozen. In Missouri, I’m part of the change. In Missouri, I can save people like I was once saved.”

“Hmm,” Aemond says. And then he smiles at you, kind and tender. “Pretentious.”

“Oh shut up,” you laugh, shoving him with your uninjured hand: his deep, warm, rolling chuckle, his broad shoulders that barely give beneath your palm.

His eye flicks down to your One Direction t-shirt. “And a traitor.”

Want me to take it off? you almost say. Instead: “As if you don’t idolize them. As if you wouldn’t deign to have a favorite One Direction song.”

“I couldn’t divulge information as sensitive as that.”

“Aegon tells me you spend a lot of time brooding to The Script.”

Aemond groans, but good-naturedly. You got me, his face says, surrendering. “True.”

“What’s your go-to crying on the floor song? Breakeven? Nothing?”

“The Man Who Can’t Be Moved. But now you have to give me one in return.”

“If You Ever Come Back. A certified tragic bop.”

He nods, thoughtful. He slides his phone out of his pocket to check it.

“Sexts from Shelby?” you ask with undisguisable vitriol.

“No. Favorite Coldplay song?”

You remember that night with him in Rome: the concert, the motorcycle, the lingering in the hotel room doorway as you waited for him to ask to stay. “Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall. What’s yours? You strike me as a The Scientist stan.”

“Viva La Vida,” he counters.

Of course. “I used to rule the world,” you quote.

“Now the old king is dead, long live the king.” He looks out into the city, streetlights and ocean and wind, sounds of the planet you call home. Again, you think of Rome. “I should have kissed you,” he says softly.

Your heart stops like a car against a brick wall, glorious euphoric shattering. “What?”

“My favorite One Direction song. I Should Have Kissed You.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah, that’s great.”

“Yours?”

You have to think about this. At last you decide: “Through The Dark.”

“Ah. A deep cut.” Aemond checks his phone again. “Look up,” he tells you.

“Why…?”

“Right now. At the sky. Look up.”

You go to the balcony railing and peer up into the sea of darkness and moon and stars. And at first you don’t see anything extraordinary…but then you do. There’s a thin flash like white ink on black paper, tracing its way along the arc of the Earth. There’s a visitor, there’s a time traveler. “What is it?” you ask Aemond, entranced.

He gets up to stand alongside you. “The Perseids. A meteor shower that happens every summer. They’re difficult to spot from a city. Too bright, too much light pollution. There are hundreds, but here we’re lucky to glimpse one or two.”

“But they’re always there,” you muse, remembering what he told you in Rome about the comet that gave the band its name. “Whether we see them or not.”

Aemond points up at the faint silvery glimmer in the indigo night. “The Perseids are from a comet too. They’re debris left by Swift-Tuttle.”

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like Donati, does it? And no potential for cute donut merch.”

Aemond smiles. “Comet Swift-Tuttle is the largest object to cross Earth’s orbit so closely. Very, very closely. Luckly, it only swings by us every 133 years. It’s been called the single most dangerous object known to humanity.”

“I thought that was Jace.”

He bursts out laughing, gazing over at you with a face that in this moment he is unashamed of. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“I’m a universe away from Shelby, that’s for sure.”

Aemond’s smile dies. He clears his throat and puts out his cigarette. “I guess I should get going.”

“Yeah, I need to go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

He hesitates, he acts like he’s going to say more, he leaves you on the balcony as he retreats back to his own suite, his own life, his own past and future and secrets.

And before you crawl into your empty bed, you look up at the Perseids one last time as they hurtle through space and time and gravity, through a landscape of constellations that Aemond could tell you the names of, through the dark.

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #Aegon Targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #Aegon II Targaryen #Aegon Targaryen II x reader #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader

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himbocoups · 2 years

Text

˗ˋˏ YUCK! ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only (Part Two)

synopsis: how can you remain friends with benefits with someone who turns his plushies around during sex, pouts when you don't kiss him goodbye, and spends his time occupying your mind when all you want is for him to leave you alone?

pairing: lsm x yn (gn afab)

genre: fluff, humor, romance | m, smut

tags: alcohol/food - reader also briefly blacks out, costume party, cursing, domesticity, fwb, sexual innuendos, showering together, yn un-alives a spider, university au | cowgirl, cunnilingus, dirty talk, fingering, handjob, hickies, love making, pet names, pnv, praise

wc: 11.5k

a/n: hi this is part 2/2 of yuck! thank you all so much for waiting. I honestly had so much fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading. lmk if I missed any tags in part one or two. comments and reblogs are super appreciated!! pls pee after sex so you don't get an uti ♡ -nu

yuck! - part one

lipglossjun's masterlist

He came to your door unannounced, knocking loudly on your front door and causing you to jump in your seat. Three sharp knocks against the door using his middle knuckles and then a few friendly taps because he realizes he's standing in front of your door and not his resident’s door. The sound echoes loudly inside your lonely apartment but isn’t loud enough to alarm your neighbors because he purposely leans his side against the door to diffuse the sound and vibrations. You can’t blame him for his habit - he’s used to knocking on so many doors in one night that the freezer part of his mini fridge is stocked with frozen sponges in plastic baggies so he can ice his swollen knuckles at night. You don’t even have to look through your peeping hole to know it’s him, but it’s weird because you know he should be on-call today. Still, the knocks are enough to scare you into thinking you’re still dorming in the universities.

He tells you he has an employee banquet a few days before the break and was worried that his makeup might smudge on his suit. He also brought your go-to drink order from the tea shop across campus, punching in your specific add-ons and adjustments into the kiosk before even deciding what new seasonal drink he wanted to try. You had no choice but to begrudgingly take your drink from him while you shuffled to the side of your door so he could come into your apartment.

"I thought you already knew how to do this.”

You see him hold up your hand mirror to his neck to look at the small bruise you left on the side of his neck a few nights ago. He sits cross-legged on your apartment living room carpeted floor while you sit on the ottoman next to him.

“Only for an everyday base routine for my face,” he frowns while softly poking his bruise. “But my neck makeup keeps smudging and I don’t know how to stop it from getting on my clothes,” he admits while he lowers the neckline of his t-shirt, thinking about the stains he left on his shirt collars.

You uncap the bottle you’re holding and spray the cool setting spray on his bruise. He fans the wet product with his hand while you dig through his toiletry bag for his color-correcting palette. You dip his tiny makeup brush into the palette and bring the product-coated brush to paint over his bruise.

“If you want me to stop marking you, you can just tell me,” you suggest to him while brushing another thin layer. You tap your pointer finger lightly around the harsh edges, blending the colors into his skin. An intrusive thought tells you to poke your finger deep into his skin, but you decide not to.

He ooo’s at how you’re blending the product, angling the mirror so he can better see how you’re working.

“But I like them,” he says while you spritz another light layer of setting spray. “They remind me of you,” he softly confesses while you blow on his skin. He finds himself angling the mirror again so that the mirror now focuses on your face.

He giggles at the tingling sensation of your warm breath against the cold product, and he smiles to himself when he sees your concentrated expression through the reflection in the mirror – how you purse your lips and how your eyebrows furrow together. If he weren’t an RA, he would proudly wear his love bites as a badge for everybody around him to see. He wants people to tease him whenever they see the bruise poking out of his hoodie when his hood is down. It’s not to let people know he’s getting it on. That’s just not who he is.

But there is that part of him that wants others to know you’re his. He’s tired of soft launching you on his Instagram. That’s what people do when they want others to know they’re talking to somebody. But you’re just his friend. He’s completely fine with showing you off, but he respects your privacy, knowing how much you hate having your picture taken. It’s also not like his closest friends don’t know about his relationship with you, but if it makes you happy, he’ll take it. He likes what the two of you have. And after all, he doesn't care about the pictures. It’s the person whose plate is almost always pictured across from his, the hand holding the ice cream cone, the second shadow under the street light who he cares for.

The bruises feel sore, but he loves how you automatically coddle him afterward, especially after a heated session. You always have that worried look on your face, your lips pouty and frowny. He remembers the number of ridges between your brows when you ask him how he’s feeling. He always tells you that he feels fine, great even, but you always sigh with a defeated look on your face. You’ll walk to the fridge in nothing but one of his old t-shirts and grab him a cold metal spoon. He doesn’t know if the cold spoon hack works, but he lets you do it anyway. He’ll let you do anything if it means he gets to spend more time with you no matter how prickly you may seem on the outside.

Now, he’s spending more time with you on a lazy Tuesday night. He’s done for the day and doesn’t have any RA duties at night because the university recently handed on-call duties for the campus security to handle. On the other hand, you didn’t have anything scheduled for today and spent the entire day indoors. You’re still in your pajamas – a free shirt from a past school event and old running shorts that you never wore while exercising. There are leftover food delivery containers in your fridge from dinner. You tell him the importance of investing in a tinted sunscreen while pushing up your wired glasses. It’s ironic because he knows you haven’t washed your face today or applied any form of sun protection at all. The closer you lean into him to be sure he understands, the redder his cheeks flush. He hopes his mineral powder is enough to diffuse the blush or at least make it seem like it’s the redness from his acne.

Feeling a little hot, he reaches over to grab his fruit slushie-turned-juice from the coffee table and brings it to his lips. He sucks the concoction through the metal straw, letting the cool liquid settle in his mouth so he can savor it before swallowing. You notice the condensation dripping down his arms before he does, and you wipe it away with the edge of your t-shirt without any thought. Your drink is already long gone, finished within minutes after poking your straw through the flimsy plastic lid, washed and disposed of in your recycling bin. He wonders if the taste of his drink would linger on your tongue if he kisses you. And he wonders how the tangy sourness of his drink would contrast or balance the extra amount of sweetness in your tea.

But you’re done concealing the bruise, already sealed it off with the last layer of setting spray. Satisfied with your job, you plop yourself on the other side of the couch and grab the book you put face-down on the table when DK arrived at your front door. You tuck your legs under you and use the armrest as your elbow support as you resume your novel. DK types the makeup steps into his notes app and quickly cleans up his products, looking for something to do.

DK snakes his head between the open gap between your stomach and your book, putting his head on your chest. You pay him no mind, flipping another page while he thinks of a conversation starter. He relaxes into the feeling of your chest rising and dropping and the steady thumping of your heartbeat pulsing under his ear. He asks you what your novel is about while twiddling with the hem of your shirt, noticing it’s still a bit damp from before.

“Smut,” you nonchalantly answer him. You didn’t know much about the novel, but you borrowed it from your friend who kept raving about it while you visited her the other day. She claimed it was better than sex, but honestly, all you’ve been reading so far are overly detailed descriptions of scenery while the main character stares out of the parked car window.

“But you have me,” he teases you. He lets go of your shirt to poke you on your cheek between each word, “You. Have. Me.”

You swat his hand away from your face and subsequently decide to place your novel on his head to use as a stand. He huffs underneath the book, and you snicker at him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. You think it’s cute whenever he’s being annoying, throwing tiny tantrums whenever he doesn’t have enough attention. You catch yourself lingering on the thought of what his neediness would be like if the two of you were together.

“I’m too lazy,” you flip another page after letting the thought dissipate. “You’re on your own unless you can find another way to do it.”

He huffs and lifts the novel from his forehead to sit up. He turns to you and untucks your legs from beneath you.

“Continue reading your book. Let me eat you out while you rest,” he tells you while pulling your legs with ease so only your upper back and head is leaning against the couch’s armrest. He rests your legs on each side of him.

“Go ahead, but wouldn’t that be a little boring for you?” you ask him while your eyes are still trained on your novel. Even though you spend a lot of time thinking about him manhandling you, his persona easily makes you forget about just how strong he is.

He grabs a cushion from the middle of the couch and tucks it behind your neck. He asks you if you’re comfortable. You give him a thumbs-up, and he gently pecks your thumb before moving your hand back to your book so you can properly hold your book. His little touches and kisses aren’t new to you, but you think it’d be a shame if his kiss transferred onto your pages instead of keeping it to yourself. You choose to hover your thumb above the pages, choosing to use your hand’s round fleshy thenar to hold the pages.

You lift your hips upwards so he can easily remove your bottoms. He tugs them off you as if he has all the time in the world, folding your shorts and undies and setting them on the coffee table like they’re part of the decoration.

“I don’t think I’d be bored,” he kneels himself in front of you and lowers himself so he’s flat against the couch. He gently lifts your shirt higher so it’s past your belly button and proceeds to hook your legs over his shoulders. “Read to me? Out loud?” he asks you while massaging the outside of your thighs.

You lift your book, looking at him quizzically. However, when you see the tiny fading red mark on his forehead from when you used him as a stand, you can’t help but agree to his request. He lowers his head to your core and quickly taps your thighs twice to tell you to read.

“Now, a black flashy standard motorcycle with matching black chrome wheels pulls into the driveway of the auto shop where your car is currently getting its engine replaced. The steady hum of the engine is enough to have every single mechanic in the vicinity turn their –,” you were doing pretty well at reading until DK, without warning, puts his warm tongue flat against your clit, licking upwards until it reaches your nub. “Ah – h-heads to stare at the bike,” you stumble with the last phrase.

He lets his spit drop at the top of your clit, watching it glide downwards along your ridges before catching it with his tongue like a little game of Plinko. He feels you tense under his tongue, causing him to hum in delight. He mumbles something about you doing good before attaching his tongue to you again.

“One of them whistles when the motorcyclist comes to a full stop in front of the open auto shop garages,” you try to ignore the fact that he’s gently blowing wind to tease you, to hear you stumble across your words. There is no way you are going to cave right when you started reading out loud, so you bite your lip when you feel his soft and open lips close around your labia. But you can’t ignore him no matter how hard you try.

He kisses you deeply, full-mouthed while his large hands lock around your thighs. Painstakingly slowly, he buries his face deeper into your cunt.

“Eungh- O-one of them whistles when the mo- oh,” you moan while your mouth hangs open when he circles the tip of his tongue around your clitoris. You move your novel away to look at DK whose entire face is gone. You can only see his bushy black hair.

He continues to circle his tongue around you while your breathing gets shallower. You feel your arousal building, causing your thighs to close around his head. He looks up at you looking back at him with a lustful expression. He sucks softly on your clitoral hood and pries your thighs open with his hands. He only winks, letting go of your skin through his lips before going back to eating your cunt.

“…motorcyclist can loudly rev his engine,” you manage to finish the paragraph with a little sigh of relief.

“Mmmh. Good job, baby,” he groans, praising you against your cunt.

He kisses the inside of your right thigh while moving your left leg off his right shoulder.

You find yourself frowning just a little bit when you think he’s finished, but truthfully, he’s only moving your leg off the couch so he can finger you while eating you out. He puts his right hand on your stomach and uses his thumb to rub your nub.

“I’ll reward you if you keep reading okay?”

He kisses your stomach and moves your shirt down so you wouldn’t shiver from being cold. If only he knew why you were shivering.

“‘Couldn’t you have driven here?’ you frown at your older brother w- ah- fuck. Fuck,” you jerk in your seat when DK inserts a finger in your cunt. You can feel him smile against you as he drags his tongue against your folds while his finger dips in and out of you knowing exactly how to drag a string of moans from your mouth, to make your legs tremble and shake.

All this, and you’re only half a page into reading out loud.

“…while he reaches between his legs to pass you his extra motorcycle helmet as you approach him,” you read while trying to ignore the fact that you’re gripping your borrowed novel with so much force that you probably bent the matte paperback cover. “He shrugs and passes you the helmet which you – mmm fuck just like that – begrudgingly fit over your head.”

You’re clenched tightly around his two fingers as he curls them in you while sloppily giving you head. You hear exactly how wet you are, how his fingers squelch every time he reinserts them in you, how his coated lips smack against your glistening pussy – devouring you as his life depended on it. You can feel your juices pool around your ass as he uses his left arm to hold you down whenever you lurch upwards. He moans profanities against you, but never at you. When he raises his head to take a break, he makes sure his fingers never stop moving. He always brings you to your high, and you feel so safe with him.

And he tells you you’re sweet. He always does.

Sometimes you’re sweet because he compliments you for doing something for him. He calls you sweet when you’re frowning about somebody criticizing your RBF. You like it when he calls you sweet when he calls you Sweetie. You like it when he says it with flair. You like it when he says it when you show him your project. You like it whenever he says it when you make him take a sip of any of your sugary drinks – the way his face contorts in total disgust, but he still manages to do so with a smile on his face.

He never called you my sweet, but god damn do you wish you could experience what it would feel like for him to call you his. But tonight he describes your flavor as sweet as you like your teas. He can’t stop praising you for how sweet you are, how you’re like dessert on his tongue. And you can’t get him out of your head.

“He leans forward and clicks open the motorcycle’s rear footrests with the back of his boot,” your face scrunches, but you continue. “When he is done, he looks back at you struggling – eungh Kyeom,” you struggle.

He only grips your thigh tighter as he alternates between fingering you and pausing so he can kiss your cunt like he’s kissing you during sex. He flattens his tongue against you and twists it so he can tease your hole. You’re whining and speeding through the last few words of the sentence, desperate to have him in you.

“Whoa. Whoa,” he temporarily detaches himself from you to grab onto your forearm as he raises himself above you. His lips glisten from the wetness, and the color of his flushed face compliment the color of his sore lips. “Slow down baby,” he tells you and kisses your cheek, “Wanna hear your pretty voice, okay? Just read and relax.” He strokes your hair and brushes away the strands covering your eyes, “I’m not going anywhere.”

But you don’t relax. How can you relax when he grips your hips, fingers dipping into your pelvic bone as he shoves his nose against your clitoris, sticking his tongue into your cunt? He bobs his head while he tongue-fucks you, nudging your nub and making your pussy throb even when he briefly comes up for air.

Your vision blurs as he continues to build your high, ignoring you as you continue to call out his name. The words on the page are replaced by stars when you tell him you can’t take it anymore. Heart racing and muscles tightening, you cum while his tongue is in you. And he laps you up as you convulse around him, back arching as you continue to come. He drinks what’s left of you like he’s drinking ice cold water at midnight – you’re insatiable. You moan his name into your book once more, hiccupping as he brings your left leg back on the couch.

“Yn,” he whispers as he removes your book from your face. He puts it on the coffee table without breaking eye contact with you. “What did you call me?”

You don’t hear him as you’re still struggling to catch your breath. Your pussy is still pulsing without pause. Everything is hazy, but you can see him reaching over for something in his cosmetics bag. You close your eyes, still undeniably horny and wanting more.

There is a little bit of shuffling and then the sound of a few light things dropping on the floor. He reaches under you and scoops you up as if you weigh nothing. You briefly remember him telling you about hitting a new PR where he could lift someone a little over his weight. But he brings you to your bed, only switching on your nightstand lamp.

He sits on the side of your bed while he strokes your cheek.

“Yn,” he whispers again while leaning closer to you. “Do you remember what you called me?”

You blink twice at him before slowly realizing. Your lips part in realization, and he only smiles at you.

He opens your nightstand drawer and pulls out a condom and your bottle of lube. Your fingers automatically fly to cover your lips in horror, but he only chuckles at your expression while he positions himself between your legs and leans over you. He coats his wrapped dick in the lube and rubs the remaining gel around your vulva. You whimper at the coldness, and he wipes the remaining bits on his thighs.

He leans over you again and rests his elbows on the sides of your face. He asks you again, gently, if you remember what name you called him.

You nod your head, breath hitching as you stare at him. It’s unfair, you think, to look as pretty as he is under the ugly yellow light your lamp emits. But he looks at you with so much care in the world, and you feel thankful that you’re spending your Tuesday night with him. You thank his lame excuse for intruding on your time for yourself. You thank him for spending time with you, for looking after you, even if he isn’t yours at that moment.

He aligns himself at your entrance while waiting for your answer.

You whisper it almost inaudibly, barely believing yourself as you let the word leave your mouth.

“Say it again,” he instructs you.

“Seokmin.”

You’re not sure if the two of you should have come up with one of those contracts you always read about in books when you first started the relationship. Maybe you should’ve learned from Lara Jean – a binding relationship contract written on notebook paper and signed in pen. There would be a couple of items on the list, a few weird ones, and then a majority of the items being standard ones. Standard item number one? No kissing. Standard item number two? No staying over after sex (sub-line: No cuddling). Standard item number three? No meeting unless it’s for sex. Maybe a weird item would be the option to try pegging. However, the last item on the list? No developing feelings for the other party.

If rules are made to be broken, but contracts signed by people older than eighteen are legally binding, then you would’ve been in jail by now.

His lips are locked against yours, groaning your name as he wraps your legs around his waist. He nibbles along your jaw as he makes love to you, slowly pushing deep inside you so you can feel his balls lay flush against your ass, feeling all of him in you. You call his name through a choked sob, your hands roaming around to find something to grab. Anything.

Your fingers find the back of his head, and you pull on his hair. And he flips like a switch, immediately pounding into you over and over again, praising you and calling you his.

Tonight, the rules have definitely been broken. And you’re starting to realize this isn’t the first offense.

“Okay so, I didn’t want to take it off because I wanted to see if my makeup would smudge, but I did it because I knew I was going to get hot.”

“Omg he wanted to keep his shirt on. He’s so quirky!”

“Stoppp,” he laughs while he passes the showerhead to you. “I can’t believe you’re the only person who tried to tell me a joke during sex.”

“It’s because I’m the only person you’ve ever had sex with,” you stick your tongue out at him while you rinse the body wash you previously bought with DK off your body.

“You too,” he retorts while turning around so you can rinse the soap off his body for him.

He grabs your shampoo from your hanging wire basket and plops a dollop into his hand. He tells you to look up while he lathers it in his hand before he brings his hands to massage your scalp. His fingers feel amazing while he massages you, so you close your eyes in the process, hoping to keep the shampoo out of your eyes.

He thinks you look like one of those dogs from the pictures you find online where the owner sticks a metal head massager on their heads. Your eyes are closed in contentment, and there’s a lazy smile on his face that he only gets to see so often. He can’t help himself but sneak a little kiss on your lips while he piles your hair into a mountain so that you look like that one guy from the first Incredibles movie.

You open your eyes to look at him, but you see that he’s purposely looking away, pretending to be interested in something else. You try to follow his eyes, but your eyes land on something dark crawling down the wall above DK’s head.

Being you, you blatantly point out the descending spider, and DK screams, slips, and crashes onto the tiled floor. Your bath products tumble down after him. You sigh, knowing you’ll have to clean up the mess and drive him to school tomorrow instead of sending him off tonight.

“Aww you care for me,” Dokyeom coos while you fuss over the ice pack on his ankle.

“I’m just making sure my Sybian isn’t too damaged,” you scoff at him.

You thought you would spend the night with a cozy book in bed while you wait for your face mask to dry. However, you find yourself blow-drying DK’s hair, letting him borrow one of your old t-shirts, and nursing his badly bruised ankle. It’s a wonder how he somehow didn’t end up spraining it after that nasty fall. You could’ve sworn you heard the cartoon swishing sounds while he tried not to slip.

Not to mention, he somehow talked you into cuddling with him in bed through several lame excuses.

Q. What if I fell off the bed?

A. Fuck, then pick yourself up I guess.

Q. What if I sprained my dick?

A. We have toys.

He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Although, you have to admit it feels very nice to sit in bed with him with his left arm around your waist while the two of you silently scroll through your phones. He leans his head on your shoulder and hugs you from the side. You tilt your phone towards him so he could watch you tap through your friends’ stories. You can tell he’s more needy than usual, probably from climaxing more than once in one night and then undergoing the shower incident following right after – he screamed while you crumpled the spider in a wad of tissue. He’s latching onto you like a parasite, but he does give you good dick so you think it’s more like a symbiotic relationship. The way he’s clinging to you makes you think it is what it feels like to be trapped under one of those large teddy bears you can buy at warehouse retail stores.

He asks you if you’re going to the party on the weekend after you tap through the story of a mutual friend. You tell him you are.

“Be my date to the party?” he asks you.

You think he forgot you always go to parties with Jun and Chan.

“No thank you,” you politely decline his request, “I don’t do party dates.”

He pushes himself off of you, “Why not?”

“Because all of my past dates always left me for their friends and I would just spend every single party alone,” you grumble thinking about how many times you ended up taking care of drunk people you didn’t know because you ended up being sober the whole time.

“But I wouldn’t leave you.”

“There!” you exclaim while pointing your finger at him, “That’s what they all said to me.”

He frowns and crosses his arms, kind of upset you would think he would ever leave your side.

“Date or not I’m still not going to leave your side,” he grumbles while slinking down so he lays on the bed. He turns his body away from you to sulk.

The ice pack falls off his leg and tumbles to the ground. He continues to lay on the bed, not doing anything to pick it up so he can ice himself.

You know how stubborn he can be, especially when his pride is mixed in the equation. Part of you is proud he is sticking through being moody by refusing to move. However, you know how soft he is. If his future kid got a paper cut, he would probably end up crying harder than his kid. His kid would probably end up consoling him. His ankle must feel like pins and needles are sticking into it without the icepack, and he can’t do anything to distract the pain because his phone is out of his reach.

“Kyeom,” you gently shake his body. “You have to ice your ankle.”

He only shakes you off and brings his legs to his chest.

Usually, you would smack him with a pillow and call him dumb, but you think he’s suffered enough damages for the day. You know if you continue asking him to ice his ankle, he would just ignore you. So, you think either climbing on top of him or tricking him into breaking would be better choices. You choose the latter.

“Sigh,” you say out loud, pretending to talk to yourself. “If DK is sleeping then that means I’ll have nobody to cuddle with while I talk about my slutty costume choices.”

You see him slowly turn his head to look at you in the corner of your eye, but he quickly averts your gaze and turns his head back to its original position. You find yourself smiling at his action. He’s like a literal child. A puppy.

“Aww I thought Kyeom wanted to cuddle all night, but I guess I have to go to sleep because he’s asleep,” you tell him while leaning over him to check on him.

You see he’s pretending to sleep. He squints his eyes shut. His lips are poutier than usual, pressed in a thin line to probably stop himself from speaking.

“Maybe I’ll go sleep on the living room couch by myself so he can be more comfortable by himself,” you slowly move off the bed by trying to cross over his body.

“Noo,” he wails while sitting up to grab you. He immediately yanks you back down, trapping you in his arms. “How slutty is it, Yn? HOW SLUTTY?”

You have your morning lab in a few hours, but you’re standing alone in your dark kitchen with your head stuck in the freezer. The only source of direct light comes from your freezer, and you’re glad you’ve lived in your place long enough to navigate in the dark. The green digital clock digits flash on your oven. It’s getting close to 4:00 am, but you can’t sleep.

The icepack, or more like a water pack at this point, left a giant wet spot on your carpet while it thawed. It now sits in a lumped form in the side door, wedged between a frozen loaf of bread and some microwavable pizza bagels. The coldness of the freezer feels nice on your skin, but it’s not enough to make you feel numb.

You feel hot and stuffy, and your mind has a million thoughts running around at once. You make him tell you why you should be his date to a stupid costume party, and he tells you he likes you. However, his dumbass knocks out immediately after while he’s still holding you tight in his arms. You’re left alone with your thoughts and a pounding heart while you wait for him to finally let go of you when he is asleep.

Truthfully, you want to tear your hair out. It’s not like you couldn’t wake him up to make him tell you whether or not he finished his sentence. However, you think you’ve already tested his patience enough in one day. You would trust his “I like you” more if he told you while he was drunk, but telling you and then immediately knocking out? You really don’t know if it could count as a confession.

So now you whisper scream into a frozen bag of mixed vegetables while you think about everything that happened this night. You think about him showing up at your door. You think about the hickies he leaves between your thighs. You think about the way he kisses you after you moan his name.

“Seokmin,” find yourself whispering his name.

You don’t understand how this name is so different from the others, but your fingers softly touch your lips as if you just whispered something you weren’t supposed to say.

“Aww I get it. Jane Goodall. That’s so cute.”

“This is NOT a couple’s costume. I am clearly a hiker,” Chan angrily grumbles at the passerby while dumping another scoop of ice into the glass fishbowl on the kitchen island. He takes out his red handkerchief to wipe his hands and places it around his neck when he’s done.

“Why are you annoyed that people think you’re Jane Goodall? She’s one of the greatest scientists of our time. Do you not appreciate our women scientists? Women in STEM?” Jun asks him while he pops another sour gummy worm into his mouth. He licks the sour and sugary coating off his fingers one by one and wipes them dry on his monkey onesie.

You grab the bag of gummies from the table and dump the rest into the bowl. You tap and shake the edge of the bag until all of the remaining sugar falls into the bowl. Jun quickly plucks a worm out of the bowl before Chan turns around with a bottle of blue curacao in one hand and a bottle of coconut rum in the other hand. Chan insists on making fish bowls at parties for the three of you to share because he refuses to drink the jungle juice Jeonghan and Joshua make for parties. No matter how many times the two show Chan how they clean the giant clear plastic storage container they use for the juice, Chan absolutely refuses to drink from it. He argues that it’s a breeding ground for bacteria from people scooping the liquid with their cups, but Jeonghan dumbly replies that the amount of alcohol in the jungle juice should be enough to kill the germs.

By the time you’re done saying hello to some friends, Chan is already done making the bowl. He takes off his sunglasses and hangs it from his blue and grey colored top, looking at his creation with satisfaction. He swirls the bright blue concoction with three straws and tops it off with a paper umbrella toothpick he found in Jeonghan’s kitchen cabinets. Bon appétit.

The bright blue concoction stains your tongue, but it gives you a really nice buzz before you know how its aftereffects will hit you like a giant tsunami later. However, any precautious thought about getting too drunk and waking up with a massive hangover gets thrown out the window when Chan reminds you that the reason why the three of you took a ride-share cab is that you wantedto get fucked up. So the three of you smile and continue drinking.

The three of you are about two-thirds into finishing the fish bowl when you see DK and his friends stumble through the front door. DK’s dressed in the same slutty fireman costume he wears – the firefighter suit hanging low on his hips with the shoulder straps dangling, the hose on his shoulder, and the white tank top decorated with streaks of ash. You see Jeonghan greet him with a jello shot in his hand. The firefighter takes it from him and swirls his tongue around the perimeter of the jello, loosening it from the tiny container, and knocks it back swiftly in one go. He passes the container back to Jeonghan with no amount of blue raspberry flavored gelatin remaining on the inside. And all you can do is stare at him with your straw in your mouth while your friends attempt to play Jenga in their buzzed states.

It’s not long before you take your eyes off DK and realize that you finished the rest of the bowl by yourself. You tap in while Jun taps out of the game so he can happily scoop the slimy gummies out of the bowl and into his mouth. The tower looks jagged enough that one knee bumping against the table leg can easily knock the tower over. Shrek places their block on top of the tower with a shaky hand and sighs when the tower doesn’t topple over. A vampire bites their lip as they remove a side piece from the middle. You hold your breath as they slowly wiggle the piece loose, frowning when they successfully take it out of the stack and add it to the tower.

All eyes are on you as you hover your hand next to the piece that you want. You think if you take out that specific piece, you would make the tower a bit more balanced when it comes to how it leans. It also makes it harder for Chan to pull out a piece because he would end up shifting the balance if he pulled a block. Everything is in your favor – from the EDM song shuffling to a club song to your friends watching you silently – there is nothing that shouldn’t rule in your favor.

However, somebody behind you shrieks your name, and the tower topples. A few filled shot glasses are immediately placed in front of you, and everybody’s phone cameras are pointed at you, waiting to record you taking the shots. You sigh before bringing the first shot up to your mouth. You didn’t even get to touch the Jenga piece.

The perpetrator who stands behind you cheers the loudest every time you tip each empty shot glass over your head. He raises your hand in triumph and hugs you from behind your seat. The tsunami that’s been building up in the distance crashes. And by the end of it, you’re good as gone.

He tells you that no matter how comfortable his shoulder may feel at that moment, you do need to sit up and drink some water. And DK, for what seems like the nth time, hands you a bottle of water to drink.

He thanks the person who passed him the water bottle and stops for a minute. He points at him while scanning his outfit. “Hiker,” he finally decides on his answer.

“THANK YOU,” Chan yells at him while slapping him repeatedly on the back, unaware of his own strength, making DK flinch a little. Chan drunkenly decides that DK will become the fourth person to drink from his fishbowl. He drags Jun, who is chatting up Trixie from the Fairly Odd Parents, with him to the kitchen to make a fresh batch.

DK is the type of person to make you forget, but not in a forgetful type of way. He makes you forget about your troubles. He makes you forget about the resident knocking on his door while the two of you hide in bed together. He makes you forget you’re at a house party in a room full of people. At that moment it’s just you leaning on his shoulder with his arm wrapped securely around you. None of you are hiding the fact that there’s something budding between the both of you. It feels nice, liberating even.

“Hi baby. You doing okay?” he asks you after making sure you drank until the waterline hit the top of the plastic label despite him being extremely drunk.

“I like it when you call me baby,” you mumble while falling back onto his shoulder, feeling yourself slowly sober up.

“Yeah?”

“But don’t tell anybody or else I’ll have your head,” you turn your head and glare at him.

“I’m not sure if that was a sexual reference or maybe you’ve been reading too many isekai mangas that Jun sends you,” he chuckles while laying your head on his shoulder. He almost sighs in relief when you don’t blame him for you losing Jenga earlier.

He gives an okay signal to any passerby who asks if you’re doing alright.

“You weren’t by my side the whole time I was here. You’re a liar. Slutty liar.”

“I’m horrible aren’t I?” he kisses the top of your head.

“The worst.”

You never knew what “a beat” indicates in screenplays. You didn’t get why the screenwriter would want to indicate a pause. Nothing that you experienced in your life ever indicated a pause in the conversation. But now you understand. There are so many things you want to say, things you’re too afraid to say. You have questions for him, but you’re also happy he’s on your side. Maybe a “beat” is a filler. This pause in the conversation, you staring at him – eyes trying not to waver to his lips – it’s a mutual understanding between the two of you, something that makes up for what words cannot say.

“I need to pee.”

Now is definitely not a good time to be confused about whether you need to pee or if you’re simply horny.

Tonight the two of you are sloppy, bodies pressed against each other in the quiet hallway of a house party. Someone occupies the hallway bathroom, and you’re leaning with your back against the wall. DK stands in front of you with his left forearm leaning against the wall in the space next to your right ear. He kisses along your jawline, nipping the base of your neck. The softness of his lips caresses your skin, blending into the waves while you slur your moans. He hushes you by covering his lips over yours. You prefer him closer to you so you reach behind his head to pull him into you. His mouth opens, and your tongue glosses over his. He meets you in the middle, circling his around yours and groaning when you tug on his lower lip with your teeth. Your hand roams across his chest, and he pushes into your thigh, grinding against you. Both of you are too drunk, too lost in each other to care if others are looking.

He pulls his head back and looks at you with a hooded gaze. He can’t believe the sight in front of him and the ache he feels inside of him. He leans his head against the side of your ear, nipping softly at your lobe before talking to you in a low voice, “I want to pin you against the wall with your legs wrapped around my waist while I whisper every single thought I’m having about you into your ear. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of this party without me supporting you. Everybody passing by will see how well you take me while you beg for me to pound into you deeper and harder. Then, you’d have to say goodbye to all of your friends while trying to keep my cum from leaking out of your sore pussy. I want to be able to open your legs and see it seeping out of you while I fuck it into you again in the car.”

Another beat.

This time it’s different. You feel your knees buckle underneath his body, sliding slightly down the wall. You look at his face hovering over yours, practically begging him to kiss you again. Anything. But he doesn’t. The two of you stay silent while you hear cheers from the living room. Then he proceeds to pull away as if nothing happened between you. He has the dopiest grin on his face. He cheeses at you – tiny wrinkles at the edge of his eyes and his pearly whites in full view. You’re still struggling to process the stream of consciousness he spoke into your ear.

“I like your pizza costume,” he giggles while poking your costume, especially the edges of the crust that hang off your shoulders.

“I bought it because I thought it might humor you,” you mumble while he takes your hands in his.

You see how much he’s gushing with happiness. You think he’s so cute, happy that your costume has such a positive effect on him. But you’re slightly annoyed that he’s able to move onto a different subject so quickly while you’re still stuck on the last one. You want more.

However, he tells you he really likes you and leans in to peck your cheek. When he pulls back, the bathroom door opens, and out steps Lee Jihoon who immediately grabs DK by his left ear and drags him away from you. “No fucking in the hallway,” he reprimands his friend.

DK only smiles at you while he’s being pulled away by his ear, too drunk to care, two finger hearts pointed directly at you.

You can only stand next to the vacant bathroom, now soberer than ever and seriously turned on.

You wake up on the floor next to your bed and slowly push yourself off the carpet, feeling the soreness in your body. You look at the carpet indents in your arm and then your surroundings. You notice your bed is empty, and Chan is asleep in his extra set of clothes, sprawled on the floor near your bedroom door. You can’t remember what happened in the latter half of the night, but you can at least deduce that all of you were at least sober enough to change out of your costumes and get ready for bed.

Your body is sore from sleeping on your floor, and you still feel pretty groggy. Still, the sweet scent of something coming from the kitchen is enough to convince you to walk outside instead of moving onto your bed to sleep some more. You stand up, knees cracking loudly, and you cross over Chan to exit your bedroom. You think it’s Jun who’s cooking, but you see him in his monkey onesie, passed out next to your rack of shoes near your entrance with a spare blanket covering him.

At least he has a blanket, you think to yourself. You woke up cold and with nothing covering you.

You see him standing in front of your toaster, wearing the extra set of clothes he keeps at your place. You see him place waffles into your toaster, minding his business while he hums to himself.

“Why are you here?” you approach him and stand by his side. You can see used wine glasses in the sink and opened chip bags you don’t remember buying sitting on the counter. The four of you probably continued drinking after arriving at your apartment. You hope there’s nobody else sleeping in your place.

“I dunno,” DK shrugs and proceeds to greet you by pulling you into his arms while he stands behind you, keeping a close eye on the frozen waffles.

You don’t get how he can look like he didn’t spend all of last night drinking. He looks completely refreshed with the kind of glow, an aura, you have after a good workout…not that you ever experienced what it must be like. He just looks like one of those smiling actors in fitness commercials.

You can feel his chest rumble against your back as he tells you he’s sorry he couldn’t cook something better for the four of you because he’s been living in the dorms for years. He honestly hasn’t touched a stove since he went home last summer. However, he did perfect cooking frozen food in microwaves and toasters. It’s the least he can do. He also quickly adds that he’s sorry he’s cooking all of your frozen waffles and would gladly reimburse you. You tell him to fuck off. There’s no way you would ever make him pay you back for making breakfast. He should know that by now.

The toaster pops, scaring you a little. A long yawn follows, and DK chuckles at you rubbing your eyes. He removes the waffles from the toaster and tells you to close your eyes. You dumbly follow, believing he’s going to kiss you when he cups your face in his hands. Instead, he rubs the inner corner of your eyes with his thumbs. “Eye boogers,” he says.

“Gross,” you watch him flick them to the ground.

“You thought that I was going to kiss you, huh,” he teases you while adding more frozen waffles into the toaster.

You grumble at him and stand to the side, leaning against your fridge. Your arms are crossed, and you watch him go back to humming the song he was humming before. It’s the same song playing from the speakers when the three of you decide to bring DK back to your apartment as there was no way he would have been allowed on campus in his state. It was partly Chan’s fault for getting him so fucked up – he couldn’t find regular vodka for the bowl so he replaced it with some Everclear he found tucked away under the sink. Jun tells him he really needs to stop snooping in Jeonghan’s cabinets. That’s when your memory starts to clear.

“Do you happen to remember what you told me before Jihoon dragged you away?” you curiously ask him.

You expect him to deny the memory or laugh at your sudden boldness, but he tells you that he knows better than to drink to the point where he blacks out and loses his memory. He would also like to stay true to his word, all of it.

“If you’re going to fuck in the kitchen, at least give us the waffles first,” Jun groans from the hallway.

DK winks at you in response, but you don’t know if he was referring to his second confession or if he promised the reality of his sexual fantasy. Before you can clarify, Jun appears in the kitchen, opening the dishwasher to grab a ceramic plate.

It shouldn’t be this confusing. DK told you that he liked you twice. You’re also pretty sure you like him. Nevertheless, it’s DK. He tends to joke around and switch from topic to topic. He throws words of affirmation at everybody he talks with. He confuses you even when you feel like you shouldn't be confused.

“God Yn. You can’t be doing this to me.”

He sits upright, and his hands are positioned to his sides, tightly gripping his bedsheets.

You use his thighs as your support as you ride him, slowly bouncing up and down so he can watch his cock appear and disappear into your cunt.

You feel him twitching in you as you let soft moans float out of your mouth as you arch your back more and lean your head back toward the ceiling. You make sure you gyrate your hips switching between circular and back and forth motions as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock. He wonders how your soft mewls would break into staccato moans if you were to continuously bounce on him, letting lust cloud his thoughts.

Then you lean further backward, practically grinding on him. He feels your ass rub against his balls, and he does everything he can to restrain himself from rutting himself upwards into your cunt. He knows your thighs are tired as your breathing gets heavier and the way you grind against him gets messier. You sit on him, your whole body trembling and twitching from pleasure simply from the feeling of him fitting so snugly inside you. He feels so warm today, so good, stretching you nicely as you tell him all he needs to do is to sit there and look pretty. You reward him by sitting upright, guiding his hands from behind his back so they rest on your ass. He kneads them roughly, feeling your skin fill the spaces between his fingers.

Your ass cheeks feel sore, and you can’t stop panting when grind on him, rocking him so crudely that his bed begins to squeak. You bring a hand in front of you to start rubbing your nub, and high-pitched whimpers instantaneously escape your mouth. Your soft circular motions increase speed, attacking your soft flesh and making you forget he’s in you.

“Hng Seok,” your face is scrunched in pleasure, “Fucking myself feels so good.” You smirk at him as you ride out your high, knowing very well it would piss him off. You can tell he’s already a little upset you’re fucking him in cowgirl when he doesn’t get to do anything but sit there.

Annoyed, he brings his right hand upwards and brings it down quickly against your ass. The crisp slap rings throughout his empty room, and he feels you clench around him as you gasp out loud. He slaps your ass again, finding deep pleasure in watching you pulse and quake around him and hearing you moan.

You lift yourself slightly upwards, having regained some energy, and reach under you to grab the base of his shaft. You watch his face contort from annoyance to surprise to pleasure as you stroke him, squeezing and releasing incrementally as you simultaneously fuck his upper half.

You can tell he is about to cum when he starts reaching for your face. He wants to make out with you, to dig his fingers into your back as you suck his neck. He moans your name, cavernous and gutturally, and tells you you’re doing so well. His sweet, sweet baby. The way you’re fucking him makes him go feral.

Just then, there is a knock on his door, and he immediately pushes you off of him, practically hopping off his bed so he can run to his door barefooted and naked. He tells them to wait a minute as he’s wrapping something up.

You sigh, quickly following behind him so you can hide in his closet, already used to having his residents show up out of the blue. You hand him his sweater and a pair of shorts before climbing into his closet and closing the doors behind you.

You hear him open his door a minute later. You’re not sure what the topic of their conversation is as everything sounds muffled. You hear DK tell them that he has to grab a few things first, and then he’ll meet them in their room. He closes his front door and opens his closet.

He looks worried. You observe it must be something important or an emergency as he doesn’t bother to make himself look presentable or deodorize the smell of sex lingering on his skin. He tells you he’s sorry and that he’ll try to be quick. He kisses you on the forehead before leaving with his stuff. However, he tells you you’re welcome to leave. And you sit there in his closet, alone and naked, the spot on your forehead burning. The motion-sensor lights in his bedroom turn themselves off, and you know you’re fucked by the way he gave you a choice to leave instead of telling you, begging you, finding stupid ways to get you to stay like he always does.

Your feelings are hurt, and you’re pathetically close to tears. Why is it that every time you look at him or talk to him, it feels like you have to stop yourself from having your confession burst out of your mouth? “I like you” always feels like it’s sitting on the tip of your tongue, and you’re too scared to confess to him.

It’s dark inside the closet, but you’ve been in his room enough times to know what’s hanging above you and sitting beside you. His business shirts are hanging above your head. On the other side of the closet, he has his pants. They’re organized by fabric type and colors. The jeans hang on the far right side of the closet. The sweats and athletic tights are next. Then he has his business pants. Dark colors are on the right, and light colors are on the left. His clothing hanger hooks are always hung over the closet rod, never under. Yet, at this moment, everything feels so foreign, like you’re a new person in a new place. But it’s because you are a different person now – a person who has fallen for their friends with benefits.

The metal front door whirs and clicks open. You can hear the automatic lights flicker. He tells you he’s alone and that you can come out as he sees your stuff in his room. You’re not replying.

“Shit Yn,” he opens his closet to find you still sitting in the dark closet, staring into nothing. “Aren’t you cold?”

You shake your head.

“Did you go pee? You should go pee,” he says expressionlessly. There’s not an ounce of care present in his suggestion.

He leaves your side and stalks over to his bed, throwing himself on it. He loudly groans into a pillow to rid some of his stress. You can only climb out of the closet, your jaw clenched. “I like you! I like you a lot” is still in your mouth, taunting you, threatening to escape.

“Is he done yet?”

“Bro he literally just started. Have a little more faith in Chan, okay?” you mumble at Jun while looking at your phone. You lock the screen and place your phone face down on the table.

Today is a day for firsts. It is the first time Jun and you are trying the café across the nice-looking residential building near campus. It’s the first time you try an iced mint mojito coffee when you usually have its alcoholic counterpart. It’s the first time Jun had a professor cancel class this semester. It’s also the first time Chan hooks up with somebody he met on the dating app Jun set up for him. It’s also the first time you’ll openly admit that Jun somehow has the most “game” compared to the three of you. Strange universe.

Jun knows something is bothering you. Your comebacks have become snarkier, yet you’ve been more lenient with whatever he does around you. He once told you to pay for the three of your dinners, and you passed him your credit card without saying anything. And it’s not like DK hasn’t been becoming less of the topic of your conversations - you’ve been quieter. And he doesn’t know what’s going on because he’s scared you might punch him. So he doesn’t ask you and only looks around the café’s nice interior, choosing to count the number of glossy white honeycomb tiles on the wall.

“How can you walk up to somebody and ask them out even though you don’t know them?” you blurt loudly at him out of the blue.

“Me?” Jun dumbly asks you. He already forgot the tile number he was on.

You nod your head while you bring your drink up to your lips.

He leans back into his chair and crosses his arms.

“You know how blunt I am.”

You nod your head, recounting all of the times he was called out for his bluntness.

“I think you already know how I can sometimes rub people off in the wrong way because I accidentally say things that I don’t mean. Sometimes people like you understand me and sometimes people don’t. I guess it’s like people liking you? Sometimes people will like my bluntness and sometimes it comes off in the wrong way. So I think it’s the same for liking people? You either like somebody or you don’t? So I’ll ask anybody out as long as I’m interested in them because the answer is always a simple yes or no.”

You’re so confused.

“You literally jumped from one topic to another. I literally could not follow you at all,” you blink.

“Well I’m sorry,” he throws his hands up in defeat. He’s not used to giving helpful advice nor is he used to having people go to him for advice. He wonders if he should start counting the number of chairs in the café.

He remembers an interaction he had in front of your apartment building last week. He was surprised that DK would call him and ask if he could meet him in front of your apartment. Jun told him that Yn is home and that he could just knock on your door, but DK unequivocally rejected his idea and told Jun to come. Jun saw him walking back in forth in front of your apartment building sign with a bunch of ugly roses in his hand, obviously stressed out of his mind. He asked him what was wrong.

“I dunno. I think they’ve been avoiding me for some reason,” DK tells Jun once he feels calmer with the older boy around him.

“But they’re literally wilting, bro,” Jun tells DK with clear judgment in his voice. “Some of the petals are black. I’d avoid you if you gave me wilting roses,” he points at all the petals with darkened tips and wrinkles.

“Yn will like them,” DK insists. “They think they look cool like that.”

Jun brought them to your apartment for DK, not wanting to ask or press him for more information. Although, he would have to admit it was a bit confusing to have DK ask him to deliver the flowers for him. Albeit, you are pretty scary when you’re mad. You were pretty enthusiastic when you saw the flowers in his hand, but you immediately slammed the door on him when he told you they were from DK. However, you did open your door again to let him use your restroom.

“Do you like DK but you’re having trouble figuring out whether or not he likes you?” Jun cautiously approaches you with his question.

You nod and spill your troubles to your best friend. You tell him about the two times he told you he liked you and about the day you hid in his closet. You tell him about the roses – how he didn’t text you or leave you a card so that you don’t know why he bought the roses and why he couldn’t deliver them himself. You tell him about the “not a date” dates and how he calls you pet names.

Jun tells you it sounds confusing, but it’s actually pretty normal to fall for your friend with benefits especially if you have a strong emotional connection. That’s how normal people fall in love. He feels for you and understands how confusing it must be for you when the two of you have basically skipped the dating part and landed in the married for thirty years part of the relationship without being in a relationship.

“But isn’t it tiring have to hide?” he asks you. “How many times did you have to hide because of a resident? How many times did you have to fake not knowing him or not liking him whenever you saw somebody flirting with him?”

“Too many times,” you admit. It’s exhausting.

Jun only nods and grabs his set of keys from the café table. He pulls out his wallet from his back pocket, “Lemme buy you dessert while I pay for Chan’s ‘congrats on your first hook-up’ cake.”

You stare at your friend, “You aren’t going to give me helpful advice?” You’re dumbfounded.

“Who do I look like to you? Yahoo answers? Reddit? If you want helpful advice, suck it up and tell him that you need to talk to him and talk. It’s going to eat you alive before your future cats get to eat you.”

Fuck. Jun’s right.

Today is a weird day for firsts.

“But I literally just nutted,” DK tells you while you storm into his dorm.

He’s shirtless and is wearing those grey sweatpants that ride dangerously low on his hips. He looks like he just woke up from a nap, his hair messy and matted. A bottle of unscented lotion sits on his nightstand.

“Did you want to shower or do laundry with me later?” he asks you, letting his door shut behind him. He follows you to his bed. “Did you want to get dinner with me? We have a while until Chan’s night class ends. I know you usually wait for him so you can walk home with him.”

You sit on the edge of his bed and pat the space next to you, telling him to sit next to you. He sits next to you and looks at you with a worried expression.

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t think I have it in me to fuck right now unless you find a way to help me get it up,” he confesses while scratching the back of his ear. He’ll say anything to fill the awkward silence, but he’s glad to see you after being out of touch for a week.

He sees you frowning, and his breath hitches when you turn to him.

“You confuse me DK,” your voice wavers. “I like you so much, but you keep on sending me mixed signals by telling me you like me and then acting like nothing happened. And then you’re so kind to me, and you call me those names while constantly treating me like I’m in a relationship with you when I’m not.”

“Oh, Yn,” his lip quivers.

“You don’t understand how much I like you, how much I want to stop being friends with benefits with you. But you confuse me so much. Your kindness is confusing and I wish you were meaner so I wouldn’t have fallen for you…why are you crying?” you slap his bicep.

He flinches in pain from the slap because he’s still shirtless, but the tears keep running down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he cries while clutching his arm. “I thought I was being straightforward with my feelings, but I hurt you instead,” he wails, “I’ve started liking you longer than you could imagine.”

You don’t know how to react to him crying while confessing, so you awkwardly get up and walk over to his mini fridge to bring him one of his frozen sponge packs to ice his arm.

You kiss him back before closing his large metal dormitory door behind you. His keypad whirs and clicks its automatic lock into place, and you make your way to the hallway elevators, giddy on the inside.

You make your way past all the bright green dormitory doors and stop in front of the elevators. At the side of the elevator is the large classroom bulletin board with DK’s stupid laminated face smiling at you. This time the board is sky blue. You can recognize the clouds glued onto the board anywhere – they’re sheep repurposed into clouds from when he did the board about sleep facts. Hot air balloons decorate the board. Expensive cardstock letters spell the title: Love is in the air, and so are STDs! You snicker at the tiny rips in the blue background from students ripping off the taped condoms to use for themselves before stepping into the elevator.

Your phone in your pocket buzzes when you step out of the elevator and exit the dormitory. You pull out your phone while standing outside. It’s a text from DK. He says he’s been waiting for a while now, but he wants to be a bit selfish tonight. He asks you if you’re free this Friday night even though he knows your schedule like the back of his hand. He sends another text to let you know he’s horny again, but he missed you. A lot.

Stepping to the side to let other residents in and out of the dorm, you make your way along the front of the dormitory so you stop under his window. You see him looking out to check if you made it out of the building. You wave at him and hold your phone up for him to see while giving him a thumbs up. He triumphs when he realizes you're agreeing to go on a real date with him, and you laugh when you see his figure disappear when he trips while jumping. He comes back to his window with a shirt on this time. He waves goodbye to you, and you wave back with a large smile on your face. This time the smile doesn’t drop.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #dk imagines #seokmin imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #✏️ ━ himbocoups

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chopper-base · 2 years

Text

Rex: ...this is NOT part of the plan.

Fives: *holding a feral tooka like a baby* but she's so cute!!!

Echo: *pulls out spray bottle and glares at Rex*

Rex:

Echo:

Rex:

Echo:

Rex: fine... you can keep it.

Fives: YES!!!!!

#its the 501st turn for a pet #and of course fives found it #incorrect star wars quotes #incorrect star wars #incorrect clone wars quotes #incorrect clone wars #rex #echo and rex #echo and his spray bottle #tcw fives #tcw echo #captain rex

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simplydannie · 9 days

Note

Hi Dannie! I’m sure you’ve seen these storyboards on insta but showing them to you in case you missed them. Originally Vels would spray Veneer with troll even when he said he didn’t want it. It’s funny but it really showed how much she doesn’t listen to him. Really good character moments. Your stories are so good so whenever I find something inspiring I send it your way

I’ve only seen like one frame of this story board! Now that I see all of it I get the whole context. These are pieces I wish they would’ve left in the movie to see these character moments just like you said! So much was left out on these two characters that I wish they kept in. Poor Vennie though 🥺 Let see, I’m going to go based off the first 4 shots:

Just Once More

Veneer stared at himself in his vanities mirror. Except for his green little swoop of hair, he didn’t recognize the boy staring back at him. Golden attire, blue diamond boots, cyan eye shadow.

“Is this really you Ven.” He said to himself. Veneer couldn’t help but feel a change, a shift in who he was. But was it a change for the better? Did he really want this? The door to the dressing room bursted open.

“Time for dress rehearsal!” Velvet blurted out. She quickly tossed him a diamond perfume bottle. Catching it in his hands, Veneer looked inside… a Troll, a small little innocent Troll. She looked at Veneer terrified.

“Make sure to get a good spritz in. Now let’s go!” Velvet chimed turning her heels to walk out.

The little Troll already looked so fragile, so weak. Veneer figured she wouldn’t last another spritz. He placed his hand on the pump, his eyes meeting hers. She moved as close to the edge of the perfume bottle as she could, hugging her knees, shaking in fear, her eyes never moving from Veneers. How old was she? Did she have a family? Brother or sister?… Someone she loved?…. He couldn’t do it. Veneer set the perfume bottle aside and followed after his sister.

“ARRRGGGHHH!” Velvet screamed into the mic of the studio booth. Veneer cringed as the sound echoed into his headphones. “It’s still not good enough!”

“Maybe we just need a break? Oh, and maybe some practice. Without the Trolls.” He gestured.

“What we NEED is more Troll! Especially if we want to make it to the Rage Dome show!!” Velvet took off her headphones and marched back into the booth. Veneer sighed and followed after her.

“Where is it? Where’s the little Troll?” She demanded.

“She’s back at the dressing room. Why?” Veneer placed a hand on his hip.

“Crimp! Go get her now! We need another spritz!”

“Really Vels? Again?”

“We’re so close to getting everything Veneer! We can’t give up now!” Crimp came walking in with the diamond that held the little Troll, shivering again in fear. “You go first. I don’t think you had enough. No offense little bro, but your voice was lagging it just a tiny bit…”

“No.” Veneer suddenly cutting her off. Velvet was taken back, a look of surprise crossed her face as she furrowed her brows at her brother.

“What did you just say?”

“No. I’m done using Trolls. Let’s just practice Vels! Have you ever heard of lip syncing anyways? I mean, look at the poor thing!” Veneer pointed at the diamond. The small little Troll let out smile toward him, hopeful that perhaps she’d be freed. Velvet noticed the look of admiration the Troll was giving Veneer… and she didn’t like it one bit. Velvet scowled at her brother as he kept yapping.

“I’m not saying we should tell the truth, but let’s stop living a lie just for once. Oh! Instead of essence maybe they can tutor us! Be our personal coaches! We can do this on our own Vels! We just need practice! We can- What are you doing?” He asked as she began to lean towards him. She lifted the diamond towards his face. “Vels no! I don’t-!”

Velvet spritz the essence in his face before he could get out another word out. Veneer coughed and choked at the amount of essence Velvet prayed on him. He did his best to inhale the least he could, but choking on it made it hard as he gasped for air.

A tingling sensation expanded throughout his body. He didn’t know what it was. It felt like some sort of high, his mind and vision blurring back and forth, trying to defer what was reality and what wasn’t. A sense of euphoria spreading through his body for just a moment... it felt… good.

He finally stopped gagging, breathing heavily as the sensation in his body calmed down a bit. He was holding his stomach, a sort of scowl on his face.

“What was that!” Veneer exclaimed as he held on to his throat. Velvet reached over to push in his tongue that was slightly hanging out.

“The feeling of stardom!” Velvet looked down at the diamond and frowned. “Ugh! Really! I knew I shouldn’t have sprayed you with that much. Time to restock the supply!” Velvet tossed the diamond in her hand towards the trash can as she walked out the studio room. A confused expression crossed Veneers face. He walked towards the trash can to peer at the diamond.

“Oh no….”

Picking up the diamond, he noticed the little Troll inside was not moving, she no longer bore the colors she had a moment ago. Her eyes were closed; she looked so peaceful. Veneer opened the diamond and gently shook the little Trolls body into his hand. He gently stroked her little face.

“…. I’m sorry…” He whispered, a look of despair crossing his face…. They were… killers. Tears began to stream down. How could they get themselves out of this one? How could they have known doing what they did would kill a little Troll? No matter what Veneer said, they would forever be murderers now.

“…I’m so, so sorry…” He didn’t even ask her name. He didn’t even know if she had a family… and they had just taken that away from her. He heard his sister renter the room.

“Seriously! You’re crying over a Troll.”

“We need to stop Vels.”

“No! We’re so close to the top. Once we’re at the top, we’ll stop I promise. We just need a little bit more Troll. He’s our last one so we got to manage!” She extended her hand and shook the diamond. Inside was a fresh new little Troll….Dark pink hair, bluish skin, it was a boy this time. He banged against the diamond prison.

“Hey! Let me out!” Floyd screamed. “Guys, come on don’t do this to me.”

“You asked for it Troll. Tell him Ven.”

Floyd looked desperately at Veneer who only turned away to avoid his gaze; the Trolls words still stinging his heart.

“Veneer, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

But the Rageoun didn’t respond, he only continued to hold and caress the little dead Troll in his hands.

“See! You asked for this!” Velvet said holding the diamond to meet her eyes. “You reap what you sow, Floyd. Veneer! Get rid of that one. It’s grossing me out. We have a show to practice for.” Velvet was once again was gone.

Standing up, Veneer began to head towards a hall that lead him to the outside. He was going to bury her, properly.

He walked towards the center plaza of the studio that had a huge artificial tree blooming from the center. Fortunately, it was “planted” in dirt, to make it seem real. Using one hand, Veneer dug a tiny hole. In the other he still held the small Troll. He looked at her one last time.

“You didn’t deserve this. I- I couldn’t save you. I didn’t even try. I’m sorry.” He cried. He placed a small kiss on her little face. Veneer gently placed her in the hole and covered her up.

Thoughts began to race his mind. Was this worth it? Could this be Floyd? But his sister, she worked hard to get them here, to get them to a fabulous, better life. He had to do it, he had to do it for her. Memories of the euphoria he felt raced in again. The feeling of confidence, of dominance. It was pleasing.

Besides, Floyd wasn’t who Veneer thought he was. He thought Floyd truly cared… but he never did. He wasn’t their friend… not anymore. Yet, he still didn’t want to hurt him. If they were careful maybe they wouldn’t?

So perhaps… just one more time wouldn’t hurt.

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pathetichimbos · 1 year

Note

hiiiii

was wondering if you’d like 2 do a quick “where is she” type hurt&comfort prompt with thomas and/or bo!! maybe some victim vs slasher action thatd be funn

Includes: Thomas Hewitt / F!Reader

SFW

TW: Hurt / Comfort / Reader is kidnapped under false pretenses of being 'saved' / Their slasher bf does Not Like That / Canon Typical Violence

…

Hi! Thank you for sending in this ask and I hope you're doing very well.

This... Did not turn out to be a quick drabble, haha. I, as usual, got carried away. When I checked the page count I was at 12 pages and had only written Thomas' part, so there's that. I don't want to overload in one post, or keep you waiting any longer, and I'm currently struggling to write Bo's part at the moment, so I'm going to post Tommy's part for now and update this later with Bo. I welcome any pointers for his character, by the way, I've never written for him lol. Anyways... I hope y'all enjoy!

Quick side note: I just recently reached 300 followers!! Yay!! I'm so excited and happy that you guys enjoy my work <3 I'm going to try and start writing more often so please, send in all your requests! Thank y'all for taking the time to read my stories and follow me, it means the world to me.

Thomas Hewitt:

The Texas air was hot and heavy, as it was in most August days, weighing everything from the birds to the pigs down, not much of anything caring to move about in this heat. Even Hoyt elected to take the day off, currently lounging about on the front porch, beer in hand. Though that wasn't too unusual, at least now he had somewhat of an excuse.

Luda Mae was in town, running the store, today being one of those rare days where she took Monty with her so he could “get his stinkin' ass out of the house”, as she had so graciously put it.

Not even Thomas had a lot to do today, so the two of you were taking advantage of that, currently set up on the living room couch.

You were sitting on the back of the couch, with Thomas situated between your legs, mask off and hair down so you could properly comb through it.

It was late morning by this point, so the strongest wave of heat hadn't come through yet, and you had all the windows open to try and keep the air flowing through the house before it did.

The radio played an old song from its corner, echoing a woman's voice throughout the living room. You hummed along, gently separating another section of hair and spraying a light mist of water over it with a spray bottle so you could carefully brush it without hurting your husband.

Thomas currently had his head leaning against your thigh, partly to give your more access to that side of his head, and partly because he was dozing off from the mix of humming and having you gently work through the knots in his dark curly hair.

You finished brushing out that section, running your fingers from his roots to the tips a couple of time to be sure, before pulling it to the side to place in a loose ponytail with the rest of his untangled hair.

You could start feel the soft, deep rumble as Thomas began to snore, and let out a soft laugh.

He had a habit of falling asleep every-time you brushed his hair, enjoying the close contact and the chance to take his mask off and let his skin breathe.

You let out a soft hum and bent down to place a kiss on his head, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone as you did.

You pulled back and continued to work, putting in even more effort to be gentle and soft as to not wake him. You carefully moved his head to your other thigh and began to brush the other side of his head, the brush easily combing through the knots, a stark contrast from when you initially started brushing his hair for him a few months ago.

After another fifteen minutes or so, you were finished, and pulled his hair together to give it a final brush through before setting the water bottle and brush to the side, sitting up straight to stretch your back and arms.

Thomas was still gently snoring, face pressed against your inner thigh as he continued his midday nap. You didn't really have the heart to wake him, but your ass was starting to fall asleep and hurt from sitting on the hard surface of the back of the couch, and it was getting close to time to start on lunch.

You let your hands run down his hair and to his shoulders, giving them a gentle but firm rub as you planted a kiss on his temple, speaking softly, “Tommy, baby, wake up. I'm all done.”

Despite what most people would assume, Thomas wasn't too much of a heavy sleeper, especially when he was on the couch, and that little bit was just enough to stir him awake.

He sucked in a shallow breath and let out a yawn, stretching his arms under your legs before hooking them over your thighs, letting his head fall back to look up at you with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning.” You joked with a smile of your own.

He hummed a bit and leaned over, pressing a kiss to your thigh.

“I've gotta start on lunch soon.”

He shut his eyes and let out a soft grunt of disapproval.

“Mhm.” You hummed back, running a hand through his hair again, “And then I've gotta--”

You were cut short by the rigid sound of the telephone ringing from the table behind you.

You sighed and reached around, pulling the base up and into to your lap.

“Hello?” You answered, holding the receiver with your shoulder while you idly played with Thomas' hair.

“Y/N? Could you put Hoyt on?” Luda Mae responded, skipping a greeting as she always did. After all, she's calling her own house, why should she have to say hello?

“'Course, Mama, lemme call for him.” You agreed, covering the receiver with your hand before yelling, “Hoyt, it's for you!”

No response.

“Hoyt?”

Nothing.

“Hoyt!”

Typical.

You reached down and tapped Thomas' shoulder, catching his attention, “Tommy will you go grab Hoyt? I think he's passed out in the rocker out front.”

He let out a disgruntled sigh but stood up, reluctantly sulking out the front door.

“Thomas is goin' to get him now, Mama, I think he fell asleep on the porch again.” You explained into the phone.

“Alright.” She sighed, “Just tell him to hurry up.”

After a few moments you could hear Hoyt yell from the front porch, followed by him stumbling in, still half asleep, with Thomas in tow.

“Phone.” You set the base back down and held out the phone for him to take.

“Who is it?” He slurred out, yet still grabbed the phone.

“It's Mama.”

“What the hell does she want?” He grumbled, before repeating the question to her, “What the hell do you want?”

You silently ushered Thomas over and grabbed his mask before standing straight on the couch to help him put it back on. It wasn't your favorite thing, having your husband hide half of his face, but Hoyt was awfully mean when he was drunk and it made Tommy feel more secure.

“Uh-huh. Alright. Yea. Yea. I'll be there in 'bout half an hour.” You could hear Hoyt finish mumbling and hang up the phone behind you before much too loudly announcing, “Thomas, get ready, we got supper comin' in down at the store!”

Thomas and you both let out a sigh. Well, looks like your day off was cut short.

There was a routine in place for days like these and falling into it was rather easy. You were placed on Hoyt duty, meaning you had to get his sheriff uniform ready to go and Hoyt sobered up enough to drive, and Thomas had to prepare the basement for the arrival of new guests, to put it delicately.

The two of you set to work, Thomas planting a quick kiss to your lips before tucking himself away in the basement, and you sat Hoyt down with a plate of carbs and a large glass of water to try and sober him while you tracked down everything he needed.

By the time you finished finding all of the things he carelessly threw around from the day before, he had sobered up enough that you deemed him safe enough to leave the house.

You assumed you had quite sometime before Hoyt would make it back, so you decided you'd take the time to get a few chores done beforehand, even though you knew it would upset Thomas if he found out.

It was his request that you stay in your shared room when Hoyt brought any new victims home, always worried that something would happen.

Normally, you listened to him, but the longer you waited the more chores would pile up. Besides, it would just take a few minutes.

You started with the dishes from breakfast, what with it being a lazy day and all, you figured you could do them at lunch instead. You had a couple of other things to clean up in the kitchen and finished it off with gathering the trash to take it out on your way to feed some leftover slop to the pigs.

Only an hour and a half. You smiled to yourself as you checked the wall clock, happy that you finished the chores so fast.

You dropped off the bag in the can by the back door and dumped the leftovers into the slop bucket that you kept beside it and made the short walk to the small barn out back where the pigs stayed, passing the chicken coop on the way.

The small pink pigs squealed with delight when they saw you approach, having gotten used to either you or Thomas being the ones to bring them food.

They gathered around the long feed trout that was set up in their pen, happily squealing in anticipation as you dropped the spoiled leftovers into their pen, each of them happily chowing down on the food. You kneeled down and patted one of their backs, one of the females, if her large, very obvious pregnant belly gave any clue. Tommy had noticed a while back that she was pregnant, and you gave extra care in keeping an eye on her.

You cooed after her, ushering her to eat all she could for her and her little babies, gently rubbing her back as she ate.

You sat up after a moment, stretching your back again before standing up and grabbing the slop bucket to carry back to the house.

You cringed when you picked it up, however, this time catching a whiff of the moldy food that caked the sides. Apparently it had been a while since the bucket was washed out.

You carried it out of the barn and to the side where one of the outside hoses sat, turning on the creaky faucet to wash out the bucket.

It was a messy job, and by the end of it, the dirt you once stood on was now mud and your shirt was soaked with a large splash of water. At least it helped cool you down a bit, being out in the heat like this was exhausting and you were already sweating.

You turned the faucet off and shook the bucket out a bit more before the sound of running footsteps caught your attention.

You turned back to the house, only to see a young man you didn't know running straight for you.

You jumped at the sight, taking a step back out of surprise and fear. However, when you did, your shoe hit the mud and you slipped, landing clear on your back and knocking the breath out of you.

You tried to take in a sharp gasp of air, only to be met with pain coursing from your spine to your chest, making it tighten.

You sat up, grasping at your chest and trying to breathe, tears streaming down your face, all while the man finally reached you.

“Hey, hey--!” He called out in a loud whisper, shaking as fear lined his voice and filled his wide eyes.

You shook your head no, pushing yourself back and away from him.

“No, no, it's okay, it's okay,” He raised his hands as he kneeled down, “I-I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help, I'm gonna help.”

You continued shaking your head and pushing away, desperately trying to breathe so you could scream for Thomas.

He ignored your obvious attempts to get away from him, and grabbed your arm, pulling you up and towards the back of the barn. You finally managed to pull in your first breath, coughing as he continued yanking on your wrist, practically dragging you across the dirt and grass.

There was a second door in the back and he found it easily, pushing you into the barn and towards the ladder to the loft where the hay was kept.

The pigs squealed in surprise, running around in their pen in distress as you tried to fight against the stranger.

“Stop! Leave me alone!” You pushed and pulled against his grip as he tried to shove you up the ladder.

“No, it's okay, I-I'm not one of them, I'm not gonna hurt you--” He ignored your pleas as he spoke over you, “I'm gonna help, I'm gonna help--”

You could feel the old creaky wood bend and groan against your back as he shoved you into the ladder repeatedly, trying to force you up there.

Sharp pain shot through your elbow as it slammed into the wall, finally managing to get your wrist out of his grip.

You ignored the pulsing and shoved him back, freezing when Hoyt's revolver fell from the man's pants.

You thought about diving for it, but he was faster, his hands in the air as he knelt down to pick it up.

“No, don't, don't worry, I- I'm not going to hurt you, I got this, before I ran--” He grabbed the gun and shoved it back into his jeans, “I won't hurt you, I promise.”

How stupid could this man be? Did he still not get it yet?

You were shaking, your racing heart almost loud enough to cover up the sounds of the pigs fearful squeals and Thomas' chainsaw echoing back from the front yard.

There was no way he'd hear you, not all the way back here, and definitely not in time.

You took a shaky breath and silently cursed yourself for reloading that same pistol before sending Hoyt off just earlier today.

Your mind started racing as you tried to think of a plan, your hands grasping at the air, looking him up and down.

He was on the younger side, early twenties at most, splashes of blood covering his open red button up and gray t-shirt. He was blond, making his light five o'clock shadow almost hard to see against his tan skin. His brown eyes were puffy and red, practically shaking with fear, his chest heaving and fists curled at his side.

“We, we've got to hide--” He took two bold steps towards you, “Before they come looking for us.”

You pressed yourself harder against the ladder as he did, taking in a shaky breath and nodding. He didn't know who you were, and you needed to keep it that way until you could escape.

You turned around to face the ladder, the old wood creaking under your weight as you climbed up, pushing the thick wooden door open with a thud before climbing in.

The scratchy hay dug into your knees and hands as you crawled further into the loft, giving the man room to climb in right behind you.

He immediately shut the small door and looked around, “We should put something heavy on the door.”

“B-But what if we need to get out quickly?” You countered, not wanting to make it harder to get out.

“It'll make it harder for them to get in.” He ignored your input and walked over to the nearest bale of hay, “We need to keep them out.”

You watched helplessly as he struggled to drag the heavy bale across the dusty wooden loft, finally falling down with a thud after he managed to cover the door.

“We can wait here until we get a chance to escape.” He crawled his way over to sit beside you, still shaking but seemingly calmer than before.

He swallowed and took in heavy breaths, trying to process the last few hours in his mind as you silently begged whatever god that was willing would help you get out of this alive.

You could've practically jump for joy when the familiar sound of a idling chainsaw and heavy footsteps against the barn floor became apparent against the calming squeals of the pigs down below.

You could almost feel the man tense beside you as he started shaking his head, quietly pushing himself away from the bale of hay that covered the loft door.

“No, no, no, no...” He mumbled to himself quietly, covering his own mouth as he pressed himself into the old wall of the barn.

You looked to the floor, Tommy's footsteps slowly circling around the barn, and felt a firm grip on your arm as the man quietly pulled you back with him.

“Shhhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and pulled out the revolver, looking back to the bale.

It was your turn to shake your head, lifting your hands as you spoke, “No, no, it's okay, don't--”

He slapped his hand over your mouth as the footsteps stopped.

Thomas looked up, to the loft.

He could've sworn he heard a woman's voice, even over the anxious pig's squeals.

He gripped the chainsaw tighter, confusion overcoming him.

The victim Hoyt sent him after was a man, so, did that mean there were two of them? Had Hoyt somehow overlooked an extra person? It wasn't completely uncommon for him to make such a mistake.

He stayed silent, listening. There were no more sounds now.

He took a step towards the ladder, noticing the mud marks leading in from the open back door, even against the ladder.

The chainsaw weighed heavy in his hands, send vibrations through his fingers as he readjusted it to hold it in one hand.

He grabbed the ladder with his now free hand, the ladder creaking loudly under his weight as he took a couple of steps up, positioning the chainsaw to press against the door.

It didn't budge, so he squeezed the trigger, the chainsaw revving up and cutting through the old wood with ease.

He pressed further, the spinning chain suddenly flinging wood chips and hay back at his face with enough force to actually leave some small scratches on his exposed cheekbones.

He ignored it and moved the chainsaw in different directions, cutting at the hay bale that was apparently left on top to deter him.

Within a few seconds he was able to use the base of the chainsaw to get enough leverage to sling what was left of the door open, the remaining hay flinging to the side with ease.

He pushed himself up, grabbing a hold of the side of the loft's floor to help him balance as he pulled himself up with enough force so he wouldn't get caught off-guard by the two victims undoubtedly waiting for him.

His chainsaw slammed on the loft floor, still rumbling in idle as he stepped into the loft, deep brown eyes darting to the man sitting across from him, to the gun pointed directly at him.

He ignored the threat as he stood up straight, chainsaw tight in his grip.

“Don't come any closer!” His voice was unsteady, his hands shaking.

He took a step.

“S-Stop!” He stuttered over himself, thumb slipping more than once as he pulled the hammer down.

Thomas listened this time, staring the man down.

“Drop the chainsaw.” The man ordered, “Now!” His voice cracked.

Thomas did as he was told, the chainsaw hitting the floor with a loud thud.

“O-Okay, now grab it!” Thomas could hear the floorboards creak as the second victim walked up behind him.

His hand flexed as the footsteps stopped.

He could use her, as leverage, even a shield. All she had to do was reach for it. The moment she did he could grab her.

His eyes darted right and he saw dirty, shaky hands grab the handle.

His hand shot out, catching her with force as he turned.

You screamed, out of surprise and pain as Thomas gripped your wrist with enough force to bruise it.

Confused eyes met yours as he stared, his strong hold loosening out of reflex.

“Let her go!” The man yelled from beside you two, still pointing the gun at your husband.

He did.

He pulled back, fear and hurt in his eyes as he tried to figure out why you were here.

You hated yourself as you picked the chainsaw up, heavy in your grip as you dragged it away from him.

You walked closer to the man, the chainsaw sending vibrations through your hands and to your arms, turning them to jelly. You were unfamiliar with handling the large tool, only ever using it once before when Thomas had taught you how.

The man hurried to stand, still pointing the gun at Thomas.

“H-Here.” You offered, pushing it out to him, “I don't even know how to use this thing, I'll end up hurting myself.”

The man nodded, falling for your lie, “Okay, then you take this,” He shoved the gun towards you, “I can handle that thing.”

You switched weapons, Hoyt's gun feeling much easier to handle in your hands.

It wasn't light, the weapon weighing heavy in your hands as you slammed the butt of it against the man's head, a few drops of blood splattering against your hands and face as he hit the floor.

You turned to Tommy, letting the gun hit the floor as you let out a heavy, shaking sigh.

“Thomas--” You stepped over the man's unconscious body, arms wide as you threw yourself at your husband.

He met you halfway and slung his thick arms around you, clinging to you as he crushed you against his body.

You choked on a sob as you buried your face in his neck, hot tears streaming down your face out of relief.

He pushed his masked cheek against your head, pressing a kiss to your mud caked hair, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to steady his breath.

He had been ridiculed, relentlessly beaten by bullies, threatened by coworkers, attacked by victims and almost killed dozens of times, but nothing compared to the fear he had when he saw you in that loft.

He couldn't understand why you were there. Had you randomly changed your mind and decided to leave him? After so long? Were you taken against your will, threatened and forced to do these things? Were you hurt, scared, afraid for your life while he was off doing what Hoyt told him to? What would've happened if he hadn't shown up? Did he scare you, or hurt you?

You pulled back just enough to place your hands on his cheeks, Thomas holding you up as you pulled him into a kiss.

You opened your mouth and he deepened the kiss, your hands snaking around his neck and trying to pull him even closer while teeth clashed and tongues fought to explore each other's mouths like teenagers sharing their first kiss.

You sighed through your nose, pressing your forehead to his as you pulled back to look at him.

“I'm so sorry.” You whispered, “I didn't think he'd be back so soon, I- I thought I had more time...”

His brown eyes were filled with fear and relief, feeling like he had almost lost you.

You cupped his masked cheek, letting your eyes flutter shut as you finally felt safe again.

It was a long time before Thomas let you out of his sight after that. He was glued to your side, overprotective and worried for months to come.

You often caught him staring at your deeply bruised wrist while it healed, angry and ashamed that he hurt you.

You constantly reassured him that you weren't angry at him, or scared that he'd do it again. He treated you like glass long after it healed, gentle and afraid, like you'd break into a million pieces if he didn't take extra care in his touches.

Needless to say, it took months before life went back to normal for you two, but after that, anytime any victims were expected, the first thing he did was safely tuck you away in your shared room before anything else.

#slasher fandom #slashers #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x s/o #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o #Jamie Writes

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sprovod · 1 month

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INTERROGATION

Reader is the demon behind multiple murders on a case Sam and Dean are working. The two manage to get her in custody, but Dean decides to do the interrogating by himself. Reader is female, mentions of smut and dark themes!

Dust illuminated from the dirty windows and floated slowly through the damp, cold room Grace was bound in. Her eyes fluttered open, a gentle grunt leaving her chapped lips. She jerked as she took in her surroundings, panic ensuing when she realized she had her hands shackled behind her back. Every movement she made bounced off of the concrete walls, echoing. Her eyes landed on her bound feet as she tried to rip herself forward, catching red spray paint marks that created the demon trap which enveloped her, illuminated by the dingy hanging light above. She then took note of the two tables and several shelves which were all decorated in what seemed like landscaping tools and weapons, along with jugs of what she could only assume was holy water garnished with rosary beads. She internally cursed herself, squeezing her eyes shut and leaning back. A sharp exhale left her nose, and with every inhale she made it felt as if she was getting punched in the face with the smell of mildew and dander.

Chatter was what ripped her from her thoughts, her head snapping forward to the iron door about seven feet ahead of her. It sounded like two men quietly arguing with each other behind the door, then a set of footsteps heading in the other direction. After a moment, the heavy door creaked open, light from the hallway ahead illuminating the silhouette of a man. She squinted, and before she could make out a face, the door slammed shut and swallowed the figure in darkness. Slow, shifting footsteps inched towards her as she stared with both anger and anticipation. The man stepped in front of the red demon trap painted on the floor beneath same dusty hanging light. There stood Dean Winchester in the flesh; the man she was told to avoid at all costs - and here she was, captured and bound to his advantage.

“Do you wanna explain why we found four bodies mutilated on the outskirts of town, or are you gonna be a bitch about this?” He glared, crossing his arms and widening his stance. His head tilted, an eyebrow raised as he waited for an answer. “No clue.” Grace responded, shrugging and leaning back in the cold chair, unable to hide her cocky smirk from him. Despite how freaked out she was, she still had the nerve to test the man before her. He let out a dry chuckle, looking down and shaking his head, “Okay,” He said, shrugging and stepping over to the one of the tables, “I can play that game.” He answered in a gravely voice, grabbing a jug of holy water and turned back to the girl. She stared at the clear bottle, watching the wooden rosary float through the water. His grip on the handle tightened, his forearm flexing as he did so. She ground her teeth in anticipation, “Do your worst, Winchester.”

- ♡

A scream erupted through her lungs as he splashed more holy water on her. Her clothes clung to her skin, coagulating in a mix of blood, sweat, and holy water. Her skin sizzled; she thought if he splashed her anymore it would slip right off. “You ready to talk yet?” He growled, swishing around the liquid in his now half full jug. “I’m not telling you shit!” Grace yelled in between breaths, looking up at him through eyelashes and hair that stuck to her forehead. He smirked, locking eyes with hers. His grin quickly turned into a scowl, splashing the last of the holy water on her. Once again, she screamed and cried, panting as she squeezed her eyes shut. He tossed the empty jug to the side, the rosary inside clanging against the plastic walls of its damp enclosure. After a few moments of his silence and her heavy breathing, she regained her composure and glared up at him. Being a demon and getting doused in holy water was similar to getting a tattoo - it hurts during the process, but almost immediately after the needle leaves your skin, the pain resides.

“You know, its funny,” She started, catching his attention as his brows furrowed together while grazing over different knives and weaponry that were splayed over one of the tables before eventually reaching a water bottle full of more holy water. “All these fun little toys you have, and you wanna stick to holy water?” She smirked. He stopped his movements, before shrugging and pursing his lips. “I figured the holy water would make you talk,” He started, grabbing a knife nearby and turning to her. She watched his every movement, eyes locked on the knife momentarily. He stepped closer to her, standing inches away. She was eye level with his hips, his hands down at his side, right hand gripping the leather handle of the cold, serrated, iron weapon. She looked up at him as he bent down, the two eye level. He placed his left hand on her neck, causing her to wince as he dug his nails into her soft flesh, “But if you think a little violence will make you talk, I can do that too, Sweetheart.” He sneered, his right hand planting the knife against her neck, gently running it across her warm skin. She shivered at his touch, her lips parting and eyes widening as he did so.

“It’s a shame, really,” He said lowly, “To take such a pretty little vessel and turn it into this.. monster.” He sighed, looking at the girl with disgust which earned him an angry look from her. “And to commit such horrible acts, its makes it even worse..” He said, adding pressure to the knife and drawing blood. His words were laced thick with condescending nature. She whimpered as his grip on her neck tightened, jerking her hands against her restraints. “God, if you wanted to fuck me, you could have said so.” She replied sarcastically through strained breaths, smirking. It seemed to catch him off guard for a moment, causing him to let go of her slowly and back up. “You think this is a joke?” He asked, standing up straight and glaring at her. He displayed a look of disbelief on his face. The energy in the room shifted and the air grew thick. “I think you’re a joke.” She replied, attempting to calm her own nerves with her cocky humor. Bad idea.

With a sharp inhale, he tossed the knife to the table, a loud clattering noise echoing through the room as the iron made contact with the surface. Looking down and chuckling to himself, he shook his head. “You just don’t get it.” He said, causing her smile to fade quickly. “You killed four people, and you don’t even have the balls to own up to it.” He growled, “This entire town is horrified of what’s out there, of who’s killing who, and mother’s out there having to bare the thought of burying their children; and you don’t care.” He raised his tone, stepping closer, “You need an attitude check, you need to get put in your place.” He said, “You need to know what it’s like to suffer how your victims did; and ill make sure to be the one to do that. Do you understand?” He said, inches from her face. She shoved her feelings of fear back down her throat, simply shrugging at him and smirking.

His hand collided with her cheek, and before she could react to the impact, he grabbed her throat with force and used his other hand to grab a fistful of her hair to make her look up at him. She would rather die one thousand deaths than admit that he was making her stomach do circles, waves of heat rushing through her core. She looked up at him with big eyes, full of shock, her brows furrowing as her cheek grew red with pain; her lips turning blue from the lack of oxygen. He dug his thumb into her jaw, “I said, do you understand?” He graveled, squinting. She nodded as quickly and as best as she could, squeezing her eyes shut as she did so. Small noises of struggle left her throat as he grinned, “Good girl.” He said condescendingly. He let go of her neck, allowing her to breath, but still holding onto a large clump of her hair on the back of her head. She glared up at him, a look of anger mixed with fear painted on her face. He scoffed,

“Great. Let’s get started then, Sweetheart.”

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean x reader #smut #angst #first post #sam winchester #castiel #demon girl #fanfic #fantasy #television #tv series #interrogation #dark fantasy #content warning

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 10 months

Text

𓅨 Walmart Superstore: An Endless' Nemesis

Walmart Superstore: An Endless' Nemesis: Morpheus decides to tag along with you to Walmart when you run errands.

Warnings: One Mopey Ass Endless.

To Note: Morpheus x Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

You didn’t know what was more comical, the expressions flashing across Morpheus’ face as you walked towards the entrance of your local Walmart… or the fact that a mighty Endless wanted to shopping with you. Especially one as regal and prideful. There really was no need for him to come, you were just running errands, picking up cleaning supplies, toilet paper, a birthday present for your neighbor… you didn’t understand why he had wanted to come. It was a menial task. Mundane. Mortal. So why had the Endless insisted that he accompany you to the superstore when you knew he had better things to do?

You stole another look at Morpheus while collecting a small basket to hold your would be items. He was staring at the corral of blue shopping carts in confusion.

“They’re just shopping carts,” You point out, slipping the basket onto your arm. Morpheus blinked and looked at you with an inquisitive look. “You know… to put the stuff you’re gunna buy in while you’re walking around? Makes it a lot easier when you don’t have to carry all your stuff.”

“Is it necessary for them to be so large?” He asked, blue eyes dropping to the small basket hanging off your arm. “Your choice is far smaller and more reasonable.”

“Because I am only getting a few things.” You said with a shrug, moving in the direction of the cleaning aisle. “I’m not getting an entire cart full of stuff today, so the basket will do just fine. Come on, stay close unless you want to come across a Karen in the wild.” Morpheus didn’t understand what you meant by that, or what a Karen was… was Karen not a mortal name? You spoke of it as if it were a creature instead. That thought dissipated as a large man trundled past, wearing a shirt three times too small, little ‘shorts’ and bright pink flip flops. Another fashion trend he would have to inquire about. The Endless lost interest, and silently followed after you.

The many items lining the shelves passed were all odd to the being and held little interest. Mortals invented the most menial of objects at times. You turned down an aisle and blatantly ignored a couple arguing over a box of… something. Cereal. Their thoughts were loud and obtrusive, echoing painfully within Morpheus’ mind. To you, the argument was just another trip to Walmart. You didn’t bat an eyelash when one hit the other with a box, and proceeded past the aisle of human food to the next.

You eyed the Endless silently trailing beside you. He was in his usual silence but you could see his eyes taking in everything with curiosity. Or maybe disdain? It was sometimes a guessing game with Morpheus for at times he was enchanted with mortal inventions and others, he curled his lip at. Walmart was definitely not a place high on his intimate interests. You’d better make this trip quick lest his broodiness start having a physical effect on the shoppers.

Running through your mental checklist, you turned down the cleaning aisle and began looking for disinfectant spray for your kitchen. It was relatively easy to find the brand you used and you dropped the bottle into your basket as Morpheus examined the plethora of choices.

“There are many options, how have you decided on that one?” He enquired, eyes glossing over the many bottles before settling on your face. You shrugged.

“Dunno, I just go with what’s cheap and grew up with.” You answered. You’d never put too much thought into your choice, it was just cleaner. You didn’t need anything fancy, just something that worked. Toilet paper was next. You’d run out after the local elementary school had roped you into helping mummify the Principal. It’d been fun and hilarious, but the event had taken every last roll of toilet paper you had in the house. You wandered in the direction of the tissue aisle and picked up what you needed. By now you were on autopilot, forgetting the fact that you had an Endless trailing behind you, perplexed by the all the choices there were of the same item.

All you had left was to get your neighbor a birthday present. Susan had lived next to you in a cute little stone house. She’d lived in that house for at least forty years and was just starting to get around to renovating the place. Her kitchen had been the latest job and you knew that she had been wanting a good coffee maker for the longest time, but always used an ancient one that you could have sworn was from the early 90s just because it still worked.

It was time for a new one.

So you wandered down the small appliance aisle, looking at the models and trying to figure out which one Susan would like best. She was older, so she didn’t need something fancy. Just something that worked and was easy to set up. You were stuck between two models, eyes flickering back and forth while you tried to decide which one to go with, when an announcement over the intercom had your eyes going wide.

“Y/N Y/L/N, your beloved is at register 10.” What on earth? You were confused to say the least, not quite understanding why an announcement would be made like that. Then you realized something. Morpheus was no longer lingering behind you, silently judging every little thing. You spun in a half circle, searching for the Endless but to no avail, you could not find him!

Good god, the announcement was for you!

Leaving the small appliance aisle, you hurried towards the front of the store while you mind went into overdrive. Beloved? That word was definitely part of Morpheus’ vocabulary and not one that most if any mortals would use. So only one being could potentially be considered your ‘beloved’. … but since when had that happened? You shook your head as you emerged from the depths of the superstore to see the line of registers all normal. One glance at register ten however, and you nearly face palmed yourself.

Morpheus was standing by it with the most despondent pout upon his lips, in a desolate mope that seemed to make a cloud of depression hang around where he stood. You were flabbergasted and wondering what the hell had upset him this time when you approached him. The moment Morpheus saw you approaching, the cloud of dreary darkness dissipated above his head. But not the pout or mope.

“You left me,” He accused you when you approached him, making a dramatic scene to show just how upset he was. “Why did you abandon me?” You opened your mouth to fire back that you simply had just wanted to get your shopping done and weren’t used to having someone with you, but the look within his eyes made you falter. He really did look devastated.

“Okay, first off, I didn’t leave you on purpose,” You informed him, coming to a stop in front of him. “I was just trying to get my shopping done as fast as possible,” He glowered at you and you sighed with a roll of your eyes. “You are making it seem like I intentionally ditched you!”

“It feels as if you did.” He declared, his eyes glimmering pitifully as he loomed over you. “Do you not care for me anymore? Is this you showing me that you no longer wish for my company?? Are you finally casting me aside!?”

“What? No!” You exclaimed, face palming yourself. Where the hell was this coming from!? “Oh my god, Morpheus! I just forgot okay!? I am in no way telling you to leave!” That seemed to abate the watery look in his eyes. You reached for his hand, determined to hold it until you were done shopping and leaving. The last thing you needed was for him to have a meltdown in Walmart. “Come on, I’ve just got to pick out a coffee maker for Susan.”

Pulling him along, you were oblivious to the Endless now basking in the feeling of you grasping his hand. Your fingers were warm and comforting against his cold ones. Arriving back at the small appliance aisle, you retook your position between the coffee makers and gave them one last look. The one on the left looked most Susan friendly, so you’d get that one. Setting your basket down so you didn’t have to break the handhold with Morpheus (because heaven forbid you did), you picked up one of the boxes and put it in your basket. You then picked the basket up and looked at Morpheus.

“Now I am done, we just need to check out and then we can leave.” You told him, watching as he blinked at you. “Okay?”

“Very well,” Morpheus answered, maintaining his grasp upon your hand. His brief moment of complete devastation and despondency was gone from his facial features like it had never happened. Clearing your throat, you began walking back towards the registers, noticing how tightly the Endless held your hand. When you arrived up front, much to your dismay, the only register that was available and not backed up was register 10. Oh well. It wasn’t like you toted an Endless man-child around with you every time you shopped at Walmart. So you got in line and tried to ignore that stares of several old ladies congregating around the magazines.

When it was your turn to pay, you did so quickly, trying to get out of there as fast as possible. Just as you were grabbing your bag and pulling Morpheus away from the narrow lane, an elderly woman spoke up.

“Oh don’t you two just look so cute together! Calling each other beloved! You don’t see a love like that every day.” Your face burned with heat that bloomed just beneath your skin and you all but dragged Morpheus to the exit.

“Only at Walmart. Only at Walmart.” You chanted to yourself as you fled. You and Morpheus would definitely be having a conversation when you got home because there was no way you were going to be able to function properly without knowing what exactly the Endless being saw your relationship as. “Only at Walmart.”

Date Published: 6/29/23

Last Edit: 6/29/23

Dream of the Endless Masterlist

#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #lord morpheus #sandman x reader #morpheus #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #dream the endless #the sandman

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apocalypseornaw · 5 months

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Don't Blame Me (Pt 4/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Lucifer loyalists find you. What better way to hurt both Crowley and the Winchesters?

Warnings: cursing, violence

The funny thing about Dean knowing you were alive was that you'd allowed yourself that fleeting moment to remember. To remember the way he used to hold you, the way his lips and hands felt on your body, the way it felt the first time he'd ever told you he loved you and how your heart had nearly burst out your chest when he slipped that ring onto your finger.

For years you'd buried those memories. It wasn't easy for a demon to get drunk but you'd managed it a few times just to quiet the echo in your chest that Dean still managed to inhabit no matter how twisted your soul now was.

—-----------

You looked around at the cabin and couldn't help but laugh, a demon hiding out in the woods. Your dresser consisted of jeans, t shirts,henleys and flannels (much to Crowley's dismay but he refused to try to force you to dress the way most of his regime did, it helped to mark you as different anyways, the hunter turned demon that Crowley used to keep them in line)

You had the soul of a demon and the heart of a hunter. You leaned your head back against the wall where you sat on the kitchen floor. Enough liquor bottles to drown an elephant laid empty across the floor but you barely felt a buzz.

Your fingers slipped down under the neck of your shirt, absent-mindedly tracing the anti possession tattoo that adorned your skin. "I just need to know you're safe when I'm not with you" a humorless laugh escaped your lips as you launched a bottle across the room where it shattered when it hit the wall causing a spray of glass to go everywhere. “Lots of good that did”

You looked down at the broken glass and knew if you ran your finger along it the cut would heal faster than the blood could drip to the floor. You wanted to go after Crowley, the thought of the shock that would be on his face if you strolled into the throne room and knocked him off of it had kept you sane. The only thing is that you knew if you went after him, meaning to inflict pain (which you and him both knew you were capable of) that he'd get Sam and Dean there and walking into Crowley's throne room meant walking into his wards as well.

You pushed yourself to your feet with a sigh and walked off to the small bed that sat in the corner of the room. It'd taken you months to figure out how to sleep, you didn't need to but you could and at the moment you needed an escape from consciousness.

You weren't sure what had woke you up at first. That was until you felt it, other demons and they were closing in fast on you. They weren't marked as Crowley's either.

You heard a light whimper and went to the window to see Juliette sitting just under it. She'd been trying to warn you. She was a loyal hound, if you ordered her to she'd fight but there were too many. If they weren't Crowley's it was those still loyal to Lucifer that meant they weren't coming to kill you. They'd try to take you which meant they'd be coming after Crowley, possibly Dean and Sam next.

You shook your head at her “Go to Crowley” she growled then, barely a showing of teeth which you knew was her way of arguing. You let your eyes slip to black and put every bit of power you had into your voice when you spoke “I ORDER YOU. GO TO CROWLEY NOW”

She snarled at you but turned to run off through the woods. You watched her go then rotated your neck in a tight circle. If they wanted a fight they damn sure were gonna get one.

Witches, traffic cams, satellite footage. Dean had exhausted ways to try to find you. He was sitting at the table in the kitchen of the bunker, he felt empty. The knowledge of what you'd endured for him, along with the knowledge that you'd thought he'd prefer you dead then how you were. Hell he'd take black eyes to have you back.

Crowley was right, the look in your eyes when you'd said “Dean, it's me” it was you. No matter what had happened to you, how twisted your insides were, the woman he loved was alive and he wasn't going to stop until he found you. Guilt was gnawing at his stomach, the memories of one night stands flashing through his head while you were still out there in the world.

—----------

He shoved his coffee cup away from him a little too hard and it fell to the floor in a shatter of glass and hot liquid. “Shit” he cursed about the time Sam walked into the room.

Sam didn't ask, he just squatted down and started picking up the broken pieces of the cup. “I'll get it Sammy” He spoke as he got to his feet and walked around the table. Sam shook his head “I got it”

“Let me help” Dean pushed and Sam tossed the pieces of the cup down to glare at him before standing to his full height “I said I got it. Dean believe it or not this is fucking with my head too. Yeah you loved her but she was my best friend. It's killing me not being able to find her, to bring her home. We've got the cure but how many years too late? And if she agrees to it can I really do something that could kill her? I'm trying to be there for you, to help you but don't ask me to be idle either please”

Dean nodded slowly, he hadn't thought about Sam in this. You two had always been close, you'd supported him going to Stanford and had helped him through the grief of losing Jess. “I'm sorry man” “It's fine” before either of them could say anything else Dean's phone rang.

Sam watched him as he snatched the phone off the table and nearly growled when he answered it “What the fuck do you want Crowley?” “Lower the warding on your batcave” “What? Why?” “A few Lucifer loyalist managed to get past the idiots that formerly worked for me and they've went after Y/N”

Dean walked into the cabin behind Crowley and stopped in his tracks. It looked like a damn massacre had happened. Blood splattered the walls and two demons laid dead. “How the fuck did they find her?” He asked, taking in the scene before him.

“She warded herself with the help of a coven she found in New Zealand. Protected her from being summoned but it messed with the integrity of my own wards on her” Crowley explained. “You warded her?” Sam asked and Crowley nodded “Angels? Other demons? Same reason Juliette took a liking to her”

Dean felt his blood boiling as he stared at Crowley “If she matters to you so much why not let me know sooner” he had to give it to Crowley he didn't flinch as he said “Because she made me promise not to. She was terrified you'd hate her. I believe her words were better mourned and loved. Now do you want to shove the masculinity down a notch and get her back or what?”

@starkleila @lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dont blame me mini series

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corazondebeskar-reads · 3 months

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live to rise - chapter three

live to rise series

three: won't give them that satisfaction

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: Din faces his past. You dare to enter the Mandalorian's cell when he's in need of medical attention. A bond grows, and so do the stakes.

chapter warnings: masturbation (f, m), p in v (not Din, brief mention of reader x oc), hurt/comfort, a little yearning, a little pining, a lot of ~bonding~, minor character deaths, canon-typical violence, description of injury, gore, angst

Please heed the series and chapter warnings.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Din is the only one from Cresh with an off day today. It’s quiet in the cellblock, and he’s putting himself through an easy bodyweight routine when he feels the pneumatics of the door. You’re so quiet, bare feet barely making a sound on the sleek floor.

It’s not even midday, so he waits to find out who was the first to fall.

The door next to his opens.

He takes a moment to close his eyes and pray. Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la. Not gone, merely marching far away. Idly, he wonders if the words would bring you comfort.

But when he opens his mouth, he chokes on them. No, he can’t share that with you. No matter how honorable, you are not Mandalorian.

“What was her name?” he says instead.

It startles you, and you drop the bottle of disinfectant. He’s never just spoken to you before, unprompted.

“Disdraa,” you tell him, and hesitate for just a moment before letting the rest pour out. “—a smuggler—explosives for the, um. You know.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Thank you.” You fall quiet, letting the skrish-skrish of the spray bottle fill the silence.

“Why did she call you little bird?” Din’s not really sure why he asks, other than a strange ache in his chest at the way your words are laden with sorrow.

“Because some of the others used to.”

“Why did they call you little bird?”

“Picked it up in a long chain of the dead. One of my first who survived for a few months started it.” You pause, knowing this isn’t the answer he was looking for. “It’s silly. When I first got here, I used to whistle a lot. The quiet was unsettling.”

“It doesn’t bother you now?”

“—used to it.”

He knows there’s something more that you’re keeping locked down. He knows it’s probably for a good reason, and he should leave it be, let you pretend.

He asks anyway. “Why did you stop?”

“Guards didn’t like it much,” is all you tell him, the silence filling in the gaps of the story.

You hesitate in the hall after you’re done, like you want to say something to him but haven’t the nerve.

He beats you to it. “What’s on your hand?” he says as he studies you, everything about you as neat and tidy as ever—except that.

You look down. A blue smudge runs the length of your palm. He watches, rapt, as you bring your other thumb to your mouth and lick it, scrubbing it against the blossom of color until it disappears.

“Nothing,” you whisper.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” you shake your head and slip out of the barracks.

When you leave, he waits only a moment before he licks his palm and strokes his cock, thinking of his own thumb, of more, between your lips as he spills down the drain. He shuts down before the shame can come. He’s only human, after all.

There’s an energy to the compound that you don’t particularly like. It crackles and shakes, much like the soft surface of this planet did when they first built the arena, when the red soil swallowed it whole, and instead of moving on, they just built more and more on top. But you can feel this, even here at the frigid, solid core—an unsettling.

When you ask the others, they shrug. It’s not strong, not bothersome. The officers are clearly abuzz with something stupid or irrelevant, and it’s just echoing down the lifts and spilling into the underground.

Hali shrugs. “It probably doesn’t bode well for us, but what can we do?”

Two weeks later, the tension crests. Eli catches your arm when he passes you in the corridor after breakfast service, pausing for just a fraction of a moment.

“They found another Mandalorian,” he murmurs.

His hand drops, and you’re gone before you can think it through. You’re too late, though.

They’ve already taken him to the arena.

Gideon’s face tells Din that he’s going to lose this fight no matter the outcome. It’s always a little true. A little part of him dies each turn.

But Din knows he’s right when his opponent is forced into the ring. He knows because he won’t meet his eyes. He knows because when the bell tolls, the other man takes a knee.

“Ner Mand’alor,” he says, voice hoarse from overuse and underhydration.

“No,” Din says. “Not here.”

“Anywhere,” Alor’ad Adro Varra swears.

“I won’t fight you,” Din says, voice cracking a little on the tail end.

“I’m dead either way,” Varra says. “Grant me a warrior’s death. Gedet’ye.”

Din closes his eyes. “Don’t go easy on me,” he begs.

“I would never do you the dishonor, ner Mand’alor.”

The crowd finally gets the fight they’ve been waiting for. Few of the champions so far have been much competition for Din. But between a well-trained opponent and his own unwillingness to cause unnecessary pain, they manage to drag it out for a few extra minutes.

Varra holds true to his word, of course, and doesn’t hold back. To drive in Gideon’s mockery, their weapons today are beskad they’ve stolen from Mandalore.

They’re going to make him kill his vod with a beskar blade.

Varra is a skilled swordsman and hasn’t yet had a chance to weaken in the cells. Din finds the beskad as unwieldy as the Darksaber had been when he first held it. There’s no honor, here.

Din parries more than he strikes. “Are there others?” he asks under the guise of heaving breaths.

“Not sure,” Varra says. “Got separated. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Din says, fumbling in the riptide of disappointment and relief. The edge of Varra’s blade makes clean work of his thigh, just shy of danger.

The cut is an awakening, an understanding. Time is running out.

“I think,” Varra gasps. “I think some made it. But—your alor—I’m sorry.”

He’s not deliberately trying to distract Din. But the words cost him another chunk of flesh from his forearm.

Din briefly considers letting his vod win to spare himself the pain. He can’t decide which path is more cowardly.

The clash of beskad echoes sickeningly. Beskar against beskar is a broken oath, a true loss of The Way, and the guilt cuts worse than the sword. This man swore to him, swore to follow the command of his Mand’alor, and Din’s forcing him to use it in such a perverse manner.

No. It’s worse than that. He has forced his vod to break the Resol’nare by fighting against his Mand’alor.

The scars from the blade will join the many others earned through his life, but this? The things he’s done now? The sins against his vod and the Manda? He’ll never stop bleeding.

In the end, though, Varra’s head is on the ground much further than his body, knocked afar by the swift, heavy swing of Din’s sword, leaving him awash with his brother’s blood. He chokes down the vomit and the screams. Gideon can’t have those, too.

For the first time, you enter the Mandalorian’s cell while he’s inside. He had refused to see the medics, but he’d still showered, meaning the blood he trailed in was leaking from his own flesh. With your eyes shut tight, you hold out the only solution you could come up with—a linen scarf.

“You should be able to breathe still,” you say.

He gets the idea.

You slip inside once he’s covered and seated on the cot. You start with the gash on his forearm, kneeling on the cold floor to wipe it clean.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t speak for a long time, long enough that you’re afraid you’ve overstepped. But he sits still, the perfect patient, and lets you pinch the slippery sides of the cut together enough to apply suture tape.

He thinks suddenly, unbidden, that she would have liked you. His alor, who he still bowed to despite his rank, for she wielded the fires and iron hearts of their people. Mandalorian or not, she would have respected you for your steadfast principles and unwavering purpose.

“I knew him,” he says instead.

You startle and overcorrect trying to act casual, but if he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Would you… would you like to tell me about him?” you say. This, at least, is familiar territory.

“I didn’t know him well,” he admits, the clench in his chest screaming. Just another brother he’s failed. “He was a battalion captain. He still knelt for me, even without the saber, and I—”

You rest a hand on his knee and wait.

He sighs. “I gave him a warrior’s death.”

“What did his armor look like?” you say.

“He didn’t have it.”

You hum softly, not wanting to push.

“Captains wear full black, matte and streamlined,” he says. “Sleek, flat, practical for ops.”

You hum again, the feeling spreading goosebumps as it vibrates through your wandering fingertips over his skin. You’re checking for wounds.

He indicates the weeping gash on his thigh.

“Oh, kriff, Mando, I’m sorry. That looks painful.”

“It’s fine,” he says.

You lean close, gently prodding around to assess. “It’s deep. You prefer it stitched or cauterized?”

“Stitched,” he grunts as you wipe it down with antiseptic.

The cell is tense, now. He thinks he’s smothered your softness with his grief.

“I paint,” you say suddenly, as the needle slips into his skin.

His attention snaps to you, even if you can’t see his eyes. “What?”

“That’s what was on my hand the other day. Paint. I paint.”

“Where do you get paint?”

“I make it,” you say as he winces against the tug of the thread.

“What?”

“I’ve got a friend in the kitchens,” you say.

“No, sorry,” Mando says. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Oh. I said I make it.”

“Oh,” he says, and thinks for a moment. “They sneak you oil?”

“Or grease, or lard. Whatever the runoff is.”

“Whatever the what is?”

“Runoff, like—”

“No, I know what it means,” he huffs a little. “I just. Dank farrik,” he mutters.

“What’s wrong?” you stop stitching immediately.

“You didn’t hurt me,” he says and waits until you’ve resumed your careful motions. “I… I can’t hear very well without my helmet.”

You sit back on your haunches. “Oh,” you say.

“You can’t—don’t—”

“I won’t tell,” you say. “But you let me know if there’s anything I can do to make things easier on you. Do you read lips?”

“Not really. It’s hard. I can pick up some things in Basic from humanoids, but it’s near impossible with anyone else. And unreliable.”

“Okay,” you nod, lips twisting and gears turning. “Want a signal? Like if you need me to be louder or repeat something.”

“Maybe,” he says. He’s feeling oddly dizzy, like perhaps he lost more blood than he thought. When he looks down at his thigh to check, you’re applying a cream to the sutures. It only gets worse as he watches deft fingers secure bandages, sucking in a sharp breath when you gently brush over the hair next to the wound.

“Sorry,” you say, wincing.

He lets you think it hurt. “You never finished answering my question,” he says.

“No, but it worked, though, didn’t it?” you say.

He quirks his head.

“Distracted you,” you say, and grin.

You’re beautiful, he thinks. He’s in trouble.

You don’t seem to notice his dilemma, especially since you won’t look at him, despite the veil.

“Anything else?” you ask, fingers gently holding his calf while you investigate his battered body. Now that the danger has passed, you’re a little choked up. You knew he was strong, but hadn’t been close enough to realize how broad he was without the armor.

Most of that bulk was actually him. The wide cord of his thigh where you had stitched spans far past the sprawl of your palm. He’s not all rock, though. It’s muscle well-earned under the softness of a life… well, you don’t want to say well-lived, because that’s up for debate. But lived. Fully and unapologetically.

It feels illicit, just even seeing this much of him.

“No,” he says. The little cuts and scrapes aren’t worth wasting supplies. They’ll scab over on their own. But he regrets it as soon as his mouth closes because you push up on his knee to stand.

You’re leaving.

“Can I see?” he says.

“Not very well, right now, I’d say,” you tease, though you know what he means. “Maybe another time.”

He snorts, and your heart catches.

Inconvenient, really, you think. Moreover, cruel and unfortunate. You’ve never felt this kind of warm affection toward a fighter before.

“Hey Mando,” you say, turning back to look at him. “His helmet, was it like yours?”

“Yes,” he says, perplexed.

“Okay. Well, I should go,” you say, and it’s almost like you want him to argue, but you’re already slipping out of his cell. “It’s almost dinner time, after all. Get some rest.”

When he unwinds the shawl, he holds onto it for longer than he’ll ever admit.

He does give it back, of course. Slides it out on his tray when you come by with dinner. You stuff it in the front pocket of your skirts, and if you take it out in the dark of the night to catch a hint of his musk, so what? It doesn’t hurt anyone.

Well. Maybe yourself. You need to pinch this ridiculous crush at the stem before it blossoms. But one night of indulgence can’t hurt, or at least that’s what you tell yourself as you slip off to the fresher. You hold it to your cheek, clenched in one fist, as the other hand rubs quick circles around your clit. You orgasm easily, the smell of him and the cadence of his voice on the edge of your consciousness.

You drop it in the laundry bin when you leave, washing your hands of the affair but not the guilt.

But you can’t stay away. You’re drawn to him, and you tell yourself it’s just the way you’re drawn to any of your fighters who live long enough to bond.

Anything else is just because you’re human, and he has a lovely voice.

It’s not like you can’t satisfy your needs. Fucking around with the other servants isn’t exactly encouraged, but it isn’t prohibited either, and there are plenty of stock rooms and nooks and crannies for fumbling fingers and sordid, sloppy relief.

You’re no stranger to these things, either. There’s an unspoken code that keeps things quick and neat, no attachments or drama. (You and Eli made a spoken pact, though—you’d keep an eye on each other. Make sure no one gets too close or too deep).

And part of the medical processing upon arrival includes an implant, whether you like it or not. So.

So you indulge. You find one of your go-to’s, Stellus, a dark-haired man with a nose crunched in far too many cantina brawls to ever sit straight again. He’s serving six years for stealing a ship and another two for evading his warrant. With three left, he’s numb to it all most of the time, but he almost never says no to pussy.

It’s fine. It's satisfactory. He's a generous partner with nimble fingers and a girthy cock. It does take the edge off. It’s not what you want, but you’re used to that. None of this is what you want, but you take it anyway.

After he tugs his trousers up and slips away, you lean against the wall of the laundry facility for a moment, catching your breath and leaving a gap between your departures.

And then you go straight to the barracks. In the middle of the day. With no excuse.

The Mandalorian has just gotten back from the arena, and you check in even though you know he has no injuries this time. His status is continually updated on your datapad, after all.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he says, but it comes out on a sigh and gives you pause.

“Are you sleeping?” you say.

“As much as I can,” he says.

You lean against his door for a moment, debating if you should leave or not.

“Do you sleep?” he says, catching you off guard. He sounds suspicious.

“As much as I can,” you echo.

It's silent for a beat, but he can't shake the thought. “How did you know?” he finally asks. It’s been an itch too deep to ignore.

“How did I know what?”

“That he was Mandalorian.”

“Eli told me,” you say as if that’s the only answer you need.

“It wasn’t advertised,” Mando says cautiously. “They didn’t want anyone to know there might be more survivors.”

You shrug. “Must have been in his file. I knew about you before everyone else, too. Do you—” You hesitate, knowing his answer will be an echo of all the others, “is there anything I can do for you?”

It’s his turn to hesitate. You don’t usually deviate from the routine. Though, he supposes, this whole visit is off-schedule.

“Like what?” His answer surprises you both.

“Oh, um.” You’ve immediately forgotten anything you thought he’d need. “Would you like some company?”

“Only if it’s yours,” he says.

Your brain feels a little fuzzy from the way his voice has softened, and you can’t quite smother the little pleased smile. You settle on the ground by his door; legs sprawled out under the fan of your skirts. He’s not a big conversationalist, but he asks questions and answers them just fine.

When you tell him a little about home, he feels like he’s finally cracked the mystery. The paintings, the service, the memorials. You don’t talk about it a lot, but it’s enough to fill in the missing piece he couldn’t quite puzzle together.

It’s a sentiment that feels a little too close to home for him, too.

“How do you do it?” you ask.

“Do what?”

“How do you keep going? You must be exhausted. I’ve seen other fighters last as long as this, but they were never up there as often as you are.”

“I have to,” he says as if it’s that simple.

And you suppose maybe it is.

He waits a moment, though, and then it spills from him like a faulty dam. “I have to try, for my son.”

It’s quiet, so quiet, but you hear it. Your breath trips and falls in a soft exhale of “Oh, Mando.”

You flounder for something more to say, some way to swallow some of the rotting guilt and horrible, sharp sadness that leak into the silence. But as you open your mouth to speak, the doors nearest his cell slide open.

“What are you doing in here, girl?” the guard snaps. “You can’t be in during transfer.”

“I-I didn’t get a message,” you say to the ground, having leapt to your feet when the panel beeped. “Apologies, sir,” and then you’re gone.

The ping comes right after breakfast delivery while you’re folding sheets for service rounds. It’s like a static shock, and you nearly drop your armful of stacked bedding.

It never goes off now. It’s too early for anyone to have died. Right? You repeat it under your breath while reaching for the datapad.

It’s a notification you’ve only had twice before, and your heart swoops to the bottom of your diaphragm. “C-5 Status Update: Reassigned.”

next chapter

*title from "Burn the Witch" by Shawn James

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #gladiator din #gladiator!din #din djarin fic #din djarin x f!reader #fic: live to rise

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