#i keep listening to the musical and this part gets stuck in my head
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g e n t l e l o v e - A. H.
Warnings : Mentions of anxiety and break ups, not proof read
Genre : Fluff
A/N : I didn’t know how to end the series so I hope you guys like this 😭 It’s kinda crappy I’m sorry guys
Part One
Her hands shook. Today was a big day. The anxiety was building, it was eating her alive. She examined herself in the mirror, the beautiful white dress enveloping her in rich satin.
Most girls spend their whole lives dreaming of this day. They look forward to it, they plan for it. They imagine who their groom will be, how he will act, look, say, be. And yet, she never imagine she would be walking down the aisle to Aaron Hotchner. Her boss, Aaron Hotchner. Her ex, Aaron Hotchner. Her love, Aaron Hotchner.
A knock startled her from her thoughts, and she watched as her bridesmaids, Penelope, Emily, and JJ, waltzed into the room with smiles decorating their faces. They walked to her, knowing how nervous she was, and enveloped her in a hug.
“Are you ready?” JJ asked in a gentle tone.
Was she ready? After all her and Hotch had been through, it came down to this. She remembered how only four years ago, she sat in a restaurant getting her heart broken by her groom-to-be. Two years ago, a both literal and figurative bomb went off and he confessed his love for her. And now…
“Yes, I’m ready,” she felt a soft smile spread across her face. Penelope quickly moved to adjust the vail that was pinned into her hair. Once she was satisfied, she grabbed her hands and squeezed.
“You look beautiful,” Penelope had tears in her eyes. At that moment, Y/N felt her heart grow even bigger. She looked around at her closest friends, not including the rest of the team, and a sense of gratefulness spread itself across her veins. They stuck by her all those years ago, and they would be with her now.
They lined up in front of the chapel doors, her heart pounding, her eyes full of excited tears. Spencer hugged her tight, Derek complimented her dress, and Rossi, he was giving her away, grabbed her arm and held her as though he was her anchor and was keeping her from floating away.
Aaron was waiting on the other side of those doors. The idea of it had her even more nervous, not because she didn’t want to marry him, but because she wanted to be perfect for him. What if he didn’t like her dress or her makeup? The pre-wedding anxieties hit her even harder. As the seconds ticked by and the heartbeats passed, her anxiety reached a high as she watched the doors opened.
As the bridesmaids walked along with the groomsmen by their sides, she felt her feet frozen to the ground. She couldn’t walk. She was too nervous. But then, she locked eyes with him. Even from a distance, she could see the tears streaming down his face as he took the sight of her in. And all her worries melted out of her and evaporated into thin air. She began the walk that led to him.
⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹
The wedding was a success. They said their “I do’s” and celebrated. Now, they were a couple hours into the reception, which was being held in Rossi’s backyard. It felt incredibly intimate, only their closest friends and family were present.
Y/N was elated. She felt as though she finally had everything she wanted. She can’t imagine not being with Aaron, she can’t even remember their break up. There is only now, this magical celebration of their union.
They were on the dance floor, soft music playing through the speakers. Her head on Aaron’s shoulder, she listened to him as he whispered into her ear, “I love you. I know I’ve said it before, but I want you to hear it again. Today was perfect. You are perfect.” Her head rose, eyes boring into his brown orbs. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” a serious look flashed in his eyes, “for all those years ago where I left the way I did. And for making you wait for me to come to my senses about how I felt about you.” She shook her head, soft hand rising to rest on his cheek.
“None of that matters now, Aaron. What matters is that we got through it together. And that we’re here, today, celebrating our love for each other.” He went in for a gentle kiss, one that expressed his love for her better than words ever could. They broke apart when Jack ran up, Y/N grabbing him in her arms and bringing Aaron in for a family dance.
It was Aaron’s turn to smile, because, finally, after so long, everything was perfect.
#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader
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Legally Blonde (2001) dir. Robert Luketic
#legally blonde#legallyblondeedit#filmedit#nessa007#usersugar#useraurore#userveronika#uservix#userclara#userdavid#filmgifs#userbbelcher#filmtvtoday#dailyflicks#uservik#tuseremmy#usertj#userallisyn#tuserellie#*#tuserrachel#userisaiah#userelio#trueloveistreacherous#userlauraj#userspicy#userlera#tusersadie#cinemapix#i keep listening to the musical and this part gets stuck in my head
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teeth. ☆ j.jk
⋆ TAGS — ghostface!jk, breaking in, TW: non-con to dub-con (oc does NOT consent verbally even if she does participate hence the dub-con), brief knife play, cunnilingus, degradation, misogyny(?), objectification, blow jobs, brief face/skull fucking, fuckin in the woods, unprotected sex, nasty talk by jk, possessive!jk, hints of kidnapping/captivity, fear play, facial, jk is lowkey yandere, iconic what’s your favorite scary movie scene but my style, DEAD DOVE, slight praises, ass n coochie worship cause jk is a ass man certified LMAO, cheerleader!oc, college setting
⋆ WORD COUNT — 4.2k
⋆ now playing: teeth - 5sos ⋆
“Color me your color, baby, color me your car, color me your color, darling, I know who you are,”
The music blared loudly, you hummed under your breath while lining over your lips with a dark lip pencil. The hour was getting closer and you realized you had to speed things up if you wanted to meet with your friends on time (you had been stuck in your cheer uniform ALL DAY). You moved around your room quickly while tossing articles of clothing onto your bed, no outfit in particular on your mind.
You uncapped the red lipstick and ran it over your lips slowly, filling in the blank spaces and blending the two colors to perfection. You decided a white long sleeve tucked into your mini jean skirt would serve as a perfect combo. If you were lucky, maybe that cute college senior Kim Seokjin would give you his jacket to wear. The idea has you smiling like a dummy.
Before you can slip out of your skirt the phone downstairs begins ringing loudly. You could have very well ignored it but you don’t feel like listening to your parents nag at you for not picking up the phone if it happens to be them. “Ugh, seriously.” You mutter and quickly run downstairs to the kitchen.
“Hello?” You softly sigh while twirling a piece of your hair around your finger.
“Hello,” some guy’s deep voice greets you, he says nothing else and you tilt your head in confusion muttering a soft ‘yes?’. “Who is this?”
Immediately you frown in confusion and balance the phone between your ear and shoulder, “Who are you trying to reach?” You pop a piece of chicken from your mom’s leftover casserole into your mouth.
“What number is this?”
“Uhh..what number are you trying to reach?”
“I don’t know.”
You hold back a deep sigh and check the time behind you on the clock, you really don’t have patience for this nonsense. Especially for some weirdo who’s either prank calling or just doesn’t know how to work a phone. “Then you have the wrong number,” you eat another piece of casserole, “it happens, take it easy though.” You hang up quickly before he can utter another word to you.
You had just set the phone down when it began to ring all over again, “Ugh…hello?” You stare at the decorative ceiling in annoyance, “Hello?” You say loudly when the other person doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.
“Why don’t you wanna talk to me? Just wanted to apologize, ‘s all.” He says with a teasing lilt, but it sounds more condescending than anything, “Just wanna..get to know you.”
You ignore the nasty little shiver you get down your spine when he talks to you like that, a deeper part of you is literally drooling over how this guy’s voice sounds but too bad he’s a weirdo though.. Your gut twists uncomfortably as your eyes dart to the side to look out the patio doors. “Okay..well you’re forgiven now, bye.” You go to hang up.
“Wait–if you tell me your name I’ll tell you mine.”
You can’t help your scoff, “Yeah, right. I don’t think so, why the hell would I give you my name? You sound like a total creep right now, you know that?” You huff and open your fridge up for a drink, “Besides, what’s your deal anyways? You keep calling and I’m obviously not who you’re looking for.” You complain while uncapping a bottle of water.
“Because,” he calmly starts, “I wanna know who I’m lookin’ at right now.. Pretty red lips and a tight little uniform on,” he draws out huskily.
You immediately go still, “W-What…how do you..?” you look around the empty kitchen and living room. “This isn’t funny.” You quickly head down the hall to the front door, making sure the locks are set before you go back to the living room and make sure the patio doors are locked as well.
“Never said it was babydoll.” He muses, “Though I do gotta admit, red looks spectacular on you, wonder if you got more around here in your drawers.” He trails off, the sound of drawers slamming close and another opening could be heard on the other side of the line.
You wait with a bated breath listening carefully, you slowly turn your head to look up at the ceiling. There’s a low thumping noise that follows the sounds you hear from the phone. Your eyes slip shut as you try to control the sob that’s about to come out of your throat, “What do you want from me?” You croak in a tiny voice.
“What’s your favorite scary movie sweetheart, hm?” His footsteps are heavy as he starts walking around upstairs in your room.
You blink your tears away and stumble towards the hallway to your only escape route: your dad’s office. “I-I don’t like any scary movies,” you whimper quietly, “p-please, I don’t wanna die.” You sniffle. You can hear him humming in the hallway upstairs now, causing you to duck into the office as silent as you can.
“That wasn’t my question. Time’s ticking babydoll, I’m not exactly a patient guy you know.”
“H-Halloween..!” You whisper-yell, “I like Halloween.”
“Which one?” He asks, you can hear him loud and clear at the bottom of the staircase, “Hm?”
You sniffle softly and back away, “Rob Zombie’s version,” you utter softly and hear him pause in his footsteps. He stands there for a few seconds before he slowly draws nearer and nearer. Your eyes squeeze shut as a terrified whimper escapes your lips, before you can plead with him the door slowly creaks open and a hooded figure stands in the doorway with the phone held up to his ear. You stare at him, the phone slipping from your trembling hand as it slams to the floor with a loud thud.
He tilts his head to the side and raises his gloved hand to wave at you. “Hey there sweetheart,” he purrs from under the mask.
You scream out in fear and knock over the desk chair, you’re lucky as hell your dad has a set of patio doors himself. You slip through the doors and run down the small hill, looking back and forth in time to see the hooded figure chasing after you.
The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping fill both sides of your ears. Adrenaline kicks in like never before and has you running the fastest you’ve ever moved in your entire life. If you can lose him in the woods you’ll make it to your neighbors’ in five minutes tops, might even get lucky if you detour to the main road but the hill to climb up will only slow you down.
“Don’t be like that babydoll!” He calls out from your left? Right? You don’t know where his voice is coming from, and quite frankly you’re too scared to look. You hear his heavy footsteps (now) directly behind you before a hand tangles itself in the back of your uniform top, gripping it tight as he stops you from going any further.
The force itself is enough to send you flying to the ground, knees scraping hard against a tree stump. You break your fall with your hands, crying out from the pain that erupts in both palms as tiny twigs and rocks dig into your soft skin. “Gotcha.” He chuckles and squats down to your level to admire your bruised form. You must have gave him a run for his money with how hard he’s breathing under the mask.
“P-Please!” You crawl backwards, back hitting the tree stump, “I don’t wanna die,” you pathetically cry, “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you let me go.” Call it cliche but it was worth a shot to plead with your killer? Stalker? You don’t know anymore.
He tilts his head, “Heard that one before, you’re not the first to beg so sweetly like that babydoll. Almost melts my poor little heart,” he coos mockingly, “but don’t stress your pretty little head over that, you’re not meant to use that brain of yours—meant to sit and look pretty for me.” He purrs and reaches out to run a gloved hand over your dirt stricken thighs.
You curl away and try to escape his touch, “Why are you doing this?” You whimper quietly, watching as his hand rubs circles over your bruised knees. A tremor runs down your spine as his leather gloves run over your shaking thighs, his touch feels scorching hot despite the cool material of his gloves pressing against your skin.
“Been watchin’ ya for a while,” he murmurs, “night n day—just imagining allll the different ways I could have you. Bet you’d look pretty with a mouth stuffed full of cock, wonder how pretty you’d look with cock deep inside your little cunt baby,” he trails off while giving your thigh a rough squeeze, “always did wonder how that pussy tastes.” You can practically picture the shit eating grin he must have under the mask.
You hate that his nasty words have a bubbling heat building in your lower stomach, it shouldn’t be that arousing to you yet here you were in the middle of the woods being fondled by your stalker while he talked about how much he wanted to fuck you. His voice even sounds hotter in person vs the phone.
“Penny for your thoughts?” He chuckles.
You land a harsh kick to his arm with a loud, “Get off of me!” You quickly turn over to stumble to your feet while he curses under his breath and stands to chase after you.
He’s not so gentle this time with the way he snatches you and slams you right up against the tree trunk, letting the chips and splinters bite into your skin unforgivingly. “Thought we were over this,” he growls, “was gonna treat you nice and sweet but by the looks of it you just wanna be tossed around like the filthy little slut you are,” he hisses in your ear while pressing you tight against the tree.
You whine loudly and push back against him in an effort to get him off of you, “Let me go—let go!” You growl angrily, “you’re a fucking psycho creep!” You grit your teeth while trying to turn to look directly at him.
He doesn’t shy away from hurting you to get you to become docile again. He pins both wrists behind your back in a tight grip, squeezing both of your hands until you hear a low threatening pop. A pained little whimper escapes your lip as he forces your head against the bark, “You gonna sit still like a good girl or do I have to tie you up?” He growls menacingly.
“I-I’ll be good!” You cry out as the pain starts to become unbearable.
“What was that?” He whispers in your ear, “Couldn’t hear ya.” He smirks.
A quiet sob slips from your lips as you slump over in defeat, “I-I’ll be a good girl.” You softly reply, too hung up on the pain to reply with the unbridled anger you feel right now. “Just please—let me go.” You sob.
He ignores your cries and instead brings out a rather intimidating looking hunting knife, it cuts into your skin almost right away with the slightest little touch. “Please no—” You immediately begin, thighs shifting as they slide against each other in an attempt to block him from either cutting or stabbing you. The only thing you achieve is the blade running into your thigh and slicing a small line downwards.
“None of that now babydoll,” he whispers while letting your wrists go and setting his big hand over your hip, “just sit still and look pretty for me yeah? Don’t need to think, just feel.” He breathes out as he guides the knife up your skirt, letting the sharp tip (which you noticed was slightly curved like a hook or something) hook under the side of your panties.
Your poor heart hammers in your chest as you begin to hyperventilate, “W-What are you gonna do to me?” The blade tugs at your panties, no doubt already piercing through the flimsy little material.
“Fuck.” You hear him whisper from behind, “You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy you know that?” His tongue clicks in annoyance as he suddenly yanks the knife down, a loud riiip following in suit, as well as your terrified scream/sob. “Gonna have a taste now babydoll, put your hands right there—yeahhh, good girl. Keep ‘em there baby,” he has you bending over with your legs spread wide apart and your hands over the tree, “ ‘s like a fuckin’ dream back here, fat little cunt n a nice ass.” He whistles while smacking his hand against your poor cheek.
You bite your lip as the cool air fans over your moist cunt, at this point in time you have long given up making any excuses as to why your pussy was drooling for this weirdo. Still didn’t mean you were less scared but you figured if you complied the faster things would go over. “Look at this slutty pussy, already leakin’ like a bitch in heat. Does a scary man like me chasing you through the woods get you goin’ sweetheart? Maybe you’re a little more fucked than I thought.” He chuckles.
There’s a brief pause and you wonder what he’s doing back there, so you turn your head to look at him when you gasp softly. He has the mask thrown off to the side, his face in all his glory—messy black hair and a lip ring with an array of piercings on his ears— he sits there with a shit eating grin, “Guess the cat’s out the bag huh?” You eye him with distaste before turning back around, you had at least hoped he was ugly or something.
“God,” he groans, “can’t get over this ass,” he mutters to himself while smacking both cheeks and pulling them apart to expose both of your holes to him, “wanna see it wrapped ‘round my cock, gonna have you squirting and messy babydoll. Might even have to get you on your knees to clean up your mess,” he whispers as his hot breath fans over your pussy lips, “you’re gonna be lookin’ at me with those sweet little eyes of yours too, gonna bust my load all over that pretty face of yours.” His tongue dips between your soft folds, licking from your winking hole down to your swollen little clit hiding under its hood.
Your eyes squeeze shut as his hands steady you by the hips, his face is practically smushed against your cunt as he slobbers over it with his greedy tongue. He sucks on your inner folds, getting every nook and cranny as he slurps up the mess he leaves behind before lapping over your clit with his tongue. Your thighs shake a little, you’ve never had anyone this eager to eat your cunt out like this. He’s a fucking menace and you hate how good he is at this.
“Fuck,” he pants softly, “can’t get enough baby, could eat this pussy for days.” He all but moans while latching on to your clit.
A shocked cry leaves your lips, you dig your nails into the tree bark and hold on tightly as your swollen bud throbs in his mouth. He doesn’t let up, suckling on your clit like a lollipop with just the right amount of pressure around the bud. A new wave of slick gushes from your untouched hole, loud mewls and whines leaving you as you subtly rut back against his face. It’s pure heaven.
He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls back to harshly spit on your cunt, “There you go, get nice n wet for me babydoll.” His hot breath fans over your empty little hole, “Good girl.”
You shouldn’t like the way he’s talking to you, but something about him calling you that has a delirious little whimper leaving you. He dips his tongue into your pussy, the sensation definitely welcomed as you sigh in bliss. His tongue wiggles around and curls upwards to brush over your sensitive walls in a flicking motion.
He jiggles your ass in both hands, moaning at the sight of the fat slipping through his fingers from his tight grip. He flicks his tongue back and forth over your swollen bud, you nearly double over as his tongue traces letters on your clit. “W-Wait,” you bite your lip as your eyes shut and you reach behind you to tangle your hand in his hair.
You freeze when you realize what you’re doing, but instead of getting angry with you he leans into your touch with a low moan. Clearly he loves it so you keep your hand in his hair, occasionally pulling just a tiny bit. When he pulls back to catch his breath, audibly gulping as he sits back on his haunches, “Turn around.” He says breathlessly.
From behind you can hear him shuffling around, the sounds of a belt being unbuckled fills your ears. “On your knees babydoll,” he rasps out while fisting his cock, sliding his thumb over the mess of precum he’s made at the tip of his cock. He’s watching you with dark lust filled eyes as you slowly fall to your knees in front of him, eye contact never wavering.
“Shit—when you look like that you make it harder for me to hold back.” He groans while licking his lip, “Exactly how I imagined you’d look.” He purrs as he brings the head of his cock to smother his precum over them, “Stick your tongue out for me baby—there you go, just like that.” He grins softly.
You lay your tongue flat under his fat cock, delighting in the delicious weight over your tongue. You can’t help but flick the tip of your tongue upwards causing it to brush over a throbbing vein. He releases a quiet hiss, fisting the shaft as he roughly slaps it against your tongue in repeated taps.
“Will you look at that, ‘nother little filthy slut we got here, how many other cocks you sucked huh?” He pushes into your mouth and holds the back of your head with one hand tightly fisted in your hair. You gag around his cock and fruitlessly claw at his thighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t take it? Poor baby can’t handle having a cock stuffed down her throat? Pathetic little thing you are, can’t even do what you were made for,” he rasps out while rolling his hips against your face.
His balls press snug against your chin as spit and drool dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your tears run freely no doubt ruining your makeup for the night, you probably look a hot mess right now. Your stalker moans and pants freely above you, he doesn’t bother hiding how good he feels right now as his cock twitches occasionally. You really lose it when he forces your head down and keeps you still, pelvis pressed right up against your nose as he rolls his hips in quick grinds.
“Oh shit,” he breathes out, “feels so fuckin’ good babydoll, knew you were the one when I first saw you.” He whispers out while slipping his cock out of your mouth, relishing in the gasping noises you make, “Gonna make you into my little cock sleeve, don’t need you doin’ anything else..belong with me right on my cock.” He shoves himself back into your mouth and begins fucking into your throat roughly. You cry and gurgle while weakly slapping your hands over his thighs. He doesn’t let up and only fucks your throat more eagerly.
“Fuck baby, c’mere,” he yanks you off his cock and brings you up to him.
He doesn’t waste time bending you back over the three and shoving his fat cock into you. You let out a loud cry and dig your nails into the tree from the pressure and slight twinge of pain from the size of his girthy cock. It sits nice and snug against your walls, curved slightly upwards to press into your g-spot, not quite hitting it but brushing over it.
“Oh fuck,” you whisper out as your toes curl from inside your shoes.
When a couple more seconds pass of him just idly rocking into you, he pulls all the way out until only the head remains before slamming back in with a loud slap. You jolt in pleasure as a tiny scream escapes, he doesn’t let up and keeps the same harsh pace he started with. His cock punches deep into your pussy, poking at your cervix painfully as you yelp out in pain between your moans.
“Fucking hell,” he moans out while moving his hands from your hips to your bouncing tits, “got a nice little pussy n a pair of pretty tits just for me right sweetheart?” He slaps one of your tits before taking your pebbled little nipple between his fingers and meanly pinching it.
“Mm!” You arch your back and try to twist away from his bruising grip. He manages to grip your other tit and knead it in his big hand.
Loud squelching noises fill the space around you in the woods, some of your slick even drips down onto the ground with tiny wet splats. The sound is filthy and has your face burning up in embarrassment as you hide in your hands with low whimpers and whiny moans. He suddenly changes the angle and begins grinding his fat cock right up against your g-spot, pressing insistently as he hits it over and over again.
“Oh you like it there don’t you sweetheart,” he grins while rolling his hips in slow circles, “go on then, fuck yourself on my cock like the little whore you are. Get that pussy nice and soaked for me.” He growls quietly in your ear while pinching your nipples once more.
A quiet squeal erupts from your throat, you shakily manage to knock your hips into his in a sloppy pace. “Please,” you slur out as your eyes slip shut, “c-can’t do it,” your pace is nowhere near the same as before.
“Can’t what?” He moves one hand down between your thighs, “Hm?”
You press your forehead against the tree bark in defeat, sobbing quietly as you wiggle your hips side to side, “ ‘s not the same, need you to f-fuck me.” You shamefully admit.
“Like this?” He slaps his hips upwards, “Or like this sweetheart?” He purrs and begins plowing into your drenched pussy, stuffing his cock deep inside with every thrust.
You throw your head back with a loud moan, “Yes, yes!” More drool begins slipping from your chin as you part your legs a bit wider and arch your back.
He swears at you from under his breath while rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. The sounds of skin slapping against skin begin louder, his balls collide with your swollen puffy folds and your ass ripples from his pelvis from his harsh thrusts. “Little fucking slut,” he grits out through his harsh punishing thrusts, “fuckin’ mine you hear that? So help me you ever think of looking at someone else I’ll fuckin gut them like a fish n fuck you over their dead body.” He hisses, “Better yet covered in their blood.” He roughly smacks your clit.
You mewl loudly and go still, your pussy pulses like crazy as you feel your orgasm hit you at full force. You cum with your clit trapped between his fingers and his cock stuffed deep. The orgasm is so strong it knocks you off your feet as you wobble and shake like a newborn lamb. “P-Please,” you sob out.
“On your knees,” he growls while slipping from your drenched cunt, “fuckin’ look at me.” He aims his cock at your face and strokes himself with loud slick noises. You stare up at him with a dazed expression, too fucked out to reply. He cums with a low moan, making sure to coat your lips and face with his cum as he taps the head against your cheek, “Fuck…” He sighs in bliss while lazily flicking his wrist.
You blink slowly and the last thing you see is him picking his knife back up.
+
Jungkook hums under his breath while he lazily digs through his bowl of popcorn, he’s been switching channels for a couple of minutes now. Nothing good is ever on these days, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head while flicking through the channels.
“Oh,” his face lights up in joy, “baby come look at this,” he grins and turns the volume up all the way high, “found somethin’ perfect for movie night.” He turns to look behind him, eyes wild and filled with sadistic joy.
“She was last seen Friday in the evening by her parents who were only going a few towns over to visit family. Her friends have all stated she was supposed to be meeting them that night but never showed, one even said they had spoken to her hours prior about their plans to meet. They said she wasn’t acting suspicious or anything—”
A muffled sob erupts, the sound of a cage rattling heard next as Jungkook slowly turns to look at your cowering form. You look so adorable all curled up in the cage like that, mascara streaking and lips wiped red from your lipstick. “Don’t like that movie?” He pouts, “Pity.” He turns back around and replays the entire missing persons ad.
TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @gukiebaby @babycandy111
[halloween m.list]
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itch — charles leclerc
charles leclerc x you (femreader) | 2.9k
summary – spotting charles' weight session in your home gym. that's it.
warnings – 18+ (sex, course language)
a//n – had to re-upload because the tags glitched out but here's the second fic in the #monzamash special x
The soft, distant thrum of music playing was the only sound travelling through your otherwise peaceful home. You had set yourself up for a quiet afternoon with a glass of iced tea, catching up on work that you’d missed while travelling to a couple of races, watching your boyfriend do his thing. Charles always gave you the VIP treatment, making sure your time away from your life was worth it and of course it was. But nothing could beat the summer break at home in Monaco, with him by your side for a change.
Just as you settled into the couch, an almost finished lemon popsicle in hand and your laptop steadied on your lap, you heard your name being called from the other end of the house. The voice echoing through the hallway belonged to Charles and there was a part of you that wanted to pretend like you hadn't heard him, feeling way too comfy and in the zone to get up again if it wasn’t important.
That was until you heard your name again, a little louder this time and you knew that you couldn’t ignore him. Your man was persistent and even though you loved your time with him during the break and over the off-season, it did become apparent that when he was home, he always wanted you close by to talk to. Like he was trying to make up for lost time but he forgot that even though he had time off, your work life continued much to your dismay.
But you were both working on finding the right balance.
"Where are you?" You shouted back and pulled yourself out of your spot on the couch, on a mission to track down your needy but ridiculously cute boyfriend.
You followed the music, figuring that he must’ve been in the home gym he’d set up a couple of winters ago. The new Coldplay album was playing on the sound system, echoing off the mirrors that lined the otherwise blank walls. It was a messy sight as you walked in – yoga mats that you’d left behind sprawled out on the ground while Charles sat hunched over, scrolling on his phone with his legs hanging over each side of the bench press that was sitting in the middle of the naturally lit room.
He was quick to notice your presence in the door way and chucked his phone onto one of the many towels neatly folded up on the shelf behind him, "Could you spot me, please? Because I nearly killed myself with this weight."
You swear you were listening but you couldn’t help but take a second to drink in his appearance, suddenly feeling a hot flush wash over your chest. He was sans shirt and glistening with sweat, which would’ve been enough to fuel your desires but the tight short shorts and the hair sticking to his forehead was what really got the endorphins running. And as much as you could’ve stared at him for the rest of your days, the last thing you wanted was for Charles to notice how flustered you were by his appearance.
"If that thing is going to fall on your face, there's no way my twig arms are going to stop it," You scoffed, eyeing at the weights behind his head with concern.
"You just have to push it off me so it doesn't crush my chest," He shrugged with a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, far too nonchalantly for your liking.
"Oh right – just casually save my boyfriend from being crushed to death. Cool…" You sarcastically retorted while Charles wiped his hands on his shorts and scooted underneath the bar, back squeaking as it stuck to the faux leather.
"Just come and stand behind my head, baby," He sweetly directed and you sighed softly, knowing that he was going to keep lifting the stupid thing anyway and you would much rather be there if anything did happen.
So you shuffled around to where he’d settled himself on the bench, feet and shoulders with the part, ready to save the day if you needed to. Well, kind of ready because the view from where you were standing was not only magnificent but wildly distracting.
“Atta girl.”
Charles’ strong hands gripped the bar and lifted it carefully off the stand, flickering his eyes to each side and making sure they were securely off before bringing it down towards his tensed chest. The grunts that left his throat as the muscles and veins in his arms bulged under his taut skin sounded exactly like the noises he was breathing in your ear last night as he fucked you into the next dimension, the sound immediately transporting you back to the way his hands felt on your supple skin.
His tight chest puffed out in time with his sharp hips that bucked off the bench with each rep and the groans leaving his lips were making it difficult to keep an eye on the job, even though a part of you wondered whether this was all a ploy to get you in here and see this glorified soft core in session. Knowing Charles, it was almost definitely the latter.
"Okay two more," He huffed out, lifting the bar up and down a couple more times, concentration stitched into his sticky forehead.
The grunts got louder the closer he was to finishing the set, again casting your mind back to your night between the sheets, before he slowly pushed it up towards the stand and let your fingers hook around the bar, just in case it slipped out of his slick hands. Because every part of his body was perspiring – his biceps, thighs, neck, chest, the bridge of his nose that was achingly close to your core was glistening and so were you, from doing absolutely nothing. Dripping.
Charles sat up with a groan and took a couple of deep breaths, blood pumping through his veins as you watched the muscles on his rippling back contract, “You’re soaked – let me grab you a towel.”
This was your chance to try and shake the daze you were in. It was pathetic the way he wound you up without even knowing, hypnotising you with something as innocent as a workout. Maybe it was because you had been blissfully enjoying each other’s touch the second he dropped his luggage in the doorway, jumping into bed and hardly leaving it ever since.
Or because he was the sexiest creature you’d ever seen and seeing him gleaming with sweat and groaning like an animal was a massive turn on for you. Either way you were soaking after his performance, desperate to have those sounds breathing down your neck as soon as humanely possible.
He graciously took the towel you were offering with a wicked smile, wiping his flushed face and roughly drying his hair before spinning around 90 degrees on the bench, gazing up at you with the same smile but now with that devious sparkle in his eye that always had you hook, line and sinker.
"Merci."
It rolled off his tongue too perfectly and you couldn’t control the eye roll, knowing how much he loved teasing you in French. He also loved how quickly he could get you naked when he spoke in his native tongue, the mischievous smirk and his Monegasque charm leaving you spellbound.
"Any time," You sang in reply, attempting to leave the room before you combusted on sight but you were stopped by a fistful of fingers grasping the hem of your black cotton shorts.
Charles gently pulled you back, a hole already burnt into the material from his eyes zeroing in on your curves. He loved every inch of you, worshipped the air you breathed and pinched himself daily that you’d stuck around with his crazy stupid schedule and maniacal whims. God, he adored you and ached at how effortlessly beautiful you looked in your matching crop top and shorts, waltzing around the home you had built together.
And he couldn’t hide the way he felt when you looked around, bottom lip clamped loosely between his front teeth, chewing the inside of his cheek and admiring how fucking lucky he was to have such a beautiful creature in his grasp. Heaven sent.
"You look very cute today."
He was smitten; holding your hips in place as you slung your arms around his shoulders. His hands subconsciously trailed down to the back of your thighs and teased the thin hem on your shorts, fingertips melting into the skin like butter as he watched your gorgeously bright eyes narrow.
"I'm not wearing a bra just for you," You flirted, nudging closer to his chest and needing more than just the heat from his hands on your skin.
"I can see that," He hummed matter-of-factly as he gazed over the sheer top that had been driving him crazy all day, adoring the way your nipples hardened at his stare before pressing a peck to the bottom of your sternum.
Charles continued trailing soft kisses across your stomach as you brought your hands to his tousled brown hair, trawling your fingertips through the damp locks and massaging his scalp. A soft, barely audible whimper slipped from his lips as he tilted his head back and caught your eyes, succumbing to the drowsiness and closing them for a quiet moment.
"That feels so nice."
He practically whispered before opening his eyes and pulling you closer with his hands that were now hidden under your loose top, fingertips following the arch of your spine as you leaned down and captured his soft lips. He tasted salty, tongue deliciously warm as you explored his mouth with your own. You loved the way he inhaled you and swallowed the moans he was causing. The intimacy you shared with him never seized to make you weak in the knees, putty in his hands.
"I wanna watch you fuck me in this mirror."
Your words were muttered against his pursed lips and Charles’ eyes were wider than a flying saucer when you pulled back ever so slightly, noses bumping together from how close you still were. He huffed out a soft laugh as you nodded towards the mirrors lining the walls around you both, eyeing your reflection beside him.
"Really?" He asked incredulously, a humorous expression ascending onto his blushing cheeks as you returned the raised brow, confused by his question.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" You scoffed, the deadpan look never faltering from your face and causing his goofy smile to fall; finally realising you were being serious.
"Well... no you don't but... Do you want me to do you against the mirror or on here?" Charles asked frowning down at the bench before bouncing up and down on it to make sure it was sturdy enough for your spontaneous demand.
"I don't really care," You almost moaned, smoothing your hands across his strong chest and over his tense shoulders, leaning down and pressing your lips to his damp neck again.
"I don't wanna risk breaking this because it was the last one at the shop so I guess we could do it against the mirrors…”
The hesitation in his voice caused your brows to furrow in disappointment and your hands to drop from his shoulders as you stood up straight, looking down at your boyfriend with a frown.
"Jeez, don't get too excited about it."
The sarcasm was dripping from your tone as Charles shook his head fervently, quickly reaching out to pull you back. All he could think about daily was making love to you in different places in the house and shockingly, the home gym hadn’t been ticked off the list but god, did he want to. He was already twitching thinking about it, the tightness of his shorts already cutting off circulation to his legs.
"No, no. Baby, look at you – I am so excited but you caught me off guard and I was just trying to think… what’s the word? Logically… Logistically…”
"It’s logistically but honey – you called me in here and made me watch you gyrating and make sex noises, and then you told me I look cute and now you're caught off guard that I want to have sex with you?... Are you okay?" You joked, pressing the back of your hand against Charles’ sticky forehead, pretending to check if he had a temperature or if he even had a pulse at all.
He laughed, borderline giggled and shook his head, "Well, when you say it like that, it makes sense. I just didn't think you'd get turned on over that."
You couldn't help but laugh in his face at his assumption, "You're shirtless and sweaty and wearing shorts that are so tight that I can see your dick... There's no way you didn't think this would get me going."
You wagged your finger up and down his body and Charles simply shrugged, hardening by the second, "It didn't even cross my mind but if it's getting your going then let's fucking go!"
Charles slapped his hands down on his lap and immediately reached for the drawstring on your shorts. “These are definitely coming off…” He murmured, eyes narrowed in concentration as he slid them down your legs.
"I promise if we break the bench, I will personally call every single shop in Monaco and replace it.”
You stepped out of the cotton material around your ankles, grasping Charles’ shoulders for balance as he tugged on his own shorts; finally liberating himself of the constriction caused by his own unadulterated arousal. He had no control when it came to you.
"Jeez, you are horny," Charles teased as you climbed on top of him; his tactile hands guiding your knees to each side of his thighs with a devilish grin.
He was in his element with you on top of him; he had the perfect view of his girl and he could feel how ready you were for him when you rested on his thigh, your slickness cool against his soft skin. He loved how dialled in you were to his touch, every little wince or mumble making his heart pound harder in his chest – blood rushing to his dick every time you whispered in his ear.
But he knew that you knew how much he craved having you like this so of course he teased you in spirited retaliation, like any man desperately in love does to the one he adores the most.
“You know that if you ever need to get some inspiration, you can always come in and watch me work out, baby. You like it a lot, huh?”
"I do and I intend to enjoy this so shut up."
Now he was really hard, worked up beyond his limits.
As a distraction from his edge, he went back to what he did best – kissing you. You were both as pent up as each other, embarrassingly desperate for two people who had been going at it hammer and tong all weekend but you couldn’t get enough. It wasn’t until the firm grip on your hips tightened even more that you finally felt how enthusiastic he was about fucking you in his gym.
"You taste like lemons," Charles mumbled as your tongues collided.
You couldn’t mask the smirk on your lips as he kissed you again, reaching down and massaging him over his boxer briefs. You pulled away slightly from the kiss, ghosting his swollen lips as you softly stroked him in your hand.
"I bet if you'd seen me eating that popsicle, you would've felt the same way as I did watching you lift those stupid weights," and Charles chuckled at your annoyingly accurate theory, his warm breath fanning over my face before seizing your lips again, wiping that smirk on your sweet lips.
"I probably wouldn’t have lasted, let's be absolutely honest, ma belle," He whispered back with a knowing smile, completely unashamed to be enamoured by the woman slowly stoking him, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure surging through his body.
“Maybe next time, sweetheart.”
Charles simply smiled, eyes barely open as he watched your bodies connecting in the most intimate way, tongue quickly swiping across his bottom lip in preparation for your kiss. As you gripped him tight in your hand and bottomed out on his achingly hard cock, you pressed your lips to his, forced to swallow the loud moan falling from your lips.
l' attente, you whimpered before a sharp inhale caused Charles’ eyes to shoot up to your closed ones, searching your face for any pain.
"You good?" He asked softly but swiftly with his hands firmly placed on the outside of your thighs, gently holding you in place until you have him the okay to move his hips.
"So good," You breathed, tilting your neck back and arching your spine to change the angle a little, feeling that sweet spot deep inside you being brushed ever so gently, “You feel amazing right there.”
Once you both hit that toe curling, achingly good rhythm that you had perfected together, Charles rested his chin on your shoulder and watched how mind-numbingly hot you looked riding him in the mirror, his hands firmly grabbing your ass and spreading you out like a meal he was desperate to devour.
"My god..." He growled as you looked down and followed his eye line, biting your puffy bottom lip when you realised he was watching himself disappear inside you, every inch taken care of. And you too, were groaning at the sight.
“You look gorgeous riding my dick, baby.”
"We look sexy," You were quick to correct, breathless from both the sight of Charles’ large, veiny hands leaving prints on your backside and his relentlessness to have you losing your goddamned mind on his dick.
Both had you twisted in knots, the pit in your stomach tightening with every thrust and all you could do was thank whoever had invented weight training because boy, were you reaping the benefits now. Sex in your home gym – tick.
+ + +
parlez-vous français? (the sequel to itch)
masterlist | askbox
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc smut#f1 smut#formula 1#monzamashmasterlist#the monzamash special#charles leclerc x reader#f1 one shot
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adhd study tips.
by a stem student with adhd.
disclaimer!!! I’m by no means an expert in mental health or adhd but I do happen to have it. My intention with this post is to help others with adhd get more comfortable with studying so the process will be smoother for them!! At the end of the day, despite having the same disorder our brains will still work differently so do keep in mind that these may or may not help you, but are something you can try out if you’re stuck on not being able to study efficiently.
here’s some adhd study affirmations + tips on straying from discouragement if you’re experiencing burnout.
(And here’s part 2 of adhd study tips.)
I’ll start this off by listing more commonly known study tips that also work well with adhd.
change up your environment every now and then. we seek novelty even more than neurotypical people already do so switching it up will definitely help in our studies, especially if the place is well lit!
try some questions of the topic you’re trying to learn even when you know nothing about it. both neurotypical and neurodivergent brains are hardwired to remember things when we are proven wrong, and this is a great way of utilizing this neurological response!
take walks, exercise or stretch during your breaks. this tip is very effective at satiating our hyperactivity and also keeps us energized throughout our study session.
keep a notebook for your brain dump / ideas. we always either think of really stupid things or the most brilliant ideas in the middle of our study sessions and it almost always leads to distraction, but writing it down somewhere lets your brain know that the idea isn’t going anywhere and you can continue studying.
now, onto the tips that have personally helped with my adhd (and I haven’t seen many others talk about.)
alternate between various study plans, routines, schedules and techniques and always be open to finding more of them. majority of the time people always say ‘have a routine that works for you and stick with it’ but our adhd brains get bored very quickly, especially when it comes to repeated routines and schedules. I personally never stick to the same routine or plan more than three days in a row and sometimes I even make a plan on the spot and I’ve been more productive doing that than when I had only one or two study routines to switch between.
do not time yourself at the very beginning. Instead, focus on something in your studies you’re interested in and start there. what do I mean by this? well, since starting is always the hardest, when we begin our very first pomodoro we might find ourselves spending the first 25 minutes zoning out on a textbook just to get that ‘study time’ in even though you didn’t actually learn or recall anything. So to combat this, begin with something you’re genuinely curious about, or ask a question you can’t help but wonder the answer to. Once you find the answer, you might find you’re more in the zone and can continue from there. If not, take a short break and begin the pomodoros afterwards.
if you’re zoning out while reading up on a topic, try walking around while reading, looking at different sources on it or do some questions on that topic. again, novelty always gets us every time. sometimes the problem may be that the explanation in front of you isn’t making sense in your head and other sources may phrase things in a way that is better for your understanding. perhaps the problem is that you’re staying too still and you need to satisfy the hyperactive part of your adhd. or maybe your brain subconsciously believes that they already know what needs to be known about this topic, and there’s no better way to test that by trying out some questions on it.
switch between lyrical and non-lyrical music playlists, but make sure the lyrical music inspires you to excel. this definitely won’t apply to a lot of people but I found that when I constantly listened to piano, lo-fi or just non-lyrical music while studying in general, it actually promoted my likelihood of zoning out. but recently I found a playlist I deeply resonated with that was related to my studies called, ‘pov : a try-hard mid student who wants to ace everything’ and because I related very deeply with both the title and the lyrics of the songs, I was actively being encouraged to study as I was studying. but I also recognize when I really need to think in certain areas and that’s when I switch back to the non-lyrical music.
this is all I have as of right now but please do lmk if you guys want more of these!! I really wanna help out as much people as possible because my studies suffered greatly due to both my adhd and my late diagnosis of it and I’d love to help out others going through something similar.
#stem#science#study tips#study#study hard#studyblr#studyinspo#study motivation#studystudystudy#studygram#study guide#study gram#adhd problems#adhd#actually adhd#adhd stuff#adhd things#adhd tips#living with adhd#adhd study tips#adhd student#adhd struggles
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okay i've seen a few Just Some Guy!danny aus and they've consumed my brain so here you go, it's under the cut, you're welcome and thank you (ps it also combines part of a prompty type thing i saw the other day, props if you know it)
Danny was not entirely sure how he got here.
He was just walking along, bopping to some great interdimensional tunes, eating his tuna fish sandwich - with ectoplasm and pickles, of course - when KABLOW there's this big ole tightie-whities-on-the-outside wearing guy.
Now, Danny's not great at keeping up with the times, but he's pretty sure this is that Superman dude.
Said SuperDude was staring at his headphones and making vague "hey take them out pls so can converse" gestures, so naturally Danny pops the Interdimensional Walkman out of his chest to pause his wicked music, and then puts the whole kit and kaboodle back behind his rib cage.
"What's up? Did you need help or something? I mean, I'm pretty solidly retired but I guess if it's super important I can-"
SuperGuy abruptly stopped staring and started speaking, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"
Ohhhhh, Danny totally gets it now.
"Oh, dude, I gotchu. You want me to hook you up, right? Don't even worry about it, I know a guy who'll give you one a these babies for free! You're Kryptonian, right? Yeah, I totally get it, you wanna listen to some music from your home planet, no problemo my newly-minted friend, give me, like, ten seconds-"
And so Danny tore open a neat little portal and stuck his head through it, asking Technus to pretty please give him another Interdimensional Walkman, no he didn't even break this one-! He ran into a Kryptonian who heard him rockin out and wanted to know where he got the beats, and he'd told them that he could hook them up! C'mon Technus, you can't let them down! They're all lonely! They want to learn about their culture!
-----------------------------------------
Clark has no idea what's happening.
He had been searching for this ear-splitting, headache-inducing noise, and had come across a guy dancing down the sidewalk.
Not unusual, right?
Except that the terrible noise was coming from this man's - kid's?? He can't quite tell how old he is - headphones!
Of course, he didn't want to be rude, so he politely gestured for the man to remove the headphones. The man then proceeded to reach into his chest and pull out some kind of - Walkman?? Do people still use Walkmans?
Clark was naturally concerned, so he activated a spot of x-ray vision, just to see what's going on in there, and was promptly horrified.
This man was using his chest cavity as a storage compartment!
Two wallets, a key ring, a lunch box, some sort of odd thermos, bits and bobs of random parts and tools were all tangled around - and occasionally in - this guy's organs!
Suddenly, Clark realized that he'd been staring for a while, and the man was now talking. Something about coming out of retirement to help, oh dear, Ma would knock him around the head if he kept being so rude, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"
And now he was speaking rapidly, something about music from Krypton? Clark's pretty sure that not a whole lot survived the explosion, and he'd be pretty surprised if this guy just happened to have-
A vaguely Lazarus colored portal??
What in the world-
-----------------------------------------
"Thanks Technus! You're the best! I owe you one non evil scheme related favour!"
Danny zips up the portal and turns around, fiddling with the tapes and Walkman in his hands as he goes.
"Here you go! I wasn't entirely sure what genre you'd want, I don't really listen to a whole lot of Kryptonian stuff to be honest, it's usually too heavy on the vocal for me- not that vocals aren't great! But I want a whole band experience, yaknow? I'm not really looking for individual singers. Anyway, I just had him go for a couple songs of each major genre, but if you want something different you can totally-"
"Wait, hold on, you're telling me that there's Kryptonian music on those tapes? Playable by that Walkman?"
"Uh, well, yeah. Isn't that why you tracked me down? And, technically, I mean, they're ectoplasmic tapes and an Interdimensional Walkman, so. Hey, did you know that kryptonite is actually super-condensed ectoplasm? And since it's filled with the anguish and suffering and fear and whatnot of your entire home planet dying, it only negatively affects your species! Pretty cool right? Oh, shit, was that insensitive, I really didn't mean to be, I just thought that maybe you'd want to- ACK!"
Danny was not expecting SuperMuscles to get so close. He thrust out the IW and tapes and dropped them into SuperFellow's hands, "Listen, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be at a o-chem study group right now and they're totally gonna be pissed. Hit me up if you want a different tape."
And the proceeded to run in the opposite direction, duck into an alley and turn invisible, and fly over to the cafe his study group was in.
"Listen, I know I'm late but you'll never believe why-"
#that's it i'm done#fair warning- i am not a superman expert and the characterization is prolly wrong#but uh yeah#brain worms#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc#dc x dp#dc#dc comics#superman#danny fenton#he's Just Some Guy#that's how he sees himself#and how the people who know him see him#like yeah he's a little odd#but so are most people
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pudding
Diavolo x MC (GN pronouns / MC has a vagina)
a/n: I wrote most of this shortly after reading the lunatic pudding devilgram in the OG!OM app. in fact I distinctly remember getting stuck on the sex part bc i didn't really write smut yet... look at how far I've come lmao <- exclusively writes smut now
tw: breeding kink, aphrodisiac, size kink (Diavolo's big cock once again), mating press, rough sex, Diavolo goes a lil feral, a little bit of nipple play, fingering, oral (MC receiving)
-
The adrenaline from running from demons all afternoon wore off as you and Diavolo settled in his room. He’d locked the door behind himself before turning around to face you.
"That was quite the chase." He said, keeping his distance from you now that you were in private together.
"I can't believe how potent one bite of lunatic pudding was." You responded, shaking a little. You looked at Diavolo, remembering he's not immune. "What about you, not feeling very romantic?" You smirked.
Diavolo chuckled. "Don't test me. I'm at my limits of self restraint." He smiled nervously. He fidgeted a moment, realizing he needed to protect you until the effects wore off. Even across the room your scent became harder to resist with every passing second. And he still had 23 hours to go.
"Thank you, Lord Diavolo." You took a seat on his couch.
"It's no trouble at all." Diavolo responded, stepping closer to you. You watched him carefully, there was something different about him, as if the royal facade was gone and he was himself. Come to think of it, this was the first time you were alone with him. "I need to freshen up- don't hesitate to call if anything happens." Diavolo stepped into the master bathroom as you nodded back to him.
23 more hours. It was all you could think about. Your secret crush on the prince had your heart racing at the possibilities. What were you going to do for 23 hours in Diavolo's bedroom…? You knew exactly what was on his mind. It was on yours too, if you were being honest, but you didn’t want him to do anything he would regret with you. So, you busied yourself thinking of something to distract him.
"Want to listen to music?" You smiled, pulling him out of his dark fantasies. "If you close your eyes maybe it'll keep your mind off- uh…"
Meanwhile, Diavolo splashed water on his face. His thoughts raced as he looked at himself in the mirror. I have to control myself. I can’t succumb to my desires. How would it look if I took advantage of an exchange student? He shook his head as if that would cure his sinful thoughts and exited the bathroom.
His resolve shattered the moment he saw you again, his mind stuck on how easy it would be to overpower you, a mere human.
He chuckled at your hesitation. "The intense attraction I have for you?" He said, sitting on one of the accent chairs on either side of the couch. Diavolo had his doubts about your plan, mostly because it was your intoxicating scent that was giving him the most trouble.
Your face felt flush. "Uh, yeah…" you laughed nervously. "I'll play something. Stay there."
"I'm not one of those brothers you can command, you know." He smiled, watching you move as you flipped through his vinyls. "But if you wanted to-" he caught himself and stopped, blush dusting his cheeks. You looked back at him, catching his golden eyes for a moment before he looked away.
"If I wanted to… what?" You gave him a coy smile before turning back to the records. You were surprised to find your favorite musician in his collection and put it on the player.
"Ignore me, that was the pudding…" he said, still blushing as the record began to play.
"Close your eyes." You commanded, testing his unfinished words. He looked at you a moment before closing his eyes with a soft smile.
"I'm not doing this because you told me to." Diavolo clarified. "I'm doing this because I want to know if it helps." He remained frozen in his seat.
You quietly walked closer to him and admired the handsome demon. Your eyes trailed from his jawline down his neck. His well tailored uniform left a lot to your imagination but you had plenty of time to undress him with your eyes. 23 hours, to be exact. You leaned on the side of the couch closest to Diavolo as you studied his strong hands. You could practically feel them running up and down your body.
As the first song ended, Diavolo's eyes slowly opened and caught you looking at him. "I thought you came closer." He had a darker intensity to him. "I hope you weren't thinking about trying anything."
"Why, were you?" You shot back at him with a grin, matching his intensity.
He smiled and buried his face in his hand. "Of course I was. I still am." His face remained in his palm. The record continued to play as the two of you paused, afraid to say what was on your minds.
"What if…" you hesitated, knowing this was not something you could take back after saying it. "What if… I want you to try something?" Diavolo's fingers clawed into his hair, keeping his face hidden.
When he didn’t respond, you spoke again. “Diavolo… I… have a crush on you.” He chuckled before a brief pause, the weight of your words heavy in the air.
"The truth is…" he began, "I had trouble resisting you without the pudding." Heat rushed to your face as he peeked at you through his fingers. You stared at each other with desire. “You’re making this very hard for me…”
Diavolo took a deep breath. His mind was screaming at him to fuck you. He knew he could overpower you, it was all he could think about. And now, it seemed that was exactly what you wanted. But he couldn’t shake the thought of how improper it would be. He stood and turned to walk to the balcony for some fresh air, stopped by your hand catching his wrist.
He froze. He wanted you so bad. There was no telling how much of it was his natural attraction to you and how much was the pudding’s effect, but Diavolo’s thoughts were consumed with you. How he wanted his hands on your body. His teeth on your skin. And god, what he would give to fill you with his cum so thoroughly that you’d carry his heir…
These thoughts had occurred to him in passing, he’d even jerked off to the idea before but this was so much different. He could normally distract himself, but everything that came to mind was you. He needed to fuck you. Maybe that was the answer- maybe it would dull the pudding’s effect.
He felt his eyes darken with desire, desperately attempting to calm himself down.
The two of you were frozen there for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, his fingers loosened and slowly intertwined with yours. He turned around, you could see the darkness in his champagne eyes. He looked demonic. He suddenly pulled you toward him until your faces were inches from each other. His free hand trailed up your arm at a glacial pace. It gave you goosebumps. Finally, it settled on your cheek.
"Is it ok if I stop restraining myself?" He whispered, lips brushing against yours as he waited for a response. You could tell his muscles were tense, like this gentleness was taking all of his self control to maintain.
"... yes-" you barely had time to finish saying the word before his lips crashed into yours. He was ravenous. His tongue grazed your lips and you parted them, allowing him to explore your mouth. It was electric. He dropped your hand and suddenly pulled you tightly against him by the hips, his other hand remaining on your jaw. He deepened the kiss and you lost yourself in a haze of desire, hands gripping his uniform.
He slowed his movements and hesitated before pulling away. His fiery gaze met yours, still gripping you tightly. “... fuck.” He mumbled before dropping his head to your shoulder. He nuzzled you for a moment before gently kissing your neck. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this…” His voice was low and sultry. “One bite of pudding... and I’ve completely lost control…” He peppered kisses on your neck between thoughts. “I wonder…” He started slowly unbuttoning your uniform. “What will my subjects think?”
Heat rose in your body as he continued to unbutton. “Do they have to know?” You whispered. Diavolo did not respond as he pushed your shirt open, exposing your chest. He sucked on your collarbone to leave his mark while running his hands over your torso.
When he was satisfied with the bruise left, he brought his lips to your ear. “I guess not.” He whispered then sucked on your earlobe. You let out a moan which made him chuckle. “I love that sound…” He said, nuzzling into you again. He pulled away and swept you into his arms to carry you to his bed. He sat you on the edge and admired you for a moment. “Are you sure this is ok?” He asked, lust burning in his eyes.
“I want you, Diavolo.” You responded, finally slipping your uniform jacket off. Diavolo helped you remove your top completely and pushed you back onto the bed. He crawled on top of you, pinning your hands down with his as he locked you in another kiss. He was needy and desperate, it seemed the effects of the pudding were only getting more intense.
Diavolo sat up and urgently began unbuttoning his shirt. You tried to sit up with him but he pushed you back down.
“Don’t move.” He said, removing his shirt and undershirt revealing his muscles. He leaned over you again, caging you against the bed. One hand drifted to your neck, holding it firmly as he tangled his tongue with yours again. You trailed your fingers along his bare chest, pinching his nipples as he groaned in response.
“Two can play at that game.” He growled, trailing kisses down your chest until he reached a nipple. He flicked it with his tongue, watching it harden before enclosing his lips around it. You moaned and bucked your hips. As Diavolo’s mouth worked your nipple, his fingers rubbed your arousal through your pants. He unfastened them as he trailed kisses further down. Diavolo looked up at you for a moment, his golden eyes looking into yours as he removed your pants. He bit his lip as if asking for permission. You gave him a silent nod.
Diavolo started rubbing your pussy, simultaneously appreciating its beauty. You leaned your head back and quietly moaned. This encouraged him to use his mouth to pleasure you, pressing his tongue against your clit. As Diavolo slipped his fingers in your cunt, your moaning became louder and more erratic. He was stretching you to fit his throbbing cock.
“Diavolo… feels so good…” You moaned. He allowed himself to be rougher, gripping your hips to keep you from squirming in pleasure. His tongue swirled around your clit and he could feel your walls shudder around his fingers, your wet pussy nearly ready for his length. He stuck another finger in for good measure, finding your g-spot as you moaned his name.
His fingers slid out and he smirked at you. “My turn.” He said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He stood, tugging you by the legs to the edge of the bed. You watched as he removed his belt, then his pants, then his boxers. His huge cock sprung up, eager to feel you.
Diavolo positioned your ankles on his shoulders as he lined himself up with your pussy. You felt the tip slowly push in, your body adjusting to his size. You could feel the stretch- it was a tight fit, but as he bottomed out inside you, it made you feel so satisfyingly full.
“So big…” You murmured.
“You like that, hm?” He chuckled, leaning over you and folding you into a mating press. He began to thrust, the friction reminding you of how good he was making you feel earlier. Moans dripped from your lips as his pace increased. Diavolo’s last shreds of self-control had disappeared, he was now fucking you completely recklessly.
“Fuck… Dia…” You panted, feeling your cunt tighten around him as he continued.
“Gonna… put a baby in you…” He growled, capturing you in a rough kiss as your knees hit your chest. His cock was pounding you so hard, all you could do was whimper as his tongue slid into your mouth. The effects of the pudding made Diavolo forget all about your pleasure, his relentless pace quickening as he neared his orgasm.
“Been waiting for this… so long…” Diavolo mumbled, each thrust of his hips threatening to push you over the edge. “Want to breed you… Make you mine…” His dick rammed into your g-spot so precisely, finally you felt the wave of pleasure shooting through your body. You felt yourself tighten around him, shockwaves of ecstasy turning you into a blubbering mess as his orgasm followed shortly after.
Diavolo growled and moaned. You could feel the cum filling you, the added pressure in your cunt only sending more aftershocks through you. He thrust a few more times, cum sputtering out in waves as you both came down from your high. Breathing heavily, you pushed his sweaty bangs out of his face as his gaze lost the demonic aura he had moments before.
You were slow to catch your breath, Diavolo unmoving on top of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his cock still lodged inside you. You ran your fingers through his hair.
“I’m afraid that didn’t help.” Diavolo sighed after a long pause. “I want you even more now.” You felt his cock twitch inside you, still rock hard.
“Well,” You smirked. “We still have 22 hours to kill.”
#obey me smut#obey me diavolo#diavolo x mc#diavolo x reader#obey me fanfiction#diavolo smut#it was nice to write Diavolo again tbh i missed him lol#it's like he was designed in a lab for me...
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Back off my man osamu x fem!reader
notes: I was only gonna write for tsumu but like it's osamu's bday too and i love him. Basically some girl doesn't seem to get the hint so u have to assert ur dominance. the tsumu ver is here
Content: slight language, fluff, little bit suggestive (just a past sexual relationship samu had, established relationship
"Are you free tonight, Samu?" She asks him with a smile on her face.
He's told her millions of times about his girlfriend, which is you. This girl is persistent though, and has told him many times she'll treat him better than you ever could.
Which pisses you off because you've been his girl forever and you don't understand why this girl thinks she can just come in and take your spot.
"I've already told ya, I won't be free for ya, ever. What part of that do you not understand?" He asks, setting down a plate of your favorite onigiri for you. The workload has been crazy this past week and Osamu will always do anything to make you feel a little bit better. You do the same for him on days when the shop gets crazy.
"I just don't understand Samu! You used to have time for me during culinary school when we-" He cuts her off sharply.
"That was over six years ago, I don't understand why ya hang on so tightly to something that was never meant to be! We fucked a coupla times back then and that was it. I found the one for me, so please drop it." His jaw is clenched and you can tell he's very irritated by this woman.
His fist is also balled up on the counter. You try to soothe him by grabbing his hand and rubbing circles into it. He breathes softly trying to calm down.
You can't just sit here and watch this woman do this anymore. You've tried to be nice to her, but she makes it so hard.
"But-"
"Listen, if Osamu wanted you he would have chosen you. Osamu is a smart man and he knows what he wants." You're good at keeping your voice level when you feel anything but calm.
She glares at you, and Osamu doesn't even say anything. He's trying to calm down some.
The woman gets up from the high top stool and stomps out of the shop.
"M'sorry ya had to see that, she just wasn't getting the hint." He says removing his cap and running a hand through his rich dark brown hair.
"It's okay, you look hot when you're mad." Even though it was a crappy joke it still gets a little chuckle from your boyfriend.
"Gonna go tidy up, are you heading to the house or stayin' here?" His look definitely says he wants you to stay, who are you to deny?
"Well duh! Who's gonna be DJ?" Nothing could bring you more satisfaction than the way his smile drops at the mention of you playing your music.
"On second thought, maybe ya should go home. Had a long day right?" Osamu is stuck with you, he should know this already.
You pretend to think about it for a second. "Hmm I think I'll stay."
"Okay, but don't play any of yer shitty music or I'll kick ya out." The crazy thing is that he's one hundred percent serious. You and Osamu are complete opposites except for the fact that you two both love food.
Your music taste has never really been his favorite. The same is true for his music. You always cover your ears and pretend gag.
"Hey 'samu?" You ask voice suddenly dropping to a whisper.
"Yeah, sweetheart?" He returns.
"Do that more, okay? If anyone hits on you-"
"That was a one time thing cuz she kept asking over 'n over. Most people stop after the first time." Osamu disappears into the kitchen and you open your favorite music app to play your favorite artist.
"Womp womp, no more hot Osamu."
"The hell are ya talkin' about? 'M hot all the time." There's defensiveness in his voice like he was actually taking you seriously.
"I know, it was just a joke." You counter with a smirk.
"Ain't a funny one I can tell ya that." His large bulging arms cross and you can see his muscles flex.
"Go clean up! Stop looking like a thirst-trap all the damn time!" You whine in frustration. Osamu's deep laughter follows not too long after.
"Whatever ya say, sweetie."
#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#osamu miya#osamu miya x reader#osamu x reader#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu#osamu#osamu miya fluff#miya twins#osamu fluff#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu imagine
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BY THE FIREPLACE (PT. 2) // t. nott
RATING: PG -13 / 1.4K WORDS
Theodore Nott x Fem Reader
+ SUMMARY - *Requested* A continuation of the interesting situation you unknowingly placed yourself in. Theo takes you, in your Animagus form, back to his dorm room and attempts to take a nap with his new friend. (Comedy?) (Read Part One first)
+ WARNINGS - Language, nothing else really
+ MUSIC (listened to while writing)
New Perspective - P!ATD (it's stuck in my head)
*I just wanted to say that I am sorry this is so short and may not be the best follow-up to Part One, but I really hope you like it. It was kind of rushed because I had a really busy, frustrating day, but wanted to write!*
---
Every few minutes, Theo would shoot a glance towards his annoyingly persistent group of friends. His glare became sharper and sharper each time, but, still, they refused to stop giggling and teasing.
He could barely focus on his bloody work and they were absolutely not going to stop any time soon. He groaned and got to his feet, shoving all of his schoolwork quickly into his bag, keeping you safely cradled in his arms. Maybe you’d attach to him and sleep at the end of his bed and stuff. He’d have to get some cat food.
Their giggling and whispers came to a stop as soon as he stood. They watched him closely, waiting to see what he’d do next.
“Oh, so now you all shut up?” Theo growled. “I’m trying to get work done. How am I supposed to do anything when you all are—?” He mocked their giggling.
“Sorry, Theo, we just missed you,” Mattheo joked, “we wanted to be close to you.”
“Yeah, right, why are you really here?” Theo asked.
None of them answered. Just all glanced at each other and started giggling again. He rolled his eyes and started towards the library’s entrance.
“Hey, where are you going?” Pansy asked.
“To my dorm and you better not follow!” Theo warned, never looking back. Their laughter only got louder. He groaned in frustration and slammed through the library door, careful not to jostle your sleeping figure too much. You slept pretty heavily for a cat.
He pushed through the occasional crowd of students on their way to classes as he headed towards his dorm. Hopefully, nobody would be in there and he’d finally get some peace and quiet for him and you. He had a million things to get done.
He walked rather quickly until he came upon the Slytherin dorm entrance. He spoke the password and made his way across the threshold, melting at the small coo you made in your sleep.
“Aw, I love you, little thing,” he laughed. “You don’t belong to Hogwarts anymore, you belong to me. What should I name you?”
He followed the staircase up to his assigned dorm and finally tossed all of his stuff onto the desk next to his bed. He gently set you down on his freshly-made bed and assured himself that you were wrapped up cozily in your little wool blanket. A small smile appeared on his face.
Distantly, he could hear his irritating friends downstairs. They laughed and joked noisily with other Slytherin students down in the common room. He refrained from rolling his eyes as he set all of his work out yet again. He was getting this shit done—today, with no more interruptions.
He grabbed his wand and flicked it at the door. The wooden lock against it landed with a heavy clunk. If someone needed to come in, they could state their name and business.
You stretched in your sleep once more, releasing a purring yawn. He smiled at the motion and brushed the tip of his quill’s feather over your face gently.
He turned back to the papers and books scattered across his desk and set to work. Circling answers, scrawling out short answers, and highlighting passages. The warmth from the sun pushed through the window, gently heating his hands, face, and a sliver of your back on his bed. Every few minutes or so, he’d lean over and run a soothing hand over your head or back.
His friends had quieted down downstairs and seemed to have gotten bored of whatever stupid joke they were playing on Theo. He figured they were just trying to get him to think they were talking about him or hiding something from him. Which was really annoying. He’d never done anything like that to them, so what the hell?
As his hand worked the quill across the parchment, his mind wandered a bit. He wondered if you’d ever gone back and picked up your stuff from the library. Maybe you’d forgotten it? It doesn’t really seem like you were the type of person to forget all of your stuff, though. He shrugged. Maybe he’d go down later and see if it was still there.
After about an hour or so of working, Theo pushed out of the desk chair and pulled his body into a tall stretch. He groaned at the release and popped his knuckles. He was sort of tired, come to think about it. Maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he skipped his fourth period. He’d tell Professor Sprout he wasn’t feeling well, which, after accidentally being transfigured into a toad in McGonagall’s earlier, he didn’t exactly feel one-hundred percent.
Just as he was scooting you gently up next to his pillows and slipping beneath the comforters, a knock came at the door.
“Who is it?” Theo asked.
“It’s us, man, just let us in.” Mattheo.
“Absolutely not, I’m busy.”
“Please, we really think it would be in your best benefit to open the door.”
“Do you need something out of here?” Theo called back, settling comfortably beneath the blankets.
“No, but—”
“Is someone injured or dying?”
“No—”
“Then you don’t need to be in here—you’re just going to keep picking on me,” Theo grumbled. He tucked his arm under the covers and curled his hand around you, pulling your back against his chest. You purred in your sleep. You were so warm.
He ignored their persistent pounding at the door and settled in, closing his tired eyes. This was going to be the best nap of his life.
He was teetering on the edge of being awake and not when he felt something move against him. It felt like something had touched his legs. Maybe you’d gotten up and moved farther down the bed. But he was pretty sure you were still curled beneath his arm. He wasn’t sure and he was too tired to care. Though it really felt weird…
“Ugh, why doesn’t he just open the door?” Pansy grunted, slamming her hand against the wood once more. “The teasing was funny, but I didn’t think he’d actually take her to his dorm!”
“Yeah, I don’t think any of us did,” Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why was she sleeping in her Animagus form, anyways?” Enzo asked. The other two shrugged.
From the other side of the door, it had gotten completely quiet, and they all wondered if he had laid down with you. They all hoped he hadn’t. It would have been funny to see you wake up, confused and angry, in his lap, but it might not be so funny if you were in his bed. You might think you’d been kidnapped or something.
Just as the thought hit, they all started pounding on the door more.
Somewhere near the back of your head, you heard muffled pounding and shouting. It sounded like a small army parading about the room. You wondered if the Quidditch team was practicing outside the library’s window or something like that.
You didn’t mean to fall asleep. Hopefully, nobody had moved your stuff. You still had a ton of work to do. You groaned and raised your arms to stretch out when you realized the bottoms of your arms caught more material. The armchair was bigger than you realized. And a lot more comfortable…
You began rubbing sleep from your eyes as you started to lean up. As you did, something caught your body and held you pinned against the chair. You opened your eyes in confusion, looking at the material below you. Not a chair….a bed? Had someone taken you back to your room? You glanced down and saw a tanned arm wrapped tightly around you. What the fuck? Maybe you got laid.
You turned over and came within inches of Theodore Nott’s nose.
“This is literally the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in…” Enzo sighed. They all had given up on trying to beat the door down and sat against the wood, waiting for one of the two of you to wake up. They hoped it wasn’t going to be too bad of a situation.
Best case, you guys awkwardly brushed it off and went your separate ways. Worse case….
A shrill scream pierced their ears. They, and half of the common room, flinched at the sudden noise. That high-pitched whistle was soon accompanied by a more dulcet shout. Both drew out for at least 30 seconds. The three students cringed at the realization that you two had woken up.
“Fuck,” Mattheo said. They all dropped their faces into their hands.
Part 3!
#fanfiction#creative writing#fanfic#writing#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#reader insert#oneshot#slytherin#gender neutral reader#theodore nott x reader#theo nott#mattheo riddle#enzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire#pansy parkinson
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If I Fell For You: Worst Nightmare
Summary: Jensen's worst nightmare is about to come true...
Masterlist
Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader
Word Count: 1,600ish
Warnings: language, heavy mentions of injury/blood/car accident
A/N: The agnst is strong...
________
Shouting woke you up. Very loud, very upset shouting. You blinked, slowly turning your head and finding the world was upside down. There was something to your left, something bent and the smell of metal and blood in the air made your nose twinge.
Then you remembered you were in the car. Driving on the highway to the brewery to grab some pizza and a few beers to bring home for dinner. You turned and touched the metal panel, the front of the car or part of the roof was your guess, now smack dab in the center console and cutting you off from the other side.
“Jay,” you croaked out. The shouting stopped and you squeezed your eyes shut. “Jensen. I’m okay.”
“Y/N,” he said as you remembered him shoving a hand in front of your chest.
“Please tell me you’re in one piece,” you whispered.
“Yeah, I-I think so. Y-You?”
“I think so too,” you said, putting a hand on the roof below you, the windshield caved in, passenger door looking like a crumbled piece of paper. “Jay, I’m stuck in here.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I think it’s just bumps and bruises,” you said. “Can you move?”
“No,” he said quietly, not saying another word.
“Are you hurt?” He didn’t respond and you hit the panel between you. “Hey! Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay.”
“Dammit, tell me the truth.”
“My arm is cut up some but I’m okay. I can’t…fuck I can’t get out either.” He slapped the metal piece between you and you shushed him. “Y/N-“
“Relax honey. Sh, relax. I’m right here. I’m gonna be okay and you’re gonna…be okay…it’s going to be just fine. Just…just do your breathing that Ray showed you when you get anxious okay? It’ll…be okay,” you said, pressing your hand against your bleeding leg. “Shit.”
“You sound hurt,” he breathed out. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m uh, bleeding from my thigh. It’s not gushing so it couldn’t have been anything too bad, right?” you tried to joke, Jensen slamming against the panel again. “It’s not that deep. Also I’m pretty sure I have pizza in my hair.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I hope you like the smell of marinara cause that’s gonna take forever to wash out,” you said, trying to leverage yourself against the roof of the car. “Now’s as good a time as any to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?” he asked quietly. “Are you-”
“Led Zeppelin sucks and I cannot believe you have so many of their original records. Don’t even get me started on your infatuation with fucking country music. I hate country music and I think it’s time I put my foot down and ban it from the house. What do you say?” you said, squeezing your palm hard over your leg.
He let out a quiet huff of air that was akin to a dry laugh.
“I say you’re trying to distract me which either means you’re seriously fucked up over there and not telling me or you’re trying to keep me from having a panic attack by falsely insulting my music. So-”
“Hey, I do not like country as much as you and those are facts.”
“I know you don’t yet you listen to it for me,” he said, realizing for the first time it was still playing on the radio. “Imagine if you had to die listening to music you hated.”
“I’d live out of pure spite,” you said, Jensen chuckling a little. “I promise it’s the later. Trust me. If it were bad, I’d be asking you all sorts of shit about Dee so we can shit talk your music choices in the afterlife.”
He laughed for a split second, grunting loudly and making your heart race. “Yeah, you’re okay. Or not actively dying at least.”
“Not doing that. On the negative, everything hurts but positive side, I smell like pizza and beer, two of your favorite things.”
“Always got those silver linings,” he said as you heard sirens in the distance. “Y/N?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“You know how I said my arm was cut up?” he said, swallowing thickly. The pit in your stomach dropped, eyes closing.
“How bad is it?” you whispered.
“Bad enough I wrapped my belt around my arm to stop the bleeding.”
“Be honest. Please,” you said, wishing you could do something, anything. The silence was deafening, his labored inhale the only indication that he was still awake. “How bad?”
“There’s a piece of metal sticking out of my forearm. Pretty sure it sliced through the veins in there judging by the amount of blood.” You fought back tears, taking a shaky breath. “I’m really cold and tired. But I’m gonna stay awake-”
“Write me a song. Write me a fucking country song right now,” you said, forcing your eyes open. “What’s the melody?”
“Uh, what?” he asked. “Y/N, I’m-”
“I know what you’re saying and you can stay up until dawn even when you’re exhausted when you’re working on music so you write me a damn song right now and stay the fuck awake,” you croaked out.
“Well I need a banjo in there because I know that’s your favorite,” he teased, car doors slamming nearby.
“You’re a dickhead,” you said, Jensen chuckling. “Alright, banjo. What else?”
“Violin and a cello somehow. You fucking love the sound of-”
“Him first!” you shouted when you saw some boots in front of you, quickly watching them jog to his side of the car.
“Oh shit,” one of the responders said and with that, your heart truly sank, unsure if it would ever come back up.
They’d gotten Jensen out of the car first and carted off by the time you had a makeshift bandage around your thigh. Something felt off with your leg and several hours and a surgery later, your foot was in a cast. But when you woke up in post-op, Jensen wasn’t there, a nurse telling you he was still in the operation room.
So now all you could do was sit in a room in the ICU, staring out the glass door, praying you saw Jensen. It felt like the longest twenty three minutes of your life.
You shot straight up in bed when you saw a sleepy looking Jensen getting stopped in a bed outside your door.
“Whoa. I want to stay in the hot girl’s room,” he murmured, winking lazily at you. Yeah, he was definitely hopped up on something, his right arm wrapped and wrapped and wrapped in a thick mass of bandages.
“Let’s leave her alone,” said the nurse behind the bed, pushing him forward again, making him shout. She froze, Jensen staring in your room, shaking his head out.
“That’s my wife. I want to be with her.” The nurse sighed, Jensen’s face falling. “Please,” he whispered, voice cracking.
“You can see her in a minute, I promise,” she said, pushing him along. You waited exactly four minutes before slamming the nurse button over and over, one entering your room, giving you an annoyed glare.
“You should be sleeping,” she said. “You need to rest.”
“My husband is on the other side of this wall and last time I saw him he was bleeding out so I think a five minute field trip is more than fair-”
“He’s asleep like you should be.” You stared her down, the nurse eventually relenting. “Just stay there.” She left and returned after three minutes, shoving an ipad in your hand. “We used these during the pandemic. You can facetime him for a few minutes but then you both need sleep.”
She tapped a number and a split second later, Jensen’s beat up face appeared on screen.
“Well if ain’t the hot girl calling me from her bed,” he teased, the nurse rolling her eyes and leaving. “Are you alone?”
“Yeah. How are you?” you asked. He held up his injured arm and sighed. “You’re alive and that’s what matters.”
“I’m going to need physical therapy again. Months to recover and rebuild the muscle in my forearm. I already know it. You too with that foot of yours.” He rested his head against his pillow. “What about that cut on your leg?”
“Just gotta lay off it for a bit. It’s the same leg as my broken foot so that’ll be easy.” You both just stared at each other for a moment, a mess of bruises and small cuts littering your skin. “We’ll get through this.”
“I know.” He glanced down, closing his eyes. “I didn’t realize I was bleeding so bad until you made me calm down by insulting one of the best bands in history. You saved my neck.”
“That only happened because you put your arm in front of me. It could have been so much worse and-”
“Silly girl,” he murmured, slowly forcing his eyelids open, a softness to them you weren’t expecting. “I’ll always protect you. If you get a little less hurt because I did then that’s a win for me.”
Your bottom lip wobbled, Jensen shushing you. “Don’t say things like that, Jay.”
“Says the girl who stopped me from having a full on panic attack during arguably my worst nightmare. We protect each other, that’s how it works.” You smiled, Jensen returning it. “I’m taking you to a country music festival when we’re up for it in honor of saving me.”
“I want a divorce.”
He laughed so loud you heard it echo down the hall. He’d be okay again. You both would.
Eventually.
_________
#jensen x reader#jensen ackles#jensen ackles fanfiction#jensen ackles x reader#jensen fanfic#timestamp
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Icarus Part 4
Oops! I didn't realize this one had so many chapters done. I had been using it as my "I'm stuck on the other two stories so I work on this one to clear my head" story and I currently have five chapters backlogged. So instead of Batshit Soulmates today, you're getting two of this one. One now and one tonight.
In this chapter we have Eddie doing his research and we find out how he recognized Steve. Also Jeff&Eddie besties for life!
Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3
@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03
****
The last few days in Hawkins went by in a blur. Eddie couldn’t do the research he wanted to, not without alerting everyone else what he was up to, so he focused on buying both their albums and listening to them nonstop.
“This that band you went to go see?” Wayne asked after three days of him having both albums on constant repeat. “The one you were whining about have to go to?”
Eddie sat up from where he laying on the floor with headphones on and took them off, resting them around his neck. He pulled one knee up and draped his arms around it casually.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Dustin has been gloating about it, so I would rather you didn’t add to the pile.”
Wayne crouched down so that they were eye level. “This about that secret you found out?”
Eddie opened his mouth to lie but Wayne just raised an eyebrow and he snapped his mouth shut with a click. He let out a low shuddering breath and then nodded.
“Yeah,” he said, “it’s about that.”
Wayne picked up the vinyl sleeve and looked at the cover. He studied the image a moment or two before he said, “You think that someone you know is in the band, don’t you?”
Eddie bit his lower lip and then sighed heavily. He knew he couldn’t keep it from Wayne, but he had hoped he would have been back in Cali before he realized it.
“I’m not one hundred percent sure,” he said tilting his head back, “but yeah. I think I know someone in the band.”
“You jumping to conclusions?” Wayne asked in that gruff but gentle way that was a staple of Eddie’s childhood.
Eddie looked up at Wayne and then shook his head. “I don’t know enough. Not yet.”
Wayne got to his feet with a grunt. “Good. You keep it that way. There’s probably a good reason for all that.” He waved at the vinyl sleeve. “So don’t you go pushing your friend’s buttons until you know that reason.”
Eddie nodded. “I read you loud and clear.”
Wayne ruffled Eddie’s hair and walked away, leaving Eddie with plenty of time to think.
****
Dustin was staying in Hawkins for the whole summer, so when Eddie left, he was finally on his own.
Finally able to get out of his head and do some real research. He also knew better than to do anything than listen to his own music mid-flight. Too many wandering eyes.
Any one of his fellow passengers could be some blogger, Youtuber, Tiktoker, influencer or actual fucking press.
Thankfully the flight was most empty and short.
He was met at the airport by his manager Chrissy Cunningham.
She grabbed his bag, leaving Eddie to juggle his guitar better.
“Record management has all four of you in a hotel nearby,” she told him as she stowed the bag in her trunk. “They want you sequestered this time.”
Eddie winced. It wasn’t for any music related reason, though he didn’t doubt the sequestering would help with the process.
Nope.
It was because last time Gareth and Brian went on a three day drinking bender and were too sloshed to function for at least two days after that. Almost a whole week of recording down the drain because half the band went off the rails.
“Roger that!” Eddie said with a jaunty two fingered salute.
“You can have alcohol sent to your room,” she continued as they got into the car. “But Gareth and Brian aren’t allowed. So if you share your stash, that’s on you.”
“You can count on me and Jeff not contribute to the delinquency of our bandmates,” Eddie bit out. “We were just as pissed as the label when we couldn’t get a hold of them for those five days.”
Chrissy nodded. “Fame can really do some fucked up shit to people.”
Eddie hummed his acknowledgment. “Just please tell me I’m not sharing with anyone. You know they all hate sleeping in the same room as me.”
Chrissy snorted. “Only because you stay up all hours of the night perfecting song, while they actually want to, oh I don’t know...sleep?”
Eddie cackled. He was the world’s worst insomniac when they were working on an album. The rest of the time he was a sound sleeper.
“But no,” Chrissy hummed, “you all have your own suites. With Brian and Gareth on opposite sides of the hotel so they don’t fuel each other’s vices.”
Eddie let out a deep sigh. “That’s great news.”
They went up to Eddie’s suite and he immediately got to unpacking. He couldn’t stand living out of his suitcase and didn’t know how anyone else could.
He ordered a couple of six packs of beer, his favorite vodka, and a couple of whiskys that should last him at least a couple of weeks. He stashed the beer in the suite provided mini-fridge and settled down to watch Youtube on the big screen TV.
He was just devouring everything he could on The Fallen. He started with their music videos. The one for “Kiss the Boys/Kiss the Girls” was especially sweet. He found out that the lead singer was bisexual and that the song was about finding love in whatever form that took. With a full verse on non-binary peeps despite the title.
But the videos weren’t helpful. The band themselves were rarely in them. So Eddie turned to interviews. Impromptu ones on red carpets and podcasts, as well as sit down interviews for talk shows and entertainment press.
Again the lead singer was charismatic and charming. And it was looking more and more like his theory was correct.
Then he came across the interview.
“How does Azrael see out of his mask?” the Vanity Fair interviewer asked.
The drummer pulled out another mask and handed it to Abbadon. It seemed like it was part of the shtick that the drummer never spoke.
Abbadon held up the mask to the light. “You can see that the eyes are a mesh-like material. It works like a one way mirror. You with the strong light, can’t see in, but Azrael with darkness of the mask can see out.”
Eddie hummed his interest. That was a cool trick. It meant that the drummer wouldn’t get hurt while still maintaining that anonymity.
And it appeared that the interview thought the same as they nodded along, impressed.
“What is the reason for the masks?”
Astraeus leaned forward into the mic. “Because when we first got started no one would take us seriously as ourselves?”
Just then the hotel door swung open and Eddie quickly pressed pause. He sighed with relief when he saw it was Jeff.
Jeff stopped in his tracks to stare at the screen. “Oh hey, The Fallen. They’re pretty cool.”
Eddie whipped his head around and glared at him.
“How do you know about them and I didn’t?”
Jeff laughed. “Dude, the radio embargo was you thing, not an everyone thing. They’re really good. I love their new single ‘You’. It’s really sweet.”
Eddie nodded, it was really good. It was one was of his favorites, too.
Jeff got closer to the TV. “Wait. Is this the ‘metal fans would hate us if they saw who we really are’ interview?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”
“That’s such bullshit,” Jeff scoffed. “Metal fans are the most welcoming group of fans out there.”
Eddie chewed on his bottom lip and thought about Steve. And how preppy he still dressed even this far outside of high school.
“Not if they were preps,” he said softly.
That brought Jeff up short. “What now?”
“I think Abbadon is Steve.”
Jeff started laughing and laughing like he couldn’t stop. Eddie rolled his eyes and pulled up the picture he had taken of The Fallen’s lead singer. Once Jeff had gotten control of himself, Eddie showed him the picture.
“Okay...” Jeff said. “I’m not sure what this shows other than your obsession with necks.”
“Zoom in.”
Jeff rolled his eyes but did as he was told. “Okay, so what am I looking at?”
Eddie licked his lips nervously. “You see those two moles, just under his chin?”
Jeff half shrugged. “I mean, I guess.”
“Steve has moles in the exact same place,” Eddie explained. He took the phone back from Jeff and went through his IG feed. He pulled up a picture of Steve. The angle wasn’t exact, but it was close enough.
He handed it back to Jeff. “Now zoom in on the neck.”
Jeff did as he was told.
“Holy fucking shit!”
Eddie pursed his lips and chewed on the bottom one. He played with his rings and was just fidgeting.
“Dude!” Jeff cried. “We should tell someone!”
Just then Eddie’s fidgeting hit the remote and the video began playing again.
“Is there any chance of a future reveal?” the interviewer asked.
Asmodeus leaned into the mic and said, “Ask us again in ten years when we’re world famous.”
Eddie managed to get a hold of the remote to pause it again and in the resulting silence Jeff and him shared a glance.
“Fuck, dude,” Jeff said. “We can’t say shit, can we?”
Eddie shook his head. “It would be like outing a queer person before they were ready.”
Jeff came around the sofa and flopped down next to him.
“Wow,” he said with more than a little awe. “So Steve Harrington is in a metal band...” He let out a shuddering sigh. “And is good. Not just good, but damn good.”
Eddie nodded. “Is it bad that I kinda feel like I’ve been tricked?”
Jeff let out a slow breath. “Look, I’m not going to tell you how to feel, but if no one knows, that it’s not personal.”
“You mean to tell me that no one knows?” Eddie hissed, getting to feet. “Not Robin, not Dustin? Or any of the kids? Because I call bullshit!”
Jeff looked up at him. “Robin, maybe. Those two are attached at the hip. Hell, Robin could even be their slinky and sexy manager, Celeste. But Dustin, man? I wouldn’t tell that kid shit. Not if I wanted it to still be secret ten minutes later.”
Eddie fought to calm his breathing. Yeah okay. That tracked. Robin with makeup and a black wig would completely disguise her to the point that not even her own mother would recognize her if they passed on the street.
“Dustin wouldn’t–” he began but Jeff cut him off.
“This is the kid that spoiled Will’s surprise party that he was planning,” Jeff said, counting off on his fingers. “The kid that would go searching through his mom’s closets and under her bed looking for birthday and Christmas presents. The same one that announced our second album six hours before it was set to drop. I wouldn’t tell Dustin Henderson the time of day if I didn’t want everyone to know about it.”
Eddie huffed. He wanted to argue that all that was little shit. Not really that important. But then he remembered all the times where Dustin would say something out of context, something that all his friends would jump on him for, only for it to be revealed later that Dustin had spoiled some surprise. It was just that no one had realized it at the time.
This time he let out a long sigh.
“Yeah, okay,” Eddie said, sitting back down next to Jeff on the sofa. “And I know that if Steve had come to me and said he wanted to form a metal band, I would have laughed in his face.”
Jeff gave his knee a squeeze. “We all would have. So let’s do what we do best. We change the culture. We make the metal scene open to people of all walks of life, not just the freaks and outcasts. We make it safe for them to come out.”
Eddie let out a shuddering sigh. “Yeah. I could do that. We could do that.”
“Good,” Jeff said, patting Eddie’s knee. “It’s not going to be easy, but we’ve never liked easy.”
Eddie laughed as Jeff got up. “So what are you doing in my room anyway? Don’t you have your own?”
Jeff opened the mini fridge and took out a can of beer. “I forgot to order beer and I hate it warm, so I thought I’d steal one of yours.”
Eddie threw a throw pillow at him, which Jeff deftly caught and lobbed back at him.
Jeff came over and kissed his cheek. “Get out of your head and do something with all that restless energy you’ve built up with this eating away at you.”
Eddie let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, man. Thanks.”
Just as Jeff reached the door, he called out. “What would you and the boys think about inviting them to open for us on our next tour?”
Jeff grinned. “They would probably kiss you on the mouth.”
Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Duly noted.”
****
Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11
Tag List: @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @papergrenade @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot
#my writing#stranger things#steddie#ladykailtiha writes#rockstar steve harrington#rockstar eddie munson#rockstar au
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"Miss Widow, I need you to be my partner in crime," Peter said, dropping from the ceiling. He waited for a beat, expecting a rolling of eyes or an exasperated sigh. When he received nothing but a raised eyebrow, he hesitantly asked, "Aren't you going to correct me, or..."
"It's good that you have some fear of me, Peter," Natasha told him simply. "Has the crime already occurred? If you want a body buried, ask Bruce."
"...Hmm," Peter hummed, deciding he wasn't going to unpack all that. "Mr. Hawkeye said that you're the resident matchmaker."
Natasha sat up straighter. "Oh?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.
Peter thrust his phone at her. "I have video evidence of Captain America being totally gone on Mr. Stark."
"Explain," Natasha said, clipped, even as she opened up his phone.
Peter did not ask how she knew his nine-digit code. Instead, he dutifully recounted, "So Mr. Stark decided we should swap playlists, ostensibly so I could listen to 'good music' but I think he wanted to see what the kids are into. I get some of my songs from TikTok and I think one of them is a bit of an ear-worm for him."
Natasha thumbed open his gallery and went directly to his last video, taking only a moment to turn the volume up. In it, she saw Tony in the common kitchen, fixing himself up a cup of coffee. He was swaying slightly like he did when he was humming. Steve was sipping a protein shake at the table, as if he was not glancing at Tony every other shift back-and-forth.
"I, wish I could synthesize, the picture perfect guy," Tony suddenly mumbled out loud, in that way he did when he had no idea his brain-to-mouth filter had stopped working. "Six, feet tall, and super strong--"
Steve perked up, sitting straight from where he'd been leaning on table.
"--We'd always get along--"
Steve flopped back onto the wood surface and took a morose sip from his protein shake.
Natasha felt her mouth drop open in shock as she watched Tony, oblivious, go back to humming and turn to leave the room. Despite Steve's obvious disappointment, it didn't stop him from tipping in his seat to be able to see Tony's ass properly.
"I'm going to kill him," Natasha decided.
"That's not the crime I wanted to be partners for," Peter cut in.
Natasha lifted her gaze to him, scowling. "He will express his feelings for Tony or die."
"...Hmm, " Peter hummed again. If he remembered correctly, both Sam and Bucky had said that Natasha expressed her affection to the people she cared about with cheesy jokes and threats to their lives. Steve would be fine, probably. "He didn't even sing the best part," he sighed instead.
Natasha slanted another sharp look toward him. "Oh yeah?"
"'He'd pick me up at eight, and not a minute later, 'cause I don't like to wait,'" Peter recited. "'Kind, and ain't afraid to cry, or treat his mama right. That's right, that's what I like.' Which, like, Captain America would rather bleed out than cry, but he doesn't sound constipated when he tells other people it's okay. Also I wish he would be less punctual," he added mulishly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Aunt May keeps raising her eyebrows at me when he shows up to pick me up for training and I'm not ready."
Natasha bit back the urge to howl in rage. Of course Tony would get a song basically about Steve stuck in his head and not notice. Of course he wouldn't notice Steve panting after him like a dog. They were both stupid. That's why she was there, though, she supposed. "I will do the actual crimes," she told Peter firmly. "And you will keep your mouth shut."
"There will be actual crime!?" Peter yelped.
Natasha ignored him, instead returning to his phone and scrolling for more blackmail on Steve. He was the weakest link in this chain of idiocy. "Keep that up, Mr. Man."
"Oh boy," Peter sighed, shoulders sagging. There was some regret in his tone.
Good. It would solidify that modicum of fear he should keep about her.
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What would you think if Hobie asks reader to cut the ends of his hair that bother him because of the mask and while she was doing it, she sang a nice song to him, meanwhile some little flowers began to bloom around them.
Really like the last post and this came to my mind immediately.
Listen, I’ve been daydreaming of this the entire day. I think this idea was very cute!
Also, little disclaimer: I was born and raised in Mexico, so, I’m very unfamiliar with how black people’s hair works. I know culturally it has a lot of importance, but other than that I knew very little of the different types of hair and ofc the insane variety of treatments and proper care as well as the different ways to give maintenance to different kinds of dreads. Also, as someone who has had very short hair for 2/3 of my life, as well as shaving my own head for the better part of the last 4 (5?) years, in general hair care and routines are something I’m wildly unfamiliar with, the longest I had my hair in the latest years was a 6 inch or so Mohawk I grew two years ago. Hobie has been a very good opportunity for me to educate myself a lot in hair (especially black people’s hair) and I spent a good portion of my evening watching videos/TikTok’s and reading on dreadlocks and their maintenance. If I wrote something inaccurate or wrong, please let me know, help me see my mistake, and I will fix it as soon as I can.
This came from this other request, I’m thinking of turning into a series.
Flower Bed — Hobie x Reader
Also, you said little flowers, but my brain decided to go for a full flower bed 😭 I hope you like this!
Warnings: none.
“Oí, luv…” Hobie said walking out of the bedroom, looking around you.
“Bathroom!” You shouted as he followed your voice, noticing the bathroom door opened and you kneeling by the shower.
Plants cramped in the shower as you watered them.
“Oh, never mind, you’re busy” He said.
“I’m almost done. I just need to water the ones in the kitchen sink and the monsteras…” You said as you’d todo up and stretched your back. “I’ll be done in ten minutes, what’s up?”
“I wanted to ask you if you could help me trim my hair, it’s starting to get long and gets stuck in the mask and, you know…” He asked softly. “But I can’t see the back of my head,”
“Sure, I’ll help you,” You said giving Hobie a kind smile.
He smiled back, walking up to you and kissing your forehead.
“Need help with the plants?”
“As you wish,” You replied happily. “You were asleep earlier and didn’t want to wake you, so I started watering them on my own…”
“I’m awake now,” He said. “I’ll water the monsteras,”
“Thank you, babe,” You purred.
By the time you were done with the plants, you went ahead and started helping Hobie out. You sat on the edge of your bed, as he sat on the floor. Since Hobie was tall, this was the most comfortable arrangement. It wasn’t also the first time you trimmed his wicks. He asked you to help him every few months.
As you put some soft music in the background, you got started, trimming dread by dread. Taking care to cut the hair while keeping the end of the dread rounded. Cutting just across each wick was already hard as they were thick, but you also wanted to keep them looking nice and rounded. Which was also a reason why Hobie asked you for help. You did a much better job at it than him.
Even when he didn’t admit it, or didn’t look like it, every single detail in his appearance was planned. Especially his hair. He liked taking care of it, and over all treated his hair like this very intimate thing, he hated having other people touching his hair. Except you. He actually loved it when you touched his hair, ran your hands through it, your fingers disappearing between the dreads. And the particular care and dedication which which you seemed to tend to every wick.
Deep in your concentration, watching over the little details, you were unconsciously singing. Something you also did quite a lot. When you were deeply focused on something, you’d start humming and eventually singing. Which only added to the relaxing time Hobie was having.
Between your gentle hands running through his hair, and now the soft sound of your voice singing in a low voice, going along with the music. Hobie lived for these little peaceful moments, making him feel absolutely contempt with his life. These little moments were everything to him.
As he had his eyes closed, focusing on every brought of your touch against him, he didn’t notice at first the plants growing around you.
It wasn’t plain on obvious. In fact, Hobie didn’t notice until he felt something tickling his elbows. He opened his eyes and saw flowers growing out of the floor, tiny plants growing buds and flowering. All in a matter of several seconds. And you continue to sing, concentrated. He blinked several times, wondering if you were aware of what you were doing, as he kept staring at the flowers growing and multiplying, coming out of the wooden floor tiles.
“Uh, luv?” Hobie asked in a low deep voice.
“Hm?” You hummed, answering Hobie’s question, sounding way too focused in your job as you were rounding one of the last wicks.
“Are you aware of the fact that you pretty much brought spring into our bedroom?”
“Huh?” You asked confused, breaking your hyper focus and looked around, noticing the flowers covering almost the entirety of your floor. White, red, lilac, and pink flowers, extending across your small bedroom. “Fuck,”
Hobie laughed softly.
“You didn’t notice?”
“N-no…” You whispered softly.
“That’s amazing…” Hobie sighed. “It’s beautiful, by the way…”
“The thing is I don’t know how to…un-grow them…And they’re a lot…” You said softly, the concern building in your voice, making Hobie chuckle. “What are we going to do with all of them?”
“We can always collect them and sell them or whatever, you know?” Hobie chuckled.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”
“In the meantime, we can always enjoy this beautiful scene, what do you say?”
“You’re way too calm for someone who has his bedroom full of flowers…”
“You made them. They’re beautiful. I don’t see the issue, basically a work of art,” He said looking at you over his shoulder, as you rolled your eyes playfully at him.
“Hobie, pollen give you allergies,”
“Sleeping on a flower bed one night isn’t going to kill me,” He pointed out. “Besides, ever since the spider thing, I get less allergies from flowers,” He said lifting a finger up, making you chuckle.
“Fine! You win this argument!” You chuckled.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah, I love you too”
“That’s why I don’t mind the flowers. Because you made them,”
You leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Hobie’s cheek before you continued tending to the last two wicks.
“Thank you,” You said.
“For what?”
“Being you,” You sighed. “I’m not precisely fascinated with all the flowers in the bedroom, but the fact that you are, makes me feel better”
“Why, you’re welcome, sweet’eart. Thank you for helping me with my hair,” He said looking at you and giving you a cheeky smirk.
“Anytime,”
#hobie x reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie fanfic#hobie brown fanfiction#hobie brown#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown headcanons#hobie x you#hobie x y/n
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Room for Two // No Saint No Saviour #1
Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader (#1 in psychopath au)
Warning: smut, dom!jongho, sub!reader, sociopath!jongho, naive!reader, stalking, very obsessive level of stalking and manipulation, Jongho is a psychopath, so he's cuckoo and desperate, manhandling, masturbating, masturbating to clothes, rough sex, unprotected sex, deep throat/ throat fucking, spit play (just a bit), pussy slapping, use of cuffs and chains. Stockholm syndrome. (Yikes)
Note: this is a little unhinged, so proceed with caution. Also, as per the request and many more options given, I chose psychopath au. Well borderline psychopath. Oops. ps: grab yourself a snack because this is long. :) Not proofread.
Requested By: from wattpad.
Gist: when your best friend's boyfriend decides to move in with her, you're left with no other choice but to find a new place for yourself. Of course, because three's a crowd. You do find a perfect new place, courtesy to your coworker who you didn't know existed till now. But maybe it was better if you hadn't interacted with him at all.
Song rec: I Want To by Rosenfeld.
Word Count: 21,474
"I hate that you have to move out," your best friend, Na-Ra sulks watching you zip one of your bags.
You heave out a sigh and proceed to your other bag, this one was overflowing with your clothes; it's going to take a lot more than just simply zipping it around. Stumbling through the cluster of boxes, you sit on top of the bag and tug at the zipper. It comes halfway through and then gets stuck. Genius move.
"I have to move out because—" you keep pulling at the zipper, using all your force to close it. Even if it wasn't. "—you and Yeosang are little freaks who just can't keep it in their pants."
"Touché," Na-Ra mocks, leaning back further against the headboard of your bed, which unfortunately you'll have to leave behind, considering your new apartment is fully furnished.
You glare at her, and she pouts, teasing you further on with her quiet mumble, "let me have some fun, babe," her smile widens, "we're in our honeymoon phase, if not now than when?"
You shrug, struggling with the zipper because you were hell bent on closing the bag. Besides, your arm had started to strain and ache under the stress it was subjected to, not that you were going to learn anything from it. Listening to your friend's words, you force yourself to roll your eyes and glare at her.
"You've got your whole life ahead of you to do whatever with him," you hiss through your gritted teeth, "but no! You are kicking me out of your apartment for some average dick."
"Above average," she corrects you, "he's not that small you know." Her voice gets louder somehow, "besides, you yourself volunteered to move out!"
"Yes, because I don't want to be a third wheel. And Gross. That's T-M-I." You emphasise, "I would be the least interested person in your sex life, although some part of me already knows too much. Sometimes I wish I could burn my ears off, because of all that I've heard."
"Does the chaos sound like music to your ears?" she instigates, letting out a soft chuckle; she wouldn't let you know it, but the sight of you wrestling with the bag was certainly entertaining for her. "You're going to rip your hands out if you force it so much."
"Instead of being all smarty pants, why don't you come help me?" you groan, and she giggles softly, hopping off the bed.
She stands by the edge of your bed, gandering around till her heart drops; she'd miss you, and she had made it known to you for the past few days. Rummaging her eyes through the messy room, she suppresses a chuckle and shakes her head. Your room never stays messy, you were more of a perfectionist than keeping everything haphazardly strewn around. Well, you were OCD about all little things around you, which would make sense why you constantly strived for perfection.
Na-Ra walks over to you, stepping through the boxes carefully and crouching down in front of you; the flounce of her dress flutters around her when she sits down and casts you a hopeless glance. Her lips quiver just enough to make you realise how painful her trapped sentiments were. It must be tormenting for her to see you go, after all you two were best friends since high school. Your friendship with her has lasted forever, till either of you graduated from college, and got a job.
"I'm going to save you some tears," she begins, a pout casing her lips, "so, no melodrama. There are no bitter goodbyes, only cheerful farewells."
"This is not a farewell, come on," you assure her with a smile, "we'll meet all the time. I'm literally twenty minutes away from you. Give me a call. Set up a place. I'll be there. Probably, meet for a drink or something."
Her pout softens. Dragging on with her silence, she lets out an amused chuckle before playfully punching your arm. "Of course. How can I forget you don't function without liquor in your system."
"Hey! I never said anything about booze." You retaliate, defending yourself, "it's all on you. Though on the contrary, I think booze is just what I need right now because I've got work tomorrow."
"And what?" Na-Ra continues to laugh, "you're going to meet your new landlord half-buzzed out of your mind."
"As if 'sober-me' would have enough grit to talk to him," you mumble, your cheeks heating up at the mention of your landlord. "I think we both agreed he's adorable as fuck."
"He's cute," she shrugs, "just not my type. Hey, but there's nothing wrong with you liking him."
"I don't like him!"
You huff out, breathless and tired from pulling the zipper close. Taking a deep breath, you slide yourself off the bag and fall on the floor, right in front of your friend who offers you a smug smile.
"Na-Ra, I really don't like him," you state, sternly as so to make a point, "I didn't even know of his existence until Yunho told me he was looking for a tenant to sublet his spare apartment." Pausing shortly after, you fidget with your fingers and heave out a sigh, "and then my desperation got the worst of me. I agreed to it without thinking or looking into his background. But if Yunho says he's a great guy, then he is. Maybe. I trust Yunho."
"You'd have to be some different kind of unbothered and pathetic to not know he existed as your coworker," she snides.
You roll your eyes, leaning back into your unzipped bag, and frowning softly, "don't blame me, he's a tech guy and I'm in the management department. There'd be no reason for us to meet, unless I have any issues with the software or my computer."
"Which I assume you never needed." She deadpans, checking the time on her wristwatch before tapping your thigh in urgency, "well, we better get to work. Is this the last of your luggage?"
"Yep, these boxes and two bags; other stuff has been moved already." You gander at your half-closed bag behind you, "I can't get this bag to close, so guess it's just one now."
"I'll bring it over when I get the time to. Does it have something important?" she questions, and you shake your head, "nothing that I need urgently, just some spare clothes and kinky underwear I stopped wearing after, you know..."
The way you trail off sends an immediate jolt of remembrance in her; she doesn't want to respond to it, but also doesn't want to keep you in the loop of reminiscing those sullen days. You catch the littlest of distortion on her face, the kind which makes her seem like she's sad or melancholic. And you thought this won't be a sad goodbye. You dust yourself off from the ground, given you were thinking about your past; in a way to elaborate, the past you were thinking about was the time when you broke up with your boyfriend. Many would tell, you were the perfect couple, but perfect doesn't seem to cover the improper cracks and absurd excuses—nah, it brings out suspicions. Three years into the relationship and you got to know he had another chick to entertain all along. Heartbroken but not really broken with your dignity, you left him, no matter how much he begged you not to.
In retrospect, you were done being the naive and gullible deer everyone used to their own gain. Not that you could say the same thing about your work life now. Ever since you had befriended a certain person, you were starting to understand the functioning of lying men. The knowledge authentically supplied to you by your work friend, Jeong Yunho. To say the least about him, he was a giant teddy bear, always towering over you and giving you unwanted hugs. Some being bone crushing too. Your friendship was a little delicate, but you were always on good terms with each other. When he heard your woes on your living arrangements, considering you had sieved through most of the details, he quickly came up with a solution.
His response to you was, "hey, if you're in a fix, I heard Jongho is looking for tenant to rent his spare apartment to. You should talk to him."
And your initial reaction was, "Jongho, who?"
It was not entirely your fault to not be up to date with what goes in your workplace; besides, Jongho was a tech guy, belonging to the cyber security team who had a different schedule compared to you. In the end, things do turn out for the better. You were merely an acquaintance with Jongho, the current dynamic being changed from strangers since he called you over to show you around his spare apartment. You couldn't complain much, and to be fair, there wasn't much to complain about either.
The spare apartment was neat, clean, and well maintained, to top it off, it was even furnished so you had nothing to worry about. As Jongho chattered your ear off, he mentioned that he had possessed the apartment from his late aunt, from her will. He didn't know what to do with it since he had already bought an apartment in the same building (after liking how perfect his aunt's apartment was for him) and had settled down properly. It would be an unnecessary bother to move out, given he hadn't just rented it but in actuality, bought it under his name.
Jongho was a sweet guy, he had a great personality, a good sense of humour and his cheeky smile was so infectious. The day you met him, you were totally swept away, not just by his geeky appearance but because of his character. He respected you, your decisions, made you feel comfortable even though you were practically strangers at the beginning—overall he had left his mark on you. The good kind of course. From that day onwards, you and Jongho started talking at your workplace; a new friendship in the making while Yunho left out, of sorts. He did not bring it to your attention, however.
A few more days of talking, frequent coffee breaks spent at Jongho's desk, and the unprecedented lunch 'dates', you were a little smitten with Jongho. Who wouldn't be? Jongho was a dreamboat, fitting to your expectations of what and how a man should really be and foremost, he was the greenest flag from all the stupefying caricatures you had dated in the past. Including your cheating ex.
All that aside, to say you were a little excited to move into your place, would be an understatement. You had been looking forward to it from the day you finalised the deal with Jongho. Okay, you can't really validate your feelings based on how good of a man he was. For all you know he could even be a serial killer, or a psychopath. Well maybe you shouldn't think too dark about it. Or maybe you shouldn't have discarded that thought the moment it popped in your head.
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"You know, if you had told me beforehand, I would've come over to help you," Jongho says it as a matter factly, smiling at you with the same warmth as he did when you two first met.
And just as that time, he was peculiarly happy and proud; you observed him from head to toe, admiring him and his sense of fashion. Clad in a simple navy-blue cardigan and black pants, he made very little efforts to look this pretty. Not to mention, his black rimmed glasses which were thick and sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose. You were pleased with him, and his littlest of efforts. Other than the obvious fact that you were starting to view him in a different light.
"Eh, couldn't trouble you," you grunt while picking up a box from the trunk of your car; pouting silly, you watch Jongho pick one too regardless of you telling him not to. "You're really stubborn, aren't you?"
"What can I say? I don't like doing what told to," he chuckles, his teeth on display, "and what, do you think I can't carry this box, which feels like it's filled with feathers, up five flights of stairs?"
"No, I did not mean it like that," you defend your initial remark, knowing it was a mere request from you to him.
"I'm very much secure with my masculinity, buttercup," his lips twitch to a teasing smile, "though it doesn't make sense to mention it afore you."
"To reassure you, I wasn't questioning your masculinity," you giggle, "it was more of a formality. You know, can't let you do any of my things because you've already done too much for me."
"That's all balderdash."
He waves you off, holding the box in one hand and using the other to close the trunk of your car, while making sure you weren't standing any closer to it. The sound of the slam makes you flinch, in bewilderment however more in fear; his brute strength would be surprising, surprisingly strong to know you'd be helpless against him if he ever tries something on you. Which, a thought, you again considered to be the folly of your mind, because why would a guy like him do anything against your will? Mistake.
The two of you, walk inside the lobby of your new apartment complex, technically it was his too. According to your knowledge, Jongho owned a place on the seventh floor while his aunt's apartment was on the fifth floor. An accented mahogany table sits empty upfront, probably the reception desk or something. Adjacent to the desk, lies a wall with mailboxes: golden doored, metallic numbers of the apartments, and the acrid stench of something rotting. You were taken back by it, by how that particular area reeked of rotting flesh, but the entire place smelled moth-eaten, stale as if. This sure leaves an eldritch sense of horror in you, because at the time of your first inspection, this place was nothing alike to what you're witnessing right now. Regardless, you decide to push it down, not bothered by the fetor, or the forsaken desk in front.
Jongho guides you to the stairwell, veiled behind a heavy looking door; the elevator is out of order, unfortunately. Even after countless complains to the manager, the elevator hadn't been repaired or had any signs of mending. Jongho pushes the door open, grunting under his breath—the door did seem heavy and substantial, no wonder his cheeks were flustered by an inch when he ushered you in.
"Ladies first," he adds.
"Oh why, thank you kind sir." You bow your head a little, joking along with him.
Jongho lets the door close behind you, and continues, "you know, I chose to help you. So, it's my responsibility to make sure everything is perfect."
"I think you've done enough; I have nothing to complain about." You start climbing up the stairs, with him in your pursuit; you glance over your shoulder and offer him a genuine smile, "besides, I was pretty ignorant about...you. To think I didn't know you even existed until Yunho brought it up."
Jongho's eyes darken only for a moment, only so for you to catch a flash of uncertain turpitude in them. Feeling a sense of unease crawl your spine, you stare straight ahead and hasten your pace up the stairs; not so quick for him to get suspicious.
"It's alright," he dismisses, voice sullen, "everything happens for a reason, doesn't it? If your friend's boyfriend hadn't moved in with her, or if you hadn't brought up your living situation with Yunho, I doubt you'd ever have noticed me."
"What's your agenda?" you scoff, "you're making me feel bad about myself."
"Dearest apologies," he mumbles, "I meant to infer that you and I were destined to meet, one way or another."
"When you put it like that, it doesn't make me seem so...selfish." You mutter under your breath.
To your assumption, you must've climbed up two floors; and it confirms when you pass the landing area for the second floor. Jongho is still walking behind you, noticing you, wanting to keep you engaged in a conversation. He doesn't really say anything for a minute however, bating you in the silence of nothing till you heave out a sigh and grow tired of it.
"It's just weird how one thing leads to another," you break the silence, "it's almost like a fate's blueprint, you were ordained to meet each other at this given time, in this given situation."
Noting the hesitance in your tone, Jongho bites back on his concern and questions you diligently. "Are you having second thoughts about the move?"
"What? No!" you're too quick to dismiss him off, not because he had pressed your nerve, but rather because you didn't want to seem ungrateful. "This is the best decision I ever made. Trust me."
"Agreed, otherwise you'd be stuck listening to the very annoying and loud moans of your best friend. I know it infuriates you." He chuckles, "don't worry, the walls here are thick so you won't be needing your noise cancelling headphones anymore."
"That's right..." you chortle along him with, which soon dies to a sudden burst of tranquility upon realising an odd point about him.
You halt in your steps, standing still in the landing between the third and fourth floor, unmoving till he calls out your name.
"Why did you stop?"
You turn around to face him; you were sure he could notice the drain of colour from your face, or even how delicately your lips were trembling to get your words out.
"It's kind of odd how you know..." you drag your words into a whisper, "I never mentioned it, did I?"
You never mentioned it to him before, never told him you wore headphones while going to bed. Was that just a coincidence? Or was it his hunch? Though, on the contrary, was he keeping an eye on you? The latter option just feels wrong, so you fling it straight out the window.
Jongho's face twitches with reluctance for a mere second before his lips curve into a flattering grin. "It's only obvious you'd be using them while sleeping, if your roommates are too loud. Agreed you didn't mention it particularly, but you did tell me that they were stuck in a honeymoon phase. Why else would I even say it?"
"Makes sense," you shrug and continue on with your walk, not giving it much thought anymore.
Jongho heaves out a sigh of relief, appeased by his piddling attempt to cover up his mistake. Nonetheless, he knows he has to use his words with utmost restraint and choose them well before speaking. He can't have you doubting him, suspecting his good character over the silly rashness of his avidity towards you. Like a shadow, he creeps behind you, never letting you know of his presence; he's foreboding, professing predisposition to the ordeal of what he painted as 'work of destiny'. Was it really the work of destiny to get you two together?
Only time would tell.
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"Cool place, babe." Na-Ra comments, ogling around your living room with her boyfriend strapped to her waist. "Very niche, I must admit."
Her boyfriend, sticking to her waist like some parasite, pouts and lets out a sweet-sounding chuckle, "I agree. A humbling abode for a woman like you. Suits you well."
"Oh, why thank you, Yeosang." You roll your eyes, "I still need to work on some stuff, decorate a couple of crooks and crannies."
"Puh-lease," your coworker's snort resounds from the couch, "you flipped this place over from an abandoned domicile to an elaborate habitat of pink."
"Geez Louise, Yunho," you deadpan, "if you abhor pink just let me know. I'll redo everything in black—just like your soul."
"That sounds like too much work," his brows tuck together while he replies, "and too many efforts. Don't waste them for my sake."
He tugs on the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning it further till he reaches second button; Yunho's tall stature sits awkwardly on the couch, his legs spread in front of him, while he slouches just a little against the back of the couch. Lethargy is quite evident on his face, regardless he proffers you a giddy smile and asks you to hand him a bottle of beer. It was his third one of the nights, there were many more to come.
You scoff, moving away from your friend and her boyfriend, to get yourself a drink from the snacks table you had arranged. Picking out two bottles of beer, you hand one to Yunho and settle down next to him. The day was here, the day where your best friend whined on about how you should host a housewarming party; regardless of you renting it. So, there you were, a little after midnight, relieved from your day job, hanging out in your new apartment with your friends. Except for Jongho. You couldn't find him anywhere after work and thought the only feasible thing to do was to leave a voicemail on his phone.
"I think you should really get on with the balcony," Yeosang snides, coming to sit on the chair next to the couch with Na-Ra tucked by his side; he settles down comfortably first and then pulls his girlfriend on his lap. "It has a good view of the city, and the sky. Maybe lay out a carpet, get a swing chair and add some plants to spice it up a bit."
Na-Ra nods her head, "talk about having a perfect romantic setting."
"Guys, I hear you," you roll your eyes, "unfortunately the reins to make any updates around here are with Jongho. I can't do anything without his permission."
"He won't mind the minor changes," Yunho shrugs, chugging a good deal of his beer while making eye contact with you, "bet he'd get on it with you, knowing he has a soft spot for you."
"Bullshit," you mumble, guzzling your beer down, "he doesn't have a soft spot for me."
"Oh, yeah. He doesn't. He doesn't have a soft spot for you and he didn't just help you out with your living situation." Na-Ra speaks up, "he didn't feel bad when you told him you never noticed him in your workplace. And he helps you out with everything and never says no. Yep, that sums it up, he doesn't have a soft spot for you."
"Says a lot about him," Yeosang simply pouts and shakes his head, "one would have to be really oblivious to not notice the signs."
Na-Ra gets up, going to grab a couple of beer bottles, chiming to her boyfriend's remark, "don't worry, she's always been a little naive about those things." She comes back and returns to her place, rightfully in Yeosang's lap and raises her bottle to you, giving the other one to her boyfriend, "it took her two years to realise Song-Wook had been flirting with her. So, I won't be surprised if she takes another two years with Jongho too."
"Damn, kid. Two years?" Yunho snickers, tracing the tip of his forefinger on the rim of the bottle, "two years to fathom a dick had been dallying with you? Well, Jongho better be upfront with you if he wants to have a shot with you."
"Don't you have something better to do?" you glare at Na-Ra first, then at Yeosang, and finally, Yunho. Grinding your teeth, you murmur out a tired sigh, "my love life is one one's concern. And it shouldn't be either."
"You think we won't be concerned after that ugly blowup with your ex?" Na-Ra says, sipping her beer, "that jerk was cheating on you."
"Are we talking about...?" Yunho trails off, keeping his now empty bottle of beer on the coffee table in front of him.
You nod at him, indicating he was on the right track; noticing your sullen eyes, he proceeds to say something, but it's lost in the slightest tremble of his lips when the doorbell buzzes loud. The intercom chimes in next, speaker propagating a man's voice laden in static.
"Hey, it's me. Jongho."
You get up from the couch and march your way to the front door. This seemed weird to you because Jongho knows the passcode to the door already. Why wouldn't he use it to let himself in? Brushing those doubts away, you begrudgingly open the door and find Jongho standing with his hands occupied in holding a small box. The shimmering ribbons on it could certainly provide you with assumptions and predictions.
You usher him in, he mumbles a soft 'thank you' to you before slipping out of his boots and into the house slippers you lay out for him. He's walking right behind you, carefully holding the box in his hands while you guide him to the living room where the others' smiles were hinting at something else. Jongho places the box on the coffee table and sits next to Yunho on the couch; eyeing Na-Ra and Yeosang with much vacillation of his trust, he turns to you and offers you a benign smile.
"My hands were full," he begins, "otherwise, I would've let myself in." Looking around, he notices a couple of things but doesn't voice out his thoughts, instead, he fixates his eyes on you. "Am I late to the party?"
He sounds guilty. You wave him off, striding over to sit on the extra chair next to the couch; bringing your legs up, you pull your knees close to your chest and wrap your arms around them.
"Not really," you reassure him, "we were just cracking some fatuous chatters and nothing else. You didn't miss a lot."
"Well, I hope I didn't," he chuckles and leans over to untie the ribbons on the box he had brought with him. "I'm not so up to date with these gatherings, so I just got a cake. Everyone likes a cake, right?"
Yunho coos, "so adorable of you. A little sweetness is what we need."
"And a heck lot of calories," Na-Ra comments.
"Which you'll be burning off once we get back home," Yeosang adds, and everyone groans except for Na-Ra.
"Please, we don't need your sexual innuendos ruining our peace," you grumble and run your hand over your face. Composing an adorable smile, you glance at Jongho and muse, "that's really nice of you, Jongho. But you didn't have to get anything. This is more like a make-believe party I was forced to host, cause some people here are really stubborn."
You glare at Na-Ra and all she does is rolls her eyes and drinks more of her beer.
"So, you expect me to come empty handed?" Jongho retaliates, opening the box to reveal the cake in it. "Ouch, that hurts."
"I didn't mean that," you whine, defending yourself. "You're playing a very risky game, Jongho."
"And it seems like I'm winning?" he mocks, carefully picking the cake out of the box and placing it on the table. "Well, to your new beginnings in this house."
You watch Jongho as he pulls out a small candle from the pocket of his pants and takes its cover off before stabbing it through the cake. The candle sits in the centre, while Yunho lights it up with his lighter he usually has on himself; Na-Ra and Yeosang are the bystanders, observing, acknowledging.
"Okay, make a wish," Yunho jokes when Jongho brings the cake to you, "not exactly what I expected I'd be saying."
Jongho stands next to you, leaning over while holding the cake in front of you; with a nudge of his head, he brings it a little closer to you and you blow out the candle. And no, you did not make a wish as Yunho asked you to, which you were regretting because you really wanted to make a wish. Applause resounds from your guests, Na-Ra cheers a phrase which is incoherent, and inaudible, considering how lost you were in Jongho's eyes. The warmth of hazel in them is contrasting, a lot—but there's avidity in them, bringing you closer to him. You're leaning, inching your way to him to touch his lips, at least your heart was forcing you to.
"Let's cut the cake, shall we," Yunho announces, making the two of you flinch and pull back.
"You guys have fun," Na-Ra pipes in, however, dejected. "I have to be early for work tomorrow. Duty calls, sadly. I'll be around quite often. So, don't be disheartened."
"I'm not," you deadpan, but soon soften yourself when Na-Ra and Yeosang get up from the chair to leave.
"Yeah, before we leave, I got your luggage," she winks, hinting at something and you do catch up on it, "I left it in the trunk and thought I'd have Yeosang bring it up while leaving."
"Oh, more luggage?" Yunho questions, "how many bags do you have, jeez."
"Just enough for my clothes," you shrug, "under some unforeseen circumstances, I had to abandon this one there."
"Yeah, by unforeseen you mean haphazard work of stuffing all your clothes into one bag, so the zipper doesn't close," Na-Ra jokes, both of them now at the front door. She lets out a soft chuckle, "okay, we better leave before you murder me with your eyes."
"I wish it worked that way. But if you don't visit me often, then I might," you threaten her playfully, getting up from the chair and going to engulf her in a warm hug.
Na-Ra embraces you tighter to herself, returning your enthusiasm; you keep yours and Yeosang's hug a little short. The two of them are out of the front door when Jongho interrupts your last whiling farewells.
"I think it's better if I tag along and get the luggage myself. You won't have to make a double trip up." He stands next to you, by the open door. Offering a small smile to Yeosang and Na-Ra, he too then slips in boots and leaves with him.
Na-Ra waves you off energetically, appearing a little disappointed with how things had to end tonight. Nevertheless, she doesn't let it show on her face as she's leaving with Yeosang, and Jongho in their pursuit. You flash them one last smile and shut the door; a sigh parts your lips regardless and sulking you return back on the couch next to Yunho. He hums a soft tune before grasping your shoulder, pressing his fingers to massage gently before sliding his hand to your back.
"You're not alone," he whispers, "but I can tell why you'd feel lonely."
"Five years living with her," you continue, merely in a mumble as you look at him, eyes showcasing your glum heart. "Five years and we separate now. We've been childhood friends, you know. Never went by a day without each other."
"Nothing could've prepared you for this day," he shrugs, pulling you close to his chest, giving you a much-needed sympathetic hug. His scent dithers your senses to nothing, a bit calming but that's all it was. "Female friendships are precious, endearing even."
You nod, tracing your hand along his which were wound tightly around your waist; you were starting to creep up on the sense that this hug wasn't anything close to friendly. Though, at the moment, when you were too lost in dwelling on your memories with Na-Ra, you didn't mind staying a bit longer, not that you cared since he was trying to blur the line of friends and lovers between you two. It wouldn't come off as a surprise, you were well aware of Yunho's adoration for you, but maybe you always pushed it aside since you viewed at him through nothing but a friendly gaze.
The serenity in the moment is too loud, too rapturing for you to notice someone walking in through the front door. When the gentle lock of the door clicks, is what makes you flinch and pull away from Yunho, eyes straining across to find Jongho's silhouette standing at a distance from you two. He holds onto the handle of your bag, knuckles going white from how tight he held. Squeezing till his fingers are all around the handlebar, he fixates his glare on you, both of you for that matter. A haze of dark crosses his eyes, submerging in the warmth they once held, and disappearing almost too quick for you to puzzle out. His lips curve, almost in a dainty manner before they're delving deep into his cheeks; that maniacal smile, the touch of just a little crazy was driving fear into your spine.
"Am I interrupting something?" he asks, rolling the bag out of his way, before fixing his eyes on Yunho.
The older doesn't make a sound, not even a as he scrambles to his feet and dusts his shirt off. "Yeah, no, nothing at all. I was just leaving."
It seemed like he was weighing his words carefully, trudging to the front door before grabbing his coat from the rack next to it; Yunho offers you a gentle smile, yet it was indiscernible to the course of his and Jongho's interaction. He shrugs on his coat and leaves without uttering a single word, stranding you bemused amid the living room. Jongho's apparent smile had turned a little inane for you.
"He didn't have to leave in such a rush," Jongho says, "anyway, are you in the mood for some wine?"
The sudden contrast in his words and demeanour causes to rift in between, driving countless doubts in your mind till they're diminished to nothing by Jongho's gummy smile. His eyes are trained on you, intensely piercing as if to manipulate your mind into his own. Striking out the possible cynicism in your head, you nod and curl your lips frailly so to reassure him.
"Sounds good to me."
"Of course," he chides, "I believe I have an unopened bottle lying somewhere around in the kitchen."
"Oh," your lips round themselves, voice barely audible. "That was yours? I recall seeing it in the cabinet above the stove; I did not open it and instead chucked it in the fridge."
"No worries."
He waves you off, disappearing in the dimly lit hallway and making his way into the kitchen. After listening to some shuffling around in there, his footsteps muffle and ascend from the hallway, emerging out with two glasses for wine and the bottle itself. Instead of placing the glasses and the bottles on the table, he nudges his head in the direction of the balcony; the balcony adjoined the living room with full length doors sliding open and close. You follow his suit, walking a step behind him.
Cold shivers run down your spine when he leads you out on the balcony; a scenic view awaits you, that is if you consider the dilly dally of empty streets as scenic or even close to it. The moon is hung high in the sky—a cloudless sky. Stars are prominent in the dark, and the moonlight shudders along to illuminate your surroundings. Jongho helps you down on the floor, laden with a dusty carpet, probably serving its purpose from the beginning. Taking a beat to himself, he settles next to you and places the bottle and glasses in between you two.
"It has always been a perfect place to share wine with someone," he murmurs against the night wind, which kisses your face and stings a little. "Needs a little revamping, however. You know to make it a little more mawkish."
"I'd agree," you relate, looking around till your eyes are back on him.
He doesn't make a sound; save for the mumbled grunt he lets out while unscrewing the cork on the wine bottle using his car keys. Pop. The cork comes off, slipping out the rim. Jongho's lips twist in a lopsided smile as he pours you a glass first and hands it to you; preparing the other glass for himself, he keeps the bottle aside and clinks it with yours. You take a sip, relishing the bittersweet taste of the wine before bringing the glass away from your lips. Jongho stares at you a minute longer than he had intended to, peering at you to notice all your details. He adores the tiny scrunch of your eyebrows, or the way your lips tremble when you wince out from the unsweetened taste of the wine. Taking a sip for himself, he stares straight ahead; not much to the view, nonetheless he admired the dusky sky of the night.
You had an inkling that you were biting back on, a petty notion about him acting out on his envy when he saw you with Yunho. It was a friendly gesture on his part, wasn't it? Still and all, you couldn't figure out the exact sentiments of Yunho's hug—it'd be little strung out of you to consider it being more than a chaste sentiment. Howsoever, you couldn't resist overthinking and drowning yourself in it, till you're turning to him and biting on your lower lip.
"What you saw with Yunho..." you mumble, getting his attention.
His eyes are affixed on you, lips contorted to a frown, "hey, it's none of my concerns. I've seen you to share some physical affinity. Wouldn't have been surprised if I were to catch you two making out."
Even if his words were inspiring, you couldn't help but notice the abstruse tone laced to them, or the fact that his eyes were dismal and fatalistic. You wonder, or it does seem to astonish you how easily and deliberately the colour in his eyes changes, almost in a fraction of a second.
"I'm not that close with him," you shrug and take another sip of your wine. "Agreed, we've been hanging out a lot and he keeps me company at work, but there's nothing between us."
"And you thought I'd be interested in knowing that because...?" he instigates, taking you off guard.
You stumble in your words for a second, observing how his thumb rubs circles on the glass he holds. Murmuring to yourself, you look away from him. "Because, maybe, I think, or speculate that you might..."
"I might?"
"You might have a crush on me."
There you said it. Your heart palpitates so hard in your chest, your mind is a blur, and your voice is trapped in your throat; could you even recover from whatever his response might be to your unsolicited assumption? He would have to speak to know what he really thinks of your blabber. But, upon hearing nothing from him, you tilt your head with remaining courage in yourself and find him staring at you instead.
"What?"
He chuckles, his shoulders convulsing with it before he chugs down the entire glass of wine; he leans closer to you, too close to let his breath fan your cheeks. Even so, with his lips ghosting yours, you couldn't comprehend the diminished distance between you two. What would it take for a kiss to happen in this moment? A simple tilt of anyone's head? Or a leap of faith?
"I thought I was getting ahead of myself by not confessing," he simpers, "everyone knows except for you. It was so obvious."
His wispy words were hot on your cheeks. Sadly, the glare of moonlight on his glasses made it hard for you to read what his eyes entailed. You could be assuming right now, but you were starting to gamble on the kiss. Does he mean for it happen? Do you mean for it happen? It's a perfect setting overall, cold night, moon in the sky, stars glimmering, and all while the city falls asleep. Undeniably beautiful. Something out of a fairy tale.
"I mean, I'm an airhead. Who didn't even know of your name before..." you mumble under your breath and tuck yourself closer to him, keeping your glass aside.
"I think we should take a veto on the whole 'not knowing you before you offered to help' trope." He laughs out softly, bringing his hand up to cup your jaw and then eventually your cheek. "I'll admit. When I saw you and Yunho sticking to each other like that, I was jealous. Only a tinge. Felt it rage in me. It would've pensively killed me if you two had..."
"Kissed?"
"Yeah." He tugs himself to you, putting his glass to the side to cup your face in both of his hands now. His warmth spreads under your skin, tickling your senses till they're numb. "Maybe, the longer you wait the sweeter the fruit tastes."
You hum along and extinguish the mere distance between you two; the touch of your lips is cold at first, but the warmth of his palms endearing your cheeks makes up for it. The mere brush of your lips drives you wild, enamoured with the thought of kissing and sucking them. Without much hesitance, Jongho pulls back and hooks his finger under the arms of his glasses to flick them to a side. And once they were off, he dives in to capture your lips in a kiss ever so sensual for you to decipher.
His hands slide to your waist, placing themselves on the either side to help leverage his body into yours. The moment your body collides with each other, the untapped heat comes alive and inflames your soul. You could hear the minor shuffling of your clothes; of the shirt he wore and your lace top barreling into one another. Jongho's hands tighten on your waist, pushing himself closer to deepen the kiss; you angle your head to make it easier for him, easier for him to slip his tongue in your mouth.
Stifling on a giddy titter, you bring your hands to his shoulders and then gently tug your fingers around his neck. Though, in meagre seconds, you're dragging them across to tangle them in his silky locks. Jongho lets out an amused laugh, though it gets muffled when his tongue drones over yours and rubs against every corner of your fervent mouth. You're far too gone to realise how delicate his touch was, how delicately one of his hands had slipped past the hem of your top. His fingertips were searing on your skin, sizzling with a want, a desire to caress and kiss every inch of you.
Regardless of how heated and passionate the kiss was, or how intense your feelings were for him, you pull back. Your heart grows heavy, stubborn to the increasing coldness between you two; Jongho's glides out of your mouth, a few saliva strings joining your lips together. He doesn't let his disappointment show on his face, he doesn't seem disappointed at all. There's a sheepish smile on his face and it sort of, recites the tunes of his heart.
"I wish..." you trail off, breathless while resting your forehead against his, "I wish we could let this escalate. But..."
"But?" he whispers, both hands now under your top, thumbs rubbing circles on your skin. Comforting.
"I'm not sure about us, yet. I don't want to dive headfirst into this and later on realise that we weren't meant to be together." You speak your heart out, however, it does baffle Jongho, only to the slightest.
You thought he'd throw a tantrum, argue, make you realise your worries were nothing but piddling hoaxes. But he doesn't. He doesn't go along with your fears and offers you a warming smile, the archetypal one which makes you forget about your woes and terrors. You could call yourself dramatic, but with guys like Jongho, your insecurities always resurfaced; guys like him, the ones who put you above everything else, make sure you're loved by them, are rare. Your trauma from loving all the wrong guys is still very much alive in your mind. It goes without saying, you'll need time to heal, or get used to Jongho's love.
"It's okay, moonpie." You chuckle at the allotted nickname, and he continues, "you still have scars from your past, and as much as I know, scars don't heal. They leave ugly marks behind; and nothing about you is ugly to me. Never in my eyes. You can take your time, figure out what you want and be determined. Having a loveless relationship, which you only agreed to because you didn't want to hurt my feelings, would be equivalent to being thrown in a prison for a crime you didn't commit."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖
"The shower was working just fine yesterday," you whine, agitated by the struggle of buttoning the cuffs of your shirt.
"It's fine," Jongho assures you, "I've called the plumber. He'll look into it, make necessary repairs and fix it before you're back from work. Okay?"
"Thanks a lot, Jongho," you mutter in urgency, still struggling with the buttons on your cuffs. "Thanks for letting me use yours."
"No problem." He adds with a dainty chortle, "you're welcomed any time."
This was turning into a nightmare, the way your clothes weren't cooperating with you, just as the shower didn't in the morning. You would have no reason to be in Jongho's apartment, in his lavish and spacious bedroom if not for your shower breaking down early in the morning. These series of unfortunate events were predestined to fall through on an important day for you, on the day you were expected to be punctual, professional and comme il faut. Only a few people from work were alerted about the meeting with the board of directors, you were one of them. Jongho wasn't likely needed, even having received an email from the company saying so, he didn't really bother to attend the meeting and took a sick leave. And looking at him, all hale and hearty, you surmised he just didn't want to be at work today.
"I can't believe you lied about your sick leave," you roll your eyes, bending over to catch your reflection in the mirror of his dresser. "I mean, this meeting sounds crucial and there you are, skipping on it like you don't care."
You watch him shift in bed, propping himself against the headboard while holding a book in his hands; his glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, yet he uses his forefinger to push the further up. There's an unreadable expression glinting in his eyes, and of course, the glares of his glasses make it hard to discern. He doesn't really answer your question or show slightest of interest in what you had been yapping about. Because, he was solely focused on your figure, on the way your skirt hugged your hips and carved out your body, how the top few buttons of your blouse were undone to expose your cleavage and how tempting you appeared to him as you were bent over to fix your earrings in the mirror.
"Cat got your tongue?" you glare at him through the mirror, finding his gaze fixed on you too.
He shakes his head, almost on an instinct, "too focused on reading this book."
"The book you've kept closed for the past thirsty minutes?" you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. For a fact, you were already aware of his thirsty eyes lurking on you.
He clears his throat, "I'm reflecting on the parts I've read."
"Of course you are."
"I'm not lying." His cheeks turn red as you keep your eyes on him. "Whatever, aren't you getting late for work?"
"Thanks for reminding me again," you roll your eyes, yet again, checking yourself in the mirror one last time before stepping away. "How do I look?"
You wait for him to give you his feedback, impatiently dragging your hands across the lower half of your blouse, which was tucked in the risqué black pencil skirt hugging your butt and thighs. He wouldn't have a chance to say otherwise, he doesn't really have to because watching how sensual your professional wear was, he bites back on a wince and shakes his head.
"Are you sure you're dressed formally?" he asks, keeping his book aside on the nightstand next to his bed. "It might send a wrong message to the board of directors."
"Are you talking about the blouse?" you muse, "it's not that revealing. Come on."
He heaves a defeated sigh, watching you tug at the collars of your blouse to let your chest jut out even more. "Fine, you look absolutely stunning. Still professional. So, best of luck."
"Thank you." You wink at him and trudge away from the dresser, "in any case, I'm leaving. You call the plumber and get my shower repaired."
"Yes, ma'am." He gives you a two-finger salute and giggles softly. "Now, go. You've got an important meeting waiting for you."
"Right, right."
With that, you leave his room, eventually slipping out of his apartment and taking the stairwell to yours. It has been couple of weeks of now, if you were keeping a count, then it was now your tenth week since moving into Jongho's spare apartment. Things have been better, they're smooth; your situation has improved a lot, compared to living with Na-Ra and her boyfriend getting it on every single time of the day and night. Every dark cloud has a silver lining, your silver lining was your new apartment and hanging out with Jongho a lot, but your dark cloud would have to be how Yunho had suddenly distanced himself from you. Of course you had never had any issues with him, you were close, always have been, but there was no logical explanation to why he had turned a cold shoulder to you, out of nowhere.
You aren't bothered by him as much, not because at least you got to see him at work and talk a little (confined to only work related). Getting in your apartment, you grab your necessary things, one of which was your purse and a work file, and hastily leave too. No second look overs in the mirror, or no breaks for grabbing a quick snack from your refrigerator, you're out of your apartment in a blink of an eye. You were in a hurry, and it was starting to show.
Jongho throws the sheets to a side, kicking his legs off the bed and strolling casually around and out of his bedroom; he was astounded by your presence, a lot. He was however glad to help you out when you needed it the most. Even if it meant he had to create your problems to offer his help. Now, you might not want to go on Jongho's innocent mien, or the front he puts on for his helpless victims to gain their trust and resolve. Jongho, in the society's minds, was this perfectly shaped and well-behaved person; though to the contrary, one who has witnessed his darker, steeper, creepier parts of life, could tell he's one son of a bitch.
A sociopath is what they call the people who are severely antisocial, with no regard for morales. Or, as what Jongho's therapist had once called him. Jongho had attachment issues, it rooted from his childhood, amongst his family; it grew and thrived in his mind, until his obsessions took over. Jongho would obsess over people. First, it was his mother, then his girlfriend and now you. He was obsessed with you, very much inclined to be with you at all times.
You thought Jongho extended a helping hand out of sheer desperation or love? Think again. Everything had been planned, by his evil mind from the start, from the day he had seen you in a cafe with your best friend, from the moment you walked past him at work; Jongho had always had his eye on you at work, obsessed with you, and moderately aggravated by your ignorance towards him. It might seem coincidental to him, having seen you in the cafe the first time, then finding out you were his coworker in the same company—a mere coincidence. Or fate?
Jongho had his planned nailed down to the T. He knew your girlfriend's boyfriend would move in with her, well considering he had allegedly constructed it to happen, he knew you would find a new place to move in because of their ruckus, and of course, he knew you would turn to Yunho, who mind not, was his accomplice in this whole thing. Ha, and you thought Yunho genuinely wanted to help you. Silly you.
Turning a corner along the long stretching hallway, Jongho enters a room; he closes the door shut behind him and walks on further to the various screens blaring on a wall. There are approximately fifteen screens, all showing the black and white reels of your apartment. Yeah, he had fitted several cameras in your apartment before you moved in, at various angles, getting all good shots of you. He sits down on the chair placed in front of the screens, pushing his glasses up, he starts going through each of the screen for your silhouette. Knowing you aren't in your apartment, he still double checks, wanting to be sure of it. Once he knows you really not there, he gets up from chair, tugs on the sleeves of his cashmere sweater and smirks devilishly to himself.
He has a perfect opportunity now, to sneak into your apartment and indulge in his darkest of desires. Standing in front of your apartment door, he punches in the code and enters; he makes his way around, leisurely strolling till he's in your bedroom. Ah, the broken shower, which wasn't really broken—he had only turned its water supply off. Jongho's smirk keeps growing into his cheeks, a sense of satisfaction over taking his heart before his lust and detrimental obsession kicks in.
Sauntering in your bedroom, he comes across your laundry basket strewn in a corner. Clothes overflow, the flap of the basket remains half open, and bits of your lingerie sticks out. He crouches down on his knees, pushing the flap open to see it for himself. The strap of your lacy bra was tucked out of the basket, under which he hooks his finger and gently pulls out; his gaze admires the flimsy fabric, the floral pattern of the net and how it would cover nothing of your skin when you'd wear it. He was picturing it, shamelessly pitching a tent in his pants. He couldn't help it. Keeping your bra aside, he fishes through the rest of the clothes and finds your lacy knickers too; so, your bra and these panties are a pair, he thinks to himself before pushing himself off the ground and going to sit on the edge of your bed. Not before he makes sure to shut the blinds of the window to keep his actions hidden behind the scenes.
One of his hands held onto your panties, and other clutched the sheets under him; he brings your panties close to his nose, to get a good sniff of your scent, a scent which had driven him to his madness. His cock strains in his sweatpants, painfully confined in his briefs. He wants to pull it out, he wants to do the unthinkable, all for you. Jongho does exactly what his mind had been playing on replay for the past two minutes now. Fantasising about you, and your body, he reaches down and starts palming his cock through his pants, making it harder as he thinks about you. He then tugs at his sweatpants and briefs, his cock springing out to hit his lower abdomen. Glancing down, he knows how hard he had gotten by just your clothes, and it was pushing him to his edge. He probably isn't even embarrassed to admit the truth about what he was going to do.
Jongho wraps his other hand around the tip of his cock, his thumb rubbing circles on the tip before his fingers slide down along the shaft. Stroking himself, he gets himself harder than before, stiff enough to jerk himself off. He relaxes in your bed, arching his back. The palm of his hand engulfs himself entire, and keeping his pace steady, he starts rubbing it back and forth. Veins on his shaft bulge out in a few seconds, and he hisses at the cold and calloused sensation of his hand.
"Fuck," he curses under his breath, his voice a mere whimper as he brings the tempo of his hand up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
He screws his eyes shut, tight enough to picture more of your naked body, to imagine himself getting sucked off by your pretty little mouth; he's seen every inch of your bare body, every time you'd be in the shower or would soak in the bathtub. He's in love with your body, so much, so madly. Sweat starts dripping down his forehead, a few strands of his ebony hair sticking to his skin, while his lips tremble chanting your name. He has your panties pushed up against his nose, taking eventual sniffs of it to drive himself crazy.
With a few quick paced strokes, he switches his rhythm and drags them out, going around the tip to massage it a little; precum starts dribbling out from his slit, and his hand spreads it along his shaft. His cock, glistening with his precum, is still very stiff and eager for the release, yet Jongho keeps his pace slower than before. He takes a deep yet trembling breath in, convulsing his lungs to the sheer pleasure he was deriving out of this. His face was flushed, cheeks red, lips quivering, eyes shut closed and his skin shining with a fresh coat of sweat; he needed more, he needed you. Loosening his fingers around his cock, and pulling his hand away, he brings his other to wrap your panties around him. The soft and warm feeling of your panties pushes him into his carnality, inching him closer to his release.
Tightly wounding his fingers now, he picks up the pace and goes hard; his moans are beginning to fill up the room, his eyes are swelling with tears till a few cascade down his cheeks, staining his skin. He's close. So very close. And the way he was dragging your panties up and down on his cock, was starting to get to him. With few more concise and fast paced strokes, he starts bucking his hips into his hand, fucking himself better. He knows he'll come undone any second now, realising how badly his cock had been pulsating in his hand. Everything blurs to nothing when he twitches, his body shuddering as he lets go. Streaks of white cover his hand, bits of it running down your fingers and a lot of it drenching your panties.
"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes out, his whimper sounding melodious to the empty room as he peels his eyes open. Heaving a wispy laugh, he glances down at his hand, full of his cum and your panties ruined by it. "You'd look so pretty squirming under me, while I'm...oh, fuck."
His mouth falls open, jaw slack, as his vivid imagination was starting to make him hard again. There's still time for you to get home, he wouldn't mind going another round. This time however, he keeps your panties and picks out your bra, spending another hour of his time masturbating and fucking himself to your thoughts, to the very vile imagery of you in his mind.
˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖
You were pacing back and forth, chewing on your nails as Jongho sits on the couch, shifting his eyes to your oscillating body.
"My lingerie is missing." You mumble, showing no signs of stopping in your movements. "The red set of my lacy underwear is gone, disappeared into thin air," you spell out with panic lacing your words, "what kind of pervert would do that? How is that even possible? I locked my door, there was no way anyone would have broken in to steal my underwear."
Jongho hums, relaxing back in the couch and feigning to be in deep thought. He doesn't utter a word. A criminal would keep his mouth shut under the fear of being unraveled. Jongho has your underwear, the red set of your bra and panties is lying in his wardrobe, sullen with his cum and reeking wildly of his scent. He's been jerking off to them every night since he got his hands on them, it's vile, it's disgusting but it's his way of loving you.
"This is maniacal, Jongho. I'm scared of living here now," you stop in your steps and stare at him. "I'm scared." The last of your words sound more like a whisper and that makes Jongho fake his concern even more.
He gets up from the couch and heads to the kitchen to bring you a glass of water, or what you think he was getting for you. You sigh and sit on the couch instead, placing your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands; you were frustrated, annoyed, frightened of your situation and how it was affecting you. Jongho walks out in mere minutes, bringing a glass of water to you. He hands you the glass and you take it without any doubt or having a reason to doubt him. Taking eventual sips, you feel yourself calming down bit by bit. In no time, the glass is empty and sits on the coffee table in front of you. Jongho watches you keenly, resisting the very urge to smirk. His straight face showed no emotions, no signs of impatience that he felt in his heart, but staring at you with his ravenous eyes, he only masqueraded his concern.
"Feeling better now?"
"I guess," you shake your head, returning back to having it slumped in your hands. "But this is outrageous, Jongho. Who could—just, I need some time to recover I think." You mumble, and your head was starting to get heavy.
Jongho notices your unease, and how dizzy you were staring to get. On the other hand, you were confused as to why you were suddenly starting to feel the discomfort; this issue wasn't that serious to begin with, yet you were starting to feel the aftermath of stressing out too much. It's really concerning to you how your lingerie got stolen, only one pair of it, however. You hadn't noticed it missing till after a few days from your important meeting, when you were searching for it to throw it in the washer.
You feel numb, your head throbbing with an unwanted ache till you're seeing stars in your eyes; breathing gets harder for you, your lungs burning and your throat suffocating you. This was sudden, but it was bewildering. Your vision turns blurry, your lips shaking and your heart pounding in your chest. Jongho stands in front of you, doing nothing, standing still on his spot till he's sure you're knocked out. And you are, in few more seconds, darkness shrouds your eyes, your mind switching off and your body falling limp to the side on the couch.
Was there something in the water?
You were never so comely with darkness, nor were you so fond of feeling lonely and scared. Not remembering how you ended up in this situation, feeling yourself lying in something soft, something constraining your movements and the kind of familiar scent tingling your nose. Squinting your eyes, your distorted mind starts waking up; the dull ache in your head isn't gone, but it isn't too intense to make you groan in pain. When you're fully conscious of your surroundings, you find yourself in a comfortable bed, way too comfortable; the mattress has sunken to your weight, the sheets on your body are and soft and warm. In the dimly lit room, you notice the details and find everything quite too familiar. A room, with a window and its drapes drawn over, with a dresser and a closet, with a layout so familiar.
When it finally creeps up to you, your body jerks off the bed. Sitting upright, you scrunch your brows together and find it astounding to be in Jongho's room. What had happened that led you here? Did you pass out and he brought you to his apartment? But then why would he bring you to his apartment? That doesn't make sense. He could've tended to you at your own apartment. This certainly doesn't feel right.
And it shouldn't either.
Not when you find one of your hands shackled in chains. A broad cuff is wrapped around your wrist, the metal cutting into your skin, and a long chain dangles from it to the headboard of the bed. What the fuck was this? You start panicking, your breath hitching and your mind going point blank; your anxiety starts getting the worst of you when realise you're still your old clothes. The same spaghetti sauced stain tank top and shorts you had worn when you called Jongho over regarding stolen lingerie.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, what the fucking shit is this?" you grunt through your gritted teeth, wanting to cut off the cuff from your wrist.
You're still panicking, caught up in the daze of escape instead of keeping your senses perched on other things. Let's say for the surrounding. It's beyond your comprehension to understand when a certain man walks in, muffling his footsteps against the floor and shuffling around to stand by the edge of your bed.
"Oh, you're awake, now. Are you, moonpie?" he murmurs, "I was starting to get tired of waiting around for you."
You could discern the soft pout on his face under the haze of dimmed lights. He leans over, towering with his broad shoulders on your body, making you feel small and puny.
"How are we feeling?" his worry is bittersweet, an underlying intention evident to your mind. "Hopefully, better. You've been asleep for a day or two." He shrugs his shoulders as if the words mean nothing to him, "who's keeping a count? Your friends? Yunho...?" he heaves out a chuckle, shaking his head, "probably. No, it's right. They must be concerned. Actually, he must be really worried considering he was in on this."
There's a beat of silence, and you decide to fill it in, having been unbothered by his jeering phrases. "Jongho, what is this? What kind of sick joke is this?"
You tug your hand, the chains shackling and creating a buzz around, a sound he was so delighted to hear from you. He traces his thumb across his lower lip, his eyes glazing only for a second on your face before they rummage to gander at red marks on your wrists. The cuff had really eaten your skin off, in a way, it looks tormenting and painful—something he surely finds himself relishing.
"A joke?" he mocks, "Moonpie, why would you think any of this is a joke? I'm doing all of this for you."
He sits by edge of the bed, and you scamper to press yourself against the headboard, wanting to be away from him or his touch even. This was something out of a movie, a low-budget thriller movie where the protagonist gets trapped by a psychopath and is subjected to all kinds of torture by them. How ironic is that? You were stuck in that situation yourself, wondering what Jongho's mind was constructing in every passing second. Given your interest in watching all sorts of documentaries, you knew you had to play your cards right, choose rightful words to get your way in this.
"For me?" you gasp on a breath, "Jongho, this is fucking crazy. You're fucking crazy—"
"—am I? Am I fucking crazy to think I can protect you from the world?" he growls, somewhat keeping himself composed, "I've seen how the others look at you, with their lust-filled eyes and the untamed desire they have for you. I can't let them taint you too. You're far from being corrupted, never in my eyes."
And there it was, the flash of ambiguous darkness in his eyes, the way it acridly makes your spine tingle. Even if it had lasted for mere seconds, you knew where this was headed, you were starting to figure him out; vaguely, but gradually. You needed to be levelheaded and cautious.
"All those days and nights of watching you, reading you, getting to know you, they were some of the best times I've ever had. You didn't even know I was there, like a shadow lurking behind you. Everywhere you went, I was there. I couldn't get enough of you, never actually." He adds, "I don't want to hurt you, I would rather die than hurt you. I just want to keep you close to me, away from the hungry stares of your so-called friends. You'll be safe here."
You hadn't realised when his hand had traced up your leg and rested on your thigh, but maybe you were too immersed in his words and thoughts to notice anything at all. Too immersed in his words and thoughts, the raw sentiments of his demented mind, you were in fact drowning in the aftermath of believing him, of ever interacting with him.
"You'll always be safe here, moonpie." He rubs circles on your thigh, thumb pushing into your flesh, "I'll go get something for you to eat. You must be hungry. You are hungry, aren't you?"
Your lips were sewn shut, heart practically in your throat at the way his tone and voice had changed. The clear shift from being obsessive to concerned caught you off guard. Jongho offers you a sweet yet deadly smile, his lips curling like the Cheshire Cat before he walks out of the room and leaves you in utter chaos. Confusion, despair, disgust, and your nicking anxiety had already started to get the worst out of you.
To think Yunho was into this all along, shatters your heart even harder. Now that the room was completely filled with silence, you could hear the minute shuffling happening outside. Jongho is probably preparing the food for you, and as much as you hate to admit it, you were indeed hungry. Your stomach growls at the thought of food, mindlessly thinking about what he had or was bringing for you to eat.
After a few minutes of waiting, the door rattles to him entering inside; he's soft on his feet, but his presence is heavy and intimidating. When he stands by the edge of the bed, holding a tray in his hands, he offers you a small smile before placing it down in your lap. You notice the contents then, a meagre meal of carbs, protein and fibre: pieces of chicken steak, some sautéed vegetables and mashed potatoes. To accompany the food, there was a small can of soda.
This was a filling meal, he really had thought it through, from the food itself. How long had he been planning this? He must be enjoying the sweet taste of his victory, which menially isn't anything but the decadent fulfilment of his efforts and hard work.
Jongho sits down on the edge, giving you enough space; even so you were pressed up against the headboard, not wanting to be any closer to him. The tray in your lap is warm, and you could vaguely discern the mist rising up from the food. Had he cooked it? Or had he just ordered it from outside? Besides that, your worst fear was getting drugged again. Had he drugged the food?
"I'm not hungry," you state, softly.
"But you need to eat, moonpie."
"I don't need anything from you."
He grunts, "you're really impossible to deal with."
Steering himself away from you for a mere moment, he lets his head hang low and shakes it; an amused chuckle follows, reverberating till the time stands still and you're taken back by him.
"Jongho!" you call out, the chain rattling as you brace your hands against his chest.
He had leaped over to you, shoving you into the headboard till your back hurt. One of his hands held down your shoulders, by pushing it hard against your chest. While his other hand grabbed your jaw, forcing you to stay in place.
"You should listen to me," he grunts in your face, pressing his fingers and thumbs into your cheeks to get your mouth to open. "If I tell you to eat, then you eat it, damnit. Don't make me say it twice. Next time, I might not use my words."
He lets go of you, crawling away from your body and checking the tray of plate, whether it had made a mess on the bed or not. Lucky for you, his enraged actions weren't as haphazard as you'd expect them to be; if there had been a mess of food in the bed, who's to tell what he'd do to you. In odd times as these, it's certain to agree with every wish of his, oblige every word he speaks and never go against him. He is volatile, waiting to blow up in your face any moment if you even move wrong. So, you have to weigh and measure every consequence before talking to him and carrying yourself around him.
Using your free hand, you pull the tray properly on your lap and pick at the food with their bare fingers. No spoon, no fork, no knife. He knows how to play. And he knows it well. Standing up on his feet, leaning over the edge of the bed, he strokes your shabby hair away from your eyes and offers you a gentle smile. In his mind, he hadn't been violent towards you. Acting as if he hadn't just pushed you up against the back of his bed and threatened you with his malignant anger.
"Good girl, now was it so hard?" his fingers caress a side of your face, slipping down your cheek to your lips. "Don't make me use force against you, moonpie. I don't like it. I can't stand the thought of bending you to my ways. Just...be a good girl for me, okay?"
You nod, picking out a piece of chicken steak he had cut and putting it in your mouth. It was hard to chew, no matter how soft the meat was in your mouth. Swallowing it was going to be even harder.
"Finish it, hmm?" he insists, stepping back till he finds himself sitting on a lounge chair by the door. "I'll wait until you finish everything on your plate."
Already having a hard time to swallow, you somehow manage to nod at him. Little by little, piece by piece, with your greasy fingers you finish most of the things in the plate. You still had a spoonful of mashed potatoes in your plate, the vegetables and meat were almost done with too.
"I've got all day," he sighs, dreamily as if, he wasn't getting tired of watching you and it was starting to show. "I'm not going anywhere. You can take as much time as you need."
Only the thought of him staring at you all while you tried to finish the plate, gave you an icky sensation. Your back was covered with sweat, your clothes were soaked in sweat too. Disgust was the last thing you wanted, but it was rather a feeling sticking to your spine ever since you had gained your consciousness.
"Done." You mutter, a sense of victory taking over your mind but soon dissipating into glum and hopelessness; he had gotten up from the chair, taking short strides toward you.
He was inspecting the empty plate, closely enough to not miss out anything. How sickeningly frightening was that? Even worse, how much of a sicko was he? You could have never guessed of his freakish predicament in the beginning, could've never imagined there's a devil hiding behind the warm gummy smile of his. Your current situation was pointing to the otherwise. On the spectrum of luck, you were stuck in the bottom half where misfortunes awaited you.
"Ahh, good girl." He mutters under his breath, patting your head before taking the tray out of the room with him. "I'll be back soon. Don't make a sound."
You were left alone in the dimly lit room, a room harbouring no light of sort; the window was draped shut apparently with black curtains, and the only source of light for you was the lamp on the nightstand next to you. As one your hands had been cuffed to the wall, you couldn't reach out to the nightstand or the drawers below it. You were hopeful the drawers might have something of your use, something to get you out of the cuffs.
Rummaging your eyes further, you find the dresser shrouded by darkness in a corner. The setting of this room had been tampered with, you'd know and are sure of it since you were in here before. This was Jongho's room, the very room you had used to get ready for your meeting once. You remember the dresser being situated next to the bed and not in that corner; you also recall using the bathroom adjoining this room, meaning the door which you keep second-guessing about, leads to the bathroom.
Besides the grim darkness, and melancholic sentiments, you were starting to panic. Your mind kept flooding with constant fear of death, or even worse, being assaulted by an unhinged man—you've seen it all in the documentaries before. Maybe, watching them wasn't a total waste of time. Regardless, you kept going back to your friends, and Yunho. The man who seemed so harmless at the beginning, had now been placed under a different light for you. How could you be so naïve and gullible? How could you trust strangers so easily?
You knew this wasn't the right time to guilt trip yourself; these kind of mistakes happen and can't be avoided either way. The weight on your shoulders is already anchoring you down when you start getting drowsy too. No doubt the food was drugged. Was it really? Or were you just feeling sleepy after eating the carbs? The worst part of it was, it doesn't take you more than a minute to fall asleep, your body falling limp in the bed, against the mattress while the sheets pool around.
This has to be the worst. Most definitely.
You had no clue how long you were out for, but when you came to terms with your conscious, your body was aching immensely. It could've been because of your sleeping position, how strained your body was when you slept curled against headboard. Though, you were less bothered about your body and more concerned about your bladder; you wanted to use the bathroom, urgently.
Bracing yourself, you proceed to heed out his name. At the beginning, your voice does not even reach your own ears, and takes you countless tries before knowing you could yell out his name.
"Jongho...!" it sounded a little weak, however you could hear the door squeaking at the hinges when it's opened.
Jongho walks in, looking concerned and bewildered, his eyes were wide, and his lips trembled like a loose leaf on a branch. "What is wrong?"
"I need to—I need to use the bathroom," you mumble.
Letting out a sigh, he walks around the bed and pulls out the top drawer of the nightstand. He retrieves a pair of handcuffs, the ones usually used by cops; approaching you, he nudges his head for you to hold both your hands out. You oblige as told to only to find him cuff your hands together before unlocking the broad metal cuff around your wrist which was adhered to the chain on the wall.
"Come on," he tugs on the cuff, pulling you along with it to another door.
You knew the door led to the bathroom, so when he unlocked it with another set of keys, you weren't so surprised to find yourself in it.
He pushes you inside, and closes the door, standing on the other side before hailing out to you, "make it quick. And don't even think about doing anything funny."
You gulp, audibly so. Quick on your instinct, you start looking around, hoping to find something of your use. But to your unseeming surprise, the cabinets were empty, the drawers were locked, and the cabinet mirror was a reflection of your harsh reality. Your skin was starting to dry, peeling at places, especially on your hands; your lips were chapped and bleeding, there were bags under your eyes, your hair was greasy and smelled a little. Everything was so...disgusting to you. Even your own reflection. The mirror was a glimpse to your future, no matter how much you tried to, you weren't getting out of here. Never out of his sight, his mind or his prison.
Now, you had completely given up, having no strength in you to continue fighting or think of ways to escape him. You finish relieving yourself and wash your hands, splashing some of the water on your face too. Hearing a knock bang on the door, you flinch and tremble in fear.
"Are you done?"
"Yeah," you whisper, pulling yourself together and hastily walking out.
Jongho stands right in front of you, arms folded on his chest and his eyes narrowed onto you. "I'm not going to cuff you again, you're free to move around this room."
He must've weighed all the consequences of keeping you tied in the room. As much as that is very thoughtful of him, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being trapped here all day and night. At this point, what was day and what was night? You couldn't make out the time, the windows were bind with dark curtains, there were no clocks in the room for you to even know the time or date. All you could rely on is your own sense of calculating and counting the days. Or maybe, you could just ask Jongho.
The man helps you get to the bed before dragging himself to the door; standing by it, he offers you a small smile before mumbling, "rest well, okay? I'll be back tomorrow with breakfast for you."
So, it was night after all.
You absentmindedly reflect to his smile with your own, getting in the bed and snuggling in the warm sheets. The door closes behind him as he leaves you in the dark, and once you're sure he's out your earshot, you cry. You hug your knees and cry, till your cheeks are stained with sheer agony of your tears.
This was hell.
And you really needed to get out of here.
˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖
You were starting to keep a track of his behaviour; not knowing how many days it had been since you were held captive by him, you still wanted to figure out how long you had been here. It would make sense for you to count the days from your last encounter with him, though for that, you would have to know how long you were knocked out for when he drugged you. Even so, counting from the time you had finally regained consciousness, it seems like it had been more than two weeks since you were here.
More than two weeks. Right. And yet, none of your friends had tried searching for you. Or maybe they had, they were on their way to seek you out. Although, Jongho was always one step ahead of everyone, he must've distracted them. The thought of your best friend and her boyfriend did come to your mind, but as usual, Jongho's advances would make you push them to a dark corner and never let those thoughts resurface.
Keeping a track of the days was easy, you only had to count the number of meals he was providing you. Jongho gave you three meals a day, the breakfast would be simple enough, consisting of an omelette and sometimes rice, the lunch and dinner were both proportionate of carbs, fibre and protein. You were glad he was offering you good food. But that was least of your concerns and nothing to be glad about.
Jongho allowed you to take a shower six meals before; thankful to that, you felt a bit fresh and dressed yourself in neat clothes. Again, the clothes had been bought by him, just as he did with every other thing. The clothes you wore were simple too, a cotton dress reaching to your calves and your brand-new underwear inside.
You were nicely dressed and showered today too, sitting by the edge of the bed and waiting for Jongho to come in with your lunch. Over the time, as irrational as it would sound to any sane person, you were starting to feel something for him. Affection? Maybe. Your soft spot for him was brainwashing you, not that he had already done with a few simple tricks, but you were starting to warm up to him.
Jongho made sure to make you realise how bad the outside world is, and how safe you are here with him. He never touched you without your consent, never made you feel threatened again; because you were starting to obey his words, his wishes, you were becoming his trained pet in a way. In the span of two weeks, you couldn't even recognise the change that had taken over you. If you could compare your old self to this one, you'd be stunned beyond measure.
But it wasn't that bad.
You listen to him. He doesn't threaten you and you don't get punished. Suffocation takes over you every time you try to reminisce of the day you had missed to obey him and had met with a ruthless punishment. As much as it is detrimental for you to remember it, you know the trauma won't leave you. Ever. You faced the punishment because you did not finish your food one time. He dragged you to the bathroom by your hair, filled up the bathtub with water till its brim, and drowned you in it. You could feel the water penetrate your lungs, shorten your breath, give you a dizzy headache. After the torture was over, he cradled you in his arms like a child on the bathroom floor, feeling guilty and ashamed of what he had done to you.
He never punished you after that. Ever. Even raising his voice at you made him feel guilty and embarrassed, so he spoke to you in humbling tones. Days were different after that incident, you thought he'd be more erratic than usual, but to your surprise he wasn't. Jongho has a good game, a very strong one to alter your perception on him. You couldn't pinpoint when it was, but you were surely feeling some type of way for him.
"I'm here, I'm here," he sings, pushing the door open while bringing in a tray of food. "I agree, I'm late. But I had a couple of things to take care of. Are you hungry?"
You nod, licking your lower lip. "I am. I thought you weren't going to come today."
"Babe, I'll always be here for you," he chimes, setting the tray on the bed first. Pulling the lounge chair closer to the bed, he sits on it and fishes out a key to unlock your cuffs. "You've been a really good girl for me, I'm thinking we won't be needing these anymore."
You took a breath of relief. The thought itself was freeing, no confinements on your wrists, no struggles, no pain, no marks on your skin. He lets the cuffs fall down on the floor, clinking softly against it while he tugs at your hands and pulls you in his lap. However, the glare on his glasses makes it hard to read his eyes, you never know when he might change his mind, and considering that, you wanted to be prepared to take on anything he flung at you.
"Jongho..."
"Shush..." he buries his face in the crook of your neck, biting and nicking your flesh till bruises start staining your skin. "I've been waiting for a long time to gain your trust. Craving your touch..." he intertwines your hands together, "I won't do anything unless you're ready. I want you to feel safe around me."
"I do," you mumble, leaning back into his touch, "I've started to feel safer around you than before."
"Is that true?"
"Do you want me to prove it?"
"How would you prove it, babe?" he asks, licking up a stripe on your neck, his tongue warm and slick with his spit.
You slip out of his lap, falling on your knees in front of him to slot your body perfectly in between his legs. He spreads them wider, letting you accommodate the space before running a hand through your hair. A sly smile stretches his lips, making you gag a bit, regardless, you let him do what he wanted to. His hand cups a wide of your face, before sliding down to grab your chin and pull you up only a bit for your lips to meet.
The kiss was hungry, wild, desperate, his lips were sucking on yours with an unquenchable thirst, while you pushed yourself into him to deepen the kiss. Your hands were on either of his thighs, but out of nowhere, you find the warmth of his own grab yours and force them behind your back. He holds your wrists in one of his hands, using the other to swiftly pick up the fallen handcuffs. You could hear the muffled sound of metal clinking, alerting you. Unfortunately, you weren't as quick to pull yourself out of his trap, or his arms; he places the cuffs on your wrist and tightens them.
His teeth sink into your lower lip, biting hard till it bleeds into his mouth. A satisfied moan rumbles in his chest, and he pushes himself away only a bit to flash you a conceited curl of his blood-stained lips.
"I like it this way," he murmurs, running the tips of fingers on your arms behind tugging on the link between your cuffed hands. "Don't worry too much...I won't hurt you. It's neither that I don't trust you. But I better be safe than sorry."
You stifle the urge to make a retching sound, wanting to flee the moment he's too immersed in whatever you had to offer. In other perspective, you nod your head and peer at him, putting on a helpless ruse and pouting so that he would continue the broken kiss. He did not needed to be told twice, however. His lips are back on yours, biting, sucking, lapping, both of your teeth clattering against each other until he cups your face and forces you to open your mouth. Instantly, his tongue slithers in your warmth, sending chills down your spine. You knew he was eager and desperate, very much so to hear you moan under him.
The vagrant and insatiable hunger in him was clearly evident in the way he was devouring your mouth. Stroking the back of your neck with one of his hands, he tilts your head behind to give him better control over you and his tongue thrusting down your throat. His other hand stays warm on your cheek, slowly and gradually falling to your shoulder while his fingers dig in your skin through the flimsy material of the dress.
He takes a deep breath, pushing himself away from you to realise what he was doing and what he wanted to do next. This time, you did not need to know it twice; the way his eyes lingered on yours for a minute longer before trailing down to his crotch, that told you many tales of what he wanted you to do. Swallowing thickly, you suck on your lower lip to resist the dwelling dread in the pit of your stomach. On a much contrary note, you were starting to get aroused and wet, your panties already drenched with your arousal. What did it take for you to be on your knees for him? His lustful eyes? His ravenous desire to make you his? Or, in fact, were you growing reminiscent of the time you had spent with him prior to this catastrophe that struck you?
"Open wide for me, okay?" he smugly whispers, keeping one hand on the back of your neck while using the other to unzip his pants.
You're helplessly stuck in between his legs, counting your breaths till you'd be suffocating on his cock; it wasn't a pretty picture in your head, but just the thought itself made you even more wet. This would have to be some sick sort of fantasy for you. Why else would you be thinking of erratic things towards your captor? In the dark side of your mind, the way Jongho had behaved with you in the past days, made you feel all sorts of things. Maybe it was the lack of human interaction, or the fact that you were away from your friends for so long, that your mind had fallen in love with the idea of what Jongho was.
Jongho tugs at the waistband of his pants, pulling them down with a few more tugs till they're pooling around his folded knees. You catch the glimpse of briefs tenting against his erection; again, something going hand in hand with disgust and lechery.
He brings his hand to your jaw from the back of your neck, and thumbs your lower lip, forcing you to open your mouth. You yelp, letting the pain of his fingernail digging in your fleshly lip, while watching him pull his briefs down. His cock springs out, eagerly. Jongho muffles a grunt while trying to push his briefs down and once he was done, he nudges your head close to his crotch.
"Be a good girl for me, like you have been for the past days."
His voice seems drunk of lust and craving, seeming raspy and heavy. You lick your lips, pushing yourself further this time to let the tip of his cock brush your lips; you don't open your mouth to take him in the instant, rather you stay, keeping your lips shut to let him rub his cock all over your mouth. The feeling was distasteful in some way, until the warmth of your mouth engulfs the littlest bit of his cock. Only the tip of his cock pulsated in your mouth, and you licked at the slit to elicit a soundful moan from him.
His touch burns on the back on your neck, holding it tight to keep your head in place while he bucked his hips into your face. Continuing with it, inch by inch his cock plunges in your mouth, till the tip hits your throat.
You gag, almost immediately. "Nnnghh..."
"Fuck." he mumbles, throwing his head back while his mouth falls opens. He even takes a moment to throw off his glasses on the floor, not bothered in the slightest to know if they landed smoothly or not. "Your mouth feels so good—so good around me, moonpie. So soft, so warm...fuck."
Leaving you to gag on his cock, he picks up the pace of his thrusts; every time he pulled out, it gave you a fraction of second to breathe, though when he pushed back with all his strength, you felt like you could suffocate. Your lungs burned, aching for air, your hands were strained behind your back, and your mind was foggy to realise any of it. What your conscious could filter was pure pleasure and desperate need for attention.
Jongho's cock was buried deep in you, stretching out the walls of your throat; you raise your tongue to the roof of your mouth, licking along the underside of his shaft as he continued to thrust in and out your mouth. The seething urge to bite down on his cock was immense in your mind, and even if you did, you knew it would not grace you with prettiest of consequences. So, you let that thought drift and oblige, doing what you had only learnt from watching porn.
"Want to breathe?" he asks as if he was going to do you a favour by pulling out.
Regardless, when you nod, he does pull himself out of your mouth and gives you a minute to breathe. You cough, feeling your throat itch while drool coats your chin and mouth; saliva strings dangle from your lips to the tip of his cock, which apparently had gotten redder and appeared to gleam with precum.
"Jongho..." you mumble.
"What? Is it too much for you?"
You shake your head, "I need you too."
"You need me, huh? Then show me what your mouth can do." He grumbles, nudging the tip of his cock against your lips.
You are back to wrapping your lips around him, lowering yourself down his veiny shaft and choking as it hits the back of your throat again. This was probably the most you had gotten inside your mouth. Now, tasting the saltiness from his precum, you roll your tongue on the underside of his cock. Licking and lapping while he rammed himself in and out of your mouth.
"Ah, fuck," he growls, the sound resonating from his chest as he throws his head back and his brows draw themselves in together. "Who knew this mouth was—oh, fucking hell—who knew this mouth was capable of driving someone wild."
You moan while his cock his confined in your throat, constrained to feel the mere vibrations of your whimpers and groans. Tears start pricking at the corners of your eyes when his pace picks up again; he bucks his lips, thrusting steadily to retain his rhythm. Too lost in the pleasure, both of his hands entangle in your hair and push you against his pelvis, your nose crushing on his pelvic bone and the bits of his pubic hair tickling your skin. It was rough, but pleasurable in a way.
While Jongho fucked into your mouth, your knees were tired from scrapping against the carpeted floor, your arms were numb from fettered behind your back. His cock slides deeper in your throat, slotting perfectly with the concise thrusts. Your lips were starting to sting from the stretch, as compared to the beginning. But minutes were starting to turn into hours, and you were still getting throat-fucked by him.
As his moans grew louder and the air in the room got heavier, you came to terms with the reality; Jongho peered down at you, a thin sheet of coat on his skin shimmering in the dim lights, while his brows remain stitched on his forehead. His lips trembled to speak something, but before he could even get his words out, you felt his cock twitch. He was close to his edge, and the thought of him cumming down your throat was least likely in your head.
Regardless, you couldn't do anything about it since his hands had already restrained you from moving your head back. Jongho's thrusts became placid and loose, surrendering to the pressure of his orgasm. Though, he doesn't give into the temptation and rather pushes you off; he pants heavily, letting his chest heave up and down. You were breathless too, but the way your throat had been abused, you start coughing from your lungs. Your chest burns, your throat has gone sore, and you couldn't feel your arms at all. Spit, drool, whatever fluids your mouth had, they were all staining your chin and lips. The opulent strings of saliva were connecting your lips and his cock, correction, his veiny and thick cock, which had fucked the hell out your throat.
For a man like him, his cock is sure girthy and thick, lacking in length however that couldn't be any of your concerns since he had a great technique.
How pathetic you were. This man has you captive, he's bending you to his ways and benefit, and you're gushing about him. Jongho seemed so harmless in the beginning, especially when you had no idea of his existence. Now, looking back to those days, it all plays out to a fever dream. Unlikely. Unfortunate. And, vague. Knowing him had bitten you in the ass, making you realise how careful you needed to be around people.
"I had imagined things—I had fantasised of the ways I'd use this mouth," he breaks your trance, hooking his thumb in your open mouth before pulling you up by it.
One of his hands comes quick to wrap around your waist as he picks you up; he guides you on his lap, your dress fluttering till he despairingly pulls it up to your waist. Your drenched panties exposed to his eyes, while you're adjusting yourself on his lap, making sure his cock hits your lower stomach.
"I hope it didn't disappoint you," you smile, hazy and clearly intoxicated with pleasure. "My mouth...my mouth can do wonders."
"Don't doubt that," he grins, placing both his hands on your waist, "but now I need to know what this little body can do..."
When his words are dragged into a mere whisper, he slides his hands to the back of your dress and tears it down. The sound of them tattering against his force, fill up the room, not that the melodies of your pants and grunts had already created a ballad; the damaged pieces of your dress start to slip off your body, revealing nothing but your lingerie. Jongho basically ogles at the sight, wasting no time in ridding you of your bra and filling his hands with your supple flesh.
"I used to see this body every day, aching to touch," he whispers, blowing air on your hardened nipples before swallowing one of your tits whole in his mouth.
"To shuck," he muffles his words, teeth sinking in your skin as he keeps kneading your other tit. "To phinch..."
His words were still discernible. Pulling back, after leaving his teeth marks around your tit, he smears some of his spit on the tip of his fingers and pinches your nipples. The coolness of spit was tantalising the rising warmth of your body; you were grinding on his bare thigh, letting his cock rub against your lower abdomen. He was rock hard and that was driving you insane. His hands slip from your chest to your back, resting in the curve before sliding further down to cup your butt.
"Jongho, please..." you whimper, bucking your hips into his in a desperate need of release.
"Yes, darling," he chuckles softly, rubbing his thumbs on either of your buttcheeks before giving them a gentle squeeze. "You're going to get it. Have patience."
Squeezing your ass tighter, he lays his palms flat on your skin and offers it a good hard smack.
You wince at the sting searing on your skin, "fuck—that hurts."
He didn't care.
Not giving it much thought, he proceeds to slide your panties to a side, keeping the other hand still on your ass.
"Christ, moonpie. You're dripping. You've even ruined your panties." He lets his middle finger trace your wet slit, rubbing it slightly to get you off.
Unconsciously, you start grinding on his finger, wanting to feel more of the friction and the demeaning pleasure you were seeking from it.
"Jongho, just fuck me already." You desperately drag out the movement of your hips, his finger sliding in and out of your slit before it protrudes into your cunt. "Hmm, fuck."
"I don't think my finger would be enough for you."
He shakes his head, snapping the straps of your panties with one meagre tug and letting the torn pieces fall off your thighs. It gets you moaning again, first you were high on the lust after sucking him off, and now, his raw intentions of tearing everything off your body. Without hesitating, or heeding you of any warning, he aligns his cock with your cunt; you take the hint a second later, pushing yourself forward for the purpose of ease.
He had no problem slipping into your tight cunt, after all, your arousal was flowing out like water; you were sure, as his cock inched in you, your juices were dripping down your inner thighs, leaving a shimmery trail behind. You were not prepared to endure the stretch from his cock, definitely not, regardless of your arousal coating every layer of your warm flesh. However, Jongho bottoms out the moment you sink lower onto his lap.
"Fuck, this cunt is a little tight for me," he groans, smirking at you.
"Shut up," you say out of breath, already struggling to adjust to his size.
He wasn't big, but he was girthy, stretching you out quite well. Taking a deep breath, you notice the mellow ache dissipating into sheer pleasure, and you start moving. Jongho bites back on a moan, watching you through his half-lidded eyes. He puts his hands on either side of your waist, giving you a leverage to increase your pace. You start off with rolling your cunt onto his crotch, letting cock stretch you out even more before riding him.
Jongho grabs your jaw, tight enough for his fingers to sink in your cheeks before pulling you towards him and capturing your lips in bloodthirsty kiss. The fervent heat shows in the way his tongue pokes inside, in despair of tasting your mouth; he heaves out a satisfied moan into your mouth when he catches up on the traces of his cock on your tongue. In a way, it riled you up, making you go harder.
The kiss breaks apart with Jongho pulling himself away, a smirk curling his lips in devilry, while his eyes are fixed on yours.
"You better watch your mouth," he warns you for what you had said before, "I have different ways to ruin it. Considering—ah fuck."
Not bothered to listen to him, you were chasing your orgasm, switching from rolling to bucking your hips up and down on cock. You lifted yourself and then sank back, every time, it gave you a feeling of emptiness before you were full again; the tip of his cock would ram deep into you, but not as deep as it would go if he tried to thrust himself into you.
"Playing a risky game, are we?" he mumbles, still holding your jaw and forcing you to open your mouth. Gurgling a good amount of spit in his mouth, he aims it at yours and the cold wad of his spit trickles down your throat. "I know how to tame a brat like you."
He lets go of your jaw and places his hand on the small of your back, supporting your body as it rocked up and down on his cock. You increase your pace, straining your hips almost as the light in his eyes is swallowed by darkness. It wasn't the first time you had come across noticing such ungodly indication in his eyes. He'd frequently show you his true colours, his true intentions, his raw emotions and the wicked schemes.
"Yeah? Then you better fuck me—better fuck me like you mean it." You whimper, your body shuddering.
Nifty tremors spread under your skin when he bucks his hips up, thrusting his cock into you. He plunges himself deep inside, a visible bulge now forming on your mound and on your lower abdomen. You did not expect yourself to prompt him so badly and quickly, though whatever it was that had gotten him on edge, you weren't complaining.
"I better have you making a mess on my cock, now."
With that, he increases the pace of his thrust, ramming his cock as deep as he could and eliciting the perfect melodious moans out of you. At this point, it was safe to say that you were no longer sane; you were never sane to begin with, no sane woman would let her kidnapper fuck her into the oblivion. You were letting Jongho do exactly that, letting his cock wreck you with almost no dignity as you ride him. Or so you thought you were. Jongho ceases his movements, keeping his eyes on you to know your rhythm and need.
And as he waited, scrutinising and perusing your tearful eyes, one of his hands comes clashing down on your cunt, slapping perfectly over your mound and slit; he waits a beat to notice your reaction, content with the way your jaw was open slack, and your eyes were rolling in the back of your head. Who thought it would make you mewl? Having his cock stuffed in you was one thing, but having him slap your bulged out cunt, was another. Both were pleasurable, but the latter was sending you to paradise of pure bliss.
Smirking to himself, he prepares to slap your pussy one more time. The sound of your skin and his fingers meeting was ravishing, echoing in the room along with your loud whimpers, which would soon turn to cries. Jongho absolutely loved watching you cry, he loved the way your tears stained your cheeks and how red they'd get after; he continues to proffer slaps to your cunt, all while bucking his hips into you. He had found his rhythm in doing that, alternating between thrusting his cock and smacking your cunt.
"Jongho, fuck—that—that fucking hurts," you cry, closing your eyes to let your tears cascade down your cheeks.
This was too much for you to bear, the immense pleasure piling on your body while bit back on the urge to release. Your body lurches into his chest and you rest of your head on his shoulder, realising he was still clothed on his upper half; not bothered by it, you too, resume rolling your hips into his, earning a mellifluous moan from him.
"If you keep doing that, I'll cum," he grows in your ear, pressing his lips against your temple as you laid your head on his chest.
His arms were around your waist, giving him a better grip to thrust into you; within seconds, his pace becomes animalistic, not faltering one bit. A familiar knot ties itself in the pit of your stomach, hot and tight, just waiting to come undone by force. You let out a small scream before pushing yourself back from his chest and looking at him, pleading him to end this suffering. He knew what he was doing, or had been doing, he was prolonging your orgasm, making your lower belly ache with desperation.
But now it doesn't seem that way. Keeping his pace steady, still wild and raw, he plunges deep into you to undo the tension in your stomach. You heave out a series of breathless moans, before giving into the temptation of release, finding your juice splash around his cock and dribble down your inner thighs. A bit of your orgasm drenches his briefs, while a few drops squirt on his chest, soaking the shirt. You were so done for, already aching to compose your breathing.
The hard part's over. But, feeling Jongho's cock pulsate intensely with every single thrust, your body starts coiling again. Familiar kind of heat rises in your gut, crawling up your spine and before you could even realise, you were preparing yourself to cum again. Back-to-back? It was something difficult for a guy to attain, yet here you were. You were sure the both of you would be releasing at the same time. Confined in your velvet walls, his cock numbs your rationality, heavily striking at one specific spot till you're crumbling in his arms. You heave a deep breath in, chest convulsing erratically when the wave of your second orgasm overcomes the aftershock of the first one. You've done it again, made a mess on his cock while he still stayed buried inside you. The feeling of being filled up to the brim, while your juices trickled down his cock and his skin, was causing your body to spasm.
Reeling out of the pain and pleasure, you find Jongho smirking at you, letting out voiceless grunts and snickers to belittle your conscious; cumming for the second time, without him trying to overstimulate you, was certainly a victory on his side. Jongho's cock twitches one last time with long and hard thrusts, and in a second's time, he's releasing himself into you. The warmth of his seed coats your walls, squirting a little deeper in your lower gut, while he slowly starts to pull out. Gradually, he slides out completely and holds you close to his body.
You were out of energy to initiate anything, already lethargic and sore. Exhaustion gets the best of you, and the only thing you remember before passing out, how dirty and slick you felt, how his cum was all over your cunt and your inner thighs, how pathetic you were to let this happen. Of course, the post orgasm clarity was making you feel guilty and rather than confronting it, you let it demean you while he stroked your back, fingers caressing your skin ever so lightly to help you relax. For a meagre second, your body eases into his, your head falling onto his chest as you collapse on him; his half-erect cock rests on your stomach, slowly going limp with the passing time.
"You were such a good girl today," he coos, a sole finger tugging at the links between the cuffs on your wrist. "Maybe it's time we got rid of these altogether."
"After all, you won't be wanting to escape now."
˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖
The very selective memories of him were echoing in your head; the first time you had bared yourself in front of him, let him have his way with you, the time he concluded you would never want to get out of here, away from him. And as much as you'd hate to admit he was right; you were starting to regard your old plan of escaping his clutches. To be honest with yourself, you had been gone beyond the point of return. Because every time he came to your room, you were hopeful you'd fuck, and your hopes were turned to reality when he'd fuck you to the ultimate paradise whenever he came to drop you a meal.
Basically, you had gotten used to him. As much as the pavlov's theory, every time he entered you room with a tray of good food, you'd be on your knees to satisfy him. And that did not disappoint him. At all. The two of you had gone beyond, diving headfirst into this dynamic where either of you relied on each other's body to sate your mental dwelling. You were never the one to complain, neither did he, not when he was getting to use in every way, he had desired from the time he had first laid his eyes on you.
Though, it was a forlorn mistake to give yourself into him. There were wicked consequences of those actions, leading to what seemed like addiction from both of your sides. You don't know how long you had been with him, months maybe? But after that one day, the very first time you had let him touch you in all the sinister ways he had planers to, you were madly into him, made to believe he was the only one capable of keeping you safe from the outside world. Pathetic.
To be sullied by a man like him, was to be ashamed and to be burned to ashes; you were embarrassed to admit it, your captor had stolen your heart and locked it in his cage, and the key to it was his six-inch girthy dick you'd drool over every time he was with you. Yeah, to conclude, you were his cum-slut, taking in every inch of his cock whenever he got in the mood to fuck you. Seemingly, you felt dead inside when he'd not show up to your room, feeling guilty and disgusted in yourself, because why else won't he come to you? He needs you just as much you needed him.
The concepts of days and time were all mangled for you; having no idea how many days or months you had spent with Jongho, you sit quietly in your designated room. You were waiting for him of course, because your biological clock had also been hampered with. Your heart would know when he'd come and when he'd go, when he'd want to fuck you, when he'd take efforts to clean you and give you aftercare. This surely was fucked.
You hear muffled sounds from outside, some clattering of dishes, some clinking of cutlery and another man. It was strange, at first you believed you were hearing things, that you had finally gone mad trapped in the dark room. But, when the voice booms for the second time, you were sure there was someone else in this house apart from you and Jongho. And it was a man. A man you had familiarised yourself at your workplace for months.
"Where the fuck is she, Jongho?" Yunho's voice sends chills down your spine, as it's too powerful to be heard from the other side of the apartment. "I know you've kept her here."
"She's not here," Jongho speaks up, and his muffled voice is followed by the sound of plates crashing.
"Listen here, you little shit. I never knew of your fucking intentions before; if I had, I would have never talked to her about you." Yunho's growl is loud, shattering your eardrums, for some reason, you could picture him clutching on Jongho's collar, forcing himself into his face as he continues, "I practically served her on a silver platter for you. So, if you still think your life is precious, tell me where she is."
"Yunho, you've got it all wrong. I don't have her." Jongho's persistent with his lies. "Look, I'm stressed too. She's been missing for three months already, everyone's worried about her well being. It's not just you..."
"Don't bullshit me!" Yunho screams, his voice coarse and deep. "I know she's here..."
After that you couldn't hear any of their voices or their yells, it was only sheer silence. What must've happened? Curiosity gets the worst of you and slide off the bed to press your ear against the door, wanting to listen a little closely.
Nothing.
There was pin drop silence on the other side.
And you feared, amongst the dwelling serenity, the door rattles quite harshly, causing your body to flinch and you take step back. Every nerve of your mind was consumed with fright, and sheer terror; you panicked, anxiously waiting for the door to be knocked open by someone of the two. Partly, you were scared to find Jongho on the other side. But, if it was Yunho, as you thought he was the one confronting Jongho, then you'd be relieved.
But...
Would you really?
If your memory serves you right, he was an accomplice in Jongho's crimes, helping his way to you. So, would you really trust him? Would you be relieved to find once he barges in through that door? Would you be willing to leap into his arms and hug him? The time would only tell because the hinges of the door had fallen on the floor. The person's brute strength had treated the door like a cardboard sheet, and it easily falls over, thudding against the floor.
Your heart was pounding in your chest, breathing ragged and your lips quivering; you take a few steps back, stumbling to the bed as a silhouette walks in.
"Oh, god. It's really you." You were sure that was Yunho's voice. "Fucking hell, we need to get out of here. Okay...here, take my hand."
Through the corners of your tearful eyes, you find him extending his hand over to you. Hesitations knocks your heart, but the remaining clarity of tour consciousness coaxes you to take his hand. It was Yunho after all; the very tall, handsome man from your work you could rely on for everything. To hell with your doubts about him, if he's here to help you, then maybe you should trust him. And trust him is what you do. He's dragging you out of the room, guiding you down the hallway to the living room.
Yunho's broad back covered you from witnessing a still scene in the living room. When he halts all so suddenly in his steps, you prevent yourself from colliding into his back and lean over to gaze at him in confusion. And your confusion grows to sheer horror when you find Jongho lying on the ground, blood pooling under his body which seemed to only grow with every passing second.
"What the fuck..." you mutter under your breath, your heart shattering bit by bit as you take in the view of your so-called lover lying lifeless on the floor. "What did you—what did you do, Yunho?"
The said man turns to glance at you, shaking his head as his voice turns grim and serious. "I'm trying to save you. This is nothing—the depths I would go through to keep you safe..."
"You—you...moonpie, don't leave me," Jongho's words are caught in his throat, moreover, he's disgruntled from all the pain.
Yunho's already tugging on your hand, having it intertwined with yours as tightly as he could to make sure you won't fall back into Jongho's trickery. He was right, knowing you would pity the man who had captured you and held you captive for months, you would pity the criminal because he was nothing short of kind to you.
In actuality, Jongho had done nothing wrong to you, right?
You shake your head, wanting to stay behind to help him, but to your despondent heart's desire, you couldn't get yourself to snatch your hand from Yunho's grip. Jongho's clothes were drenched in blood, his shirt soaking the crimson shade as much as it could; he was stabbed in his chest by a long shard of ceramic, probably from the mess of broken plates on the ground. Yunho keeps dragging you to the main door, but your attention was all on Jongho, how listlessly his eyes fluttered, and the slight tremble of his lips was heart wrenching...till it turns to a sullen smile, only widening thereafter.
Why was he smiling?
You were growing concerned.
It was then when you were forced to turn around, when you saw his eyes close forever, the contrasting crimson against the marble floor growing by twofold; he was long gone, and that sure as hell put you in a state of panic. Yunho's fingers dug into your skin, showing no signs of easing out, not until he had you in the passenger's seat of his car and him behind the wheel. It was nighttime. The moon was high struck in the sky, and the stars were nowhere to be seen; this was your first time witnessing the moon in so long, that everything felt foreign to you. The fresh air, the sounds of the crickets chirping, the empty street, the spot where Yunho's car was parked, all of it was so out of the ordinary that you were suffocating. The reality was tough to digest, but you still couldn't fathom that you were out of that sunless room, out of the turbid silence and hearing things you thought you weren't capable of.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" Yunho starts inspecting your body with a haste, tugging at the collar of the dress you were wearing and studying your skin.
"I'm fine," you mumble back, comprehending the sound of his voice and his touch.
"What the fuck..." he grumbles, finding your skin littered with bruises and cuts, all the hickeys from your time together with Jongho.
The cuts weren't exactly deep, and Jongho would only leave them behind for the purpose to intensify the pleasure between you two. They were almost healed, with murky scabs forming already. You wanted to push Yunho's hands away from you, wanting him to stop perusing your body as you were ashamed to show it to him.
"What were you thinking?" he shakes his head, pulling himself back to loosen his coat from his shoulder. He wraps it around you, and you start to shiver; not because you were cold or anything, because it was your first time feeling genuine affection instead of the feigned one. "This is atrocious."
"How did you find me?"
"The better questions here should be, are you okay? Did he do anything to you? What...what the hell happened?" he sighs, "we were all so worried about you." Taking a deep breath, he turns right ahead, and you do too, "the cops were useless to us after two days, you know. Because Jongho had made sure your case appears to them as a runaway and not abduction."
You quietly listen to him, facing the front and watching the night pass you by. Everything was still new to you, after months of spending your time confined in a room, of course it was natural to feel strangled in the open air.
Yunho grips the steering wheel, tight enough for his knuckles to turn while. "Your apartment was unscathed, so it was clear no one tried to abduct you. They ruled out every suspicion on Jongho because of the evidence. A lot happened after you went missing—when the cops gave up, we tried to find clues in your apartment."
Silence covers the two of you, like a warm hug from a blanket, before he decides to break it. "Na-Ra and her boyfriend never gave up; they tried calling your hometown and asking your whereabouts. I was busy going through your apartment and Jongho...he always found a way to divert our investigation."
"Until one day he got too squirrelly when we asked him about you. It was only logical to, he was your neighbour and your landlord...it made sense," his voice breaks, "he never let us in his apartment either. My suspicions only grew from that moment."
"He said..." you speak up, glancing at him to find him resting his head on the steering wheel; but hearing your voice he turns his head to face you. "He said...he had been planning this for a while. Kept an eye on me. Watched my every move."
"He surely did," Yunho lets out a satirical chuckle, "bastard had cameras installed everywhere in your apartment. Even your old one. It creeped out Na-Ra."
"You don't say," you whisper, looking away.
"He has a spare room in his apartment; filled with screens, you know, all those cameras keeping an eye on you," Yunho mutters, "I should've known it before, he was obsessed with you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so eager to help you out."
"Were you in on this?" you question, catching him off guard.
"Why would I be in on this?" he gasps, "I wasn't. He told you I was, didn't he?"
You nod, pursing your lips together. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I can't even tell if I should trust you or not."
"You should," he mumbles, "as a friend I was worried sick about you."
"I don't doubt that."
"Really, trust me. I'm not going to hurt you." He repeats himself.
"I know you won't but..."
"But?"
"What about Jongho? Is he really—"
"Dead? Yeah." He sighs, as if he had been holding it for long. "I aimed for his heart; pretty sure I got it."
"So, you killed him?"
"I already told you; I would go to any extent to keep you safe." He murmurs.
"So, what do we do now?" you ask because you were starting to panic.
You look at him, and he had been staring at you for a long time. He shakes his head, letting a smile cross his face, "we do nothing. We have no choice. Someone will find his body; the rot makes it easier to."
"And about you, you will have to restart your life pretending nothing happened."
#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez smut#ateez x reader#ateez yunho#jeong yunho#jeong yunho x reader#smut#atz#choi jongho x reader#choi jongho smut#choi jongho#psychopath au#request#jongho x reader#yunho x reader
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As It Was (You Know It’s Not The Same)
prompt: part II of the pornstar!au; what happens after the shoot
warnings: angst,smut, minors dni
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part one
-
YN is staring blankly into her bowl of chicken alfredo that Niall was kind enough to make after they got home from the shoot.
She had so many different emotions coursing through her that it felt like overload and it was making her numb as not one single thought could be construed properly in her head.
Niall let her process for a while as he chowed down on his own meal, eyeing his best friend regularly to try to get a gauge on her mental status.
It jars them both when Niall’s phone begins to ring, the obnoxious default music echoing through the apartment and interrupting the silence.
His phone was face down, in typical Niall fashion, he flips it quickly and answers, barely glancing at the unknown number on the screen.
“‘Ello?” He states through a mouthful, ever the gentleman, and as soon as the caller begins to talk, Niall’s eyebrows pinch downward and he drops his fork as he listens.
“She doesn’t owe you shit, mate,” Niall responds loudly and YN already knows who it is, knows that Harry has Niall’s number but not hers because she changed it a while back when a subscriber found it out and called incessantly.
“I’m not asking her whether she wants to talk or not. If she did, she obviously would have stuck around to do so. You don’t get to make demands when you were the one getting your dick wet elsewhere,” Niall was nearly shouting at this point where YN didn’t even need to hear Harry to know that he was keeping a deathly calm tone with a sharp edge to each word.
YN had only heard him yell once.
-
“You won’t let me explain!” Harry erupts angrily, YN had never heard him this loud ever as he stood in the entryway of their apartment, “You’re kicking me out and you won’t even fucking let me explain to you what’s been going on!”
“You had time to explain,” YN grits out, there were fat tears streaming down her cheeks and she could not catch her breath, “But when I asked you wh-what was going on you lied. You said n-nothing was sneak-sneaky.”
Harry’s eyes soften a bit as he tries to step forward with his arms outstretched, “Baby, you need to breathe. You’re going to pass out. Please, just let me help you first.”
“Don’t you dare,” YN manages to hiss between hiccups, taking a step back until she hits the wall behind her, “Don’t even think about touching me.”
Harry’s voice raises again, “You think that I would throw what we had away? For what? Sex? Are you that fuckin’ daft? When would I have time to get it anywhere when I’m trying to get with you every time I can? Our sex life is literally amazing.”
“You tell me,” She rebukes with a shake of her head, she just needs a minute to think and everything is going a mile a minute, “You tell me why.”
“You know what?” Harry scoffs with a clenched jaw, he looked more intimidating in this moment than he ever had as he spoke through his teeth, “The fact that you think I would ever cheat on you is disgusting. That you think so god damn little of me after I’ve spent the last five years proving my love and loyalty to you.”
YN’s bottom lip quivers at that, a fresh round of tears because this isn’t her fucking fault, and he is making her doubt herself right now.
“The fact that you’re willing to throw away this relationship because of something you suspect with nofucking proof. Just because of what you went through with your parents. That ready to get rid of me,” Harry’s volume lowers by the end, a watery edge of emotion to it, and YN watches him rub his eyes furiously to wash away the tears.
YN regrets what she says next because she knows they should have a conversation even if it’s not what she wants to hear.
However, she instead spits out, “Get the fuck out. I hope I never see your fucking face again. Go find the girl who was worth it and enjoy your life.”
And then she’s turning on her heel out of the room, the deafening sound of Harry slamming the front door shut as he leaves makes her ears ring and he had to have to splinter it.
YN has never collapsed to the ground before like she did right then, sliding down the wall in her kitchen and dropping her head to her knees - letting out the most earth-shattering wail as her soulmate walks out of her life.
-
“You can fuck off, mate,” Naill’s hard words interrupt her flashback as he pulls his phone away from his ear and presses the red ‘end’ button before setting his phone back down on the table, “Jesus. He wants your number.”
YN squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, shaking her head and taking in a deep inhale because it’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to him, she just knows that it’s not the best decision for her.
However, with the choices she made today to sleep with him, she wasn’t truly making great decisions anyways at this point.
It didn’t get him out of her system, if anything, it reminded her of how much her body craved him and how much her soul needed him - it reminded her of how broken she was without him.
“Thanks, Niall,” YN sighs as she pushes her full plate away, “I just…I just need some time to decompress. I’m probably just going to get a bath and head to bed. I’ll text you tomorrow. Thanks for everything today.”
Niall gives her a concerned look, not truly believing that she was okay enough to be alone but he nods, leaning over to kiss her forehead before telling her, “Call me if you need anything before then. Okay pet?”
YN agrees before walking him to the door, locking it behind him, and just standing there for a moment to gather herself - she hated that there were pinpricks of tears in her eyes because she missed Harry.
It didn’t help when she was undressing in her bathroom as her tub filled up, eyes tracing the bruises that Harry had left all over her skin - it was so unprofessional, actors knew that was in poor taste to leave marks.
Harry had proved once again how much he owned, controlled her body, even now with how tender the skin on her belly, hips, thighs were from his blunt teeth that nipped into her.
As she’s relaxing in the water, head resting against the basin as she watches a trashy reality television show on her phone, the dialogue pauses when there’s an incoming call on her phone from a number that wasn’t saved in her phone.
She can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the interruption as she answers with a short, “Hello?”
“Hello,” It’s a voice that sends chills down her spine, she swears her nipples tighten at the mere single word uttered through the phone.
“How did you get my number?” YN demands, her heart already beating out of her chest as she sits further up in the bathtub.
“I have my ways,” Harry responds uselessly before he’s continuing on, “You ran from me today. You broke your promise.”
“Let’s not talk about broken promises, Harry,” YN snaps automatically, defensive and on-edge instantly with the conversation.
How dare he.
Harry let’s out a low chuckle that makes YN’s skin prickle in aggravation, like he’s in on a secret joke that she’s not privy to, “I promise you that the conversation I wanted to have with you would have benefited you. But that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Why else would you need to call me?” YN prompts because if she’s not aggressive like this, she’s going to cry, and she hates not feeling in control of her emotions, hasn’t felt like this in so long.
“I’m checking to see if you’re okay,” Harry’s bravado had softened now, like it did when he would really baby her, “I know today wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy for me, at least.”
“You got your rocks off, how wasn’t it easy?” She replies sharply, YN knew that it wouldn’t be easy for him either but she wanted to hear it, she wanted to hear Harry say how hard it was for him - she knew that was wrong but in this moment, she didn’t care.
“YN,” He huffs in disapproval, he seems to debate his words before speaking carefully, “To have sex with you after not being able to for a year. To have sex with the woman that I thought that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. The only person I would have sex with for the rest of my life. It was fucking devastating.”
His voice cracks on the last sentence and he pulls away from the receiver to cough - he would always couch to hide emotion, it was a tell for him, always had been, and it makes her heart ache a bit.
“Well, you’re in the adult film industry now. I guess you gave up that idea,” YN hates how cold she sounds, her instinct is to comfort him, and assure him that she was struggling to - she couldn’t give in.
“No, not really,” Harry tells her, “Today would have been my first shot with another actor. All my other work has been solo. I haven’t slept with anyone since you. I feel like you showing up today was my sign that I don’t want to sleep with anyone else.”
YN realizes that she was digging her nails deeply into her palm, leaving marks, and she stops clenching her fist, resting it more delicately against her thigh, and she looks away from the lovebite that it lands on.
“I did two scenes,” YN mumbles under her breath, she knows she has no reason to feel guilty or bad about it, they were broken up, “One with a guy and I hated it so I did one with a girl and I didn’t like it either. I’ve been doing it solo since then.”
“I see,” Harry responds, his voice doesn’t give anything away.
“I-Does that make you mad?”” YN regrets asking instantly, she doesn’t know why she felt the need to fucking ask that - of course, she wants to know the answer but she needs a filter sometimes.
Harry pauses for a moment, thinking over his response carefully, “No. Just, it doesn’t feel good to hear, obviously, but I’m not upset with you, sweethea-.” He catches his pet name and rephrases, “Don’t act like you don’t remember what a possessive sod I was. It makes my skin crawl to imagine you with some else but it’s nothing that you did wrong.”
-
“Harry, baby,” YN giggles quietly as Harry’s mouth attacks her neck, sucking harsh bruises into the thin skin, biting at the crook of her neck as she knots her fingers into his curls to grip him, “S’okay, H.”
Harry’s hands curling into the waistband of her biker shorts, tugging them down her thighs along with her underwear, his hand finding her mound, and his fingers splitting through her plump lips to push up inside of her.
“S’mine, yeah? Tell me, pet,” Harry orders as he pulls back from her neck, only to bring their lips together as he crooks his two thick fingers forward to pet at the sponges spot inside her walls.
“Oo-oh fuck,” YN moans as softly as possible, her back hitting the stall door, and making a shuttering noise as he scissors his fingers to spread her open, thumb navigating to her clit to rub at it.
“I’m going to stop,” Harry bites out, acting like he’s about to pull out his fingers, and it makes YN let out the most spoiled whine which makes him drag his teeth against her jaw, “Tell me, whose this is? Tell me who owns this cute little cunt.”
“You, baby, you,” YN babbles quickly because she wants to come, she can feel herself dripping onto his palm, and it’s making the most filthy slick sound in the otherwise silent bathroom.
It was all because they were working out at the gym and while Harry stepped away to refill his water bottle, some guy took the opportunity to approach YN to ask if she needed help with weights, and lifting technique.
Harry did not miss the way the chiseled man’s eyes didn’t move from YN’s bum for more than a minute while she squatted and ignored his advances - acting like she couldn’t hear him through the music in her headphones.
“She’s good, mate,” Harry cuts in, his hand coming to rest possessively at the small of her back, fingers creeping towards her bum to let this guy know that he didn’t have a fucking chance, “Don’t fucking approach her again.”
Dude got the message quickly, scurrying back to a different bench press but Harry could still feel this creep’s gaze on his girl as she went about her workout and he didn’t miss the way other men at the gym stole glimpses too.
“Who am I? Say my name,” Harry goads as YN tries to clench her thighs together with her oncoming orgasm but he knees them even further apart, and with his free hand, he yanks down her sports bra until her tits spill out, ducking down to lick at the hard nubs.
“Harry, Harry,” YN chants as her thighs begin to quiver violently, her head knocking against the door as she lets her eyes close and let out a long mewl as the intense feelings rock through her.
“There’s my girl,” He hums approvingly, cheekily licking at his fingers before helping tug her leggings back up in the small gym bathroom, “All mine, yeah? Don’t I make you feel so good, yeah?”
“Always,” YN replies sweetly, leaning forward to give him an appreciative kiss and tug him into a hug which makes the tough man melt a little bit.
“Let’s get you home, shower you, and then I’ll give you a nice cuddle, hm?”
He was so fucking gone for her.
-
“I remember,” YN can’t help let the giggle spill from her lips at the memories of him.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Harry pouts but lets it dissolve into a laugh as well, “Fuck, I miss that sound.”
“Harry, why did you call?” YN sighs, bringing the conversation back to the now because YN felt herself melting into him like she always did and she couldn’t let herself do that.
“Like I said, I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Harry reiterates, “It was an emotional day and you bailed before I could check on you. I just wanted to make sure you were good.”
She wasn’t.
“I’m fine,” YN couldn’t even deny how much of a lie it sounded like.
“YN,” Harry grunts firmly because he knew, of course, he knew, “We need to talk. Seriously.”
And this is were YN backs out, cowardly, she doesn’t care because she can’t talk, she can’t get her heart broken again.
“I, uh,” YN sputters for a moment, wracking her brain for an excuse, “I forgot I have something in the oven. I have to go. Bye.”
With that she hangs up on him, she knows hes going to call back, and like clockwork, he does - phone lighting up again with the unsaved number, YN silences her phone and tosses it onto the plush rug - slipping back down into the tub and groaning at the shit storm she got herself into.
-
YN was a bit early, always was usually, especially to an important meeting like today.
It was with Warren at the production headquarters, all that she’s been told is that it’s good news, and that she shouldn’t worry about anything because at first she thought she might be in trouble over something.
They guide her into one of the fancy conference rooms with sleek gray colors and modern furniture - she’s dressed in a professional outfit, a tailored suit and her favorite pair of heels.
Anxiously, she plays on her phone as she waits for the others to arrive, and after a few minutes, people begin slowly pouring into the room - they come with tablets, computers, notepads that mean business.
Warren walks in like he owns the place as always, a tacky white suit on with his black hair slicked back with so much gel it looks greasy as he sits at the head of the table, “Just waiting on one more,” He announces as he fixes his gaudy gold watch on his wrist.
YN should not be shocked at this point when Harry enters the conference room last, in a tailored suit too but his button up was barely buttoned, revealing the butterfly right below his sternum and his sparrows on display.
She can tell that Harry was also not expecting her there by the surprise on his face when he scans the room and sees her sitting there, he regulates himself fast and his face goes back to emotionless as he sits down closer to Warren in the last available seat.
“Okay, now I know you two don’t know why we’ve called this meeting,” Warren begins and picks up a little remote, clicking on a projector screen as multiple graphs pop up on the wall, “But this is about the video you two made last week. It’s the most view, top rated, and most downloaded video that has ever been posted on our sight. THe demographic is evenly split between male and female viewers. The age demographic also ranging from eighteen to sixty. The advertisement revenue has brought in nearly five million dollars alone.”
If YN wasn’t working on controlling her facial expression, her eyes would have bugged out of her head at the announcement - she hadn’t been tracking how successful it had been but she did not expect that.
“Based on the majority of comments, female fans loved the intimacy and realistic interaction between you two. They reported that it reminded them of a real couple. Men commented that they enjoyed that dominance of the Harry and how responsive YN was to him.”
YN felt the heat rising to her cheeks as they discussed the topic, her eyes glued to her hands as she nervously picked at her nail beds until it hurt, she didn’t know where this conversation was going.
“We are offering both of you an opportunity,” Warren continues with excitement in his voice, “A series on the channel. The catch is that we will be asking you two to exclusively film with each other at this time. We are aiming for at least ten videos but possibly more based on the continued popularity which we do not see as being a problem.”
Oh god.
“The team has decided on a generous offer of two point five millions dollars for ten videos plus added bonuses contingent on the advertisement revenue,” Another businessman speaks up, he’s clicking around on his laptop as he talks, “Then there will be another offer if the series continues.”
Two point five million dollars.
Never.
Ever.
In YN’s wildest dreams would she think she would be offered that amount, right in front of her, let along to get to do the videos with the only person she’s every felt sexually compatible with.
She wouldn’t consider herself greedy but that amount of money would really really push her life in the right direction, she could find a better apartment in the city, she could do so much.
YN was willing to put up with the emotional sacrifice, fuck, she’d hire a therapist with that money if she had to but she couldn’t imagine turning that down all because it’s will Harry - she’d had sex with him for free anyways.
It’s a no brainer.
So it’s an absolute shock when YN gazes up at Harry, who’s sat back in his seat with his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed.
Her heart drops into her stomach when he makes direct eye contact with her and tells the room, “Absolutely not. I decline the offer. I have no desire to participate in this.”
#pornstar!au#pornstar!harry#pornrry#harry styles writing#harry styles#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fic rec#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles smut#harry styles angst
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and i - ft. jean kirstein
summary: jean (successfully) tries to make you feel better after a recent breakup
content: friends to lovers, fluff, good vibes, jean brainrot to the max, modern au, college au
a/n: for @honeybleed 90s/00s rnb event!! <3 jean fluff hehehe bc i can't get him out of my brain and he is THE comfort character. inspired by and i - ciara. i love this song big time ♡ laughed so hard watching the music video when she brought out the horse lmaooo 🤔 for my fellow jean girlies!!!
1.2k words
"ugh, i hate him," you grumble, sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh.
jean glances at you, concern etched on his face. "what now?" he asks, taking a seat beside you.
crossing your arms, you slump into the cushions. "he just posted a picture of him with that girl. what a fucking asshole."
jean clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. "why are you still on his profile? you need to forget about him."
with a frustrated sigh, you shut off your phone. it’s been a few weeks since you ended things with your ex, a decision long overdue. the relationship had lost what little spark had been there in the first place, dragging on for as long as the two of you would let it. the final straw had been when you had found the sexts he had sent to a girl in one of his classes. it stings and it sucks but more than anything, your pride is wounded. the sadistic part of you can’t resist the urge to keep tabs on him and wallow in resentment.
"i have forgotten about him," you say defiantly. "he's just unfortunately like the gum stuck on the bottom of my shoe."
jean lets out a low chuckle. his hands fall to his thighs as he pushes up off the couch. "okay, you know what. let's go for a drive."
curiosity flickers in your eyes as you look up at him, wondering where this is going.
"come on, let's go," he urges, reaching forward to grab your hand. you let him pull you to your feet.
"alright, fine. but you're shouting me coffee," you tell him with a roll of your eyes, a small smile winning over.
"always," he winks in return with a mischievous lift to his lips.
the music blares as you drive, jean tapping his fingers along to the beat. you hum along, watching the scenery pass by with your window down, letting the cool air blow away your tension. the recent events start to fade away and your mind wanders back to your first break up a couple years ago during your first year of university. jean had been there then too, holding you as you had cried and simmered, until you were ready to put yourself back together.
he had refused to let you mope around, forcing you to go out with him to movies and parties and bars. he had been the one to listen to your problems as you poured your heart out, making his shoulders your personal dumping ground. jean had been there for you through it all.
you deserve someone who loves all of you. the words he had said to you back then, ring clear in your mind.
there has always been an underlying tension between you two, a quiet undercurrent that flows beneath the surface of your friendship. from the moment you first saw him, standing across the room at a party in first year, his presence has captured your attention drawing you to him like a magnet. you had become fast friends, sharing everything together from your classes, to your interests, to your deepest darkest secrets.
part of you wonders if he’s ever felt the same way. sometimes you wonder what it would be like if you had found the courage to tell him your feelings, but now you’re in too deep, the confines of your friendship too strong. all this time, you’re pining after him while trying to fill the void with other people, only to be crushed over and over. dreams of making a move dance in your mind, but the fear of jeopardising your friendship holds you back. you’re happy this way, if only because it means you can have him in your life. you’ve sealed these thoughts away in your heart and thrown away the key.
jean's hand lifts from the steering wheel to turn down the music. "what are you thinking about?" he asks.
you cross your arms to hug yourself. "why is it so hard to find someone? am I just destined to be forever alone?"
he flicks your knee teasingly. "maybe you're looking in the wrong places." he turns his head briefly to meet your eyes. “plus, how can you be forever alone when you have me."
you roll your eyes and poke his shoulder before turning away. “yeah, and where should I be looking then?”
he pulls into the car park in front of your favourite coffee shop, shutting off the car and turning to you. he stills for a moment and takes a deep breath, letting it sit for a moment before releasing. a hand pulls through his hair, coming to rest on the back of his neck. "why not me?" he asks, turning to face you.
your eyes narrow at his words. "don't play around, jean."
"nah, I'm serious," he says. there's a hint of uncertainty in his voice but his gaze is unwavering. "you know I would do anything for you."
you freeze, chest tightening, feeling the air being sucked out of the car. you hear his words but they don't register, refusing to sink in. the sincerity in his words hang in the air, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. in the quiet, jean's confession lingers like a promise. you want to believe him, to let go of the fear that consumes you but you can't help but hold back.
you shake your head, uncertain of the implications. you’ve both said things like this to each other before, never ones to hold back on sentiment, but something about them today carry a weight you can’t ignore.
"but aren't we friends? i don't want to ruin what we have."
he reaches for your hand across the centre console, his fingers intertwining with yours. his thumb brushes against your skin, sending tingles up your arm. “i would never let anything ruin what we have,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours, gaze tender but firm. “i've wanted to say this for a long time."
with his free hand, he cups your cheek and leans in, brushing your hair aside. "i could have everything in the world, but I would sacrifice it all for you. stop wasting your time with these losers.”
your heart pounds, breath catching in your throat. slowly, you allow yourself to acknowledge the feelings that have lingered beneath the surface. "jean..." you whisper, the sound barely escaping your lips.
"please. let me show you."
his lips meet yours, and for a moment, you forget about everything else. the world disappears, leaving only the two of you. it feels like a dream as he pulls you in, your chest flush against his. your fingers comb through his hair, your heart thumping in your chest.
everything about him overwhelms you. his scent, the way his hair feels between your fingers. and the softness of his lips, gentle and warm against your own.
his hands slide from where they’re tangled in your own hair down to hold your arms, squeezing lightly. he pulls back, his eyes searching yours. the moment hangs in the air, the intensity heavy between you.
"are you okay with this?" he asks, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.
you nod. a smile stretches across your cheeks as you look up at jean, whose expression mirrors yours.
it’s more than okay. it’s everything.
you let yourself fall into the moment, unlocking the key to your heart, letting yourself want him. hope flickers in you, anticipation for what this could mean. you finally reach for the love that has always wanted to reveal itself. and this time, it feels real.
#jean kirschstein#jean kirstein#attack on titan#jean kirschtien#jean x reader#✎ . chloe wrote smth#aot#aot x reader
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