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hyuckmov · 1 year

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request #4 - himbo haechan

part 2! wc: 13.8k (yeah...) genre: fluff, smut (18+ minors dni), angst, himbo to fwb to lovers haechan warnings: mutual masturbation (kind of), sex over zoom call, softdom haechan and needy desperate haechan, mommy kink once, use of princess and angel and baby, fingering, unprotected fucking, overstim, haechan swears a lot, hair pulling, degradation/haechan likes pain and being humiliated, making love, nipple sucking, voice kink, thigh riding, haechan chokes and sucks on his own fingers, idk man a/n: i hope this is hot. i hope you feel this. i hope you like this. i don't know if this is my best work because i feel like the writing craft is so shoddy at times but idk... AS A PIONEERING HIMBO HAECHAN FIC, i hope this marks an important moment for the himbo haechan thinkers <3 thank you for waiting and thank you for supporting me. please let me know what you think and please be nice...

the first time you meet haechan, he doesn't exactly make a good impression.

"what are you doing?"

slowly, he lifts his head from where his lips were brushing your neck. "um…" blinking, his eyes refocus on yours. "trying to kiss you."

"haechan!" you hiss.

eyebrows raised, he beams back at you. "y/n!" he hisses back, imitating your tone.

"i came here with someone else." you push his shoulder lightly, trying to make space between him and you but it's no use — his body slumps even harder, and you can see his eyes scanning your neck, zoning out of the conversation.

"i know…" he mumbles, tracing a fingertip at your pulse point and making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

"you do?"

"yeah…" his other hand hovers in the air, as if he's deciding whether to grab your waist or press his palm to your lower back.

"so you know i'm talking to someone right now, and it would be bad if i went around kissing my project partners...?"

silence.

you dip your head slightly to try to look at him through his messy bangs, only to jolt slightly when you glimpse his expression. his eyes already half-lidded with lust, mouth hanging open and drool glistening on his plump lips. why did he look so…needy? fucked out? it had only been about a minute or so since you saw him walk towards you, the easy smile he kept on at full blast. you had exchanged small talk for about 10 seconds over your professor, and then he started nosing at the juncture between your jaw and your neck.

"haechan?" you prompted, hesitantly. "everything okay?"

"um...all's good," he mutters, before moving back towards you, lips puckered slightly and ready to mark your skin.

spluttering, you push him away, again, confusion starting to settle in for you too. could he not take a hint?

"were you even listening?" you ask, incredulously. "i said i'm talking to someone right now."

"uh huh." he tilts his head to the side. "um, did you say something after that? sorry-" he breathes, wincing at the frustration on your face. "you just smell so good, i couldn't pay attention…" and as if he couldn't help himself, you noticed his body gravitate towards you, again.

gripping onto his shoulder to keep him at a distance, you say slowly, "haechan, if i'm talking to someone, it wouldn't be good for me to mess around with other people."

you see the words register in his head, see the furrow in his brow deepen as he ponders what you're saying. "it wouldn't?"

"no, it wouldn't."

"but you're not dating him yet."

"no, i'm not." you see him open his mouth, so you quickly add, "but we're on our way, and i want to show him i'm serious about it."

"but i'm serious about you." it was practically lazy – the way he pulled your hand off his shoulder and intertwined your fingers with his.

you couldn't help the thrill that ran down your spine as you were reminded of how strong he was, even though he didn't necessarily look it.

"serious about me or serious about fucking me?" you bite back.

"both."

you let out a scoff. unable to stop yourself, you blurt out, "are you used to women saying yes to you or something?"

"huh?"

"where do you get your confidence?"

he raises his eyebrows at you in genuine concern as if you're the confused one in this conversation. "where do you think?" he makes a vague gesture to indicate his pretty face, and you're a little annoyed at how right he is. with heavy eye makeup, mismatched contact lenses giving his look a more piercing quality, moles tracing across his cheek just begging to be suckled with kisses and those heart-shaped lips…you think you would be hard pressed to find a woman in this room who would say no to his shameless flirting.

"you shouldn't assume, haechan." something close to confidence begins to stir up in you, and you straighten, shaking your hand out of his. "it's not nice to kiss someone without asking them properly. you should always try to read the situation, and make sure you have consent."

listening intently like a student in a classroom, he nods slowly to show he understands. "not nice, got it. anything else?"

"don't try to steal people away from their dates," you add on, inspired.

"right."

"and don't say things like 'i'm serious about fucking you' if you don't really mean–"

"-this is hot." he interrupts, words blurring together in a rush. his eyes unfocused and dreamy, he drags his gaze up and down your body indulgently. "you teaching me things."

"hae-"

"teaching me how to be a good boy…" he breathes. "yeah. fuck."

your jaw drops, momentarily speechless. and yet, despite everything you were supposedly teaching him, his straightforwardness, the lack of filter, the raw desire that seemed to course through his entire body…you couldn't deny that it was making you feel a certain way too.

fixing him with a look that conveyed as much seriousness and frustration you could muster, you shake your head.

and he cowers.

"sorry…" he mumbles, stepping away from you, almost ashamed. "i should've kept that to myself."

you resist the urge to laugh. "yes, maybe you should have."

turning to go, you pat him on the arm lightly, feeling a little bad for him. "see you around in class, okay?"

he nods, eyes cast to the floor gloomily, and you're about to exit and head back to the main room when he calls your name.

"y/n?"

"yes?"

"i meant it."

"what?"

"i meant it when i said i was serious about fucking you." quietly, and with surprising gentleness, "i wouldn't lead you on like that. i wouldn't say it if i didn't mean it."

and as you turn your back on the pretty boy in the hallway, you couldn't help the butterflies that seemed to burst into life in your chest at his words.

the second time you meet haechan, you're explaining your assignment to him in class, and he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.

the third time, he keeps up an endless stream of compliments for you as he walks you back to your apartment to get ready for your date (with heavy insinuations that he could treat you better, the entire time).

after that, you sort of lose count. from a name told to you by your professor, to the boy who couldn't seem to stand without your help at the party, he slipped into your life with no intention of leaving.

"i'm frustrated because i WANT to fuck you-"

no intention of leaving, no intention of changing, at all.

his words come out louder than you expect, ringing out in the silence of the library. he's practically raising his voice, the aggravation plain and clear as his words escalate in pitch. embarrassingly, people studying at the adjacent tables start to look over at you two, drawn by haechan's distinctive tone of voice, wondering what the campus resident himbo-heartthrob could be saying.

and he's still talking.

interrupting him with a loud shushing sound, you grab his arm and haul him out of his seat. he stumbles a little over his steps as he follows you obediently out of the library, the rant momentarily cut off.

the moment the two of you burst out of the library doors, he's seizing you by your arms, his expression eager and delighted.

"my place? i don't think my roommate's home, and there's this toy i want-"

"lee haechan." your jaw drops. you seem to be doing a lot of that when you're around him.

breathless, his eyes shine with delight. "yeah?"

you almost don't want to ask. "why do you think i dragged you out of the library?"

"you're ready to fuck right now?" his expression falls when he finally reads yours, taking in your stony glare and the hard set of your jaw. "oh. i did something wrong, didn't it?"

"haechan…" you can't decide what to start with.

"wait, i'm sorry-" he blurts out, letting go of you. "i shouldn't have grabbed you…"

"you shouldn't have raised your voice in a library!"

"i'm SORRY-" gulping, he tries to make his voice smaller. "i just got really excited…"

"when you are in small spaces, you use your 'inside voice', okay?"

"my…" he gulps. "inside voice?"

"your inside voice means a volume level only meant for you," you point. "and me, the person you are talking to." you point at yourself.

"why?"

"do you want the whole library to know you want to fuck me?"

"i don't mind." a beat. "wait, fuck- wrong answer. no, i don't." he shakes his head firmly. "no."

"exactly." you let out a breath. "so please, the next time you want to have this discussion, make sure you're not announcing it for the entire student population, okay?"

he opens his mouth, but then quickly shuts it. a blush beginning to spread across his cheeks, he buries his face in his hands, sweater covering his palms up to his fingers.

you sigh. "what is it, haechan?"

"i don't want to say," he whispers.

"why?"

"you'll get really angry at me." chastised, he bites his lip. and then, quieter, "i'm sorry i embarrassed you."

"welll…you didn't really embarrass me,” you mumble. "haechan…"

a muffled sound.

"am i actually just being really mean to you? you can be honest-" you add, seeing something flicker in his eyes as he removes his hands from his face. "i won't get mad."

"you're kind of mean…" he hesitates. "but i really like it. because i know it means you care about me."

your heart warms.

"and also because i find it really hot," he continues, unabashedly. "like…a part of me wants to push you until you freak out on me. but also the other part of me just wants to be good for you, you know?"

you stare at him. his hair falling lazily on his forehead, a breathless and windswept look to him as if his own desire was physically stealing his breath away from his lungs. you'd noticed before how his eyes were always watery with some sort of emotion, his long lashes gently tangling and untangling, meeting his blushy skin. his pouty lips… forming your name.

"fuck…i should have kept that to myself, right?" he tilts his head, blinking purposefully at you. "y/n?"

you clear your throat. "it's fine." another pause, as you wonder how you can draw the conversation back to something less intimate, because the way he's looking at you — as if he wants to dive into your soul just by looking into your eyes, — was making you regret ever dragging him out of the library. "um…" sex. talk about sex. "so…you were going to use a toy for our first time together?"

caught off guard, he gapes at you, trying to recall where he let slip his plans for the night. "i…" he blinks. "how did you know? did i tell you?"

he's adorable. pressing on, you try to bring back the tone of defiance in your voice. "couldn't make me cum all by yourself? are you really that unconfident?"

from the way he's tonguing the inside of his cheek, you know you've successfully switched the tone. "princess…" his voice is slow and patronising. "don't talk about things you don't understand." you don't think you've ever heard him speak like that, cockiness dripping from every syllable. is this the haechan that everyone else knew?

"i don't-"

"i saw the way you were looking at me just now…" eyes fluttering, he slouches closer to you and you back away on instinct. the movement makes him smile. "you think i'm pretty, just like everyone else does, hm?"

it takes everything in you to roll your eyes, stepping further away from him as if it would break the spell. "you're so full of yourself."

"and you like it." at the look on your face, he backpedals instantly, the confidence draining from him in an instant as he adjusts his bag on his shoulders. "right…sorry. you're still seeing someone." he doesn't even try to hide the bitterness in his tone.

a moment passes.

"let's just… go get dinner," you suggest, lightly. he nods distractedly, hooking a hand around your bag strap and lazily tugging it onto his shoulder, something he likes to do for you.

the walk to the restaurant is only a few minutes, and it's only when you reach that he speaks up again.

"y/n?"

"yeah?"

"he….he makes you happy, right?"

"huh?"

"the guy you're seeing." he swallows, fingers curling tighter around your bag unconsciously. "you're happy with him, right?"

biting your lip, you nod slowly. "i guess."

if he can sense your hesitance, he doesn't press — body relaxing considerably as he nods to himself too. "then that's all that matters."

and he reaches over to hold the door open for you, face bright and happy again as he patiently waits for you to enter first.

haechan, 11.00pm: i hope you got a kiss today you, 11.00pm: what haechan, 11.01pm: idk you just looked really pretty today and i really wanted to kiss you you, 11.01pm: so that's why you were looking at me like that haechan, 11.01pm: yeah but i can't kiss you so haechan, 11.01pm: i hope you got a kiss somehow…

haechan, 11.12pm: so did you? you, 11.12pm: did i what? haechan, 11.12pm: did you get a kiss haechan, 11.12pm: WAIT haechan, 11.12pm: don't tell me haechan, 11.12pm: i'll get sad you, 11.12pm: okay haechan, 11.12pm: okay what? you, 11.13pm: okay, i won't tell you haechan, 11.13pm: fuck haechan, 11.13pm: i want you so bad… you, 11.13pm: HAECHAN haechan, 11.13pm: TYPO sorry sorry you, 11.13pm: you can't typo a whole phrase haechan, 11.13pm: yes you can… i just did…

for someone who doesn't always know what he's talking about, haechan loves to talk. a lot.

"you're going to sleep? already?" even in the low quality image on your phone screen, you can see the crestfallen look on his face.

"we both have an early class tomorrow."

"we can take turns sleeping in that class…like we did last week…"

accusatorily, you jab a finger at your phone camera, causing his nose to scrunch in alarm as if you were really there, backing away from his screen. "you slept for a whole two hours that time!"

"i-" sulking, he rolls over on his side, face half smushed against the bed. "i'll do better this time."

"we can always talk tomorrow," you soothe, getting comfortable in your own bed and holding up your phone a little higher so the angle didn't look so bad on videocall.

although it was ridiculous, you couldn't help but feel insecure at how pretty he looked all the time, even when it was 2 in the morning and his voice was low and scratchy, or when he just woke up and his hair stuck out in all sorts of ways…his eyes never stopped sparkling in the terribly endearing way, his skin looking soft under the warm lights of his room.

"but i want to talk to you now…" he says, softly.

"okay…what about?"

"i don't know…" still in the same soft voice that drives you crazy, he blinks tiredly at his screen. "anything…i guess…"

"um…what did you have for dinner?"

you can't help but let out a laugh when he whines loudly in annoyance "i mean deep stuff. stuff you wouldn't tell anyone else."

"you think of something then!"

"wait-" a look passes over his face, you can literally see the idea hitting him, the flickering of a lightbulb over his head: he sits up, animated, and starts pulling his laptop onto his lap. "give me a second." he's typing furiously on his keyboard, nose scrunched in concentration.

"you don't even type this seriously in class," you accuse, half-heartedly. when he doesn't respond, you raise your voice a little. "haechan? what are you doing?"

"nothing." he turns his attention back to the phone screen, and beams at you with a brightness that catches you off guard. "just had an assignment that i forgot to submit."

"um…okay…"

"but i have my ideas for the questions now-" he continues, his words coming out rushed from the blatant excitement in his tone. "so let's start."

"why are you so…eager?" suspicious, you narrow your eyes at him playfully. "are the questions sex-related? you perv…"

"no," he shakes his head vehemently, "i swear, they're not. i just…" and suddenly he's shy, biting at his puffy lips, and even in the dim glow of the room you can see the flush in his cheeks. "i just want to get to know you more…"

"okay…"

"okay, let's start." he clears his throat.

"given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?"

"what the fuck?" you gape at him. out of all the things he could have asked you, there was no way you would have thought of this. "haechan, are you trying to get me to do some assignment for you?"

"i'm genuinely curious-" he tries to defend himself, a hint of a whine making its way into his voice. "i mean, i can go first if you need more time to think…"

"i don't think i've ever heard you use the word 'whom'."

"now that's just mean…" pouting, his eyes go round and sad, and you can't tell if he's doing it on purpose, but when he nibbles on your lips you feel your breath catch in your throat.

fuck. stumbling over your words, you rush, "uh…i can answer i guess."

his eyes crinkle into a smile. "okay, who?"

"um…probably that researcher guy who we're doing our assignment on. then i can just ask him all the questions and cite him as the source and we would be done."

"that's a good answer," he says, encouragingly.

"okay…so who would you want as a dinner guest?"

"you," he says, immediately.

"haechan, this isn't going to be fun if your questions are all set up as lines…"

"i'm serious…" and he is – there's no hint of any rehearsed expression on his face. "i only ever want to see you." and then, smiling, he shifts around happily on his seat on the bed. "okay! next question…"

"what would constitute a perfect day for you?"

"how many questions do you have?"

"i don't know… i'm making these up as i go along," he shrugs. "so, what would constitute a perfect day for you?"

you think about it, for a second. "i think my perfect day would be really simple, and everything would just go right. i would wake up early, there wouldn't be a queue at the cafe for breakfast, i get to class with my coffee-"

"which class?"

"uh… our class?"

"okay, good," a small smile playing on his lips. "and then?"

"and then…i can answer all your questions in class, and afterwards we go to the library and miraculously we can get something done…" you think back to a few evenings you've had where you've genuinely, really, been happy. "we get hotpot for dinner and we get a huge discount, and i go back home and fall asleep really easily."

haechan is smiling so hard you want to ask him if his cheeks hurt.

"what's so funny?"

"it's funny…" he looks at you coyly. "that's my perfect day too."

"number 10…"

"motherfucker-" you sit up, startling haechan, who drops his phone.

"wha-"

"you have a list of questions?" you wait for him to pick up his phone again before you point at the screen, savagely. you don't even have to look to know he's doing his cower again. "what happened to coming up with it as you go along? are these even your questions?"

"y/n…" he shuffles around uncomfortably, picking at his bedspread.

"how many questions are there in total?"

"36." his eyes widening, he backpedals. "actually, i don't know…um…it depends…"

"i'm going to bed."

"no we have to finish all 36 questions!"

"we have to? why do we have to?"

"please?" he looks up at you, and you should be used to it by now, used to the shifts in tone and the intensity of his emotions when his eyes meet yours, but still it makes your heart hammer a little harder every time. "please? i really just want to get to know you…"

a pause.

sighing, you lie back on your pillows again. "what's number 10?"

"what roles do love and affection play in your life?" haechan lets out a yawn, rubbing his face against his comforter.

the question wakes you up a little. you've kind of guessed that he was using a list of questions that would get increasingly intimate as they went on, but this one felt more direct than the others. and although so far you've been honest about everything, careless sometimes with your answer but never dishonest, you don't know how truthfully you should answer this time.

haechan blinks lazily at the screen. "um…" he rubs at his eyes, "i can go first. i think…love and affection are easy."

the words feel like a punch to your gut. "really?"

"yeah," he continues. "i mean, i'm affectionate with practically everyone i meet…and i'm not scared if i end up falling in love. i don't always know it when i'm in the moment…but i think i like how it feels," he adds, almost as an afterthought.

"you like how what feels?"

"being in love," he says, softly, looking at you with gentleness in his eyes.

"but what if it doesn't end well?" you ask more for yourself than for him, and he answers as if it's the easiest thing in the world.

"then it ends. but at least you were in love." tilting his head, he asks, "is it…not easy for you?"

you can't find the words, so you shake your head.

his brow furrows. "aren't you seeing someone right now?"

"yeah but i don't love him." he opens his mouth, so you add on quickly, "and he doesn't love me."

"then you shouldn't be with him," he said, firmly. things were always so simple when he outlined them. "you don't love each other, so you shouldn't waste your time together."

"but he's not a bad person…" you have no idea why you're defending someone you don't even really care about. "he's generally nice to me…"

"none of that matters if there's no love," he runs a hand through his hair, and that's when you realise that he's genuinely angry. "i didn't know you didn't love him. if i did, i would have talked to you about it ages ago…"

"it's not so easy, haechan. it's not so easy to find someone who loves you back. sometimes, you just have to be grateful that someone is willing to spend time with you, grateful that they're not horrible-"

he cuts you off with a frustrated sound. "i don't understand." rubbing his face with his hands, you hear him exhale shakily, the sound crackling in your earphones.

"it's okay," you try to calm him, making your tone as light as possible. "these are just questions, right? we don't have to agree…"

he settles down, but you can tell he's still lost in thought, his jaw clenched. "i guess."

"which question are we on?"

he checks his laptop screen. "21."

"do you…want to keep going?"

he nods, sighing one more time before focusing on you again. this time, you can tell he's managed to calm down, the gentleness returned to his demeanour. "i'm sorry. i'm really trying to understand what you mean, but maybe we're just different."

"yeah…" affection and love did feel easy, even being friends with haechan. you think it's maybe become a part of your life that you couldn't live without — the little ways he took care of you, how he never hesitated to compliment you or defend you. "i want to be more like you, though."

"huh?"

"the thing about love and affection…" you mumble. "i want it to be as easy as it is for you." his eyes light up, and you hate how it immediately seems to lift a weight from your chest.

it's strange that haechan's the one you turn to when things eventually fall apart. but at the same time, it makes perfect sense, because he's never once made you feel small for what you thought, or invalidated anything you've felt.

you didn't even have to tell him. you had stumbled into class, numb from all your hurt, and the moment haechan raised his head to look at you, he just knew.

"what's wrong?" he mouths, a look of pure fear in his eyes as he scans your surroundings, trying to figure out what could've done this to you.

"i'll tell you later," you're barely able to whisper back as you slide into your seat next to him, eyes already filling with tears at how easy it was for haechan to read you. your heart warming from the urgency in his tone.

without hesitation, he leans over far in his seat to squeeze you into a hug. his lips ghosting over the crown of your hair, you can hear the worry in his voice even as he tries to reassure you.

for the next 2 hours, he casts worried glances over at you, taking in the way you're barely listening, fingers ghosting over your keyboard and typing nothing. the lecture barely ends before he's reaching over to pack up for you, clumsy hands shuffling your papers into your folder the way he knows you like them, shouldering your backpack as he tugs you gently towards the door and out into the sun.

he leads you to a quiet place on campus, and if you were a little less focused on yourself, you'd wonder if this was where he usually took his dates to kiss them. it's secluded and private, soft grass underneath your shoes as he guides you to a bench under a tree, sliding into a seat next to you and taking your hand in his immediately.

on one of your study sessions together, the two of you had taken a love language quiz, and it was no surprise when his top love language showed up as physical touch, while yours showed up as words of affirmation.

tears are slipping down your cheeks, and he pulls you into his arms — a gesture more for him than you but you melt into his touch all the same. his palms clumsily pat between your shoulder blades, his touch heavy as he strokes down your spine, rubbing at your shoulders as you try to stop from shaking.

"do you want to talk about it?" he murmurs, eyes wide and concerned.

briefly, you consider not telling him, the thought of having to materialise everything with your words too painful to bear. but his voice was so gentle, his touch so soothing, that you feel he at least deserved to know why you were crying in his arms like this.

"h-he took me to the party to make her jealous."

his movements still.

"i knew we didn't love each other…but i thought…i thought at least…he must've liked something in me, right?"

he's at a loss for words as you cry harder into his shirt.

"you don't have to say anything…" you reassure him. "i know it's stupid. i didn't even like him anyway, it just hurts my pride to think he never saw anything in me."

"it's not stupid," he says, firmly. "you rejected me at that party for him, right? you've been rejecting me for weeks because of him."

you nod into his chest.

"you're not stupid." he declares. "he's the one who's wrong." and there it is again — the simplicity, the way everything was black and white with him. he was completely and wholly on your side, his hand diligently going back to stroke your hair, dipping his fingers to rub circles into the nape of your neck.

"i'm surprised you're not being inappropriate right now."

he doesn't respond at first, but his movements falter again.

"i just really don't like seeing you hurt," he says, quietly.

"oh."

"wait, don't get me wrong, i think you look very pretty when you cry," he adds, sincerely. it makes you laugh, a little bit of the haechan you first met coming back. but he mistakes it for disbelief, tripping over his words to make you understand, raising his voice. "you really are, and you sound so pretty too-"

wrapping your arms around his middle, you lean into his touch, smiling into the fabric of his shirt. "thanks, haechan."

"it's just that…i don't like thinking that someone made you feel like this. it makes me feel…" his palm moves down to hold the side of your face delicately, fingers moving over your cheeks as he chooses his words. "it makes me feel really helpless. it reminds me i can't stop people from hurting you."

his voice is small, and you can barely catch his words, but you feel like you've been slammed in the chest. you hesitate, wondering if you should press him further.

"why?"

"what do you mean?"

"why does it make you feel helpless?"

he huffs, frustrated. "because it does."

he runs a hand through his hair as he rambles on. "i don't know why i don't like seeing you hurt. or why i don't like the idea of your shoulders being sore like mine are so i carry your things around for you everywhere. i don't know why i want to mark your neck but i don't ever want to see you bruised, or how i want to fuck you so badly, but also sometimes i get this feeling like… like i don't want to fuck you, i just –" he cuts himself off with a groan, tugging at his long hair desperately.

you don't reply. you can't trust your voice.

so you ease yourself out of his hold, which had gotten increasingly tight. with a hand, you guide his hands down from his hair and into yours, and bring your other palm up to touch his face. he goes limp at your touch, leaning into you like you were the only thing keeping him upright.

"why am i telling you this?" he whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

"haechan-"

"you must think i'm pathetic." you feel his tears on your hand, hot and wet, before his breathing starts to pick up and soft whimpers rise from his throat.

"don't say that."

"i mean you," he gasps, words coming out in stuttered sounds. "y-you were the one who needed me to c-comfort you, and n-now i'm the one crying, and i…" he lets out a low sound, emotions overwhelming him all at once. "i really want to hurt the guy who made you feel like that."

"haechan…"

"where does he live? it'll only take 5 minutes i swear…" he swallows, hard. "i could take him in a fight, i saw him at the party…"

"you're not going to get reported to campus police for him. he's not worth it." but you can tell your words are getting lost on him, his hands shaking as he fumbles them out of your grip, trying to intertwine your fingers.

"i just need to do s-something right now," he breathes, hard. "anything. it hurts so bad, y/n. why does it hurt so much for me?"

something about this — about him, calms you. the pain from before fading into a dull ache, and a new feeling swelling in your chest as you look at the boy in front of you. the feeling of being needed by someone grounding you, affection roaring in your ears as he leans into your touch, watching you like he was trying to decipher the thoughts buzzing like static in your mind.

"take me home, haechan."

he blinks up at you.

"i want to go home," you whisper.

and, drawing you into his arms, he does exactly that.

he picks up your favourite ice cream on the drive home, and stays glued to your back on the elevator ride up. coddling you and cooing praises in your ear, tucking you into bed and drawing up a chair next to you as if you were ill. you ignore the fact that this was the first time you were indulging in his touch and it felt so right, the fact that he cried just because you did, for reasons he claimed not to know and you didn't want to admit.

but as you watched him move around in your kitchen, putting away dishes from the dinner he made you — his broad frame stretching out his shirt, shoulder blades sharp under the warm light, you were met with the sinking feeling that the boy who was just out to fuck you might be out for something far worse.

"i'm not setting you up with him," haechan's words come out in a blur. "okay? we're just walking to the party together."

"yes, i'm aware of that. how many more times are you going to repeat this to me?"

"haechan, why are you still hiding me behind your back?"

"this is NOT a set-up!" he hisses, veins in his arms popping out as he keeps a firm grip on his friend, you presume, keeping him out of your sight. "i do NOT want you to like him, okay?"

"okay haechan, i get it."

he looks at you, suspicious, but finally releases his hold, arms crossing over his chest instead as he scowls. "fine. y/n, this is my friend renjun."

looking a little dishevelled, and very annoyed, renjun steps out from behind haechan. "hey." his face breaks into a sweet smile when he sees you, eyes brightening with recognition. "wait…were you in that statistics course from last semester?"

"yeah i was! were you the one who did the project on social psychology? i thought it was so smart…"

"i had a lot of help with it," he beams back. "actually, i have more resources on the topic if you'd like them."

"SHE DOESN'T WANT TO FUCK YOU."

haechan's voice abruptly booms out in the middle of the street, making you and renjun jump. the handful of people passing by turn their heads to look at your trio, making shame burn low in your stomach as you wince apologetically. haechan's face is flushed, hands curled into fists by his side, a glare fixed upon renjun as if he were his worst enemy.

"haechan!" you whisper, annoyed. "did we not practice using our inside voice?"

"fuck the inner voice!" he hisses back at you with equal venom, tugging you closer to him and away from renjun. his face screwed up, he jabs a finger at him. "she's not gonna fuck you dude. lay off her."

renjun is looking back and forth between you and haechan, a knowing look settling onto his face as he meets haechan's frown with an easy smile.

"don't worry about it, man. she's all yours."

"yeah, that's right, she's mine," haechan repeats, savagely, before the words coming out of his mouth seem to take him by surprise. confused, he looks over at you, trying to figure out what exactly he just said. "wait…fuck i mean…um…"

"you know what? i'm going to go ahead first," renjun interrupts, giving you a small wave. "see you at jaemin's."

"YEAH, GO AWAY RENJUN."

"sorry," you mumble, now trying to free yourself from haechan's tight grip on your arm which he doesn't even seem to be aware of.

"word of advice," renjun mutters to you, pointedly ignoring the way haechan was hissing at him. "pull on his hair. it shuts him up real fast."

it's when you finally manage to pry his fingers off of you when haechan is brought back down to earth, throwing a venomous look at renjun's retreating back as he lets go of you reluctantly.

you round on him. "well?"

"w-well what?" he mumbles, looking away, acting out a textbook portrayal of guilty.

you narrow your eyes at him, and some part of you is happy to see him gulp in fear like he usually does. "what do you have to say for yourself?"

"i'm not the problem here," he mutters. "it's renjun. he's such a sleaze."

"renjun? a sleaze?" you laugh before you can stop yourself. "you're more of a sleaze than he is on a regular day."

"ME?" he bursts out, head snapping to you. at least this time, the people in your vicinity seem to be used to the outbursts, and they don't bother to turn to look. "I'M NOT…that's not…" and then he's whipping out his phone, biting his lip in concentration, eyebrows drawn close together as he scrolls through whatever's he's looking at.

you sigh. "haechan, what are you doing?"

"immoral…corrupt…sordid…" he raises his voice again. "fuck google definitions. why is it that none of these words mean what i think sleaze means?"

"could you not change the subject?" you start, but he talks over you.

"yeah," he emphasises, viciously. "you're right. see, i just wanted to expand your social circle, it's not my fault renjun was making eyes at you,"

"he wasn't-"

"he was about to invite you over,"

"did you hallucinate-"

"that's so…so insensitive, like couldn't he just take a hint? and you were wearing your fuck-me skirt today-"

"i do NOT have a fuck-me skirt-"

"no it's a fuck haechan skirt that's what it is, because whenever i see you in it i-"

"will you shut up?" annoyed, you reach around to the back of his neck, and tug harshly on his long hair, really hoping to make it hurt.

you expect him to stop talking, maybe cry out in pain.

you're not expecting his knees go weak as he lets out an achy, high-pitched moan that shudders through his entire body.

"hey, haechan's quiet today!" jaemin points out, cheerfully. "y/n, could you pass me the pepper?"

putting on a smile, you pass the shaker over to him. "we had an argument on the way here, that's probably why."

"you two should fight more," jaemin says, before taking a sip of his soup. "dinner's almost over and he's barely made a sound."

renjun just smiles to himself.

"what. the fuck."

haechan's still gasping for breath, and when you raise your hand absentmindedly, his arms shoot up quickly to protect his head. "don't-!"

"i'm not going to do it again."

"okay good." his arms fall to his side, before he's looking at you with a mixture of sadness and wistfulness. "wait…like…never?"

you narrow your eyes.

"y/n, can you come with me please?" haechan is looking at you urgently, leg bouncing as he tugs on your sleeve. "i want to talk to you in private."

sighing, you excuse yourself from the table, letting haechan tug you away from the living room and into what looks like an empty guest room.

clicking the door shut, he sits down on the bed, patting the space next to him impatiently to get you to join him.

"what's wrong?"

"i want to ask you something." there's a sincerity in the way he reaches takes your hand, his voice steady, and calm, and sure.

"okay…"

"i've been good this past week, right?" he watches your face closely, looking for an answer. "like…i wanted to show you i care, and i wanted to take care of you and help you forget…your breakup…"

"you've been really good to me, haechan," you affirm quietly. because he has.

"and i've kept my thoughts to myself," he adds. "because…you told me to do that…"

"yeah."

"do you…" he struggles with the words. "do you want me to keep…keeping my thoughts to myself? like, does it make you really uncomfortable…" he looks like he's in physical pain, brows furrowed in concentration.

"no, it doesn't…" you admit, feeling a little exposed.

"what about…so if…" he twists at his fingers. "so if i…made a move…like the first time we met at the party…would you…?"

"i think i would." looking away, feeling that the room was suddenly burning hot, you mumble out, "so you don't have to worry about holding back or-"

"-good, because i've been hard ever since you pulled on my hair."

he's getting that look again, lips parted and swollen. he slides a hand around your waist, the weight of his body leaning on yours feeling all too familiar. only this time, there was no one and nothing you could put between yourself and the raw need that was in every fibre of his being. always brutally honest about how much he wanted you, looking at you with eyes that could swallow you whole. and now that there was no one else, you were free falling right into him.

your voice is scratchy with nerves. "do you want me to do it again?"

"to be very honest, it kind of kills the mood when you ask," he mumbles, now pressing the pads of his fingers under your shirt and into your soft skin.

laughing, you slide your hands up his neck and into his hair again, relishing in the way his body tenses and his breaths start to come shallow and fast. curling your fingers around the strands, you pull on them softly, increasing in pressure as he throws his head back.

"fuck," he pants, hands moving quickly now, tugging at the hem of your shirt. "wanted this since the day i saw you."

well at least he's honest. hesitating slightly, you grasp his wrists gently to stop his movements. "haechan…you know this is me giving you permission right?"

"huh?" his eyes cloudy, he struggles slightly against you, hands still trying to reach for your skin. "i mean…yeah…"

"so after this, we'll figure something out?" you look at him hopefully, trying to meet his eyes which were currently darting around, scanning your body haphazardly. until you let out a gasp, because somehow he's overpowered you — pushing you onto the bed roughly, his hands now gripping your wrists and holding them above your head with one hand, the other resting heavy on your hip.

"you talk too much," he says, lowly. swiftly pressing his lips to the side of your neck, he bites down on your shoulder next, and you hiss at the sting. in retaliation, you manage to release one of your hands from his grip, giving his hair a sharp tug — making him rut his hips into yours.

"me? what about you?" you tease, breathless as he grinds into you, "with all your talk…all your thoughts, i kind of expected more…but you're whining and we've barely touched."

at that, he stills.

he still has you pinned down by his weight on your torso, and above you, you can see the way his eyes darken, wheels in his head turning.

"you're right," he says, quietly. releasing your hands, he crawls off of you to kneel on the bed by your feet, rough hands pulling at his belt.

"r-right…about what?" now he wasn't lying on you, you felt a coldness travel through your body, making you crave his touch. sitting up to look at him, you swallow as he kicks off his pants.

he wasn't lying about being hard. his cock looked thick and heavy in his palm as he squeezed his shaft, letting out a sigh.

"haechan, what are you doing…?"

spitting in his hand, he starts tugging at his cock, slow and teasing strokes as he shifts his hips around in pleasure, settling his weight back on his heels as he hums.

you place your hands on his thighs, shifting towards him, but with a speed and agility you rarely saw he grabbed both your wrists in his free hand, holding on to them tightly so you couldn't shake free. "you don't get to touch," he gasps, another moan ripping from his throat as his fingers press into his slit.

"haechan," alarmed, you try to crawl over to him but his grip on your wrists holds you at a distance, pushing you back. the sounds he's making go straight to your core, high-pitched moans, drawn out and achy, gulping gasps of air between each one as if he was struggling to breathe. his hand speeding up, moving like a blur, swivelling his wrist and thumbing at a spot just below the blunt pink tip. precum dribbling out all over his hand as he starts to thrust his hips into the circle of his fist.

"please," you rub your thighs together, pain and pressure building up in your core. his eyes, half-lidded and sultry, slide over to you almost lazily.

"wait your turn, princess," he groans, mocking you with a whiny "ah…ah-" at the end.

you're so frustrated you could cry.

his whines and whimpers escalate in pitch, broken gasps and pants filling the air, and you can't wait for him to cum so it'll be your turn…

except suddenly he's letting go of his cock, a groan rumbling through his chest as it slaps up against his lower belly.

a beat.

"did you like the show?"

"you didn't cum," you mumble, dumbly.

"i didn't think you deserved to see that yet." he releases your wrists. "see, that was your punishment."

"for?"

"for rejecting me for over a month even though i knew you wanted it." effortlessly pulling you into his lap, he smiles as he guides a hand under your skirt, rubbing your inner thigh with his sticky fingers. "sometimes when you look at me…i just know you're dripping wet in your panties."

"i'm not-"

"should we check?" he pulls at the seat of your panties, swiping his fingers on your folds. your thighs clamp shut on his hands, sensitive, and he laughs. "thought so."

he traces light touches on your clit, alternating between rubbing circles and stroking gently. he brushes his fingers over your entrance and you crumble, grinding into his hand as you try to manoeuvre your hips closer to where his cock lies against his tummy.

"so cute," he murmurs, pushing a careful finger into you, smiling to himself when you let out a soft moan. stroking against your walls, he adds another, starting to stretch you out as you rock your hips into his. his nose nuzzles at your neck, and you discover that all those times he's spent analysing the juncture between your jaw and your shoulder have paid off, because he finds your sweet spot in record time, his puffy lips mumbling against your skin and making you shake all over.

"you're going to have to be a little quieter, baby," he says, gently. "don't want them hearing you outside." he adds another finger, humming delightedly at how you suck them in.

"you-" you gasp, "but you were so, fuck, loud just now…"

"i don't care if they hear me." he starts fucking his fingers into you, thrusting them in and out of your core with loud wet sounds, his thumb applying pressure to your clit that makes your thighs tremble. "i know i sound good. you should record me next time, baby."

your brain has gone foggy. this is the haechan that still pushed at the pull door to your lecture hall, the one you've been going to for almost half a year. this is the haechan who hid behind his hands when you would get mad at him, then would beg for you to keep going, i'm memorising this for later.

this was the haechan…who was currently moaning softly in your ear, a sound so saturated with lust that it takes your breath away, and makes you release all over his hand.

as it turns out, haechan isn't really into edging unless he wants to make a point.

he's far more interested in overstimulation, as he makes you cum 3 times on the guest room bed. and he cums twice himself from fucking you.

with intense concentration, he cleans up for you and tucks you into bed, worried eyes making sure you're okay. when he watches the way you walk, unsteadily, to turn off the light, he slides to his knees and freckles kisses all over your thighs and hips, murmuring apologies into your skin, torn between gloating and grovelling.

"jaemin's okay with us staying," he whispers into the dark. and then, with unfiltered dreamy happiness… "i'm so happy i'm going to wake up next to you tomorrow."

your heart melts and dissolves as you reach for him, nuzzling into his chest. it's because you're so close that you hear the rumble of his sigh through his chest. "haechan?"

"hm?"

"i don't want to confuse you…"

pause. and then, quietly, "you always say that before you confuse me."

you sit up, his arms falling to your waist.

"haechan…"

"you look like an angel," he looks at you through his lashes, doll-like features pretty in the moonlight. when he realises he's caught you off guard, he continues, his drowsy, honeyed voice low and soothing, hypnotic as he appeals to you. "go to sleep, angel. i'll fuck you awake in the morning, i promise…"

"don't try to seduce me, haechan. i want to talk about this."

"worth a shot," he mumbles. "look, i don't know if you think i'm joking when i tell you i want you," his eyes flicker to the sheets as he tries to outline his thoughts. "but i already promised since day 1 that i wasn't leading you on." he sighs when you still look unconvinced.

"tell me what you're thinking, angel." he reaches for your hand, and presses a small kiss on your palm, guiding your fingers to cup his face. "give me a hint."

"question 21," you remind him.

love and affection. understanding blooms on his face.

"what about it?"

"i'm scared," you confess.

"what are you scared of, angel?" he tilts his face to the side but his eyes never leave yours. "you want me, and i…and i…" he sits up a little so he can pull you down to him. you think you kissed him just now, but this one feels like the first time — his mouth moving gently on yours, suckling on your lip, his tongue gently slipping into your mouth, and the light sigh he lets out like he just tasted something sweet. he kisses you like he's just realised he has all the time in the world to, with no urgency, only the sweet indulgence of a boy who finally has what he wants right in his arms.

"don't be scared," he whispers into your mouth when you break apart. "i'm serious about you."

"serious about me or serious about fucking me?" you ask, timidly.

haechan looks up at you, the angel in his bed, and takes in the tension in your shoulders, the way you're holding your breath.

if haechan was bad at homework, bad at assignments and impressing his professors, bad at reading the room and keeping his voice under control, there were things he was good at from experience.

like how to tilt his face to showcase the pretty moles on his skin, how to pitch his voice like it was straight out of a filthy dream, and how to read people's body language to know what they wanted. how to read you.

"serious about whatever you're ready for," he says, gently. "affection, or love."

a moment passes. then another. then another.

"haechan?"

"yes?"

"were you serious about fucking me awake tomorrow morning?"

"haechan, this is really, really bad."

"i know." he exhales shakily, the sound amplified through your laptop speakers. "fuck, shit, i know."

leaning forward to look at your laptop screen, you swipe back to the open tab you have of the document for your project. "how did you delete everything? and why can't it be restored?"

"i don't-" a muffled choking sound. "i don't know."

"i don't even want to tell you to stop crying," you say bitterly. "cry harder. it won't fix this."

a strangled sound, barely audible over the music playing on his end.

you swipe back to your zoom call with haechan. ever since you started giving in to haechan's relentless begging, it's been a lot harder for both of you to focus on your assignment.

specifically, the number of times he's fingered you in the library or fucked you on his lap in his desk chair were now too many to count.

so you've resorted to meeting up over video-call, using your laptops to provide a greater sense of occasion and to make it clear that these were meetings to do work. so far, they've been working out fine, but today he joined the call with his camera turned off, and only a guilty, shaking, voice told you to check the google drive, and please don't be mad.

"so?" you don't bother to hide your anger, or to coddle him like you usually would. "are you going to fix this?"

"dunno…" he gasps, whimpering when you roll your eyes. "dunno…fuck…dunno how…"

you tilt your webcam so you can really look into it, hoping that it's making him feel worse. judging by the wail he lets out, it does.

"turn on your camera so i can see you," you snap. "and turn off the music. i want to hear you cry."

a muffled, guttural, sound.

"really?" he sniffles, a loud sob crackling like static out of your speakers. "you w-want to…t-to see me…c-cry?"

"don't play mind games with me, lee haechan," you warn. "i'm really fucking mad at you."

"y-yeah?" he gulps, and you can hear it.

"i'm so mad i could hit you right now." and you hear a sound of pain, a strangled cry ripping from his throat.

"i wannit," he groans. "want you to hit me."

"forgot you were a masochist," you grumble, sarcastically. "how are you still in the mood to make jokes like that when we're going to fail?"

he's panting, and a part of you starts to worry. is he hyperventilating? "i dunno, i'm sorry-" he gasps, voice raising in pitch.

"haechan?" the anger hasn't completely faded from your voice. you're met with a hiccup, cut off by a wracking sob. switching tact, you make your voice go gentle, babying him the way you usually do to get him to do anything right. "turn off the music and turn on the camera for me."

he's still breathing heavily as you hear the sounds of fumbling, his phone falling to the floor as it disconnects from his speaker. silence fills the call, a tension so thick in the air as he pants into his microphone, and you hear his hands skid across the keyboard.

you freeze when he turns on the camera.

the background is different from your usual work calls. you see the headboard of his bed, an array of pillows propped up behind him as he slouches against them. but unlike your usual late-night calls, the laptop isn't balanced on his knees so that you can only see his face.

its on the bed between his legs, giving you a full picture of his tear streaked face, the beautiful skin of his upper body, the jumping muscles in his thighs, and his thick weeping cock held in his veiny fist.

he moans when he sees himself on camera, resuming his movements and watching himself carefully through tear-soaked eyelashes.

"what the fuck?" you whisper, and he lets out a whiny sob, hand moving faster over his length.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" your voice grows stronger as you watch his other hand close around his neck, choking back his sounds. "what the fuck?" his hand is dragging up his neck, he's slipping his fingers into his mouth and sucking on them, drool dripping down his wrist. "lee haechan!" you press your thighs together, trying not to let the scene get to you, but it was no use.

"love it when you-" he gasps, hips bucking into his hand. "get mad at me. i told you…ah, ah…you're so fucking hot when you're mad." he wipes the drool off his chin messily, and reaches down to stroke himself with both hands.

"you're unbelievable," you snap, feeling your own hands drift to your thighs.

"and i…and i kept this thought to myself…" he moans, hand ghosting over his nipple as he whimpers. "but i always thought you looked like a camgirl when we call like this."

"yeah?" fuck it. you give in, crossing over to your bed. feigning indifference, you place the laptop on your sheets in front of you as you settle down and shrug off your sweatpants, grateful you had chosen to wear the white lace panties he liked.

"mmhm," he hasn't noticed you yet, his head thrown back and eyes closed. "i came when you tilted the camera down…wanted see your tits so bad…"

"if i was a camgirl, would you watch?" you slip your hand into your panties and let out a sigh, watching his cock twitch in his palm. missing the weight of it in your hand, on your thigh, and in you.

"fuck yeah."

"then why aren't you watching, baby?"

he moves so fast it's almost comical — eyes shooting open, he straightens to look at his laptop screen. the moment he sees you with your hand between your legs, panties so wet they were transparent, he cums, hard, thick globs of white cum oozing out of his tip as his legs tremble and a fresh wave of tears roll down his cheeks, his mouth falling open as he lets out a series of moans reminiscent of the filthiest hentai porn.

"was that your second time, hm?" you moan, the sight of him making you rub against your clit even faster, your hips rocking into your hand.

"third," he squeezes his cock again, pain darting across his face as he releases it, letting it soften against his thigh. "y/n… take them off please…"

"take what off?" you push a finger into you, sliding your other hand up your top to graze your nipples under your camisole. he whimpers at the sight.

"everything…" his eyes cloudy and desperate, his cheeks flushed so read you'd be worried he was running a fever. "wanna see you…"

you're focused completely on your own pleasure, your heart soaring to see him so completely fucked out before you.

"haechan…" you try to keep your voice under control, try to hide that you were close. you just wanted to see how far he'd go. "if you're my baby boy, then what should you call me?" you pinch your nipples, letting out a gasp. the sheets feel silky against your skin as your legs kick in pleasure, your hand still working in between your legs.

haechan's breathing picks up. when you look down at your screen, he's touching himself again, squeezing the base of his cock. his mouth falls open as you see his lashes flutter, rolling back into his head as he mouths the words.

whimpering, his lip wobbles as he looks at you on the screen.

"mommy," he moans, again and again, until you both climax, and you're no longer sure if he's saying it for you or himself.

haechan takes your words to heart. like, he really takes your words to heart.

when you tell him off-handedly that leather jackets look good on him, he buys 3 of the same and never wears any other jacket again. when you painstakingly teach him how to add a footnote to his document, he scrawls the steps down on a post-it and nudges you for validation each time he finishes a page, blinking at you like a puppy needing a treat. which is why he treats his rom-com watching sessions with you very seriously.

"so it's bad that he didn't ask her out properly?"

"yes," you nod, enthusiastically. "really bad. he shouldn't assume that she's interested and just act like he has a place in her life now — he has to earn it."

"right, yeah, fuck him," he growls, scrawling on his notebook.

you peek over at what he's doing — he's added 'not officially asking her out' on the 'no' list.

"are you sure the double negative won't confuse you?"

"the what?"

"nevermind."

reaching for the popcorn, you peer at the screen. "oh, and that's a good thing."

"where?" his head shoots up, and he squints at the screen. "what?"

"see, he asked 'can i kiss you'?' playfully, you glare at him. "you rarely ask for anything."

"that's not true…" he grumbles. "i asked you if i was making you uncomfortable…"

"yeah, that was one time…"

"i asked if i could eat you out last wednesday…"

"that wasn't asking that was sweet-talking."

"well can we fuck now?" he blurts out. running a hand through his hair, he tosses his notebook to the side.

a pause.

"well?" he raises his eyebrows.

"uh, okay…"

"was that asking or sweet-talking? oh-" and for some reason, he blushes when he registers your response. "you said yes."

fuck. "yeah, i guess." you place the popcorn down on the bedside table, feeling shy.

"well, as you wish, princess," he whispers conspiratorially, crawling over to you to pull you in for a kiss.

"see," you mumble against his lips. "you didn't ask…"

"oh, fuck, yeah sorry." breaking away from you, he wipes his lips on the back of his hand. "re-do, re-do. um…" he lowers his head.

"okay you don't have to re-do it i was just pointing it out…"

"can i kiss you, angel?"

you freeze.

he really was too pretty for his own good, his hair falling over his eyes, the ethereal flush to his cheeks.

"yes, please," you mumble, and he surges towards you, pressing his tongue into yours and running his electric touch down your spine.

"can i take your clothes off, angel?"

you murmur your consent as he smiles wide, helping you out of your clothes but lightly slapping your hands away when you reach to do your bra.

"this is my favourite part," he sighs, as he unhooks the clasps from behind your back, hooking a careless finger around a strap and pulling the lacy piece off of you, wetting his lips when he sees your breasts.

"can i suck on your boobs?"

"god, haechan-" he giggles as he takes one in his mouth, teeth lightly grazing on it from his smile. his hand comes up to the other one and he ghosts his touch over it, before deciding better and squeezing it roughly in his palm.

kissing down your stomach, he reaches the band of your panties with a smile.

"are you going to ask if you can take them off, haechan."

"i was gonna ask if i could eat you out," he murmurs against your skin, kitten licking your inner thighs and sending chills up your spine.

swallowing hard, you nod. "yes."

nosing at your clothed clit, he sucks the seat of your panties into his mouth, lips puckered in an adorable way if he wasn't literally trying to suck it off your skin.

"haechan…you can take them off," you say, weakly, feeling heat pool in your navel.

"mmhm…" he says, both hands winding around your thighs to grip onto the fabric of your panties. "or i could do this." with one harsh movement he's ripping them off of you, holding the pieces of cloth in his hands gleefully as he plunges forward and sucks harshly on your folds.

"haechan," you half-moan, half shout. "why did you do that…"

"i'm sorry, baby," he flattens his tongue and laps at you, flicking his tongue against your clit. "i'll buy you new sets, i'll buy you as many sets as you want…" stiffening his tongue, his prods at your entrance and tries to reach as far into you as he can, licking at your walls, his nose bumping into your clit as he tilts his head this way and that.

the pleasure increases tenfold when he starts moaning, and you finally come to your senses enough to see how he's humping the bed, his hips moving in time with the way he was licking at you. "taste so sweet," he moans. "cum on my face, angel. fuck…" he whines obscenely, hips moving faster against the sheets as he shoves two fingers into you, making your back arch. "can you cum for me?"

you let your orgasm crash into you, the pleasure burning through you and making you go lightheaded. haechan is whimpering and moaning, and you realise you have your hands tangled in his hair, tugging him away from your core and making his neck crane up. you almost let go before you remember that he likes it, so you pull a little harder and watch the way his hips stutter against the bed, achy moans filling the air as he cums.

"sorry," he gasps, "fuck, sorry…" he crumples into your arms. "it felt so good…i couldn't help myself."

"it's okay…" you still when you feel something prod at your entrance. "haechan-" but you're cut off by a loud moan, as haechan pushes his softening cock into you. "haechan, are you sure-"

"hurts," he moans. "but it'll feel better soon, it'll feel…fuck fuck fuck," his hips moving in an uneven rhythm, as if he can't decide whether to stop or go harder. "just a bit more…" he mumbles to himself.

deciding to help him, you smooth your hands down his chest and wrap your legs around him. he loves it when you cling to him during sex, he's told you openly, and he bites back another sigh as the pain seems to dissipate into raw pleasure again.

"just a bit more, baby," you murmur in his ear. he hiccups, nodding as he starts to pound into you in earnest, slapping sounds echoing in the room as his cock abuses the one spot inside you that makes you see stars. stretched out and filled by him, you rock your hips into his too, feeling his thick cock bulge inside you.

"can i cum in you, please?" he asks, softly, painfully. from where he lies on top of you, his brow glistening with sweat and his eyes watery from the overstimulation, you could never say no to him. he cums when you do, the feeling of your walls clenching around him being too much to bear, and he slumps in your arms, hips still pulsing against yours until you physically push him and he slips out of you.

haechan takes your words to heart. when you tell him to ask for permission, he does it throughout aftercare — asking for permission to run you a bath, to make you tea, to pull you closer in bed. and as you let his eyes meet yours, his gaze seeping into your pupils and making your mind go hazy, you wonder if he takes your words so seriously that he'll never consider moving from the affection you asked for, to the love you were too scared to want.

"did you forget something at my place?"

"no." a pause. "if i did, it would be too late because i'm almost home."

"then why are you calling?"

"because i'm cold, and my shoes are wet, and it's all your fault." he huffs petulantly, his words muffled by a pout you can imagine vividly in your mind's eye. "because you wouldn't let me stay the night."

"haechan," you started. "i already told you i have really bad insomnia…" he grumbles to himself and you think you can hear him mocking your tone. "i really need to sleep for tomorrow because i have that test-"

"oh yeah?" he bites back, annoyance clear in his tone. "and how's your sleeping going huh? are you talking to me in your sleep now?"

you make an incredulous sound. "if anything you should be kinder to me since i evidently can't sleep right now-"

"you know i could have just fucked you right?"

what the fuck. the sound of footsteps on gravel crunch on even louder, anger evident in the way he's practically stomping his way back to his apartment.

"haechan…what?"

"sex and other forms of physical intimacy at bedtime have been shown to increase drowsiness, reduce the time it takes to fall asleep, and improve overall sleep quality," he rattles off. when you don't respond, the anger seeps back into his tone. "i'm not making this up! that's a direct quote from the chief of pul…shit, pulmo…pulmonology at Kaiser Permanente in Honolulu."

"what's pulmonology?"

"how the fuck should i know?" another frustrated crunch. "but she's the chief of it, so she should know what she's saying."

your head is still reeling. stall, he gets distracted easily. "w-when did you look this up?"

"two weeks ago, when you told me you had trouble sleeping." crunch. "i had a…a….hypothetical…?"

"hypothesis?"

"don't interrupt me," he snaps. "i just remembered that people get sleepy after sex, and i knew there had to be a scientific reason. i'm not stupid you know."

"i know…" you say, weakly.

"but you wouldn't let me stay the night, for some reason you don't want to fuck me anymore, so now you have to suffer the consequences." the sound of a key fumbling in the door.

"haechan…"

his voice drops an octave, a harsh rasp you've only heard when it was late at night or early in the morning. "i could have taken such good care of you, angel. i would've eaten you out…stretched you out on my fingers…"

his next words are almost condescending. "would've fucked you until you passed out, or at least fucked you dumb."

confusion, and something far stronger and deeper, tug at your stomach.

"haechan?" your voice is a pale whisper.

he hums.

"i'm sorry. come back." you cringe at sound of your voice, small and achy, but you can't help yourself.

there's silence on the other end.

"you…want me to go back?"

"please."

and the line goes dead.

it's a solid 15 minute walk from haechan's to your apartment, but it only takes 7 minutes after he hangs up for him to slam against your door, pounding on it with an urgency far too loud for 12.30am.

when you open the door he crumples to the floor at your feet. he's drenched, completely, gasping and panting so hard you can see his chest move in and out with each shuddering breath. his mouth moving soundlessly, he crawls towards you, dragging himself up with a hand scrabbling at the wall, and your arms circle his waist immediately to steady him.

his eyes are squinted shut in pain at what you assume is a stitch in his side, but he's still mouthing the same set of words over and over again soundlessly, too out of breath to vocalise them.

"haechan, it's okay-" you splutter, helping him out of his rain-soaked sweater, his white shirt stuck to his skin underneath. "breathe. fuck, i told you to come back but i didn't tell you to sprint, did you fall? why would you-"

"- don'tchangeyourmind," he rasps, gasping and hiccuping between breaths, the words finally ringing out in the still air of your apartment. "don't change your mind, don't change your mind…don't-" he coughs, his breaths still feeling more like punches than drawing air.

"please don't change your mind," he begs.

his eyes are stealing the words from the cavity of your chest, drinking you in until you can't think of anything to say.

whimpering at your lack of response, he places his whole body weight on you, forehead gently nudging yours. "you told me to come back," he whispers. "i didn't want to give you any time to regret it. just now…when you made me leave…" his voice drops low.

he was supposed to be the boy who just wanted to fuck you. but why did it sound like he was talking about something else entirely?

"i don't regret it, haechan," you say, softly. "and i could never…" you swallow. "i could never change my mind about you."

he blinks, dazed. "i…" he takes a shuddering breath, and you tense up in fear. did he think you were alluding to something more?

"haechan, i just meant-"

"fuck, i don't understand anything you're saying," he blurts out. "i just know i want you, now." he drops his arms to your waist. "don't make me beg…i mean, fuck, if you told me to i would, but i just…"

"you don't have to use your words," murmuring, you run your hands up and down his arms, and he shivers at your touch, closing his eyes.

"but you need to hear them," he insists. "words of affirmation…remember?" your heart thunders in your chest.

"haechan…"

"i want to feel like i have you." his lips ghost over yours. "please?"

"please," you repeat back at him, and he's all over you.

he carries you to your room, placing you gently on the bed. things go by in a blur, his gentle voice guiding you through the motions, skin against skin and his lips kissing you everywhere. before you know it, you're straddling his thigh as he drags your hips, grinding you down onto him as his mouth licks at your neck.

"louder, angel," he pants, flexing the muscles in his thigh and making you whimper as you feel yourself coming close. this is the most silent he's been with you ever, his ears attuned to every catch of your breath, every choked sound you let out, that he falls silent to drink it all in.

"need more," you beg. "need you, please…"

"you have me." his eyes soften, the sight of you falling apart on just his thighs giving him an aching feeling in his chest. this was different from the girls who would fall over themselves to talk to him, who used their own tricks to meet his. this was you, giving all your control to him. "you're doing so good for me."

sniffling, you grind harder against him, chasing your climax. "i am?"

he allows himself a small groan. he wanted to swallow you whole. "come here," he says, tenderness straining at his voice.

he stretches you out before he slips into you, waits until you give him the go ahead. he makes you wrap your arms around him, feet planted on the bed as your body intertwines with his, as he fucks up into you. he wants to feel you on him until he can finally decipher every look that flits through your eyes, until he can read your thoughts and drown in them. he presses a hand to your navel, and feels himself moving inside you, angling his hips until he knows he's ramming his tip against your sweet spot, feels your breath catch as if it were his own, your tears mixing with his sweat.

he bites down on your shoulder when he cums with you. he doesn't know if it's to savour the sound of you falling apart because of him, or if it's to stop himself from admitting he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

when you wake up, he's in your bed. scrawling on a piece of paper.

he doesn't notice you're awake, so you move closer to him on the pretence that you're still sleeping, watching through heavy eyelids the way he's muttering to himself, biting on his lip harshly. the ache between your legs gives you a sense of bliss, and the sight before you gives you an overwhelming sense of peace in your heart.

feeling your body shift, he absentmindedly reaches out to stroke your hair. it's that specific action that gives you the courage to sit up, your heart full.

"good morning, haechan."

"what's another word for fuck?" he's not looking at you, mindlessly chewing on his fingernails as his eyes dart across his piece of paper.

"um…the verb or the expletive?"

"the action."

"why do you need another word for 'fuck'?" placing a hand on his shoulder, you lower your head to try and catch his attention. "haechan? what are you doing?"

"i need another word for fuck because renjun told me not to use the word 'fuck'," he mumbles, crossing things out on his scrap of paper.

"why?" you laugh, watching as his lips begin to pout slightly at how things were not turning out the way he planned at all.

unable to stop himself, he lets out a whine. "because it's unromantic-" clenching his fists, he yelps as the speech he has scrawled out gets crumpled up. "fuck!"

"haechan, it's okay," you're trying hard to keep a straight face, wanting to match his sincerity and tone. "is that a letter? for me?"

"it's my script," he snaps. "it's my planned confession." groaning, he tries to straighten it out so he can read the words on it. "you said…you said it was a bad thing not to confess, which means it's a good thing to confess…"

you feel like you're about to cry. "explain in your own words," you place a hand on his wrist.

"i- you-" he takes a deep breath, letting the crumpled piece of paper fall off the bed and onto the floor. "you deserve someone who can keep up with you," he starts, quietly. "you deserve someone who will understand your jokes on first listen, who can hold long conversations with you without getting distracted by how hot you are when you're talking about something smart. i can't be that person."

the words sting at your heart. is that really how haechan felt when he was around you?

"but also-" his voice grows stronger, a hint of defiance in his tone. "i know for a fact that i make you laugh harder than anyone you know, even if you're laughing at me and not with me. i also know i can fuck you better than anyone you've ever been with, like, look-"

he roughly pulls you towards him, lips finding yours messily. unfazed by the way your body tenses in surprise, he slips his tongue in your mouth just as he pulls you to grind onto his lap, causing you to gasp into his mouth. it doesn't take long for the shock to wear off, your body so attuned to him that a buzz runs through your veins — and you're just about to press yourself against him, starting to reciprocate his sloppy kisses, when he pulls away with a wet sound.

panting, he swipes his thumb affectionately at the corner of your lips. "see?"

you can't tell if you're frustrated that it ended so soon, or confused at what just happened. "see what?"

"that was what, 15 seconds?" both your breaths come quick and fast, the tension in the room so palpable you could feel it press insistently against your skin. "and look at you now." a smile tugs at his lips, and he raises his eyebrows cockily. "i'm the only one who can do that to you."

"yes, you are." you affirm.

"yeah, because, i know how to touch you-"

"because i'm in love with you," you interrupt, softly.

and haechan literally stops breathing.

you can see the way his chest stops moving entirely — his mouth hanging open, doe eyes wide. it's almost comical, the way his body freezes up.

"i can't tell if you're doing that on purpose."

still nothing.

"did you really stop breathing?"

"you love me?"

he comes back to life spluttering, hands pointing to you, than himself, trying to make sure he hadn't heard wrong.

"i love you," you repeat, gently. placing your palms on his chest, you feel his beating heart under your fingertips.

"you're not scared anymore?" he places his hands on your face in wonder, brushing a thumb on your cheekbone. you let yourself fall into his eyes, soft in the morning light. "you make it the easiest thing in the world," you whisper. the two of you bask in the moment, him breathing in your air, leaning closer and closer to you. your lips brush.

"fuck."

you whine as he pulls away, a horrified look on his face.

"y/n, i think i brainwashed you into loving me," he whispers, voice laced with genuine fear.

sighing, you gently bump your forehead with his. "if you make this about your dick..."

"no," he lets out a strangled sound. "that day, when we were calling and i was asking you questions..."

"haechan i swear to god-"

"those were 36 questions to make you fall in love," he whispers, pained. "y/n...i think i manipulated you. fuck i knew science was real, but i didn't know it was that useful-"

"after we make out, i'm going to have to explain the difference between pseudo-science and science to you", you grumble, as you push him back onto the bed and close the distance between you.

he whispers it into your hair, your face buried in his bare chest one night, his arms wrapped securely around you.

"i don't want to go back tonight."

"then don't." you hold him a little tighter, feeling him shift under your touch. "stay."

"no, as in, i don't want to go back, ever."

"haechan."

he hums, hands starting to stroke at your sides, rubbing his thumb against the swell of your chest.

"is this your way of asking to move in with me?"

"i dunno…"

"you do know that it's a big thing in a relationship right? and you're going to have to actually move out of your apartment, and figure out the rent on mine, and…"

"i don't care about that," he mumbles, a hint of stubborness in his tone. breathing in your hair, his voice drops even lower. "all i know is, i want to wake up tomorrow right here, with you. and the day after tomorrow. and the day after."

"yeah?"

his arms fall away from you as you sit up, brushing your hair out of your face to look at him in the lamplight. propped up against the headboard, his eyes wide and gaze so tender it steals your breath away like a blow to your ribcage. you can see the hesitance written all over him, the slight tension in his shoulder-blades, his fingers fiddling absentmindedly with the sheets.

"please say yes," he whispers, more to himself than to you.

"haechan…" you take his hands in yours, and kiss his fingertips gently. "please move in with me."

exhaling in exaggerated relief, he pulls you onto him and kisses you deeply. mouth moving against yours, his eyelashes fluttering as he focuses on your tongue moving against his, his teeth grazing your lips. trying to convey all the love he had for you in the way he gently held the back of your neck, his other pressing down on the small of your back until your body curves into his.

"if you move in with me," you smile, breathlessly, when he finally lets you go. "you can finally fuck me awake, like you promised."

a pause.

"is that all i am to you?" sadly, he runs a hand absentmindedly down his beautiful body, landing on his thighs. his eyes are downcast when he mumbles out, "just a hot body for you to fuck?"

panicking, you lean into him quickly, cupping his face in your hands as you settle down on his lap. "baby, you know that's not true. you're the most genuine, kind, loving….." you trail off, eyes narrowing when you realise he's biting his lip to keep from laughing. "manipulative, conniving…"

his eyes crinkle adorably as he wraps you in his arms, rubbing the tip of his nose on yours. "you love me soooo much," he whispers, almost conspiratorially.

yes.

pause. "also, what does conniving mean?"

yes. you did.

taglist: @puduwhore @haechanalpha @anniebyanto @sunnynaa @newdeobi @strwberrydinosaur @gyulfriend @91qowngus, @sundhaelatte, @jaemboi64, @sassy-author, @matchahyuck, @prdshobi @beomibeom

-> go to part 2 here!

#haechan smut #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct smut #nct fluff #donghyuck smut #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst #haechan x reader #haechan scenario #haechan au #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut

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luveline · 1 year

Note

Hi hi could we please get shy!reader with Sirius where she’s just absolutely exhausted and wants him to brush her hair for her after she gets out of the shower? Love u xx

thank you for your request! sirius x shy!fem!reader | 1k

You can barely get dressed after your shower, the heat of the bathroom having lulled you into a near comatose state. You drag your soft cotton trousers up the length of your tacky legs, fighting to pull the waistband over your stomach. You almost fall, body listing naturally to the side, but save yourself with a tired arm.

"You're taking ages."

You smile at the sound of Sirius' light teasing.

"I'm almost done."

"Good. My lap is feeling much too empty today."

He's delusional if he thinks you're going to sit in his lap. You rub at the ends of your hair with your towel and breathe in the creamy smell of your conditioner, tilting your head to the side to peek at your boyfriend where he sits near the open bedroom window. He's smoking.

He snuffs out the cigarette in his little ashtray and covers it with a clinking lid to hide the smell. He looks up, and you know from the settled, unsurprised laxness of his eyes and lips that he'd known you were there the whole time. He'd let you watch him, and now he watches you.

"I gotta tell you something," he says, wiping at the tip of his fingers, his only tell. Whatever it is he's going to say, it's gonna fluster you. Sure enough, he continues, "Every time you get out of the shower with wet hair I feel like it's the first time I'm seeing you."

"Do I look alien?" you ask, secretly worried.

"You look stunning, but that's not the point."

Charmed, you move to the end of the bed and climb over the sheets on knees, pyjama trousers riding up your calves. Sirius meets you where you're sitting, angling himself adjacent, and tugs them down absentmindedly.

"I don't know. I just love the way you look when you have wet hair, and," —he inclines his head like you're telling secrets— "when you're tired."

"I'm not tired," you fib.

"I believe you."

He obviously doesn't. You're both liars smiling at one another, waiting for the other to break. You look away first, dropping the damp towel from your hair into your lap. Your shoulders rise unbidden, your reluctance clear even when you haven't spoken it aloud. You don't want to finish getting ready for bed.

Sirius hasn't touched you yet, but he will. His hand closes around your ankle, climbing up under the trousers he'd only just corrected. You melt veritably.

"Will you brush my hair?" you ask, closing your eyes.

"Yeah," he says. "Course."

The nightstand drawer opens, wheels running over tracks. You listen to him fish out your hairbrush and some softener, and your skin practically burns as he settles behind you. He pulls you toward him with gentle but undeniably strong hands, his forearm lingering where it presses against your ribcage.

"I knew you'd end up in my lap," he says.

You smile despite yourself and cover his hand with your own. His fingers are long and deft beneath yours.

After a quiet moment of this he pulls away and starts to brush your hair. He makes it a long process with how softly he goes, never once tugging at tangles. He rubs product in your hair, wipes his hands quickly on the towel, and then brushes it through. He perseveres until every strand of hair is brushed, soft and still damp. You meant to talk to him as he went, ask him how his day was, but the feeling of his hands on your neck, your shoulders, the bristles of the brush against your scalp, and the heat and steadiness of him behind you — Sirius is a quiet safety.

"How's that?" he asks in a murmur.

"Thank you."

"You haven't looked yet."

"Do I need to look?" you ask, turning into him just a smidge.

Sirius takes the hint, setting the brush aside so he can accommodate your weight. He drops his face into your shoulder with a groan.

"Yeah," he says. He kisses your shoulder gently. "I've made a right mess of it. But a bird's nest is with the times. I mean, look at James."

You laugh. You're in a skewed position; you don't want to climb completely into his lap, so you twist as much as you can and hug him until he hugs you back.

"You're not nice to James considering how much you love him. I hate to think of what you say about me when I'm not around."

"I say worse."

"I knew it."

"Much worse." He pets your hair.

You know he's joking. James had texted you once to ask if your ears were burning, because Sirius had been 'waxing lyrical about the shade of your eyes for the last five minutes', and no offence or anything but James already has a sensitive stomach.

Sirius is lovely. He sings your praises and he brushes your hair and he holds you as he holds you now, like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to do.

"Thanks for brushing my hair," you murmur.

He pulls away from you enough to see your face, tucking a silken strand behind your ear.

"You're welcome. I knew you were tired. You had a long day, sweetheart."

"I did, but… it feels worth it."

"Yeah?" Sirius asks, a familiar smugness creeping into his tone.

You shrink at the sound. Not because you don't like it, the opposite, and you both know it. He can get you exactly where he wants you with one word.

He laughs as you slide your face back into his neck.

"Be nice," you say.

"I'll try. No promises."

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Text

Breeding König

Warnings: 18+, Riding, Breeding Kink, Consensual Forced Breeding (male receiving), Consensual Dub Con/Non Con, Stomach Bulging/Swelling, Unprotected Sex, Spitting, AFAB Reader, Dirty Talk, Brief Slut Shaming, Sub König, Top Reader, etc.

"'M gonna suck you dry, baby," your breath hitched as you rolled your hips against König's, his cock bulging inside you. He could only whine, moaning when you hit a sensitive spot, only for you to abuse it, driving him to the verge of tears. Driving him to an end he'd come to fear.

"And you know what else?" You leaned down and grasped König’s thick neck in your hands, squeezing just the right spot to make his back arch and his eyes squeeze shut. He was completely physically incapable of stopping you, his hands bound together against the bedpost with rope, his voice unusable. You smiled, rocking against him, feeling him twitch inside you.

He was close. And so were you.

König's eye fluttered open, watching you. He wanted to know your secret. Your obscurity.

You bent down, bringing your mouth close to his ear. Your breath scorched the shell, making him shiver, goosebumps rippling across his chest. His laboured breathing was amplified as you drew closer.

"I'm gonna make you a daddy."

His eyes snapped open. He shook his head, growing harsher as your statement sank in, muffled noises barely sneaking past the duct tape you'd slapped across his lips. He began thrashing, trying to disconnect his hips from yours, trying to pull out.

But you didn't let him.

Retracting, you looked down at him, gripping the covers beneath him and creating makeshift reigns with which you kept yourself stable, kept König inside you. All the while, the panic in his brow only deepened.

"It's too late to resist, köni," you sang, giving him false hope as you lifted yourself up off his cock before slamming back down onto it, making him moan in a way that betrayed his actions - his resistance. He stared at you beneath ginger, half-lidded eyes, mere cracks of their whole circumference. And you smiled.

You slammed down on him again, hands settling on his chest. Pushing him down. Keeping him docile. "I know you want this, you whore."

König shook his head, vehement in his denial, but you disregarded it. It was of little importance to you. You revisited your killing pace, lifting and dropping yourself on his dick with haste. Electricity pooled in your core, waiting to break at any second.

"You're gonna father my children whether you like it or not--" you gasped as you hit your sweet spot. König only seemed to grow more panicked, eyes widening, brow creasing. Resistance futile.

"My pretty little house husband, all mine. I'll harvest you - breed you - as much as I like--" you took his jaw in your hand and forced him to look at you. You spat on him, making him flinch. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

König moaned, loud and long, his back arching into your hips, plugging you with his cock. You groaned, a sliver of a moan slipping from you, as you threw your head back, reaching your climax. König’s load filled you - all of you - to the point that you were sure your stomach would swell.

As your orgasm rolled through you, König shifted through the haze, still trying to retreat from you - trying to retreat from a future you forced onto him.

You would have applauded him for breaking free of the throws of his orgasm had you not been a disciplinarian.

"Oh no you don't," you declared, gaze coming to settle on Konig's frozen, petrified features. He ceased under your stare like a deer caught in headlights, or prey before its predator. You bit your lip as you took his throat in your hands again.

"We're not done here until I'm stuffed so full of your cum that I look pregnant." You squeezed. "Isn't that what you want, hmm? To make you mine? To bear your children?"

You already knew the answer whether König accepted it or not. He could only look up at you, eyes glassy with tears, mourning the fate you'd resigned him to - the future you'd stolen from him. You leaned down and licked a stray tear off his cheek. Rising, you cocked your head.

"Now then," you said, rubbing not-so-soothing circles into König’s chest, "shall we go again?"

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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#konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig smut #König smut #könig x you #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #konig modern warfare #könig x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #konig cod #konig call of duty #cod x reader

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ks-dreams-fantasies · 6 months

Text

TEACH ME PT.4 | TRAVIS KELCE

a/n : I've been swamped with Universty 🫠 sorry for the wait but I hope you like this 4th part 💕 Enjoy !!

Warning : None, Some kissing

Words: 1,473 (Not proofread)

Pairing : Travis Kelce x Reader

Part 3

TEACH ME PART 4 | TRAVIS KELCE

‘’Y/N?’’ he slurred, a mix of surprise and recognition in his eyes. ‘’I’ve been thinking about you.’

Time seemed to slow, and your heart raced. He took a step forward, his presence, unexpected and unwelcome, sent a shiver down your spine and you took a step back, getting closer to Travis.

‘’I’ve …I’ve tried to call but…’’ You instinctively tightened your grip on Travis’s hand, drawing strength from his steady presence.

"Is there a problem here?" Travis's voice was calm but firm, his protective stance unwavering.

Christopher’s gaze shifted between the both of you, a mix of surprise and discomfort in his eyes. You knew from his look that he was aware of who Travis was. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "Since when do you two know each other?’’ he asked, shocked and hurt when he saw your hands intertwined.

‘’It’s none of your business anymore, Christopher.’’ You responded looking at your feet before meeting his gaze again, feeling uncomfortable. He went on to speak but Travis cut him off before he could.

"I think it would be best if you go back inside with your friends, don’t you think?" Travis’s powering figure was imposing. Christopher hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, before turning and stumbling back into the bar.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart still pounding. Travis turned to face you, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, trying to find your words. "Yeah, I... I didn't expect to see him. Thank you, for being here."

He squeezed your hand gently, offering silent support. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad you're okay."

As you continued your walk, the weight of the encounter lingered. Your thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, and you couldn't help but be grateful for Travis's unwavering presence. He didn't press for details, understanding the complexity of the situation.

His protective instinct and genuine concern were a testament to the kind of person he was, caring, strong, and ready to stand by your side.

In that moment, you knew that this unexpected encounter had only deepened the connection between you guys. And as you continued to walk hand in hand through the city, you felt a sense of trust and comfort settling in, solidifying the special bond you were building. You had made your way to Travis’s car, riding back towards your place.

"You know," he began, his voice low and conspiratorial, "I was thinking we should do this again sometime. Maybe catch a game together?"

You turned to face him, a playful glint in my eye. "Are you trying to impress me with your football prowess, Mr. Kelce?"

He chuckled, a deep, melodic sound that made your heart flutter. "Maybe just a little. But mostly, I just enjoy spending time with you."

You couldn't help but smile, the sincerity in his words washing over you like a warm wave. "I'd love to catch a game with you. Just promise not to quiz me on the finer points of the sport."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Deal. I'll fly you out to KC and stick to teaching you the basics."

‘’When are you going back?’’ you asked him, realising he played in a totally different state.

‘’Tomorrow, I hope it doesn’t stop us from doing this again, because I really like you’’ he said as you reached your apartment. His gaze locked with yours. "You know, this has been one of the best evenings I've had in a long time," he admitted, a touch of vulnerability in his eyes.

He stepped closer, his free hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was tender, sending a wave of warmth through you. "I feel the same way," you confessed murmuring, heart pounding in your chest, blushing as your gaze locked with his. He looked down at your lips. His gaze lingered there, making his intention obvious as you moved even closer to him.

With your hearts racing, Travis leaned in, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, a silent caress that spoke volumes.

Your breaths mingled and his mouth worked against yours. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a cocoon of intimacy. You could feel the soft press of his lips, gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity, as if he was pouring his feelings into that kiss.

His lips were warm and soft and there was a sweetness to it, a tenderness that carried all the unspoken emotions that had built between the two of you over the past few days. It was a kiss that tasted like promise, like the beginning of something beautiful and profound.

The kiss deepened, though still retaining its tender nature. Your mouths moved in a slow, synchronous dance, expressing a deep affection that had grown between you both. There was no rush, only the quiet assurance that you wanted to savor this moment for as long as you could.

When you finally parted, it was with a gentle shyness, as if you were both aware that this was just the beginning. Your eyes met, and in his gaze, you saw a reflection of you own feelings - a mixture of longing, hope, and a promise for the future.

"I don’t want to sound clingy but, I wish you didn't have to go," You murmured, a touch of longing in your voice.

He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I know," he replied, his voice carrying the same wistful tone. "But we'll see each other soon, and until then, you'll be in my thoughts every day."

You couldn't help but giggle softly, your eyes locked on his. "That's a lot of thoughts, you know."

His grin was infectious, and his hand cupped your cheek. "Well, you're worth it. Besides, we'll make plans, video calls, and send each other cute messages. It'll feel like no time has passed at all. Plus, I promised to fly you out to KC"

You leaned in, wrapping your arms around his neck as you got on your tiptoes, and whispered, "I'll hold you to that."

Your noses brushed, and you shared a tender laugh. You knew that goodbyes were hard, but they were only temporary. With one last lingering kiss, you reluctantly stepped away from each other, your hearts feeling a little lighter.

That night as you laid in bed, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within you, and you couldn't quite pinpoint the source of it all. Perhaps it was the unexpected encounter with your ex-fiancé earlier in the evening, a painfull reminder of a past chapter. Or maybe it was the knowledge that Travis lived in a completely different state, a geographical distance that seemed scary and daunting.

However, amid the chaos of those emotions, one feeling stood out like a beacon. The butterflies that danced in your stomach from the magical evening with him. The way he made you feel like you were the only girl in the world, the laughter you guys shared, and the electric anticipation before the moment your lips collied.

As the morning sun gently streamed through the curtains, you rose from bed and with a quick glance at the clock, you knew it was time to get ready for another day at work with the little kids.

After a brisk shower and a fresh cup of coffee, you got dressed and made your way to school, where you found Camille waiting for you in your class.

"Tell me everything, from the beginning!" she rushed as you fumbled with your bags.

As you recounted each moment, from the charming restaurant to the heartfelt conversation, you could see Camille staring at you with her infectious grin. Her support and genuine happiness for you made the memory even more special. She freaked out when you told her about running into Christopher, but she freaked out even more when you mentioned you and Travis kissing.

Later, as you stood in your bustling classroom, children flitting about like little whirlwinds of creativity, a soft knock on the door drew your attention. Opening it, you were greeted by a breathtaking bouquet of flowers, their colors a vibrant celebration. Gasps of delight echoed from the kids, their eyes wide with wonder.

A small note was nestled among the blooms, its message a testament to the thoughtfulness of the man who took you out the night before.

‘’I couldn't wait to brighten your day as much as you brightened mine last night, I hope you take me on my offer" it read, the words etching a smile on your face that could rival the sun's warmth.

To the note was attached a plane ticket to KC, scheduled in a little bit more than a week.

Part 5

To Be Continued

Taglist : @kkrenae @spencerreidisbootiful @nabiiturner @ilove-tswizzle @legit9thlunaticwarrior @evernova @kelcemenow @bellstwd @my-regrets @green-lxght @thecubanator2 @corvusmorte @vznggh @kxllanxtdoor @youareadistraction @blackstabbath6 @queenmendes @@maryleclerc

#travis kelce #travis kelce fic #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce nfl #travis kelce x reader #kelce x reader #nfl fic #nfl imagine #nfl x reader

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slxsherr · 1 year

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Tonight I Feel Like More

read part I here and part III here

pairing: charlie walker x bimbo!fem!reader

summary: you attend your first ever stab-a-thon, and finally make it through all of the movies, so charlie gives you a reward under the guise of keeping you warm.

wc: 2014

warnings: fem!reader, cursing/swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of oral sex (m! receiving), public sex, unprotected sex (p in v), mentions of crying, creampie

a/n: reader is described as being taller than charlie while wearing heels i'm sorry if you're short just pretend you're wearing ridiculously high heels 😭

Since your first movie night with Charlie, it’s been his mission to finish all of the Stab movies with you. Which wouldn’t be so hard if you could get past Stab 5, but the whole time travel plot confuses you, which means you get bored, and Charlie has come to realize that your boredom manifests in a rather, promiscuous way.

The first time you only lasted twenty minutes before you were pulling down his pants and busying yourself with his cock, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks until you were swallowing his load. After that, the last thing on either of your minds’ was the movie.

He tries again and again, but somehow, someway, you get lost. He thinks he should feel lucky, having a girlfriend as frisky as you, and for the most part he does. But he’s worried, with Stab-A-Thon coming up he knows you’d want to go and support him at his last film festival.

What worries him is that at some point throughout the night you’re gonna get bored, and then he’ll have to find a secluded area of of wherever they decide to throw the party to fuck you silly. A problem he never thought he’d have, but he keeps it in mind while discussing venue options with Robbie.

Eventually they settle on an abandoned farm, far enough to not be bothered by adults, but not too far to the point where the drive is a hassle. They scope out the farmhouse, making sure it’s not too rundown for a gathering of drunk teens. It’s their last year of high school, last year running Cinema Club, last time throwing Stab-A-Thon, and Charlie and Robbie want to go all out.

On the day of, a few more involved club members help Charlie and Robbie set up for Stab-A-Thon, handling decorations and seating while Charlie and Robbie focus on the audio and visual. Before people start arriving, Charlie adds some yellow police tape to the stairs leading up to the hayloft, spewing bullshit about not wanting a drunk idiot to fall when someone asks, not wanting to say the real reason.

As soon as the sun falls over the horizon cars start to pull up, teenagers filing in with drinks, talking over the loud music as they wait for the movies to start. You arrive with Kirby and her friends, visibly annoyed by Jill and Trevor fighting behind you, most likely having had to listen to them argue the whole ride over.

You find Charlie before he spots you, quickly making your way to him through throngs of people, desperate to get away from relationship drama, not wanting it to rub off on you and Charlie. The closer you get to him, the easier it is for him to notice you. You’re dolled up more than usual, pretty makeup and hair he’s gonna feel guilty about ruining later, a short dress barely reaching past your ass, and matching heels that have you standing taller than him.

Most guys would probably be upset by that, but he can’t find it in himself to care when you slot yourself at his side, leaning in to give him a kiss. Your lipgloss is sweet, strawberry or cherry if he had to guess, a thin layer sticking to his own lips when you pull away. Your smile is even sweeter, eyes shining when they meet his, and he’s reminded of the phrase ‘the lights are on but no one’s home’, a perfect description of what goes on in your head.

He can tell you planned your outfit for fashion over function, which is the case for most of your outfits. If you’re not whining in his ear to sneak off he’s sure you’ll be complaining about being cold. But he lets those thoughts fade, focusing instead on your warmth at his side, offering you a sip of his drink.

“What time do the movies start?” You ask, face scrunched up at the bitter taste of whatever alcohol was poured into the jungle juice.

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Charlie answers, pulling his hand out of his pocket to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

“Actually, we should probably get up there and do our kickoff,” Robbie says, seeing the seats mostly filled in.

“Be right back,” Charlie whispers to you, following Robbie to the projector screen.

Their introduction is short and sweet, poking fun at the franchise’s clichés, while also promoting underage drinking. The crowd cheers, ready for the movies to start, quoting the iconic opening scene as Charlie and Robbie make their way to the back of the crowd to the projectors. You’re sitting on some bales of hay set up for seating, thin blankets keeping the itchy straw from irritating your skin, confusion etched in your features when you see Charlie walk out of the room instead of joining you.

Before you can follow him, Robbie takes a seat next to you, going into a rant about the movie that you only half listen to, convinced Charlie has given you the same rant during one of your private movie nights. You don’t have a chance to interrupt him and ask about Charlie though, jerking away when you feel an arm around your shoulder.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Charlie laughs at your reaction, sitting down next to you. “Got you a drink,” he says, offering you a red cup.

“Thank you,” you say, beaming at him, leaning in for another kiss.

“Uh-uh, watch the movie,” he says, refocusing your attention to the screen.

You roll your eyes, but do as he says, watching the movie silently. The two of you sip on your drinks, moving closer together as more people join you on the bales of hay. By the time the second movie starts, you’re forced into Charlie’s lap after getting up for refills and losing your spot. Not that you mind, sat sideways on his lap and tucked into his chest, you’re surprisingly able to focus on the movies for once.

He entertains you, imitating the killer’s voice and repeating the dialogue for only you to hear, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers the lines. Your giggles are muffled by his chest, his playfulness and the steady beat of his heart comforting you through the jumpscares and violence that you’re still getting used to.

The two of you allow yourself to relax into one another, comfortably watching each movie as the crowd slowly dwindles. You’ve traded your jungle juice for soda, caffeine and sugar slowly sobering any tipsiness as dawn approaches, eyes blinking slowly as you both fight off sleep. You’re so close, the closest you’ve ever been to finishing all seven Stab movies, and he can’t help but bounce his leg nervously, your whole body shaking from the force of his movement.

“Stop that,” you mumble, and he does, but it’s not long before his leg is shaking again. “I thought you’ve seen all of these before, shouldn’t I be the nervous one?” You tease him when he still doesn’t stop.

“Shh, pay attention,” he scolds you, because it’s the final act of the last movie, and you’ve come so far.

You don’t put up a fight, attention easily grabbed as the kill scenes get messier and the main cast dies off one by one. Charlie’s buzzing with excitement during the last few minutes of the movie, watching for your reaction. Your reaction is dampened by your exhaustion, but even the slightest tell of shock has his lips stretching into a smile, holding you closer as the credits begin to roll.

“Wow,” is all you say, stretching out in his arms.

“Well, how do you feel?” He asks you, leaning over you as you lay back.

“Scared, tired, a little cold,” you answer, his hair tickling your skin as his face nears yours.

“Hm, well let’s go to bed then,” he says, sitting up and pulling you up with him.

You follow him to a set of taped off stairs, a thin blanket dragging on the straw covered floor behind him. He holds your hand all the way up the stairs, not wanting you to trip in your heels, spreading the blanket out over the loose stack of hay. The two of you fall onto your makeshift bed for the night, or early morning, laying on your sides as he pulls your back to his chest.

“How about now?” He asks, arms holding you close to him.

“Less scared, less tired, more cold,” you answer, wishing you had also grabbed a blanket.

“Let me warm you up then,” Charlie says, an impish smile on his face as one of his hands moves between your thighs, tickling your skin as his touch trails up.

“Really? Right now?” You ask, and he can’t tell if you’re excited or not, words slurring from exhaustion.

“Only if you want me to,” he answers, teasing your inner thighs, pushing the hem of your dress up.

“Of course I want you to,” you say, his advances reassured as you open your legs for him.

Since your first night together, both of you have learned a lot about each other’s sexual preferences. Although Charlie doesn’t have much experience, he found that it doesn’t take much to turn you on. You’re rather needy, and despite being the one guiding him most of the time, he’s the one doing all the work. Not that he minds.

When he dips his fingers past the waistband of your panties, he’s not surprised to find that you’re already wet, teasing your clit with soft circles as his other hand gropes your tits over your dress. Your hips buck in pleasure, thighs closing around his hand as your leg falls from the force of gravity, ass barely grinding back against him as you seek friction.

“You did so good tonight,” he says, undoing his jeans to pull them down. “Finally watching all of the movies like I asked,” he says, thick head of his cock stretching your slick walls as he pushes into you, your panties merely pulled to the side.

“Anything for you, baby,” you say, pushing back against him, needing to feel him deeper.

His hands hold your hips in place as he thrusts into you, building speed and tempo as he stifles his groans by marking your neck. You bite your fist, painfully aware of the people asleep just beneath the hayloft, struggling to keep your voice down. It’s unfair, Charlie thinks, how good you feel wrapped around him, milking him as you get closer to orgasm.

“What’s that?” He asks, hearing you mumbling something through your fist.

“Harder, please,” you moan, hiding your face in the blanket.

He holds you against him tighter, hips bruising your ass as he fucks you harder. It’s almost like you’re running away from him, grasping at the straw beside you, failing to silence your moans. He has to move one of his hands over your mouth, hearing your voice begin to echo, his other hand holding your hips in place.

Where once the cold nipped at your skin, you’re now sweltering, Charlie’s body heat warming you up from the inside out. With the way he’s pounding into you now, there’s not much you can think about aside from the way the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each thrust, how it makes heat flare in your belly, and that you’re so fucking close. You don’t realize you’re crying, your vision having gone blurry a while ago, but now you’re seeing stars, hurtling over the edge as he chases his own pleasure.

You’re limp, twitching in his hold, drool and lipgloss smeared against the palm of his hand. It doesn’t take long for him to finish after you, grinding his release into you as he fills you with his hot cum. You whimper from the overstimulation, breathing heavily as both of you ride out the high.

“Goodnight, baby,” Charlie whispers, arms relaxing around you as you both begin drifting off to sleep, still buried deep within you.

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anantaru · 2 years

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𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗜𝗗 𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗙𝗜𝗧 !

˖˚˳⊹ wearing a maid outfit for them feat. ayato : xiao : albedo : scaramouche : cyno : childe x fem! reader

˖˚˳⊹ warnings: nsfw

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗔𝗬𝗔𝗧𝗢

"oh," his voice was deep, would lie if he says he wasn't totally surprised but archons, what a tease you were right now in those clothes of yours, "darling, what honor to see you like this." his chuckle was dark, from deep inside of his throat as he reached over his hand for you to take it. You made yourself comfortable on his lap, straddling him as you didn't waste anymore time, slowly circling your hips teasingly over his growing erection. His had lolled back in his leather chair as he scrunched his eyes shut for a moment. Your hands grabbed onto his soft hair, massaging his scalp without ever losing on pace, still grinding against his leaking cock.

It seemed like he was tired from work, lazily dragging your clothed folds over his growing bulge as he admired the beauty in front of him from underneath his brows. "You're my maid now, hmm?" he just hummed his question, half lidded eyes pointing at your features. "so." slowly hooking your white lace panties to the side so your pussy was bare on top of his hidden cock now, "You're supposed to do everything I say." he finished the sentence off with a wink, grabbing onto the soft flesh of your thighs to push you onto his cock harder and fuck, you just wanted to cum right here and there, —twisting and turning—, movements never faltering. <3

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗫𝗜𝗔𝗢

You had your back to him when he opened the door to your knocking, but once turning quickly around to face your beautiful boyfriend, you saw his broad, surprised face, his cheeks blushed as he realized just what you were wearing right now. "I'm your maid tonight, baby." your voice was more cheeky than anything else, —almost baby like—, you knew he liked it that way. He only got more nervous the further he looked at your body, almost breaking the door frame he was holding on to right now. "a maid?" his question sounded over the top serious, as if he was trying his hardest to not let his guard down at all times.

"Yes." you paused before placing your pointer finger on his lips, "you can do whatever you want to me, tonight." slowly prancing it over his —lips, chest and stomach— until it hit his clothed bulge that was already throbbing against your touch. His adams apple bobbing harshly against his throat as xiao encircled your body with his arms, drawing you closer, letting you taste his hungry lips and archons, he can't remember the last time when he was this horny for you. Already ripping off all the unneeded fabric of your body to see your now exposed perky nipples wait for his touch. He didn't actually wait though and put the mounds of flesh in his mouth right away to suckle harshly on it while the other one was being pinched in between his thumb and pointer finger. You're in for a wild ride. <3

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗔𝗟𝗕𝗘𝗗𝗢

he was honestly too stunned to speak at first, lowkey thought he missed an important event in mondstadt or something. Once you reassured him though, that it wasn‘t in fact an event, but a little something for him, he quickly let go of his tense expression. He‘s been always so good to you :( always making you feel good so it‘s only natural for you to give him a day of pleasure. "You can touch me, you know" you‘re grinning, so fucking proud of making him so unbelievably flustered right now, standing tall in front of him while albedo was still settled on his chair.

His hands slowly reached out for your hips to grab onto your soft flesh, feeling how good you felt underneath his skin made him throb against his pants, "push your dress up." he‘s cold with that certain command, taking it seriously now as he carefully hooked his fingers up the waistband of your white panties, dragging them down and exposing your soft folds to the cold room. He was quick with it, really. Pushing his head hard against your pussy to taste the already leaking juices while simultaniously grabbing onto your leg to slightly pull it up for good measure. You were only able to hold onto his scalp for additional support, unable to comprehend anything anymore as he ate you out like it was his last meal, slowly moving his pointer finger to your entrance to prod a digit in since he knows he had to prepare you before diving his fat cock into your needy pussy.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗘

you were currently kneeling in between his thighs, lazily suckling on his cock with a maid outfit that was already half ripped. By the looks of it you can clearly see that scaramouche was more than delighted to see you like this, so fucking obedient and ready to be devoured by his aura. "Fuck." his breathing was heavy, —but his tone was dark—, barely a whisper if anything, he doesn‘t want to show you just how off guard you caught him today, with that little stunt of yours. Just how dare you look all pretty in that maid dress, so confident with your breasts perking up nicely from the small corset, like a dream come true, really.

"don‘t you dare stop." he‘s whimpering now when you picked up on pace, remotely letting his tip hit the back of your throat, over and over again and archons, throat fucking you was his absolute favorite. The way you were trying to suck him in was almost to die for, groaning out against gritted teeth as he looked down on you. Your chin messily stained with both your saliva and his cum, a fucking sinful masterpiece in his eyes. His hands found refuge in your hair and pulled back a few of your strands so he could clearly see your fucked out face. You knew he was about to spill his seed into you once he was rutting his cock inside of your mouth, meeting your pace halfway and once he filled your throat with warm white ribbons, he —as always— expects you to swallow all of it like a good little maid would. <3

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗖𝗬𝗡𝗢

He's a flustered mess, tries his hardest to hide it but fails regardless. Was just tinkering in his lab a moment ago when you decided too grace him with your appearance, head to toe with an adorable maid outfit. He gulped out harshly against his throat, licking his lips in nervousness before he advanced towards your waiting figure. "You." he stopped mid sentence once he reached you, lips mere inches away from one another, "you're beautiful." he caught his breath in his throat, feeling how your fingers lazily stroked over his stoned stomach.

It didn't take cyno long to actually close the distance between your faces and kiss you passionately, at first it was more teeth and tongue than anything though, far too gone in your beauty had him already seeing stars. His hands quickly finding refuge on your behind as he felt up the tiny lace that decorated your body in the utmost erotic way, he's so fucking lucky to have you. His fingertips prancing over your pussy, —that eagerly awaited him already—, as he prodded the first digit against your hole, teasing you for what's more to come later. He didn‘t want to overdo it but once he felt you basically rut against his pointer finger, he immediately went in knuckles deep, grazing in with his nails before finding that sweet spot of yours. <3

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗗𝗘

after a long work day, ajax thought he‘d come home to your cute figure sleeping soundly on your shared bed but once he actually saw you waiting for him, —dressed like a maid—, he could already feel his cock twitch deep inside his pants. Balls getting heavy by the mere thought of filling you up with his seed tonight, can‘t wait to be honest. He‘s licking his lips before narrowing an eyebrow at you, "what do we have here?" His question was almost cute, really, as you slowly guided him on top of you so he‘d hover over your body. Creaking noises of the bed —because of his added weight— were falling against deaf ears once you spread your legs further apart for him. He was licking his lips as if he was preparing himself for a meal, which he kind of was if we‘re being honest.

You could feel him smirk against your body once he placed wet kisses all over your stomach, pushing up the dress so he‘d see your soaked lace panties that were desperately waiting to be ripped apart by him, which he then, —of course did—. Carefully lowering his head to place a messy kiss on your throbbing folds, licking all the way up your clit to slowly circle his tongue over your bundle of nerves. He won‘t stop there though, ajax really wanted to taste you tonight, moving down to your hole to desperately suckle up everything you gave him so far. "My cute little maid, only spreading your legs for me, right?" he grinned at you while sliding his first digit in, going back to grinding his tongue against your clit. <3

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #ayato smut #ayato x reader #xiao smut #xiao x reader #cyno smut #cyno x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #childe smut #childe x reader #albedo smut #albedo x reader

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detachedminxsfics · 10 months

Text

Farmhand

Masterlist

Characters: Negan (Dead City) x F!Reader

Summary: When Negan spends a late night out in the barn and doesn't return to his room you go to convince him to turn in for the night, but Negan has other ideas.

Word count: 4K

Warnings: NSFW - Dry humping, fingering, vaginal sex, riding, choking, praise, dirty talk, negan's usual foul mouth, dom negan

A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to finish this but I hope the wait was worth it, this one got pretty dirty but it's cowboy Negan so it just HAD to be. As they say, save a horse ride a cowboy!

The leaves beneath the soles of your boots crunched with every step, the breeze whistling through the trees as you walked through the forest. Negan was right at your side, as per usual, his eyes occasionally glancing towards you and his head lifting in search of any signs of trouble without the obscurity of the brim of his cowboy hat. You'd been on the road for a few weeks now, just the two of you. You'd first bumped into Negan a few months ago when you arrived at a small farm settlement way out in the countryside, the people there having been kind enough to offer you refuge, and you chose to repay their generosity by helping out on the farm wherever you could. That's when you met Negan. He'd already been there a few months when you first arrived it seemed, the people there having gotten pretty comfortable with him and Negan himself having gotten accustomed to his routine. And from the moment you walked through the doors of that barn and saw him hunched over a hay bale, tattoos on his arms and the muscles flexing with every movement, the veins running up the backs of his hands and forearms and his forehead glistening with sweat, you were hooked. He straightened his back with a groan and grasped the fabric at the bottom of his tank top, lifting the hem to drag the material over his forehead and mop up the sweat that had gathered there, the lift of his top revealing the trail of hair starting from his belly button and stopping at the depths of his toned lower abdomen. Your eyes travelled to the dark curls of hair at his chest, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from the deep v-lines framing his hips sitting prettily above the waistband of his low waisted jeans.

"Oh, hey." The sound of his voice interrupted the way your eyes were shamelessly roaming over his body, and you subtly cleared your throat.

He let go of his top and ran a hand through his slightly damp, dishevelled hair, slicking it in the process.

"I don't think I've seen your face before, you new here sweetheart?" He asked as he bent down and reached for something off to the side.

When he leant back up he had a beige cowboy hat in his hands which he naturally placed on his head.

"Pretty much just got here last night, feeling real out of my depth." You replied honestly, your uncertainty making him shake his head with a chuckle.

"No need, you'll fit right in. And I'm guessing you're already on the right track if you walked all the way over here to see if you could help these fine folks out."

You nodded, and Negan gestured with his head in the direction of the pile of hay he was handling.

"C'mon then, give me a hand with this."

That was all he had to say, and from that point onwards you seemed attached at the hip. Always trying to be on the same job as the other, always offering to be partnered on a supply run, so you suppose it was only a matter of time before you relieved the unspoken tension between the two of you one way or another. Negan's room was only across from yours in the farmhouse so you could hear when he opened and closed the door to his room to settle in for the night, but he hadn't yet. You got up from your bed and peered out the window, the view giving you a nice overlook of the farm. You could see some of the crops that had been planted in a plot of land off to the side and the moderately sized cornfield near the barn, the moonlight from the night sky illuminating the front of the barn enough for you to make out its slightly ajar doors, and a sigh left your lips. Negan. You threw on a denim skirt and slipped on some boots, making your way out of your room and the farmhouse to walk all the way down to the barn, carefully peering into the space in the doors and stepping into it a little. Negan was leaning over the workbench in the far corner tinkering with something. You could barely make him out in the dimness of the barn, small beams of luminescence creeping in through the occasional window. It was as you got closer that you were able to discern the cowboy hat on top of his head. It always suited him.

"Late night?" You said as you stepped into the barn, hay crunching beneath your boots with every step.

Negan lifted his head the moment he heard your voice, his eyes meeting yours. He chuckled and placed the tool he'd been grasping in one hand down on the workbench, straightening his back a little and slightly tilting his hat back to wipe the sheen of sweat that had gathered on his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, something like that."

He gave a long, exhausted sigh that prompted you to make your way over to him until you stood beside him, your eyes curiously glancing over the workbench for a moment. It just looked like scrap, at least to you.

"What you working on?" You asked, making Negan shake his head with a smile.

"Nothing really, just some piece a' shit car part that I thought I might be able to fix up. I'm not really a handyman typa guy, but I thought I'd give it a shot."

You nodded and then took hold of one of Negan's tanned forearms, the feeling of his skin on yours burning you up from the slightest touch, and gently tried to urge him away from what he was messing with.

"C'mon Negan, it's getting late. You can screw around with that tomorrow." You pleaded with him, but he stood firmly in place as a small laugh escaped his lips, his head tilting a little.

"And what are you doing up this late yourself, hm? Cause something tells me that you didn't wake up just to check whether I made it to my room or not, or are you really all that worried about little ol' me?" Negan teased, the deflection of your suggestion making you laugh.

"Okay smartass, I was already awake. I was having trouble sleeping and I gave up, so I thought I'd come see what you were up to."

Negan raised his brows playfully and placed his hand over the back of the one you were using to hold his arm, slightly holding it in his palm.

"Oh, what kinda trouble?"

You knew he was just avoiding facing the possibility of giving up what he was doing and turning in for the night, but the delay was sure as hell gonna work.

"I get dreams about this...guy."

His eyebrows quirked up even more than they had before, the shit-eating grin on his face widening in an instant and his eyes lit up like a kid on christmas morning.

"Really, just some random guy?" He quipped doubtfully.

You scoffed and tried to drop your hand from his forearm, to which you did, but he kept his hand pressed over yours.

"Yeah, a guy, Negan."

You'd piqued his curiosity, and there was something hidden in your words that had his tongue dragging over his bottom lip.

"Well, what happens in these dreams of yours?" He asked seemingly innocent enough, but it was full of ambiguity.

He reached up with his free hand and swept a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes looking you over beneath that beige cowboy hat still sat proudly atop his head, and the silver of his stubble looking as good as ever. Your eyes filled with something inviting, a coy smile on your lips as you tilted your head.

"Why do you wanna know, Negan?"

He shrugged and feigned total ignorance to the exact reason he was so obviously prying, but the grin on his lips gave him away.

"Can I take a wild guess, darlin'?"

Now it was your turn to be intrigued. Your eyes bore into his, his hand still holding yours and your line of sight occasionally getting carried away and landing on his lips before returning to his gaze. You nodded. In a calculated movement Negan gently closed his hand around the top of your throat and guided your lips to his, your lips crashing and allowing you to feel his mouth against yours. You couldn't help but moan into it, eyes fluttering closed as you tasted him. His other hand found its way to your waist to pull you in closer whilst he licked your bottom lip in an attempt to coax your lips apart, and you did. His tongue slipped into your mouth, your tongues entwining for a moment until you pulled back just enough to break the kiss, lips still barely brushing and your breath shaky as you struggled to find air.

"So?" Negan cockily teased as to whether he had nailed the nature of your fantasies yet or not, and while he was well on his way to getting there, he hadn't just yet.

"Not quite there yet, cowboy."

He paused for a moment before he let out a small, throaty chuckle. He moved his hand from where it had been resting on your throat and reached down to hoist you up by your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms wrapping around his neck. His lips captured yours once more as he brought you to the workbench and rested you on it, one of his hands sliding up to hold the nape of your neck and deepen the kiss, his groans spilling into your mouth as you tightened the grip of your legs around his hips to bring his clothed bulge against your panties; your skirt having rode up when he lifted you and now bunched at your hips. He broke the kiss and gave a small grunt as you rolled your hips slightly and created some friction, his hand reaching down to rest just above your knee and then slowly glide up your thigh, an idle grip in his hand as he did that caressed your skin as he went. Negan's hand continued even when it reached the denim of where your skirt had gathered, his hand slipping under your skirt and giving the very top of your thigh a squeeze before he moved his attention to your panties. A small gasp escaped your lips as his index finger teasingly traced a line through your clothed slit, the thin cotton damp and clinging to your cunt with how much you'd soaked your panties from the mere feel of his lips on yours.

"Damn baby, you're so fuckin' wet." He whispered gravelly against your lips, his mouth so close to yours you could feel his hot breath fanning against your lips as he spoke.

"Please." You practically choked out, your small plea making his lips curve into a dirty smile and move your panties to the side.

"Yes ma'am." He husked.

He dove beneath the fabric at the side of your panties and slid one finger in at first, the sensation making you throw your head back until you were resting against the wall behind the workbench, Negan's hand still holding the nape of your neck. He pumped his finger inside you a few times before adding a second digit, the slight stretch around his fingers making you moan and lift your head to meet his eyes again. He had that damn cowboy hat still sitting on his head as he fucked you with his skilled fingers, moving his fingers in and out of you at a fast, pleasurable pace that you could barely comprehend, your moans gradually sounding more like whimpers. His eyes bore into yours, the glazed-over look of dark lust they were filled with making you spread your legs a little further and angle yourself to get his fingers deeper. He curled them slightly as you did, the immediate unrestrained whine that would follow becoming muffled against his lips as he pressed them to yours, the hand on the back of your neck allowing him to deepen the kiss and his fingertips slipping into your hair to comb through the strands. Every touch left you feeling breathless, every pump of his fingers further clouding your mind until you could no longer care for the dangers of getting attached to someone like this in this ruined world. You had wanted Negan since the moment you saw him, and now you had him if the way his fingers were buried in you was anything to go by.

"Shit, I could listen to those pretty noises all day, sweetheart." Negan whispered against your lips, purposely curling his fingers as he did to draw another sweet moan out of you, and you knew you weren't going to be able to take this any longer if he kept this up.

Unfortunately, Negan seemed to pick up on that too. He removed his fingers from you much to your verbalised dismay, lifting his hand and slipping the two fingers glistening with your wetness into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the tattoos on his knuckles and a pleased hum of approval escaping his lips as he tasted you.

"You're as delicious as you look, y'know this farm girl get up is really doing it for me." Negan commented as he withdrew his fingers from his mouth, and you were starting to think that you might have passed out in your bed and this was another one of your dreams after all.

"Oh? I bet I feel as good too." Such crude words sounded so good coming from your mouth, the sudden confidence making his brows perk up in a mix of surprise and twisted curiosity.

"Is that so? Hell, now I gotta know."

He removed his hand from your hair and reached up your skirt to hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties and begin working it down your legs, tossing them aside when he had gotten them off the ankle they'd tried to dangle from. His hands were quick to work at his belt, the metal of his belt buckle clinking slightly once it fell loosely on either side of his fly, to which he was quick to unbutton and undo the zipper on his jeans. Negan was so impatient he didn't even bother to get his pants off, he just worked them down his legs until the denim pooled at his feet, his boxers next to join the pile. Once his top was hurriedly discarded too his hands found their way to the tops of your thighs as he dragged you to the edge of the workbench and stepped into the space between your legs, his eyes locking with yours as he pushed inside you and used the grip on your hips to further guide you onto him. The stretch was incredible, your mouth falling open and a noise you weren't sure you'd ever even heard before spilling from it.

"Is that better, baby?" Negan cooed, your only response being the frantic nod of your head.

His thrusts started off slow giving you time to get used to the feel of him, his breath getting heavier and small grunts forming in his throat with every thrust, and then he reached up in an attempt to remove his cowboy hat.

"Don't you dare." You playfully warned as you snatched his wrist to stop him making Negan chuckle and lower his hand again.

"Alright alright, guess the cowboy hats stayin' on."

You closed your legs around his waist again as he started to move his hips a little faster, locking your legs around his waist and tightening your grip every time he thrust as deep as he could go, the sensation making Negan screw his eyes shut and throw his head back slightly exposing the vein running along the side of his neck and the way his adams apple protruded from his throat. You flattened your palms against the wood as you leaned up and started kissing your way down his throat starting with the underside of his jawline, lightly running your tongue over the lump in his throat once you got to it.

"Fuuuck honey, you're gonna be the damn death of me." He sighed, his head lowering to look into your eyes when you pulled back after placing a kiss above his collarbone.

Dark hair adorned his chest, an intricate skull tattoo situated to one side as his chest rose and fell at a rate almost as fast as yours. You couldn't help but run your hand down his chest, his skin burning red hot against your warm palm.

"Well shit, I'm not as young as I used to be." Negan quipped breathlessly with a small smile as his hand moved to cup one side of your face, his thumb stroking along your cheek.

Your hand affectionately raised and settled over the back of his, though the intent in your words was not as sweet as your gesture.

"Get on the table then, cowboy."

You barely gave him time to react as you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him down, flipping as you did so now you were straddling him. He landed on the wooden surface with a small thud, a cocky laugh filling the air as you braced your hands onto his shoulders while he straightened his back, one hand pressing in on your waist and the other on your lower back to help you get comfortable on his lap. You adjusted slightly until you were sitting on your knees, legs resting on either side of him and hovering over his lap. His hands grasped your hips as Negan guided you down onto his cock, the angle allowing him to fill you up much more than before and the feeling of fullness once you fully sank onto him nothing short of pure ecstasy. You clung to him and tried to even out your breath, your eyes locking with his as he reached up and gently took hold of your jaw only to lift his hips a little, a sick smile spreading across his lips as his tongue swept over his bottom lip and a desperate whine came from your lips.

"Go on then my little cowgirl." He drawled, his thumb tracing across your bottom lip.

You started to roll your hips as you lifted yourself up and then sank all the way back down onto him, the sounds the two of you were making and the noise of skin slapping against skin filling the thick air of the barn, only worsening when you found a rhythm that Negan only made that much more euphoric as he lifted his hips in time with you. Negan's hands moved to cup your ass as you started to bounce, the workbench rocking from the force and banging against the wall behind it, his fingers dug into your skin hard enough to leave marks.

"God, you feel so fucking good bouncing on my cock." He rasped, the dirtiness of his words only fuelling you that much more as you rode him.

Negan wrapped his hand around your throat as you bounced on top of him, his grip firm as he squeezed just enough to allow the lack of oxygen to bleed into the immeasurable pleasure, the veins in his hands prominent as he lightly choked you. The hand cupping your ass kneaded your cheek before he drew his hand back and delivered a harsh slap to your ass, your skin stinging from the impact and the surprise of it drawing a small squeak out of you. Negan chuckled as you did and slapped the same cheek again a little harder than the first, though this time the noise that came from your lips was more of a depraved cry. He was surely leaving his mark on you, embellishing you with a stark red handprint on your now sore skin.

"Good girl." He crooned.

His praise alone almost sent you over the edge, your legs starting to quiver as he wrapped his arm around you and started to thrust into you relentlessly, pounding you as you hover over his lap.

"Negan, oh fuck." You choked out, your pleasure filled sob muffled when he crashed his lips against yours and continued to fuck into you mercilessly, the arm around your waist keeping you pressed firmly against him.

"That's it, baby, that's it." He whispered throatily between kisses, and that was all you needed.

Your lips parted but no sound came out, just your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm washes over you, the sensation knocking the strength right out of your legs as your knees buckled leaving you fully sitting on him. Finally, the moan tore from your throat as he gave a few more hard thrusts while you tried to ride out your high, his eyes half-lidded with lust when he slid his hands down to grip your hips and lift you off him so he could spill onto your inner thigh, a guttural groan leaving his lips whilst warm droplets splashed on your skin. Still catching his breath Negan removed the cowboy hat and ran his hand through his hair, placing it off to the side so he could lay back onto the workbench, the way you were pressed to his chest bringing you with him. You let your head rest against his chest and could hear the way his heart was racing against your ear, your breathing starting to even out as you briefly closed your eyes and focused on it, his chin resting on top of your head all the while. After a moment you felt his fingers combing through your hair while his other hand moved to rest on the small of your back and draw circles.

"Hey." Negan muttered softly prompting you to look at him.

You lifted your head to comply with his unspoken request, a kittenish smile playing on your lips as you moved slightly further up his body so that your face could hover above his, propping yourself up on your elbows. Some of your hair fell to obscure one side of your face as you did which Negan reached up and tenderly swept behind your ear.

"You are so beautiful, sweetheart." He whispered, the flattery only making your smile a little wider as you leaned down till your lips were mere inches from his.

"And you are one handsome cowboy." You playfully hummed, barely able to finish what you were saying as Negan pressed his lips against yours, the kiss much slower and fervent than the sloppy and heated ones you'd shared before.

You were just basking in the company of one another. The feel of your body laid on top of his and his skin hot against yours, the feel of his lips moving on yours making your mind even foggier with need for him. You didn't care that someone might wonder why neither of you had made it back to your rooms in the middle of the night, that someone might come to find you both draped over a workbench and tasting one another to your heart's content. All that mattered was that you had each other.

"And that was one hell of a ride, might I add." Negan pulled back to joke, your noses still brushing from the closeness and his crude comment making your laughter come out in the form of a snort.

"Shut up."

And your lips were on his again.

#negan #negan smut #negan smith #negan twd #negan fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd negan #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead negan #negan x reader #dead city negan #dead city

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sprout-fics · 11 months

Text

Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 2

(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)

(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)

(Masterlist)

Word count: 3.3k Rating: PG-13 Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Witch Laswell, Traditional German Fairytale setting, Price x Reader if you squint, F! Reader, Injury, Blood/Injury Warnings: Mentioned gore

The sound of hoofbeats echoes out through the forest as Price urges his steed down the misty trail and into town. The trees spill outwards to reveal the faint lantern light of the village, and as you both approach you see shutters peek open and doors swing wide as your neighbors observe the commotion of your approach.

There's few people in the village square- a small collection of self-appointed guardsmen who startle at the sight of the captain atop his massive, dark mare. One nearly falls backwards, scrambling for his hastily constructed spear even as Price's voice bellows down at them.

"In your homes! NOW!!" He roars, and you're surprised at the speed with which the men comply, quickly dispersing in the direction of their cottages. You see them shout at the villagers who dare to stand in their doorways or at their windows, lantern light illuminating them in the nighttime darkness. They too vanish back into their houses, murmuring and speaking with concerned, rising voices at the tone of Price's booming command.

"Which house is yours?" He asks you then, voice quieter but no less urgent as he tries to control his anxious steed under him.

You point to a house at the end of the way, with ivy crawling up the stone and a red stained door at the front. You try to speak, but words seem to fail you, lips parting and voice choked with clawing fear at the shadow that lurks in your mind.

Massive. A primordial, hulking thing. Yellow eyes glimmering brightly in the darkness, claws glinting in the light of the moon. When it had turned to regard you both it had bristled, the coarse fur standing straight and making the thing look even larger. Even now you imagine yourself caught between its fangs, reaching out an arm in desperation as you're swallowed whole.

Price kicks his horse into a trot, and abruptly stops at the front of your door. He dismounts before you can gather yourself, hands at your waist and lifting you down onto unsteady feet.

"Lock the doors and windows." He tells you, voice gravelly with warning.

You find your voice then, startled and raspy but concerned as his hand guides you at the small of your back to your doorstep.

"W-wait, you're headed back?" You ask him worriedly, even though you already know the answer. "It's dangerous- you'll be in the woods by yourself, what if..."

"I'm a Witcher." Is all Price supplies to you as the heavy lock of your wooden door unlatches and you're guided inside. You spin to face him, eyes wide with a near frantic concern. He fills your doorway, allowing you no space to try and dart outside, the width of his shoulders made wider by the leather pauldrons of his armor.

"B-but-" You try to protest, voice wavering, taking a step towards him.

Price's eyes soften then, just for a moment. it startles you, the sudden warmth of his expression that seems almost like endearment. It's gone before you can feel it touch the confines of your heart, his face settling once more into the steely resolve of a warrior.

"Don't venture out until dawn." He speaks, voice grave with danger, pupils glinting with a darkness that shudders through you. Ominous, deadly.

He reaches for the door and pulls it shut behind him before you can stop him, and even then you dart to the window to see Price pull himself onto his horse and gallop once more into the chasm of forest from which you emerged.

You don't call after him, heart hammering too severely to allow any air to escape from your chest. Instead, you watch the mist curl in his wake, look upwards to the waxing Autumn moon that hangs yellow and heavy in the sky.

The shutters clack shut with a sound of finality.

-----------------

Birdsong.

You blink awake, the dimness of dawn washing over your features as you rouse to the frosted morning. You're wrapped in your blankets, sitting by the hearth that has fizzled into ash during your slumber. The gentle noise of sunrise filters in through the shutters, so different from the chaos of the night before, when Price had thundered into the town square with your form huddled behind his back.

You blink at the memory, trying to pull yourself from sleep and place yourself back into the realm of wakefulness even as the timber of the captain's voice drags you back into the darkness of the night before.

You'd stayed up as long as you could, trying to listen into the woods for any indication of struggle or conflict. Yet the forest had remained eerily silent, offering no answers to your concerned curiosity. Quiet, concealing the secrets within in a way you knew they always would.

When you rise from your chair you realize you'd never changed into your night clothes, your scarlet cape tugged tight around your front as you eventually had lapsed into sleep before the hearth. It flutters to the ground as you stand, and when you pick it up the soft fabric grazes across the pads of your fingers, with you lost in thought.

You hope he's okay.

There's no reason why he shouldn't be, of course. Price told you his battles the night before, of his victories and the tales which Soap and Gaz had boasted of. He's a Witcher. He'll be fine.

Yet then you think of Laswell, of her steely gray stare and her sly but warm smile. Maybe, if Price had gathered his men and rode off into the woods in pursuit- if Laswell had been left all alone in her cottage...

Your hands shake as you hold your cape, and a new anxiety seeps into the cracks of your chest. If...if somehow the monster from last night had eluded the hunters and found Laswell, had somehow hurt her...

Your feet move before you can stop them, and with shaky hands you begin to gather things from your home, creating a bundle with which to bring to Laswell's. A blanket, your journal, a change of clothes. Things you'll need if you're to stay with her as you're determined to. You can't leave her alone in the woods like this, and you think neither can you stand to be alone in your own home with the monster stalking both the woods and your dreams.

You take along provisions too, inside your basket. Bread, honey, apples and the herbs you'd been drying for her. They go in a basket balanced at your hip, and it isn't long before you're ready to venture once more into the forest.

It's light out by the time you part from your cottage- a hand stroking lovingly over the red painted door before you make your way up the path. It's still early, and many of your neighbors have yet to emerge from their houses. Those that do hurry to do their chores and vanish back inside- still startled by the commotion of yesterday. You pass them even as they eye you through the shutters, beyond the fences and doors of their homes. You, the girl with the ruby red cloak, the strange one who spends too much time in the forest listening to the whispers of the trees.

The woods swallow you, the familiar path under your feet quickly fading from the main road and into the less traveled trails that diverge from the realm of civilization. The sounds of the village are quickly silenced by the hills, and soon even the braying of goats is dulled to a subdued, gentle hush that washes over you with aching familiarity. Mist rolls down from the mountains, settling in the valley like a soft shroud, a veil that fogs across your senses.

There's a magic in these woods you are accustomed to. The loneliness the trees offer as they cradle you is strangely sacrosanct, an ancient and almost ethereal atmosphere that settles breathily across your shoulders, whispers a low lullaby in your ears. You've known it all your life, have memorized the gnarled ancient trees which yield the rare, mossy ferns used in poultices. You know the rocky crags from which nettle grows, can smell the damp earth where mushroom caps push up against the soil. The forest offers many treasures to those who dare to look, and those who take only what they need.

There are hunters in these woods as well. You hear them sometimes, the braying of their hounds ever closer until you see them pass in the distance in pursuit of foxes, deer and grouse. They stand in the distance, the hunters, pausing to regard the flash of red that catches against the corner of their gaze before leaving you wordlessly. You are not the prey which they seek.

Now a different hunter stalks this forest, and the mere memory of the monster has you clutch your cloak tighter around your shoulders. Gleaming yellow eyes haunt your thoughts, and it seems not even the cold damp mist can match the frigid horror of your heart. The fog curls around you, and even as you tread the well-worn path under your feet to Kate's cottage, it feels as if these woods are now different, hiding secrets from even you, their beloved child.

The air around you is eerily silent, and not even the calls of owls or birds seems to pierce through the milky haze that swallows up the trail ahead of you. The overcast sky offers little light as you walk forward, footsteps light against the packed earth. Yet Price's words rise unsummoned on your thoughts, his warning of dawn lingering like the smell of his smoky breath.

Again, you wonder if he and the others are alright. You try to assuage your fears with the same words the captain offered you last night, trusting in his skill and experience to navigate the dangers that haunt these woods. Even so, the image of Laswell's cottage- wrecked, ruined, blood seeping across the stone stoop, tempts you with the icy sensation of panic you desperately try to swallow.

So preoccupied are you with your own anxiety that you almost don't notice the strangeness on the trail ahead until your boots scuff against it.

Blood.

You halt dead in your tracks, cold air sucking into your lungs as you gasp loud enough to disturb the silence of the woods around you. Fear instantly claws thick and viscous up your throat, and you force it down in a dry swallow, not moving even as bloodied leaves stain the toe of your boot. Yet it isn't the sight of the blood itself that has terror mount within your chest. It's worse than that.

It's still wet.

Whatever creature, whatever person came through here last missed you only by mere minutes, stumbling off into the mist even as scarlet dripped from their form.

"It's just an animal." You whisper to yourself in a desperate attempt to rid yourself of the idea it could be one of the Witchers, that maybe it's Price, Laswell.

Your eyes trace the smear of the blood, and within several steps you find another ooze of drying red off to the side of the desolate trail, into the trees.

You follow it despite yourself, inhibitions dulled by paranoia. Your boots scuff against the scraggly undergrowth, brittle from the autumn winds. You think to whisper a name, but the silence of the canopy above whispers a warning, a silence you hold close to your chest in a talisman of protection.

There's a smear of blood on the bark of a tree as you pass, as if someone has pressed a scarlet hand there to steady themselves before journeying onwards. You eye it fearfully, and for a moment consider retreating back to the safety of the village. Despite the warnings you continue forwards, picking your way down a slope and towards a rocky outcropping in the distance that murmurs of shelter.

"Hello?" You whisper as you get closer, and there's no response as you hover near the edge of the boulders. A hand balances you as you barely peek around the roundness of the stone, eyes wide and brow furrowed in concern as you raise your voice once more. "Are you hurt?"

There's a noise then, a rustle of movement that nearly has your scrambling up the hill back towards the path. After a moment a voice, muffled and strained, echoes out from the shelter.

"G-go away."

You blink, rising terror now ebbing to a terse confusion that has you hesitate.

It's the grunt of pain that makes you circle around the edge of the outcropping, peer into the mossy hollow in search of whoever has pleaded with you to vanquish yourself.

You can't make sense of the shape at first, broad arms and shoulders obscured by torn, raggedy fabric, bare feet sticking from a jumble of limbs. You trace the figure from the dirty soles of his feet upwards, eyes widening as you realize the pure breadth of the person, the massive stature he has managed to fit into the narrow crevice of shelter.

When your eyes search his face, however, you falter, lips parting as you try to make out his features, only to be met with a dark, draped fabric that obscures all but his wide, panicked eyes.

He stares at you, this stranger, and you see your own panic and confusion mirrored in his gaze, the whites of his eyes revealing his terror.

The hooded man swallows, tries to shuffle himself further into the shadow of the outcrop with a small whimper that doesn't befit his hulking figure.

"Please-" He croaks suddenly, voice strangely boyish for a man his size. "Don't...don't hurt me."

You feel your face fall in dismay at the fear in this stranger's voice- a whimpering terror that instantly has guilt pulse through you for your instinct to flee away from him. When he shifts once more, you note the smear of red against the stone that flows from a jagged, gnarly wound around his leg. Like something had seized him and torn him asunder.

Realization dawns across your features, and at once you recognize the wound for what it must be.

Teeth marks.

The man seems to see your shock and consequent concern, because suddenly his breath hitches and he tries futilely to press himself further away from you.

"Shh, it's alright." You offer softly, extending your hands plaintively. "It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you."

That seems to catch the stranger's attention, for his eyes lock on yours once more, the fabric of his hood rustling with his unsteady breathing. Yet he doesn't speak, not yet, still too afraid to address you. So, you lower yourself, making yourself small and unthreatening like you would to a wild, injured animal.

"You're hurt." You observe, voice gentle. You don't try to touch his wound, not yet. Instead, you try to keep contact with his eyes, wide and terrified.

"Did...the wolf do this to you?" You ask, voice a breathy murmur, and the man stiffens, entire form going rigid at your query. He doesn't answer, not at first, but after several moments he at last offers a small, hesitant nod in assent.

You swallow, eyes flicking back down the bloodied, mauled mess of the man's leg, his hands coated in scarlet. There's gashes there too, as if he was trying to unhinge the jaws of the beast in a frantic, desperate attempt to free himself. How he managed to escape the wolf is beyond you, but it's evident from the pure terror in his eyes that the victory of the feat is soured by his pain and fear.

"Let me help you." You say then, the words tumbling free before you can stop them. "If you stay out here...the blood...it might be able to track you."

The stranger doesn't respond, continuing to eye you warily, his form coiled tight against the rocks.

"Please." You try again. "I-I can get help, I know a healer, and she knows Witchers, I'm sure they can-"

"Witchers?" The man asks suddenly, voice dipping unexpectedly. You blink at the sudden shift, for all at once his terror seems to turn to disgust, anger, an emotion you're unprepared for.

"Yes." You supply softly, still trying not to startle him. Yet the man only stares at you silently from under his strange hood, offering no response.

"You can't stay here." You try again, and when he doesn't speak you begin to feel frustration rise inside you. "I'll go get help, the wi-"

You make to rise, but all at once the man surges forward, and the sudden motion startles you so much you topple backwards, onto your bottom. A hand shoots forward to catch you, preventing you from skidding further down the slope. You blink just as the stranger's form braces almost over you, his eyes gazing with a wild, frantic concern under the darkness of his hood.

They're green. Like the emerald canopy of the forest in the bright days of summer.

"Don't." He says, voice wavering, his bloodied fingers encircling your wrist and coating it crimson. "Please."

You blink, try to make sense of his words even as warmth rises to your face at just how close he suddenly is.

"I-" He tries, stammering, releasing you and sitting back as he realizes that he's startled you. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

It's your turn to be silent now, regarding him cautiously as your eyes dart to the red smear across your wrist. When you look back at him his eyes seem almost sad at the mark, downcast and guilty.

"I can't." He tries again, then lifts a shaky hand to fist in the fabric of his hood, eyes meeting yours once more. "I'm...disfigured. They might see my face and think...that I'm a monster."

You soften then, brow furrowing in sympathy at his explanation, even as he continues.

"I've been hiding in the woods for a while. I can't get close to the village because I might scare people, they might...." He trails off, but the implication is clear. The villagers, should they see a stranger, one with a face disfigured as he says, would no doubt shun him. Worse yet, you can imagine some of them going as far as to injure the stranger purely for his appearance.

"People will always attack that which they can't understand." You offer, straightening to kneel before him. You smooth a hand across your skirt, place your basket beside you and making sure it doesn't fall. "It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you."

You swallow, trying to bury your own fear in the face of your declaration. Despite your trembling grasp, you extend your hands as a request, open palmed and entreating.

"Please, let me see your hands." You tell him, voice clear like the eggshell blue sky on a crisp, fall day.

He doesn't move, not at first, eyeing your hand, a wild creature full of distrust.

"I can help you." You murmur, tone gentle, like trying to coax a fawn from the ferns. It seems to at last pierce the leather hide of him, revealing his loosening shoulders and uncoiling muscles, tender as he extends an oozing hand into yours.

You smile at him then, the first smile you've had since you settled by the warmth of the fire, flanked by Laswell and your newfound friends. It makes his eyes widen, as if he's just seen sunlight stream through an overcast sky.

"What is your name?" You ask, turning his hand over in yours, eyes looking at the broad planes of his palm, where gashes cut sharply across his fate line.

"König." He whispers, voice different now, somehow distant as he observes you.

"My name is König."

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#konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x fem reader #my writing #my fic #fic: rotes madchen

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m3talmunson · 11 months

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Steve Harrington except his mom comes from old money, his father new. So while Steve's mom took his father's last name (reluctantly. She was doing her best to promise that her son would have a good life ahead of him), she got to choose Steve's first, which just happens not to be Steve.

His name is actually Esteban Eberardo Ortiz Harrington, because by God, Maria Harrington would never let her son have an English name since she had to give up her own to promise her son a decent life.

Somewhere along the way she got lost in it all. She chased Mr. Harrington around to make sure he wasn't sleeping with whatever floozie secretary he had at the moment, and in doing so she forgot to be a mother - as much as somebody can just forget that duty.

So, one day Esteban got dropped off at his grandpa's house and became Steve. Then one day Steve's grandfather died and Steve didn't even see his father at the funeral. His father, the dead man's son, sent Maria with flowers to the funeral. Flowers she didn't have a destination for. So, the moment it was over she dragged Steve and the flowers back to the dust-covered Harrington home. She makes some dinner and has a nice night with her son, but as they curl up on the couch and try to settle for the night, she brings him up.

"Mijo, your father. I have to go back to him tomorrow. I have a plane ride in the morning. I have to go sweetheart." She blinks back the tears in her eyes as she delivers the news.

"It's ok mama! I'm 10 now, double digits." He holds out both of his hands, all of his fingers splayed out. "I can take care of things here." He put on his best brave face, something Grandpa Harrington taught him.

"Grandma is going to visit you as much as she can, but she doesn't live near here. You'll be on your own a lot, my sweet sweet boy." She let the tears run at this point, ignoring the musical she had put on the TV to occupy their thoughts.

"Don't cry mama," He curled up into her side. "Wait, Grandma? But she's been gone for longer than Grandpa?"

"No, no, my mama. She'll be up here every so often for you. My brave boy." She kissed the top of Steve's head, peppered a few more against Steve's complaints of tickling.

"Come on mama, Dolly's singing!" He said, and drew his attention back to the TV like it was nothing. They fell asleep on the couch that night. Mr. Harrington never would have approved, but maybe he just didn't need to know.

And that began the life of Steve being alone. At least, most of the time. His grandma did come up every so often. She taught him how to cook, clean, where the stools were, and which ones were tall enough for him to reach the cookie jar. The same cookie jar that stayed in place just incase his parents did come home and happen to give half a shit about it.

When she couldn't be there, over the phone, she taught her little Esteban Spanish. His father never allowed it in the house, but the moment she insisted she be called Abuelita and not Grandma, she piqued Esteban's interest.

He was interested until he got made fun of for the accent. He continued to learn it, but insisted that he be called Steve, the same way she insisted he call her something else. That set the record straight for him.

During high school, she got too frail for him to visit. The Harrington's put money in the bank for Steve, so he began to visit her. He'd fly down to where she was staying, drive once he could. Steve got his license the very first day he could, just to visit her. He planned her funeral when the day came, just a month before Will Byers went missing. That kept him in contact with quite a few of his cousins that way, checked in on everyone and made the rounds while he tried to remain a normal teenager, have a normal girlfriend, live as King Steve, or Steve "The Hair" Harrington. Anything that kept his life nice and neatly in place.

Then, a stupid nail bat was his lifeline. Screw normal, he couldn't trust anyone or anything anymore. Two years later, he got tortured by Russians and then, maybe he could trust someone.

Somewhere between his fall from grace and saving the world for good, he grew to trust a lot of people. Grew to have people at his house all the time, filling that god awful empty house.

He had Eddie over one night when he got a call from his cousin Mariana, she had just finished her freshman year of college in the US, so her English was getting pretty good, but she greeted him in Spanish so he can only return the favor. Steve guessed it was only a matter of time until Eddie and the others found out about him anyways.

So, he responded to Mariana. He had an entire conversation with her, back to the couch that Eddie was sat on. Last he knew Eddie was flipping through movies, but all the noises stopped. At least Steve could assume that maybe he just picked a movie, and maybe get hurt or yelled at or something after the call. He just had to get through this conversation with Mariana.

He heard the crash of tapes falling and had to end it.

"Sorry Mari, I've got to go." He said abruptly in English, and tried his hardest not to slam the phone back into the receiver.

When he turned around, he didn't expect what he saw. Sure, Eddie's jaw was basically on the floor, but he didn't seem angry, not like Steve had expected.

"You- you speak Spanish, Stevie?" Eddie had almost a shocked rasp to his voice, clutching onto the tape in his hand, the one that managed to not fall.

"Yeah, have for about 8 or 9 years now."

"You, Steve Harrington, are fluent in Spanish?"

"Esteban Eberardo Ortiz Harrington, actually. And yeah, my mom is Mexican."

"Est- Esteban???" Eddie laughed out. "Good God Stevie-"

"I know, I know, I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hide it, I just- it's hard walking around Hawkins with a Spanish accent, it's just so-" He interrupted Eddie.

"Steve, Stevie, no." It was Eddie's turn to interrupt. "I'm not mad at you sweetheart. Definitely not mad." Eddie hinted at something else.

"You're not mad? What- I-" Steve raised his eyebrow. "What's that look about then?"

Eddie had been out to Steve for a while, and vice-versa. They hadn't exactly not been flirting, so Eddie didn't feel too crazy saying this next part.

"If I'm being so honest, Stevie," Eddie stepped closer into Steve's personal space, "I wouldn't say completely platonic feelings."

"Oh, that's what does it for you, Munson? Really?" Steve teased. Back with the bravado charm.

"I dunno... want to say some more?"

And, of course, the moment he hears it again -the accent Steve's voice works itself into- he's basically frothing at the mouth. He drops the tape he was holding and swings his arms around Steve's neck, only a little awkward considering the lack of height difference.

"I guess it is, Esteban."

"You don't even know what I said!" Steve pretended to act shocked, or pissed or something, but he really didn't care.

"Tell me later," Eddie cut Steve off with a swift kiss, and maybe Steve would settle for later.

Maybe he'd have a lifetime to tell Eddie that all he said was "I really want to kiss you." He had his wish fulfilled anyway.

#guys i did so much research on the meanings of hispanic names for this bc i needed his names to have meaning. it was so important to me #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #steddie blurb #steddie drabble #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #steve harringtons parents #steve harringtons mom #latino steve harrington #bc i said so #pls excuse any typos i am 👍🏻 stupid #theo if u see this i will sob

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dreamauri · 8 months

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♪ — 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 - part six charles leclerc x fem! driver! reader (angst) “… forgetting is troublesome especially when you used to be enemies.”

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"What's happening? I don't have power." You pushed on the throttle time and time again. A 100% throttle yet the car was slowing down. "Can you hear me? . . . I don't know what's going on, the car just . . . shut down . . ."

"No . . . no." You watched as Max and Hamilton passed you, P1 slipping from your grasp. "No, please." You put your head in your hands taking a deep breath to calm yourself down.

"No no no. Come on, Y/N— FUCK!" You felt your voice crack and body slam forward into the seatbelt. Should've stayed alert. You didn't have time to brace yourself as Russell crashed into your rear, pushing you into the wall. That felt so embarrassing.

You sat on a piece of grass, waiting for your ride back to the pits under the red flag. You didn't want to take your helmet off, you didn't want to talk to anyone, you didn't want anyone to look at you. You couldn't. You couldn't let anyone see you in such a state of vulnerability and weakness, especially Charles.

"Stop following me." You scowled as you walked through the garage, your husband on your tail. "Speak to me, Y/N. Just talk to me. It'll make you feel better." He gently held your hand, pulling you back.

"No, it won't." You swiped your hands from his, folding your arms as he turned you to face him. Charles cupped your cheek from atop your helmet, flicking your visor up so he could look at your eyes through the peak. "Trust me. You can talk to me." He took one of your hands gently, holding it above his heart.

You looked away from him. A simple no. ". . . I'll score a podium for you. We can go home to your family after I'm finished. We can order pizza and watch clueless. Please, look at me, Amour."

He tried to undo the straps of your helmet but you held his wrists back. "Just for a kiss. Come on." Your hands fell to your side as he pulled off the balaclava, pressing the softest kiss to your temple.

"You held up amazing and I'm so proud of you." He titled you chin up, giving you a gentle kiss before gently brushing your hair out of the mess it was. "Go upstairs, Amour. Catch some rest."

How could you let him see your teary eyes like that? You should've never done that. Now he knows how weak you are.

You closed your eyes to salvage the bits of tears you had left. You could feel Charles pull you in a hug, rubbing your back gently. "It's all going to be alright."

He kissed your cheek one last time before going back to his car for the re-start.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"And that's Charles Leclerc with his fifth podium finish this season with P2 ahead of Sergio Perez who crosses the line to claim P3."

Charles threw his fist in the air as he passed by his team who were cheering for him at the pit wall. He was 0.25 seconds behind Max. Maybe, he could get him next time.

Once settled in front of the P2 board, Charles hopped out, ready to jump in your arms for a hug and to tell you "told you I'd get a podium for you." He looked around, greeting his team with hugs and cheers, but you weren't there.

"Where's Y/N?" He asked Andrea. "In the motor home. Last I checked, she was sleeping."

And you were. After receiving his trophy and listening to the Dutch national anthem ( he's memorized it at this point ) he walked straight to your shared driver's room.

"Y/N—" He found you laying on the couch, facing the wall. The live playing on his phone which laid on the pillow behind you, the British commentators continued talking as they summed up the end of this round.

"This drops down Y/N Leclerc 3 positions in the driver's championship behind Charles, Alonso and Perez." "Her most disappointing race so far this season."

Charles reached over, muting the phone before pocketing it. He set the champagne and trophy aside before laying down next to you. A deep sigh leaves your lips as Charles spoons you, conforming his suspicions that you are indeed awake.

"No one's telling me why." You mumbled with an annoyed grumble. "It was a mistake." Charles stroked your hair gently, trying to comfort you. "A mistake doesn't happen multiple times. Dutch grand Prix? Silverstone last year? Abu Dhabi!"

You could see the memories flash in your eyes when you felt the, apparently familiar, heart drop. You gripped your shirt feeling anger boil in your stomach. Turning in your place, you faced Charles with a glare. "When were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Charles stuttered, holding your hand gently as an excuse to not look in your eyes. "Abu Dhabi! Of course."

you felt yourself heave and pant heavily. The checkered flag was two meters ahead but the car wasn't moving. Why wasn't the car moving? "There's no- I have no throttle! I have no-" you shouted into the radio, panic flowing through your very veins and blinding your eyes, rocking forward in your seat as if that would get the car to move. your leg pressed straight into the pedal as if it wasn't there. "no no no. i have no- i-i have- i-i-" panic attack.

You could still see the vivid memory of Max Verstappen passing you and taking the flag first. Your, of the time, sobs were clouding and ringing in the back of your head along with the noise that came along with clashing your hands on the wheel and your helmet in frustration.

"I- . . I thought you found out already." Charles seemed relieved, but still felt awkward. "I'd like to remind you, I don't have my own phone." You huffed through your nose, gritting your teeth. "You are my source of information." You poked his chest.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I feel like shit." You grumbled, paying on your side as you pet Kiki. You'd brought her with you, you didn't want to leave her alone even though Charles assured you she would be fine.

You heard your younger brother click his tongue as he passed by. "Cuida tu idioma. No me gustan las palabras americanas." [watch your language. i don't like American swear words] You grumbled with an annoyed huff. "I don't speak Spanish." You reminded him, feeling angry again.

"Right, forgot."

"Forgot?!" Your voice rang through the room with a dry laugh, fury meter increasing with each passing second. "Forgot about me?! I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW I SPOKE SPANISH TILL NOW. NO ONE IS TELLING ME ANYTHING! I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT MYSELF! WHO. THE FUCK. AM I?!" You threw your hands up, laughing as angry tears pooled in your eyes.

You wanted to break something. You wanted to hurt something the same way you were hurting. You felt like a soda bottle about to explode. You had to channel that energy outside of you.

You could feel your breaths picking up in speed with each passing second. Goosebumps crawled on your skin and you found cool sweat pooling under your shirt and neck.

"You should listen to me! I'm older—" "—God, you're just like him." You felt your breath hitch in your throat hearing the statement. The room fell silent as you watched your brother walk out the room, your sister following after as well avoiding eye contact with you.

"Fine then. Leave! I don't need any of you." You laid back down, curling and hugging yourself. "Stupid family. Stupid memory loss." You felt the cat nuzzle into your neck, the only haven you had at the moment.

"Y/N." "Leave me alone." Charles sighed as he crouched down behind you, putting his hand on your back with the intention of calming you down. "Go away, Leclerc." You pushed him away from his chest harshly.

"I don't need any. Of you." "You don't mean that." He got back up and forced you to face him. "I don't need you." You pulled on his grip. He was losing his patience with you. You were brought to ridiculous conclusions.

"Are you really that blind?" You wiped the tears from your eyes roughly. "I don't love you. I hate you, Charles. I hate you."

You stopped at every word, emphasizing the meaning. "You are nothing more than a dick that I can use to get myself off. A source of entertainment and pleasure. I am not your wife. That woman is gone. She's finished. She's not coming back."

"When are you going to see that?" Why were you the one crying? You don't cry. You shouldn't be the one crying. He should be. You were trying to hurt him.

"Not now." You pushed Kiki off as she tried to climb on your lap, not waiting a moment longer as you got up to leave your room. Charles sat frozen in his place. He could feel your words ring in his mind time and time again.

Words that you felt yourself regret as you emptied your sobs in the pillow.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Business class wasn't bad compared to Charles' private plane. You didn't hate it that much. You sat in the window seat. The first thing you got to do was unboxing the new phone and setting it up.

You didn't care to listen to the flight instructions or what not. You sank in your seat with a huff, finally feeling satisfied. "Posso avere il tuo numero di telefono?" [can I have your phone number] You handed your phone to your father who took the aisle seat beside you.

"Non ricordi il mio numero di telefono?" [you don't remember my phone number] He scoffed typing it in. "Non ricordo nemmeno che tu mi abbia schiaffeggiato, diciamocelo." [i don't remember you slapping me either, call it even] You huffed, watching the plane take off. You've gotten used to Charles holding your hand through take offs, but he wasn't here today.

Instead, you closed your eyes and tucked your hands under your armpits, the same way you brace yourself during car crashes. The only disturbance during the whole flight was your dad nudging your face with the phone to get your attention.

You didn't like the man. Never did. Amnesia couldn't even erase the memories that consisted of him. You remember everything, leading up to you running away.

Yet here you were, ruining back to the most horrible person you know. It's not like you had a choice anyways. You didn't want to stick around Charles since that day and you didn't want to go with anyone else.

Your dad was the only man that would put anything down and give you whatever you need when it comes to racing.

The flight was boring. You felt empty and dark the whole time. You could've watched something on the small TV screen or occupied yourself with your phone. But you didn't. Something was missing. Or was it someone?

You covered your face with a cap as you exited the plane after landing. You left baggage claim and taxi calling for your dad.

Much to your dismay, your hotel room was shared with Charles. He'd come a while after, finding you laying on the couch under a blanket, shivering. You'd left the bed for him.

You could hear him move around and unpack. Only when he gently covered you with a few extra blankets did you feel warm enough to stop shaking.

You couldn't understand him. Why was he still being nice to you after all what you've said? At least now you could scroll through the article concerning your racing career with steady fingers. That was the whole point of the phone after all.

Negative energy. There was a lot of negative energy that you wanted to throw out. The thoughts and feelings were getting too much. Running was the answer. It always has been. Just run. Run away.

You stretched out your legs before hopping in a jog. The Canadian weather wasn't bad. The sun was out but the wind was cool. But that wasn't what was bothering you, it was the media duties tomorrow held for you.

Just keep running, you remind yourself over and over.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Y/N! Hi!" You stood frozen in your place upon seeing a girl jump in front of you. You could hear the elevator ding and leave. A forced smile made it your face as you looked down at the teen girl.

"Hi." You replied simply. "I'm a huge fan. Can I get a picture?" "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well, plus I'm really sweaty right now—" You tried to reject her politely only for her to cut you off and ramble on.

You held back an annoyed sigh, holding up a smile. "I really got to go now—" "But I didn't get a photo." "I don't really feel comfortable with that." Your patience was slowly emptying down the drain.

"What are you guys on about?" "Lando!" You winced at her loud squeal. Lord and Savior have mercy. "I told you to be here 15 minutes ago. Sorry we have to go." Lando smiled politely, lying you out of the situation.

"What is wrong with you?!" Lando whisper-shouted as he pulled you into the empty stairwell. "Everything! I have no recollection of the past 8 years. " You argued back as you stomped up the stairs.

Lando grabbed your arm harshly, pulling you back down. "Carlos told me everything." "What does Carlos have to do with any of this?" "Charles told Carlos because he knew if he told me, I'd tell you." "Well you still fuckin told me in the end."

This was stupid. Lando dragged you back up stairs. "I'm not climbing 16 floors." You tried to get out of his hold. "Bitch, you were just going to try doing that." You growled, stomping your feet annoyed.

"You told Charles you were using him? You shouted at him! Fucking God! You're acting like a fucking 16 year old." "I am a sixteen year old!" You tugged your arm out of his grip, taking a few steps away.

"I'm sixteen! I'm not that other woman! I'm a fucking sixteen year old girl who's fucking trying to understand what the fuck is going on right now." You could feel angry tears well in your eyes. You didn't like feeling like this. You wanted to smash something, rip something apart. "I'm a fucking seventeen year old girl, don't give me the expectations of a 24 year old."

You leaned on the railway gripping your hair. "You don't think I feel like shit about what I've said?! I regret it. It's been haunting my mind!" "Then apologize!"

"You think that's easy? You think it's that simple?" You said in a sarcastic tone with the most sour smile. "I would if I could. But every time I think about it, I feel like he's actually fed up with me. Like if he can't stand to look at my face and is going to ask for a divorce."

Charles closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. Your cracking voice echoed through the stairwell, reaching to the seventh floor where he was descending to where Lando told him to meet him.

He felt himself get frustrated and agitated with all this mess. "And maybe we should divorce. He shouldn't have a shitty wife like me. All I've done is be mean and cruel to him. He doesn't deserve to live like that."

Crack, he felt his heart hurt.

"He wants his wife. And I get that. But I'm not her. Present Charles is a nice guy but I still can't return the feelings. You know what happened! Besides, he needs someone that loves him."

"That's you Y/N—" "No it's not! I'm not ready to be in such a committed relationship. Nevertheless married. Especially to Charles. He humiliated me in a featured race!"

Of course seventeen year-old you was still hung up on that. It was one of the reasons you grew all mean and brutal after all. Your reputation was tarnished for almost two years and you were barely able to make your way into Formula 3, with one of the lowest ranking teams of the time as well.

Charles leaned his hands on the railing, taking in a deep breath as he continued to listen to you rant on. He couldn't bring himself to keep up, quietly exiting out into the hall to find something else to distract himself with.

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