#informant purpled au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i2sunric · 1 month

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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 (l.hs)

pairing: heeseung x reader (f)

summary: your daughter asks heeseung to tell the greatest love story of all and he takes the chance to narrate how he met you, the love of his life.

warnings: fluff & crack! (i tried), early 2000s au, kinda enemies to lovers, heeseung is down bad, they have a daughter, mentions of pregnancy, heeseung plays basketball, cuddling and kissing, light angst, mentions of leukaemia, parent’s death, if more lmk. NOT PROOFREAD

published: 23rd April 2024

wc: 6.2k

tag list: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted

Heeseung couldn’t bring himself to wake you up, knowing you were so exhausted from all the things you had to do.

Not only did you manage to prepare everything for Jia’s kindergarten, take her there and get to work in time but you also cleaned and cooked in your spare time, leaving little to just sit down and rest, which was why every time you sat down on the sofa, you ended up falling in a deep slumber.

He smiled fondly, covering your curled figure with a blanket and turned around with his hands on his hips “Tin Soldier.”

He called with a forced low voice, making Jia’s attention turn from the toy in her hand to her father, she placed her stocky hand on her forehead, standing at attention “Captain Hamster.”

Heeseung chuckled at her high pitched voice and scooped her up from the floor, taking her in his arms “Mission sweet tooth,” He booped her nose “Time for teeth brushing.”

Jia let out a whine of disappointment “But I want to play more.” She pouted, and if Heeseung didn’t know how much you’d get upset if Jia missed her bedtime, he’d let his daughter play to her heart's content.

“I know,” He pinched her cheek softly, earning a giggle “But I heard the tooth fairy doesn’t come to those who don’t brush their teeth before bed…” He trailed off, Jia’s eyes widened and she quickly climbed down Heeseung’s arms, hurrying upstairs. He could hear her small steps darting to the bathroom, making him smile writhing himself.

He glanced back at you, feeling such an euphoric feeling he thought his heart would explode.

Heeseung walked close to you and placed a featherlight kiss on your forehead, but your momma instinctive feelings made your eyes open up, alerted to your surroundings as you tried to get the sight of your daughter.

“Shh..” He soothed, caressing your cheek “I’ll prepare Jia for bed, mh?” He kissed the corner of your lips, your eyes already closed under his relaxing touch “You stay here, I'll take you to bed later.” You just let out a sleepy hum, your eyes too heavy to stay open more.

Heeseung went upstairs, following his daughter’s route and getting to the bathroom where she was already brushing her teeth, probably with a little too much toothbrush but it didn’t matter. He was glad she was trying.

Jia rinsed her mouth and opened it to let her father see how much of a good job she did, Heeseung smiled proudly “Great job, Tin Soldier. It's jammy mission now.” Jia giggled as she hurried off the stool that helped her reach the faucet and took Heeseung's sleeve, dragging him (more like, he let himself be dragged) to her bedroom.

The baby took her pyjama from the chair and placed it on the bed, “Daddy, can you help me?” She asked, clumsily removing her clothes.

Heeseung nodded, smiling as he saw her attempts at changing, despite still not majoring in it. In no time, she was clean and ready to bed, Heeseung tugged her under the blankets and sat by the edge of the bed, only the thin reflection of the pink night light illuminating the room.

They stared at each other for a few moments until Jia spoke “No bedtime story?” She tilted her head in confusion “You want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

“Mommy always does,” He explained, hugging her purple bear tightly “And what kind of stories does mommy tell you?” Heeseung asked, curious

“She usually recounts Tangled because she like a Flynn Rider.” Jia informed, making Heeseung raise a brow “She does?” Was it possible to feel jealous of a cartoon character? Probably not but Heeseung was crazy about you, so he’d make it a normal thing.

“Yes, but it’s always the same story.” Jia sighed, shaking her head “I want a more interesting one.”

Heeseung stayed silent, his lips forming a thin line as he tried to think “What do you want to hear about?”

It didn’t take much for Jia to reply “I want the greatest love story of all.” She answered happily, at her age, everything was about fantasies and unicorns.

So, Heeseung tried to think about the many love stories he knew, the famous tales he’d known growing up. There was Cinderella, The Little Mermaid and…. a candle lit in his mind.

“I’ll tell you the greatest love story of all,” He started with a cocky smirk “The best fairytale ever told.”

His words fuelled Jia’s curiosity as she snuggled better under the blankets, eyes sparkling “The wonderful love story of Lee Heeseung and L/N Y/N.”

Jia’s face was puzzled “But that’s you and mommy.” She stated and Heeseung nodded, smiling “Mommy isn’t a princess.”

Heeseung shook his head, but his smile never disappeared from his lips. “No, she’s my queen.” He ruffled Jia’s hair “So, do you want to hear it?”

“Mhmh!” Jia hummed in response “If mommy is a queen then I am the princess.” Heeseung let out a low chuckle, nodding “Yes, you are our dear princess.”

Jia smiled widely, one of those smiles that made your days uncontrollably better and sweeter “Tell me, tell me.” She incited her father

“It all started on..”

⪩⪨

A rainy Thursday afternoon. It was the perfect time for a cinema hang out with friends. You stood in front of the long line, it seemed like everyone had your same idea since both elderly couples and families with children were buying tickets and popcorn. You waved your hand to a young boy who was staring at you while holding a sachet of popcorn bigger than him, he waved back, making you smile.

You turned your head to see that most of the queue was gone, so you surpassed some of those people who never moved and just stared at the menu. You already knew your order, so why would you wait for them to choose?

The cashier who looked like he could really do a vacation asked in a monotone voice “What do you want to order?”

“A packet of Twizzlers.” You said but your voice did not seem quite like yours. You turned your head to the side just to meet a pair of big eyes staring at you in disbelief.

You two narrowed your eyes at each other, a staring battle that would declare the winner. Why were you acting that way? Because the packet of Twizzlers was the last one, and if that pretty boy thought he could steal it from you, he thought wrongly.

The cashier cleared his throat. “It’s the last one.” He stated, holding the dear packet of candies in front of you two

“I was there first.” The boy tried to defend himself, making you scoff “He was talking to me.” You raised a challenging brow.

“I clearly saw you cutting the line.” He blamed “False accusation, do you have any proof?”

“You were at the end of the queue just two seconds ago!” He exclaimed, making you smirk “You were staring at me?” Pink flashed instantly on the guy’s cheeks “No.” He tried to mask it, but you could clearly see some frustration in his features

The cashier cleared his throat once again, snatching your attention. “Just decide already, or I will.”

“No!” You both screamed, side eyeing each other once again “They’re mine.” The boy said, making you roll your eyes, “Your name ain’t written on them.”

“Neither is yours.” He raised his chin, an attempt to make you see he wasn’t backing down.

There was a moment where you two stared at each other, silence filling the place except for the vociferate inside the cinema halls, waiting for the movie to begin.

“Rock, paper, scissors!” You both exclaimed at the same time again, showing your hands. He cursed under his breath, seeing your petite hand that represented paper wrap around his closed fist which was rock.

“I won.” You said mockingly, throwing a few coins on the counter and taking the packet of twizzlers in your hand.

You were walking away when the cashier called you “Miss, excuse me?” You turned around and raised a questioning brow

He waved the coins you used to pay for the candies “You’re missing ten cents.”

You widened your eyes, checking your jeans pockets. You were sure you took the right amount of money, had you miscounted them?

An hopeful grin spread across the guy’s lips, taking the pennies from the cashier’s fingers and walking toward you “Guess this should be mine.” He tried to take the packet of Twizzlers but you moved your arm

He sighed, shaking his head “Listen, darling—“ “Don’t call me darling” You snapped at him, a frown on your face

He placed two surrounding hands between you two “Alright, my bad.” He then pointed at you and the dear packet of candies “You don’t have enough money, but I do, so just give it up and go watch your movie.”

Your mouth fell agape, staring at him in disbelief. However, you had nothing to counterattack anymore and had to stay still when he took the packet, replacing your hand with your not enough coins and paying for it to the overtired cashier.

The boy winked at you before disappearing down the corridor that led to the halls.

A movie just wasn’t the same without Twizzlers, but instead of doing twenty cents charity outside the cinema to buy at least a coke, you hurried inside the hall that projected ‘The Notebook’ and tried to find your seat, despite the room being dark already. Fortunately, there was at least ten minutes of advertising, so you had enough time to let yourself fall on the seat with a loud thud, earning a few ‘shhh’s from other people.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” Your best friend, Sunoo asked “What took you so long to come back? I thought you got lost or something.”

You shook your head, a defeated expression painted on your face “Someone stole my Twizzlers.” You fake-dried a tear

“Aw, poor you.” Sunoo patted your shoulder, knowing your tradition of eating candies and drinking coke while watching a movie “It’s ok, I’ll share my coke with you.” He took the giant cup and placed it on the armrest between the two of you. You smiled at him and focused your attention on the movie that started.

You felt a familiar scent filling your nostrils, you slowly turned your head and raised a brow when you noticed that not only had that boy stolen your candies, he was also eating them on the seat beside yours. You had not noticed it when you first sat down, but now you could clearly see his silhouette enjoying the snack that should’ve been yours.

As if feeling someone’s stare on him, he turned his head and met your angry gaze, his eyes widened a little before they turned into two half-moons, a smug grin on his lips. You exchanged no words but the way he was acting was so mocking it made your blood burn.

You gave your attention back to the film, not wanting to fuel his ego by acting affected by his childish behaviour. Yes, it was childish, but you were more petty so it did anger you. Who did he think he was to act that way?

The movie continued, even if you were painfully aware of the parasite beside you, you were able to follow the whole plot line until the ending scene was replaced with the closing credits. Murmurs filled the cinema room, the lights went on and you heard.

Sunoo was crying rivers beside you which made you chuckle, he had already finished his third tissue when he said “I’ll run to the bathroom.” To probably cry some more and try to fix his swelling eyes later. You were about to follow him when you heard a sniffle from your other side, you turned around and your eyes lit up when you noticed the stealer crying.

He raised his head and hid it behind his hands when he noticed you were staring. A heartfelt laugh escaped your lips “Don’t laugh at me.” He mumbled with a clear runny nose “You bet I am.” You sat down again, waiting for all the people to flow out and leave the exits freer “That’s what you get for stealing my snacks.”

He peaked at you from behind his fingers. “It’s not my fault you’re broke.” You tsked at his false-not-so-false statement “It’s not my fault you’re a crybaby.”

He side-eyed you and you side-eyed him back, just like Sunoo had taught you. The boy tried to dry his tears and runny nose, which was both unhygienic and impossible with one palm of his hand.

You felt a little pitiful for him and sighed, taking a tissue from the small tissue box and handing it to the boy.

He eyed it warily, not sure if he should’ve accepted it or not. “It’s not poisonous, unlike your germs.” You waved it in front of his face and he accepted it with a groan, blowing his nose and drying his tears.

He crumpled it and put it in his jeans pocket, staring at you while gulping down in a nervous way. You chuckled teasingly “What? Is the venom acting up?”

He rolled his eyes and took something from inside his hoodie’s pocket, “I saved this for you.”

You stared at the red candy stick he was holding out for you with a frown “What?” You asked, puzzled. Heeseung just sighed, acting unbiased. “I was full, don’t think I did it out of kindness.”

“What’s your name?” You asked suddenly, making him widen his eyes “Careful, you sound interested.”

You pursued your lips “Just answer, yeah?” The boy placed the candy on your palm, standing up.

You hadn’t noticed it, but he towered you by a lot just with you sitting, you didn’t imagine how you would have to pull your neck to look into his eyes by standing in front of him.

He stretched, lazily placing his hands in his pocket “Heeseung,” He beckoned to you “Y/N.” You replied

“Thank you for the tissue, Y/N.” He said and the way your name rolled from his tongue made your stomach turn. Whether it was disgust or attraction, you didn’t dare to label.

“Unthank you for the Twizzlers.” You smirked and turned on your heels, walking away before he even had the chance to talk to you more.

⪩⪨

“You cried over a movie?” Jia asked in an accusatory tone “I’m a sensitive person.” Heeseung huffed, blinking faintly

“I think you’re just a cry baby.” Jia raised her chin proudly “I didn’t even cry when I went to the dentist.”

Heeseung sniggered softly, booping his daughter's nose. He couldn’t help but always show some sort of affection towards her. The feeling of protection and longing was so strong whenever they spent time together. “Of course, you’re stronger than me.”

“Did you see her again later?” Heeseung nodded “Yes, but it was a lot of time later, like one month or so.” Jia widened her eyes “That much?” He hummed, running a hand in his hair “I was always awestruck when I saw her, it happened at the cinema and again…”

⪩⪨

“A 40, please.” Heeseung forced out a smile and handed the skates to the young girl who just asked. He was supposed to be relaxing at home but his brother decided to have a small trip with his girlfriend and obviously, it was Heeseung’s turn to cover up for him.

He had been handing skates that smelled like sweat and rotten cheese to people for four hours, and the thoughts of doing that for another one and half made him feel sick.

“A 38, please.” Heeseung’s eyes widened at the familiar voice, he raised his head and stared at your face through his bangs.

“You!” You both shouted at the same time, making the gesture of the Spiderman meme “What are you doing here?” He asked, eyeing you up and down.

Perhaps, it was the reddish lightning of the room, or the fact that your hair had grown a little, seeming like the perfect length for you; or the soft make up accentuating your face. Or maybe just the toxic fumes from the overused skates played tricks on his head.

“What’s taking so long?” One arm sneaked around your shoulders, making Heeseung raise a brow.

Oh, that was why you were there.

“My size is hard to find.” You lied, beckoning to Heeseung to do his job. Complying, he turned around and found your skates. passing them to you “Remember to take the safety precautions.” He said the same phrase he’d been repeating so many times and watched as you walked away with that guy’s arm still around your shoulder.

It shouldn’t have pissed him off, but it did. The way you smiled with him, helping him skating despite him was a lost case. Seriously, that guy sucked at skating, he had fallen so many times in just one hour.

Trying to distract himself, when he saw you approaching the counter bar, he started polishing the skates, but the urge to just talk to you was strong, so he approached you, sneakingly.

“Where’s your date?” Heeseung asked, cleaning the table with a sponge near where you were sat “Bathroom.” You replied nonchalantly

A soft frown curved his forehead “You’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes, you sure he’s still in there?” At his words you smirked “You were staring at me?” Those same two words you told him when you first met.

You added “I saw him sneaking away five minutes ago, I just like to think he had a massive diarrhoea and didn’t actually dump me.”

Fucker. If he didn’t want to go out with you anymore he could’ve at least told you face to face.

The notes of ‘She Will Be Loved’ by Maroon 5 started playing as background music. Heeseung stared at you, you looked so gorgeous with your makeup, messy hair from the skating and the same bored expression you always wore, like nothing truly entertained you enough.

“What a loser.” He joked instead, earning a scoff from you “Why don’t you put yourself to good use and make me a smoothie?” You asked, sliding three coins on the counter.

Heeseung raised a brow, “I don’t know how to do it.” You raised it back “Don’t you work here?”

He shook his head “I’m just filling in for my brother.” You rolled your eyes “How useless.”

You were about to take those coins back when Heeseung stopped you, his hands brushing against yours “I’ll do it.” You smirked “A vanilla one, thank you.”

It was already late afternoon and the skating room wasn’t as packed as it was during the early hours, so Heeseung could put aside the skates sizes to make you a smoothie. Obviously, only to prove to you he was better than you thought, not because he wanted to cheer you up. Not at all.

Fiddling a little bit with the smoothies machine, he managed to make one, a little too liquid, but still drinkable.

He placed victoriously the glass in front of you, adding a straw inside “Here ya go.” You eyed it up and down, warily “Did you spit in it?”

Heeseung put a hand on his chest, acting wounded “You think so low of me.” You sighed while shaking your hand and took a small sip of the ‘vanilla smoothie’

“How is it?” He asked, hopeful. You just shrugged “Not bad for a newbie.”

Heeseung smirked, leaning against the counter, you could feel his body heat near you “Where’s my tip?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away “Nowhere.”

Your phone rang at that moment, you made a gesture for him to keep quiet and answered “Yes, mom… Yes, I know— at the, don’t shout, at the skating rink—“ A heavy sigh “Okay, I’ll be home.”

You hung up and hopped off the stool “Where are you going?” Heeseung frowned, “You haven’t even finished your smoothie.”

“Curfew.” You replied, waving your phone to him. He raised a brow “Don’t ask.”

Heeseung nodded, exiting from behind the counter, still in his brother’s uniform. Now you raised a brow “Where are you going?”

“I’ll walk you home.” You scowled, your face showing surprise “You’re working.” You stated

Heeseung pointed at the clock on the wall that ticked 06:03 PM. “Technically, my shift ended three minutes ago.”

“And why would you walk me home?” You asked “If something happened to you on the way, I’m sure your ghost would haunt me.”

You tsked, “I wouldn’t give you the honour to visit you when I’m dead.” Heeseung just smiled and nudged your shoulder with his “Lead the way, Twizzlers lover.”

You just rolled your eyes and walked out as he held the door for you “Let’s go, Twizzlers stealer.”

⪩⪨

“Why did that boy leave mommy?” Jia asked, her lips shifting to a cute pout “Because he didn’t realise what a treasure your mother is.” Heeseung answered, now sitting beside Jia with her small body curled under his arm.

“And you walked her home?” He nodded, laughing at the memories “Your grandfather went crazy when he saw me walk her home, I got a slipper thrown at my head.”

Jia chuckled as well, her soft giggles echoing through the whole room “What’s so funny? I got hurt.”

Jia chuckled loudly, hiding her face in her father’s chest “Grandpa still throws slippers at you.” She stated, making Heeseung laugh again “That’s right.”

“What happened then?” She asked, wanting to know more about her parents' love story. This was better than any prince and princesses tales her mother used to tell her.

“Later, I was forced to have dinner with them.” Heeseung started narrating, “After that awkward meal, me and Y/N grew closer. We kept bickering and fighting, but with her, no conversation was forced.”

Jia frowned “What does it mean?” She naively asked, of course she wouldn’t know this yet, so Heeseung explained “Sometimes, we feel forced to talk to others, however with your mother I didn’t even have to think about what to say, words just came to my mind.”

“Mommy seemed like she hated you.” The baby stated, glancing up to her father “She didn’t.”

Jia tilted her head “How do you know?” Heeseung smiled fondly, “I just knew.”

⪩⪨

“This one’s for you!” Heeseung exclaimed, throwing the ball to the basket just to painfully miss it. You laughed loudly at his fail “I hope that’s not how you flirt with girls or that explains why you’re single.” You snickered

Heeseung reached the ball and dribbled it around the court, his sleeves rolled up and his bangs sticking to the sweat on his forehead “Only with you.” He winked, making you act as if you were about to gag.

“Do you think I’ll be able to enter the college’s basketball team?” He asked, his voice sounding a little too serious for his usual playful character.

“We still have two months to think about college,” You frowned. “Let me live my summer without any thoughts.” Heeseung chuckled and threw the ball at you, which you caught before it landed on your face.

“I know,” He caught the ball you threw back at him “But I truly want to get a scholarship and maybe become a basketball player.” His tone may have been indifferent but his eyes were full of insecurities that could not could not be ignored.

You had been enemy (friend) with Heeseung long enough to know he had two things he deeply cared for: His family and basketball.

He was the High School team captain but hadn’t managed to receive a scholarship to enter the Sports faculty, which meant he had to rely on his own skills and money.

That wasn’t a problem, you know his family would always support his dreams, but there was something that Heeseung did not tell you about. You had a feeling, however you didn’t want to assume things. He’d tell you when he felt like it.

Your expression softened, you jumped off the railing and moved closer to him, stealing the ball from his hands, that he let you do, and taking a shot.

The ball entered the basket, making you smile proudly “You’re the best player I know, Heeseung.” You said honestly, nudging his shoulder with yours. The ball bounced back to you and you scooped it from the floor, placing a hand that signalled to Heeseung to wait there.

You rushed to your bags and took something he couldn’t see. He waited patiently, following all your movements.

You turned around and showed him what you did— holding out his basketball ball with a smiley face drawn on it “You just have to believe it too.” The smile on your lips matched with the ball’s one, but yours shone brighter. Heeseung felt a warm feeling spread all over his chest, something tickling his heart.

“Not as good as me.” You smirked playfully, taking another shot that missed the basket “Cause at least I fail gracefully.”

Heeseung shook his head, his lips curling into a small grin “You free tomorrow evening?” He suddenly asked and you quickly replied “Not at all.”

Heeseung knitted his brows “Why?” You sat back on the railing “The new season of ‘One Tree Hill’ is airing, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

He reached for you, taking the new-styled ball in his hands and rolling it “Not even if I said I’ll buy you Twizzlers?” You pondered a little but then shook your head “Nah ah.”

“Damn.” Heeseung sighed, “I’ll watch it with you, then.”

You blinked faintly “You called my series trash yesterday.” Heeseung nodded “Well, they are.” He hopped on the railing beside you “But when I become the best basketball player in the world, I won’t be able to spend much time with you.”

You smiled, noting how he said ‘when’ and not ‘if’ “Finally some time away from you.” Heeseung faked being offended “I’ll say on national TV that you were about to sabotage my career.” You laughed “I’ll be making prayers for your downfall.”

You both laughed at whatever, teasing each other but knowing when to stop not to upset the other.

“Eight PM, tomorrow?” Heeseung questioned, “I don’t want you in my house.” You answered, laughing “I’ll climb the window.” You immediately shook your head, knowing he could manage to do it, because he had tried once “Fine, loser. Roast beef for dinner, take it or leave it.”

Heeseung smirked, biting his bottom lip “Not you as a meal?” You widened your eyes, pushing him off the railing “What the hell.”

“Ouch—“ He fell flat on the floor, “That hurt.” You wiggled your brows “Serves you right.”

“Oh yeah?” He said, tone flirty as he took the ball and hit you hard with it, making you fall “How dare you!” You started chasing after him while he ran away.

If anyone saw you from afar, they’d think you were two people madly in love with each other… and you were.

You just hadn’t realised it yet.

⪩⪨

“You wanted to become a basketball player?” Jia asked, her voice filled with sleepiness, but she wanted to know how the story continued, so she fought her eyes open.

“Yes dear,” Heeseung placed a featherlight kiss on Jia’s hair. “I played basketball and was the best player in the world— or so Y/N thought.”

“But you don’t play anymore.” She stated and Heeseung shook his head in response “No, I don’t.” Jia yawned softly “Why?”

He sighed sadly, gulping down “Before I went to college, my mother passed away.” Heeseung held Jia a little tighter “She had leukaemia, which is a very bad thing,” He explained easily so that his daughter could understand “And I needed stability, I needed something that basketball couldn’t bring me.”

Jia looked up at him “And what could?”

“Your mother.”

⪩⪨

You couldn’t believe you learned about it two days later. That day was the date of the funeral and you weren’t by Heeseung’s side. Truth to be told, you tried to reach for him a lot in the past few days, but his brother either shrugged you off or didn’t even answer the door.

You thought you did something wrong, but it turned out his mother died due to the illness that had been haunting her for over a year.

You should’ve realised it, you should be by his side, giving him the strength he needed to get through it. Which was why you were running despite the pouring rain, trying to reach the location of the funeral.

You didn’t care if you were going to be sick the next day, your fixed thought was Heeseung and just him.

Heeseung, on the other hand, had been painfully quiet and shut down. He hasn’t comprehended yet that he was going to live the rest of his life without his dear mother, facing the troubles and sufferings of adulthood alone.

The whole room was packed with relatives he had never known about, all giving him pity glances and condolences he didn’t need. He just wanted his mother back.

Sighing, he went outside to have some time alone. As soon as he stepped outside, the cold breeze hugged his body, making him shiver. The rain made his suit wet but he didn’t really care— maybe it would take the pain away with its drain.

He stared at the night sky, the moon and the stars watching him back, probably feeling pity for him too.

His heart was heavy and black, full of grief and sorrow. He just wished you were there to make it better. You always did.

Your smile, your playfulness, your sharp tongue. He liked everything about you, even your ugliest flaw.

As he was trying to fill his dull mind with the thought of you, he saw something rushing in the streets, towards his directions.

The figure kept coming closer and closer until a familiar face was lightened from the lightbulb.

There he saw you, standing under the pouring rain, looking ever so dreamlike. There was a moment where you both just studied each other’s faces, as if you hadn’t seen each other in forever— which felt like it.

Just a couple of days without you made him realise how important you are, how much he needed you. No words were exchanged, there was no necessity, you hurried your steps toward him and hugged him, your embrace so warm in contrast with the cold weather.

Heeseung let out a sob and then another until he was crying ugly on your chest, all the tears he wasn’t able to shed until that day. You rubbed soothing circles on his chest, gripping him tightly, afraid that he would shatter right there.

“W-Why..” He weeped, his voice breaking from the trembling of his lips, due to both the cold and his crying “It— It was too early.. Why her?”

You let him rumble nonsense, knowing how heartbroken and sad he was, you just held him through the pain, hoping to at least relieve some “I know, but I am here now, I won’t leave you.”

Heeseung looked up at you, his eyes glossy, his whole body soaked and nose reddened. Perfect regardless. You stared at him, afraid that if you blinked he would disappear, and he seemed to be thinking the same thought.

You placed your hands on both his cheeks, your thumb rubbing them. Heeseung gulped down, his long lashes and bambi eyes enchanting you, so mesmerising.

You didn’t know what you were doing until you felt his hot breath hit your skin, like one of Jupiter's satellites orbiting around him, getting closer and closer to him.

And then, like a crashing wave, your lips found each other into a gentle and soft kiss, his hands raising to brush against the nape of your neck.

You let out a sigh in his mouth, his hand grasping the back of your head, tilting it to deepen the kiss. It was an anchor that he needed, something not to give up for. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his body flush to yours, both of you warming the other, protecting from the darkness of the world.

He was the first to pull away, his lips swollen as he stared at you “You don’t know how much I waited for this.” He whispered, shaking his head to emphasise his words. Your whole body trembled under his touch, his expression filling with worry “Are you cold? We should—“

You shushed him by reattaching your lips together, only one kiss not enough to calm down the desire, “No,” you murmured on his lips “You just make me feel so much it’s overwhelming.” He let out a small sigh, nodding as if to say he felt the same. His heart was beating so fast he could feel it in his throat, every best spelling your name.

“Thank you for coming,” He whispered and you smiled at him “You know I wouldn’t leave you alone even if I were a ghost— Sorry!” You exclaimed, realising it was not the best time to bring up the conversation you had at the skating rink.

To your surprise, Heeseung laughed out loud and pressed his lips on your brow, ever so caring “Please, don’t ever lose it.”

Puzzled, you asked “Lose what?” Heeseung smiled, “The spark that makes you, you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his gaze intense as he studied those same features he knew by heart. You grinned back “If I had a packet of Twizzlers, I’d give you the last one.”

Heeseung bit his bottom lip, not able to hide the way his lips curled upwards everytime he was with you. “If I had a packet of Rolos, I’d give you the last one.”

⪩⪨

“You kissed mommy?” Jia’s voice grew softer every passing minute “Yes— but you can’t let a person kiss you until you’re eighteen, understood?”

“Why?” She asked, playing with the arms of her purple teddy bear “Because I say so.”

“Is the story finished?” Jia questioned with another yawn, as much as she wanted to hear more, her eyelids were becoming heavier

“I’ll make it quick,” Heeseung started, massaging Jia’s arm. “Mommy and I started dating after that kiss, it wasn’t official because none of us was truly ready, but we both knew what we had was magical.” He smiled within himself.

“Then, we graduated from college and I proposed to her,” Jia’s heart-lips opened to resemble an ‘o’ “With a ring?” Heeseung dipped “Yes, with a ring as beautiful as her.”

“It was an engagement ring, we made a promise to marry after university, and as soon as we got our degrees, we prepared for the big celebration— Your mother looked so perfect by the altar.”

Jia smiled sleepily, imagining how beautiful her mother must’ve looked with the wedding dress on, all candid and white “Like a queen?” Heeseung placed a kiss on her hair “Like a queen.”

“And a couple of years later, we had you.” He smiled happily. Heeseung was so satisfied with his life, and even if he had to give basketball up, he felt like he gained more. He had a beautiful wife, always by his side and a perfect daughter he’d protect with all his might (and probably throw slippers at her boyfriend’s too). His heart never felt so full of love and affection, he was accomplished.

“But the ending…“ He turned around to finish his sentence just to see Jia had fallen asleep, her breaths shallow and calm. He tugged her better under the covers, standing up from the small bed, feeling a little sore but joyful “…Still has to be written.”

He placed another featherlight kiss on her daughter’s forehead, whispering a gentle “Good night.” Before exiting the room.

He closed the door behind her back, hurrying downstairs with light steps. Heeseung saw you were still fast asleep on the couch. He removed the blanket from your figure and hooked his arms behind your neck and knees, scooping you from it.

You blinked your eyes open, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck “Hee?” You murmured, your voice laced with sleep.

“Hey, love.” He nudged his nose with your cheek “Time to get to bed.” You hummed, snuggling closer, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Heeseung opened the door to your bedroom with his foot and slowly placed you down on the mattress. You opened your eyes again, staring at him through your half-lids “Jia?” Heeseung smiled reassuringly. “She’s sleeping, just finished telling her a story.”

He laid down beside you, wrapping the cover over your two figures, he shifted closer to you, holding you close “What story?” You asked, your voice hoarse “Just the best story ever.” He placed a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips

“By the way, I’m a better storyteller than you.” He bragged and you scoffed “Liar.”

“Maybe,” He chuckled, wrapping both his arms around your body “But do you know one thing I never lie about?”

You shook your head “I’d give you my last Rolo.” You smiled, he could feel it on his chest “I’d give you my last Twizzler too.”

[⪩⪨] END.

THANK YOU FOR READING ! REBLOG (and like) AND LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS ON THIS !

#enhypen #enhypen fics #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #heeseung fics #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung scenarios #lee heeseung scenarios #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung fluff #heeseung one shot #lee heeseung one shot #enhypen one shot #heeseung oneshot #lee heeseung oneshot #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung enhypen

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thefudge · 3 months

Note

Advice for writing smut???

gonna do bullet-points of things i tend to live by when it comes to smut (this is just my opinion):

don't switch styles: the way you write the smut has to be consistent with the way you write the rest of the story, so if your story is more comedic or romcom-y in nature, the way you write the smut should have those stylings. i personally find it very jarring when authors decide to break the format for the smut, almost like the story has to stop for the sex intermission; if you're writing a horror story, the smut must be informed and influenced by that genre, and if you are breaking genre for the smut portion, tell us why you're suddenly switching gears (it has to be an aesthetic choice you're making on purpose). likewise, if your style in that story is more lyrical, the smut has to be somewhat lyrical too, or if your story is more cormac mccarthy-esque-cut-and-dry, the smut can't suddenly involve an effluvia of purple, sappy prose. integrating the smut in the story and treating it like any other part of the story is key to me. too often i've seen ppl switch to this anonymous pornified style when they get to the smut

which brings me to specificity. i'll talk about het sex, since that's what i tend to write most: not all men are going to be fingering or eating pussy the same way, not all dicks are big and they shouldn't be, not all women immediately get excited by fingering, not everyone moans the same way or makes the same sounds. you're writing about particular characters so it has to be particular to them. i know this is very old advice, but i think it bears repeating

there isn't an exact formula or sequence you have to follow, there aren't precise steps, you don't have to go "well, first he has to kiss down her neck, then reach the boob area, then play with the nipples, then put the nipple in his mouth, then slowly go down on her, then prepare her for entering her etc. etc. etc." this can get boring and repetitive and you start thinking of your characters as these mechanical dolls who have to fuck for your audience. and that can be a vibe too, if you do it on purpose. but sometimes you can get stuck in a porn routine (and ofc, having only the guy show initiative can also get boring)

in order to break that, insert some character moments. what are the characters thinking during this? sometimes they might be thinking of something completely unrelated on the surface, but which has a thematic relevance that can make the scene hotter. likewise, maybe they're doing smth that seems unsexy on the surface, but which, within the context of the story might be really hot. sex doesn't just involve, well, sex, but so much weirdness and humanity and creativity. two bodies (usually) are trying to do this really awkward thing together and they might have a lot of baggage and history to inform it. there's a lot you can do with that.

don't make it glossy and clean, where everyone smells of strawberry shampoo and there is never anything out of sync. the most boring smut tends to be the kind where no one makes any mistakes and everything is super efficient. i imagine it feels like using an industrial pump to milk various farm animals.

and you know what? you can make that hot too. you CAN write a kind of robotic efficient smut and make it really interesting based on the context. let's say you're writing a 1984 AU fic where ppl are forced into intimacy only to procreate and their sex drive is diminished. you can play with that premise and lean into the dehumanizing industrialization of sex, but you have to mean it, aka your narratorial voice must be conscious of these factors.

if you're writing dubcon, make the dubious part present, make sure you draw out the ambivalence and ambiguity. if you're writing noncon, the character whose consent is being violated has to be transformed by this in some way. it can be forced pleasure, for instance, but not only. it has to be a journey for them too, some kind of spiritual pit, or a form of access to terrible knowledge. i know this is a personal thing, but noncon doesn't work for me if the character being noncon'd is just sort of *there*, suffering passively. i think that sort of dead passivity can be done very well too, but the narratorial voice has to persuade me.

that being said, don't be afraid of fear in consensual sex. terror and vulnerability are a part of consensual sex too, imo, and again, depending on the story and the characters, there's a lot you can explore there

i personally find it really hot when the narratorial voice starts discussing some of the ideas that the story wants to convey during the smut. so like, you can characterize person A and outline their worldview and their plans while they're ramming person B, and the thinking & fucking are thus entwined. idk, i dig that

speaking of which, smut can convey world-building details and social/philosophical ideas, not just emotions and character beats

not all smut has to end with mutual orgasm or even one-sided orgasm, it depends what you want to do or where you want to go. again, you don't have to follow a sequence. plus, it's fun (and hot) to write about frustration and failure too.

if you want to mix up the descriptions, resort to the story & characters. you'll find it's easier to describe someone fondling a boob in a new or at least interesting way if you're thinking about that particular character in that particular story, and not just Man X from planet porn (sorry to be snarky, but mainstream erotica is soooo guilty of this)

screaming & really intense reactions are cool but they have to match the characters and the situations

sometimes, it's hotter if an effect is mild or negated, if the usual outcome doesn't happen; mix up the order of events, toy with the usual reactions. it's not about being original, it's about finding out what works for your characters. writing about sex is, in a way, a performance of it, an attempt to go through the sexual motions, to find out what works and doesn't, to engage with the erotics of text (roland barthes entered the chat)

if you are bored by your own smut, that's a problem. i know we all talk about how hard we find writing smut, and IT IS hard, and sometimes it's not enjoyable, because writing itself is often not enjoyable, but even when it's painful and annoying, it gives you that little intellectual kick like "huh, i'm creating this and making these people do this, and ohh look, i can maybe put this unnamable thing into words". but if you become bored, that's a sign you have to look at the language & characters and figure out what's not working for you

last thing i'll underline: pay attention to your narratorial voice. in this ordeal, you are the seducer. not the characters. you have to seduce us with words and context. your voice matters the most. you can persuade us of anything. but you have to be confident in your weirdness and particularity. this is your bedroom (so to speak), so invite us in.

#writing #smut tips #writing advice #smut #my thoughts #replies

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mmeskywalker · 3 months

Text

|| teachers pet

summary: HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN is your professor. a couple of weeks ago, he assigned you to tutor a student who had to retake his class. dylan was a sweet, attractive guy and you had no problem tutoring him. however, noticing the shift in the two of your behaviors, professor christensen began developing a problem. he wanted you to himself.

a/n: i made a janitor ai bot on this au, let me know if you’d like it love, xoxo.

warnings: possibly DDDNE, porn WITH a plot, jealousy, possession, no protection (p in v), biting, choking, age gap, cream pie.

you were a wonderful student; always writing notes, listening intently to your professors lectures, your eyes glued to his lips as the information stuck to your skin like a thick coat of glue. the same skin you wanted your professor to suck, and nip until it bruised a pretty purple.

inhaling, you watched the clock strike two. the class had ended and your peers were packing their belongings, heading toward the door, as PROFESSOR CHRISTENSEN wiped the chalkboard off. his fingers wrapped around the eraser, his arm swiftly moving across the space as he waited for you to walk up to him. earlier, he requested to speak to you in private after class. of course, you were nervous, but you replied with a simple, “whatever you want.”

with a deep inhale, professor christensen cleared his throat, the subtle sound resonating through the empty classroom, “thank you,” he said, setting down his eraser. he leaned against his desk, his eyes traveling sullenly your way, and when he finally spoke, there was a noticeable hint of vagueness in his usually direct tone. "there’s a student i’m concerned about, and i believe you would be the perfect tutor for him.” his voice lowered slightly, careful and demanding all at once.

“straight to the point,” you muttered, trying to hide your disappointment with a laugh as you sat in front of him, “so,” you blew out a breath, “who would i be tutoring, professor?”

"dylan grimes. he’s new here, started some time ago," he began, "very bright, but has trouble keeping up with the pace of the class. i thought, seeing as you were so kind..." with a sly grin, he reached for your hand, his thumb caressing your palm, "...you might help him out a bit."

you couldn’t resist the tantalizing scent of his cologne mingling with the familiar scent of chalk dust, cigarettes and paper. it made your head spin. you could rarely tell him no anyway, thereforth you found yourself accepting his offer, “i’d be delighted.”

professor christensen chuckled softly, tilting his head back slightly in appreciation of your response. he stood up straight again, crossing the few feet separating you to stand loom over your frame, his cologne becoming stronger now. placing his hands on your shoulders, he leaned closer still, his plump lips brushing against your ear as he spoke in a husky whisper, "i knew you wouldn't let me down." his warm breath grazed your sensitive ear canal, causing goosebumps to form on your neck once more.

dylan grimes was kind. he wasn’t angry that the professor wanted him to have a tutor, rather he was grateful. he was grateful that someone would give him the time of day he needed to pass, because he never experienced that at home; he always had to figure things out on by himself. you tutoring him was a blessing, and he made sure to let you know how much he appreciated you.

“thank you, really,” dylan exclaimed, closing his notes, “i don’t know where i’d be without you.”

his brown curls bounced off of his forehead, hitting his freckled skin as his glimmering green eyes peered graciously onto yours. they were shining from the glimpse of sunlight that shone through your dorm-room window, and god, you couldn’t look away. he had you captivated. “don’t mention it,” you smiled, “i’m glad i was able to give you that extra push. you’re doing great!”

it had only been a week since your professor assigned you to the task of tutoring dylan. he didn’t expect you to enjoy hanging out with each other; nor did he realize dylan was sneaking into your dorm late at night and thanking you in ways other than muttering a mere thank you. dylan was leaving flowers on your doorstep, slowly sneaking himself into your life, and even kissed your cheek from time to time. to you, it wasn’t a big deal. he was cute. you’re fine with getting that form of attention from a cute guy. but to professor christensen… he watched as dylan would smile at you throughout class, it made his blood boil. he hated the way dylan looked at you, the way he deemed only he could look at you.

stopping his lecture, he’d tap his ruler on his desk, “i hope you’re paying attention to this next part class,” your professor wouldn’t outright say dylan’s name when he pulled this stunt, rather he stared at him, hoping he’d stop undressing you with his eyes.

though, you weren’t paying much attention to your beloved professor, your eyes were glued to your phone screen, giggling down at the admiring texts dylan sent you throughout class.

“you’re so beautiful,” one said.

another one rolled in, “you’re intelligent, funny, and god… you coming into my life is something i thank the lord for every night.”

his words were sweet. however, the harmful gaze professor christensen had was not. he knew something was going on between you and dylan, and he’d be lying to say that it didn’t bother him.

he wanted you to himself; he wanted all of you to himself.

so… he called you to meet him after class.

now it was time. professor christensen gave you a faint smile before standing up, straightening out his suit jacket. "ah, take a seat.” he cooed.

he wasn’t ashamed to light cigarettes in the classroom, and right now, he needed to release some stress before he found himself losing his temper. “i wanted to talk to you about the project i assigned a couple of weeks ago," he mused. he carefully took a seat on his rolley chair, which moved back from his desk slightly, "i noticed… things have gotten quite… intimate between you and dylan during your tutoring sessions." he took a slow drag of his cigarette, blowing out a ring of smoke before exhaling.

raising your brows, you asked, “what do you mean?” as if you were confused. however, you knew exactly what he was implying. only, you didn’t expect him to confront you so meanlessly in a classroom setting. actually, scratch that. you never expected him to confront you on a matter you didn’t even believe concerned him in the first place. yet, the confrontation sent a chill down your spine, involuntarily causing you to cross your legs.

“am i wrong?" his brows furrowed slightly, displaying worry and slight disapproval. you shook your head, and he sighed. he knew that he's been overbearing lately, but he couldn't help himself. he needed you all to himself. the thought of you making love to someone other than him… he couldn’t fathom it. he’s imagined the sensation of your thighs wrapped around his waist, your arms tied around his neck, and the sweet taste of your pussy being savored on his tongue. it drove him insane. you drove him insane.

"don't pretend as if you don’t know what I’m talking about, sweet girl," professor christensen said, shaking his head lightly with a playful sigh. he stepped around his desk. despite being in his mid-forties, his muscular build was perfectly accentuated in his fitted black turtleneck, exposing the strong muscles of his arms underneath the sleeves he had rolled up to his elbows.

his dirty blonde hair fell messily over his brow, casting enticing shadows on the intense blue eyes that peered deeply into yours. "i know you've spent far too much time on your so-called 'tutoring sessions'. care to explain?" he leaned in closer, heat radiating off of him like a warm furnace against the cool classroom air.

you leaned back into your chair, looking at him through thick, heavy eyes, “i don’t have anything to explain. you wanted me to tutor him, didn’t you?”

following that, you swallowed thickly. you realized what was happening, and the way he was looking at you proved it. he was jealous. his gaze was practically burning through your skull. you crossed your legs tighter, squeezing them together as you tilted your head to the side innocently, “are you upset? because you shouldn’t be. his grades are going up, just as you wanted.”

to that, he raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "i did initially," he admitted grudgingly. "but things have gotten... too personal." he stepped forward, stopping mere centimeters away from you, reaching his hand out to cup your chin delicately, lifting it so that your eyes locked. "i like having you all to myself, darling." his warm breath was caressing your neck, his finger trailing down the base of your throat before his palm wrapped around your neck, "i like the way you moan when you touch yourself, i know how you’d squirm and arch into my touch,” slowly, he squeezed your neck, sending shockwaves of desire and fear coursing through your body. "i don't want anyone else claiming those sounds as their own."

you couldn’t respond, you could hardly breathe, but you weren’t making an attempt to stop him. the base of his thumb was massaging the side of your neck as he bit your sensitive skin, causing you to choke out a quiet whimper.

"see, i don’t give a flying fuck about dylan's grades, my love," he growled softly, placing his cigarette in the ashtray, “all i care about is you, and having all of you to myself.” standing straight again, he let go, this time towering over you. "the problem,” he continued softly, “the problem is you... you and your tempting body that has been teasing mine to its breaking point,” he spat, “no. the problem is dylan finding that same intensity and desire within you… i despise the thought of a specimen so low touching you in ways only i’m allowed to explore.”

“i’m selfish.” he sounded desperate, his palms caressing down your cheeks, “i want you all to myself. i want your heart, your body, and your mind. i want all of you.”

leaning forward, his breath brushed against your neck again. almost as if he couldn’t get enough of you. his plump lips dragged against the red marks from his previous aggression, lightly kissing the sensitive skin as his hand moved downward to cup your denim-clad ass, "i don’t want to share you with that young man," he growled, before grabbing ahold of your wrists.

he pulled you closer until your chest was pressed against his broad one. his cock responded instantly to your nearness, hardening painfully in his pants, and he let out a low groan. "i don’t want to see you with him anymore," he bit almost dangerously, his voice husky with desire.

“professor.” your voice fell flat as turned you around and backed you into a wall.

releasing your wrist slowly, he whispered, "dear, sweet girl," he exhaled heavily, his chest expanding and contracting. "i see it in your pretty eyes. don’t deny me of this." his knee was pressed between your legs, his cock pressing harder against your crotch, making it obvious just how much his desire for you was burning.

"don’t treat me like some weak-minded scholar that needs to indulge in the company of other students," he whispered, his breath ghosting softly against your ear. "i know you, my love. i know you crave more, deep within your soul." his hands moved down, gripping your hips firmly. he pushed you back against the cool stone wall of the classroom, his erection now pressed firmly against your stomach, pulsating through the fabric of his pants.

his voice grew huskier, each syllable washing over you in an unrelenting wave. "i crave you as much as you crave me, sweetheart, more than my next breath. you make me insane, you make my dreams obsessed with tasting you, taking you, owning you. i won’t let you see him anymore, not if I have anything to say about it."

reaching for your button fly, he yanked it open with rough agitation before tearing at the zipper in one swift motion. "tell me you want this, tell me you want me, tell me so i know i can continue.”

with shaking fingers, you pulled down the zipper of his trousers, freeing his impressive length from its confining prison. he groaned deeply, his warm breath fanning over your cheek, as he palmed your ass, squeezing it firmly.

"finally yours," he growled, as if claiming you for his own, before his hips rocked forward, his throbbing cockhead pressing against your wetness.

"fuck..." you managed to whisper, your voice cracking slightly. "of course i want you."

that was all he needed to hear. without warning, he slammed into you, claiming you with brutal force yet with immense pleasure. his dick throbbed inside of you, stretching you slowly, making you gasp and arch your back into him as he picked up a steady rhythm. his free hand gripped your hair, holding you in place while he took what he believed he owed.

"my pet," he groaned, his own raspy breath matching yours in a yearning rhythm, his lips attacking your neck, “my everything.”

"you belong to me," he proclaimed, as he thrusted into you relentlessly, pounding into you like he was making you his. your hips met his each time he thrust, aiding the process of taking you over completely. his other hand found its way to your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple, as if begging it to harden under his touch. "and yet, you’ve never claimed me as yours, darling. it's about time you did." he growled, thrashing into you harder. you could feel every inch of him, and you covered your mouth to stifle a whimper.

"i dare you, little one," he urged, pumping into you with more ferocity. a sly look crossed his face, making his beautiful blue eyes darken as he continued to thrust. his hands never stopping their exploration on your body.

"say it, say you're mine," he growled, his hips driving into you, grinding you against the cold wall. "i won't stop until you admit to it, until i see the fire in your eyes that only I can ignite.” you struggled slightly, only to be yanked back by his desperate hands, his thumb digging into your nipple.

"say you're mine, all mine," he whispered, his breaths coming harder, his hips driving into you more frantically.

"all yours,” you whimpered, your voice breaking with each thrust. despite moments of discomfort, there was an undeniable thrill coursing through your veins, a mix of desire and submission. your body was wrapped around his like a glove, and you found yourself worshiping him, craving his touch.

that’s all he needed to pick up the pace, his thrusts getting faster and stronger.

he leaned forward, his lips met your ear as he mumbled, "don’t forget it, sweetheart." his breathing quickened, and the intensity of his thrusts grew as if he was trying to mark you as his. the room grew hazy, the dimming lights and the sound of our bodies colliding echoing in the empty classroom. "you are mine," he insisted, "no one else deserves to touch you, no one else deserves to have you."

as he rammed into you, you could feel the approaching climax, the build up of pleasure stabbing at every nerve. "that's it, sweetheart. feel it!" he roared, his voice graveled with lust. you clung to him, your nails marking his back as you sucked him in. as he thrust harder, you cried out, the climax building up within you like a tidal wave. with your body quivering and pulsating, each thrust felt like a stab at your core, an explosion of pleasure and desire.

you clung to him, riding the wave of ecstasy as his thrusts grew more frenzied. he moaned into your ear, his teeth grazing your skin, bathing you in his passion.

"yes, yes..." he urged, panting heavily as he thrust, his dick swelling with each thrust. "come for me, my love. let go... let me have you..."

finally, the climax hit you like a truck, engulfing your entire body in waves upon waves of pleasure. you collapsed into him, your breaths heavy as you panted against his neck, clinging to the last remnants of the intense pleasure.

"you're beautiful. that was perfect, just fucking perfect,” he groaned against your ear, his hips flexing, plunging into you one last time before he let go, shuddering and gasping. “f-fuck,” he whimpered. his whole world crashed onto you as he filled you to the brim with his seed, the warmth of his release pulsating within you.

he tugged at his pants, gathering himself before he slowly pulled out of you, his chest heaving. "god, that was... you’re so wonderful, everything i imagined," he whispered, his breath hittingched with each movement. you nodded, your eyes still clouded with pleasure, your body still quivering from the force of the intensity.

sitting down, keeping one arm around you, he pulled you close, kissing the top of your head. "i still want nothing else but you, fresh out from a lecture and through each lesson." he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips, "and no one else."

"you will never see him again," he added, his voice firm, "i could never allow that." you just nodded, nuzzling against him as the afterglow of the encounter enveloped both of you.

"what do you think, my love?" he asked, biting his bottom lip, his eyes darkening "can you keep a secret?" you looked at him, nodding slowly. "i’ll keep our little secret,” you whispered, kissing his neck gently.

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x y/n #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen fanfic #professor x student #star wars #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin fic #anakin fluff #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n #anakin x you #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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luminousbeings-crudematter · 3 months

Text

folie à deux

or: the toxic ex boyfriend Ghost AU

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

WARNINGS: || 18+ only MDNI || Toxic masculinity || Possessive & obsessive behaviour || Slut shaming || Groping || Gaslighting || Implied & referenced cheating || Mildly dubious consent

w/c: 5.7k (Read on AO3)

a/n: this was supposed to be like 5 paragraphs, so PLEASE if y'all hate it i dont want to know

It starts with a knock on your front door when you’re only half expecting to see Simon Riley.

He even knocks with a sense of entitlement, and it enrages you. Three hard raps, and that’s it. He won’t knock again. If you don’t open the door, he’ll kick it down to get to you—those were rules you’d learnt the hard way.

You mentally reinforce your motivation when you fling the door open: You’re scared he’ll break your door down, again, and this time, when they try to evict you, Simon won’t be around to terrify them into letting you stay.

How on earth you’d ever found the prick attractive is beyond you in that minute. Except, no sooner does the thought enter your mind do you dismiss it. Of course you had—and still—found him attractive. That had never been the problem.

He wore his military career on his face, much easier to see than the chest candy he bragged about but no less attractive to you–scars and burns, healing and the not-quite healed bruises plain to see on his face, a cacophony of yellows and purples. A nose that had spent more time broken than not, its slight curve most likely a combination of never having been set by a professional nor the opportunity to heal without being broken again. A thin scar dissected his lip, went all the way up the side of his face to his brow, almost like someone had taken a knife to him, carved him up like a piece of meat. You’d never asked, and it’s not like he’d ever volunteered the information.

It just sat there along with the three thousand other things he’d deposited in the chasm that stretched between the two of you.

“You…Jesus,” he breathes, and slams the door shut behind him, making you wince. “Where are you off to, then?”

“N’ wearin’ that?” He prompts again when you don’t answer, motions to your body with his chin.

You roll your eyes when he pulls you into him and plants a hard kiss on your mouth, ignoring your squirming. “Fuckin’ about to spill out, little dove.”

“Spill? Simon, I’m sewn into this dress.” You pluck at his shirt that has deliciously little give where it sits on his hard chest, leaving your palm there as a little treat for yourself. “You would know. You capable of wearing shirts your own size, or does the SAS make it mandatory to have your tits straining against them?”

When he doesn’t respond, you push away from him, and step back, crossing your arms against your chest, definitely not pushing your tits up slightly, and he mirrors your movement. He’s leaning against the wall by the front door now, blocking your exit, and you can only roll your eyes at the foreseeable display of machismo.

“Your stuff’s in the front room. Grab it and go, I have to finish getting dressed. I have plans.”

“With a pimp?”

Back when you were blissfully ignorant of Simon’s penchant for keeping you destabilised at all times, unconditionally wanting the last word, his crass words would have made you sputter and struggle to respond. Oh but you know him so much better now.

Now, the blatant transparency in his delivery just makes you laugh.

You interrupt his next words with a wave of your hand and turn to retreat to your room. “Get your shit and leave, baby.”

You hear his harsh exhale at the dismissal, and once upon a time, the repercussions of dismissing Simon in the middle of a conversation would have excited you. You used to do it to get a rise out of him, instigate him into chasing you around, fucking you silly when he caught you. Now, you just do it because you can.

“No need to be a bitch. I’ll be on my way in a second, just wanted to check on you, little dove.”

Your laugh is breathy, and you have to pull your mascara wand away from your eyes so you don’t end up stabbing yourself with it. “‘No need to be a bitch’ says the man currently being a bitch about me not telling him my plans.” Your laugh is mocking when you turn back to the mirror. “You ever tire of this routine, Simon? Because it’s tiring to me.”

Your words only make Simon’s eyes soften, and he looks at you almost indulgently, patronisingly, as though you were a child throwing a tantrum to get an adult’s attention. “Could never tire of you, little dove.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, but he only snorts in response.

It’s all a game to him, you know that. He makes it very clear how much amusement he derives from watching you fumble and fall, how much he gets off on the stress he gives you.

And yet, you’re drawn to him, every single time. Every single time, you play mental gymnastics to find a reason to write off his bad behaviour because, well, it’s Simon. He’s…like no one else you’ve ever known.

Your choices have always been limited between a cruel, mercurial god and inane, paltry men.

Except today. Today you hold your response back, try not to rise to the obvious challenge.

“Come on then, I’ll drive ya.”

“Are you insane?” you screech. “You’re not driving me to my date, you’re not driving me anywhere, what the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?”

A glimpse of his Adonis belt as he stretches his arms above his shoulders and cranes his neck from side to side briefly grabs your attention.

“Don’t be difficult, little dove,” he gently scolds you, and your eyes snap back to his—yours wide with incredulity, his calm and collected in that beautiful, honey brown. “What were y’gonna do, take the Tube with y’tits out like that? If the prick ain’t pickin’ you up, I’ll take ya to him.” He jerks his chin in your vanity’s direction and plops himself on your bed to watch. “Come on, love, finish yer preenin’ then.”

“Preening,” you mutter under your breath as you turn back to the mirror. “Fuckin’ weirdo.”

It’s only when you’re dabbing perfume behind your ears do you catch his eye just as he brings a cigarette up to his mouth, and you squeal. “Simon! The fuck are yo—don’t smoke in my bedroom!”

“Our bedroom—”

“What?!”

“—’n ya didn’t care before. Y’wanna share, ‘s that it, little dove?”

“Oh my god.” You turn around slowly, your hands against your lips, joined together as though in prayer. “Simon.”

“Yeah, baby.”

“You don’t live here anymore. This isn’t your flat, it’s mine. This isn’t your bedroom, it’s mine.”

Simon just continues to smoke as though he hadn’t heard you, dark eyes taking the slow, leisurely route back to meet yours. “Y’look good, baby.” His voice is hoarse, the words slow and deliberate and raspy, and…you can’t deny it. The pull he’s always exerted on you, the undeniably ruinous sirens call—you burn hotter and brighter than accretion, you’re a helpless sailor caught up in his thrall

“Simon”

“Did’ya always look so good?” The way he looks at you as though in a trance…you know he’s not listening, seeming to just be thinking out loud. When he stands up, you take an automatic step back, then cringe when the vanity hits the back of your legs. Nowhere to go to escape his looming presence. “No…not like this. Somethin’s changed.” He puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around so you’re both facing the mirror.

The back of your neck feels particularly warm as he pushes his entire front to your back, and you can feel him there, hard and insistent against your lower back. When eyes meet in the mirror, he looks at you like you’re a puzzle for him to solve. “Nothing’s changed,” you whisper. “You’re still a dick.”

“Hmm,” he mutters, then lifts your face up with one hand around your neck, and brings his cigarette around to your lips with the other.

Your instinctive inhale makes him shift against you slightly, and your eye twitches from how good he feels pressed up against you like this. How he smells to you—that familiar mix of aniseed and icy menthol, fingers eking that potent hit of nicotine straight into you from where his fingers dig into your skin. “Definitely somethin’ different.” He pulls one strap of your dress down, and you exhale as he places one warm, lingering kiss on your exposed shoulder. “‘S good. Whatever’s different is good, little dove.”

“We can’t—,” you whisper, and his eyes glint at you with interest and arrogance through the mirror. “We can’t do this.”

“You’re so pretty all dressed up like this. Always were so pretty. So soft, and—” he inhales deeply at the spot just under your ear “—always smell so fuckin’ good.”

“You can’t,” you moan in response, but press yourself closer to him, anyway.

“But I can,” he responds gruffly. “‘Nythin’ I like, little dove. And I know y’like it too.”

“Fuck, just—” He interrupts you by giving you another hit, and this time you turn around in his arms to exhale in his face. He doesn’t even flinch. “What are you playing at, Simon? What do you want from me this time?”

Simon continues to look at your mouth as you speak, and almost as if on auto-pilot, slips his thumb into your mouth. You want to bite him for his audacity, you almost kick him in the shin, almost almost almost… But what you really end up doing is accepting it, licking the pad of his thumb and letting him push it into your mouth.

Your initials on the space between the base of his thumb and index finger catch your eye—it’s a new tattoo, and you know this entire game is a ruse to draw your attention to it—but you don’t react. You may be stupid horny for him, but you’re not stupid.

“Always such a good girl for me,” he praises, and it brightens you up on the inside, sparks hot and bright under your spine. “Tell me, love…still me you think about when you touch your pussy?”

Your harsh exhale and slightly narrowed eyes are the only indication you give of having heard him at all. In response, his thumb moves slightly deeper, sitting heavy on your tongue, and you let him.

Your stubborn silence makes him chuckle, and he stubs out his cigarette on the ashtray you (still) keep on your vanity, pushing your dress up over your ass so he can grab your cheeks possessively. The movement is so quick, so fluid that your protest turns to ash on your tongue when he finds bare skin and squeezes hard.

“Forgot somethin, did ya?”

“No.”

“No?” His hands grip you tighter and pull you harshly into him. The angle makes you grind into his cock, and you know that he’s not even half as unaffected as he pretends. “Gonna put out on the first date, then, like a slut? Don’t remember you givin’ me any the first time I—”

“It’s not my first date with him.”

Simon pulls back to look into your eyes, and you’re graced by the first genuine smile on his face all evening—the most brilliant of Rayleigh scatterings put to shame. “It is your first date, love.”

The blunt, matter-of-factness in his words gives you pause, your mind still coming to terms with what he’s just said, your heart starting to race at the barely concealed confidence about your whereabouts. “How do you—what are you saying to me right now?”

“Truth, little dove. Like I promised.”

The casual, off hand remark to one of the most devastating conversations in your life gives you whiplash and you have to physically shake your head to get rid of the feeling of something crawling up the back of your neck. You put your hands firmly on his chest and push him away, and he steps back easily.

“Are you…Simon. Are you having me followed?”

“Don’t need to. I know you, little dove.” He takes another step back from you and cocks his head at your dazed expression. “Put some knickers on. The white ones, y’know ‘em.” When you don’t move, he motions towards your underwear drawer with an expectant expression—as though you’re frozen because you’ve forgotten where they are rather than because you’ve just learnt that your ex boyfriend’s stalking you.

When he crosses his arms, you’re jolted to action. In a daze, you pick up the first pair your hands grab and pull them on. He thrusts your purse at you, and leads you out your front door with his hand clasped tight around yours.

You wish you could say that your ex boyfriend driving you to a date with another man is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, but that’s not realistic for a life lived around Simon Riley.

***

The drive is silent, but one big hand remains on your inner thigh. His fingers are so long that they almost touch the seat on either side of your leg. It feels invasive but it’s also familiar, so you don’t say anything. Classic— he never had to try hard to get what he wanted from you.

When he asks you for a smoke, you light one up for him and stick it into the corner of his waiting mouth, and he kisses your fingertips as they retreat. You still don’t say anything. Instead, your eyes stay determinedly on your initials tattooed on his skin, his warm hand almost a brand on your thigh, and you think about your life with him in the .

The implication that things were normal in the before is wildly misleading, and a genuine disservice to the shit he’d put you through.

Once upon a time, you’d been delusional about your place in Simon’s world; now it just leaves a bad taste in your mouth. He threw special forces and taskforce and lads need me in your face every opportunity he’d gotten, and worse. Simon Riley was not a man who did or could be convinced to do something he didn’t want to—and you’d hardly ever asked for any explanations from him but still, the excuses were on the tip of his tongue, ready to be flung at you at Mach speed.

You’d bargained with yourself for weeks—oscillating between wanting to proactively end the relationship yourself or allowing its inevitable heat death. He was one of a kind. No one had ever made you feel like he had. No one had fucked you like he had.

No one had fucked you over like he had either, but on good days, you show yourself some grace and let that thought slide.

***

You find yourself falling into old bad habits easily—you wait inside the car until he’s on your side, opening your door for you and practically lifting you out of his car.

The warmth of his hands seeps through the material of your dress, through the skin on your hips, superheating the bones underneath. He squeezes the flesh there appreciatively, and though his expression remains hidden to you, you can safely guess the smirking just by the creased skin by his eyes.

“I never want to see you again.”

The words make Simon pause. He considers you for a second, the smirk never dropping. “Go’n, give us a kiss, then, if this is the last time.”

“I would never,” you insist, finger poking at his hard chest, and he retreats from you, puts his hands up in mock-surrender. “You’re a manipulative bastard, Simon,” you hiss at him. “And I’m going on this date.” With your piece said, you walk away from him.

“Never stopped ya, little dove,” he calls out, a hint of an aggravating laugh in his words.

You flip him off without even turning around. “Drop dead, Simon.”

To your great disappointment, your words don’t inspire the heavens to smite him where he stands immediately, and when you quickly shoot one last look back at him over your shoulder, he stands against his car, arms crossed, looking for all the world like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Asshole.

It wasn’t even that Simon was a bad boyfriend to you—though he was certainly the fucking worst—it was the fact that a) he was a bad person and b) you’d become a bad person by osmosis.

Case in point: you wanted to leave your date mid-meal, battling the intrusive thought of just putting your drink down and walking out the front door, but you couldn’t even say why. Your date had kindly acquiesced when you’d insisted on the worst table on the floor. The one overlooking the car park. The window overlooking the only car parked there—the massive black one, with illegally tinted windows and a suspiciously missing owner.

At least the bar was nice. Great ambience, dim lighting and pretty interiors, it should have been the perfect first date. Your date himself was fine too—nice enough with a sweet smile he flashed at you, politely having taken to talking at you when you’d made it clear with your apathy that talking with you wasn’t going to happen.

After just two drinks, you start to have flashbacks—even an hour spent in Simon’s company clearly manifesting as literal madness—which was disconcerting by itself, but the uncharacteristic subject matter has you really worried. Every time you blink, you see Simon’s face…or his cock…and when your date asks if you’d like to share dessert, you answer, “Simon…” before hearing yourself, and feeling the heat of shame dance on your cheeks. Your date just looks confused.

A quick glance outside the window shows the empty car park and…nothing else. No car.

Had he fuckin’ left?

The thought incenses you, and the irrational nature of the anger makes you feel even more shame. Why should you care? When had he ever done what you’d expected of him? And when had he ever been there for you when you’d needed it.

Fuck it, you think.

Maybe you were finally free of Simon and his toxic, shameless, unbreakable hold on your life. Maybe it was time to move on.

You allow yourself a satisfied smile when, in what feels like divine approval of your plan, your date offers to take you home.

***

There are cracks in your ceiling that you’d never noticed before.

You resist the urge to wince, then try to moan but give up when it gets stuck in your throat, and your date misinterprets your sigh of boredom and discomfort as one of pleasure, choosing to go down on you with more enthusiasm than before. Things could not be worse for you—the man between your legs is clearly in need of a compass and a map and trying so hard that you feel guilty about the whole thing—but you’re determined to tolerate it. So that the point is made.

When your date finally leaves, your shaky smile and poorly concealed look of relief convinces neither of you of a second date. You suppose you should be grateful that he left without a fuss, but you’re just relieved that he’s gone. You’re contemplating—holding your head in your hands while your elbows rest on the kitchen counter—when you hear him.

“This is pathetic, even for you.” You turn around, and yep. It’s him alright. Sitting at your dinner table, your flimsy chair all but invisible behind his massive frame. “Breaking in, Simon? Seriously?”

“Y’gave me a key, little dove.”

“Yeah. When we were dating. A key that you’d returned?”

When there is neither a response, nor any change to his posture, you turn around and start to pour yourself a glass of water. Then change your mind and grab two whiskey tumblers and your decanter. “Pathetic,” you repeat. “How long were you planning this?”

His sudden breath on the back of your neck makes you exhale harshly, and he steadies your trembling hands by placing his on yours. Together, you pour two glasses of whiskey, but his hands don’t leave yours even when you’re done.

“How was the date?”

“You tell me, Simon.”

“Wasn’t invited, was I?”

“It didn’t stop you.”

He places a small kiss behind your ear in response. “No.” His hands knead at your breasts and your head falls back to his shoulder with a sigh, and he grinds into you. “Feel that? What even your fake little noises do to me?”

“You were listening?” The thought is…unbearably hot, and you stubbornly refuse to examine it any further in your mind.

“You belong with me, little dove, you know this. You’ve always belonged to me. All of you. Every single inch. Where would I go?”

You reach behind you to touch him, and he’s thick and warm to the touch, even through the layers of fabric, and it’s familiar, it’s all so familiar to you.. “This is fucked up. You were here listening when another man fucked me?”

In a quick succession of lithe, almost impossibly quick movements, he’s picked you up and placed you on your kitchen counter, one glass of whiskey shattering on the floor. “Made your point, baby?”

Your robe is off your shoulders and pooling around your waist in a second, and Simon doesn’t even bother hiding his smirk when he pulls off your panties and pockets them. You don’t bother protesting. It even feels like trouble when he runs a single finger over the seams of your cunt—you’re damningly wet and if you had enough withal to curse your body out for it, you would.

“You've got such a pretty pussy, little dove,” Ghost says as he fingers you, his voice half-muffled because he's pressing a possessive kiss to your forehead. “And so wet baby, you’re dripping on my fingers. All of it fo' me? Or was it that twat, hm?”

You're seething inside, raging that your plan backfired like this. “It was him,” you say, before you can help yourself. “You heard him fuck me, yeah?”

“Fuck you?” Simon’s chuckle is dark and ruinous. “He didn’t fuck you, baby. He just stretched you out for me. Good man. Saves me the work, innit.”

Before you can react, before you can breathe, he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, picks up his glass of whiskey in his other hand, and brings you to your bedroom. Fuck, your sheets are still rumpled, dress and bra strewn on the floor, sandals sitting like a death trap of heel and straps by the foot of your bed. The room even smells of sex and the cologne your date had worn—it’s disorienting. You almost feel bad. Almost.

But…Simon’s presence is all over your bedroom too. The smell of his aftershave lingered in the air, noticeable if you closed your eyes and breathed in deep. Other signs too—the faint bitterness of his cigarette from earlier that evening, it’s corpse in the ashtray on your vanity. When he sets his drink down on your nightstand, he sets it on the coaster you keep there—they’re strewn on almost every surface on your flat. Mementoes from Simon from different countries he’d go to on deployment.

“Told you he fucked me,” you say, cheekily—trying to dissuade your mind from leading you towards sentiment—and get a smack on you ass for your trouble.

“‘Course, little dove,” Simon drawls in response. “‘N you enjoyed it too, yeah? Tryin’ t’make me jealous. Took him to the same place we used to go, huh?” Another smack on your backside, this one hard enough to make you gasp. “Think I’d forgotten, baby? Fucked you in that car park, didn’t I?”

“Were you jealous?”

“Why should I be?” He sets you down gently on the bed so you’re sitting upright, then takes a sip of his whiskey. “Y’want this.”

“I didn’t think you were giving me much of a choice.”

“I’m not.” He takes another sip, and when he leans forward to kiss you, the whiskey floods into your mouth, rich and smoky and bitter. He continues to kiss you and you have to swallow around his tongue, which makes him kiss you harder. He’s a bully in every aspect of his life, and kissing you is no different. His fingers clamp around your cheeks and you have no choice but to kiss him back. Even in this he dominates you, trying to win even where there is no fight to be fought.

When he pulls away, your heart throbs at how he looks through the lights of the street outside pouring in through your window. You’ve seen his face before, you’re one of the trusted few that can say they know what Simon Riley looks like, but it’s been a while since you’ve seen him like this. The harsh lights from outside almost soften where they kiss the harsh angles of his face, where the sharp line of his clenched jaw disappears behind his ears, accentuating his thick neck.

He’s beautiful and cruel and bad for you and every adjective you can think of under the sun.

“Y’want this,” he repeats.

“I want this.”

And then Simon moves so suddenly. There’s no preparing for it, no accounting for speed that has no build up—one second you’re sitting upright looking up at him the next you’re on your back and he’s hovering over you, fingers making quick work of his zipper before, in one push, he’s buried in you. Your breath feels like it’s literally been punched out of your chest. He’s so deep in you, you can feel him in your throat—he allows you one deep breath before he’s got a large hand wrapped around your throat. The one with your tattoo on it.

The thought of it incites something foreign deep in your belly, low and simmering hot—you can’t believe he’s tattooed your name on his hand after telling you that he didn’t think you were what he’d wanted.

You can’t imagine your expression right now, but he tightens his fingers around your throat and it drags your attention back to him. He’s gritting his teeth, his jaw clamped tightly shut while he grinds his pelvis into yours, each thrust driving you further and further away from him and towards the centre of the bed. You don’t even understand the movement of his hips—you’re displaced and jostled from the sheer power of his thrusts—but the motion itself feels like it’s more of an up and down motion, dragging against your walls, punching into your G spot. When your head falls back on a low moan, he jerks your body to alertness just by your throat, and you clench at the feat of strength even when he’s buried in you as far as he can go.

Simon groans in response, the noise sounding like it tears through his throat on its way out, but you’re helpless to do anything at all, just trying to breathe through the foreign sensations inside you right now, clamp tighter and tighter around him, threatening to break. You’ve given up trying to look up at him anymore, the pleasure making you squeeze your eyes shut, one hand intertwined with his by your head, the other clawing at his forearm.

“Shit, baby, hold on, fuck, jus’ let me—” He moves to adjust you, grabbing one thigh to spread you open, push himself deeper inside you, when he freezes.

“Wha—Simon, what—”

“The fuck is this?” His voice is pitched lower than usual, dark and dangerous. You follow his line of sight and he’s transfixed, eyes unblinking, looking at a spot on your inner thigh. You know what he’s seeing, and in the midst of everything that’s happened, everything that’s about to happen, you wonder if you’re seeing the evidence of the existence of a just God.

“You weren’t…you weren’t meant to see it. It’s from ages ago…” He reaches out a slightly trembling hand towards it, stops inches away from it—and oh this is better than anything you could’ve imagined—before he brushes two reverent fingers over the little skull you have tattooed there. “Simon?”

When Simon looks back at you, he seems more determined, somehow. Like the final part of a puzzle has clicked into place, somehow, and a decision has been made.

This time when he moves, it’s deeper, more powerful but equally as deliberate. The hand around your throat moves to your face, brushing sweaty strands away from it, and framing the entire side of your face where it rests. “Got my mark on you, yeah? Want t’keep me, is that it?”

“I want…want to keep you,” you nearly whine at him, and his hips kick up, hammer into you, in and out, in and out— “Want to keep you Simon. Want to be yours.”

He bends over you, his grip on your thigh unyielding, long fingers digging into the tattoo on your skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I—” He uses your neck to muffle his own sounds for a second and then leans to kiss you. But it’s more than that. You feel Simon’s surrender in that kiss—the acceptance of the inevitable, your months of torturous longing for your torturer finding release—and when you come, you bite down hard on his lip.

It feels like your body is hot enough to melt the world into soft, sepia tones around you, and you don’t even understand what he’s doing to your body right now as he fucks you through your orgasm. He readjusts your hips as you come, and the slightest brush of the coarse hair at the base of his cock against your clit makes you vibrate from the shock of what feels like your second orgasm bleeding into your first.

And when he comes, he slams his hips into you like he’s trying to crawl inside of you. His groan is long and tortured, and for a man who’s usually silent when he fucks, the sound is delicious. You never want him to stop. “Fuckin’ shit,” he murmurs, and traps you as he collapses on top of you.

In the aftermath, there is quiet.

Simon lifts his head, once, to try to feel his way to the glass of whiskey on your nightstand, all while kissing you deeply. Turns out, fucked out of his mind Simon is clumsy as hell, and so you grab it for him, draining it yourself before offering him the empty glass.

“Fuckin’ whore,” he mutters, unimpressed, before burying his face in your neck.

“Says the man who slept with the entire British army in a matter of six months.” You kiss his sweaty hair and his grip on your hips tightens. “Bunch of slags.”

“Don’t call my sergeant a slag.”

“Your serg—” you gasp, feeling your restart its pounding in its cage. “Not Johnny! You slept with MacTavish? He fuckin—he fuckin’ offered to meet me for coffee so many times when we were broken up! I thought he was being nice!”

“Was bein’ nice, innit. Lookin’ out for his CO’s girl.”

Your head falls back to the bed as you stare up at the ceiling again. “This is messed up.” His casual tone feels like a barb, reopens old wounds and threatens to ignite a fresh wave of hostility inside you. But before you can stew in your bitterness any longer, he kisses the side of your neck and moves off of you.

“Can’t keep doing this, little dove.” He says, gathering your clothes from where they’re strewn all over your room.

You get up on your elbows and cock your head, feigning innocent confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Gonna have twats all over town stretchin’ you out fo’ me before I fuck you?”

“Why? You offering to put the graft in yourself?”

“Maybe,” he mumbles, and when he stands up to face you, he’s got a cig hanging off the corner of his mouth. “Y’got a light around here somewhere, can’t find mine.”

You roll your eyes, reaching over to the nightstand to grab one and throwing it at him. He catches it deftly, and lights up his cigarette. “What’s next for you then, Simon Riley? Off to the pub to find the next victim for the evening? Send me a recording of when you fuck her in the disgusting toilet?”

“Victim? Shit baby, give me ten, we’ll go again,” he says, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“You’re staying?”

He leans forward, smushes your face with his large hand. “You got me inked on you.” You squirm away from him and he lets you go.

“It’s just a skull, Simon. Not my initials on your hand.” When his eyes narrow, you gasp theatrically and your hand flies up to your chest. “Or was I not meant to see that?” You lean up to pluck the cigarette from his fingers and take a long drag. “Obnoxious, by the way.”

He leans forward and kisses you, hard. You inadvertently end up blowing smoke in his mouth, but he doesn’t move, kissing you until you melt. “Love you, little dove. You're a massive bitch, though.”

“Pot meet kettle,” you whisper against his mouth.

You know what they say about history repeating itself. You’ve been through this cycle before, you and Simon. And you know what he promised you when he fucked you—he may have asked you if you’d wanted to keep him, but you hear what Simon doesn’t say. And what he doesn’t say is that you don’t have a choice in any of this. Simon operates like a bully, thinks like a bully because he is one. Like with most other things, Simon brute forces your relationship, moulds and bends and twists to his liking, does not care if anything breaks. You have no doubt that in two or three weeks’ time he’ll be across the world from you, bouncing someone else on his cock but it hardly matters. You’ll get your lick back. It’s what he’s taught you, afterall.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #lumi writes #toxic exbf! Ghost #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader

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yanmuffins · 2 months

Text

SAFETY IN IGNORANCE.

Yandere! Prince! Gojo X fem! Isekai! Maid! Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve been transmigrated to the world of an otome game, taking the place of one of Prince Satoru's personal attendants, a measly side character with no name or relevance to the story.

As it turns out, life in the castle isn't so bad, and the certainty of food and shelter is welcome when finding a way home isn't ever guaranteed. Besides, your boss isn't as insufferable as you thought he would be. It could be worse. Isn't it nice, knowing you're safe?

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words (😮)

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: NONCON (no intercourse), somnophilia, mentions of past s/a, mild yandere behavior (if you squint?), mild derealization, AU setting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: please be aware my writing is quite rusty!! this is the first piece of writing that i finish IN YEARS and it's a fucking jjk darkfic. sigh. writing smutty scenes is also so awkward lmao, forgive me if it sucks severely. at least i hope you enjoy this little fucked up fic in have cooked up. it's hot and ready to be consumed! (๑>؂•̀๑)

-> MINORS DNI !

“TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE is a visual novel that takes place in a fantastical setting, where you can find your happily ever after with the character of your choice.”

It's been years – in this world, at least – but you still remember every word skimmed with dry, irritated eyes, as you stared at a bright screen, surrounded by the darkness of your own bedroom. It was another restless night among many, spent watching YouTube videos and reading pirated manga in questionable website, sipping on valerian tea.

So, like any other night, your adblocker dutifully served its purpose, shielding your browser from annoying, abusive, virulent ads.

Except for one.

“Enter the enchanting world of TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE through SARA, a kind-hearted peasant, as she meets all sorts of swoon-worthy suitors!”

You should have closed the page, sketchy as it was, but it had piqued your interest. It was a Friday night. You were sleepless. It was past midnight, tossing and turning in bed had done little to welcome slumber. Your home was tidy and organized from insomniac hours from nights before. You were bored.

“Play with a cast of handsome men, make the right choices and uncover exciting secret routes...”

Nothing about the web design told you the game was anything but a harmless dating simulator for an adult audience. Maybe it was the pastel color-scheme, with soft pinks, yellows, blues, purples and greens, or the elegant cursive font and colorful flowers adorning the page. In fact, other than the initial synopsis, there wasn't much to look at. No content warnings, nothing about the capture targets or the heroine you were supposed to be playing as, not even the usual information on how many endings or CGs you could get.

At the bottom of the page, “ENTER.” and “LEAVE?” buttons waited for a decision.

Maybe... you could give it a try? Hopefully it would entertain you until your eyelids finally grew heavy, allowing you to drift off before sunshine seeped through your window signaling dawn had arrived.

You clicked “ENTER.”.

... And here you are now, mending Prince Satoru's shirt before another hunting trip.

It's been ten years since you've come to this world. Your own body replaced that of a nameless background character with no narrative purpose, allowing you to exist as yourself in this entirely alien reality. You're not sure how much time has passed in your original world, whether you've been dead for a decade or simply unconscious for a couple of minutes, and you haven't gotten any closer to finding out.

You sigh, weary, looking down at the flax linen shirt laid over your lap, needle in hand. Simple, at first glance, a bit worn, but a nice piece of garment not everyone could afford to have in their wardrobe. One of its puffed sleeves now torn at the shoulder lining, an unfortunate result of it being caught by a tree branch during horse-riding. Nothing you couldn’t fix, however, skilled as you’d become over the years.

Ten years in this world.

Ten years working as Prince Satoru’s personal maid.

You got rewarded for that.

The luxurious pearl necklace that became a part of your distinguished blue uniform, accompanied by a gold pendant encrusted with gemstones shaped like the Gojo’s family crest. It was an honor given to faithful, dutiful servants to the crown, closest to the royal family.

Satoru and you were both eighteen when you’d first presented yourself as his new personal maid. This body, undoubtedly yours, seemed to have aged down a few years, most likely to match the age of your predecessor. They had, apparently, been working hard to better their lot in life, aiming for an often-vacant position at the prince’s small circle of personal attendants. You inherited the skills they’d nurtured, bettering them along the years, allowing you to secure your spot as long as you have.

That, and Prince Satoru Gojo’s character trivia really came in handy an absurd number of times.

There were worse fates out there, especially for a transmigrated person like you. Sure, maybe life as a privileged noblewoman would have been ideal, even more useful in searching for a way home, but being a personal servant to Prince Satoru, as… Eccentric as he was, gave you advantages compared to other peasants, even other castle servants. Plenty of food, fine fabrics, individual accommodations, not having to exhaust yourself scrubbing floors all day or sweating by the heat of the kitchen fires – besides, the Gojo heir wasn’t quite as terrible a boss once you got used to him.

You remember finding his route in-game quite boring, full of cliché tropes and little to no conflict. He was also kind of an overbearing asshole the entire time, unlikability salvaged only by his elven good looks.

But nothing could have prepared you to the otherworldly beauty he posed standing right in front of you, in the flesh, for the first time, glacial orbs eyeing you up and down. You admitted to yourself – although begrudgingly, as he was your least favorite character among the ones you’d played – that Satoru Gojo was as handsome as they come and had every right to be smug about it.

Smiling to yourself, you put aside the needle and thread to hold up the shirt with one hand, gently tracing over the repaired sleeve with the other. You tug at it to test its resistance, nodding absentmindedly when its stays in place. It’s good as new, just in time for his hunting trip. You get up, taking a moment to adjust your skirts and straighten your white linen apron and coif, neatly folding the shirt and draping it over your arm. According to your pocket watch, his attendants should be waking him up at any minute now.

You grab the doorknob, wondering when you’d become so accustomed to this life.

And then you’re heading towards the prince’s chambers.

Gojo’s head snaps in your direction as soon as he hears the door creak open, a lazy smile gracing his features. You bow to him, respectfully averting your eyes as an attendant removes his undertunic to reveal his naked form.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

He doesn’t regard you immediately, arms raised as William, one of his attendants, quickly fetches the shirt from your arm and slips it over his head. It’s a morning ritual familiar to you by now, efficient movements shared between all three blue-clad servants in the room to make sure the prince will be properly dressed for his daily affairs.

Kai, your other colleague, hands you a black leather surcoat. It’s undoubtedly fit for royalty, handcrafted by the best tailor in the land; buttons of silver, western dragons embroidered on each side of its chest, facing each other, with gold thread some miller’s daughter had spun from straw – or so you’d heard. You feel his gaze upon you as you button up the overgarment, knowing exactly what he expects.

Gojo steps back when you’re done, doing a slow spin to show off his outfit.

“What flattery does this little doll have for me today?” He asks, “Do I look dashing?”

“Yes, my lord Prince, as always.” You respond, with a courtly nod of your head.

“What about my hair?”

“Soft like the finest silk in the land, fairer than the first snow of the season, Your Highness.”

“What about my lips?”

“Tender and pink like a freshly bloomed petunias in springtime, Your Highness.”

“And my eyes? And my eyes?” Gojo goads you on, a boyish excitement to his voice, his face coming a bit too close for comfort as if pleading to look up at him.

Playfully, your eyes meet his, granting his unspoken wish, holding his gaze for nothing more than a few seconds, a simpering smile as you speak.

“So strikingly blue it would put a midday sky in a summer’s day to shame, Your Highness.”

He releases an exaggerated sigh before grabbing your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks – his touchiness hardly phased you anymore; harmless, albeit pestering –, head slightly cocked to the side and a pout on his lips.

“You tease.”

Kai, newer to the group, shoots an alarmed look towards William, who merely shrugs him off.

And just as quickly he releases you, storming out the door as you and your colleagues follow after him, hurrying along the hallway steps behind him like ducklings after their mother.

Gojo Satoru is exactly seven minutes late to meet his guests. Not his servant’s fault at all, of that, you are sure. You had checked your pocket watch while walking through the castle hallways, confirming he would be on time to meet his guests at the open area of the stables – that was, of course, before all the meaningless detours he took along the way. You’re not sure if he does it on purpose.

William had his weaponry arranged, waiting at the hands of a servant, while Kai had personally spoken to the Marshal to have his Highness’ horse ready, both having woken up earlier than usual to make the proper arrangements.

Naturally, they would follow him to the hunting trip, as part of his entourage, while you stayed behind and made sure all was perfect for their return.

Your arrangements included waking up as early as the kitchen staff, the sun barely peeking through the horizon, to revise the ingredients you’d requested in advance with the head cook, so a kitchen maid could go and fetch them from the forest or the market. You’d love to be able to traverse the markets or the woods freely, exploring, meeting new people, finding out new things about this world that could potentially lead to a way home — but alas, being a personal attendant to the prince meant tasks such as picking herbs at the woods or buying strawberries from a merchant were, per your colleague’s words, below you.

It's a nice day out. A faint breeze caresses your skin, cool enough to be refreshing, and the skies are clear and blue with not a cloud to be seen. The autumn sun shines gently upon the earth, sparing of its overbearing heat. Your presence isn’t exactly necessary, but Gojo has made a habit of you seeing him off and you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be outside.

“Fashionably late as always, Satoru.” His grace, Geto Suguru, is the first one to speak up.

A swoon-worthy duke, with a storyline much too… disconcerting… for your taste. Though the number of times you’d spoken to Geto could be counted on your fingers, being in his presence still put you on edge. Not that he had ever done anything to you, but you’d accidentally met his eyes countless times, caught him staring at you with a gaze so invasive it made you feel like a criminal awaiting judgement.

“Late? Treason. A prince is always on time, Suguru.” Gojo replies with a nonchalant shrug, “You were the ones here early!”

Awaiting his arrival were a group of familiar young men. Most you had seen in-game through the extensive selection of capture targets, coming to meet them in-person over the years due to their ties with the prince. You had played some of their routes, but with the exception of Megumi – Gojo’s protégé – you hadn’t a reason to talk to them, merely exchanging a word or two or none at all when in their presence.

“Finally.”

Nanami Kento looks mildly inconvenienced as he speaks, tone flat, arms crossed over his broad chest and a visible scowl creasing his features. He was a retired knight, born a peasant, presently a Baron; a personal favorite of yours. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two whenever he was around. You remember kicking your feet up in the air during his playthrough. Sometimes you still do.

Next to him stood Prince Yuji Itadori, too entertained by his own horse as he fed him a carrot. You have faint memories of playing his route, although you don’t remember finishing it. He was a sweetheart, from what you knew, periodically visiting from a neighboring kingdom to learn from Nanami and Satoru and cultivate friendly diplomatic relations. You’d cracked your head trying to recollect bits and pieces of his story, unsuccessfully. You had a pesky feeling it was relevant.

Fushiguro Megumi was last. Broody lost prince, currently hidden under Prince Satoru’s protection – you hadn’t played his route, but he was a constant side character in Gojo’s. He was still a child when you met him, shortly after Gojo brought him into the castle.

When Megumi notices you, there’s a smile; faint, barely noticeable, and he waves. You respond with a brief curtsy.

“Can we go?” Yuji protests, interrupting some petty squabble between Satoru and Suguru, “I hear there’s a huge wild boar running around causing ruckus around the village, I want to catch it!”

Mounted on his white steed, Gojo is a cliché as old as time; a trotting reminder of your being in a world that isn't your own. The anodyne sight of him looking down on you, pink lips softly curving upwards to gift you a kind smile as the sun shines from behind him is almost identical to one of the game’s CG’S. It shouldn’t – you’ve grown used to him, to living inside this game, material as your own world – but for a moment, and just a moment, the sight of a whimsical prince on a white horse wiggles an uncomfortable, yet familiar feeling of surrealness, unreality into your mind, making your stomach churn.

You ignore it. Mentally sweep it under the carpet of your subconscious. This is nothing new. You can spiral into an existential crisis over the absurd condition of your circumstances later, when you’re lying sleepless in bed staring at the ceiling.

You’ve run out valerian root, anyway.

“I am obliged to be away for an entire day!” He whines, words punctuated by dramatic sullenness to his body language.

You step closer to him, taking a respectful bow before offering him a pair of neatly-wrapped sunglasses, which he takes – a distinctive feature of his character.

“So, you must, Your Highness. Go, and may the mother of good luck be with you.”

Satoru extends an arm toward you, presenting his hand. You kiss it – your own lips touching soft, pristine skin; a needed reminded he was a person, made of flesh that could be touched and not pixels limited to a screen.

From your peripheral, Kai elbows William as discreetly as he can.

You return to the prince’s sleeping quarters immediately after their departure. Overseeing the chambermaids, you watch them change the bedding for a fresh set, correcting the pair on your favored arrangement of pillows, fussing as they dust around the priceless ornaments around the chamber, amiably warning them to be careful.

When they’re done, you move onwards to the kitchen.

There are people watching you as you march through the hallways. Spying little peepers full of envy or admiration, or both, and you know what they’re looking at – the telltale blue fabric of your dress, a color so inaccessible to many, and the necklace you bear from years of service. Despite your own wishes, it makes you an intimidating figure, as if you’re an extension of royalty. Being a personal attendant to the prince meant upholding that image, keeping yourself unapproachable, discouraged from socializing and making merry with anyone but servants considered to be on your level.

Still, you greet the kitchen staff with a smile, trying to be as cordial as you possibly can. You know all of them by name, from the head cook to the scullery maid, all exceptionally busy for tonight’s private feast. It’s not your job to review the selection of dishes to be served, but you do so anyway, even if superficially, reminding them to provide a non-alcoholic beverage for the prince. Attentively, you listen to the head cook as he showcases the ingredients for the pastries you requested, assuring of their quality.

It's a bit of a hollow feeling when you leave the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, knowing the rest of your day will be spent alone. Without Gojo, there’s nothing much to do. Without William and Kai, your social circle has been just about reduced to zero.

But you do know where you’ll be spending all of those long, unending hours.

Being a personal servant to Prince Satoru gave you advantages. Privileges, if you will.

When he asked you what you would like for your latest birthday, you made quite a bold request. It’s the newest addition to the key bunch hanging from your waist – full, unbridled access to the royal library. The thought of having an entire day to search through never-ending shelves, making notes and finding books that could possibly lead to finding a way home cheers you up a bit.

“Are you fornicating with the prince?”

You nearly choke on your drink when the question abruptly comes out of Kai’s mouth, unable to speak from the utter shock. William is at his side, chewing on a chicken leg, and can only stare wide-eyed at his colleague’s bluntness. It’s been a while since the hunting party returned, clear blue skies fading into shades of orange adorned by heavy, rumbling clouds. Outside, tree branches sway to the force of the wind, preparing to welcome a starless night of rain and cold. Gathered at the table on Prince Satoru’s solar room, the three of you were having dinner to replenish your energy before the feast while Gojo entertained his guests.

It was usually a casual moment to decompress. Not tonight, Kai had decided.

“What– No!” You retort, scandalized, “What could have given you that impression?!”

“What hasn’t given me that impression, you mean.”

“Kai–” William tries to interject, but you’re quicker to rejoinder.

“I am not… fornicating with anyone, especially not prince Satoru. There’s nothing like that between us. That’s… How he is. You’re just not used to him yet.”

“But–”

“I think we’re better off cutting this topic of conversation here.” William interrupts, slightest bit of panic in his voice, eager to deflect conflict, “I know you’re still adapting to your new position, Kai, and that’s why I’m sure (Y/N) will be kind enough to let this slide.”

William looks at you expectantly, almost pleading, and you scoff before crossing your arms over your chest. The mere notion seems ridiculous – you, doing the deed of darkness with one of the game’s capture targets, destined to fall in love with the heroine regardless of whether she decided to pursue him or not? It would be a disaster waiting to happen. You were nothing if not a professional, serving your boss to the best of your power, and all of Satoru’s affections stemmed from his own outlandish personality. That was all. Your dynamic could be less than orthodox, but it was platonic in its nature.

“Come now, we can’t afford not to get along. Kai, apologize to (Y/N). I have worked alongside her for ten long years, and if she says she’s not engaging in improper acts with the prince, then she’s not.”

Kai silently looks between the both of you, finally letting out a defeated sigh.

“It’s a reasonable question, seeing you two…” He insists, shifting uncomfortably on his seat, “But I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine, I guess. No one has ever insinuated that before.”

“Not to your face, doll.” Kai shrugs, nonchalant.

You want to snap back at him, but in comes the realization that he’s not wrong. Perhaps it was living within your bubble, mostly limited to your coworkers and your boss, had made you clueless to people outside and what gossip ran about you. William and Benji, Kai’s predecessor, had accompanied you in serving Gojo for a decade; neither of them would ever dare question your relationship with the prince or the harmless liberties involved; they were accustomed to it. And, well, you were accustomed to the point you thought everyone else saw it as you did: normal. The sudden realization that not all would find Prince Satoru’s affections towards you something ordinary was a staggering concept in your mind – but it was so simple. So obvious.

Then again, it never occurred you to ask…

“Do you think it’s weird, William? Be honest.”

“I have no opinion of anything, ever.” William stated, crossing over his heart with his right hand, “But now that you mention it, Benji did confide in me, shortly before he was relieved from service. Said something about ‘inappropriate displays of affection towards a heedless maiden’, I believe?”

“Oh. Benji never said anything like that to me.”

“He wouldn’t. Between you and me, he had a soft spot for you, so I do believe that statement was a little biased.”

On your face, an expression of utter confusion. You never noticed any signs of Benji liking you romantically, but then again, you apparently don’t notice much around you. The chicken seems to have lost its taste when you bite into it, mind too preoccupied with the conversation you just had. Not that there’s any use reminiscing about Benji – the man having been released from service only a month prior, after prince Satoru arranged him a marriage to a marquis’ daughter.

Now that you think of it, he didn’t seem too pleased about the match. Or about leaving.

The stone-walled bathroom smelled of fresh flowers and citrus. Sliced oranges and grapefruits, calendulas, sunflowers, rose petals, mint leaves, forget-me-nots, floating in the steaming hot water that filled the circular, wooden bathtub. Night has long since arrived, and even with the shutters of the only window in the room closed you can still hear the heavy rain pouring against glass and the rattling of wood caused by unrelenting wind.

Despite that, the candles illuminating the room, as well as the small fire burning underneath a boiling pot of water, kept the room pleasantly warm.

On the other side of the door, William and Kai undress the prince. All had retired to their respective bedchambers by now, and it’s not long before the pair of attendants are dismissed for the night. Gojo is already disrobing by the time he enters the bathroom, excitedly blabbering about the hunting trip as he plops the velvet garment onto your waiting hands, stepping into the warm embrace of the thoughtfully drawn bath. Suddenly, the ceiling becomes particularly interesting.

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

“… Not that I’m complaining about tonight’s banquet, though. I’m just a bit disappointed, you know? All the fuss people were making over a silly boar, and it made a passable meal at best…”

You hang the robe. From a tray placed beside the fireplace you select a pink macaron, feeding it to him before you start to work a soapy sponge along his skin. It had been a deeply embarrassing experience at first, aiding him in his baths; with time, however, like many other things, it had faded into normalcy. Nothing but work, is what you tell yourself when you elevate one of his sinewy legs with your hand, sponge inching closer and closer to his groin. You steal a quick glance at him, half-listening to his words, seeing Gojo laid back, unashamed by your ministrations, playing with the petals of a soggy sunflower.

“Ah– Megumi! His aim is getting better. He’s gotten really good at shooting with a bow and arrow…”

You wash the soap off your hands when you’re finished with his body. You feed him a small tart, topped with vanilla cream, strawberries, and blueberries. Still, he prattles on, words muffled by his munching,

“… mmph… And Suguru is still being weird about that wife of his… Something-something ‘she’s different from before’ and refused to elaborate…”

He quiets down a bit once you retrieve a warm compress, placing it over his eyes, fingers moving to either side of his temples to massage them with gentle circular motions. He relishes a bit on the relief it brings after a day straining his eyes. As he relaxes further under your touch, you let your mind wander, recounting the frustratingly slow progress with your research.

Even with access to the great royal library, the sheer number of books on varying topics was discouraging enough to tempt an emotional breakdown. You scoured through shelves, gathering a collection of sorcerer biographies, spell books, history books, encyclopedias – anything that could hold the subtlest bit of information regarding transmigration. And still… Nothing. Your eyes still felt a bit dry, a lingering headache from reading within the ill-illuminated library. All you had at this point were your own theories – and that wasn’t saying much.

If only you could leave the castle for a bit. A frightening thought, of course, as you could count on a single hand the number of times you had seen the world beyond the castle walls, never straying too far from the place you now called home. All of those occasions you had been following Prince Satoru on some of his trips, mostly diplomatic, with no freedom to walk around and talk to people as you pleased.

Perhaps a vacation was all you needed. Your “parents” lived not too far, if you remembered correctly, on one of the neighboring villages subservient to the Gojo crown. A favored place for merchants to gather, fairly populated, maybe if you tried investigating–

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N)??” Gojo’s fingers are snapping in front of your face, his eyes still covered by the compress, “Are you listening to me?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Your Highness. I think my mind just wandered for a bit…” You apologize, hurriedly forgoing his temples in favor of washing his hair, “What was it?”

He remains oddly silent as you pick up a smaller bucket of ambient-temperature water, delicately wetting his hair. You weren’t giving mere empty flattery earlier in the day; running your hands through his hair truly felt like touching the finest of silk.

“You know…” He starts, “I notice your mind tends to wander a lot, especially these days...”

There’s an edge to his tone, one you rarely hear him use.

“Your eyes seem to wander an awful lot, too, lately.”

Another pause. There's no silence in the room, just an uncomfortable absence of words; You hear the fire crackling. You hear the water boiling and bubbling, thinking for a moment you should check the temperature of his bath to see if it needs to be warmed. You hear the muffled sound of rain against glass. You hear wooden shutters rattling. There's a strange shift about the air, and you're confused, unsure of what he could mean.

He answers your unspoken question before the words have a chance to leave your mouth.

“I saw you stealing those little glances at Nanami.”

You stand, bucket in hands, mouth agape – embarrassment. The heat of complete embarrassment that overtakes you feels like cold water poured down on your body. Your hands feel a little weak as you quickly try to regain your composure, looking away from Gojo despite knowing his eyes aren’t on you.

Fiddling with the hem of your apron, you try to find your words.

“When… When did you–” You stammer, “How…”

“Ah-ha! So, you plead guilty. That’s soooo shameless, flower.”

The familiar playfulness in his tone brings back a bit of confidence. Still, there’s something about it you can’t quite place; for a moment, you think there’s a bark to it, bitterness. Perhaps it’s something unpleasant about his day that he’s hung up about, increased by you not listening to him. He’s just teasing, you conclude, trying to vent whatever annoyance peeved him by picking on you.

You massage Prince Satoru’s scalp with shampoo – or the closest thing they had to it, in this world – hoping to placate his abrupt change in mood. Maybe you’ll hand-feed him another macaron.

“I was just… Looking.” You offer, cautiously, unsure if any explanation would make it better or worse for yourself, “There’s no harm in looking. Lord Nanami was admirable as a knight, and he’s handsome…”

Worse, if the crease between his eyebrows is anything to go by.

“… But not nearly as handsome as you, my prince.”

That seems to appease Gojo who, with a petty harrumph, relaxed into your touch again. Appealing to his ego always seemed to get you out of trouble. You’d never thought to be grateful for his petulant grouching, but it's music to your ears compared to the spitefulness from a few moments ago.

“I just find it vexing. Why would you ever bat those little eyelashes at Nanamin when you have the Morgan le Fay of men right in front of you to admire?”

“There’s no need for jealousy, Your Highness.”

You were just a humble fangirl admiring your bias, after all. You weren’t made of stone.

“At the stables. During the banquet. Would you like to have a portrait of Nanamin, so you can gawk at him when he’s not here, too?”

You rinse his scalp, running your hands through locks of his hair.

“I am so very sorry, my prince. Speaking of... Uh... Speaking of banquets! I hear there will be a ball."

It's a poor attempt to change the subject, and you can only give Satoru a sheepish, almost apologetic smile when he raises one side of the compress to acknowledge it as such, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

There will be a ball. In a month, to be exact. You know that not just from the growing agitation within the castle, or the coming and going of unfamiliar faces hired for temporary work, but because you had been counting the days for this very event ever since you realized this was the ball that kickstarts the main story, taking place towards the end of the prologue. It meant the heroine would finally show up.

You're not sure what it will mean for you.

“Sure, a ball...” He says, “My old folks said they would invite all the eligible maidens across the land because they want me to find a wife.”

“I'm sure you’re not too psyched about this...”

Prince Satoru vehemently nods in agreement.

“... But who knows? Give it a chance, you might just meet the love of your life there.”

“Pfft– Right, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“And why not?

“Well, what if I already met the love of my life?”

Then that would be some pretty weird timing, Your Highness. Prince Satoru wasn’t supposed to meet the heroine until a few days before the ball takes place, in a beautiful clearing out in the countryside, where they’ll share a lovely meet-cute after he nearly tramples her with his horse.

“Alright…” You spouted, unsure, “Why not bring her to the ball, Your Highness?”

“She’ll be there.”

His rosy lips curve into a conspiratory smirk, mostly to himself, blissfully unaware of the can of worms he just opened inside your mind. Had he already met the heroine? But it was way too early! It couldn’t be– or could it? You’ll have to check the makeshift calendar on your notebook. The timeline you wrote down, as well. There has to be some sort of plot hole you’re missing, or maybe the events have been thrown out of place for some reason.

“But you’re right, maybe a ball won’t be so bad. They said any eligible maiden across the land, rich or poor, of high or low birth. It’s an opportunity!” He announced, the last word said with enough enthusiasm to make you jump.

Once again, you don’t have the time to ask what he means– or to avert your gaze as he abruptly steps out of the bath, getting an eyeful of his bare ass against your will. You pat him dry with a towel as he helps himself to the tray of tarts and macarons. He extends both arms when he’s done so you can slip on the velvet, deep blue robe back on his body. Another towel is wrapped around his head.

The robe keeps him warm as he sits on a chair, waiting for you to come and finalize his night routine. You stay behind in the bathroom, emptying the bathtub, turning out the fire, disposing of the unused boiling water since Prince Satoru had decided to cut his bath short tonight.

When you close the door behind you, the smell of flowers and citrus is still in the air, stuck to his skin. You hum a tune as you brush his hair, its strands like gossamer, offering no resistance to the bristles.

“(Y/N).”

Gojo lifts up his head, not a hint of playfulness in his face or his tone.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

And yet his eyes are soft as they burn into yours, as if thinking, evaluating.

“Who, in this land, is the fairest of all?”

Every time he asks you this, you wonder if there was some dialogue you missed in the game. Nevertheless, the blatant reference makes you want to laugh; with him, though, the answer is always the same. There is no one to overshadow his beauty, objective, obfuscating, infuriatingly incontestable, and he knows that– you know that.

“You alone, my prince, are the fairest of all.”

If you were anyone else, you’d swoon at the smile he graces you with.

“By the way, I have something for you.”

There is a small box on the table he’s seated by, simple, with a golden latch, inconspicuous enough to only catch your attention when Gojo slides it closer, opening it to reveal an assortment of herbs tied together with a string.

“Since you ran out of valerian root…”

There wasn’t a single herb you could recognize, at least not with the dim candlelight. Despite this, you were pretty certain there was no valerian in that box.

“How did you know, Your Highness?”

“Those eyebags under your eyes, I know you haven’t been sleeping well.” He says, matter-of-factly, “Some old hag passed by the hunting lodge today, selling all sorts of things. Said this was a potent mixture of herbs for those with sleeping problems. It’s all safe, I’ve had the royal apothecary check it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, retrieving the box and holding against your chest. You hope it knocks you right out. Heavens know you need it, after today.

“This is so generous, Your Highness… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need.”

He latches the box closed.

“Just have a deep, dreamless sleep for me.”

It was the very witching time of night, and the castle lay silent. Darkness reigned in its corridors, desolate and cold, broken only by flashes of lighting tearing through stygian skies.

Take pity, take pity on one who is sick of love.

Fire dances at the top of a candle, threatening to vanish at any moment, as one living soul treads through slate flooring, airy footsteps growing closer to your chamber door.

Satoru feels guilt twisting inside his stomach, that nauseating feeling of contrition before consummation. It doesn’t stop him, it never did – he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin, but at least he knows he isn’t fully without a conscience. And yet, what is the point of guilt, overridden by excitement, conquered by overwhelming love, as he turns the key to your bedchamber, to defile you once again?

Defile, Satoru thinks to himself, is such an ugly word.

Your door doesn’t creak when opened. A simple spell to ward off prying ears, lest he has to replace another servant; Satoru had come to learn how thin those walls could be, sensitized to the littlest of noises in the dead of night.

He locks the door behind him, placing the candlestick holder on your bedside table.

There’s not much to see in the darkness, except for your pliable, sleeping form. You don’t feel the weight of your mattress shifting, so deep in slumber, as Satoru sits by the edge of your bed with the familiarity of a husband; and he likes to pretend, too, that these late-night rendezvous have an amorous twist to them. Isn’t it romantic, to be visited by a paramour so secretive you’re neither awake nor aware to receive?

What is he, if not a dedicated, twitterpated, infatuated princely lover sneaking through the hallways of his own castle to meet his beautiful dove, his golden trinket, his falcon’s eye–

But he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

Satoru knows there’s nothing appealing about exploiting your vulnerabilities. If you were to ever find out, if you were to open your little eyes at this very second to see him stripping of his undertunic, the lovely relationship you’d built would crumble in a matter of seconds. It would break his heart into a million pieces, to see the horrified look of realization upon your face. And he feels the burning of guilt at the back of his mind, easy to dismiss, as his hands roam your body, past your clocked stockings of cotton and up your white shift.

He would hate to hurt you.

Which is why you’ll never find out. Your relationship can bloom into something far more precious that way, and soon he won’t need these nightly visits to fulfill the base needs you ignite in him. He often dreams of your wedding night, with you awake, receptive to his embrace, and then he’ll finally cross the one line he hasn’t dared to trespass all these years.

The shift is carefully slipped off your body. His cock is dribbling with pre-cum, twitching at the sight of your hardening nipples. He bedews one digit with his saliva as he lays by your side, spreading your legs just enough to slip one hand between to stroke your clit, peppering your breast and neck with kisses, nibbles, and nips.

Your body is more than accustomed to his touch by now – and for a moment, he wonders if you’ll be confused on your wedding night when, just like now, your folds grow wet with so little stimulation. Soon he hears the change in your breathing as it becomes heavier, increasingly ragged, little whines starting to come out of your lips.

Still, you don’t wake.

Not even as he slides a finger inside your soaked entrance.

It’s tight, temptingly tight, torturingly tight, but Satoru has enough self-control not to push himself through your folds. Not tonight. He can wait, he will wait until, eventually, you’ll be awake and willing to take his cock. He takes comfort knowing that day is not too far.

Satoru sits between your legs to rub his cock as he fingers you, biting his lip as not to let a wanton groan out.

"Fuck..."

It's not very regal to swear. He's never done so in front of you.

His voice is already strained, not above a whisper, when he sits up, settling between your legs to rub his cock with one of your limp hands. There are two fingers inside you now, Satoru biting his lip as to repress a moan stuck in his throat. He hates having to keep quiet, but the walls are thin, and it would be a lot more trouble than it's worth to deal with nosy neighbors.

Satoru isn't alarmed when you stir, eyebrows knitted slightly as he kneaded your clit with his thumb. It's not a sign you're waking up.

His fingers are coated in viscid, clear juices, thrusting in and out of your pussy with practiced ease. He can barely keep them inside when you tighten up, little tremors running through your body as you cum with a strangled whimper.

Satoru forgoes your hand in favor of positioning himself on between your folds, using your wetness to rub his length along your pussy, prodding at your clit with each upward motion. He’s lying atop you now, muscled chest glued to yours, gently suckling on your neck and muffling his low, guttural groans on your skin. His hips move at a controlled pace, refraining himself from how rough he wants to be with you – he’s still hung up about Nanami, after all –, feeling his own orgasm approach.

Your bed doesn’t creak, either.

He thinks of finally being enveloped by your insides, how your velvety walls would choke his cock when he made you cum. How your lips would touch his and you’d kiss, really kiss, how your body would respond to his touch when awake. What faces would you make for him? Would you look away, embarrassed, throw your arms around him and hold him tightly to you? He was dying to see you, to fill your womb as he looked deep into your open eyes.

Satoru Gojo isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

He’s delusional to a fault. And as much as he feels bad for you, for his horrible acts of debauchery against your unresponsive body – and all other perversions along the way – there’s hardly any guilt when he grips his cock with a tight fist, tugging at his length as spurts of pearly-white cum land on your bare stomach. His chest heaves, breath labored, half-lidded blue eyes staring at his handiwork with a dopey smile on his face.

Lightning illuminates the room, followed by thunder rumbling so deeply across the earth he swears he feels the walls shake. Candlelight flickers.

He cleans you up, not a trace of arousal to be found when he’s done, shift slipped back onto your body. For a moment, he sits at the edge of your bed again, leaning back on his arms. How he would love to wake up with you between his arms – but alas, you’d be much alarmed to see him by your side when morning comes.

He dresses himself, not before placing a chaste kiss goodnight on your forehead.

A ball, he ponders, that ought to be fun.

And as he leaves, candlestick holder in hand, locking the door behind him, there’s no guilt badgering his mind – only dresses. A selection of skirts and frills fluttering about, an appointment with the best seamstress in the kingdom; Satoru wonders which design he’ll choose for you to wear at the ball, smiling smugly to himself as he skips down the hallway, back to his chambers.

You wake with a startle, groggy, disoriented.

Resting in its usual spot at your bedside table, your trusty pocket watch indicates you’ve woken up a little over fifteen minutes later than you’re supposed to – Not too bad of a delay, which eases your initial panic. You’ll have to hurry up a bit when getting ready, but at least you won’t be late for work.

The herbs have worked a little too well, you conclude – gifted you dreamless sleep, devoid of interruptions, knocking you out barely an hour after drinking the tea you brewed. Although you had yet to fully wake up, there was newfound motivation to get on with your day after a much-needed good night’s sleep.

You make a mental note to properly thank Prince Satoru again. It was unexpectedly considerate of him to notice.

A shiver runs down your body as fresh air enters through your bedchamber window, caressing your face with its gelid touch. You see movement downstairs, servants and knights who have begun their day earlier than you. Beyond castle walls you saw the city, merchants coming and going through dirt roads among trees painted in breathtaking yellows, oranges and reds, its fallen leaves scattered over green grass. In the distance, you see neighboring villages, castles so far, they nearly faded into the horizon. The sun is out again, blue skies adorned by white, fluffy clouds.

The faint, comforting smell of freshly baked bread hits your nostrils.

You should get ready– you don’t want to be late, of course. But there is time for a quick look in the mirror, to check if your exhaustion-induced eyebags have been minimized, even if ever-so-slightly. It’s only then that you notice, attention diverted from the area around your eyes, three small, faint red spots on your neck and collarbone.

You touch them, briefly wondering where they could possibly have come from; but you don’t have the time to dwell on it for more than a few seconds, your neck will be covered regardless. One last look at the mysterious marks and you shrug, brushing them off. It’s nothing to worry about, anyway.

Must have been a bedbug.

#tw noncon #tw somno #tw somnophilia #tw yandere #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo x you #yandere jjk x reader #cw yandere #dark fic

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fruitmins · 1 year

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Stay Focused | jungkook

➭ summary: in which your dorm mate and best friend Jungkook isn’t pleased to hear that your boyfriend was over the week he was away. but wow did he look hot when he was pissed off…

➭genre: smut with a little plot if you squint, college au, drabble

➭warnings: unprotected s*x (don’t do that), cheating (also don’t do that), kinda rough s*x, cuss words, jk lowkey worships you, fingering, jealousy, dirty talk, jungkook’s territorial

➭note: thank you all so much your your love on my last two things (despite the evidence I do write about the rest of bts, coming soon). i actually love you all. anyways i don’t know what demon possessed me to write this in a public setting but enjoy!! ⚠︎ this is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. jungkook is used solely as a face and a name for the story. this is not a representation of real-life scenarios.

“Did you miss me?”

Those were the first words your best friend said to you after not seeing you for a week. He said it with a stupid smirk that matched his mocking tone.

You wouldn’t dare admit that you had in fact, started to miss him the first day you woke up to an empty dorm. You knew it would boost his ego to much and just encourage his flirty and teasing behavior that you certainly didn’t need more of.

Normally he would be up hours before you to get in a good work out at the gym to make sure his brawny muscles that stood out in the white tee he would wear after getting out of the shower look good.

You’d wake up when he was done with his shower. His long wet hair and visible arm tattoos were a nice sight to wake up to and he wouldn’t miss a beat to tease you about your wondering eyes. Everyday it was a new remark in the same teasing voice.

‘Like what you see, darling?’

‘You’re undressing me with your eyes again, sweetheart.’

‘Photographic memory I see.’

You could admit Jungkook was dangerously attractive and had no shame hitting on you most of the time. When you had first moved in and before he was actually interested in your personality, you had to quickly inform him you were taken with your new boyfriend at the time, Theo before he could do anything drastic.

Did that stop him?

For the most part, no.

He still complimented and hit on you, most of the time for his own fun and pleasure as he watched you blush and tell him to knock it off. But he stopped being so touchy with you and gave you a little space. You wouldn’t admit that you grew to miss his cuddles or his back hugs. The way his hands slithered around your waist always made your insides turn.

Theo had quickly realized Jungkook’s charm and potential as well. The first time he came over the dorm, he would not let you alone with Jungkook (despite living alone with him already). The air was so thick a knife couldn’t cut it and it almost made you physically ill. Later that night while you and Theo were on the couch watching a movie, Jungkook was in his room. You had jolted hard when Theo’s lips unexpectedly hit your neck, biting and sucking till a purple bruise was clearly visible.

Two things changed that night.

Jungkook became touchy again, and Theo became more protective.

Theo always found an excuse to come to your dorm, leaving things like his toothbrush or shirts in your dorm just to anger Jungkook. Whenever he and Jungkook were in the same space he had to be touching you. Whether it was holding hands or a hand on your hips. He also started trying to get you to switch rooms, and constantly blew up your phone and made allegations about you and Jungkook when you said it would be easier to just stay.

“There’s only one way to know. Try leaving again.” I respond flatly, rolling my eyes at him but he just chuckled, not convinced. “Right~” he responds sarcastically a sly smile appeared on his lips as he strolled over to the couch were you were sat.

“I wasn’t!” You deny again, getting defensive at his sarcastic and cocky tone. It was starting to become a reflex to prove Jungkook wrong any chance you got. You both were very competitive with each other and it was strangely something you two enjoyed. (Video games were your favorite sport.)

“I had company.” You inform him with a smug smile, knowing it would piss him off. Jungkook was always touchy about Theo coming over to the dorm. What reason, you never really knew but he did not like the thought of him and you being alone in the dorm. And he communicated and made that clear to you.

You listened to him, wanting to respect his wishes and person things. So Theo never came over the dorm while he was away.

Till that week.

Jungkook realized you were talking about Theo when he recognized the shirt you were wearing. It was a white and black shirt that Theo wore often. It was loose and big on you and it smelled a lot like his strong cologne causing Jungkook to scrunch his nose in disgust.

“You had him over while I was away?” He asked you, biting the inside of his cheek. His teasing expression fell as his eyes showed a little betrayal. He was mostly pissed as fuck at you, and he had made sure to show it.

“I know how you feel about it but I promise he never went near your room.” I said, quickly trying to clear my name and reassure him that he didn’t do anything.

The last thing you needed was to be on Jungkook’s bad side when he just came back. Sure you missed his presence, but you also missed having him as a friend and companion. Deep below the teasing and flirting, he was supportive and playful.

“That’s not the point, Y/N.” He said in a low, menacing tone that made you shiver as he leaned over you as you looked up at him. His arms sunk in the couch which held him up as he slowly closed some of the distance between you.

“He has a dorm mate who always has her friends over. It was just more conve—“ you start to explain becoming nervous at his sudden movement, trying to make him realize it wasn’t as serious and that you didn’t do it just to spite him.

“So you let him fuck you on the couch I sit on?” He interrupted you with a harsh whisper, sending goosebumps through your body. Your stunned at his words, to flustered to answer. You hadn’t realized how hot he was when he was pissed till now as he stared down at you with a intense gaze, studying your ever move.

“Well when you phrase it like that it sounds—!” You start to respond offensively, stumbling over the question but he doesn’t give you much time to answer after that anyways.

Instead of beaming down at you with a intense stare like he was, his expression changes. His eyes are full of mischief and his lips start to curl into a soft grin.

“Did he make you feel good?” He questioned you with a taunting voice. Although he sounded like he was mocking you, his eyes gave you a stern look. He looked ready to pounce on you. Like he was angry more at Theo than you now.

“I am not having this conversation with you.” You huffed, looking away from his gaze as butterflies filled your stomach. You were beginning to get warm, to warm. Jungkook didn’t need to know about your sex life, even if it wasn’t the best.

One of the problems with Theo despite him being overly protective and always jumping to conclusions, was that the sex you had was terrible. He didn’t last long, and it more awkward and uncomfortable than pleasurable. At first, you thought it was a you problem. But a quick Amazon purchase made you realize it wasn’t.

You knew Jungkook would have a field day knowing that information, but he immediately came to the conclusion on his own when he saw your sour expression while thinking about it.

“Aw, you poor thing.” He laughed causing you to groan in embarrassment. Something flashes in his eyes as he closes the gap between you. He’s so close you can feel his hot breath tickle your nose as he’s eyes shine at you. He puts a hand under your chin and pushes you to look back at him, taking in your embarrassed face with a smirk.

“Jungkook...” you mumble a warning to him. You had never been this close to him before, and you’ve never seen so much lust and mischief in his eyes. You couldn’t do this, not while you were still with Theo.

But naturally, Jungkook didn’t seem to care at this point. About your warning or about Theo. “You don’t know how much I had to stop myself from fucking you all this time. Ever since you moved in, Y/N.” He whispers, moving his face slightly as he pressed soft kisses on your ear. He trailed down, leaving more passionate and strong kisses in your neck.

“Jungkook~” you said again this time coming out in more of a moan as you began to squirm, feeling uncomfortable and wet below. Something Theo could never really do.

“I can’t believe I thought for a second he could handle you.” He spoke seductively and strong, almost growling. You couldn’t believe you were getting turned on to your best friend degrading your boyfriend. “And all this time you knew I could take better care of you.” He says, almost disappointed that you didn’t ask him for help and stayed loyal.

You knew Jungkook was skillful. Just by the way he’d move his fingers while typing on his keyboard or making dinner. Any time you cuddled or just any type of skin to skin contact you’d get excited and your stomach turned in knots.

He trailed down to your collarbone, sucking on it before ripping Theo’s shirt off you angrily and throwing it to the floor. “Have to get rid of his horrible fucking smell.” He growls, the sudden cool breeze that hit your skin making you shiver.

He plants a soft but needy kiss on your lips, and you become weak accepting what was happening and melting into the kiss. You laid your back onto the couch as he leaned against you on now completely on top of you. His kiss quickly turned into a passionate and hungry one, biting your bottom lip before sliding his tongue to explore your mouth.

His hand starts to move up your leg, stopping and planting it on your inner thigh which causes you to whine. You were sex deprived, your core almost hurting from the lack of pleasure when he was so close to touching it.

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against yours as he pulled his lips away. “I know, I know.” He said, voice dipped in honey. “I shouldn’t tease when your practically starving, but I can’t help it when you’ve refused me all this time.” His voice is teasing and playful but his hand starts to move again. Pinching hard on your inner thigh and the pain makes you both moan and wince, the skin contact making your mind hazy.

In own quick swift motion, he shoves his hand under your pants pressing his middle finger against your panties as he drawls circles on your clothed cunt.

“Your already so wet.” He practically moans, loving how needy you were for him already as he felt your juices from your panties. He places another small kiss on your lips after, as if rewarding you for being so aroused.

Finally, he lifts himself up to take off your shorts, having no trouble and tossing them to the floor. You quickly urge him to do the same, tugging on his shirt causing him to chuckle and helps you remove his shirt.

You almost drool when you see his glistening six pack and big muscles. It was the first time you’d actually seen them without clothing and it was godly. “Is it everything you hoped for?” He whispers, letting out a deep chuckle as he leans down to take off your bra, kissing your sensitive nipples softly as your back arches.

You nod, your throat to hot and your tongue to tied for you to speak so focused on what was happening. You moan as his tongue plays with the tip of your nipple, squirming under him.

A hand sneaks back up and calmly slips itself under your panties before pushing them completely down to your legs. He rubs your pussy first before taking his middle finger and slowly inserting it into your pussy.

You grip onto his arm as I slowly take his finger. When you whine for more he gets into a rhythm and pumps his finger in and out of you as your juice gets all over his finger and hand as he easily shoves his ring finger in next. It feels heavenly as his fingers curl deeper inside you and you match his rhythm and buck his hips.

It doesn’t take long for your organism to approach, having not felt so good in months. You felt like you were in cloud high just by his hand. Your walls clenched around him, begging him to go faster as you could see the white gates but instead he easily takes his fingers out of you.

“Jungkook..” you quickly whine your insides aching when his hand leaves but he just chuckles at you again.

“Don’t worry baby. I have something better for you.” He whispers, distracting you with a steamy kiss as he takes off his sweats and boxers. You could already see his big bulge before he took off his boxers, which sprung and twitched when he actually managed to get them off.

He was bigger than what you had imagined. Much bigger. And he dripped with precum which he mixed with your juices from his hand as he took a minute to stroke himself.

Suddenly, your phone started to ring which quickly catches your attention. You take your pleading eyes off of him and look on the nearby coffee table. You can see your phone screen from here as it lit up.

Theo🥰

You panic, reaching for it as blush rushing up to your face. You had forgotten all about Theo for a second and start to lean over to the coffee table. But your motion is stopped when Jungkook suddenly rams his hard cock into your throbbing pussy.

You let out a loud moan, hands balling into a fist as he gives you no time to adjust to his large size as he pounds deeply into you, the whole couch shaking and moving. You leaned so desperately needed the roughness as you closed your eyes.

“Stay focused, baby.” He whispers in a deep breathless voice, using a hand to force your face back at him and not your vibrating phone.

He starts to let out his own grunts when he feels you tighten around him, your stomach growing tighter as you reach a euphoria state.

“I-I’m gonna..” you pant tears forming into your eyes as you choke on your words. You grab onto his bare shoulder, nails digging into his skin as he tightens a grip on your waist to thrust harder.

Small tears fall down your face as you cream all over his dick, body shaking with pleasure as he continues to fuck you casing his own climax.

“Fuck. Your so tight. He can never stretch you like I can.” He says through moans as he becomes faster and sloppier. All of his load shoots into you as he pulls himself away from you and watches as his cum drips from you.

He stares at his masterpiece then back at you with a loving gaze before wiping your tears. It took you to long to realize that this is what you wanted all along.

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts ot7 #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook oneshot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #bts fic #bts x female reader #bts jungkook

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sleepysnails · 2 years

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Haha I wrote another installment in the informant purpled series- please read it

#purpled #informant purpled au

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yet-another-haven-of-dollya · 6 months

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Finally! My DoL PCs and their LIs

My friends asked me if I wanted to join the School AU with their OCs and I thought for the longest time before bringing Lya to the party. Then I kinda just felt like it and drew the whole gang :D They came out beautifully so more information and separated images undercut!

The First one is of course Lya the Blossom

Main PC

Harpy transforms, Mate for Life.

Wears all white if she can.

Very light in weight, makes her defiant attempts usually ineffective.

Went through a lot to make things easier for her loved ones.

Skilled in segg but doesn't really enjoy it anymore at this point if it's not with her loved one. What she seeks in segg with her lover is intimacy and the feeling of security.

Secretly a meanie. Gets jealous easily and envious of almost anyone, but doesn't show it or act on it often.

Despises the Temple to her core but believes Jordan is a genuinely good person. Wanted to fuck him just because.

Protective toward her lover and the children at the Orphanage.

Very insecure about her financial state. She tried to make money anytime she could.

CONSENT YOU MOTHERFU-

Can't cook. Literally. Keep her away from the kitchen.

Male Robin the Lover~ (Sorry I love this title)

The one and only.

Maybe he's trying his best, maybe he's hiding from something so terrible, who knows.

Love the purple color.

Easily scared and would cry out loud if Lya was there to reassure him and demand a lot of hugs, head pats, and kisses afterward.

Clingy as hell, but luckily he's cute just enough to let it pass.

Hell lots of freckles, everywhere all over his body even though he mostly stays at home or in the shades. Sensitive skin then.

Squishy belly.

Occasionally cross-dress when going on a date with Lya but keeps it as a hobby only.

Love to do makeup for Lya and skin care together.

Grow in height a LOT since the game started and wondering why Lya still stays the same, not that he complains about her growth of boobs and ass.

Lyah the Emancipated

The second PC, made with a lot of feast boots, almost all of the Vrel coins Lya earned.

Wears all black if he can.

Demonic Harpy Chimera Transforms.

Waiting for Robin's preg contents.

2m14. Larger body type, 6/6 physic, S athletic, Vengeful Sadist. Basically all offensive.

Fucking huge manboobs produce fucking lots of milk

Almost always wears a buttplug

The only one taller than him is Jordan.

"Blood moon? Fuck Ivory Wraith I'm out."

Still works at Strip Club, mostly because he loves wearing bunny suits and he wants to look out for Darryl.

Chef. Let him cook.

Housekeeping skill F-. Drops and crashes everything every time trying to clean or deco his room.

Doesn't know how to smile but will unconsciously do so when he's near Robin.

Doesn't understand why he's still sometimes mistaken as female.

Fem Robin the Lover~

So cute and squishy.

People unconsciously smile when she smiles.

"Too precious must protect."

Her weight is top secret.

Knows it all too well that Lyah intentionally feeds her more sweet treats and creamy drinks every day during every school break but can't resist the temptation of sweets.

Accepts gaining weight during the leisurely times, but has to lose it a bit before school starts again so she can fit into the school's uniforms.

Pretty proud that her lover is a chef at the biggest Cafe in town.

Slightly less freckle than male Robin. Just slightly.

Wardrobe full of checkered pattern clothes.

Of course she can cook well.

Perfect housewife material.

Timid when using strap-on but usually gets absorbed in the moment too much she forgor to pull the buttplug out before diving her strap in.

Lyah is not complaining though so it's all good.

Last but not least Kariya the Alter Ego!

"Well somebody has to go to prison and asylum and... hmmm"

Devil transforms

Full name Sesshouin Kariya. Kariya means "Midnight' Swallow"

Not a new save file but one of Lya's older saves. Hence the Alter Ego title.

Was born cuz I was bored and wanted to go to places Lya and Lyah can't go because they're worried about their lover being left alone.

They don't set a love interest because of that, so they can't get attached and can freely roam everywhere.

Enjoy segg as it is, purely seeking more pleasure day by day.

Drooling Masochist. Prefer group.

Get bored easily but are also quick to forget, so after a while that very same thing may pique their interest again.

Zones out a lot. Absent-minded. Sometimes clueless to things that are not segg-related.

"Ahhhh Nii-chan, nee-chan, help me it's 23:55 already and I forgor to cum inside somebody today waaaaaaaa-!!"

Intentionally dress more feminine because they love showing off.

The color palette is reversed from Lya's.

" I wonder if it's blood moon soon..."

#Okay Imma see myself out I've been drawing nonstop for two days time to get some rest and sleep #But I'm also SO READY to draw more ID card like this they're so satisfying to draw #dollya art #dol pc #robin the orphan #dol robin #degrees of lewdity #dol #dol fanart #lya the blossom #kariya the alter ego #lyah the emancipated #original character

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shiro-00s · 1 year

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heaven on earth ✭ ˎˊ-

ft. social media au ⸝⸝ idol!xiao x fem!reader

synopsis ; — in which you befriend your next door neighbour who, unbeknownst to you, was apart of a soon-to-be one of the most popular bands throughout liyue. you're unable to tell if cupid was helping you or not when things with xiao keept going up and down. will he continue to keep his secret from yours truly?

genre — 5wirl band au, next door neighbour (apartment but same thing), slow-burn, fluff, crack, angst (at some point yea), modern au, flirty x shy trope, sfw, includes writing ✰

staus — on-going

PROFILES — sleep deprived workaholics / an(emo) qties

table of contents !

00. prologue .. once upon a time ✮

01. cupid meter !

02. information acquired !

03. gift from stranger !

04. communication is key ✮

05. gift for stranger !

06. pride or nice !

07. unwinding !

08. a new number !

09. out of character !

10. unfamiliar warmth ✮

11. yet !

12. surely a dinner !

13. who he really is !

14. free tickets !

15. hint of the past !

16. arrivals !

17. face-to-face ✮

18. stupid scandal !

19. knock knock !

20. drastic measures !

21. mission accomplished !

22. war is over !

23. second date !

24. picture perfect ✮

25. enlighten us !

26. father-son bond !

27. maternal instinct !

28. family business !

29. a routine !

30. suffocating room !

31. oh no !

32. battlefield !

33. unwanted encounters ✮

34. at fault !

35. exciting news !

36. welcome back !

37. no denial !

38. square one !

39. oblivious !

40. a dumbass !

41. one step closer !

42. hand in marriage !

43. code red !

TAGLIST [OPEN] — @mikctp @ghostlysyntaxed @kazemiya @nnasv @gojoandelsalovechilde @candy-purple-cyanide @kissingkzuha @zyilas @lunaavity @luminescent-light @mave-in @rizakari @riikyu @kokoscutie @starsxnight @sketcheeee @softlie @izakyun @xiaxilia @the-sweet-madame

(ask to be added or removed)

#genshin #genshin impacct #genshin smau #genshin impact smau #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #xiao fluff #xiao angst #xiao imagines #xiao x reader smau #xiao genshin #xiao genshin impact #xiao #genshin impact idol au #genshin impact modern au #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin angst #heaven on earth - shiro.

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thetroupemaster · 9 months

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I do love the evil Suns AUs, I truly do, but I do think canonical Seven Red Suns deserves love too.

Five Pebbles is a mentally unstable iterator and has been for a long time, this is established multiple times. Suns became his mentor because they wanted to make progress on this sort of mentality, and defends him when Sig points it out, mentioning how they were helping him get better.

Suns is so deeply caring, and the reason they even became Pebbles' mentor was to try to help him, try to coax him out of his shell and assist him in refining his theories. They're research partners and friends, because Suns saw someone in need of just that, and knew they could help.

And, it's very likely Suns doesn't even realize how badly the "bug in a maze" comment hurt him, as it's common for friends to say something and for it to accidentally hurt when they meant it to help, and Pebbles is already a defensive iterator who wouldn't confide that "this comment hurt me". They just had no means of knowing how much it hurt him, up until he lashed out at perceived pity when all they wanted was to gently calm him down.

They also saw he was miserable, and honestly was making no progress (Sig cites that he's plateaued at his angsty phase) and then, and only then, offers what they hope would help make their beloved friend happy. They include specific instructions on how to perform the experiment safely and slowly, and the main reason it fails is because, not due to Moon's interruption, not due to faulty information, but because Pebbles rushed into it far too fast.

And Suns laments about how they shouldn't have given their, again, very mentally unstable iterator friend the plans, because hindsight is perfect and they only then realized how he would have rushed it and hurt himself, and Moon, in the process.

Plus, they adore their weird purple dog, getting attached when they knew they shouldn't, making a messenger they know can return.

Seven Red Suns is a character defined by caring too much in an uncaring world, wanting their friends to be happy and sheer misfortune following them. They are a tragedy because of their love, and that's something fascinating.

And also they've got these vibes.

#rain world spoilers #rain world #rain world downpour #rain world downpour spoilers #seven red suns #rain world seven red suns #rw seven red suns #i need everyone to see this. everyone.

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psychedelic-ink · 9 months

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𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐓.

DAY FIVE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: animal shapeshifter au + "you're not actually scared are you? of me?"

pairing: animal shapeshifter!pero tovar x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, romance, cottagecore, fantasy au

summary: you decide to take a swim in a lake that is deep in the middle of the forest. during your swim, pero finds you, and he's not happy that you went out alone during a full moon.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: breeding, marking, biting, does this count as monsterfucking if he's just human with wings and two cocks, pero has two cocks, despite the warnings this is actually quite soft, double penetration, praise kink, soft!dom pero, possessive!pero, creampie

a/n: during this i learned that some bird species have two cocks. you're welcome for this information and thank you for voting in the poll dfvdfvf (also i didn't edit this so sorry about that ily all)

The moonlight beckons you. It always has and always will. You watch as the water effortlessly brings the white light pouring from above with gentle waves kissed by the calm breeze. That same breeze rustles the leaves of dark trees. You’re not afraid of the darkness anymore. Haven’t been since you moved out from your family home, away from those who want to stifle you and silence you.

Your steps are soft as you near the lake, the ends of your dress brushing the grass. You feel a predatory gaze taking in the sight of you, he’s in the shadows, enjoying the show.

Your grumpy companion, if you will.

Slowly, you drag the back of your hands up your waist and trace the pads of your fingers over the sweetheart neckline of your bodice. You lower them, feeling the rich ribbons holding the entire dress together.

With one swift movement, you pull one thread and the rest comes down, pooling at your feet.

You enter the lake, it’s cold but not cold enough that you’d want to jump out. You exhale a shaky breath and swim deeper, turning in the water, you observe the full moon.

A rustling fills the silence. And feather-like steps are heard. Your feet sway underwater as you float upright. What captures your gaze first are a set of deep brown eyes that are too human to belong to a beast.

Then you notice the fur, the pointed nose, and the snarl that shows white pointy teeth. The beast steps closer, paws large enough to cover your entire face. You swim close to the edge of the lake, your feet move against the thickness of water, you want to place your arms over the ground to brace yourself but decide against it. He’s angry, you can feel it, you just don’t know why yet.

He stops at the edge you refuse to brace yourself against and leans down, his wide nuzzle an inch away. He inhales and exhales deeply, the force of his breath nearly drying your skin. He still bares his teeth towards you and you notice the faint traces of blood over his dark fur.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growls, the deep voice echoing in your head. “It’s the full moon it’s dangerous.”

“There are no people here.”

His tongue darts out to move over his teeth, eyes watching you carefully, “It is not the people I fear, little soul.”

With a sudden need to be close to him, you bury your fingers into the thick neck of the beast and urge him to come closer until your forehead is pressed firmly against his. He doesn’t close his eyes but you do. He’s incredibly warm; a faint scent of lavender and blood clings to his skin.

“Join me,” you murmur. He watches you curiously for a moment before nodding and taking a step back. You revel in watching his transformations. His eyes finally flutter closed, a dark purple mist surrounding him, he lets out an audible breath.

You first see the wings; dark and lush, they spread to his sides before folding back.

Then you see the rest of him. Sunkissed skin, broad chest, and a stomach that has gotten rounder ever since he met you—a sign of a life with balance. Even though you have them memorized, your eyes dart over every faint scar that is scattered all around his torso. You love them. Tracing your tongue over every since one, the lightened patches of skin reminding you of stars.

Pero steps forward, naked as the day he was born, soft cock hanging between strong thighs, he approaches the lake. And you.

“I am still mad,” he grumbles, his accent thicker now that he’s using his actual voice. “You did not tell me you were going to come here.”

“I knew you would find me.”

He doesn’t say anything and slowly submerges into the water, his wings follow him in the water like a mermaid's tail. You frown when he turns his back, his back tense and shoulders raised, you come closer and begin to cup water and release it over his wings. A shudder crawls up his spine, the delicate limbs playfully twitching despite his anger.

“Just because I did not kill you the first time—”

“Or the second.”

He grunts, “Or the second—”

“Or the third.”

“¡Suficiente!” his wings raise higher and he turns viciously, the same anger you saw in him as a wolf returning full force. “This is not a game. There are creatures out there that won’t hesitate to rip you shred to shred.”

Pero forces you to swim until your back hits the shore, the lake’s depth surpasses you both, yet he manages to towards over you.

“Pero. . .”

“You do not know what is out there but I do,” he snarls. “I am one of them.”

He places a hand over your chest, blunt nails biting into the skin right above your heart. The curve of his nose brushes against yours. Underwater, you feel the heft of his cock pressed against your stomach, it takes you everything not to moan and rub yourself against him like a dog in heat.

“What you don’t understand,” he hisses, voice dangerously low. “This heart belongs to me now—Not yours, fucking mine.”

He pins your hips together, knocking the air from your lungs, your jaw drops and all you can do is stare. Instinctively, you legs press together, the lack of motion threatening to pull you under the moonlit lake. Pero doesn’t allow it, however, both his hands drop to your waist, keeping your head barely above the surface.

You feel the brush of his lips on your cheek.

“That muscle that pumps blood in your veins and keeps you alive. . . it is not strong enough to take the attack of claws and teeth, or something worse. You owe it to me to keep it alive. You owe it to me to let me know of late-night dips, after making me fall for such a susceptible creature.”

You close your eyes, your heart racing in your chest. You have no idea how he’s been around, centuries perhaps, he’d never told you. But you know it was a lonely life, to be gifted with the remarkable talent of turning into every animal imaginable only to cease to be human, for that talent, which was thought to be a gift, seep into the essence of your humanity.

His gaze wanders over your countenance. You feel the heaviness of it. Finally, you open your eyes and bring your thumb over to the scar that goes over his eye and stroke it gently. The ridges of puffy skin catch against the pad of your thumb and you swallow.

"You are not actually scared, are you? Of me?" he murmurs.

You smile, “Never,” you brush your lips together. “And you’re right. I’m yours. Sorry for wandering off. I honestly was just looking for you, I missed you and knew you’d trace my scent.”

You scratch his jaw, the short hairs tickling your skin. He observes you a second longer before cracking a smile and nuzzling your neck, you feel teeth on your skin as he rocks his hips forward. “I’ve missed you too, my sweet soul.”

Before you know it he’s hauling you both out of the lake, laying you over the velvet grass. The soft blades tickle your skin. Pero lies next to you, propping himself up on his elbow, he allows his eyes to devour you whole. His wings stretch over you both like the night sky, long and wide, you swallow as you ache to touch them—to feel their softness on your fingertips.

“You like my wings,” he states, an observation. You nod and a wing descends, the tip of the feathers moving down the valley of your breasts and over to your stomach. You hold your breath as it inches closer to your clit, and you spread your legs without a second thought. “So obedient,” he murmurs. “Or is this your way of apologizing to me, hermosa?”

The brush of feathers between your legs halts the words that were about to spill. Your body arches, a loud gasp tearing from your throat. The subtle touch makes your body sing for him, begging him to touch you with force. Enjoying your pain driven from pleasure, he continues to play with you with the end of his wing, and you enjoy the sight of slick smearing against the feathers.

“Perhaps it’s both,” you murmur, sliding your hand down his torso and cupping his cock. You wrap your fingers and where he would groan eagerly, he turns rigid. Thinking that he’s still angry, you swipe a thumb over the head and move down.

Something else hits your hand. Something hard like the one in your palm.

“P-Pero. . .” you look up to him. He grunts in acknowledgment, waiting for your question. You move your hand again to make sure what you’re feeling is correct, your fingers slip between two heavy cocks, one of them decked in soft, tiny feathers. You let out a strangled sound. “Do—Do you have two cocks right now?”

He clears his throat. Normally you’d find the flush of his cheeks and his loss for words cute but you’re in shock. You’ve been with him many times before and never did he have two cocks.

And there was no way you missed one.

“It only happens once a month,” you squeeze the feathered one and he groans, hips thrusting to feel the softness of your palm. “It is. . . a side effect.”

“Side effect of what?”

“Of whatever the hell I am,” he answers bitterly. “It is for breeding. The. . . feathers they’re not actually feathers, they heighten the pleasure of a female and make them more. . . fertile.”

A beat of silence.

While you’re at a loss for words, you continue to stroke him, and indeed he was right. The soft things you deemed as feathers left a flowery-scented substance on your palm. Your lids flutter at the scent, your heart feeling light and full of want.

The mere thought of Pero filling you is enough to have your cunt drooling for him. And he must’ve sensed it because his eyes darken and his wings hide you from the watchful gaze of the moon.

He thrusts a little harder than, the bulbous head of his second cock hitting your wrist, “You like it?” he nips at your chin and cups your mound, slipping two fingers inside with ease. “I would want nothing more to fill this pretty little cunt up with all of me, but are you sure?”

Pero skims his teeth down your neck, “I never had someone during the full moon.”

“Then I’m happy your first,” you grind into the heel of his palm, moaning, when he presses hard against the bundle of nerves. “I want you, Pero. All of you. I want to feel you for days.”

“Oh, preciosa, you’ll be feeling me for centuries.”

There’s something exceptionally filthy being on all fours in the middle of the forest with Pero fucking his tongue into your sopping entrance.

He’d been going at it for at least half an hour, you lost track of time during your forth orgasm, the ground beneath soaking your essence. His mouth, his fingers, he spared no expense in working you open. His mustache chafed your skin as he stuffed you full with three fingers, scissoring them while being knuckle deep.

“Pero—I—I need—” you break down, tears streaming down your face. It’s too much. You don’t know how much you can take it. “Please.”

“You think you are ready to take me?” he kisses the lips of your cunt long and slow, the tip of his tongue tracing your folds. “Poor thing. Did I tire you out already?”

“I—I just want your cock. . .s,” you say, yet you still follow his mouth with your hips when he moves away. He suddenly flips you to your back, the force of it knocking the air from your lungs.

“Say it again,” he growls. “Say it.”

“I want your cocks,” you sinks his teeth into your neck, his regular cock brushing your folds. “I want all of you, Pero. Breed me.”

“Fuck,” he rasps, his tone frustrated. “Fuck—Of course, bebita, I’ll breed you so fucking good. Then I’ll fuck you again and again, until you are round with me,” something dark flashes in his eyes when you whimper. “You are making it really hard to go slow.”

You cry out again, purposefully grinding against his cocks, his eyes roll back and he momentraily loses himself, thrusting forward—

You both moan in unison; you, from being stretched around the girth of him, and him from how easily he slides inside of you, the tight fist of your cunt wrapping deliciously around his lenght.

Pero begins to fuck you with shallow thrust and your eyes roll back. You can’t imagine how good it’s going to feel when you have both of them inside. You’re a whimpering mess beneath him, his very being towering over yours. You clench around him as his thrusts become deeper, a gush of wetness soaking him. He presses his sweaty forehead against yours, his chest heaving, he holds your gaze.

“I’m going to slide in the other one now,” he kisses your lips and pulls away. Your eyes drift to his wings that stretch again. He pulls back his hips and when he pushes back again there’s an added pressure. A mixture of moans and pained hisses bounce behind clenched teeth, your finger curling into the dirt. Pero waits for you to adjust to both of him, his voice dripping with adoration. “You’re taking me so well. So good for me, my sweet little human, always wet and ready.”

When your body relaxes around him, he presses forward. The feel of his other cock is different, that feather like texture tickles your walls, the prickles quickly melting into drops of pleasure inside you. A burst of arousal awakens in the pit of your stomach, your eyes go wide, your legs spreading further until the tendons begin to ache.

“Please, please, please,” you cry out, hands grasping his forearms. “Fuck me, fuck me—shit—what is this?”

Pero pins your hips to the ground, “Calm down, you are going to hurt yourself,” a heavy scent of lavender fills your nostrils, more liquid dripping from your core. “Like I said, it adds to the pleasure but I am only half way in, mi amor. You need to be patient so I can fuck you properly.”

Your chest heaves, lungs collapsing, you taste salt on your tongue, “Okay. . .” you whisper. “Okay.”

“Such a good girl,” he coos, but despite that, he doesn’t release your hips. “Taking two cocks at once so beautifull. I wish you could see yourself,” his thumb traces where you two connect, then he begins drawing languid circles around your clit and your entire body loosens momentarily. He bruises himself deeper with small thrust. “So close, just a little bit more and you’ll have them both inside of you.”

Pero’s large hand caresses the swell of your stomach, you smile at him with a dazed smile, “Just a little bit more.”

You know he’s fully sheathed from the sounds he make, something between a growl and a moan. The stretch you feel is immaculate. You feel so full. Both cocks twitch uncontrollably inside, the sensation shortening your breath. Sweat beads at his foreahead, fingers biting into your flesh as he tries to stop himself from ruining you completely.

When you cradle his cheeks, his eyes snap at you and he bares his teeth. It might’ve been tricks of the night, but you sweat his pupils become dark diamond before returning to normal. His wings flutter around you both protectively.

“There’s no one here,” you say calmly. “I’m all yours.”

Realization strucks him, his eyes widen, lips parting with a soft exhale. His expression makes you want to laugh. This isn’t the first time you’re telling him this, yet everytime you do he looks at you with the same awe-struck expression.

Then all hell breaks loose.

His teeth sink into your neck, his hips relentless as he hammers into you. Wet noises fill the forest. You’re left screaming his name, the burst of pleasure you receive with every stroke mind numbing. You feel so stuffed. Both cocks going in an out of you with embarrising ease, your body is on fire and something devastating begins to build up rapidly inside.

“P-Pero,” you stutter, slack-jawed. “I’m—I’m going to—”

“You feel it don’t you,” he sucks a nipple between his lips, tongue lapping the hardened peak. “The way pleasure feels endless and something that you can drown in forever. I have been feeling like that during every full moon. Finally I have someone to fall from the heavens with me—”

He hooks his arms underneath your thighs and pushes them up until your knees graze your forehead. Your spine screams in agony, yet the thickness of having both cocks inside is enough to numb you to it. He goes deeper with every snap, your eyes roll back, ever muscles goes taut right before he pushes you over the edge, your cunt gushing around him as you scream his name, over and over.

“That’s it, my sweet girl. Come for me,” he buries his head into your neck, fully exposing your body to his weight while he viciously pounds into you. “Fuck, can you feel me?”

You definitely can—but you can’t form the words. His cocks expand, throbbing and twitching as they both strike that one spot that makes you see stars brighter then the ones above.

Pero keeps his promise and spills into you, both cocks filling you until your body can’t take anymore and he drips around the edges. Your eyes flutter closed. Your mouth gasping for air, there’s so much, his cock pulsing. He gradually releases your legs, and they drop to the ground, framing his waist. Pero’s face remains buried in your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Do I smell good?” you joke.

He hums, “You smell amazing,” he answers. “You smell like me.”

You want to quip back and say it must not be that good then, but you swallow your teasing for now, admitting to yourseld that you wouldn’t want to smell like anything else.

“I never want to leave you,” he mutters. “Feels too good.”

“Then don’t,” you say, clenching around him. You whimper as you feel both cocks still hard inside of you. “Doesn’t look like coming once subdued you anyway.”

“Say it,” he peels away from your neck, grinning down at you.

“Say what?”

“That you want me to fuck you again.”

You roll your eyes. “No way.”

His grin only wides when he rolls his hips and your words break into a loud, wanton moan. “That is okay, your body speaks for you anyway.”

Before you can reply, he silences you with a kiss.

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x fem!reader #the great wall fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pero tovar au #animal shapeshifter!pero tovar #hauntedhoedown

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eetherealgoddess · 22 days

Text

i’ve been getting some requests on wattpad so i thought i should finally write one of them <3

reader operates as both a cop and detective btw

ꨄEdge Of The Lawꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦You’re a detective who has spent years trying to take down Bonten❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Edge Of The Law

It had been years since you hopped on the case regarding the infamous criminal organization Bonten. Having put in an exceeding amount of work in tracking their illegal endeavors as well as the individuals who cause the gang activities to soar. So far the only information you have been able to obtain was that you have a few traitor cops in your vicinity, one who very well may be the chief.

Unfortunately, the only proof you’ve received was during a personal outing of your own. You sat on a stool in the dimmed bar, a low melody playing in the background from the speakers connected to the ceiling. Only a few people were scattered around the room, sitting in their own booths or a couple stools down from you, sipping on their drinks as they talked amongst themselves. Your bartender had just finished your drink, sliding it over as you immediately downed the beverage.

“Damn, tough day?” The woman chuckled, continuing to make the other customers’ drinks as she conversed with you.

“You could say that.” You motion for another as you remember the frustrating discovery of all the paperwork you had on the case completely missing, nowhere to be found. You could only determine that it was an inside man’s job, a dirty cop who knew exactly where to find the confidential information.

After downing four shots while conversing with the bartender, you walk towards the bathroom. After releasing your fluid and washing your hands, you stepped out of the bathroom, perking up when you noticed a familiar individual who just exited the male’s bathroom. Although he wore casual clothing, you could tell he was your chief, having worked under the guy for years.

You follow him from afar, dropping some cash on the bar table as you make your way outside. You stood at the corner of the building, staring ahead as you peaked around the wall into the alleyway. You crouch as you make a run for the dumpster, basically prancing on your tiptoes so he wouldn’t catch you there. You kneel on the dirty ground, peaking out to watch him.

The chief stood in front of a tall man wearing a suit. You couldn’t hear anything but slight chatter, both parties standing too far for you to hear the conversation so you took a moment to view the suspect in front of your boss. One of his hands moved to swipe through his hair, fingers entangling with short purple strands. His purple irises gaze ahead lazily as his expression remains blank. What stood out to you the most was that symbol on his neck, prominent and black.

“That symbol…” You murmured to yourself before taking your phone out of your pocket and snapping a few pictures of the two men, one a close up of the broad male.

You sat at the desk in your room, searching through your drawers and folders of different forms and pictures you had kept. You weren’t allowed to have some of the papers in your personal home, though there were key points in some of the cases you were assigned that stuck out to you, resulting in off duty research.

Grabbing a familiar folder labeled, ‘Mark of the Prey,’ a dramatic name you so boringly created for the information inside. You snatch it open, searching through until you make an abrupt halt. Pulling the page out, you placed it next to your phone that displayed a close up of the man who spoke to the chief.

“Knew it.” You huff as you compare the symbol of Bonten to the tattoo embedded on the guy’s neck. Although this discovery confirms your suspicion, you have no clue why your chief would be in cahoots with the organization other than the fact that he’s working with them. Unfortunately, you don’t have enough proof.

The following days, you had decided to figure out a way to look through your boss’s office for any clues regarding his partnership. The first thing you want to come across if nothing else is your original paperwork that you kept hidden in a specific drawer. The only person who would’ve known the correct placement was your boss. You knew you had to wait for the perfect opportunity so you patiently waited for the right moment to sneak into his office.

It was hard, but you finally found the perfect time during a lunch break to search. You had no idea when he’d be back so you quickly searched through file after file. You were careful to place everything back in place to not raise suspicion. You sigh in frustration when you’re not finding the target, standing up from your place only to make eye contact with your chief.

He stepped in slowly, shutting the door behind him as he made his way closer to his desk. Still keeping his distance you both stare at one another in silence. Considering you’ve been caught, you decide not to waste any time.

“You’re working for Bonten, aren’t you?”

The middle aged man continued to stare at you before placing his hands in his pockets.

“There was a reason I dropped you from the case, Y/n.” You recall the utter pit in your stomach the moment you were dropped from the case, having spent a lot of time and effort finding all the evidence you could.

“Where is the paperwork?” You give him a stern glare. He sighed before shaking his head.

“You never stop, do ya? You wanna die or something?” He growled, a look of irritation crossing on his face, “I spared your life by dropping you, otherwise you’d be next on their list.”

“Do you realize what you’ve just done? Do you understand the gravity of what you’re doing? Partnering with the enemy? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Your palms slam on the desk as you lean slightly forward, anger and a sense of betrayal overcoming you.

“You have no right to question my decisions! I do what I have to do to survive. You should be thanking me!” He roared, stepping forward. “They’ve had their eyes on you ever since you started that case! They know what you look like, where you live, where you come from, and more!”

An abrupt siren echoed throughout the building, indicating a warning. The same sound you were taught when there’s been an ambush. Shocked, you immediately snatch the gun from your holster, as did your chief right before you both stretched your arms out to aim the weapons toward each other.

“Saved my life to take it right?” You yell over the alarm, standing at attention.

“This isn’t how I wanted this shit to go! You just couldn’t stop shoving your nose where it didn’t belong!”

“You assigned me to the case! What else was I supposed to do other than my job? You make no sense!”

“I didn’t expect you to find some of the things you did! For what it’s worth, you were my favorite officer!”

Just as he cocked the gun, you gasp when a figure appears from behind him. The sound of a shot rang out, the bullet penetrating your boss in the head, a hole formed as blood splattered on the floor and his uniform. The chief falls to the ground, landing on his body. You move to aim at the culprit, pulling the trigger multiple times as he dodges the bullets.

The sound of glass shattered behind you as another person kicked through the window. You turn to the side to keep both people within your vision, backing up until your back is barely touching the wall. Your gun is aimed at the man with two blonde strands hanging over his face, the rest of his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, revealing the tiger tattoo embedded into the skin of his neck. His left hand holds a gun aimed towards you, arm stretched out as a smile grows on his face.

The man who killed your boss stood next to him, his right arm held out as the barrel of the weapon was in your view. His bangs fell over the purple eyes that held a sense of familiarity, strands of hair falling into a mullet. Your eyes widened when you saw the tattoo on his neck, the same symbol you had seen on the man before who looks slightly similar to the person in front of you. He wears a bored expression.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Kazutora dodged the bullet coming his way by moving his head to the side, the metal only grazing his cheek. A small line of blood slides down from the small scratch.

“Who put you in charge, huh?” Before you can shoot him again, another shot rings out followed by a sharp pain shooting through your thigh.

“Fuck!” You hissed before looking down to where the blood seeps through your uniform as you place your trembling hand above the wound.

“You have shit aim.” Rin says to you before aiming at your shin resulting in you shifting out of the way before the bullet can land.

Another shot rang out as Kazutora pulled the trigger, missing as you rushed behind the desk, landing on your bottom. You set the gun down before pulling off your uniform jacket and pull the fabric with your teeth, tearing the sleeve. You wrapped it around your thigh quickly before snatching the gun.

You knew this wouldn’t end well for you. All you could do was survive the best you could. Before you could turn to shoot, a foot kicked the gun out of your hand before two hands grabbed the shoulders of your shirt, yanking you up. Suddenly a fist connects with your face before your vision is engulfed with darkness.

“The surveillance has been disposed of.”

Your eyelids flutter open as you come back to consciousness. The pain on your neck is prominent from your head hanging over while you were knocked out. A soreness appears on your check as you remember the fist impacting your face, knowing a bruise will probably form. You eye your thigh with a hazy vision, the blur of the blood that seeped through the fabric wrapped around your thigh, the throbbing pain still prominent. You accidentally release a groan as you pull at the cuffs, your arms secured behind the chair’s back uncomfortably.

“Good.”

You lift your head slowly, eyeing the figures that stood at a distance from you.

“You’ve been such a pain.” You hear from the shortest man standing in the middle. His onyx orbs bore into you intensely, despite the lack of expression. His platinum hair shapes the structure of his face.

“Sanzu.”

The pink haired man lifts an arm as he aims the gun towards you, cocking the weapon before pulling the trigger. The shot rang throughout the building just as the bullet penetrated your shin on the opposite leg of the wound on your thigh.

“Shit!” You spit out, breathing slowly as you attempt to tune the pain out, failing as the agony grows by the second. Your hands are in fists as your nails leave indents on your palms.

The blue eyed man’s scars stretched as the grin on his face grew. Excitement is apparent in his expression, the sound of your ragged breathing a beautiful melody to his ears.

“You will work for me in place of your boss.”

“Fuck you.” You growl as you feel your blood fall down your leg.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time. You are my secret weapon. Your skills give you an advantage that will be to my use.” You scoff.

“I’m not doing shit!” You exclaim.

“S/n and B/n. They are your siblings right?” Mikey questioned, hands behind his back. Your eyes widened as you glared at him.

“M/n, D/n, and F/n.” He takes a few steps towards you, revealing the darkness under his eyes.

He continued to name off colleagues, friends, family members, and even the bartender you’ve become close to. You gasp when he begins to list off the addresses in which your family members reside.

“That’s enough!” You hissed.

“Show some respect in the presence of the King, Rat.” Sanzu growled before aiming his gun towards you. Mikey holds up a palm, the executive obeying his command.

“You will do as I say.” He said before turning around and heading to the exit, all of the men following behind. You’re left in darkness once the door to the warehouse shuts.

Days pass while you rot in the warehouse, blood already dried from the wounds that may or may not get infected. The pain, although prominent, has slightly numbed. Your whole body is sore. You had thought everything through, deciding that you have no choice in the matter but to go against your morals. You had to protect your family. You only just now understand why your chief did what he did.

After your placement in Bonten was secured, once you received medical attention by their personal doctors, you were sent back to your detective job as an undercover criminal. Before you know it, months pass as you become used to your routine, something you didn’t want to happen. Of course, there was no enjoyment in feeling dirty or like a coward. Everytime your shift at the department closed, you would return to headquarters where you were forced to reside considering their lack of trust for you. You would inform your boss of anything he needed to know or an update on any assignment you were commanded to complete.

There were moments when you thought of different escape plans or to set them up, but one of the executives always had an eye on you. You knew you were being watched every moment you were at work or even around headquarters. It had you on edge and walking on eggshells. You truly felt helpless but you didn’t stop trying to think of something.

You’ve never been the type to be a seductress. Sure you’ve worn sexy clothes a couple of times and had a fair share of dates before you started working as a cop, but you’ve never actively seduced anyone before. Considering your predicament and no better idea, you decide to work on your skills. You visited the Haitani Brother’s strip clubs more often since a few of the men would go on outings and those were the only times you were allowed somewhere other than the department.

You observed the behavior of the strippers and waitresses. You even studied the bartenders and the customers. You watched the interactions carefully. You knew that if you played your cards right, you could gain a little more trust. Enough trust to help them slip up and for you to make an escape and notify witness protection before they can go after your family. You will gain as much evidence as you possibly can to ruin them once and for all.

Weeks pass and you’re seated on a chair in the VIP section of one of the brother’s nightclubs. The thick smell of marijuana, tobacco, and alcohol fills the air. You eye the first victim who sits on the sofa with a blunt in hand, black and blonde hair falling past his shoulders as he leans back in his seat. He blows the smoke out slowly with a dazed look, the woman who was sitting on his lap hopping up after he pats her thigh, telling her to grab him a drink. You take a deep breath, eyeing the other men to see the rest of them distracted, whether they’re entertaining a woman, gambling, or sniffing cocaine.

You exhale before making your way to Kazutora, sitting next to him, though not too close. Your hands begin to tremble as you stare ahead, second guessing your plan as you’re ready to run off. Before you could leave, a hand guides your chin, forcing you to look into the golden orbs that shine through the dark light beams.

“What’s on your mind, Doll?” He questions before releasing your chin and handing you the blunt. Before you became a police officer, you would smoke weed in your youth. Having not had it in a long time, you shake your head.

“T’s not a request. Smoke it.” He says with a heavy lidded gaze and a sly smile. You huff before taking it from his fingers, the wood placed between your index and middle finger as you place the end to your lips.

You immediately cough after sucking in a little more than you could handle, no longer having the lungs for this kind of thing. He laughed as your vision blurred from the tears, a burning sensation filling your throat as you handed it back to him.

Once you are done, you realize that you are higher than you expected to be.

“Oh shit.” You whisper as you stare into space.

“Here, let me help you.” You heard from beside you. Fingers grab your chin once more, turning you towards the man who takes a long hit of the blunt before turning to you and leaning in very close.

“Open your mouth.” You comply as he leaned in closer, the tips of your lips barely grazing the other as he slowly released the cloud into your mouth, his gaze still on you. After breathing in, the weight of your body felt heavier as you became in a more relaxed state. You leaned back against the sofa as you gazed into the room with your own heavy lidded gaze. The plan you had escaped your mind as you zoned into the colorful flashing lights.

“Someone’s in another world.” Ran said as he sat next to you on the other side. His leg pressed firmly against yours as he placed a hand on your healed thigh. You could smell his cologne as well as the tobacco lingering faintly. It was a nice fresh yet earthy scent.

“You smell good.” You say, not bothering to be shocked that your thoughts escaped your lips without any control, something that used to happen all the time when you got high.

“Thanks, sweet girl.” His smile grows as he observes your flushed face, gazing into your features before chuckling and grabbing the glass cup from the table.

You had no clue why you said that. You’ve never been anything but professional around these men. The hand gripping your thigh caused you to look down.

“Hey, what about me?” Kazutora gives a fake look of offense before handing Ran the blunt, causing you to snicker.

“I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Now you are.” He says before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling you to his chest. Your nose was nuzzled in between his shoulder and neck, the smell of marijuana thick along with the faint smell of cologne.

He hummed before circling both arms around your waist and pulling you closer, your leg forced on the other side of him as he yanked you on top of him, your hands landing on his shoulders. You gasp in surprise, the bulge prominent against your core as your pencil skirt rises slightly.

“Oh?” Ran says before taking a hit as his eyes drop to your skirt.

“I like this position better.” Kazutora smirks as he gazes into your eyes. “Isn’t this what you wanted anyway, Y/n?” You couldn’t focus on anything but what’s pressed against your pussy, your face heating up as your nerves begin to strike. The memories of your plans begin to fly across your brain though you only just now realized how terrible a seduction plan would be. You must’ve forgotten you were dealing with some of the most feral men.

“Let me go.” You say as his grip only tightens causing you to wince in pain.

“You wanted to seduce us right?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “You thought no one would notice your wandering eyes or suspicious behavior?”

“You really are so easy to figure out. It was noticeable when you first changed your clothing.” Ran says with his leg crossed and back leaned against the sofa, bringing the blunt to his lips once more.

“I have to admit, it worked.” Kazutora says while raising his hips, his erection rubbing against your panties as his hands moved to your ass. You gasp when you feel one of his hands pull your skirt all the way up to your waist, revealing your underwear.

“Feel that? You have me all worked up.” A smack on your ass caused you to flinch. “It’s all your fault.”

“Damn.” He whispered as he looked down at your covered pussy sitting on his bulge, hands rubbing up your sides before he shoves his fingers into the crevices where your stomach and thighs meet. You try to pick yourself up, only to feel something against the back of your head.

“I wanna play too.” Sanzu says behind you, gun pressed firmly against your head as you feel his hand rub along your butt cheek, gripping it before smacking the skin.

“Let me go right now.” You grit your teeth, nails piercing Kazutora’s shoulder as you tremble slightly. This isn’t what you had in mind when you planned to seduce them. Not only was it meant to be an individual thing, you weren’t expecting it to go as far as anything too physically intimate. How stupid you were.

“You should relax, yeah?” Rin says as he walks into view behind the sofa, leaning on the back of the surface with his hands as he gazes at you. He hands Sanzu the cuffs, the pink haired man pulling your arms behind your back and securing you in place. Kazutora kept his eyes on you the entire time, even when you looked away.

You felt Sanzu’s hand slide under your ass, rubbing along your panties as he glides against the slit of your vagina through the fabric, not a care for Kazutora’s bulge being in vicinity.

Tears threaten to spill as you angrily look at Kazutora, who brings a hand behind your neck before pulling you closer to his face, pressing his tongue to your neck as he rubs it along the skin. Rin leans over with a hand on your chin.

“If you bite me, I’ll bite harder.” He warned you before pulling you into a kiss. Kazutora moves from your neck before focusing on your breasts through your blouse. You gasp against Rin’s lips though he took the opportunity to pierce his tongue through your lips. He quietly moaned as he moved his free hand to the side of your face, fingers tickling your ear.

“You’re so wet, filthy girl.” Sanzu said quietly before using a finger to scoop some of the juice before bringing it to his lips, sucking the moisture off his finger before returning his hand to your pussy. He used one hand to move the panties out of the way and replace his hand, using a finger to ease into your vagina. He put the gun back in his holster as he distracted himself with the feeling of your vaginal walls sucking his finger in.

Rin released you, only for Ran to wrap a hand around your head and pull you in for a passionate kiss. You wince as he bites your lip, pulling on it as he pulls back before releasing, only to reconnect your lips together. Sanzu shoves two more fingers in as he stretches you out, causing a muffled yelp to leave your mouth.

Rin unbuckled his pants before reaching into his underwear to pull out his pulsating cock. Ran’s lips muffled the moans that escaped as Sanzu thrust his fingers deep into you at a steady pace. He cursed as he felt your hole tightening around his limbs. Kazutora unbuttoned your blouse to release your breasts that are covered by the bra. Not wasting any time, he reached into his pocket for the pocket knife, using it to slice your straps as well as the middle lining that keeps the pads connected. He pulled the remainder of the bra off and tossed it to the side.

His fingers grabbed your molds as he used his thumbs to fiddle with both nipples. You shut your eyes tight as he kept up the motion with one breast and leaned over to connect his tongue with the other. Ran releases you as he begins to unbuckle his own pants, just as Rin placed his palm on the top of your head before placing his cock near your mouth.

“Open up, pretty girl. I better not feel any teeth.” You turn your head away.

“N-No! Let me go, all of you!”

“Wonder how your family would feel to know that you’re getting fingered by one of their murderers right before I shoot their brains out.” Sanzu says softly against your ear, dazed by his own arousal. You frown as you clench your teeth from Kazutora’s tongue flicking your nipple, as well as Sanzu accelerating his pace.

“Come on, Y/n.” Rin says as he guides your head, you had no choice but to open your mouth. He exhaled as he eased the tip of his cock between your lips, warmth engulfing him as he gained a better grip on your head to pull you forward until the base of his erection was against your nose.

You shut your eyes as he held you there, forcing you to gag on his cock. A mixture of drool and precum slides down your chin as you breathe through your nose to the best of your ability. Sanzu removes his fingers before moving your panties out the way of your behind. Your eyes shoot open when you feel a wet pressure push into your asshole. He used two fingers, the residue slick making an easier access though the tightness stretched painfully.

You whimper against Rin’s base before he pulls you back, only to force you to swallow his erection once more. His cock slides in and out of your mouth at a steady pace, each thrust resulting in the head sinking down your throat. More saliva piles up as well as his semen, leaking as your head is guided.

“You’re a natural.” He moaned, thrusting his hips harder against your mouth as Kazutora slid a hand down to your pussy, feeling for your clit before rubbing along circles with a finger.

Ran rubs his own cock as he eyes your mouth taking his brother, focusing on the bulge that appears on your cheek as he can see the indent of Rin’s cock. He watched as the juices leaked from your mouth, listening to the whimpers and grunts that left your throat.

Kazutora removes his hand before grabbing his own hard cock from his pants. It flapped on your stomach before he guided you to lift up enough for the head to connect with your entrance. He used a hand to rub the tip against your wet pussy, moaning at the warmth.

“Sit.” He demands, using a hand to place on your hip as well as his other hand wrapped around his shaft to aim it correctly. He gazed at your full mouth, finding the mess beautiful on your face.

“Fuck…” He hissed as you lowered onto him, warm walls already sucking him in. “…this is exactly where you belong. Sitting pretty on my cock.” His hips thrust into you as your pussy engulf him fully. The tears streamed from your face as Rin neared his orgasm. Kazutora’s arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you tightly against him, just as Sanzu added a third finger to your ass, ripping a ragged moan out of you.

Rin’s head falls back as he releases a moan, warm liquid shooting down your throat as he holds you in place, forcing you to swallow all of his seed. Once he pulls his cock out of your mouth, you cry out as Sanzu accelerates his speed, just as Kazutora begins thrusting into you. His cock slides as his feet push against the floor, legs spread as he begins to pound into you. Your juices slicken him up, allowing him better access as the tip of his cock immediately hits your g-spot.

Just as your head was about to fall on his shoulder, a hand holds you in place as another erection slides into your sore mouth.

“Look at me.” Ran commands, you obey as your eyes tearfully move towards the intense gaze he holds. You could hear Kazutora moaning as Rin sat on the sofa, rubbing his cock while he watched you getting plowed from three ends. Ran thrusts his hips as his cock slides in and out of your mouth, groaning as he keeps his gaze on you.

“M’ gonna cum so deep in this pussy.” Kazutora moaned, pounding into you as he forced your hips to meet his thrusts. His lips are apart as he gazes at you taking Ran’s cock down your throat, just as Sanzu used one hand to grab your neck. Your pussy clenched as the stimulation on your cervix caused you to orgasm, bucking your hips as you groaned loudly on Ran’s cock.

“That’s right, baby. Good fucking girl.” Ran praised you for your orgasm, your face heated more than it already was as a funny feeling formed in your stomach. Sanzu removed his fingers right as Ran cums deep into your throat, holding you in place as his brother did. Kazutora continues to thrust into you, forcing you to ride him even while you’re overstimulated. Your head was only able to drop on Kazutora’s shoulder for a second before Sanzu replaced Ran and forced your head up.

“You’re not done, yet.” He smirked before shoving his cock down your sore throat. Your jaw felt sore as it was stretched once more. You whine on his cock at the pain as well as the overwhelming feeling in your abdomen. He begins at a faster pace than the Haitani brothers not allowing you to adjust before he’s fucking your face.

Kazutora continues to hump into you, his head falling back as he groans, releasing into you as deep as he could possibly go. He pressed firmly against you to make sure his semen fills you all the way up. Sanzu’s thrusts become sloppier as he moans, releasing a curse before he bucks his hips slowly, pressing his cock all the way to the back of your throat. He forced you to swallow his cum as he stared down at you.

For the rest of the night you were rotated between each man so they could have a turn with your pussy, all the while causing you to faint a couple of times as your body was completely used for their pleasure. You were out for a couple of days before the dreadful routine of you becoming their cum slut began. They were brutal, more brutal than the first night as they twisted you every which way. Sometimes Sanzu would use you as an experiment by drugging you up with different products you never thought you’d try, praying to not be drug tested any time soon at your job though you knew Bonten would find a way to handle the problem.

In the midst of those days, you had forgotten who you were before. The darkness shaped under your eyes, you lack an appetite, and your poor body is worn out. Everyday felt dark, cold, and empty. You were lying in your designated bedroom, staring at the ceiling until the door unlocked and someone walked in. You shut your eyes as the person got closer, hovering above you before they leaned over, warm breath on your ear.

“Did they break you, yet?” You recognized the whisper to be Mikey’s voice. Your eyes teared up as they streamed down your face, turning away in a fetal position as your boss climbed into the bed with you. His arm snaked around your waist as his face nuzzled on the back of your neck.

“Now you know how it feels.” His lips graze your skin as he speaks. “To feel and be nothing.”

“You are my broken doll to play with.”

One day, you had enough. You were going to leave if it’s the last thing you do. Even if it results in your death, you don’t care. You were done with this. One day you had snuck a bag of sleeping pills Sanzu kept in a specific area in his office. This night was perfect because they’re supposed to meet up for a deal beforehand so Mikey will be there as well. When you arrive at the club, instead of heading to the bathroom like you said, you head to the bar.

After telling the bartender who you’re with, he hands you the bottle with the tray of glasses. He didn’t seem to mind that you hadn’t been a waitress which is perfect. You look around your surroundings before placing the pills in the bottle. You leave everything on the table for the actual employee to take it up so they won’t get suspicious of your excuse for the bathroom.

Once you make it back, you sit on Mikey’s lap like he commanded you to. Your nerves were struck as you watched the woman enter. Excitement prominent as you watch her pour the bottle before handing each man their cup, including Mikey. You watch as all the men take their shots, downing them quickly as they continue their play. You peek down at Mikey’s hand, seeing that he hasn’t taken a sip which made you nervous.

Just as the men started dropping on the sofas or chairs, your hands trembled as Mikey’s arms tightened around your waist, drink still in hand.

“When they wake up, I’m going to let them do whatever they want to you.” Tears appear at the corner of your eyes as the familiar lump forms in your throat.

“I’m going to allow whatever I didn't accept before…” His head dropped to your shoulder as he continued, “…you can drink the alcohol so you can rest beforehand, or you can save it so you’ll be asleep while they tear you apart.”

You stare ahead with a troubled gaze. The trembling became violent as you felt the urge to jump away, ready to run for your life. You subconsciously eye the bruises and cuts along your skin as you bite your lip to quiet the sobs.

“No matter how many times they break you apart, I’ll always be there to put you back together because you belong to me.”

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