#they said i could make money off of it lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojorgeous · 4 months

Text

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all.

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it.

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married.

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding.

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying.

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income.

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of.

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.”

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before.

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.”

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.

“Yes, my lady?”

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?”

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you?

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness.

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing.

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come.

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly.

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and-

“Do you like them?”

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie.

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him.

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained?

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.”

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.”

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.”

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling.

“Of course… Satoru.”

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies.

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.”

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever…

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.”

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming?

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.”

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?”

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.

“Not tonight.”

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone.

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed?

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person.

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?”

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.”

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.”

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains.

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in.

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again.

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas.

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.”

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.”

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?”

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.”

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough.

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.”

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.”

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?”

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?”

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

He chuckles. “My pleasure.”

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone.

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right?

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”.

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.”

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further.

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.”

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.”

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second.

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.”

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening.

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.”

No, no, no.

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible.

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?”

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.”

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further.

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…”

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you.

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does.

“About the estate?” he asks.

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?”

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.”

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.”

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-”

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why.

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…”

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?”

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real.

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.”

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him.

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?”

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.”

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.”

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?”

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?”

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?”

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe.

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.”

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?”

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.”

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less.

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning.

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked.

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re–

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature.

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.”

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper.

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.”

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?”

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer.

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?”

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.”

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod.

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth–

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing?

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire.

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.”

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move.

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer.

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done.

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.”

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–”

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…”

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

25K notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 1 month

Text

habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed.

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung.

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?"

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too.

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips.

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #college!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #college au

3K notes · View notes

goresevraq · 1 year

Text

finally, cautiously watching the half of it now that representation twitter has let that movie roll out of its slavering jaw. and like. idk! it's sweet, it's corny, it probably shouldn't have been marketed to teenagers who are still a few years shy of having the movie hit them like a sack of bricks

#it's the whole running into an old friend who made a complete 180 off the conservative cliff after getting a job in the army #and also looking at the friends who did make it out like we always said #and realising that some of them weren't really dreaming the same way because they always knew they could count on their parents money #and idk. i miss when we were all together and everything felt equally possible #it's such a sweet movie but. i'm going to rewatch iwtv now lmao

0 notes

melonn-soda · 5 months

Text

Kinktober Day 3 - Dazai Osamu

word count: 3.2k

warnings: HATE SEX, dubcon, cuffing, overstim, slight dumbification, edging, dazai calls u petnames and he's an ass, reader is a slight brat, bottom cis male reader, top ftm dazai

prompt: dazai visits his favorite mafia member and gives him a little reunion gift

notes: READ WITH CAUTION, THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK THEMES. tell me if there's any other warnings I should add, please. sorry these prompts are super fucking late. different texting style but I'll go back after kinktober prompts are all posted. still currently working on the other ones because this is taking longer than expected. too much plot going on with them lmao. anyways, I'm tired of ftm characters always being on the bottom, so I contribute this. trans dazai canon because I'm trans and I said so.

fem aligned dni

The air blew a cold breeze around Yokohama, chilling the residents of the city and keeping them locked up inside their homes. Nobody went outside without some sort of extra layer to protect themselves from the chill of the atmosphere, either wearing jackets or hoodies over shirts when they strolled down the streets. Dazai Osamu blew hot air into his palms to warm them up as he walked down the sidewalk, eyeing every shop that was on his right. The bakery he passed by was closing down due to lack of patrons and he made sure to get some pastries for Atsushi, Ranpo, and himself beforehand. Some clothing shops were bathing in money because of the upcoming fall and winter seasons approaching faster with people preparing for the cold days by purchasing thick layered clothes. Every store was having its own ups and downs at the moment.

Even with all the tempting things he could buy, he still passed by most of them until he was at the edge of the city, with fewer people and cars coming in and out of this area. There were a few supply trucks coming in and out because of all the supply shipments coming in but that was going to be all. However, Dazai didn’t come to the warehouse for no reason. After all, he always went to somewhere that had a purpose.

He walked through the gates without anyone stopping him, walking to a particular warehouse before pushing the doors open. It was dark and gloomy in the place, yet felt strangely warm from the contrasting colder outside weather. Dazai made sure his steps were slow and quiet, keeping his presence minorly hidden to avoid getting himself hurt if someone were to attack him. He made sure to peek around the corners of supply crates to make sure no one was going to blast bullets directly at his face, eyes scanning with caution in every area he invaded.

A loud clang alerted his senses, and the sound of sizzling came humming after. Dazai’s intuition was right, he was here doing exactly as he thought he would. Footsteps increasing in speed, he rushed towards the source of the sound, still making sure to look over corners rather than going in head-on. Since he wasn’t that far away from his target, it didn’t take him long to get there, seeing the person he was looking for with a mischievous smile. Oh, how he missed seeing his face.

The burned part of a shipping container was melted off in the shape of a circle, laying on the ground as the material was still a glowing red before returning to its original color. The man who stood next to it, the person who caused the eruption of a loud noise from metal hitting cement was none other than his long lost Port Mafia ex-coworker. [l.name], [name]. So many memories were shared with that boy since they’ve known each other since their teens.

Dazai watched you step into the shipping container, following after you and watching as you rummaged through products, putting multiple things up to inspect before putting them back in place. He knew which product you were looking for and where it was, eyes landing on the box before flicking back onto your figure. With silent steps, he walked in, but once his other foot was placed inside, a loud creak was made and it alerted you to fire a burst of flames that shot out from your palms. Dazai, of course, saw it coming as he leaned so that he narrowly missed it, feeling the heat on his chest before grabbing your wrist and moving his weight around to get himself behind you and out to safety before using his foot to swipe and make you lose your balance. Alarmed and unprepared, you fell onto your stomach as Dazai moved your arm behind you mid-fall, getting your hands effectively pinned against your back.

“Ah~, [name], always so reliant on his ability. It was always your biggest flaw, y’know?” Dazai began to tease, pressing his knee against your lower back to keep you on the ground. He watched you try and wriggle out of his hold, knowing that you were too physically weak to actually break free. Weaker than him, I dare say.

“Dazai! What the fuck are you doing here? Let me go!” You scowled, glaring at him over your shoulder, cheek pressing against the cold metal. Your eyes still held the deep fire as always, so bright whenever you got fired up or even mad. The ex-Port Mafia executive always found that really cute about you, but he never really admitted it out loud, only doing it if he wanted to get a reaction out of you.

“Looking for you, of course!” He chimed with a playful smile, one that always managed to piss you off, “I figured you would be here looking for that really important document from overseas, but I can’t have you getting your hands on it. After all, we’re enemies, are we not? I have to do everything in my power to foil your devious plans.”

You tried thrashing around a little harder as he spoke, not wanting to see or even be within a 100-foot radius of this man, “Can’t you just leave me be this once, you fucking psychopath!?” You yelled out, clearly upset with the predicament you found yourself in. Chuuya really needed those papers and if he found out you didn’t even get the chance to find them, you don’t want to know how mad he might get.

“Oh my, is that the way you should be talking to your past loving boyfriend?” The brunet gasped in mock offense, leaning in a little closer to your ear.

Your face flared slightly at the closeness, “Past!! We’re not dating anymore, sicko. We broke it off the minute you left the Mafia, or have you forgotten?” You glowered at him, “For years, I’ve wondered where and how you were, only to get a message from an unknown number that told me we can’t be together anymore. I knew it was you because of your texting style.”

“But I can tell that you still want me,” Dazai continued to poke around with your feelings, not caring about any of the consequences that might follow after. He heard you immediately deny it all within a seconds notice but, “Oh, but you do still desire me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be blushing so hard over me just whispering thiiis~ close to your ear.” He chuckles as you shift your face so that he couldn’t see it.

“Just get the hell off of me.” You threatened weakly, feeling him shift around slightly while still on top of you.

You could hear Dazai sigh in what seemed to be in disappointment before he yanked you up and got you to sit on his lap. Dazai was sitting on the floor and you could feel your face grow even hotter as his body pressed against yours even more in this position.

“Y’know, I could really care less about you taking those documents. I didn’t come here to stop you either,” The detective told you, causing your eyes to widen and look back at him, “I only decided to foil your plans because I wanted to see you again. Do things we never got to do with you. For instance,” with a pause, one of his hands let go of your wrists and teasingly slid down your waist, getting dangerously close to your sex, “now that we’re adults, you can lose yourself to me.”

The last parts of his words were said in a whisper, causing a shiver to go down your spine as your lips pursed to suppress a whine. However, your body decided to show your true feelings you held towards the brunet with your dick hardening and sensitivity going to overdrive. You still loved Dazai, you really did, but you didn’t expect to react this way. Maybe it was because of the stress from the Port Mafia? I mean, it has been months since you’ve last jerked off.

“Oh dear, it seems like you're getting excited.” Dazai chuckled next to your left ear, his hand gently brushing against your crotch as you let out a whimper, “and your sounds are just the cutest.~ I’ve been imagining this scenario so many times, and now that it’s happening, it’s hard to believe that it’s ending up like this.”

A strained moan left your lips as you could feel his hand press harder against the tip of your cock, head falling forward in shame over turning into putty from just his voice and soft touches alone. In a near desperate tone, you still attempted to resist his efforts, “S-stop- this isn’t right-!”

“You may say so but your lovely body still craves my touch.” You could feel his fingers undo your pants and slip into your underwear, his cold touch coming into contact with your blistering heat, “You still desire me, otherwise, why would you still keep pictures of me on your wall after so many years, huh?”

“Go.. ah- fuck yourself.” You growled, a loud wince ripping through your throat at a particular tug at your cock, your back unconsciously arching and the back of your head hitting against Dazai’s shoulder, “Shit, shit, shit!”

“When did you become such a brat?” Dazai huffed out annoyingly, “Have you been spending too much time with that stupid slug? It looks like he’s beginning to rub off on you.” His hand picked up in pace and technique with a squeal of surprise coming from your mouth causing the brunet to smile slightly, “Ah, but I think it might make breaking you even more enjoyable.~”

Tears began to spill from your eyes from the stimulation, whining and moaning pathetically in Dazai’s hold as he continued to pump your cock. He even noticed that you stopped retaliating against his ministrations, fully submitting from the pleasure racking your brain into a state of stupidity. God, you looked so good like this.

“Fuck!” You suddenly yelled, thighs quivering around Dazai’s legs, “I’m close, ‘Samu- can’t take anymore-!” Words slurring like you were drunk, your hips bucked to bring yourself to your release.

Much to your dismay, Dazai pulled his hand out of your pants promptly, causing you to whine in protest, “Not just yet, lovely. I wanna see you scream and beg me for mercy as I dumb you down into oblivion.” He whispered sweetly though menacingly, causing you to shudder in delight.

Within a blink of an eye, he slammed you back down on the cold metal floors face first, taking out handcuffs from his back pocket and locking them on your wrists. You took the time to catch your breath as he got up away from you to dig into one of the containers, pulling out a black box with gold lining on it.

He took a seat next to your slumped figure with a mischievous smile on his face, opening the box and pulling out a solid black strap-on and a bottle of lube. The dildo was about 5-inches in length as far as you could tell, although there was nothing on the other side to please Dazai. Did he just buy that thing only to watch you become fucked out in ecstasy?

Dazai grabbed a bag of toy-cleaning wipes from the box as well, making sure to wipe the strap-on down as he continued to look at you deviously, “Do you like my surprise, lovely? Are you excited?” He asked, removing some of his clothes to place the toy around his pelvis.

Your dick twitched in anticipation, drool pooling on the ground as you looked dazedly at the sheer size of it, “However,” Dazai interrupted, “Because you’re a virgin, you’ll have to wait. After all, you’re nothing but my fragile little doll. As much as I would love to see you crumble, I wanna take my time shattering you.” He smirked, popping open the bottle and spilling its contents over his long, pretty fingers.

Positioning himself behind you, he gently grabbed your hips with his non-lubed fingers to lift your ass up into the air. Pushing only one of his fingers in your hole, he continued to pour lube consistently onto his hands to keep your insides from tearing. It wasn’t even 30 seconds before he found your prostate, pressing on it harshly to see you jolt and gasp, easily making you into nothing but a plaything. Even still, the fucker avoided it on purpose for the next few minutes of stretching you out. He added finger after finger when he saw you ready for the next, but wouldn’t even press that specific area.

After what seemed like an hour of teasing, he pulled out his fingers as you trembled on the cold floors. He wiped his fingers on the inner parts of his trench coat, hands then finding themselves on your waist to make it so you could feel the silicon against your thighs that were pressed together. You don’t know if you were enjoying this, or hating this.

“You ready, dollface?” He asked you, hands sliding up your chest and pulling you up so that your back came into contact with his body. You could feel the toy slip through your thighs for a brief second before he positioned it so that the tip could press against your hole, pressing lightly against your rim as you let out a shaky moan.

Glaring at him from the corner of your eye, you growled, “Just put it in, you asshole.” Maybe Chuuya has begun to influence your attitude.

With a grin, Dazai shoved you down onto the silicon dick without any lousy comebacks, causing a loud wince to fall from your lips. From the tip of the cock pressing against your prostate, you wailed pathetically in desire as your body was beginning to give up, letting your torso fall back onto the ground with a light thud. Your limbs started to feel like jelly, trembling terribly as Dazai pressed his hips even closer, reaching even deeper as you sobbed out in pleasure.

“Ah-! F-fuck-” You cried as Dazai began to pull out briefly before rocking his hips into yours repeatedly, setting a rhythm for himself. Incoherent ramblings spilled out of your cute lips as he continued to press against your prostate, your body feeling extremely heated.

“Oh, aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” He cooed into your ear, one of his hands trailing up from your hips and to your nipple, pinching and pulling on it lightly to stimulate you further. He brought it up to his mouth to wet those fingers then returned them onto your chest, the slight chill making you shiver when the cold air brushed underneath your shirt, “So sensitive, too. I hope I’m the first person to see you like this.”

“U-urgh~... Dazai..” Words slurring and hiccups turning into broken moans spurred the brunet even further, pistoning his hips even better when he took ahold of one of your ankles and lifted it into the air with ease. You were just so cute like this.

“Osamu.”

Staccato moans turned into full on wails as you could feel the tip of the dildo poke at your prostate, sending you into a mess of tears and babbling nonsense. It was too much. It was all so much for you. From the edging Dazai did earlier, the pent up stress from being in the mafia, now the dick inside you that was ramming you into stupidity, you could feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. And fuck, if it didn’t come fast.

You were sobbing thick tears as cum spilled out of your pathetic excuse of a dick, seeing Dazai’s face contort into one of amusement as you came all over the floor. Body shaking from the heightened stimulation, you wanted a break, wailing at him in hopes to tell him to at least slow down.

You should really know better, though, because he’s an asshole and would do anything in his power to watch you crumble for his own entertainment. And you acting like you hated him only motivated him to fuck you even harder. So here he was, bending your left leg so that your knee nearly touched your chest while continuing to move his hips at his brutal pace. It didn’t help that his toy kept pressing into your sensitive spot either.

“W-wait! Nnng!” You cry out, fingernails digging into the metal of the shipping container, “Osa- ah! Osamu, sl-slow down-!” Your voice squeaked as he used his hand that was on your hip to press down hard against your tummy, feeling the tip of the silicon dick disappear and come back.

The agency member giggled, raising that same hand and wiping away the abundance of tears flowing down your face, “Look at you~ just so adorable and begging for me to stop. Don’t you remember what I said? ‘I wanna see you scream and beg me for mercy as I dumb you down into oblivion.’” The attitude in his voice becoming condescending and dark.

His hand travelled down to grasp your dick, causing you to bite your bottom lip to quiet down the scream that nearly left your lips. Almost too quickly, your cock hardened once more with tears flowing down the sides of your face from overstimulation. Dazai only gave you a shit-eating smirk while he looked down at your pitiful face, feeling a rush of excitment through his veins.

God, you should’ve taken the day off.

…

Dazai took off the strap on with ease, letting it fall back into the box, shiny with lube and Dazai’s own slick. He didn’t care about his own orgasmic pleasures, just wanted to see you once more, even if that meant fucking you stupid. He wasn’t lying when he said that. Dazai was cruel, there’s no doubt about it. However, he still had the courtesy to clean you up with multiple wet wipes and redress you. Too bad he couldn’t do anything about the bruises and bite marks littered beautifully across your sleeping form.

The brunet pulled up his pants and closed the box with the sex toy in it, holding it by pressing it against his side while his other hand fished his phone out of his trench coat’s pocket. Quickly, as if he remembered the phone number by heart, he dialed one of your co-worker’s digits and his phone began to ring.

“Who is this?”

“Chuuya!” Dazai said in a chippy tone, hearing the other groan and spit out a “what do you want?” in response, “Well- for starters, [name] is in a shipping container, currently knocked out. You know, the one you wanted him to check? Could you be a good friend and pick him up safely? Oh! But be careful, he’s a little sore in the lower half.”

“What the hell did you do to him!?” Chuuya barked on the other side of the line, Dazai hearing him kick open doors to rush over to where his coworker is.

“Just a little reunion gift.” Dazai singsonged, pressing the “end call” button before he could hear his long time friend yell again, “Man, they sure are becoming too similar. I’ll have to fix that.”

#bottom male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #x male reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x male reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x male reader #bsd x reader #kinktober 2023 #sub male reader #bsd anime

1K notes · View notes

waste-0f-spacee · 2 years

Text

lmao

#i feel like everyone probably feels this way about themselves but i’m almost positive that if i took singing lessons i would b a good singer #this could just be coming from my own narcissism tho lol #but i think i’m already kind of good sometimes #certain songs #and some days i feel like my voice is better than others?#but that’s probably bc im a chronic weed smoker LMAO #anyway #either way singing is my favorite hobby and i REALLY need to call around for car insurance so i can drive around and sing #i crave it #i know i said i was gonna call like last week or maybe even two weeks ago idk time isn’t real to me #but i keep putting it off #im not ready to be an adult #im not #idc that im 28 #i never ever want to work i really dont #the thought of having to spend the entire rest of my life with almost no free time makes me want to end my fucking life #the things i get to do in my free time are the only things helping me cling to life #i can’t think about this right now #anyway i’m considering saving money for singing lessons once i start working #honestly i’m just super uncomfortable singing in front of someone else other than in the car lol

0 notes

rafescurtainbangz · 3 months

Text

Professor Cameron #2 - Rafe Cameron One Shot + 18

Minor DNI

Part 1: Link

Rafe × female reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut, language, swearing, drinking and smoking

Fingering, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, pet names, squirting, overstimulation, praise kink, ownership kink, older Rafe, possessive rafe, jealous rafe, obsessed rafe, choking, spanking, degradation, name-calling, pussy slapping, mating press, reader calls rafe daddy

Lightly edited

4.1K

Don't let the beginning fool it’s a lot of smut lmao 😂 thank you for all the love on part 1! 💕💕💕

Taglist @imyourdaninow @gri959 @redhead1180 @romaescapes

Enjoy! ❤️✨

Tanneyhill...

Later that night

"Holy shit," you whisper, eyes following Rafe's house all the way to the top. The grandeur of it all begs the question, does a professor really live here? I mean, I'm sure the university pays him well, but not this well. This is old money.

Tracking the brick walk, you make your way to the front door, smoothing out a very different ensemble than you wore this afternoon. You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful at this moment that you decided to dress up. Your pink satin mini-dress blows lightly with the cool night breeze, an open back cinched tight, showing off your curves.

Truthfully, I didn't think that would happen. Just teasing between friends until that fictional tale came true. I never thought he would actually cross the line.

Rafe was right... The boys at school weren't cutting it. They were selfish, inexperienced, and immature. That was only an hour? What could Rafe do with a whole night? On a bed instead of a desk? He said he had a 'real big house,' which is the understatement of the century. I can make as much noise as I'd like. He's going to take care of me... Me.

I've never felt pleasure like that in my life. The part that excited me the most was that I was holding back, not wanting to get caught. What would happen if I let myself go? The part that scares me, however, is the fact that I'm already in too deep.

What if Rafe's thought about it since? Not in the way I'm hoping he would, the way that would stop him from doing it again. A moment of clarity where Rafe realizes that he may have made a mistake. I'm his student... He's my professor.

What if he's doing this with other people? What if I'm not the only student in Professor Cameron's class getting "extra credit"? Am I just another one of his girls?

I can't think about that.

I'm feeling things. And, I can't stop.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

You can hear shuffling behind the door, watching as the knob turns. The door fans open; Rafe meets your gaze with a smile. "You... Wow. You look stunning," he hails, bearing the door as you pass through.

Fuck, he looks good. You feel yourself get a little frazzled as you take Rafe in. A slim black button-down and slacks, coupled with yet another pair of designer dress shoes. He smells delicious; that same cologne reapplied, already burned into your brain. "You alright?" He smiles, looking down at you.

"More than alright, Rafe. Just a little nervous."

"About what?" He puffs, cocking his head to the side as he shuts the door. "Told ya I didn't bite. Not unless you want me to," Rafe chuckles warmly, turning you under his finger as he checks out your little dress again. "Goddamn. You're flawless."

"Thank you," you whisper as your cheeks blush. Rafe keeps his hand in yours, guiding you deeper into his house, letting you take it all in.

"So, what are you so nervous about?" Rafe presses a little further, not wanting to let it go until he figures it out.

"I don't know... I didn't expect to be here. I'm just - I hope you aren't having second thoughts."

"Me?" He chuckles; twisting his face slightly as a crooked smile spreads on his lips. "Never. No second thoughts."

"Okay... And, am I the only one-"

"Who's gettin' extra credit?" He snickers, reading your mind entirely. "You are the only one."

"Ever?" You ask, your voice just above a hush, kicking yourself for asking it in the first place to a grown-ass man. Rafe turns you toward him, lacing his fingers in yours; his lips meet your forehead, kissing you softly.

"If you're askin' if I've ever had sex in an office, and I said 'no,' I'd be lyin'," he chuckles weakly. His palms come up, resting gently on your cheeks, guiding your watch to his. "But, if you're askin' me if I've ever done that with a student... never. I've never done that."

You give him a soft smile. "I'm so happy I'm here with you."

"Me too," he hums. "Now, let's go relax. Yeah?" You nod as Rafe leans in, meeting your lips; kissing you deeply. Heat spreads across your body; the contact sets you ablaze, your entire being craving more of him.

Rafe walks you to his study, the mahogany countertop, adorned with six elegant bouquets. "Do you like flowers, princess?" He smiles; his hand resting on the small of your back.

"Of course," you respond dreamily, bending in to smell each. "Six? Rafe, this-"

"I didn't know what your favorite was..." He interjects, "Pink roses?" Rafe guesses, based solely on your reaction.

"Yeah, pink roses," you giggle. "Thank you."

He steers you to his leather couch, taking a seat. Before you can sink down, his hands are on you, guiding you to straddle his lap. You rest your hands lightly on his muscular chest as Rafe eyes you in his arms. His rough hands graze your back, landing on your bum; kneading your curves slowly.

"M'so glad you're here," he soughs, his lust-laced eyes locked on your lips. His crystal blues lift slowly to yours, sending chills down your spine. "You're still nervous sweetheart? Aren't you?"

You shake your head 'no' as you lean in close, kissing him tenderly. His hands drift down your bare thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress. "I'm not... I swear," you whisper as you widen your thighs, pressing your pussy against his rock-hard bulge as you start to grind slowly. Your lips hover close, Rafe, matching your steady breathing. Tension builds as you wait for the other to break.

Rafe kisses you deeply, a passionate exchange, pushing your hips to ride him clothed. "Need to taste you again. Fuck, you tasted so sweet," he mumbles between kisses. Rafe wraps you in his arms, lifting you off the couch. "Just a little bit now. I need it. Don't let me go any farther. Alright? Not yet."

He rests you back down on the couch, pulling you where he wants you, your body desperate for his lips. Rafe drops himself down to his knees for you, taking control as he spreads your thighs, eyeing your glistening cunt with a hungry groan. "No panties?" He chuckles darkly, his dangerous gaze flickering to yours. Rafe brushes your folds, gathering your essence all over his fingers, before sucking them clean as your eyes roll back. "M'so fuckin' hard, princess. Can't wait for you to suck my cock; make me cum again. Get that pretty little mouth of yours around my dick," he sighs. His strong arms loop around your thighs, pulling you closer than before, slumping you on the couch.

Rafe's eyes stay locked on yours as his lips do the same to your clit, sucking and brushing his tongue from side to side. He moans against your pussy, as his fingers toy with your entrance, teasing your pearl with the chilled ridges of his gold ring. Your thighs tremble, tightening around him.

"C'mon, baby," he taunts, spreading you wider, sucking and finger-fucking you with a little more force. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back your cries of pleasure.

"Hey... Woah. Woah... Wait a minute, baby girl," he chides. "Need to hear you. Alright?"

"Yes, daddy..."

"Well, shit..." Rafe rasps as he grabs your legs, slinging them over his shoulders. "I could get used to that."

Everything increases; your heart rate, the pressure, the depth of his tongue in your soaked hole. "You taste like heaven," he pants, bumping his nose against your clit, making your thighs quake. Rafe laps at your pussy, devouring you completely. He breathes deeply, taking in your scent; the vibration of his low moan felt against your heat.

Rafe takes your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, making you cry out; heels digging into his black dress shirt as you buck your hips; voice echoing through the large house. "There ya go... Atta girl."

Your back arches, lips crying out for him. "Fuck, Rafe. M'right there," you blubber. You reach for your satin straps, tugging down the top of your dress, letting your breasts spill free. Your hands instantly draw up to your tits, squeezing and pressing them together for him. Rafe bites down on your swollen clit; making you throw your head back. A choked sob spills from your lips.

Your hands drop down, weaving into his hair, giving it a rough tug. You grind your pussy on his face, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. "Rafe, s-shit." Your eyes screw shut as you cum on his face, pleasure coursing through your system as your pussy clamps down around his thick fingers. Rafe works you through your orgasm, waiting until you're fully unwound to release you with a panting breath.

"Need it - Fuck. I need your cock in my mouth," you gasp; eyes still shut as you do your best to recover.

"Baby, c'mon..." He chuckles breathily as his lips find yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, making your mind fuzzy. "I wanna share a drink. Take you on a tour... You were supposed to hold me back. You can wait. Right?" You can hear the taunting in his tone, a devilish smirk playing on his kiss-bitten lips.

"Yes, daddy."

Rafe cups your breasts in his hands. Pinching and rolling your pebbled blush between his fingers. He sucks down, trailing wet kisses before biting your sensitive skin, causing you to moan again. "You're mine," he whispers, nuzzling himself into your chest. "I don't want anyone else to have you but me. Understand?"

"What - Wait..." You ask breathlessly. "I mean. Are you sure, Rafe? You barely know me. What if I didn't come into your office today-"

"You would have... eventually. I just got lucky. I always get what I want, princess. I don't wanna see you come into class with anyone else. Don't wanna overhear some douchebag talkin' about some absolutely stunning girl he took home from the bar. You're mine. My pussy," he breathes, making your breath hitch as he slaps your sensitive cunt, soothing it with his cupped palm. "My tits," he mumbles, licking a line through your cleavage as he palms them together. "My lips," he whispers as he kisses you again. "My fuckin' girl. Mine."

"M'yours, Rafe."

**********

"So, you're a professor? Just a professor?" You ask through a flirty grin as you swirl your champagne.

"Yeah... Got bored. Decided to go to college, then grad school; got my doctorate for fun," he rasps before taking a sip.

"So..." You look around, letting your silence speak for itself.

"I made some smart business decisions when I was young. Set myself up nicely."

"Mob boss?" You quip, making him cock his brow and laugh.

"If I told you, princess. I'd have to kill you." Rafe plays along, shooting you a mischievous look. "So, you're pretty far from home. You plannin' on going back for Spring Break, or are you gonna hang around here?"

You laugh nervously, wrinkling your brow, confused yet intrigued, charmed that he went out of his way to find out more about you. "How do you know where I'm from?"

He clears his throat, regretting his words slightly, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt on his thick forearms as he shifts anxiously. "Uh... Um," he puffs, draining some more liquor into his champagne flute. "Your student account," he mumbles sheepishly.

"Professor Cameron!" You gasp, flirtingly, as you lean in a little closer.

"S'bad. Alright. I know. I know! I couldn't help myself. I had to be proactive. Alright? High stakes. I gotta be real careful who I associate myself with."

"And you can associate yourself with me, Rafe?"

"Yeah. I have a good intuition, princess. Questionin' yours a little," he bullies. "That neighborhood you live in is shit, by the way. It's not safe, baby."

Your eyes double in surprise. The more he exposes, the more it should worry me, I know, but he's pulling me deeper. He's possessive, calculated, obsessed even. But, I fuckin' love it. How much more does he know about me?

I need to know.

"You look handsome," you laud; just a slight bite of your lip as you lean into the armrest, hair tumbling to the side. You cross your legs, letting your little dress ride up your thigh.

His eyebrows raise, running his palm against his wide smile, attempting to play it cool as he stares at the valley of your thigh. "Just tryin' to keep up with you, baby. You look stunning. Did you wear that-"

"On New Year's Eve..." You finish his sentence as a smirk pulls on your lips, Rafe taking the bait effortlessly. "Do you follow me on Instagram?"

"No... Just stalk you," he admits, not an ounce of shame in his voice. He can see that you clearly enjoy his attention. "Like I said... Gotta be careful who I keep around. Not to mention, I had to keep an eye on who else was watchin' you. I don't share." He smirks before tossing back the rest of his champagne. Oh...

"That's all you did, Rafe? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?"

He gives you an open-mouth smile as a blush creeps across his cheeks. "You really wanna know?"

"I really wanna know..."

"That red swimsuit you wore in Cabo might be my favorite thing, princess."

You roll your eyes, expelling a dizzy laugh. "So... Again, Professor Cameron, is that all you did? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?"You bully before taking a sip.

His gaze darkens on yours, the look in his eyes telling you more than enough. "Absolutely not."

Rafe adjusts himself in his chair, spreading his thighs a little wider as he pinches a fresh cigar between his lips. He reaches over to the coffee table, snagging the Perrier-Joute, drinking from the bottle. You can see that he's getting more comfortable as time passes by, as well. Laughing a little more, a few more buttons on his shirt undone, drinking straight from the source.

"So, Rafey," you ask in an unholy tone as you stroll from your chair to his, dropping down to your knees to slink the rest of the way. "Is there anything I can do for you? I really need that A."

He quickly forgets his cigar, resting it in the ashtray without a second thought. Rafe extends the bottle to you, pouring it carefully, some still dribbling from your glossed lips down your chin. He leans down, pinching your cheeks in one hand, licking the mess to your lips. "I got a few things you can do for me, princess."

"Tell me," you whisper, fingering the buttons of his Dior button-down before pulling it open fully. Your fingers trace down his tanned chest, passing through the deep indentations of his abs to his black leather belt.

You can already see his long, thick cock; trapped in Italian wool, making your mouth water. "Since you're on your knees," Rafe smiles as he pinches the button of his pants, opening that, then the zipper. "Why don't you choke on daddy's cock. Hmm?" You can feel the wetness between your thighs, the soft sweetness of his voice contrasting his domineering words, making your head spin. You draw the material over his hips, releasing his aching dick.

You glide your fingers through your pussy; gathering your slick on your digits, taking hold of the base of Rafe's cock. He shakes his head and smiles as his teeth tug on his bottom lip. You work him slowly, watching as the little bead of precum grows larger.

Rafe's hand toils through your hair, brushing it away so he can get a better view of your face. "So pretty on your knees, baby-" Rafe's words get lost in a moan as your warm tongue traces along his prominent vein, catching his cum as it drips down the side.

You lick a few fat stripes up his shaft, kissing his ruddy tip wetly as his dick twitches in your palm. "Fuck, honey," he groans deeply, tossing his head back on the leather chair. "Might not ever let you leave." His hold on your strands tightens as your warm, wet mouth wraps around his swollen tip. A deep moan follows as you suckle on Rafe's head, flicking your tongue along his slit. You caress his balls, taking him to the back of your throat.

Rafe pushes you a little farther, releasing a needy moan as you deepthroat cock. Tears roll heavily down your cheeks as you take as much of him as you can get, gliding off slowly; swirling to the tip, making Rafe's eyes roll back. "Jesus Christ, angel, where's that gag reflex? Huh?" He laughs airly. "So good at sucking cock." Rafe pitches his hips, ramming you deep, making you gag. "Mmm... Shit. There she is," he groans.

Rafe slumps a little lower as he lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a pull. "Gonna bust my load already... Damn, you look good," he praises through a panting breath, making his stomach muscles flex. His thick thighs tremble as you start to stroke him with your mouth, rolling his heavy balls in your tiny hand. You release his cock with a pop, causing him to let out a desperate plea for more.

"M'so wet, Rafe," you whine, feeling your wetness drip from your pussy, gliding down your inner thigh. You take two fingers, skimming them through the mess. Rafe's already set, snatching your wrist; guiding your dainty fingers to his mouth.

He savors the taste, only releasing them when you tighten your lips around his dick again. Twisting your hand at the base, you bob up and down. Rafe follows your strokes, pressing you down here and there as he mumbles praise. "Lips look so good around my cock, sweetheart. Look at you, take it, baby. Such a good little slut f'me. Gag on it. Fuckin' gag on me. Mine... This mouth is fucking mine."

You hollow your cheeks, milking his cock with your mouth, making him whimper and shift in his chair as his eyes slam shut. "I'm right fuckin' there. I - I'm... Fuckkk," he moans, hazy eyes widening as you sink your pussy down on his dick instead.

"Bounce on my cock. Tits in your face," you whisper against his lips, repeating his words from his office as you lower the top of your dress as well.

"You're a fantasy, baby. Fuck." Rafe slaps your ass cheek roughly, then the other side, hissing out a breath as your pussy tightens around him. Rafe pants and groans, his muscles wound tight as he tries to hold steady, watching you as you ride and bounce on top. He's speechless, eyes moving from your face to your breasts; losing control when he glances down, watching the place where you connect; his thick cock glistening with you.

"Fuck me," he grunts in blissful defeat, taking a harsh grip on your hips, pounding deep. Rafe moans your name as he cums hard, continuing to fuck upward, gritting his teeth in overstimulation. No part of him wants to stop now that he has you like this. Rafe pulls you into his lips, kissing you slowly as you grind through his sticky spent.

"Should I stop?" You whisper, feeling Rafe's smile spread against your lips.

"No, princess. Don't fuckin' stop."

********

Your garter belt wraps around your thighs, lingerie hugging the fullness of your breasts; something new, something bought by Rafe just for you. It's a gorgeous set; cups made of two large satin ribbons tied at the center; your crotchless panties, a delicate red lace.

"C'mon, princess. Stop makin' me wait," he croons.

"This is too much, Rafe... I don't need all of this. Truly," you sigh as you round the corner, relaxing against the doorframe.

Rafe licks his lip, savoring each glimpse of bare skin. "Nah... This one's for me." He pushes off the bed, moving toward you, pulling you close before kissing you deeply, breaking away from time to time, solely to take you in. "Better than I imagined..."

"You thought about this?" You hum.

"More than I should, princess," Rafe breathes, lifting you into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as you bend your arms a little tighter around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Rafe walks you over to the bed slowly, taking his time as you press your chest against his, hearts picking up pace together. He sets you down on the mattress, mounting you a moment later.

Rafe's absolutely beautiful like this: dark blonde hair a mess, flushed cheeked, skin dewy. He cages you in, admiring you for a moment before starting again. He grinds his dick against you, trailing pre cum on your skin as he works his body against yours. Rafe continues to tease the both of you, his cock, painfully hard as you wait for him to ease your ache.

He swirls his dick through your arousal, nudging your entrance with his swollen head. Rafe gives you one last look before dropping his focus low. "Shittt," he groans as your walls pull him in. He fights the urge to throw his hips into you, working slow enough to let you feel every curve and ridge until he's filled you to the brim. You don't even realize you're holding your breath until he rests his heavy head on your shoulder.

"Fuck, Rafe."

"Squeezin' me so tight," he breathes. Rafe completely bottoms you out, balls resting against your ass. He grips your hips, forcing himself even deeper, pressing his cock into you with his full weight making you squirm away slightly.

"Where are you goin', Princess?" He mumbles against your warm skin, the safeword you joked about during dessert right on the tip of your tongue, but the pleasure outweighs the pain.

"Nowhere, daddy," you pant as you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to stay.

"My girl," Rafe growls, lips latching onto your neck, sucking harshly. He marks you with his lips, branding you with what will surely leave behind a dark purple hickey. His teeth sink into your skin, causing you to whimper.

Rafe starts to rock his cock into you, nailing your sweet spot each time. You wrap your arms around him, marking him in your own way as your manicured nails drive into his skin. Rafe moans your name, getting off on the ache.

His body drags away from yours, tugging at the bow between your breasts, letting the satin fall to your sides as he changes positions. Rafe starts to stroke as hands move from your hips to your breasts, gripping them tight, pinching and rolling your nipples before settling on your neck.

You wait impatiently for his grasp as Rafe studies his skin on yours. He smirks wickedly, watching the way his rings glint in the low lighting, his hand wrapped like a necklace around your pretty little throat.

Rafe tightens his grip, making your eyes roll back as he pumps into slow and deep, snapping his hips each time. You can feel yourself a little more breathless than before; your pulse felt under his heavy hand. You let out a choked cry as his other hand finds your clit, rubbing circles on top.

"Faster," you beg, your voice cock-drunk and hoarse.

"Mmm... Bet my little slut wants it harder too. Yeah?"

"Yes - Fuck," you squeal. Your breasts bounce with each clap of his hips, his fat tip kissing your g-spot with each thrust. Rafe gives it to you harder and faster as you feel your pleasure about to boil over.

He's just as pussy-drunk, eyes glossed, pupils blown. Your eyes flutter closed, drool seeping out of the corner of your plump lips. You feel Rafe's breath on your skin, his soft tongue cleaning you off just as he did with the champagne, spitting it back into your open mouth this time.

His tongue tangles with yours, sloppy and breathless, as you swallow each other's sounds. "M'gonna cum," you gasp, feeling tears of pleasure well in your eyes.

"Me too, baby. You gonna make a mess? Let me clean it up for you," he pants.

"Yeah-ahh," you answer shakily. Warm liquid squirts from your sex, soaking Rafe's thick cock and his expensive sheets. "Fuck, Rafe," you whimper. I can't believe I just did that... I've only seen that in porn. Rafe quickly snuffs out your embarrassment as he coaxes you further.

"Fuck, baby. Just like that. I think my girls got more in her. Don't you?" He grunts, not letting up, applying more pressure to your clit. You feel it again; a second release, Rafe fucking you through the spurts of your climax.

Rafe was right. He always gets what he wants.

"Gonna cum... Gonna fill you so full, Princess. Fuck," he moans.

"Cum in my pussy, daddy."

Rafe's eyes roll back at the sounds of your voice, his release following close behind, muscles tightening as he floods you with his finish. He throws his head back, breathing deeply as he comes down from his high.

"Co'mere..." You whisper. Rafe gives you a satisfied smile, burying himself in your neck; holding you close for a moment before rolling you on top.

You rest your head on his chest, listening as his heart starts to slow with his breathing. Rafe's rough fingertips skim your spine as he releases a deep breath. "Mmm... Baby?" He mumbles sleepily, wrapping you tightly in his arms.

"Yes," you whisper, blissed out and breathless as you meet his beautiful eyes.

"You're never leaving."

954 notes · View notes

hazelfoureyes · 12 days

Text

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

Alastor demands you tell him what you’d consider a nice date, which makes a surprisingly lovely time in the library. Dancing leads to… not dancing and a minor rearranging of your guts. And finally, you try to shame Alastor out of Mania and Alastor finds himself having to explain, well, Alastor.

「warnings/promises: Smut, guts➡️rearranged, kinda dub➡️con cuz Alastor still doesn’t listen, but funnily enough neither do you?, lots of interrupting each other, Luci’s hat, you’re down so fucking bad lmao」

🎶 minors DNI 🎵

Angel was live blogging everything you said when you recounted what happened to you after returning to the hotel.

“Wait there’s a character limit, I gotta make a new post.” He was wiping actual tears from his eyes, “Fuck this is funny.”

“Hmmph,” Alastor offered a small noise from his end of the sofa. Neither of you had mentioned or even referenced the sex. There was a strange feeling between you that it didn’t happen so it didn’t need a discussion. But also that it had absolutely happened, as Alastor’s hands found renewed vigor in their search for you when in public and private and your body seemed to respond in kind. You’d still occasionally move his hand off of you, but there was a pulse of electricity every time. When his hand would come to rest on your upper thigh while seated beside each other in the common areas, you let it linger. What harm was it? Heaven wasn’t fucking watching.

Everything aside, the sex had done nothing to dispel his interest. Perhaps you’d only made it worse, for both of you.

By midweek you found the sling useless, happily tossing it aside and beginning gentle stretches. That was more progress than you'd made in your main task.

Every morning you woke up beside Alastor, every day you had him in your orbit, every night you fell asleep feet from him.

Had Mania not taken him he would be a prime candidate for showing the virtue of true love. He was already fucking there, a captive audience. But that wasn’t how it worked. Cupid-induced manic love could never be true. Nothing you created was true, really. But atleast with Eros or Agape you could still have added the notion of true love to the mix. His heart would still be receptive and open to the idea. The way he was now, you could proselytize until you were blue in the face and he’d still think manic love was true love.

An unintended consequence of living with Alastor was discovering you both had quite a bit in common, as much as that information irked you. He enjoyed horror movies such as ‘Dracula’, you enjoyed horror movies as well, just newer ones. Ones in color. He could cook quite well, something you enjoyed to do. And his taste in music was actually lovely. You had assumed he listened to screams on a 7 hour loop.

Actually, upon closer inspection, Alastor was nothing like you had initially assumed. While he had shown you he was capable of terrifying feats of strength and power, he was also remarkably gentle. Every time you descended the stairs his hand was barely felt as it hovered at your elbow ready to save you.

Early in the week you fell asleep watching the group play a board game, somehow redemption related, and awoke with his coat laid over your body. When you thanked him, he just smiled and continued enjoying watching Niffty hide the play money.

You were finding yourself more and more wishing the arrow had never fallen. If you’d just met him as you fell, perhaps you would be staring into that portal home. There were definitely worse options around. Even his imposing height had begun to…not bother you, perhaps was the best way to say it.

Or his large hands. There was a safety in the way they rested on your back. Speaking of…

Your throat ran dry when he leaned into you, one of those hands sliding across your thigh, and asked against your ear, “Ready to go?”

He had to have seen you licking your lips to unstick your teeth. With a nod, he stood and offered a hand to you.

You both were already out of the elevator and walking to your room when he slowed, coming to stop just in front of you.

His room, fucking hell.

“You know, I was thinking,” he wasn’t looking as he spoke to you, which was odd given how often he stared at you. “If you’re going to be here with me from now on-“

You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up, “I’d like to know the things you enjoy doing with your romantic interests.” His smile was almost pure, you could tell he was genuinely asking.

“Well I don’t have any so, why would you care?”

“No things you enjoy?”

“No romantic interests.”

His head lolled to the side, “Sometimes I think you say things just to bother me.”

You did.

“I do.”

You thought if you kept being rude maybe you could keep him at an arm’s length. Not get too attached. You’d been kind to people you didn’t like before and eventually you started to like them. This was that. But opposite.

He stared down at you, taking a step closer. You took one back. That smile shifted from pure to sinister, his eyes half lidded. You could almost see the thoughts playing on his face.

“Alastor-,” your back hit the elevator doors. The pounding of your heart when he brought his face to yours drowned out the sounds of the button being pressed. When the doors opened you fell backward with a yelp, but a strong arm caught you by the waist.

“You have twelve floors.” His hand hit the first floor button, “You can share with me your idea of a quality date. Or I can show everyone,” that clawed hand came to your neck, sliding down the evidence of your pounding heart, “how pretty you scream.”

As soon as the doors closed you were pressed against the elevator wall, right leg pulled up and around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare.” You had meant it to sound strong but instead it was half whispered with a shaky voice.

He popped a button off your blouse, “Maybe!” Warm mouth now on your neck, his tongue ran over your pulse, “I wonder if everyone is still in the lobby.”

Over his shoulder you watched the numbers counting down. The hand that cut off the button slid down to your bottoms, slipping under the waistband.

On the 3rd floor the elevator stopped. When the doors opened a demon you didn’t recognize was standing there, eyes wide and mouth open. He didn’t make a move to enter, Alastor looking over his shoulder and sharing what you could only assume was a death glare. The flickering lights were a giveaway to his anger.

His fingers dipped down and cupped your sex, hot palm pressing into your folds.

The doors closed again and you watched the second floor light up. A finger bent and pressed into you.

A nibble at your ear, “You know I’ll win, regardless.”

He was right. Which was the smaller defeat? Humiliation or just telling the bastard your idea of a nice time?

“Books. Drinks.” You squeaked, the first floor lamp now aglow. His hand pulled away just as the doors opened.

Expecting him to gloat you were surprised he just hit the 10th floor button. The library.

He opened the door for you. The library’s main area had two reading chairs bookending a long antique sofa. You took the chair furthest from the door, hearing the door lock.

With a snap, the entire bar with Husk included seemed to fall three inches out of thin air.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Husk looked around, already annoyed, “You coulda just fucking asked for drinks to bring with you. You know cups are portable, right?”

It was nice, actually. Husk poured, you both read. There was an unnecessary fireplace crackling behind you. Cozy. And it got cozier and warmer the more you drank. Your shields softened as the glasses emptied.

Your book was good, but as you felt the alcohol hit you were reminded of the last time you’d gotten a little past tipsy. Sneakily, but not at all, your eyes wandered over to Alastor.

His legs were crossed, but you could remember looking down and seeing them spread open beneath you. Open. Did many people see him like you had? Had his talk about a disinterest in sex actually been a trick to intrigue you? It hadn’t worked, you genuinely didn’t care what his preferences were. If anything it made you less likely to make a pass.

Your eyes wandered down his slender neck to his wide shoulders. Less than a week ago your arms were resting there. Further down, you remembered that soft bit of fur at the base of his cock, a small trail from his belly button.

Husk watched your face turn pink, “You good?” Your head whipped around, looking confused. “You’re getting red.”

Oh. I was just thinking about my pussy drowning in Alastor’s cum.

No, obviously not!

Alastor’s eyes left his book and found yours. They were so red; his eyes, not your cheeks. No one in heaven had such wicked an appearance. When you didn’t reply, busy staring back at Alastor, Husk groaned, “Aah fuck.”

“What are you reading?” You asked, clearly able to see the book title from where you sat.

Alastor held it up, “Oliver Twist.”

“Never read it.”

You had read it.

Setting your book down, you tried to walk as straight as a line as you could to him. You took the book from his hands and sat down on his lap, back against his chest, before picking it up again. “What page are we on?”

“You can leave, Husker.” Alastor didn’t even look at Husk when he said it, eyes still on your face.

When the door closed and Alastor could lock it with a snap, he uncrossed his legs. “Would you like to start over dear? From the beginning.”

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Can we?” You leaned your head onto his shoulder. When had he become so comfortable…?

“We can.” The book was set aside, his left hand pulling your chin up, “I think we skipped a few chapters before.”

You opened your mouth, “I don’t like kissing.”

“You will.”

The front part of your brain dissolved, you were sure of it. Your decision making abilities were entirely eradicated as his lips pressed into yours. Fuck, maybe even your basic motor skills had been fried, his tongue swiping across your mouth before you just—opened. Your hips ground down into his lap, and you felt his smile widen against your lips.

“Stop smiling. I just like warm bodies.” You reached for the book and opened it to the first page, “and you’re so fucking warm.”

He began to read, but between the rumble of his chest, his voice in your ear, and the heat of his body, you fell asleep.

No matter. Alastor just hummed. With a summoning of his shadow you both sank into your shared bed, where he continued reading with you against his chest.

You dreamt about home. About red eyes and warmth.

Was it so bad, being in hell? Sure you had a fucking deer demon as guard dog but it seemed his mania was … not so terrible. Honestly he seemed relatively normal now. He would wander off for significant lengths of time, even leaving in the mornings while you were still lazing about. A kiss to your hand was the indicator he would be popping off somewhere.

Alastor still wouldn’t let Lucifer alone with you, but otherwise everything was okay. You’d even come to enjoy certain aspects of his possessiveness. That ever present hand, for example. Even when it wasn’t on you, you could still almost feel it. It had become second nature now.

The week was actually peaceful. Your pain was entirely gone, you could move about freely. Despite that Alastor still would press up behind you and offer to help dress you. An offer you declined, but every time he asked you paused longer and longer before saying no.

Alastor was happy to find you in the library toward the end of the week, you having wandered off when he was called away. He summoned a confused but pissed off Husk again, who was midway through making someone else’s drink. He set it aside, pouring Alastor his whiskey. You decided against drinking, you knew you always made poor decisions. Like sleeping.

Delighted by the impressive collection you found a non-fiction and settled into the same large chair.

“Reading is a virtue.” He said to himself yet out-loud, taking a seat and setting the radio on from across the room. Etta James. ‘Somethings got a hold of me.’

“A little past your time, isn’t it?” You smiled, you liked songs about love. Not because of who you were, you just liked the idea of someone so enamored they have to make art.

He laughed, “Nosey little bird, have you been asking about me?”

Well shit. You had forgotten to play dumb. The past couple weeks you had casually inquired about Alastor from the other staff members. A modest collection of facts to help you better understand the man. A quick recovery. “Know your enemy!”

He cackled, “Sun Tzu! What does Cupid need ‘The Art of War’ for?!”

What, did he expect you to only read romance novels and Roman mythos? “You can’t make a shadow without light. In fact,” you put the book down, “The Greeks thought Cupid was a child of War and Beauty.”

Okay well, Greek mythos is a little different than their Roman counterpart’s. So. There.

Alastor watched you leaning over the arm of the chair, no sign of pain as you did so. Your injury must have mended well. “Do you have parents?” He asked, genuinely wondering how your kind were created.

“No, we're just… made. And then sent off on assignments.”

“You must be terribly busy, just one person for all of earth.” If Alastor could pull some limbs and find out more from anyone but you, he would, but unfortunately no one but Vaggie would know anything about you and he had a feeling her time in heaven was never spent thinking about love.

“Oh, actually not so much! When I’m with humans I can travel around without worrying about the concept of time at all. But it takes a toll.” Or so you were told. There were never two Cupids at one time so you couldn’t really ask your predecessors. Alastor’s brows rose, unsure how exactly a Cupid could be taxed if they didn’t feel pain and couldn’t be hurt. “Every trip to Earth weakens us. Until our bodies just, I guess, give out.” A smile crept across your face, unsure what expression you were supposed to be making.

“Is it just Earth? Or,” he lowered the radio volume with just a glance, “Every time you leave heaven?” It would take a great effort to not notice the weight suddenly blanketing the library. Silence was heavy with what he was really asking you. Would remaining here kill you?

It was a great question. Wow he’s really good at this. It almost seemed like he gave a shit. No one had ever asked you about your creation, about your work. It was nice. Even from him. Maybe especially from him.

You had never been to hell, so you couldn’t be sure, but, “I think it’s a human-world time-thing. But I guess we’ll find out!” Another misplaced smile before you awkwardly leaned back and picked up the book.

While you hadn’t noticed the slip up you had made, Alastor had. “I suppose we will.”

You would find out, because you wouldn’t be returning to heaven. He was glad you, even if unconsciously, understood that. And perhaps you could live forever if you never returned to earth.

When the song ended, you offered one of your own.

Alastor was pleasantly surprised to hear you request Nat King Cole’s ‘It’s almost like being in love’.

Standing, he offered you his hand for a dance. “Ugh I hate this cheesy shit.” You said it but stood anyway, putting your hands in his.

Alastor laughed, swaying side to side, “Not a fan of romance? Has Cupid never been in love?”

Those were two seperate things. How could you explain? “Drug dealers number one rule. Never get high off your own supply. That would be—.”

Lonely. Pathetic.

“A bad idea.” His cheek rested on your head. It was a shockingly tender act. “Can you understand? Why would I want something I made. What’s special about that?”

“And what of true love? It isn’t made by you, yes?” Asked into your hair.

“Yeah but when will I ever find the time to make a connection worthwhile. Winners and Angels are gluttons for choice, I am obviously built for a fun time not a long time.” Which you were…fine with. Yeah. I mean, what choice did you have? “And I don’t want to force it…so…” you trailed off. The rest didn’t matter.

He nodded, suppressing another laugh. “I see. Well, allow me to give you something you inspired, how about that? Not made. Would you say no, my muse?”

Inspired? Like a song? “Ha, what have I inspired in you, heathen.”

Alastor stopped dancing, his hand pulling your face up for a kiss which took you by surprise.

“Seriousl-,” Husk mercifully disappeared in a flash of neon green.

You couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, much like many of the moments you surrendered to Alastor. It was so fast and he was so strong, his hands large and confident in how they moved you. Before you knew it you were bent over the sofa’s arm getting fucked so hard your leg was shaking and your stomach nauseous.

This was much better than songs or art or whatever you inspired in others. You were gasping with every breath, the action somehow heightening the sensations. The little huffs and groans your body was pulling from him had your heart racing.

His cock was smashing your womb into your guts, the entire organ suddenly feeling like a new pleasure spot. Every jolt to your cervix made a novel kind of bliss pool in your stomach.

You cried, head empty as he completely left your heat before bottoming out again, “Stop, Alastor. Stop.” A strained moan, hands gripping the wooden sofa arm, “stop, stop, fuuuuck.”

He was pulling out too far and too fast, hitting back too hard and too deep. Your cunt felt swollen around him, your entrance so soft and wet he didn’t need precision to sink back in.

“Does it hurt?” He said quickly on the down beat of his thrust.

“Nngh no.”

“Theeen, no.”

Alastor pulled you up by your chin, back bending as he titled your mouth to his. Despite your mouth hanging open with your tongue out as salacious as you’d ever been, you told him, “I really don’t kiss during sex.”

The look in his downcast eyes sent a shiver along your spine, a power there you couldn’t push against, “You do now, my dear.”

When in hell, you supposed. You didn’t even try to argue, accepting his tongue wrapping around yours and exploring your mouth while his dick churned up your insides. Full from top to bottom. Full of Alastor. Safe. Wanted. Needed.

You pulled away when there was an overwhelming bone-deep sensation spilling through your hips and down your thighs. The muscles felt weak there, and you had an urge to runaway from it but Alastor held you still.

A scream of ecstasy as both legs shook violently, you finally got your hands free orgasm but to your shock it didn’t stop. As it appeared to wane, it just started mounting again. By the third roll, Alastor came with a push so deep your chest fell over the arm of the sofa. If not for the hands bruising your hips, you would have fallen off entirely.

The ache in your stomach began immediately, you’d have thought someone had been punching you in the gut. Well, more literally than they had been. When you groaned and complained to Alastor about what he had done, he pulled you up by your waist.

You were drawn into him, back to his chest again with your body between those long legs. His hands came to your stomach. Alastor massaged deep circles into your abdomen.

“Does that help?” His high voice lowered, husky and kind into your ear. You nodded, the pressure relieved the discomfort.

You wondered if he was used to taller demons than your shorter heavenly form, or perhaps he wasn’t used to anyone at all. Maybe sinners had more room than you did.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Believe it or not,” probably not, “I’m never trying to hurt you.”

Was it terrible you actually did believe him? Yes he was a serial killer, and considered one of the most cruel overlords in recent memory. But he was always gentle when his hands were on you. Flits of memories of him washing your feet came back to you.

“I know perhaps,” his hands kept moving, your back already stuck to his with well earned sweat, “I have at times been easily incensed.”

You nodded quickly.

“But, It’s just,” you heard him swallow hard, “ah I absolutely hate this,” He whispered it to himself. “I’m just scared you’ll leave before I’ve managed to convince you how much happier I can make you here.”

It’s not that it was funny, necessarily, but the very idea hell could be happier than Heaven was laughable. It was Heaven. It was made to be happy. It existed purely to please.

The smile faded from your face. Well, for the winners. It was made to please the winners. It wasn’t made for you, but you still got much enjoyment. You had…sex. Great sex. Not held aloft in a radio tower great, but…You always came. Everyone did. Wasn’t that the point of it?

Wasn’t that the point?

What was the point?

A warm and lonely bed is better than an empty one alone. So.

Well, your bed was always warm and never lonely in hell now that you’d been “moved”.

You had… Hobbies. You liked swimming.

Okay well the hotel had a pool. And yes, if you weren’t running off to earth on command you’d have more energy for hobbies.

What were you thinking about this for again?

You gathered the scraps of your relevant thoughts, “Happiness isn’t being confined to a hotel, Alastor.”

“As soon as you show me you won’t leave me, I won’t care where you go. As long as you’re safe.” One of his hands left your stomach to stroke your cheek, “I’m just waiting for you to realize what I already know.”

If Alastor were to ease his grip on you, could you enjoy yourself? Well, more than you did. But it was more than that, you had to admit you hated the idea of losing, of just running away. “I don’t like giving up.”

His laugh was quiet but it rocked you as his chest moved. “Darling they threw you to hell and told you you’re not allowed to leave unless you do homework. Giving up what? Being a servant to heaven?”

If he had said it a couple weeks prior, you would have left the room indignant. But now, settled against his hot skin and being so softly touched, it sounded like tough love.

“I don’t belong here though.” You were talking to yourself. So many excuses.

His arms wrapped around your chest to hug you into him, “You belong wherever I am.” His cheek pressed against yours, “I won’t let you go.”

A threat. A threat you leaned into and warmed yourself with. A threat a quiet part of you hoped he kept his word on.

You were getting too comfortable. Every morning you woke up to Alastor curled into your body, holding you tightly to him and you found yourself smiling before your consciousness clicked on. At some point in the last week he grabbed your chin and kissed you good night and suddenly every time he left your side you allowed a kiss to your cheek before he parted. What was worse was how you’d talk in bed about your recent reads and what happened the few hours you weren’t with each other.

The thing that made you realize you were getting honestly too deep was when you went to go to bed early and actually took the elevator past your floor, walked all the way to his station and told him good night. You’d made it to his chair and were leaning down for your kiss when your face fell flat.

He asked what was wrong but you shook your head. A poorly faked smile offered to him.

You sat in your bed. His bed. Your bed?

You sat in bed and wondered how to press forward. Two months, nearly, you’d been in hell. At this rate surely heaven had made a replacement. If you could make it back quickly you could still keep your place.

A decision was made, you’d never confronted Alastor head on. You had misunderstood his illusion of you. But maybe if you just forced it into his thick skull he’d been controlled and puppeted by an arrow, not his free will, he would abandon it to save his pride.

Knees to your chest, why were you crying again? Did you want to go home?

No, you wanted to curl into his stupid fucking lap and listen to him hum his stupid old, forgotten songs. You wanted to dance while Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. You wanted to feel loved.

But you weren’t made to want things. And Alastor didn’t love you.

Okay, one more night to enjoy yourself before you pissed him off so much he kicked you out of his bed. Or took such a turn into obsession he never let you leave the room again, allowing you to shirk responsibility for not returning to heaven.

When you turned the handle there was resistance, the door pushing in.

“Alastor? Done already?” He’d seemed busy earlier.

He closed the door and locked it. Oh. A blush. The sound of a locking door had come to mean certain things to you.

“You seemed bothered.” His thumb wiped where your tears had already dried, “What ever is the problem? Did someone upset you? Some neck I should wring?” You shook your head no. His other hand came to join in holding your face, those goddamned red eyes melting you to nothing, “Some limbs I should snap?” He took a step toward you and you took two back, hands holding his wrists. Another no. “Or some cheeks I should kiss?”

Stop crying.

An eager nod. “Don’t cry, my love.” Soft lips catching your tears, thin fingers wiping them away. He kept walking forward and you kept walking back until your legs hit the bed.

One more night, just in case. In case he forfeits the mania.

You kissed his neck, startling him. “Rare form. Did you need some more intimate attention, darling?” You tried to avoid initiating, never knowing what he wanted or when, never wanting to enjoy his touch too much. “I could indulge you.”

What you wanted was to be reduced so thoroughly to just a physical creature by way of pleasure that your mind disconnected from your brain. Fucked dumb, as people said. Alastor wouldn’t know what that meant but you were confident he’d enjoy sussing out the finer details of the meaning if it meant your full surrender.

You bit down on his neck, getting you pushed onto the bed in return. “I need overindulgence. I don’t wanna feel anything tonight but you.” You should practice your manners, for heaven's sake. “Please.”

There it was again. That look that turned your bones to jelly and your brain to cotton; that downcast half lidded stare as he towered over you that promised to devour you whole. His hand pulled at his bow tie and loosened his collar, knees on the bed as his legs spread you open at the thighs.

“Good girl.”

No punishment or inspiration, just that mental numbness that turned off all your worries. We’re you making stupid faces? We’re your sounds embarrassing? Didn’t matter. You didn’t care. You clung to his body like you’d fall apart without his skin on yours. Because you would, in some fashion.

Every gap between your bodies felt like room for doubt. So you filled them with flesh and sighs and moans.

With his height difference you were smothered by him when in traditional heaven-approved missionary, but you liked lying on top. Your head only made it to his chest when your hips were positioned above his cock. You could go slack and let him move you on and off himself. You had been lying when you said you preferred to not move or make noise, but you’d learned he got harder and more feral when you let him manipulate your body any way he pleased.

He smelled like sweat and leather, probably from the chairs in the lobby. No one sweats in heaven, this seemed like a mistake now. You’d have to be sure to not wash your clothes after you left hell, or else you’d forget his scent.

After finishing, he was surprised to find you still clinging to his torso, arms under his armpits and hooked onto his shoulders. He offered to pull out and let you lie down but you just held on tighter in response. He glanced around the room, soft light and softer music on the radio. Your quiver and bow rested against the armoire, practically dusty. He asked if you were alright, a hand coming to your back with large claws gently scratching.

“Yeah I will be.” you lifted your head, waiting.

Both of his eyebrows rose, unsure what you were waiting on.

Complete surrender. “Good night kiss.” You had to stretch to meet his lips before settling back into his chest, “okay bore me to sleep with your day, sinner.” He gladly did, you falling asleep yet again to the sound of his slow heartbeat and the rumble of his words.

You awoke nauseous, already knowing your day was going to fucking suck and it’d be your own fault. The idea of approaching Alastor and initiating the conversation felt impossible, your feet became stone when you thought of it.

The coward’s option. Wait for time alone and then pace the library until he came to find you.

After an hour or so he did, smile brightening as he entered. “Should I summon the bar?”

You shook your head no, struggling to speak. He sat in his chair, book still on the small side table.

Heart pounding, you considered doing this another day or week or maybe year but knew you’d already lost so much time. “Alastor, I need to talk to you about my task.”

He snapped the book shut, eyes not leaving his hands. “Oh?”

“I need to leave the hotel or at least need serious time alone with someone. I need to change someone’s heart on true love. I can’t go home—,” you were cut off, Alastor standing quickly.

“Home?”

“Alastor.” You stood your ground even as his spine stretched and antlers widened.

“Your home is wherever I am.” A pained smile now, something akin to hurt in his eyes that did damage to you too. “Ah. So last night— and people say I’m cruel.”

“I’m not supposed to be here!”

A snap, his anger and desperation eclipsing his pain, “Why don’t you ever listen-,”

Your turn to cut him off, “Because you’re under a spell! You act so fucking tough like you’re in control all the time. But you’re not! It’s just the effect of the arrow.”

He laughed, but you kept going, “Don’t act like you’re sooo strong you can fight the effects of my shot. You don’t fucking love me. Not really, not naturally. It was an accident. You’re just— it’s been made by me. I don’t want it. I want something real and true.”

“My feelings are true, just let me speak. I can make you understand if you’d just listen to me.” Pupils like pins, teeth somehow sharper.

“Alastor you can’t have true love. Nothing triggered by my arrows can ever be true.”

Another ring of laughter, “Tell me then how your true love is different than mine, Oh Wise Cupid.”

You huffed, “Don’t talk down to me, radio demon. True love means caring deeply for someone else that occupies your heart and mind-,” he opened his mouth, looking around the room for where you found the audacity but you snapped twice to get his attention back, “not just that! You put them first without fear because if they truly love you they would never take advantage of that. It’s trusting them with the most fragile parts of yourself. It's a best friend. Someone who makes you feel like a better version of you, makes you want to always be improving yourself.”

Alastor was still smug, staring at you from his unnervingly demonic height, “Lovely! Last question, expert, is true love ever one sided?”

You thought for a beat, “It can be.”

He hummed, body swiftly resuming his smaller but, again, still too tall scale, antlers remaining fierce as his sinister smile dropped to just a small upward turn of his lips. “I see. You’ve truly enlightened me. I believe you.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on you.

You rolled your eyes and licked your lips to go off when a portal opened beside you.

Heaven was just beyond the shining circle.

You looked from Alastor to the circular doorway, taking small steps towards it. Your hand pressed through, confusion wiping your own smugness off your face.

Alastor began a mocking slow clap. “I’ve been convinced. Happy now? Task complete.”

“But- the love Mania causes…It clouds the mind, you can’t even process the idea of true love properly.” You searched the floor for some clarity.

His hands stopped, eyebrows meeting his bangs as a laugh that started typically but quickly morphed into maniacal filled the room. You just kept pushing your hand in and out of the portal. Alastor finally quieted, antlers fully drawn back into little prongs. He stared at you. A shiver as his smile reached his ears. That look again. You took a deep breath, ready to be eaten.

“Your little arrow didn’t pierce me, you glorious fool. It literally fell into my pocket. I was never under the effects of your magic. I said that many times.” He straightened out his suit jacket, “Very plainly, might I add. You just never listened to me. So sure you knew better than I did.”

You sputtered, too many thoughts trying to express themselves, “Why did you act like that then?!”

“Because I wanted you. Something something first sight, as I recall the adage goes.” He crossed his arms and looked at his claws, “Perhaps my love happens to be manic by default. I am a murderous overlord, darling.”

All the energy left your body, shoulders relaxing. “Oh.”

“So, here I am,” he opened his arms, “trusting you to not hurt me any further today. Does that fall into your narrow view of true love?”

A good question. You shifted your weight onto your other foot, looking back at heaven. You could see the shining gates.

He sighed and brought his arms down, “I can’t promise how long I’ll let you stand there and look at anything other than me.”

A warning.

A deep breath, another shift onto your other foot again as you shook the anxiety out of your hands before finally making eye contact with him, “Well, eldritch horror, prove it.”

You heard the door lock from across the room.

You decided heaven could wait. It took about two days before they seemed to notice you hadn’t entered the portal, which closed on its own some time between Alastor pushing you onto the floor and you begging him for more. Luckily St. Peter wasn’t privy to your escapades.

It was a fact Sera was aware you had completed your task, because a knock came to the library door on that second day after you did so. Entering without waiting for a reply, which was brave, Lucifer and his hat popped into the room.

“Heeeey giiiirl. I got a message from heaven asking what’s the hold up, worried you were incapacitated.”

From your seat in Alastor’s lap you lowered your book, “How nice of them to suddenly care about my well-being.” You brought the book back up, “Little late.”

He nodded, “Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah I can understand that. Sooo,” his fingers tapped the door, “What should I reply with?”

Alastor turned the page and hummed a reply, “Finders Keepers.”

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

@sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

#alastor smut #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader smut

764 notes · View notes

todayisafridaynight · 5 months

Note

i'll probably be skipping stream today & tomorrow on account of my personal challenge to finish JE before you (<- absolutely not going to happen)

but while i'm here SHUT UP your headcanon is not icky :) though i can't really talk since i don't bring my own up very often either, and i honestly haven't even put that much thought into the logistics around it. anyway trans masato 🤝 trans wagi as personal coping mechanisms

DAWG you gotta finish it... idk how long youve had it but prob longer than me cmon now gamer i know you can do it ✊

trans masato is just funny because Like Everything I Do it just started as me joking about scenes from the game and then the ending happened and i was like Oh Lol It's Not A Joke Anymore I Think

I DONT USUALLY SUBSCRIBE TO TRANS HCS EITHER THAT WHY IT ICKY TO MEAJLWKJL but thank you. i promise to only mention it once every five months

#snap chats #to put it bluntly i Do Not like acknowledge. That aspect of my life. if me never even saying terms outright is to go off of LMAO #i cry thinking about it- like right now LMAO I ALMOST DID I HATE IT i dont like using hate but... thats one of five things i hate for sure #My Issues Aside Tho ive already talked about 'my logistics' with trans masato but ill say them again cause its funny #1.) The Injection Scene like it's for his. Adrenaline or whatever but the first thing i said when i saw it was an injection joke #because literally how could i not LIKE LMAO THEY SERVED IT ON A PLATTER #and then there's the whole Change His Entire Identity After Running To A New Country #i always joke about wanting to do that so that's strike two buster #and then to top it off when he comes back he looks like every transman ever before the effects of T start taking effect #which is a hilariously ironic statement to make considering The Before And After but lol strike three bozo #AND THEN STRIKE FOUR WAS HIS WHOLE 'i changed my name and body' BIT LIKE DAWG YOURE ALREADY OUT #IK ITS IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWED UP 'FOR POWER' BUUUUT TOP TEN 'HE JUST LIKE ME FR' MOMENTS LMAOOO #there's also his voice- both in jp and eng- just having a sort of Texture(TM) to it #in jp it's sort of high and nasally while in eng there's a sort of gravel to it that's so 🏳️‍⚧️?????? to me. im sorry.#do you see. that's why it's so funny. its so painfully funny #the funniest jokes are the ones with Some Weird truth behind them by the most delusional bitches ever <- me #ANYWAYS. i promise not to mention it much If Ever only when something really funny happens to me that reminds me of it #and i dont have a sneaky way to allude to it in a comic or a fic #end of the month is always hell for me cause on the one side Yay Money but on the other hand its like I Have To Work For It FUCK #so i can only draw on the weekend #im having a month-long sale for december tho...... so if we never see me again thats why #EW I JUST REMEMBERED I HAVE TO DRAW FOR A SECRET SANTA THING TONIGHT NOOOOOO #and i wanted to finish up that fic... cause im literally three lines away from finishing it...#christ i need to learn to juggle better. for now im eating this onigiri that i was too busy to eat #anyway no one look at me im soryr for sharing my cringe </3 i prommy it wont happen so bluntly again

4 notes · View notes

throwaway-yandere · 1 year

Text

I Got Reincarnated As A Server NPC In An Otome Game But A Capture Target Won’t Leave Me Alone (Yandere!Diluc Ragnvindr/Reader)

a/n: fasghadsa this is my thank-you fic for @poptartsthings for supporting my fics for the past year!!! thank you for the tips huhuhuhu ;;;—;;; hence, I wrote this diluc fic for *clears throat* "mommy milkers". Enjoy this self-aware yandere otome game!duke diluc ragnvindr!!!

unreliable synopsis: what if you got isekai-d in your favorite otome game and one of the Love Interests found out they aren’t a real person? (or, ya know, whatever the title said lmao)

"Bottoms up, Duke Ragnvindr!"

"No matter how enthusiastic you are, I remain inclined to think that this is a horrible idea, (Y/n)..."

Reluctantly swirling a small amount of fire-water while wearing gloves, the duke saw how the alcohol hardly made a wave. Unsatisfied, he diverted his attention and observed the NPC pour their drink.

"In all honesty, your grape juice is worth more than this, (Y/n)–"

"Shush!" With a flamboyant and dismissive wave, the generic common mob silenced one of the Main Characters. "Don't ruin the mood, now. I had to pull a few strings to get this bad boy right here. It’s such a shame that Mister “Best Boy” Albedo can't come, so we have to make sure I get my money’s worth off of these bottles. It’d be such a waste of francs."

"Wasted like the thousand francs wine you clumsily spilled last year?"

"Don't bring that up again, please."

"Why not?" He chuckled. "If you hadn't, I wouldn't have met you."

"If I hadn't, I would've been drinking with Villager B..." They muttered as they grabbed another glass from the cupboard.

He pretended not to have heard it.

They are both aware that their destinies follow different paths. No matter how hard one of them tries to walk next to the other, this cruel fate will separate them with a penalty that is even more agonizing than the last. All because (Y/n) was a real person, and Diluc was not.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr is this game’s easiest route: the typical childhood friend who falls for the heroine– Princess Lumine– first. In this genre, he falls into the category of those love interests who are incredibly austere with themselves that they were unable to enjoy the small things in life outside work. Ultimately, he follows the cliche of protecting the heroine from harm until she remembers that they used to play together as children in the palace gardens. Which, in itself, is quite a feat since the duke was not a man many could befriend. Unless you count Chief Justice Ajax as his greatest comrade, then perhaps he could finally add item number 11 to his list of trusted people.

The “Duke of the South” only favored audiences for those he was willing to invest in— after all, he’s famously known for having a “good signature.” It may seem like a compliment for uneducated nouveau rich men, but those with an eye for Gaciean politics knew how much power he has as the head of the Department of Military Affairs. Tales about his on-and-off disputes with the Chief Ajax circled as frequently as Teyvat Time’s popular Paimon-The-Friendly-Fae’s comic strips. Some loved his obsession with national security whilst some were quick to call him a pampered weapon hoarder, but if there’s one thing everyone can agree it’s that they fear the southern duke.

Now, after introducing a political figure with crimson locks of hair and domineering combat prowess, it’s certainly a tough sell to introduce the last person left inside: (Y/n) (L/n).

Unremarkably, they’re merely an NPC from Xiangling’s Seaside Restaurant. They’ve “reincarnated” into this world fumbling about like a newborn until the chef offered a job. Fortunately, they were not completely helpless in the kitchen. They had shown off their managerial skills from their old job since day one. Since then, Xiangling had hoped to train them as the new manager, but (Y/n) preferred to take on some responsibilities gradually. After a few days had passed, they abruptly realized that they were "Server C," an NPC with only a character sprite and a scarcely distinguishable name. The red ribbon-theme outfit from their restaurant was the only thing that distinguished them from the other faceless workers. According to what they can recall, one of their tasks is to give the princess's order of candies while she flees from her overprotective retainer, Dainsleif. It was a tense moment in that common route since all three of the princess’ potential suitors were customers from different ends of the restaurant, which were Dainsleif, Kamisato Ayato, and, of course, Duke Ragnvindr.

… Unable to snap out of their initial shock after recognizing that this was one of the game’s CGs and seeing three attractive men inside the restaurant they work at, (Y/n) accidentally broke the script by spilling the wine on Duke Ragnvindr’s coat.

Since then, (Y/n) had trailed and followed the characters whenever they could for their amusement– often helping their favorite love interest, Albedo, set up the scene so they can view his "CGs" in real life. Due to their apparent lack of stalking skills, they had another off-script encounter with the duke whilst doing so. Instead of heading straight to North Gaciea as he had done in the game, he was delayed seven hours after he weeded (Y/n)’s hair out of the bushes they were hiding in. Their first meeting was horrid, and their second almost went in a similar direction. Almost.

Since (Y/n)’s lies were as visible as their head peeking out of their hiding spot, Diluc had them drink a truth potion to uncover why they were stalking the chief alchemist, however…

… Does the phrase “the truth is stranger than fiction” apply in this case when both the earth and the sky are nothing but lies?

Diluc put on a convincing poker face when they babbled about the game they live in, demonstrating both their objectives and, more critically, their in-game omniscience. Albedo is the only love interest who changes into a feral (and subjectively "hot") monster toward the end of the novel, thus (Y/n) was adamant that he be Princess Lumine's ultimate endgame—but going any further in their explanations would be deemed a "spoiler." Additionally, Albedo’s route could only be unlocked once you finished another character’s route first… and that character happened to be Diluc Ragnvindr himself.

———

“In layman’s terms… We are living in a complex romance novel-esque system, correct? And I am the ‘book’ people often recommend to start the series with first before moving on to the sequel?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“… and I am just a stepping stone for a happier ending? A pawn? A mere puppet for someone chasing a momentary cure for loneliness?”

“Well, it felt real to me when I played your route—”

“Perhaps, but feelings do not change what is real and what isn’t.” Diluc sighed, unsheathing his dagger to break off the ropes that held the server down.

(Y/n) traced their wrists, appreciating now how gentle he had been when he could’ve gone rougher.

“Diluc…”

He bit his lip. It pained him to hear the server call his name as if they knew him.

They spoke as if they were friends the whole time right after they just revealed that his life is a self-fulfilled prophecy of unrequited romance.

And it was insulting.

———

The two have come a long way since then. He lost his faux feelings for Lumine. After gaining self-awareness, Diluc had begun avoiding what occurs in the game’s plot under the NPC’s guidance. To improve Lumine's chances of acquiring Albedo's route, (Y/n) was more than happy to assist him, so they started exchanging chats that ranged from oblique threats to routine discussions only friends could have.

Even so, (Y/n)’s attempts were futile when Albedo revealed to both of them that he knew he’s also just a character since the day he was “created”, and that “I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped attempting to produce an inorganic chemistry between the protagonist and me.”

…The chief alchemist was a smart one for sure and his confrontation had sobered (Y/n) fully. Although Albedo will never be the princess’ endgame nor will he turn into an apocalyptic dragon, (Y/n) had earned his friendship and started treating the rest of the cast as people and not just characters.

Diluc gazed out the window.

It was late into the night and rain was falling. There was not a single domestic sound emanating from nearby homes, which was a wise choice since annoying harpies would have gathered at the sound of human noises. Birds accosted the drying trees and roofs as fog swept through the streets. With the exception of this seaside restaurant, most stores were noticeably closed. The downpour buried the sound of crashing waves just a few meters outside, so no one would have known that this was close to the beach.

"Huh," (Y/n) stared in the same direction. "Didn’t expect it to rain tonight. Guess you can't escape this cheap alcohol-tasting session, huh?"

In the course of his outdoor nightly training, the head of the Department of Military Affairs grew incredibly resilient against mere storms. "I don’t need an umbrella."

"Fair," they laughed, distinctly human compared to the usual polite chuckles he would hear from leeching nobles. "But oh, dear Duke, if you don't need an umbrella then why are you still here? Is it because you wanted to see me– w-wait hold on—I'm kidding— sit down!"

…

They reached for his arm, but try as they might—

their hand only passed through.

The two stiffened.

Diluc’s breath hitched.

That was proof.

Because of this scripted fate, a commoner like them can't even grasp his hand, let alone touch it. Not when the system outright denies the friendship they have.

An NPC like (Y/n) can’t remain friends with a main character like Diluc once they have fulfilled their role in their story.

Diluc was untouchable.

He closed his eyes. Just acknowledging this pains him.

They both sat back down.

Much like how Diluc had pretended not to hear their comment earlier, (Y/n) also pretended that nothing unreal occurred seconds ago.

"S... So, is there anything else you want with that?" They pointed at his glass. "We have a crap ton of limes and cranberry juice! Oh, but I'm not sure if it would taste that good if we mix it, haha."

He could practically hear them force that laughter right out of their throat. Diluc hurriedly swallowed the fire-water they offered him since neither could stand the awkward tension. Diluc cringed.

"Oh, sorry, was it too strong?" Many nobles who detained the duke with platitudes were met with sarcastic comments, but he never hated (Y/n)’s idea of small talk.

"It's fine." He spoke huskily.

"Does it need lime or any add ons–"

"It's fine."

"... Okay."

The silence was painfully awkward... Perhaps Diluc shouldn't have threatened Albedo to sit this one out. He wanted an opportunity to be alone with (Y/n), and this is far from what he had hoped would turn out. Diluc's forehead creased as he held back what could've been a long somber sigh.

"How's work?" He asked.

"Oh, it's been alright."

That doesn't sound promising. This was a trick up his sleeves to snap them back to a cheery mood. Usually, they’d start rambling about their regulars and watch how endearingly entertaining they are. There should’ve been a quip about Itto’s TCG losing streak or how Kunikuzushi and Kazuha were arguing again over where they should place their tent for their next travels. This time, (Y/n) barely uttered a phrase.

They continued, "I don't suppose I could ask you the same, given that most of your work is confidential–"

"The Holy Kingdom’s crown prince visited North Gaciea today."

"Oh?"

Finally, he could see them smile for just a bit. Of course, they’d be interested to hear about Zhongli since he was the poster boy for the game’s sequel. Fortunately for Diluc, (Y/n) never got to play the game.

"That's wonderful! I was waiting for an English Localization of the sequel for soooo long! Was he hot? I bet he’s gorgeous as fu–"

"No."

"No...?"

"I mean." Diluc cleared his throat. It's barely even a shot of fire-water and he's already getting impulsive. "I meant that I cannot discuss the matter further. I am not like Kaeya. This is confidential, like what you had said."

"Ah..." Their eyebrows furrowed "I see…"

Why did they sound so disappointed?

Is (Y/n)… bored of him?

Diluc digressed, "how's Dainsleif?"

"Dain?" Their nose scrunched. "I haven't seen that poor guy for weeks now. He’s probably escorting Princess Lumine to Justice Ajax’s territory like in the game. Why?"

"Kamisato Ayato?"

"Ah, he ordered a crate of Dango milk yesterday," they laughed softly. "I'm amazed at how that man is barely affected by the script. I mean, I guess that’s to be expected when your route can only be unlocked by choosing three unsuspecting dialogue options. I don't think he talked to the protagonist at all these past two years. You’d think Lumine would’ve raised her wits stat high enough to attract his attention, but alas, Lord Ayato’s still lounging around East Gaciea doing Venti-knows-what."

He wasn’t paying attention to their ramblings. All their names sound bitter in Diluc's mouth. Unlike Albedo and Diluc, the rest of the Love Interests are free to interact with them as an extra. Server C had also performed their last scripted interaction with them, hence, (Y/n) can never touch Albedo and Diluc again.

Retainer Dainsleif of the West, Lord Kamisato Ayato of the East, Chief Justice “Childe” Ajax of the North, Chief Alchemist Albedo of Who-Knows-Where, and Duke Diluc Ragnvindr of the South… Princess Lumine certainly had fine options.

The Duke just wished the otome game scriptwriters would’ve let him have his own choice in the matter as well.

(Y/n) rested their elbows down on the table as they gazed into Diluc's distant eyes.

"Why did you ask?"

Diluc frowned, He admits it— (Y/n)’s eyes are nothing to write home about. When compared to an ephemeral beauty like Princess Lumine, their ordinary (e/c) eyes and visage hardly qualify as "distinctive traits." Their vibrant red ribbon is the only thing separating them from the street's grey residents. Yet he can still tell it's them no matter how big the crowd is. No matter how much they look like an “NPC”, to him at least it was a face worth seeing. Even if they mesh into a blob of slime, he can sense their essence through and through.

Although he can now barely make out the features on their face, nothing on this false earth can convince him that he wasn’t talking to the love of his life.

"I..." Diluc loosened his collar, suddenly growing hot at the intensity of their stare. "I simply wished to learn how the two other Love Interests are doing. I’ve had a chat with Ajax, and he still acts like a quote-on-quote “yandere” as you had explained before."

“Is that all?”

Diluc nodded.

"Ah," They shrugged. "Got my hopes up there– I thought there are other “Wasureta: No More” CGs I haven't seen yet."

Diluc smiled and took a drink.

"Ahh..." He exhaled, his eyelids fluttering shut in the process.

"You okay there pal?" They asked. "I know I said we shouldn't let any of this go to waste but you know I can just store them back home right? Oh, you can have some too but I don't think you'd like so–"

"I'll take a bottle."

(Y/n)’s eyes widened.

"Y-You..." They stuttered, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Diluc mumbled, lying to himself. "It tastes okay."

They grinned. The sight makes his decision all the more worth it.

"Haha, great!" They fist-bumped the air "See? Told ya cheap fire-water tastes good!"

Don’t get him wrong, he's not taking one home because of its taste. He's taking one home because it might be the last memento he'll have of (Y/n).

"Hold on, let me get a ribbon." They opened their palms to stop him from leaving. "Can't give the great Duke of the South something that looks barely presentable now would I?"

They left him with a skip in their steps. Diluc smiled.

Now that he's left alone, he silently wondered:

Just how long can he last before he tells the NPC that he wants to ruin their friendship?

———

Along with the sounds of gutted flesh reverberating through the tunnel's dark passageways, a man's hysterical laughter echoed. It was mostly silence in the caves, and there is a strong sense of loneliness upon entering the vicinity. Humans and animals alike would feel as though there is no life inside those walls, but the joyous yet hollow laughter came from the end of the tunnel.

And on the other side, you'll find a red-haired man at his wit's end.

"Tell me..." His words dragged out in a low growl as he grabbed a fistful of the bloody and tattered blonde's greasy hair. The man whimpered from his touch. "Was it fun? Laughing at my misery this entire time? Were you laughing along with them? Lumine, Dainsleif, and all the rest?! Did I put up quite the show there?!"

Crown Prince Aether trembled.

Duke Ragnvindr had everything figured out.

———

“There’s one regret I have now that I’ve isekai-d in this game.”

“What was it?”

“It’s just that,” (Y/n) sighed. “I never really got this game to a 100% completion.”

Diluc raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by their obsession with Wasureta, “and why is that important?”

“Hey! It’s pretty damn important!” (Y/n) grumbled. "Tsk, if only I finished your bad endings… The guides say once you do that, you’ll be able to unlock a secret route.”

“A secret route?”

“Yeah,” they shrugged.

“I’ve read some spoilers from Otomekitten's blog and get this— the last route reveals where Lumine’s brother had been hiding all this time.”

———

The nerves on the back of Diluc's palms were more noticeable as he pulled the poor man closer. Simply put, their faces did not resemble what mankind should look like; rather, they were an animalistic representation of a predator and prey. Hitherto it had disturbed Prince Aether in his rests, but it was too late when he finally acknowledged that something unhinged lay dormant inside the duke.

"P-please..." He coughed. Blood started drooling down the edge of his lips. He assumes that a few of his teeth are likely knocked in, and he can feel his canines prodding inside his throat. "H-have merc–"

With alarming ease, Diluc threw him in the direction of the shelves. The blonde fell and gasped violently when the splintered wood struck his shoulder. The gaping wound on his hips gushed out once more, bleeding onto his carpet and scattered notes. The duke was a monster. He intentionally missed striking his vital organs to prolong his suffering. More blood gushed from his mouth and the prince noisily wheezed out wet coughs.

His Highness has (Y/n) to blame for the hints they gave the duke.

If they hadn't had that conversation, Diluc wouldn’t have figured out that Aether created this “game” world out of grief for his dead sister.

———

“I’ve been alive here for a year or so but I can’t get used to how the harpies in this world look so tame.”

“Hmm? What else were you expecting?”

“Nothing much, it’s just that they look so different in the game’s beta.”

They shrugged. “Fun fact: did you know that “Wasureta: No More” was a fantasy-horror game before the scriptwriters decided to rewrite everything?”

———

"Tsk." Diluc spat and wiped his mouth with his last dirty palm as if there was a major difference. Both are equally soiled with oil and Aether’s blood; it wouldn’t have mattered.

The duke snarled aloud into a burst of savage laughter, "what's wrong, My Creator? Can't even muster up the courage to face your retribution?"

"F-Friend..." Aether called out, hoping to garner sympathy for the Diluc who once looked after both him and his sister at the royal gardens. Hoping to remind him that he was placed number 1 on the list of people the head of Military Affairs had trusted.

"Don't call me that," Diluc's grip on his claymore grew tighter until his knuckles paled.

"Du-Duke..." The blonde looked up. "I can't just... Rewrite this story again..."

"You can," Diluc spoke in a somewhat broken voice. His sanity may be waning, but he cannot deny that Aether was included in the list of the people the duke trusted. "We’re just characters you’ve written. You've done that before. You've done that to Lumine."

"And I r-regretted it!" He sputtered out, accidentally stronger than intended. The blonde scurried to lean against the wall as he feared Diluc would attack him for his offensive tone. "I regretted it. I thought I could revive my sister... I thought that would bring Lumine back into this new world. I thought it would bring her happiness if– if I gave her m-more options–"

"Forced options," Diluc grumbled, rightfully angry at the blonde's interferences. Based on his inference, three of the five suitors wouldn't have been whisked away by Lumine's whims if it weren't for her brother’s influence. And judging by his pained reaction, Diluc would be right.

"But she’s not my real sister.” Aether sobbed. “She never will be— she’s just an image I had of her. And I-I still ended up making this false Lumine more miserable."

"No shit." Diluc snickered with narrow eyes. "You made her miserable—"

The duke just wished he knew where Aether was from the very beginning. He would've had Prince Aether's head before this whole damn game even started.

"And you made me so fucking miserable, Crown Prince," Diluc muttered.

“I just wanted to be with (Y/n).” He breathed in shakily, “is that so much to ask for?”

"P-Please, listen to me." Aether wept. "Ch-Changing someone's fate brings more harm than good!"

THUD.

Aether shook as a claymore thrust through the concrete just a hair beside his ear. He gulped under the towering gaze of those piercing red eyes. They glowered over him, and they were far from pleased. Aether was too terrified to look away as he saw how Diluc's eyes spiraled into the abyss. The air was thick with heat emanating from Diluc’s pyro-abilities. The sound of the metal rang in the prince’s ears like a warning, thus, the strength in his shoulders weakened and his muscles have gone mushed as he cowered down.

Changing fate brings more harm than good? What a joke. By the looks of it, letting fate run its course only puts the prince in greater turmoil.

Maybe Diluc should offer his head to Her Highness. It doesn't matter whether he lived or died, does it not? If she's so desperate to find the missing prince again, it wouldn't even matter what state his casket is in.

"Di–"

Aether couldn’t breathe.

"Don't struggle."

Diluc effortlessly slid the prince's entire body up the wall after grabbing his throat. Aether's feet curled up as he struggled to steal a breath. He tried to kick and claw Diluc's arms away, but the man stood his ground. Ruby eyes continued to pursue him with an icy rage that Aether was all too familiar with.

The fact that they both placed a lot of faith in one another was a mistake.

Aether's eyes started to tear up involuntarily. Diluc spoke those words as if they weren't threatening remarks, but a merciful command. Yet it doesn't change the fact that he intended to assassinate the prince with his bare hands. Aether began balling up his fists and striking him, but it was ineffective.

"..."

Diluc coldly watched his stomach bleed out like a student dissecting a frog.

Aether's vision clouded. As he flailed his limbs like a wild animal, dark blotches started to appear in his line of sight. His fingers are unwittingly clawing at everything as the adrenaline starts to kick in. Aether never wished to harm a soul, but at that moment he was aiming for Diluc's eyes.

His survival instincts kicked in.

He can't die.

Not like this.

"Si–..."

Lumine. Sister.

Aether needed to apologize to his sister.

He still hoped to say sorry— sorry for leaving her to run a kingdom alone— sorry for not being able to save her in the original timeline—

sorry for resetting and rewriting the game just to see her alive and happy again.

Aether had so much unfinished business piled up. So many discoveries he has yet to pen down. He can't die here. He mustn’t.

He grabbed something. A fleeting crimson near his assailant's collarbone.

Was it Diluc's hair?

He pulled harder. All his strength was wasted on that sliver of red hope. Anything that would get his assailant to stop.

And Diluc did. His grip on Aether's throat loosened as the prince fell back on the floor. Aether wheezed, his vision slowly returning to him. His bated breathing echoed inside the room as his eyesight returned to him. When the prince's eyes finally focused sharply, he saw silk.

This wasn't Diluc's hair, it was–

"(Y/n)’s ribbon."

Diluc used the very same ribbon (Y/n) to decorate a bottle of fire-water with to tie up his hair.

Aether shivered.

"It seems like you wanted to choose your death."

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

Aether looked up. He shouldn't have looked up.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr's face was red with a grin uncannily reaching his ears to a degree that shouldn't be possible. His expression was akin to a lovesick young adult twisted to its extremities. He appeared to look excited. To think that he burns up by just a mention of this person’s name makes Aether sick to his stomach.

"Allow me to heed your last wish, Your Highness."

The prince felt his whole body tense up as Diluc wrapped the ribbon around his neck.

Diluc did not give him any more room to breathe as if his body was moving automatically.

This wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore.

His eyes were empty.

This was a man possessed.

"Ch...de..." Aether forced out his last words as the ribbon quickly wrung around him.

"S..ve... my... s....ter"

———

Diluc only pulled out of his trance after he started washing the blood off his hands. Elzer subsequently informed him that the duke had entered the manor bloodied and unkempt with no recollection of how he got there and that he had strolled carelessly to the restroom like a corpse. There was a commotion across the entire Ragnvindr manor and rumors that he had lost an unpleasant duel quickly circulated. Better that than the truth, he supposed. Even his memory of what transpired in Aether's basement is hazy. Diluc only had their red ribbon and the idea of winning in his mind. He refused to let things continue as they are.

It wasn't until he started drying himself with a towel that he realized that the crown prince perished by his hands.

To think that Diluc used to be so terrified of offending royalties– of accidentally slipping a lese-majeste out of his lips– but now he let a royal's soul slip out of his wrists.

It's invigorating.

Diluc not only tied his fate with theirs, but he successfully managed to cut their ties with those disgusting vermin they call their “regulars.” They can't have them anymore, and they won't even intend to reach out. No one remembers who Server C is. They are now alone together with him. He’s the only person they can depend on. Diluc's breathing heaved lower. Just thinking about their inevitable dependence excites him.

He quietly closed the door behind him.

"Good evening, Server C." He smiled. "Or, should I say, my beloved?"

Just the two of them.

They won't look at anyone else. They can't. The whole world will now feel what he felt when he was unable to touch (Y/n). Only HE has the privilege to hold them now.

It's just the two of them in this world left. After all, there is no statute of limitations once you learn how to play Creator.

Diluc Ragnvindr had successfully rewritten this game’s script.

He no longer carries any in-game responsibilities, much like how there is no Lord Kamisato, Justice Ajax, Retainer Dainsleif, and Chief Albedo that exists in this “script.rpy” file.

It’s just him and his beloved server, alone.

Diluc wiped his mouth. He's practically dro– no, his mouth is literally watering at the thought. Diluc's heart is pounding, almost threatening to break free from his ribs.

"I’m all you have now, (Y/n)." Diluc's gaze softens. "Isn't that wonderful?"

His hands reluctantly traveled under their blanket where their hands should be, scared that when he reaches out, he'll feel nothing there.

He felt their warmth.

Diluc grinned tearfully. He can finally touch them again. He felt their fingers crossed miraculously against his own.

"You’re so warm..."

He gently rubbed their calloused hand against his cheek.

No matter how overworked or ragged these hands were from washing the dishes, for him, they were silk to touch. So soft. So vulnerable.

Diluc swallowed his saliva with great difficulty. God. They’re so vulnerable right now. So peaceful. So fragile. His breathing increased in volume. He could just take them right here–

His bottom lip started to bleed. He was doing everything in his power not to cave in but his throat was starting to get parched. He breathed in deeply.

Not now. Please, not right now. Not when they probably don’t remember who he is.

Diluc wanted to see the look on their face as he finally kisses them. What expressions will they make? It's not fair to both of them to steal such a moment when they’re asleep. That's not what he had been waiting for. Not what he's been craving.

"My beloved, you're a beauty from afar, but you're even more flawless in my arms," Diluc muttered over their ear.

"And I'll do everything in my power to let it stay that way. Fate and the entire world be damned."

-----------

A/n: want to read more of this in a visual novel form? It's here :)

Edit: HERE'S THS IMPROVED SPRITES AND OVERALL UPDATED GAME!!!

#yandere diluc #yandere diluc x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere diluc ragnvindr #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #tag: otome game au #yandere male #tw yandere #male yandere #yandere #genshin impact #x reader #ansy-writes

4K notes · View notes

bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

Text

Destructive solution

Steddie x virgin fem!reader

summary: after becoming roommates with your high school crush and finally getting out of your crazy strict parents house, you get a little too close to him and his best friend (your coworker) —but they’re straight, right?

warning: SMUT 18+ MDNI, female masturbation, mmf threesome, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering (m & f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, unprotected p in a sex, dom & sub dynamics, they’re all love sick for each other, controlling parents, one little suicide joke, reader has no game but she’s a pervy virgin, she’s also clueless about sexuality but does admit to having bi thots

A/N: This took way too long, I wrote a whole other story just to hate it and delete it all, Im happy I did because I like this plot way more. Please let me know what you think. I also did way too much “bisexual threesome porn” searches for “research purposes” cough cough for this lmao

It was your second week of working at family video. Instantly falling into a routine of stocking returned tapes back on the shelves and cleaning down surfaces and windows. It wasn’t your first choice of work but with your situation, you would take anything you could get. You’ve been saving up money since summer to finally move out of your parents house, they’ve treated you like a child for far too long and now that you’ve decided to take a gap year and not pursue college like they had hoped you would, they are even worst. If they’re not ramming information about different colleges and courses you should be taking down your throat, they’re criticizing your music taste, your friends and the clothes you wear. Nothing is ever good enough which is why you need this job, so you can find an apartment and break free from your parents metaphorical shackles they’ve placed on you since birth.

The one good thing about your job is your co-workers, Robin and Steve. You usually work with one or the other but the days you get to work with both are always hysterical. Robin is the best always willing to go the extra mile to be sure you know exactly what you’re doing, Steve is sweet and a little bit of a flirt but you know his reputation and well it’s probably just second nature to him at this point, you don’t overthink it since he tends to flirt with the customers too. But god is he gorgeous, you totally get lost in his eyes when he’s talking to you. Not having much experience with boys is the reason you are terrible at flirting back, the most experience you have is making out with Christopher Malone at church camp when you were 15, he might have also cupped your left boob but still, it’s not much to go off of and putting yourself out there to the male species seems a whole lot harder then just being alone.

It’s a lovely Monday morning when you show up to family video. You work one on one with Steve today which always gives you butterflies, even going as far as stuttering like a lame-o when he talks to you, he was always asking personal questions or for your opinions on things and it would always take you by surprise, thus the stuttering

Steve went to Hawkins high with you, both of you sharing a math class where you said all but five words to each other—but working closely side by side was so different. Using a lot of free time to have conversations, and by conversations you mean him talking while you twirl your finger in your hair as you stare into his eyes and at his lips, pretending like you’re paying attention.

“Hello, y/n” his hand waving in front of your face making you snap out of whatever daydream you were having

“Oh, sorry! I-I was thinking about-“ you stahl as you try to make up something on the spot

“About what?” He says as he lifts his eyebrows and puts his hands on his hips

“I was trying to remember if I turned my curling iron off” you spit out

“Mmm” is all he says as he nods his head, giving you a knowing look, almost like he could read your mind. God, you’re so thankful he can’t do that

“So what is it you were saying, sorry” you say as your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment

“I was saying my buddy Eddie is actually looking for a roommate, he just moved into an apartment and I guess his job cut some hours so he’s kinda desperate to find someone, and I remember you telling Robin you were trying to get out of your folks house, so I figured I’d let you know”

“Eddie as in Eddie Munson?” You say as your eyes widen

“Yup that’s him” Steve says as he rubs the back of his neck

“U-um yeah, okay, can I get his number from you?” Your cheeks now a dark crimson red

You had the biggest crush on Eddie Munson in high school, sure he was “the freak” or “the bad boy” but something about him always enticed you, you would look for him in the halls, cafeteria and assemblies. You locked eyes with him on more than one occasion and every time, you felt your heart practically stop, you even contemplated buying weed just for a chance to talk to him, but you chickened out at the last minute

You weren’t sure if living with your high school crush was a good idea but you were also desperate, and maybe this could be your chance to finally get to know Eddie, if not intimately then maybe just as friends

“Yeah, I’ll write it down and give it to you at the end of our shift, just remind me” he says as he gives you a smile

The day drags on and finally at 4:30pm you’re clocking out and gathering your things to head out, as you walk up to Steve to bid him a “bye, enjoy the rest of your day” as you usually do, he turns around from the counter to slip you the number he promised you earlier, as you go to grab it your finger tips touch and you can’t help but get shy, as you look up at him and then look down at your shoes with an embarrassingly big smile on your face.

“T-thanks for this, really it means a lot” you say as you wave the number in your hand

“Yeah no problem, just give him a call and tell him I sent you” he says with a wink that makes your face heat up

“Thank you again, have a good day” you say as you rush out of there, kicking yourself for being so awkward

Once you get home, you head for the kitchen to use the house phone. Your parents never even allowed you your own private phone for your room, and luckily they weren’t home to hear your conversation, they’d lose their minds if they knew you could possibly be moving in with a boy, but for now what they don’t know won’t hurt em’

As you dial the number with shaky hands and a rapidly beating heart, you give your self a tiny pep talk “be cool” “just relax and be cool” as you inhale and exhale a deep breath. The line rings exactly three times before you hear a groggy voice on the other end

“Hello?” -—Wow his voice is so sexy— “no, nope get it together, remember, be cool” you think to yourself

“Helloooo?” Eddie says breaking you out of your thoughts

“Oh, sorry yes um- this is y/n, I work with Steve and he gave me your number because I’m looking to move out and he said you’re looking for a roommate?” You have never wanted to go lay in oncoming traffic so bad

“Mm, Steve gave you my number?” You can hear the smirk on his lips

“Yeah, I’m sorry is that not okay?” — god you wish you could just disappear in this moment

“No, no it’s okay! So when do you wanna come over? I can show you the place and we can go over rent and whatnot” his tone of voice almost sounds eager, but Steve did say he was desperate to find someone

“I can head over in a couple hours, if that’s okay?” You timidly ask

“Cool, cool that works”

After he gives you the address and you hang up, you rush to your room to get ready, you are not going to this meeting in your work uniform

So you freshen up a bit and change into something more you

Deciding on a rainbow band cropped muscle shirt — the shirt your parents always gave you shit for, because one it was “too short” and two “it was the devils music”

You paired it with some black high waisted shorts and a black belt, and then shoved on your white Reeboks, spraying some perfume before you rush out to your little blue ford pinto, the one nice thing your parents did for you—buying it for you your senior year just to get to and from school

The apartment was about a 12 minute drive. You pull up to a brick complex building with a little stoop, it looked fancier then you were expecting, two big pots with beautiful purple flowers on either side of the entrance door— before you are able to walk in you have to be buzzed in by the occupant, so you press the button by B13 and instantly hear Eddie’s voice through the contraption

“Come on up” he says before you’re even able to speak, you hear the door click and you open it— immediately being welcomed by a staircase, you walk up to apt B13, but before you lift your hand to knock you take some deep breaths, Readying yourself for this interaction with a boy you were love sick for almost all of high school

By the first knock, the door swings open and your met by Eddie, and holy hell did he still look as beautiful as he did then, maybe even more so, his hair was a little longer and by what you could tell under the sleeves of his Iron Maiden shirt he definitely filled out more, a little more muscular and maybe even a little taller whatever it was, was turning you into an idiot because you couldn’t stop your eyes from roaming all over his body, his signature black jeans with the rips in the knees and woah is that a bulge? “Okay—okay stop it right now!” You think to yourself, once you look up into Eddies eyes you realize he’s doing the same, ogling your legs and exposed thighs and sliver of skin between your shorts and shirt.

That somehow gave you the confidence to speak first— “hi, I’m y/n” you say as you hold out your hand for him to shake

“I know, we went to school together, right?” He says as he sticks his hand out to meet yours

“Yeah we did, we did— didn’t think you’d remember me” you say still shaking his hand

“I always remember a pretty face” he says back and your panties instantly grow a wet spot— because holy shit, did he just call me pretty?

You want to say something back and be flirty but all you can give him is a little giggle as both of your hands separate from that excessively long hand shake

“Come on in” he finally says as he gestures you in first

You giggle again as you say “thank you”

As you walk inside your eyes scan the place, it was really nice and you could totally see yourself living here, way nicer than anything you could get alone. There’s a few horror movie and band posters hung up around the living room— some fangoria and heavy metal magazines placed on the coffee table, a nice grey couch and a tv setup in front, even a record player with a crate full of vinyls. As you’re busy eyeing the place Eddie is busy eyeing you—looking a little too long at your back side than would be considered appropriate

As you turn around you catch him, eyes still trained on your ass, your cheeks flush and your heart starts beating a mile a minute again, but you give him a smile as you tell him how nice the place is

“Do you want the tour?” He asks, as his eyes are now eyeing your muscle tank

“Yes, please” you say with too much excitement as you bounce from the heels to the balls of your feet making your boobs bounce, which did not go unnoticed by Eddie

But before he began the tour, eyes still trained to your shirt—he points to it

“I like your shirt—I uh, didn’t know you listened to that kind of music” he says as he looks back up into your eyes

Eddie’s nervousness was giving you some kind of boost of confidence because before you could rethink your next words, they’re tumbling out

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Eddie” you say with a smirk as you turn around signaling to him that you’re ready for the tour

As he shows you around, you both can’t help but sneak peaks of each others bodies, you almost couldn’t concentrate on anything else—until he showed you the vacant room, it was a very decent size and could very well fit all of your belongings and then some

“It’s perfect” you say beaming up at him

“Yeah, this place has pretty big rooms, huh?” He says back as he smiles down at you

“So do you wanna go over the bills and stuff now?”

You look back at him with the most beautiful smile he thinks he’s ever seen

“So does that mean I’m moving in?” You squeak out with pure excitement

“Yeah, it does—by the way, when’s the soonest you can start moving your stuff in? You know for rent purposes, the mechanic shop I work at thought it’d be a good idea to hire a couple more people so they cut my hours back” he says with a glum look you wish you could kiss right off

“Oh, well I can start moving little things in by tomorrow, but I need to find someone to help with the bigger things like my bed and dresser”

“Me and Steve could help—if you wanted” he spits out a little faster then he anticipated

“Oh my god, I would be indebted to you both forever, if you did” you say with your best puppy dog eyes

“Yeah I can think of some ways you can cash in that debt” he says with a smirk that makes a chill run down your spine and a place between your thighs throb—you swallow before you smile back at him

“Let’s go sit so we can talk” he says as he does the same “after you” gesture he did when you first walked in

After you both talk about the expenses you’d be splitting and some rules he has which consisted of

Food—you can have whatever of his you want just make sure to ask first and you agreed, that he could do the same. No smoking weed on the balcony, the neighbors like to complain about the smell—but you assured him you don’t smoke, so that doesn’t really apply to you. Last one always let him know when you’re going to have company over, after agreeing and shaking hands he walks you out and before you go to leave he gives you a hug and whispers close to your ear

“I’ll see you tomorrow” goosebumps instantly rising from your skin, you nod and give him a smile before you walk off to your car

As you make your way back home, you try to go over what the hell just happened. You haven’t felt this giddy in your life, you’re about to move in with Eddie fucking Munson, you weren’t sure if you wanted to pull over to do a happy dance or pull over to puke from the nerves that have just swarmed through your stomach at the thought of seeing him everyday, sharing a bathroom with him, holy shit— sleeping in the next room over from him, oh my god you didn’t think about all of this before, what if he sees all your flaws and gets disgusted by you— okay, stop no overthinking, this is your chance to finally be your own person, live your life for yourself and maybe Eddies the perfect person to show you how to let loose.

After Eddie and Steve helped you move your heavier items in—one of your first debts was treating them to burgers and fries for dinner. After grabbing everything from your parents house you left your new number for them to be able to contact you. Moving out the week they were on a work trip, not wanting the confrontation—but you were an adult and you are allowed to move out without permission, you knew once they found out they’d completely cut off contact with you, but you still held out hope that your parents could be decent humans, someday.

But now that you’re settled in, Eddie mentioned a tradition him and Steve have every Saturday, horror movie night. Being around both of the guys you get butterflies for might be a little overwhelming, but you’ve grown to love their company so it should be a good night.

Since it’s your first, you’ve been put in charge of picking the movies—settling on the serpent and the rainbow and fright night. You’ve decided on a whim that you’re gunna look good tonight, maybe that was a terrible idea but you wanted to be desirable, you want to feel sexy and for them to see you as such, so there’s not harm in wearing some cute little pajamas—enfaces on the little

As soon as you got home from your shift you cleaned up a little bit and then hopped in the shower to clean the long day off, once out you used some sweet smelling body lotion and spritzed some perfume on your neck and wrists—finally changing into an off white silk two piece accustomed with some ruffles on the end of the short shorts, showing off the underside of your butt—the top was very cropped and you’ve decided to go without a bra, it just looked better that way, you paired the whole ensemble with white knee high socks. After brushing and drying your hair, you give yourself a once over in the full length mirror that is hanging behind your door, you felt sexy—for the first time in your life, you could kiss your best friend Rachel for getting this pajama set for you on your birthday. The confident thoughts that entered your head left as quickly as they came, now you’re questioning how this makes you look—“am I going to look desperate” “are they going to know I’m dressing up for them?” Oh god I hope not

Before you could overthink any further, there’s a knock at your door—you were so focused you almost jumped out of your skin

“Y-yeah?” You ask trying to catch your breath

“Can you come set up the movie while I get the snacks ready?” Eddie asks from the other side of the door

“Yeah, of course! I’ll be right out”

It’s now or never, either you stop being a pussy and get some confidence or you’ll be stuck as the little virgin forever— so you take a deep breath and walk out into the living room to set up fright night first. Steve called 30 minutes ago to say he’d be on his way soon, so he should be here any minute. As you’re fiddling with the remote and pausing it on the fbi warning— Eddie walks out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand—

“Hey, hope you like butte-“ “woah” he said almost dropping the bowl of popcorn as his eyes descend along your figure in the little pajama set

“You um, you look nice” he says as he looks down, setting the popcorn bowl on the coffee table

“Thanks” you say with a shy smile— can’t tell if that’s a good reaction or not, but you’ll take it

“I uh, I’m gunna go use the bathroom, can you buzz Steve in when he comes?” He says as he rushes off

“Sure” was all you were able to get out before he disappeared down the hallway

About 5 minutes go by and you hear the buzzer go off— it’s Steve, you answer and buzz him through, you open the door and wait for him to come up—but as you wait you get preoccupied with cleaning off the dining table

You hear the door shut behind you, signaling that Steve is now inside, as you turn to look at him, he’s giving you the same look Eddie did earlier before he headed off to the bathroom

“Hey” you say with a little wave

He walks towards you with a 12 pack of beer in his hand as he looks you up and down, making a chill run through your body

“Well hello” he says as he walks up standing right in front of you “don’t you look nice tonight”

“Oh, um thanks” you say as you take the 12 pack from him

“I’ll put these in the fridge” you say heading into the kitchen “Eddie’s in the bathroom—just make yourself comfy”

After pulling out three beers for you and the guys— you put the pack in the fridge and head back to the living room— you see Steve and Eddie immediately stop their conversation once you’ve gotten within ear shot of them, they’re both ogling you as you walk to sit in between them on the sofa— okay these pajamas were definitely working

Once fright night starts playing and you are all sipping on your beer and passing popcorn back and forth— Eddie pauses it to take a smoke break, you pass but they still invite you to hang out in his room, while they partake

You sit up against Eddie’s wooden headboard while Steve and Eddie sit at the end of the bed facing you—passing the joint back and forth to each other while you all get lost in conversation

“So y/n” Steve says as the smoke bellows out of his mouth, looking at your thighs and then back to your eyes “I like these little pjs, do you normally wear stuff like that to bed?” — you feel your cheeks heat at the question, embarrassment washing over you

“Um, no actually I usually just wear big shirts to bed, but these are the only matching pajamas I have, so I decided to wear them tonight for the special occasion” you say shyly

“Yeah? I like ‘em, right Ed, we like ‘em?” He says looking at Eddie, making him choke on some of the smoke he had just inhaled

“Mmhm, we do” he says, both boys looking at you like they were hungry and you were a four course meal

You didn’t say too much after that, now feeling way too shy to insert yourself in their conversations— you guys head back to the living room to finish the movie, resuming your positions on the couch after Steve gets up to grab three more beers for you all

Once fright night is over and all the popcorn and beers have been drunk, you decide to save serpent and the rainbow for another night

“I actually have an early shift tomorrow, so I think I’m gunna get to bed, is that okay?” You ask the boys — noticing the look of disappointment on both of their faces

“Uh, yeah yeah that’s fine” Eddie speaks up first

“Goodnight guys” you say while grabbing your throw blanket and heading to your room— “goodnight y/n” Steve says

Once you lay down and try to fall asleep, it’s almost impossible, things seemed so off tonight— almost like the boys had a secret or were in on something you had no idea about, maybe it was in your head. But you also seen the way they were looking at you — and how disappointed they looked when you told them you were going to bed, you weren’t even sure what you were asking for— there’s no way they’d both want you, so why are you fighting so hard to be wanted by both of them?

an hour passes of you tossing and turning and once you finally find a position you’re most comfortable in, you start to hear foot steps, it’s probably Eddie going to his room— Steve must’ve left.

About 10 minutes later, you’re still wide awake— you start to hear faint moans coming from Eddie’s side of the wall “oh my god, is he jacking off?” You whisper to yourself. The moans get louder and now you hear another set of moans and some slapping noises— “wait, oh my god, is that Steve?” — “holy shit, are Steve and Eddie fucking?” You couldn’t help but get up and place your ear to the wall

You start to feel a tinge of jealousy in the pit of your stomach accompanied by arousal, wow this is turning you on, thinking of both of them together— well this is new, never thought you’d be turned on by two men you’re crushing on having sex. As the moans get louder— your hand descends into your little silk shorts and under your panties, you don’t really touch yourself—probably making yourself cum a handful of times, but woah the instant need is something you’ve never felt before— you’re so wet, you gather the slick that’s seeping out of your hole and bring it up to your clit, rubbing slow deliberate circles on it, as you begin to feel that burning sensation in the pit of your stomach— Eddie and Steve’s moans get a little louder, you hear Eddie tell Steve to keep it down, and then the slapping continues— you reach your peak as you push a pillow into your face to muffle the moans that are coming out of your mouth— holy fuck you’ve never cum so hard, once you’re finished the moaning stops and you hear some muffled talking but not enough to make out what’s being said, after a couple minutes you hear foot steps and the front door close.

As you come down from your high— you start to feel shame for listening in and touching yourself to something you shouldn’t have been listening to, but what the hell?— Steve and Eddie? So what are they like gay?— I mean surely Steve can’t be he’s a ladies man, still flirting and going on dates with the women that come into family video, but I mean Eddie— you’ve never seen him with a girl before, but you’ve seen the way he’s looked at you since the first day you came over, he’s never been subtle in his attempts at checking you out. You’re so confused.

After continuously tossing and turning last night you’ve decided it’d be best to just move on, clearly Steve and Eddie have a thing for each other and no matter how much you like them both, maybe it’s for the best to just start your dating life— you no longer live with your parents thus allowing you to finally go on dates, so why not indulge?

Luckily today you work with Robin, you wouldn’t know how to face Steve if you worked one on one with him, you already feel guilty for getting off to his and Eddie’s moans, the whole thing would just be awkward— luckily you didn’t see Eddie either before you left for work.

It’s nearing the end of your shift, you’re stocking the horror section with some returns when you hear the bell above the entrance door go off, Robins in the back so you’re in charge of greeting and helping customers

“Welcome to family video!” you say as you continue your strategic alphabetical placements, as you’re putting the last movies away, you stand up and head back to the counter— being greeted by a familiar smiling face

“Donnie Anderson?” you say with a shy smile as you look up at the tall, dark haired boy— you both went to Hawkins high together, he was the quarterback and you tutored him on multiple occasions

“Y/n?” He says as his eyes squint “Wow, how have you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good actually, how about you?”

“Yeah, same here” he says with his signature charming smile “wow you look great”

You can’t help but blush at his kind words—“thanks, so do you”—“so is there a movie I can help you find?”

“Right? Movie um, yeah I’m looking for dream a little dream and license to drive, they’re for my little sister” he says as he looks down in embarrassment

“Those are the movies with the two Corey’s, right?” You say as you raise your eyebrows

“Yup” he says as he nods his head slowly

“For your little sister, huh?” You tease

“Yeah, uh, she loves Corey Haim” he chuckles

After you ring him up and get caught up in talks about the past and future— Donnie leans over getting a little close to your personal space, working up his charm

“Hey what are you doing tomorrow?” He asks

“I have another morning shift, but after that I’m free, why? What’s up?” You say as you lean a little closer towards him

“Do you want to go out with me tomorrow?”—“maybe catch a movie?” He says with hopeful eyes

“Sure, y-yeah that sounds fun, I’d love to” you say as you hand him the bag with his movies

“Cool, can I get your number?”

You pull out a note pad and pen from the drawer and jot your number down, tearing out the page to give to him— “okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, have a goodnight y/n” he says as he walks backwards to the door, and then turns around to walk out

Oh my god, your first official date! — you can’t help but to do a little happy dance, quickly being interrupted by Robin

“That inventory took way too lon-“ she says immediately stopping as she sees your dancing form behind the counter

“We having a dance party or something?” She inquires

“No, but Im going on my first date tomorrow” you say with a giddy smile

“Really? Was I gone that long?” She says with a snort

After getting home from your shift, you pull your clothes off and put an oversized shirt on to get comfortable— you lie down in bed and start to doodle in your notebook while crazy on you by heart plays in the background— suddenly you hear a knock at your bedroom door

“Come in!” You yell over the music

“Hey uh, someone’s on the phone for you, I think he said his name was Danny”

“Danny?” You say with a questioning look “oh Donnie, okay” you roll off of your bed and head to the phone—as you talk to Donnie on the phone about your date, Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table nursing a beer, with a sad look on his face

“Okay, sounds good! I’ll see you tomorrow” you say, hanging up the phone

“Who’s Donnie?” Eddie questions still staring at his beer

“Donnie Anderson, he was on the football team. Anyway, he came by family video today and we started talking and he asked to take me out on a date”

“A date?” Eddie says as his jaw clenches

“Yeah a date”

“Oh, that’s cool um I gotta go” Eddie says as he gets up from the table, chair scraping against the linoleum floors, he walks out the front door leaving it to slam— what just happened?

Going into work the next morning, you worked along side Steve. He was distant and barely said anything to you, other than asking about your date—Robin must of told him.

The date with Donnie went really well—but you couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie, all week he’d been hot and cold with you, one minute heavily flirting and the next almost avoiding you. Steves attitude towards you has somewhat gone back to normal, having little conversations here and there— you really couldn’t understand them, it almost seemed like they were jealous, but that can’t be it.

Finally Saturday rolls around and you wanted to invite Donnie to come hang out, maybe after you’ll let him spend the night and who knows maybe you’ll even lose your virginity to him—-But you’d have to tell Eddie since that was on his list of rules

After getting home from work you changed into a little white cami and some red and white shorts you got from summer camp years ago, they definitely made your butt look great, even if they’re way smaller than they use to be— you make your way into the living room where Eddie and Steve are sitting and talking

“Hey, um is it okay if I invite a friend over?” You say as you walk towards the couch they’re sitting on

“Uh, yeah I guess, sure” Eddie says without even looking at you

“Okay, thanks” you say as you turn towards the kitchen to call Donnie

After you hang up you go back to sit down with the guys, they’re deep in conversation about Eddie’s band. He’d stopped playing for awhile after most of the members headed off to college, he’s been looking for new musicians so he was asking Steve for advice — It was so weird, that you knew they had sex, but they were never affectionate towards each other or at least not in front of you, if you would’ve never heard them that night, you would’ve never guessed they’d have an intimate relationship— you wanted to ask questions, but it wasn’t your place and you didn’t want to make them feel uncomfortable or like you were judging— you certainly had your fair share of thoughts about women

But they are your friends so maybe you’d be able to confide in them?

“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt but can I ask you both a question?”

“Uh sure” Steve says as he turns his body towards you with intrigue

“It’s kind of a personal question, so don’t get weirded out that I’m asking, okay?” You say with hesitation

They both look at each other and then look back at you as they say “okay” in unison

“How did you guys lose your virginity?” You say as you put your palm under your chin

“Um, wow that is pretty personal” Steve says as Eddie laughs

You look away in embarrassment, feeling like you maybe overstepped— until Steve spoke up first

“I lost mine when I was 15, she was 17 and I had no idea what I was doing” he said “it was pretty awkward and I had really just wanted to lose it just to lose it, I never really talked to her after that, must’ve been pretty bad” he chuckles

Eddie looks at him with a knowing smirk on his face, like he wants to say something but decides not to

“And you Ed’s?” You say as you look at him

He blushes at the nickname, he loves when you call him that

“Um, I lost mine at 18, same as Steve it was awkward and I had no idea what I was doing” he says as he looks over to Steve and then you

Hmm, okay super vague but I’ll take it— you think to yourself

“What about you?” Steve says catching you off guard

“Oh um, well um” you stammered—both boys looking at you with raised eyebrows waiting to hear your answer

“Well, see that’s why I asked because I don’t exactly have a first time, and um I kind of want to and I was thinking tonight with Donnie we might you know” your sentence coming out as almost one long jumbled word

“You’re a virgin?” Eddie looks at you like you’ve just confessed to a murder

Steve looks like he’s at a loss for words— you just want to go climb in bed under your covers and never show your face again

“Yes, I’m a virgin” you say as you begin to bite your nails, not wanting to look at either of their faces

“Hey, that’s okay nothing wrong with being a virgin” Steve says

“Yeah well, I never had the opportunity I wasn’t allowed to date when I lived with my parents, it was school, tutor, work repeat”—“I wasn’t even allowed to have guy friends, how crazy is that?” You say still playing with your finger nails

“Donnie was my first date” you whisper

You finally look up at the boys faces, and distinctly see the look of pity written all over them

“It’s fine forget I asked” you say as you get up “I’m going to go get ready” you say as you sulk back to your room

Eddie and Steve were shocked—they weren’t sure what “not looking like a virgin” meant but you did not look like a virgin, you were sexy as hell, they couldn’t believe no one had ever jumped at the chance to fuck you— but they definitely didn’t want Donnie to be the first one

After you freshened up and put on a little bit of makeup— Steve had knocked on your door to tell you Donnie was here— tonight you were all going to watch serpent and the rainbow since you didn’t get to last movie night— you walk out into the living room and Steve and Eddie are talking to Donnie as they all sip on a beer, Donnie sees you and jumps up to give you a hug and kiss, you blush as he takes your hand and walks you to the couch to sit next to him, almost uncomfortably close as he sets his hand on your thigh and rubs it

You can see Eddie out of your peripheral looking at where Donnie’s hand is placed—Steve coughs and says “alright everybody ready to start the movie?” You all agree—feeling a thick tension in the air

The movie was long but by the end you stand up and tell the guys you need to use the restroom really quick—“when you come back you’ll ask donnie to stay the night” you think to yourself

When you get back you see Steve and Eddie but Donnie is gone.

“Where’s Donnie?” You ask looking around like he was going to come out of another room

“He left” Eddie said

“Left? Why would he leave?” You say with your eyebrows furrowed

“We told him to leave” Steve says as Eddie looks down at his feet

“Why would you do that?” Now you’re fuming

“Because we just didn’t think it was a good idea for him to stay” Eddie speaks up

“A good idea? What?” — “what the fuck does that mean?” You seethe

They had never heard you cuss before

“We just don’t think you should have sex with him y/n”

“You cant decide who I fuck!” — “Jesus, it’s like I’m living with my parents all over again, you guys can’t control who I see” — “I didn’t tell you two not to fuck the other night, so why do you have the right to tell me who I can be with?” You didn’t mean for that to come out so harsh, but this must of been a trigger for you, feeling like you’re being controlled, it made you wanna scream.

“What?” They say in unison as they look at each other almost like they felt guilty for something

“I don’t care what you guys do, or if you guys are gay or whatever— so don’t insert yourself in my business” you say as calmly as you can

“Gay?” They both say again at the same time

“Sweetheart, we’re not gay” Eddie says with a smirk, god he can be such an arrogant asshole

“Okay well whatever you are I don’t care, just stay out of my business” you say as you begin to walk away

“You heard us?” Steve says stopping you in your tracks

“Uh, yeah you were kind of loud and I had trouble falling asleep that night”

“See I told you to keep it down” Eddie says as he shoots Steve a look you couldn’t quite make out

“Hey, I’m not judging you guys okay?”—“I would never do that” you don’t ever want to come off as a bigoted asshole, you don’t want to be anything like your parents

“Thanks” they both say

“Can you come sit down, so we can talk?” Eddie motions with his head towards the couch

“Um, yeah sure” you say as you walk back to the couch

You sit in the open seat between them— they both turn towards you, giving each other a knowing look before their eyes find you again

“We um, yes we have sex, we’re bi”

“You guys really don’t have to explain yourselves to me” you say trying to stop Eddie from going any further

“No, no we want to, babe” Steve says—the pet name instantly making your stomach flutter

“Okay, well why?” You say as you look at both men sitting on either side of you

“We like you y/n” — “I’ve liked you for awhile” Eddie says — “since high school” he continues

“You’ve liked me since high school?” You say as your eyes widen

“Yeah, I’d always look at you and when you’d catch me I’d look away, I figured you must’ve thought I was a weirdo, so I never tried to talk to you” — “so when you called me and I found out you were, you and you were interested in moving in, I knew I was in trouble, that first meeting i couldn’t take my eyes off of you, you’ve always been beautiful” — “but holy shit” he says

“When I seen you on your first day at family video I wanted to ask you out on a date, but Robin told me to keep it professional, and then when I told Ed you had started working with us, he told me about his high school crush on you so when I found out you were looking for a room to rent and Eddie was looking for a roommate, I thought it’d be the perfect set up, even though I really wanted you for myself” he says as he looks over to Eddie—Eddie shooting him a glare back

“That night we wanted to tell you how we felt, I mean fuck you looked so good, we couldn’t help but to fuck each other while we thought about you” Steve says

“So do you guys do that often?”— “No judgement” you say as you throw up your hands in surrender

“Well we have an arrangement, where if we’re hanging out and we’re horny we just go for it” —“it’s more of like a friends with benefits type of thing” Eddie throws in

“I see” you say as you nod your head

“So what? You said you didn’t think I should have sex with Donnie, does that mean you think I should have sex with you both?” You ask purely out of curiosity

“That’s up to you, princess” Eddie says

Jesus this man and his terms of endearment

“So you both would be okay with taking my virginity?” You ask as you raise your brows

“We’d be honored to, but only if that’s what you want” Steve says

“Well if we’re all being honest here, I’ve had a crush on you Ed’s since high school, too. When you’d catch me looking back at you it was only because I was specifically looking for you. I um, I even wanted to buy weed from you as an excuse to talk to you, but I pussied out last minute. I had even wrote you a note to meet me after school, I was gunna slip it into your locker but I was too nervous, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it” you say as you reminisce with a smile

Eddie’s eyes widen at the revelation, he couldn’t believe you felt the same for him, you both could’ve been together this whole time

“And Steve I was reminded how gorgeous I always thought you were that first day and I loved how much you made me laugh, I even thought you were flirting with me but I mean I knew of your reputation and you flirt with the customers too, so I just didn’t want to overthink it, ya know?”

“Yeah, he is a big flirt, aren’t you big boy?” Eddie says with a smirk as he ruffles Steve’s hair

“Cmon man, not the hair!” Steve says smacking away Eddie’s hand

You couldn’t help but giggle at their antics

“Okay, yes I want to”

They both stop what they’re doing and look at you— “we need you to say exactly what you want, baby?” Eddie says

“I um, I-I want you both to fuck me” you stutter out

“Try again sweetheart, say it like you mean it” Eddie continues with a mischievous smirk

“I want you both to fuck me” you say with more confidence

“Good girl, see that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Steve says

“Let’s move this to the room?” Eddie asks looking back and forth from you to Steve

“Yeah let’s go” you say as you get up and hold both of your hands out towards them to take

You drag them behind you to Eddies room

“Woah someone’s eager” one of them says while they both snicker

Once you three enter Eddies bedroom they’re both on you, Eddie grabs your chin and brings your lips to his, Steve starts kissing your neck, his hand slowly moving down your back to your ass, he grabs a handful making you moan into Eddies mouth

You cannot believe this is happening

You’re about to lose your virginity to two incredibly sexy men, who else can say that?

Eddies tongue slips into your mouth deepening the kiss, while Steve sucks your neck and soothes it wish his tongue

You rake both your hands down their chests—as your hands descend along their lower stomach it stops at the huge bulge in both their pants

You cup them through their jeans, gaining a moan from both men

You break the kiss as you look up at Eddie

“What do you wanna do first, baby?” He says as he grabs both of your hips, smiling down at you

“I want you to teach me how to suck Steve’s cock” you say innocently

“Fuck” they both say in unison

“Okay, yeah I can do that” Eddie says

He grabs a pillow off of his bed

“Get on your knees” he says in a tone of voice that almost made you whimper, strong and assertive

“Yes, sir” you say almost as a joke but you could tell in Eddies face how much he liked it, eyes glazing over, now looking at you with an intense hunger, both of them were looking at you like that—it was almost overwhelming how turned on you were becoming

Eddie kneels beside you, both of you between Steve’s legs from his standing position, eyes trained on you and the metalhead. Eddie begins unbuttoning Steves jeans and pulling down his zipper, he shoves his thumbs in the waistband of Steve’s jeans and boxers and tugs them down just above his knees, his cock springs out— your jaw drops at how huge it is, he’s cut and has a pretty pink throbbing head with precum oozing from the slit, your mouth waters just looking at it. You never sucked a dick before and said you never would, but holy shit, you wanted to live with Steves cock in your mouth, it was beautiful

You and Eddie lick your lips at the same time, as you both stare at it

“Go ahead and grab it, baby” Eddie whispers to you— you grasp it at the base, your hand looks so small compared to it, which excites you even more

Eddie puts his hand over yours—“okay, now move it up and down, mmhm just like that baby, good girl” his whispers causing goosebumps to form on your skin

“Now spit on it” Eddie says

You gather all the saliva in your mouth and spit a on the head of Steve’s pink tip

“That’s it, okay now start smearing that wetness all over his cock, baby” — “yup just like that, fuck Steve she’s a quick learner” he says looking up into his best friends eyes with a smirk

“Okay now put your mouth around the tip, and suck” — “nope” you say as you shake your head

“I wanna see you first” you say as you giggle

“You wanna see me suck Stevie’s cock? what does that turn you on or something?” He says jokingly

You nod your head and bite your lip

“Dirty girl” Steve says looking down at the exchange

“I might of played with myself that night I heard you both fucking” you shyly retort

Eddie and Steves eyes widen as they look at each other — “hear that Stevie? Our girls a kinky little thing” Eddie laughs out

Our girl

“Okay baby, I’ll show you how it’s done” Eddie says pretending to crack his neck before he dives in—putting his lips over Steves tip and sucking, slowly putting more and more in his mouth until Steve is in his throat, Eddie must be very experienced because he doesn’t gag as Steve begins to fuck his mouth

You can’t help it, you have to rub your pussy while watching them, it’s way too hot not to—you slip your fingers into your waist band and start rubbing your clit, your pussy is insanely wet already, making your fingers glide over your clit so smoothly, you can’t hold the moans back

“Fuck, she’s touching herself dude” Steve says while looking down at you as he bites his lip

Eddie let’s go of Steves cock with a pop as he looks over at you—grabbing the back of your hair and crashing his lips into yours, tasting Steve on his tongue makes your panties gush even more— the whole thing is so incredibly sexy

Eddie breaks the kiss— “okay baby, it’s your turn”

You grab Steves cock from the base again, it’s now slick with Eddies spit so you give it a few strokes before you put it in your mouth and start sucking, then swirling your tongue around the tip, taking it back in your mouth moving down slowly finally hitting the back of your throat, you instantly gag on it, making your eyes water

“that’s okay princess, we’ll have that throat trained in no time” Eddie says with a smirk

“Keep going baby, your mouth feels fucking amazing” Steve says as he reaches down to grab some of your hair, reaching his other hand down to grab Eddies hair too—“fuck you both are so sexy on your knees for me” he says looking from you to Eddie

Once you’ve gotten the hang of it, you start sliding your lips on the side of Steves cock, you reach out, grabbing Eddie’s hair making him bring his lips to the other side, he knows exactly what you’re trying to have him do, so he puts his lips on the other side, mimicking you and your movements, up and down

“Fuuuuuck” Steve moans out

You and Eddie start making out with Steves tip— making him whimper and groan, the hands fisted in both your hair tightening

“Okay, okay I can’t take anymore” Steve says pulling you both up by your hair

His lips smash into Eddies and they have a heated kiss before Steve pulls away and grips your hair he’s still holding, pulling you towards him and smashing his lips into yours, tongues and teeth clashing, it’s a sloppy but calculated kiss, you finally pull away—looking at Eddie

“Should we suck yours next?” You ask Eddie

“Uh-uh baby”—“I won’t last if I have both your pretty lips on my cock” Steve rolls his eyes as he laughs

“Get on the bed baby, let us take care of you” Steve says picking you up and throwing you down on the bed, as you yelp

Eddie begins pulling your shorts down, both of them looking over your body like they were about to devour you— “take her shirt off too” Steve instructs Eddie

“Cmon baby, let’s get this shirt off of you, we wanna see those pretty titties” Eddie says

“Yes sir” you say again as you raise your arms

Eddie growls as he pulls off your thick camisole, boobs springing out—thanking god you went without a bra

“Fuck, look at that” Eddie says under his breathe

“Those are the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen” Steve says with his eyes blown wide with lust

“Lay back, sweetheart” Eddie says in a sweet but assertive tone

You do as your told, laying back but using your elbows to still keep you propped up—Steve moves closer to you. Eddie grabs one knee and Steve grabs the other as the both pull them apart, exposing the big wet spot right in the middle of your light pink, lace panties—Steve and Eddies hands both touching different parts of you, Steve rubbing your thigh and Eddie playing with the little black bow on the top of your panties, sending you a smirk—Eddies fingers move down to the wet spot, rubbing his fingers over your clothed clit and then cupping your hole pussy in his hand as he grunts

“Fuck you’re so wet for us baby” he moans out

“Can’t wait to stretch that little pussy out, make it take both of us at the same time” Eddie says to Steve making your pussy throb right where his hand is placed

“I-I want that so bad” you moan out

“Not now baby, that’s for another day, we gotta get you use to one cock today”—“but soon you’ll be taking both of us in all your tight little holes, Kay?”

“Yes, sir” you say with slight disappointment, although the promise of another time instantly makes your stomach flutter

Eddie puts his thumbs in the waist band of your panties, pulling them down, you let them fall off your legs and onto the floor—Eddies instantly grabbing your knees and pulling them apart exposing your glistening cunt to both men, you slightly flinch as the cold hair hits the wetness of your pussy

“I have an idea” Eddie says — “turn around ass up, now” he demands, you immediately follow his directions getting into what you know as the doggystyle position from the details of one of your best friends many rendezvous

Once in position Eddie pushes your lower back in trying to make you arch your ass more for them, Steve lays down in between your thighs, so you’re sitting on his face, as his back is against the mattress, he licks a long strip from your aching hole to your pulsing clit—you can’t help but to moan out an “oh fuck” as he reaches your clit

Eddie chuckles as he stands between Steves spread legs and grabs both of your ass cheeks with his big palms spreading them and bringing his tongue to your tight second hole—holy shit, holy shit, you could cry from how amazing their tongues feel on you—Steve starts fucking you with his tongue, as Eddie continues licking your asshole, he begins to fuck your ass a little bit with the tip, before he moves down towards Steves, they both lick each others tongues before going back to using their tongues on you, you could cum right then and there, and you want to so bad—you begin to feel that burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, as you’re seeing stars and moaning so loud the neighbors can hear you. What tips you over the edge is Eddie slowly putting his finger inside your pussy, curling it up and hitting something inside of you that felt like heaven

“fuck daddy, I’m cumming!” You scream out

You had no idea where that came from, maybe something one of your friends told you they said to their partner and it probably stuck with you because you thought it was hot

Eddie and Steve stop their ministrations once your pussy stopped clenching around Eddies finger

“Daddy?” Eddie asks as he looks at Steve with the biggest smile

“Fuck princess, and here I thought you couldn’t get any hotter, now we find out you’re a secret little slut, too?” Eddie says teasingly

You couldn’t help but moan at his words and tone of voice—“is that what you want, baby?” Steve asks “you want to be our dirty little slut?”

“Yes, yes please” you say as the mattress muffles your words from your position

“You’re such a good girl, baby, such a good fucking girl for us” Steve says

“She’s the perfect girl for us” Eddie says back as his arm wraps around your lower stomach turning you around with a strength you’d never know he had

“Alright baby, who do you want to fuck you first?” Steve asks as he removes his pants and boxers completely, working on Eddies next—they both rid themselves of their shirts now matching your nakedness

“I don’t want to choose”—“I want you both to feel good” you whine

“Oh princess, we are gunna feel good, one of our dicks are gunna be in you while another one’s gunna be in one of our ass, how does that sound?” Eddie asks

“Oh my god, yes please that sounds so hot” you beg

“You have to pick which one of us fucks you first, remember?”—“don’t go getting all cock drunk on us now baby, we haven’t even started”

“Okay Um, I want Eddie to fuck me while you fuck him” you say to Steve

Eddie crawls toward you on the bed, spreading your legs wider for him as he gives you a deep kiss— Steve opens Eddies side drawer getting out a bottle of lube and pouring it in the palm of his hand and then stroking his cock with it, smearing it all over, he then takes the bottle of lube and pours more onto his fingers bringing them to Eddies ass and rubbing it in, inserting a finger into his tight hole and pumping in and out. Eddie moans into the kiss as he wraps his hand around his cock, bringing it closer to your pussy, rubbing it up and down your wet slit— finally Steve takes his cock and positions the head of it toward Eddies asshole, pushing in slowly, inch by inch making Eddie moan out a “fuuuck”— as Steve is sliding into him, Eddie positions his cock at your entrance. He looks down at you to gage your reaction

“Are you okay, baby?” He ask as his head barely slips through

“Mmmm, yeah, I-I’m okay”

Steve stills inside of Eddie, waiting for him to bottom out in you, not wanting to accidentally push Eddie into you with his thrusts

Eddie goes excruciatingly slow, so you have to tell him he can go a little faster—it hurts but it’s nothing you can’t handle, you’re wet enough for it to be almost painless, just feeling a little bit of pressure

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks as he’s finally bottomed out inside of you—“yeah baby, please move, don’t stop” you whine out

Eddie finally starts thrusting, fucking into you but also fucking Steve’s cock into him

You all three are a moaning mess—throwing out a stray “fuck” and “oh my god” here and there

“Please please, fuck me harder” you moan out to Eddie while his face is buried in your neck

Eddie’s thrusts get faster, making Steves do the same, now Steve is fucking Eddie into you and it feels amazing, both of their hands all over you and all over each other—Steve bends down towards you and Eddie while he’s still fucking into him, hard— Steve takes Eddies hair and yours and brings you all into a three way kiss of just tongues, all of you moaning out into each others mouths—- once Steve let’s go of you and Eddie’s hair he goes back to his position above you both, slapping Eddies ass as he fucks into him harder

Eddie’s losing his mind, yelling out so many obscenities and filthy things, into your neck

“Fuck yes, goddammit you both feel so fucking good!” He moans out

He picks his head up from your neck, looking down at you—“your pussy’s so good baby, you’re so tight and wet, fuck”—“I’m gunna cum, fuck I’m gunna cum, where do you want it?” Eddie asks you

“In my mouth daddy” you moan out

“Fuuuck”—“Steve move!” Eddie shouts, Steve pulls his cock out of him, he strokes it as he’s nearing his release, too

You fall to your knees underneath both of them as they stroke their cocks above your face, you hold your tongue out awaiting their cum

“Yes baby, open up a little wider” —-“fuck yeah, just like that” Eddie says as white hot ropes of cum squirt out onto your lips and tongue, Steve can’t hold it in any longer as he’s watching Eddie paint your tongue, his cum squirting onto your cum filled tongue, getting some on your chin

Eddie brings his thumb to your chin wiping Steve’s cum off bringing it up to your tongue, you obey by licking it off—your tongue covered in their cum as you show it off to both of them— you instantly love the taste of them in your mouth, sitting on your tongue, you love the look they give you even more—like they could ravish you again—you finally swallow, holding your tongue back out to show them what a good girl you are

“Holy shit, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen” Eddie says to Steve as he nods his head in agreement

“Get up here, babe” Steve says as he grabs your arm to help you up

“Go lay on the bed with Eds, and I’ll clean you both up” he says as he goes to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel to clean you and Eddie off with, after he’s done, he lays down on the other side of you throwing his arm over your stomach and onto Eddie’s

“We should go on a date soon” Eddie says as he lifts his head to look at you and the other man beside you

“Really?” you say with excitement

“Yeah we wanna take you out, show you off” Steve says

“So you both want to be with me?” You ask with a big smile on your face

“Of course we do, you’re our girl”

THANK YOU FOR READING

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED

•Tag list•

@jordanwalkersworld @local-stoner-bitch

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #steddie x fem!reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #steddie x reader #steddie coded #steddie hyperfixation #steddie au #steddie recs #steddie stranger things #steddie oneshot #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve Harrington smut

5K notes · View notes