#it's FLUORESCENTS. but still gold

[atticrissfinch]

Meet Me in the Back (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: When the gas station clerk refuses to sell you alcohol after a shitty day, you need to get creative warnings/tags:  [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (reader is 21+, Joel is 50s-ish), one-sided daddy!kink, bribery, light exhibitionism, flashing tits, VERY light dubcon (ignored discomfort), size!kink (Joel is massive as per usual), protected piv (an atticrissfinch first, folks. i’m different now, surely), light spanking, mentions of alcohol and smoking, Joel using some cringey dirty talk but he’s old and creepy so it’s hot word count: ~3.8K | ao3 a/n: don’t know where this shit came from but god am I a sucker for a sleazy joel, so here you go friends ❤️❤️ Series Masterlist | Masterlist

The sickly fluorescents buzz overhead as the equally pitiful chime of the door chirps your entrance. This isn’t your favorite gas station to frequent, but it’s the closest to your apartment and it’s fucking late. You’re exhausted and your brain is whirring from the past week of work. Oh, yeah, and your shitass boyfriend of five months—now ex-boyfriend—forgot to lock his stupid phone tonight to hide the midnight “u up?” texts coming in from his “just friends, I swear” coworker while he was taking what would be his last piss in your bathroom. 

Fuck him. You’re getting drunk. 

The clerk, a grimy-looking fifty-something-year-old in an undone patterned short-sleeve button-up and a cheap generic white tank top underneath, sits on a stool behind the register. You somehow doubt the tacky gold cross around his neck has seen the inside of a church in quite some time. He grunts in greeting, eyes glancing up briefly from the Playboy open between his spread legs. You don’t miss the small double-take he does when he sees a pretty young thing in a skimpy sundress entering his store alone, but you let it slide off. He can look if he wants; you could not give less of a fuck tonight. 

Your flip flops clack against the dingy linoleum as you troll the empty aisles aimlessly, a force of habit despite knowing exactly what you’re here for. You stop at the refrigerated section at the back and scan the options, settling quickly on a pack of Trulys. You hoist it off the shelf and let the door snick shut, a burst of cool air ruffling your dress and igniting a wave of goosebumps on your legs. 

You plop down the case on the front counter and rifle through your purse for your wallet. 

“No can do, sweetheart.”

Your hands freeze in your purse as you look up at the clerk, still perched on his stool but sans the naked centerfold, having left it sloughed open on the counter turned to a busty topless swimsuit model with her tits pressed together between her arms. 

“I’m sorry?” You inquire, pulling your hand out of your bag slowly. “I’m over 21. I have my ID with me.”

The clerk—Joel, you gather from his name badge—nods toward the 12-pack on the counter. “Can’t sell booze after midnight.”

“The fuck? Says who?” You bite back, your irritation from the day seeping into your tone in a way it typically wouldn’t. You’re not usually a bitch to strangers, least of all customer service workers, but it feels like this is some sort of cosmic joke. 

It doesn’t phase Joel in the slightest. He just shrugs off your bitchiness and clarifies, “Says state law, sweetheart.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking law I’ve ever heard,” You deadpan, crossing your arms across your chest. 

The man is not exactly subtle when his eyes sink down to drink in the way the motion props up your tits in your low-cut dress. Like you’re his own real-life Playboy model. Whatever. Maybe a little show will get him to bypass the stupid rule. 

Joel makes a little tch sound with his tongue against his teeth. “Sorry, darlin’. Law’s the law.”

You huff, leaning forward on the counter and gifting him a very nice view down your dress. “Well I still think it’s stupid. Can’t you just give me a pass? Just this once? I’ve had an unbelievably shitty night,” You pout, mimicking the model discarded next to your elbow and using your arms to enhance your cleavage. 

His jaw ticks as he overtly ogles what you’re serving him. When his eyes flick back up to yours, he’s donning a shallow smirk. “You find that that works for you often?” He quips, gesturing to your chest. 

You shrug a shoulder with a smirk of your own. “Use what you’ve got, right?”

Joel leans back on his stool, scratching the back of his head as if in thought, his eyes darting back to your chest as he considers his options. 

“Not so sure, sweetheart. Could get in heaps of trouble for shit like this.”

“What if…” You start off, a hand drifting up to your neckline and curling around it just above your right breast, pulling it down just a smidge. Not revealing anything yet, only an indication that you might. “What if I give you something a little better than that picture,” You proposition, luring his eyes down to the dirty magazine with your gaze, and then heading right back to him. 

You see his tongue run over his top teeth behind his lip as he studies the topless model on the page, and then glances back up at you through his eyelashes with a skeevy tilt to his mouth. “Go on, then.”

You give him a sexy little smirk, checking the front door with a cursory glance. When you confirm the coast is clear, you bite your lip and start to lower your top. 

Joel bows forward with his forearms against his thighs, eyes transfixed on every inch of skin being unveiled. 

You bring your collar down coquettishly, your mouth popping in faux surprise when one hardened nipple slips free. “Oops,” You say with a cheeky smile. 

A veiny hand comes up to stroke at his beard as he wets his lips. “Don’t be shy now. Give her sister a little breather too.”

“Greedy,” You scold with mock offense. But you’re already this far and you might as fucking well. You do a swift check of the door again as your other hand tugs your dress down on the other side. 

“Go-lly,” Joel rasps accompanied by a low whistle. ���Put that damn model to shame, sweetheart.” He adjusts himself in his jeans and you see a sizeable bulge at his crotch, plain as day. 

His fingers twitch where they rest on his knee like they’re itching to touch. 

“Thank you,” You purr, giving them both a single squeeze in your palms and pressing them together for good measure with your nipples peeking through your fingers before sliding your dress back in place. “And thank you for your sacrifice,” You tease, wrapping your hand around the handle of the seltzers. 

“Now, hold on there, sweetheart,” Joel protests with a furrowed brow, slipping off his seat and slamming a hand down over yours on the case. “I didn’t say I’d let you have it for that.” 

Your face drops. “Excuse me? You said—”

“I didn’t say jack shit,” Joel corrects. “You flashed your tits at me of your own accord. Not my fault you assumed.”

“That’s fucked up, dude!” You shout back. “I just gave you Girls Gone Wild Live, is that really not enough for you?”

Joel snorts a laugh.“ Shit, maybe for a fuckin’ tallboy or two, but not a whole goddamn case.” Joel cocks a hip and balances his arm across the seltzer. “Gonna need more’n a little peep show to haggle for a twelver.”

You’re absolutely positive you’re going to regret it, but you ask, “And what exactly would that entail?”

A filthy grin bleeds across his face, and he half-heartedly masks it with a hand over his mouth, wiping at the corners with the pads of his pudgy fingers. With his stemmed smile, he drops his palm to the counter, raking his eyes salaciously up the lines of your body. “How’s about you slip into the back with me and find out?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t think so, dude.”

The tip of his tongue creeps out to lick the corner of his mouth. “Throw in a pack o’ smokes too, ‘f that’s up your alley.”

You shift your weight and pout your lips to the side, crossing your arms again. “Marlboros?” 

You don’t know why you’re asking. There’s no way you’re going anywhere with him. Right? You wouldn’t do that. No matter how…unexpectedly sexy this sleazy guy is. No matter how the sleeves of his shirt are straining around his biceps. Or how the little gold cross dangles in that unexplainably trashy-hot kind of way. Or how he is—no question—packing a fucking missile in his pants. 

Shit. 

“Whatever kind you want, for the right price, darlin’,” He winks. 

You nibble your lower lip, weighing the situation. You know you’re being stupid. But you’re pissed off, maybe a little heartbroken, sufficiently horny, and newly bereft of your dick-on-demand as of a couple hours ago. 

And Jesus, could you really fucking use a drink and a smoke right now. For free, nonetheless. Or, at least, not at the cost of anything you’d lament losing. Surely your dignity can withstand a meaningless fuck in a back room for your personal benefit, right? 

Fuck it. 

“Alright, fine,” You relent, leaning onto the counter again. “But let me spell things out this time. I let you take me in the back and fuck me—pussy only,” You dictate with a pointed finger, “And I leave with this case of seltzer and two packs of Marlboros, no charge.”

“I didn’t say two, I said—”

“Two packs of Marlboros,” You repeat with emphasis, jabbing your finger towards the back wall of tobacco products. “And we never fucking mention this again.”

“Jesus, bleedin’ me fuckin’ dry over here,” Joel mutters, his eyes dipping to the counter and then up to your tits. “Better be a sweet fuckin’ pussy.”

“Sweetest you’ll have till you kick the bucket next week, old man.”

“You got some fuckin’ spirit, I’ll give ya that,” Joel chuckles. He holds a hand out and you eye it tentatively for a brief moment before clasping it and giving it a solid shake. “We got a deal, sweetheart.”

Joel pushes himself off the counter and lifts the hinged countertop to pass through. He sticks his head out the door, looking left then right, and shuts it. He flips a sign on the glass to read “Be back in 10!” and bolts the lock, testing the door to ensure it holds. 

“Come on then, darlin’. Better make it quick.”

He guides you to the back of the store and through a locked door labeled “Employees Only”, rushing you in with a hand on your lower back. The room is bursting with boxes, stacked near the ceiling in some places. Unsettling stains are splattered on nearly all visible floor space, some looking stickier than others. You gingerly set your purse down on a box by the door. 

“Leave the dress on, but take those beautiful titties back out, sweetheart,” Joel directs, already working on unfastening his pants. 

You roll your eyes a little, but oblige, dipping your dress down underneath your tits again. You back up against the door and toy with them absentmindedly as you watch Joel’s cock spring free from his boxers and holy shit. 

“Woah,” is all you manage to vocalize. 

Joel looks at you with a smirk, his wide hand stroking down the full length of him and dipping a thumb into the wet slit. “Biggest cock you’re gonna take ‘til you kick your own bucket, darlin’,” He chides, stepping toward you. “‘N you’ve got a hell of a lot longer to go than I do.”

“Yeah, no shit,” You breathe out, feeling your pussy gush into your panties at the thought of that inside of you. You idly reach between your legs and ruck up your dress, pulling your panties to the side and running a finger through your already-soaked folds. 

“That’s a pretty little cunt, sweetheart,” Joel says with a voracious look in his eyes, laying a palm against the door level with your head. He’s so fucking large when he’s up this close, it makes your breath hitch. Even with your hips apart, you feel the tip of his cock graze the backs of your fingers where they’re playing with your pussy. Joel’s head dips down between your tits, nose tracing the curves before he sucks a nipple into his mouth.

You press your eyes shut for a moment to clear your head with a steadying breath. “Condom,” You order as the raised bud pops out of his mouth and he locks eyes with you. 

“Ah, fresh out. Sorry, darlin’,” Joel says with a tone and expression that belies his complete lack of real remorse. 

“You literally sell them. Right outside this door. Probably even have some in this room,” You argue back. 

“I can’t be givin’ you any more of my stock, kid. You’re already cleanin’ me out.”

You roll your eyes and push off from the door, ducking under his arm and digging through the inner zipper pocket of your purse. You spin back around to him, holding a condom packet between your fingers with raised brows. 

“Well, aren’t you a regular fuckin’ Girl Scout,” He mumbles with a tinge of irritation in his voice, snatching it from you. “Not a chance in hell this is gonna fit.”

“Oh fuck off with that bullshit,” You scoff. “You’ll be just fine.”

He rips the packet with his teeth and spits the strip onto the floor, the remainder of the foil following a moment later. He winces as he pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it down. “Fuckin’ hate these things.”

“You wanna fuck me or not?” You ask, your ass leaning against a smaller stack of boxes. “That’s my stipulation. Clock’s ticking, old man. Someone’s gonna be banging on that glass door sooner or later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel mutters, pulling on his cock lewdly, “Bend over, little bitch. Let Daddy Joel take what he’s owed.”

“Jesus Christ,” You say under your breath incredulously, actively fighting the urge to roll your eyes again. You turn around and bend over the boxes, tucking your cheek into the loop of your arms and sticking your ass out. 

“That’a girl,” He croons, pushing the hem of your dress up over your hips. He whistles at you for a second time, palming your ass with both hands and landing a sudden smack to your flesh that makes you jump. “That’s an ass fit for Playboy for sure.”

His thumb traces the strap of your thong down the crack of your ass, stopping at your blooming wet spot. “Look at that pussy. All drenched and waitin’ for me.”

You feel his hands slide into the gusset of your panties, and they tear apart under his fists with nothing more than a grunt and a tug. “There we go.”

“Hey!” You shout back, your head whipping around. “What the fuck, dude? Those aren’t cheap.”

Joel just shrugs, pressing a hand between your shoulder blades to bend you back over. “Should’ve taken ‘em off.”

Another tug at your waist and your panties fall from your body completely. 

Joel’s hand nestles between your shoulders again as the other guides the fat head of his cock through your slick pussy. Your hips jolt when he catches on your clit, and he gives a satisfied breathy laugh. 

“Oh, she’s creamin’ for it, ain’t she?”

You cringe internally at his phrasing—so fucking unsexy, but somehow making you wetter at the same time. 

“God, just fuck me,” You moan, flexing onto your tiptoes to try and guide him where you want him. 

“Mmm, needy little thing,” He rumbles, but sits his cock at your entrance. Joel flattens himself against your spine and nuzzles into the back of your neck as he rolls his hips into you, the head of his cock stretching you open. 

You gasp out a pained whine, biting into the flesh of your arm as Joel continues to push his way through. 

“Shit, this little pussy fucks right open, don’t it,” He grunts, securing a hand onto your hip as he slides all the way inside. His panting breaths waft over your skin, tickling the hairs at the nape of your neck. His other hand comes up to grope at your breast, tweaking the nipple between his pointer and middle knuckles. 

It feels like he’s ripping you open from the inside, like he’s shifting your organs as he makes room for himself inside your body. You squeak out a quiet, “Ow,” as his hips collide flush with your ass and his length bottoms out, stretching you more than you could even fathom before. 

“Yeah,” Joel moans in your ear, pulling out a few inches and slamming back in as you cry out. “Bet you like it when it hurts, don’t ya, sweetheart.”

You squeal when he pulls out further and fills you completely again, setting a languid pace as he retreats slowly and then rams all of him back inside you at once. The sting of him fades into the background, but the overwhelming size of him, the all-encompassing fullness that you feel just gets more intense. 

You muffle your cries into your arm as he whispers filth into your ear. 

“Splittin’ you open just right, isn’t it, sweetheart? Daddy Joel knows just how to give it to you. Make you scream for it. Make them legs shake. That’s right, baby, take it good for Daddy.”

And you can’t do anything but take it. Take his huge cock pounding into you, take his disgusting words spilling in your ear, take the sound of slapping reverberating around the stockroom as your ass crashes against his hips. 

“Yeah, you like Daddy Joel’s big cock, don’t ya?” His voice rasps over the crude slap of his skin against yours. Your brain feels scrambled, only spluttering out a strained whimper in response. 

A hand slides down your thigh and hooks around the back of your knee, hauling it up onto the top of the box and spreading you wide open for him as your sandal clatters to the ground. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Joel groans obscenely loud in the small, crowded space as he sinks even deeper into you, pulling a noise from you that’s so foreign you’re not entirely sure you’ve ever made it before. Somewhere between a moan, a scream, and a gasp shredding your throat at the impossibility of him filling you any more than he already had. 

“Fuck, I can’t—I can’t—” You cry out, tears welling in your eyes, hands scratching for purchase on the edges of the box. 

“Yes you can, darlin’. Takin’ it so good,” He grunts, gripping your shoulder for leverage as his relentless thrusts devastate your very core and lick at your cervix. 

“Too—too fucking big, please. Please hurry,” You whimper, your hand flying back to push back against his hips. He slaps your hand away and grabs at your wrist, bending your arm and locking it at your back as he ceaselessly fucks into your clenching hole. 

“Daddy’s too fucking big, huh?” He teases with laughter in his voice. “‘F it’s too big, why’s your pussy takin’ it so easy? It’s fuckin’ squeezin’ me, darlin’. It don’t want me to leave.”

You sob into your arm as your one leg remaining on the floor starts to quiver beneath you. 

“Mmm, fuck, that’s right. Want you shiverin’ and shakin’ on Daddy’s cock. Fuckin’ you so wide open, y’could probably fit one of them seltzer cans up your snatch after this no problem,” Joel grits out. 

Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as sweat gathers at your temples and your body feels like it’s buzzing. “I fuck—I fucking can’t—t-t-too much, too big,” You stutter, feeling your pussy shuddering around him in what you think is an orgasm but you can’t even fucking tell from how foggy your brain is, how overstimulated every cell in your body feels. 

Joel grunts loudly as your cunt pulses around him, jerking his hips faster into you as you constantly strain to catch your breath. “Fuckin’ take it, bitch. Fuck your Daddy for your booze, and he’ll let you have it,” He growls out, before you distinctly hear him spit, and then feel a splash of saliva hit the crack of your ass and drip down between your cheeks. 

“Goddamn, wish I could coat this fuckin’ pussy with my load. Pump you full of my come, watch it drip outta ya,” He moans, his voice becoming increasingly unsteady as his hips snap into you faster and faster. “Gonna bust inside this little cunt, darlin’. Fuck, take it, take it, take it, bitch,” He grunts with one last obliterating thrust inside you, and then he’s coming with a guttural moan. You can feel his cock pulse with how tight your walls are choking it out of him, even with the condom. 

Your mouth is dry and your thighs are soaked as Joel pulls out of you gingerly. You startle when he smacks your ass with a heavy hand again. 

“Some good fuckin’ pussy,” He pants out, making quiet little noises of sensitivity as he slips the condom off his softening cock and ties it off, tossing it in a nearby trash can. 

You lower your leg back down to the ground carefully, and you somehow become less balanced, your legs collapsing out from under you as you crumple to the floor onto your hands and knees. 

You hear Joel chuckle in time with the zipper on his jeans. “Take your time. Gotta open back up.”

You hear the door shut after him, and you just breathe, limbs still vibrating as you kneel on the tacky floor. 

What the fuck just happened to you, You think. 

You just got fucked within an inch of your life by a sleazy gas station clerk, that’s what happened. And you have no fucking idea how to process it. 

When you’re pretty sure you can tolerate it, you muscle yourself up off the ground and stuff your tits back into your dress. The panties are a lost cause, so you leave them littering the floor. Fuck, he can have the souvenir. He deserves it. 

You ruffle your hair, slip your lost flip flop back on, grab your purse, and stumble out into the store. A couple haggard souls browse the aisles with glazed eyes as you make your way to the front, oblivious to your presence or from where you just exited from. You approach the counter where your case of Truly still sits. Joel is back up on his perch with his ragged boots propped on the bottom rung of the stool, the Playboy suitably stashed away from sight. 

“Get everything you need?” He asks coolly, a coy smile playing at his lips. 

“Um, two packs of Marlboro Reds, please,” You answer softly, your voice cracking slightly and prompting you to clear your throat. 

Joel nods with that grin still in place, spinning on his seat and snagging the cigarettes. He tilts the cartons to and from his head in some semblance of a saluting gesture and places them on top of the seltzers. “Pleasure doin’ business with ya, darlin’. Come back anytime.”

Your eyes involuntarily flit toward his crotch and back up. A spark lights back up in your chest and you grant him a playful smirk. “I just might.”

Part 2

Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!

taglist: @bbyanarchist @within-the-depths @livingdeadmaria @cool-iguana @a-roving-woman @koshkaj-blog @asideblogformyficreading @totallynotastanacc @adaslittleblog @walkintotheriveranddisappear @pr0ximamidnight @sinfulrock @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kyloispunk @pinkiec6-rubi @vickywallace @pattwtf @chiyo13 @neverwheremoonchild

Feel free to reply or message me to get on my taglist <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #katy wroted fic

[lnfours]

gold rush | l.n

summary: everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

warnings: fluff, implied sexual themes, first time saying i love yous , i’m so in love with him.

masterlist | ask box | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

you laid on your back, silently debating on getting up and facing the cold air that waited for you outside of the warm blankets and sheets you had tangled yourself in. the feeling of your bladder about to burst making your mind up for you, and with a deep sigh you kicked the covers off as your bare body faced the cold. you immediately shivered, walking across the wooden floor and picking up the fluorescent yellow hoodie that laid near other scattered items of clothing.

you slipped it over your head, the hem falling to your thighs as you made your way into the bathroom. you made it quick, wanting nothing more than to join the man, who was like quite literally a personal furnace, back in your bed.

when you climbed back under the covers, he shifted in his sleep. humming quietly, he reached for you. you let him grab your hips, pulling you closer into his front. however, his bare stomach constricted when your hands met his skin.

“bloody hell,” his voice was still full of sleep and raspy, “your hands’re cold,”

you let out a soft chuckle, “why do you think my hands are where they are?”

your eyes wandered as you took in the boy in front of you, fingertips on his chest as his heart beat steadily, his cheeks flushed with warmth and covered in indentations from having his face smushed against his pillow, dark curls a mess from the night before.

he looked so pretty, it made your stomach turn at the fact that anybody would die to be you. anyone would die to feel his touch, to love him. you didn’t care if it was selfish, you wanted him all to yourself.

it was like he could hear the thoughts in your head and he grabbed your hand that sat on his cheek, placing it on his chest. a simple reminder that you were his and he was yours. you smiled softly, his water colored eyes meeting yours before be tilted his head and kissed your temple.

everytime you woke up next to him, it made you wonder what it was like to grow up that beautiful.

“want to go get breakfast?” he asked, eyes not leaving yours.

you smiled, nodding before placing your head on his chest, “can we stay like this a little longer, though?”

he hummed, chest vibrating against your ear as he pulled you as close as possible, leaving no room for gaps of air between you. he grabbed your bare thigh, throwing your leg over his as he tangled his limbs with yours.

you felt his fingers comb through the hairs at the beginning of your hairline, your fingers drawing shapes on his bare stomach absentmindedly. he smiled into your hair, feeling you draw a heart on his skin.

“i love you,”

his voice was riddled with sleep, but it made your heart stop as he said the three words neither of you had said before. you shifted your head, turning to look at him as he was already smiling down at you.

“did you just-“

he nodded, the same smile still playing at his lips, “yeah,” he brushed a hair from your face, hand cupping your face after as his eyes searched yours, “i love you.”

the second time felt just as good as the first. you didn’t realize what was going on until you felt his lips on yours. they moved in sync, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. your hands wrapped around his neck, his body shifting under you as he moved so you were fully laying on top of him now.

you pulled away, foreheads meeting as you tried to catch your breath. breathlessly, you reciprocated the three words back to him, “i love you, too.”

the smile that fell onto his lips was almost as bright as the sun shining through the curtains. something about the way it sounded flowing off your tongue, the way it was directed towards him, the way your pupils were so large they were swallowing the color in your eyes. everything about it made his heart constrict and shoot straight up to his throat.

he kissed you again, this time rolling the two of you over as he hovered over top of you, hands on the hem of his hoodie as he pushed it up, head dipping down to place kisses on the skin of your stomach, “say it again,”

“i love you, lando norris.” you smiled, and he swore his heart burst. your thumb brushed against his cheek as they flushed, not in an embarrassing way but in a way that made him giddy and excited and loved. the love he had been longing for. the love that he had finally found with you.

he grabbed your hand and placed it on the part of his skin where his heart was beating so fast it was a wonder it wasn’t flying out of his chest. his smile was contagious and your cheeks were starting to hurt with all the smiling. you grabbed his hand also, putting it in the spot where your heart was going a mile a minute.

your universal, silent way of telling each other that your heart is for the other. you let him lean down, kissing you sweetly.

“i love you,” you couldn’t get enough of him saying those three words.

“i love you, too, lan.”

and he definitely couldn’t get enough of you saying it back to him.

#lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 grid x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fluff #fluff #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic #f1 2023 #mclaren #mclaren imagine #mclaren f1 #mclaren formula 1 #screaming crying throwing up i need him so bad. #like

[xuchiya]

streets [c.san]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

₊˚.༄ We real life made for each other And it's hard to keep my cool ₊˚.༄

"it's getting late, do you have someone to pick you up?" your head turn towards san, still in his uniform. his face mask were pulled down just below his bottom lip, emphasizing his cheeks; it made you want to squish his cheeks from being so innocent.

san was one of your fellow nurses. The crisp navy-blue scrubs fit him perfectly, the name tag reading "San Choi, RN" gleaming under the fluorescent lights. you cleared your throat; your heart was beating too loud for you that it hurts to taint this uncorrupted soul. you have hint after hint of crush on this man, this huge ass man that his face does not match his enormous body that you totally found yourself completely hidden.

proved when you stood behind him once and when you say, disappeared.

abracadabra, bitch not even a strand of hair can be seen.

"ah well i actually have somewhere to be ... what about you?" san looks at his watch, sighing, brushing his hair off his eyes, "my friend said he'll pick me up but he had an emergency call from his dad's company so now I have to wait for a bus..."

you frown looking at your watch too, its 10pm. Usually buses don't take this route anymore, "buses aren't available in this hour, san."

his heart fell on his stomach, double checking his watch, "damn it!" your eyes widen at his sudden burst of profanity. his eyes widen too and apologizing to you, "i'm sorry didn't mean to."

your lips curled up in a teasing smile, "your patient would not like it if she heard that one." San shakes his head laughing lightly. the small silence engulfs you both before you had an idea which will be a torture for you.

probably a torture for him too.

San was already an intern at a prestigious hospital near his family's home; owned by his grandfather though he is expecting him that he will continue his service even after his internship.

but when San came by a hospital that one of his friends were admitted after being confined. He found himself stuck on the reception area as his eyes were glued to your figure, up on hospital trolley, shouting dose of pharmaceutical. Your determine look and perseverance on your career what intrigued him to know you more.

so he left his family hospital.

San is pediatrician and so do you, the amount of love he gives on these children what also intrigued you in getting to know the man that suddenly left the hospital that you were trying to apply.

"hey i can give you a ride?" you mention, his ear perk up and reddens. his heart thumps inside his chest all of a sudden, "i-i .."

upon realizing what you said, your eyes once again widen and stutter out excuses, "oh my gosh! i - this is embarrassing, God take me!" you groan, covering your face.

for a while San chuckles at your reaction, composing himself, "I know you don't mean any harm but if you're going to drop me off then i hope i'm not delaying any of your plans."

When San agrees about you giving him a ride, he meant to be able to relax on the passenger seat.

He stares at the glaring matte black with gold flames on the Kawasaki Ninja 400R. That is one of the motorbikes he wishes to own and drive but because of his independence, San is still saving up.

"Holy .." You look at San as you place the glove tightly on your hand, "hmm?" Clueless on his reaction, you swing your leg over the bike, reviving the engine on and tune in the smoky sound of the engine of your bike.

San stares in awe as you hand him (set of embarrassment hue on your cheeks) a customized helmet. It has kitty ear with soft peach color as parallel of the inside of the ear.

"this is so cute." when he puts in the helmet, it dawned on him. You, arch back, hunch forward and him behind you, holding on tightly. His ears were once again red, frozen in place; his mind racing the same speed as your bike with filthy thoughts.

Like how could he not? Your ass is probably close to his (now) stiffening cock in his scrubs when he jumps in. the way it would keep brushing on his cock would probably have him cumming there.

"San? you okay?" You haven't feel the pressure or the weight on your back, so you turn your attention on San; standing with an incredible thickening boner in his scrubs, if it weren't for the eye shield of your helmet, he would seen you checking him out.

Or worse, staring at his firm boner.

San snap out of his thoughts and hurriedly swing his legs over the other side of the bike, after settling down on the leather seat. "You okay? Do you need-"

"Let's just go." San spoke clearing his throat and immediatly feels bad for brushing your concerns off, you understood why.

Without speaking much, you note that San would not hold on to you because of his hard situation so you did the initiative to grab his hands, in which he was taken back, and wrap them around your waist; patting his hand, "Mind you that it's night and I'll be taking advantage of the road."

You look over at San, "don't worry, I'll slow down if its too much." So without delaying much of your guys time, you kick off the stand and off both of you on the streets. San calling whatever can answer them make this ride, a comfortable one.

to say the least, no one grant his calls.

"u-Ugh f-ufuck chakaman!" San gasp, holding on to the mop of hair on the level of his hips while gripping his scrub up on his chest in his other hand—exposing his toned stomach, his scrub pants pooled on the floor. Your tousled hair, lips wrapped around his aching cock left him gripping the leather seat of your motorbike as you continued swirling your tongue on his red tip. San cried, bucking his hips when you took all of him; fitting him in your mouth up til’ his tip hitting the back of your throat.

 You hum to accumulate more of his climax, which in your satisfaction made San whimper thrusting his hips in your mouth, “f-fuck …” Shamelessly, he started fucking your throat as his climax were nearing and sooner, his cum spurted on your tongue and down your throat. You pull away from him, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to let him see that you have collected some of his cum before swallowing them.

  You gave him a smile before licking your salty lips, standing up proceeding to remove your leather pants; letting them rest on your knees along with your undies. You turn your head over to look at him with a smirk on your lips, bending moderately for him to see your puckered glistening hole with a small help of one of your hands to spread your cheek.

 “I know you want to get your dick wet, come on baby.” San’s eye twitch the moment you provoke him and have to look around the cleared parking spot you parked on and had him spitting his fingers and run them up and down your puffy cunt before grabbing his semi-hard dick and tap his tip on your hole; wiggling your asscheeks for him to provoke him more which he took the cue and slam his hips on yours.

You were quite taken back, his hips pace was something you were wondering if he has his dick wet a few times or he has this speed that you were looking for; nevertheless it had you moaning his name as his tip kept nudging. You rolled your hips each time he pulls away, leaving the tip then slamming back inside, “Fu-fuck Sannie— that’s so good! Right there!”

San’s hand crept down towards your clit, circling them rapidly and increasing the pleasure and the coil on your stomach, “You like that? You dirty dirty girl.” San stops circling his fingers around your clit and let you bend over your motorcycle as his hips snaps swiftly, placing the hem of his scrubs between his teeth as his hands knead the flesh of your hips then to your plump ass, spreading them as he watch his dick disappear inside your hole; a ring of your slick making him moan in his scrubs.

“Shit shit!” You cursed, lewd noises echoing the silent parking lot increase the arousal on your stomach, the fire of desire as San rapidly ram himself until you feel your thighs shake, “I’m g-gonna cum!” San drops the cloth and bent over to your ear, “Then make yourself a mess on my dick baby.” 

That it all took before you had a long string of ‘fuck’ leaving your lips as your orgasm washed over you, eyes fluterring close hips moving to chase your high. You felt San’s hand clasp around your hips and his broken moans reach your ears, “I don’t care if you’re on the pill or not but me? Get you knocked up? It’s been a fantasy of mine.”

His seeds spurted your walls, bucking a deeper part of your pussy. His hips halted as he let every drop of his cum stay inside you before pulling out, a whine left your lips but soon replaced by a yelp as San smacked your ass in his palm before placing your panties and your pants back on, “It’s cold and besides …” You turn around, he brushes hair away from your sweaty face, “I don’t want you wasting what we work hard on.”

Your cheeks flared, “You must have thought of this ‘fantasy of yours for a while now eh?” San shakes his head, a smile on his lips; securing his boxers and scrub pants back on before leaning on your motorcycle, shrugging, “Maybe but I should have taken you on a date first before I knock you up.”

You whine, smacking his arms, “Stop using that term.” San’s head threw back as he laughed at your reddened face, you groaned turning your head to the side. He stops laughing little by little before sighing, grabbing your hand; pulling you between his legs, “But it’s true. I had it all planned and there’s a step by step to it … but it looks like I skipped a step.”

You look at him, pouty lips, “a lot you mean.” He chuckles heartedly, grabbing your cheeks in his large palms, caressing them, “Okay a lot but it doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna take care of you. Let me praise you, love you, worship you and let me do those things because it is my duty to make you feel special and I want you to feel you are the only girl in this damn world. You’re my girl.”

You were left speechless and San saw in your eyes the appreciation, pulling you in his arms, “I’ll kiss you after our fourth date.”

“Why not now? You already got me knocked up and we are not even on our first date.” He chuckles and this is one of the reasons why he likes you; nonchalant or straightforward. He nodded, “Okay.” He pulls you in near his warmth, his lips landing gently on yours. He took the lead to make you feel special, make you feel the most important person to him.

#ateez #ateez choi san #choi san #choi san imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #choi san smut #choi san x reader #san ateez #ateez fanfic #kpop smut

[navybrat817]

What Happens in Vegas

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you decide to get married in Vegas. Word Count: Over 2.8k Warnings: Drinking, drunk wedding, accidental marriage, supernatural element, dubcon elements, soft!dark vibes, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I wasn't able to get all 4 birthday stories done, but I hope you lovelies enjoy the ones I plan to share. Here's 1 of 2! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer as well for letting me scream about this. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The fluorescent lights of the strip flashed as you stumbled along the sidewalk. Fast paced and surreal, the city that never sleeps offered a little something for everyone. Entertainment, architecture, adventure. While your intention for the evening was to grab a drink with some friends and nothing more, you decided to do something bolder. Crazier. Because what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?

“Goin’ to the chapel and we’re… gonna get maaaaaaried,” you sang, squinting as your guy, date, whoever he was, helped steady you. “Who or what was your name again? Randy?”

“That’s not my name. It’s-”

“Randy. ‘Cause you’re a rando,” you declared, making him laugh.

Forgetting the guy’s name should’ve been your first clue to call it a night and go back to your hotel. Randy was cute enough though and bought all of you drinks. When you told him most of your friends were hitched or close to getting married while you were still single, he joked that he’d marry you.

“Fuck it! Let’s get married!”

Which was how you found yourself on his arm heading to a chapel.

Your second clue to go back to your room should’ve been that none of your friends stopped you. Not a single one told you to stay or offered to go with you, which was strange. Not that each of you hadn’t done stupid stuff before. Letting you go off with a stranger though? In an unfamiliar city?

Bitches. All of them. Noooooo. I love my girlfriends. They’re just DRUNK, like me.

You did feel sad for a second. While your friends all had family who would’ve thrown a fit if they eloped or married a stranger, you didn’t. Your dad would never give you away. Your mom wouldn’t wipe her tears as she heard you say your vows. So who cared what you did?

You sure as hell didn’t.

“Here,” Randy said, pulling you toward a door. “This place is supposed to be really nice.”

“OOOOOOOOH. Reeeeeeeally nice,” you said, gasping once you stepped inside.

You expected cheesy decor to smack you in the face, but instead found yourself in a luxurious entryway. Sparkles of gold lined the sleek floor and walls all the way up to the high ceilings. The art depicted landscapes you only had the pleasure of seeing in dreams. The room almost had a glow to it.

Or maybe it's the alcohol blurring my vision.

A voluptuous redhead walked through a set of doors to greet you. Her heels didn’t make a sound as she glided across the floor. Glancing at Randy, you caught him adjusting the front of his pants. Was he drooling? You found it amusing rather than let it upset you.

“Welcome to the Enchanted Valley where all your dreams come true. My name is Natalia. How may I help you this evening?”

“We’re getting married,” Randy answered, though he didn’t glance at you.

“Is that so?” she asked, tilting her head as she turned her attention to you. The gold from the walls sparkled in her eyes as she waited for your confirmation.

Swaying a little, you gave her a two finger salute. “That is so,” you answered before you added, “Do you also do annulments?”

Snorting, she gestured behind her. “Before we get started, you must be at least 18 years old, must not be currently married, must not be kin, and I’ll need to see a government form of identification. As long as that’s clear, you’re free to proceed with your ceremony. Do you have witnesses?"

“No ‘cause my bitchy friends didn’t come here. I don’t even have flowers,” you said, hiccuping a little. “Don’t tell them I call them that. I love them soooooooooo much.”

“That’s just fine. I’ll ask James and Wanda if they wouldn’t mind witnessing this…” Natalia tried to find the word as her eyes darted between you. “Blessed union.”

Randy followed Natalia like a lost puppy into the chapel as he struggled to get his wallet out. “You single?”

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head. “Why am I doing this?” you mumbled, swaying as you dug your wallet out. “Why didn’t I just get a tattoo or something?”

“Because a ring on your finger is easier to remove than ink on your skin.”

“Holy fucking… fuck,” you said as you looked up. “Where did you come from, you… gorgeous specimen?”

You understood why Randy practically eye-fucked Natalia since you were doing the same with the man in front of you. His steel blue eyes reflected the gold of the room the same way the redhead’s had and you were scared you’d fall into an abyss if you stared for too long. His light brown hair had to be the softest you’d ever seen. If you had to guess, he was at least 6’4” with a broad chest and shoulders and didn’t have the audacity to button up his shirt.

Is his left arm made out of gold? Or is it painted gold? How drunk am I? Would Randy object to me giving this god of a man the ride of his life?

“I’m James,” he said, the timbre of his voice causing your knees to wobble as he held up a bouquet of colorful flowers. “I’ll be one of the witnesses for this blessed union.”

“Nothing blessed about it. I don’t even know the guy. But he said he’d marry me and I said ‘fuck it,” you giggled, taking a step forward. Your shoe caught on nothing. Nothing. You just fell forward.

And the beautiful man caught you in his embrace.

“Careful, beautiful,” he said as he helped you stand upright and placed the flowers in your hand. His touch warmed you as he ran his hands along your bare arms. “You would marry a stranger then? With no friends or family here?”

“You smell really good. How do you smell so good?” You said, putting a hand on his chest with a grin. “Friends are busy and I have no family.”

His brows furrowed and you wondered how pathetic you sounded. You weren’t looking for pity. “Did he give you any token of affection?”

“Mmmmm. You know, he didn’t. We don’t have rings or anything.”

James traced a finger along your cheek. “And he dares to call himself a man,” he whispered, tutting when you leaned into his touch. “Doesn’t seem like he's fit to marry such a delectable creature.”

Eat me up, James.

“It’s okay,” you said, hoping the sad feelings of alcohol weren’t about to hit you. It sucked being alone and you knew you’d come to regret this later, but who cared about tonight? “Do you have gold streaks in your hair? Why are you so pretty? It’s like you’re not even REAL.”

“I’m very real, beautiful,” he smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth as your cheeks got hot. “Do I have the pleasure of knowing your full name?”

“My full name? So formal,” you teased, giving it to him without hesitation as you ran your fingers through his hair. You should’ve asked permission before touching his soft hair. You shouldn’t have touched him at all. But logic left your mind the moment you stepped into the city.

James closed his eyes as he repeated your name, making it sound erotic and sensual. You liked hearing it on his tongue. “You will not marry him,” he whispered, opening his eyes. A ring of gold surrounded his pupils before it went away. Maybe one of the girls slipped a little something into your drink to help you relax more.

Whatever it is, I want more of it.

“Tell you what,” you smiled, booping his nose with a giggle. “If you object with good reason, I won’t marry Randy Rando. Deal?”

James smirked after a moment, a darkness clouding his eyes as he stepped back to shake your hand. “Deal.”

Before you shook it, you noticed a gold ring on the floor by his foot. Did he drop it? “Is that yours?” you said, crouching down to grab it. It wasn’t very dignified how your dress rode up, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Here.”

He didn’t take it from you. “It is mine, but do you not wish to keep it?”

You frowned, confused as you glanced at the band. It had some sort of lettering around the solitaire diamond that you didn’t recognize. “This isn’t ‘finders keepers’. It’s yours. It’s nice, but it’s rude of me to take it.”

With a low hum, he accepted the ring back. “There aren’t many who would return something of value,” he said, slipping it on his right pinky finger. “You have a giving heart.”

“Oh, it… It was nothing,” you said, shrugging a little to hide how badly you wanted to preen at his compliment.

I’m really acting like I’ve never seen a good looking guy before.

He kept an intense gaze on you as he slipped a hand into his pants pocket and pulled out a small stone. It would’ve looked like a normal pebble if not for the gold speckles. “I know this may not look special, but would you take this as a token for giving my ring back?”

Whaaaaaaaat?

“Um. Yeah. Sure. Thanks,” you said, tucking the stone into your purse before you selected a flower from your bouquet. “Would you accept this from me?” you asked, wanting to do something nice.

A pleased look crossed his face as he took the flower and inhaled. Your head spun a little. Something felt different, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “Thank you,” he said, running his teeth along his bottom lip as he fixed the bottom of your dress. “You really are the most beautiful bride.”

“And you, James, you beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, god of a man, will make the hottest groom when you get married.”

“Hey!” Randy shouted from the chapel when James opened his mouth. “We doing this or what?”

Oh, yeah.

“Wish me luck!” you said, giggling as you went through the doors and not looking back to see if he followed. “Wow.”

It was as if you stepped into an enchanted forest. The colors of the room were lush and welcoming, a blend of evergreen and sage. Flickering fairy lights and flowers adorned the dark brown pues. Natalia stood in front of Randy and a slender woman you didn’t recognize sat on his side of the chapel. The lights were playing tricks on you again when she looked at you, her eyes a flash of red as she smiled.

That must be Wanda. And I’m never drinking again.

“Ready?” Randy questioned when you got to the end of the aisle.

How romantic.

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged, looping your arm with his as you held your bouquet. “Take it away, Natalia.”

“Dearly beloved,” she began.

Truthfully, you didn’t pay much attention to the ceremony as Natalia spoke. You didn’t question that she hadn’t looked at your identification card or confirmed anything else she named off. It probably wasn’t a real wedding ceremony. You weren’t going to be Mrs. Randy Rando.

Not when James is here. Wait, what?

“If there are no objections,” Natalia spoke, glancing over your shoulder. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“I object,” James announced behind you, making you cover your mouth as you giggled. He did say he’d object with good reason. You wondered what he’d come up with.

“On what grounds?” Natalia asked, smirking as if she expected him to interrupt.

“Because she’s my wife,” he answered.

What the hell did he just say?

“What?!” You laughed louder as you spun around, falling against Randy with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, barely holding you upright.

James walked down the aisle toward you, a gold shine covering him from head to toe. Pointy ears stuck out through his hair and his eyes had a hypnotic glow as he smiled at you, his teeth sharper than before. He looked like a beautiful nightmare.

Ready to eat you up.

“You can see me as I really am, beautiful, can’t you?” He asked, a melodic lift in his tone that was both sinister and alluring. “Glamour doesn’t work on mates.”

...the fuck?

“M-Mates? We’re mates? What does that even mean?” You asked, looking at Randy for help. His eyes had a glossy glaze to them, like he wasn’t seeing you. Was he in shock? Did he know what was going on? “Dude, snap out of it. Look at his gold skin! And his pointy ears!”

“She can see you,” Natalia said with pride. “Congratulations, Bucky. You’re finally married.”

“Thank you, Natasha,” James smiled, waving a hand at Randy. His nails looked sharp enough to claw through his skin. “Get rid of him. He’s crowding my bride.”

“I’m… I’m way too drunk for this,” you mumbled, your knees giving out. With unnaturaul speed, he made his way to the end of the aisle and caught you.

“Hey! That’s my…” Randy looked confused as he blinked. “Well, she's not my girlfriend, but. Huh?”

“No, she isn’t your girlfriend. She’s my wife. And when you wake up tomorrow, you won’t remember being here,” he said, nodding over to Wanda. “I’d wipe your memory myself, but I’m not letting my mate go.”

“The fuck are you…” he trailed off when Wanda waved her hand, a ball of red light floating in front of his face.

“You sleep now,” she said as the light touched his forehead, not bothering to brace his fall as he collapsed.

“What the hell?” You slurred as Natalia grabbed his ankles to drag him out of the chapel, Wanda on her heel.

“I wouldn’t worry about him since you accepted my hand in marriage,” James said, touching your cheek with a fond smile. “I’m sorry for not courting you longer, but we didn’t exactly have much time, did we?”

“We’re not married,” you argued.

“By Fae law, we are,” he explained as your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. Did he say Fae? “You returned something of value to me that I dropped, which was you saying ‘yes’ to my marriage proposal.”

“No,” you whispered. That couldn’t be true.

“You accepted my token of my affection, which was me pledging myself as your husband. And you gave me a token of affection in return, which was you pledging yourself as my wife.”

The stone. The flower. No. Fucking. Way.

“I don’t understand,” you whimpered as he propped you up in his arms.

“I wanted a bride, so I came here. You’d be surprised how much of my kind has infiltrated this city. We do love our realm, but your people are so easy to manipulate,” he said, gesturing to the room. “Gambling, drinking, strippers, quick weddings. You just throw your hard-earned money away like it’s meaningless. Your currency goes a long way where I’m from.”

“I want to go home,” you said as he tightened his hold on you, even stronger than he looked.

“You didn’t see me at the bar tonight, but I saw you. I knew you were destined for me,” he continued happily as if you didn’t say anything. “And when he suggested marrying you on a whim, I made sure your friends didn’t try to stop you and that your path led here. Don't worry. They're safe. I wouldn't harm them.”

Who is he? What is he?

You shook your head, surprised that you hadn’t gotten sick from how your stomach turned. “I’m not your wife,” you said, trembling when his entire body began to glow.

“You are not just my wife. You are my queen. Even if you hadn’t accepted my token of affection, I wouldn’t have let you marry someone whose name wasn’t worth remembering. You’re mine,” he said through his teeth, angry at you denying him before he took a breath. “My poor bride. A woman with no family and friends who don’t look out for her. You have me now. And you’ll be happy by my side.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping by some miracle a bit of pain would wake you up. But the creature who called himself your husband wasn’t going away. “This is a bad dream,” you whispered, as if lying to yourself would help.

“Oh, my love,” he said in false comfort. “There are no bad dreams in the Enchanted Valley. And this isn’t the Vegas you know where you can simply write this off as a mistake. There is no divorce in my world. Well, your world now.”

“James, please,” you begged as your heart pounded.

“We’re married now, beautiful. Call me Bucky,” he smiled, smothering your protest with a kiss. Heat spread along your lips and flowed through your veins, wrapping around your heart like a vice. It was enough to suffocate you, but fate wasn’t ready to claim your life yet. “Now sober up. We have a honeymoon to start.”

I couldn't tag Bucky as "fae" without giving some of the surprise away! This idea was inspired by @adayka's beautiful art here. Maybe we can revisit this new couple down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x female!reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes x reader

[oftenwantedafton]

Maybe - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content

Summary - Your coworker Steve Raglan hates you.

You’ve no idea why, only certain that he does, blatantly evident in his every word and gesture.

So when you find yourself locked in the mail room with him after hours one evening, you’re not expecting much to happen. Boredom. Silence.

Certainly not his body pressed against yours. His hands on you. Wanting.

Also available on AO3

Steve Raglan hates you.

You’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve it, precisely. The impression of that emotion had been apparent from the first moment you’d met him. There hadn’t even been a proper introduction, really. Just instructions to bring a client back to the career counselor’s office. Friendly enough towards the young man you guide through his open door, his nasally rusted voice beckoning the job hopeful further inside. The inviting smell of fresh brewed coffee permeating the interior of the room. The friendly smile on your own features wilting when you see him moving to close the door for privacy. The hard line of his mouth. His eyes dismissive. You could pass it off as your imagination except it happens again whenever you see him. The break room. The copy room. The parking lot. Wherever you happen to encounter one another. The weight of his disapproving stare makes your shoulders droop. You check your appearance in the restroom, lift an arm to make sure your deodorant is working. You even mention it to one of the other girls in the office, someone who’s worked there for a while. She shrugs. Says he’s always been polite. You try to nonchalantly inquire with a few other individuals and receive a similar response.

So, no. You have no idea why Steve Raglan hates your guts. You just know that he does. So you try to avoid him as much as possible. And that actually sort of works. You can even almost forget that the middle aged man despises you for absolutely no valid reason as the weeks pass into months.

***

It’s late.

The office officially closed an hour ago. But you’ve still got work to do. Things that you could leave for the morning, you suppose, but you dislike starting the workday behind schedule with cluttered backlog. So you don’t completely notice the lights getting dimmed, the reduced noise, the failing daylight outside the office windows. Your fingers continue to fly across the keyboard. You’ve finally finished the last of the mail correspondence. You print the page and fold it twice, sliding it inside a business size envelope and sealing it shut. The taste of the envelope makes you wince. Why can’t they make the adhesive more pleasant? Sweeter. Like a mint or hard candy. Anything would be preferable.

You switch off the monitor and tuck your chair beneath the desk. All you have left to do is put this batch of letters in the mailroom. You decide to leave your purse and jacket behind. You’ll grab them on your way out the door.

You can hear the hum of the fluorescent lights, louder than normal now that the office is devoid of the bustle of business activity. No conversations, no ringing phones, no sounds of typing or printing. Just stillness. You don’t think you’ve ever stayed here this late before. You think you might be one of the last ones left.

You’re not.

Steve Raglan is inside the mailroom. Standing beside the rows of cubbies for inter office mail. The copier behind him suddenly spitting out pages. You haven’t had to interact with him recently. You’d almost forgotten that haughty glare of his over the rims of his gold framed glasses.

“I’m just going to drop these in the outgoing box.”

The room is very small. The cubbies, the copier, a waste paper bin, a cabinet with a slot for putting materials to be shredded. That’s all. Narrow confines. The closest you’ve ever been to him. He’s wearing cologne, a pleasant fragrance that’s earthy yet almost sweet. Underlying notes of citrus. You have to press close to reach the correct box and the smell grows stronger. You should have just waited. But who knows how long he’d be there. The copy machine is still running.

In your attempt to be stealthy you trip and reach out for something to stabilize you. The edge of the open door. You manage not to fall. The door swings shut behind you and you hear a click.

A sound of disgust from the tall man. You turn and jerk on the door handle, shoving. You just want to retreat. No movement. You push harder, really wrenching on the brushed nickel fixture. Nothing. It’s sealed shut. You’re locked in.

Your bearded companion seems to realize what’s happened a heartbeat after you do. He shoves past you and tries the door handle himself. You’re pressed against the shredder bin, the uncomfortably sharp corners digging into you through your pencil skirt.

“You idiot. We’re locked in.”

“I…I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else to say.

He tries hammering on the door. His voice is louder than you’ve ever heard it. Confirming what you both already know. You’re the last two people in the office.

“Now we’re going to have to wait for the cleaning crew to come in. Which will probably be…” He glances at his wristwatch “…six hours from now, at least.”

Trapped in this confined space. You’re not strictly claustrophobic, but you think you could develop that condition rather quickly if you dwelled on the situation you’re currently trapped in for too long. Stuck in something marginally larger than a closet, with a man that loathes you.

And now he’s actually got a reason to. Nice going.

The copy machine goes silent. You move to stand across from the social worker, the most distance you can put between you. He leans against the door and folds his arms across his chest, scowling at you. The room is unpleasantly warm already. Or maybe that’s just your nerves, a little rush of adrenaline making the capillaries in your limbs have increased blood flow, your elevated metabolism generating more heat. You always get hot when you’re nervous. You feel your scalp prickle. Your palms are damp. You try to shrink back against the copier further.

You don’t know how much time passes but the awkward silence and staring contest are too much. Your lower back is burning already. You step out of your heels. Let your toes curl in the carpet. A little relief. Steve continues to glower.

You’re going to attempt to sit. It’s difficult, between the limited space and you wearing a narrow skirt. You ease down until your buttocks makes contact with the carpet. Keep your stockinged legs straight in front of you, maintaining your modesty. You fiddle with the charm bracelet on your wrist.

A sigh. The middle aged man joins you on the floor. His long legs bent. Head knocking back against the wood surface behind him with a soft thump. The hem of his pants slightly raised so you can see his socks. Dark purple, and are those little rabbits printed on them? You frown curiously. It’s so out of character for anything on this stern figure to be whimsical. Maybe they’d been a gag gift. Laundry day and nothing else to wear. You’d already checked on a previous occassion to see if he wore a wedding ring. Nothing. His forearms rest on his knees. His hands were massive.

“Can’t you find something else to stare at?”

You blink. Neither of you has spoken in awhile. “I’m not staring,” you protest defensively. “There just isn’t a lot to look at in this room.”

“Find something.”

You chew your bottom lip, your cheeks flushing. There is nothing. The walls are blank. The cubbies and shredder hardly warrant much attention. You know the logo on the reams of paper stacked on the floor by heart now. “I don’t know why you hate me so much. Aside from tonight I’ve never done anything to you.”

The man barks a short laugh. “Hate you? I have absolutely no emotion towards you at all. Nothing.”

Somehow this makes you feel much worse. Now you’re desperately looking anywhere but at the career counselor. You reach for one of the sealed stacks of copy paper, unfolding the end and sliding a blank page free. Begin folding it in random directions. Just something to keep your hands occupied. You notice Steve squirming a bit in your peripheral vision.

“I can move so you can stretch a bit,” you murmur. You fold your legs without waiting for a response, tucking them to one side. You see him hesitate, attempting to stretch but it’s impossible. His legs are too long. “You’re really tall.”

A grunt. You push yourself back into a standing position. Roll your shoulders. Bend and touch your toes. You don’t know why you’re trying to accommodate him but you see him relax. A little sigh of relief.

You kind of need to pee. You were going to hit the John before you left for work. You’re eyeing the wastebin and thinking if worse comes to worse... No. No way. You can wait six hours. Less than that, now. “What time is it?”

“Eight. Almost.”

So another four hours, then. Steve stands again and you sink back down. Your stomach growls. You’d only had a salad for lunch. You think about the steak and lo mein noodles and stir fry vegetables you had waiting for you at home. You’d been planning on curling up on the couch with a bowlful and relaxing in front of the television. Instead you’re stuck here. With him. The man who hates you.

***

Later now. The only conversation inquiries about the time until your coworker informs you you’re asking too frequently and making things worse. Requesting silence. Raglan removes his glasses at one point, folding them and tucking them into his shirt pocket. Massaging the reddened indents on the bridge of his nose.

You’re both sitting on the floor again. His legs sort of half folded, angled slightly. You attempt to stretch yours. Just a gentle easing that you misjudge, your stockinged foot sliding across the carpet, stroking against the inside of Steve’s leg.

You freeze. You hadn’t meant to touch him. You can feel his body heat through the nylon covered extremity. Your eyes meet and his hand curls over your foot, trapping you there.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. Now you know how those large hands feel. Strong. Warm. Vice grip. Unrelenting.

“Are you?” His voice is different. Soft. Almost a purr of sound. His eyes different, too. Darker. Pupils dilating.

The hand abandons you. He rises, and you struggle to stand, much less gracefully. Something’s happening. You don’t know what yet. A shift in the atmosphere. The rift of tension merging into something else. One of those strong hands now closing over your forearm. Snapping over it like a manacle. Dragging you towards him.

Your back is to him now. Against him. The hand on your arm moving now to the hidden zipper on the side of your skirt. Your heart is pounding. His breath rasps loudly. You don’t think yours is much shallower. The waistband of your skirt loosens. His fingers are splayed against your sternum, the pinky and lower edge of his palm pressing along the tops of your breasts. His other hand invades the charcoal material covering your lower half. Tucks beneath the pale pink panties that match your blouse. Dips right through the damp flesh of your sex and you whimper.

Steve heaves a heavy sigh when he makes that intimate first contact. Satisfaction. Lust. His fingertips feel calloused. You wonder what career he’d held previously, the thought dashed away when he begins circling your clit, using your arousal for lubricant. You’re on fire. How is this the same man that had told you hours before he had no feelings towards you whatsoever? Had he just been frustrated? Wanting you but thinking it was improper for some reason or—

One finger dips inside your entrance, his thumb now working your clit. You should have been embarrassed by the amount of fluid you’re spilling over his probing digits but you’re not. You just don’t want him to stop touching you. Maybe it’s because you hadn’t had a boyfriend in awhile. Maybe because you hadn’t masturbated recently, usually too tired by the time you make dinner and shower and go to bed. Or maybe it’s because it was Steve Raglan specifically. The man that loathes you taking you apart with expert precision. You’ve never been intimate without kissing, without cuddling, without some foreplay. To skip straight to this…

The sound of a pair of fingers invading your body is loud. They curl inside you. You can feel his erection digging against you. The breath coming in short pants. Yours, his. A cacophony of struggling air exchange. The perfect pressure of your partially hooded nub rolled against the bone beneath. The fingers tucked inside stroking curved tissue. Your full bladder making the sensations even more intense. Your nails dig into Steve’s forearm through his dress shirt. You’re on the brink of orgasm. You recognize the feeling building inside of you. That trapped pressure that needs release. His fingers increasing the pace. Pressing harder. There. You cry out and his grip on your torso tightens as your climax wracks your body. You feel dizzy. Spots in front of your eyes. Christ. The best one you’ve ever had, hands down. The aftershocks are still pulsing through you in tingling little bursts of pleasure.

You begin to come down off your high, you body limp and liquid, still supported by the man behind you. His hand leaves your pussy, dragging the fabric of your skirt up. Something feverish and hard pressed against your buttocks. His cock, out of his pants. Dragging against your bare skin where the underwear doesn’t cover. Now tucked beneath the legband. Thrusting against you, constricted into that tight space, like fucking a virgin cunt. The arm still bracing your body against his shakes. A curse and a hot spill of fluid. A lot of cum, filling that pocket he’s created between your panties and your buttocks.

You eventually move apart. You can feel his semen seeping into the fabric. Adjust your skirt. You hear his fly being zipped back up.

The rough breathing subsides. Post nut clarity, isn’t that what men called it? The reality of what you’ve just allowed to happen washing over you. You let this man that’s old enough to be your father finger you to orgasm. Let him use your panties like a sex toy and dump a load against your body. And you’d liked it. Fuck. You shiver at the memory. You’re too shy to meet his gaze. Another stretch of silence.

***

A band of light beneath the door. Someone is in the office.

Steve sees your sharp gaze and turns to face the door. Banging loudly. Yelling. It takes a few moments for the custodian to unlock the door, looking very surprised to find a pair of workers trapped in the mailroom.

You make a beeline for the restroom and grab your things. Steve doesn’t say a word on your walk to the parking lot. So back to this, then. Radio silence. Whatever the hell his issue is with you. Whatever had just happened in the mailroom. A quickie. Boredom or what. Who fucking knows. You skip dinner, opting for a shower and bed.

***

The next morning you get ready for work at your usual time. Telling yourself you’re not being selective about the lingerie you’re wearing. Not choosing a flowing button front dress because it’s easier access. You’re not expecting anything to happen. You don’t want anything to happen. Do you? A throb between your legs at the memory. Okay, fuck. Yes you do. You’d barely slept. Remembering what he’d done. Gotten so worked up thinking about it you’d had to have another round just to take the edge off. Thinking about those big hands on your body. Imagining the feel of his beard abrading your thighs, those dark lustful eyes watching you as he goes down on you. What had felt like a very generously sized cock stretching you. Pumping you full of his cum. Nope. Not thinking about that in any great detail at all. Sure you weren’t. Another tingling pulse as you look at your reflection in the mirror. You really need to stop. This is the guy that hates you that you’re fantasizing about. Or is indifferent towards you, allegedly. Except you can’t reconcile that idea, the juxtaposition with your intimacy making no sense whatsoever. Maybe he just liked playing head games with people. You’re an easy target for that. Too sensitive. You cried over sappy Hallmark movies. Got sentimental on the holidays. Donated every time you saw one of those commercials pleading for funds for animals in need. A big softie. So yeah. You made for easy prey, you supposed.

You don’t even have to wait long to see him again. He’s got the first client of the morning. You have to pass the mailroom on your way to Steve’s office. You’re trying very hard not to think about what had happened in there. Trying to be professional.

Your resolve shatters the instant you see him. The way his hand looks when he reaches for the doorknob. That glare above his glasses. The slightest smirk, that brief twitch of lips so rapid you think you might have imagined it. It’s no good. He’s ruined your ability to concentrate. The paperwork piles up. It’s noon. Break time, the office closes for an hour. You have to pass by Raglan’s office to get to the break room. His door is open. You tell yourself you’re just going to check to see if he’s there, some bullshit excuse about the time his next client that’s a last minute add on is arriving at the ready. A perfectly valid reason for you to be there.

He is inside. Slouching slightly in the brown leather office chair. Thumb depressing the end of his pen, driving the nib from the barrel. Another click and it retracts. Watching you. Waiting. “I just came to tell you there’s been a last minute add on. You have someone coming in at one.”

“Shut the door.”

You hesitate, wondering if he intends for you to close it behind you when you leave. The faint smell of that morning’s coffee still lingers in the air.

A sigh. He straightens and stands and the chair creaks. He shuts the door himself. You’re still in the room. So he wanted you here. With him. Wants you. Something. You’re unsure.

He settles back behind the desk. A slight curve of fingers beckoning you. You stand beside his seated frame. Heart beating like mad. It was happening again. This time during the day. With people nearby. The blinds were open. Warm bands of sun across his desk, against your skin. “Kneel down.” You don’t even question it. Just let yourself descend. The carpet protector hard against your knees through the stockings and layer of your dress. Still waiting. Watching you. His eyes dark again, full of desire. Another little sigh of exasperation. You decide to take the initiative and rest your hands on his thighs. There’s so much of them. So much mileage to go before you reach your destination. You jerk on his belt and the metal releases from the leather. Button unfastened. Zipper peeled down. No reaction from Steve. You debate whether to use the flap of his boxer briefs or just shove the waistband down. Opt for the latter. He’s even bigger than you’d suspected. Long. Thick. Cut. Fat head dripping precum. Fuck. Your cunt is already responding. Pink nails against his dark pink skin as your hand curls around. Leaning forward, tongue swiping along the opening. A sharp inhale. A response at last. A faint musk. Soap tinged. Masculine. Clean. You take him further in.

A mouthful already and you’ve barely begun. You feel his body shifting positions, slouching a bit more, getting comfortable. Your stretched lips slide over him. In and out. Just shallow attempts for now. Getting accustomed to Raglan’s cock in your mouth. God that’s a sentence you’d never thought you’d utter. Think. Whatever.

The phone rings and the head slips from your mouth. Another sigh. “Don’t stop.” He leans a bit and lifts the phone off the cradle. Yellowing plastic thing that had maybe been light gray once like the computer monitor and mouse and keyboard. Very out of date. You have newer ones at the front end. You wonder why he hasn’t requested upgraded models.

“Steve Raglan, may I help you?” So polite. His timbre much lighter. Friendly. Jovial, even. He clears his throat. Fingers of his free hand patting his thigh to remind you to continue. You’re not expecting those fingers to knot in your hair and hold you in place. Your nostrils flare in protest at the limited air as his hips move, pistoning his cock into your maw until he’s touching your throat. You’re gagging, coughing. Feel saliva thickly pooling. He keeps you there. His voice above you so light and airy, so different from what’s happening beneath his desk. “We offer a variety of services. Yes, we’re used to working with candidates with less than ideal backgrounds. The success rate of our job placements…” You lose track of the conversation. He finally jerks your head back and you gasp for air. Your lips are tingling. So is your pussy. Fuck if he doesn’t have you wound up. Wetter than the cock you’ve just slicked up with your spit. Your throat is burning already.

“I’d be more than happy to take a look at the applicant’s job history. Our fax number…” You’re shoved onto his dick again mercilessly. Your nails dig into his thighs. “Sure, I’ll hold.” The fingers in your hair tightening. The chair creaking loudly in protest when he shoves himself back inside. You’re a little better prepared this time. Manage to work up and down his length without much guidance. Concentrate on resisting your gag reflex. Keeping your jaw loose, your lips tight. His fingers curl over the bottom of the phone, blocking the speaker. “You’re going to swallow every drop.” Your eyes widen and you attempt to nod your understanding. Rather difficult considering the position you’re currently in. The little smirk is back, lingering this time. “Hi, yes, I’m still here. Yes, it’s coming through right now. Another question? I’d be happy to help if I can.” You recognize the irritation underlying the false accommodation. He doesn’t really want to help. You hear the fax machine behind Steve’s chair. Dial tone and connection made and pages printed before a longer beep to announce it’s finished. Your head continues to work on as much of the career counselor’s prick as you can manage. Edging a bit more of the shaft inside. Testing the absolute limit. A momentary panicked gurgle before he eases up again. Another loud gasp. There’s no way the man or woman on the other end of the line isn’t hearing this. Steve’s breathing has gotten louder. His voice a lot coarser and lower pitched. “Yes, that’s right. Pleasure to assist. We’ll be in touch.” The phone slams down and he fucks deeply into your throat. Repeats. Again and again, hammering away until he withdraws and you suck in air. You can feel the saliva coating your face, smearing your cheeks and chin. You think your mascara might be running. The lip gloss you’d had on has certainly been chafed right off by now. “Look at me.” Your eyes lift. It’s exactly what he needs to send him over the edge. Your helpless captive mouth and throat around his cock. His taste filling those places. Bitter. Thin. Another great quantity, like the previous evening. The softest little moan of sound, stifled behind the fist he presses against his mouth. Something about that excites you to no end. The fact that you’d made him feel so much pleasure he’d had to stop himself from making too much noise.

You lean back on your heels. He’s still staring. You wipe at the spit coating your face.

“Panties off. Sit on my desk.” It never occurs to you to refuse. Rational thought beyond you. Just that one solid wood door between you and discovery. Maybe that was part of the enjoyment for him. A touch of exhibitionism. Like how he’d had you blow him while he was on the phone just now.

You grab handfuls of the material draped around your hips and tuck your fingers into your panties. Step out of them, leaving them on the floor at your feet. You still have your heels on. Your bare ass settles on the ink blotter, your dress bunched around your midsection.

His fingers hook underneath the edge of the desk and he drags his seated form closer to you, the wheels of the chair grinding along plastic. Those calloused fingers stroke your thighs. Another pair of thigh high stockings today, these ones a soft navy to coordinate with your dress. He strokes along the lace trim. Shoves at the draped fabric still concealing your sex. Another of your fantasies from late last night about to come true.

You’d suspected Steve was going to be a master at eating pussy and God were you right in that assumption. The tip of his tongue—this longer than average as well, it seems every feature of the man’s body ran to the extreme—curling and flicking across your clit. A needy whine escapes you. That muscular organ now dividing the petals of your pussy, driving into your entrance. A muffled moan at your taste. Your head rocks back. The mouth of your entrance waters in response to his jabbing tongue. He’s barely begun and you’re already about to explode. His nose digs into your mound as he slurps the sensitive pink flesh into his mouth. His beard not rough against your skin as you’d expected. Much silkier. Soft. Your bundle of nerve endings being sucked. Stroked. Teased. He brings you close then backs away. Each time the impending orgasm feels more intense. Even just his breath against your damp cunt is enough to stimulate you. You let your fingers sift through his graying hair. The glasses have been tossed aside. His hands are curled around your thighs. He continues to languidly sup at the place between them. Your lunch break must be nearly over now. A combination now of tongue flicks and sucking centered directly on your clit. This time he doesn’t hold back. You bite your lip hard, keening when your release finally washes over you. Someone has surely heard. You try to stifle the next moan of pleasure. He is unrelenting, persisting even when your trembling thighs attempt to close and you push at his head. Somehow your body survives the onslaught and the fire is kindled again. He’s going to make you cum again.

A second climax wracks through you. Steve finally moves away. His bearded face is damp from your juices. You let your legs drop over the edge of the desk, hands bracing yourself to remain sitting. You feel absolutely wrung out. And it’s amazing.

There’s that awkward silence again as you both recover. Adjusting clothing. Subtly removing body fluids from obvious places. At least there’s a restroom right across the hall. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall. One hour exactly. Raglan remains silent. You don’t know what to say. You end up leaving his office, more conflicted than ever.

The afternoon passes. A few clients directed Steve’s way. Everything strictly professional between you. You’ve got to work double time to make up for your distracted performance earlier that day. The display on your computer monitor confirms what you already know. You’re late again.

This time you’re going to use the restroom before you leave work. Just in case. You never know what could happen. You pass the mailroom. It’s empty, the door open. Steve’s office door is shut. You don’t recall seeing him leave but you hadn’t exactly been watching the entrance the entire time.

You finish in the bathroom and head back down the hall. Car keys successfully withdrawn from purse, the strap of which now sits on your shoulder. Cardigan on. You turn to leave.

He’s there. Leaning against the open doorway that leads to the reception area. Those dark eyes watching you. You feel the strap of your handbag already sliding down.

“What happened to being indifferent?” You’re surprised when the words leave your mouth. Maybe he’d just expected you to keep going along with his sexual whims. Playing whatever game this was.

“Maybe that was a poor choice of words.” He pushes off of the molding covered frame, walking towards you. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

You stand your ground. One of his big hands now rests on your cheek, rough thumb drawing an invisible line under your bottom lip. “Maybe…”

He doesn’t finish the thought with words, his face lowering to yours.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan smut #william afton smut #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

[uchispeach]

Crazy Over You (One-shot)

Pairing: Dark! Reader x Dark! Rafe

➥ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, rough sex, violence, death, toxic relationship, dark! reader…

➥ Main Masterlist

“Would you kill for me?” The blond looked at you through his sharp eyes, a cloud of smoke appearing around him as he gave your shared joint another drag.

You laid on your back, eyes on him as you admired his rough features under the fluorescent light.

At the lack of reply, the back of his palm impacted against your stomach. “Answer me” You barely registered the hit, too enticed with his presence.

“I guess” You giggled, grabbing your chest as if it was about to explode.

The whole situation felt like a fever dream, mind too faded to scrutinize everything that came out of your mouth. “Yeah, without a doubt” You reaffirmed lazily, reaching out for Rafe’s face.

You gave his cheek a light squeeze before letting out a lighthearted chuckle. The Cameron boy found it contagious, chest rumbling in uncontrollable laughter.

(…)

You weren’t lying. You wished you were, but you weren’t; and the pained moans from a dying woman were there to prove it.

The now empty gun slipped from your frail grip, bouncing a few times before finally laying a few meters beside you.

“Y/N!” Your boyfriend raised his voice while approaching you with heavy steps. Still, you remained frozen -no reaction as Rafe continued to call out for you-.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You could see him waving his arms right in front of you, cursing under his breath as he went back and forth.

“Huh?” His strong palms held onto your shoulders, weighing you down as he shook you violently. Your body moved in an aggressive motion, but your brain continued to go at a slow pace.

“I had no choice” Your whisper was barely audible. Wide eyes focused on the specks of blood on the floor. “I had no choice” This time the words came out in a rush.

“Rafe, I had to do it…” Hands touched his broad shoulders, an action made to reciprocate him. “She…She was going to kill you” You finally faced him, blown pupils looking straight at him.

The Cameron boy seemed disturbed, brows furrowed in a deep scowl. Strands of dirty blond were all over his front, covering his face.

Your delicate fingers reached out for his frame, getting between his hair and pulling softly at it. Once it was cleared, you squeezed his cheeks together while getting extremely close.

Your warm breath hit his lips as you opened your mouth once again, “I saved you” without noticing straight away, tears started falling out -soaking your skin-.

His breathing became faster and heavier while he put his hands above yours, gripping them tightly, so tightly it hurt.

“Fuck!” He spat out, getting rid of your hold as he made his way towards the corpse.

Mrs. Limbrey’s cold body rested peacefully, the revolver still in her bony digits.

Rafe groaned in frustration as he carried the old lady on his back, kicking the weapon to the side before throwing her mindlessly in the truck’s cargo bed.

Your lover turned his back on you as he frantically closed the padlock. The movement was fast, but not fast enough for you to not catch a glimpse of the other dead body.

Carla and his brother were now resting in peace on the back of the vehicle, alongside the gold cross.

That damned cross. The relic’s value wasn’t totally on the monetary side, it also relied on the rotting greeed it caused in everyone who set their eyes on it.

You had seen it, the blond had become fixated on bringing it home and calling it his. Even dragging you with him in his exhausting search.

You followed him because you trusted him wholeheartedly; the Limbrey siblings on the other hand, you had suspected them since the first encounter.

When strong arms wrapped around your waist, you barely reacted; allowing the blond to push you against a metal door.

“Hey” He looked for your gaze, unsuccessfully. “Hey!” The screaming went accompanied by a slap to the face.

The sting came later than it should have, cheek starting to bloat at Rafe’s harsh methods.

All you did was flinch, no real defense put up against him.

“We’re gonna get on that damn car and I’ll drive us to the swamp” Violence had slightly pulled you out from the initial state of shock, so you nodded. “I need you to act fucking normal” He shook you against his arms, sort of allowing you the comfort of his chest’s warmth.

You nodded frantically, wanting to comply in hopes of a better treatment. Not long after, you wiped away any residue of your tears.

With a blurred vision, you saw your boyfriend moving to the side while opening the door for you. A sneer was your only warning before you were shoved into the passenger's seat.

The sound of your nape hitting the seat was alarmingly loud. Still, all you could think of was the clear annoyance that reflected on the boy’s face.

(…)

Getting rid of the bodies wasn’t as difficult as you thought, all Rafe had to do was throw both of them into the cloudy water and wait for the crocodiles to do the rest of the job.

No more than a couple of minutes have passed when they were completely devoured. So, you couldn’t quite understand why the Cameron boy continued to look exasperated.

“It’s over” You tried to reassure him with a hand on his forearm, but he remained stoic, gripping the steering wheel with an unhealthy force.

“Rafe, we have the cross…nothing else matters” You whispered sweetly into his ear, leaning towards his side; the blond didn’t appreciate that, because mere seconds after you pronounced those words, you felt the truck giving a violent turn.

“Rafe!” Your body bounced against the door, a pained gasp left your lips at the last impact.

You felt a slight ringing on your ears as the vehicle completely stopped. You tried to incorporate, looking at your surroundings before being held back by a brute force.

“Ra-” You were interrupted by a harsh squeeze. “Shut up!” Rafe’s eyes were dark, a kind of darkness you’ve never seen on them.

His rings buried themselves on your soft skin. He shook you by the neck, a series of muffled whimpers barely leaving your throat.

“You fucked us!” He spat on your teary face. “Shit!” The blond’s frustrated scream had been almost drowned by the overwhelming sound of the horn.

His knuckles looked all red and bloodied now, still, the aggressiveness didn’t cease.

Your lungs burned in desperation while you put your smaller hands on his, dragging your nails along his skin. “Please” your voice was barely audible.

“You killed a Limbrey…we’re screwed” Your boyfriend was now all over your face, sweat on his forehead as he slightly shook in rage.

He cursed you out when a particular deep scratch was given. The burning sensation of open cuts made him retreat, allowing you to free from his lethal hold.

The coughing was uncontrollable as you massaged your bruising throat Still, you managed to speak in between coughs “She was pointing a gun at you” Your voice was deeply hoarse.

“I fucking saved your life!” Your neck stung as you lifted it up, looking at the blond behind your messy hair.

Rafe stayed back as he saw you crawling towards him. Cold palms positioned on his hard chest. Your eyes held a pleading eagerness on them.

The blond didn’t react when your trembling lips covered his stiff ones, neither when your breasts rubbed slowly against the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you…” A sweet whisper in between dainty pecks. Your hands roamed from his clavicle to his abdomen, stroking in constant circles just as he liked.

His eyes scanned over your frame in growing temptation. Either way, he held back -grabbing both of your wrists to stop them from wandering around-.

Ignoring the burning sensation of his grip, you begged in a sultry voice. “We’ll figure it out…together”

You pushed back, shoving your face onto Rafe in a heated kiss. Your mouth moved impatiently against his, hips bucking rhythmically in hopes of creating a pleasurable friction.

You could feel him growing under his expensive pants. At the same time, his breathing became messier.

You recognized the containment on his voice when he groaned at a particular deep thrust.

Even though you dragged your head back in search of oxygen, a line of saliva still connected both of your mouths.

“Relax” You twisted your wrists, little whines protesting to be set free. Rafe complied, licking his lower lip when dropping your arms around his nape.

Your fingers intertwined with his silky hair, pulling aggressively at it to get extensive access to his neck. A trail of wet kisses was left from his chin to his chest; you made sure you lick his sensitive spots, warm tongue making small circles on the exposed skin.

His hips became alive, crashing against yours in order to appease the boiling need on the pit of his stomach. You continued sucking on that specific spot that had him hoarsely groaning.

It didn’t take long before he reached out information his best, slowing down your brutal pace in order to free the tent on his pants. You stood still for some torturous seconds, pupils blown as you saw him taking out his lengthy shaft.

Now out of its confinements, the boy’s cock stood proudly at your button belly’s height. You were quick to wrap your hand around it, giving it a few slow strokes before finding a continuous pace.

One hand on his groin and the other in his shirt as you made a painful hickey right above his clavicle. Your tongue moved expertly until it was interrupted by a mean grip.

Rafe’s eager fingers had your jaw stinging with a harsh squeeze. He basically forced you away, just to pull you immediately back with a bite to your plump lip.

He dragged his tongue above the open cut, making you taste it as he shoved the wet muscle inside your mouth.

The blond couldn’t resist tugging your hair, finding satisfaction in the way your jaw opened wider at the hurt gasps.

His free arm got lost under your jeans, dragging his hand to cup your sex. You moaned sweetly at the feel of his freezing palm in contact with your wam entrance.

Rafe smirked while rubbing a digit between your wet folds. “This pussy’s all mine” You nodded, mind already dizzy by the blond’s consuming heat.

Keenness got the best of you as you clumsily undid your jeans; the blond helped you to get rid of them, practically tearing them from you before throwing them carelessly to the back.

You were about to take your underwear off, but the Cameron boy was ahead of you. A loud snap had you flinching, surprised to see a shredded piece of lace landing on the passenger’s seat.

The cold breeze made your nipples harden under your blouse. Your boyfriend seemed to notice it, forcing the piece of clothing out of your body.

His eyes darkened in hungry anticipation, eyeing your perky mounds with pure lust.

His teeth felt overwhelmingly good when they sinked on your breasts. Lovely redness covered your entire chest after a couple minutes of rough treatment.

The blond was unstoppable, viewing your flesh as a blank canvas he was entitled to paint.

Your whines and cries sent him into a state of frenzy -yearning to taste more of you-.

“Fuck me already…shit!” You jumped at a particular rough bite. He simply chuckled, lifting you by the hips to comply with your desperate request.

His veiny hand stroked his erection; thick cock shining with pre-cum. His tip got close to your entrance, not before collecting some of your juices.

His mouth opened in delight when you started sinking yourself down on his dick. Your gummy walls squeezed tightly around him.

You went slow, mindful of the stinging stretch. Eventually, the blond got too impatient, pushing you down in a swift move.

You cursed under your breath, feeling him deep in your guts. Rafe didn’t give you a break, encouraging you to ride the pain away.

(…)

Your knees were in constant friction with his strong

thighs as you swayed your hips with aggressiveness.

The horn was a background noise at this point, your main focus being the squelching of your cunt as Rafe met your thrusts.

You had been at it for a while, the sweat on your foreheads a proof of it.

A knot tightened on the pit of your stomach, begging to come undone. You could tell Rafe was feeling the same, as his movements got sloppier.

You grinded on him way slower this time, too overstimulated from previous releases.

The blond breathed heavily onto your ear, burying his fingers deep into your waist as you lazily rode him. A few more strokes was all it took for you to reach your peak -moaning shamelessly when you felt your wetness releasing all over the boy-.

“I-I love y-you” you struggled to say, still agitated by Rafe’s incessant pace. “Fuck!” He finally stopped -head thrown back as he felt himself becoming undone-.

You felt a hot liquid filling you up, thick splurts being released in the deepest parts of your womb. “You…” The Cameron boy had a hard time speaking while simultaneously climaxing, still, he finished his sentence, “you are fucking crazy, Y/N.”

A/N: I wanted to build more tension but my horny ass didn’t have enough patience. Anyways, let me know if you liked it! 🤍

#dark rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader #dark rafe x reader #dark fanfiction #dark fic #dark content #tw.dark content #tw dark content #tw asphyxiation #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #smut #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x you #rafe x reader #obx smut #dark obx

[the-kr8tor]

What about like Christmas present shopping with hobie for the spider kids? 💗

-🪩

Changed some things around, hopefully you still like it! Happy holidays 🪩 anon!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Gold or silver?” You hold up two ribbons in your hands, Hobie leans forward to look at it closely. His eyes narrow, taking note of every glitter and swirly design.

He's been like this since you got to the craft store to pick up wrapping supplies for the trio's gifts you and Hobie painstakingly made with your own hands. Your hands are still covered in paint while Hobie's finger nails are still stained with the same paint you have on your skin (due to him trying to scrub it off from your hands) there's glitters sticking to his face, around his eyes and some on his jaw. It fits him, you think, making him sparkle under the harsh fluorescent lights of the store.

You don't rush him because you know this is his excuse to stretch the time spent with you, and he wants every second to count, especially because he's particularly stretched thin during the holidays. Apparently villains don't rest even with all the holiday cheer around.

“Silver,” he nods. “Goes well with the wrapping paper we chose. And–” Hobie takes the roll of silver ribbons, his fingers grazing your skin. “It goes well with your eyes, I think” holding up the ribbon near your face, you scrunch up your nose to hide how flustered you are.

“Are you gonna use it to wrap my face with it?” You should've thought your comment through because his reaction to it is exactly what you anticipated.

He gives you his signature smirk. “As a blindfold maybe.”

“I knew you'd say that!” You whisper yell, eyes darting around the near empty aisle.

“What?” He laughs, “it's so you don't ruin the surprise gift I ‘ave for you. What were you thinkin’ huh?” Hobie pokes your cheek.

“You're having the greatest time right now, aren't you?”

“The best bloody time” he abandons the ribbon, placing it inside the cart to hold your equally glittery cheeks. “‘m enjoying it before the three idiots come along”

“Those three idiots are the reason why we're here.” He squeezes your cheeks, the holiday makes him all gooey inside, perhaps it's the twinkling lights or how your face shines brighter than the lights itself with how you're beaming at him. “Admit it, you love them”

“Yeah yeah, pucker up or you'll be put in my naughty list”

If you weren't alone in the aisle then your giggles for sure made every customer around the vicinity turn away from the ribbon area.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #x reader #atsv fanfiction #spider punk #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider punk x gn! reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie fluff #fanfic

[bluebellhairpin]

I read the series in middle-school. 14 year old me was a percy girl. 22 year old me is an ares girl and i'm making it everyone's problem. so anyway here's a ares x reader drabble i had to get out of my drafts - enjoy <3 (post-battle of manhatten. reader is the mother of an ares kid)

Ares finds you in an alleyway. 

Manhattan is eerily quiet. Dust has settled, smoke clearing. The mortals all still sleep soundly, and the remnants of the last monsters are fading.��

It wasn’t like he was looking for you specifically, but a part of his search was for you. Aside from his daughter, you were the only other one who fought this war hard enough to catch his attention from so far away - of course he’d like to see if that ended with you dead or not. 

When his eyes caught sight of a red plumed helmet lying on the ground, the surroundings stopped becoming a blur. He wondered how he’d noticed it before he noticed you. 

You sat with you back against the brick wall, armored chest still heaving with an arm resting on your bare knee. Ares saw blood, red and gold alike, drip from your chin to the leather of your pteruges, and his jaw clenched. He strode over, nudging your foot with his. When all he got as a response was your chest rising in another deep breath as you thickly swallowed, he knelt down to your level. 

“Hey,” Ares said, curling his finger under your chin so your black stare left the wall and focused on him, “You’re okay.” He said it more of a statement than a question. Although his soft spot for you was softer than most, he still wasn’t quite there. Not yet. 

“Where is he?” You replied. Your voice was quiet, but he didn’t miss the fluorescent red of his blessing that flashed across your eyes. A rage still simmered beneath your surface, and it made him want to kiss you senseless. 

His hand pushed your matted hair back from your face, and his head shook. Your jaw clenched, and your hand reached for his wrist with a grip that - now, with his blessing had become a curse - was strong enough to make him wince internally. 

“Ares. Where is our son?” 

#they are. important to me. ares and my son. #ONE DAY I WILL WRITE MORE (probably tomorrow lol) #ares x reader #pjo ares x reader

[blueiskewl]

Britain's Oldest Gold Coin Hoard Discovered

The oldest hoard of gold coins in Britain, dating back 2,173 years, was discovered by a metal detectorist.

The 12 Iron Age artifacts were discovered by Stephen Eldridge while scouring fields in Buckinghamshire.

They were built in 150 BC by a tribe in what is now Picardy, France, according to experts at the British Museum.

According to speculation, the coins were likely transferred to Britain in return for Celtic mercenaries who were sent to Gaul in western Europe to fight the Romans.

A hoard from this date is extremely uncommon, even though individual gold coins from this era have been discovered before.

The coins will now likely sell for £30,000 when they are put up for auction at London's Spink & Son.

In November 2019, Mr. Eldridge, 68, discovered the coins in the Buckinghamshire community of Ashley Green.

The Catuvellauni tribe first settled in the region about 150 BC, and during the ensuing century they grew to become the most dominant tribe in Britain.

Mr. Eldridge has put the coins up for auction with London-based coin specialists Spink after going through the treasure process.

The coins' roughly 75% gold content with an alloy of silver and copper was validated by scientific x-ray fluorescence analysis, indicating the economy in which Britain's first gold coinage were circulating.

The coins are now expected to sell for £30,000 when they go under the hammer at London auctioneers Spink & Son

Gregory Edmund, of Spink & Son, said: “Whilst individual gold coins of this period have been recorded across south east England, it is incredibly rare for a trove of this size or date to be uncovered. Contemporary local coinage was simply cast base metal issues called 'potins'. Whoever successfully imported this trove of gold coins would have undoubtedly wielded influence in the region.

They would have been exported, probably in exchange for mercenaries, equipment and hunting dogs to fight the Romans or other tribes in Belgium. Twenty or thirty years after they were deposited we started to get the first British coins in the same style. These coins were in the wealthiest part of the English kingdom. A hoard of this size and period is unprecedented in the archaeological record. There was one other hoard from this period of three coins found. These coins have been well used, it is very clear they are not fresh when they are put in the ground, but still retain remarkable details of a seldom-seen Iron Age art form.

It is often speculated that the portraiture of this coinage was deliberately androgynous despite being modelled on the classical male god Apollo. The feminine styling is probably a reflection of the political significance of women in Iron Age society, that enabled such historical figures as Cartimandua and Boudicca to rise to prominence and our now national folklore. It is incredibly satisfying to assist in the proper recording, academic analysis and now sale of these prestigious prehistoric relics.”

Following the coroner's inquest, the British Museum made the decision to disclaim the coins, which means they now belong to the finder.

The landowner will receive a portion of Mr. Eldridge's earnings.

#Britain's Oldest Gold Coin Hoard Discovered #Buckinghamshire #The Catuvellauni tribe #treasure #gold #gold coins #ancient gold coiins #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #metal detecting #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #iron age

[escxelle]

i'm convinced sleep token are stem girlies because the amount of physics, maths and chemistry in their lyrics hmmm. lemme list all the references below the cut <3 (just as an fyi: this is a joke and i'm not being serious!! i'm just pointing out all the science references in their songs, dw)

alright, bit of a stretch to start but: "sulfur on your breath, granite in my chest." - granite from take me back to eden (2023). sulfur obviously being an element and granite is a rock (i'm not a chem student, i do astrophysics sorry idk anything else skdjsjd)

i'm being really picky but like "these days i'm a circuit board, integrated hardware you cannot afford." - aqua regia from take me back to eden (2023). vessel is an engineering girlie!! /j also i could point out the latin title is a mixture of nitric acid and hydrochloric acid sooo

still in aqua regia, we have "sugar on the blood cells, carbon on the brain." mhm, speak stem girlie!

aqua regia is full of stem textbooks: "oxytocin running in the ether. silicon ballrooms. subatomic interactions if it's all good. gold rush, acid flux. saturate me, i can't get enough. cold love, hot blood." so the debrief: oxytocin is a hormone. ether are a class of compounds. the rest i think is self-explanatory, as they're elements and cute little stem terms oxox

i love stretching. "your viscera welcome me in." - vore from take me back to eden (2023). viscera are the large organs inside the body, including the heart, stomach, lungs, and intestines. biology girlies!! /j

more stretching <3 "who encrypted your dark gospel in body language? synapses snap back in blissful anguish." - ascensionism from take me back to eden (2023). encryption is the process of encoding information!! a computer science girlie!! then synapses are the places where neurons connect and communicate with each other <3

"half algorithm, half deity. glitches in the code or gaps in a strange dream." who ate a programming textbook?! /j

"digital demons make the night feel heavenly." side note but i think we should start calling trolls digital demons.

"lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails." has someone maybe studied chemtrails in their chemistry classes hmmm? /j

as i'm an astrophysics student i have to mention this: "the shifting states you follow me through." - the apparition from take me back to eden (2023). states, huh? liquid turning into a solid time is it? /j

"i feel my shadown dissolving." - rain from take me back to eden (2023). a metaphor or a chemistry textbook? /j

"it's that chemical cut that i can get down with." have many chemical cuts, huh?? /j

i'm an astrophysics girlie (gn) so i have to include this one: "a dangerous disposition somehow refracted in light, reflected in sound."

"i dream in phosphorescence." - take me back to eden from take me back to eden (2023). phosphorescence is a type of photoluminescence related to fluorescence. i mean, come on! the rest lyric? really?

"sink porcelain stained, choking up brain matter and make-up. just two days since the mainframe went down and i'm still messed up." biology and software engineering much? /j

"if my fate is a bad collision." - euclid from take me back to eden (2023). collision? huh are you a particle, hm? also euclid was a greek mathematician ! currently in my special relativity notes i have written "flat euclidean space"! riddle me that, sleep token. /j

"just orbiting the vacuum i am." - atlantic from this place will become your tomb (2021). yes, orbiting like the sun and moon and planets, right?? /j

"push down into membranes and layers, creating a slow dissection." - like that from this place will become your tomb (2021). yeah we get it, you're a biology student /j

"you lie an inch apart on your own continuum." - the love you want from this place will become your tomb (2021). continuum, huh?

"and though echoing futures are the buckling sutures." - fall for me from this place will become your tomb (2021). i bet you've seen many sutures huh dr. vessel! /j

right prepare for a lot of references here folks. "she's not acid nor alkaline." - alkaline from this place will become your tomb (2021). do i really have to explain the actions of this chem girlie? /j

"ooh, let's talk about chemistry 'cause i'm dying to melt through to the heart of her molecules 'til the particles part like holy water. if anything, she's an undiscovered element." i'm sure you'd love to infodump about your favourite subject! /j

"'cause i am broken into fractions." - distraction from this place will become your tomb (2021). i bet you deal with fractions all the time, you maths nerd!! /j

"and we go beyond the farthest reaches where the light bends and wraps beneath us and i know as you collapse into me." - telomeres from this place will become your tomb (2021). light bending? how very relativity of you. also telomeres are structures made from DNA sequences and proteins found at the ends of chromosomes.

"and i choke myself on sacred vapour." - high water from this place will become your tomb (2021). vapour because it's changed state, right? /j

"keep up on the charm offensive anymore." - missing limbs from this place will become your tomb (2021). i'm doing particle physics right now so i know exactly what a charm quark is! also limbs??? hello again dr. vessel /j

"'cause i look for scarlet and you look for ultraviolet." - higher from sundowning (2019). using ultraviolet filters for your astrophotography are you?? /j

"let the impulse to love and the instinct to kill entangle to one." - say that you will from sundowning (2019). entangle? entanglement? quantum entanglement? i'm connecting the dots.

"i want to roll the numbers. i want to feel my stars align again even if the earth breaks like burnt skin." - blood sport from sundowning (2019). an astrophysics fr /j

"and somewhere, somewhere the atoms stopped fusing." more stem!

"and out there, stuck in a quantum pattern, tangled with what i never said." this is something a theoretical physicist would say is all i'm saying. /j

now you have to listen to sleep token to hear these bangers >:)

#i've been obsessively listening to nothing but st for like a straight week #the brain rot got to me okay #sleep token #elle's interests hyperfixiations and shenanigans #escxelle

[kwanisms]

The Library of Illusion — Amateur Sleuth

«« previous | masterlist | next »»

➮ noir P.I!Jongho × fem!Reader wc: 7.9k summary: The crime/mystery section transports Y/N into a dark hallway with flickering fluorescent lights and doors with frosted glass. One door, the only one left ajar, has gold paint that reads CJ: Private Eye and with the door already open, what else is there to do? genres/themes/au: angst, slight fluff, smut; fantasy, crime, mystery, suspense; non idol au, private detective au, private investigator au, noir crime au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mention of infidelity and dog fighting, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem @salty-for-suga @devilsmatches @dmnspiit @simeonswhore @yangracha @seonghwalover @atinypurr @aikyubi @labyrinthonmymind @bintificreads

ateez taglist: @2hodefender @cixrosie @pyeonghongrie-main @flowerboykun @sanjoongie @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @mlysalt @cinnamoon-belle @briannabk22 @is4b3ll3s @hyukssunflower @vampiirose @0325tiny

special tags: @thelargefrye @hwasangelbaby

join my taglists! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

a/n: this went in a different direction than I planned but I’m not complaining. I figured I’d leave the horror in the horror section and not include a crime scene and settled for the generic ‘wife hires a P.I. cause she thinks her husband is cheating but turns out to be something else entirely.’ Thank you so much for reading this installment of the Library of Illusion series and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, use of pet names (baby, doll), very mild degradation, mention of previous sexual encounters, multiple orgasms (f receiving), multiple rounds, creampie, and I think that’s everything. Please let me know if I missed anything.

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“How was your trip back in time?”

You walked over to the desk, holding out the key for Seonghwa to take.

He looked up from the key to you before slowly taking it. “The lord’s advisors wanted to execute me,” you replied as Seonghwa put the key away, shutting the box softly. “But they didn’t,” Seonghwaa replied as he looked up from the box to meet your gaze. Your eyes narrowed. “But they wanted to.”

Seonghwa said nothing, merely holding your gaze.

Moments passed as you had a stare down with the man behind the desk before you finally broke. “Aren’t you supposed to ask me where I want to go next?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

The tension in the room was so thick as Seonghwa took a moment to process what you said, still staring at you with an unreadable expression. Sensing he wasn’t going to move until you did, you finally broke the silence.

“Alright then, I’ll visit the crime section next,” you said, turning away from him and making your way to the door, passing the dark sign for the science fiction section and to the lit up sign for the crime and mystery section.

Turning to face Seonghwa, you watched as he begrudgingly got up, made his way over slowly, pulling out his keys and picked out the right one. “You’re sure about this?” he asked as he reached you, hesitating to look up at you.

You nodded, determined to get through the next trial and get the key. Monsters and aliens were one thing but your only experience with men so far in the Library had been a walk in the park compared to your trial in both the science fiction and horror sections.

“I’m sure,” you answered. Seonghwa said nothing more as he unlocked the door, turning the knob and opening the door.

“Remember,” he said softly as you stepped past him.

“Be careful. The horror section was one thing but this is the crime section.” You glanced back at him, meeting his eyes as they flashed red for a brief moment. “I’ll be okay,” you answered. “If I can handle aliens, spider creatures, and bloodthirsty advisors of a feudal lord, I think I can handle this.”

Seonghwa nodded and shut the door behind you, leaving you alone in the shelves as you headed down the long dark corridor.

Each section had changed and morphed as you headed further and you could only imagine and wonder which direction this section would take you.

As you continued to walk, your boots echoing on the wooden floor, you spotted something in the distance; a light. Your steps sped up, wanting to get through the corridor as fast as you could. The light didn’t seem to grow any closer as you walked and you wondered if it was a trick.

This was the crime and mystery section so it didn’t seem likely that it was some sort of trick of the light or anything like that but then again, you never knew. This was the Library of Illusion after all.

After a couple more minutes, you noticed that the light seemed to be growing in size. Relief flooded your senses as you continued to walk closer and closer to the light.

As you drew nearer, you realized it was a doorway. The light was inside the doorway and soon, you discovered it was an elevator. Inside the box was a simple lever and a gate. You stepped inside and closed the grate before turning to look at the lever. Glancing around you saw there were no buttons.

Placing your hand on the lever, you took a deep breath and pulled it towards you. The elevator jolted before starting to ascend. The only light was the dim one above you that flickered occasionally as the lift climbed in whatever building you were in.

You waited for what felt like hours but could have only been a few minutes when the elevator finally arrived at a floor, the blackness of the wall before you opening up to reveal a hallway. The lift dinged as it stopped and you were clear to open the grate.

Pulling it back, you peered out of the open doorway before stepping out into the hallway. It wasn’t nearly as long as the other one. The walls were a simple yellow paint, sort of dingy and faded. Clearly this was an old building. As you walked down the hall towards another light, the green carpet dulling your steps, you caught sight of two other doors with frosted glass windows.

“What is this place?” you whispered as you stopped to inspect one of the doors. Trying the handle, you found it was locked. With an annoyed huff, you continued to the door where the light was coming from.

Finally reaching the door, you discovered it was ajar and you pushed it open carefully, peering through the crack. It was empty save for some furniture. Opening the door more, you stepped into the room, surveying it carefully.

The carpet was the same green as the hall and the walls the same yellow paint. There was a dark wood desk in the center of the room covered with scattered papers and other desk decor. There was a high back leather chair behind the desk.

The walls were lined with bookcases and filing cabinets, each full of papers and books. As you walked into the room, you started to look around further. The books on the shelves varied from languages to cracking ciphers.

As you started to reach for one of the books, you heard footsteps and turned as the door was thrown open fully and shut as a man entered the room, locking the door and huffing as if he’d run a marathon. You froze, eyes wide as he turned from the door and his eyes met yours, looking just as shocked.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Uh,” you replied, lowering your hand. “I’m Y/N,” you answered turning to face him fully.

You watched as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small revolver. “Whoa,” you said, holding your hands up. “There’s no need for that!”

You eyed him as he aimed the gun, keeping it trained on you.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “How did you get in?”

You eyed the gun nervously. You’d never had a gun drawn on you before.

“The door was unlocked and the light was on. I came in to see if anyone was here,” you answered. The man gave you a suspicious look. “Who do you work for?” he asked suddenly. You shook your head, shrugging.

“No one.” you answered. “I’m not a spy or something. I don’t even know where I am,” you added.

The man held you at gunpoint as he started to inspect the room. “If I find anything missing,” he warned as he started to search. “Go ahead,” you replied. “I have nothing to hide.”

You watched as he searched the whole office, checking all the drawers on the desk as well as the shelves.

When he was satisfied nothing was missing, he holstered the gun. “What’s your name, again?” He asked as he moved to stand before you. “Y/N,” you answered. “And you are?”

He looked up to meet your gaze. “CJ,” he answered. “I’m a private investigator.”

You looked around the office again and it suddenly made sense. The papers, the bulletin board with the pins and red thread. “How did you get here?” CJ asked, you turned your attention back to him. “I walked,” you answered plainly.

“I followed a hallway to an elevator and took the lift up. It brought me to this hallway,” you continued to explain. The man’s eyes narrowed.

“And how did you end up in that hallway?”

Deciding it would be better to play it safe, you told him everything. How you got into the hall, the Library, your quest, all of it save for the intimate details.

CJ listened with mild curiosity as you explained how you ended up in his office.

“I know it sounds outrageous,” you said as he stared back at you. “But I promise it’s the truth.”

You waited for him to respond, watching as he seemingly thought over your words thus far. Finally he nodded. “I’ve heard crazier stories,” he replied. “And they ended up being true, so this doesn’t seem entirely unlikely.”

You relaxed, glad he took your explanation at face value. If it hadn’t been for an introduction of a gun, you never would have told another soul about the Library but you weren’t going to take any chances when a firearm was involved.

“Now what?” you asked after a beat of silence, watching as he moved to take a seat behind the desk. It was only now that you got a good look at him. When he entered, he’d been wearing a long tan coat but under that he wore a white button down with dark khaki pants and thick black suspenders.

CJ looked up at you. “What do you mean?” he asked. You glanced around the room. “Do I just leave?” you asked. “Or do I stay? Like, what now?”

CJ shrugged. “What do you want to do?”

“I need to find that key,” you replied. “That’s the reason I’m here.”

CJ nodded quickly, leaning forward. “Right, right,” he said. “The key.”

You watched as he leaned over, pulling open a desk drawer and pulled out a folded piece of cloth. He set it on top of the desk and pulled back the material.

You gasped, drawing his attention.

Inside the cloth was a key, made of the same metal and with its own insignia just like the other three keys. “Are you the Guardian?” you asked as CJ looked up at you. “Guardian? I don’t know about that,” he answered as you moved forward to get a closer look at the key.

Just as quickly as he produced it, CJ covered the key and placed it back inside the desk drawer. “I found it,” he admitted as he locked the drawer, pocketing the key in his right pocket. “Figured it was some sort of antique and I might be able to sell it.”

A frown settled on your face. “Sell it? For how much?” CJ pondered for a moment before answering. “I’m not entirely sure. See, I didn’t know what it was for. What it opened or if it even went to anything. It could have been a dud but now that I know it opens something, I’m more inclined to see what it opens.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think that’s possible,” you replied. “Seonghwa would never allow it.” CJ tilted his head, watching you with his dark eyes. “Seonghwa? Ah, the Keeper of Keys?” You nodded in reply.

“He’s sort of a stickler for the rules.”

CJ nodded slowly as he thought for a moment. “Tell you what, doll,” he said suddenly, sitting up straight. “How about we make a deal?”

Ignoring the pet name, you narrowed your eyes. “A deal?”

CJ nodded before speaking. “You help me with this case and I’ll pay you with the key.”

You glanced at the desk before looking back up at him.

“What sort of case?”

The case, it turned out, was a cheating husband. CJ had been paid by the wife to find irrefutable proof that her husband was cheating on her so she could divorce him and take everything. You weren’t entirely against the idea but you did question your safety which prompted CJ to ask if you had experience with guns.

When you shook your head, he clicked his tongue but got up anyway and headed to one of the bookcases, pulling a book which turned out to be a secret lever that released a locking mechanism and allowed him to push the book aside to reveal a safe in the wall.

Behind the safe door was a small fortune in gold and a few choice weapons. He didn’t trust you with a gun as you had no experience but he was more than willing to loan you a twelve inch fixed knife which you now had strapped to your hip.

The pair of you then headed out as he explained that he’d learned the routine of his target and knew where he was going to be tonight but you weren’t dressed for the occasion. That was how you followed CJ upstairs to his flat, watching as he dug through his closet and pulled out a dress and shoes for you to change into.

You'd initially turned that down so instead he compromised. You’d wear the dress while he’d stuff your clothes and boots into a small satchel. You didn’t like the idea of wearing the red sequined dress but once it was on, you couldn’t deny that it looked really good. You borrowed one of his coats and then the two of you were on your way to a club in the city.

Inside the club was something out of a movie. If it had been any other situation, you would have tried to enjoy the atmosphere but you were undercover and couldn’t afford distractions.

Once inside the club, you and CJ made your way over to a seat in the corner so CJ could keep an eye on his target. You finally got a glimpse of the man. He was tall with dark hair, wearing a dark navy blue suit. He looked like a regular guy and so ordinary. You half expected some kind of shifty villain but reminded yourself this wasn’t a movie.

CJ ordered two drinks and not long after they arrived. You sipped yours sparingly, while noticing CJ didn’t even touch his. “If you don’t drink it, you’re gonna look suspicious,” you said quietly. “I don’t drink,” he replied. “Clouds my judgment.”

You stared blankly at him. “Then why order it?” you asked. He turned his head to look at you briefly. “Because it looks weird if I don’t,” he replied. “Now stop distracting me.” You shook your head.

“It looks more suspicious if you order a drink and don’t drink it,” you said, pushing the martini towards him. “One drink isn’t going to kill you.”

CJ pushed the drink away. “I. Don’t. Drink.” With a huff, you downed the rest of your drink and set the empty glass on the seat next to you before taking his. “What are you—” he began but you cut him off.

“I told you,” you answered, taking the olive out of the cup. “It looks more suspicious to order a drink and not drink it. Makes it look like you’re trying too hard to fit in.”

CJ watched as you sucked the olive off the toothpick before looking away.

“And stop staring,” you added as you lifted the glass and took a sip.

“You’re being obvious.”

CJ groaned softly and gave you an annoyed look.

“How am I supposed to do my job then?”

You sighed, setting the glass down and turned to him. “First of all, take off your coat. You look like you’re about to dart out the door at any second.” CJ slowly shrugged his coat off, draping it over the satchel.

You caught a passing waiter and quietly asked for a virgin martini without the olive. He nodded and made his way to the bar, returning shortly with the drink and set it on the table. Thanking him, you pushed the drink towards CJ who glared at you.

“I don’t—”

“It’s a mocktail,” you interrupted. He glanced at the drink and back. “A what?"

“It’s not real alcohol. It’s a fake cocktail.”

CJ picked up the drink and sniffed it.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “Just drink it.”

He took a sip and made a face. “That’s disgusting,” he whined. You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of his old drink. “Then don’t order martinis,” you answered.

The two of you sat in silence, sipping your drinks. You occasionally snuck glances at the target while reminding CJ to stop staring. “He’s going to catch on if you don’t stop it.”

CJ grumbled as he finished his mocktail. “That was revolting,” he huffed. You rolled your eyes again. As the waiter came by, he asked if you’d like another. You nodded. “Instead of the virgin martini, can we get a virgin Manhattan?” you asked, to which he nodded with a smile and took your empty glasses.

“Now what did you order?”

You turned to look at CJ. “You didn’t like that martini, so I got you something else,” you answered. He stared at you for a moment before turning to look at the target.

You looked up and noticed some of the men looking your way. ‘Shit.’

As the waiter returned with your drinks, you thanked him and turned CJ’s attention away from the men. “Try this,” you said, setting the drink in front of him. He looked down at it. “What is it?” he asked as you picked up your martini.

“A virgin Manhattan. No alcohol and it probably tastes a lot better than the martini.”

He picked up the drink and took a sip. “You’re right,” he said, looking mildly surprised. “This is much better.”

You relaxed as he took another sip. Several of the men sitting with the target were now looking in your direction. You downed the rest of your drink and got up, moving to grab CJ’s hand and pull him up.

“What are you doing?” He hissed as you pulled him from the table and onto the dance floor. “The men at the table are watching us. You’re being too obvious,” you said as you placed one of his hands on your hip and took the other in yours.

“Just dance with me for a couple songs,” you instructed as you both fell into the rhythm of the music. “Let them forget we’re here and then we’ll go back.”

CJ was a surprisingly good dancer and you were thankful, otherwise this might have drawn more attention.

“Where did you learn to dance?” you asked as he spun you. “My mother,” he answered. “She used to wake me up on Saturday mornings with the radio and we’d dance while she made breakfast.”

You smiled at him. “That’s really sweet,” you replied. “Do you still see her?”

CJ shook his head. “She passed away last year.” The smile on your face dropped. “I’m sorry CJ,” you answered. Silence fell over the two of you as you continued to dance.

“Jongho.”

You looked up at him, mildly startled. His eyes met yours. “My name is Jongho,” he continued. “Choi Jongho.” Your lips spread into another smile.

“That explains CJ,” you replied, taking note of the small smile on his face.

When you were sure the men at the table had forgotten about you and Jongho, you led him over to the bar to order two new drinks. “I still have a drink at the table,” he said as you waved the bartender down.

“First rule of drinking at a club,” you said after telling the bartender your order and turning to look at Jongho. “Never leave your drink unattended and come back to drink it. Someone could have slipped something into it.”

You thanked the bartender as he handed your drinks over. You handed Jongho his drink and led him back to the table. His drink had been picked up by a server but you didn’t want to take any chances.

When you arrived back at the table, you switched the seating.

“Sit here,” you whispered, lightly kicking the chair across from yours. Jongho looked up at you confused. “But I can’t see them if I sit here,” he answered. You nodded. “Exactly,” you replied. “But I can.”

He hesitated, looking like he was about to argue but he surprisingly took the seat.

“If we lose them,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m blaming you.”

Luckily, you didn’t lose them. Instead, you made Jongho tell you everything he had about the target up to the present point. You wanted to know everything he did, everyone he saw, everywhere he went.

You were nursing your martini while he finished his drink when you saw the men get up. “They’re moving,” you whispered. Jongho moved to turn his head but you reached forward, grabbing his hand and drawing his attention.

“Don’t make it obvious. Just let them go, we’ll follow shortly.”

To your surprise, Jongho fell into the act, taking your hand in his and looking down at it as the target continued to move through the club. You watched as Jongho got up and moved into the seat next to you, still holding your hand in his.

“How do you know so much about tailing someone?” he asked softly, looking up to meet your gaze. You took another sip of your drink. “I watch a lot of movies,” you replied, not noticing the confused look on his face.

“What are movies?”

You wracked your brain, trying to think of how to explain what a movie was. “It’s like a moving picture,” you replied. “Oh, cinemas,” Jongho said with a nod. You nodded quickly. “Yes, cinemas,” you answered.

You saw Jongho’s eyes follow the target behind you, his head staying still. He leaned in closely, lips close to your ear. “They’ve stopped at the bar.”

You nodded, before faking a giggle. “Just play along,” you whispered back. Jongho nodded. You never thought you’d have to teach a private investigator how to perform a stakeout but here you were, teaching Jongho.

“Pretend like you’re kissing my neck,” you whispered. You heard Jongho sputter.

“Are you insane?!”

“Just do it”

Jongho hesitated. “I can’t pretend to do that,” he murmured, to your annoyance. “Then just do it for real.”

He stared back at you. “What are we doing?”

“We want them to think we’re here as a couple. Do you want your cover blown?”

Jongho shook his head. “I can’t just do that out of nowhere,” he protested.

You rolled your eyes, pushing your drink back before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. You could feel the way he tensed up under your touch but as your lips moved against his, Jongho relaxed, even leaning into the kiss. When you pulled back, breaking the kiss, Jongho looked mildly upset.

“I wasn’t done, yet,” he whispered, pulling you back into another kiss.

Pulling back, you broke the kiss for a second time.

“Don’t get too into the act,” you reminded him. “We don’t wanna lose them.” Jongho glared at you before glancing behind you and then towards the door. “They’re leaving,” he noted.

You glanced over your shoulder before looking back at the table they’d been sitting at which was now empty. Glancing at the bar, you saw none of the men that had been with the target were in sight.

“Alright,” you answered. “The coast is clear.” Jongho grabbed his coat before handing you the satchel. “Let’s go.”

You got up, leaving some cash on the table before heading for the door. Jongho peered out and saw the men standing around, some smoking while they spoke. “We can’t go out this way,” he murmured.

“The side door,” you whispered. Jongho quickly took your hand and led you back into the club, squeezing through the other patrons and to the hall where the bathrooms were. There was a side door here you’d seen earlier while dancing and it was unlocked thankfully as you and Jongho headed out into the alley between the club and the building next door.

“Wait!” you whispered as Jongho headed for the end of the alley. He turned back to look at you. “I need to change!”

“The bathrooms are just inside, I'll keep an eye on them,” he replied.

You turned back to the door and tried to pull it open only to find it had locked when it shut. “It’s locked!” you hissed. Jongho groaned. “Then just change here!”

You looked around. “Right here?”

Jongho nodded. “We’re the only ones here,” he replied. “Just change quickly.”

You hesitated. “I can’t change here,” you replied softly, prompting him to turn. “Well they’re still by the doors and you can’t get back in from here,” he explained. You glanced around before turning back to him.

“Just hurry up,” he insisted. “No one else is here.”

“But what if someone comes by?”

Jongho turned to look at you. You could see his eyes looking around as he tried to find a solution. “I’ll cover you,” he finally said, shrugging his coat off and holding it up. “Just dress quickly.”

You nodded as he held the coat up, keeping and eye out for anyone walking into the alley or coming from the club side door.

You moved as quickly as you could, unzipping the side of the dress and shimmying out of it. You kicked the shoes off before digging into the satchel for your shorts and top. You pulled them on, cheeks burning as you pulled your shorts over your bare bottom half.

You should have fought San for your panties but it was too late now.

Once your shorts were on, you pulled on your blouse and buttoned it up before pulling on your socks and slipping your feet into your boots, tightening the laces.

Now fully dressed, you shoved the dress and shoes into the satchel and stood up straight. “Okay,” you announced. “Done.”

Jongho lowered the coat and nodded, pulling it back on as you headed for the end of the alley, peering around the corner, Jongho not far behind.

“Ow,” you hissed, pushing Jongho off you. “You stood on my foot!”

He mumbled an apology before peering around you and the corner. “Wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t in the way, doll,” he answered. You glared at him, about to retort when he shushed you, leaning past you to watch.

You turned to peek around the corner where you saw the target and his friends getting into two taxis.

“They’re getting into taxis,” Jongho announced, which prompted you to pinch his arm. “I can see that!” you hissed, ignoring the scowl on Jongho’s face.

“Which one is it again?” you whispered, eyes scanning as the men split up. “He’s getting into the front seat of the first taxi,” Jongho answered. “And his wife really thinks he’s cheating?”

Jongho nodded.

“Seems pretty anticlimactic,” you replied.

Jongho shrugged his shoulders. “It pays the bills,” he answered before grabbing your arm and pulling you back. “Shit, the car is coming, hide!”

The two of you scrambled behind a dumpster as the two taxis drove past the alley the two of you were currently hiding in. Your chest was pressed against the steel side of the dumpster, Jongho behind you, pressing into your backside.

You could feel his breath against your neck until he cleared his throat and stepped backwards. “H-he’s gone,” he said softly. You turned around to face him, finding he was already looking away. “We should probably follow him.”

Once in Jongho’s car, the two of you managed to find the taxis and followed them at a distance through the city. The drive led the two of you to the farside of whatever town you were in. “Where are we?” you asked, looking out the window.

“We’re over by the docks,” Jongho answered as he slowed the car to a stop, keeping the headlights off as he pulled to the corner of the street where the taxis had turned down. “It’s nothing but old unused warehouses over here,” he added as you both looked down the street.

The taxis had stopped. “This is it,” Jongho said, putting the car into reverse and pulling back a few feet before parking the car and cutting the engine. “Let’s go,” he said, leaning into the back of the car and grabbing a camera.

You opened your door and got out, shutting the door as quietly as possible as Jongho fiddled with the camera. He moved quickly to the corner of the building and peered around it, raising the camera to snap a couple pictures.

You peered around him just in time to see the men enter one of the old buildings as the taxis drove off. Jongho kept you behind him as the two of you made your way down the street. You stopped, grabbing Jongho as you noticed the man standing by the door.

Just as quickly, you pulled him into an alley between two buildings. “What are you doing?” Jongho hissed. You put a finger to your lips and beckoned him to follow you.

Peering around the corner, you could see now two men guarding the entrance of the warehouse. “Shit,” Jongho whispered. “How do we get in?”

You pulled back to look up at the building. You noticed a couple of cracked windows and moved over to climb on top of some old boxes to peer inside. “Here,” you whispered, waving him over.

You carefully pushed the window open and looked inside the building.

When you saw no one, you hoisted yourself up. “Be careful!” Jongho whispered as you pulled yourself into the window and carefully dropped down onto a table inside the building.

Jongho peered in, calling your attention with a ‘pst.’

You looked up as he held up the camera before tossing it to you.

You caught it as he climbed into the window, lowering himself onto the same table as you looked around, raising the camera and taking a couple of pictures for him. Jongho joined you on the warehouse floor and took the camera back.

The two of you looked around until you noticed light coming from a stairwell leading into a basement. You tapped Jongho and pointed. He nodded and led the way quietly, careful to avoid any old or loose looking floorboards.

The staircase was metal and didn’t creak thankfully.

As you made your way down the stairs, distant shouting could be heard. The further into the basement you descended, the louder the shouting. Soon you could hear barking and growling amongst the shouting.

You grabbed Jongho’s arm, causing him to look up at you. “Dogs,” you whispered.

He nodded, obviously not piecing together what you were. “Dog fighting,” you whispered, satisfied when it sunk in and his eyes widened. “We shouldn’t be here,” you continued but Jongho shook his head. “I have a job to do,” he replied. “And if you want that key, you’re gonna help me.”

Your heart sank and you saw no other way out of this.

Nodding, you continued to follow him down the stairs.

At the bottom the hall led forward. There were two doors. Behind one you could hear shouting which you assumed to house the ring. You pointed to the other door first. “If you need pictures, you’re going to want to get them of any other dogs being held here,” you explained. “Especially if you plan on turning this over to the police.”

Jongho took hold of the handle and slowly opened the door. Inside was exactly as you suspected. Stacks of crates housing all sorts of dogs of different breeds and sizes. It made your heart hurt, knowing what these poor animals were being used for.

Jongho snapped a few pictures of the crates before moving further into the room. You glanced around and then up, noticing the wall separating this room from the main room didn’t reach the ceiling. But you noticed something else. An opening in the floor above. You grabbed Jongho’s sleeve and nodded towards the ceiling.

He looked up and noticed the opening before looking back down at you.

“Good eye,” he whispered before ushering you towards the door and back up the stairs. Once upstairs, you watched him carefully make his way over to the opening, getting down to be closer to the edge. Once peering over, he snapped a few pictures of what you could only assume was the main event.

You urged him to hurry, glancing around and noticing that the door downstairs was open and you could hear footsteps. “Jongho!” You hissed. “Someone’s coming!”

Jongho scooted back before getting up and quickly making his way back, not caring if any of the floorboards squeaked as there was so much sound coming from below. “Come on!” he hissed, waving you over. You followed him back to the window you’d come in from, heart pounding as he helped you climb the table and boosted you up to the window.

Once you were through, he climbed through himself and jumped down from the boxes outside before helping you down. Without thinking, he took your hand and led you to the end of the alley, peering around the corner. The two men were no longer in sight.

Jongho took that opportunity to take off, dragging you down the street and back to the car. Once there, he tossed you the camera as you both got in and started the car before taking off and driving away from the warehouses.

The entire ride back, your heart was pounding as Jongho rambled on and on about the pictures and everything he managed to capture.

Soon, you were back at his building, heading up to the floor his office was on.

You followed Jongho inside, still silent as adrenaline continued to course through your body while Jongho removed his coat and headed for the stairs. “Come on,” he said excitedly.

You threw a glance at his desk before following him up the steps.

Inside his apartment, he walked over to a cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out two glasses. “I know I said I don’t drink,” he said as he bustled about. “And it’s true. At least not while I’m working,” he continued as he pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

“So,” you finally spoke up. “About that key.” Jongho turned to look at you, bottle of whiskey in hand. “The key?” He asked. You nodded. “That was the deal.”

He hesitated before setting the bottle of liquor down. “Well,” he started. “I was actually thinking,” he added. “We made such a good team tonight.”

Your chest tightened. ‘No. He’s not going to do this now.’

“Maybe we could work together?”

You shook your head. “I can’t,” you answered. “I know this seems real to you,” you replied. “But it’s not. I’m stuck inside a mystical library,” you continued. “I need the key to get free and return to my own life.”

Jongho looked down, a look of disappointment crossing his features.

“I don’t know,” he said softly as you walked over to where he stood, pulling yourself up to sit on the counter beside him. “I know we made a deal,” he continued. “But I’ve really enjoyed your company.”

Without answering him, you took one of the glasses and lifted it.

You were determined to get that key. One way or another.

“Tell you what,” you said, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a sip. “How about we play a game.” Jongho looked up at you, lifting his own glass. “A game?”

You nodded. “A game. If I win, I get the key,” you replied. Jongho contemplated for a moment. “And if I win?” he asked, fighting the urge to smirk. You rested the glass against your exposed thigh. “Well, what do you want?” you asked softly as Jongho closed the distance between you, pushing your knees apart as he set his glass down on the counter.

“What do I want?” he asked, looking up at you as you nodded. “Hmm,” he hummed, thinking as he looked around, eyes settling back on you.

“I want you to stay,” he answered, grabbing his glass and taking another sip, moving to put some distance between you.

You lifted your glass, downing the rest of your whiskey before setting the glass down and moving to undo the top few buttons of your blouse. Jongho’s breath caught in his throat as you slowly undid the buttons.

“What do you really want?” You asked again, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to form as his eyes went straight to your exposed collar.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seduced a man to get what you wanted and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“Keep going,” Jongho whispered but you shook your head. “No,” you answered.

“You have to tell me what you want so we can play the game,” you replied. Jongho downed the rest of his drink, setting the glass on the counter and moved back between your spread legs, one hand moving to the small of your back, the other moving to the back of your neck and pulling you into a searing kiss.

You moaned against his lips, hands moving to grab the front of his shirt. You broke the kiss, giggling as he chased your lips with a frown. “You have to tell me what you want,” you repeated. “For the game.” Jongho pulled you down from the counter, turning you to face away.

“Fuck the game,” he murmured, lips brushing against your skin as his hands moved to finish unbuttoning your top. You moaned, pushing your backside against him, feeling his erection through his pants. He groaned in your ear as he finished unbuttoning your shirt. “Keep doing that,” he moaned.

You giggled, pushing back against him again as he rutted against you. “Shit,” he groaned, pulling your shirt down past your shoulders and discarding it on the floor. “Come here,” he rasped, turning you to face him and pulling you into another kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as his hands wandered, moving up to grope you over your black lace bra. “These need to come off,” he growled, hands moving down to mess with the button and zipper of your shorts. Your hands replaced his, undoing both quickly before pushing them down and letting them pool at your ankles.

Jongho turned you away again, pushing you over the counter with one hand while the other snuck between your thighs, feeling your wetness on his fingers. “Shit,” he groaned. “No panties and already so wet for me?”

You groaned as he pushed you down by the back of your neck, your cheek pressing against the cool countertop while his fingers worked against your clit from behind. “Doesn’t take much to get you goin’, does it, baby?”

You moaned as three of his fingers plunged into your aching cunt, the stinging quickly replaced with a burning desire. He didn’t let you adjust to the intrusion, instead moving his fingers in and out of you rapidly, trying to stretch you to take him.

A moment later, his fingers slipped out and you whined, pushing back against him as he chuckled. You heard the clink of his belt and the unzipping of his pants before he pushed them down just enough to pull his cock free.

Using your wetness on his fingers, Jongho gave his cock a couple strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. He gave no warning before pushing himself into you, eyes fluttering shut as your walls welcomed him. You groaned as he bottomed out, the hand on the back of your neck holding you in place as his other hand moved to your hip.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he gasped. “Are you not getting fucked properly?”

You whimpered as he pulled back, snapping his hips forward and driving the head of his cock against the gummy spot inside your walls. “You’re so damn tight.” Another moan slipped out as he set a steady pace, cock hitting all the right spots.

“Ah, shit,” you hissed, palms pressed against the flat surface of the kitchen island. “Don’t stop.” Jongho let out a huff as he shook his head. “Don’t plan to, doll.”

Your walls clenched around him at the pet name, making him chuckle. “Is that what does it for you?” He asked. “This whole time I’ve been calling you that, you’ve just been squeezing around nothing?”

You whimpered loudly, nodding as his hips continued their assault.

Jongho let out a groan. “Goddamn, you’d think after three sections, you wouldn’t be this fucking tight anymore.”

Your stomach lurched, trying to lift your head to look back at him but you couldn’t. His grip was too strong as he held you down against the counter. “What did you just say?” you gasped. Jongho growled, hips slamming into you from behind, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room.

“You’re such a slut, you know that, doll?”

You groaned, walls tightening again. “Letting four guardians fuck you? And you seem to enjoy it. Only sluts do that,” he continued.

You tried to respond but you couldn’t. You were left speechless.

How did he know about the others? There was no way he could know. Yet somehow so did Wooyoung. The Horror Section Guardian knew about Yunho, so why did you think Jongho would be any different?

“Collecting keys,” he murmured. “You really expect me to fall for that bullshit?”

His hips didn’t slow as he continued to fuck you from behind. “Aliens, spider creatures, and lords? Tell me doll,” he said, giving you a particularly harsh thrust and stilling deep inside you.

“How were they?”

The question caught you off guard. “W-what?”

“Hmm? How was that alien cock?” Your walls clenched as you remembered your encounter with Yunho, the tentacles exploring your uterus, his unbelievably long tongue filling your pussy and the huge knotted cock filling you with a ridiculous amount of cum.

“And how well did that spider creature bind you with his web before he pumped you full?” A shiver ran up your spine as you remembered the purple and indigo colors of Wooyoung’s thick cock and the way he tied your body so expertly with his webs.

“What about that feudal lord? Was he rough enough for you?” You let out a groan, remembering the way San pinned you to the table and had his way with you at dinner. The way he ate you out and then teased you with the tip of his cock before slamming it all into you and making it hard for you to walk after.

You pushed back against him, earning a growl, something you hadn’t heard from any of the other guardians before.

It was deep, animalistic and almost… demonic.

“How. Was. It?” He asked again, the same deep, growling voice that sounded completely unlike him as he punctuated each word with a hard thrust.

“Obviously it must be good if you keep coming back for more,” the deep demonic voice said. “J-Jongho,” you gasped only for the voice to chuckle darkly.

“Wrong answer, doll,” the voice said and your eyes snapped open, heart hammering as you pushed yourself up and turned to look back at Jongho who stared back with a peculiar look.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, stopping his movements and looking at you with concern. You quickly glanced around the flat, eyes scanning but saw nothing out of the ordinary. ‘What the hell was that?’

You felt Jongho’s hands on your shoulders soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Sorry,” you said softly. “I… I must have spaced out.” Jongho leaned over your back. “Do you want to stop?” You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “Keep going, please.”

Despite the weird voice thing, nothing else of note happened for the rest of the night and Jongho seemed determined to set a record, giving you a total of 6 orgasms, something not even your long sessions with Yunho had done.

From the counter, you ended up in Jongho’s bed where he busied himself between your thighs for what felt like hours. After drawing a couple orgasms out of you with his tongue, he was back balls deep in you, one of your legs over his shoulder as his hips moved rhythmically, each thrust having you seeing stars.

“Fuck,” you groaned, back arching off the mattress. “M’gonna cum,” you gasped. “Let go, baby,” Jongho groaned. “Cum for me.”

Your walls convulsed around him as you came for the sixth time that night, Jongho following quickly as his thrusts grew more erratic, chasing his own high until he finally came with a low moan, cock twitching as he filled your pussy with spurts of white hot seed.

“Fuck,” he cursed, hips stilling as his cock twitched inside your warm walls. You panted heavily, trying to catch your breath as he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back beside you. “Where the hell do you get all that stamina from?” you asked, staring up at the ceiling. Jongho let out a breathless laugh.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied. “What was that, six orgasms?” Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “You’re the one who gave them,” you retorted, turning your head to look at him. He gave you a smug smile. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned away from him. “Okay Mr. High and Mighty,” you replied, sitting up and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. “Where are you going?” Jongho asked, watching you. “Bathroom,” you replied, getting up, legs trembling slightly as you stood.

Jongho watched as you carefully made your way to the bathroom, no doubt feeling proud that he was the reason you were so wobbly and unstable.

After doing your business, you returned to find him passed out, sheet pulled up to his waist. As quietly as you could, you dressed and walked over to where his pants lay, picking them up and pulling the key to the desk from his pocket.

With one last look back at him, you headed for the door, opened the door and headed down the stairs to his office.

Once there, you hurried over to the desk, kneeling down to unlock the desk drawer and pulled it open. They cloth lay inside and inside that was the key. You grabbed it, pocketing it before shutting the drawer, standing up and leaving his key and a note on the desk, thanking him and apologizing.

With your prize in your pocket, you headed for the door, stopping to pull on and tie your boots before opening the door and slipping out, shutting it behind you and hurrying to the lift.

The return trip always seemed shorter than when you left and soon you were approaching the door leading back into the lobby where Seonghwa was waiting for you, sitting behind the desk with one leg crossed over the other. He watched with narrowed eyes as you approached, setting the key on the desk.

He stared up at you wordlessly before taking the key and placing it in the box.

“Did you have fun?” He asked, all amusement in his voice gone. You gulped at the tone and the look he gave you. “Define fun,” you replied, regretting it instantly as Seonghwa got up and rounded the desk in the blink of an eye, he pinned you against the desk. “You think this is a game?” He growled.

You shook your head, eyes wide with terror. The angelic appearance you’d grown accustomed to shifted for a brief period, allowing you to see some of the true creature beneath the facade.

And it was terrifying.

Realizing what he’d done, Seonghwa let go of you and took a step backwards. “There isn’t much time,” he said, looking at his hands before balling them into fists and looking at you. ‘Much time?’ You wondered. ‘Much time for what?’

Seonghwa turned to look at you.

“You have to hurry.”

#cultofdionysusnet #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez x reader #jongho scenarios #jongho imagines #jongho fanfic #jongho angst #jongho smut #jongho x reader #series: library of illusion

[adore-laur]

GOLD RUSH: PART THREE

— part one | part two

——

Harry likes to think he knows you well. He wants to believe that no matter how much time has passed, he still understands you to your core. He knows your voice raises an octave when you try to hide exhilaration. He knows you shyly shrug one shoulder up to your cheek whenever you receive a compliment. He notices everything you do or don't do. It's evocative, but he holds onto it with his final frayed string of hope. 

What he doesn't know is how you would react to his unforeseen kiss. 

He's standing completely still in the doorway of his empty dressing room, seeing no signs of you or his daughter. There's no scribbled note left on the table. No conversation was passed off to him from a crew member about where you went. No stray belongings of yours were accidentally left behind. 

You're gone, having left without a trace, and the last thing he did was kiss you like an idiot. He ruined everything like he always does, never thinking rationally when he's around you. Your presence consumes him until it suffocates his lungs like the sweetest smoke. You've been clouding his judgment since the day he met you. 

Harry had told everyone not to follow him after he finished the show so he could talk with you about what happened, yet now it's just him and his regret casting long shadows into the room. His skin becomes prickly and uncomfortable as he cautiously steps forward and blindly closes the door behind him. Once the outside noise is drowned out, his chest starts heaving, but it's not from the exhaustion of performing. 

It's from sheer panic. 

He can't breathe. The room spins around him, and his throat begins to tighten like a poisonous rope is being tied around his neck. A shaky hand reaches up to rub at his aching heart. His legs feel numb, and there's no way he'll be able to make it back to the tour bus without collapsing. 

Harry fumbles with the lock on the door and then stumbles into the bathroom, holding onto the walls as they cave in on him. He flicks the light switch, causing white fluorescence to brighten his surroundings. He grips the edge of the sink to steady himself. A dreadful anxiety rolls around in his stomach, making him nauseous. He turns the faucet handle and splashes his face with ice-cold water. While scrubbing his overheated skin, he has to do a double take when he sees a glimmering object in his peripheral vision. 

It's... his wedding ring. 

A wretched sob escapes his mouth as he crouches into a vulnerable position, pressing his forehead onto the sink's edge and letting out sounds of pure agony. He ruined the chance of becoming a family again. He scared you off and set back any progress he made with you by miles. He's going to fall down a dark hole again after he spent ages trying to crawl out of it. He lost you again.

That's when his knuckles start pounding the counter's surface repeatedly until he can't feel his right hand anymore. He inflicts self-torture until his skin is bruised and bloody, maybe even broken, his pain staining the marble and the white silk of his trousers a crimson red. His cries as he does so sound like those of a child trying to catch a single breath, wheezy and helpless.

There's no remedy for this type of heartbreak. It feels almost worse than the divorce. The love was clearly fading at the time, and he was expecting the demise to come knocking on his door eventually. It still hit him like a ton of bricks, but his petty anger toward you softened the blow, even though his anger was simply a mask for his hurt. 

Now, his current anger is nothing but desperation of just wanting to be loved by you. 

Once his cries have subsided to occasional hiccups, he clumsily removes his phone from his pocket and unlocks it. He finds your contact, presses the call button, and then sets his phone on the floor. A long beep sounds before it goes straight to voicemail. 

"No," Harry chokes out. "No, no, no. Please don't do this to me." 

A robotic voice tells him to leave a message after the tone. He weakly inhales and picks up his phone, holding it against his ruptured heart. 

"Baby." His voice thickly trembles and he's too shattered to notice the slip. "Please listen to me. I'm s-sorry for kissing you, okay? I didn't mean to. I wasn't thinking properly." He sniffles and palms his teary eyes like a kid. "Fuck, don't leave me. Why did you leave me? Just tell me where you are, and I'll f-fix this, I swear. Tell me you're safe and with our daughter. I love you." 

He manages to press the button to end his message. His throat is raw, and he can barely breathe through his nose, the tears still falling down his neck. He's surprised no one has gone to check on him, but he supposes the seriousness with which he told everyone to leave him alone is the reasoning behind it. 

Shakily standing, Harry regards his reflection in the mirror and feels another wave of nausea pass through him. He's seeing himself in double vision, the blotchy complexion of his cheeks and the swollen puffiness of his eyes staring straight back at him. There used to be a time when he looked this unrecognizable every day. When the divorce had been finalized, he vividly remembers being skin and bones with pale skin and lifeless eyes. The deep depression he succumbed to was one he thought he'd never come out of, but somehow, he did. 

He did it for you. He did it for his daughter. 

His phone suddenly dings and vibrates twice, making his heart leap out of his chest. He hastily checks the screen as it lights up with your text message. 

I'm at home. I called the babysitter because I needed some time to myself. 

He exhales a relieved breath and attempts to call you again. This time, you answer on the fourth ring. 

"Harry, please stop."

He ignores you because he's not letting you go without putting up a fight. "Let me come over. Please. I have to fix this."

He's ashamed that he didn't have this mindset a year ago, but he hopes you can give him the benefit of the doubt. This is him trying. 

"I want to be alone right now. Can you respect that?" 

Harry feels dizzy. "My hand... I think I broke my hand." 

"What?!" you exclaim. 

"My hand hurts." He's clawing for any emotional reaction from you. "Is there gauze at the house?" 

"Harry, what did you do? You broke your hand? How in the world did you do that?"

"Dunno," he mumbles. "I need help." 

"Aren't there medics at the venue? Go get them." 

He gulps and tilts his head back. "But I need you. Need you to fix it for me." 

"No, I'm not... I- I can't just be around you after what happened." 

"Okay," he says quietly, licking his chapped lips. He won't push someone he could lose again in an instant. "Okay, that's fine." 

The silence that ensues is so loud. Harry can hear the blood rushing in his ears and every subtle movement he makes. He hates to make you worry, but if it's the only way he'll be able to see you, then he doesn't care that he broke his hand. 

"Are you bleeding?" you ask timidly. 

Harry weakly smiles for some reason. "Yeah. It's getting all over my outfit." 

You sigh and say, "Don't make me do this." 

"Do what, love?" 

He hears a noise get caught in your throat. "Let you come over. Just tell me to hang up and go to sleep." 

"I can't." He won't. 

The clock ticks on the opposite wall. The faucet still runs. A trail of blood drips down his wrist. 

"I'll send you the address."

Harry's face screws up as he tries not to cry from your solace. He nods even though you can't see him, every tense muscle in his body alleviating. The blood stains are worth it after knowing you didn't run away from him for good. 

"Thank you," he whispers in one breath. 

He knows your address by heart but doesn't need to tell you that.

——

The knock on your front door could have been easily prevented. If you had just said no and possessed a single ounce of dignity, you wouldn't have let Harry break down your walls so effortlessly. 

Yet the voicemail he left broke those walls into a million little pieces. The torment in every syllable he spoke, the way he called you baby after so long, and hearing his pained voice tell you he loved you are all what made you pick up the phone when he rang for the second time. To leave him in a state of panic is the last thing you'd want. You've done it before, and it would kill you to see it happen again. 

You hesitantly unlock the deadbolt and open the door, coming face-to-face with Harry's tall figure. The first thing you focus on is his apparent broken hand, which is lazily wrapped in an ice pack. Then, it's the cable knit sweater he wears under his long black coat, seemingly dressed for winter despite humidity lingering in the air. He looks exhausted with his slouched posture and raw-bitten lips. 

You want to hold him. Kiss his sadness away. Bring the gleaming light back to his beautiful eyes. 

"I forgot how chilly it gets here at night," Harry greets with a scratchy voice that you know is from crying. "I, uh, also brought some leftover macaroni and cheese from the catering room. Didn't know if you'd be hungry." 

You peer at the aluminum pan in his uninjured hand. "I have food here." 

"I know, but... it's macaroni." He clears his throat and holds the dish up. "It's really good." 

His endearing personality has always been dangerous. You can't let it soften your heart. 

"I'm not hungry right now, but thank you." You take the dish from him, feeling the quick brush of his hand. "Come in. I already have the gauze and rubbing alcohol set out." 

It's always strange whenever he's in the house you once shared with him. He's never gotten far past the kitchen since the divorce. You lead him to the couch, where the supplies are spread out on the coffee table. You set the dish down and sit next to him, your thighs nearly touching his as you pick up the rubbing alcohol and washcloth. 

"How did this happen?" you ask worriedly, pouring a splash of the potent liquid onto the fabric. 

Harry takes his coat off with a shrug. "I got a bit overwhelmed. It's not broken, by the way. Only sprained."

Guilt swells in your chest. Is it because of you? Your unannounced departure?

You take your time disinfecting and bandaging his scrapes and cuts, his bruised hand in yours. He doesn't say anything except for the occasional murmured swear from pain. After his hand is wrapped nicely, you watch him shift on the couch and pull something from his pocket. 

"I know you probably want me gone as soon as possible, so I'll just get straight to the point." He holds up his gold wedding band. "Do you know what this ring means?" 

Staring at what was once a symbol of commitment, you defeatedly whisper, "Obviously, Harry."

"But do you know why I kept mine?" he questions further. 

"All I know is that you shouldn't have," you reply, squeezing your eyes shut. It's an unfair jab, considering you shouldn't have kept yours either. 

"I wasn't going to just throw it away like it's worthless junk." 

"Good. It was expensive." 

"Stop." Harry turns his body toward yours and crosses his legs on the couch. "Just hear me out, okay?" 

You slowly nod and bring your knees to your chest. 

"I kept it because I still love you. And I don't expect you to sit here and accept that, but it's the truth. It's been the truth since we separated." 

You let out a sob and cover your face with your hands. How could he say that? How could he look at you and say that? Shaking your head, you reply, "You don't mean that. Don't say things you don't mean." 

He gently grabs your wrists and pulls your hands away. "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to say it to you. No fuckin' idea." 

You blearily gaze at him and see that his eyes hold unwavering seriousness. "You love me?"

He nods as he wipes away your tears. "Always have. It never, ever went away." 

"Are- did you ever see someone else? Since our divorce?" The thought makes you sick, but you need to know if he opened his heart to another — if he really has loved you all this time.

"God, no," he says, tugging his sleeve over his hand to dry his waterline. "Even if I had, I'd only be looking for you in them." 

You scoot closer to him. "I haven't seen anyone either. No one really interests me except you." 

Harry tilts his head to the side and scrunches his nose. "What do you mean by that?" 

Taking a deep breath, you decide to admit your buried revelation. "It means that I still love you." 

All you hear is his staggered inhale. It's like the air ran out of his lungs, and circulation ceased as he closed his fist around his most important ring. 

It's painfully beautiful the way his body falls into yours, his hands clutching your shirt and his forehead pressed against your collarbone as he begins to cry. Sobs of relief dampen your skin, and you can't help but tightly wrap your arms around him and sway him like he did with you earlier. 

Harry sniffles and lets out a vulnerable whimper. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

You're not quite sure if he's apologizing for loving you or for the things he said that made you feel like he didn't. 

You run your fingers through his hair and say, "It's not your fault. It's neither of our faults. We needed to be apart. Otherwise, it would've been hell if we stayed together."

"It was hell either way." You just hold him, soaking up his tears the best you can. "I want" — he hiccups a cry — "I want to try again. I need to be with you. I love you so much. And I can't make it go away. I- I don't want it to go away. Please, baby—"

"I love you, Harry," you interrupt. You pick his head up and cradle his cheeks. "Do you hear me?" 

He melts into your touch. "But you don't need me." 

"I never said that." 

"It's true, though. You can't even look at me sometimes." 

You furrow your eyebrows. "Have you ever thought that maybe it's because I still love you? That you still make me so nervous, and I can't look into your eyes for too long before I lose my composure?" 

His watery eyes dance around your face. "You mean that?" 

"Anyone would be lucky to love you in the way that I do," you say, choking up from your own words. "I could never throw something like that away." 

"Then what do we do?" 

You know he's changed for the better in the past year. There's no need to worry about whether or not he'll be a good dad or partner. He has always been those things, but the stress of his job made the ugly side unfold. His priorities have clearly shifted if his showing up at your door at midnight with a sprained hand and macaroni and cheese is any indication.

"We take things slow," you say after contemplating. "Really, really slow. We have a daughter who goes through enough, and I don't want things to get worse before they get better. She's our top priority if we're going to do this." 

Harry nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Are we doing this? I need you to be all in." 

"I'm all in if you are." 

"Of course. I sprained my hand for you, didn't I?" 

You softly laugh and feel his chest rumble with laughter too. "When's your next show, by the way?" 

He grabs a tissue from the box on the coffee table and quickly blows his nose. "Day after tomorrow. I planned to spend another day with you guys before my flight." 

"We can have a family day together," you think aloud. "Maybe walk along the river or something." 

He smiles hopefully and nods, his curls rustling against your shirt. "Yes, please." 

The settlement sinks in. You'll try again with Harry, this time with a clearer outlook and abiding love. You're sure you'll tell him about the ring you kept someday. You'll tell him about all the times you wanted to call and ask him to come over just because you missed being around him. You'll tell him how proud you are of him for becoming a better man for you and your daughter, even while he was hurting. 

For now, you let his love cover your crumbled stone walls, a tender shield that never stopped growing. 

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #gold rush series

[lex-the-flex]

morpheus reuniting with his lover after a century.

like y/n drops whatever they’re hold it shatter and they just run towards him tears In their eyes.

Forever Mine

Morpheus x reader

Word Count: 1.2k 

Warning(s): Memories in italics! Mega fluff, slight angst, mentions of heartbreak, brief loneliness, 18 + – SMUT, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), oral (f! receiving) and nudity.

A/N: I hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting! The only thing I changed is having the reader be an Endless like Dream. And I’m sorry if the smut is terrible, I haven’t written it in a while. 

“What do you see?” His deep voice whispered past your ear. 

Squinting your eyes to see further, you guide the pair of binoculars over the vast Dreamworld, only to end at the dark graveyard beyond the Palace grounds. 

“Hmm, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. The graveyard looks undisturbed.” You reply.  

Inching closer to your straightened form, your husband carefully places his hand on the small of your back. Taking your wrist in his closed palm, Morpheus guided the binoculars to the far lower right corner of the graveyard.

“Look closer.” He says, revealing a brand new gold necklace with a round bright red ruby that was polished to perfection. 

Lowering the binoculars, you turn to Morpheus as a soft smile overtakes his lips. Wrapping his arms around your back, he places his chin on your shoulder. 

“I had this made specifically for you. It’s so you’ll have a piece of me when I travel.” Morpheus explains, while pressing tiny kisses to the side of your face. 

*****

The distant echoing of car horns and the mumbling of conversations forced your eyes open, abruptly ending your dream, turning your once pleasant memory into a haunting sadness. Slowly sitting up, the low rumble of rain tapped on your windows, covering the bustling city in a thin sheet of grey. 

Pushing yourself out of bed, you sluggishly made your way to the bathroom. Flicking on the lightswitch, a large yawn escaped your lips as you squinted at the fluorescent light. Dropping your head in your hands, you peeked at your reflection in the mirror. 

A century had passed, but it felt like a tortuous infinity. The Dreamworld, your safe space, and the only home you’ve ever known was destroyed brick by brick, leaving the once peaceful place abandoned for more than a century.  There was no sign of your husband anywhere. It was like Morpheus vanished without a warning. And it was destroying your soul at the seams. 

Much like your husband, you both shared the same royal blood of the Endless running through your veins, as well as unique powers of your own. Manifesting the abilities of conjuring miniscule glimpses into the future is what attracted Morpheus to you in the first place. Like the rest of his siblings, the man of dreams didn’t choose you for your powers, he chose you out of pure love and adoration for who you were. He didn’t care if these glimpses in time could jeopardize your relationship, Morhpeus stayed loyal to you and only you. 

Reminding yourself of that, you glanced down at the marble countertop, and your tired y/e/c irises made contact with the small dish where you kept all your jewelry. Underneath the various gold and silver rings, bracelets, your fingers dug through the bowl to reach the bottom. Uncovering the spotless gold necklace, the ruby remained as beautiful as the day you received it. 

Holding the necklace to the natural light, a bright red reflection shined down to your eye, reminding you what was truly important. Despite your husband’s absence, he still loved you. He refused to let his powers control him and use his mind as their own hive. Clutching the necklace close to your heart, you vowed then to get your life in the mortal world in order and to no longer wallow in this unending sadness. 

*****

Balancing yourself against the kitchen countertop, you sighed in relief at the state of your clean apartment. You had one last big job to do before finishing the day and it was your least favorite thing: the dishes. Groaning at the full sink, you decided to finish them in the morning and went to bed. The moment you collapsed on the unmade piece of paradise, you fell into a deep sleep. Except this time, no dreams came your way, just one terrible nightmare. 

A thin layer of sweat covered your brow as you jolted from the nightmare as an eerie silence consumed your home. Your brows furrowed together while the resonating sound of dripping water bounced against your eardrums. 

You weren’t prone to sleepwalking, so you had to be dreaming. Right?

Slowing trekking into the kitchen, you hugged the robe around your chest, and paced to the sink. Twisting the handle, cold water rushed from the faucet and you started to pour yourself a cup of water when you felt it. In an instant, it seemed like there was a second pair of eyes on you.

Turning to face the living room, you were greeted by a pair of piercing silver eyes watching you in the darkness. Jumping in surprise, the cup slipped from your hand and shards of glass covered the floor. Tears filled your eyes as you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Emerging from the darkness, Morpheus’ eyes returned to normal, and he extended his arms towards you. 

Running to him, you embraced your husband with every fiber of your being as he carefully lifted you off your feet. 

“I’ve finally found you.” He said, tightening his grip around your shoulders before setting you down. 

“I’ve missed you so much, Morpheus. Life hasn’t been the same without you.” You replied through frequent sobs. 

“I know, my love. But I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.” Morpheus declared, taking your chin with his fingers.

Inching closer, Morpheus captured his lips on yours, refusing to let go. Deepening the kiss, his hands began to trail over your body, seeking more. Breaking the moment, your breath hitched in your chest. 

“Are you sure?” You asked in a whisper. 

“I’ve thought about nothing else for over a century.” Morpheus practically growled before picking you up in his arms. 

*****

Rays of moonlight peeked through the curtains of your bedroom as you nearly stumbled backwards from the few obstacles in the room. Untying the knot of your robe, Morpheus’ hands worked quickly to discard the item of clothing off your body. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, he lifts you in his touch, laying you down. 

Gazing at you in complete awe, Morpheus sank to his knees, and made his way up your body with quick kisses to your skin. His pink lips smirked at the way you were quivering for him, how your knees went weak for him. Swirling his tongue around your sensitive folds, you let a harsh gasp. Grasping your waist, he tried everything to keep you still, but you couldn’t. 

Sitting on his knees, Morpheus slipped the ebony robe over his head and crawled to face you. Settling between your hips, he teased the tip of his cock against your hot folds, earning a whine from your lips. 

“Please, Morpheus, I want you.” 

The sound of his name on your lips made the man’s chest heave with a wave of lust in his lungs like no other. Pushing his manhood past your entrance, Morpheus’ bright eyes pierced through your soul, and his cock stretched you out. Swallowing every little sound that escaped your lips, your fingers dug into the fibers of his muscles. 

Diving a little deeper with each thrust, your toes curled as Morpheus felt his spine tingle as he moved for your neck. Trembling against your body, he lowered his head to your chest, soaking in your love, and you pulled him closer before falling asleep in the safety of his arms. 

the sandman taglist ~ 

@dreamliners

@nebulosa-reina

@smolfrogz

@vanessalenrie

@margozovaa

@hercherrysong

@missnightingale1971

@plentyoffandoms

@calicoevening72

@thingy-mar

@jason-todds-bitch

@nimalucius

@cosmic-marauder

@vampninjaz

@simplyjaana

@maybeimart

@amysteryspot

@milfzatannaz

@gay-dorito-dust

@elevencllara

@theflowerhashira

@kill-the-lights

@simplyjaana

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #morpheus #Morpheus x reader #Morpheus x y/n #dream #dream x reader #dream x you #death of the endless #tom sturridge #neil gaiman

[himbofan]

bungo stray dogs - meet cutes

hey guyzzz soooo here's my one piece of writing for the next 10 months 😛🩷

jk but fr it's hard for me to write anything consistently so thank you for bearing with me!!!! :3

i always appreciate all forms of support!! I’ve been having bsd brainworms for a couple months now so expect more ramblings at some point ok thx for reading BYEEEEEEEE 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

cw: gn reader, mention of cigarettes, reader has a cat, light stalking

characters: nakahara chuuya, fukuzawa yukichi, oda sakunosuke wc: 2600+

you’re the cute cashier who works the graveyard shift at my local convenience store and i'm always awake at odd hours - nakahara chuuya

Chuuya stifled a yawn and wearily checked his phone. The numbers [3:27 AM] glared back at him with an irritating brightness, almost mocking him for staying up so late. He sighed and pocketed his phone, glancing up at the sky which was still a deep indigo, the stars barely visible from the copious amounts of light pollution. 

He grumbled something illegible under his breath and pushed open the door to the nearest convenience store. The door jingled lightly, the smell of nondescript floor cleaner invading his nostrils as he stepped into the cramped space. 

“Welcome…” you called out wearily from the register, though you couldn’t see who just walked in due to the height of the shelves blocking your view. 

He barely acknowledged your existence at the opposite side of the store, instead choosing to browse the shelves.

He eventually made his way to the register, dropping a bottle of water on the counter before finally looking up at you. 

“And I’ll take a pack of Marlboro Golds.”

You glanced at him quickly while scanning the water and box of cigarettes, trying to take in as much of his appearance as possible without looking creepy. 

You hadn’t seen him before since starting this job a week ago, and he certainly was a sight for sore eyes. 

His hair was a fiery orange that fell in slight waves over his shoulder, with piercing eyes that made your heart skip a beat. 

You silently punched in your employee discount as he pulled out his wallet. Though it was only 10% off, he looked like he’d been from hell and back, and you felt strangely empathetic towards this stranger, wanting to make his night a little easier in the only way you could without getting in trouble. 

You finished the transaction and handed him the receipt, finally mustering the courage to look at his face again. To your surprise, he was looking directly at you this time, his eyes narrowed as he studied you. 

You quickly averted your gaze and hastily bowed, babbling out a customary “Thank you, come again”. 

As he left the building, he quickly scanned the receipt. His eyebrows raised a little as he saw the discount. Of course he would never need it with his cushy salary, but you had no way of knowing that. You simply saw him as a tired man who had a rough day, extending kindness the only way you knew how. The thought of a stranger showing him pity made his brow furrow, but he couldn’t deny how his heart squeezed when he remembered those kind eyes.

—

The next night, you were back behind the register, eyes glazing over while you stared aimlessly at the wall. The door jingled and you snapped to attention. 

“Welcome!”

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the same handsome man from yesterday walk in. You fidgeted with your hair and nails trying to look more presentable under the unflattering fluorescent lights. 

He made his rounds and eventually came to the counter again, dropping his choices on the counter. 

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke. 

“Don’t do that again.” 

You gaped like a fish and internally panicked, mind racing trying to find where you had gone wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean…”

“The discount. I don’t need it.”

“Oh my apologies, you just looked like you were having a rough day and I wanted to try and make it a little better…I didn’t mean to insult you…” you rambled. You couldn’t hide the embarrassment on your face, cheeks and ears heating up rapidly as you felt yourself pinned under his strong gaze. 

He sighed, “It’s fine, just don’t do it again. I don’t need your charity.” 

‘…or for you to get in trouble trying to help me.’

You wanted to curl up and die right there, but instead you scanned his items and stuffed them in a bag, staring down at the white countertop and praying for the minutes to go faster so you could go home and scream.

Noticing your discomfort, Chuuya sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He finished the transaction and muttered a small “thank you” before dropping a small piece of paper on the counter. He immediately whirled around and headed out the door so you couldn’t see the slight blush tingeing his face and ears.

I’ll pay you back. Here’s my number.

 xxx-xxx-xxxx

You looked up in surprise but he was already out the door, the jingle of the doorbells signaling his departure. You smiled and blushed lightly, the fatigue from your long shift briefly alleviated as butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the thought of the handsome stranger. 

“Ah… I didn’t even get his name…”

you’re the owner of the cat i’ve been feeding because i thought it was a stray - fukuzawa yukichi

It was a relatively quiet day, the weather was nice and the streets were slightly less busy than usual. Fukuzawa closed his eyes and let the warm rays of sun seep into his tired skin, silently basking after a long day of being chained to his desk. 

His meditation was broken as a striped tail curled around his leg. Much to his delight, a friendly looking cat chirped and rubbed its face affectionately on his legs. His eyes softened as he reached down to let the cat sniff his hand, then softly pet its head. 

He swiftly took a small dried fish out of his sleeve and offered it, to which the cat excitedly accepted, purring up a storm as it crunched hungrily on the treat. His shoulders dropped slightly, stress and tension slowly melting away as he continued to admire the furry creature. 

The cat writhed on the ground, soaking up every ounce of attention from him as he continued to gently pet its fur. As if compelled by an unknown force, the cat suddenly shot its head up and glanced around, before running off into the bushes. Fukuzawa looked around for what could’ve possibly scared the cat away, but saw nothing. Slightly disappointed, he stood and returned to the office.

The next couple of days it came back as friendly as ever, and with an even more ravenous appetite for treats. Of course Fukuzawa was happy to oblige, showering the cat with affection and treats every time. 

“You have quite an appetite for such a small cat, don’t eat too many treats now.” he murmured, his stoic face unchanging yet there was a glimmer of admiration in his eyes.

“There you are! You greedy little shit!!”

His respite was broken as an angry voice yelled out from across the courtyard. The cat seemed to instantly recognize the voice and immediately ducked behind Fukuzawa’s legs. 

You jogged up to him, slightly out of breath, and looked up at the man who your cat was using as a shield. He had a commanding presence, with sharp blue eyes and silvery wolf cut. Your eyes locked for a split second and your heart jumped, this dignified-looking man was certainly easy on the eyes to say the least. Clearing your throat and brushing stray hairs out of your face, you awkwardly waved. 

“Hi, that cat belongs to me. I’m sorry if she caused you any trouble.” 

You smiled at him but glared daggers at your cat, who simply looked back at you. Though somehow, you could feel a smug aura radiating from it.

He looked down at the cat then back to you with a very slightly amused expression.

“No, she wasn’t bothering me. She’s quite sweet.” 

His voice rolled out deep and smooth, matching his serious appearance. He extended his hand down and your cat happily rubbed her face on it, purring up a storm.

“She really likes people, but that’s because she really, really likes food.”

You sighed and squatted down to attempt to grab your cat, but she ducked further behind the fold of the man’s yukata. You frowned and huffed but didn’t move any further, lest you’d be kneeling between this stranger’s legs. Fukuzawa noticed your discomfort and scooped up the cat in his arms, handing her off to you. You gratefully lifted your cat, accidentally brushing his large hand in the process which sent a small jolt of adrenaline through your body. 

“She’s not supposed to be outside but somehow she always manages to slip out. I feed her regularly but it doesn’t matter, she’s insatiable.”

Knowing the jig was up, your cat meowed in protest and squirmed in your arms.

“I mean how am I supposed to feel when my cat is going up to strangers and begging like she’s starving? She’s making me look like a neglectful owner to the whole damn city!”

You continued to ramble, before realizing you were venting your frustrations on this poor random man. 

He looked at you, a slight twinkle of amusement in his eyes. 

“She looks healthy and happy, it’s obvious someone loves her very much.” 

You felt your face heat up as he reassured you, wholly unprepared for the praise from this stern-looking yet attractive older man. 

“Ah… well thank you very much for taking care of my cat.” You bowed politely. “Please let me pay you back somehow.”

He shook his head gently and tucked his arms in his sleeves. “No need, it was no trouble at all.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help you out in return, I insist.”

You rummaged hastily through your bag and retrieved a pen and a crumpled receipt, scribbling down your number and name before handing it to him. 

You were telling half of the truth; you really did want to pay him back, but you also wanted an excuse to see this hot man again.

“Ugh, I have to go, but please don’t hesitate to reach out. Again, thank you so much for taking care of her.” You bowed one more time before speed-walking down the street, indignant meows fading as you turned the corner.

Fukuzawa looked at the small piece of paper in his hand, tucking it in his sleeve as the faintest of smiles graced his face for a second. 

‘...cute…’

you ask me for help to pretend to be your boyfriend to scare off a creep - oda sakunosuke

You glance over your shoulder warily while pulling your jacket tighter over your midsection, walking faster down the street. To your demise, the shady looking man that started following you a few blocks ago continued to tail you despite taking several twists and turns to try and throw him off. Cursing under your breath, you opened the door to the nearest establishment and quickly ducked in hoping to find a place you could stake it out until he left.

You’d never been to this bar before despite passing it multiple times on your way home, but it was much nicer than expected. The narrow stairs opened up into a cozy bar, moody lighting glinting off of the polished wooden stools. The only patron was a rather tall man with reddish hair, sitting quietly sipping on his drink. 

Although he was a complete stranger, you felt as if this man was trustworthy. He exuded an aura of peace and safety that you desperately needed at this moment. 

Sheepishly you sat down next to him. He looked down at you curiously, about to ask why you chose to sit next to him when the whole bar was available, when the door opened again and the man who had been following you stumbled in. Your heart dropped and you turned to the stranger next to you, whispering rapidly with a pleading expression. 

“Hey so there’s a creepy guy following me, could you pretend to be my boyfriend? I’ll buy you a drink as thanks.”

Before he could respond, you faked a hearty laugh as though you just told a hilarious joke and put your hand on his arm flirtatiously, hoping that the creepy man was watching. 

Your heart was thundering in your chest, but you continued to smile and look at your fake boyfriend. Getting a better look at his face, you noticed that he was actually quite good looking. He had a slight amount of stubble on his jaw, but the rest of him was well groomed. His eyes were a gorgeous crystal-clear sapphire blue that gazed down at you stoically. You were close enough to smell his light cologne, it was just enough to be noticeable but not overbearing. Your fingertips felt searing where they touched his arm, and you prayed he couldn’t tell how hard your heart was beating. 

He glanced up at the man brooding in the corner, silently sizing him up with a stony face.

Even though he hadn’t spoken a word, his sheer size and intense stare sent a strong enough warning that the other man froze under his gaze. 

Your stalker stared at the two of you and muttered something under his breath, before heading back up the stairs and exiting the bar. 

Once you were sure the door had closed behind him, you breathed a sigh of relief and removed your hand from his arm. “Hey sorry for putting you on the spot like that, I really appreciate it, let me get you a drink.”

“It’s nothing, I don’t mind.” His voice was deep and rumbled like a thunderstorm, and it was very attractive.

“No please, I insist. Ah, I suppose I should introduce myself.” You bashfully offered your name and bowed slightly. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Oda. It’s getting pretty late anyways, I was going to head out. Do you need someone to walk you home?”

You smiled and nodded. “I would appreciate that, thank you so much.”

The walk home was a little awkward but not uncomfortable. Most of your attempts at small talk were met with brief responses that were followed by a long pause. You assumed he wasn’t much for conversation, but you detected no malice or annoyance in his voice. 

Eventually, you reached the end of your commute. Although you were relieved you made it home safely, you were a little disappointed that your impromptu date with this attractive stranger was coming to an end.

“Oh this is it, thank you so much again for helping me out…. oh right!” You dug out your phone from your bag, opened a new contact, and sheepishly handed it to him. 

“I know you said I didn’t have to pay you back but I really want to.” 

He took the phone and punched in his number along with the name ‘Oda’ before handing it back to you. 

“Thank you again! Have a good night!” You smiled brightly and waved at him from the entrance of your apartment complex, heart still pounding. 

He offered a simple wave in return, making sure you closed and locked the door before continuing on his way. He couldn’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of your smile for the rest of the night. 

#my work #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #fukuzawa x reader #fukuzawa yukichi x reader #oda sakunosuke x reader #odasaku x reader #fluff #gn reader #sfw #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd chuuya #bsd oda #bsd fukuzawa #bsd x gn reader

[queerofthedagger]

red like rust

[Steddie | T+ | no warnings]

It doesn’t happen in the hospital. Hell, it doesn’t happen before then, because before then, Steve has Eddie’s blood all over his hands, crimson-hot and sticky, has his fingers half inside of him to keep him together, has to—

Point is, before the hospital, there isn’t any time to have a breakdown. Steve has never been much of a crier, really, dislikes the entire act of it, but that moment when he had to forcibly drag Dustin away from Eddie’s body so that Steve could save him, damn his stupid, stubborn, hero-complex-ridden nerd-self, he’d thought this time, surely, this entire nightmare of a week, well. He thought it would warrant an A-class breakdown, honestly.

He feels like one, too, like he is nothing but breakdown-to-happen. Feels like his skin is scrubbed raw and his sanity is dangling by a thread worn so thin, it’s only held together by Dustin’s red-rimmed eyes, by Lucas’ silence when they bring in Max, by Robin’s white-knuckled hand in his. In those hours that are nothing but a long, agonizing wait in the fluorescent hospital, both Max and Eddie in surgery while Hawkins’ injured and dead won’t stop coming in around them, Steve feels like crumbling marble, like he’s becoming a ruin with no one bearing witness.

At the end of the night, the kids have been picked up by their parents no matter their protests, Nancy has found a bathroom to have her breakdown in private while Robin is having hers right against Steve’s shoulder, and Steve—

Steve swears he can feel it rip the inside of his chest to shreds, but the tears won’t come, his hands won’t shake, and he wonders how long you can go on like this before it mutilates something irreparable inside of you. --- It doesn’t happen after that either. Not when they stitch his sides back together, and not when the doctors tell them that both Eddie and Max will live, the relief of it almost bringing him to his knees.

It doesn’t happen when he sees Eddie for the first time, skin pallid and stitches angry-red on his face and throat. When Eddie’s hands shake, fingers unsteady against Steve’s wrist as he says, “I didn’t think I’d make it.”

Not when Steve hisses, more venom in his voice than in years, “You promised. You promised you wouldn’t play the fucking hero.”

His teeth rattle with the fury of it, and he’s shaking, too, everything in him itching to shatter into a hundred pieces, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

Eddie merely keeps looking at him, wide brown eyes and matted hair, and he doesn’t apologize, but then, Steve doesn’t think that he could take it. That it wouldn’t be what will make him get into his car and drive until he forgets about Hawkins and dying kids and boys with lie-soaked tongues and hearts of gold. ---

If he hoped it would get better once the shock wears off, this would be a let-down, but really, Steve’s been at this a little too long to still be disappointed in his various shortcomings; this might as well just join the parade.

Emotionally constipated, as Nancy would say. Your bastard of a father to blame, Robin would mutter, fire in her eyes whenever the topic comes up—more so, recently, since his parents came back in the wake of the supposed earthquake.

Which is an entire thing Steve doesn’t touch. Generally speaking, he’s not unhappy to see his mom, but currently, it’s one of the last things he needs.

He still cannot get the tears past his throat, cannot let go of the fear and the anger and the grief—so much godforsaken, blood-soaked grief—that draws tighter around his chest with each passing day.

He wakes from nightmares more often than not, of course, heaving and sweat-soaked and shaking. He jumps at the noises from other people sharing the house with him, flinches away from his window because they always turn on the lights of the pool, and almost bites through his tongue when, for the hundredth time, they try to convince him to move to LA with them.

He meets his father’s judgmental eyes blankly and brushes his mother’s concerns off, and he feels closer to splintering apart with each passing day, and still.

And still, nothing ever fucking gives. --- He tries not to think about it, and the vise only draws tighter. The more he thinks about it, the farther away he feels from being capable of anything but tearing something outside of him apart.

It is lucky, perhaps, that his friends are too stubborn to let him get away with his shit. Robin gives back tenfold whenever he snaps at her, and the kids have stopped taking him seriously years ago. Nancy has to do little more than raise a brow for him to get a grip.

Eddie’s the wild card, and the circularity of that makes Steve clench his hands until his nails draw blood.

The pain’s still not enough. Maybe that’s the goddamn issue, he thinks some nights, staring up at his ceiling with his heart a war drum inside his chest. Perhaps he’s so fucked up, emotionally constipated, whatever the fuck everyone’s theory is, that even Eddie jumping off Death’s scythe just so, that even Max, weeks later, still lying in the hospital, isn’t enough to get to him. --- If he’s honest, he knows it’s not that. He doesn’t know what it is, sure, but he knows that he loves them all so much that it makes his bones shake with the ruby-coloured terror of it.

It’s okay, though, it’s all worth it, even as the days march on and he feels stretched thin and raw and like it’ll take little to make him crumble for good.

It’s okay, through movie nights and drives to the arcade, through DnD sessions he only watches and volunteering with Robin. Through late nights with Eddie on the roof of the Beemer, and through calls that last until the sun climbs into the sky, dawn red-pink and mocking.

It’s all okay, good even, all the old-familiar and the new. The way he sometimes looks at Eddie and aches with want, these days, the pain and the rage almost buried beneath it. Almost, almost, almost. --- It happens, as these things are wont to do, when Steve least expects it.

It’s a tepid June day and they’re down at the quarry, just the two of them—Steve and Eddie, Eddie and Steve, the way their names are constantly mashed together these days a running joke amongst everyone.

They’re not even doing anything, just smoking and wandering around, when the sky opens up above them, the downpour so sudden and harsh that they’re soaked within seconds.

After prolonged moments of simply staring at each other in disbelief, Steve starts laughing—helpless, really, there is no way that he can’t. Eddie looks like a drowned poodle, the joint in his hand sagging, wet, and sad, and after everything, it just feels absurd.

Eddie shoves him and Steve shoves back, and then they’re running, both laughing and stumbling every other step.

“Fuck,” Steve gets out, empathetic and out of breath as he collapses against the side of the van. The rain’s already letting up again, and he looks at Eddie, smiling wide and bright-eyed, just a few steps away from him. “Fuck, I’m so glad you’re still alive.”

It’s such a stupid thing to say. But it tastes like a confession, like something sacrosanct. It tastes a lot like forgiveness, is the thing, and Eddie stills as if he understands it, too.

Around them, the rain slows down to a drizzle, and everything smells like early summer and second chances.

“Jesus, I hope you’ll still think that in a second,” Eddie mutters, and it doesn’t make sense, not an ounce, until he crosses the three feet between them, cups Steve’s face between his hands, and presses their mouths together.

It’s hot, slick with rain and a little clumsy, their noses bumping and Eddie’s rings catching in his hair. It’s also everything Steve has wanted for weeks now, and he pulls Eddie closer, fingers clenching into skin and bone where the bats had almost taken him.

Perhaps it’s that. Perhaps it’s the little noise Eddie makes, as if, despite being the one to finally take the plunge, he is still surprised that this is happening. Or, perhaps, Eddie just has that effect on Steve.

When Steve finally breaks, it is with Eddie Munson kissing him for the first time.

The tears mix hot with the remaining drizzle, and it’s so unexpected that the shock briefly outshines the grief. He staggers, a sob clawing its way out of his throat, and he wants to shove it back down, wants to keep kissing Eddie, clichéd and perfect in the summer rain.

“You’re such a bastard,” he chokes instead, and when Eddie pulls back, eyes wide, Steve sees just enough through the tears to make out the shock on his face, the fear working its way in. “Not about that, you—Jesus.”

He doesn’t get any more words out after that, throat constricting and everything shaking, shaking, shaking. He gets his point across by digging his fingers into Eddie’s hips, refusing to let go when he’s still half the reason this is even happening in the first place. By pressing his forehead to Eddie’s collarbone, and he hates crying, always has, but sheltered between Eddie’s van and Eddie’s body, it’s maybe as alright as it can get.

Eventually, Eddie seems to get the message or at least some part of it. He hums softly, and tugs and pushes at Steve until his face is in the crook of Eddie’s neck, Eddie’s arms around him, and it all just comes out in one inevitable, disastrous wave of pent-up grief.

Steve cries and cries and cries, for the kids and for himself, for Robin and Nancy and Eddie, and for the absolute abundance of shit they all had to go through. For all the futures they won’t have, and how when he closes his eyes, all he ever sees these days is red.

“Because you’re weird and I’m weird, I’m going to assume that you are weeping in awe of my kissing skills,” Eddie says, minutes or hours later when Steve can somewhat breathe again. “As such, I’m taking this as a declaration that you’re just as stupidly in love with me as I am with you.”

Steve laughs, and then he’s crying again, and Eddie presses his smile against his temple as if it is the easiest thing in the world.

So, thirteen weeks after they killed Vecna for the final time, Steve finally breaks.

That’s okay, though, because apparently, Eddie’s ready to pick up the pieces, too. Because somehow, Steve’s ready to let him.

#st #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #mona's writing #honestly this is 1k longer than 'just something quick to finally break the goddamn writer's block' was supposed to be #but at this point i'd have taken anything so really I'm not complaining

[kthsbelle]

SECOND CHANCES

pairings : tattooed eren jaeger x fem!reader

sypnosis : written from eren’s pov . a couple trying to find themselves and meaning in their relationship after eren cheated .

a/n : this is a small / short gift to y’all because my first fic reached 10k !!! this is huge for me. i write because I love it and wanted to share an idea . the attention was something special to me . this is an excerpt from a fun roleplay i had . i thought it told am interested story . enjoy !

the day dissolved into dusk, a canopy of brooding clouds hovered over eren's head, foretelling a sense of impending doom.

        ominous. foreboding.

        as the sun set over the bustling city , the brunette sat at the small kitchen table in his apartment, gazing blankly at his plate of untouched food. the fluorescent light overhead cast a harsh glow on the scene, highlighting the cracks in the yellowing linoleum and the smudges on the walls . the traffic outside was steady hum , punctuated by the occasional honk or screech of brakes that indicated a slightly heavy afternoon jam . the lighting in the small kitchen was dim, casting long shadows across the room . the only source of light were a few overhead bulbs that hung from the ceiling , one of them flickering slightly as if on the verge of burning out . it was almost ironic ; the lighting seemed to be synchronized with the weight of the atmosphere as eren sat , left to face his own demise ; the threatening and inauspicious fact that he was guilty of his own misfortune .



        across from him sat yourself , his girlfriend- well, seemingly ‘ex’- girlfriend , just as absent-minded , who seemed to have taken profound interest in the food on your plate , having looked at anything but him this whole dinner . he understood , though - he wasn’t able to look at his reflection in the mirror either . the man shifted in his seat , fork now moving to pick at the fluffy scoop of mashed potatoes in his plate . eren's obsidian gaze fell on you for another moment , the slight rouge on your cheek being visible as well as the delicate lines of the side of your face . for a woman of small stature , you always made a prodigious impact . a delicate snub of nose , sun-lit strands and eyes that pulled on something deep in his chest .


        he swept his gaze about the room . his place seemed nothing but the empty of shell that nursed memories of what once was . the walls painted a cool shade of gray licked by the orangeade shade of the sun streaming through , the hardwood floors and the clean lines of the furniture that gave this space an uncluttered feel which eren always sought when it came to the comfort of his apartment. the polaroid photos on the shelf under the television caught his eyes ; both of you sunkissed , glowing at his favorite band’s concert . his piercing eyes shifted towards the kitchen , the red vintage coffee maker you had bought at a thrift store during one of your weekend adventures sat at the top of a shelf collecting dust . the spice rack that you had helped him organize so meticulously still sat untouched , and the refrigerator door was nothing more than a pit of bittersweet, scattered memories , adorned with postcards, unchecked bucket list items that served as a reminder of your memories together.

        he exhaled a lungful of sorrow as his fork finally pierced through a branch of asparagus which he hesitantly brought to his mouth . the man who usually enjoyed his greens found himself hardly able to pull his lips apart to welcome the vegetable . he chewed carefully and swallowed , the piece of food sitting at the pit of his stomach like a pile of rocks . eren cleared his wry throat gently before attempting to chase the dryness with a sip of the , now, watered down coke . he placed the glass back down , the signet ring around his little finger shooting gold through the glass' stem . the tattoo on his finger was exposed for a brief second . ‘333’ written in italic wrapped around his pinky as the time at which he first confessed his feelings to you . he had mapped many others . the black , and occasionally , red ink traced an endless pattern on his skin that kept a record of his most prized moments with you . if you had done something special , it would end up immortalized on his skin - somewhere , within the drawings on his chest or sleeves . with his gaping collar , sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his forearms and windblown dark hair , he seemed quite more at ease than he truly was .


his aquamarine eyes lifted towards you again , this time , a bit more urgently . his calm expression betrayed his inner turmoil . strong currents rose in his irises . he seemed to be deep in thought , stare lost in something he couldn't explain . was all of this truly lost ?

        oh , he was so wrong .
        

the memories of his cheating were nothing he could recall with a calm mind . they made his stomach churn with the acidic burn of guilt and disappointment . he couldn't help but feel that a deep part of him craved to have his actions be justified - he wanted to feel something . and though he didn't search for it ; it - she came to him and he simply let it happen . he couldn’t deny , he wanted the sense of intimacy that only physical contact and desire with another human could provide . quite selfish , he knew . but he truly thought there was nothing left for him in his relationship that had been slowly nibbled away by their own issues .

  " you’re always alone…ever want company ?" he remembered the red head's words as he picked up his skateboard , roguish green eyes piercing through his soul . it was such a formulaic thing to say that it almost broke a lopsided smile out of him . " what if i was ?" the words tipped over his lips faster than he could think and before he knew it , he was tangled under a pair of limbs.

        he spared her the details when recounting the ordeals of his affair . it was an especially hard conversation to have . it had to be paced . between the pauses to breathe and the glossiness that coated her eyes every few seconds , he was forced to watch the damage he'd caused . but were they forced to relive this over and over ?

        still now , as they sat to eat their dinner , the air in the room was thick with tension and unspoken words . he wanted to say something, anything to break the silence, to ease the tension.

        he fidgeted with his fork , drumming it against the table as he tried to find something to say , but the words wouldn't come . he wanted this crushing reality disappear , for the fog to dissipate - maybe there was still a chance that none of this was lost , that a remaining spark could be ignited for the depths of your eyes . you were , and still remained , as mesmerizing as a raging ocean, with depths and currents that no one could fully comprehend . but he did .

      eren cleared his throat , embarrassment seared him from inside out .

      a sheen of sweat broke out on his curved brow .

     his tongue was a sailor's knot but he finally mustered the courage to speak.

     a hard swallow , an intense searching gaze ,

        " babe..."

        the husky whisper of a confession ,

        '' i know i messed up . but i just-this is the truest thing i've known . can we talk again ?"

#belle’s writings 🎧! ♡ ✶ . ࣪ ׅ #eren jaeger #aot imagine #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #aot x y/n #aot drabbles #eren aot