HIDE-N-SEEK — L.hs
HIDE-N-SEEK — l.hs
recently, your town has been getting terrorized by a serial killer, going by the name of 'ghostface'. of course you were scared to be his victim. imagine the sheer terror on your face — and the utter delight on his — when your fear turns out to not have been caused by your paranoia.
GENRE— ghostface au, stalker au
WARNINGS— dubcon, then noncon, and then dubcon again (you'll see what I'm talking about), both reader and heeseung are kinda fucked up, mentions of killing, mentions of stalking, knife play, fear play, reader has tits, reader's pussy gets called 'her' a few times?, fingering, cum eating, slight spit play, spit kink (?), name-calling (baby, slut, bitch, etc.), unprotected sex (don't), blood, blood play, bulge kink, clit pinching, missionary, mating press, kind of an open ending (?), NOT PROOFREAD, let me know if I missed any!
WORDCOUNT— 8.2k
NOTE— among the italicized text, if you see normal text, it basically indicates the opposite. as in, if the entire block of text wasn't italicized, then the normal text would have been in italics instead... if that helps
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
NO ONE WAS SAFE.
No matter where you resided, if Ghostface chose you as his victim, consider yourself to be dead.
No amount of protection, whether it be in the form of weapons or guards, locked doors or high security neighbourhoods — no one was safe from him.
You may ask, who exactly was ‘Ghostface’? Why, he is a renowned serial killer, one who wears a pitch black coat and a creepy mask, paired with white rubber gloves. The last thing his victims see before dying is the creepy ghostface mask smiling down at them — as said by a ghostface victim, who had miraculously survived the attack, only to die hours later in the same hospital at which he was interviewed. Reports say that the victim had been stabbed a total of twenty times, the word ‘Ghostface' carved onto his forehead. Apparently, he didn't appreciate the fact that someone survived him — even if it was only for a few hours.
Which was why everyone was scared to go out, even during the day. Till this date, no one had ever seen his actual face, his entire existence a mystery to everyone except him. He was truly an enigma, the source of both amazement and horror for all.
People were scared to even interact with each other, in case said person turned out to be Ghostface. What if they did something to piss the other person off, resulting in their death — perhaps in just a few hours from the aforementioned incident?
For an introvert like you, avoiding people came easy to you, it being your second nature. You weren't too worried about offending Ghostface, even by mistake. But no one was ever truly safe, not from the hands of a psycho serial killer, were they?
You would often find yourself peeking behind your shoulder at random times of the day, checking if someone was looking at you, or worse, following you. Perhaps it was simply due to your paranoia, combined with the increasing cases of deaths in the hands of Ghostface. Either way, your guard was always up.
You used to stay at the dorms on campus before, even when the deaths had started occurring on a daily basis. It was only after Regina — a girl who you never really liked because of her bitchy attitude — was found one morning by her roommate, completely mauled in her own dorm, lying in a pool of her own blood — did you finally feel terrified enough to move out of them, moving into a house in a slightly secluded region of the town, just around ten blocks away from campus. It wasn't a complete guarantee of your security, but it was better than nothing.
From some of the recent reports, apparently the victims of Ghostface were — stalked by him a few days prior to him killing them. Photos of the victims taken without their knowledge during the week before their death were found with their body. The police declared them to be taken by Ghostface, a fact that left you even more shaken than before.
You didn't have to be afraid of him. You were more than sure that you never did anything to piss anyone off, at least not knowingly. Surely no one could be holding a grudge against you, right? Especially not Ghostface?
Right?
IT WAS A NORMAL FRIDAY NIGHT — or as normal as it could be with the threat of becoming Ghostface’s next victim hanging heavily in the air.
Friday nights used to be the time when you danced, sang, got drunk, and hooked up, all night long at the frat parties that were held religiously every Friday. Now? Now people were afraid to look in other people's direction, in fear of provoking Ghostface.
It was truly remarkable, the way he had everyone in his chokehold. Rumors surrounding him specifically were mostly to blame for this.
See, according to many, Ghostface apparently likes to… toy with his victims before killing them. Exactly how does he toy with them?
According to the rumours, he gives them a phone call, taunting them. His voice is always distorted by a voice modulator, adding to the air of mystery surrounding him.
People were already downright terrified of him, but some people who apparently thought themselves to be hilarious, often mimicked Ghostface's antics — or what the rumours about him said — and called people up randomly, with a voice modulator. They would take advantage of the fact that no one actually knew what it sounded like, terrifying people to the core.
While some did it for pranking purposes, others did it for more malicious intentions, taking advantage of people's fears. It started getting worse and worse, the fakers, that is — until the government finally declared it to be a crime to mimic Ghostface, announcing a long time in jail for anyone who attempted it.
This put a stop to the mimicking, but it only made people grow more antsy. People were always silently waiting till their turn arrived to be Ghostface’s new victim, a fact that thrilled no one, but sent a chill down their spines, everytime they even thought of it.
Tonight was especially dark. The moon was behind the clouds, the eerie darkness causing you to feel more terrified than normal. It wasn't that dark, but with Ghostface out in the open…
You decided to focus on washing the rest of dirty dishes instead, trying to get your mind off the serial killer. You had procrastinated long enough, the dishes starting to pile up. What better way to distract yourself?
You turned on the television, listening to an anime while washing the dishes. Silence scared you, — which was ironic, since you were an introvert with terrible social anxiety — the need to have some kind of sound, in the tiny and isolated house of yours, other than the sound of washing dishes, was extremely high. The only available option on the television was anime, and… well, the news. But no one wants to listen to the news during these times — all the news channels simply showed Ghostface's new victims and their mutilated bodies that lay in a pool of their own blood.
You were done with washing the dishes, putting all the plates away neatly — when suddenly, your phone rang. You peeked at the screen, your lips turning into a frown — it was an unknown number.
You wiped your hands on your pants, picking up the call, putting the phone to your ear. “Hello…? May I know who this is?”
The phone remained silent for an entire minute. Just as you were about to speak again, a somewhat distorted voice came from the other side of the call. “What's your name?”
You frowned. Why was this person asking for your name, when he was the one that called you in the first place? What a fucking weirdo.
You spoke again. “I don't wish to sound rude, but — shouldn't I be the one asking that? I mean, you were the one that called me, you know — not the other way around.”
You heard a chuckle from the other side of the phone. It creeped you out, the sound more menacing than amused. He spoke again, his voice still sounding distorted. “Aren’t you adorable?”
You were starting to feel creeped out now. Your hand was gripping the last plate in your hand tightly, not even noticing how much pressure you were using on it. You spoke in a slightly higher voice, your tone pitchy with a detectable hint of panic. “Listen Mr. Stranger — I don't know who you are, nor am I particularly curious. But you aren't fucking funny, so if you don't have anything of importance to say, I'm hanging up.”
Silence. Again. This guy was really testing your patience.
Finally, he spoke again, his voice lower… still distorted. “I would watch my tone if I were you, sweetheart. It's no way to talk to a… stranger, is it?”
You gulped. He sounded so… ominous, his tone nothing short of menacing. With your anxiety spiking, you spoke again, your voice mostly level except for the slightest tremor to it. “What do you want…?”
The guy on the other side of the call let out a hum. “To know your name, of course. You still haven't told me.”
You let out a shaky breath, your grip on the plate tightening. “But why? What is the importance of my name to you?”
He let out a chuckle, his next words making your blood run cold. “So I can know who I'm looking at.”
You almost dropped the phone, all the colour from your face draining. You managed to speak up in a shaky voice. “C-Cut the act. You're not funny — the government declared jail for the pretenders, yet you're impersonating him–?”
You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “But darling, I'm not an impersonator, am I?” His voice grew lower, an underlying threat evident in it. “You don't believe me to be one either.”
Tears stung your eyes, the hand that was clutching the plate starting to shake. You slowly put down the dish, your eyes darting frantically around your living room that was connected to the open kitchen, looking around to spot any potential threat — said ‘threat’ being… Ghostface. Even if you knew that it was pointless. If Ghostface wanted to kill you, he would succeed in doing so — no matter what obstacles he faces. “L-Look Mr. Ghostface — I barely even go out! Even when I do, I mostly keep to myself, I don't even interact with anyone. I'm sure I haven't done anything to piss anyone off — let alone you, even unintentionally! So why…”
Your voice took on a tone of desperate resignation at the end, the subtle acceptance of your fate evident in it. Ghostface cooed at your tone, his own voice sounding like that of an excited child. “Aren't you cute? Don't worry, you didn't piss me off, just — intrigued me. You're always so alone, all by yourself… I just had to find out everything about you, didn't I? You are such a mystery, one I took utter delight in unraveling. It's only fair that I get a prize for my hard work, right ___?”
With each word he spoke, his voice could be heard louder and louder, coming from somewhere around the house. Right as he finished the sentence, the side door of your house, leading to the garden outside, slammed open. Ghostface stood in the doorway, a knife in one hand, a burner phone in the other. He spoke, his voice distorted from the voice modulator.
“Right, ___?”
You let out a loud scream, the tears finally breaking free, as you turned on your heel, getting out of the open kitchen, towards the stairs. You knew from all those horror movies that running into your bedroom would be the worst possible move, but you really had no choice. You could hear him behind you, laughing as he gave chase. “Running off so quickly, darling? Won't you at least give me a greeting, welcome me into your house? That's bad manners, you know. Or did mama not teach you any?”
His voice sounded like two people, speaking at once, one of a real person, the other a distorted voice like those in old radios. It unnerved you, since his voice modulator was probably glitching due to him running. You ran into your bedroom, locking it quickly — just in time for him to bang on the door loudly.
He yelled loudly, his voice bordering on that of manic excitement. “Open the door ___! You know that the bedroom is never a smart move. Or are you a dumb baby that doesn't know the basics of survival?”
His taunting was causing your already scattered thought process even harder to get together, your hands shaking. You looked for a hiding place before he inevitably broke down the door.
Under the bed? A good idea, but he would probably think of the same. But what other hiding places could there possibly… the closet.
You quickly ran to the closet, throwing open its door. You pushed some of your clothes apart, going far inside, before pulling the clothes in front of you to make it seem as inconspicuous as possible. You sat at the back, your legs pulled up to your chest, your breathing shallow. You realised what a terrible hiding place it was, but it will have to do.
The banging grew more frantic, before he finally managed to kick down the door. You could hear his voice from inside the closet, causing you to still your breathing, to avoid getting caught. His voice was more of a menacing growl, no longer disoriented — maybe his voice modulator ran out of batteries? “Having fun princess? You're so fucking naive if you think hiding here will save you.”
He paced about the room slowly. “Where could you be hiding, hm? I hope it's not–” He dropped to his knees, peeking under the bed. “–under the bed? No, of course not. That would have been too easy. You're naive, but not that much, huh?”
But then he let out a snicker, one that almost caused you to start crying again. You could hear his footsteps again. “Or are you?”
Before you could comprehend the meaning of his words, the closet door was thrown open, his hand grabbing your wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling you out, tearing a scream out of you. “Turns out you are a dumb little bunny after all.”
He tackled your struggling figure to the ground, pinning your legs with his knees on either side of you. He used one of his hands to pin your wrists above your head, his other hand raising the knife, pushing it under your jaw, just a hair-breath shy of cutting into your throat. His voice sounded like a growl, an octave deeper. “Don't you fucking dare move — unless you would like me to slit your pretty little throat open. Trust me, I would take great pleasure in doing so.”
Your movements stilled, your breath coming out in short huffs. Tears were streaming down your face freely, your entire body covered in goosebumps. You stared up at him — at his mask, rather. He tilted his head to the side. “Did you have fun playing hide and seek? I hope you did, because I cannot guarantee that you will be having much fun now — it's my turn to have fun now, afterall.”
His words sent a chill down your spine. You were starting to accept your fate. Any moment now, he would slice the knife across your throat, slitting it in one clean swipe. He would laugh while watching the blood flowing freely from the wound, watching as the life leaves your eyes. It was all just a game for him, after all.
But he seemed to have different plans. He trailed his knife down, under the edge of your shirt. He slipped it inside, the cool metal making contact with your skin, the temperature difference sending a jolt through you. He traced the pointed end on your stomach, before doing something that shocked you — and gave you a hint of his true intentions.
He turned the knife sideways, sharp side facing up, before digging it into your shirt, slicing through it. The knife tore through the fabric like paper, before he threw the ruined fabric in some random corner of the room. You gasped at the cold air, squirming slightly. He pressed the knife above your stomach warningly. “Sit still darling. Or else I won't hesitate to cut up your useless body.”
Tears stung your eyes again at his words. But you stilled, too eager to survive. Your eyes suddenly widened as you saw him slip the knife under the middle part of your bra, before slicing it open. You gasped as he threw the discarded fabric away, the cool air hitting your boobs, your nipples instantly hardening. You were suddenly acutely aware of the precarious position you were in, unable to stop the heat creeping up your neck, as you noticed his intense gaze on your tits.
He gave you a warning look from behind his mask, his knife coming back against your throat. “One wrong move, and your throat will get sliced open.” He let go of your wrists — watching as you kept them in the same place. He smirked under the mask at your pliancy, his gloved hand coming to pinch your hardened nipples.
You let out a tiny shriek of surprise at the feeling of his rubber clad fingers groping you, unable to resist a whimper as he squeezed your mounds. He was merciless in the way he groped you, squeezing and pinching, completely unaffected by your whimpers and gasps — it was exhilarating.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold back a whine, as he twisted your nipple in between his fingers. You desperately tried to ignore the heat that was pooling down in your lower stomach, your heart racing.
He pinched your nipple again, squeezing your left tit roughly. He felt you shudder underneath him, the usual thrill that came with threatening his victims, running through his veins.
Yet, there was something else — an almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing, a flicker of… heat in your eyes, despite the situation you were in. Curious, he slightly moved his knife away from your throat, but not enough to make you feel any less threatened. “What's this…?”
You looked into the eyes of his mask, gulping audibly. He pinched your nipple again, tearing out a whine from you. His eyes narrowed at your reaction. He wasn't dumb — he knew when someone was turned on. But… in this situation? With a knife to your throat? Your life in his hands? It made no sense. Still — his body responded, his pants tightening.
He slowly dragged the knife down, in between your breasts, pausing at your stomach. He looked up at your face, searching for any sign of fear, or even defiance — nothing.
Instead, he saw your lips parted slightly, your breath hitching — he swore he saw your pupils dilate. He let out a shaky breath, his voice laced in disbelief. “You…”
His grip tightened noticeably, curiosity and annoyance warring in his expression. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" The realization sent a jolt of dark excitement through him. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Sick bitch.”
You let out a whimper, shaking your head frantically, in denial of the whole situation. Still, your thighs rubbed together involuntarily, trying to quell the ache between them.
An almost menacing chuckle escaped him as he registered your movement. His free hand moved to pin your thighs down, trapping them between his own once again. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, feeling his control slip. "You're really getting off on this?”
You let out a whine, squirming slightly. He stared down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never been this close to losing control before. But the way you were reacting, the way you were looking at him — it was driving him insane.
"I should cut you," he growled, the knife trembling against your stomach. Your eyes fluttered slightly at the threat, a slow exhale leaving you. You couldn't understand your own body. Why, the fuck, were you reacting the way you were?
He blinked rapidly, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. The knife lowered incrementally. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice was incredulous, though tinged with reluctant awe. "Getting turned on by someone threatening you?”
Your eyes stung with tears at his words, your body reacting in the completely opposite manner — your thighs clenched, an almost pitiful whimper leaving you.
He watched your body language, the tears welling up in your eyes — a strange mix of emotions hit him. He dropped the knife to his side, as one of his gloved hands slid up to grip your jaw firmly. "You're fucked up." He whispered, anger and desire clashing in his voice.
You gulped, only just realising that your hands were free. Yet you made no attempt to move them.
His grip tightened on your jaw, leaning in until his face was almost touching yours — his mask, rather. His breath was ragged, mingling with yours. "Is this what you wanted?" he snarled, though the bite was gone from his voice, replaced by confusion, mixed with arousal. "To get me all worked up?”
You whimpered at the pressure on your jaw, your nails digging into your palm, as you clenched your fists. You were so, so painfully aroused.
A rough sound caught in his throat as he stared down at you, fighting an internal battle. He originally just wanted to play with you a little, make you feel worthless — like trash that he could easily dispose of. Disposing you was exactly what he had planned to do, although now that plan was no longer going to be put into action — at least for the time being.
He threw the knife away, causing it to clatter to the floor. His other hand moved to your hip, digging into the flesh there. "You little…”
You winced at his grip, your nose scrunching up in pain. You stared up at him, tears still evident in your waterline.
That was his last straw. He took off his mask, allowing you a brief glimpse of his face. His last semblance of control shattered, as he cut himself off, his mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. His tongue forced its way in, tangling with yours demandingly. He kissed you like he was trying to punish you, to make you pay for the effect you were having on him.
Your eyes widened in shock, as you gasped loudly into the kiss. You tried to kiss him back, to match his pace — all in vain. His lips were punishing, intending to make it hurt for you. Unfortunately all it did was make you crave for more.
He finally broke the kiss, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. His heart was racing, his mind reeling. "What the fuck is going on…?" he muttered, his voice shaking with a combination of anger and awe. "You're supposed to be scared, not turned on."
You gulped. Your senses were starting to blur, all of them zeroing in on his touch and his voice. It was painstakingly weird how you were reacting — how he was reacting to you. But damn, you enjoyed it — so fucking much.
He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes with a fierce intensity. "Say something, fuck. Explain this." His hands remained gripping you, betraying his conflicted desire and frustration. "I'm trying to terrify you and instead..." He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.
When you didn't immediately respond, he growled low in his throat. His hands tightened around you, his body pressed flush against yours. "Fucking talk, you little bitch. Tell me why the fuck you're so turned on right now."
Your breath hitched, your mind going blank. He was insulting you, his voice carrying disgust — you fucking loved it.
A dark smirk crossed his face at your breath hitching, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. "Look at that — all worked up, can't form words…" He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Does it make your pussy throb when I threaten you?"
Your eyes widened at the sudden crude language and the bluntness in his voice, your skin pricking, panties practically sticking to your cunt. He was right — your pussy did indeed throb when he threatened you.
Suddenly, you realised that you recognised him. He was Heeseung, one of the most popular guys at your college.
You remembered having interacted with him just once, when he bumped into you back in your first year. He was your senior, who immediately apologised to you after that, helping you pick up your books. He walked with you for a while after that, forcefully engaging you in small talk. He didn't seem to mind your short answers or your eagerness to get rid of him at all, continuing to talk — until a friend of his called him to go to class, causing him to reluctantly stop his rambling, waving you bye and leaving.
You remembered finding out all about him that very day during recess, overhearing his name from the table next to yours in the cafeteria. It was a group of girls, who seemed to be gossiping in what they thought were hushed voices… only, they weren't. You could hear every word.
They were specifically talking about Heeseung, about how hot he was, how smart he was — both book smart and street smart. You remembered mentally rolling your eyes at their fawning, before a certain piece of information had caught your interest.
They mentioned him to be a prude, never showing interest in going into relationships or even casual hook ups. Apparently, he had never gone on a date with anyone, politely turning down everyone who asked. It seemed rather odd of him, since he seemed like the dream package.
This incident had occurred a year before the killings first started. Nevertheless, Heeseung was never the kind of guy who seemed to be capable of something as shockingly gruesome as this. The thought made you sick to your stomach, a nasty feeling under your skin.
You snapped back into the present time, looking up at him, truly looking at him. He barely looked anything like the Heeseung you met during freshman year. His smirk grew wider at the sudden realization on your face, his hand moving to gently squeeze your throat. He was going to have to have a talk with you about college later on. Right now, he had more important things to focus on. For instance, how aroused you were from your life being threatened. "Yeah, that's it. Your little heart races and your pussy gets so fucking wet when I scare you." He leaned back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light.
He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, his hand still gently squeezing. "You're a fucking mess, you know that?" Heeseung leaned in again, his lips just a hair's breadth from yours. "A little slut who gets off on being threatened.” His words were a whisper against your lips, his breath hot against your skin. "And you know what the worst part is? I think I might actually like it." He pulled back, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race.
You stared up at him, your breathing slightly shallow, begging him with your eyes to touch you. Heeseung let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable." His hand slid from your throat, trailing down your chest teasingly. "Here I am, supposedly threatening you, but we both know it's me who should be terrified.”
Your back arched into his touch, a small whine leaving you. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, his fingers brushing over the swell of your breasts. "Look at that — arching into my touch like a fucking bitch in heat." His hand continued down, tracing the curves of her body possessively.
You whined at his words, your back arching even more. You let out whimpers, shaky exhales leaving you. His eyes flashed with wicked amusement at the sound. "Oh, listen to those whimpers. Pathetic." He pinched your nipple abruptly, twisting just to the point of pain. "You're so fucking desperate for it, aren't you?”
You let out a loud gasp of pain, your body jolting — yet your body begged for more, a whimper eliciting from you the very next second. A smug grin spread across his face as he watched you whimper. "Five seconds ago I was trying to scare you, now look at you fucking trembling for my touch." He bent down, his lips grazing against your neck, as he nipped at your skin. "What does that make you?”
You gulped. His teeth dragged over your pulse point, marking your skin. "It makes you a needy little slut, doesn't it?" His hand finally reached your thigh, gripping it possessively. "A slut who can't get enough of my touch, no matter how much she pretends to be afraid.”
You whined, begging for more. "Mmm… that whine is fucking music to my ears." He abruptly lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist as he pressed his hard cock against you. "Don't you see what you do to me? All of that bullshit where you pretended to be scared…”
You let out a shaky moan, pressing back against him. Heeseung silenced you with a brutal kiss, biting your lip to keep you quiet as he rubbed himself against you through your clothes. "You think I'm scary?" He growled, his hands roaming over your body possessively.
You let out sharp gasps, your voice coming out shaky. “A b-bit–?”
He bit your bottom lip harder, pulling back with your lip caught between his teeth. "Shut. Up." His voice was rough, commanding. "You don't get to smart-mouth me while you're practically dripping." He let your lip go with a sharp tug, making you whimper.
You bit your lip to muffle any further noises. His eyes darkened dangerously as he noticed your silence, one hand capturing both wrists above your head once again, while the other trailed down to your center. "Not going to lie, but princess? The way you just submitted to me like that?" He pressed against you meaningfully. "Fucking hot.”
You whimpered at his touch, your hips bucking up, pressing into his hand. He pushed his hand inside your shorts, his fingers finding her soaked panties, rubbing against your clit through the fabric. "So fucking wet. And you know what?" He rubbed faster, his thumb pressing against your clit. "I fucking love it." He released your wrists to grab your face, forcing you to look at him.
You let out a loud whimper at his sudden grip. His fingers continued their torturous rhythm, watching your expression carefully. "You're supposed to be terrified, remember?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Shouldn't you be trying to push me away instead of grinding against my fingers like a good little slut?”
You bit your lip, staring into his eyes, trying to prevent yourself from moaning out loud. His free hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you flush against him, as he continued his movements. "You're a fucking liar." He growled, his fingers moving faster. "Admit it. You're not afraid of me. You're so fucking turned on.”
You let out a choked moan, grinding back onto his fingers. He grinned sadistically, his fingers finally moving your panties aside to slip inside you. "Mmm, look at that." He curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot perfectly.
You let out a loud gasp, your back arching. You could see stars at the back of your eyes, that's how good it felt. He thrust his fingers deeper, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "You're so fucking tight. And wet." He leaned down to bite your neck, hard, sucking a bruise on your skin. "I bet my dick would fit perfectly in this pretty little cunt.”
You clenched around his fingers at his words, the thought of it making you crave even more. His fingers continued their relentless pace, feeling you clench around him. "You haven't answered me." His voice was low and dangerous. "Is that silence because you're afraid? Or because the thought of me fucking you is making you even wetter?”
You gulped, choosing to stay silent. He nuzzled against your neck, his breath hot against your skin, as he spoke. "Let me make it easier for you. Answer this." He thrust his fingers deeper. "Am I scaring you? Or turning you on even more than before?”
You let out a moan at the feeling of his fingers hitting deeper. His fingers curled harder, hitting your g-spot perfectly. "Ah, fuck, that's it." He pulled his fingers out, using the wetness to rub against your clit before shoving them back inside. "You're turned on. Impossibly so.”
He pulled his fingers out again, this time using his thumb to rub your clit in tight circles. "You're so fucking turned on, you can't even answer properly." He pressed two fingers back inside you, curling them to hit her g-spot again.
You let out a loud moan. He chuckled darkly as he felt your moan vibrate through your body. "That's it, princess. Don't hold back." He pumped his fingers harder, the wet squelching noises filling the room. "Your pussy is practically begging to be fucked.”
He added a third finger, stretching your cunt further. "Fuck, look at her." He pulled his fingers out, rubbing your clit with all three before shoving them back inside. "Your cute little cunt is starving for my dick.”
Heeseung increased his pace, fucking you with his fingers mercilessly. "Come all over my fingers," He growled in her ear. "Show me how badly you want it." He bit down harder on your neck, hitting your g-spot perfectly as he curled his fingers.
You let out a loud mewl, your eyes rolling back into your head. You clenched around his fingers, the band in your stomach starting to coil impossibly tight. The squelching noises from where his fingers slid in and out of you at a fast pace, did absolutely nothing, but cause an embarrassed flush to creep all over your face and neck.
He pressed down on your clit with his thumb, rubbing on it sloppily. Your abundant slick helped him do just that, the pace of his fingers growing harsher, mirroring his buddying frustration. A low growl bubbled in his throat, as he forced his fingers to go in deeper, trying to practically force an orgasm out of you. Needless to say, he succeeded soon enough, your back arching with a loud cry, your pussy clamping down on his fingers, your release practically gushing around them.
“That's it…” He coaxed, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, drawing out your release. “Look so pretty like this, all pliant for me.”
Your head was empty, completely devoid of all thoughts, your legs shaking slightly from the overstimulation. He let out a snicker at your state, bringing his hand up, in front of his face. He locked eyes with you, spreading his fingers, letting you see the strings of arousal clinging to them.
Upon seeing your flushed face, a smirk creeped up on his. Maintaining eye contact with you, he leisurely started licking his fingers clean. He dragged his tongue from the bottom of his finger to the top, collecting your cum on it, his saliva replacing it on your fingers.
Your eyes fluttered slightly, mouth parting. Heeseung took that as his que to grab your jaw and hold it open — with the same hand that he had stuffed inside you just moments ago — pushing his thumb inside, pressing down on your tongue. Holding your mouth open, he gathered a wad of spit with his tongue, before leaning down and spitting right into your open mouth. He watched with hooded eyes, as your own rolled back into your head, his spit dripping down to the back of your throat.
You could feel a tingling in your pussy again, empty, aching to be stuffed. Maybe with something more than just his fingers. He noticed the slight change in your body language almost immediately, of course he did — but who was he to deny you, when you were being so good for him?
Heeseung gave you a stern look. “Behave. Be a good girl, and keep still for me, hm?”
You could only gulp in response, as he released your jaw. You watched, as he shook off the black coat — or costume, whatever it was supposed to be. You kept still, your wrists still above your head, your fists clenching tightly, mimicking your thighs. Your eyes raked over his bare torso, your gaze trailing down — eventually resting on his extremely obvious hard on in his boxers. A large patch was already forming on its front from his precum, his cock straining hard against the fabric, begging to be released.
He smirked at your gaze. Teasingly, he ran his palm over his bulge, feeling it twitch under his hand. “Like what you see baby?”
You gulped, your eyes snapping up to his own. Your breath sped slightly, wanting to do something risky. Your life was still very much in danger, but you were willing to take the risk for now.
You slowly sat up, your face now extremely close to his. He raised a brow, an unimpressed gleam in his eyes. Yet, there was a curiosity in them — wanting to know your next move.
Although your next move didn't really impress him. Quite the opposite.
You raised your hand, slowly inching it closer to his boner. His eyes narrowed at your audacity. In a flash, he reached to his side, and picked up the discarded knife, holding it to your throat. He glared down at you, a cold, calculating look in his eyes. “Lay. Back. Down. Unless you want me to slit your throat, cut the rest of your body up, and use your blood as lube to fuck your corpse?”
Your eyes widened at his words, your hand freezing mid air, before quickly falling back to your side. Upon receiving another pointed glare from him, you laid back down, mindful of the knife that was back in his hands. You wanted him — no, needed him to fuck you — you, not your future possibly no-longer-breathing corpse.
Upon ensuring that you weren't up to anymore tricks, he once again put the knife away — out of your reach, but not out of his. Heeseung shrugged off his boxers, his cock immediately slapping against his stomach. It left a trail of precum, which he gathered on his fingers, before wrapping that same hand around his dick. He started to slowly pump it, using his own precum to slick it up.
Noticing your almost pitifully needy expression, he let out an amused scoff, before holding out his hand under her mouth. “Spit.” He ordered in a gruff voice.
Your eyes widened slightly at his command, before you hesitantly obeyed. Gathering a wad of saliva in your mouth, you spit it into his hand, watching with hooded eyes, as he used it to jerk himself off faster.
Once he was done, he spread your thighs again, letting out a confused grunt at how much more force he needed to use as compared to last time. He glared up at you. “You and I both know you want this, princess. So stop trying to deny me what I hunted you for. Or else…”
You bit your lip to suppress a whimper. Were you sick for getting even wetter at his words? Definitely. Should you tell him to stop and possibly escape whatever he was going to do? Obviously. Will you do it? Absolutely not.
In fact, an absolutely brilliant idea struck your magnificent brain. You decided to not obey him. Him, the renowned serial killer, Ghostface. Were you basically signing your own death certificate? Well… no harm in finding out, right?
You tried to close your legs shut, something which immediately earned you a nasty glare from him. His jaw clenched tightly, as he forcefully shoved your legs apart again. His hand reached for the knife, your eyes widening at the sight. “Seems like someone hasn't learnt their lesson yet…”
You tried to beg him to not hurt you, but the words died in your throat when he pressed the knife to it. A creepy smile adorned his face, as he caressed your face in a gentle manner, a sharp contrast to the knife to your throat. “Let me spell it out for you–” Right as he said those words, he grabbed your wrists tightly, holding you under him firmly, the knife lifting from your throat. You got confused for a second, before a scream tore out of you.
He was carving something on your stomach.
He shallowly carved his initials onto your stomach, laughing as you screamed. “Squirming will only make it hurt more~” He almost sang, his tone causing you to sob.
He was finally done, watching the blood flow out of the wound, almost moaning at the sight. “Fuck baby, do you even realise how hot you look right now?”
You hated it, every single bit of it. You didn't want him to fuck you anymore, hell, you felt ashamed of yourself for ever wanting it. You felt disgusted beyond words by yourself, for having him carve his initials on your stomach to make you realise the kind of guy you were dealing with. He wasn't some hot fictional guy from the books you read, he was an actual serial killer — someone who could quite literally kill you as and when he pleased.
Heeseung seemed to sense your inner monologue. He snickered. “Suddenly regretting everything baby? That's cute… it's as if you believe you had a choice in this in the first place. Cute.”
You wanted to scream, cry, sob — all at the same time. How did you even manage to get yourself into this mess?
You didn't have much time to ponder, as he suddenly sliced his knife through your panties, finally ripping them off you. He shrugged off his own boxers, rubbing the tip of his cock along the arousal coating your puffy folds. A shiver ran down your spine, causing you to bite down on your lip. You hated it, you didn't want it — but your body couldn't deny how good it felt.
Heeseung wasn't any less affected than you. He let out a groan, his eyes shutting briefly. “See how good that feels baby? You think you don't want it, but your body says something different. See how your pussy keeps dripping all over my cock?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, tears welling up in them — tears from exactly what, you didn't know. Was it embarrassment? Pain? Pleasure? Neither did you know, nor were you keen on finding out.
With his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, he slowly pushed himself in, groaning from how easily he slid in, thanks to your slick. He let out a rough noise from the back of his throat. “Look at how your cunt is sucking me in like a slut. You sure you don't want this, baby?”
His knife had returned to your throat, his other hand gripping your hip. You could only bite your lip to muffle a whimper, your tears having broken free. He felt — good. You just wished this happened under different circumstances. When he wasn't cutting you up or threatening your life as Ghostface, maybe.
He bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt. He let out a groan, his eyes falling to your stomach. They widened, noticing something other than his initials he had just carved on it. There was a bulge on your stomach. “Holy shit…”
As if in a trance, he pressed down on it with his hand that wasn't holding the knife, watching as you involuntarily arched your back. He let out a laugh in disbelief. “Would you look at that? Had no idea you were this sexy, princess.”
He didn't wait to see your reaction, pulling out slowly, before slamming back inside. He watched your body jerk at the force, the bulge disappearing and reappearing. It was so, so hot.
He put the knife away, just out of reach of you. He gripped your hips with both hands, once again pulling almost completely out, watching as the bulge disappeared, before slamming back in, watching it reappear. He effectively tore a moan out of you this time, watching in amusement as you quickly slammed a hand onto your mouth, your eyes looking mortified. It was as if you were still trying to convince yourself that you didn't want this.
You were so cute. So. Fucking. Cute.
He pulled out again, pushing back in with much more force than before, setting a fast pace. He watched with a perverse amusement, as you let out a choked scream, flailing your arms above your head aimlessly, as if looking for something to grab on to. He fastened his pace, grunts leaving his throat with every thrust.
Your screaming was gradually turning into moans, the undeniable pleasure coursing through you making your head spin. It didn't help how the room was filled with wet slapping sounds from where the two of you kept connecting, the sting from the cut on your stomach barely there anymore. You felt hot, an insatiable thirst in your pussy, being quenched by his unforgiving pace.
His thrusts never once faltered, the bruising grip that he had on your hips was starting to hurt — just a bit. He let out a small groan, his eyes once again falling on your stomach, the bulge disappearing and reappearing in it at a comically fast pace. “Hah — look s’fucking cute like t-this — just lying there like a pliant little whore — taking my cock — fuck–”
He was cut off by your pussy clenching around him, his groan cutting through the constant wet slapping from where you both kept connecting. Encouraged by your reaction, he sped up, reaching an almost animalistic pace.
Your head was starting to go blank from his pace, the way he continued to pound into your sobbing cunt had you seeing stars. His name left your mouth in a breathy moan, causing his eyes to pop out, him almost spilling his load inside you right then and there.
Without stopping his unforgiving pace, he grabbed your jaw in one hand, his nails digging into your cheeks. “Say it again — c'mon baby, moan my name again — let me hear you, fuck–”
He was cut off by you whimpering, the unmistakable sound of his name leaving your mouth for the second time. With a growl, he gripped both of your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. The new position allowed him to reach deeper, hitting your spot with every thrust. It had you seeing stars, uncontrollable moans and his name falling from your lips like a mantra.
He reached one of his hands down to rush harsh circles on your hardened bundle of nerves, trying to force an orgasm out of you. “C'mon baby, cum for me — squeeze my cock harder, fucking cum for me–”
The band in your stomach tightened to an impossible level, ready to snap. He pinched your clit, hard, continuing to rub dizzying circles around it. He delivered a harsh slap to it, causing you to finally topple over the edge.
Your ears were filled with a loud ringing noise, vision going white. You clenched around his length, gripping it in a vice like grip. Your cum flowed around his length, coating it completely. He groaned, as he kept pumping in and out of you, a white ring forming at the base of his cock. The sight had him pistoning out of you at a ridiculously fast pace, before burying himself to the hilt inside you. Warm, thick ropes of cum erupted from his tip, painting your insides white. He slowly grinded his hips, still inside you, ensuring that none of it fell out.
He stayed like that for a moment, before pulling out his softening length with a hiss. He fucked his cum back inside with his fingers, enjoying the way your body racked with shudders, little whines escaping you from the sensitivity.
He slowly sat up, admiring your spread out body. He brushed his hand through your hair, rubbing the sweat off your forehead. “You know,” He started, looking down at you with an unsettling smile. “I never fucked anyone I was going to kill before. Never felt attracted enough to them. But you–” He hesitated for a second, before speaking again. “I used to have a crush on you back in college. Remember when I bumped into you once? It was on purpose. I needed an excuse to talk to you. It really hurt me when I realised that you weren't interested in doing so, you know? You were the reason I never went out with anyone, either.”
You gulped, staring back at him. He had an unreadable expression on his face. “I started this — this killing streak, to get your attention. But then I started enjoying it too much — fantasizing what you would look like, all cut up and bleeding prettily for me, begging for me to let you live. It got me so fucking hard, you know? Jerked myself off to that thought so many nights. Until tonight — I knew I had to get you — kill you. Play with you a little first. Didn't think it would escalate to this though.”
He grinned, his eyes holding a kind of craziness that sent a chill down your spine. “Maybe I won't kill you…” He murmured, his hand caressing your cheek. “I’ll just… keep you. My pretty little toy, mine to use and play with, as and how I feel like. Isn't that right, princess?”
More Posts from Lmorg149 and Others
masterlist
bold is nsfw, scenarios is italicized, normal is head-cannons and sfw. <3 click here for rules.
Heroes/Sidekicks
Aizawa
Chubby Reader HCs
Mirio
Busty S/O
Slim Thicc S/O HCs
“Tell all those other guys/girls you don’t need them ‘cause you got me.”
Tamaki
coming soon
Yamada “Present Mic” Hizashi
Happy Birthday
Students
Awase
“I think I’ve been holding myself back from falling in love with you all over again.”
Your Saviour
Giving Oral HCs
Bakugou
👑 TEAM BAKUGOU 👑
Bakugou Katsuki A-Z (NSFW)
Bed Rest
Being Called Daddy HCs
Blue Balls
Boasting About Bakugou Over the Phone HCs
Bottom (female) Bottom (male)
Busty S/O HCs
Caught
Consider This Thirst Quenched
Crying Kink HCs
Cuddling w/ Neko!S/O HCs
Wolf!Bakugou HCs (Domestic AU)
Daddy
Fem!Muslim S/O HCs
Get Groovin’
Giving Oral HCs
Helping Fem!Reader Get With Her Girl Crush HCs
His Little Omega
Hugs From Bakugou
“I’m not Jealous”
Jealousy’s In the Air
Mineta Hitting on S/O HCs
Omega!Bakugou HCs
Sassy S/O HCs
Pups
Receiving Bear Hugs From Reader
Riding Bakugou for the First Time
Scared to Love S/O
“Shit sorry, am I going to fast?”
Show Me
Sleeping w/ S/O HCs
Slim Thicc S/O HCs
Somnophilia HCs
Study Buddies
Squirting for the First Time
There for You, part two
Time to Love, part two
Wipe That Smirk From Your Face
Woke, part two
Iida
Dick Size HCs
Proper Punishment
Thicc Reader HCs
Relationship HCs
Kaibara
Cock Blocked By Pupper Scenario
Sassy S/O HCs
Kaminari
“You saved my nudes?”, part two
Low Self-Esteem S/O HCs
Warn Me Next Time
Kirishima
Being Called Daddy HCs
Called Red Riot During Sex HCs
Daddy
Dick Size HCs
Hot Days
Kinky Fem!S/O HCs
Kiri Taking Care of Stressed Fem!S/O HCs
Sassy S/O HCs
Low Self-Esteem S/O HCs
“Why do they make this look so easy in all those porn movies?! This hurts like fuck!”
Midoriya
Busty S/O HCs
Dick Size HCs
GG (Villain AU)
Only Because I Love You
Scared to Love S/O
Monoma
We’re In Public
Sen
Cock Blocked By Pupper
Just Checkin’
Mineta Hitting on S/O
You Want to What?
Shindou
Cock Blocked By Pupper
Chubby S/O HCs
Low Self-Esteem S/O HCs
We’re Just Getting Started
Shinsou
Scared to Love S/O
Sit Still
Shiozaki
Is This What You Wanted?
TetsuTetsu
Next Time
Todoroki
Todoroki Shouto A-Z (NSFW)
Caught
Clingy S/O
Dick Size HCs
Fem!Muslim S/O HCs
“Give Me Attention”
Mineta Hitting on S/O HCs
Relationship HCs
Tsubaraba
First Date
Sassy S/O HCs
Villains
Dabi
Consider This Thirst Quenched
Deepthroating HCs
Dick Size HCs
I’ll Give You Plenty
Somnophilia HCs
Giran
Hero Kink HCs
Relationship HCs
Sugar Daddy HCs
Chisaki “Overhaul” Kai
Dick Size HCs
Relationship HCs
Relationship NSFW HCs
Get Well Soon, I Guess
Toga
Giving Fem!S/O Oral for the First Time
Secrets
Sleeping Beauty
Bubaigawara “Twice” Jin
See You Again
Shigaraki “Shigaraki Tenko” Tomura
Somnophilia HCs
Civilians
Todoroki Natsuo
Relationship HCs
Vigilantes
coming soon,,, maybe.
~ Series Masterlist ~
~ Drabble List ~
~ Writing Playlist ~
So excited to read as they come out ＼(^^)／
summertime's special ❀ a stray kids collaboration
about: a summer-inspired collab with the crazy talented @catiuskaa! a series of non-conected one-shots that we’ll both be posting! lots of fluff and sunshine will be included! have fun and enjoy your time out with us!
this is really exciting! it's my first collab ever and the fact that it's with @catiuskaa just makes it all better >.< click here to go to her own version of this masterlist!
✽ bang chan: welcome home by @dalamjisung
coming soon
❁ lee minho: rainkissed cherries by @catiuskaa
by chance or luck, you and minho found each other that rainy summer evening. dirty dishes, cherries and all. [3.1k]
❃ seo changbin: hopeful romantic by @dalamjisung
coming soon
❋ hwang hyunjin: the escape plan by @dalamjisung
coming soon
✾ han jisung: midnight's soundtrack by @catiuskaa
coming soon
✤ lee felix: as it was by @dalamjisung
coming soon
❊ kim seungmin: the office's views by @catiuskaa
coming soon
✿ yang jeongin: code orange juice by @catiuskaa
coming soon
Reblogging to keep up with updates. It's just too good
✧God of War✧
Fics:
I am kind, not Complacent {1}, {2}, {3}, {4}, {5}, {6}, {7}
Pairing: Heimdall x Fem!reader
multi-chapter, not complete: last updated 10/14/23
Synopsis: You are a young goddess of peace and logic. You were given this gift as a child, and after trying and failing to create peace without consequences, you chose to live in isolation from the rest of the realms in Vanaheim, fearing you would only make things worse. Odin hears tale of your powers and hopes to harness them in his schemes to manipulate the other realms. As you grow up you meet many interesting characters, and forge strong bonds, but lose much along the way. why does Heimdall hate you so much? why do you hate him? why do you make each other's hearts pound in your ears?
enemies to friends, to enemies, to lovers
three main arcs: childhood, adulthood(before GOW) and present(GOW Ragnarok)
Warnings: language at times, game-level violence, characters suffering overstimulation, angst angst angst, hurt comfort, more angst, happy ending I PROMISE. ( I will update these warnings as well as add warnings to each chapter if I find there is something that may not be easy for some people to read. if you feel I haven't warned something appropriately please don't be afraid to let me know!)
A/N: this is my first fic??? ever???? so please be gentle. I have written some freelance fiction and poetry before but nothing on Tumblr. I have been in a bit of a rut and wanted to just have fun and hyper-fixate on something and share it with people. I hope everyone enjoys!
Also a huge thank you to everyone who has supported me and encouraged me to write this! special thank you in particular to @engardeitsme for inspiring me, encouraging me, and hyping me up, it means so much to me <3 <3 <3
TMNT MasterPost:
Have a request? Have a prompt? Want a matchup? Want to say hello? Have a theory? Want to be on my tag list? Send it on over! My ask box is always open, even if you just want to say hi! I like saying hi back. Seriously look at all of the (*). You guys fuel my writing so much and it means the world to me.
Never be afraid to comment or reblog or like anything of mine! And if you like what I write follow me! I write more all the time!
Current Prompt List: 200 Prompts (or any prompt list you want! Just let me know!)
( * - requested)
Dating Headcanons:
Raphael Leonardo* Donatello* Michelangelo*
Misc. Headcanons:
Betrayed!Reader*
Spooky Season*
Lullabies
Baby!Reader (Raphael)
Dangerous Woman (+18)*
Distractions (Quarantine)
AUs:
Human* Greek Gods* Fairytale (Raphael)
Songs:
The Devil’s Backbone
Friends Don’t
Beautiful Ghosts
Raphael x Reader Oneshots:
What’s In A Name (mutant!reader)*
A Second Chance
Optimism
Human HC
Just Open*
True Colors* (Mutant!Reader)
True Love (Angel!Reader)
Trouble
A Perfectly Good Heart
My Place In All This
My Love, My Mission (Angel!Reader)
I’d Give Anything
Leverage (Soulmate AU)*
Nothing Left To Lose (Firebender!Reader)
Conflict of Interest
Raphael x Reader Series:
Archangels and Mutants:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Miss Beauty and Her Beast:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
You Belong With Me (Highschool AU):
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Soulmate AU:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Night Ride (Biker!Reader):
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Donatello x Reader:
Enough
Only Want You*
Afterglow*
Ways to Break My Heart*
Michelangelo x Reader :
What Love Really Means
It’s Nice To Have A Friend*
Christmas Gift* (Dancer!Reader)
Michelangelo x Reader Series:
Promises:*
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Leonardo x Reader Oneshots:
Rules, No Words, and Gentle Hero (Autistic!Reader)
Hesitant to Leo HC
Take A Chance*
Sacrifices*
A Perfectly Good Heart
Omega* (Werewolf!Reader)
One Day Too Late*
Breakaway*
Delicate (Highschool AU)
Leonardo x Reader Series:
Soulmate AU:
Part 1 Part 2
Art Pieces:
Six Character Challenge (TMNT)
Miss Beauty and Her Beast
Disney Collage
Piano
Easter Sunday
Onward
.
.
Tags: @brightlotusmoon @boatloadsofheart@legandarybeauty@crazywritingbug @bitch-kms @ravn-87 @just-a-casual-fangirl-011@unicornjoos @stuckoutsideofthebox@ilikestuffproductions@whygz @coffee-addicti@sugarspooks15@leslieebee@serperiorkb@blossom-skies@fantastical-67impala-fangirl@coresan @big-banging-red@iceprincess2019 @raphaeladdict @thirstyforvenom @merindagriese @depressedemo-152@bengewatch @corabmarie@bitemebro522 @tmnt-queen@muleka-loka @violet-sky-96 @curadopordeus @artemismohr18 @thewhisperpen @xjupitermoonsx @bisexualbumblebeesstuf f @merindagriese @oceans-daughter-3 @dixonreedusfangirlforever @shanidenise @thegayestfish441@lovelyyroseee @yourlieberhoe @dolphincommander @molzies-fanfics @fuzzy-panda @msmcsmutt @zombiesnips-blog
I can't wait for some more 😍😍
The Songbird of Asgard
Chapter 1
Welp, I've been convinced. Please interact so I know if anyone actually reads this XD. Heimdall comes in about halfway through. He'll be more present in any upcoming parts.
Heimdall x fem!named reader, name is used as little as possible
Words: 9.8k.
Warnings: swearing, Heimdall being his bitchy self. Odin manipulating people, as usual.
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Blurb: To say your life changed in a matter of hours would be an understatement.
The night before, you were alone in your room, a place that wasn’t even in this realm. But just twenty-four hours later, you were in Asgard, starting fresh, and on the back of a giant beast with probably the most pompous, condescending, and insufferable god that’s ever lived.
All this because Thor just so happened to crash through your roof. The norns are mocking you, surely…
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The clinking of glass jars was the only sound. Bottles moved from your table up onto a shelf, no longer needed now that your chore was complete. Another round of elixirs, for what exactly you weren’t sure, you never kept track anymore. They were always useful for the elves.
Useful. That was what they always said. That seems to be all you were nowadays.
You sighed, breaking the silence in your tiny room. This was one of the largest outposts the light elves had in Alfheim, one of the few strongholds they had when the Light temple was not within their control, as it was now. Regardless of that, this was your home – the only one you knew, at least.
The jars were abandoned after you took a few strides to arrive at your bookshelf, a finger wandering across the spines of books you've read a hundred times. Another sigh, after you found no interest in reading one of them yet again. Your eyes scanned the room, filled with nothing but a wooden chest next to your bed and a table with a few chairs by a window. How mundane it felt. You thought you'd be accustomed to it by now. Being a tool of war must have made you immune to the comfort of consistency.
You shook your head at the thought, reminding yourself not to be so pessimistic. The elves cared for you, gave you a home. A goddess left with nothing and no one, they could have left you. But they took you in, and you had to help them in return. You weren't an elf, their war was simply something you couldn't possibly understand, that was all.
That's what you had been telling yourself for at least a century now.
The thought was shoved away again as you decided to retrieve your lyre from your chest. Sweet melodies that were plucked from its strings were among the few things you never tired of.
Then there was a sound.
Sound was the wrong word. A boom, a crash, an explosion. Something like that came from the distance. Normal, considering the constant warring within the real and therefore far from drawing attention. But this time it felt different.
Almost like…thunder?
You squinted at the window, seeing a flash of blue rocket into the sky. You took a single step to investigate before it happened.
It burst through your roof, the cacophony of destruction so shocking that you flew back until your back hit the wall by your bed with a hand over your chest, desperately trying to calm your pounding heart. The early morning sun was just barely over the horizon, leaving little light to help you see just what was before you. The dust was settling, thinning enough that you could make out some monstrous object in the center, but ultimately you were stumped.
Until it moved.
You jumped again as the entity twitched and groaned, slowly sitting up.
Okay…this was a man then. He slowly and clumsily rose to his feet, standing so high that his head was poking into the massive hole he had just made. He wouldn't even fit in the room if the roof was still there.
Based on that alone – well, and the lingering sparks of lightning – you had an idea of exactly who this was.
You heard a curse from him as he rolled his shoulders, turning around to have a look at where he was. His dazed eyes landed on you. He froze.
Silence. Then…
"Hey."
How eloquent, you thought to yourself. A son of Odin literally smashes into your home and can barely offer a greeting in return. "Hello," you replied, your disbelief at, well, everything in front of you, overwhelmed by the fear of the god. You knew all the stories, knew how much mayhem and carnage the Aesir would bring when crossed. You were not keen on becoming one of those stories.
Thor glanced up at the roof, then back down at you, only about half his size. "Hope I uh…didn't scare ya too much." The slur in his speech was stronger than the smell of alcohol emanating from him, and that was an impressive feat. He snapped his fingers, leaving you wondering what he was asking from you. Until the whir of electrified metal sounded and the signature form of Mjolnir rammed through your wall and into his waiting hand.
"Eh…sorry, 'bout all that. Lost control of Mjolnir for a sec," he shrugged.
"I…understand?" Really, you didn't, not in the slightest. But what would anyone say to that?
From the newly installed skylight came the flap of bird's wings until a caw sounded. A raven with blue-tipped feathers landed on one of the chunks of roof that was just barely staying in place.
You felt your heart nearly stop. With Thor here, there was no secret who that raven represented.
And yet…it didn't even look at tou. It's eyes scanned your room but skipped right over you. Like you were invisible.
Another caw rose from its beak, aimed at Thor.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm gettin' there. Can't you see I'm busy." Thor gestured towards you with his hammer, drawing the bird's eyes to you. Only this time they stayed. Noticing you.
You had a feeling you knew why, but thought it strange regardless.
The raven stared at you, hints of green flickering across its black eyes. "Well," Thor grunted, turning towards your door. How you dreaded his departure. As terrible as his entrance was, you worried for the door that he definitely wouldn't fit through. "I got shit to do, so uh…see ya, I guess." A hand was carelessly waved at you before reaching for the door. To your surprise and palpable relief, he managed to squeeze through without doing more than disturbing the dirt that settled on the walls.
And that was it. Thor left. But the raven remained.
For a moment you considered saying somthing to it. But this raven was a messenger, and you weren't sure just how much material it had to deliver already.
"Muninn!" Thor shouted from outside. The bird looked at you just a second longer before taking off after Thor. With the roar of hundreds of bird's wings and the silence that followed, the ordeal was over.
Twelve hours. That was all it took.
You were sitting on your bed, preparing to rest for the night. A bit earlier than usual, but cleaning the destruction left behind by the god of thunder was more than enough work for one. Stone wasn't easy to move after all.
Three knocks, thunderous and heavy, nothing like the knock of any elf you knew. You were too tired to care exactly who needed you at the moment and simply went to answer it, intending to send them away as soon as possible. It could be Ymir for all you cared, now was not the time.
Or so you thought. Upon opening the door you found Thor, once again. Not alone this time. An old man stood in front of him, two ravens taking off from his shoulders and into your room.
Suddenly you wished it was Ymir at your door. At least he wouldn't have sucked the fatigue out of you as Odin did.
"Pardon the intrusion, miss. Mind if we come in?" You nodded silently, still processing the scene before you. Thor was close behind his father as he entered.
"Please, take a seat at–" You stopped mid gesture, realizing your table was no more than splinters now.
Oding chuckled, sounding friendly. "My son's handiwork, I'm sure. Part of the reason I'm here, actually." He reached in his pocket while Thor dug a bottle of mead from somewhere (you didn't want to know where) and started chugging it down. Odin held out his hand, prompting you to do the same.
Coins were dropped into your palm.
Absolutely bemused, you looked back at him.
"For the roof," Odin explained. "Thor breaks just about everything he finds, so I've made a habit of compensating his victims."
"Oh, um…thank you?" was all you said. That was it?
He pulled up a chair from against a wall, the only chair to survive Thor's fall, and sat down, requesting you to sit on your bed. Odin seemed to ignore his son completely then.
"Now, my dear, you have me curious." You cringed at the pet name he used but said nothing. "I don't pay too much attention to elves, but never did I find a goddess to be among them…where did you come from, exactly?"
His tone was light but the sting of something lying underneath his words shone through. He was clearly irked that he didn't know about you. "I've lived here my entire life, actually." You tried to sound as confident and collected as you could despite your heart feeling like it was about to spring from your chest.
"Really? From the look of you I'd say you're Aesir."
"I'm of Asgardian descent, on my mother's side."
A grey eyebrow rose. Not out of curiosity. Surprise. Like he knew something.
You didn't dare ask.
"Those though," he pointed halfheartedly at your arms, where tattoos marked your shoulders and extended to your elbows on both arms, but only your left had a thin line down your forearm that ended to your knuckles. Runes were drawn on your middle fingers, though you had no idea what any of these markings were for. "Those are Vanir."
The horror of the situation was settling in. Odin found a goddess with Vanir symbols on them hiding from him. Truly not the finest way to go out. You swallowed to moisten your dry throat. "I…I'm Vanir on my father's side. I've had them for as long as I can remember," you replied weakly.
You flinched when Odin laughed jovially. "Relax, my dear, I'm just asking questions, I don't mean to scare you." As reassuring as he sounded, you couldn't take his words to heart. Thor had no reason to be here after all, other than intimidation.
Said unnecessary god offered a reverberating belch at that moment, proving your point. His father shot him an annoyed look before returning his attention to you. "I take it you don't know your parents?"
He already knew. He seemed to know a lot about you despite admitting he didn't know you existed moments ago. Those twelve hours since Thor busted into your life, that was all he needed to find out. The concept was as terrifying as it was creepy.
"No," you said sadly, eyes falling for a second. "The light elves found me as a child and took me in."
Odin hummed, dissatisfied if you had to guess. "So you don't know of any spells they may have cast on you? Are there any spells you put on yourself?" You shook your head. The old god's voice grew just a bit darker. "Then why couldn't my ravens see you?"
A shiver ran down your spine, seeing how displeased he was at your lack of explanation thus far. You quickly elaborated, "I've always had a natural immunity to certain types of magic. I assume whatever magic your ravens have is among them. And perhaps…" you were grasping at straws, trying to answer the question you had asked yourself that morning. "Perhaps the immunity loses effect if someone your ravens can track interacts with me." Sure, that works.
More than you thought it would, seeing how Odin relaxed a bit and nodded. "That would make sense. They did notice you after Thor pointed you out, and they had trouble before you answered the door."
You had to bite your tongue to hold in the outburst the statement incited. He had been trying to spy on you up until now, experimenting. It wasn't something you appreciated in the slightest. "So what, you just stay here, make protection spells and staves and other crap for a bunch of elves?"
The quick swerve into the topic left you dumbfounded. You sputtered in shock, "W-well, yes. I owe them my life so it's only fitting that I help them."
Odin leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, the old wood creaking at the motion. "Well, if you ask me…that's a waste." Again, you were baffled at the sudden statement.
"You see, I have a little project that I’m working on. Something that will benefit all the realms once it’s completed. And based on my findings, I think you’re perfect for it…" He trailed off, staring at you expectantly. It took a moment for you to realize what he wanted.
"Eivor."
“Eivor. That’s a beautiful name, very fitting for you.” The more he said the slower your surprise faded. It would seem that with all his questions answered he was much more…respectful, gentle. A part of you still recalled all the stories about him and how cruel he was, but in that moment you thought he wasn’t as bad as everyone said. Then again, he did crush your hope of finding change by admitting he wanted something from you.
Odin must have sensed your disappointment. He stood from his chair and paced as he continued. “Now, I know what that looks like. If I came all this way because I need you for something then I’m no better than the elves, letting someone with value waste away with simple tasks. But that’s not the case here.” He paused, turning back to look at you with kindness and some type of…intensity that you couldn’t describe. “I don’t want to just use you and throw you out, no. No, this is an invitation. To live among your kind in Asgard.
“Do you know what that means, my dear? Once you’re done with this tiny, tiny chore for me you’ll have a world of possibilities. You can move on to something better.”
Try as you might to remain cautious, the flicker of hope rose up within you. Something better, something other than elves coming to you when they wanted something, more than just waiting to be needed.
Again, Odin saw through your thoughtful silence. “Think about it. In Asgard, you’d be serving the realms, protecting people, promoting peace.” He wandered to your shelves of elixirs that the light elves were waiting for you to deliver. “No more useless trinkets, no more sitting around while they constantly war.” He turned his head to you while lazily lifting his arm to the shelf. A single finger extended and tapped one of the bottles, tipping it off the shelf and shattering on the floor.
Odin let you ruminate to the sound of the glass for a moment, then went back to the chair he abandoned earlier. He sat up straight, his posture displaying what a powerful god he was. Contrary to that, his next statement was soft, like he was comforting a scared child. “You said you owed the elves your life. Well, you’ve served them for more than a lifetime, haven’t you? Your debt is paid. Isn't it time you made your own choice?”
It was so much information to take in. It felt exhilarating, the thought of not only something new, but finding other beings that didn’t just pretend to care for you just to get what you could offer them.
Even so, you were still scared. Not just by the suspicion you felt, knowing this could easily not be what it seems. It was the…novelty of it all. Something you knew nothing about. Perhaps the security of the mundane wasn’t as bad as you had always thought.
And yet, the chance of finding your own purpose was too tempting to ignore.
“Forgive me for rushing you,” Odin began. “But I’m afraid I’ll need an answer now. I would give you time to think, but unless you don’t plan on moving a muscle while you do so, any raven I leave with you might lose track of you. And I can’t stay forever, I’m a busy god after all.”
The clock was ticking, and your one chance was here. You could finally be something you wanted to be. And perhaps get away from all the coercion and lies. Away from wondering how truthful the elves' declarations of gratitude were. Away from wondering if any of them loved you as you thought they did.
But many of them didn’t. And you knew it. You just didn’t want to accept it.
And you were tired of it.
Odin was right. You wouldn’t wait for your problems to go away. You would find the place you were supposed to be. A deep breath passed through your lungs, your steeled determination showing in your eyes. A determination that Odin smiled at.
“I’ll go,” You said, feeling the rush of excitement as you spoke.
In the background, Thor raised his now empty bottle of mead like he was celebrating, although you doubted he was sober enough to really be paying attention. Odin stood from his chair with a clap of his hands and a big smile adorning his face. There was something almost sinister about it, but you ignored it. Whatever was tipping you off couldn’t be worse than wasting this chance.
“Perfect! Then let’s get going!” Odin said, his ravens gliding back over to him. One, who you recognized as Muninn, morphed into tattoos on his right arm. The other, this one with red tipped feathers, stood on his shoulder, ready for orders.
You also got to your feet. “Wait! Can I have a moment to pack my things?”
A chuckle. “My dear, you don’t need anything here. I’ll provide a room, new clothes, and Asgard has an expansive public library that likely has all those books of yours.” Your eyes went to the wooden chest at the end of your bed.
You couldn’t leave those behind. Nothing had been as constant as their presence. “Could…could I bring just a few things?”
“If it’s something that can’t be replaced.”
You nodded and rushed to the chest, opening it and taking the instruments within, handling them with care. You’d had both your entire life. A simple bone flute, with carvings of patterns like the ones on your arms. It was old, scratched, and chipped in a few places, but the sound was still rich. The other was a lyre, a simple rectangular shape with no special decorations that also had its share of nicks, though the strings were new. You always replaced them when it was necessary. Both of them went into their respective thin leather bags, then you returned to Odin. He didn’t even look at them, like they meant nothing to him. Which, to be fair, they probably did.
“Ready, then?”
You nodded, watching Thor reach his father’s side while the raven, presumably Huginn if your memory served, took off, forming a cluster of ravens around the three of you. Just as the vortex closed and the last of your room faded, Thor leaned down and mumbled to you, “You made a good choice,” while fixing you with a sincere stare.
His serious tone caught you off guard. It made you wonder what would have happened if you refused Odin’s offer.
You didn’t want to think about it. It was too late now anyway.
The ravens cleared, and once they were gone you were in front of the Great Lodge. The sunset of Asgard greeted you, the sight of Gladsheim leaving you stunned at the size of the city. And the wall, of course.
"Welcome home!" Odin cheered with a smile. It fell quickly when he saw Thor, still idling next to you. "What are you still doing here? Go! Don't you have somewhere else to drink?"
Thor nodded, glancing at you, looking almost worried. He said nothing, planting a heavy hand on your shoulder as he walked past. He clearly was still too drunk to mind his strength because he nearly knocked you over with the gesture.
"Now I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but it is getting late, and I want you to have some time to settle in. I've arranged for you to have a tour of Asgard with Heimdall in the morning. He knows everything about everything in Asgard, he'll tell you all the things you want to know…and what you don't want to know, probably."
You chuckled, thinking he was joking. Since he didn't you assumed there was something there you were oblivious to.
Hopefully it wasn't something awful.
"For now," Odin continued, "I'll be off. Sif here will show you to your room." Just as the goddess's name was mentioned, a tall blonde woman came from behind you, making you nearly jump out of your skin. "Sif, I trust you'll make sure she finds her way?"
"Of course, All-Father." You could help but notice the smell of mead on her breath as well. Was being drunk just a thing in Asgard?
"Good. I'll be off then, I'll greet you in the morning, Eivor." You bid the old god goodnight and he disappeared with his ravens. Sif turned her attention to you and offered a friendly smile. “Well, I hope you’re ready to see your new home.” She waved a hand and two servants scuttled over. “They’ll put your things away, that way we can take our time getting to your cabin.”
You looked at your leather bags worriedly, afraid to let your precious instruments out of your sight. Ultimately you put your trust in Sif and gave them to the servants, muttering a thank you to them as you did. Both of them appeared shocked that you did so, or that you even acknowledged them. And you could see why, Sif didn’t even look at them as she started down the path in front of the lodge. You thanked them again and followed after her. But then a streak of read flew past you, nearly mowing you over as it passed.
Sif spun around at the sound of little feet tapping on the dirt, smiling when the red you saw came to her. A little girl, no older than five winters, holding a wooden sword. “Mama, I almost got you that time!”
Sif chuckled and ruffled the fiery hair on the girl’s head. “Almost, you’ll have to keep practicing if you want to catch me though.” She then looked up to you. “I hope you don’t mind if my daughter comes with us? She’s trouble without enough supervision.”
“Of course!” You knelt down to the girl’s height and asked, “And what’s your name, little one?”
“I’m Thrúd! And I’m not little!” She protested. “I’ll be big like my daddy and brothers.”
That’s right, this would be Thor’s daughter. That would explain why she seemed tall for someone so young. If you were honest with yourself you weren’t sure how to act with children. Warzones in Alfheim were not for the young and that was where you spent most of your time. Before you came up with something to say to the irate girl, Sif interjected. “Don’t be rude. And you aren’t big yet.” Thrúd pouted for a moment, a moment that ended when her mother was moving again. She took off, running ahead of her mother while you caught up.
You felt…shy, to say the least. These people were very different from the elves. With your habit of being sarcastic and occasionally sassy you were doing your best to bite your tongue while Sif engaged in small talk.
The Light elves were constantly drilling into each other how crucial winning their war was, how it was no laughing manner. Every elf should be treated as a respected soldier, every high ranking official like a king. There was an excess of formality and decorum, forcing you to reserve any laid back energy for the few private moments you had with the even fewer elves you trusted not to take it to heart. Out of habit you defaulted to this type of exchange, offering quick and succinct answers to everything she asked, offering little to any comments she made. It wasn’t long before you noticed that she seemed to get bored as a result. She paused the conversation for a minute, grasping for anything to make the interaction more interesting. That moment somehow acted as the cue for an Einherjar to fly from behind a building and trip onto the path in front of you, a moment when Thrúd was thankfully close to her mother. The man shouted something in an old language, another one leaping out with a club in his hand, missing completely. The two squared up again, only this time the one with the club was holding it upside down, the thin end making contact with the other’s thick armor. It was then that they both stumbled before engaging again. So being drunk apparently was a thing in Asgard.
You stared incredulously while Sif rolled her eyes. Thrúd, clearly confused, looked up at you and Sif. “Why would he use the stick like that?”
“I…think he’s a little confused,” you commented, attempting to avoid any accusations.
Sif, however, was not. “They were probably part of the drinking game that was going on this afternoon,” she huffed.
“What’s that mean? Is he dumb?”
“Well–” You didn’t get a chance to offer a neutral explanation. The Einherjar threw his club at the other from about a foot away from the other. It bounced off of his opponent’s armor and straight into his exposed gut, making him double over as the armored one laughed hysterically. In that moment, you decided being courteous wasn’t possible. “Yes, he is.”
To your surprise, Sif laughed. “That’s definitely not far off.” You stood, relieved that no one was bothered by your humor. Perhaps, you thought, because not everyone was a hardened footsoldier or a jaded general like you were so familiar with, they were more tolerant of not taking things so seriously.
You should relax.
And so you did. Once the two Einherjar were shooed away by Sif you tried to actually contribute to your interactions, mentioning Thor’s entrance. A troll squeezing through a mouse hole was how you described Thor stumbling through your front door. Sif had a good laugh at that one, taking no offense to poking fun at her husband. And how you used to use your flute to lull overworked guards to sleep so you could sneak out of your room to play in the sand of the barrens when you were a child. Sif was more at ease as well, despite Thrúd constantly circling her and waving her toy sword around carelessly. She told you about the time one of her sons toppled over an entire kennel for the servants' work dogs, scaring them all enough to send them yipping and howling into the middle of Odin observing the valkyries training new Einherjar. You seemed to have shenanigans in common, although yours were born from your rebelliousness, Sif’s from a family of boisterous gods.
You two had stopped in front of a moderately sized building while you exchanged a few more remarks, laughing once more before Thrúd started to constantly tap on her mother’s hip, complaining that she was bored. Sif shook her head at the girl, still smiling fondly. “You hear the girl, this is where I’ll leave you for the night.”
You stiffened, realizing the building you’d been loitering around was yours. “This is mine? All this for me?”
Sif smirked. “And why not?”
You shook your head. “It’s so much bigger than the tiny room I had in Alfheim.”
Sif hummed, her smirk growing just a tad. “Afraid you’ll get lost in there?”
You didn’t miss a beat. “I hope I'll make it out before I wither away into dust.”
Sif let out another guffaw, all while latching onto Thrud’s shoulder before the child wandered off. Once the girl was secured (for the time being), Sif put her hands on her hips, looking much more pleased than she had all night. “You know, I like you. You’re much more fun when you let go.”
Without you realizing it your face lit up. Not once had someone said they liked you just for being you, not since you were…you couldn’t even remember how young you were. “You really think so?”
“What reason would I have to lie?”
For once, you didn’t have an answer to that question, and you felt overjoyed. It was one you asked about the elves so much that it practically became your mantra. Now you really could believe that there weren’t strings attached to everything you did.
Finally, you could leave that part of you behind.
You swallowed all that emotion down, wanting to hop back into the mood that had been set. “So you can get me out of your hair and get a handle on Thrúd?”
Sif sighed, watching as Thrúdwas tossing her sword around for a servant she’d cornered a few doors down, swearing that she could do tricks with it. “There’s no handling her. She’s learned too much from her brothers already.”
When Thrud’s toy sword was getting hurled too high above her, Sif saw fit to bid you goodnight and get her calmed down enough to get to bed relatively soon. And once you entered your cabin you found that Odin had kept his word. Simple but sturdy furniture, thick furs on the bed, a closet with cloaks and dresses ready for you, even if some of them didn’t look like they would fit. Much to your relief, your instruments were placed on a table below the window, safe and sound, and exactly how you left them. There was even a full bookshelf, but you chose not to inspect its contents for now. The fatigue from the day had settled in now that you had a moment to breathe, and you were in dire need of some sleep.
To think Thor had literally dropped into your life this morning. It already felt like so long ago.
The next morning, you awoke to a bashful knock at your door. Upon answering it, you found it to be a seamstress, timidly requesting she get some measurements to tailor some of the clothes Odin had given you. You obliged and welcomed her inside, even asked if she needed a drink. It made you sad to see her so confused at your kindness, shining a light on how she, and likely many others, were treated by higher ranking Aesir. Once the measuring was underway, she began to unwind, as if she was feeling safer than she did outside. Upon her leaving, you expressed your gratitude, which made the seamstress smile with, as far as you could tell, relief. When she opened the door she nearly bumped into Sif. And just like that, the servant was back to curling into an invisible shell, apologizing profusely and scampering off.
You liked Sif, and you were already beginning to see her as a friend, but you hoped she was not the reason the servants always seemed so on edge. You would have to find that seamstress sometime, tell her you were open to being friends. You were all for forging bonds now, thanks to Sif, and why limit yourself to the elite?
Sif barely noticed the seamstress, choosing to greet you with a warm smile. “New wardrobe already?” She asked, noticing the freshly altered Asgardian dress you wore over simple leather pants.
“Odin certainly works fast,” you chuckled, joining her outside.
Sif’s smile fell a tiny bit. “All-Father certainly does," she replied, pointing out your mistake without saying it outright. You found it odd, considering the Aesir seemed much looser than the elves, except when it came to the gods here. “Aside from that, I’ll be dropping you off at the lodge for now, I’m just making sure you find your way there.”
Disappointment washed over you at the information. Sif had promised to introduce you to her sons sometime, and based on what you heard about them, they sounded like they would be…entertaining, to say the least. “Where will you be?”
“Tending to my regular duties, mostly handling affairs we have with the dwarves for today. You, however, will be getting a tour of Asgard, courtesy of the watchman himself. I’ll be handing you off to Heimdall, our resident mind reader.”
Your eyes widened at the casual remark. “He reads minds? That’s…terrifying.”
Sif laughed, making you think you were overreacting. “Well, he reads people more than minds, but he can find more details and pick up precise thoughts with eye contact. But I doubt it will matter much since he’s just giving you a tour.” They entered the courtyard of the lodge, Odin’s ravens dropping him there just as your feet met the mud in front of it. Sif leaned down and whispered to you, "And for that…I apologize in advance."
You raised a brow at her. "What?"
"Eivor!" Called Odin from the doors of the lodge. Sif gave you a rueful smile and left as Odin approached. "How was your first night in Gladsheim?"
"It's been…nice. Thank you, I've never lived in this much comfort." You didn't have the heart to admit most of it felt unnecessary to you. You secretly hoped you'd get used to it.
"One of the many perks of serving the greater good, my dear. Now, the city has a lot going on, and I'd hate for you to feel overwhelmed. That's where your tour guide comes in."
The doors to the Great Lodge behind him opened and a man stepped out. For the first time since you arrived, despite the gods you'd seen thus far, you felt starstruck. Not because you knew who he was, you hadn't the slightest. You couldn't help but notice that he was your type of handsome, his tall but lean frame a stark contrast to the bulky men you had seen already. Sharp facial features framed by ornate golden hair, but his eyes…a glowing purple like you'd never seen. Piercing, almost intimidating, but beautiful all the same. Those eyes met yours for a heartbeat before you looked back to Odin, embarrassed that you were caught ignoring him.
The man approached, stopping by Odin as he finished his last statement. You suddenly knew who this was.
"This is Heimdall." The fair god gave a slight bow to you, the smirk he wore showing just how confident – or cocky – he was. He looked directly at you when his head rose. Within a moment the smile melted, and he looked…confused.
"He will be taking good care of you while you get acclimated. Right, Heimdall?" Odin gave him a stern glare, almost like a warning.
"Of course, All-Father. When have I ever disappointed you?" His voice, though smooth and soothing to you, carried something that made you think he may be more on the cocky side than confident. His glowing eyes raced back to you after addressing Odin. His jaw clenched.
"Good. I'll leave you to it then. Have fun!" Odin gave you no chance to reply, he simply fluttered away in a whirlwind of feathers, as he seemed to so often. You're left alone with Heimdall. It was silent for a few seconds, like you two were sizing each other up. It gave you a chance to notice he was almost a full head taller than you…which you admittedly liked.
Heimdall was the first to speak. "So, you're the stray from Alfheim I've heard about, hm?"
You felt your brow twitch at being referred to as "stray." You chose not to react. This was a stranger, after all. He might not have meant anything by it. "...I guess you could say that."
His expression grew even more sour, painting a sneer on his lips. He looked…angry? He harrumphed, then brushed past you rudely. "Very well then, stray, let's get on with it."
He definitely meant something with that nickname. Unease stirred in your stomach, feeling that this wasn't about to go as well as you would have liked. A deep breath was what you needed, so you took it while you turned and followed him to the edge of the courtyard. He whistled, then waited for a barrage of thumps to reach them. A giant armored beast launched into view and raced down the path to you. You thought it would trample Heimdall with how fast it charged toward him, jumping back once it finally stopped just in front of him.
Heimdall laughed, patting the beast's neck while giving you a condescending smile. "Relax, stray, Gulltoppr won't hurt you…" he effortlessly climbed onto its back, settling comfortably on the golden saddle before adding, "...unless I command it." You thought you knew what a shit-eating grin looked like, but you saw that you never did until now. Heimdall jerked his head to the space behind him, signaling you to mount. The beast towered over you, and getting on its back would be a chore without help.
…which Heimdall clearly had no intention of offering. You waited a moment at Gulltoppr’s side to see if he would offer any sort of assistance, but all you got was an impatient frown.
You held back a sigh and leaped as high as you could, just barely grasping the saddle enough to pull yourself up. You were panting a bit once you finally sat with both legs on one side, all while Heimdall mocked you with fake pity.
This couldn't possibly get worse.
Of course, you were wrong.
He had something to say about everything. The first thing he pointed out to you was the very obvious Great Hall, as if you were too stupid to notice it was there. You let that one go, thinking he was just being thorough. But then you passed by a commercial area, where Asgard’s resident craftsmen carried out their business. “This is where the finest goods in the realms are made, by the hands of pureblood Asgardians, for pureblood Asgardians. So you shouldn’t soil it with your presence.” Your jaw dropped at that. By now you figured out he was naturally rude, but flat out prejudiced and spiteful had to be added to the list of his worst qualities.
No, you wouldn’t sink to his level, at least not so fast. You prided yourself on your patience, and you wouldn’t let this prick force you to abandon it. “I see…” You began, desperately trying to find something cordial to say. It was harder than finding a specific grain of sand at the bottom of the ocean. “I don’t want to be a nuisance, so I’ll stay away as best I can.” A complete lie, you had no intention of bending to his perceived rules. Heimdall looked at you over his shoulder, saying nothing. After a moment his jaw clenched tighter than before.
You came across the training grounds next. Armored men were clamoring about, nearly beating each other to death, it seemed to you. “Isn’t this a bit rough for training?” You asked after his introduction to the area.
A scoff was his reply. “Are you too daft to see? They’re Einherjar, they’re already dead. Why hold back anything?”
“Because dying again probably isn’t pleasant?”
Heimdall gave you a theatrical sigh. “Oh of course, what a loss it would be if they did something twice. Do you think it makes any sort of difference? Or should I start explaining every little thing to you?”
Gods, he was irritating. Did he have to be so dramatic about it? “I just mean–”
“What you mean doesn’t matter. It’s a stupid question.”
You balled your hands into fists, your fingernails digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. Oh, how you wanted to tell him how stupid he was for completely missing the point. But no, you were better than him. You were better than him, you swore. “I suppose it is,” you said curtly, having no desire to say any more.
Again, Heimdall glanced at you over his shoulder, brows knitting together in addition to his clenched teeth.
Then Gultoppr strolled past a much shabbier part of town, lacking the grandeur of the buildings near the Great Lodge. “These are the servant quarters. Do I need to explain this to you, or are you finally beginning to understand anything at all?”
An impatient sigh passed through you, this one you made sure he could hear. Though you doubted it made any difference to him. “No.” That was it, a single word was all you could manage to say politely at this point.
“No useless questions this time? Good, perhaps you will get the hang of things before the next century.”
You didn’t entertain him with a response, and he didn’t seem to be looking for one either. From there you both were silent, watching the cabins go by as Gultoppr meandered across things you’d already seen. As much as you hated hearing what Heimdall had to say, it was starting to feel awkward. And maybe this period was a good time to patch things over and hopefully –hopefully– get him to stop being such an ass. Clearly asking about Asgard was a mistake, as he had an unfortunate talent of finding a flaw in just about everything you said about it. His ego certainly seemed big enough for your chosen approach to work.
“While we’re passing through these familiar parts, why don’t you tell me about yourself, Heimdall?” You asked, forcing the irritation out of your voice to make your tone pleasant. Heimdall looked back at you for a second, this time with suspicion. Was he really so against talking about himself with how much of an elitist he was?
“What, pray tell, would make you ask?”
“Well, if we’re both serving the All-Father it’s likely we’ll come across each other again. There’s no harm in making our interactions more personal.”
Another glance at you, this one longer. “All you need to know is I am the scion of the Aesir, watchman of the gods, and herald of Ragnarok. It is my job to keep this realm safe from any harm whatsoever…whether it comes from the giants or a foolish stray from Alfheim.”
Of course he had to tack on an insult somewhere in there. You had to admit, however, that you did hear the pride in his voice when describing his role. It didn’t feel like it was born from the prestige of his position, but the joy of having it. It was almost enough to make you think there might be some parts of him that are bearable. Almost.
“It appears you love the realm very much.” You felt some of the anger recede as you made a genuine statement.
“Of course, it is the peak of perfection…At least it was, before you got here.”
The anger was back.
“Oh really?” You mocked, not thinking about what you said before you said it. “I’m sure just about everyone else in the realm would say the same about you.” As much as you wanted to be nice, the snark you threw right back at him felt so good.
Heimdall yanked on Gulltoppr’s reins, making the beast yelp in protest. He turned around as much as he could on the saddle and snarled, “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to already?” You recoiled, not expecting such a violent reaction. It hadn’t occurred to you until now that you had no idea exactly how much of a fighter Heimdall was, but based on this sudden threat he must have been enough of one to hurt you if he wanted to. And yet, it was not enough to scare you into caring. You shot back, “I think it’s you who's forgotten. What was it All-Father said? That I would be ‘taken care of?’ I don’t feel taken care of.” Your reply was as much of a threat as his, reminding him that you could drop him right out of Odin’s good graces if you wanted to, and considering how much more respectful he was to the older you guessed that would mean a lot to him.
All he did was glare harder. It was then that you noticed something. He didn’t seem to be angry. Well, he was, but not just angry. He looked…frustrated?
For a moment you felt like you had unknowingly been the problem and felt a tinge of guilt. Before you could ask him if you were in the wrong he turned away and instructed Gulltopr to move again. “If you think the All-Father would take your word over mine, then I assure you, I will revel in the look on your face when you realize you are nothing compared to me. A mongrel next to a dragon”
You didn’t care if you had done something wrong anymore. He deserved whatever it was that made him tense.
Finally, Gulltopr made it to something new, a large building not too far from the cabin Odin gave you. “Here is Asgard’s public library. All the finest pieces of literature have been collected and are available to read at your leisure. Can you even read, stray? I seriously doubt it.”
Don’t react, don’t react… you repeated to yourself. Just keep in mind that the library is there and you can read some new books for the first time since you were a child, that was all that mattered.
“Aww, did I hurt your feelings, stray? Don’t worry, I’m sure you have something that can be considered a redeeming quality.”
That’s it. Sif had said you were better when you let go. So you did.
Without warning, you reached across him and pulled on Gultoppr’s reins, the gradungr coming to a halt. Heimdall caught your arm as you pulled it back, looking like you had severely offended him. Before he opened his big mouth you slapped his arm away and leaped off Gulltoppr’s back. “What are you doing?” Heimdall demanded, drawing attention from other residents. Every single one cowered at his voice.
You turned around and gave a mocking curtsy to him. “I’m so sorry, but frankly, I’m sick of you.”
“We’re not done here,” he growled, turning Gulltoppr to face you. It did nothing to change your mind.
“Yes, we are. If that’s a problem, then you can figure out how to explain it to Odin.” You spun on your heel and started marching away.
“All-Father,” He emphasized, correcting you, “ordered you to get acquainted with the city. This defies a direct order!”
“That’s your problem!” You shouted back.
Your patience was gone and you were not going to waste your time humoring the jerk any longer. Not even the hammering of Gulltopr’s heavy footfalls racing towards you were frightening. You waited for the perfect moment to stop walking, until Gulltopr was just a few bounds away. You raised your hand, summoning a barrier of golden magic swirling above the ground, positioned just in front of Heimdall’s upper body. Gulltopr kept running full speed, and Heimdall was hurled directly into the barrier – the equivalent of sprinting face first into a stone wall. He let out a pained yell and was thrown off of Gulltoppr, who skidded to a halt as soon as he realized his master was no longer mounted.
You didn’t register the sound of the astonished gasps from passersby that witnessed the event. Heimdall fell directly onto his back, having the wind knocked out of him, but the pain did nothing to stop him from standing up immediately. This time you were the one to look over your shoulder at him, finding exactly what you expected: the most hateful, menacing glare he’d shown all day. You didn’t pay any mind to it at the time, but you did notice something else in his purple eyes that was new.
Fear. So subtle that you weren't sure if even he knew it was there.
“I said,” you hissed, “that’s your problem.” With a flick of your fingers the barrier you created disappeared in a flash of golden sparks and you flounced off without another word. Any onlookers quickly scurried out of sight.
You were appalled that you thought he was handsome earlier. Live and learn, as they say.
Heimdall’s fists shook with rage, his teeth ground together like he was trying to break them, his breaths quickened with fury. He opened his mouth to call after you, a hand reaching across his torso to unsheathe his sword but he never got the chance to. A raven's call from the top of a nearby roof stopped him in his tracks.
He knew exactly what that meant. Heimdall snarled to himself and nodded at the bird, commanding Gulltoppr to return to his enclosure alone, which the beast obeyed without question. As the black feathers surrounded him and the scenery faded, so did his anger, slowly replaced by the sickly sting of dread. It only doubled when the vortex dropped him off in front of the doors to Odin’s study, not inside the study. Odin had no patience with people who weren’t calm and rational. It was his way of silently commanding Heimdall to collect himself before entering. He felt like he had been stabbed in the gut knowing Odin was so displeased with him.
No. No, he would prove to the All-Father that he needed no such treatment. He was calm, level-headed, and ready to accept the criticism he knew was coming. Heimdall straightened his back and squared his shoulders, head held high, and pushed the door open with confidence. Odin was standing behind his desk, Huginn and Muninn were on their wooden perch while the god studied maps of Muspelheim and books that were scattered across the tabletop. He didn’t lift his head to address Heimdall.
Whatever confidence Heimdall had when he entered was steadily deteriorating the longer he was ignored, not daring to rush Odin. It was a few minutes before his superior finally grumbled, “You’re done early. All of Gladsheim so soon?”
The utter shame Heimdall was inundated with left him speechless. He never failed Odin. He made sure of that. Never did he disappoint the Aesir king with shortcomings of any kind. That was his job, his responsibility. One he held with pride. Knowing that he should feel none of that pride at that moment was eating him alive. Heimdall resisted clearing his throat, refusing to show how much he loathed the talk he was about to get. “The str–She was not interested.” That was it. That was all he could manage.
Odin finally looked up, and the sheer dissatisfaction and impatience nearly made Heimdall shake with guilt. “And why would that be?” Heimdall had no answer. Odin simply sighed in frustration, pacing around his desk as he spoke. Even Huginn and Muninn looked at Heimdall like they were deeply unimpressed. “One job, Heimdall. I gave you one thing to do, and you couldn’t do it!”
Heimdall visibly winced. Odin was exactly right, and in more ways than one. “I mean,” Odin continued, more exasperated. “It was so simple. Let her look around, and take enough time to figure out if she’s hiding anything, see if she’s not telling me something, anything. And look at this! Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes was all it took for you to fuck it up!” Normally these words would make Heimdall grin with pleasure, relishing in the complete incompetence and worthlessness of the receiver. But that was because he wasn’t the receiver. He was never the receiver. He was always better than them. Until now. Thanks to you.
“All-Father–”
“Don’t interrupt me!” Odin barked at him, Heimdall’s mouth instantly closing at the command. He had already committed the sin of failing Odin, he wouldn’t dare make it any worse. He wouldn’t stoop so low to make excuses. “You’ve made this so much harder, and for what? Because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut? Because you can’t stop being…yourself for a mere hour? You couldn’t just focus on reading because you couldn’t help but be you?”
Heimdall schooled his expression into one of an emotionless soldier as best he could, but that…that hurt. And he hated that he could feel the hurt showing. Not because the lecture hurt his feelings, no. His feelings were irrelevant. What hurt was hearing Odin himself say that Heimdall as a whole was the problem.
His entire life had been proving his worth, proving that he was more than a simple henchman, a lackey, an assistant. No, NO. He was worthy of his role as a valued confidant and loyal chancellor. He accepted orders willingly and carried them out to a T because he was capable of doing so without fail. But if Odin said that he himself was the flaw…then he had been wrong in believing he earned the All-Father’s certitude in his reliability. And worst of all, he knew that Odin’s harsh reprimand was justified completely. He had ruined his goal because he wasn’t willing to let the newcomer think she was one of them, that she belonged here in any way, even though that was what Odin wanted her to feel. He undermined Odin’s plans. He let himself be the obstacle in the way. He had to fix that.
Unfortunately, what he needed to say wouldn’t make that easy. “That is the problem.” His muttering was barely audible, just enough for Odin to hear it. He returned to his desk, resting his hands on it while he waited for Heimdall to clarify. “I…I can’t read her. When I look into her mind it’s like staring into a void…I see nothing.” He despised that his voice wavered and shook as he spoke, that he was showing how affected he was by Odin's disappointment. Heimdall waited for him to continue on his rant, to chastise him for his defeat as he deserved. That way, once Odin expressed the full extent of his resentment, he would understand exactly how to never beckon it again.
He would be perfect for the All-Father again. He would make sure of it.
To his dismay, Odin loosened up just a bit, turning his attention to his two treasured ravens and stroking their feathers. “I figured as much. She’s immune to my ravens as well. Your foresight having no effect is to be expected.” Odin paused, his hands dropping back down to his sides. “And?”
Heimdall blinked as he processed what Odin said. “What?”
“And? Yes, I knew she would be immune, but I still expected you to break through. My ravens can see her under the right conditions, which means she’s not invulnerable. All you have to do is find a way past her defenses. That’s why I assigned the tour to you, so you’d have enough time to experiment.
“Really, Heimdall, when I tell you to do something, I plan on it happening. But if you give up at the first problem you come across, then what good are you?” Odin posited, throwing his hands up.
The pit Heimdall felt his soul falling into swallowed him whole at last. He couldn’t lose his value to the All-Father. He CAN’T. “I haven’t given up!” Heimdall screeched, reeling his emotion back in to sound less frantic. “I will find a way, I swear to you. I was simply unaware that reading her would take more than others. I will find everything you need to learn from her.”
Odin calmed considerably, though his reaction was not enough for Heimdall to judge how convincing his declaration was, with his harsh gaze piercing through him. Heimdall hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. “See to it that you do,” Odin said, finally sitting down in his chair. “But I doubt you’ll do it quickly, thanks to this dereliction. So, to make sure you’ll be able to keep her around enough – without causing much more trouble – I’m putting you on babysitting duty.”
“For who?” If he had to atone by taking care of Sif’s little muskrat of a daughter he would surely lose his mind.
“She’s going to be finding some things for me throughout the realms. You’re going to go with her and keep her safe.”
Babysitting Thrúd didn’t sound that bad to Heimdall all of a sudden. “All-Father, with all due respect, I’m concerned that my absence will put Asgard at jeopardy.”
“The realm will survive if you’re gone every once in a while. Don’t try to get out of this because you don’t like her. Consider this punishment as well. I was going to send Thor with her to do the heavy lifting, but hopefully this will remind you how important it is to meet my expectations.”
Heimdall put a hand on his chest and bowed. “Of course, All-Father. I will not disappoint you again. You have my word.”
Odin nodded. “Dismissed.”
It had been a long, long time since Odin had excused his watchmen so coldly. He made no protest and promptly exited the study. As Heimdall stomped through the lodge and back outside, he felt his fists clenching, his back constricting, his arms locked up and ready to destroy the next thing his hands touched. Something anyone who passed him noticed and backed away from before they were in the line of fire.
And you came in and destroyed it. All because you thought you were special.
How dare you.
He had a perfect record. Always succeeding, always surpassing Odin’s expectations with flying colors. Never too slow, never too fast, always on time. There was not a single time in his life that he recalled falling short, showing that even the most miniscule parts of him were efficacious. Everything about him was laudable. He was worth keeping.
No, oh no no no. He wouldn’t allow that. And he would prove to Odin that he was not so useless that he should take one of Thor's lowly tasks, that he could easily do more than be a glorified bodyguard. He would find a way into your head before your little quest began. You had to be around Gladsheim somewhere, and he would find you and start prodding at your mind right away.
Well, after he found the Einherjar and sent some of them back to Valhalla to blow off some steam. He didn’t want to unleash it on you. Not yet, at least.
If this gets interactions I'll post on Ao3 and keep going. Thanks for stopping by! :)
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Accidentally In Enemies
He accidentally made her hate him, now he's going to purposely make her fall in love with him.
Pairing : Seo Changbin x Reader
Synopsis : When they were together, she rarely saw him. Now that they're broken up, she sees him everywhere. Changbin ends up swooping in and saving her from embarrassment. Now she has a clingy enemy and a much too friendly ex.
Warnings : This series will contain mature subject matter such as : swearing, drinking, break ups, insults, heartbreak, sex (no smut), fake dating, and more. Each chapter will have its own list of warnings. Reader's discretion is advised.
Taglist : CLOSED
Release : February 2, 2024
complete
{Let the story begin}
Teaser (0.7k)
Prologue (1.5k)
Part 1 (2.9k)
Part 2 (3.6k)
Part 3 (2.7k)
Epilogue (1.4k)
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE.
ROUND 2
Lee Know x reader. (s)
Related chapters: Round 1
Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about Minho: He is good in the kitchen. (10,3k words)
Author's note: I just thought that we need to play another round. Hope you had fun reading this x
Content warning: Infidelity.
Let's play another round of two truths and a lie where Minho shares three things about him and you have to guess which one is the lie.
Here goes the first thing about Minho: He is good in the kitchen.
That's the first thing Kim told you about Minho, he is good in the kitchen and that explains why you often find him in there, cooking meals or something his girlfriend, Kim, asked him to make, sometimes it's something as simple as fried rice to something as complex as beef wellington, he can do it all. In conclusion, his cooking skill is unquestionable.
Just like this morning, the first thing you see as you come out of your bedroom is Minho making something in the kitchen. Before he notices, you slowly tiptoe your way back to your bedroom and reach for the doorknob to—
"Morning!" Kim cheerily says as she comes out of her bedroom.
You instantly turn around on your feet and pretend that you've just come out of your bedroom. From her attire, you can tell that she's going for her morning run.
"Morning, Kim!" You say back with a smile, "Going for a run?"
"Yep. Minho is making pancakes," she answers as she ties her hair into a ponytail, "Have to burn some calories so I can eat more calories."
As a dancer, Kim diligently watches her weight but instead of getting on a rigorous diet, she prefers working out even though her job, dancing, is also working out, and she only spoils herself with a sweet treat on the weekend. She's heading to the kitchen to give Minho a quick peck on the lips and then puts her headphones on.
"I'll see you guys in a bit," she says before walking out the door.
Leaving you and Minho alone in the apartment is not a good idea but how can she know when you've been doing things behind her back?
Since he's already seen you, you may as well start your day, by going to the kitchen and getting yourself a cup of coffee, you just need to get the milk from the fridge, then you'll be out of Minho's way.
As you keep the fridge door open to put the milk back inside, Minho appears behind you and reaches for a carton of eggs from the fridge, his forearm brushes your waist as he retracts his hand.
You quickly step away and take the other end of the kitchen counter, stirring your coffee with a spoon while looking at the weather outside, at the sunlit clouds drifting across a clear blue sky.
"Can you hand me the sugar?" Minho points at the bowl of sugar in your reach.
"Sure," you say, picking it up and placing it on the kitchen counter next to him.
You're going to the other side of the kitchen counter and take a small sip of your coffee, you can sense the caffeine works to bring your brain to function. At the same time, your sense heightens that you know Minho is coming behind you to put the jar of sugar back into its place.
However, when he retracts his arm, his hand stays on your waist and it stays there, making you wonder what he's trying to do next so you turn your head to the side.
In the blink of an eye, Minho quickly captures your lips in a kiss and wraps his arms tightly around you. Your body is quick to respond to it but your brain is working at a sluggish pace.
By the time your brain catches up to it and tells you to stop, Minho already has his hand under your camisole and fondles at your breast.
"Minho..." you whine against his lips.
He breaks the kiss and stares into your eyes, "What?"
It's at the tip of your tongue and your mouth is open but no words coming out of it. Deep down, you know you want it and you don't want it to stop.
Instead of saying what you want out loud, you curve your arm around his neck and pull his head close for a kiss, picking it up and taking it up a notch.
With his free hand, Minho pushes your camisole upward, sending it hunched around your chest and exposing your breasts to the cool morning air.
He wastes no time to freely cup your breast in his hand and he likes how it fits him right, making him think that they were made just for him.
There's not much room for you to move with his arms firmly wrapped around you but when his hand glides down to cup your clothed sex, you start to push back against him and feel his bulge growing behind you.
Your common sense comes in ebbs and flows, and when it finally hits you, you suddenly pull his hand out of your shorts and break away from his hold.
"Kim will be back soon," you remind him with your voice tinted with concern.
Minho puts his hands on each side of your waist and makes you lean against the kitchen counter, "She won't be back for a while," he calmly says.
He then buries his mouth in the crook of your neck, peeling back the layers of worry off of you with every kiss he planted there.
All of a sudden, you find the guts to put your hands on his chest and push him a little too hard it sends him staggering a couple of steps to the back.
No matter how far you push him away, your body wants to be as close as possible to him. You find yourself walking back to him and taking your turn to corner him against the kitchen counter.
He's wearing this plain white t-shirt but gosh, it looks good on him and you like it even more when you can trace the muscles on his body through the fabric.
"But we don't know for sure," you say, leaning in for a kiss which he eagerly returns and makes him ask for more.
However, it's the grey sweatpants he's wearing that make you lose your mind a little. It's unclear whether it's the fabric or the color or the style of the pants that somehow accentuate the shape of his cock, or the way he walks around in the apartment in it and unaware of what it does to you.
You quietly pull his sweatpants low enough to let his member free out of its confine and without looking, your hand knows what it's looking for and immediately wrap your hand around it, slowly stroking it.
"For all we know, she may be back in a few minutes," you say against his lips.
Minho is engrossed in how you're slowly stroking his cock as you speak, it takes him a while to respond to your question.
"She won't," he assures you, pulling you close by the waist and putting his hand between your legs, rubbing your clit through your shorts.
"She's been gone for fifteen minutes now," you say before he has your lips locked with his again.
"Then we just have to make it quick," he simply resolves, lifting you by the waist, and swiftly, he turns around on his feet to sit you on the counter.
As a dancer, he is trained to lift his partner and he does it seamlessly as if he's lifting a piece of paper. Well, he has the muscles to prove his years-long dance training.
"Minho, we can't," you say as he leans in to kiss your neck.
Instead of stopping him from coming at your breasts, you hold them up for him so he can take them into his mouth.
He sucks on the flesh hard that you wince in pain and he lets go with a satisfied grin, "we definitely can," he coyly disagrees.
"What I'm saying is—" you pause as he parts your legs open, sending you leaning to the back and you quickly prop a hand to support you.
Minho tugs his hands at the elastic band of your pajama shorts and thinking of taking it off of you, you scramble to stop him.
"Just put it to the side," you tell him.
He obeys your words, putting the shorts along with your underwear to the side. He delightfully sighs at the sight of your heating core and he uses his fingers to feel how wet you are for him.
"I can't stop when you're this wet for me," he mutters as he swipes your lips with his fingers coated with your essence, then shoves it into his mouth next.
Feeling challenged to do the same, you lick your lips and get a taste of you on your tongue, you taste so sinfully sweet as the kiss he's about to plant on you.
While his lips keep you busy with kisses, Minho aligns his cock with your entrance, he rubs his tip between your folds then with a slow push, he starts to enter you.
The kiss breaks as the two of you shift your focus on how his cock pushing its way inside you. You spread your legs as wide as possible and watch as his cock is slowly disappearing into you.
Minho curves his hands around you and then glides them down until his hands meet the curve of your ass, he pulls you close, seeking closeness as he's about to fully bottomed out inside you.
"And I can't stop when you feel this good," he says as he crashes his lips against yours again.
The room soon filled with your low moans combined with the sounds of his hips against the back of your thighs. His nails dig into the flesh as he steadily keeps your legs open for him.
Even with your brain clouded with pleasure, a slight of fear comes creeping up in you and makes you keep looking to the side, in the direction of the foyer, and the fact that Kim can come in any minute now.
"Minho," you breathlessly call in between your moans.
You continue talking when you have his attention by putting your hand on his neck, "We can't keep doing this to Kim."
"I know," he says with a small nod, "it's unfair to her."
And it's unfair how he tries to take your mind away from things by suddenly adding intensity to his thrusts and going as shallow as possible inside you.
"Uh-huh, it's unfair," you repeat your words, suddenly losing all the words in your head.
Minho pulls you even closer until you're sitting on the edge of the counter while keeping the pace steady, he lets go of your legs and wraps his arms around you instead. He looks down at his cock slipping in and out of you then when his eyes find you, he intensely stares into your eyes as if he dares you to try to stop him again.
The truth is you're just a human who tends to make the same mistakes and above all that, you're just a girl who wants what she wants and in this moment, you want nothing else but him.
The grip on his shoulder tightens as you come to your climax, your moans turn into breathless whines and you bury your head in his neck.
Yet Minho keeps going and chasing for his high as your walls pulsate and flutter around him, all of those stimulations combined with the fear that Kim may walk in on you and him doing it in the kitchen only arouses him more.
"Don't cum inside," you whisper into his ear.
Now that you said it, it only makes him want to do it and he plans on ignoring those words.
You crumple the front of his t-shirt in your hand and force him to look you in the eyes, "Minho, you can't cum inside," you warn again.
Hearing the urgency in your voice, Minho refrains from doing it and wisely follows your words.
"Where do you want it then?" He asks, suddenly getting curious about your answer.
"My mouth," you shortly answer because it's the only way to make sure to leave no trace of this abomination. No trace means you can pretend that this never happened.
Minho stops moving for a second, unsure if he heard you right. You put your hand on his neck and say again, "You can cum in my mouth."
What you said seems to trigger something inside of him that he continues thrusting into you harder and faster, not caring that you've just cum around him a while ago which only make you even more sensitive than before.
You let him have it because this is the only way you know that'll bring him closer to his release. Also, you don't know how long this has been going on but you know that you don't have much left before Kim comes back.
All of a sudden, Minho puts his arms around your waist and steadily hoists you against him. You immediately wrap your legs around him and your arms around his shoulders.
"Oh..." a raw groan escapes his mouth as he lets go just a little and feels his cock deepens inside you as you cling to him.
The two of you stay still like that for a moment, encased in endless pleasure and palpable desire for each other that it feels like the slightest movement would break the spell.
Sadly, time isn't on your side.
You slowly let go of your hold around him, forcing Minho to put you down gently until your feet touch the floor and eventually, he has to pull out of you, making you feel the sudden emptiness.
You kneel on the floor as he incessantly pumps his cock to keep the stimulation going. You can see his cock, all red and veiny inches away from your eyes as you offer your mouth for him to dump his load.
Seeing him from this point of view surely feels new to you but not less arousing, you can see his forehead wrinkled with how much he focuses on chasing his release.
The most arousing part is the way he's looking down on you, seeing how much you want his cum in your mouth and he's the only one who can give it to you.
"Wider," he murmurs through his gritted teeth.
Also added is the fact that he is someone's boyfriend, oh, everything about it is arousing you so much that your hand flies to your cunt, touching yourself as you obey his word. While maintaining eye contact with him, you open your mouth wider and stick your tongue out a little, waiting for him to shoot his load on you like a bitch in heat.
The second his cum spurts out of his tip and lands on you, you gasp at how hot it feels on your skin. You close your eyes and keep your mouth open as more of his cum gets on your tongue, your lips, and all over your mouth.
Using the tip of his sock, Minho smears his pearly white cum all over your lips, tempting you to put it into your mouth and of course, you cave into the temptation. You give his tip a few kitten licks before taking his length little by little, you compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand.
"Oh..." he delightfully sighs with his head thrown back.
To see him fully indulging in it and hearing him moaning on pleasure encourages you to keep going, sucking him hard and syncing it with the pumping of your hand around the base of his cock.
"Oh, yes, keep going," he mutters to you with his voice soft and sultry.
He puts his hand in your hair and tugs at it, using it to angle your head slightly to the back to provide him more depth as he gently pushes a little more of his cock into your mouth.
"Fu..." his profanity trails off and turns into a breathless moan as he slowly begins thrusting his cock in and out of you.
You're aware that he's using your mouth for his pleasure and you don't mind any of it, if anything, it makes you want to touch yourself more. You allow yourself to do just that, rubbing on your clothed clit as Minho is fucking your mouth.
"Mmh..." you moan with your mouth full of his hot, swollen flesh.
"Oh, you and your fucking mouth," he mutters with a low breath, his eyes intently watching how you're taking every thrust of his cock into your mouth.
For a split second, you forget about Kim until you hear the sound of the front door opening and then closing. You're about to pull out but Minho's grip on the back of your head forces you to remain still.
Your heart starts pounding inside your chest as you hear her footsteps coming closer and she stops just on the other side of the counter where you remain hidden on this side with her boyfriend's cock deep in your throat.
"Oh, it's so hot today," Kim says, still panting from running. You hear her pouring water into a glass and then the sounds of her heartily gulping it.
Minho remains calm and puts his free hand on the counter, "Yeah, you sweat a lot, honey," he says.
There's a low thud of what you assume coming from Kim putting her glass down, "And where are my pancakes?"
"I want it to be hot when you're having it," he simply answers.
"Well then, I'm going to wash my face, and my hands and I'll be ready for pancakes," Kim says.
You can only imagine how she smiles brightly at him when she said it, oblivious to the fact that her roommate is sucking her boyfriend's cock as she speaks.
"They better be good," she adds as she walks away.
You start to relax when you hear her footsteps receding, then you hear the sound of the door being opened and then closed after.
Minho finally lets go of his dead grip on the back of your head and you immediately pull out, a little too fast that you choke on your saliva, sending you into a coughing fit.
You rise from the floor, fixing your clothes as you head to the sink to wipe the mess on your mouth with the running water.
It has just sunken into you of what you did with Minho, the guilt hits you like a ton of brick and it tastes bitter on your tongue no matter how much you rinse it with water.
"Are you okay, babe?" Kim asks you as she comes into the kitchen.
Her presence makes you choke on water this time, you grab a bunch of tissues from the box and wipe your mouth with it.
"I'm okay," you answer, "I'm just choked on something."
Without looking, you can feel Minho's sly smirk from across the kitchen counter. It's best if you exclude yourself from this to avoid any slips out.
"Where are you going?" Kim asks you, she drags a stool and pats it, "Come sit and eat pancakes with me!"
"No, I have something—"
"What do you possibly need to do on a Sunday morning?" She asks with a pout.
"Come on, take a seat!" She says, excitedly patting the seat and inviting you to sit next to her.
If you persist on leaving, she'll only get suspicious of you so you relent, sitting on the stool next to her while holding your cup of coffee.
On the other hand, Minho did his part too well. He acts like nothing happened and successfully makes pancakes for both you and Kim.
"You want cream with that, honey?" He asks Kim but his eyes wander your way for a second.
"No, thank you," Kim politely refuses, "but I'll have the syrups."
Minho wastes no time to get it for her from the kitchen cabinet and gives it to her. He then takes a tube of whipped cream and gives it a shake.
"Extra cream for you then," he says to you as he places creams on top of your pancakes and flashes you a faint smirk that only you can see.
Unable to respond to it with words, you stab the pancakes with your fork and have a bite at it, hate to admit it but it tastes good.
Well then this makes the first statement a truth: Minho is indeed good in the kitchen.
-
This is it, you say in your head as the bell in your head goes ding!
The apartment may be much smaller than Kim's but it has everything you need, a bedroom, an adequate space to be called a living room, and a fully functioning kitchen. The only downside is it's a farther commute to work but the affordable rent makes up for it and that's the most important thing.
"Are you going to take it?" Gaspard asks as he floats through the crowd like a divine being among mortals.
"I have to take it," you answer while trying to keep up with his long strides, "It's the best offer."
"I think so too," he says, putting his arm around you so you don't stray away from him.
"Yeah?"
He nods, "Cause then you'll be living only a few blocks away from me."
"Oh? You know what? I change my mind," you jokingly say, turning around to walk in the opposite direction.
"Hey!" He holds you back and steers you to the right way by the shoulders, "No turning back now!'
About a week ago, you made it very clear to Gaspard that you want to stay as good friends with him but it's easy to tell that he still believes this can be more than that. That leads you to act careful around him because you're scared that he's mistaken it for something else.
"Aren't you going to invite me upstairs?" He playfully asks as you both stand outside the apartment building.
"Better luck next time," You joke back with a gentle push on his chest.
"Not even for a can of beer?" He sweetly blinks his eyes at you in the hope that will be enough to persuade you.
"Just one!" You cave in because he's been helping you with the apartment hunting and you've been walking around since this afternoon until the day turns dark.
"Just one," he repeats your words in agreement.
"Promise?"
"Promise!"
The apartment is empty because Kim and Minho are out on a date which makes it a convenient time to enjoy a cold drink after a day's hard work.
"Where's Kim?" Gaspard asks as you join him on the sofa.
"I think they're going to the movies or something," you mindless answer, you couldn't care less about what they're doing on a date.
The two of you get quiet after taking a long gulp of beer and gasp at how refreshing it is like you didn't just have it with dinner earlier.
"I reckon you're going to break the news to Kim soon?" Gaspard asks as he leans back on the sofa with his head turned at you.
"Well... yeah," you meekly answer and it reminds you how of you're not ready for that part yet.
"How do you think she'll react?" He asks as he secretly puts his arm around your shoulders.
"I don't know," you sigh, then take a sip of your beer, "I just hope that she knows that the reason has nothing to do with her."
"What's the reason then?" Gaspard asks for the first time and seems to be genuinely curious about the answer.
It feels like you're trapped by your own words, you know the reason but you can't tell him or anyone for that matter.
"Because I want to live close to you," you decide to risk getting it mistaken for something else instead of letting him in on the answer.
With the hand around your shoulders, Gaspard easily pulls you close until you're sitting elbow to elbow and bumping knees with him on the sofa.
"Have I told you you looked beautiful today?" He seduces you as he's brushing your hair to the side.
"Not enough," you jokingly answer.
Gaspard leans in to whisper it to you right into your ear, "You're so beautiful," he mutters then kisses on the cheek.
"Thank you," you sweetly say with a smile.
Catching you off guard, he places one more kiss on the other cheek and pulls away with a big smile on his face. Well, you've done your part to spare him from the disappointment so it's not your fault that he puts himself back on the track for it.
"You promised it was going to be just one beer," you scold him along with a sassy eye roll.
"And I'm not finished with my beer yet," he cleverly answers.
The front door flies open and Kim comes into sight, finding you and Gaspard snuggling close together on the sofa. She smiles at you and puts down her bag on the dining table.
"What do we have here?" She asks with a sly smile.
"Nothing. We're just drinking beers," you calmly answer while quietly putting a safe space between you and Gaspard on the sofa.
"Yeah, I'm just here for one beer," Gaspard says, emphasizing the amount of beer with a sly grin flashed your way.
"And he'll leave soon," you add, returning the sly grin to him.
Taking this as a sign to give you privacy so you can break the news to Kim, Gaspard says, "And I'm leaving."
"No. Stay," Kim says as she sits on the sofa next to you.
"I can only bother you this much, Kim," he jokingly says and comes at you for a hug, "I'll see my way out."
"Thanks for today," you say as you hug him back.
You wait until Gaspard leaves to talk to Kim about what you did today and that you'll be moving out of the apartment soon. You finish your beer to fuel your courage and quietly exhale air to calm yourself down.
"Kim, I need to talk to you about something," you start.
Kim brushes her long dark hair and rests it on her shoulder like a waterfall, "Mmh? What is it?" She asks.
Now, that you have her attention and no one else is here except for the two of you, this is the right time to tell her. You open your mouth and plan to just give it to her all at once until Minho comes through the front door.
"Where do you want me to put it?" He asks Kim, showing the plastic bag he's carrying in his hand.
"Can you put them in the fridge for me, honey?" Kim answers.
"Sure," he shortly answers, going to the kitchen to do what Kim asked him to do.
"I ran out of my fiber drinks," she says, explaining what she made Minho bought for her.
"Ah, I see..." you meekly respond, losing every word you've been carefully arranging in your head so you abort the plan to tell her about the apartment situation.
"So, what do you want to talk about?" She asks with a soft smile on her face, making you feel even more disheartened to tell her.
"Oh, I..." you feel tempted to just let it all out but your eyes keep uneasily glancing at Minho and you don't want him there to hear it.
"I forgot what I'm trying to say to you. Sorry," you lie and add a foolish laugh to convince her.
Kim seems to buy it as she cracks a laugh and gently slaps your knee, "You silly!"
"I'll tell you once I remember it," you say to her.
Or more like, when Minho isn't around.
-
Two days have passed with Kim is still oblivious that you'll be moving out of the apartment soon.
You always missed each other's timing, when you had the time, Kim was in a hurry to go to the academy and when she was alone at home, you were working late that night. It's like a mysterious force trying to hold you back from telling her the truth.
When you came home from work tonight, you found Kim eating dinner alone in the kitchen. To make sure that Minho isn't around or coming unannounced like usual, you simply ask why she is by herself when her boyfriend always drives her home and usually stays to have dinner together.
"Minho's car broke down so I took a taxi home," Kim answers with a low sigh.
"Oh, that's upsetting," you keep your expression in check as you say it, not risking Kim catching you turn his misfortune into an opportunity.
"It's about time he sends his car to the shop anyway," Kim says.
It's unethical to interrupt her in the middle of her dinner so you carefully pick your timing and wait until she's done with her dinner to talk.
You grab a can of juice from the fridge and take a seat next to her, "Kim, can I talk to you about something?" you hesitantly say.
"Sure, babe," she says, putting down her glass of water then stacks her hands together on the dining table, "What is it?"
"A week ago, I found a suitable apartment not far from Gaspard's. It's not as big as this..." you gulp air to be able to continue talking, "It's in a nice neighborhood and the rent is affordable so I'm thinking of moving in there."
A moment passes in silence as Kim processes your words, her fingers wrapped around the bottom of her glass and tapping at it.
"You want to move out?" She asks as the glints in her eyes slightly dim.
"Yes," you hesitantly say.
"I reckon it's about time that I get my own place," you hurriedly add the number one reason why you want to move out so she doesn't think that it has anything to do with her.
"It's not because of me, right?" She meekly asks.
"No," you answer without a beat, "I love being your roommate but you know... I can't stay here forever. I eventually have to move out."
"Nonsense! You definitely can stay here forever," Kim remarks as she grabs your hand on your lap.
You put your hand on hers and softly smile at her, "I'd love to but..."
You can't keep living with her knowing you've been betraying her and the guilt is eating you alive from the inside as you speak? You continue in your head.
"It's either now or later, it's something that I have to do," you settle on a reasonable answer.
"That's true," Kim weakly says, looking a little taken aback by your announcement.
"I'm sorry if this is so sudden. I didn't mean to keep it this long, we were so busy these past few days that I only got the chance to tell you now," you explain with utmost sincerity.
Kim nods and puts on a smile for you, "it's okay. I understand."
Your heart is getting heavy the more you talk, you'd better end it before the guilt gets to you and you're giving it the chance to crawl out of you. You grab your purse, rummaging through the content for the envelope you've been putting aside and planning to give to Kim.
"This is for this month's rent," you hand the envelope straight into her hand.
She folds it in half and puts the envelope back into your hand, "Take it. You need it for moving and buying stuff for your new apartment.
"No, Kim. I can't. It's yours!" You forcefully put it back into her hand but she balls her hand into a fist.
"Consider this as an early housewarming gift," she insists, holding your hand down to make you stop giving the envelope back to her.
"Kim, no... I shouldn't—" You sigh in defeat, having no other way to make her accept your money.
"I'm going to miss you," Kim's voice cracks, and the next thing you know, she's hugging you so tightly that you can feel how much she meant her words.
"Oh, Kim, you can't get rid of me yet," you playfully say to lighten up the mood, "at least, for the next three weeks."
This is why you have to move out soon, Kim is too kind and all you do in return is use her kindness to fool her and stab her in the back, you've been treating her like a shit friend, and you feel sick have to keep doing that to her.
-
This is statement number two: Minho knows that he's the reason why.
There's this gut feeling that something is going to happen. This could be just a reaction to the change you'll face soon, new apartment, new neighborhood, there'll be no Kim, and the realization that you'll do everything on your own at that point.
It's scary and exciting, you feel a little bit of both at times. One thing that always lingers inside you is this slight fear that Minho possibly knows he's the reason why you decide to move out.
A week went by and you can safely assume that Kim must have told Minho about the apartment situation. You swear you're not expecting anything at all from Minho, but he's been strangely normal and taciturn which only confirms that something is actually off about him.
You should be taking this as an advantage because then you wouldn't have to interact with him and fewer interactions lead to you making fewer mistakes with him.
Work has been keeping you busy too that you haven't had the chance to pack your things. When you come home late tonight, Kim is already sleeping and you don't want to bother her by the sound of you shoving your things into boxes.
Well, you still have a week left anyway to sort your things out and you're tired from work, you hurriedly make your way to the bathroom for a quick shower.
In the midst of it, you hear the knocking on the door and your first thought is that Kim must be in urgency to use the bathroom.
"Kim?" You call but there's no answer
You turn off the shower and put on a bathrobe, you carefully walk as water drips down your body and hair to open the door.
"Is that you..." your words trail off as you see who's coming into the bathroom and it's not Kim.
There was no sign that Minho was in the apartment when you walked in because you could tell from the sight of his shoes in the foyer or his bag that sits in the living room so unless he has the ability to become invisible, it means that he came just now to the apartment.
Gosh! You tried so hard to avoid temptation and now it's coming to get you. You're clutching your bathrobe together and head to the door.
"You can use the bathroom," you say without looking at him.
He grabs you by the elbow to stop you from leaving, he pulls you hard enough that your body crashes against him, then wraps his arms around you.
"I heard you're moving out," he says.
You break away from his hold and put his hands away from you, "not your business," you say.
Minho is quick to catch your hands by the wrist then he folds them together behind your back, making you unable to move as he leans in to kiss you.
You turn your head to the side, not letting him kiss you but instead of doing that, he steers your body to the back until your back meets the bathroom sink.
"Is it because of me?" He asks.
You scoff and make a mocking smirk at him, "Not everything is about you, Minho," you say, daringly staring into his dark brown eyes.
Catching you off guard, Minho crashes his lips against you and you hate that you instinctively return his kiss. He pulls away for a bit then plants his lips on yours again, deeper and hungrier than before.
Getting a moment of clarity, you pull away from the kiss and keep your head turned away from him, "We can't keep doing this to Kim," you remark.
He leans in close until his face is only inches away from yours, "So you admit that it's because of me?"
There's no way of denying it anymore so you may as well just admit it, "You made me do this and I don't—"
He cuts you off with a kiss and you have to pull your head back hard enough to break it, "I hate myself for it and I hate you for making me keep doing this to Kim," you bravely tell him right to his face.
He leans in even closer so that you can see the dark orbs of his eyes, "Tell that to me once again," he dares you.
This is the time to break away from this cycle that shackles you with guilt, you should stop now before all this guilt weighs you down and drown you further.
"I hate you, Minho," you unequivocally tell him with unwavering eyes.
Minho intensely stares into your eyes to see if your words match what you're feeling inside. His eyes flick down to your lips, tempted to lean in for another but when his lips make contact with yours, he changes his mind.
He lets go of his hold on you all at once and then takes a step back, exiting the room and leaving you untethered for good.
-
It seems like what you've said to him has done it because Minho acts like you're not even there whenever you're in the same space with him and this morning, you find yourself in the kitchen with him just quietly minding your own business.
This is good, right? That means there'll be no more mistakes, no more betraying Kim and you can start being a good friend again. The best thing of all, you get to move out of the apartment on a good note.
"Hey, you're not working late tonight, right?" Kim asks as you're enjoying your morning coffee.
"I hope not," you say, putting down your half-eaten toast on the plate, "Cause I have lots to do tomorrow."
Kim nods and pours herself a glass of orange juice, "Since this will be your last night in an apartment, I'm hoping that we can have dinner together," she says with a smile.
She walks up to Minho and places her hand on the small of his back, "Minho will be cooking, of course, and I'll get a nice bottle of wine for—"
You quickly swallow your food to refuse the idea, "Oh, no, Kim, please, I don't feel good—"
She clicks her tongue at you and shakes her head, "No, you can't say no. I'll be waiting for you to come home whether you like it or not," she insists.
Maybe it's coming from the fact that she comes from a privileged family, Kim can be quite adamant about certain things, especially when she wants something, in one way or another, she has to get it.
The whole time at work, you're debating whether to make an excuse to avoid attending dinner or just gladly accept Kim's kind gesture and come to the dinner, the latter is what a good friend would do, right?
On the way home, you purposely missed the trains a couple of times before finally getting in. You're dreading it because Minho is cooking dinner and that means he'll be there for it, and this is worse than doing things behind Kim's back because you have to act innocent in front of her.
At the door of the apartment, you take a few deep breaths with your hand holding the doorknob. You console yourself with the thought that you'll only have to endure it for one more night and all this will disappear tomorrow.
"I'm home," you announce your arrival and try your best to sound cheerful as you make your way inside.
As expected, Kim is sitting at the dining table with Minho and it seems like they started without you as you see the glasses of wine.
"Oh, there you are!" Kim claps her hands together in delight.
"I'm sorry. The train was delayed for almost an hour," you make up an excuse for your tardiness while putting down your bag on the kitchen counter and head to the kitchen sink to wash your hands.
"I hope you don't mind that we almost finished the first bottle without you," Kim says.
"I don't mind at all," you say as you dry your hand with a napkin.
As you take a seat at the dining table, Minho gets up his seat and heads to the kitchen. You can't tell if that's intentional or not, but you remind yourself to not give an ounce of care to whatever he's doing.
"Minho only needs to reheat the sauce and dinner will be ready," Kim says as she fills your glass with red wine and the aphrodisiac smell wafting around in the room.
"Thank you," You smile in gratitude and take a small sip of it.
"So, how was work?"
"Dreadful," you shortly answer and reward yourself with another sip.
Kim cracks a laugh and something about it gives you the impression that she's rather a little intoxicated already.
"I'm sorry that I can't help you move out tomorrow," she says as she pours more wine into her glass which you deem is not a smart move.
"That's more than fine," you respond, "I heard from Gaspard you guys have started practicing for the winter show."
"Oh, yeah..." she softly says and then gets lost in her words for a second.
"We're doing The Nutcracker, again," she says with a dramatic pause.
"That sounds fun!" You nicely respond.
"You should come on the opening day, I'll send the ticket," she enthusiastically says and sips her wine.
"Only if you come to my little housewarming party," you meekly say even though you're not sure you know how to throw a party of any kind.
"That's a deal!" She says, clinking her glass of wine with you to seal the deal.
The mouthwatering smell has taken over the room as Minho serves the food on the table, he's cooking pasta and a big steak to share which he has sliced, showing off the perfect level of cooking doneness.
"This is delicious, honey," Kim praises after taking a bite of it, she then turns to look at you, "What do you think?"
"This is really good," you compliment because, despite everything, you can't deny that he's a good cook which also reminds you to thank him for it.
"Thank you for cooking dinner, Minho," you say even though his name feels dry and strange on your tongue.
He only nods and doesn't say anything but put more food on Kim's plate, and you can't lie that you feel a little dejected by his lack of reaction.
The dinner would be a big awkward moment if Kim wasn't leading ninety percent of the conversation on the table but as the night goes on and more wine dawned in, Kim starts to slur her words and mindlessly rambles about random things all at once. It gets to the point that she accidentally knocks things off, first it was her glass of wine and then, a pitcher of water that is now flooding the dining table.
"Kim, I think it's time for bed," you kindly say.
She brushes her hair away and sniffles, "But it's your last night here."
"We'll still be seeing each other tomorrow," you console her.
She cracks a smile and then snorts, "That's right."
Minho is quick to offer himself to carry her to bed but before she comes into his arms, Kim crashes herself into you and hugs you so tightly.
"You're the best roommate I've ever had," she mumbles with her head buried in your neck.
You put your arms around her to return her hug and gently pat her back, "That's so sweet of you, Kim."
"And I'm not saying that because you're the only roommate I've ever had, I genuinely love having you here," she says, pausing to inhale air.
"it's going to be so weird coming home and you're not here," she adds with a sniffle.
You can't bring yourself to check whether she's crying or not because if she does, there's a big chance you'll cry too. Instead, you look at Minho to let him know this is why you can't hurt her anymore.
All of a sudden, Kim breaks away from the hug and runs to Minho, she lets him take her to the bedroom. You watch as they get inside and close the door behind them.
After cleaning up the dining table and doing the dishes, you can finally go to your bedroom, being with yourself for the first time after a long, eventful day.
The room is bare since you have packed everything into boxes and you're standing there wondering how your life fits in those boxes. It gets you all sentimental as you feel like you're going on a new path in life.
The moment gets interrupted as you notice through the reflection in the mirror that Minho is coming into your room. Before you can stop him, he barges in and crashes his body against yours, lips instantly locked with yours as if they're two opposites of the magnet.
"Minho..." you sadly whine against his lips.
When you look into his eyes though, you just can't find it in you to resist him anymore so you give in and let tonight be another mistake.
Just one more mistake, you tell yourself.
-
Minho likes it when you're saying one thing but your body does the opposite. He's holding you close from behind and his hand is down south, fingers playing with your clit before he pushes one digit inside you, making you shut your legs together in reaction.
"We can't do this," you mutter against his lips.
He's expecting you to say that at one point but not this early in the night and not when he's just started. He presses his mouth into your ear and whispers, "Fight back harder if you don't want this."
There are so many ways for you to tell him off, you can break away from his hold, you can push him away and close the door right on his face but you do want this, he can see in the mirror how you liked being touched all over and how you like two fingers instead of one inside you.
"Oh..." you shakily moan as he enters two digits into you now.
Minho can feel it blooming under his touch and how wet you are for him, how your body wants more of him despite all of your efforts to stop him.
And you know what? He wants you just as much if not more.
He starts undressing you, taking every piece of clothing off of you as eager as a child unwrapping his Christmas present, and then gently, he lays you down on the end of the bed.
You look up at him with your eyes wide and flickering with desire, "Let's stop here, I let you—"
There you go with your empty warning again, he shuts you off with a kiss, "There's no way I can hold back," he says to you.
Impatient, he rips open his shirt and tosses it aside before kneeling at the end of the bed to indulge in your pool of arousal. Your moans begin to fill the room and in the mirror, he can see you try to muffle it by covering your mouth with your hand.
Minho can't get over how wet you are for him and he wants to keep it that way as he has lots of things he wants to do to you.
He gets up from the floor and quickly gets rid of his jeans next, then wastes no time to walk up to you. He takes your legs by the ankles, lifting them and holding them close to his chest, and then slowly, he parts them open.
Oh, the sight of your wet flushed cunt will never cease to arouse him. His head gets dizzy just from looking at it and it starts spinning as you put your hand around his cock.
"Fuck!" He curses under his breath as you bring his cock and rub it between your folds, making him more impatient to be inside you.
His patience wears thin and he puts his focus on aligning it with your entrance.
"Minho, I told you we can't— oh..." you loudly moan as you feel his cock penetrates you and stop talking as he pushes the rest in a painstakingly slow motion to make sure you feel every inch of his length stretching you.
"Doesn't this feel way too good?" He says as he deeply stares into your eyes.
He doesn't need to hear you say it, he knows because you feel too good around him too. He is steadily holding your legs on each side of his waist as he starts thrusting into you.
Minho can't decide whether he should watch his cock slipping in and out of you or watch how much you're enjoying it, quietly moaning while tugging your fingers between your teeth.
One thing he knows what to do is to make this last as long as possible, he stops when he knows you're closing in on your high.
"Oh," you sigh as he pulls out of you and swiftly, turns you over on the bed.
Now, he has you lying on your stomach and he grips your waist, raising it a little higher to give him just the right angle to enter you from behind.
You whine as you feel him full again and he's lowering himself on top of you, he's propping his elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.
Minho puts his hand around your neck and slightly tilts your head to the back to land a kiss on your lips. He can feel the blood rushing in your veins with his hand wrapped around your neck.
"Minho, let's stop this already," you whine.
Despite his cock buried deep inside you, you still find it in you to try to stop him. He kisses you hard and deep as if he's trying to strip all of your senses away.
"Shut up!" He tells you, "You don't even want to stop."
From the way you close your mouth is enough to tell him that you have no response to that but he knows now that he needs to fuck all these worries out of you.
Minho does all of that, he's fucking you with all his might, he watches how your face contorted in pleasure, how your hands are crumpling the sheet under you as he picks up the pace.
"Minho..." you breathlessly call.
Before you can say anything to stop him again, he grabs your chin and makes you see your reflection in the mirror, "Look at that!"
He waits until you open your eyes and see yourself in the mirror as he asks you, "Does it look like you want me to stop?"
Fucking you good isn't enough, he needs to fuck you hard enough that you forget everything else except for this moment where only you and him exist in this sinful tryst.
"If you keep going, I'm going to come," you whine between your moans.
Minho takes that as a sign that he's heading the right way but rather than adding speed to his thrusts, he slows down his pace and allows himself to melt onto you, putting his body on yours, placing kisses all over your shoulder and neck until his lips find their way back to yours.
There's no way he's finishing this without seeing your face when it's everything he wanted the most from it, seeing how fucked out you are that you can't find words to say.
After turning you over on the bed, he takes a moment to let his eyes lust over your body and then he runs his hand all over you, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips. He's using his mouth next to suck on your breasts and his tongue to play with your nipples.
All these times, he's been good by not doing it but the urge to mark you is getting unbearable so he does it, sucking on your ample flesh hard enough that he knows it's going to leave a mark.
"Ow..." you yelp in pain but it comes out as a mewl as you try to keep your noises on the low.
Minho settles himself between your legs, burying his head once again in your wetness to prepare you for what comes next. You're whining and moaning, sometimes, it's a mix of both and it's resounding in the room.
He starts to believe that you forgot about his girlfriend sleeping in the bedroom across the room, he puts it to the test by sucking on your clit which earned a loud moan for you. He's right, you forgot about it until a while later, and you hurriedly cover your mouth with the back of your hand.
He gets impatient all over again when it comes to entering you, he can only hold himself back so much and his self-control is wearing thin. He's lowly groaning as he pushes himself back into you, feeling your tight walls welcoming him.
"How are you feel so good every damn time, mmh?" He asks in disbelief with a rough kiss on your lips.
The sex feels so much better than the previous and if he could, he is just wanting to keep doing it with you because it doesn't feel like with other people, including his girlfriend of almost three years.
He watches as your eyes fluttering open and shut, and breathless moans spilling out of your parted mouth, overwhelmed by what he's doing to you.
"Look at you! Making lewd moans for me," he mutters with an intense gaze directed toward you.
He brushes your hair away from your face and kisses your open mouth, "Aren't you supposed to hate me?"
You lick your lips and look at him through your half-shut eyes, "I hate— oh..."
He launches his cock deeper inside you, not letting you finish your sentence, and keeps the intensity of his thrusts to distract you.
"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" You manage to repeatedly say and Minho roughly thrusts into you every time you say it.
"That doesn't sound convincing," he mockingly says, pretending like it doesn't affect him when in fact, it does.
"I hate you and I hate your guts," you say with your body shaking from how hard he's fucking you and your breasts jiggling along to it.
The hate somehow encourages him to keep going, he's letting go of himself and letting his body take care of the rest. He doesn't need to worry about you, he knows you are on the brink of—
"Oh, my—" You let out a broken moan as you reach your climax
Minho keeps moving to chase his high, his nails digging into the flesh on your thighs as he's going impossibly fast, ramming himself into you until he too, finally reaches his high.
Even though he's high in unadulterated pleasure and his brain is foggy because of it, he knows his way to your kiss, he slowly puts himself on top of you and softly places his lips on yours. There's something intimate about this, it feels pure and raw, it's just you and him locked in a chaste kiss.
However, when you break from the kiss, you look at him and say for the umpteenth time, "I hate you, Minho."
Isn't it tiring to lie? Isn't it tiring to keep hiding? But sure, you can say things that go against what you're feeling and betray your own heart as much as you want but Minho isn't one to do that kind of thing.
He holds the side of your face and fiercely looks back into your eyes as he calmly says, "That's too bad because I like you."
-
That makes it the third statement: Minho likes you.
If the other two are the truth then that makes this a lie, right? But, oh well, why bother figuring it out when you've already moved on from that part of life?
It takes a month to adjust to your new apartment and discover some places around your neighborhood like a regular cafe to visit when you need your caffeine fix and a bakery that sells this delicious bagel when you need a breakfast to-go.
There's no denying that you miss Kim from time to time and it feels a little lonely when you come home from work, and that's why you're excited for tonight, you're having the housewarming party that has been postponed twice because Kim got tied with her practice schedule.
Swear to God! You're just excited to meet her again and not at the possibility that you'll meet her boyfriend again.
Since you doubt your skill in cooking, you decide to order some food from Gaspard's recommendations and he also comes early to help set the table.
"You're chipper than usual," he comments as he cleans the table with a cloth.
"Am I? I feel exceptionally normal," you playfully respond.
When the doorbell rings, your heart palpation and you can't even bring yourself to peek through the peephole, you take a deep breath and turn the knob.
"Hi, my darling!" Kim gasps the second you open the door for her and you both exchange a quick, warm hug.
"Oh, I hope you don't mind me bringing a plus one," she adds, opening the door wider to let someone else in.
The excitement fills you to the brim that you feel like you're about to combust but it deflates in a second when you see that she's bringing someone else.
"You remember Astrid?" Kim asks.
You hide your disappointment and put on a smile, "I believe we met at the party," you vaguely remember her from her dirty blonde hair and Kim's fellow dancer.
"Yes, exactly that Astrid," she says as she shakes your hand.
"Please, come in!" You politely say, making a way for your guests to come inside your small apartment.
Gaspard appears to welcome Kim and gives her a quick hug, as if he heard your thoughts, he asks, "I thought you'd be with Minho."
"His car broke down again," Kim sighs as she takes off her coat, "I already told him so many times to buy a new one instead of sending his car to the shop."
This is so infuriating. No matter how much you convince yourself that you don't care about Minho, reality slaps you with the truth. You've been under the illusion that this distance will help you diminish this feeling but you do care, you care a lot.
The party went well or that's what you guessed, you were out of it most of the time, your body was here but your mind was going all over the place.
"You're so quiet," Gaspard comments again as he helps you clean up after Kim and Astrid leave.
"I'm just... sad," you honestly admit but decide to lie about the details, "Soon you'll be leaving too and I'm alone again."
Gaspard slyly smiles at you and leans the side of his body against the wall, "I mean, I can stay with you," he offers.
You scoff and put the dirty glasses into the sink, "Well, then you won't be missing me tomorrow," you say with a pout.
He sighs as he takes your subtle rejection with an open heart, "Are we still on for Sunday brunch?"
"Why? Do you need to cancel?" You jokingly say.
He bumps his shoulder with you as he joins in the kitchen sink to help you with the dishes, "Your treat!"
"Sure. My treat!" You agree with a bump into his shoulder.
A little after eleven, Gaspard left the apartment too with a long hug and a kiss on your cheek. You're going back inside to tidy up a few things while draining the wine from the leftover dinner, chugging it straight from the bottle.
It feels rewarding that you finish the wine by the time you're done cleaning the kitchen and now, you're tired enough to not think of anything else and ready for bed.
As you're about to change out of your dress, you hear the doorbell rings and your first thought is it's Gaspard, because he's done it before and he's shooting his shot for the umpteenth time. You're holding yourself back from laughing and head to the door to open it, unlocking it without checking it through the peephole first.
"What? Do you miss me already?" You jokingly say as you pull open the door.
"Yes," Minho answers without a beat as he's standing in front of you, making your heart race inside your chest and waking the kaleidoscope of butterflies as they start to flutter around in your stomach.
The first thing that comes to your head is what he said to you that night. Minho likes you and you still can't determine this one statement, well, it seems like you need to play another round to know if it's a lie or a truth.
-
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