#I'm not getting in that things unwashed mouth

[france-unofficial]

Get in his mouth

hell nah

[venomvalley]

FEED ME!

PART I: NOODLE SOUP ↬ sevika x pregnant!reader | 5.4k words

SUMMARY:

Sevika rescues a pregnant stray from the streets of the Undercity as her good deed for the decade, but plans go awry when she starts to enjoy the companionship, and her entire lone-wolf worldview comes crashing down. The kicker? Her stray is very much human, and the circumstances of your condition create a whole new set of challenges—challenges best solved with good, old-fashioned murder.

TAGS: 18+! pregnancy fic, mentions of past rape, protective!sevika (she's still a bitch though i love her)

NOTES: i have no idea if people will even like this but i had fun writing it so theres that. never been interested in pregnancy fics, but i just needed protective sevika in my life idk. btw the actual rape is only briefly mentioned in passing. no descriptions whatsoever

-> READ ON AO3 | FEED ME! MASTERLIST

Sevika is having a shit day.

Well. Shittier than usual.

The sole of her boot broke off this morning, Silco's contact never showed up at the docks, and her favorite food place was closed by the time she passed through the Lanes. And to make matters worse, it started raining. Not only is she tired and hungry, but now she's soaked through to the bone.

So when she cuts through an alley to shave off a few minutes of travel on the way home, she really isn't in the mood for the voice that calls out to her. Beggars are a cog a-fucking-dozen in the Lanes, and she ignores them on instinct. There are worse things in the shadows that know her name, after all.

But for some reason, she decides to take the bait tonight. Turns back to look at the ground then stills at the sight of you, bathed in the neon lights of the city’s beating heart. There's no hiding the roundness of your stomach beneath your shirt, or the gauntness of your cheeks. Clothes dirty, hair unwashed, as if you were thrown out on the street like an unwanted stray.

The state of you makes her sick to her stomach. Angry at the world. For a brief moment, she remembers what—who—she fights for: the little people like you that often fade into the background. The chaos of the chem-barons and the Enforcers sniffing around tend to take center stage.

“I'm sorry for bothering you, but do you have any food?” Your voice comes out weak and raspy, desperation splitting each syllable at the seams. “I don't want money, I just—I'm starving and nobody will help me.”

Sevika nods toward the swell of your belly, so round it looks painful. “Where's the dad?”

You inhale a shaky breath, face twisting up in a pained grimace before hardening back to neutral stone. “I don't know. Don't even know who he is, actually, but I—I didn't ask for this. I swear, I'm responsible. I would never—fuck, it doesn't even matter. I'm sorry.”

She wonders how many times you've plead your case to passersby in an attempt to convince them to save you. How many actually believed your story.

But there’s no faking that grieving look in your eye, and the implication of how you ended up here changes things.

There are very few situations in this world that affect Sevika, but injustice pains her most. She’s seen the worst of this city a million times over, has contributed to the chaos in ways she isn't proud of, but she still holds a place in her heart for the people who got the shit end of the stick. People like you, and the kids starving in the streets, and everybody else cursed enough to be born in the hell she calls home.

“Get up,” she says, a bit more gruff than she means to, and your eyes widen in fear. You curl in on yourself as tightly as you can, arms folded over your belly. “You want food or not?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she regrets it. A disaster waiting to happen, appeasing a walking liability. There’s a reason why she doesn't bother with attachments or relationships outside of work and gambling.

But then you struggle to your feet, fighting gravity as you clutch at the brick wall for leverage, and she holds out a hand to steady you.

Her first mistake.

You grasp her fingers and gaze at her with eyes that gleam, like an outstretched hand is your first ever taste of tenderness.

(It probably is. Nothing surprises her anymore.)

As she leads you through the crowded streets, you turn into a skittish thing, eyes darting over the crowd, clinging a bit too hard to her wrist. When you step on the back of her boot, it only takes one venomous glare for you to keep your distance until you reach your destination: a hole-in-the-wall noodle shop. Big portions for cheap, in exchange for shit service and mediocre food. The only place open besides bars this late, and she wouldn't dare drag you into one of those.

She corrals you over to an empty table and pulls out the seat against the back wall for you to take. You glance around a moment, flinching at the slam of the front door, before easing yourself down into the chair, a hand protective over your stomach.

She wonders why. Why you’d care so much about something borne from an awful situation. It doesn’t make any sense.

The waitress strolls up to the table with two paper menus, eyes landing on her with a sultry smile. “Well, well, well. Sevika. Haven’t seen you around in a while.” The waitress—Zaya, maybe? her face seems familiar—looks you up and down with a curl of her upper lip. “Seems you caught yourself a stray.”

You bow your head at the comment, soothing over the mess of your hair in an attempt to make yourself more presentable. Sevika shouldn’t care as much as she does, but you’re just… pitiful. Pathetic, if she wants a more apt, less kind term to use.

“Something like that.” Beneath the table, her metal hand tightens into a fist, irritation burning hot inside her chest. Not in the mood for bullshitting. “I want my usual.” She glances over at you. “Double order.”

The waitress stands around for a long moment in an effort to strike up conversation, but Sevika pays her no mind, fully interested in the scratch marks on the table. Eventually, she leaves with a frustrated huff.

A long silence passes between the two of you. She isn't about to engage in small talk, and you look ready to burst into tears. Fine by her. Conversation was never her strong suit anyway.

You look up at her, then away, then back, a focused furrow to your brow. She opens her mouth to snap at you—*say what you want to say—*but you speak first.

“I know you. Well, of you,” you say, voice so quiet she almost can’t hear you over the white noise of the restaurant. “You’re popular.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

You heave a tired sigh, palm drawing rhythmic circles over your belly. “I don’t have any way to repay you.”

“No shit. That's the whole point.”

“I’ve heard this place is expensive.”

Sevika snorts. “This is the cheapest food in the Lanes.” Her eyes dart down to your stomach, visible just over the lip of the table. “One bowl can feed two people.”

You fall silent, avoiding her gaze to instead stare a hole through the wall near her head. “Thank you.”

A different waitress drops off the food (good fucking riddance, Zara), and you immediately tuck into your bowl, inhaling the noodles like you haven't eaten in weeks, dripping sauce all over your area of the table.

After you almost choke on a too-large bite, Sevika rips the bowl away from you with a growl of irritation. “Slow down. You're making a mess.”

You blink at her in surprise, eyes wide and misty, and grab a nearby napkin to clean your face then mop up your splattering of sauce. “Sorry. I’m just hungry.”

“You still have manners, don't you?” Despite the bite of her words, she takes pains to slide the bowl slowly across the table.

Sevika doesn’t know how to be soft. Never really had the patience, the capacity for it. She doesn't surround herself with people like you who require a tender hand. The kind of people who fear their own shadow.

She should get up, pay the tab, and leave. She did her good deed for the decade. She doesn't owe you anything.

But she can't will her legs to move. Thinks, instead, of you waddling back to that alleyway, of the pouring rain, of someone a lot more cruel than her stumbling upon your defenseless form in the middle of the night.

This is exactly what her old man used to warn her about: the inconvenience of companionship. One big distraction designed to veer her away from the end goal.

And yet—

you sit back in your chair with a content smile, shoulders relaxing from their spot beside your ears, and you look at her like she hangs the stars in your sky

—she doesn't move.

“Feel better?” she asks, elbow balanced atop the table as she adjusts her weight in her seat. She doesn't fidget, but the reverent look you aim her way gets her the closest she's ever been in her life.

Nothing good ever follows me. Get out while you still can.

You nod. “Yeah, but I think I ate too much.”

She glances down at your bowl. You licked it clean.

A wave of pride swells within her at the sight of you: eyelids already drooping, hands curling your jacket tighter around your shoulders. If you could, you'd no doubt be purring.

Cute.

Her face twists into a scowl, silently shooing away the thought as she rises to her feet, and you stumble in an effort to follow her.

“Are you—” you pause, hands clasping tight over your chest. “Do you know anywhere I can stay? At least to get out of the rain tonight?”

Sevika’s eyes narrow, gaze inspecting the features of your face for any hint of… she doesn't know, really. Manipulation, dishonesty maybe. But all that stares back at her is a woman with one big baby-sized responsibility and no means to care for it. You're scared shitless. There's no faking that.

Damn. Looks like she's got herself a stray for the night.

“Come on,” she grumbles, curling a hand around your upper arm.

She pays at the counter, your presence hovering just behind her elbow, and ignores the goodbyes from staff as she leads you out the front door.

“Where are we going?” you ask, a bit breathless from the speed of your walk in an attempt to catch up to her.

Fuck, she just wants to go home.

“My place. Just for tonight.”

You nod your head, reaching again for the comfort of her wrist, and she lets you. Too exhausted to argue.

The walk to her apartment takes longer than usual, your stride stilted from the bulk of your belly, fatigue weakening your legs.

Sevika's never really thought much about where she lives in regards to safety, but the shadows swallow the darkness tonight with you in tow. The locals know not to fuck with her, but they don't know you, and they leer in a way that makes her hackles raise.

She tugs you closer when a burly man steps off the stoop of his house, calling out to her.

“Whatcha got there, big girl?”

“Your head in a box if you don't fuck off.” A matter-of-fact statement. A promise.

He laughs, high-pitched and nervous, arms raised in placation. “Alright, alright, I hear ya. Not in the mood for jokes.”

She stops in her tracks and squares her shoulders, ignoring your quiet oof as you collide with her back. Because no, she's really not in the mood for jokes.

The man fidgets in place a moment as if weighing his options, before he backs away to the front door of his home. “Alright. I'll be seeing you.”

When the front door closes, she releases her hold on your arm and begins walking again.

“Who was that?” you whisper, fingers trembling as they reattach to her wrist.

“Nobody. Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, you're first inside her apartment, shivering from the chill of the rain. You look around the barebones living room—a broken-down couch, a scuffed chair in the corner, various tools scattered over the coffee table. Very little in regards to decoration.

Sevika doesn't like coming home. The emptiness tends to swallow her whole. Nothing waiting for her but an empty bed and the sprawl of silence.

“You need a shower,” she says, discarding her cloak over the back of the couch.

“I don't have any clothes.”

“I know.”

She just wants to sleep. Would rather not be dealing with this when a busy day looms ahead, but she couldn't just leave you there. A decision that goes against every cell in her body, every lesson she learned in her youth, but she couldn’t.

She just couldn’t.

She fetches you a worn shirt and a pair of boxer briefs then shows you to the bathroom, and you whisper your thanks as she tosses a spare towel on the sink.

You stay in there a while, and she passes the time by tinkering with her prosthetic.

Finally, the door swings open and you walk out, dirty clothes bundled under your arm.

“I finally feel like a person again.” You tug down the hem of her your shirt, fabric stretched over your belly. “Thank you.”

She grunts in response, and you take a seat across from her at the kitchen table, head tilting as you watch her work. You don't say anything. Just follow the movement of her hands.

The next time she looks up, your cheek rests on your folded arms atop the table, eyes closed, shoulders rising with each breath you inhale.

Asleep. Poor, helpless thing.

She considers leaving you there, doesn't want to bother with setting you up on the couch, but her legs are already moving before she makes a decision either way.

Carrying you is difficult given the bulk of your stomach. She holds you like a thing made to be broken, soft and careful, the cold metal of her prosthetic cradling your neck, her other arm beneath the bend of your knees. Walks slow to keep from waking you, enraptured by the rapid-fire expressions that flicker over your face. Anger, pain, sadness, anger, fear, fear, fear—

Must be a horrible dream.

She lays you down on the couch then covers you with a threadbare blanket found in the back of her closet. Takes a seat on the coffee table and thinks about what the fuck she’s going to do with you.

You can’t stay here, but she can’t let you live on the street either. So there’s the issue of finding someone to house you, but she can count the people she trusts on one hand (with five fingers left over). The shelters are already full-up, and under zero circumstances will she go to Silco for help.

She finds herself in a mess of her own fucking creation.

You roll onto your side with a dreamy groan, hand ghosting over your belly in your sleep. She wonders if you even want the kid. If you spend your days grieving a life you’ll never get to have because there's no other option.

Sevika doesn’t remember much of her own mom. Died when she was young giving birth to a little brother that failed to survive through the night—a waste in her eyes. That was her first brush with grief, the foundation of beliefs that her old man raised her with: the harsh life of the Undercity holds no room for love, or compassion, or attachment.

If the Enforcers had called for a doctor like they were supposed to, her mom might still be alive. But she doesn’t like to dwell on the past, on what-ifs. No damn point in it.

She pulls out a cigarette in hopes that the smoke will drown out the memories. Looks over at your sleeping form. Looks down at the cigarette. Heaves a frustrated sigh then puts it back in its metal case.

You're an inconvenient little thing. A stray with too many stipulations. No more than a headache.

(If she adjusts the blanket to cover up your cold, bare feet on her way out the front door, nobody has to know.)

The next morning, you’re half-asleep on the couch when she approaches you, arms stretched overhead, mouth opened wide in a yawn.

“Listen up.” She takes a seat on the coffee table, resting both elbows on her knees. “I’ll be gone for a few days, so if you’re staying here, we need to go over some ground rules.”

You snap to attention, face bright as the sun, scrambling to sit up. “Staying here? Really?”

“If you follow the rules.”

“Yeah! Yes, I—“ your brows tilt upwards, tone turning desperate, “whatever you want, I’ll do it. I swear.”

A part of her—the space reserved for optimism collecting cobwebs—almost believes you.

She holds up a finger. “Don't touch anything that isn't yours.” Another. “Don't go out at night, and when you do go out, don’t talk to anybody.” Another. “Don't answer the damn door, not even for me.” You nod along, enraptured gaze glued to hers. “You got all that?”

“Yes, ma'am.” At her raised brow, you stammer, “I—uh, sorry, I just… don't know what you want me to call you.”

“… My name.”

“Sevika.” She nods. “Okay. Then, thank you, Sevika. I mean it. You saved my life.”

With a roll of her eyes, she rises to her feet. “Yeah, I'm a real hero.”

“You are, though.”

She doesn't like this. The way you look at her all awestruck and worshipping. Doesn’t deserve it when there are people out there who would treat you much better than her—people who would actually care about you and the kid in the long run. If you're dead-set on keeping it, then it deserves the chance to grow up right. Loved.

Eight hours ago, she strongly considered leaving you in the street, starving and pregnant. So no, she’s not a hero. And she’s fine with that. Her path in life is a different, less savory one.

“There’s money in the kitchen for food,” she says. “Use my bed if you want.”

And then she leaves.

.

.

.

Truth be told, Sevika doesn't expect to see you when she gets home from a week-long binge of violence and booze, bruised all to hell, a headache splitting her skull down the middle. The edges of her temper sanded down to something less volatile.

Once she walked out the front door that morning, she stopped thinking about you. Brushed you off as a fluke, a mistake of lowered inhibitions.

(She thought about you a lot. Wondered if you were staying smart, being careful. If you actually used the money she left behind. If you were even alive. But she would rather die than admit the worry—no, no, Sevika doesn't worry—that fleetingly consumed her.)

You stand in the kitchen, bent over at the waist with an elbow propped on the counter, rubbing circles into your lower back. Bare from the waist down, the hem of your shirt does little to cover the swell of your ass—the little slice of heaven between your thighs, bathed in shadow from the poor lighting in her apartment.

Her fingers itch for a cigarette. She’s finally gone insane.

The room smells like a filling meal, everything left in its original place. Nothing unusual aside from the weight of your presence, and something warm settles in her stomach, heavy as a rock, so unfamiliar it makes her nauseous.

She chooses to ignore it.

“Get into trouble while I was gone?”

You jolt at the sound of her voice, righting yourself with a gasp when you spot her standing at the back of the couch. “Sevika, you're back!” Why do you almost sound relieved? Why do you smile at her? “And no, I…” you nod to the stove where a metal pot sits on the front burner, “I tried to make some soup, but I don't know how good it'll be.”

She walks over to you, boots heavy on the floor, and lifts the lid. Side-steps the wafting steam. “Smells good at least.”

“My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up. It has rice and fish, so it's filling.”

The simple suggestion of a home-cooked meal makes her mouth water, especially made by someone that isn’t her, and she’s eaten much worse in her lifetime. Could never afford to be picky.

Exhaling a long breath, you reach down to once again rub at the small of your back, shifting on your feet. The only sign of discomfort aside from the pinch in your brow.

She huffs, nudging you out of the way. “Sit down. I'll finish up.”

“You don't have to—”

“Kid's giving you trouble. I got it.”

You blink up at her, a relieved smile stretching your mouth, eyes curving into crescents. It's… cute. “Thank you.”

Unfortunately, she soon learns that the soup is more of a porridge, thickened up by the starch in the rice, the fish rubbery from cooking too long.

Well. At least you tried.

She fetches two bowls from the cabinet and notices a stack of dishes that weren’t there when she left. The sink is also empty, as clean as you could manage given all the rust.

Maybe there are some perks to keeping you around.

She calls you over to the kitchen table, and you take the seat across from her with a tired groan. Thank her when she sits a steaming bowl and spoon in front of you.

Sevika always eats alone when she’s home. It’s been that way for as long as she can remember. Rarely ever a choice on her part because she never got the hang of making friends (too unapproachable, people used to say), so your presence is odd, settles wrong inside her gut.

“You’re hurt,” you say around a mouthful of food, and she looks up from her meal to find you squinting at her, head tilted.

“I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It wasn’t supposed to.”

You pout over the metal of your spoon, brows twitching, but say nothing in response.

However, something nags at her.

“So. Do I wanna know why you're not wearing underwear?”

Your mouth flattens into a thin line, embarrassment scrunching up your nose. “Sorry. It just… it's a pregnancy thing, I guess? I get sensitive sometimes. If you know what I mean.”

Her imagination does a good job of filling in the blanks. Thoughts that she never wanted to have about you.

“And that's a bad thing.” More statement than question, her own assumption given your discomfort.

“Good until it turns bad. Really convenient for, uh, certain activities.” You shift your gaze to your bowl of soup, a wide grin rounding out your cheeks.

“Not in my bed, I hope.”

She really, really hopes you didn't fuck yourself in her bed. Doesn't feel like washing the damn sheets.

“I couldn't if I wanted to. Haven't seen my own feet in over a month.” The tone of your voice implies that you do want to, that you've thought about it recently. “No, the uh… the girls at The Rose took me in for a while. One of ‘em was a mom, too, and I guess she felt bad for me. Hormones being a bitch and all.” You shrug, pointedly ignoring her stare. “I prefer women anyway.”

Sevika only briefly considers the revelation in regards to herself, or the fact that you lived in a whorehouse for a brief stint of time, because a more sinister implication rears its ugly head:

You prefer women. You're pregnant by a man with, in your own words, a baby you didn’t ask for.

She already clocked the circumstances the night she found you, but now she knows for sure. And she's furious.

“I'll fucking kill him.” A promise hissed under her breath.

There's no reason for her to get involved, to stick her nose where it doesn't belong, but she can't sit back and do nothing while that bastard walks free.

Your head snaps up, confusion twisting at your brow. Her eyes lock onto yours, unblinking, and whatever you see in her face makes you frown.

Softly, overcome by grief, you say, “He's not your responsibility.”

“This is my city. I don't want a monster like him living in it.”

Your drop your spoon in your bowl with a sharp clatter, turning away from her. “I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have said so much.”

Sevika leans forward, elbows folded on the table, half-eaten soup already forgotten. She's lost her appetite anyway.

“So he did hurt you.”

You don't answer for a long while, worrying a hand over the curve of your neck, eyes darting over the pattern of her floor.

Until you nod your head.

She stands up from the table with her bowl then empties its contents into the nearby trashcan. Can't bear the sight of you anymore, sitting so pitifully in her chair, thumb following the curve of your belly.

“I'll take care of it.”

You know by now that there's no point in trying to change her mind.

.

.

.

Her sheets smell like you—the first thing she notices when she finally crawls into bed, shoving her face into the pillow with a frustrated growl. She inhales. Curses herself on the exhale. Inhales again because she's lost her fucking mind.

She ends the dilemma by ripping off her pillowcase and throwing it to a shadowed corner of the room. Still, everything smells like you. Not even in the damn room, and your presence haunts her.

This is getting ridiculous.

Her fingers twitch, craving a cigarette or a blunt or cigar or anything to distract her from the hem of her pants. She won't do that to you—use your smile or your smell or the curve of your ass to get herself off. Not after what she learned just a few hours prior.

But she considers it for longer than she has any right to, and for the first time in forever, guilt curdles sour in her gut.

.

.

.

In order to find out the identity of your rapist (just thinking of the word brings acid to the back of her throat), Sevika comes up with an idea. One of her best.

She plops down on the cushion next to you and takes the book from your hands to get your attention.

You scoff, open your mouth in protest. “What are you—”

“We're going to the Lanes tomorrow.”

At her direct approach, you blink, adjusting the blanket over your lap. “Okay? Why?”

“There's a vendor showcase. I need to buy some things.” A bold-faced lie, and you seem to pick up on it, eyes narrowing in suspicion. She sighs, adds, “I'll buy you something pretty.”

She needs to get you into a crowd because she knows how criminals work. If he sees you, he’ll make himself known one way or another. Wouldn't pass up the opportunity of rubbing what he did in your face.

The hardest part of this little plan will be banking on him actually showing up, but most of the Undercity flocks to the showcase to buy products on discount before the year’s end. The perfect opportunity.

You search her face for… something. An ulterior motive, maybe—one she doesn't have—before sighing. “Okay.”

The next evening, she drags you by the scruff to the bustling hub of the Lanes, streets lined with pop-up markets and food carts, people celebrating and shouting and haggling prices. Your hand remains firm around hers, a neccessity given the thick of the crowd.

Everything is fine at first. She parts the sea of people to allow you through without issue, biting her tongue when you stop at each stall to see what’s on offer. Handmade clothes, street food, jewelry that she only glances at. She forces down her frustration when you take too long sorting through necklaces—if a bit enamored with the way you hold each of them up to your face, thumbing over the chain and the gems and the crystals.

You look up at her with a toothy smile, eyes outshining the fake diamonds in your hand, and her heart stops. Something sickly-sweet weaves through her ribs, squeezes so tight that she almost chokes on it.

Affection.

This isn't good. Her worst fear realized. Every atom in her body screams for her to run far away, to wipe you from her memory, to stay lonely and sad and safe.

Instead, she throws the necklace you chose back into the display and picks up one you looked over previously—the only necklace at the booth with real gems.

“This one is better,” she says, offering it to you for inspection.

“Yeah. This would’ve been my second choice.”

She nods. Pays the vendor despite your very vocal protests then helps you secure the clasp at the nape of your neck. Your skin brushes against her knuckles, soft and warm. A sharp contrast to the callouses that litter her palms and fingers. (And still, you always hold her hand.)

Too intimate. She knows better than this.

Until you spin around and rush her with a tight hug, the swell of your belly pressing against hers, your arms solid around her waist.

She's gonna be sick. Should push you off, lecture you about personal space and boundaries, but she thinks about her mom dying alone on some cold floor in the middle of the night, and she thinks about your smile, and nothing seems to matter much anymore.

She lets you hug her until you're satisfied, and you step away with a quiet, “Thank you, Sevika,” and she almost throws up right there in the street.

And then the night goes to shit.

One moment, you're strolling beside her, babbling about the ingredients of some dish you hate, and the next has you stiffening up, breath heaving in an instant, your fingers winding so tight around her hand that her joints creak.

She looks down at you, finds you wide-eyed, staring at something off in the distance with such abject horror that she puffs up on instinct.

“No no nonono, that's him.” You duck behind her, face fitting between her shoulder blades. “Oh, fuck, we have to go. Please, we gotta go.”

She knows who you're talking about. Who he is. No mistaking your reaction, the way you shake and sob against her back.

A lightning strike of fury consumes her.

“Where?” she hisses, twisting around to look at you. Your mouth opens and closes, fighting to make words, and you duck away from the touch of her hand on your shoulder. “Show me.”

You shake your head so fast your neck threatens to snap, both hands circling tight around her wrist, and you tug at her until you're rocking back on your heels. “Please don't. Please. I just wanna go.”

But fate smiles on her as she looks through the bustling crowd. Only one man acknowledges your existence, tucked behind a food stand on the corner of the street. He thinks he’s subtle about glancing over at you, a predatory glint to his gaze that she wants to gouge out.

As luck would have it, she knows him. Some bottom-of-the-barrel lackey for Smeech that often passes through The Last Drop, so disposable she doesn't even know his name.

Her feet move before she even realizes it, vision tunneling to the pinpoint of his cackling face as he smacks at the man beside him.

“Sevika!”

At the sound of your scream, she stops. Looks over her shoulder to where you search in a panic, shuffling on your feet, the crowd already closing in, jostling you in place.

Fuck. Fuck.

Leaving with you means disobeying the very foundation of who she is, nurtured into a brick wall weapon. She never backs down from a fight, but she can't leave you behind, either. Not like this—inconsolable, barely coherent to the world around you.

She shoves through the throng of people, the scowl on her face swearing murder to anybody who dares to even look at her wrong. She wants blood, wants to cut her teeth on something soft and vital. Craves it so bad that her hands go numb.

Those same hands take you by the arms, ushering you into a nearby alley, away from the chaos of the crowd.

She doesn't comfort people. Has no fucking clue how to calm you down aside from a stilted pat to the back. “Hey. You’re alright.”

You sag against her with a relieved sob, begging her not to leave you again. Begging her to take you home.

Home. Her apartment, rundown and small and shitty, is home to you.

It takes less than a second to make her decision, and she ushers you away from the market.

Fine. The bastard can live another day. She'll ask around the Lanes, catch him by surprise when you're not around to stop her because she knows him, and by the time she's done, there won't even be a body left to burn.

She makes it a promise.

TAG LIST: @thesevi0lentdelights @iamastar @ryoiii @tiyawnyana @muclunga (only doing this the one time cause i hate tag lists hfjkdfhgfjkd)

[iydiamartinx]

THIS MEANS WAR I

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 3.6k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: This story is inspired by the 2012 movie This Means War. I went back and forth on whether to write it with a named OC or in reader format—and ultimately decided to try something new and go with reader-insert. I usually write in third person with original characters, so this is a bit of a different style for me. As for who the reader ends up with… I haven’t made a final decision yet—maybe one of them, maybe both. Feel free to let me know who you’re rooting for! Hope you enjoy the chaos! warnings: None so far except for the fact that I don't know anything about neuroscience only what my research brings up, so I'm praying the shit I write makes sense

GOTHAM UNIVERSITY 

The lecture hall smelled like old paper and burnt coffee. You stood at the front, spine straight despite the fatigue threading through your muscles. Behind you, the whiteboard was half-covered in scrawls of chemical structures and dopamine pathways, neatly drawn and precisely labeled. It was the kind of lecture that left half the room wide-eyed with curiosity… and the other half silently praying for mercy.

With a quiet click, you capped your marker and continued. “Neurotransmitter binding is not a one-size-fits-all process,” you said, voice steady as your gaze swept across rows of glazed eyes and frantic scribbles. “It’s dynamic. It’s reactive. It’s shaped by genetics, trauma, medication—even what you ate for breakfast.”

A hand shot up in the second row.

“So… like, can serotonin make you hallucinate?”

You blinked. “No. And if it does, someone’s given you something else—and you should go to the ER. Immediately.”

A ripple of laughter. A few groans.

Another hand rose—this one from a sharp-eyed girl near the back. “In Joker toxin exposure cases, have you ever seen synthetic mimicry of dopamine flood patterns?”

Now that was a question worth respecting.

You’d specialized in Joker toxin during your postgraduate years, had seen firsthand the neurological carnage it left behind. The clown was a madman no doubt—but a dangerously brilliant madman.

Your mouth tugged into a faint smirk. “Yes. And no. But that’s a topic for next week.”

The clock ticked toward the hour. You fielded three more questions—one insightful, two exhausting—before dismissing the class. 

Backpacks zipped. Conversations stirred. As the last student filed out, you finally exhaled. Slowly. The silence was a relief.

Rolling your shoulders, you gathered your coat and bag, the weariness catching up to you in waves as you made your way toward the door—hungry, tired, and vaguely craving something that didn’t taste like caffeine or sugary energy drinks.

Gotham’s streets buzzed with their usual chaos—honking cabs, barking vendors, motorcycles weaving between traffic like they were flirting with death. You walked with familiar ease, the city noise fading beneath the throb behind your eyes and the pressure at the back of your skull.

Your hand drifted up to your bun. It had been tightly wound since six in the morning, and now it felt like a migraine on a countdown. Mercifully, you didn’t have to be in the lab today—no microscopes, no sterile gloves, no post-doc breathing down your neck. Just freedom. Glorious, unwashed, unbothered freedom.

So you didn’t hesitate. One by one, you tugged the pins from your hair, each metallic clink falling into your coat pocket like a tiny rebellion. The strands spilled down, wild and full of indents, but you didn’t care. You tipped your head back, rubbed at your aching scalp with slow, tender fingers, and sighed like you’d been holding your breath all day.

You looked like hell. You felt like hell. But you were done. No lectures. No lab reports. Your appearance be damned you just wanted to spend the rest of the day in comfort. 

Your boots clicked along the sidewalk as you headed toward Café Nero, already imagining the warmth of a latte in your hands—despite your earlier claim about cutting back on caffeine. A lie, obviously. Caffeine was practically your lifeblood— and something carby in your mouth.

But the universe had other plans.

You turned the corner—and nearly collided headfirst with a ghost.

Jake.

Three years of your life bundled into one name, one face. One half-curved smile that looked exactly like it used to and somehow worse now that it was being directed at someone else.

Three years of your life compressed into one name. One face. One irritatingly familiar smirk. His arm was around a tall blonde, her smile radiant and far too trusting. He wore the same smug charm he always had as he said something that had her giggling. 

He noticed you first.

“Hey!” he said, voice way too bright. “Y/N. Wow. You look…” his eyes flicked over your rumpled sweater, your wild hair, “…great. Still at the university? Tinkering away in your little lab?”

You straightened instinctively, spine snapping to attention like your body was trying to make up for the indignity of the moment. Of all the days to run into him.

“I am,” you replied, polite but clipped.

Three years together, and he still couldn’t grasp the importance of your work—or the lives it affected. Your research had been groundbreaking, and he’d always referred to it like you were tinkering with science fair projects.

The blonde leaned into his side with a warm smile. “You didn’t tell me your ex was brilliant and pretty.”

You wanted to hate her. Truly, you did. But unfortunately… she actually seemed sweet.

He laughed. “I forget sometimes.” Then turned back to you with that same infuriatingly casual smirk. “Oh—uh, Y/N, this is my fiancée, Hannah.”

The word hit like a slap.

Fiancée.

Only a year ago, you’d walked in on him and his yoga instructor, limbs tangled and guilt nowhere in sight. He’d thrown away three years with you like it was nothing—and now, not even twelve months later, he’d found someone new and locked her down with a ring so big it probably needed its own insurance policy.

You managed a smile. A real one, for her sake. Sort of. “It’s nice to meet you.” Your eyes dropped to the large, glittering ring on her hand.

“Wow,” you said with a tight smile. “That’s… that’s a big rock.” You let out an awkward laugh, trying muster the slightest bit of enthusiasm you definitely weren’t feeling on the inside. “You’re engaged. To be married.”

Jake grinned. “Yeah. Things just… clicked. It was like fate.” Then he reached out and stroked her cheek with the kind of performative tenderness that made your stomach churn. 

God. How had you ever loved this man?

“Isn’t that right, baby?” he murmured.

Someone gag you with a spoon.

You stood there, frozen in place, as Jake pulled Hannah in for a kiss—deep as if he was trying to fit his entire tongue down her throat. Screw you, you thought. Screw you for rubbing her in my face.

You cleared your throat, the sound awkward and a little too loud. “Well, I should get going,” you began—except your mouth didn’t stop there.

Your brain screamed abort, but your tongue had other plans.

“I actually have to go meet my guy. Yeah, he’s a neuroscientist too. We, uh… met at work.” You nodded like that somehow made it more convincing. “Anyway…”

You cleared your throat again, silently begging yourself to shut up.

“It was… great seeing you. And congrats. On the ring. The upcoming wedding. Your whole… life. All of it.” You winced inwardly. “Well… Peace.”

And if that wasn’t humiliating enough, you topped it off by flashing a peace sign like some glitching robot before turning and briskly walking away.

The second you were out of sight, your smile collapsed. You pressed your lips together, debating whether to scream into the sky or crawl into the nearest sewer.

“Someone kill me right now,” you muttered under your breath.

CAFÉ NERO

You finally made it to the café, and with it, your mortification began to loosen its grip. The familiar scent of roasted beans and fresh pastries wrapped around you like a warm blanket, softening the sting of everything that had come before.

Inside, it was calm—the gentle hiss of the espresso machine, the clink of ceramic, the low murmur of scattered conversations. A peaceful hum that felt like the complete opposite of Jake and his nauseating tongue display.

You slipped into your usual seat at the counter, letting your bag slump to the floor, and leaned against the worn wood like it might hold you up a little longer.

“Ah! Doctora!” Juan greeted you with a bright smile from behind the bar.

He was a sweet kid—maybe nineteen—who’d moved to Gotham from Mexico about six months ago. His English was improving steadily, though every now and then he’d still stumble over a few words. You’d quietly helped where you could. While he knew your name, he aways insisted on calling you Doctora like it was your superhero title. 

You snorted at the thought. You, a superhero? You couldn’t even save yourself from an awkward conversation with your ex.

“The usual?” he asked, already reaching for your cup.

“Si, please,” you nodded.

He glanced up with a curious smile. “Long day?”

You let out a soft groan, dropping your face into your hands. “You have no idea.”

The door chimed behind you, but you didn’t bother looking up. Not until you felt someone hovering a little too close to the seat beside you. 

You prayed your luck wasn’t that shitty.

But of course, it was.

Jake’s familiar chuckle slid into your ears like nails on glass. You closed your eyes for half a second, steeling yourself, before slowly peeling your face from your hands.

“This is too funny,” he said with a grin. “What a coincidence.”

“Right! Absolutely hilarious,” you replied, forcing a smile that you hoped didn’t look as fake as it felt as you saw Jake and Hannah standing there.

“I’m assuming this is your boyfriend’s seat?” Jake asked, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Oh, ye—”

Before you could finish, Juan slid your drink across the counter, cheerful as ever.

“No, Doctora,” he said, accent warm, words slightly clipped at the edges. “Order for one. Always order for one. Seat is free.”

You nearly choked on air.

Hannah giggled while Jake said nothing. Just raised his eyebrows slightly, in that smug little way he used to do when he thought he’d won something.

God, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You smiled tightly. “It is. I’m meeting him back at work. Just stopped in quick. Juan, I thought I said I needed this to-go?”

Juan frowned, brows pinching together. “Mmm��� no, I don’ think so. You say you finish work. You always sit here, like always.”

“Not this time,” you said—too sharp, too fast.

Juan’s face fell a little. Guilt bloomed in your chest like a bruise, he didn’t deserve that. It was your own damn fault for digging the hole in you were now.

You sighed, softer this time. “Lo siento, Juan. Can you make it to-go, please?”

He nodded, already reaching for the paper cup and bag.

You turned back to Jake with a forced laugh. “Seat’s all yours.”

The second Juan handed you the new cup and pastry bag, you thanked him quietly, paid, and practically sprinted for the door—mortified, humiliated, and more than ready to go home and bury yourself under ten layers of shame.

MILO & ANTHONY’S APARTMENT

“Ugh! I wanted to die right then and there,” you groaned, collapsing dramatically onto Milo and Anthony’s couch, a glass of wine already halfway gone. Their apartment was across from yours, and you’d made a beeline for it the second you got home, desperate to drink your embarrassment into submission. “I fucking peaced them.”

Anthony winced. “Yeah, that’s… pretty bad.”

“That’s because you need to go out more,” Milo said, waving his wine glass like a pointer. “Meet someone. Rub him all over Jake’s face like a human flex—same way he’s doing with that girl, Hayley.”

“Hannah,” you corrected automatically. “And she seemed sweet.”

“She could be as sweet as cotton candy dipped in honey and I still wouldn’t give a shit,” Milo snapped. “I give a shit about you. And you cannot keep letting that asshole rent space in your head.”

You opened your mouth, but Milo steamrolled right over you.

“Fine if you’re not ready for anything serious, but girl—you need to go out and get some good dick. That pussy is drier than the Sahara.”

You choked on your wine. “Hey! I get some!”

Milo deadpanned you. “Your vibrator doesn’t count. Honestly, it should start charging you. Thing looks like it’s about to file for workers’ comp.”

You blinked. “Have you been going through my drawers again?!”

He shrugged without shame. “I was looking for your face cream.”

“And you thought I keep that in my underwear drawer?” 

“Look, the point is,” he said, sitting forward, “you need to go out. Date. Even just a casual thing. I hate seeing you mope over that troll.”

“I’m not moping,” you muttered.

Anthony gave you a soft smile—too kind for this earth. “We’re just worried about you. And hey, for the record, we’re glad you moved here. You’re part of our chaos now.”

You exhaled, guilt and warmth stirring in your chest. “I know. It’s just… I can’t believe I was that blind. I nearly gave up everything for him. I even moved back to this shit-hole of a city—where clowns and penguins blow up buildings and guys in capes fight crime in full spandex.”

“Well, at least Gotham has a certain… charm,” Anthony offered.

“I mean, it’s great if your idea of charm is daily arson,” you deadpanned.

“We are happy you’re here,” Milo agreed, his voice softer for once. “But you’ve gotta stop beating yourself up. Even I thought he might’ve been your person—but he wasn’t. That’s on him. His loss, not yours. You’ve gotta move forward, babe.”

“I am dating,” you said weakly.

“No, you’re talking to people. You don’t even give them a real shot.” He raised his brows. “You can’t test chemistry without mixing the liquids.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s more complex than just ‘mixing liquids,’ Milo. There’s neural signaling, oxytocin regulation, attachment frameworks, behavioral conditioning… Timing alone can throw everything off. You can’t just drop two people into a room and expect chemistry. That’s not chemistry—it’s chaos.”

“Why not?” Milo shrugged. “People do it all the time. You’re overthinking it—as usual. But if it helps, just treat it like another one of your experiments.”

“It’s not that simple,” you argued. “My experiments have structure. Charts. Data. Equations. Control groups.”

“Exactly!” Milo clapped his hands. “Which is why you should try online dating. They have charts and shit.”

You let out a snort. “Please. In this city? Knowing my luck, I’d end up matched with a serial killer. Or worse—the Joker.”

Anthony tilted his head thoughtfully. “Does the Joker even online date?”

Milo groaned. “You’re both insane. There are plenty of semi-normal people on those apps. It’s how me and Anthony met.”

You gave him a flat look. “Exactly.”

You gave him a long, pointed look. “Point proven.”

“No.” Milo leaned in. “The point is you need to get back out there. Whether it’s for a wham-bam-thank-you-man kind of night, or you end up calling me crying because you just met the father of your future babies—I don’t care. You just can’t keep living in Jake’s memory. Not everyone is like him.”

You groaned, tipping back the rest of your wine in one go. “I know that.”

He raised an eyebrow, giving you a look.

“I do!” you insisted. “Look, can we table this for now? I just want to drown my feelings and make future-me regret the hangover I’m definitely earning tonight.”

GOTHAM ROOFTOPS

Boots hit the edge of a rooftop with a soft scrape of gravel. Jason Todd scanned the streets below, hands resting at his sides, jacket collar tugged up against the bite of the early spring cold. He moved with restless energy—agitated, impatient, ready for something to go wrong.

“This is a bust,” he muttered into the comms. “Three blocks, no action. Not even a wannabe thug with a pocket knife and poor life choices. I’m starting to think Gotham forgot how to be Gotham.”

There was a beat of silence before Dick’s voice came through, dry and amused.

“Or maybe you’re just scaring the criminals too much, Hood. Ever consider early retirement?”

Jason rolled his eyes behind the mask. “Only if you go first, Nightwing. I thought Blüdhaven was where all the action was—what’re you doing slumming it with us Gotham bottom-feeders?”

“It is,” Dick replied. “But every now and then I like to slum it with my baby brother. Make sure you’re not burning down half the city in my absence.”

Jason snorted. “You’re only older by what, five years and a moral superiority complex?”

Before Dick could answer, Barbara’s voice cut in over the channel, sharp and clear.

“Seems like you’re about to get your wish, Jason. I’ve got eyes on suspicious movement down at the docks—east side, Warehouse Eleven.” Barbara drawled through the comms. 

Jason was already moving, boots hitting gravel as he took off across the rooftop. “Now we’re talking.”

Dick followed a step behind, vaulting over a low pipe with practiced ease. “Arms deal?”

“Most likely,” Barbara confirmed. “Thermal scans show at least four bodies. No confirmed ID yet, but one of them matches a known associate of Black Mask.  “Be smart. And try not to level the building, Jason.”

“No promises,” he said, grin audible.

WAREHOUSE ELEVEN, EAST DOCKS

The docks were dead quiet when they arrived—too quiet. The kind of stillness that always meant something was waiting to go wrong. The air smelled like oil and sea rot, and the only sounds were the soft lapping of water and the occasional creak of aging chains swaying in the wind.

Jason crouched at the edge of a container stack, pistols holstered at his thighs, his gaze locked on the warehouse below. His breath clouded in the cool air.

“East lot’s clear,” he murmured into the comms. “Nothing but rats and roaches.”

Dick landed beside him in a soundless roll. “So, your usual crowd.”

Jason didn’t glance over. “That’s twice tonight. Keep it up and I’ll tell everyone you cried during that Pixar movie.”

“I was twelve. And it was Up, you heartless bastard.”

“Still counts.”

They moved in silence, slipping through a broken window high on the warehouse wall. Their boots hit the rafters without a whisper. Below them, four men circled a battered folding table strewn with crates, unmarked cases, and haphazard stacks of cash. A single overhead bulb flickered overhead, casting shifting shadows across the concrete floor.

Jason zoomed in with his HUD. “I know that one—left side. Carlo Mancini. Low-tier runner for Sionis. Looks like he’s about to piss himself.”

“Might mean he knows something,” Dick murmured.

They listened.

“I’m tellin’ you,” Mancini hissed, voice tight and shaky. “It’s gonna be big. Joker-level big.”

One of the others scoffed. “The hell you talkin’ about? Joker’s been off the grid for months.”

“Yeah, and now he’s back. Lookin’ for someone—some guy who used to run with him, then bailed. Word is, he took something. Something important.”

Jason’s fingers curled slowly around the grip of his pistol.

“It’s not his usual stuff either,” Mancini went on, voice dropping to a whisper. “Heard it’s from Scarecrow too. Some freak chemical—don’t kill you right away. Makes you laugh yourself insane. Till your heart gives out.”

A beat of silence.

“No cure for it, either.”

Jason exhaled. “Shit.”

Beside him, Dick’s jaw flexed. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Jason gave a tight nod. “If the Joker and Scarecrow teamed up and made something new—and someone stole it…”

Dick’s voice was grim. “Then Gotham just became a countdown clock. And we’re already late.”

Without another word, they moved.

Jason dropped from the rafters like a shadow cutting through fog, landing hard enough to make one of the thugs flinch. Dick followed a breath behind, graceful and quiet. By the time the first man reached for his weapon, Jason had already disarmed him with a sharp twist of his wrist and sent him sprawling with a solid elbow to the jaw.

Dick swept the legs out from under another, zip-tying his wrists with practiced ease. The other two barely had time to shout before they were taken down—one with a stun baton to the ribs, the other with a boot to the sternum.

Mancini tried to run.

Jason caught him by the collar, slammed him against a crate with just enough force to knock the air from his lungs. “Going somewhere?”

The runner gasped, eyes wide with panic. “I didn’t—look, I don’t know anything!”

“You know enough to be scared,” Jason growled, pressing his forearm into the man’s throat. “So start talking.”

“Okay—okay!” Mancini wheezed, both hands raised in surrender. “I just heard whispers, man. Word on the street is Joker and the ‘crow are lookin’ for someone—most likely one of his old runners. Said he took something. Chemical notes, maybe the whole damn formula. Whatever it is, it’s important. Real important. Joker’s tearing through people trying to get it back.”

Jason’s gaze darkened. “You know who this guy is?”

“No name,” Mancini coughed. “Just that he used to run logistics—backdoor stuff. Quiet type. Smart guy. Kept to himself. Real ghost.”

“Not smart enough if he got himself tangled up with the Joker and Scarecrow,” Dick muttered.

Jason’s hand tightened. For a moment, Dick thought he might snap.

“Jason,” he said, quiet. A reminder.

Jason let go.

Mancini dropped to his knees, coughing and trembling. Jason stepped back into the shadows, tapping his comm.

“You catch all that, Oracle?”

Barbara’s voice filtered in, sharp and efficient. “Every word. Red Robin and B are already digging. If this guy’s in Gotham, we’ll find him. But until then, you two are off the clock. Get some rest.”

Jason exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. Sure.”

Dick shot him a look. “Try to actually listen for once. Not everything has to be solved in one night.” 

With that, he clapped Jason on the shoulder and nudged him toward the exit—just as the distant wail of GCPD sirens broke the silence, growing louder with every passing second. Cleanup crew was on its way.

Jason didn’t answer. His jaw was tight, his thoughts already miles ahead—backtracking whispers, dissecting clues, remembering the sound of laughter that still echoed in the corners of his nightmares.

It was rare for the Joker to get invested in anything. He thrived on chaos, not consistency. But if he was serious enough to go out of his way to hunt down some nobody, then whoever had the formula was sitting on a bomb.

Next Chapter →

[bunnywonyo]

HEAR ME OUT ‼️‼️‼️ BUT WHAT IF.. SNOW WHITE & THE SEVEN DWARFS EXCEPT IT'S A HAREM TYPE SITUATION (READER BEING SNOW WHITE)???? LIKE.. PUT THE MOMMIEST KPOP IDOLS THERE WE GONNA SEE KARINA, WONY, SANA, ETC. ?????? IT'S SEEMS PRETTY BIG FOR A SINGLE FIC BUT IDKKK

SNOW WHITE AND HER SEVEN EIGHT MOMMIES??

g!p karina, g!p wonyoung, g!p sana, g!p sakura, g!p rosé, g!p minnie, g!p yeji x innocent snow white! reader x secret bonus g!p celebrity (what a mouthful)

synopsis: after running away from the evil queen for something you overheard, you found shelter in a house shared with not one, not two, but seven attractive women who all happen to have the hots for you

word count: 10.2k

tags: smut, g!p, somnophilia, choking, spanking, double penetration, may get ooc sorry, lmk if i missed some

a/n: i'm terribly sorry if this took too long college bit my ass, but please do enjoy even if this is shitty

your legs have started hurting from all the running. how long have you been running? hours probably. far too long than what your weak legs could handle. but you had to keep running. you need to get as far away from the castle as possible. far from the evil queen. but did you run far enough? hopefully yes.

taking a break from all that running, you spot a house by a lake hidden behind the thick covers of the forest. it was your only chance of surviving this forest so you decided to try your luck and ask the house’s owner if you could stay there. 

knocking at the door, you waited for any response. receiving none, you noticed that the door was slightly open. after some internal dilemma, you decide to just enter hoping the owner was nice enough to forgive you for trespassing into their property.

the first thing you noticed when you set foot inside was how dirty and disorganized everything was. the sink was filled with unwashed dishes, there were food crumbs everywhere, the dining room table had chairs all over the place, and clothes littered the couch. you shuddered in disgust before a bright idea concocted in your brain. you were gonna clean this whole house to show the owner of this house that you would be a helpful addition. you grabbed a broom and dustpan that were leaning by the front door and started cleaning

after hours of cleaning, you found out that seven people lived here based from the disorganized items in this house mostly being seven. seven pairs of fork and spoon, seven plates, seven disorganized chairs. while cleaning the second floor of the house, you also found seven bedrooms, each with signs on the door that showed the owners’ name. wonyoung, karina, sana, sakura, rosé, minnie and yeji they read. 

suddenly feeling drowsy, you headed downstairs, deciding to sleep on the couch. (you’ve already trespassed, you wouldn't want to worsen your possible friendship with the owners now won’t you?) laying down, you felt your eyes getting heavy, so you let go all the tension in your body and started to drift off to dreamland.

after what seemed like hours, you could hear whispers. naturally, this woke you up. stirring, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. as your vision cleared, you realized you were not alone. seven pairs of eyes were fixed on you, each pair belonging to a remarkably beautiful girl. they stared at you, a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and something else in their expressions. you quickly sat up, feeling your cheeks flush under their collective gaze.

"i'm so sorry for intruding," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "i was running away and found your house. i didn't mean to trespass, i just... i needed a place to stay."

the girls exchanged glances before a tall girl with a mole above right cheek stepped forward. "you cleaned our house?" she asked, her voice soft but firm. there was something familiar about her, like she reminded you of someone

you nodded, feeling a bit self-conscious. "yes, i thought it might help. i wanted to show you that i could be useful if you let me stay."

another girl stepped closer, her eyes twinkling with amusement and somehow, mischief? "well, you did a pretty good job," she said, looking around the now spotless living room. "it hasn't looked this good in ages."

another tall girl crossed her arms, you noticed a mole below her lips, a smile tugging at her lips. "why were you running?" she asked, her eyes searching yours.

you took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "i was escaping from the evil queen," you explained. “yesterday, while i was cleaning the castle courtyard, i heard her tell her adviser, “i want that y/n girl in my special room by tonight.” the girls gasp, but sensing that there was more to the story, they let you continue.

“i was really suspicious so i followed the queen around. then before she entered her quarters, i heard her mutter under her breathe, “finally, after all these years i can finally take her” when i heard that, i panicked and ran away from the castle until i ended up here” you continued, “i didn’t know what she was gonna do to me, if only i knew i would’ve never worked there” you innocently finished.

when you finished your story, something shifted with the girls. their expressions, already intrigued, took on a darker edge, a subtle heat in their eyes. they exchanged another series of glances, this time laden with a silence. you didn’t notice, too naive and too caught up in your own story, but their gazes lingered on you a little longer, their thoughts clearly taking a different, more intimate darker direction.

a blonde girl stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, her touch lingering just a bit too long. “you’re safe here,” she said, her voice soothing but with an undercurrent you couldn’t quite place. “you can stay with us as long as you need.”

relief washed over you, and you smiled gratefully at them. “thank you, thank you so much.”

still not letting go of your shoulders, she squeezed them gently before letting her hand fall away. "why don't we sit down and get to know each other a bit more?" she suggested, gesturing toward a cozy seating area nearby.

as you all settled into the plush chairs, the atmosphere became more relaxed, the tension from earlier dissipating into the background. you and the girls conversed with each other and that’s when you learned who the names you read upstairs belonged to. they discussed where you would sleep and what tasks you were assigned to do. after a while, it was finally decided that you are going to sleep in the attic and cleaning the house was your job. soon, night arrived and after eating the dishes sakura cooked(10/10 would eat again) and tidying up the kitchen, you all went to bed. you sighed in content as your body relaxed against the soft cover of the bed. you were really happy, not only did you escape from the clutches of the evil queen, you also gained seven attractive friends! (very attractive if i say so myself). as you pondered with your thoughts, you could slowly feel your eyes getting heavy. you yawned and let your mind wander into dreamland. 

minutes passed by and you were already in deep sleep. so deep that you never hear the door to your room open as a figure enters. 

you were awakened minutes later by the sensation of something entering inside you and a body on top of yours thrusting. you tried screaming for help but the person saw this and covered your mouth. tears welled up in your eyes as the pain spread all over your body. your tried to fight back but they were so strong that your futile attempts only made the already creaking bed creak harder. 

“shh y/n” you recognized that voice, “you wouldn’t want the others to see how much of a slut you are now won’t you?”

you looked up to your perpetrator and what you saw drained the life out of your face. the person forcing themselves onto you was none other than sana!

sana noticed the shock in your face before she giggled and leaned closer into you. 

“surprised? sorry honey i couldn’t help myself.” she whispered “but i’m serious, you better shut that pretty mouth of yours before you wake everyone up” you replied but since sana’s hand was covering your mouth, it came out muffled. removing her hand from your mouth, you spat “why? are you afraid cuz you know that the moment they wake them up and see this they’ll do something to you?” while glaring at her.

this ticked sana off before she dropped a truth bomb to you “afraid? oh honey, the one who should be afraid is you” she grinned. “the moment the other girls wake up, they won’t be able to control themselves. the truth is, the moment we saw you, we all wanted you. i just happen to fuck you first. i just want to savor you first.”

panting, you retort “you’re lying! you’re only saying that to trick me! you’re nothing but –ah!” sana’s harsh thrust cuts you off. “shh shh shh, less talking, more moaning.” you shook your in response and bit your lip. 

“don’t hide your moans, i know you want this too” you denied this by shaking you head. this response caused sana to tighten her grip on you waist and thrust even harder. 

one of her hands snaked in between your thighs, her fingers trying to find your sensitive bundle of nerves. when she found them, she abused the hell out of them. this action caused you to roll your eyes in pleasure and let out a loud moan. sana smirked at your response, rubbing harder.

“lying little slut acting like you don’t want this but here you are moaning like a whore”

you couldn’t handle it any longer, tired and weary, you finally stopped resisting and fully submitting to sana. your whines and moans soon filled the room. sana delighted with your submission and you with your head way up in cloud nine, both failed to notice the two pair of eyes by your door, watching your every move. 

“ahh mommy! s-something’s happening” you cried out, “my tummy feels weird”

sana smirked at the nickname before giggling “sweetheart that’s called cumming. that’ll make you feel really good” she then groaned “i feel like im gonna cum soon too”

“im gonna cum inside you ok? gonna feel your insides with my seed, gonna paint you insides white”

“y-yes please ahhh f-feel so good mommy” ���fuck here it comes baby” her hips thrust for one final time. this being her deepest thrust inside you, all in effort for her cum to fully reach deep inside you. the feeling of her cum inside you caused you to also go over the edge.

legs shaking, sana pulls out her cock from inside you. she sees your juices mixed and flowing out of your pussy. sana groans at the sight before plopping on beside you, one arm slung around your waist.

“that felt good baby?”

as much as you wanted to lie, you couldn’t. even if sana forced herself onto you, you can’t deny that what she did somehow removed stress out of you.

too shy to admit it, you muzzled your face onto her neck and nodded. sana ruffled your hair before yawning. both of you shuffled on bed to get comfortable, ready to sleep the night away. well that was the original plan before someone spoke.

“that was it?” a voice asked, breaking the silence in the room. this caused you and sana to sit up from the surprise. “that was kinda boring right minnie?”

“really short if you ask me, and really sana? one round and you’re done? i’m so glad rosie brought me here” minnie tsked causing sana to blush.

“why don’t minnie and i teach you how to properly feel good, what'd you say y/n?”

although tired and dazed, you were curious. ‘what exactly did they mean by properly?’ you thought. apparently, your curiosity was written all over your face because the two started snickering. they both went on each of your side, stripping off their clothes on their way, their hot breaths lingering in your ears.

rosé turned to sana, “why don’t you be a dear and sit by that chair? you’re free to watch or go back to your room.” she spoke. sana grumbled before picking up her discarded clothes and heading to the chair, one hand wrapped on her dick.

“ew you’re gonna jerk off watching us?” minnie bemused. “what? i bet you were doing that a while ago too!” sana spat back. rosé rolled her eyes, pushing you to lean against minnie before also leaning closer. you blush at being sandwiched by two attractive women.

rosé grabbed your chin, your lips meeting hers. you moaned at the feeling of her soft lips against yours, which she immediately took advantage of. darting her tongue inside your mouth. minnie on the other hand, busied herself with your breasts and your neck. fumbling your mounds like there’s no tomorrow while sucking and nipping on your neck. eventually, they got tired of all the foreplay. even sana was getting bored, evident in her groans in the background.

the three of you changed your position resulting to you straddling rosé while minnie was behind you. you gasped at the the feeling of their dicks rubbing against your nether regions. 

“i–i’ve never tried taking two at once before….” you whined hiding your face on rosé’s neck

“don’t worry baby, rosie and i promise to be gentle” to which rosé nodded in agreement.

you took deep breathes before nodding in submission to them. seeing your response, their eyes twinkle before plunging their dicks inside you at the same time. your scream at the sensation while the two groaned at your tightness. it felt so painful, like your were being ripped in half. the pain was overwhelming but so was the lingering pleasure that was starting to build up. the girls started thrusting until they reached a pace they were comfortable with. 

soon, your pained gasps turned into pleasured moans. hearing this, the two started getting rough. they started thrusting harder while their hands lingered all over your body. rosé fondled with your breasts while minnie snaked one of her hands, searching for your sensitive bundle of nerves. once her hand reached its destination, she was merciless. she rubbed so hard you started twitching from the sensation.

“ahhh minnie feels so good~” you moaned, “rosie, minnie mommies –ahh– faster please” you pleaded.

“you like that y/nnie? you like taking dicks abusing your holes?” rosé asked, amused at how helpless you looked.

you aggressively nodded in response, yelping when she suddenly smacked one of your buttcheeks. “shit do that again please” you pleaded. 

rosé smirks at your reaction before sending a barrage of alternating smacks between your buttcheeks. two dicks inside you, minnie stimulating your clit and rosé smacking your ass caused your brain to be overwhelmed your back arching. the two groaned at the sight.

sana, who has been quietly jerking herself by the chair also groaned before standing up, walking towards you, hands still jerking herself. she positioned herself near your head before grabbing the base of her dick, aiming it to your mouth.

“open up” she grunted. although dazed from pleasure, you managed to process what she asked for. you opened your mouth, taking her member in. sana groaned before starting to thrust in your mouth. tears ran down your cheeks from all the pleasure you were receiving. 

this continued more until suddenly, you felt it again. the knot in your stomach was starting to form making you whine more on sana’s dick. the three noticed this, based on how they all suddenly started thrusting harder onto you.

“fuck–you’re cumming baby? could feel you getting tighter.” minnie grunted, her thrusts starting to reach an uneven pace. she was close too; you could feel it, and so were the other girls.

“shit baby im cumming, you’re gonna take it all right? gonna keep my seed deep inside you like a good girl.” rosé hissed before releasing her load this caused to be over the edge and cumming too. your holes tightened causing a domino effect of minnie and sana also cumming.

the four of you layed there for awhile before they all pulled away. sweat running down your faces as you tried to catch your breathe. after awhile, you suddenly spoke up.

“well now that that’s over, im gonna catch some sleep now. it’s up to you guys if u want to return to your rooms or if you want to sleep here with me. good night girls” you announced, ready to sleep for the nth time today.

“sleep? oh baby you think we’re done? we’re just getting started. you won’t be able to sleep a wink tonight” minnie interjected, hands already snaking all over your body. you shivered at the feeling before praying in your mind.

‘lord, have mercy on me tonight.’ you pleaded as the three starting shifting their positions.

the next day, you woke up feeling sore. specially in your nether regions and your mouth. you turn to your left to see the cause of your pain, all tucked together and sleeping like they never gave you those mind boggling orgasms. you rolled your eyes at the sight before grabbing your pillows and started hitting them.

“ow ow y/n? ow!!” yelped sana as she was surprised and confused with your actions while rosé and minnie grumbled, clearly annoyed with getting their sleep disturbed.

you payed no heed to their reactions, “you guys need to get out! i need to fix myself up” you continued hitting them.

though drowsy and annoyed, the three obliged. they, picked up their clothes and got dressed. as they started heading out, rosé turned to you, “you know y/n, kicking us out to get dressed is kinda useless now. cause we’ve already seen everything.” she laughed as she dodged the pillow you threw at her.

you grumbled in annoyance as you tried to stand up and fix the bed. keyword = tried. as soon as you stood up, pain struck your whole body causing you fall flat on the floor. it let out a thud loud enough to send someone running to knock on your door.

“y/nnie?” it was karina, “are you okay? i heard a thud.”

“im fine! i just fell!”

“are you sure? can i come in?”

“rina im butt naked right now.”

“o-oh… i can help you(?)”” “WHAT?!”

despite your protest, karina wanted to see your naked body help you. she took a deep breathe before barging in, one hand covering her eyes but she was obviously peeking.

“RINA!” you squealed before covering your body with a fallen blanket. 

for a while, karina just stood there, mesmerized with how innocent and helpless you look. countless thoughts entered her mind, all of them involving her having her way with you. this lead her to feel a sudden tightness in her lower region. your eyes then trailed to the tent on her crotch causing an idea to pop inside her head. a smirk spread on her face but was quickly replaced by a faux look of distress.

noticing her discomfort and getting concerned, you asked “are you okay rina?” to which she shook her head no.

“it hurts……down there…..” she started whining whilst gesturing to her nether region. “can you help me? please?”

this of course caught you off guard, blood rushing to your cheeks. although flustered with the situation, you wanted to help karina and hey you’ve already experienced pleasuring someone three times last night right? you could say that you were already experienced. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

realizing that you have yet to respond to karina, you again tried to stand up this time succeeding (if standing on wobbly legs was successful at all).

“down there?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper as you gestured towards karina’s crotch. your cheeks were on fire, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest. this was certainly not what you expected when you woke up this morning.

karina nodded, her eyes wide and filled with a mix of vulnerability and something else you couldn’t quite place. she looked at you with a pleading expression, and you knew you couldn’t just leave her in discomfort. despite your own flustered state, you wanted to help her.

gathering your courage, you reached out and clasped her hands. “alright, i’ll help you,” you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. you carefully guided her to the bed, feeling the tension between you both rise.

karina’s internal smirk was hidden behind her innocent facade, but you could sense a shift in her demeanor. she seemed more confident now, her eyes glinting with a spark of mischief.

as you both sat on the edge of the bed, you took a deep breath and leaned closer to her. “just… tell me if i’m doing things right” you murmured, your voice gentle.

karina’s breathe hitched as you positioned yourself between her legs, “i trust you, i know you’ll do great” she replied. 

you nodded back, feeling a rush of determination. you wanted to make her feel better, to ease her discomfort. slowly, you started by palming her erection through her shorts to which she shuddered. you then unzipped them and pulled them down along with her boxers. her cock sprang up, almost hitting your chin in the process. you heard karina let out a sigh of relief while you stared at her member.

it was noticeably throbbing, a sign of how much pain karina was suffering right now. poor baby, if only you knew.

not wanting karina to be in pain for any longer, you quickly went down in business. you wrapped your hands around the rigid member. karina’s eyes fluttered shut, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress the sounds of pleasure that threatened to escape. you leaned in, your lips brushing against her ear. “let me know if you need me to stop,” you whispered, your voice husky.

she shook her head slightly, her grip on your hands tightening. “don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice laced with need.

encouraged by her response, you continued your ministrations, your touch growing bolder. you could feel her body responding to your touch, her tension melting away. 

karina’s breaths were coming in short, sharp bursts now, and hips started thrusting against your hand. you could see the desire in her eyes, and it fueled your own passion.

“y/n baby……….. your mouth” she gasped “i need it” 

although you were caught off guard by her request, you still complied. you opened your mouth to accommodate to her plea. 

karina whimpered as the warm, wet mouth enveloped her throbbing member. it felt so good to have this intimate part of her worshiped in such a lewd manner. the stimulation was overwhelming, and she arched her back in delight. head nearly falling to hit the bed, her upper torso barely being supported by her forearms and elbows against the bed.

she groaned, one of her hands moving to get tangled in your messy hair as they bobbed up and down on her member. the suction increased, and she gasped for breath. the pleasure was intense, making her feel like she was floating on a cloud.

"y/n" she moaned, her voice thick with desire. she felt like she was on the verge of exploding, and she couldn't help but beg for more. "harder, baby," she pleaded. "more." her hips starting to thrust inside your mouth

hearing this, you started sucking harder. you found your hands playing with karina’s balls causing her to cry out in pleasure, her body shuddering as she felt intense waves of pleasure wash over her.

she screamed out in ecstasy, her body shaking with the feeling of her nearing climax.

"i'm gonna cum," she warned, her voice ragged. "don't stop, baby."

you didn't miss a beat, and moments later, karina exploded in a symphony of bliss. her muscles tensed, and her cries of pleasure filled the room. it was a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure that she would never forget. it was better than those times when she relieved herself.

as the aftershocks of her orgasm faded away, karina collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily. while you, climb on top to lay beside her.

"that was amazing," she breathed, reaching down to stroke your hair. "thank you, baby." as she kissed your forehead.

karina then rolled over, pulling you on top of her. her fingers traced along your back, urging you closer as her lips met yours in a passionate kiss. although caught off guard, you matched her passion. but before you could further continue, a knock was heard on your door. groaning in annoyance you asked who it was. “WELL IF YOU DON’T WANT YOUR BREAKFAST TO GET COLD YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS DOWN NOW!!” the person yelled back, revealing herself to be minnie.

the mention of breakfast made you realize how hungry you were and apparently you weren’t the only one, judging by how karina’s stomach grumbled. her ears reddened making you laugh at her. “say, let’s eat breakfast now what do you say?” you offered to which karina quickly agreed, nodding quickly you’d think her head will fall off.

you both got up, picked your discarded clothes and fixed yourself and your bed before heading downstairs for breakfast. reaching the kitchen, you saw that everyone was already there and are eating what seems to be sakura’s cooking. the smell caused karina’s already grumbling stomach to further grumble louder making everybody look at her. silence lingered in the room before a snort, then a giggle, then full on laughing was heard all over the room. “HAHAHAHAHA Y/N MUST’VE TIRED RINA OUT FOR HER TO BE THAT HUNGRY!” sana jokes amplifying the laughter. embarrassed, karina fought back “AT LEAST I COULD CONTROL MYSELF AND NOT WAKE THE WHOLE HOUSE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!”

this caused sana to gasp but before she could answer back, sakura cut them off “now now, breakfast’s gonna get cold, eat first then you settle things later when you do the laundry” to which they grumbled but still sat down making you also sit down.

“so y/n,” sakura began, “how did you sleep last night? good hopefully minus some nightly visitors.” eyeing three people making them look away.

you blushed at the reminder of last night before bashfully answering “it was nice, i slept great and i appreciated their company last night.” this made the three smirk and sakura to huff. 

you heard someone muttering but chose to ignore it, maybe it wasn’t important right? wonyoung then opened up a topic leading to a breakfast filled with chitchat. you guys divided up today’s task and as expected, yours were to wash the dishes and tidy up the house. you weren’t alone of course, sakura and yeji volunteered to help which you were grateful for. 

soon, everyone was finished with breakfast. prompting them to all stand up and for you to collect the plates and do the dishes while sakura and yeji disappeared in the house gathering the cleaning materials and the rest go out to either collect firewood, hunt for meat or forage carrying with them, the packed lunches that sakura prepared.

as you stood at the sink, warm water flowed over your hands as you scrubbed the final few dishes. the frequent sound of running water and the soft clinking of dishes runs through the silent room. your attention drifts a little, concentrating on finishing the rest of the task.

suddenly, you feel a set of arms gently wrap around your waist, drawing you back in an embracing hold. surprised, you turn to your side to find sakura leaning her head against your shoulder, her breath hot against your ear and her eyes filled with hunger. this made you feel hot on the inside.

“you think this is all just a game don’t you? getting fucked by nearly everyone in this household?” she spat in your ear as her hands found their way to your underwear, toying with your clit. “you’re already this wet? you are a slut aren’t ya.” making you whimper and to lean against her. 

“kkura-ah!” she clamped your mouth before you could catch any unwanted attention. 

“quiet,” she spat. “now bend over for me like the slut that you are.” her words making you feel even hotter. you wordlessy obliged sakura’s demand making her smirk.

as you bent over, her hands ran down your tank top covered back. it was as if her palms were trying to memorize the curves of your back. you felt her hands on the hem of your pajama pants 

as she starts to pull them down along with your panties. your slick making the panty stick to your nether region. sakura bit her lip at the sight before in to give it a long lick. you rolled your eyes at the sensation, even leaning back to be closer to her.

sakura chuckled at you reaction before she stood up and unbuckled her pants and pushing it down along with her boxers. you turned to look at her only to be faced with her throbbing member sitting between you buttcheeks. you blushed at the sight making her grin. leaning over to your ear, she began “im gonna fuck you on this sink until your breasts get imprinted here and everytime someone puts their dishes here, they get reminded of how good i fucked you here.” hands on your waist while humping against you.

then without any warning, she plunged herself inside you. you gasped at the intrusion, feeling how deep she was inside you. sakura grunted at how your walls tightened around her and how warm it was being inside you. she waited a few moments, letting you adjust around her size.

she soon started thrusting making your body press even further against the marbled sink. as moans, whines, gasps and a mix off all came out of your mouth, sakura thrusted harder. she then soon remembered that yeji was still inside the house.

“you’re moaning here like an attention seeking whore. you want yeji to hear you? i bet that riles you up, getting caught whoring aroung, being a whole household’s fuck toy” her taunting was proven when you tightened at her words making her smirk.

“ah— stop saying it like that” you tried to defend yourself.

“but isnt it true baby? i felt you tighten and all” sakura rebutted one hand leaving your waist to smack one of your cheeks, leaving a red hand print.

“it’s embarrassing—ah kkura!— when you say it out loud” you cried as your body responded to her stimulations. tears running down your eyes from the mixture of pleasure and pain as sakura maniacally laughs with bits of groans coming out at times.

this onslaught of moans continued on until you felt the familiar knot in your stomach starting to form. “kkura im close —ah!” you warned her turning to her sweat covered face. 

“hold it,” she grunted, “i know it feels good but i don’t give a fuck, i want you to hold it.” 

this made you whine, your body saying no but you knew better than to disobey sakura. 

“please kkura! i need it.” you pleaded but sakura’s face remained unchanged. the only thing that seemed to change was how her thrust became uneven, a sure sign that she was also near. 

but what you didn’t know was how great sakura was at holding her release. determined to prolonged your pleasurable suffering, she bit her lips as she held her release. minutes passed by and you felt like you could no longer hold yourself any futhwe.

“kkura,” you begged. “i can’t take it anymore, i wanna cum please please please please” sakura groaned, knowing that she also can’t hold it any longer. “just a little more love, i’m near” she thrusted a few more times before finally letting go, her hips shaking as she buried herself deeper inside you seemingly trying to prolong her pleasure. the moment you felt her warm fluid inside, you also let go. eyes rolling to the back of your head, your legs twitching and your mind going blank. sakura pressed her face against your neck, inhaling your post sex scent leaving a trail of soft kisses as she does so. 

a few moments passed and your rapidly beating hearts have finally calmed down. sakura pulls away from you, including her member, leaving you whining at the lost of contact. her eyes trailed down to your nether region, the sight of your mixed fluids making her eyes glimmer as she licked her lips. but it all crumbled down when she heard you groan in pain as you attempted to raise your upper body that lied against the marbled surface for so long. 

“oh dear did i overdo it? i have some pain relievers in my room, do you need some? what about water? are you feeling thirsty?” your eyes just started staring at her in shock  like a tarsier.

……‘is this really the same woman that made me submit and called me names.’ you asked yourself as you continued to stare only breaking your train of thoughts when you realized that sakura was starting to panic and ramble. you giggled at how cute she was in contrast to how dominant she was a few minutes ago. you pinched her cheeks to stop her from rambling which thankfully was really effective. sakura blushed at the gesture before you began, “im fine k kura, just tired” you reassured her. 

“but i think i need to rewash the dishes, sweat got all over them”

she rolls her eyes before joking, “don’t bother, some freaks in this household would want that” and then cackled

your eyes widened at her statement making you playfully shove her shoulder. “don’t say that, that’s so unsanitary!”

wiping her sweat, she picked both your clothes up, helping you get into them before also wearing her own clothes. her fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face as she leaned down, her soft voice filled with warmth.

“rest for a bit, alright? i’ll finish my task first’’ she said, her tone comforting. with one last glance over her shoulder, she walked away, her steps light but satisfied.

“oh by the way,” she paused, facing you “if you want more of me, just go to my room” she winked before finally leaving. you rolled her eyes at her statement before rerinsing the dishes. 

after finishing the dishes, you dried your hands and walked into the living room. yeji was sitting on the couch, her face flushed as she quickly grabbed a pillow and placed it over her lap.

“you’re done already?” she asked, her voice slightly shaky, avoiding your gaze as she fidgeted nervously.

you raised an eyebrow, noticing her unusual behavior. taking a step closer, you tilted your head in curiosity.

“what’s wrong?” you asked softly, your voice laced with concern.

yeji’s hands gripped the pillow tighter, her gaze darting away as her cheeks grew even redder. “n-nothing!” she blurted out, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

you knelt slightly, trying to meet her eyes, your curiosity growing. “yeji, are you sure? you look… flustered.” you pressed gently, your tone teasing but kind.

her lips parted, but no words came out as she shifted awkwardly, clutching the pillow like her life depended on it. 

“come on, you can tell me yeji.” you urged. this made her let out a sigh of defeat, finally giving in.

“fine, it’s just that i uh-uhm…” she stammered, her voice starting to fade. “i watched you and sakura at the sink.”

it was now your turn to blush at what she said, “what?”

“yeah i uh-uhm got a situation down here……” she admitted. 

you gasped at what you heard, feeling guilty at the situation you’ve placed yeji into. you wanted to help and you were going to, with the ways you learned from this household.

“oh my gosh! im really sorry about that.” you apologized making yeji shake her head. “no no it’s fine y/n” 

“i can help you with your situation if you want” you offered. this perked her interest, countless thoughts running through her head and making herself smirk. “well…. if you want that” she accepted, ears reddening. you beamed at her before she took your hands pulling you upstairs to her room. 

when you both reached her room, she wasted no time pinning you against the door while locking it. her lips locked with yours rubbing her bulge against your core making you whine. her lips travelled from your jaw to your neck, trying to find your sweet spot. when she found it, she abused the hell out of it, your already loud whines were getting louder at this point.

while your mind while being turned into putty, yeji’s hands got busy too. they snaked around your body, slowly undressing you and herself. with all your clothes now pooling on your foot yeji pulled away, pushing you down on her bed. as you’re gasping for breathe, yeji sat between your thighs, hand placing one of your thighs on her shoulder. she then guided her member against your folds, spreading the wetness secreted by your greater vestibular gland. 

you whined at the teasing wanting nothing more but to feel her inside you. yeji on the other hand, wanted this as much as you but she wanted to take some necessary precautions to avoid hurting you. when she deemed you wet and lubricated enough, she pushed in. a satisfied groan soon ripped out of her throat, as you cry from her intrusion. yeji stays still for a while, letting you adjust to her size.

as soon as you seemed to adjust to her member, she began to thrust wildly making your eyes roll at the back of your head. in a moment, yeji’s room became filled with your pussy squelching accompanied by your whines and her groans.

“ah-ah-ah yeji!” you gasped out as you felt her member repeatedly hitting your cervix. yeji eyed the way your chest heaved up and down, how your breasts shook, a trail of drool running down to your jaw. she leaned in to lick it as one of her hands crept to wrap around your neck, giving it a light squeeze. your walls tightened as response to your body suddenly receiving a limited amount of oxygen arms thrashing against yeji’s back. 

yeji, feeling your reaction smirked as she further tighten her grip on your neck as black dots start to dance around your eyesight. 

“you look so beautiful like this, my hands around your neck”

just when you were about to pass out, yeji let go. you gasped for air as she continued to thrust roughly inside you. while you were catching your breathe, yeji leaned in to engage you in a lip locking session. moaning against the kiss, you wrapped your legs around her waist as you feel your climax approaching making her hiss at your tightness.

“fuck. are you getting close dear? you’re getting tighter all for me.” as she said those words, she began to feel her release too. determined to let you cum first, she held her release as her thrusts became became deeper and messy. your eyes well up from yeji’s change of pace as you reach your climax.

“ahhhh-im cumming!” you squealed wrapping your arms around yeji’s neck, pulling her to your chest, smothering her face in near your breast as you came. yeji groaned against your chest at how you tightened around her, finally letting go and filling you with her release. your bodies shuddered at the peak of your pleasure, your chests heaving up and down in an attempt to catch your breathe.

yeji stayed inside you for awhile, resting, before finally pulling out. you whined at the feeling of emptiness inside while yeji remained silent. you looked at her and her eyes was glued to your nether region. as she starred at how your mixed liquids flowed out of your folds, she let her intrusive thoughts win and she swiped her fingers to collect your fluid bumping against your clit making your body twitch as she licked it off her fingers.

“that was hot” you muttered, making you both look at each other before giggling together as if the two just didn’t have sex. 

“yeah it was” yeji agreed, closing in to cuddle you. minutes passed by as you both rested in her bed, nothing could be heard but your relaxed breathing as your eyes start to get heavy but a knock at the door interrupts the silence.

“yeji? y/n? i know the both of you are really tired but please do know that the others will be coming home soon and if you don’t want to be the subject to their teasings, you both better be by now” sakura advised. 

“yeah yeah we’ll be ready in a bit” yeji answered back, getting up and picking up your discarded clothes. your eyes followed her as she moved around the room picking up the clothes. as yeji finished, she sat back down at the bed handing you your clothes.

“you heard kkura, get dressed, when you’re done we’ll head downstairs” she said, getting up again to properly wear her clothes.you nod, thanking her as you also got up to wear your clothes. 

when you were both finished, you headed down to find sakura by the couch reading a book. she catches you guys in her peripheral vision, and she smiles closing her book. she patted the space beside her calling the two of you to sit close to her. you smile back pulling yeji with you as you jump to sit at the couch. the two giggle at your antics as yeji reaches over the coffee table to get some of the cookies that sakura seemingly baked. the three of you lounge and chat as you  wait for the others to arrive home. 

while the sun sets, you hear a bunch of familiar voices outside and the door opens with a bang.

“I’M HOMEEEEE!!!” sana yells and rosé hits her in the head to quiet her down. 

“shut your yap i’m already tired of hearing you all day” rosé complained rolling her eyes.

sana ignores her, eyes landing on you making her squeal.

“Y/NNIE I MISSED YOUUUU!” she exclaimed tackling you in a hug.

“hey sana…….” you greet hugging her back.

“how as your day? did kkura and yeji give you a hard time? did you have any fun? are you tired?” she interrogated.

“now now sana-chan, don’t overwhelm her so much” karina tried calming the squirrel down.

murmurs of agreement spread around the room making sana pout hugging you tighter. you all giggled at her adorable antics before sakura stood announcing that she’ll start making dinner.

“you guys should freshen up” she advised, pertaining to the group that stayed outside the whole day.

they all agreed with her, not forgetting to thank her for again cooking a meal for everyone. as sakura left to go to the kitchen, the rest proceeded to go to their rooms upstairs to freshen up, yeji towing behind saying she forgot something in her room. 

you were left there alone in the living room as you leaned back against the couch eyes glued to the ceiling as you let today’s events sink down. minutes pass by and you feel the couch dip beside you. you turned to your left to see wonyoung looking at you curiously.

“penny for you thoughts?” she asked.

“oh im just thinking of the things that happened today” you admit.

“how is it so far? have you been adjusting well?” she wondered.

“yeah, im loving it here.” you answered.

the two of you kept conversing as the rest of the girls joined after freshening up. time passed by and soon, sakura finished cooking, prompting you to stand up to help her set the table. one you were done, sakura called the rest over.  

wonyoung was the first to arrive, her bright energy filling the room as she eagerly claimed a seat. "it smells so good, sakura! what did you make?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.  

"you’ll see," sakura replied with a small smile, bringing out the dishes.  

sana followed shortly after, laughing softly as she settled beside wonyoung. "it’s nice to just sit down together like this after such a long day," she said, stretching her arms.  

karina nodded, sliding into the seat across from them. "no kidding. carrying all that firewood back was no joke. my arms feel like they’re about to fall off."  

rosé joined next, brushing snow off her cloak as she sat down. "you think that’s bad? try foraging for berries in the freezing cold. my fingers are still numb," she said, holding her hands out toward the fire.

soyeon walked in with yeji close behind, both of them looking a little worn. "hunting today was rough," yeji said as she dropped into her seat, her tired expression softening as the aroma of the food reached her. "but at least we managed to bring something back."  

"yeah, but i think the deer were mocking us by how fast they ran," soyeon added with a small laugh.  

soon, the table was filled with laughter and conversation, everyone sharing stories about their tasks and the small triumphs of the day. sakura’s cooking didn’t last long as everyone happily dug in, the warmth of the meal matching the lively energy of the group.

after dinner, everyone helped clear the table, but you offered to handle the dishes. the sound of laughter from the other girls slowly faded as they headed to their rooms, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

once the last plate was cleaned and dried, you wiped your hands and headed to your room. exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and you were grateful for the softness of your bed. as you settled under the covers, just on the edge of sleep, a gentle knock startled you.

"come in," you called softly, sitting up slightly.

the door creaked open to reveal wonyoung, holding a small cup of water. her usual brightness was dimmed by concern as she stepped inside. "i noticed you didn’t drink much during dinner," she said, offering the cup with a sweet smile. "i thought you might need this before sleeping."

"oh," you murmured, touched by the gesture. "thank you, wonyoung." taking the cup, you sipped it without a second thought.

as soon as you set the cup down, a strange dizziness overtook you. the room swayed, and your limbs felt heavy. panic rose in your chest, but your body refused to respond.

"w-wonyoung...?" you managed to whisper, your voice slurring.

"shh," she said gently, brushing your hair back. "don’t worry. you’ll be fine." her words were soothing, but the darkness that pulled you under was anything but.

when you woke, the cold bite of metal against your wrists jolted you fully awake. your hands were tied above your head, the cold shackles digging into your skin. your previous clothes were now replaced with a thin white nightgown that barely did anything against the cold. your surroundings were unfamiliar, a grand yet eerie castle chamber, with high ceilings and dark stone walls. the luxurious bed beneath you was in stark contrast to the situation you were in. it was eerie yet seemed familiar…….

your heart pounded as you struggled against the bindings, but they held firm. the dim light from a single window only added to the suffocating sense of dread. how did you end up here? and more importantly, where was wonyoung?

your train of thoughts was cut by the loud bang made by the door, a figure entered and faced you a smirk evident in her face. all the color drained from your face as you properly saw the figure. standing infront of you was the person you were running away from in the first place, the queen herself. queen jang daah.

your shocked must’ve been really obvious because daah began laughing.

“h-how did you find me?” you tensely questioned.

“oh y/n y/n, my sweet innocent y/n.” she mocked. “you thought i’d never find you? you thought a house hidden deep in the forest would be out of my reach? i have eyes everywhere my dear.” she finished, leaning close to you.

if you were first scared, now you were terrified. countless thoughts ran through your head. if daah knows about the house, what happened to the girls? were they caught? oh god hopefully not you prayed.

“why the silence my sweet? cat your tongue?” she giggled, her hand cupping your cheeks.

“w-what did you do to the girls? are they okay? did you hurt them?” you asked, tears starting to well up if your eyes. you let out a gasp at her response.

“oh your housemates? oh dear why would i hurt my attendants? that would be counterintuitive” she tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with menace.  

“a-attendants?” you repeated, your mind racing.  

“yes, my darling. attendants,” she cooed, leaning in closer. “they’ve been serving me all along. my eyes in the forest… such loyal little helpers, don’t you think?”  

your heart sank as her words began to sink in. “they… they were helping you?”  

“of course,” she said with a smirk. “did you think they were just simple girls living in a cottage? no, no, my sweet. they were tasked with bringing you to me. and oh, they did such a fine job of earning your trust.”  

you shook your head, tears spilling over. “no… no, they wouldn’t do that. they’re my friends. you’re lying!”  

her grip on your cheeks tightened slightly, her smile widening. “friends? oh, my dear, how adorably naive. they played their roles well, didn’t they? but don’t fret. their loyalty is rewarded, and now, you are here, right where you belong.”  

“why?” you choked out, struggling against the bonds. “why are you doing this?”  

her expression softened, though the glint in her eyes remained predatory. “because you, my sweet, are special. and i’ve waited far too long to have you. you should feel honored, you’ll never have to leave this castle again.” you didn’t believe her words, surely she ulterior motives right? like she’ll use your body for a ritual or something. 

“don’t struggle, my sweet,” she murmured, her face drawing closer, her lips curving into a smile that sent a chill down your spine. “this will only make it easier for you to understand… you belong to me now.”  

her hand trailed to your jaw, tilting your face up as she leaned in. her breath was warm against your skin, her lips dangerously close. you tried to turn away, but her grip was firm, holding you in place.  

just as her lips were about to meet yours, the door slammed open with a thunderous crash, the sound echoing through the room.  

“get away from her!”  

your eyes widened as you saw wonyoung standing in the doorway, her chest heaving like she’d run all the way there. for a brief moment, relief washed over you until you saw her lips curl into a sly smile.  

“oh, sister, you didn’t think you’d get to have all the fun without me, did you?” she said, stepping inside.  

your heart dropped, confusion and betrayal crashing over you. “w-wonyoung… sister? what’s going on?” you stammered, your voice shaking.  

daah let out a delighted laugh, her hand still cupping your cheek. “oh, my sweet, you didn’t realize? wonyoung isn’t just anyone she’s my sister. and she’s been helping me all along.”  

it all made sense now, why she looked familiar, why she reminded you of someone. she was the queen’s sister. the one rumored to have left the palace in pursuit of a much simpler life, hence you never saw her. but her resemblance to the queen was undeniable

wonyoung’s eyes softened as she approached the bed, but the warmth you’d once found in them felt twisted now. “don’t look so scared,” she murmured, crouching beside you. “we didn’t bring you here to hurt you. we just… couldn’t let you go.”  

“this has to be some kind of sick joke,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks. “you… you lied to me.”  

“we did what we had to,” wonyoung said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “don’t you see? you’re special. you’re ours.”  

“ours,” daah echoed, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “and now, there’s no escaping it.”  

you struggled against the bindings, your heart pounding in your chest, but neither of them seemed fazed. instead, wonyoung leaned in, her touch unnervingly gentle as she rested her hand on your arm. daah’s grip on your chin tightened, her possessive smile sending shivers down your spine.  

“don’t fight it, my sweet,” daah whispered, her lips dangerously close to yours. “this is your new life. you’re ours now.”  

daah closed the gap betweens yours lips while wonyoung snaked her hands around your torso. her hands played with your breasts until your nipples were erect. this made you moan against daah’s mouth giving her the chance to push her tongue inside your mouth as her hands found their way to your clothed folds, gently rubbing it. 

tears ran down your cheeks as your body responded to their touches in ways you didn’t want. but how could you resist it when two extremely attractive sisters are currently playing with your sensitive regions. daah pulled away for moment giving you the chance to breathe as she ripped your nightgown, exposing your bare body to the cold.

as your body’s natural response, your arms attempted to cover your body but daah caught them in time. 

“no need to hide your beautiful body my sweet,” daah cooed but her toned changed. “we deserve to see it after all the shit that you’ve put us through.”

wonyoung giggled at her sister’s sudden shift before joking, “calm down sis, we have all the time in the world don’t we? after all, she’s ours now”

daah said nothing, only nodding in agreement before sitting up on her knees to unzip her 

gown. wonyoung, seeing her sister, then followed suit. your eyes widened at the sight of their members stood tall between their thighs. seeing your reaction, the sisters dissolved into laughter at how you looked.

“why are you so shocked? it’s not like this is first time seeing one right?” daah mocked leaning closer again, “wonyoung told me about how much of a slut you were to my attendants.” her statement made you whine, closing your eyes in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.

the sisters grinned at your reaction before you felt the tightness of shackles against your wrist suddenly vanish. you open your eyes in confusion and just as you were about to ask a question, wonyoung already cut you off.

“we’re giving you the chance to redeem yourself, so be a good girl for us.” she explained. “and you better not waste it or you’ll face some severe disciplining.”

her last words made you shiver in fear but nevertheless, you nod. it was useless to fight anyway, your first and final attempt to freedom was nothing more than a facade so why not accept and enjoy your new life now?

“words pretty, i need to hear it.”

“y-yes mommies….”

“good.”

“now where we’re we?”

as those words left daah’s mouth, it was like a switch was flicked inside them. their grinning faces turned into faces filled with desire, almost predatory. like you were some sort of prey trapped.

“say sis, which one do you prefer? the front or the back?” wonyoung asked her sister.

“hmmm… i think i’d prefer her backdoor” daah replied, already moving behind you as her hands found their way on your breast. her actions making you moan, leaning back against her which in turn causing your body to rub against her member. this made the queen groan, pulling you closer to her rubbing her member against you.

“don’t forget about me.” wonyoung spoke, leaning in to capture your lips. you moaned against her lips wrapping your arms around neck. you were so loss into the kiss and the amount of stimulation you were receiving that you never noticed that the sisters have already lined their members against your holes.

you pulled away from the kiss to let out a squeal when you felt them enter you. you smothered your face against wonyoung’s neck as you tried to adjust to their sizes. this was only your second time taking two shafts inside you and it wasn’t easier than the first time. the sisters groaned as your walls tightened around them in an attempt to adjust to their sizes.

they stayed still, letting you get used to them. when your whimpers died down, a sign that you’ve adjusted, they were ruthless. daah moved first, and wonyoung followed suit their thrusts pattern all over their face as they try to find a rhythm. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, blindly grabbing anything in your reach. daah’s mouth found their way at the base of your neck leaving light kisses all over, but she soon gave a hard bite making you scream out it pain.

“may this be a reminder of who you belong to, us” daah whispered, thrusting harder than before, her hands slithering down to find your bundle of nerves, abusing it when she found it.

tears ran down your face from the combined sensation of pain and pleasure. wonyoung, seeing this leaned in to kiss your tears away her thrusts, following behind her sister’s. 

“fuck you’re so tight for us y/nnie~. for someone who ran away from us, you’re awfully enjoying this so much” she teased, her lips also finding their way to your neck leaving out her own mark. she pulled away, admiring your mark filled neck that the two of them made. she made eye contact with her sister, smirking as if they read each other’s mind. you felt them slowing down to a stop, pulling out and just as you were about to plead for them, they suddenly plunged back inside you with full force. your mind, now already deteriorated into putty made you mindlessly babble as more tears ran down your face. 

the room was soon filled your cries of “mommy”, your pleas, and the sister’s groans of pleasure as you felt their members hitting your deepest crevices and as you leaned forward in exhaustion your eyes caught sight of something. a bulge can be seen in your womb area, the sight rousing your attention making your moans start to quieten down.

daah, confused with your sudden silence, looked over your shoulder to take a look at whatever it is that caught your attention. seeing the bulge she smirked, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“fuck, you feel us my sweet? that’s us, that’s us that your slutty body is taking” pressing down the bulge making you wail and wonyoung to let out a groan as her hands found their way to play with your breasts.

“she’s getting tighter–shit i’m getting close ahhh fuck!” wonyoung yelled out, her thrust getting out of control as she tried to chase her high.

“ahhh me too fuck y/n keep that up my sweet” daah followed, groaning as she laid her face in your neck, sniffing your scent. 

with their thrusts being all over the place and getting rougher and deeper inside of you, of course you also felt yourself being pushed over the edge. 

“mommies!” you wailed, “i–fuck cum!” words being forgotten, pleasure overtaking over your cognitive functions. 

“no! you’re not allowed to until we cum!” daah demanded, the restriction worsening your already sobbing state.

“b-but!” you tried to plead, only to be cut by wonyoung “i don't care how good it feels you better not cum unless we tell you to” she spat, closing her eyes.

fortunately, with how much you were squeezing them, they reached their highs. wonyoung came first, gripping your thighs, her nails digging against your skin as she shakingly tried to pump into to you in an attempt to maximize the pleasure that she felt. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt the warm fluid fill up your walls.

daah followed suit due to your anal orifice tightening in response to wonyoung’s release. she grabbed you by your neck, forcing you to look at her, your lips being caught in a liplocking session against her own lips as she releases inside you. 

the overstimulation got to you and without warning, you felt yourself release, your legs twitching as you let out an ear splitting squeal of pleasure, before leaning back against daah in exhastion. wonyoung layed against you too and you all layed there, in a sandwich position, all you of breathing deeply in exhaustion. 

you felt your eyes start to get heavy from fatigue as you squirmed to find a better position to sleep in. as you tried you moved around, the two pulled their members out of you to give you some space to move. when you finally settled down, they both layed beside you, each taking one side. 

“sleep now our darling, you need to regain your energy for next time” wonyoung whispered by your side, leaning in to kiss your cheek. daah seeing her sister’s actions, did the same kissing your other cheek. you smiled at their gesture, as you finally let your sleepiness take over you, finally able to accept your new life in the castle, pleased with the fact that their intentions with you have been cleared.

[marsbutterfly]

I have this head cannon where Moblit and Hanji are into the same type of girls but Moblit usually gets them cuz they end up being straight but then Y/N comes along and Moblit is madly in love with her, Hanji lowkey has given up when it comes to her and Moblit falling for the same girl. But then she confesses that she’s into Ms Hanji Zoe. 👛

Loved By You (And The Other One)

Summary: Hanji and Moblit have always had the same taste when it came to girls and it was always easier for him to get a chance with them. Until they both meet you, that is.

a/n: thank you for sending this in! I had a lot of fun writing it and a sudden wave of inspiration came crashing down on me a couple days ago. I plan on writing several of your other requests, so I hope you are ready!

my proof reader: @wizzy21 | wc: 2.6k | wattpad! | ao3! warnings: none, just fluff!

"I heard from a friend of a friend that Moblit has been keeping his eye on y/n for some time now," Levi says. His back is pressed against the wall as he sits on Erwin's bed, his legs are crossed while he continues to take a few bites of his bowl of noodles.

Hanji, who is sitting by the computer, lets out a long and pained sigh. They bring their hands to their eyes, lifting their glasses above their forehead and rubbing their eyes in the process. "A friend of a friend, really?"

The black-haired man carefully wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, placing the bowl on his lap. Once he makes sure it's secure, he lifts his eyes to meet Hanji's face, realizing there is more than a subtle hint of hurt behind it.

"He told me during Criminal Justice class that he had a plan to ask her out," he says, his voice is now gentler than before, carrying with it almost a bit of pity. "He says he has been in love with her since the moment they met in Psychology class last semester. He's been trying to get with her but she might be a bit clueless about his crush or something."

Hanji's eyes sting with unwashed tears, frustration filling their body. This isn't the first time a situation like this has occurred, nor the second, or third. It has happened more times than they could count on one hand. They will fall in love with a girl, befriend her and, as they are about to confess their crush, they find out Moblit has already talked to them and they have planned a date or have already made out.

They know he isn't doing it on purpose, after all, they had never really talked to him about the entire situation. But when it came to you, things were different. They had been expressing their interest in you for the longest time, loud and clearly enough for anyone around to notice. Well, except for the object of their affection.

Just the mere mention of your name was enough to make their heart soar higher than a passenger plane, looking at you was like being mesmerized by the sunset at the beach and the sound of your voice could only be compared to the most beautiful melody ever composed by a human being.

"He knows how I feel about her," Hanji whispers, burying their face in their hands, slumping their body forward over their knees on the chair. It's a pathetic sight, but they can't help but feel pathetic in this moment.

Erwin, who exits the bathroom with his shorts on and a towel shuffling around his hair, has been listening in to their conversation while drying off from his shower and he can't help but sigh. He places his hand on Hanji's back, tenderly moving it up and down.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice filled with guilt, "I tried to dissuade him. I tried to tell him to just let you have this one, but he said he was really in love this time and he was willing to fight for her."

He can tell something is brewing within their friend's chest so he looks at Levi, who in response nods and tosses a pillow at the blonde man. He proceeds to hand the object to Hanji and they nod thankfully before burying their face in the soft surface, allowing an ear-piercing scream to exit their lungs. If it weren't for the pillow, one might think it was loud enough to shatter the dorm's windows.

In the meantime, you find yourself outside one of your classrooms, a very nervous Moblit making his way towards you with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His face is sweatier and redder than usual, his breathing is quickening and you can tell his hands are trembling.

Though worried, you flash him the usual smile, walking in his direction. "Hi Moblit, are you alright? I didn't think you had class in this building today and this is pretty far away from your dorm, or any other of your classes, really."

"Y/N…" He begins, his voice slightly faltering so he clears his throat, "I have been thinking for a while and I wanted to talk to you about something!"

His words catch you by surprise, a bad feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. The flowers, his face, everything about his posture is screaming exactly what he wants to tell you and you sigh, clutching your books tighter against your chest. You lift your eyes to meet his while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, paying close attention to what he says while already thinking of the best way to reject him.

"I have had a crush on you since last semester and I am pretty sure I am fully in love with you and I really want to know if you would be interested in going on a date and maybe kissing and becoming boyfriend and girlfriend, I promise I can make you so happy, please!" He says, all in one breath. For a second there, his eyes go slightly crossed and you are afraid he's going to pass out. Your jaw tightens and you awkwardly shift around, licking your lips while still thinking about what to say.

"Moblit, I'm -" You begin, quickly being interrupted by his trembling hands as he hands you the flowers. You smile uncomfortably and nod, "Thank you. Look, we're good friends and I know you are a sweet guy but… There is someone else in my heart right now. Someone I have been flirting with over these past few weeks and, even if they don't seem to realize it yet."

You can nearly hear the moment his heart breaks, his face dropping slightly and, if you look hard enough, it seems like he is on the verge of tears. He takes a deep breath, "Thank you for letting me know. I… A-Appreciate your honesty and I… Wish you… Luck."

The scene is truly pathetic and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt in your heart as you look at him. With a sigh and a smile, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close for a hug. He doesn't even dare to wrap his arms around his waist, but he is grateful for the chance to be this close to you, even if just this once, even if just for a minute.

"We can still be friends if that's okay with you," you whisper softly as you pull away, your hands resting on his shoulders as you take a good look at his defeated expression. He nods somewhat excitedly.

"If that's ok with you," He sniffles, an embarrassed chuckle making its way past his lips, "Oh man, and I almost let Hanji dissuade me from confessing today. Maybe I should have listened to them, for once."

You pause, pulling your hand away. Your heart is now beating a thousand miles per hour and the fear of God has been struck into you, Moblit's words echoing in your brain repeatedly as you look at him. "I almost let Hanji dissuade me."

That meant that Hanji was aware that Moblit had a crush on you. That also explained why every time you smiled at them, or tried to flirt even in the slightest, they would only return the affection for a second before locking eyes with him and returning back to a sadder version of themselves. You look back on all the study sessions the two of you had by yourselves, where their bubbly personality came out. All of the times they playfully tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and when they would hold and wiggle the pencil in a certain way to make it seem like it was made out of rubber.

"Hanji knows you have a crush on me?" You whisper, goosebumps rising through your skin. You don't want them to think you like Moblit back, you like them! You can't help but be terrified of the idea of your chances being destroyed over a mistake that wasn't yours.

"Yeah, we usually get crushes on the same girls but this is actually the first time I've lost to them," Moblit says, still handing you the flowers regardless. They are sunflowers, the one specific kind that has always reminded you of Hanji. "Here, to whoever owns that special place in your heart. Give it to them."

His words hit you like a truck and you realize that this entire time, your feelings have been reciprocated. Hanji has had a crush on you for just as long as you have had a crush on them.

You clutch the books closer to your chest as you take the flowers, "Where's Hanji right now?"

Moblit looks at the watch on his wrist and, after some quick thinking, he is finally able to provide you with an answer. "Well, they didn't have their last class today since the professor lost the lecture's PowerPoint so I'm pretty sure they are just hanging out at Erwin and Levi's dorm."

You kiss his cheek as a token of your appreciation before bolting in the direction of your friends' room. On your way there, you try to think of what to say when you are talking to them. When you look at those coffee-colored eyes, will you be able to pour out your feelings? Or will you be too much of a scaredy cat?

It doesn't matter, nothing else matters. You need to tell them. So you continue to run, bumping against people and mumbling out half-assed apologies, your lungs burning as you try to breathe during your sprints.

Hanji now finds themselves lying on the floor with their headphones in, staring at the ceiling while blaring "All By Myself - Celine Dion". The song has been playing on a loop for the past twenty minutes and, even with the buds in their ears, every word of the lyrics can be clearly heard by anyone within a twenty-mile radius (or so Levi believes.)

"I can't do this anymore," he clutches the pillow over his own face, grunting loudly. He pulls away only to stare at the surface, a bit of a murderous look in his eyes.

"No," Erwin responds in a calm tone, though a bit of an assumed subtext to his word. Levi grunts once more, allowing his body to fall backward on the blonde's bed.

"I could make it super quick, they would not feel a thing."

"You're not killing Hanji."

Before they can continue going back and forth with Levi's decision, they hear footsteps running across the hallway and stopping right before their door, followed by a quiet and polite knock.

"It's open," Erwin furrows his brows, stopping in the middle of a complex equation and putting the pencil down. It takes a few seconds for you to gather yourself enough to open the door, your eyes quickly scanning the room around you.

One side is extremely tidy, not a single piece of paper out of place. The skin products are organized in order of usage, cleaning products are neatly stocked inside a basket under the desk and you can see a detailed schedule on the board above the bed dictating chores and what days they need to be completed by.

The other one is organized in its own way. Though seemingly a mess to some, you can tell there is a method to the madness. There are calculators in the open drawer, organized by the complexity of the buttons and the size. There are piles of paper on the ground, but they are somewhat color-coded, and many half-eaten snacks sit on each side of the notebooks, almost like he allows himself a "reward bite" out of his favorite candy for every equation he correctly solves.

Hanji's head rolls back slightly on the ground and their eyes make their way up your body, from your sneakers to your jean shorts with hearts on the pockets, your pink blouse, and finally, your face. You've got sweat dripping down your face but, as soon as your eyes meet, they gasp, pulling their headphones out of their ears.

"Y/N!" They sit up, their cheeks blushing as they smile at the mere sight of you. Their joy silently dies down as they remember you probably scheduled a date with Moblit and are there just to deliver the news that you don't have any interest in them at all.

"Hanji… Can… We… Talk…?" You say breathlessly, your lungs feel like you are breathing in fire. They don't want to, they are terrified of what you have to say but the idea of being alone with you, that up close, was enough to make them shiver.

They stand up and nod, gesturing towards the outside of the room before closing the door behind them. You can almost hear the exact moment Levi and Erwin press their ears to the surface, desperate to get the information straight from the source.

"Are you alright? Can I get you anything?" They look down at the sunflowers in your hand and offer you a sad smile, "Those are really pretty."

"They are for you!" Your voice goes higher than you ever thought it was possible. Hanji's eyes widen as you hand them the flowers, their fingers carefully brushing against yours, so gently that it could only be compared to the flapping wings of a butterfly in the wind.

"I don't understand…"

"Can I kiss you?" You ask bluntly. During your run, you realized there was no way you would be able to find the words you wanted to say without making a fool out of yourself. So you made the ultimate decision that actions speak louder than words. You want to kiss them badly, but you need to hear them say yes first.

"Fucking, please!" They carefully drop the flowers to the ground, hands immediately coming to grasp your waist while you cup their face.

After all the nights you had spent dreaming about this moment, you focus on the small details about them. Their lips are softer than you thought they would be, while their hands are a bit rougher from all the mechanical work they do for their projects.

Their nose bumps against yours as your tongues dance together to a melody of their own, a rhythm not known by any other living soul on Earth besides the two of you.

Their breath has a hit of caramel to it and you know it came from their coffee order before class. Their messy hair falls against your fingers and you can tell by how smooth their curls feel that they have recently washed it.

A few other residents and students walk by, some whistling, some grunting in annoyance, but most are unphased by the gesture. It is a college campus, after all.

When you finally pull away, you place your forehead against theirs, your thumbs gently caressing their cheeks as you smile, unable to help yourself from continuing to pepper their lips in small kisses.

"I don't understand," they whisper, their grip on your tightening, "I thought Moblit asked you out."

"Oh, he did," you confirm and when a puzzled expression takes over their face, you continue,

"But I have been hoping maybe you and I could go on a date instead?"

At that moment, it was the happiest Hanji had ever felt. For the first time, a girl had chosen them instead of their best friend, and, most of all, it was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen. They could not have gotten more lucky.

[mingigoo]

hi sie!! i'm happy to see that your requests are open and would like to request something myself c: 1. seonghwa 2. roommate au 3. prompts 11 and 17 4. with spice please 🙏 thanks so much! i rly appreciate you and your writing even if you can't get to this 💕

I hope you like this!!! really enjoyed writing this one :)

— sleep-talker || p.sh (m.)

“You know you sleep talk?” 

“Stop looking at me like that.

🌊pairing ⇢ (fem) reader x roommate! Seonghwa

🌊 summary ⇢ when you and your friends decide on a trip to the beach for spring break, you get stuck rooming with the man you "hate" the most. The line between love and hate is as thin as ice, and you were about to break it.

🌊 genre/au ⇢ roommates au, vacation au, one bed trope, forced proximity au, smut

🌊 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, wet dreams, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, PDA, "enemies" to lovers, one-bed trope, teasing, jealousy, intense tension like holy hell

🌊 word count ⇢ 10.2k words

🌊 taglist ⇢ @jjhmk @yesv01 @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @yukine-smx @y00nzin0 @8tinytings @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts (please let me know if I forgot you!)

masterlist

ateez masterlist

“Are you for real right now?”

Spring break. A time for rest, relaxation, and lots and lots of sex.

And now, your plans of being a whore for the vacation were ruined.

“Yes, y/n. I can't afford another room just for you to have to yourself,” Hongjoong, your older brother, mumbled as he stuffed the last bit of clothes into his luggage. “You’ll have to room with Seonghwa. San and Wooyoung already called each other.”

He zipped up his suitcase and stood up to leave, but he couldn't get off that easily. “Please, Joong. I’ll do anything. Cant I just room with you and Mingi?” he hastily made his way out of his room and into the living room, trying his hardest to get away from you. “I’ll sleep on the floor. No blanket, just the floor. Please.”

He turned to face you, a confused expression on his face. “Why are you so adamant about not staying with Hwa? What did he ever do to you?” he asked you, genuinely curious. The truth is, he did nothing to you personally. Maybe that was why you hated him, because god, if he gave you the time of day, you would pounce on him like a cat in heat.

You groaned, running a hand through your messy, unwashed hair. “Because he’s a dumb ass jerk that gets everything he wants.” 

Hongjoong laughed at you and turned away. “It's only a week, y/n. He’ll probably spend most of his time in our room, anyway. Just bring a book to read or something to distract yourself.”

As if reading is the thing you'll be focused on if you were in a room with him. Oh Nah, you'll be wishing he’d walk around shirtless and hoping he somehow takes a shower and walks out with nothing on—

��I hope you're packed and ready….” Joong trailed off as he looked at your messy exterior, and stifled a laugh. “And if you're thinking of getting laid, you might want to shower.”

You slapped him on the shoulder, having no drive to shower. You'll get one when you get there. It's not like you were that stinky.

“Shut up, dickhead.”

You stood on the sidewalk of your apartment building, Hongjoong’s little yellow Geo Tracker sitting there lookin’ all cute. However, the tiny thing only had five seats.

There were six of you.

“Welp looks like I can't go! What a shame, what a shame,” you sarcastically yelled out, tossing your hands in the air exasperatedly.  “Have fun without me!”

“Shut your mouth, will you?” Hongjoong groaned, tossing your luggage into the “trunk” or whatever it was. “It's only a ride to the airport. You can sit on someone’s lap for ten minutes.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why am I the one that has to do that? Wooyoung is like the size of my arm. He can do it.”

Joong shut the trunk with force at your comment, totally disregarding you. “Hop in,” he said. “Enjoy shotgun while you have the chance.”

You got in reluctantly, even though you were very excited about the beach itself. Your excitement was short-lived as you approached the devil’s lair.

“Stay here, I’ll go help them,” Hongjoong mumbled, pushing his sunglasses up on his forehead as he put the car in park. 

You nodded, your arms crossed over your chest. You didn't mind the rest of the group— San and Wooyoung always knew how to make you laugh, and Mingi was absolutely eye candy. You wouldn't mind sitting on his lap on the way to the airport.

Just as you got comfortable with your head resting against the window, the door abruptly opened, causing you to nearly fall out of the vehicle. “For fuck’s sake, who the hell—” your words got caught in your throat as you met eyes with Park fucking Seonghwa. “Oh, it's you…”

He stood there, his thin torso draped in a sheer white top and his long, lean legs covered in a pair of black pants. You swallowed your drool like a schoolgirl, making sure he never knows how you think of him.

“What?” you raised your eyebrow, not moving an inch and not even reaching to unplug your seatbelt. “This seat’s taken, buddy.”

He snickered, his lips mockingly curled up in a sneer. “Oh, aren't you a sweetheart? Now move, I called shotgun.”

“Well, I did first.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No.”

“Yes—”

“Neither of you are getting shotgun,” your brother laughed from behind Seonghwa, San and Wooyoung giggling like the goofs they are next to him. You still didn't move, even as Joong approached and unbuckled your seatbelt for you. “Y/N, please help me out here.”

You debated on throwing a fit, but knowing that it would just cause more problems, you sighed and pushed yourself out of the front seat. Now standing on the curb of the sidewalk right in front of Seonghwa, you tilted your head up to look him in the eyes. His gaze was intense—it made you envision what it would be like in bed, looking down at him from above, and how his eyebrows would knit together in pleasure. God, you needed to get laid this vacation, or you were going to be suffering from delusions.

Without warning, Mingi pushed through both of you, interrupting your staring contest.

“We better go, I don't want to listen to their bickering any longer,” the tall boy huffed as he plopped himself in the front seat, a proud smile resting on his lips. 

San sat in the backseat on the right, Wooyoung next to him in the middle. That left either you or seonghwa to fight to the death for that last seat, but you knew how this was going to end.

And it wasn't going to end well.

—

“You comfortable, y/n?” your brother called from the driver’s seat, looking back at you through the rearview mirror.

You frowned so deeply you could've sworn your face was permanently stuck like that.

There you were, in the back of the car, in the most uncomfortable seat ever. Seonghwa groaned underneath you, his bony body not offering you any wiggle room. You didn't answer your brother, you were certain your expression was enough of a response.

You adjusted yourself on Seonghwa’s lap, looking out the window for any distraction. As you moved, you felt him move his hips, and you had to shut away your filthy thoughts about him as soon as they came. Between his movements and his groans, your stomach was knotting in something more than butterflies.

The car was filled with conversation, however, you and Seonghwa remained quiet and in your own little worlds. As the others bantered, you pushed yourself up further on his lap, grimacing as you heard him let out a grunt in your ear. 

And then when his hands gripped onto your bare thighs, you were the one to gasp.

“Stop moving,” he whispered in your ear with haste, almost like a sneer. You kept your vision forward as his breath danced in your ear. “It hurts.”

You swallowed hard. “Oh? Is your little dick that sensitive?” you whispered back, smirking. You moved again, this time on purpose, feeling his bulge through his pants. You kept your cool, ignoring his shaky breaths from behind you. “Are you that happy to see me, Hwa?”

“Shut your mouth or you won’t see the sunrise,” he hissed, but his voice was weak. 

The ten-minute ride felt like an eternity as he breathed underneath you, your mind constantly thinking about how hard he was getting underneath you and how sweet it would be to turn around and face him to see his reaction to you.

You looked to your right, seeing Wooyoung with a knowing smile on his face. “What?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, grinning. “Nothing, nothing,” he said, letting out a giggle. “Just that you both seem…cozy.” 

You slapped him on the shoulder, your movements causing Seonghwa to wiggle underneath you.

“Dammit, Y/N I told you to stop moving,” he seethed, his grip on your thigh tightening. Hongjoong looked back through the mirror, worry in his expression.

“Everything okay?” he asked, meeting your eyes before focusing on the road once again. “We’re almost there, only about a minute or two.”

“Ten-minute ride my ass,” you mumbled, and as you entered the Airport, you should've known that there were going to be speed bumps on the way in….

The shitty old car hopped over the bump, feeling like it hit a huge boulder. You bounced up, not held by any seatbelt, landing hard, right on Seonghwa’s family jewels.

“Fuck,” he cried, tossing his head back against the headrest. Your hands were now holding onto his legs for dear life.

“Joong, will you slow down for those things? Some of us are suffering back here,” you said, to which seonghwa started laughing.

“You're telling me.” he scoffed.

“Okay okay, I just have to park. I have no idea how this works….where the hell is the long-term parking—”

“Probably over there,” Mingi pointed in the opposite direction.

“No, no, I think it’s—”

“I can't take this anymore!” you cried out, leaning forward to assist Hongjoong since Mingi isn't helping. “There's a huge sign in front of us. How can you miss that? It spells it out, dammit.” you huffed, throwing yourself back into your “seat.” This time, he didn't let out a single groan, probably just as fed up with you as you were with him.

Finally, Hongjoong found the lot and parked the car, and as soon as it was stationary, you tossed yourself out of the vehicle like there was no tomorrow. You knew that you couldn't last a minute more on his lap, because if you did, you would be so tempted to turn around and make out with those painfully pretty lips of his. God, he made you so mad. Ever since you met him, there were only the same thoughts circulating round and round. 

Dirty thoughts.

Seonghwa crawled out of the car like a decrepit old spider, his long legs holding up his body with grace. You bit your lip, looking down at where you were sitting on him. Quickly, you looked away as he noticed your gaze, and ran away to go help the others with the luggage.

You weren't quick enough to miss the achingly attractive smirk on Seonghwa’s face.

Why did he have to be so….. libidinous? He was like a wild animal, able to take the lives away of his prey with just an expression.

No more seonghwa on the brain—it was beach time. You were certain you could find someone at a bar to sleep with later, and it wouldn't be Hwa.

Not now, not ever.

—

You got lucky with the plane ride.

Your seat buddy was Mingi, and Hongjoong knew how much you like your window seats.

Mingi nearly slept the whole flight, his head rested against your shoulder. He snored a little, but it didn't matter. The gentle giant had a place in your heart, so he could do no wrong. 

You often stole glances at Seonghwa across the aisle, his head bobbing up and down as he fought his tiredness. He was so much more likable when he was sleeping, but that was definitely due to the fact that he couldn't stare at you with those entrancing eyes or run that mouth of his.

You were the only one awake by the end of the flight. It was difficult for you to sleep in public places. It didn't feel right. So you would fight off sleep as hard as you could and distract yourself with anything around you.

After the fiasco of leaving the plane, you anxiously trailed behind Hongjoong through the busy airport, pushing past loads of people who had places to be. Thank goodness you were able to leave the airport without a fuss, even if seonghwa was nearly breathing down your neck as you exited.

Luckily, the ride to the hotel wasn't far—and there were more than enough seats for all of you. You distanced yourself from Seonghwa, ignoring his hellish gaze.

The hotel you were staying at stood tall, facing the gorgeous blue ocean for a perfect view. You shut your eyes as you took everything in, smelling the saltiness and the warmth of the air. You smiled to yourself, but your delightful moment didn't last long.

Seonghwa bumped into you purposely, digging his shoulder into yours before walking past you toward the hotel entrance. “Hey, what was that for?” you growled, a scowl on your face.

“You were in the way,” is all he said, not even bothering to turn to face you as he spoke. He continued walking, his beautiful silhouette showing through his sheer shirt. Oh, you wanted to tear it off of him so badly.

You let out a huff of air, but then followed your friends into the building, knowing the end was near if you had to share the room with your snack of choice.

Hongjoong went up to the front desk as you and the boys stood near the doorway, waiting for him to check us in. It didn't take him long, and soon enough, he was walking back over, key cards in his hand, and a bright smile on his face. “All checked in! This’ll be our home for the next week.”

San grabbed his key card first. “Are we all on the same floor? Like in a row? It would be no fun if I had to actually put on clothes to go on the elevator.”

“Yes, San, we’re all on the same floor.” Hongjoong held in his laugh, already clearly enjoying his time away from reality. You stood angrily with your arms across your chest next to seonghwa, who didn't look any happier than you. “And will you two brighten up? You’re killing the vibe.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at the boy next to you. His dark hair was slightly frizzy from the humidity, sticking to his forehead like it would if he were sweating. You gulped, thinking dirty thoughts once more before regaining your peace of mind. “I’m not doing anything. It’s all him.”

“No, it’s all you, not me.” he retaliated.

“You’re the one that got a hard-on from me just innocently sitting on your lap.”

“You were purposely shoving your ass on me like a freak—”

“You are ruining the vacation already—”

“Annnd we’re not doing this again,” Mingi sighed and then gripped onto your arm to pull you towards the elevator. 

“Let’s go, we got bars to get wrecked at.”

—

“Oh, hell no.”

You dropped your luggage as you entered your room for the week, staring at what was in it.

Or lack thereof.

One bed—a queen, maybe, sat in the middle of the room. A chair was tilted by the sliding glass doors that opened to the balcony, and a lamp stood in the corner. It was cute, of course, but you thought this couldn't get any worse.

Seonghwa walked past you into the room, setting his suitcase on the floor by the chair. “Don't worry,” he hummed, his voice low. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I–” you paused, taking in a breath before continuing. “You can sleep on the bed, I ain't that mean.”

“So you think I’m going to let my best friend’s sister sleep on the floor?” he laughed, but it wasn't out of humor. “That’s funny. I’d get my ass beat.” He sat down on the floor, stretching out his long legs before opening his suitcase. “Just forget about me like you usually do and take the bed.”

You had no snarky remarks to throw at him this time, your eyelids feeling heavier than ever. You sighed, sitting down on the bed with a thud. “Okay, fine. Wake me up when we are going to leave.”

“Yeah yeah,” he snarkily replied, too focused on his luggage in front of him. You shut your eyes slowly, holding on to your consciousness a little longer, before drifting off into a sleep that would cause an unexpected uproar a few hours later.

—

After your amazing nap, you and the boys found your way to a beach bar, sand filling the floor and loud music playing in the background. You took your rightful spot at the bar, sitting right next to Wooyoung, who was already chugging a fruity margarita. 

“You should try this, Y/N,” he let out a satisfied sigh after he finished his gulp. “Tastes like fucking unicorns and rainbows.”

You laughed. “Sounds divine, but I’ll pass and get my whiskey sour.”

He grimaced. “Ew, you should spruce it up a little bit sometimes.”

San sat down on the other side of him, a fancy glass in his hands as well. “Yeah, you’re kind of a bore.”

“San what the—”

“She is, isn't she?” Seonghwa hummed from behind you, and of course, sat his ass in the chair right next to you. You groaned, ignoring him once again, although it was quite hard to not drool as he gulped his beer, his throat bobbing as he drank it.

Fucking hell.

You looked around for any sign of your brother to save you, and once you saw him, you cringed, turning right back around to face the bar. “Dear god, can't he keep his dick in his pants for five minutes?” you shivered, trying to think of anything else other than your brother making out with a random person. 

Seonghwa looked back, a smirk on his face as you ordered your drink. “Hypocrite. Just last week I walked in on you with Mingi in the chem lab,” he snickered, his midnight eyes catching the neon lights behind the bar. “Your tongue was so far down his throat I swear I—”

“Says the guy who I caught watching porn freshman year in the computer lab—”

“Here’s your Whiskey sour,” the bartender awkwardly interrupted, but thank god he did. You quickly chugged it, finishing it within a minute of getting it. He gave you another right away, and you downed that one as quickly as it came. He was cute, a little on the scruffy side, but definitely a good one-night. You gave him a look, feeling accomplished as he smirked a little before serving someone else.

“Maybe you shouldn't drink so fast, y/n,” San murmured from Wooyoung’s side, his strong arms holding his weight against the table. “You get drunk really quick on an empty stomach. Remember what happened last time? You have a bad habit of trying to kiss everything you see.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, setting the empty glass down on the bar. As you did that, you felt the warmth of the alcohol fill your body. “What? Who did I kiss?”

Seonghwa laughed from the other side of you while you focused on San.

“Me.” San blinked. “Tongue and all. But not just me, you kissed the statue outside our campus. You know, that really rusty one?”

You gagged. “Ew, no. stop. No, I didn't.”

“Oh, yes you did,” Seongwha piped in, sipping on his third or fourth beer. “And then you threw up on my shoes when I brought you home.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, taking his beer right out of his hands. “Phew, thank god I didn't kiss you,” you shivered, bringing the bottle up to your lips. After you started chugging it a little bit, Hwa ripped the bottle away from you.

You felt your vision start to sway from the alcohol. You loved the feeling of being drunk—just hated the hangovers. Right now though, you wanted to get wasted and go home with a stranger. The hangover will be tomorrow’s problem.

But seonghwa had to just run his mouth once again.

“You know you talk in your sleep, right?” He laughed, a full, humorous laugh. He tossed the bottle to the back of his throat and then continued to laugh at you. “Something about how awful the airplane food was and how drinking milk reminds you of cum.” he grimaced at the last part, but a playful smile still rested on his face. “God you are explicit.”

Your cheeks flushed, looking anywhere but his direction. “I do not sleeptalk.”

You looked to Wooyoung and San for help, but they looked dumbfounded. “I wouldn't know, y/n, I never slept with you,” San smirked, smiling deviously at you. “Unless you’re down with that, I’m all for hearing you sleeptalk in my ear all night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Woo played along, knowing he was just doing it to tease you. Seonghwa, on the other hand, was trying desperately to embarrass you in front of the hot bartender.

“God, it’s so annoying, I wanted to rip my hair out earlier,” he smiled devilishly, his teeth even brighter than normal under all the neon lights. “I thought I couldn't hate you more, but you proved me wrong.”

You looked straight ahead, ignoring Seonghwa’s goofy smile. “Whatever,” you huffed, resting your face on your hand, your elbow holding up the weight. You watched the sexy bartender notice your stare. He smiled and walked over to you.

“Need another sour?” he asked, his cheeks pinched with dimples. You had your eyes set on going home with him, and you were going to follow through with it. Seonghwa can stay outside for the night—or watch, it didn't matter to you. 

“Actually,” you pondered, blinking slowly as the alcohol hit your system even harder. “I’ll take a vodka and Sprite. Grey Goose.” you hummed, watching him nod with a smirk on his face.

Seonghwa chuckled, but you were too focused on your mission to hear him blab about how much he hated you over and over again. Soon enough, that damn grey goose hit you harder than anything. Your eyes fluttered after your second glass, your vision fuzzy, and your heartbeat racing. 

You let out a heavy sigh, unable to remember your original mission.

“Hey,” you coughed, your cheeks burning up from the toxin. You looked around the bar, only meeting Seonghwa’s eyes…..oh…they’re so pretty. “Where did everyone else go?”

He was facing you, looking at you through those sparkling irises of his. He took in a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, your brother left with that girl he was making out with earlier….San and Woo left not too long ago to go to another bar, and Mingi….” he paused, watching your expression change when mingi was mentioned. “Mingi went with them.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Why’d you stop at mingi like that?”

He furrowed his brows. “Why’d you look like that when I mentioned him?”

You sniffled, feeling a burning sensation in your throat from all the vodka. “What do you mean?” you were too messed up to defend yourself. You didn't even know your expression changed.

“You looked…different when I said his name.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his dreary tone. “Pfft. Hwa, do you think that just because I slept with him once that I have feelings for him?”

He frowned, his eyebrows knit with confusion. “You slept with him? Mingi?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. Just once, though.” Oh god, you officially couldn't think straight. Why were you even telling him this? “But that was it.”

He looked at you with an unknown expression, flattening his lips. “So you just sleep with anyone, huh?”

You scoffed. “Well, no, not usually.” you bit your lip, looking at him without knowing how you were looking at him. “I kind of always wanted you, but I didn’t understand why, so I ignore the feeling by sleeping with other guys.”

“That makes no sense, y/n,” he spat. “What are you saying?”

You rolled your eyes, drunkenly gripping his broad shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Awh, shut it, Hwa. Haven't you ever felt that before?” you paused, not realizing how close you were. His eyes were sharp, and his lips parted. “Wanting someone you can't have? Knowing that they wouldn't want anything to do with you?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze piercing into you sharply. “You’re drunk, y/n,” he paused, looking at you intently before shaking your hands away. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Oooh, don't tempt me, baby,” you poked his chest, giggling as he stood up off the barstool. You were completely oblivious to the fact that you just admitted to wanting him, but it didn't seem like he took it seriously. 

“Get up,” he huffed, gripping under your arms and lifting you off your chair. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his waist. You held onto him tightly as he reached into his back pocket to grab money, tossing it onto the counter with a glare at the bartender. 

“Enjoy your night,” Seonghwa growled, holding onto you, and made his way towards the hotel with you clung to him.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, a giggle under your breath.

He grunted, pulling you along with him. “What?”

You sniffed. “Can I kiss you?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Why?” you mumbled, shoving your face into his chest.

“Because it’s your drunk habit.”

“So would you kiss me if it wasn't?” you asked, completely obliterated. There was no way you were going to remember this in the morning. 

He didn't answer you.

“Come on, Hwa,” you moaned, stopping and gripping onto his collar in front of the hotel. You looked up into his eyes, feeling his intense gaze cut right through your intoxication. You needed him. Needed him bad. “Just once. God, just once.”

“I…” he swallowed, his hands twitching at his sides, crying out to touch you. He kept them away, even if he didn't want to. “Not now. Not while you’re drunk.”

You blinked slowly, watching his lips flatten into a frown. “Does that mean you want to?”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair aggressively. “Please just….let’s get back to the room and get you to bed.”

You groaned, but complied, following him into the hotel and into the elevator. The ride was silent, Seonghwa standing in the corner, farthest away from you, his breathing slowed. You stared at him, leaning up against the wall.

“I really hate you,” you mumbled, glaring at him. He was too sexy, his hair messy, his eyes dark, his long legs taller than a skyscraper. You only admitted your attraction to him when you were drunk, but you couldn't deny the pull you had to him.

He looked up at you, his starry eyes looking from your legs, up to your hips, over your breasts, and finally to your eyes. He took in a sharp breath, biting the corner of his lip.

“I hate you too,” he whispered, his vision low.

And in what world would the words I hate you cause someone’s heart to flutter?

The elevator dinged at your floor, and after a moment of longing stares, Seonghwa gripped your arm and dragged you out. He held onto your drunken body as he searched for his keycard, and once he found it, you tumbled into the room together. 

Your back was pressed against the wall, his arms caging you in on both sides. His forehead was on yours, and you were able to feel his hot breath against your lips.

“Oh,” you hummed, your hands subconsciously dancing at the hem of his t-shirt. You watched his throat bob anxiously as you looked into his eyes.

It took everything in him to move away. He coughed awkwardly and then nodded toward the bed. “Come on, you need to rest.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, unable to move in a straight line. You kicked off your sandals, and pulled off your shirt with ease, leaving you only in your bra and that skimpy skirt seonghwa was looking at all night.

He watched as you walked, holding his breath without meaning to. 

As you neared the bed, you reached back to unclip your bra, but you couldn't reach it. “Hwa?”

He was looking at the floor. “Hm?” 

“Can you…” you paused, giving up on trying to get it off. “Take this off of me? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He blinked, his eyes wide. You couldn't see the confusion in his expression, but you heard the shakiness of his tone. “W-what? Your….bra?”

“Yeah.”

He didn't say anything else. He slowly walked over to where you were, and as his fingertips traced the middle of your back, you shivered under his touch.

He unclasped the hook, but held on to both ends of the bra, afraid to let it drop. “It’s done,” he whispered, backing up slightly.

You dropped the bra onto the floor and then reached to take off your skirt. As you slid it down your hips, you heard seonghwa nearly trip over his feet trying to turn away.

“Do you…always sleep naked?” he asked you, looking anywhere but where you were. You were way too drunk to care about what he sees, but you were also too tired to try. You fell onto the bed, your arm covering your breasts and your underwear still on.

“Fuck, y/n,” Seonghwa huffed, finally looking over and doing everything to not look where he shouldn't. He gently reached for the blanket, tossing it over you in one swift motion.

You shut your eyes tight, feeling his presence loom over you. He brushed away the stray hairs on your face and made sure you were laying on your side. 

“.... I’m so screwed,” he muttered, giving you one last look before walking into the bathroom and turning on the cold water. 

A cold shower, especially knowing that there was a beautiful, nearly naked girl in the bed just outside the door. 

The cold water ran down his body, giving him a rush of pain. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his attraction to you only worsened. 

—

After his attempt to cleanse his messy thoughts, Seonghwa stepped out of the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips. He hesitated before looking over at you, and after he got a good look at your pretty face, he made his way to his luggage, rooting in there for a t-shirt to toss on.

“...seong…hwa,” you moaned. 

Moaned. 

“....y/n?” he whispered, maybe thinking you were awake and needed something. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but that sounded too….sensual than just a normal tone.

“I…ugh,” you groaned, “don't stop, please. H…Hwa.”

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows, dropping the clothes he had in his hands, eyes wide.

“Seonghwa….”

Okay, that was the third time. You were most definitely dreaming about him….

“Oh…my…god.” Hwa gulped, cautiously standing up and backing away as far as he could from you.

Little did he know how detailed your dream was.

—

His hands snaked up your bare hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips were on your ear, biting, teeth clashing against your skin. 

He thrusted into you, hard, his hips buckling as he moaned. You cried out his name, back arching, nails scratching. He fucked you hard, his forehead against yours, and his eyes rolled back into his head. 

“You like that?” he whispered, his tongue sliding into your mouth before you could answer. His sweat fell on your cheek, and you moaned out his name once more. You weren't sure how you got here, how this came about, or anything. All that mattered was that you were finally with him, the man you always thought you hated.

“…hwa,” you moaned, “fuck me harder.”

And as he slammed into you with even more force than before, his lips crashed onto yours, his black hair blocking your vision. You wanted more, and more and more—

“Y/n,” 

“Just shut up and keep going,” you cried out.

“Y/N!”

You shot awake, gasping for air as your back hit the headboard. You breathed heavily, realizing that you were dreaming about all of that and that the real seonghwa was standing in front of you, shirtless, with an expression you weren't quite sure you’d ever seen before.

“Seonghwa, what—”

“S..stop it. Don't say my name,” he stuttered, looking anywhere but your body. He quickly tossed a t-shirt at you—his t-shirt. “Just put this on. The guys are down getting breakfast, so we gotta go.”

He quickly walked to his own luggage and grabbed a shirt for himself. You watched him as he tossed it on and slid on his shoes, and with one last awkward glance at you, he left the room in haste.

You were too scared to look down, hoping that you still had underwear on. You weren't too sure if that was a dream or not, but given the way he acted, it made you even more confused.

You felt the wetness between your thighs, clenching them with a sigh. You stood up, tossing on the bra that was laying on the floor as if it was thrown off of you.

After cleaning yourself up a bit, you made your way to the breakfast area on the first floor, immediately noticed by Hongjoong. “There you are! I was worried you weren't going to—” he stopped, noticing the shirt that was way too big on you. “That’s the shirt I got Hwa….”

Seonghwa cleared his throat, shoving a bagel into his mouth to distract himself.

You ignored him and sat down across from him and next to Mingi. You looked up, meeting eyes with the man you thought so filthily about, seeing a swipe of cream cheese on the bottom of his lip. You held back, knowing that it’ll just send you into another spiral if you pointed it out.

But when he stuck his tongue out to lick it off, you felt the tingle in your stomach once more, thinking back at the dream you had, and how his tongue caressed you in more ways than one.

He met eyes with you, his lips parting slightly. His gaze was much different than it ever has been. You've never seen him so….lost. His expression was conflicted, his eyes not leaving your lips.

Wooyoung smirked. “Did you guys fuck or something? What’s with the mood?”

“Wooyoung!” Hongjoong yelled.

“What? I’m just pointing out the obvious,” he shrugged.

“We didn't. Keep dreaming,” Seonghwa muttered lowly, taking another bite of his bagel.

Hongjoong huffed. “I don't want to imagine my sister and seonghwa in that way…that’s super weird.”

“Why?” seonghwa questioned, his tone serious. You looked at him, confused as to why he cared. It seemed like everyone else was just as confused as you. “Ahem, I mean…uh, is it that hard to imagine?” Seonghwa’s voice was shaky, his gaze hopping from Hongjoong to you.

It made your brother laugh. “Well, yeah. You guys hate each other, right?” he took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “It makes no sense for you to even see eye to eye, I couldn't imagine you two in any type of relationship. Maybe her and Mingi, out of everyone.”

Seonghwa dropped his bagel face down onto his plate. “Why Mingi? What’s so special about—”

“I’m right here guys….” Mingi tried to interrupt, but Seonghwa shot him a dangerous glare, causing the gentle giant to hold his tongue.

Hongjoong looked around at the boys awkwardly and picked up his fork to continue eating his eggs. “I’m just saying.”

This was too awkward. You kept stealing glances at Hwa as if he were a magnet. You assumed he felt similarly, because every time you looked, your eyes would meet, and then you would awkwardly stare for a moment too long before looking away.

And when he got up to get more food, you got up, too.

“We need to talk,” you whispered, coming right up next to him as he put a muffin on his plate. “Why are you acting weird?”

He sighed and continued to add food to his plate. “I’m not acting weird.”

As he moved to get a drink from the drink machine, you continued to follow him. “Did I do something wrong yesterday?” you gasped, holding a hand over your mouth as he still ignored you. “Did I kiss you? Dear god, I hope not—”

“No, you didn't,” he said quietly, walking back over to the table.

“Something must have happened, seonghwa—”

He stopped, nearly causing you to bump into his back. “Don't.” he paused, taking in a sharp breath, looking over his shoulder at you. “Don't say my name.”

You frowned in confusion, watching the muscles in his back move as he walked away. You couldn't remember your antics yesterday, but maybe you made him uncomfortable by sleeping nearly naked—he hated you, so you could only imagine how irritated he was.

“Listen, if it was because I was naked, I'm sorry—” 

Everyone at the table looked up as you spoke, including seonghwa. He looked shy, a blush on his cheeks, and he sat down quickly and stuffed the muffin in his mouth.

“Naked?” Mingi laughed, looking from you to seonghwa suggestively. “Sounds awfully smutty, Seonghwa.”

“We didn't—” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “Nothing happened with us.”

“Mhm, okay,” San smirked. “Whatever you say. Anyway, we have a whole day out planned, so you two better get back to your normal selves or we won't have any fun.”

You really needed to talk to seonghwa, but it seemed like you'll be busy the whole day with the boys—and he didn't seem to be very interested in talking to you, anyway.

You tilted your head in curiosity. 

“What are we doing?”

—

The day was eventful.

First, you went to the beach. Seemed innocent, until Seonghwa took off his shirt and got all soaking wet, sending you in a mess of thoughts and a mess below. He would look over at you, and wouldn't look away, paying intense attention to your body in a skimpy little bikini. 

When you went to talk to him, he body-slammed you into the ocean, and normally you would've fumed, but this time, you enjoyed his hands on your bare skin. 

After the beach, you walked along the boardwalk of shops and lots of food. You grabbed a popsicle, licking it without a thought, but when you felt an intense pressure on you, you looked over to see seonghwa looking at you with an expression you've never seen on him. His eyes were focused on your lips, his own lips curled up as he bit them. You continued to eat your popsicle, but couldn't stop looking at him.

When you tried to bring up last night, Hongjoong came over and took the rest of your pop, running away from you like a child.

At dinner, you sat at the far end of the table, as far away as possible from Seonghwa. It wasn't intended, but now there was no way you could talk, as everyone would hear your conversation.

You ate, feeling defeated. Maybe you should just forget about it.

It was still daylight after dinner. As the guys conversed about what to do next, San and Wooyoung decided to go their own way and walk the beach, which was just their code word for “shopping” for girls. Hongjoong agreed with them, shocking you since he was always hell-bent on not going off a schedule. You assumed he was just going to meet that girl he was with yesterday, but whatever, it just meant that you could be left alone with Seonghwa.

After those three left, it was only you, Seonghwa, and Mingi. Hwa stood with his hands in his pockets, awkwardly looking around as you stood outside the restaurant. Mingi was even more awkward, looking at you before speaking.

“Um, I’m just gonna go with Woo and San, so,” he breathed, looking to seonghwa now. “I’ll see you guys back at the hotel tonight.”

“Okay, Mingi,” you smiled. “See you later.”

You watched him leave and then looked at the boy standing next to you.

“So,” you tried to initiate conversation, but seonghwa started walking in the opposite direction from where everyone else went. You followed. “What should we do?”

“I’m going surfing,” he said blandly. “I don't know about you, though.”

“I’ll come with you,” you smiled, finally catching up to him. He let out an aggravated groan as you walked close to him. “Do you even know how to surf?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, of course, I do.” 

“I’m just saying,” you noted, shrugging as you followed him. “You’re too….dainty. I feel like if you fell off you’d break every bone in your body.”

Seonghwa didn't react in any way you were hoping he would. Instead, he kept walking silently, until you reached the part of the beach where the surf shack was. Wetsuits were laid out, ready to be picked up, and surfboards stood tall through the sand and against the building. You stared in awe as you approached, seeing that there was no one else here but you two.

Finally, alone at last. 

“Grab a suit if you’re gonna do this,” he pointed to them, raising an eyebrow when you stood there anxiously. “What? Don't you know how to surf?” he mocked.

You kicked at the sand, your hands behind your back. “Pff. yeah, of course, I….no. I don't.” you pleaded with your eyes sweetly, despite all of the dirty things you wanted to do to him. “Could you please teach me? Pretty please?”

He held his own suit close to his chest as he looked down at you. “Why should I?”

You stepped closer to him, causing him to step back cautiously. “Because I’m pretty?”

“Oh honey, who lied to you?” he joked.

“Please, Seonghwa?” you stressed his name, hoping to break him. You watched his eye twitch as you said it, reminding you of earlier when he told you not to say his name.

“Seonghwa seonghwa seonghwa seong—”

“Okay, fine! Jeez,” he huffed, tossing you a suit, only for it to hit you in the face. “Get dressed.”

You walked into the shack with him, going your separate ways at the locker rooms. Everything went smoothly until you tried to zipper the suit up, only being able to get it halfway. You pondered on asking seonghwa for help or completely turning into a contortionist, but after failing to do it yourself, you gave up and left the room to ask him.

Seonghwa stood amongst the surfboards, his lean body looking delicious in that surf suit. You nearly drooled looking at him.

“Hey,” you started, slowly approaching him as he picked out a board. “Can you help me zipper this?”

He turned to you, his expression conflicted as he saw you. You turned around, showing your exposed back, causing him to clear his throat. “O..okay.”

His delicate fingers brushed against the skin of your back, nearly causing you to shiver. You felt his breath hit the back of your neck as the zipper moved up and up until he zipped it completely.

“....There,” he said, swallowing. “You’re all good.”

He didn't move his hands until you pulled away from him, turning back around to face him. The silence was deafening, so you decided to break it.

“Seonghwa, about last night, what exactly happened—”

“Let’s just get started before the sun goes down,” he interrupted, looking anywhere but your eyes. “We’ll talk later.”

That was good enough for now. You watched him try to pick out a board, but he seemed extremely nervous. After a good bit of time, he grabbed a pink one, causing you to smile. Pink suited him so much, more than he’d probably like to admit.

“Let’s start with some basics,” he spoke smoothly, tossing the board down onto the sand. “Get on it. On your stomach.”

You lay down on the board, looking up at him for more directions. He taught you how to paddle with your arms, explaining that you'll have to dive under the waves sometimes if you were okay with doing that. You couldn't look weak now, especially not to him. So after the little training lesson, you were finally in the shallow water, sand already in every nook and cranny of you.

“Try to keep balance,” he said, his voice raspy. It wasn't the time to turn you on, but of course, he could do it just by his voice. “Keep your chest up.” his hand caressed your back, down your spine.

You looked up at him, his wet hair dripping down his face. You held back, as much as you could, from pouncing on him.

But when you fell off the board and got stuck underwater, you’ve never seen him so concerned before.

He grabbed you under your arms, pulling you back up and holding him to you while you coughed. You were perfectly fine—maybe a little too much water in the ears, but it was the least of your worries. What you cared about was the look on his face and the way he caged you to his body.

“y/n?” he rushed his hand over your face, pushing away your drenched hair so he could see you. “Are you okay?”

You coughed, blinking away the salt that infiltrated your eyes. Seonghwa noticed your distress and gently rubbed your face with the pad of his thumb. 

“Don't rub your eyes,” he pushed your hand away, still not letting you go from his embrace. “You'll make it worse.”

“It hurts,” you mumbled, causing his look of worry to worsen. True, the salt started burning your eyes, but you couldn't get enough of his caring touch—maybe because he’s never shown this side of himself to you.

He took in an anxious breath as he looked around. “Maybe we should get back to the hotel,” he spoke softly, the sound of water filling your senses as you looked at him. 

Everything about his appearance aggravated you—from the way his midnight hair draped his face, dripping with water down his cheeks, to the way his normally judgemental eyes seemed gentle and sweet. He looked kind, the type of man who would worship his lover like a queen, and all the time knowing him, you tried your hardest to only see him in a negative light.

Now, as he held you in the cold, sparkling ocean as the sun was setting, all you saw was your reflection in his eyes and all you felt was the undeniable pull to be with him. To touch him. To kiss him. To tell him that maybe, just maybe, you’ve always had a piece of him in your heart.

“Seonghwa, I…” you paused, ignoring the burn from the salt water. You watched his lips as they slowly parted, his eyes wide as he picked you apart. They looked at you differently, like they never looked at you before, and you wanted him to never stop looking at you. 

The distance between the two of you was nonexistent—you saw every drop of water on his skin, and you were certain he was able to gather the meaning behind your gaze. If he did, he didn't say anything—he only looked back at you with those entrancing irises of his, a look you’ve never seen from him. He waited patiently for you to finish your sentence, but you had nothing else to say.

As your lips neared his, you heard his breath get caught in his throat, and you felt his embrace tighten around you. You closed your eyes, taking in the feeling, hoping that he would be the one to lean in and meet your lips.

He didn't. 

Instead, his hands trailed down your back, the pink surfboard still floating next to you despite being forgotten. His breath was shaky as he touched you, but the moment ended too quickly as he shook himself out of his trance.

“I um, we should, you know,” he nodded towards the beach, even though you weren't too far out. “We should get back to the room.”

You slowly blinked at him, watching his expression stay the same despite the change of mind. He coughed, letting go of you, but then he grabbed your hand and the board before pulling you to shore.

The walk back was quiet. He didn't let go of your hand until you got back to the surf shack, and he reluctantly let go knowing you had to change.

You both were silent as you looked at each other, but the ache in your chest convinced you to break this tension.

Before you entered the changing room, you quickly turned back around to face seonghwa, who still stood with that….sex-charged expression on his face.

“….Stop looking at me like that,” you hummed, your chest heavy as he breathed in deeply. He looked at you with those bedroom eyes of his, half of his wetsuit already off. He looked deadly, which didn't help your desire.

He swallowed hard but tried his best to remain calm. “Like what?”

You took a step closer, reaching back to your zipper to pull it down just a little. You shrugged it down your bare shoulders, making sure he got to know that there was nothing else but you under that wetsuit once again.

And when you got as close as you could, you said the words you knew would be life or death for him. 

“Like you want to fuck me,” you shrugged, acting all cool even though you were falling apart by the second. You were lucky you were at the surf shack at such a late time of day, and that no one else was here except you. 

He choked on air, stepping away from you until his back hit the wall. You noticed how his chest rose and fell as he breathed in, and how delicious it would be to just lick him all over….

“I…” he gulped, but his eyes lingered on your shoulders and the curve of your breasts. “I don't know what you mean?”

You smiled through your haze, mind focused on getting to the bottom of his sudden change of attitude towards you. You reached out, gently guiding your hand down the plain of his chest, down his slim, but muscular waist. Oh, you couldn't get enough of him already.

You smirked. “Then tell me why you’ve been eye fucking me all day, or at least what happened last night, so I can understand.”

He blinked fast, looking from your lips, down your neck, to your bare shoulders. 

“You…” he took in a sharp breath as your hands trailed down his body. “You sleeptalk.”

“I know that already,” you whispered, looking into his captivating gaze. 

He leaned forward slightly, veins popping in his neck as he strained against his judgment. “I mean, you…kept moaning my name. I…I couldn't take it anymore….I can't take it anymore. Every time you speak I just want to fucking shut you up with my mouth for fucks sake.” he huffed, subconsciously gripping your hips as he grits his teeth. “You so annoying, so damn annoying, I can't—”

“Then take me,” you spoke against his lips. “Fuck me. Just like you did in my dreams.”

His forehead pressed against yours as you pushed him further against the wall.

“And how did I do that?” he growled, his fingertips tugging at your wetsuit. “Was I rough? Gentle?” he paused, lips pressed to your neck. “Did I make you say my name, or was that all you with that filthy little mouth of yours?”

You couldn't speak as his lips glided down your neck to your collarbone. He sucked on the skin there, roughly, causing you to suck in a sharp breath and run your hands through his dripping-wet hair.

You moaned, biting his earlobe. “I want you to tear me apart.”

He smirked against your skin, his eyes finally meeting yours. 

“Rough it is, then.”

Without warning, he bit his lip hard as he pulled your wetsuit right down to your ankles, the water from his hair dripping onto your bare shoulders. He nearly growled as you stood in front of him, naked as ever, his gaze darkening before gripping the back of your neck to pull you to him.

As he sucked on your neck, you pulled down his suit with aggression, not quick enough for the hunger in both of your souls. His hot breath tickled your skin, his hands clawed at your hips, and his lips begged to kiss yours as you shoved him against the wall once again, skin on skin. He breathed heavily, his eyes dancing from your breasts to your waist, to your lips.

You gripped onto his hair, staring into his eyes for a moment before you locked your lips with his, tasting the saltiness of the ocean and the sweet warmth of his saliva. Your tongues fought for their lives, dancing as you deepened the kiss. Foreheads slamming, hands invading space. It was all over for your sanity the minute his long fingers glided against your core, his middle finger finding your clit and rubbing gently. His kisses were rough as his fingers delicately touched you, fueling the fire within you even more than it already was.

“Seonghwa,” you moaned against his ear, causing him to move his hand faster with a grunt. “Push them in me.”

He hissed, his eyes rolling back into his head as he pulled his hands away for a moment, only to suck his fingers in front of you before shoving them into you, curling them up inside you. You arched your back against him, crying out as his lips found yours once again.

He kissed you deeply as he made love to you with his hands, his fingers long enough to reach deep inside of you—but it wasn't enough. You bit his lip sharply as he fingered you, causing him to hiss in pleasure. “I need your cock in me. Now.” you licked his jawline, watching him squirm in your embrace. 

His cheeks were flushed red as he looked at you, his eyes looking as if he were intoxicated. “I…fuck,” he sucked in a breath, kissing you as his fingers moved faster and faster. “Okay.” 

As he pulled his fingers out of you, he licked them once more, his eyes on yours seductively. 

“You taste so good.” he moaned, his mouth parted. He then lifted you up, walking you over to the table of waxed surfboards in the middle of the room. Shoving everything off with one hand, he threw you onto the wood, causing you to let out a little grunt.

“You’re so sexy,” he leaned over you, slamming your hands above your head before silencing your moans with a rough kiss. “So fucking sexy, you have no idea how long I wanted to shove my dick inside you.” His words were like gasoline to your fire, causing you to cry out in a whimper for him to do exactly what he said he would do. You kept your mouth shut as he tugged you to the edge of the table, lining up his hard-on to enter you.

After a look of longing, he spit onto his fingers and rubbed them onto his cock and your heat, his chest falling and rising with his heavy breathing. He then buried himself inside you, deeply, causing your breath to hitch. He was even bigger than your dreams, tearing apart your expectations of his skills. You tried your best to free your arms from his hold, but as he moved in and out of you, you had lost the desire to escape it. You really liked the feeling of his fingernails tearing into your skin.

“Ah,” he whimpered, his hips rocking quickly, his eyes shut tight. His thrusts were deep, not slowing down for a second.

Your legs curled around his shoulders, his one arm holding your hands and his other piercing into your ankle. He grunted as he pumped into you, tearing at your insides, feeling him fill you up. “Hwa,” you groaned, back arching in pleasure. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He grunted in response, speeding up faster as his hips slammed into yours. You felt him quiver inside you, precum dripping into you without a care. You loved the feeling, you didn't care about the risks in the moment. 

You climaxed without warning, your legs tightening around his head. He kept muttering your name over and over again against you, kissing the skin of your ankles as he continued to fuck the living shit out of you. You started to see stars as he nearly cracked your spine, and right before he nearly came, he flipped you over onto your stomach without ever leaving you.

Your face was shoved against the wood of the table, the sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses. You cried out his name as he gripped onto your hips, moving faster as his own orgasm came close. His lips met the small of your back, his fingers gripped your ass with haste. 

“I’m going to come,” he mumbled, his voice raspy. “Can I come in you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Come inside me.”

As if your words stirred something within him, he immediately moved in shorter movements, his grip on your ass tightening as his orgasm came. His breathing shallowed as he came into you, filling you up with his cum. You let out one last moan as you felt his warmth, and he kissed the back of your neck as he finished.

He pulled out of you slowly despite how rough he was—he could've been rougher, but you didn't want him to think of you as the insane slut everyone thought you were.

Even though you only ever slept with others because you couldn't have him.

And now…..what comes next?

He helped you sit back up to a normal position, and when he saw the dark, purple bruises on your neck and collarbone, he gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry,” his fingers gently brushed against your hot skin as if he didn't just totally destroy you. “I kind of….went crazy, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him in a daze, both your cheeks blushed in embarrassment and enjoyment. “I like crazy.”

He paused, standing proudly in front of you with that delicious body of his. You sighed in contentment, a lazy smile on your lips. “I dreamt of this. Literally.” you reached out to him, pulling his lips down to yours. He kissed them softly, opening his mouth wide as he made out with you. You didn't want to pull away, but as the thought of you both having sex in a public surf shack came to your mind, you pulled away quickly, startling him.

“Um, so,” you laughed awkwardly. “Should we head back now? We are kind of in a public place….”

Seonghwa looked around, smirking as he leaned forward on the table, kissing you once more. “It was kind of thrilling, not gonna lie.”

You leaned into his embrace, his hands caressing your back romantically. “So,” you whispered against his lips. “We should get back. And this time, you better sleep in the bed with me.”

“Oh, baby, I plan on doing more than just sleeping.”

—

After countless rounds of ‘sleeping’, you ended up waking up late in Seonghwa’s embrace, his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder as he held you. He quite literally rocked you all night long, and you even discovered his love for reverse cowgirl—making him come within two minutes of the fifth round.

Now, as you lay in his arms while he slept, you finally felt content. He was all you ever wanted, even though your words said otherwise this whole time of knowing him.

“Hey,” you turned around in his embrace, pressing your lips against his forehead. “Seonghwa.”

“Hm?” he grumbled sleepily, his eyes blinking open to meet yours. 

You smiled, running a hand through his messy hair. “We should get up. The others are probably waiting for us in the lobby.”

“Ugh, why?” he groaned, holding onto you tighter. “ I don't want to leave this bed today. Or ever.”

You giggled, pecking his lips. “Come on, Hwa. I really would like to get a tan on the sand today.”

His eyes were wide open now, but he blinked slowly from his sleepiness. “We barely got any sleep,” he huffed, shoving his head into your shoulder. “And I can't kiss you in front of everyone, I can't wait the whole day to touch you.”

You grinned chaotically.

“Who says we have to hide it?”

—

“Dear lord,” Wooyoung huffed, sitting with his arms crossed at the beach. “Are they ever going to stop and come up for air?”

Your friends sat on towels on the sand, while you sat on Seonghwa’s lap as you made out with him. His hands gripped your face as he stuck his tongue in your mouth, both of you having no care for those around you. 

“I knew this was going to happen,” San mumbled with a smirk, elbowing Wooyoung playfully. “Just let them have their fun. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Pfft,” Woo scoffed, looking at how seonghwa touched you.

 “I always thought I would be the one tapping that.”

“Wooyoung shut the fuck up.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A flock of elephants

Written for the November warm-up round of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: Bakery AU

Rated: T

CW: some sexual tension and innuendo

Tags: Baker Steve, Rockstar Eddie

Notes: Can be read as a continuation of this microfic

“You don't understand how huge a deal this is, Steve,” Dustin says. He’s wiggling in the passenger seat, trying to take in every bit of their surroundings as they pull up to the concert hall. 

Steve huffs and squints at the signs. There's security and fans and staff everywhere and he can feel a headache coming up. 

"A guy asked me to bake a cake, so what? It's literally what I do for a living, nothing-" 

"A guy asked you to-" Dustin sputters. "Excuse me, what did you say? Eddie Munson commissioned you to bake a replica of his world famous Warlock, do you have any- Do you even know who Eddie Munson is?" 

"Of course I know," Steve grouses. "I don't live under a rock." 

"Oh yeah?" Dustin levels him with an unimpressed look. "Name one of his songs." 

"Please," Steve rolls his eyes. "You're blasting that shit on repeat, it's practically seared into my brain. Especially the one about the elephants." 

Dustin stares at him. Steve resists the urge to pinch his nose.

"You know the one! What was it? Flock of Elephants?" 

Dustin crumples into the car seat and slaps both palms to his forehead. "It's A Court of Sycophants, Steve! Oh my God!"

"Synchro-what?" Steve ignores the way his neck prickles and takes a sharp right. "You just made that up. Now help me look for the delivery entrance or we won't have ourselves a deal at all." 

*

Once they find the entrance, it turns out he forgot the ID badge that the label sent, because of fucking course he did. He spends about half an hour trying to convince the grumpy security guard to let them in while Dustin has a complete meltdown. Just as he's ready to give up, they're rescued by the appearance of a tiny blonde in a pink cardigan who cheerfully introduces herself as Eddie’s manager. 

"Sorry about Hop," she says for what must be the fourth time, while Steve sets up the guitar-shaped cake at the center of the buffet and Dustin inspects the backstage lounge with awestruck eyes. "He takes his job very seriously." 

"Yeah, I noticed," Steve mutters. She seems nice enough, but he really doesn’t wanna engage in smalltalk right now. The bustle of the stage hands and the hot air of the venue are making him squeamish. All he wants to do is get this over with and go home.

Unfortunately fate must hate him, because that is the exact moment that a familiar voice says, "Hey, Chris. No matter what Hop tells you, I didn't order hookers to the venue. I dunno where he got the-" 

Dustin starts squealing. 

"Oh my God, you're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie squints at him like a confused cat. 

"Last time I checked, yeah. And you are?" 

"Dustin," says Dustin, like that explains everything. "I'm with Steve." 

Eddie’s eyes flit over and his face breaks into a delighted, dimpled smile. 

"Baker boy, hi!" 

Steve's mouth goes dry. 

He doesn’t know why, but all of the easy confidence of their last meeting is suddenly gone. 

Maybe it's because they were in the bakery, on his own turf, and now they're on Eddie’s, where the lights and the noise and the hum of the crowd in the auditorium are grating on his nerves. 

Maybe it's because last time, Eddie looked like just some guy in his ripped jeans and ratty hoody, unwashed hair piled in a chaotic bun, and now …

… now he's in a pair of leather pants that are so tight they may as well be spray-painted on and what looks like a fucking harness, hair cascading around his face and shoulders in a halo of messy curls and is that eyeliner? 

"Woah," Eddie breathes, eyes growing large, and yup, eyeliner. Definitely eyeliner, Jesus fucking Christ. With two long strides of those impossibly long legs, he's beside Steve and ogling the cake with an awestruck face. "This is fucking incredible, dude, it looks just like the real thing. You did all that from the photos?" 

By some miracle, Steve manages to channel the incoming blush into a sly pop of his hips and a smug eyebrow quirk. 

"Told you I was the best." 

Eddie is looking at him like he didn't bake a cake but hung the moon, which … in combination with the eyeliner and the leather and the harness of it all? Steve squirms in his jeans.

"Okay, erm … if that's all, I'll send over the bill by-" 

"Wait, what? You're not staying for the show?" Eddie swivels to Chrissy, all righteous indignation. "Why are they not staying for the show?" 

Chrissy shrugs, at the same time that Steve says, "That's really not necessa-" 

"We'd love to stay!" 

Dustin shoves himself between them, elbowing him in the kidneys. While Steve is still coughing, Eddie turns to Chrissy. 

"Show the young man to the backstage area, Chris?" 

Dustin looks like he's about to die of happiness, so Steve resigns himself to his fate. 

"Will you play the one about the psychopaths?" he asks as they trail after him. "It's his favorite." 

"Psycho-" Eddie’s brow wrinkles.

"Sycophants, Steve!" Dustin hollers from ahead. "Jesus!" 

"Anyways," Steve says over Eddie’s rumbling laughter. "You really didn't have to-" 

"I know I didn't." Eddie accepts his guitar - the real one - from a stage hand and slings it over his shoulder. "But I saw what you're best at, so I figured I'd return the favor." 

"Careful there," Steve huffs. "All you've done is ogle my cake. You may wanna try it first." 

"Oh, I'm planning to …" Eddie's smile is sharp as he leans in, close to his ear. "Preferably with less people around, though." 

And then he's gone, stepping out on the stage, making his guitar wail. 

Steve can't quite tell if the roar in his ears is the crowd or the sound of his own blood.

[0bsequi0us]

Feeling kinda spicy so here's some (potentially) unpopular Trials opinions/HCs

(silly as usual)

I'm a Franco Barbi comic body type truther 😔 I think it's cute ok

Mother Gooseberry sucks at making food. I know we think 1950s housewife and immediately think of homebaked pies and shit but I think she's more of an aspic with human fingers in it type gal

Coyle is like... primarily gay. Bi with heavy leanings towards men. Mostly only exhibits attraction/sexual aggression towards women out of social obligation. Sorry Coyle goils

Franco Barbi would NEVER want a baby even if he COULD get someone pregnant. He's supposed to be the baby! He would be so murderously jealous of a baby that thang would never see the light of day

Franco is a tits man, Coyle is an ass man, Gooseberry is an ass man. I feel like this is obvious but idk usually people seem to not know what to do with Gooseberry. There is so much ass brutality in her trials yall. She has a thing for absolutely destroying man ass

I like Franco's impotence. It's cute

We can all agree that Franco smells vile but Coyle and Gooseberry do too. They probably smell like different types of bad but I can't think of one expop who would smell decent

Maybe Pitcher. Pitcher might just smell like burnt hair and gasoline. That's how low the bar is. That burnt hair would be comparatively pleasant

Coyle smells like stale cigarettes and straight up unwashed ass

Gooseberry smells like rotting flesh + it smells worse depending on how fresh her current mask happens to be. She might try to conceal it but she just ends up smelling like a corpse drowned in perfume

Franco smells like an anime convention + INTENSE spoiled milk. Probably also alcohol sweat. May also try to use cologne but to even worse effect than Gooseberry

Gooseberry is the best Prime Asset. Yall are just blinded by lust

I admit of all the PA ships I get Gooseberry/Coyle the least. Gooseberry doesn't even seem to like Coyle that much, in most of her voice lines she seems to feel uncomfortable around him

That said I think every possible combination of PAs fuck so I still ship them lol

How is there not more Franco/Easterman content. Easterman had Franco's Lupara in his mouth he basically fellated him (It's because Easterman girlies don't like Franco and Franco girlies don't like Easterman isn't it lol)

I don't know how any future Prime Assets could work with the current theming and idk if I even want more Prime Assets. They're gonna ruin my perfect nuclear family 😤

[luvrodite]

touch me with a kiss | dean winchester (2.1k)

synopsis: dean has dealt with many monsters in his time. he thinks your neighbor mrs o'leary, who's convinced to block his every attempt to progress beyond a few kisses with you, might be worse than them all.

f!reader, original female side character, not canon compliant, not canon divergent but a secret third thing, mild smut, fingering, allusions to a poor family situation, minors and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

The O'Leary witch in number nine is getting on Dean's nerves.

He is mostly – mostly – sure that she isn't actually tapping into the supernatural hotline or serving the agenda of some black-eyed demon freak, but she has a sixth sense for any untoward andill-behaved goings on of any sorts. One that rears its head especially when he's in the vicinity. She's taken it upon herself to make sure that he – filthy, unwashed wayward vagabond that he is – doesn't defile you – poor, innocent orphan girl whose care she has appointed herself the overseer of – when her back is turned.

He had thought it would be a piece of cake at first. He hadn't taken it seriously when you'd so sweetly introduced him to the old hag and she'd stared at his outstretched hand with a frown so deep, disapproval etched in every crow's foot and wrinkle around her mouth, it had aged her beyond that of a seventy something year old widow to something much creepier in seconds.

Parents and aunts and grandparents with sticks up their asses were no stranger to him. He knows what he looks like, blowing in off the road, leather jacket beaten to hell with a vague job and vaguer answers to questions that parents and families of rule abiding good girls generally tended not to appreciate. It hadn't stopped him from sneaking those same rule abiding good girls into closets and backseats and library aisles before returning them home in one (albeit slightly disheveled) piece.

Until now.

Until you.

He's barely been able to kiss you without being interrupted and for the first time in a long time, he feels like he's back in junior high. What little he manages to sneak from you has him squeezing his eyes shut tight, trying not to embarrass himself, and all because he's going crazy over what he can't have.

Not for the first, or second, or even third time this evening (and come on, what the hell?) the moment his hand sneaks beneath the hem of your sweater, a knock sounds at the door. As your hand, previously hovering over the buckle of his belt, retreats, Dean ponders on the existence of karma. If it is real, this might just be it, calling in on him.

You lean back from your perch on his lap, lips kiss swollen and a fog in your half lidded eyes, smoothing your clothes down. An apologetic grimace twists your mouth and you bite your lip.

"I'm sorry," you murmur and he groans, head tipping back to rest against the arm of your couch. Your fingers brush over his cheek, cajoling him silently to look at you. "I should – I should see what that's about. It could be an emergency."

Sweet as apple fucking pie.

There is no emergency. The two of you know well that it is only your little old nuisance of a neighbor who hates him, and still you can't deny her. Dean hates that he can't tell you to tell her to get lost.

"She's the only family I've got," you'd told him bashfully, once, twisting the edge of your skirt after she'd called in on you.

It had been the first time you'd brought Dean back to your place, the man discontent to continue stealing kisses in parking lots before dropping you home. He recalls how your eyes had been trained downwards, unable to meet his gaze as though unwilling to face what disappointment you might find there. "I don't…me and my folks don't really get on and I know she's kind of crabby but she just wants to look out for me. She means well."

Please, understand, your eyes had begged him. He wondered just how many before him had called it quits, bowing to the stare of a wizened old woman. With some shame he thinks, only a few years ago, he might have, too.

Now, some shades older, only a little wiser, Dean thinks that having to deal with a haughty, overbearing neighbor for the rest of his life in order to get a moment with you seems like light work. He's paid much larger prices, in his time.

He'd only offered you a lopsided smile then, gathering you closer. "How could anybody not get on with you, sweetheart?"

The look on your face alone had made up for walking back to the Impala at 10 o'clock on a Friday night with a tent in his pants.

Still, he is just a man. And he has his moments of doubt, as men are wont to do. It creeps in beneath the cool exterior he tries so hard to maintain with you, when after assuring Mrs O'Leary away one night, you don't attempt to pick up where you had left off like you usually might. Instead you gaze at him, a little tired, and tell him in a quiet voice that maybe we should just call it a night. There's a hint of a laugh in your voice, as though you mean to share your misery with him at once again being confuddled by your neighbor, but it falls short of actually coming through and you look resigned instead.

He doesn't have to be told twice to get lost. On the drive back to the modest apartment that makes for his and Sam's temporary lodgings, he wonders whether he's missing something. If, by some mistake, he's misread unwillingness for timidity and chalked your shyness up to inexperience instead of calling it for what it might actually be.

The next few days pass by with silence on both ends. Dean, hesitant, you – an enigma.

Sam looks at him as though he's grown two heads when he dares to broach the subject and he packs it in quickly enough, humbled by the disbelief in his brother's eyes that Dean – stubborn, self-sufficient, Dean, is asking him for advice on this. Humiliation rears its head in quick anger, grumbling at Sam to forget about it and pushing him out of the Impala, into the nearby diner to get their lunch.

Still, the problem remains beneath his skin, an itch that doesn't go away despite the time he gives you (and himself) to cool off.

He bites the bullet eventually when that voice in his head, sounding suspiciously like the man who'd hauled him away from that burning house in Lawrence all those years ago, sneers at him to stop pussying around and be a fucking man.

You agree to see him, something he doesn't dare to hope is relief in your tone when you pick up the phone after a single ring. He tells himself you'd just had it nearby, because the thought of you sitting around, waiting for him to call, makes him miserable.

"Can I see you?" he asks and you let out a breath, tremulous and crackling over the speaker.

"Yeah," you murmur, too quickly, and something that's been lodged in his chest all week loosens at the sound, his shoulders sagging. "Yeah, come over tonight?"

Your lips are bitten raw when you open the door. He feels himself curl inwards further at the sight, face falling at the sight. Without thinking, his hand raises to cradle your face, thumb passing over your split bottom lip.

"Aw, sweetheart," he breathes out and your eyes seem to well for the briefest moment before you push yourself into his arms.

"I missed you," you mumble into his shirt and he tips his head, palm coming to rest on the back of your head.

"Yeah?"

You hum in affirmation and he sighs.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he confesses to the air and you tighten your arms around his waist, pressing closer.

He doesn't realise how acclimated he's become to your small apartment until you pull him further inside and the smell of your home hits his nose, the fresh laundry smell lingering in the air making it easier to breathe.

It's easy, then, when you're pulling him onto the couch and curling beneath his arm, to assure himself that the last time he'd been over your hesitance had been a fluke. That his concern had been a product of overthinking, just him being a baby about it. When you kiss him, the thought flies from his head and he melts into the couch, fingers settling on your hips to cradle you closer.

His poor baby, he thinks, muddled, when his tongue traces over the worried flesh of your bottom lip. He thinks of you sitting at home, anxious and missing him, and his chest tightens painfully.

Of course, just as he's gearing up to kiss all the worry he's caused you away, that is when the knock on the door sounds.

You stiffen above him and he almost whispers to you, selfish and unthinking, to pretend you aren't home. But he wonders if he'd be able to deny his own responsibilities the same way if you asked that of him, when they inevitably came knocking, and it stays his tongue.

He can see it in your face when you send Mrs O'Leary away that you're going to clam up and it occurs to him that maybe he hadn't been overthinking. There is something here that he's missing – he just hasn't figured out what.

"Am I reading this wrong?" he asks you and you stare at him.

"What?"

"Do you –" he scrubs a hand over his face, weary. "Do you actually want this? We don't–"

"Dean," you breathe out, cutting him off and your voice trembles, a plea if he ever heard one in the single syllable of his name. Your lips turn downwards and he's reminded again of that night – you, shy, explaining your elderly neighbor's concern for you.

Fuck.

Your eyes shimmer, begging him – don't get it wrong. Not you, too.

"I do," you whisper. "More than anything. You think I don't want you?"

He sighs, leaning forward to look you in the eyes intently. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I got spooked. Figured maybe I was coming on too strong and the old lady was just telling me what you couldn't."

You shake your head. When you close your eyes, you murmur, as if speaking your thoughts aloud, "I think about you so much I can't sleep, sometimes. I want you more than anything I've ever wanted in my life, Dean, that's the truth."

"Don't say that to me," he says, pained. "You can't –"

But you're not done taking him by surprise and he jolts when, boldly, you take his hand and press it beneath your skirt, between your legs. Right where the small patch of fabric is soaked.

"Does this feel like you're reading it wrong?" you murmur, tense, fingers trembling above his own.

No. No it certainly did not.

His blood rushes south, fingers brushing against sticky cotton. Your hand trembles over his and the movement jostles him, the crease of your underwear gliding over you – he has to stifle a groan. Want, in its barest form, drips from you, soaks into the gusset of your panties – the slightest squeeze of your thighs against his hand, trapping it between your heat. These are not the actions of a girl indifferent to desire.

He wants you, and judging by the slick that brushes against his fingers when he presses a little harder (your gasp bitten off in the thick silence) –

you want him too.

You shiver when he traces a single finger down the centre of your core and he finds that he wants to hear it again. He takes it a little further this time, dipping beneath your waistband and shifting forward. You press your mouth to his shoulder, hand clutching the sleeve of his shirt but not stopping him yet.

He grins when your hips cant forward in silent instruction, a breathless, wrecked laugh tumbling out of his lips when he finds your entrance, pushing against your heat until you gasp into him.

It takes him very little to build you up, a single digit bullying into your wetness, thumb seeking that little bundle and circling it. You tremble so sweetly beneath him, little pants and gasps muffled into the skin of his neck. When you come, it's with a squeeze around his finger and a low whine cooed against his ear.

It doesn't matter, when two minutes later, the old hag makes her final reappearance to usher him home. He's already kissed the salt from your upper lip, relishing in your shy, wide-eyed expression when he brings his fingers to his mouth and cleans them off with more fanfare than is necessary.

He steals a sloppy kiss, and then another, not caring about the disgruntled frown on the woman's face when he brushes past her in the hallway.

Mrs O'Leary can't ruin his night because he's got what he's wanted – simply knowing that you had wanted this too, had wanted him, had been enough.

um. idk lowkey this is a shit ending but it's been in my drafts for like a month and i need it gone so. i'm banishing it. had the thought towards the end there whether dean would even go down on you and like. idc because this is fanfic but hm. i guess i could argue about it being either way? i feel like towards the end of spn he's got bigger problems than having sex anyway. im rambling but. hopefully you liked this? idk. it's unedited as usual ok bye

[catscraaatch]

₊˚ପ⊹ gag it!

sum: your tired, overworked boyfriend comes home exhausted. much too exhausted to listen to you yap at him about the dishes. good thing he knows exactly how to get you to shut up...by stuffing that pretty little mouth full. wc: 1.2k

includes: fem reader, throat fucking, tojis a little rough with it ngl, slight degradation, ruined orgasm if you squint mdni.

as soon as he walked in the door, shoulders slumped and exhaustion written all over his face, there you were. your hands on your hips and your mouth pulled into that little frown you make at him when you're mad. he'd think it was cute if he wasn't so fucking tired from work.

"..what'd i do?" he groaned, ready for you to just spit it out and stop staring at him. you roll your eyes, huffing in annoyance. you weren't angry, just fed up with having to tell your tall child of a boyfriend the same shit every other day

"I asked you to do the dishes last night toji." you deadpan. tojis expression falters for a split second before he lets out a deep sigh, rolling his eyes at the way you tap your foot at him

"look, I'm sorry-" he starts

"I get that you're tired after work toji but that's like the second time this week. seriously all I ask is one little thing of you-"

you start moving around the kitchen as you babble on and on, putting away the dishes that you must have reluctantly cleaned on your own before your boyfriend walked through the door. toji follows you with his eyes, rubbing a hand down his face in exasperation

"...now dinners gonna be late and I know your ass hasn't eaten all day. I literally don't ask much of you I don't get why-" your rant is cut short when you feel tojis broad chest press against your back. you're pressed between him and the counter, his arms grabbing onto the surface in front of you trapping you between them as he leans his head down close to your ear.

"I said I'm sorry y/n. I was at work all fucking day yesterday and all day today. you mind giving me a break, huh?" he utters sternly.

his arms caging you in and the icy chill in his tone ignites something familiar in your stomach. you mentally curse yourself, you're supposed to be pissed at him. you turn around in his hold, crossing your arms over your chest and staring up at him. your gaze almost falters when your eyes meet those dark green ones, lidded and clouded with mostly just exhaustion, but there's something sharp and irritated in them too.

you swallow down the butterflies that practically try to claw their way out of your stomach, huffing as you hold his gaze. "wouldn't have to be on you like this if you just pulled your weight around here." you know you're exaggerating. toji knew you were exaggerating. other than some scattered laundry every now and then, and unwashed dishes maybe once every couple of weeks, your overworked boyfriend does more than enough around your shared space.

toji sucks his teeth at your words as he leans closer, your noses almost touching. he nods his head slowly, challengingly. his voice is low and gravelly, warm breath ghosting over your face.

"you think I don't pull my fucking weight around here?" it's all you can do not to shiver as something dark flickers across his heavy gaze, something about when he gets like this never failing to get your panties wet. nevertheless you stand your ground, your (less) intense gaze challenging his own.

"..if you did, the dishes would have been done." you murmer out. you decide to push him even further, realizing how grave of a mistake that was as soon as the words leave your lips

"that mouths gonna get you in trouble."

that's how you find yourself on your knees, gagging on your boyfriends cock as he ruthlessly bullies thick inches impossibly farther down your throat. 

"..hnng, this what you need? n-need to choke on my cock just to get you to shut.. the fuck... up?" he emphasizes each word by fucking up into your mouth, his swollen tip hitting the very back of your throat so deliciously, making you gag on it, a mess of spit and precum dribbling down…everywhere. his cock, your chin, your chest, pooling down onto the floor in a lewd puddle in front of you. you look up at toji from under your wet lashes, and he’s completely gone. his eyes are lidded, nearly closed as he watched you take every inch, his jaw slack.

your vision is fuzzy and you’re starting to get lightheaded at the way his dick constricts your airflow. toji notices that far away look in your eyes, your nails digging into his thighs where your hands were perched for support. he grips a handful of your hair, tugging you off of his cock, webs of saliva connecting you to his leaking tip. you pull off with a gasp, swallowing down as much air as you can get.

“hard to talk when your mouths full, hm?” toji pants out, his chest heaving up and down as he smirks down at you. his words make you press your thighs together, your pussy has been throbbing the entire time he’s been fucking your face. he catches the action, chuckling darkly. he knew what this was doing to you, knew you egged on his irritation knowing what it would lead to. you two rarely argued and toji would never raise his voice at you, but you had a mouth on you. thankfully toji always knew how to put you in line, whether that be by fucking you until you were too dumb from his cock to form coherent sentences, or stuffing your pretty little mouth full. 

you let out a needy whine after a while, wanting toji back in your mouth. you mostly wanted to cum, wanted him to take care of the wet mess between your thighs, his own doing. but a part of you really just loved when toji used you like this. you pull against his grasp on your hair, darting your tongue out to lick at his tip teasingly. toji groans at the feeling, letting up his grip a little, your warm wet mouth immediately coming down to wrap around the swollen head of his cock again. he hisses, gingerly bucking his hips up into your face, a much slower pace now, making sure you take him inch by inch back down your throat. 

“greeeedy fucking girl. fuck. taking my cock so well” you moan around him, the vibration causing his length to twitch in your mouth. you whimper, your hand coming down to rub at your drenched pussy through your underwear, desperate for any kind of friction right now. your throat tightens up around toji as you begin bucking into your hand, already on the verge of cumming. toji looks down at where your hand is working between your legs, suddenly forcing you all the way down on his cock, your nose pressing against the tufts of black hair above his shaft as you splutter around him. “my little slut need some attention?” he coos, your eyes rolling back into their sockets as you try to nod.

you’re so close, you can feel the coil in your belly threatening to unravel, tight wet walls pulsing around your fingers. toji tsks, pulling you off of his cock, using his grip on your hair to drag you up to him at face level. you reluctantly pull your hand from between your legs, panting and whimpering at the loss of your orgasm. toji pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, his tongue licking the taste of himself out of your mouth, biting down at your lower lip, pulling it between his teeth as he breaks away from the kiss before releasing it. 

he eyes your pretty fucked out face, grinning at the absolute mess he’s made of you.

“well you better make me cum then, huh?”

[cherryredstars]

Hi Cherry!! I love love loovveee your work and I was wondering if you could do another punk!reader x miguel one shot? I never really see any punk type readers and I would just love to have a reader that looks scary and punk/alternative ya know? Stuff like piercings, colored hair maybe, just stuff like that.

I LOVE YOU THANK YOU!!!!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gnPunk!reader

Warnings: Piercings, Fluff

A/N: Hi, love!! I hope you enjoy!!

Unedited

More Punk!reader

You can sense him laughing at you.

You squint your eyes open, relieving them from their scrunched up state. Miguel's lips are thinned as he tries to contain his laughter, the hold he has on your hand loose. You glare at him, and his eyes twinkle at you as you lay on the piercing table. You are so going to twist his nuts after this is over.

"This isn't funny." You hiss at him, turning your head away to not look at your body piercer as they prepare their equipment.

Miguel finally lets his chuckle out, rubbing his thumb soothingly against the back of your hand.

"It's just..." He starts off, a smile breaking on his face. "I've never seen you so scared before."

You huff, rolling your eyes. "Just because I'm scary, doesn't mean I don't get nervous every now and then."

Miguel's smile softens as he shakes his head, squeezing your hand tight. "I know. But I would think you would be used to this by now since you have so many piercings already."

Your mouth puckers to the side, humming in reluctant understanding and turning towards him slightly. "Yeah, but they still hurt."

Miguel hums back, smiling again when you freeze up as your piercer turns to you. You look at Miguel with wide eyes for a second before they turn back into glares.

"You better not let go of my hand Miguel O'Hara, or else I will make you cry like you've never cried before." You threaten.

Miguel nods obediently, tightening his hold on your hand as you move to lay straight and close your eyes. Your piercer chuckles at the banter, pressing down on the area that you want pierced to make sure there aren't any irregularities since the last time they checked a few minutes ago. Miguel sees the uneven rise and fall of your chest as you wait in anticipation, eyes scrunched tight.

"Promise, I'll even kiss it better when we're done." He reassures you.

You both silently agree to ignore the fact your voice was slightly pitchy the entire time you threatened him.

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

"Does it really take that long to read instructions?"

You're growing impatient, sitting crossed legged on a chair in the kitchen. You're wearing your go-to hair dying shirt, unwashable bleach stains and hair coloring marking the area around the collar and shoulders. All of the necessary tools to redye your hair sit on the counter closest to the two of you. Miguel is wearing the included gloves in the hair box kit you picked up from the store, the material straining as they're just able to fit his large hands. In his gloved hands are the hair dye box and the large pamphlet of instructions. By now, you would already have half of your head done, but Miguel insisted on helping you since he did promise at the bar that one night.

He's ready both the instructions on the box and in the pamphlet three times. In both English and Spanish. You cross your arms as you raise your brow at him, glaring at him.

"I've done this millions of times already, Miguel. But those fucking things down. I'll walk you through it." You groan.

Miguel ignored you, eyes squinting as he holds the paper closer to his face as he rereads. He's even got his fucking glasses out.

"Yeah, but I've never done this before. I don't want to damage your hair or something." Miguel argues as he flips the paper over to read the back, eyes skimming the paper in confusion until he realizes he's actually reading French.

"I don't know if you can tell but," You pause picking at a lock of your split-ended hair. "My hair's already fucked up. You literally can't fuck it up any more than it already is."

Miguel sighs as he puts the directions and paper back on the counter, finally beginning to mix the products together in the bowl included. He shakes his head as he does so, walking over to you so you can see if he's mixing it right. You smile at the sight of his concentrated face, tilting your head up when he's built up the courage to start applying it to your hair. You shiver slightly at the initial coldness, closing your eyes so it doesn't get into your eyes. Miguel is gentle as he applies the product and parts your hair to make sure it's spread evenly. Every now and then he stops to ask you for advice when he gets to a tricky patch of hair or is confused on how to part something.

But eventually, talking double the time it would if you did it yourself, Miguel steps away from you. Your eyes open slowly, seeing the look of pride on his face as he examines his work. You smile at the sight, reminding him to set a timer so you know when to wash your hair. While you wait, you help him clean up, making sure to look in the mirror to see if Miguel missed anywhere beforehand.

When you do wash your hair, the results turn out amazing. The color is vibrant and just how you imagined, and Miguel fawns over how amazing the new color looks on you. He even offers to take pictures of you for your Instagram, and you smile as you pull him into the frame, snapping a picture of you with your newly dyed hair and Miguel's excited face resting on your shoulder. When your friends and family start commenting and asking about who your new hairdresser was, you can't help but laugh.

Sorry, they're only reserved for me.

[eowynstwin]

What kind of lover is Soap? Is he sweet? Does he playfully pick on his S/O?

Soap x gn!Reader. Fluff, mildly suggestive.

He still smells vaguely like dust and gun oil, half an hour after his arrival and draped over you from behind like a blanket.

“Smells amazing,” he says into your neck, scraping his stubble across your skin. “How’d you know I was craving stir fry, bonnie?”

You hadn’t, in fact. It had been an effort in mitigation, a band-aid for a lonely evening—you’d thought of a previous night together, plates balanced on knees and stuffing yourselves silly as you’d wolfed down beef and snow peas in the best sauce you think you’d ever made.

“Table not on your list of priorities, hen?” he’d asked, mouth full. The sweat patches on his chest, back, and armpits had dried, but the enormous stack of boxes against your living room wall loomed still ominously.

“Tomorrow,” you’d said, because he’d promised to help you move everything, and you wanted an excuse to monopolize his time more.

“What if I get called in?” he’d said, one cheek punched out like a chipmunk’s. “I can still go tonight, ‘m not tired yet.”

In the end he had gone back for the table, and after that you’d both collapsed on your unmade bed, stale and unwashed and dropping off to sleep almost immediately.

Johnny always snuggles up to you, sometime in the middle of the night, so you'd felt it early that morning when he'd gotten up. You'd heard a flush, running sink water, and then he'd returned to you, gathering you close and kissing your face over and over to annoy you into waking.

His breath had stunk, not having seen a toothbrush since before dinner. When you'd opened your eyes, you'd still let him kiss you, tongue and all. After all, yours couldn't be much better.

"I'm a telepath," you respond, swirling meat and veggies around in the pan with a wooden spoon.

Johnny's arms are broad and warm around your middle, and he distracts you with little circles of his fingertips on your ribs. He has you flush against him, back to front, the furnace of his body almost matching the heat of the stove.

You close your eyes, let the smell of the food and Johnny's skin fill your lungs. You could be in bed with him again, with his weight at your back, too tired and unwilling to even move.

He presses his lips to your neck, licks the skin before biting down. "What am I thinking right now?" he murmurs, tongue soothing the new hickey.

"You'll resort to cannibalism if this isn't done soon?"

"Oh, eating is definitely involved."

"Damn," you sigh, "I didn't know you were into vore, Johnny, that's kind of gross."

He bites you again. "Hey."

You grin. "Get some plates down, will you?"

Soap expresses his love with touch and acts of service.

He always wants to have a hand on you. He will take every chance he can to get his mouth on you. He loves kissing you.

Soap also loves doing things for you. He will often overexert himself on your behalf.

I would not call him sweet so much as easy. Being with Soap is like breathing. He has a confidence that makes you feel like you can be completely and totally yourself around him.

[memesfortas]

"The Thief" Sentence Meme

All quotes are dialogue pulled from the book "The Thief" — Book 1 of the Queen's Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner Change pronouns, proper nouns, verb tense, etc as needed! Made by Joly (theshirallen)

"What, haven't you escaped yet?"

"We might someday attain a relationship of mutual respect."

"For now, I will have your obedience."

"Some things take time."

"I think it's going to take a lot of time. I think it could take the rest of your life."

"Idle boasts, I suppose."

"I can steal anything."

"Well, you've learned to keep your mouth shut, at least."

"I want you to steal something."

"Don't try to be smart. You don't pretend well."

"Do you announce that you're going off to steal something before you start?"

"None of your business. Just keep your mouth shut, do you understand?"

"He's exhausted, that's all."

"Not exactly stalwart, are you?"

"Look, I'm very clean. Why am I washing again?"

"Where did you get so dirty?"

"What a lie that was."

"You can keep your civility to yourself. You don't talk to anyone, do you understand?"

"That was absolutely the most awful thing that has happened to me in my entire life."

"You'll make yourself sick."

"I don't want to get up. I want you to go away."

"I didn't plan this trip with your comfort in mind."

"I'm a lot more important than anyone else here."

"Most people find it galling to lose their freedom."

"Do you mean that we are out here in the dark looking for something from a fairy tale?"

"No one would mistake you for anything but a tool."

"Everything about you reveals your low birth."

"This is boring. How come boring makes me so tired?"

"Everybody goes to the temple, and everybody likes to hear the old stories after dinner, but that doesn't mean they expect a god to show up at their door."

"Tell me what other mistakes I made."

"Uneducated people rarely know much about the things they talk about every day."

"You're the one who doesn't know anything."

"A successful thief doesn't depend on things being unlikely to happen."

"If he finds out I want to stay, he'll take me away."

"Don't match your weakness against your opponent's strength."

"Glad to see someone is alert, if a little bit late."

"What are you looking at, sewer filth?"

"A little circumspection might be wise for someone in your position."

"You learn something new every day."

"What are you learning?"

"How can he look down his aristocratic nose at the unwashed masses when he's as poor as everyone else?"

"I bet he wakes up every morning and can't stand it."

"No. You're not going to tie me up."

"They're dead, too, stupid."

"Be blessed in your endeavors."

"I have work to do, and I don't like to work with bruises."

"Gutter scum can't fight its own battles."

"Gutter scum gets drafted into the infantry and fights for a worthless king, and hangers-on like you watch."

"That's treasonous!"

"Do I care?"

"His kind only ever serve themselves."

"Oh? And who else are you serving?"

"No unpleasantness, I trust?"

"This is where you earn your reputation."

"Do you come to offer, or to take?"

"Don't get yourself drowned on the first try."

"I don't know how it might happen, but if you fail, we are all lost together."

"I couldn't find it. I couldn't find anything."

"When you have returned to the land of the living, I have some questions to ask."

"Damnit. What were you doing all night?"

"I was tripping over prybars."

"I hear and obey, which is more than you have ever done."

"I have the highest respect for a craftsman."

"I'm trying to rob a god's temple, and you think I should worry about the ghosts of a few dead men?"

"Do not offend the gods."

"It is a great relief to my conscience that you are not drowned."

"We are alive, and you are alive, so this expedition was at least not the disaster of earlier ones."

"Do you have any doubts?"

"I just don't understand why I am so sure."

"I see you found a safe place to wait while we were busy."

"A little danger adds spice to life."

"I can't pull food out of the sky for you."

"How do you propose to get food?"

"You are going to steal it."

"I'll make sure we all go to the block together."

"It's not your job to think."

"You'll do your best, and if you best isn't good enough, we'll all go to the block together."

"Do you have any idea how impossible this is?"

"I thought you could steal anything."

"Things don't make noise."

"I'm not going back to prison."

"You think I would take you back to the prison?"

"You think I would trust you?"

"You don't have time to waste forcing me."

"Fine! Go die on the swords of the [name]. Be drawn, be quartered, be hung. I don't care!"

"What possible difference would it make to me?"

"Leave me a sword, and I'll do my best to slow them down."

"Just leave me alone. I'm fine. Go away."

"We saw everything from the top of the cliff."

"The only thing he can do with a sword is steal it or sell it."

"I've never seen someone win against that many men."

"I don't want him to be dead."

"The bleeding stopped and you will probably be all right, as long as you don't get a fever."

"Yes, that was a silly question."

"I owe you many apologies."

"I'll always wonder what you saw."

"Won't tell me, or can't?"

"I don't believe he holds you in high regard."

"And you will not break your promise?"

"You are more beautiful, but she is more kind."

"All I'm wearing is bandages."

"I think that I am more of an asset than a liability."

"All she wants from you is a promise of your service."

"Can we stop discussing this just now?"

"The river is running the wrong way."

"She might let me go as well. But she'd probably like best to catch me, and let you slip away."

"If you could be anywhere you wanted right now, where would it be?"

"Don't faint."

"I can manage, I promise."

"All my beauty gone."

"It might heal clean."

"This is not for us to figure out."

"You viper."

"I'm glad to see you looking better."

"I've decided not to give you the satisfaction of gnashing my teeth."

"She'll be plotting an elaborate revenge."

"Am I plotting an elaborate revenge? No, I haven't been able to think of anything adequate."

"He was clever. It's too bad he was a fool, too."

"I think you need more rest."

"I'll get up, and find someone else to tell me."

"The court is greatly impressed."

"People were careful not to offend her."

"I couldn't stand it, I think."

"It doesn't belong in this world."

"Stop biting your lip and say it."

"Anyone lucky enough to be married to you would count his blessings."

[whoishotteranimepolls]

For defend your blorbo

Okay, One piece fandom, let's think practically about something for once and use our upstairs brain and not just think with our downstairs brain. Zoro may be hot and a total himbo. Zoro may be the president of the straw hat big titty committee, but he also canonically bathes once a week and works out constantly. That boy has to smell like a middle school locker room and Sanji's right. Mosshead probably describes him perfectly because he probably has multiple undiscovered species of fungus growing in his underwear, and you want to put his fourth sword in your mouth after it's not been washed all week. I read fanfic. I know where your dirty minds go. Because I have listened to my best friend, talk about how she is a moron sexual, and she loves Zoro because she wants to suck his last brain cell out through his fourth sword. Again, I keep thinking that thing has not been washed in a week, and you're probably going to get sick from it but not STD sick, just like strep throat or a cold sick because you're putting his unwashed [redacted] in your mouth. I would at least make him shower first

If I ever got isekai into the One Piece world and got adopted by the straw hats, my only goal would be to get the straw hat boys bathing more than once a week, and I could die. Happy. I don't care if I have to give Brook my panties and show Sanji my tits to get them to help me wrangle the worst offenders into the bathtub. Because the entire guy's wing The Sunny probably smells horrid, or it might be the fact I have seven brothers. So, I definitely know what this smells like. But I can guarantee you. It's so bad your eyes burn, and you can taste it.

And that's all I can think of when I see all of you thirsting over Zoro. He stinks to high heaven and probably has undiscovered species of fungus on him. You would probably get sick because you're putting that unwashed [redacted] in your mouth, and you're probably also risking a yeast infection down there too. That boy needs to shower more. Again, knowing he canonically bathes once a week kills all attraction immediately because, ew ew ew ew ew, It's all I can think of. It's gross, so you guys can have him. He's all yours. Now, does Shanks bathe regularly, or Beckman, Rayleigh, King, or Kuzan? I'm pretty sure Mihawk does because I will take them over, smelly boy. Hell, I would take Lucci, Kaido, or even Sakazuki over Zoro as long as they bathe more than once a week

Defend Your Blurbo #6

Please remember this post is about curiosity and genuine fandom discourse. Be kind with your answers because this is not a debate essay, this is a discussion between fans.

I believe a lot of you should know who Roronoa Zoro from One Piece is

Now he uses three sword style which is probably why they keep using the phrase his fourth sword.

I laughed when I read this one. I'm pretty sure the phrase "I have seven brothers" is very telling and explains so very much. But One Piece fandom and Zoro stans. I know there's a lot of you. Have fun and Defend your Blorbo.

[gummysharklover]

I BET ON LOSING DOGS !

summary: ᯓ˚࿔ song number 1; based off the song i bet on losing dogs by mitski send me a number 1-100 and i'll write a schlatt blurb based on the song from my top 100 songs!

notes: ᯓ˚࿔ angst D: ᯓ˚࿔ this one is a little longer because ive been working on a fic based on this song for a bit now! ᯓ˚࿔ no use of y/n ᯓ˚࿔ not proofread!

wc: ᯓ˚࿔ 723

i bet on losing dogs i know they're losing and i pay for my place by the ring where i'll be looking in their eyes when they're down i'll be there on their side i'm losing by their side

You take a deep breath before putting your key in the slot. As the door opens, you're hit with a wave of emotion when Schlatt's eyes meet yours. He quickly looks down, continuing to swipe meaninglessly on his phone.

The house is dimly lit, and you stumble over a pair of shoes he's left at the entrance. You sigh as your gaze sweeps the room. Unopened mail piles up on the dining room table you never use anymore, and you feel something gut-wrenching pull at your heartstrings when you see the mountain of unwashed dishes in the sink. The TV is background noise as you walk to the bedroom.

It's cold in New York this time of year, and you shiver as you strip your work clothes. Once you've changed, you walk back to the living room. Schlatt's smiling at his phone. When he looks up, his eyes meet yours, and for a split second, he notices your silent pleading for him. But seeing his expression in your eyes' reflection urges him to look anywhere but at you.

The bar was dimly lit, buzzing with chatter and laughter. You weren't supposed to be there—you had told yourself you would take a night to yourself, but a friend insisted. About an hour in, she left you alone at a table full of half-strangers. Then you heard an unmistakable laugh across the bar, and you saw him. You didn't know his name, but he filled the space like a beacon of light. He leaned against the bar, animatedly gesturing with a bottle of beer in hand. His voice cut through the noise as he mocked somebody's drink choice. You laughed softly at the joke, and he took notice immediately. He had narrowed his eyes and called out to you; you were quick to retort—the bar patrons erupting into laughter as you did, and Schlatt grinned as he walked over to you. He introduced himself, and you shared playful banter and quick-witted jabs the rest of the night. You had exchanged numbers, and you left the bar with a sense of giddy pride.

But as you try to recall the memory, it dances elusively at the edges of your mind, leaving you with a haze of despair. And a deep sadness crashes into you, causing a tinge of numbness to spread from your fingertips straight to your heart.

Over the following weeks, you would talk on the phone until the early hours of the morning. It was a dance—you would complain about having to sleep because you had work in the morning, and he would plead for you to stay up just a little bit longer. You always succumbed to his request.

Then, one night, he showed up at your door with a takeout bag.

"Didn't feel like bein' alone," He softly admitted with an apologetic look.

So you welcomed him into your apartment and sat in comfortable silence while you ate.

"You ever feel like you're just winging it?" He quietly asked.

You looked at him with an expression he couldn't decipher, "All the time."

And, slowly, he opened up more and more. But he was always cautious about his feelings. He was intellectual about his problems, explaining them factually and leaving out any emotion. He had a tendency to deflect when things got too serious, and it was a constant reminder that his walls would never fully be down.

But something about him was almost addictive. You knew he was trouble—you saw the signs—but you couldn't help the spark you felt when you saw him or heard his voice.

You sit beside him on the couch, feeling the quiet distance between you continue to grow. You open your mouth, wanting to say something, but the words get caught in your throat as tears well in your eyes. Schlatt stands up abruptly and silently leaves the room, leaving you to choke back sobs as you hold your head in your hands.

You knew this would happen from the moment you had your first fight, but you let it get to this point anyway. You're not sure why you do it. Maybe it's because it's all you know—because broken love is familiar—comforting. And as you sit on the couch, you carry the weight of loving people who don't—or can't—love you back in the capacity you desire.

thank u for reading <333, please reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot to me :D

[splendsay]

COD FF // Callsign: Sunshine // Ch. 43: Into the Unknown

you know that genre of like mildly spooky and sad and ethereal music with birds chirping in the background?

that's what I imagine playing in Ace's head throughout this scene. our poor gal has really just been through it.

..................................................................

Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 43: Into the Unknown

Rating: 18+ !!MDNI!! Chapters: 43/? WC: 115,752 Pairing(s): TF141 x F!Reader (You) Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, canon-typical violence Chapter Excerpt (🚨spoilers!!🚨):

It's a half-day's drive to the airfield. Cap says rendezvous time is sunrise. 

You check your watch -- less than two hours out. 

You're operating yet another vehicle. This one is old. A Jeep, of course. A giant, scrappy hunk of metal nobody else wanted to drive. You, though, were more than happy to oblige. That is, until you remembered the last time you were behind the wheel of one of these fucking things. 

Until you saw the way your left hand clutched said wheel, knuckles stark against the rest of your hand. 

You went back in time. Back to Simon barking orders. To a searing pain near your wrist. The stench of undead, unwashed, unreal bodies throwing themselves at you, all mindlessly desperate for a taste. 

You steal glances at your forearm every now and again -- the smooth, slightly paler shade of your scars all that's left. It doesn't hurt. Doesn't so much as twinge. But the skin there is slightly cooler. Softer. Newer. 

Marked. 

Soap joins you in the front seat, Simon in the back. 

You could cut the tension with a knife if you had one, but they're all packed. 

You cracked the windows a little early on, just to get some air circulating. 

It's cold. Biting. You've no idea the actual date, but you'd guess it's close to the end of November. 

Winter is knocking.

The three of you haven't really had a chance to revisit your conversation from the other day, and Soap hasn't indicated that his thinking about it has amounted to any sort of decision. 

Not that you've had much time to process or think about it yourself. Between hauling boxes of supplies to and from the caravan, paring down your belongings to the barest and easiest to carry essentials, and tearfully saying goodbye to the most sentimental corners of the estate -- it's been a busy few days. 

Cap, Gary, and Gaz are in the truck ahead of you, navigating. Farah, Alex, and the Los Vaqueros boys trail behind you in a Jeep twin to yours. 

The cars are loud. Cutting through the early morning silence with guttural, cacophonous growls. The noise irritates you. The stench of gasoline irritates you. 

Everything irritates you. 

You're tired. Exhausted, really. Devastated. Melancholic. Anxious. 

And still fucking bleeding. 

As if on cue, your abdomen seizes in a tight, sharp jolt of pain, spreading slowly as the cramp works its way through your muscles, bearing down on your lower body. 

You only managed to procure a pitiful supply of rags before your departure. At this rate, you'll bleed through them before you even get to Boston. 

You glance to your right to find Soap watching you. 

You chalk a brow. "What?" you mouth. 

He gives you a pointed once-over with his eyes and raises a brow of his own. A silent appraisal. And question. 

"I'm fine."

He pushes his lips out, pursing them as if to say, "I don't believe you."

You roll your eyes and turn back to face the road. It's an old highway. You can't tell if you've driven it before -- they all sort of look the same. Cracked asphalt splitting grassy, overgrown hills. Abandoned cars flanking either end. 

Bones littered about. 

Not a lot -- most bodies turn into monsters, after all. But, some. 

Enough. 

Enough to chill your own bones. Enough to haunt you.

Aine's face floats through your mind, mangled and terrified. Missing eye. Missing teeth. Scalp half gone.  

Brains on the floor. Gaz's pained, angry face. 

Sometimes in your dreams, it's his eye that's missing. His brains on the floor. Or Simon's. Soap's. Farah's. Even the Captain's. 

"Ace," Simon's voice cuts through the roar of the engines, the roar of your thoughts. 

You blink and lock eyes with him in the rearview mirror. They're soft. Warm and open. Concerned.

"What?"

"We're stopping."

You see the lights then -- bright and crimson. Hear the squeal of long-disused brakes. 

"Oh."

You slow down, shifting into first and then neutral, parking right behind Cap's truck. 

You grimace as you disembark, the feeling of the blood leaving your body finally succumbing to gravity sending a shiver of disgust through you. You slam the door shut with a dull thud.

The immediate warmth of Soap at your side draws your gaze to his. 

"I'm fine, Soap," you insist, voice low. Your breath clouds in front of you. 

His fingers brush yours. "Y'sure?"

"I'm sure," you murmur, the intimacy of the question -- the gesture -- momentarily stunning you. 

Simon's head appears above Soap's, scanning the area behind you, his face illuminated faintly by headlights. You turn to see what he sees. 

A giant field. Massive. Easily the size of a few football stadiums. And flatter than most places you've seen in your limited experience in the Scottish countryside. 

"We're in England," Simon observes. 

"Where?"

"Dunno for sure. South of Manchester at least."

"How do you figure?"

He shrugs. "'Cause we've been driving since yesterday."

"Oh."

"Alright, lads," Cap says, walking over to the group, squinting against the beams of light, Gary and Gaz at his back. "Ladies. We've got about an hour or so before the boys from America birdie in. We'll lift off from here and take a plane out of Dublin."

"How long is the flight to Boston?" you find yourself asking quietly. Almost shy. You don't know where that's coming from. The shyness. But it seems to be infiltrating you. Like you're reverting. Like the separation from what you've grown attached to has ripped away the last eight months. Like the memories you've made are stored there rather than in your own head. 

Soap's fingers brush yours again, but this time he hooks your index finger with his. A gentle anchor. 

Cap's answering look is sharp. Penetrating. All business. "Seven hours give or take," he answers gruffly. 

The team begins to unload the supplies as a soft, frigid mist descends, coating the ground in a layer of moisture.

You help as best you can, though with so many doers around, you wind up mostly supervising. Boxes and bags of clothing and food and artillery -- even Doc's viral sample -- all stacked in towers against the wheels of each truck, until they're taller than the vehicles themselves. 

It makes you sad that you'll just abandon them here. 

Like all the cars along the highway. 

Like you left the house. A woebegone prison, of sorts. A container for your memories. A solitary film projector. Cursed to replay your spools of Super 8 over and over and over, infinitely, for an audience of none. 

You stare at the Jeep. At the space where its tires meet the grass. You absently run a finger along its scuffed metal surface.

Discarded carcasses. Relics of the past. Victims to time and circumstance, as much as any of the rest of you.

How sad it must be to have no ability to move oneself. How lonely to be trapped where you're left. 

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Full Fic