#It’s so hard to find words when you are actively exploding | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tenelkadjowrites · 1 year ago

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Wallflower - Part Three - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

PART ONE HERE. PART TWO HERE.

🌻 Summary: While your feelings towards nerdy Seonghwa continue to deepen, your relationship with your coworkers and job further deteriorate.

🌻 Word count: 10.7k

🌻 Genre & warnings: nerdy seonghwa with coworker reader. fem pronouns for reader. descriptions of anxiety and a panic attack. dirty talk. hand job. spanking (reader receiving). masturbation. semi public sexual activities. unprotected sex. creampie.

🌻 Tags are now moved to the bottom of the fic.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

In your dream, you’re stuck behind a soundproof glass that has encircled your desk. Seonghwa is on the other side, sitting at his cubicle, typing away. You keep trying to get his attention but it’s useless. You bang your hands against the glass, growing frustrated. It’s becoming difficult to breathe. Your computer turns on, showing white static like an old TV. The noise grows louder, making it hard to think. As you bang your hands against the glass again, there is a noise that sounds like someone has turned on a bathtub. Alarmed, you look over your shoulder. Water is pouring in from the top of the glass through a small hole. It sloshes around at your feet and the panic of being submerged is so intense that you throw your weight against the glass. Nothing happens. It’s up to your ankles now and rapidly rising. You scream but no sound comes out –

And when you jolt awake, you find yourself staring at Seonghwa’s face. Panicked, you sit up, almost banging your head into his. He’s talking but you can’t make out what he is saying. Your heart is pounding so fast that it feels as though it’s going to explode out of your chest. Seonghwa’s hands are on your upper arms and you can finally make out what he is saying.

“It’s a nightmare. Hey, it was just a nightmare. You’re awake, it’s okay, you’re awake.”

He’s right. One wild glance shows that you’re in your bedroom, wearing just your skirt from earlier, Seonghwa still naked with the sheets around his waist. You take in a shuddery breath, trying to calm down.

“What time is it?”

Seonghwa glances at the clock on the bedside table. “A little past two.”

“I’m sorry, did I wake you? I didn’t…” You shiver, suddenly cold.

“Let me get you a shirt and some water,” Seonghwa says and before you can protest, he slides off the bed.

The room is too dark to make anything out other than his silhouette as he grabs his boxers off the floor and glasses off the dresser. You watch him, trying to steady your accelerated breathing.

“The top right drawer of the dresser,” You tell him, “Any shirt is fine.”

He opens it, grabs one, hands it to you and then leaves to get some water from the kitchen. You slip into the shirt, tugging it down across your chest. Your heartbeat is still fast and it’s hard to pull yourself from the nightmare. It had simply felt so intense, from the loud static of the computer, the water cold against your feet and your desperation for Seonghwa to hear you.

Seonghwa returns a minute later with a glass of water, handing it to you. After thanking him, you take a long sip as he gets back into bed next to you.

“Do you want any?” You ask quietly when finished and he gives a small shake of his head. You place it on the bedside table. “I’m sorry that I woke you.”

“It’s alright, really.”

He is close to you now, warm, comforting, safe, and even though you should be mindful of how he is just your friend even with having sex involved, you lean forward and embrace him.

Seonghwa seems surprised for a millisecond before his arms wrap around you. Your head rests on his shoulder, hands resting against the smooth skin of his back.

“I was in some glass box at work. It was soundproof and filling with water. You were at your cubicle. I couldn’t get your attention and I knew I was going to drown,” You recall the nightmare aloud, “It’s silly, I know. And not real.”

“Your brain doesn’t know it isn’t real. It reacts accordingly,” He seems to be thinking for a moment because he then adds quietly, “But I heard you, didn’t I? That’s how I woke you up.”

The words calm you, the logic wiggling in your brain and taking root there. Seonghwa had heard you. Not in the nightmare but in reality where he woke you up and pulled you out of there. You soften in his arms, closing your eyes.

It feels good to have him here. Everything about Seonghwa radiated a calm, collected energy which was something you aren’t sure you possess anymore. Even though you have kept reminding yourself that he isn’t for you, that he is more of a friend than anything else, it didn’t seem as if your body listened. The way you responded to his touch, calmed down around him and felt safe all made a small voice in the back of your head say you were intentionally ignoring something quite obvious.

“Do you want to lay back down?” His voice is gentle, and you are nudged away from your potentially brooding thoughts.

You nod but can’t bring yourself to let go which results in your head back on his chest, curled against him after he removes his glasses. His fingers trail down your back, and you can feel your heartbeat begin to slow. With Seonghwa laying back down, your attention is drawn to his body. You fight the urge to reach out and touch him there, reminding yourself that he needs to go back to sleep.

But as the nightmare fades from memory, it’s difficult not to want him again. Everything just feels so perfect with Seonghwa, including sex. The pleasure blots out the worries about work, your unhappiness, your lack of friends – all of it fades when he touches you.

Trying to play it off casually, your hand moves lower against his stomach. His skin is warm to the touch. You are thinking about how big he is, how long it took to get him inside your cunt. Your fingers are on the top of his boxers now, hovering, torn between going to bed or asking if you could make him feel good.

Seonghwa stirs a little and then whispers, “What are you thinking about?”

You could lie. But that doesn’t feel like a true option. So, you go, “I was thinking about touching you. But then I was scolding myself that you want to get some sleep.”

He pauses for a moment. You can hear the small inhale of his breath. The room is quiet, far removed from any noise of street traffic. Occasionally, it could feel isolating. Tonight, it just makes you grateful for Seonghwa’s steady presence.

“You can touch me,” His voice is a rumble in your ear pressed against his chest.

Your hand travels downward, touching him outside his boxers. You’ve had a collection of lovers over the years but this compelling emotion of wanting to make someone feel this good is new. Seonghwa has made you cum more in a short amount of time than anyone else did and has been putting your pleasure first constantly. You want to give that back to him with such intensity that you don’t even give yourself time to analyze why it’s such an overflowing emotion because you’re afraid of what the answer is going to be at the end.

Seonghwa shivers, his hand briefly going still against your back as you continue to touch him. His cock is growing hard in his boxers. It is too dark to make out anything other than the outline of his bulge. It strains against the fabric as you continue to rub. His breathing has changed, deepening with each movement of your fingers.

Your hand goes to the top of his boxers, tapping two fingers against Seonghwa’s stomach. He gets the message, raising his hips just enough for you to tug down his boxers, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. It lays thick and heavy against his stomach, and when you bring your hand around it, Seonghwa shudders. His length is warm and rock hard in your palm.

“It’s kinda impressive I got this thing inside me,” You remark quietly.

“Are you teasing me?” He replies, his voice as light as a feather.

“Just a little,” You admit.

After spitting into your hand, very slowly you stroke his cock. Your hand is small against his girth but you make the best of the situation. You like how Seonghwa’s breath is quickening as you continue to slowly move your hand up and down. There is precum glistening at the tip of his cock now and you bring your hand up to smear it across his length.

“Can I ask you something? It’s a vanity question,” Seonghwa’s voice is uneven and after you nod, he continues, “Did I uh…well, the rumor. Did it end up being true…for you?”

“Which part?” You are playing coy now, taking secret pleasure in hearing Seonghwa’s embarrassed tone.

Your speed increases a little and Seonghwa lets out a tiny moan. The sound makes you wet, drives you to keep going because you want him to make more noise, to crumble completely underneath your touch.

“The entire –” He groans softly as you keep going, stopping only to make sure to get collect his precum to use as a lubricant, “Entire rumor.”

“I don’t remember it,” You continue to tease him, “Can you remind me?”

His free hand is gripping the bed sheets as you keep going. You can hear the sound of his sticky cum against your hand, tilting your face upwards to look at his changing expressions and the pink hue across his cheeks.

“The r-rumor that I can fuck well,” He says and he looks torn between being shy enough to melt into the bed and horny enough to buck his hips against your hand, “And that I – fuck,” He loses his train of thought as your speed increases, jerking him off hard and fast.

You’re so wet that you’re practically dripping for him but your only focus is on Seonghwa. His head rolls back at one point as the pleasure heightens, his gasp ragged. He looks like a far cry from the well put together nerd at the office which somehow makes it hotter.

Still, he tries to complete his earlier sentence. “And that I have a big dick,” He says it quickly as if he is afraid of losing himself to how good it feels.

“Don’t forget the eating pussy,” You reply casually as if your hand isn’t a mess of his cum, listening to his growing noise of moans and groans, “But yes, I think the rumor was entirely true about you, Seonghwa.”

“O-oh, good,” He manages to say and you know he is close to finishing by the fragile sound of his voice.

“Now, are you going to blow your load all over my hand or do you wanna keep talking?”

Seonghwa lets out a strangled groan, bucking his hips against your hand as he begins to cum, the words pushing him to climax. You watch his expressions change as he finishes, taking note of the way he bites down hard on his bottom lip, how tightly his eyes close, the flush of colour against his skin. Something flutters in your chest at the sight.

His cum is hot against your skin, covering your hand and spilling out over his abdomen. Before you can even say another word, Seonghwa shifts onto his side, grabbing your leg and hoisting it over his hip while bringing his hand down to your cunt. His fingers find your clit immediately and the touch makes you gasp.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” His voice is hoarse as he rubs your clit, “You’re going to cum in seconds.”

You try to reply but your body is shivering and Seonghwa kisses you. Your moans are muffled against his mouth as he furiously works your clit. His tongue is in your mouth; he takes over your senses. Your body responds to him in a way it never has to anyone else.

He is right – your orgasm begins in seconds. You are cumming against his hand, weak against his touch. Waves of pleasure overtake you, spurned on by his gentle words to keep going. By the time your climax subsides, all thoughts of the nightmare are washed away and replaced with the warmth of Seonghwa.

Enveloped in him, it doesn’t take long to fall back asleep.

The Monday morning meeting is one of the dullest events of the week but lately, they have become an intolerable exercise in trying not to quit on the spot. They always ran too long on account of Sir Dipshit not knowing when to stop, ultimately talking about things that had no bearing on the matters at hand.

You are chafing to get out of the stuffy meeting room.

“This Friday, remember, we are allowing everyone to wear jeans! Very exciting,” Sir Dipshit clasps his hands together, “We might even do it next Friday too!”

“Yippie,” You mumble, eyes scanning the crowd again to find Seonghwa. This is tricky because he is slightly behind you which means glancing at him never looks natural.

He is tucked away in the corner, leaning against the wall because Sir Dipshit never brings the right amount of seats for everyone. His button up shirt is pastel blue, crisp without any wrinkles. His tan slacks with a simple black belt finish off his outfit. As usual, his light blonde hair is slightly messy and he looks attentively through his large glasses. You have no idea how he can look so alert. But you suppose he enjoys his job unlike yourself.

You feel so many different emotions while looking at him that it makes it difficult to pinpoint just one. A month ago, Seonghwa was just the nerdy coworker and now he’s…well, not only someone you’ve slept with, someone you know now in a manner that no one else in the office does, but he’s your friend.

But ‘friend’ doesn’t seem to fit how you see him. Which just makes things more confusing since there is nothing about Seonghwa that is your type romantically as you remind yourself a thousand times a day. He’s also given no indication that he sees you as anything other than a friend to casually have sex with. Except the way he holds you afterwards, a tiny and annoying voice says in the back of your head which you staunchly ignore.

As if sensing your gaze on him, Seonghwa glances over in your direction. Your eyes lock for the briefest moment and Seonghwa mimics falling asleep. Your lips twist in a smile as you look away.

“What’s so funny?” Your coworker whispers.

“Nothing,” You lie immediately, still feeling as though whatever is going on with Seonghwa is something to be kept private.

Your coworker stares at you for a beat longer before settling back in her chair, dropping the subject. You know that it is a matter of time before someone starts to notice your friendship with Seonghwa which will naturally bring rumors about dating since everyone is bored to tears in the office. You will never hear the end of it from your circle of coworkers that you have coffee with and the future headache looms in the distance. Seonghwa has often been the subject of many a conversation mocking him much to your ever growing guilt. The entire thing reminds you of high school in the worst way possible.

Sir Dipshit finally frees you ten minutes later as everyone spills out of the meeting room to drag their heels back to their cubicles. You don’t want to go to your desk but you didn’t want to be in the meeting either. You just simply don’t want to be here.

Instead, you wander over to the watercooler, taking your sweet time. You feel Seonghwa’s presence before you see him, looking over your shoulder.

“Dallying too?” You ask.

“Sorta,” He replies, grabbing his own small paper cup, “I saw you over here and wanted to say hi.”

You can feel the butterflies in your stomach and steadfastly pay no attention to them. The early morning light is slanting through the windows of the office, making Seonghwa’s hair shine.

“Was just trying to stay awake during that meeting,” You say, trying not to picture him naked underneath his office attire or think about how his tongue felt in your mouth, “He just talks so fucking much.”

“Yeah, he is quite enchanted with the sound of his own voice,” Seonghwa replies but you catch the way his eyes flick down to your waist before leaning forward to fill up his cup.

You swallow hard, looking at the curve of his neck. Your entire body is screaming for him and it is distracting. After he left Saturday morning, the two of you only casually texted the rest of the weekend. There had been nothing sexual about the conversation, leaving you back with the original feeling of floating between friendship and sex. Things always felt the most natural when you were wrapped up in him after sex. Otherwise, there seemed to be something awkward hovering in the air.

Seonghwa straightens, fixing his glasses and then going, “How are you feeling today? With being here?”

You exhale slowly, “Honestly, not that great. But I’ll get over it.”

His eyes narrow a little. “You know, there are other places you could work. You don’t have to feel trapped here if you’re that unhappy.”

“Yeah but…you know, I’ve been with this company for a while now and sorta climbed my way to this spot. And there’s still more to climb.”

“Sure, I get that,” He takes a sip of water and you stare at his Adam’s apple, “But what’s the point of the climb if you don’t enjoy it?” He finishes with a shrug.

You stare at him, the words sounding like a thunderclap in your head. You aren’t even sure what to say.

Seonghwa crushes the small cup in his large hand, making your emotions a confusing mess of work angst and horniness. He tosses it into the bin.

“I’ll talk to you later,” He says with a small wave.

You nod, watching Seonghwa go, torn between pulling him into an empty office somewhere and fucking him or staring at the wall as a mental cacophony of doubt and fear about work bounces around your skull.

In the end, you do what you’re paid to do – sit at your desk and pretend to be busy.

Lunch hour, sitting at the same table, in the same chair at the coffee shop across the street. You are staring at your unfinished muffin with a trickle of disdain. Around you, the usual round of gossip has commenced. You can’t believe it is only one in the afternoon. The thought of going back into the office is oppressive but so is staying here and drinking your coffee.

“Well, that’s cuz everyone in the software and IT departments are nerds of the worst kind,” Someone is saying while you stare at your coffee as if it can tell your fortune. “I mean, accounting is pretty bad too.”

“Yeah but Sir Dipshit loves accounting. When he talks to any of the computer geeks in software, you can tell he doesn’t feel like the smartest guy in the room anymore so he hates it,” Another coworker says.

Your mind is still stuck on what Seonghwa had said by the watercooler. But what’s the point of the climb if you don’t enjoy it? You think about how focused you’ve been on your career and nothing else, how so many things fell to the wayside over the years, your nice apartment that gives you no joy, and how you’ve never stopped to consider what sort of life you actually want. If anyone else had sounded like the Hannah Montana movie while trying to give you advice, you would have ignored them. But the words coming from Seonghwa are taking root in your chest.

You only tune back into the conversation when your gossipy coworker says, “He likes Seonghwa because every time that guy talks, Sir Dipshit can quietly take a nap.”

The chorus of titters is what pushes you over the edge. Looking up from your coffee, you snap, “Aren’t we bored? Every day we come over here and waste the entire hour shit talking people in the office because our lives are fucking boring.”

“Jesus, what the hell is your problem?”

Your gossipy coworker narrows her eyes, suspicion lining her features. “She’s got a crush on Seonghwa, that’s what it is.”

You can feel your cheeks growing warm at the accusation. “I do not. I’m just bored of talking about the same people all the time in the worst way possible.”

“You were fine with it until it involved Seonghwa. Once that rumor of his big dick popped up, you’re suddenly his staunch defender even though you’ve made fun of him plenty of times,” She goes on relentlessly and you flinch, knowing she isn’t exactly wrong, “So, why don’t you save the holier-than-thou attitude you’ve gotten lately.”

You stand up. Your skin is hot and not in a fun way; it feels as if there are tiny bugs wiggling around underneath the surface. You’re weary of the gossip, you’re burnt out on the daily routine and yes, the guilt at sitting around as people make fun of Seonghwa is burning you up.

“If you’re so curious about Seonghwa, why don’t you go hang out with him then?” Your gossipy coworker continues, clearly relishing the moment that has been building for ages.

“At least it would be a nice change of pace compared to sitting around here talking about the same stuff,” You snap, grabbing your bag, “Masquerading as the mean girls in a shitty movie set in high school.”

You storm off, hearing giggling behind you as your coworker says something you can’t make out. Your heart is racing and the palms of your hands feel itchy. The office building looms in front of you but staying near them is also too much.

You know you’ve effectively burned a bridge with the only sort of ‘friend group’ you have at work. Some part of you doesn’t care while the other side cares very much. It had been so easy to fall in with them; maybe you’ve always hated working here and hanging out with them made it easier to hide from.

But the guilt at everything you’ve ever said negatively about Seonghwa is slamming into your chest with the force of a sledgehammer. You enter the building, hurriedly pressing the button for your floor, wondering what would happen if you just left early. Would Sir Dipshit notice? Would anyone care?

By the time you step off the elevator, you can feel the start of a full blown panic attack tugging on the edges of your brain. Your eyes sweep the office floor which is emptier than usual due to most people on their lunch hour. But you spot Seonghwa walking away from the fax machine, a slightly annoyed expression on his face (which most people had whenever they needed to use the fax machine).

You walk towards him, each footfall heavy in your head. Seonghwa looks surprised at the sight of you walking towards him so aggressively. You aren’t even sure what you’re going to say until you get in front of him, open your mouth and –

A choked sob comes out instead of any words. He looks immediately alarmed, reaching out for your arm before stopping himself, his hand hovering in the air.

“I think I’m gonna have a panic attack,” You manage to mumble, wishing you were not about to embarrass yourself in front of the whole office.

Seonghwa doesn’t miss a beat, going, “Follow me,” and heads back towards the elevator.

You listen to him, unsure where he is going to take you. Your vision is blurring with tears and your chest is growing tighter by the second. The elevator doors close. You’re aware that you are making some strange breathing noises as your entire body feels more and more off kilter. Seonghwa doesn’t say anything. The doors open and he tells you again to follow him.

It is a lot colder down here and so quiet that it is almost unsettling. You realize Seonghwa has brought you down to the server room where no one would have any reason to be here. He pushes open a door to a small office and you immediately sit down at the computer chair before exploding into tears.

Seonghwa crouches in front of you, his hands tentatively resting on your knees while looking upwards. “What can I do?” He asks in a soft voice.

His kindness doesn’t help, not now as you mentally beat yourself up. Your breathing is ragged as if your lungs are struggling to work properly. The tears are a wild thing now, like a creature being trapped, and when you speak, each word is punctuated with a horrible gasp.

“I was having coffee with everyone and they – I don’t get along with them and I don’t like them or myself around them – so I said as much and – ” Your words are cut off as a fresh sob escapes from in between your lips, “And I hate it here and I hate this job but I don’t know what else to do at this point because I’ve worked my entire life to land here and I’m miserable.”

Seonghwa opens his mouth to reply but you give a firm shake of your head. You can’t take him being kind to you, not without him knowing all of it.

“I’m not a good person. I’ve made fun of you so many times before we began to hang out. Just casual comments here and there without thinking too much about you as a person. Because I was bored. And I’m ugly inside. I’m sorry,” You finish, crying so hard now that you think you’re going to snap in half.

You can’t make out Seonghwa anymore since you’re crying too much. The office is cold, your skin has broken out into goosebumps and you feel very small in this office. The guilt that was eating away at you has now been vomited up into the world but you don’t feel any better.

“Hey, you don’t think that I’m not aware of the jokes made about me?” Seonghwa says in a tone of someone trying not to startle a deer, “I know it’s easy to make fun of the guy who builds Lego kits for fun and has a stack of Animal Crossing amiibo cards. It doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re lying,” You shake your head, “You’re still trying to be nice to me.”

At this, Seonghwa laughs quietly. “What do you want me to do? Punish you because you cracked some jokes about my interests before we even knew each other?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, “I need you to tell me I’m a bad person and that we can’t be friends anymore.” You rub your eyes furiously, knowing your makeup is a lost cause at this point.

“What people say doesn’t impact me. Everyone always has something to say about me what I like and how I dress. If I paid attention to them, I’d be wasting all my energy on trying to get people to like me or know me,” He shrugs, “I have friends and family that I care about. Those are the people whose opinions matter to me.”

“You’re the worst,” You squeak out, “You’re just so likeable all the time.”

Seonghwa laughs louder at this remark and your crying begins to lessen. He raises up his hand and brushes some tears off your cheek. “You didn’t know me when you said those things. Everyone gets bored at work, wants to find something to talk about. Now that you know me, you felt so bad about what you said, you come to me crying about it.”

“Even after we became friends, they would make jokes about you and I just let them. I like how I feel when we hang out –” Realizing how that sounds, you quickly backtrack, “I don’t mean just…I mean hanging out as friends. Not just the physical…anyway I just didn’t want them to know because I liked having this friendship that wasn’t tied to work. It wasn’t something work knew about. It was just mine. I got selfish. So if they talked about you, I stayed silent.” The tears are threatening to make a return and your bottom lip quivers. “But that was shitty of me. You deserve better. I’m sorry.”

You are expecting anger at the confession that even after being friends with him and sleeping together, you still let people shit talk him. Or maybe that’s just want you wanted – your anger at yourself for not defending him, engaging in the shit talking, all the little jokes about him over the years, only noticing him because of a rumor, keeping him a secret because it suited you, all of it should lead Seonghwa down the path of being disgusted with you. It is what you deserve.

But the expression on his face doesn’t change. “Listen, I appreciate the apology. I forgive you. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” You reply quickly, wishing he understood, “Why are you being so nice about it?”

Seonghwa shifts his weight a little while reaching for your hand. His touch is minor but feels like an anchor. Feels like something more than friends, that frustrating little voice whispers.

“I know my life. I know what I like, what I don’t, and who I want to spend time with. I know how to do my job and I know when to focus on a hobby, regardless of how it may be perceived as nerdy or whatever. I’m at ease with myself. You’re not at ease with yourself. You hate your job. You don’t have a social circle other than an honestly obnoxious set of coworkers who are bored with their lives. You’re lost and you’re unhappy.”

“Damn, alright,” You breathe out, “Listen, I was expecting the friendship to be ended, not to be dragged to hell.”

Seonghwa fights off a smile, his thumb gently grazing the top of your hand. “What you need right now is compassion, not hostility. You’re having a rough time and trying to make the best of it. I forgive you for anything you may have joked about me in the past.”

“I also didn’t believe the rumor about you,” You say weakly, in one last final attempt to get the anger you felt you deserved, “I scoffed at it. Laughed at it even.”

“Well, I think we got the rumor squared away, don’t you? Unless I misunderstood the gibberish sounds coming out of your mouth the other night,” He teases quietly.

You let out a noise that sounds like a half cry, half laugh and rub your eyes again. You want to kiss him, you want him to hold you. But you’re at work, you’ve destroyed your makeup – and the two of you are still ultimately friends. It isn’t a friend who would kiss you at this moment.

“How terrible do I look?” You ask, wondering if you could possibly pretend you threw up and leave early.

But Seonghwa’s gaze only softens as he replies, “You look beautiful.”

You end up sneaking out of the office early before anyone can catch sight of you. Back at your apartment, you scrub your face clean and change into the comfiest clothes you have.

Then you just sit in silence on the couch, trying to work through the events of the afternoon. Tomorrow, you could apologize to your coworkers and try to fix things. But you don’t actually want to especially after apologizing to Seonghwa. It feels wrong to then go back to them.

I care about Seonghwa more than a group of catty coworkers, you think but try not to analyze it too much. When it comes to Seonghwa, things are starting to feel a bit more than muddled with how you see him.

You’re not at ease with yourself. You hate your job. You don’t have a social circle other than an honestly obnoxious set of coworkers who are bored with their lives. You’re lost and you’re unhappy. Everything Seonghwa has said today is true. His earlier words about the climb being enjoyable also float around.

I’ve been so busy with work I haven’t stopped to think about if I even want to be doing what I do every day. But if I don’t want to do this, then what should I be doing? That same lost feeling is creeping up on you. You’ve been running from it for ages. To face it would mean everything in your life changing and that scares the hell out of you too. Maybe it’s easier to be miserable in a setting you know versus trying something new and not feeling the ground underneath your feet.

Your phone buzzes then. You know it is going to be Seonghwa before you check the text.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. Are you still at work?”

“I’m leaving in a few,” There is a pause as the next message takes longer to be typed out, “Let me know if I can do anything.” is what it ultimately says.

“I will, thanks.”

In truth, you want nothing more than to forget about the day by tumbling into Seonghwa’s arms. But you have been increasingly relying on him to distract you from the utter confusion of your life which isn’t right.

On top of that, Seonghwa comes with his own set of confusion as well. The two of you are friends with benefits but the annoying way you get butterflies around him, and the way you wanted him to kiss you after being so comforting earlier was definitely not friendly. Now those feelings you weren’t quite ready to sit in yet.

You were starting to get the sensation of being at the top of a rollercoaster right before it dropped. You just weren’t sure if you would survive the fall.

You manage to cobble yourself together to return to work the next day although the giggles when walking past your coworkers tells you everything needed about that door closing. You feel weary, unable to care, knowing that things are shifting in your life but no idea where they are going to land.

In the short term, however, that meant your routine of coffee across the street is busted. You could just eat lunch at your desk but thinking about spending time willingly in your cubicle makes you feel faintly sick.

This realization leads you to seeking out Seonghwa around noon, wondering what he does during his lunch hour. You’ve seen him pop by the coffee shop a few times but not with any sort of regularity.

He is in his cubicle, typing away in an overly long e-mail. You hover, aware that by asking him to hang out at work, it will be signaling to everyone on the floor the two of you are friends. But your desire to be around him is stronger than stares and rumors.

“Seonghwa,” You say by way of greeting, “What are you doing?”

“Finishing up an e-mail Sir Dipshit won’t read,” He replies grimly.

You wonder if Sir Dipshit is aware the nickname you and your coworkers created for him has spread around the entire office to the point that even Seonghwa is casually using it. The thought pleases you.

You lean down to look at his computer screen. Seonghwa stops typing, tilting his face in your direction. It mirrors the same position from before when he was helping you update your computer. You scan the e-mail, steadfastly ignoring the quickening of your heart.

“Yeah, he won’t read this,” You confirm, “You have some words in here that have like eight letters or more in them.” He laughs and your brain buzzes pleasantly. “For the sake of honesty, I have no one to hang out with on my lunch hour anymore. What do you do?”

“I usually go to the cafeteria on the fifth floor.”

You turn to stare at him incredulously. “You don’t.”

“I do. Why is that shocking?”

“I just didn’t know anyone who actually goes there. I heard the food is apocalyptic.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s made out of ex-employees,” He says with mock seriousness, “That’s why I bring my own lunch. I just don’t want to eat at my cubicle.”

“Can I tag along?”

“Sure,” He says quickly, hitting send on the e-mail, “Let’s go.”

“No, explain it again,” You are saying twenty minutes later at one of the sterile tables in the mostly empty cafeteria.

“You’re making fun of me,” Seonghwa says dryly, “You think it’s silly.”

“No, I’m not saying it’s silly. I’ve just never sat around thinking about what I’d be doing in another universe.”

“Maybe you should,” He counters, “You wouldn’t feel so limited in your current life.”

You poke at the sandwich that was purchased after realizing you didn’t actually have anything to eat for lunch. A lukewarm cup of coffee is to your side – not up to your standards but what could you do about it? The coffee shop was off limits for now.

“So, what…in another universe, at this very moment, you could be…a prince.”

Seonghwa looks slightly perplexed. “I suppose so,” He replies slowly, “And you could be my childhood bully. Still talking shit about me even there.”

Your head snaps up from looking at your sandwich, worried he is actually upset about your gossiping about him. But he is hiding his laughter, clearly making fun of you.

“Hey,” You scowl, “You’re my singular friend, don’t scare me like that.”

Seonghwa looks strangely serious for a second, looking down at his meal. “We are still friends, right?”

You find the question curious and reply with a casual, “Well, yeah, of course.”

He shifts a little. His hair has fallen in front of his glasses, making it difficult to read his expression. You aren’t sure what Seonghwa is thinking about so you keep talking. “I mean, why wouldn’t we be? Unless I missed something.”

“No,” He says quickly, “You didn’t miss anything. I just wanted to make sure. Since you know…” He looks up then, making a small gesture between the two of you. “Sometimes things can change when physical…stuff is brought into it.”

You are sitting very still now, almost at the centre of a tornado in your chest. “No, I mean, we are still – we get along really well. I think we have a good…friendship.” But the word feels wrong in your mouth, a bit sour for some reason.

Seonghwa nods, his awkwardness radiating off him like a lighthouse helping ships to shore. “I assume…if we are going to date someone else, it would be best to…cut out the benefits part of the friendship. Since we’re…friends.”

The mentioning of dating feels like a sucker punch to your stomach. The cheap coffee churns painfully in your gut.

“Right, yeah, of course,” You say breezily in a tone that feels artificial and brittle, “That makes sense.”

“I just wanted to check in and see if anything had changed,” He had collected himself now, displaying an almost professional demeanor, “But with everything going on, I hadn’t been able to. Sorry to bring it up over lunch.” It is a signal the conversation is over.

But you are still snagged on the idea of Seonghwa dating someone else combined with the sudden knowledge that you couldn’t just casually fuck him forever. Eventually, time would bring changes, the very changes you feel exhausted running from.

Desperate to get the earlier energy back, you go, “Hey, does your multiple universe theory work for other time periods? Like, could we have met in the 90’s?”

“Sure, why not,” He has relaxed slightly. “You could be working at some department store or something.”

“And maybe you just started working there too. And you have a secret. Something scandalous.”

“A scandalous secret?” Seonghwa remarks incredulously, “Why are all your ideas so farfetched?”

“Oh, that’s far-fetched but not the concept of multiple universes?”

Seonghwa makes a noise of protest and the conversation continues. Even so, in the back of your head there is a dull throb. The ground is shifting underneath your feet, bringing you to the brink of making so many choices that you aren’t sure you’re ready for. Yet all you can picture is Seonghwa going on a date with someone else, wondering why it makes you feel vaguely ill.

The work day is almost over and you’re anxious to get out of the building. Sir Dipshit is patrolling around the office, asking some people to stay late and you have no intention on being one of those selected. This meant loitering in the back of the break room, slightly angled to see down the hall. If you even get a whiff of your boss, you’d dart out of the room and scurry to the bathrooms.

Nothing makes a grown woman feel more ridiculous than hiding out from her boss, you muse, hoping no one walks in and catches you acting weird.

Of course, that is exactly when someone does walk in.

Luckily, it is Seonghwa. He notices you immediately and raises one eyebrow. You bring a finger to your lips and motion for him to come over.

“What are you doing?” He whispers.

“Sir Dipshit is trying to recruit people to stay late and I will not be one of them.”

“So…just tell him no.”

“And get a lecture? That’s just as bad. I can’t handle a teamwork lecture right now.”

“Why are you hiding in the break room instead of one of the offices in the back that we’re using as glorified storage?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot about those.”

You reach for Seonghwa’s hand, yanking him along with you after making sure the hallway is clear. Behind the break room is a hallway near the bathrooms that have three separate offices. After upper management was condensed last year and a bunch of people got laid off, the offices had fallen into disuse.

You jiggle the handle of one which is locked. But the second office opens, allowing you to sneak inside and close the door behind Seonghwa. You pull down the blinds on the window facing the hallway and ram your back awkwardly into a gigantic pile of boxes.

“Ow, why is this shit still in here?” You hiss.

Seonghwa looks confused as to why he is hiding out alongside you. “No one wants to organize it and then scan the copies into the digital backup.”

There is still an empty desk in the room although most of it is covered in clutter. You wiggle past some boxes and go behind the desk, eying underneath.

“We could duck under here if we hear him.”

“Uhm, can I be honest for a second?” He doesn’t wait for you to reply, “This feels a bit ridiculous.”

“Well, then leave,” You fire back, “But I have twenty minutes to kill and you’re casting a shadow against the blinds. So make a choice.”

Seonghwa sighs but doesn’t leave, sliding through an opening in the clutter to stand next to you by the desk. There isn’t a lot of room – or light, seeing as the window is blocked with boxes almost touching the ceiling.

“This is extremely disorganized,” Seonghwa notes, pushing up on his glasses, “It should probably be tended to.”

“Why don’t you volunteer?”

“Well, I, uh, with the work I have, I don’t really have the time to sort through all of this.”

“Right and I bet if you ask every single person in this entire building, they’d say the same thing.” A noise in the hallway gets your attention, “Shit, be quiet.”

You pull on Seonghwa’s hand so that he crouches down behind the desk with you. There is a brief shadow against the blinds but it only lasts for a moment. Most likely someone heading to the bathroom. It suddenly hits you how absurd it is to be hiding out here. Maybe Seonghwa is right.

You turn your head in his direction to tell him as much. But Seonghwa is studying your face with such intensity that the words die in your throat. There is something unguarded in the expression, a rawness to it that you aren’t expecting and it is evident he hadn’t thought you were going to look at him in that second. But before you can say anything, Seonghwa is suddenly kissing you.

Surprised, you pull away, looking at his face which now includes a lipstick mark smeared across his lips. “What’s that for?” You whisper, your heartrate accelerating so quickly that you’re breathless.

“S-sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” He stammers, shaking his head, “I know we can’t – I shouldn’t do something like that at work.”

You weren’t meaning work but the words die in your mouth as you tug on his nerdy looking suspenders so that his lips are on yours again. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat as the kiss deepens. His hand goes to the back of your neck, pushing you against his body.

Sprawled out in the narrow space behind the desk, the two of you pawing at one another as if you’re in the back of a movie theatre, you press your hand down against his groin, feeling his hard cock through his slacks. Seonghwa inhales sharply as his hands grope your tits. He sucks on your tongue for a moment as you hitch up your skirt so it’s easier to straddle him. His back is against the side of the desk and you rock against him, wishing that you could fuck him but knowing it would be a fool’s errand to try to take his girth at work when you can barely fit him inside you in your own bedroom.

In between the kissing, you manage to say, “We can’t fuck at work.”

“I know,” Seonghwa’s voice is taunt and cracks at the edge, “That’s playing with fire and too dangerous.”

“What? No, I don’t care about that. Your dick is just too big and it takes too long for you to get in me.”

Seonghwa laughs against your skin and then covers his own mouth, trying to keep himself silent. His cheeks are flushed and glasses are askew which you fix. But he has your lipstick over his face. So much for transfer proof, you think, slightly annoyed because the lipstick was not cheap.

“Come home with me,” You whisper urgently, “We can come back for your bike.”

Seonghwa is lowering his hand down your skirt, pressing his fingers against your clit through your underwear. You jolt at the touch, thighs clenching as he brings his fingers underneath your underwear to probe your wet folds.

“Okay but first you have to cum,” He murmurs, “And you can’t make noise or take too long,” He moves a finger upwards to your clit, circling it lazily, “Judging by how wet you are, that second thing won’t be a problem.”

Your hands dig into his shoulders, a strangled moan leaving your mouth. Seonghwa shakes his head, a silent reminder to be quiet. You clamp down on your bottom lip.

You’re so wet that his finger keeps sliding off your clit but he doesn’t stop. He watches your ever changing facial expressions.

But being silent is becoming impossible. When a second moan tumbles free, Seonghwa brings up his other hand to your mouth, nudging your lips open a little before inserting two fingers inside. You close down around them, effectively muffled by their presence as he continues to rub your clit.

You know it is risky and silly to be doing something like this at work. Even if the offices are in disuse, there is still a risk of being caught. You simply can’t bring yourself to care enough to stop, not with Seonghwa making you feel this good. You enjoy the way he looks at you and enjoy biting down on his fingers when the pleasure becomes too much.

It doesn’t take you long to finish against his finger. Your orgasm is somehow as intense as it would be from fucking for hours but between trying to be quiet and Seonghwa’s fingers in your mouth, you don’t make very much noise.

Seonghwa brings his own finger to his mouth, tasting you against his tongue. You can feel his rock hard cock against your leg with how turned on he is from the entire situation. He pulls you in for another kiss and this one is slightly messy and on edge.

“Twenty minutes, meet me at my car,” You whisper and then pause before adding on, “But you should go to the bathroom first because my lipstick is all over you.”

Seonghwa blushes, looking like a flower in spring, and your heart constricts.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Seonghwa’s voice is cracked at the edges as his fingers dig into the edge of the passenger seat of your car, “Or…at least only do it at red lights,” He amends quickly.

You pull your hand away from his groin, gripping the steering wheel instead. Fine, so maybe you are sorta groping him a bit on the drive home. But even though he made you cum only twenty-five minutes ago, you are almost light headed at the thought of fucking him. You don’t think you’ve wanted to fuck someone this desperately – something that, if you allowed yourself to think about it, would lead you down one logical conclusion. But your brain neatly skirts around the issue, focusing only on your desire for Seonghwa.

“Good idea,” You reply, thinking the drive to your apartment has never taken longer.

Seonghwa shifts in his seat, his hands delicately clasped over the very obvious, very large tent in his pants. You sneak a glance at him – the light colour on his cheeks, the pinkish hue of his lips, the way his glasses rest on the bridge of his nose – and look away before he notices.

A couple seconds later, you get stuck at a red light which means your hand slides over his thigh and onto the bulge in his pants. He moves his hands away, inhaling sharply as you grope his dick.

“Fuck, you gotta stop or you’re gonna make me cum in my pants,” He finally gasps, “At this point I’m going to last two seconds by the time I get in you.”

“Well, it’ll take ages just to get your dick in me,” You reply while moving your hand away, “We can count that towards your time.”

Seonghwa laughs quietly. His hands are back to gripping the side of the seat. The light turns green and it takes all your willpower not to just floor it to get home faster.

After what feels like an eternity, you are at your apartment, turning your car off. The two of you manage to keep your hands off one another in the lobby but once the elevator doors close to take you to the fifth floor, Seonghwa has you pushed against the wall, his hands on your waist while his tongue is in your mouth.

Too swept up in one another, you only realize the elevator doors have opened when you hear a small, horrified gasp. Seonghwa pulls away from you, his cheeks a bright pink. An old lady with a scowl on her face is gawking at the two of you.

You grab Seonghwa’s hand, tugging him out of the elevator past the judgmental old woman. “Have a nice night!” You shout over your shoulder while turning the corner.

Seonghwa makes a noise that sounds like half laughter, half horror. As you fumble in your purse to try to find your keys at your front door, his hands sneak up to your ass, his chest against your back as he kisses your neck. You manage to fetch your keys but almost drop them on the floor when he bites down against your skin.

Tumbling into your apartment together, Seonghwa kicks the door shut as you pull on his suspenders again to hungrily bring his mouth against yours. You are against the small table by the front door and something clatters to the floor which you don’t pay attention to, instead dropping your purse next to it.

Seonghwa’s long fingers are trying to unbutton the front of your shirt as you slip the suspenders off his shoulders. You can’t explain why the desire is so overwhelming, spilling out from the both of you as he finally tugs your shirt off, hands immediately groping your tits through your bra. You just know that it far surpasses anything you’ve felt previously and that you won’t be able to think clearly until he has fucked the hell out of you.

You push against his hard abdomen, the kiss breaking for a second as you motion to go to your bedroom. Even the short walk there is not without touching and kissing each other as Seonghwa unbuttons his own shirt and tossing it onto the floor just outside your room.

You are so turned on that your skin feels as if it is made from pure electricity. You grip Seonghwa’s hair as you bring him in for a kiss, his soft locks wrapped around your fingers as you nip at his bottom lip with your teeth. He groans in your mouth, the desperation evident in the way his voice cracks.

You lose your footing, bringing him onto the bed with you. His half dressed body is against yours as his head moves away from your lips down to your neck, yanking your bra down to expose your tits. Your arms trail up along the firm muscles of his back before coming to rest on his shoulders. Your mind flashes to how he felt pressed against your back in the hallway.

“Seonghwa,” You murmur as his hand gropes your tit, pinching your nipple in between his fingers to make you jump, “Fuck me from behind.”

His breathing catches and he pulls away from you to finish undressing while you do the same. With the rest of your clothes forming a small pile on the floor, you look at him naked in front of the bed. He is stroking his big hard cock, the light of the setting sun cutting through the half lowered blinds to lay lazily across his toned stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone more than Seonghwa in this moment.

You turn around to get on all fours as Seonghwa runs his fingers down your back, stopping just above your ass. You shiver, your skin breaking out in goosebumps from the light touch.

“Are you wet enough for me?” He asks quietly, his hand lowering to touch your folds, making a small noise of approval, “Oh, you’re practically dripping.”

He gently presses down on your back to lower your body closer to the bed, your ass in the air as he nudges your legs apart wider to try to get ready for his cock. It’s easier to make your next request without having to look him in the face.

“Will you spank me?”

You can feel Seonghwa hesitate for a moment before he speaks, “Is this because of what you told me before?”

“Yes.” Your cheeks feel like two hot tiny suns.

“I told you I forgave you for gossiping about me.”

“I know. I just…” It is strange to feel this shy especially around Seonghwa of all people. “I just have been thinking about it. You touching me like that.”

His hand is on your ass now, a small weight against the skin. You know Seonghwa held no malice towards you about the gossip and it wasn’t even truly about the fact you had shit talked him before – that was just the setup, the excuse to let yourself daydream about him spanking you.

“Tell me when you want me to stop,” He replies and then his other hand comes down sharply against your ass in a sudden spank.

You gasp, unprepared for it, rocking forward slightly from the impact. It somehow felt better than you were expecting. This isn’t something you typically do with partners but the idea of nerdy Seonghwa with his long fingers spanking you refused to leave your mind. Now, after the first spank, you know that you want more.

His other hand leaves your skin briefly to spank you on the other side. Your hands splay out against the blanket, gasping in pleasure from the sensation.

“If you take my cock well, I’ll keep spanking you,” He says, positioning his length at your entrance.

You’re desperate for him to enter you and when you feel the tip of his cock pressing against your cunt, you feel almost relieved. Seonghwa goes slowly, aware that even though you’ve taken him before, this position is new and you’re still not used to his girth.

But you take the tip almost easily which rewards you with another heavy spank. You know that you’re soaking wet, already clenching down around the tip of Seonghwa when his hand smacks against your skin.

“Relax for me,” His voice is soft, completely different from the sensation of his hand spanking your ass, “There you go, baby. Now, take more of me.”

He moves his hips a little as your walls stretch out around his big dick. Taking him from behind feels completely different from the last time. Your brain feels as if someone has picked it up and is emptying it out across a beach, every thought being washed away by the growing pleasure.

Seonghwa spanks you again, so hard that your hands form fists to grab the blanket. You gasp as his cock sinks deeper into your cunt. You try not to clench down around him, reminding yourself to relax so that more of him can enter but he feels so good that it is difficult to keep that in the forefront of your mind.

Seonghwa presses down on your back again, your ass higher in the air so that he can push more of his length into your pussy. Your eyes are closed now, his name leaving your lips every few seconds as if it is some sort of chant.

“Halfway,” He tells you, rewarding you with another sharp spank across your ass, making you groan, “I have to admit that I never thought I’d be fucking you like this, spanking you and hearing you moan.”

You would reply if your brain could form any words. All Seonghwa gets in reply is a garbled moan as more of him enters your cunt.

“Is this what you’ve been thinking about since you apologized? Being ‘punished’ like this?” Another spank as he pushes forward. Your pussy is so wet that you’re starting to take him faster. “It’s a beautiful sight seeing your ass in the air like this with my cock stretching out your small hole. What was that?” Another spank. “Was that you trying to say my name?”

It was. His name leaves your mouth again just as jumbled up as before. You’re downright delirious from how turned on you are. He pushes his cock in harder this time, all the way to the edge. The final effort makes you groan, trying to move your ass backwards to meet his movement.

Seonghwa’s voice is taunt when he goes, “There, baby, all the way in. Does it feel okay?”

You know he is just checking in but describing how you currently feel as just ‘okay’ seems to be a big disservice. You moan out a ‘yes’ and Seonghwa tentatively rocks his hips, getting you ready to be fucked by him. At the same time, he brings his hand down hard against your ass. Your skin is tender now, making you jump at the touch which only means you rock back against his cock.

He inhales, cursing softly under his breath. You almost wish that your room had a mirror so you could watch him fuck you. You try to picture what he must look like, lithe and toned with his slender hips bucking into you, his hand striking your ass, glasses perched on his nose.

Your pussy is used to him now, taking his length easier with each small movement of his hips. Seonghwa begins to pull out a little more before thrusting back in. You moan, your eyes practically rolling back in your head as your cheek comes to rest against the blanket, unable to even pretend to hold yourself up any longer.

Seonghwa’s pace steadily increases, his breathing growing ragged with each thrust. The angle feels amazing as his cock easily slides in and out of your extremely wet cunt. Your fingers grip the blanket, mouth going slack as moans topple from it constantly. There is not a single thought in your head as Seonghwa fucks you with his big dick.

The spanking has ceased now that his focus has shifted on fucking. His fingers dig into your hips, the sound of your wet cunt taking his cock sounding obscene. You realize you’re drooling a bit, getting some on the blanket from how zoned out you are from pleasure. You manage to wiggle one hand downward to rub your clit as he fucks you, bucking your hips backwards as you gasp.

“Are you going to cum for me?” Seonghwa gasps in between thrusts.

You whimper, eyes shut tightly as your finger rubs your clit hard and fast, unable to answer. Your orgasm is approaching quickly, your pussy tightening around Seonghwa’s big cock. He groans and the sound of skin against skin grows louder as his pace increases.

“Take my cock, baby,” He says and you curse, moving your hips backwards against his dick, “I wanna feel you cum around me.”

You groan out his name as your climax begins. You can feel yourself gushing out over his cock, covering it with your wetness as your walls clench down around him. Seonghwa moans loudly, thrusting hard before beginning his own orgasm. His balls empty in your cunt, filling you up with his hot load. Your pussy is too tight and his cum is forced out due to the size of him, smearing against your thighs and leaking onto the bed. The two of you make a cacophony of noise while climaxing and it isn’t until he pulls out of your cunt that you collapse against the bed, feeling like a fucked out mess.

Seonghwa falls onto the bed next to you, his eyes closed as he tries to catch his breath. You manage to open your eyes to stare at him as he yanks his glasses off his face, tossing them unceremoniously onto the bedside table before rolling onto his side.

A few strands of hair sticks to his forehead from sweat and you turn to face him, brushing it off his face. He catches your hand in his, pressing his lips against the inside of your wrist. You aren’t sure who moves first but in seconds, you’re tangled up in Seonghwa again. You like how safe you feel against him, your hands on his chest to feel his fast heartbeat underneath your fingertips. These kisses are slower, lazier, comfortable – and absolutely not something just friends should be doing. The little voice in the back of your head jolts you out of the kissing.

Pulling away, feeling totally thrown off, you go, “I should ah…clean up a little.”

Something flickers through Seonghwa’s gaze but it is gone too quickly for you to make sense of it. He nods and you slip away from him, feeling a pang of regret. Once you’re in the bathroom with the door firmly shut behind your back, you catch your reflection in the mirror.

Your makeup is a mess, your ass definitely is going to have Seonghwa’s handprints on it, your thighs are covered in cum and you look absolutely fucked out. But it isn’t your appearance that is making your heart race. It’s the soft kisses Seonghwa just gave you, the way he is so easy to sink against, the manner in which you feel drawn to him like no other.

Your mind flashes back to the conversation at lunch and the idea of him dating someone else.

We’re just friends, you tell yourself firmly.

But then why does everything feel so off kilter?

FINAL PART HERE.

Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @pyeonghongrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @cherrypandora - @almondmilkeu - @kitten4sannie - @leo-seonghwa - @hwalysm - @revehosh - @mulletjoonsupremacy - @byungaji - @erensluut - @singularity777 - @hwa-whiskers - @luxvatz - @seonghwasstar - @eyesonlyformingi - @rxnexxi - @rosealie05 - @right-here-in-these-arms - @moonsangie - @yeonjuns-sock - @pink-hwaberry - @fudgeflyssworld - @ninalove323 - @darkdayelixer - @mixling-blog - @innsomniacshinestar - @tmtxtf-library - @sookacc - @xirenex - as usual, a few of you i couldn’t tag so i’ll try to reach out to yall.

#ateez fics #ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fics #kpop fic #wallflower #500 notes

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cerastes · 8 months ago

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I was thinking about the "FUNNIEST VTUBER CLIP -> Sex" post (that OP deleted and that I hope it wasn't due to harassment) and I think a sizeable amount of people that dislike Vtubers don't actually dislike Vtubers, they dislike Vtuber fans.

Now, quick preface: I used to watch Vtubers, I don't anymore, but I don't dislike them or shit on them, I just moved onto other things, plus I don't like certain aspects of it as a culture on the corporate side. One of the biggest things I dislike, though, are the fans. I sincerely have never before wanted to not be perceived as something as much as I have with being a fan of Vtubers, not because Vtubers are cringe, but because being associated with Vtuber fans would legit lead to an ego death for me.

I obviously mean the ones that are the most infamous with that statement, if it wasn't obvious enough: The ones that seem to try and grasp at every chance to aggrandize, or, say, idolize Vtubers. You know the ones I'm talking about, the people that say "wow, normies fucking suck, they see Markiplier making weird noises and lose their shit, I don't get it" and 5 minutes later are laughing their lungs out at Amelia Watson making weird noises, the ones that'll see the Vtubers do something in a game and claims she's a Goddess Of The Game, The Best Player Alive At It, the ones that'll endlessly circulate clips of the Vtubers "using their real voice by accident" or "FUNNIEST VTUBER CLIP" (she said something sexual or burped) or "[Vtuber] is a FREAK?" (she said 'feet' or 'vore' or otherwise mentioned any other widespread milquetoast fetish), the ones that'll absolutely die on the hill of going to bat for the Vtuber or Vtuber corp they like (especially Hololive, Hololive shills are lab-grown weirdos with burnt out brains that you'd think are constantly in MK Ultra activation mode except just to defend Hololive at any cost and by any means).

This isn't every Vtuber fan, obviously, but this is what is known as the Vtuber Fan. This is what a lot of people think of when they think of "Vtuber Fans". And seriously, I find it hard to blame the talent -- in the majority of cases, because there's plenty of Vtubers that really lean on the so called "GFE", or "Girlfriend Experience", or "Really Fucking Vile Parasocial Shit", these ones can legit go explode and I support not giving them a platform -- because, see, streams are hours long endeavors for most streamers, and Vtubers definitely are expected to stream at least some good amount of hours per session. The majority of cases, these Vtubers are just making some jokes or commentary that may make reference to sex or involve more raunchy topics, which is completely normal for the average streamer, even non-Vtubers, but then Clippers (or Clip Channels), as they are known, clip only those parts, so for outsiders, Catgirl McTuber is known exclusively for making references to feet, piss, and saying the word sex a couple of times per clip, when the reality of the matter is, Catgirl McTuber only brings those up maybe twice or thrice every couple of streams. There are definitely Vtubers that leverage this, mind you, the whole "ehehehe if I say nipple and feet and imply being into this one obscure fetish, I'll get a shitload of views on my clips, which translates to new followers" so, almost as if on schedule like old Moistcritikal videos, suddenly they will unleash "uhhh yeah chat that health potion I just drank, it's so red and colorful, it looks delicious... Delicious like feet! Like a giantess' feet!" followed by a silence where chat goes "HUH?????" and they know that's going to be their clip, but again, that's not all of them, and some are really misrepresented. In a way, it's largely Clippers' fault that Vtubing in general is so often seen almost necessarily as this Thing For Perverts: Yeah, those clips get traction, from both enjoyers and detractors, and with those delicious views rolling in that aggressively, of course they'll replicate the formula more and more.

This, in turn, feeds into the usual view of the Vtuber Fan: It's easy for anyone not interested, not even hateful of the culture/craft, just uninterested, to view it as "Oh, vtubers? Those super perverts that only ultrafreaks like? Hmm yeah not really, no, I don't watch any of them".

And, again, the need, the compulsion, to aggrandize: "WOAH Pink Vtuber just dropped a new song! It's THE BEST!" maybe it's not bad, really, but it's definitely mid at best, and seeing people really push it as this breakthrough of music so aggressively because they jack it to the Vtuber's model, well, it doesn't sit well with Actual Music Fans of the genre. "WOW Dog Vtuber is FERAL!" she's literally doing much of what Markiplier-type streamers did and do, but she's got a cute anime model and is Female, so fans will go rabid, and other people will eventually find this behavior annoying out of principle.

See, these things I mentioned... Do they warrant hatred? Not really. A streamer can release a track and it can be mid and that's fine. A streamer can make noises and say "unhinged" things and that's fine. Streaming is about doing something you enjoy as much as it is entertaining a crowd, in my opinion. Going about it the way you want to go about it is always the right answer. But then you have these incredibly aggressively parasocially invested fans that make the visible, perceptible bulk of what a Vtuber Fan is, and that's when public opinion, well, it goes to shit, because it's not longer just "a streamer with an anime rig just chilling and doing their thing", it becomes "a streamer with an anime rig doing anything at all and this army of people with usernames like lolifeet9000 proudly proclaiming they are, in fact, the funniest feralest greatest internet supersensation alive, even though all she said was 'armpit' this one time in a 7 hour stream".

Mind you, there's plenty of legitimate gripes to have with Vtubing -- to name a few, the obvious clip fishing is annoying and especially the parasocial angle being intentionally leveraged sits VERY badly with me -- but these things are not universal, not all Vtubers are doing these bad things. I think Vtubers get a lot of unwarranted hate because they have the worst most annoying fans possible, and I would rather people make the distinction more often, if they hate Vtubers or Vtuber Fans (tm), because I think it's not fair to the streamers and I think you hate the Fans, actually, for very good reasons.

#vtubers #thoughts about the topic in general

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tallulah477 · 1 year ago

Text

Private Show

Kinktober Day 8: Voyeurism

Pairing: Lo’ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Voyeurism, Perv!Lo’ak, Lo’ak gets caught being a Peeping Tom, Masterbation, Obsessive behavior, Reader unknowingly gives Lo’ak a strip tease/dance and a show

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Lo’ak likes to watch you through your window at night and he gets a little too naughty.

Part Two >>>

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Tewgn - Loincloth

You’re so fucking pretty.

The most beautiful girl Lo’ak has ever seen.

He can’t help the way he acts around you. Can’t help the way his eyes follow your every step as you walk through the village, helping his grandmother crush herbs or doing inventory for the scientists back at the lab. Can’t help the way his heart pounds at the sound of your voice or the way he stutters anytime you try to talk to him, even if it's just flashing him a bright smile or a friendly greeting.

His body feels like it's on fire just from your mere presence, like he’ll shatter into a thousand little pieces if you ever actually touched him. He wants you to touch him. Wants to explode under your touch. Wants to feel your hands everywhere - your tiny hands stroking down his arms, caressing his muscles, and sliding over his bare chest. Wants to feel them go lower, sliding over his stomach, and lower . . . oh, Eywa, he would give anything to feel your tiny, adorable hands go lower.

But he never gets the chance to talk to you. Okay, that’s not entirely true. He’s had a few opportunities to talk to you, but the nervousness gets the better of him every time, and with just one smile from your perfect lips, his throat closes up and his heart pounds so hard he thinks he might be having a heart attack.

But he can’t leave you alone. He needs to see you, be near you.

So at night, when his entire family has gone to sleep, he sneaks out and heads to the human outpost to watch you through your window. He knows it’s wrong, knows it's an invasion of your privacy. He doesn’t mean to be a creep, but . . . it’s not like he’s actively choosing to spy on you. He can’t help it. He thinks he would die without being able to see you, to be in your presence, whether you know he’s there or not. It’s a need, not a want. So can you really blame him for something he can’t control?

That’s what he likes to tell himself anyway.

He’s come to learn that after the eclipse is your favorite time. It’s when you can really let your hair down, both literally and figuratively. Each day is filled with people for the both of you. People to ask questions, people that need your attention - a never ending sea everywhere you look no matter if you're at the village or the lab. Time is constantly moving, from one task, to the next, to the next.

But in the quiet of the night, after everyone’s retired to their rooms, you find your peace and space to just be. All alone, able to do what you want, when you want, without having to worry about anyone watching you.

Except Lo’ak that is, but you don’t need to know that.

So, he crouches by your window, large hand steady on the frame as he leans in close. He doesn’t have to worry about you seeing him. Its pitch dark outside and the bright fluorescent light from your room makes a glare along the glass, so even if you did look out your window, all you would see is your reflection.

And what a gorgeous reflection it is.

You're naked from the waist up, round breasts, so much larger and more supple than any Na’vi woman’s, rising slightly as your arms reach above your head in a stretch. Your hands fall to the top of your head, caressing your hair and sliding down the column of your neck, over your collarbones and between the valley of your breasts.

Lo’ak’s breathing deepens, stomach tightening as your hips start to sway. He can just make out the faint sound of music coming from inside your room, something slow and sensual, and he watches as your hips match the beat, hypnotized.

He loves you like this - at peace and confident and completely feeling yourself. You move with such grace, and there’s no rhyme or reason to your movements. You’re just feeling the music, letting it guide you, move through you, and you let your body tell you what to do. How to step, how to sway, how to twist - and Lo’ak can’t help but dial into your energy, wanting to be closer, wishing he could hear the music better, wishing he could be there in front of you, holding you close and swaying with you.

His mouth goes dry as your hands drop to your shorts. You undo the button and zip, hooking your thumbs into the waistband. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. You’ve unknowingly given him plenty of private shows, but it doesn’t stop his heart from pounding or keep his cock from instantly getting hard.

You don’t stop your dancing as your shorts and panties fall to the ground. You giggle as you twirl out of them, stepping out from the discarded heap and running your fingers through your hair as you dance towards your bed, newly revealed ass jiggling with each movement. He’s disappointed he can’t hear your giggle through the window, but his own lips curl into a small smile at the sight of yours.

You collapse on your bed, flipping over onto your back and stretching out on the sheets like a cat. You stay like that for a few moments, hands lazily petting the soft sheets, and Lo’ak waits with bated breath for your next move - and he prays to Eywa that you're about to do what he thinks you're about to do.

As if answering his prayers, your hands return to your body. Your eyes close, long lashes brushing against your cheeks as your fingertips caress your tummy. They brush against your skin, traveling lower and lower, until they're just inches away from your core. Lo’ak stuffles in his spot, grip on the window frame tightening in anticipation as your fingers get closer to where he longs to see them touch.

Your fingers pull away briefly as you pop your middle finger in your mouth. Lo’ak groans quietly, palming himself to get some relief from his painful hard on, as he watches you suck on your finger. He can only imagine how it would feel to have your pretty lips wrapped around his own. It would be so wet and warm inside, so hot as you sucked on him, tongue dragging against the underside as you made it wet for him. His fingers are significantly longer than yours. They would surely reach the back of your throat if he got it all the way into the knuckle, and his face burns hot at the thought.

When you pull it out of your mouth, it glistens in the light, wet and practically dripping. It’s only then that your thighs spread, revealing the sight of all of Lo’ak’s fantasies. Your head tilts back as your wet finger slips inside your folds and brushes against your clit. You circle it gently, spreading your thighs more to give yourself better access, before your fingers slide down the pretty pink slit and dips inside your waiting hole. He pants at the sight, images of your dripping entrance stretching around his thick cock playing in his mind as you push your fingers deeper. You’d be so tight, little tawtute body struggling to accommodate his size. But it would fit. It would have to - you were made for him, he just knows it. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and Lo’ak knows it’s not really silent, that you probably just let out the world’s most beautiful sound, but he can’t hear it - and that’s just so damn unfair.

But he can have this. This moment, just you and him. And he palms his throbbing erection again, feeling the wet spot forming on the front of the material, before moving to undo the string of his tewng. He struggles with the knot, hands shaking with desire and he hates that he has to look away from you for even a second just to get the damn thing off, before finally getting the strap undone and letting it fall to the ground.

He spits into his palm and wraps his hand around his cock. When he looks back at you, he’s just able to hold off a loud groan. You have your head thrown back against the mattress, hair splayed out on the sheets and your lashes flutter against your cheeks as your fingers work faster inside of you. He can see how your pretty pussy shines between your thighs, so wet and pink, and he wants nothing else than to bury his head between them.

He strokes his cock, nice and slow, teasing himself as the image builds in his head. He’d be so good for you. Your devoted servant dedicated to giving you the best head you’ve ever received in your life. You’d taste so good down there, like the sweetest fruit, like a healing nectar gifted to him directly by Eywa.

And he would devour you.

He wants to lick up your tiny cunt with his big tongue, again and again, until you're panting with need and clutching his braids in your hands. Wants to lavish your clit with so much attention that you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, the same way you overwhelm him every single day you continue to exist in his presence. He wants to hold your thighs open as you try to squirm away from his relentless tongue, pleading with him to show you mercy (“Please, Lo’ak! Oh Eywa! S’too much. C-Can’t cum anymore,”). He wants you gasping and moaning for him, wants your thighs to wrap around his head as you cum, so tight that he feels like he might suffocate. Even then he wouldn’t stop. What a way to go - the Great Mother would be blessing him to grant him such a beautiful death.

His grip on his cock tightens as he strokes faster, the length rock hard and hot in his grip. His wrist twists at the top and sends a harsh shiver down his spine and more precum leaks out from the tip. “F-fuck,”

Your pussy would grip him like a vice when he would finally slide inside you. He can see how your walls already clamp down on your own fingers and his stomach tightens at the thought of them clamping down on him instead. His fingers, his cock - both already so much larger than your own or anything you’ve ever felt. Your gorgeous cunt would swallow him whole. And the sounds, the sounds it would make as he thrust into you, would ring in his ears forever. The lewd, horrible, amazing sounds your soaked pussy would make as it squelches and pulses around him. The sounds it's probably making right now as you thrust your fingers faster, palm dragging against your clit with each movement.

He knows you're cumming the second your face starts to twitch and he gets as close as he can to the window to see you better, his face practically touching the glass. Your face scrunches up, mouth falling open as your back arches, and the sight is so perfect and he’s so close. So, so close as he tugs at his cock frantically, wanting to cum too, wanting to cum with you. Together.

And he’s there, he’s gonna cum and . . .

Snap!

He whirls around at the sound of a branch snapping in the distance makes him jump.

His shoulder accidentally hits the window frame in his shock and he crouches low, hoping the darkness will cover his position from whoever is close. At the edge of the forest, two Avatar drivers are just coming back from an outing. They’re later than usual - the People are not the only ones who use eclipse as a curfew, but it's not unusual for a few to stay out longer than anticipated. They’re joking with each other, laughing and shoving each other as they make their way towards the Avatar holding area and, thankfully, they never even look Lo’ak’s way.

When they’re out of sight and Lo’ak can’t hear them anymore, he stands back up, relieved to have not been caught, and turns back to look through the window.

In an instant, his heart stops. Your light is off, the room flooded with darkness, and now instead of the beautiful and protective reflection you would see if you looked out the window - now, you can see out. And you are - staring directly at Lo’ak, shocked eyes meeting his wide amber ones as he stares back at you in horror.

Your lips mouth his name, the question written clearly on your face, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He runs.

Part Two >>>

**Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

#lunaskinktober2023 #lo'ak smut #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x human reader #lo'ak x female reader #taliewrites

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wenigstenshabeichesversucht · 9 months ago

Text

A force more powerful than gravity

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: Soulmate AU, where you can feel the pain of your soulmate, and it looks like yours is a reckless idiot.

Warnings: angst, hurt, cliffhanger, english is not my native language

Word Count: 3.3k

taglist: @ettadear, @hakkaishiba91, @more-a-then-i, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @alexis04fangirl, @aislinrayne, @elipsisx, @tessas4, @spicybirdpepper, @wisteriaandauroras, @capailluiscedove, @fearlessmoony, @kurtsmellsliketeenspiritt, @redgummybears, @mackncheese1243, @mrsklockwood

There was nothing but silence as a searing pain pierced your left shoulder. It felt like a small object sought his way through your flesh with force. Before you could realize what was happening, the world around you exploded in pain. Panicking, you tried you gasp for air, but everything hurt so much. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could do was let out a shrill scream.

Hurried footsteps sounded near you and the next moment someone sank to the ground next to you. You hadn't even noticed that you had fallen to the floor. There was just too much pain.

“Y/N where are you hurt?”, freaking out, your best friend and teammate roamed her hands over your body, searching for a wound, that would explain the pain you felt. But you knew that she wouldn’t find any. It wasn’t physical pain you felt, at least for you.

Things looked completely different for your soulmate. He got hurt, bad like it seems, and it was his pain you felt. You weren’t new to his pain. He got often hurt, and sometimes you asked yourself if he was just reckless or if he hated the idea of soulmates so much, that he intentionally injured himself. This was of course an awful thought, but when you laid in bed, crying silently while trying just to breathe through the pain, you couldn’t help yourself. What if your soulmate hated you even before meeting you? You couldn't blame him, not when you hated him sometimes yourself.

Last year alone, he got shocked with electricity, ghost touched, punched and cut in various body regions and one time it even felt like he survived an explosion. First you thought he was an agent like yourself, but after the last year you weren’t sure that he may have been involved in illegal activities.

“Y/N?”, the urgent voice of your best friend Willa, brought you back to the presence, where nothing more than a sea full of pain was waiting for you. The waves were crashing over you, threatening to pull you down and never let you go, and for a short moment you just wanted to let them take you. But you knew better than this. Sharply breathing in and out, you fought not to lose your consciousness.

“It’s him”, you managed to whisper.

“This asshole”, Willa muttered under her breath, but you heard her nevertheless. If you weren’t in so much pain, you maybe had laughed, an asshole indeed.

“I think he got shot, and then felt from a great height.”

“Fuck, that must hurt like hell.”

Indeed, it did.

“We should get you to safety before your pain attracts any ghosts. Can you stand?”

You felt like dying, but if you wouldn’t move, you could actually die. To avoid situations like this, soulmates at Fittes didn’t work at the same time. But you were pretty sure, that your soulmate didn’t work at Fittes, otherwise you would have found him long ago. Fittes even had a data bank where they could compare the pain you felt with other agents’ injuries. But so far there had been no match. That meant your soulmate was either not an agent or an agent at a small agency without access to the data bank.

“Help me up”, the pain was still pulsing through your body, made it hard to breathe, but with a soulmate like yours, you had learned how to function with pain. Breathing heavily, you let Willa pull you up from the floor. At least your movement didn’t affect the pain because it wasn’t your pain, you just felt it.

You only managed to walk three steps, before a new hot pain shot up your left arm. With an agonizing yell you staggered against the next wall. In a blink of an eye Willa was next to you.

“It’s not your pain, breath through it”, easy to say for someone whose soulmate wasn’t in this line of work and therefore wasn’t often injured. But you held back the cruel worlds, which were already laying on the tip of your tongue. Biting your teeth together, you continued your way to the iron circle your team had set up early this night. You wouldn’t let him wear you down, not today, not tomorrow.

Whatever your soulmate did that night, three days later it still hurt. Not as much as at the beginning, but enough to curse him in silence. Didn’t he know what painkillers were? For the first two days it wasn’t bearable, but tonight you would venture out in the night again to hunt some ghost.

“You will not believe what Christ just told me”, interrupting you in the research for tonight’s case, Willa plopped down next to you. Curious, you tilted your head. Chris was another Fittes agent. He and Willa weren’t soulmates, but that didn't stop them from dating. According to Willa, life was too short to wait for this one special person, who apparently was your perfect match. She wasn’t exactly wrong. Not everyone met his soulmate, some felt the pain of their soulmate their entire life without ever crossing parts, others felt a very strong pain, before they never felt anything again over this connection. You knew a few agents, whose soulmates died before meeting them.

“And?”

“Three nights ago, when you did feel this agonizing pain, Quill was apparently on a mission where an agent was shot before falling down a shaft.”

For a short moment, your heart stopped beating. Could that mean? Without minding your work, you jumped on your feet. You had to find Quill Kipps. Maybe he had the answers you were searching for so long. You didn't even dare to hope, but nevertheless your heart was skipping a beat as you hurried away.

You didn’t know where to find Quill Kipps, you just started running and to your surprised you found him not long after. Like it was fate. Maybe he was really the missing key to find your soulmate. You didn’t want to get your hopes high, but you couldn’t help yourself. When you came to a stop in front of Quill, you were excited.

“Y/N, is everything ok?”, worried Quill’s soft eyes locked at you and for a moment you hesitated. You and Quill weren’t friends, he was Chris best friend and you Willa’s, therefore you talked a few times. Through Willa, you knew that Quill lost his soulmate a few years ago without ever meeting them. This was a fate you didn’t wish on your worst enemy. Now asking Quill about your soulmate, he might consider as rude. And you didn’t want to be rude, but you had to know!

“Three nights ago, did the agent get shot in his left shoulder?”, you blurred out and for a moment Quill just opened and closed his mouth confused.

“You think he is your soulmate?”, stunned, Quill blinked and didn’t answer your question.

“Three nights ago, I felt a piercing pain in my left shoulder followed by bone crushing pain, like I felt from a very far height”, you explained, and Quill looked dumbfounded at you, like you grew a second head. Unsure if you weren't making a fool of yourself, you closed your mouth. Maybe your theory was too far-fetched. Without realizing it, you started to play nervously with your hair.

With something in his eyes, you could only describe as pity, Quill took a step in your direction. Before he even opened his mouth, you knew what he would say. Nevertheless, it hurt, and that's why you didn't want to get your hopes up.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but he isn’t your soulmate and to be honest you can be glad about it.”

After this event, life went on. And on its way at some point Willa managed to convince you to start dating. You knew that your soulmate was still somewhere out there, on occasion you still felt his pain, but you didn’t meet. A part of you was afraid that you would never meet your soulmate and because you didn’t want to die alone, you let Willa convince you to go on a double date with her, Chris and Quill.

It was a lovely day in the late summer, and the four of you were sitting outside a small café, sipping on your lemonade. It felt strange to be on a date with someone who wasn’t your soulmate. But at least there wasn’t the possibility, that Quill would leave you for his soulmate. That thought made you feel like a bad person.

Taking a big sip from your lemonade to wash down the bitter taste in your mouth, you tried to listen to the story Quill was telling. Something about a case he and his team managed to successfully solve. But you got distracted by the appearance of a tall dark hair boy in a dress shirt. Anthony Lockwood, founder of Lockwood and Co., and a thorn in the side of all other agents in London. You had been lucky enough not to have to work with him so far, but you knew the stories. He was a reckless idiot without any sense of safety. He was also the agent who got himself at Quill’s case shot and fell down the shaft. Noticing your distraction Quill followed your gaze.

“Oh hell no”, he muttered next to you, so quiet that you almost didn’t catch it.

“Just ignore him”, you suggested, but even for you, it was hard to look away from Lockwood. He had something you couldn’t describe that was screaming for your attention.

“You are right, where was I?”, without waiting for an answer, Quill plunged back into the story. Tearing your gaze away from Lockwood, you took another sip from your lemonade.

Five boring minutes passed, Quill was still telling his story, when you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your shin. Interrupting Quill, you let out a surprised yelp.

“Sorry my Soulmate-”, you started, your mouth once again faster than your brain. Then you remembered that you were on a date and shouldn’t mention him. However, before you could apologize, you got interrupted.

“Did you just feel how I hit my shin?”, non-other than Anthony Lockwood nervously asked, after he appeared by your table. Too stunned to speak anyone was just gawking at him. Quill was the first to catch himself.

“Get lost Tony!”

“I wasn’t talking to you, stop interfering”, Lockwood shot back, before his brown eyes found yours.

“You are crashing my date, so it’s my good right to interfere!”, with a red face, Quill pushed his chair back, and it looks like both were ready to fight. But before it could escalate, you did the only thing you could think about, you pinched yourself.

“Ow, what was that for?”, rubbing his arm, Lockwood’s gaze shot to you.

“You felt it?” Slowly Lockwood nodded and you couldn’t believe it. He was your soulmate! You finally found him. But you didn’t feel happy, like you always had imagined. You just felt betrayed and angry. Only seeing red, you whipped your head around to Quill.

“You lied to me! You told me he wasn’t my soulmate.” Fighting back the tears, you slowly stood up. “Just to get me on a date?”

“Of course not, I didn't tell you to protect you. Everybody who gets too close to Tony ends up in a grave.”

Everything next happened way too fast for you to react. Lockwood spun around to punch Quill in the jaw. While Quill stumbled back, your hand burned with pain. You didn’t even know the identity of your soulmate five minutes ago, and he already hurt you again.

Before Quill could get a punch at Lockwood, you pushed between the two boys. You had felt enough pain for a lifetime, you didn’t need to feel them fight.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I will not punch him back, unlike him, I don't want to hurt you”, snarled Quill behind you, but you only had eyes for Lockwood. Under your gaze he seemed to shrink.

“My life would have been so much better, if you weren’t my soulmate”, your voice was laced with poison, and as if he had been burned, Lockwood recoiled. Without waiting for a response, you did the thing you could do best, you started running.

You didn’t know how long you were running. You only stopped when no breath was left in your lungs and your legs were burning. Unknowingly, your legs had brought you to a park. Collapsing on a park bench, you closed your eyes exhausted.

As a kid, you often had imagined how you would meet your soulmate. Never would have you expect a situation like this. You should be happy, but you never felt more lost.

The wind was rustling the leaves about your head, and took a deep breath in.

You had set your trust in the wrong people, again. You had hoped for too much, again. You had been an idiot, again. Your mother always said that everyone got what he deserved. You had always asked yourself what you had done to deserve all this pain. Slowly, one single tear ran down your cheek. You could have just gotten your answers, but you ran away again, like always when things got hard. No backbone, your mother would say, if she could see you now. Lost, you wrapped your arms around your frame. Another tear dropped down your cheek. Sniffing, you wiped it off.

“Are you ok?”, his voice startled you. Surprised, you looked up, to see through your veil of tears Lockwood standing unsure next to your bench. Did you look like you were ok? A mean remark was already on the tip of your tongue, but you had already told him that you were better off without him as a soulmate, there wasn’t much more to say. Therefore, you just shook your head. Nothing was ok, but someday you would be fine with it.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. I was always hoping to meet you, but never taught it would just happen so random”, he rambled on, and your eyes widened in surprise. He had hoped to meet you? After all this pain he put you trough, he wanted you as soulmate? You always thought he hated you.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you. I always welcomed your pain with open arms, because every time I felt your pain I knew, that somewhere out there, there is someone for me, and I’m not alone.”

That was everything you had always wanted to hear from your soulmate. He wanted you. But why weren’t you happy? Why wasn’t this enough?

Standing up, you looked up to him. Although there were dark circles under his eyes, adorning his face, he appeared wide awake, and his eyes sparkled. A sparkle you would probably dim with what you had to say next.

“You hurt me over and over again. And now knowing it was you, I can’t help but think, you could have avoided getting hurt, but you didn’t care. So, tell me, why should I be happy?”

As if you had hit him, Lockwood stumbled back. You had learned long ago that words could hurt just as much as punches. And a small part of you was satisfied to cause him pain.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered and looked at you like a kicked puppy. Of course, looking at him, you couldn’t help but feel bad.

“You are right, I could have been a little bit less reckless, but I never thought about it. Can you give me another chance?”, you couldn’t say no to the look he gave you, and you didn’t want to. The bond that tied you together could only be cut through the dead of one of you. If there was even the slightest chance that this could work with the two of you, you had to try it.

“Yes, but please don’t hurt me again.”

“I will not, I swear!”

You agreed that if Lockwood stopped being so reckless and hurting himself all the time, you would go on a date after a month. He stuck to the agreement exemplary. Of course, you felt his pain every now and then, but that came with the job and was totally ok.

At the end, it was you, who brought both of you agonizing pain. It was a case at a graveyard. Besides your team were two other Fittes teams and, to your surprise, Lockwood and Co. set on this. The fifteen of you should comb the cemetery and look for the source of the spirit that terrorized the resting place and the surrounding houses.

As you discussed the division of the teams, you could feel Lockwood’s gaze burning on your skin, but you didn't dare look over at him. If your supervisor found out he was your soulmate, you would be taken off the case. You couldn't risk that. And it looked like, Lockwood understood it, because he didn’t try to approve you.

It should have been an easy case. The graveyard was, besides this one source, already cleared. It was one ghost against fifteen of you. If it hadn't been for that relic man.

As his knife pierced your skin, your only thought was Lockwood. Hopefully he wasn't fighting the ghost. Hopefully your carelessness wouldn't result in him being ghost touched. Clutching the wound, you sagged to the ground. Only your second thought was about yourself. You would die. Even while you tried to apply pressure to the wound, you could feel the warm blood running through your fingers. It was running away, and you couldn’t hold on to it. You would die before help could arrive. You would die before you could go on a date with Anthony Lockwood.

“Oh shit, Y/N, stay with me”, you’ve never had seen Willa like this in your life. Full on panic mode, she let herself fall next to you on the ground.

“Stay with me!”, without warning, she pressed down on your wound, and it hurt like hell. Yelling, you tried to push her off, but she remained stubborn.

“You will not die on me, I will not let you”, she cried, and her tears were dripping down her face and mixing with your blood. You were also crying. Reaching for her wrist, you left a bloody trail.

“I’m afraid”, you whispered, and it was true. Never in your life you had felt such fear, not the first time Lockwood got seriously hurt, and you didn't understand why everything hurt, not in your childhood when your mother yelled and yelled.

“Help is already on its way, and I will not leave your side. I will stay with you, and you will stay with me. Deal?”

You tried to smile, more for Willa’s sake than yours.

“Deal”, you lied, knowing that this was a promise you couldn’t keep.

But before Willa could say something else, hurried footsteps sounded and then Lockwood stumbled in your direction. His right hand was pressed to his lower abdomen, where you had been stabbed.

“I’m sorry”, you cried as he dropped down next to you. It was never your intention to hurt him. And nothing hurt more than losing a soulmate.

“It will be ok, you will be ok”, softly he caressed your hair, and it sounded like he was telling this more to himself than to you.

“I’m sorry”, you repeated, as you tried to fight the lightheadedness that wanted to take over your body.

“I can't lose you too, please stay with me”, Lockwood begged, and, in the distance, you heard the sirens. Help was really on its way; you just had to hold on a little longer, endure the pain for just a little longer. But you could feel your time running out. Before the darkness could take you, you forced yourself to one last smile.

“If we had more time, I would certainly have loved you”, you whispered, before you welcomed the darkness with open arms.

To be continued

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood netflix #lockwood x reader #fanfic #save lockwood and co

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caitchercatlady · 8 days ago

Text

Sleeping Over at Ramshackle w/Jade & Floyd

*I'm so sorry that I posted this so late. I've been dealing with some life stuff these past few weeks, and that's given me a hard time with writing this story. I hope you guys enjoy it now that I've managed to post it in time.

Image credit @mostroloungeofficial

The last time Jade and Floyd came to Ramshackle, they nearly trashed the place for Azul’s new venture. Now that the dorm is safe in your possession, it's much more relaxing without the tweels messing up everything. They're practically banned from staying for more than two minutes (although that within itself is generous of you).

One Friday, you encounter Azul and the tweels in the hallway. Azul asks for a huge favor from you. He explains that he’s making some renovations for the Monstro Lounge over the weekend, and the Leech brothers would greatly appreciate it if they can stay over at Ramshackle until the renovations are complete. You point out that the Lounge and the dorms are entirely unrelated, so why do the tweels need to stay with you?

Azul pulls you aside and tells you a story about the last time he let Floyd and Jade Leech be in charge of Monsto Lounge work. “It cost more than the budget, and I want to keep my profits in the black. Do you catch my drift, Prefect?” Between the two of you, Azul is indeed the business professional. He sees your scrunching face of hesitation when Azul offers up a deal you couldn’t refuse. “If you do this favor for me, I assure you that every and any mess that comes from those two shall be cleaned and reimbursed.”

“How can I know that you’ll keep that promise?” you ask.

“Oh, (Y/N), you break my heart. You still don’t trust me?”

You give him the death glance.

Azul snaps up a contract in mid air and lets you read every detail to make sure that he wasn’t going to pull the rug under you later.

The evening falls onto Night Raven, and as you finish preparing two guest rooms (unsure if even the boys wanna share a room), you get the expected knock at the door. You don’t expect anything normal to come from these twins, and you’re scared to find out what they’re up to.

Jade thanks you for opening your dorm to them in their time of need. Floyd also thanks you, but as chill as he is, Floyd is the first to make himself comfortable by going into your kitchen to see what you got to eat. This puts Grim into protective mode over his tuna cans (not that Floyd wants canned tuna anyway). This doesn’t become a bigger problem as Jade reminds Floyd to be respectful while they are guests.

“You have to ask permission before you go scavenging like a catfish in someone’s fridge,” Jade explains without an inch of scolding in his tone.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, Shrimpy. May I scavenge through your fridge?” replies the other brother.

You clarify that you actually have ordered some delivery for dinner, so the tweels can indulge in whatever is on the kitchen counter.

“See, Floyd? When you are patient, you get rewarded,” says Jade with an all-too-pleasant grin.

The tweels thank you as they treat themselves to your offerings. You help Grim crack open a tuna can as they eat, and you can see that Floyd is still moody.

“Aye, Jade. You know what would perk up this dower, old place?”

Jade taps his chin. “Perhaps a bit of music? What do you think, (Y/N)? Would you mind some music?”

You guess that music wouldn’t be a problem, but you soon remember that you don’t know what music the Leech twins have in mind. However, it’s too late to go back on your word because the moment Floyd activates his smartphone, the biggest blast of orchestral jazz explodes from the speaker.

Grim nearly falls off the kitchen counter. You grasp your heart, telling yourself not to have a heart attack in the center of Ramshackle dorm since you and Grim know that the floors aren’t going to rescue you as you fall. The twins are dancing with each other in the living room as if it’s the happiest of times. Maybe that’s a good thing as they have no ill will against Azul. Floyd’s mood is improved by the proof of his loud scat singing. Not even Kalim parties this much at Ramshackle.

“(Y/N), don’t be such a wallflower,” Floyd coxes. “Dance the stiff away!”

Jade stretches his arm, takes you by the hand, and pulls you into the small yet blaring celebration of…Seven knows what.

Grim goes running up the stairs, shouting, “If you need me, I’m gonna protect my ears!” along the way.

Despite your mind spinning, letting yourself loose isn’t such a terrible thing after all. In fact, sharing your dance time with both casually dressed tweels increases the fun. All three of you don’t even make it upstairs for the rest of the night.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney #anime #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #stories #twst disney #jade leech #floyd leech #twst floyd #twst jade #octavinelle #tweels #leech twins #birthday series #birthday jade #birthday floyd

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whimsicalwritingsandmore · 9 months ago

Text

Valentine's Series #4: Warm Hugs | yeosang x reader

Pairing: kang yeosang x reader

Genre: fluff, romance

Summary: Yeosang is shy, but he will make sure you get hugs from him and him only.

Word Count: 390 words

Yeosang hadn’t always been a people person nor was he much of a hugger. Until he met you.

It all started because of Wooyoung's sneaky habit to rile him up — every time you arrived at the dorms or at the studio, Wooyoung would be the first to approach you and demand his hug of the day from his girl best friend. Then, he would joke around and cause harmless mischief with you and apologise for his antics by giving you another hug. His personal reasoning for this was to see how long it would take for Yeosang to explode.

To say the least, Yeosang always had a hardened and unamused expression when this happened. So much so, he began to fling Wooyoung out of the way in an “accidental” manner so that he was the first one to receive a hug.

Then he would have you on the other far end of him away from Wooyoung. He kept you close by with little friendly gestures such as rubbing shoulders side by side as a sign of acknowledgement, and little tender touches and also the occasional playful shove.

And when no one was looking (except Wooyoung maybe), he would shower you with a warm and meaningful hug sporadically in the most loving and affectionate way he knew - either as a backhug or he’d pull you in by the waist and gently sway the both of you for a second.

Yeosang is very shy but he can also be protective, and protecting you from Wooyoung was a critical mission he undertook very seriously.

Don't get him wrong, he trusted the two of you, it's just that he believes his hugs are the best and Wooyoung can find someone else to hug if he needs one.

On Valentine's evening after a day of activities he planned for the two of you, while walking back to your apartment, you told him how cute you found him being jealous.

He was quite smug about it, but responded lovingly.

"It's because I love you."

As you registered what he just said, the unexpected confession made you burst into a fit of giggles, biting your lip and blushing so hard from embarrassment.

Yeosang smirked, satisfied with your response and wrapped you in a warm side hug before pulling you with him side by side towards your home.

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez series #yeosang x reader #yeosang x you #yeosang x y/n #kang yeosang x reader #kang yeosang x y/n #kang yeosang fluff #yeosang fluff

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faeiri-tft · 1 year ago

Note

PLEASE do the toontown online rant i want it so badly

this post kinda got away from me, and by "got away from me" i mean this 3000 word toontown rant is Part One. there will be a Part Two to this later in which i actually talk about the fanservers i wanted to talk about. anyway let's go

toontown online (tto) was a children's mostly-turn-based subscription MMO released in 2003. after a few years of obviously being on life support, disney gave a one-month notice that tto (and several other games) would be closing on september 19th, 2013. on the same day the game closed, the fan-run server toontown rewritten (ttr) was announced (with multiple other fanservers/fangames/reimaginings being established since), and is a few months away from outliving the original game

see, one thing about tto that allowed fanservers to crop up so quickly and easily was that it had, um, interesting choices. very interesting choices. like, "kids could use a code injector to turn their backyards into giant mashed-together nightmarescapes"-level choices

youtube

(loose video description: a rabbit toon running around a chaotic mismash of rooms, obstacles, and npcs that Should Not Be There. audio caption: Evanescence's "Bring Me To Life".)

but ok let's talk about the actual game first.

toontown online (tto)

the game starts with you creating your player character - you can pick from eventually-9 species, a couple body types, and 2 dozen preset colors. the gender code is a spaghetti nightmare but you won't learn this until the fanservers come about so don't worry about it. you're then taken to the Toontorial, which explains maybe 20% of the game's mechanics before setting you loose into the main game

the toontorial also gives you the basic "plot", such as it is: Toontown is suddenly* under attack by a bunch of boring businessrobots called the Cogs. their goal is to turn toontown into a dreary gray featureless corporate hell; their business activities are so boring that they're physically painful to be around. luckily, they can't take a joke, so the toons have figured out how to defeat them: by playing pranks on them until they laugh so hard they Explode

*originally, the game installer had a little animation giving a backstory for the Cogs' creation. this was never referenced in game, removed pretty quickly, and i think even the devs kinda forgot it existed

that's...pretty much the whole story! in that context, your toon progresses through all of toontown, helping some mostly-pretty-interchangeable shopkeepers, reclaiming buildings from the cogs, eating ice cream, etc. occasionally, the cogs would Come Up With New Tricks (read: major content update) and the toons would Find A Way To Fight Back (read: same major content update). that was the closest thing to Plot, unless you count "the devs scheduled a bunch of invasions of high-tier cogs right before the game's closure". but...i doubt most the kids really expected a Plot. mickey mouse was there

the gameplay:

the Free Account

there were two...pretty different approaches to playing toontown online. when the game launched, there was a 3-day free trial to the entire game, after which you got kicked entirely until you subscribed. at some point, this was changed so that the first area, Toontown Central (TTC), was Always Free - you could do all of that area's quests/"taskline" and limited activities, indefinitely, and in theory this would make you beg your parents for the rest of the game

i have no idea if this actually got more subscriptions or not. from what i can tell it just spawned more warrior cats

(source)

there were. a Lot of warrior cats. there were some other social activities, too, such as Fashion Shows (with your limited range of clothes) and Begging Subscribed Players To Summon Cog Buildings To TTC and Getting Chat Banned. ...however, as one of the subscription kids i didn't really interact with this side of the game, so i'm not the best person to talk about it

2. the Paid Account

mmm look at those crisp clear graphics. hell yes

a subscription account gave you access to this whole map, along with all these areas' tasklines. to progress through the game, you must complete a variety of "ToonTasks" for the Toon Resistance (it's called that. their catchphrase is "Toons of the World, Unite!". you were giving disney money for this). these reward you by increasing your max health (your "Laff Points"), slowly unlocking more combat options, and sending you to different, higher-difficulty areas of toontown

some of these tasks were...longer than others. generally, though, they all boiled down to: "just go fight some cogs"

combat:

(source)

toontown battles are turn-based: the players use their attacks ("gags") first, and then any surviving cogs attack you with, usually, office equipment and puns thereof (unless the cog is e.g. a Loan Shark, in which case they can just fucking bite you). if you defeat a cog, it explodes; if the cog defeats you, you "go sad" and are sent back to the safety of the playground, lose your gag inventory, and can't leave until you heal.

early on, most your battles are 1v1, but later on almost everything is a multiplayer 4-ish-v-4.

an...interesting feature here in the game's early days was that you could only Type Your Own Words to someone who shared their "friend code" with you IRL. otherwise, you had to use this thing:

(source)

you had a set list of phrases you could string together, which generally covered most the things you wanted to say. but it could get frustrating when you wanted to have a real conversation with your toontown friends! so...as the source above mentions, people obviously found ways around the system. turns out that if you let players move objects around their houses, they will use that to Draw Letters and pass their friend code along regardless

eventually - before the warrior cats, of course - disney presumably realized this system was pretty goofy (🥁) , so the game got a real chat, albeit one that functioned on a very strict whitelist. my favorite is that it didn't let you type numbers, however you could just say won too tree for hive etc. like. disney i really don't know what to tell you. anyway

(isn't he charming)

cogs come in levels 1-12, with levels displayed above their heads, and as you'd expect their damage output and HP increase with their level. however, the game doesn't...actually show you cog HP? instead they have a little colored light on their chest that fades from green to red until they explode. you see numbers on all the damage you do, and you see your own HP/laff, but never the cogs'. also lategame cogs are Too Tall For You To See Their Level once they line up for battle (which isn't actually that bad but it's funny). there's a formula for HP per level, but it's never mentioned in-game. i guess someone can teach it to you but then you have to watch them type "a level tin cog has won tree too health" and is that really worth it

(as you can tell i just…don't get this. "my kid is practicing arithmetic with toontown!" - marketing angle expressly denied by god. the stealth edutainment was right there)

anyway! in theory, you have seven base combat options ("gag tracks"), which combine in a variety of ways:

toon-up, which restores your teammates' health;

trap, which does guaranteed high damage but only if someone uses lure;

lure, which stuns the cogs for a few turns and is the only way to make trap work

sound, which does low damage to every cog;

throw, which does medium-high-ish damage to one cog; multiple throws combined give percentage combo damage, and hitting a lured cog will also add percentage "knockback damage";

squirt, which is exactly like throw but less damage;

and drop, which does high damage but cannot hit lured cogs, and has low accuracy unless you hit the cog with something else first

each gag track has 6 levels, which you unlock by using that gag track a bunch. you can't carry as many of the high levels with you - i mean, putting one piano in your backpack makes perfect sense, but two is just silly, right

a few years into the game's lifespan, level 7s were added - these were huge AOE that you could regain with every 500 track EXP. there was also something called "organic gags" to promote the please-log-in-every-day gardening system

every player starts with throw and squirt, and throughout the game you slowly unlock four more gag tracks. your choices are permanent: once you have your six tracks, you're locked out of the seventh forever.

in theory, all of this opens up a huge variety of combat options!

in practice, the battle strategy looks something like this:

use sound

as mentioned, almost all of lategame will be 4v4 battles, which means sound will almost always outdamage everything on earth. you don't even need four foghorns (the highest normal sound gag) to break 200 AOE damage, and the highest health a cog EVER has is 200*. and two of the boss battles can reward you with gag restocks and heals that you can use mid-battle with no consequences (other than having to grind for those rewards a bunch). and failing THAT, you can just...ration your foghorns and take 2 turns to clear a set of cogs, interspersed with healing.

(*okay there was something called "v2.0 cogs" but they were...strange, and we just used sound anyway)

sure, once level 7s were added you could use those occasionally. and you could fall back on lure+throw if you didn't want to use your sound restocks. but even then, for most of tto's existence there was something called the "knockback bug" which. well. just look at it

(link for transcript. it's tvtropes sorry)

if you are a target-audience eight-year-old this translates to "lure + throw will only do enough damage if the cogs Feel like it." like it's really just insult to injury at this point. this was the result of One misplaced variable and was not fixed until the game closed

in the tto era, if you didn't have sound, you were kinda doomed to be kicked out of every fight forever

(bonus fun fact: there were Four entire battle themes and they were 40-second midi loops. let me out)

the bosses:

each of the four cog departments has a Boss Cog. to face off against them, you have to assemble a cog disguise and collect enough merits/stock options/whatever to be allowed into the boss's office.

(pictured: your convincing disguise)

when you enter, your disguise pops off due to Reasons, and you have to fight through...a bunch of waves of normal cogs. it's basically a really long normal battle. once the minions are dealt with, you have to, inexplicably, do a live-action battle against the boss themself:

youtube

(loose video description: four toons defeating the CFO by using magnet cranes to hit him in the face with safes for 32 seconds.)

the live-action rounds aren't supposed to go this quickly, but it's still...kinda strange? certain reoccurring game areas require Parkour, but there are no battles like this outside of the Four bosses. the CFO's room is the only place you see these cranes and they have A Lot Going On. the other 3 bosses have their own unique weird mechanics. before the first boss was added we neither had nor needed the ability to Jump. it's just weird

once you've defeated the boss, you're given a reward of varying usefulness (the best/most unbalanced reward type is Unites, which are a free heal or gag restock you can do inside or outside of battle. essentially lategame toons can simply choose not to die. riv2u etc.)

and, um. then you get some more merits/stock options/whatever and do it again. and again. and again. and again. and agai

the grind:

so the thing is that tto was a subscription mmo. every addition to the game had to be measured, above all, in terms of "how can we best get kids to beg their parents to give us money." this especially shows in the suit grind:

(source/source)

you have to defeat each boss 78 times in order to get all their laff points - and as you proceed, you have to defeat an increasing amount of cogs to even be allowed into the boss (although once you max you get in for free).

by far the easiest way is to run through the designated HQ facilities - basically, cog fights interspersed with some platforming or minigames. you only collect your merits/whatever at the Very End of the facility. the only way to increase what a facility gives you is if your last battle ends during an "invasion" - a timed period where One Specific Cog replaces all street cogs, usually summoned with boss rewards.

the sellbot HQ grind isn't so bad. bossbot HQ - the endest-game HQ - frequently requires you to do an hour-long facility and on six separate occasions you have to do seven of them. if the invasion ends before your final battle, you have to sit around until someone summons another. if you lose your internet connection because it's 2008, or if your parents make you come to dinner, or if hacking or the game's general bugginess cause a server reset because you're probably in the busiest district for the invasion bonus, you have spent that Entire Hour On Nothing. the CEO (bossbot cog boss) probably also takes an hour because you and your fellow players are 10

this shit, combined with laff points locked behind gardening (time-gated), racing and golfing (multiplayer minigames with absurd requirements), and fishing (RNG-based with some fish being absurdly rare. i watched my mom fish for one every day for a month), meant that maxing a toon took Years, if you managed it ever.

it wasn't, um. it wasn't good

ok so what else is wrong with this game:

i had "aged out of the game" (lol) by the early '10s, so i'm not the best person to do a writeup of the hacking/scripting situation of those days. that said, what i'm going to do is give you a few examples, and i want you to just...look at them

(source)

(source). early '10s youtube was funny i'm trying to decide if i miss it

(source). fun thing to note here is that other players had collision, so a swarm of t-posing toons could just barricade the gag shop if they wanted to

youtube

(video description: toon who has Replaced His Head Model With An Anime Logo throwing thousands of jellybeans at everyone) (cw mild flashing just in case? and also the feather headband accessory)

i should note that the Bring Me To Life vid i started with was client-side, meaning only the player could see their technicolor hellscape. this guy's face was server-side. i do Not Think you should be able to do that

youtube

(video description: a player demonstrating use of a bot to get into the nutty river district, followed by other players using it to go to different game areas)

the above video was posted on august 17th, 2013. if you don't want to watch an Unregistered Hypercam 3 recording at about 5 frames per second, what's going on here is:

the player goes to a specific location and says a specific speedchat phrase.

a bot toon teleports to their location and provides some prompts on how to use it

the player tells the bot, via speedchat, to teleport to the (currently closed from the outside) busiest district so the player can follow

these "taxi toons" were server-sided, persisted across server resets, were made by a future fanserver dev, had younger kids referring to them as a "glitch" as if this were something that could Accidentally Happen, and stayed functional until the game closed

like...a lot of the "hacking" was just baby's first script download. this one - afaict also created by the laughing man head guy - is like...the fact that after years of no substantial game updates, someone effectively programmed their own "QOL feature" (note: not actually good for the poor mid-00s server being turned into a clown car) into a silly disney MMO and it just fucking sat there for a year is just. it's just.

i don't know what this is. this is not Playing The Game Toontown Online. this is nothing. this is everything. there are comments from 2013 on some of these videos saying stuff like "hackers killed toontown", but your game cannot have this happen if it is not already dying

and, like...it was. i'm not sure how many moderators there were by this point, but at the very end of tto, the number of active devs was One. the original devteam recently brought this up at the 20th anniversary celebration: devs just...slowly started getting pulled from the game, one at a time. there were a few updates after bossbot HQ - Field Offices, which i've basically never heard anything good about in their tto form ever; the Silly Meter, a yearly event...thing whose main function was to add unskippable dancing-inanimate-object cutscenes to your street battles; Parties, which...yknow parties were okay actually. i accept parties. but they weren't exactly a Major Game Update like the ones that had come before. in 2011 we gained the ability to Wear Hats. in 2012 the test server got some actual QOL updates that never made it to the main game; the final test server update was some maintenance in february, and then nothing for 18 months. disney was not providing enough resources to address the scripting because disney was not providing enough resources to address toontown. imagine being the last dev standing on an MMO that was older than some of its players, was losing its business model to mobile gaming, and spent most of its life falling apart at the seams. just imagine it, for a second

it couldn't have kept going, not like this.

on august 20, 2013, the closing announcement came: we had a month left of toontown online. the test server shut immediately; subscription refunds went out, and the game became actually F2P for the month; the part of the announcement that went like "we're shifting our focus to other games!" made a bunch of twelve-year-olds hate club penguin as if club penguin wouldn't also close in a few years; all the holiday events went off at once; and...

there wasn't a "thanks for playing!" popup. everyone online just got kicked, all at once. it was finally over

hey wait.

#toontown #toontown online #tto #tft talks #tft stuff #<- this goes in that tag i think #this was like. enrichment. thank you

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tropes-and-tales · 2 years ago

Text

A Hundred and One Nights

Characters: Yautja/Predator x f!reader

CW: Talk of injuries and illness; talk of death; yearning. No smut.

Word Count: 4819

Other Pieces: There is a part two here.

The Yautja aren’t above making mistakes. When they kidnap a number of elite soldiers and killers from Earth to hunt, you somehow get swept up too.

You, a high school English teacher. The only things you’ve ever killed are centipedes and a squirrel once that ran under your tires as you drove down the street.

You were not a killer.

It doesn’t stop the Yautja from making the mistake, which is why you wake up suddenly. Falling. Free-falling through a blue sky.

You’re in a parachute, and it engages just a beat too late. You crash through the tree cover and land in the underbrush, hard. You snap your ankle, and the pain that lances through you is so sharp, so urgent, that you finally realize that you aren’t dreaming at all.

-----

There’s others. They find you.

They leave you.

“She’d only slow us down,” says the one man. He turns away without a second glance.

“We’ll come back for you,” promises the woman, but she doesn’t meet your eye when she says it.

You wait until they are out of earshot to start crying. You’re scared and hurt and you have no idea where you are.

But once you’re done, you swipe away your tears and try to come up with a plan.

-----

You were a Girl Scout, so you know basic first aid. Bush first aid. You had the badge to prove it.

You snap a few sticks, tear off the bottom hem of your shirt. You create a rough splint for your ankle, and then you find another, sturdier stick that is forked at the end: a rough crutch.

It hurts so badly, and progress is slow. You hobble through the jungle and every step is fraught. The ground is uneven.

In the distance, you hear screams, snarls. You hear a high-pitched whistle.

You have no idea where you are, but some primal part of your brain is activated: you are in danger, and every cell in your body knows it.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.

The first night, you make it to the edge of the jungle just as darkness falls. The stars are in configurations that you’ve never seen before, and your first thought is that you’re in the southern hemisphere.

Moments later, the moon appears over the ridge.

Then a second moon, and later that night, a third.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.

You can do without food for quite a while, but water becomes a problem. The planet is hot and humid and you sweat so much, and your mouth takes on a desperately dry, sticky quality.

You hobble onward. You pass another human, a corpse that looks like it’s been there a while. You’d throw up but your stomach is empty, so it only cramps painfully until you get away from the smell.

You pass giant metal containers with deflated, tangled parachutes. Other things have been dropped here—big things that required cages.

You find a river and you nearly cry. You manage to clumsily kneel in the mud and you drink and drink and drink until you throw it all up. Then you drink some more.

-----

You find an outcropping of rock. You manage to tear up some saplings to lay across the rock face, giving you some scant camouflage.

You still haven’t eaten. Your stomach has stopped growling, but you hallucinate food. You swear you can smell smoke, and underneath it you catch the phantom scent of barbeque, of smoked meats, of charred vegetables with a balsamic glaze, of rich red wines and crisp white ones, of heavy cakes that lie sweet and rich on the tongue, washed down with coffee so dark it makes your toes curl…

You jolt awake with a start. It’s night and you’ve fallen asleep but there’s flickering orange over the nearest ridge. Something is on fire.

-----

When you startle awake again, it’s because of an explosion in the sky—a spaceship exploding into a fireball.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.

You catch sight of parachutes in the sky, but you can’t worry about them. You know you are going to die on this planet, so far from home, but you wonder if any of the creatures being dropped are going to be the ones to kill you.

Maybe. Maybe not. The fever might kill you first.

It’s your ankle with the nub of broken bone sticking out of your skin, a sight so distressing that you can’t look at it without getting faint.

It’s any of the handful of cuts all over your body. You have no way to disinfect them. You do your best to clean your wounds in the river, but infection sets in and you grow feverish, sluggish, crazed with heat.

-----

You wake up to a strange clicking sound. A chittering sound, like an insect might make….if insects were huge. The air in front of you shimmers and you think it’s the heat of the day, but then there’s a couple of beeps, and it comes into startling, terrifying view.

The thing. The alien, though on this world, you suppose you are the alien.

The thing hunting you.

You had put it together piece by piece over the past days (weeks?). The giant planet that seems to be empty save for the creatures dropped in via parachutes. The humans you dropped in with—all of them elite fighters, from the looks, save the one smaller white guy.

When you were young, your father and his brothers used to quail hunt. They’d buy a crate of half-tame birds and then loose them into the grounds around their hunting camp, then pick them off one by one. This seemed to be the exact same thing.

You’re not upset it (he?) found you. You’re sick and exhausted and hungry and thirsty, and the infection raging through your body will kill you if he doesn’t. A bullet to the brain will be quicker and less painful than wasting away.

“S’okay,” you tell him, holding out your empty hands to him in supplication. “At least…least I got to see another planet. D-different stars. Better than…other ways to d-die.”

He tilts his head at you. Says nothing. Does nothing. You lick your cracked lips and try to sit up straighter, but you cry out at the grinding pain of your ankle.

He doesn’t move—he only watches.

“Figured it out,” you continue. “Figured out what this is. Game preserve, right?” You chuckle, wince against the throb of pain in your head. “Can’t be much of a trophy for you though, huh? B-broke my ankle straight away. W-weak.”

He’s so still that you’d think he was a statue, but the dread-like things on his head sway in the breeze.

“Like the short story, y’know? The Most Dangerous Game. I tell it to my honors students sometimes. General Zaroff and his hunting hounds, Ship-Trap Island, all the rest….” You trail off, not sure why you’re babbling at this creature who is only staring at you.

You’re also not sure why he just doesn’t get it over with. Just kill you already.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. You shut your eyes, nod your head. “I’m ready. You can do it.”

You keep your eyes shut, and each moment that passes, your courage fails you a little more. You’re sick and already dying, but you want another day, another night, another moment to feel the breeze or see these strange stars or remember all the books you’ve read and loved and mourn those you never got to read, all the movies—

“Tell. Story.” You open your eyes at the sound of your own voice, see the creature fiddling with some computer strapped to his arm. It’s your own words. Your words, recorded and played back to you.

“Tell. Rest. Story,” he repeats, using your words to communicate with you.

“You…you want me to tell you the story? The Most Dangerous Game?” You blink and shake your head slightly, sure this is the fever causing you to hallucinate the entire thing.

He nods his head. Curt. A single nod.

The fever roars to life in you. A million emotions: relief at earning another moment or two of life, disappointment for it to not be over. Your head feels heavy and light as air at the same time, and your vision starts to waver again, but he’s still standing in front of you, impassive.

“I think—” you start to say, but darkness descends swiftly, and you aren’t aware of much beyond a handful of sensations: a stabbing, needling pain in your thigh, a rough hand on your face, and your entire body being lifted and carried.

*****

He’s not sure why he saves you.

It wouldn’t be honorable to kill you and consider it an good hunt, but it would be merciful to kill you. Be’kan can smell you from a distance, the sickly-sweet smell of illness. You will die soon. You are a filthy creature when he finds you, slick with sweat and shivering and coated in dirt, but you hold out your hands to show you have no weapons.

And then you fix him with your bright gaze—the fever giving you a crazed look—and you speak to him.

It’s the promise of a story. Yautja live for the Hunt, but they live for stories nearly as much. They hunt, then they gather and tell each other stories. It’s half of why they record their hunts through their masks: to learn from their prey, but also to glory in the retelling.

The promise of your story. A story of a hunter. Be’kan kneels beside your unconscious form and jabs you with needle to kill some of your pain. Then he lifts you up, throws you over his shoulder, and takes you back to camp.

-----

His brothers tease him. They share a sire but Be’kan is the eldest, and the younger ones torment him.

“This ooman is already dead, brother.”

“The ooman-di certainly smells dead.”

“Our brother has found a pet to nurse back to health.”

It earns them all a cuff to their heads, a snarled warning, but they chuckle and leave him to it. Leave him to you.

-----

The needle he gave could heal small wounds, but the fever that burns through you requires something more.

He gives you a second needle’s worth of painkiller, and then he does the only thing that can heal you: he gives you his blood. Just a little. Just enough.

First, though, he has to reset your broken bone. His blood will course through you fast and hot, and it’ll heal anything in its path. The bone needs to be set or else it will heal wrong.

You wake up when he hauls your leg into his lap. You sit up, fold yourself upward towards him, and you try to pull away, not understanding what he’s doing.

“Be still,” he barks, and you freeze—long enough for him to wrap a paw around your leg, the other around your foot, and wrench the broken bones back together.

The shriek you let loose hurts his head, sets a roosting flock of birds alight over the nearby trees. You’re in so much sudden pain that you grasp his upper arm, you bury your face against his shoulder before you go slack against him, and if love is an especially rare thing for a Yautja, then this is perhaps the moment it enters his bloodstream and starts to infect him, very, very slowly.

*****

You wake to find that you feel better than you have in years: fever broken, ankle healed. Your cuts and bruises have all disappeared.

There are three other…things. Aliens. Whatever they are, they are tall and broad. They are packed with muscles and claws, and they have an entire arsenal of weapons on them.

The one who saved you—it doesn’t take long before you think of him as yours. He is fascinating to look at, certainly ugly by human standards, but he’s fascinating. Grey-blue in color, dull grey metal mask with a mark etched into it. Ornaments woven into the dread-like things that sprout from his head: polished stones and rings of metal and little pieces of bone.

He seems older than the others, though they don’t have any discernable markings of age. No grey hair, no wrinkles. He only seems older because he moves slower, more ponderous. Where the others click and chitter at each other, he makes less noise—but when he does, the others still and listen.

-----

You figure it out—he keeps you alive for your stories.

The first story is the Most Dangerous Game, and he doesn’t seem to listen. He makes you sit near the fire while he painstakingly polishes and sharpens his bladed weapons. He makes you tell the story, and he doesn’t seem to listen, but when you trail off halfway through, he cocks his head and makes an irritated clicking at you. So you finish.

He keeps you alive. He feeds you, brings you water. He gives you a wide fur to curl up in while you sleep, and he keeps himself between you and the dark night on the planet. He keeps you from anything that may try to come out of the darkness and hurt you.

I have become Scheherazade, you think to yourself as you watch him where he lies near you. I have to tell him stories to save my own life.

*****

Be’kan hunts with his kin, then he listens to your stories at night. His kin may tease him, but he catches them listening on the sly, eavesdropping as you tell your stories and weave your tales with your words. You get more and more comfortable each night; you seem to fear him less.

It is odd that you’re such a good storyteller. He never thought of oomans as such. They are a clever, sneaky species, but he never knew they had such stories. And you seem to know them all.

It is good that you are a good storyteller, because you are otherwise unimpressive. You’re weak and small, a soft thing. A ridiculous thing. Up close, he can see how fragile oomans are: the hide that tears so easily, the soft claws that cannot slash anything. Bones too easily snapped. He learned that lesson when he healed you—he had been too rough and hurt you. He’d felt a sting of shame—a strange emotion for a Yautja—and vowed to be gentler with you.

Not that he will touch you if he can help it. You are ugly like all oomans are. You have no markings. You have dull teeth and a strange fleshy mouth and wide eyes that leak water. You are the same as all of your species.

So it’s good that you tell your stories, because otherwise he’d be quit of you: he’d tear your spine out, and then he’d never again have to tuck you into his furs each night to keep your frail ooman body warm.

*****

It takes a while to calibrate which stories he wants, which…of course he wants stories about hunters and killers and fierce battles.

Which means you run through the standard fare pretty early on. You tell him the Tale of John McClane, the Tale of Kevin McAllister, the numerous Tales of James Bond. You turn Indiana Jones into a Nazi hunter instead of an archeologist. The Lord of the Rings becomes a fellowship intent on hunting down and killing Sauron. Luke Skywalker is a man out to kill an entire litany of Storm Troopers before he kills his father. You have him kill the Ewoks too, just for fun.

Your creature….you wonder if sexism exists in his species, so you tell him the Tale of Sarah Connors to see how he reacts to a woman protagonist. By now, he sits in rapt attention, takes a deep squat near the fire and stares at you as you tell how Sarah Connors starts as the hunted, then ends up the hunter.

He seems to enjoy the story. He gives a slow nod at the end, as if he’s satisfied.

-----

You try more varied fare. You tell him the story of Jane Eyre.

He takes the wrong message from it.

He also speaks to you, more than he ever has before. He usually just gives you one or two word commands in his rough English, but hearing about Jane Eyre?

“No,” he barks, and he shakes his head angrily when you get the part where Jane flees to the moors.

“Well, the story isn’t done—”

“Jane is unworthy,” he spits out. “A worthy mate would not flee.”

You catch the way his hands flex, the sharp claws that tip his fingers. The warning growl he makes.

“You have to listen to the rest of the story,” you say carefully, and for the first time in the history of gothic romance novels, Jane Eyre regroups on the moors, and then stalks back to Thornfield Hall to kill Bertha Mason and prove herself a worthy mate to Mr. Rochester.

The next night, you decide to not test your luck.

“To survive a war, you gotta become war,” you tell him as you settle by the fire. “Let me tell you a story about a man named John Rambo.”

-----

How many stories do you tell? Fifty? A hundred? It’s hard to tell. Sometimes you stretch out a story across nights, a tactic that seems to infuriate him—he snarls, he roars behind his mask, he stalks away—but then he seems more eager the next night, more eager to sit by you and listen.

And he is more willing to answer your questions, so you learn too.

His kind are called Yautja. He is called Be’kan, a name that comes out of his mouth like a bark. In his language of clicks and trills, it means Thundering Blade, which maybe explains why he enjoys stories with swords so much.

You tell him your name. You tell him, as best you can, what you did on Earth. He seems to interpret it as you being a storyteller of great fame, which makes you laugh—you barely made enough to live on your teaching salary, and your student loans would follow you into your dotage.

One night, he reaches up and undoes the grey metal mask he wears. He removes it and shows you his real face: an ugly thing by human standards, but just as fascinating as the rest of him. Small, close-set eyes so yellow they look like molten gold. Two pairs of tusks set around his mouth.

He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but you get the very real sense that this is a moment of intimacy between the two of you. That he’s showing you a part of himself that many don’t get to see outside of his own kind.

*****

Be’kan can’t account for what he feels for you.

Yautja don’t love. Their breeding is a violent, painful thing. The females—larger, stronger—fight the males, kill the males to ensure they only breed with the strongest and most worthy. It is the same with the raising of their young: there’s no sentiment or cuddling once a pup is no longer a suckling.

You are a soft, small thing. Ugly and weak. And yet you’ve cracked open some hard part of him that makes him hurt when he thinks of parting from you.

And yet…he knows he has to.

He’s reviewed the data around the sweep that took you from your planet. It was a mistake, unthinkable yet real. You had crossed paths with a man that day—a certain man who had killed many in one of your kind’s wars. A man who had returned from war and kept killing.

You lived in the same building. You had no way of knowing.

The Yautja meant to take that man, that killer, but they took you.

Be’kan knows he has to take you back. His honor will allow him nothing else: you are no killer, you are not worthy prey. You are an exalted storyteller, a worthy position in his own society, so you must be returned to your own.

And yet, in that cracked-open place, he wants to forget his honor and keep you with him. He wants to tuck you into his furs each night and lie nearby, keeping guard over you. He wants to listen to your stories and answer your questions about his kind.

He wants you to fix him with that bright gaze of yours with those too-wide eyes that sometimes get watery. You see him and you don’t recoil though he is surely as ugly to you as you are to him.

He plans with his kin: they will return home in their ship, and he will take you back to Earth in his own before he joins them. It isn’t a long journey.

Then he tells you, and you don’t react the way he thought you might.

You frown. Then you go quiet.

That night, when he settles near you at the fire, you don’t tell him a story. And when he asks, you turn away from him.

“I don’t have any more stories,” you tell him. Then you curl up on your side, your knees to your chest, and Be’kan realizes he knows nothing at all about the ooman-di who has cracked open a part of him and left him aching and empty.

*****

Life back on Earth doesn’t resume quite so smoothly. Turns out, when you are missing for months and then suddenly resurface, people have questions.

The government has questions. Countless men and women in dark suits interrogate you, and since you can’t think of a single plausible reason other than the truth, you tell them the truth: that you were on an alien planet being hunted by aliens.

They don’t seem shocked, which shocks you.

-----

The U.S. government relocates you to a different part of the country as a fresh start. You keep your own name, and you still teach, but the government gives you a nice little house set back near the edge of a forest and a nice little monthly stipend to keep your mouth shut about your alien abduction.

Your new life is the same as your old. You teach, you go home at night. You make dinner and you read or watch a movie, then you go to bed.

Repeat day after day.

-----

You find that you miss him. It makes no sense. Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome, but it felt right to be there. On Earth, you always felt a step out of sync with other humans. You understood jokes a beat too late to laugh; you didn’t find joy in a lot of the things others did. You struggled to date, struggled to make friends. You had been alone for much of your life.

It was a simpler life, those few months.

Sleep curled up in warm furs, tell stories to keep your place with him. Look up at the night sky to see strange stars and create your own constellations with their own stories. Learn the hand signals he and his brothers give each other, learn what their different trills and clicks mean.

Then he took you on his ship and brought you back to Earth.

The night before you arrived back on Earth, he had opened a chamber on his ship. He stepped into it and gestured for you to join him, held his big paw of a hand out to you and you had taken it, tried to ignore how it felt when he closed his hand around yours, as gentle as if he were cupping a bird.

Then he placed his other hand on your back, just a gentle. Pulled you into the room and turned you to look at the display along the wall.

It was covered in skulls. Polished and mounted, so many different types that you gasped.

It had the same charged feel as when he had removed his mask. It was an intimacy that you guessed was rare.

You studied each skull closely, except for the one that was obviously human. You reached out and touched the sharp teeth and tusks of each, murmured at how dangerous each hunt must have been, how good a hunter he was.

You knew enough of Yautja sounds by then to know that the deep purring he made was pride.

-----

When you curl up in your bed each night, you miss the soft furs and the foreign stars in the sky over you.

You think of when he landed on Earth and left you. How he had reached out a hand to grasp your face, gently. How he had pressed the tip of one claw carefully to your lower lip as if he were testing how it felt.

-----

You spend one weekend building a fire pit in your backyard. You dig out a shallow bowl in the earth, line it with flat stones. You create a ring around the bowl with rocks. You spend a few hours in the woods behind your home, dragging large branches back, cutting them up with a bow saw.

You build a fire that night. You wrap yourself in a blanket and stare into the flickering orange flames while your muscles ache from the hard work.

It’s not the same but you try. “Let me tell you about a woman we’ll call the Bride, who went on a journey of revenge with a magical sword,” you murmur to the flames, and it’s easy to pretend that he’s just at the edge of the firelight, crouched down and listening in his still, intent way.

*****

Be’kan is not a Young Blood anymore, so he’s surprised to find that he is still capable of having the inner turmoil, the unsettled emotions of a much younger Yautja.

He had recorded many of your stories through his mask, but it’s not the same. The stories become flat and lifeless in the recordings. They don’t capture the magic you wove each night when you told them. And they don’t capture after the stories, when you’d curl up by the fire and when he’d lie a distance away, near enough to hear your deep breathing and the pitiful whimpers you sometimes made when you twitched and kicked in your sleep as you dreamed.

You belong with your own kind. You are a master; you teach the younglings of your kind with your stories. He knows this, yet he thinks of other oomans—their sly, sneaky ways, their treachery. How quickly your kind was willing to abandon you to suffer during the hunt. Then he rages at them, thinks they do not deserve you.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes. How many cycles in his ship, on his hunts account for the cycles on Earth.

He’s no longer a Young Blood, but a restlessness comes over him. He hunts with his kin. He hunts alone. He takes new trophies and cleans them, hangs them in his trophy room, but even here he thinks of you. He showed you his trophies and you had praised him, called him a great hunter, and he had trilled in pride.

He replays the stories you told. He replays the night he told you he was going to take you home, and how you had reacted.

You should have been happy to return to your own kind. He thinks, perhaps, he understands why now.

*****

Sitting around the fire becomes your way of unwinding in the evenings. A glass of wine, the warmth of the fire. You can look up and see the stars, even if they are the same ones you have always known.

When you hear that strange, clicking growl one night, you think it’s an auditory hallucination. There’s no way he’s here, no way he’s found you—

But he’s a hunter. He’s an apex predator, so when the air in front of you shimmers and then reveals him, you can’t really be that surprised.

What surprises you is how hard your heart leaps to see him. How quickly you spring to your feet and take those few steps to stand in front of him. You stop at the last minute, but you very nearly tackle him—as if you could, with how big he is—in a hug.

“You’re here,” you breathe out, and he makes the clicking, chuffing sound that you’ve always thought of as his version of laughter. But then it cuts off, and he tilts his head at you.

“Be’kan was unworthy,” he growls at you. “A worthy mate would not have fled.”

#yautja #yautja x reader #yautja imagine #predator #predator x reader #predator imagine #predator franchise

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prollywolly · 4 months ago

Text

Come Home Soon [S. Gojo]

summary: being away on missions is always hard for satoru. on one particular night, close to his return date, he can't seem to fix the problem he has and decides to call you for some help.

warnings: 18+ only, MDNI! smut, mutual masturbation, phone sex, mentions of satoru wanting to smell the sheets you soaked, fem!reader, fingering

word count: 2.1k

a/n: hihihi! my first smut piece, i'm so so excited! it's been a while since i've written smut, but writing this made me remember how much i really enjoy it! let me know how much you guys like this and if you have any requests please feel free to send them in! this gojo brainrot is really winning the battle right now...

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

you always understood satoru’s work as a special grade sorcerer. it wasn’t a surprise that he was valuable and needed to be everywhere at once. when he was single, it was so much easier, he wouldn’t lie. but he wouldn’t trade having you by his side for anything in the world.

having you waiting for him at home was always a reassuring thought that sat in the back of his mind.

but it was the nights like these.

the nights where he was fisting his cock with such ferocity because you weren’t here to help him. you were too busy at home waiting for him while he was halfway across japan yearning for you to touch him like you always did.

the sex that you and satoru had was filthy.

the two of you were always trying something different. new positions, new kinks, your sex lives were very much active and growing. which is why his thumb was hovering over the video call option on his phone.

his cock was aching. he had been pumping himself for what felt like hours and couldn’t seem to focus enough on something to get him going. it was unheard of to him. everything about you drove him crazy, so why was it so difficult to find something to help him sleep tonight?

he bit his bottom lip harshly, praying to every god above him that you were still awake. when the call started to connect, his body relaxed and he watched as the ceiling of your guys' bedroom widened on his phone screen.

“toru?” your voice was a bit hoarse, groggy with sleep. “what’s the matter baby?”

satoru felt his cock throb at the sound of your voice. his angry tip was dripping with precum, a soft huff escaping him. he licked his slightly chapped lips, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“miss you baby,”

“i miss you t-”

“i… i need your help baby,”

satoru flipped the camera around to show you his painfully hard dick. you felt your mouth water instantly at the sight of him. his dick was glistening under the dim light of his hotel room, it was obvious that he had tried to lube himself up and take care of himself. you couldn’t help but notice how much precum was dribbling down the sides of his cock. he was going to fucking explode.

“poor baby…” you cooed softly, the sound of you shifting your position in bed ringing through the speakers of his phone.

“what do you need me to do, hm? tell me what you need.”

satoru groaned and his hand loosely grabbed his dick. he pumped himself achingly slow, using his thumb to spread his precum all over himself. he felt a harsh lump in the back of his throat that was hard to swallow. he needed you. but he knew he couldn’t have exactly what he wanted.

“let me see that pretty face, baby. stop pointing your camera at the ceiling,”

the second you set up your camera, he audibly groaned.

you came into view with nothing but a white tank top and his favorite pair of panties. a white lacy thong with pretty pink flowers sewn into the lace all over. his mouth watered and he could smell your arousal through the fucking phone. satoru’s eyes shut momentarily as he grounded himself. your nipples were hard and perky, looking at him through the phone and begging to be touched.

“fuck baby, did you know i was gonna call?” his hand kept his same pace as before as he spoke to you.

“wore my favorite pair of panties like a little slut just waiting for me to call you?”

shivers danced down your spine at his words. it’s really all you needed to get going yourself. your freshly manicured nails that he had just paid for earlier today came up to the bottom of the tank top, you lifted the shirt just enough to let your tits drop out of your shirt. satoru moaned as they bounced slightly, his eyes widened as you began to pinch and play with your nipples.

the soft moan you let out was like music to his ears.

satoru picked up the pace of his hand and let out another guttural groan.

“fuck baby, massage ‘em for me, yeah? show me how i do it,”

you let out another soft moan as you roughly massaged at your mounds of skin. satoru droned out a long string of curses as he watched you toy with yourself. he could’ve cum right then and there, but he had been working at it for way too long on his own. he was going to take his time and savor this load he was going to bust, he deserved to cum nice and hard for you.

your french tips slid down to the hem of your thong, your middle finger reaching down to rub the wet patch that was forming in the fabric. with a shaky sigh, you pushed hard onto your clit as you massaged your pussy, clenching on pure air as you imagined satoru’s fingers dipping into you.

“just like that baby, fuck.” satoru exhaled harshly. “let me see that pretty pussy,”

and who were you to deny him? you lifted your ass up and slid your panties down your legs with trembling hands, spreading your legs open wide to give satoru the perfect view of his favorite place. the moan satoru let out at the sight of your dripping cunt was pornographic. he could taste your pussy on his tongue, he wanted nothing more than to eat you out like a starved man.

in a way, that’s exactly what he was.

he’d been away on his trip for almost a month now, hardly having time to himself like this. it’s been the longest he’s gone without fucking you, let alone ravishing your sopping folds.

“oh my god, you’re fucking soaked-”

you dipped your fingers down once more, spreading your wetness across your pussy like you were fingerpainting on a canvas. your soft sounds mixed in with the wet squelch of your pussy nearly made satoru’s cock spurt ropes of cum onto the fucking ceiling.

“t-toru~” you whined softly.

“miss you so much…” you mumbled quietly. “need your fingers, ‘nd your cock.”

satoru inhaled deeply, not sure how much more he could take of being away from you. and with the way you were begging for him, he almost wanted to piss this mission away and get home to you as fast as he could. he feels like he’s hallucinating. he could feel your slick all over his dick, each ridge and gummy crevisce of your pussy clenching around him like a drug. your cunt was dangerous, always sucking his cock right back inside with each thrust he pulled out of you.

“g-god, you’re so fucking nasty baby,” he growled under his breath. “so fucking wet for me and i’m not even there to touch you…”

another mewl squeezed itself from your lips as you slid a finger into your weeping hole. you pumped your finger at the same gingerly pace as satoru did, your free hand continuing to massage your boob. the both of you were complete messes, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you fed off of the noises the other was making.

“add another finger baby, you know you can take more than one,” satoru winced, watching as you added a second finger and it slipped into you with ease.

“fuuuuuuck,”

satoru was salivating, his lips parted enough to let a bit of drool pool at his lips. you looked so sexy, so vulnerable and bare as you fucked yourself on camera. it fed into his ego that you were just as desperate as he was. fucking your fingers into yourself trying to chase the same feeling that his cock gave you when he was drilling into you.

the both of you knew that nothing was going to be better than actual sex, but this phone sex was definitely doing its job as a quick fix.

as satoru picked up his pace, you followed suit and let out a satisfied groan in response.

“shiiiiiit toru,” satoru smirked at the sound of your weeping whines. “wish you were fucking me inst-ead-”

satoru could see it in his head so vividly when he closed his eyes.

the way your tits jerked all over the place as he hammered his cock into you relentlessly. his long fingers would grip the supple skin of your hips like if his life depended on it, fingertips painting blue and purple bruises permanently. you always looked so gorgeous when you took his cock. you would wince the second he sheathed himself inside you, the pain mixing with pleasure instantly the second that he started to move.

the faces you made only pushed him further into his bliss. the way those pretty little doe eyes would look up at him like he put the stars in the night sky. they’d shut tightly whenever he hit your sweet spot, the sound of your screams for him to keep going always following shortly after.

“ungh- f-fuck. a little faster now, i’m s-so close-”

like the good girl you were, you kept up with his pace and humped your hand frantically, chasing the waves of pleasure that coursed through your body.

the sight of you was so obscene. your arousal pooled beneath you, soaking into your sheets. the more that you fucked your fingers into your cunt, your slick would shoot out of your cunt like you had been stuffed full. there was nowhere else for it to go, the loud splat of your palm making contact with your cunt creating more of a mess with the force you were using.

“Fuck baby, you better fucking cum with me when i say so, do you hear me?” satoru snarled through clenched teeth.

he hissed as he fucked his hand harshly, lightly squeezing his hand to create the same effect that your vixen of a cunt would whenever it clenched tightly around him.

“o-oh, toruuuuuu~” you whined loudly. “gonna- gonna-”

satoru wasn’t in any better of a condition than you were right now. babbling incoherent curses as he goaded you to wait until he was ready to cum with you. it took every fiber of your being to wait for satoru, but once he granted you permission with a tight jaw, you released all over your fingers with a head-splitting whine, riding out your high by carefully listening to the sounds of satoru shooting ropes of cum all over his toned stomach and legs.

FUCK.

satoru’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, black spots clouding his vision as he tried hard to focus his eyes on something random in his hotel room. your legs fell limp, your pussy still in perfect view for him as you threw your head back onto the pillows of your shared bed.

with a shaky sigh, satoru flipped his phone camera to reveal his face. he chuckled softly as his eyes feasted over the sight of your swollen pussy. the white sheen of your cum painted your folds and shimmered under the dim lights of the room. after a few moments, you slowly sat up and grabbed your phone from the spot you perched it on.

“how’s my girl, hm?”

you let out a small scoff and rubbed your still-tired eyes. with a soft giggle you flipped the camera to show your boyfriend the wet mess you had made all over the bed sheets. satoru gasped in disbelief and let out a proud chortle.

“i gotta put the sheets to wash now. is it gross and disgusting if i just sleep on your side and wait until tomorrow morning? i don’t wanna get up to put this shit in the washer,”

satoru smiled and shook his head.

“leave that shit for when i get back baby, i’ll be home in a couple days and i wanna get home and shove my face in it. let it marinate for a bit until i make it home, yeah?”

you let out a high-pitched squeal at his comment and shook your head in disgust. as the both of you giggled to one another, you stood up on shaking legs and started to pull the sheets off the mattress.

“you’re such a perv! i’m putting this shit to wash,”

#x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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sydnikov · 2 years ago

Note

saw you were asking about requests and if that’s still the case: something hurt/comfort where the reader is comforting svech when he finds out he has have to surgery, and helping him through the recovery process.

either established relationship or a feelings realization maybe? whatever you’re most comfortable with.

In Five || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov/Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: Cursing (mild this time), sports injury (torn ACL/ligament), steamy kissing, bad proofreading, so much angst, but don’t worry there’s fluff at the end

A/N: I really tortured myself writing this. The emotions are still high, I hate the Bruins (sorry Bruins followers), and I hope you guys get all the feels as you read this. In all seriousness though, THANK YOU to whoever sent this in because it got me out of my writer’s block. (p.s. I’ve now opened requests to get me more inspired… so go submit stuff!!) anyways, I hope y’all enjoy 😁

It wasn’t bad. Not at first glance—at least that’s what you told yourself from the stands, clenching your fingers so hard they left nail indentations in the middle of your palms.

But you knew. You knew your best friend because you could read him like a book. Every twitch of the eye, a quirk of his lips, they all were a glimpse into his mind of what he was thinking. Andrei is your favorite book, and you just reached the chapter where everything starts to fall apart.

He was trying to hide it, the pain he was feeling from the quick stumble he took at center ice. It was just a small muscle pull, though, right? That’s what you thought, but then you saw him skate to the bench, favoring his right knee with the expression of one who knew he messed up.

Andrei played the rest of the game, but as you headed down to the locker room you couldn’t fight the feeling of dread steadily creeping up your heart.

“Hey,” you greeted a few of the girls leaning against the wall, waiting for their significant others to finish interviews. You were sort of an outcast in that manner, because Andrei wasn’t yours… No matter how much you wanted him to be. “Has he come out yet?” you asked.

The solemn shake of their heads gave you your answer, and you didn’t even bother trying to hide your worry when you leaned back against the wall with them, anxiously chewing your lip. The time came and went, seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to an hour of watching the other Hurricanes players come and go—none of them the man you wanted, no needed to see.

It was times like these where you questioned how you got here, waiting on Andrei like a girlfriend but being firmly stuck in the friend zone. He had never made you feel like anything less because of it, but you felt it aching in your very bones when he’d flash a smile to the girls at the bars you frequented, or when he’d ask you whether the blue shirt or the red shirt would look better on a date with the cute girl he met at a shopping mall.

It was funny, too, because you hadn’t met him any differently than he’s met the other girls he’s taken out. It was at a bar, actually, one in downtown Raleigh not too far of a drive from PNC Arena, and you were nursing a drink with a few friends from work when the place exploded in activity because players from the Carolina Hurricanes had just arrived.

You didn’t ask “who?” like one of your coworkers asked, because you loved hockey and went to a decent amount of games, and you could confidently answer which player had which number. In one game you’d even managed to snag glass seats, and that had been the best night of your life.

Never had you actually met any of the players, though. Odd, considering you had always made it a habit to go out at least once on the weekends, but one fateful Saturday night was when you finally were able to get a good look at the players outside of their hockey uniforms. You were content to merely watch them from a distance, but soon you realized they were just like any other regular bar patrons and soon lost interest in eyeing them a few tables back.

It was as you were ordering another drink that you caught from the corner of your eyes a body settling down on your right, too close to be convenient because there were other open seats far from you. You hadn’t been looking for a hookup that night, though, so you figured playing hard-to-get might ward off any men looking for a quick one-night stand.

“Hi,” the man suddenly spoke, accent too thick to be attributed to intoxication. A foreigner? You met his eyes, your gaze colliding with warm brown that reminded you of the hot chocolate you’d buy to keep your hands warm in the winter. “Drink not up to standards?” he said, leaning against the bar counter to get a better look at you.

Your brain had short-circuited, because wow this guy was good-looking, and it only took another minute of analyzing his features with your tipsy brain to realize you were talking to Andrei Svechnikov, or rather, he was talking to you.

“Not much of a drinker to begin with.” you had replied smoothly, shocking even yourself because talking to attractive men had never been a strong suit. “What about you? What do you drink?”

You and Andrei, who had later introduced himself and to which you responded with a cheeky quirk of your lips, “I know”, had hit it off immediately. You talked for hours that night, unable to shake the undeniable chemistry you had between you until one of your friends ran into you slurring her words and stumbling in place that signaled your outing time was up.

You exchanged numbers that night, and unbeknownst to either of you, your hearts were beating in tandem for days after, and brains spiraling with ‘what ifs’ and ‘I think they like me’. Unfortunately… It had never gone beyond that, because communication was hard to begin with for Andrei without the added challenge of having to speak English, and well–past relationships have made it a little hard for you to put your trust in people.

So, here you were. Confidently able to say that Andrei was one of your closest friends who you just so happened to be in love with, but knowing it would never go beyond that. You’d rather have Andrei in your life as a friend than not at all, right?

That’s what you told yourself when you finally heard the familiar sound of Andrei’s deep voice from the locker room, coming closer and closer as the distance between you decreased.

“No, no,” Andrei said, firmly, finally making his appearance. “No hospital. I feel fine.”

“Son, you’re favoring your knee. You need to go, now.” Head Coach Rod Brind’Amour marched in right behind the left winger. “I let you wait out the rest of the game, that’s what we agreed.”

Andrei remained in place, stubbornly glaring at the older man with the two looking like raging bulls getting ready to charge the other.

“‘Drei?” you finally found the courage to speak, hesitantly stepping forward and breaking the heated glare between the two men. You didn’t even notice until now that the athletic trainer was waiting behind them, phone held to his ear. “What’s going on?”

Immediately, the Russian’s eyes whipped towards you and he stepped back from Rod immediately. He said your name in slight confusion, even embarrassment at being caught in the metaphorical pissing match between him and his coach.

“I—” he licked his lips, struggling to find the words in English. “My knee. It is… Messed up.”

“Messed up?” you said. “What do you mean?”

That’s when Rod popped in. “He took a bit of a stumble on the ice, it didn’t look too serious at first but his knee is hurting.” He turned to glare at Andrei. “He can barely stand on it.”

Andrei clenched his jaw, attempting to shift his weight onto his right knee, but he could barely manage to stand before his face twisted up in pain and he had to use the wall to balance himself.

You stepped up to the Russian, worriedly wringing your hands together before stilling them to grab your stubborn friend's arm. “You’re too stubborn for your own good,” you smiled wryly, attempting to mask your worry with a small tease.

Andrei towered over you, but his size had always made you feel safe rather than scared, and that applied to now, roo. “I am fine, darling,” he murmured the pet name in Russian, his voice matching the softness of his eyes he could never hide when looking at you. Sometimes he’d speak in his native tongue in front of you because he knew you didn’t understand, and the scowl on your face afterward always made him laugh.

But, even though he was definitely not fine, he could barely take having to bother his teammates and coaches with his issues, nonetheless you. He didn't want you to see him so weak, at least not like this.

“My knee is just stiff. Sore.” he shot a look towards Rod, who up until this moment had been staring at the wall to give the two of you privacy. “It is not that bad, I am sure of it.”

“Then you’ll go to the hospital to get it checked out since it’s ‘not that bad’.” Rod deadpanned, finally breaking the bubble of tension that always seemed to surround you and Andrei when together.

“I agree with him, Andrei,” you said, placing another hand on his arm to gain his attention. “You need to get it looked at, at the very least.”

You gave him your best puppy eyes, peering up at him as he stood over you. You could see the hesitation on his face, knowing his protesting was mostly because he hated bothering others with his problems.

“If not for your career, do it for me?” you said, attempting to bring back his smile by poking him in the chest. “Please?”

A moment of silence, you staring at Andrei and Andrei staring at you…

“—fine.”

He agreed, but his knee was not fine as he said it was. It was bad because it wasn’t actually his knee that had been causing his pain, but rather a torn ligament connected to the knee that turned out to be the ACL in his right leg.

And Andrei was devastated. You weren’t allowed to be in the room with him while they checked him out because he needed an MRI, but Martin and Seth were and it was them who came up to you in the hallway, grim looks on their faces as they broke the news. You could hear the raised voices of both Andrei and Brind’Amour shouting from the room.

You couldn’t see Andrei’s face, but you felt your heart breaking for him anyways as the doctor probably told him how long his recovery would take, the physical therapy he would need to endure, and the amount of time he wouldn’t be able to play hockey for.

“Nine months,” Andrei said, angrily typing away on his phone to his brother, Evgeny, probably. “Maybe six if I am lucky.”

You remained silent, watching him from the kitchen counter at a loss for words. You had offered to drive Andrei home, unofficially taking on the role of caretaker since Martin lived with his girlfriend and Seth was, well… Seth.

Andrei was on the couch, dressed in an old Hurricanes hoodie with shorts, his right leg propped up on a stool wrapped in a temporary cast. His face was flushed, and his hair messy from all the times he had run his hands through it. You knew he was in pain, both mentally and physically, but it really was unfair how he still managed to look so attractive all throughout.

Leg cast and all included.

“Is that what the doctor said?” you asked, finally gaining the courage to speak as you crossed the room. You carefully sat on the couch next to him, not wanting to jostle his leg.

The Russian dropped his phone on his lap, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes before gazing at you with determination. “Yes. But I’m going to be better in five.”

You finally cracked a smile, there’s the ‘Drei you knew and loved, your first one since hearing the news and bringing him back to his house. Andrei couldn’t help but grin, feeling the fondness for you in his heart grow. You were so good to him, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his feelings to himself while you stayed with him.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t mind having you stay with him for the rest of the year, though. Andrei was selfish, and he was also possessive, so he liked having you to himself. He considered Martin and Seth and Sebastian his good friends, his teammates, his bros if you will, but you were his. His best friend, his best girl—you were the only one he wanted, and maybe this new living situation would give him the opportunity to finally tell you.

Andrei just hoped you felt the same. He wouldn’t be able to stand losing you because he couldn’t keep his heart under control.

“Well, you know I’ll be here to help you get through it.” You stated with conviction, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze and your heart beating all the while.

You held your unspoken promise, especially on the day of his surgery a little less than a week after his prognosis. It was an early surgery on a Thursday morning, and you even called off work so you could be at the hospital with him when he woke up.

You already knew most of your friends and family were wondering why you were putting so much effort into caring for someone who was just a friend, and if you were being honest you didn’t have much of an answer to give them. They had a point after all, right?

You and Andrei were just friends. That was it. You may be in love with him (now more than ever), and you definitely omitted that little detail during past conversations, but still. Friends move in with each other to help recover from big injuries all the time.

This time with Andrei was no different, and you had to repeat this mantra over and over again in your head as the anesthesia slowly wore off and his eyes were so soft and droopy, mumbling his words and his accent was thicker than ever and your heart was beating so fast it was going to jump out of your chest–

“Thank you for being here with me,” Andrei slurred, gazing up at you with those warm, half-lidded eyes.

You grabbed his hand, gently, lacing your fingers together and squeezing once. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Andrei squeezed back once before losing consciousness, his eyes closing and his head lolling back against the pillow. “That’s normal, right?” You asked the nurse, who was busy writing on a clipboard. She only had to look up once to take in the situation before responding.

“Everyone responds to anesthesia differently. Your boyfriend is just one of many who has to sleep it off.”

You felt your stomach drop, your eyes widening only slightly at the nurse’s casual use of ‘boyfriend’. Of course, that’s what you and your best friend must have looked like to her, right? You, holding Andrei’s hand, and he gazing up at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

It was probably just the drugs in his system. Definitely.

Andrei was cleared to leave the hospital the next day, and you heard the news from the group chat you, Martin, and Seth were in. It was comically titled, ‘Andrei’s bobble-leg’, courtesy of Seth, of course, and it was essentially just the three of you coordinating who has Andrei duty on the days you weren’t able to be with him.

Unfortunately, the day he was able to go home was the day you had to be back at work, so Martin and Seth left their morning skate early to drive him home. And so, here you were now, finally off from work and driving down Capital Blvd road to Andrei’s home.

Martin, Seth, and surprisingly quite a few of the players were already there when you arrived. You knocked on the front door before letting yourself in, curiosity written all over your face as you walked closer to all the noise.

Happy shouts of your name rang across the room when you appeared in the doorway, and your face flushed red in embarrassment at all the eyes suddenly upon you. “Hey guys,” you said, eyes scanning around the room looking for the only man you really cared about.

Finally, you found him. Andrei was seated on his couch, leg safely propped up on the ottoman and wrapped in tight bandages and a brace. He had an Xbox controller in his hand, the video game he was previously playing on pause.

“How was work?” Sebastian asked from the right of Andrei, also holding a controller. There were several bags of chips laid out across the ottoman, and both men were currently snacking.

It was probably against their diet, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell them that, especially Andrei.

“Work,” you finally responded, rather dry. Most of the population, including you, unfortunately, were not lucky enough to play the sport they loved as their job.

A few chuckles and about an hour later, everyone began packing up to leave. Somehow, you had gravitated toward Andrei during this time of catching up with his teammates and ended up on the couch next to him, on his left. His arm was casually strewn across the back of the couch, fingertips playing with the ends of your hair and occasionally brushing against your neck, sending shivers up your spine.

You liked to pretend it was just you harboring feelings for him sometimes because it was less scary, but every day that fantasy was getting harder and harder to live… Especially when you would turn your head to catch a peek at his side profile, and he was already staring as if knowing the effect he had on you.

“How’s your leg feeling?” You asked once you heard the front door shut, signaling the exit of the last guest. It was silent other than the TV playing softly in the background, it having changed from Call of Duty to a rerun of Friends some time ago.

Andrei sighed, attempting to hide his emotional turmoil with a smile. Bringing his arm down from the back of the couch, he tentatively rested it on your shoulders, gauging your reaction before bringing you to his side. He’s been an affectionate person since you first met him, so you were used to the random hand-holding or hugs, but it still never failed to make you long for something more.

He patted his leg gently, careful not to disturb it from where it rested. “Hurts. But that is to be expected, no?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t suck.” You said, your voice nothing more than a murmur. You rested your head against his shoulder, tugging at a loose string on one of your sleeves.

The hockey player didn’t respond, instead, he placed one of his big hands on your shoulder and squeezed, a sign he at least heard your attempt at reassurance. Time passed quickly like this; Friends continued playing, as did your position tucked into Andrei’s side.

You felt at peace, and while he didn’t say it with words you could tell the Russian beside you felt the same. Hopefully, the next few months of healing will just fly by.

And they did, at first. But even though the Carolina Hurricanes were missing one of their star players, the games must go on. His teammates went out on the ice, each and every one of them feeling Andrei’s absence keenly.

You felt it too, as the Boston Bruins scored their fourth and final goal of the night, winning the game in a shootout. The hope immediately dissipated within your chest and in rose frustration and disappointment to take its place, but you were sure that was nothing compared to what Andrei was feeling beside you.

The entirety of the game, your hand was wrapped in Andrei’s, his squeezing down when the Bruins scored their first goals in regulation and releasing to clap when we were finally able to tip the puck in. Then the team came back in the third period—you weren’t sure what Brind’Amour had said to the boys during the second intermission, but whatever he said had worked.

The Hurricanes had been controlling the puck in the Bruins’ zone, something they had failed to do in the first two periods. They were passing, aiming, shooting, scoring, first by Skjei in the corner of the net and then by Aho on a tight pass from Martinook that slipped right past Swayman’s shoulder.

It was looking so good because Andersen had finally gotten his head in the game and the defense had stepped up, but then we went past overtime scoreless, and then to the fateful shootout.

You had felt the anxiousness from every fan in the arena. If anyone was an avid Hurricanes watcher, including you, they knew shootouts had never been this hockey team’s strong suit.

Andrei’s frustration was palpable next to you. His left leg was bouncing up and down for the entirety, and you could see the muscles tensing and untensing in his right leg as if he had wanted to move. It only got worse when Brind’Amour sent Burns out first, something that had you, Andrei, and every single Hurricanes fan in the arena watching on in confusion.

“No, no,” you had heard the Russian mutter from next to you. “Why is he sending Brent? He needs to send Fishy, or Turbo—” the words then died in his mouth as Brent missed as everyone knew would happen, and sadly Teuvo, who went out next, did too.

Unfortunately for us, the Bruins had good goal-scorers. Coyle had slipped the puck past Andersen, as did DeBrusk, and then it was done. Game over. Just like that.

You finally turned to face the man next to you just as his head fell into his hands, tugging at his hair and messing up the gel you forced him to put on because no, Andrei, you can’t show up with bedhead. He was muttering words you couldn’t understand, most likely the creative Russian curses you heard him say on occasion.

If this game had been hard to watch for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how Andrei was feeling.

“‘Drei,” you said, tentatively. “Are you—”

“No. Don’t.” He snapped, rubbing at his eyes before unsteadily rising to stand. His right leg shook, but he refused the arm you held out and didn’t dare to look in your eyes to see what look they held. As he tried to reach for his crutches, his leg buckled from underneath him, and this time you ignored the hurt of him lashing out to put your arms around his back to steady him.

“Can we— Is it okay if…” he struggled to speak, his accent thick with emotion as he struggled to find the words. Andrei had never been good at communicating when upset, literally, because everything always came to him in Russian naturally, and this time was no different. “Leave? Can we leave?”

“What about—”

“No. No team. No reporters.” he said, digging his fingers into the back of his jersey you were wearing.

You softened, gently maneuvering your body so you could face him better. Now you were chest-to-chest, your arms still wrapped around his midsection to keep him steady. “What do you want then, Andrei?”

“Home,” he murmured. “Home. With you.” he wasn’t able to convey it right at this moment, but his heart was pounding as he said the words. To him, to anyone in his culture, this was the closest he could come to expressing his love without outright saying it.

He found he wasn’t scared about finally admitting this out loud, either, because you were his home. Everything about you was home because he wouldn’t dare let anyone else except his brother and mama see him so vulnerable.

Of course, you were oblivious. He normally found it cute, but right now he wanted to shake you because all he wanted right now was to hold you in his arms and kiss you as he found comfort in your presence.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, the double meaning of his words flying right over your head. But something emboldened you, gave you the courage to raise your hands to his shoulders so you could reach up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, right next to the corner of his lips.

“Let’s go home, ‘kay?”

The ride home was silent, comforting even despite the rough loss the team took. By the time you finally managed to get to the car, the two of you were struggling to keep your eyes open and also keep your hands off each other. Andrei tangling your hands together, you gently leaning against his side…

It was all surface-level, neither wanting to speak the words out loud but yet not wanting to sacrifice the innocent, physical intimacy you found with each other. This was all racing through your mind the closer you got to Andrei’s house, and you were almost positive he was thinking the same.

Andrei, in fact, was actually contemplating the one-hundred different ways he was going to kiss you, if he ever gets to that stage with you. He was currently facing the window but left enough room at the corner of his eyes to take little peeks at you, only fuelling his determination to do something about the tension between you.

And, yeah, maybe he was hyperfixating on you to distract him from the fact his team lost and if he was down on the ice he knew he would have been able to fix it, been able to score. His emotions had skyrocketed since the game ended, and everything felt so much more intense than usual.

Maybe that was just the pain medication he was on, though…

After you finally arrived at Andrei’s house, it took a little bit over an hour to finally get yourselves ready for bed. The problem? Neither of you were ready for any sort of sleeping, and you both knew it.

Currently, Andrei was leaning back into the couch, his right leg once again propped up on the ottoman and a blanket haphazardly thrown over his lap. You were next to him, legs comfortably tucked underneath you with a few inches of space left between you and Andrei.

There was half a family-sized bag of Doritos in between you that he said was in his pantry, so you were both currently snacking on them while watching the NHL channel. It was quiet other than for the TV, for neither of you were speaking a word for fear of breaking the thick silence between you.

The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, and what made it even worse is that you didn’t think Andrei even noticed. He was wrapped up in his phone, most likely watching the game recap because his face was twisted up and his whole body seemed tense.

You shoved another Dorito in your mouth. Fuck. You were so, so screwed. You needed to get it together before you said something you regretted, especially since you had temporarily become his roommate.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and spoke. “Andrei?” you said, hesitantly looking towards him.

“What?” he responded after a moment, not taking his eyes away from his phone.

Now you felt uncomfortable. Before, in the arena, he was looking at you like he loved you, but now he was snappy and tense and worse than normal because his team lost without him being able to play.

Picking at the skin around your nails, you attempted scooting down the couch before just giving up and moving to stand. “Nevermind,” you said with a mutter, feeling withdrawn and defeated. If he didn’t want to open up to you, fine, but you didn’t deserve to have him take out his frustration on you.

At least, not like this.

Andrei didn’t even respond, furthering your feelings of bitterness towards the man you had so many feelings for. Wrapping your hands in the long sleeves of his hoodie you were still wearing, you shuffled down the hallway and into the guest room you claimed as your own.

You could still hear the TV playing in the background, but that was the only sound in the otherwise silent house. You blinked the frustration from your eyes and crawled underneath the bed sheets, scrolling on your phone until you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed of restless tossing and turning, and then suddenly it was three in the morning and you were being woken up by countless knocks on your door.

“The fuck?” you muttered sleepily, crawling out of the cocoon of blankets you were in to answer your door. For whatever reason, your sleep-addled brain wasn’t able to comprehend that it was probably Andrei on the other side. “Andrei?” you said, confused as the Russian leaned against the wall.

He looked rather sheepish, slightly embarrassed. His hair was ruffled, and the TV was still playing so he probably fell asleep on the couch.

“Oh, shit,” you said, suddenly realizing that he was probably here because he needed help. Of course. That was all it was. “I’m such an idiot, sorry,” you breathed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you stepped out of the room. “C’mon, I’ll help you get in bed.”

Andrei stopped you with a hand, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find words. “No, that is not it.” he finally settled on.

Okay, now you were curious. “Huh?”

“I am sorry.”

What?

“For what?” You asked, staring up at him wide-eyed. You were honestly too tired for a heavy conversation like this so you were struggling to keep up.

Andrei swallowed the lump in his throat. His leg was currently throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing in his heart as he looked at you. Your hair was all over the place in the most endearing way, and your eyes were droopy in a way that told him you were just sleeping.

“For not treating you right, for—” He cut himself off, sighing in frustration. Why was English so complicated? If only you understood English. “English is stupid.” he muttered, then released a big sigh and steeled his resolve.

Stepping closer, he brought the two of you chest-to-chest and brought his arms to cage you against the wall.

And you, you meanwhile, let out the most embarrassing noise possible when he suddenly got close, and then Andrei was everywhere and nowhere all at once. His body was trapping you in, and while your senses were on overdrive you strangely enough didn't feel like fleeing.

“Andrei?” You squeaked, sinking further into the wall if it was possible. Your eyes dropped, finding the center of his chest to firmly set your gaze. His eyes were so dark, intimidating, and swimming with an intention you were nervous to find out. “What are you doing?”

“Look at me, please?” A large hand smoothed against your skin, gently tilting your head up. Your eyes automatically locked with his, and the emotion on his face had you gasping. “There’s my girl,” He said.

Okay, yeah, your body was frozen, the breath leaving your lungs in a torrent of sharp breaths. This… This was new territory, for the both of you, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Andrei looked so calm while you looked like a startled deer—an unattractive one, at that.

He started speaking, heart thundering while the words poured from his throat like warm, melted butter. “I’m in love with you. You are my person, I knew from the very first moment I saw you in that bar so many months ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but tonight, having you next to me… You’ve always been next to me, and I’ve taken advantage of that. Darling, I want to make up for all the times I never kissed you senseless, and I want nothing more than to have you as mine, and I yours.”

Your favorite music, your favorite voice, words so filled with emotion and yet you couldn’t even understand him as he looked at you like you were his sun, and he a plant desperately seeking your warmth. Andrei had only spoken in Russian a handful of times in front of you – most being curses or quips exchanged with Pyotr – and never had he spoken so much of it.

You’d always thought Russian was rather harsh. The sharp whistles, clicks of the tongue, hissing of certain words; you admired anyone who could speak it, but it had never been an easy language to listen to you. But, when Andrei spoke Russian… It was soft, almost musical, and expressive to the point you felt like you could understand the very subject at hand if you thought about it. Maybe you were just biased, but you swore you fell more in love with him every time he spoke it.

“No words?” he said, a grin on his face that made you realize you’d maybe been silent for a little too long.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You were breathless— literally.

“I show you, then, what I said,” Andrei brushed his fingers against the side of your neck, almost fully grasping it as he gently brought you closer. You had no complaints, though. “Yes?”

He said your name again, looking at you with those warm eyes so full of depth they hypnotized you and had you nodding yes, almost instinctively.

Andrei sucked in a breath, tightening his grip on you only slightly as he slid his hand around the back of your head. Your lips were slightly parted, shiny and red from where you’d been biting them previously, and that cupid’s bow that always drove him crazy when you smiled was quirked upwards as if it was asking him to kiss you.

He waited a moment, stared into your eyes, his fingers merely a whisper of a touch against your cheek, and finally took the leap. The first touch of his lips was shy, testing, but then you whimpered with need and tugged at his shirt to bring him closer and Andrei had an internal moment of fuck it where he realized just how crazy he was for you. Pressing you into the wall, he nipped at your bottom lip and was granted entrance with a gasp drowned out by the sound of his own groan. He put every ounce of his passion and love and relief into this kiss as if trying to convince you to stay because this, this here? It was worth it—you were worth it. Fireworks, electricity, butterflies, and everything all at once was igniting in your gut and caused you to let out a pathetic whimper the moment your lips finally detached. He was clearly skilled at this, wholeheartedly controlling the moment as his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin that met your collarbone.

“‘Drei,” you gasped, clutching the hair right at his scalp – when did you move your arms around his neck? – as he sucked a mark under your jaw. “Hm?” he hummed, not stopping with his ministrations.

“What,” you said, throat dry and raspy as you tried to speak over the sound of your beating heart. “What did you say— oh,”

Andrei’s grin was almost feral as he drew the beautiful sound from your lips. “Found it,” he said, voice full of pride as he brushed his fingers against the newly-found sweet spot on your neck.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed his head in between your hands, bringing his head to yours so you could press a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips before pulling back to gather your thoughts because you had a lot of them.

Andrei pouted the moment you pulled him away but respected your boundaries and merely rested his hands on your waist to keep you close. He said your name gently, his tone bordering on questioning. “Did I… Did I push too far?” he said.

“No, no, not at all,” you rushed to correct him, already having caught the guilt in his eyes. “I just want to know what you said earlier, before you— you know.” It felt almost taboo to say ‘before you kissed the life out of me’, not wanting to break this delicate balance you found yourself in.

The Russian hummed, already catching on to your bashfulness and deciding to tease you for it. “No, darling, I think you need to remind me,” he brought a hand up to loosely wrap around your neck, the contact keeping you grounded. “On what I did before what?”

“Andrei,” you said, immediately dropping eye contact as your face flushed red. “You’re being a tease,” you muttered.

He dipped his head, brushing your lips together as he spoke. You felt his breath against your skin and had the sudden desire to taste him again. “I can do this all night, but the question is can you?”

You gave up at that because the moment he spoke he drew back and you couldn’t stand the feeling of not having him close to you anymore. “Andrei,” you sucked in a breath. “What did you say before you kissed me? In Russian?”

“I love you,” Andrei didn’t miss a beat as he crept his other hand farther up your waist. “That is mostly what I said. And more.”

“More?” you squeaked out as he drew closer.

The hockey player hummed, then suddenly stepped back and grabbed your hand. “Much more,” he confirmed. “Now—bed?” Short, sweet, and to the point Andrei always was…

Just one of the many things you loved about him.

Twenty minutes later you lay in Andrei’s bed, swallowed in another one of his shirts, and curled into his chest. His arm was wrapped around your waist, stroking gentle circles into the skin exposed to the room. It was silent, null except for the steady hum of the air conditioning and the gentle breathing of two humans reveling in each other’s presence.

“I miss it,” he said, suddenly speaking up. You lifted your head only slightly from his chest, already missing the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. “Hockey. And I miss playing with my brothers.”

Brothers. Your heart broke at hearing the longing in his voice, because every single player on the team he played with was his family, in one way or another, and now he was being forced to watch them play the sport he had no chance of helping them win.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he was feeling.

“I know, Andrei,” was what you finally settled on. Your voice was soft, gentle, trying to convey your understanding with actions rather than words. You drew tiny circles on his chest, taking pride in the way goosebumps rose in your fingers’ wake. “I know.”

He tightened his grip on you, holding you closer to him as if he were afraid you’d disappear. “Will you be here?” he suddenly asked, frowning. Andrei knew he was being slightly irrational, feeling so vulnerable, but he really hadn’t felt secure in himself since first tearing his ACL.

What was his purpose in life, really, if not to play hockey and have you with him?

You hadn’t yet spoken, so he quickly clarified. “In the morning. And all the mornings after.”

A smile broke across your face as you buried your head into his chest. You felt the rumble of his chest as he chuckled, and then he shifted to where you were laying on top of his chest so he could see your face. “All the mornings, huh?” you asked, feeling bashful.

Andrei grinned, his tongue poking out from behind his teeth, knowing the effect he had on you. “Every one,” he replied. “If you will have me.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

And you meant it, truly, with every fiber of your being. The next months were going to be rough, the ones where you’d have to be there for Andrei as he watched his team ultimately compete and fall through in the playoffs especially.

But you knew the two of you could do it. Andrei was nothing if not committed, even through all the arguments, tears, and emotional breakdowns, you were there for each other through the long haul.

And Andrei, meanwhile, after many difficult months down the road, had the biggest smile on his face as the doctors told him it was a miracle.

Because he had healed from his ACL injury in five.

fin

A/N: Before my medical professionals come at me, YES I KNOW acl injuries take up to a year to recover from almost all of the time, but for the sake of this fic just pls ignore that little fact 😭 in all seriousness though, I can’t wait till our favorite Russian gets to play again bc I miss him sm. As always, please leave likes, reblogs, and comments. Ily all <33

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