#and every day i wake up and find something new to obsess over that they dont know or get and its just a cycle

[joongieology]

2U | Jeong Yunho

Pairing: Jeong Yunho X Reader

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags/Warnings: University AU(?), cussing, mention of violence, possessive!Yunho, obsessive tendencies (please let me know if I missed something!)

Sypnosis: You're sure that your best friend has always been kind and friendly with everyone, so when you found out otherwise, you did not want to believe it, or maybe you're in denial.

Song Recommendation: 2U by Justin Bieber

Note: I've been working on this for a while. The idea behind this story is so good but I'm not sure if I delivered it properly >_< Anyways, happy reading!!

¡Disclaimer: The following content is a work of fiction and does NOT represent the written member in any way!

You've known Yunho since, like, forever. You can't even remember how you first met him, just that you've known him since you were in grade school. Wherever you are, he'd be there too. You two were inseparable. So when you got accepted to the university you've always dreamt of attending, and he didn't, he was beyond devastated.

You were sitting side by side on the couch of your apartment when you checked the results. You squealed in happiness seeing that you got accepted. You immediately looked over Yunho with a big smile, but it slowly disappeared when you saw his expression. He was just sitting there silently, disappointment evident in his eyes, with a hint of...anger? But his expression changed right away when he heard your voice.

"Yuyu?" You called out to him slowly, gently tapping him on the shoulder. He always loves it when you call him by the nickname you made for him; it sounds almost angelic when it comes from your lips. It's as if he is an angel himself, or so you thought. He looked over to you and gave you a tight smile.

"I didn't get in. I got waitlisted." He almost couldn't get the words out; it felt like something was blocking his throat. Just thinking about you being away from him and being surrounded by other people, especially men, made him want to pull his hair out.

You hugged him from the side, slowly caressing his arm, trying to comfort him.

"That's alright; we can still meet from time to time. Every day, or maybe five times a week, or on the weekends, if we're not too busy..." You tried to sound convincing, but even you were sad with the thought of being away from Yunho. You were always together that you forgot the feeling of being alone, so the idea of not having him by your side in a new school, a new environment, tormented you.

The university was far from where you currently live, so it would be quite hard to see each other much, considering you'll also have to stay at the dorm once college starts. Unless he finds another school in the same city the university is at.

You pulled away from the hug, thinking about other ways to comfort him.

"Would you like to stay over...?"

Yunho staying over is nothing new. He always sleeps over when it gets too late while you're having a movie marathon, completely forgetting about the time. He almost always sleeps on the couch, except that one time.

You were at the kitchen, getting some water because you were parched from bingeing your current favourite TV show, when someone knocked at the door. You looked at the clock; it's currently two in the morning. Who could be here at this hour? You peeked through the peephole to find no one. Okay, now, what the fu— Your line of thoughts was interrupted when you heard another pair of knocks. "Y/N." Someone from the other side of the door whispered, so low you almost didn't hear it. Yunho. You opened the door to find a nearly zombie-like looking Yunho. He was crouching down, back towards the door. He looked up at you from his position and grinned. "Hi." He said with a smile, standing, then hugging you, practically putting all his weight on you. He reeks of alcohol. "Yuyu, can you stand properly? You're so big, and you're putting all your weight on me!" You whisper-shouted, not wanting to wake your neighbours. He giggled like a kid while you're still struggling trying to hold him up. He attempted to stand properly and started walking to your bedroom, but he ended up walking in zigzag. When he finally got to your room, he removed his shoes, shirt, and pants, leaving only his boxers on, then lay down on your bed. Even when drunk, he still remembered how you dislike getting on the bed with outside clothes on. You felt your cheeks flush. You shut your eyes and turned around. Inhale, exhale. This would've been nothing to you if your friendship was purely platonic, which it was until it wasn't. You honestly don't know when, but one day, you just started to look at Yunho...differently. You're suddenly aware of every little thing he did for you that you weren't aware of when you only saw him as your best friend. Like remembering the things you like, you don't like, and doing things for you—for your convenience. But of course, you wouldn't dare confess your feelings to him, fearing that it might ruin your lifelong friendship. You faced the bed, eyes still shut but peeking a little, and you walked towards Yunho and covered him with your blanket. You stared at him peacefully sleeping on your bed, in your apartment, with nothing but a pair of boxer shorts on. He looked like a prince. You went over to the other side of the bed, lifting the blanket to get under it, when your eyes caught something purple on the side of his waist. It was a bruise. What did he do? Where was he? Why does he have a bruise like this? You took note of asking him tomorrow about this and also putting a cold compress on it, then you went to bed.

After that night, you asked him about the bruise, but he just shrugged it off and told you that he just bumped into something and not to worry too much about it. You did not press further because he looked like he didn't want to talk about it at all.

"Would that be alright...?" He answered you with a question.

"Yeah, I mean, you often sleep over anyway; it's no big deal."

He showed you a smile and kissed you on the forehead, like he always does.

-~-

It was officially the first day of college, and you stood in front of the gate, mentally preparing yourself for the new environment you'll be facing. No Yunho, no nothing, just you and the infinity necklace he had given you before you moved over to the dorm—and your things of course.

While walking, you looked around, scanning the buildings, trying to look for the building name written at the schedule given to you, which was saved to your phone.

You bumped into someone looking as confused as you.

"Are you a freshman, too?" You build up the courage and start the conversation. If you want to make friends, better make one now.

"Yeah," she answered, looking awkward.

You glanced at her phone and saw the exact same schedule as yours.

"Oh! We're classmates!" Excitement was evident in your tone. At least you'll have a friend among your classmates, or so you hope.

You looked for your building together, almost getting a headache from going around the campus. When you finally found the building, you immediately went to your room, and class started.

Lunch came, and you went to the cafeteria with your newfound friend. You were peacefully munching on your lunch—thinking about what Yunho would be doing right now—when someone placed their lunch beside yours. You smelt his perfume and instantly knew.

"Hi." He was smiling yet again.

"You—why—what are you doing here??" You don't know what to ask first. You were just genuinely happy he was here. Even when other students that were sitting near your table started to scatter away while murmuring something among themselves, you still didn't care.

You hugged Yunho around his neck.

"I go here now."

"What—how??"

"Long story. Don't worry about it. What's important is I'm here now, right?" He uncapped a drink—your favourite drink—and placed it in your hands.

You nodded, sipping on the drink. You glanced over at your friend sitting beside you, her face pale with shock written all over it, while staring at Yunho.

"What's wrong?" You asked, concerned.

"N-nothing." She gave you a tight smile and went back to eating.

Odd. You gazed at Yunho, and he just gave you a shrug with that infamous smile of his, urging you to finish eating.

The next few days went by. You were thrilled to have Yunho at the same school. You always hung out together, sometimes bringing your friend along with you. Yunho didn't seem to mind, saying, 'As long as you're happy.'.

College was actually tolerable, better than you imagined. Your friend invited you to go to a party on Friday night, insisting you bring Yunho too.

You talked about this with Yunho. At first he was reluctant, claiming your friend is not trustworthy and you shouldn't be hanging out with her too much, but eventually, he agreed.

The place of the party was not too far away from the university. It was a big house with a pool in the backyard and a beautiful garden at the front. It was packed, some people dancing, some just hanging out drinking beer or heavy liquor, some kissing, and some smoking...weed?

Is this a fucking frat party?!

Well, might as well have fun; besides, Yunho is here with you anyway, so nothing will happen... right?

Your friend dragged you and Yunho to what you assumed was the kitchen and handed each of you a beer she got from the cooler.

You drink occasionally, most of the time with Yunho, but you've never really been a heavy drinker. Him, on the other hand, has a high tolerance; that's why you were surprised when he came to you drunk that night.

You were getting pretty dizzy when Yunho snatched the can of beer you were holding. It was your third, halfway done. You leaned onto his chest, and a whiff of his perfume reached your senses, causing you to giggle.

"Gosh, you smell sooo good~~." You were still giggling, looking up at him, eyes half-lidded. He took a glance at your plump lips and gulped.

Oh, you have no idea what you do to him.

He wished he could kiss you right there and then, make you feel good like you've never felt before, claim you as his, and submit himself to you, but he held back, not wanting to scare you away, not knowing you felt the same way he did.

You stared at each other, silently relaying your love for one another, hoping the other would just snap and let go.

One...

Two...

Three...

And you pulled away, excusing yourself to the bathroom. You locked the door and stared at your reflection.

Y/N, just tell him already!!

You wanted to pull your hair out of frustration, but you tried to calm down.

What if he doesn't feel the same way? What if he likes someone else and just sees me as his friend? Never mind.

You composed yourself before going out and heading back to the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks when you heard your friend and Yunho's voice.

"What the fuck is so special about her that you'd do all that for her?" You heard your friend's voice.

"She's everything I want; she's everything to me, something you'll never be." Yunho's tone was so low, it almost scared you.

You've never been scared of Yunho once in your life; he has always been so nice and gentle towards you. He never did something that would scare you in any way, so you assumed he was like that with everyone else.

"I wonder what her reaction would be if she finds out what you're doing behind her back." She mocked Yunho.

"I fucking dare you; I won't even look your way if not for her. She considered you her "friend" that's why I've tried to put up with you, but this fucking stops now. Stop throwing yourself at me and don't show yourself in front of us ever again, or"—you heard him step forward—"I'll fucking make you."

She actually tried to throw herself at him?

Bitch.

You heard footsteps, and then there he is, looking at you with a shocked expression, eyes as round as they can be, mouth slightly agape. Then you closed the distance between you and...

You kissed him.

You're kissing him.

You're kissing Jeong Yunho.

Fucking finally.

You had to tiptoe to reach his lips. When he recovered from the shock, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, and kissed you deeper, more passionately. He's been waiting all his life for this, and he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass.

When you ran out of air, you pulled away from him slightly.

"I have something to tell you." He spoke first, gulping, thinking about what your reaction would be. This is it.

He led you to the poolside and sat there, folding his pants so as not to get them wet, then dipped his feet in the pool. He removed his denim jacket and placed it beside him, patting it, signalling you to sit on it. You obeyed, dipping your feet as well, the cold hitting you immediately.

Then he confessed. Confessed everything he's been doing since he met you. Like pushing away other kids so you'll only play with him. Threatening other guys to never pursue you or even look your way. Fighting with other guys when they said something bad or sexual about you. And the most recent thing is having to beat up someone just so he'll get in the same university as you.

You tried to process everything, trying to take in the new information. You honestly don't know what to feel, a surge of emotions hitting you all at the same time. You never knew he was so possessive of you; well, of course you knew that he wanted all your attention on him, but not to that extent.

Were you so naive to not notice all that? How is he so cold towards everyone and only kind towards you? How much he dislikes it when someone tries to get your attention! All the subtle glances and hand gestures he does behind your back, trying to warn others to not disturb you? Were you really? You never noticed all that? Or maybe you did; you just never cared because it benefitted you. You never cared as long as he's with you. You never cared as long as you always got your way. You ignored everything for the sake of you and your relationship with each other. And maybe, just maybe, you are just as crazy as him.

Feedbacks are highly appreciated!!

[beegalactica]

real 'glow up' advice i wish i had

Imagine getting to the point in life where YOU are your own vision board; where you are that girl who has the life that you want, and you don't have to seek it out through other people. That should be the ultimate goal.

Here are subtle things that you should be doing to channel your ideal person and improve yourself for the better FROM THE INSIDE

take care of your hygiene: brush your teeth every day, wash your face with soap, wash your hair, take meaningful showers

be kind to yourself: speak nicely to yourself, treat yourself every now and then, love yourself exactly the way you came

make the effort: do your hair and wear something cute, even if you're only going to the supermarket. I bet your ideal self looks stunning wherever she goes, so make that effort if you really want to become her

move your body: dance to some music for just 5 minutes, take a walk, get off the bus a (reasonable) few stops earlier and walk the rest of the way

romanticise the hell out of your life: wear those bows, create that vision board, play that aesthetic background music even if you're just washing the dishes, wear that outfit!!!!!

admire yourself: look at yourself in the mirror and remember what you look like, take a million selfies to look back and smile at, give yourself a compliment every time you pass your reflection

get creative: if you want cute decor, make it! if you want cute clothes, find some easy DIYs!

focus on what you can control: if you cannot change the situation, let it resolve itself. don't waste your precious time obsessing over something you cannot change

get to know yourself (again): rediscover your hobbies, try new activities, learn to appreciate your solitude, get out of your shell

I really wish I was part of a community like this when I was going through a really insecure and lonely phase of my life.

Instead of deciding to wake up a 3am every day from now on, and trying to reach 20k steps every day, start small and walk your way up to greatness!

[plant-cell-park]

if any of the friends i play valorant with hear my unfiltered opinions on online multiplayer games and especially valorant

[sherewrytes]

Gang member Eren x Introvert black reader

Summary: In a dangerous urban landscape, y/n, an introverted Criminal Law student, finds herself drawn into the violent world of the Sixx Gang through her protective cousin, Onyankopon. When she locks eyes with Eren Yeager, a hot-headed gang member, a twisted game of desire and danger begins.

As Eren becomes obsessed with y/n, he threatens to unravel the fragile balance Ony has maintained to shield her from their brutal lifestyle. With loyalty tested and violence lurking at every turn, the lines between love and danger blur, leading to a dark climax where the heart proves just as lethal as a gun.

Genre: Dark Romance/Crime Modern au

Warnings: Graphic violence, drug use, smut, obsession

idk if i may turn this into a short multichapter fic or not.

On da lookout

Y/n wasn’t one to mingle much with the people in her neighborhood. She kept to herself, except for her small circle of friends and family. Growing up in this part of town meant she knew when to stay quiet and when to speak. And lately, her routine had been simple—wake up, go to her university classes, come home to her family’s run-down house, and try to pretend the world outside wasn’t filled with gang violence.

Today was no different.

The sun was beginning to set when y/n got back to her block. The air was thick with tension, as always. Gunshots had rung out a few blocks over just last night, and the familiar sounds of sirens still echoed in the distance.

She pushed open the creaky iron gate to her front yard, her eyes immediately landing on her cousin, Onyankopon. He was leaned back on the steps, rolling a fat blunt, talking casually with the guys posted up near the house. His presence was both a comfort and a warning. No one messed with her here—not with Onyankopon around. He’d been in the Sixx gang since they were kids, and over time, he became one of their heavy hitters.

But there was someone new with him today. Someone she hadn’t seen before. Her eyes landed on him—Eren Yeager.

Eren’s presence was undeniable. Long brown hair tucked behind his ears, diamond studs glittering in the low light, his jaw sharp and lined with a smirk that never quite left his face. Tattoos crawled up his arms, disappearing beneath his black sleeveless shirt, and the switch sitting casually on his lap sent a shiver down her spine. Not hidden. Not tucked away. Just out in the open like it was nothing, resting like a quiet threat.

They locked eyes. His green eyes, cold yet curious, seemed to see straight through her. There was something in the way he looked at her, something that made her uneasy—like he was deciding something. Whether she was worth his time or worth the trouble.

Y/n swallowed, breaking the gaze, but her body felt frozen in place. Onyankopon must’ve noticed because he chuckled under his breath.

“Don’t mind him, Eren’s good people,” Ony said, lighting the blunt with ease, his voice casual like this was any other day. “This here’s my cousin, y/n. Don’t let her fool you. She’s tougher than she looks.”

Eren didn’t say anything at first, his eyes lingering on her before they flicked back to the blunt in Onyankopon’s hand. He took a deep drag before exhaling, still watching her from the corner of his eye.

She could feel his attention, like the weight of a loaded gun pointed in her direction.

“So,” Eren finally said, his voice low, raspy. “This the cousin you were talking about? Criminal law student, right?”

Ony grinned, proud. “Yeah, she’s smart as hell. Probably the only one in the family going anywhere.” He said it like it was a joke, but there was a dark edge in his voice. He took another hit, then passed the blunt to Eren.

Eren kept staring at y/n, like he was waiting for something—maybe a reaction, maybe a challenge. When she didn’t say anything, his smirk widened.

“I like that,” he said, his tone dark. “Quiet. Observant.”

The tension in the air was suffocating. Y/n knew better than to show any fear. She had grown up around men like Eren. But there was something about him that was different. He wasn’t just a gang member; he felt like chaos waiting to happen. The kind of danger you couldn’t avoid, only hope to survive.

“Well, I’m headed inside,” she said, trying to sound casual, though her voice felt too tight. “See you later, Ony.”

But as she turned to leave, she could still feel Eren’s eyes on her. His stare lingered on her back, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted—that her life, her quiet existence, had just been pulled into something dark, something twisted.

Y/n had barely made it halfway up the steps when Onyankopon’s voice broke through the tense silence. It was low, but she could hear the warning in it.

Next

“Yo, Eren. Not her.”

She paused for a split second, her back still to them, hand gripping the doorknob. She didn’t have to turn around to know Eren’s smirk had deepened, a dark, amused sound rumbling from his throat.

“Why not?” Eren’s voice was lazy, dragging out each word like he wasn’t even trying to hide the threat in it. “You know she’s exactly my type.”

Y/n’s heartbeat thudded in her ears, but she kept still, her grip on the knob tightening. She could feel it now—Eren’s stare. The kind of stare that made you feel like prey in a den of wolves.

“Then why even bring me around your crib, Ony?” Eren continued, voice taunting, challenging. “Especially when we do this shit at mine?”

The weight of his words hung in the air. This shit—gang business, the kind of things y/n had tried to stay clear of her whole life. Guns, drugs, violence. The kind of life Onyankopon was waist-deep in, but she had worked hard to stay away from.

Onyankopon stood up, his broad shoulders tense, the blunt dangling from his lips as he glared at Eren. “I said no. She ain’t part of that. Don’t even think about it, E.”

Eren leaned back on the steps, adjusting the switch on his lap like it was just an accessory. His eyes flicked back up to y/n’s frozen form, a dangerous glint flickering in the green depths. He was still smirking, but there was something more in his gaze now—something darker, more insistent.

“Doesn’t look like she’s not a part of it, man. She lives here, doesn’t she?” He dragged his thumb over the barrel of the gun casually, the metallic sound making the air even heavier. “She’s already involved just by breathing in this neighborhood.”

Ony’s jaw tightened. “She’s family. That’s all she is, Eren. Stay the fuck away from her.”

Y/n could hear the tension building between them, a powder keg waiting to go off. Eren wasn’t the type to take orders, not even from someone like Onyankopon. She wasn’t naive. She knew what kind of guy Eren was. His name had been whispered around the block more times than she could count. Ruthless. Unpredictable. He was known for leaving bodies cold on the pavement without a second thought.

And she had just locked eyes with him. A silent invitation into a world she didn’t belong in.

Why did you look at him?

Finally, she turned the knob and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her, but her legs felt heavy. The air inside the house wasn’t any easier to breathe, but at least she was out of his sight. She leaned against the door, closing her eyes, trying to shake the feeling of his gaze lingering on her like a physical weight.

But outside, the conversation was far from over.

The moment y/n closed the door behind her, she leaned against it, pressing her forehead to the cold wood. Her heart was racing—not just from the unsettling feeling Eren gave her, but from the weight of his words still lingering in the air. She couldn’t shake the intensity of his gaze or the sharp way Onyankopon had shut him down.

Not her.

She had always been the one who stayed out of trouble, but in that moment, she couldn’t help but feel that Onyankopon had just painted a target on her back. Eren wasn’t the type to let things go, and deep down, y/n knew that the more someone told him no, the more he’d want it.

The low murmur of voices outside suddenly cut through her thoughts, and her stomach dropped. The conversation wasn’t over—it was only just beginning.

She pressed her ear against the door, trying to catch every word.

“I’m telling you, E, you don’t want to go there,” Onyankopon said, his voice low but firm. “Not her. She’s not built for this shit, man.”

Eren’s laugh was sharp, like the flick of a knife. “You keep saying that. But I’m starting to think it’s less about her and more about you not wanting me to touch your little cousin.”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched too long, tightening the air.

“You’re walking a thin line, Yeager.” Ony’s voice was quieter now, edged with a warning. “You’re gonna get both of us killed if you keep pushing like this.”

Eren’s voice dropped, the playful tone gone, replaced with something darker. “You’ve been in this game longer, Ony, but don’t forget something—there’s no rank when it comes to what I want. You and I both know how things work. You can play big brother all you want, but at the end of the day, the streets don’t care about blood.”

Y/n’s hand tightened on the knob. She wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that Onyankopon was trying to protect her, or that Eren was treating her like some prize to be won, a game to play. Neither felt good. Both felt dangerous.

Onyankopon’s heavy footsteps echoed outside as he paced, his frustration crackling in the air. “You think this is a fucking joke? You think I don’t know what goes on in your head?” His voice was cold now, the easygoing cousin y/n knew gone, replaced with someone more lethal. “She’s not like the other girls you mess with. She’s got a future, man. She’s gonna be somebody.”

“And what? You’re gonna protect her forever? Hide her from the world you brought her into?” Eren stepped closer, his voice mocking but eerily calm. “We both know that’s bullshit. She’s already part of this, whether you want to admit it or not.”

Y/n held her breath, heart pounding as their voices rose. Onyankopon had been trying to shield her for years—from the violence, the drugs, the blood staining the streets. But it wasn’t foolproof. Being his cousin already tied her to the Sixx gang whether she liked it or not.

And now, Eren had her locked in his sights.

A dull thud outside made her stomach twist, followed by a grunt of pain. Y/n’s fingers slipped on the door handle as she scrambled to open it.

When she swung the door wide, she froze.

Onyankopon was on one knee, blood smeared across his mouth, his jaw clenched in fury. Eren stood over him, the butt of his gun in his hand, still dripping crimson. It wasn’t hard enough to kill, but it was a message. An open threat.

Her cousin spat on the ground, blood staining the gravel, glaring up at Eren with murderous eyes. “You’re outta line, Yeager.”

Eren didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked more amused. His eyes flicked to y/n, who stood frozen in the doorway, and he wiped the blood off the butt of his gun on his black pants like it was nothing. His smile curled at the edges, cold and twisted, sending a chill down her spine.

“I don’t follow rules, Ony,” he said, voice low. “Especially not yours. If I want something, I take it.”

He didn’t say her name, but y/n could feel the weight of the unspoken threat settle over her. His eyes hadn’t left her since she opened the door. The pull of him was dark and magnetic, and the longer she stood there, the more she realized he was waiting for her reaction.

Onyankopon’s heavy footsteps echoed outside as he paced, his frustration crackling in the air.

“You want a future, sweetheart?” Eren asked, his voice deceptively soft, the barrel of the switch pointed lazily at the ground. “You think going to school is gonna save you from all this?” He motioned to the street, the graffiti-stained walls, the gang members watching from nearby corners. “You’re already part of it. You’ve been part of it since the day you were born.”

Y/n’s throat tightened. She wanted to speak, to deny it, but she knew Eren was right. No matter how hard she tried to stay out of the life, it had a way of pulling her back in.

Onyankopon stepped in front of her, blocking Eren’s view, his body tense with fury. “I told you, Yeager. Stay the fuck away from her.”

But Eren’s smile only widened. He wasn’t scared of Onyankopon—not in the slightest.

“And I told you,” Eren whispered, his voice laced with dark amusement, “I don’t take orders.”

The sound of an engine roared down the street, tires screeching as another gang member pulled up in a black SUV. The door flung open, and one of the guys—hard face, tattooed hands gripping an AR—stepped out. His eyes swept over Ony on the ground, then landed on Eren.

“Get the fuck up, Ony,” the guy barked, impatience dripping from his voice. “We got shit to do. Right now.”

Y/n’s pulse spiked, panic welling in her chest. She watched as Onyankopon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spitting blood onto the sidewalk before rising to his feet. The way he stood was almost casual, the fury from moments ago buried under years of experience. He looked like he’d been through worse.

But as he stood up, his eyes softened when they landed on y/n.

Without a word, Ony reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He flipped it open, tugging out a wad of cash, and shoved it into her hands. “Go study,” he muttered, his tone layered with both worry and regret.

Before she could respond, Eren laughed low, a sound that made her stomach knot. “You’re smart, y/n. Real smart. Criminal law, right? Maybe you can defend yourself when all of this falls apart.”

“Shut the fuck up, E,” Ony snapped, his face bruised but his rage undimmed. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”

But Eren ignored him, stepping closer to y/n, his gaze locked on hers. He wasn’t just a threat; he was chaos in human form.

His eyes lingered on her a beat longer before he turned, strolling over to the SUV, calm as ever, sliding in without a care. The SUV sped off, leaving a cloud of dust and the weight of a silent promise hanging in the air.

Onyankopon turned to y/n, his eyes dark with frustration and something else—fear.

“This isn’t good,” he muttered, wiping the blood from his face. “You need to stay away from him, y/n. He’s bad news. Real bad.”

Y/n swallowed, her throat tight. She nodded, but the sinking feeling in her chest told her it wouldn’t be that easy. Not with Eren.

Because in a place like this, no one stayed out of the life. And now that Eren had her in his sights, she wasn’t sure she could ever escape.

Eren's pov

The rumble of the SUV’s engine was a low growl beneath Eren’s feet as he sat in the backseat, one arm draped lazily over the headrest, his fingers idly tapping against the cool leather. The streets outside passed in a blur of darkened buildings and graffiti-streaked walls, the city falling into the kind of quiet that only came when the sun dipped below the horizon. But Eren wasn’t quiet.

His mind was alive.

Y/n’s wide eyes as she stood in the doorway. The way her breath caught in her throat when she looked at him, when she realized what kind of man he was. It was intoxicating.

He could still feel the electricity crackling between them, the way she froze under his gaze. There was something fragile about her—delicate, soft. And Eren had always been drawn to the idea of breaking fragile things.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

“I swear, you got a death wish, man.” Onyankopon’s voice broke through his thoughts, rough and laced with warning, but there was something else in there too. A note of frustration. Like he knew Eren was spiraling, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Eren turned his head slightly, his green eyes catching Ony’s in the rearview mirror. “You’re still pissed about earlier, huh?”

Ony wiped the dried blood from the corner of his mouth, the remnants of the blow Eren had landed earlier. “I told you not to fuck around with my cousin, and what do you do? You go ahead and push my buttons.” He laughed, low and humorless. “You always gotta push shit, E.”

Eren shrugged, his eyes drifting back to the window. The city was a wasteland of broken lives, and he’d been living in it too long to care about anyone else’s rules. “Maybe if you weren’t so protective, I wouldn’t be so interested.”

Ony clicked his tongue, shaking his head, but before he could respond, Connie, the driver, spoke up from the front seat. “Focus up, boys. We got business to handle.”

Eren’s smirk widened. He already knew what was coming. Tonight wasn’t just about the usual shit—dealing, collecting, or shaking down some lowlife who couldn’t pay. Tonight was blood.

Connie turned the wheel sharply, veering off onto a side street lined with abandoned warehouses, the kind of place where the police didn’t bother showing up. The kind of place where men like them thrived. The car slowed as they approached a run-down building, its windows shattered, and the stench of decay hanging in the air.

“Target’s inside,” Connie said, voice cold and steady. “One of the boys who snitched to the feds about our drop last month. Boss wants him gone.”

Eren’s heart began to thump harder, not with fear or nerves, but with excitement. His hand drifted to his waistband, fingers curling around the cold grip of his Glock. He had no love for snitches, but that wasn’t the only reason he was eager. There was something else—a hunger deep inside, a need to watch the light drain from someone’s eyes.

Onyankopon sighed, checking the clip in his own gun. “This shit’s getting out of hand. Boss wants us to make an example, but it’s getting too hot.”

Eren leaned forward, voice a low murmur. “You scared, Ony? You didn’t seem too worried earlier when I had you bleeding on the sidewalk.”

Ony’s eyes darkened, but he kept his cool, tapping the side of his gun. “Shut the fuck up, Eren. We’re not doing this here.”

Connie pulled the SUV to a stop, turning to the backseat. “Both of you, lock in. We go in quiet, no witnesses. In and out.”

Eren’s fingers tightened around his Glock, the weight of it grounding him. He glanced over at Ony, who still looked irritated but focused, then back at Connie, who was already stepping out of the SUV, gun in hand. They moved as one—predators stalking through the shadows.

The warehouse loomed ahead, its rusted door creaking as they slipped inside. The stench of mold and stale air hit Eren’s nose, but it didn’t bother him. His senses were sharp, attuned to the thrill of the hunt. Somewhere in the darkness, the snitch was hiding, probably thinking he had a chance.

He didn’t.

They moved silently through the maze of rotting crates and debris, their footsteps barely a whisper on the concrete floor. Eren’s heart raced, adrenaline pumping through his veins as they approached the back of the building, where the snitch was supposed to be hiding out. The faint flicker of a cigarette gave him away—he was sitting near a window, completely unaware of what was coming for him.

Connie gave the signal—a nod—and Onyankopon was the first to move, stepping out of the shadows with his gun raised.

The snitch’s eyes widened, his cigarette falling from his mouth as panic set in. “Wait! Wait, I can explain—”

The shot was deafening in the enclosed space, and blood sprayed the wall as the bullet tore through his chest. But Ony wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his face emotionless as he fired again, this time aiming for the snitch’s knee. The man screamed, collapsing to the ground, clutching his leg as blood pooled beneath him.

“Please, man, I didn’t mean to—”

Eren stepped forward now, crouching down next to the writhing man, his smile twisted and cruel. “You know what I hate about snitches?” he said, voice almost a whisper. “They never learn.”

Without a second thought, Eren pressed the barrel of his gun against the man’s temple and pulled the trigger. The body went limp, blood and brain matter splattering the concrete floor in a gruesome mess.

Eren stood, wiping his hand on his pants, as if it was just another day at work. Beside him, Ony holstered his gun, looking down at the body with a disgusted expression. “You didn’t need to go that far.”

Eren shrugged, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. “I did what needed to be done.”

Connie stepped forward, glancing at the corpse before looking at the two of them. “We leave him here. Message sent.”

As they made their way back to the SUV, Eren’s mind drifted back to y/n. There was something about her—something that gnawed at the back of his mind. She was different from the others, different from the life he led. But that just made him want her more.

He climbed into the backseat of the SUV, leaning back as Connie started the engine and pulled away from the warehouse, the smell of blood still lingering in the air.

The night dragged on as they drove through the city, the weight of their brutal job hanging heavy in the SUV. The blood and violence were already starting to fade from Eren’s mind as they approached the boss's place. He was thinking about y/n again, her quiet intensity, the way she’d looked at him—how easily she could be broken.

But before he could entertain those thoughts for too long, they pulled up in front of the nondescript warehouse, the hideout of their boss, Levi Ackerman.

The place looked run-down, like a hundred other abandoned buildings in the city, but everyone in their world knew what happened behind those walls. Levi was a legend, small in stature but ruthless, and when you walked into his space, you left your ego at the door—or you didn’t leave at all.

The SUV’s engine cut off, and the three of them stepped out. Connie gave a nod toward the side entrance, leading the way inside. The inside of the warehouse was dimly lit, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of whiskey.

Men were scattered around, either counting cash, cleaning guns, or lounging with drinks, but all eyes turned toward them as they entered.

Levi was sitting at a large wooden table near the back, going over some papers with an expression as cold and calculating as ever. His piercing gray eyes flicked up when he saw them approach, his brow furrowing as he noticed Onyankopon’s busted lip.

“Job’s done,” Connie said, cutting straight to the point.

Levi didn’t acknowledge him right away. Instead, his gaze stayed on Ony, eyes narrowing. “Onyankopon,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “What the hell happened to your lip?”

The room went quiet. Eren leaned back against a wall, arms crossed, watching with mild amusement. Ony stayed silent for a moment, his jaw tight, but the tension was palpable. Levi was the kind of man you didn’t ignore.

“I asked you a question,” Levi said again, his voice colder now. “Who got the jump on you? That ain’t like you. You’ve been out here long enough not to get sloppy.”

Ony shifted on his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s nothing, boss,” he muttered. “Family business. Nothing from the streets.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed even further, his suspicions obvious, but before he could press Ony further, Eren let out a low, dark chuckle. It was a sound filled with menace, the kind of laugh that wasn’t about humor, but something more twisted.

Levi’s gaze snapped toward Eren like a whip, cold and sharp. “The fuck is so funny, Yeager?”

Eren straightened up from the wall, that smirk still playing on his lips as he met Levi’s gaze. “Nothing, boss. Just… family business, like Ony said.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm, but it was more than that. It was a challenge, thinly veiled.

Levi wasn’t a man to play games. He leaned back in his chair, eyes still locked on Eren. “Is that right? You two got something you need to tell me?”

Ony clenched his fists, glancing toward Eren, but didn’t say a word. Levi was the kind of man who demanded respect, and Eren wasn’t exactly known for holding his tongue. This was dangerous territory.

“Nah,” Eren finally said, his voice more controlled now, the smirk fading from his face. “Just a little misunderstanding, boss. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with the streets.”

Levi’s gaze flicked between them, his eyes hard as stone, trying to piece together the puzzle. He knew something was off, but he also knew when to push and when to let things lie.

“Fine,” Levi said, voice clipped. “But if this ‘family business��� spills into my streets, I’ll make sure both of you deal with it. Permanently.”

Ony nodded stiffly, the tension still thick between him and Eren. Levi turned his attention back to the papers on his table, seemingly satisfied for now. “Now, about the job. Connie, give me the details. I wanna know how Rick squealed before he bled out.”

Eren’s mind drifted slightly as Connie began explaining the gruesome details of the hit. He wasn’t concerned about Levi’s warnings. He knew Levi didn’t trust him, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was power, and right now, Eren had plenty of it.

But his thoughts kept pulling back to y/n, her innocence in the middle of this dark, twisted world. He’d seen the way Ony looked at her, how protective he was, and it only made Eren more determined. If Ony was willing to break his cool just to keep her out of Eren’s reach, that only made her more tempting.

Levi interrupted his thoughts again. “Ony,” he said, not even looking up. “Make sure your ‘family’ doesn’t cause any more distractions. We need focus now more than ever.”

Ony nodded, still tight-lipped, and Eren caught the way his jaw flexed when Levi said “family.” It was a warning—and Eren wasn’t going to ignore it.

The conversation shifted back to business as Levi went over their next moves, laying out the plans for upcoming turf grabs and smuggling runs.

But Eren’s mind was elsewhere, scheming. He was patient. He knew how to play the long game. And sooner or later, y/n would be his, no matter how hard Ony tried to protect her.

As the meeting wrapped up, Levi dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “Get the fuck out. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”

Eren didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed off the wall, following Ony and Connie out of the warehouse, the cold night air biting at his skin as they stepped outside.

“You got something to say?” Ony asked under his breath as they walked back to the SUV, his eyes cutting toward Eren.

Eren glanced at him, a smirk tugging at his lips again. “Not a thing, Ony. Like you said, it’s just family business.”

Ony’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t respond. They both knew this was far from over.

Levi had barely dismissed them when Eren was already lighting up a cigarette, leaning against the side of the SUV. The sharp flick of his lighter echoed in the quiet night air, the cherry-red glow illuminating his sharp features.

His mind was still buzzing from the mission, the blood on his hands, and the thrill of violence. But most of all, it buzzed with thoughts of y/n.

Connie, always the mediator, shot a glance toward Eren before pulling Ony aside, his voice low. “Yo,” he muttered, his tone more serious than usual. “We gotta talk.”

Ony’s brows furrowed as he wiped the last remnants of blood from his busted lip, annoyed but calm. He didn’t need to ask what was on Connie’s mind; he already knew.

“This about y/n?” Ony asked, his voice rough, cutting straight to the point.

Connie nodded, his voice hushed so Eren wouldn’t overhear. “You know E isn’t gonna let up on her. You saw how he was lookin’ at her earlier, bro. You really think he’s just gonna forget about her?”

Ony clenched his jaw, his fist tightening at his sides. “Y/n is one of the only good ones in my family, man. She’s like a sister to me. She didn’t ask for this life, didn’t ask for none of it. I stay out here doing this shit—day in, day out—so she doesn’t have to want for nothing. So she can get her degree, move up outta this neighbourhood. I ain’t about to let Eren fuck on her just ’cause she his ‘type.’”

Connie’s face was grim as he leaned against the wall, glancing over at Eren, who was puffing away on his cigarette like he didn’t have a care in the world. “fuck outta here with that shit, right? But E, man… you know how he is. When he wants something, he’ll burn the whole damn world down to get it.”

Ony’s face darkened, his protective instincts flaring up even harder. He knew exactly what Connie meant. Eren wasn’t just some street punk who’d get bored and move on. He was relentless, obsessive. And y/n? She was innocent, untouched by this world they lived in—exactly the kind of thing Eren craved.

Ony scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated. “I ain’t letting that happen, Connie. Y/n deserves better than this shit, better than Eren. She’s got her head on straight, studying, making moves to get outta here. The last thing she needs is him dragging her down.”

Connie glanced over his shoulder at Eren, who was still smoking, his eyes narrowed and distant, like he wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation. But Connie knew better. Eren was always listening, always watching.

“Maybe talk to Levi about it?” Connie suggested, though he sounded unsure. “Eren’s a problem, but Levi might be able to control him if you lay it all out.”

Ony shook his head. “Nah. I ain’t pulling Levi into this. Last thing I need is the boss thinking I can’t handle my own family business. Besides, if I bring this to him, it puts a target on y/n’s back. I don’t want her dragged into gang shit more than she already is.”

Connie nodded in agreement. “So, what’s the plan then? You just gonna keep Eren away? You know he’s not the type to back off.”

Ony’s fists clenched, his knuckles going white as he fought to keep his anger in check. “I’ll figure it out. But I’m telling you now, Connie, if Eren tries to lay hands on y/n… I don’t give a fuck about his rank. I’ll handle him.”

Connie gave Ony a hard look, knowing the weight of those words. Eren wasn’t just some guy in their crew—he was dangerous, a killer through and through. But family was family, and for Ony, y/n was sacred. She was the only pure thing left in his life, and he wasn’t about to let Eren corrupt that.

“Alright, bro,” Connie muttered, patting Ony on the back. “But you better be ready. Eren don’t quit.”

Ony nodded, his face set in stone. “Neither do I.”

Across the lot, Eren flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under the heel of his boot. He saw the way Ony and Connie huddled together, the serious look on Ony’s face. He could guess what they were talking about, and it only amused him. They thought they could stop him, keep y/n out of his reach.

But Eren didn’t play by their rules. And when he wanted something, he got it.

He knew Ony was protective of y/n—hell, that was half the fun. She wasn’t like the other girls he toyed with, girls who were already halfway to being broken. No, y/n was different, untouched by the darkness of their world. And that made her the perfect prize.

As Eren climbed back into the SUV, his smirk returned. He could be patient. He could wait.

Because sooner or later, y/n would be his.

And nothing—not Ony, not Levi, not even the whole damn gang—could stop him.

Next

[https-lvesick]

AESPA & THEIR KINKS!

❪ ᶻ  𝘇  𐰁 ❫ 𝒩 otes ⋮ aespa x fem!reader. i have a lot of things to write, but when someone asked for “aespa kinks” something in my mind just clicked... yes, i'm a sucker for them

NIPPLE PLAY | just how you love her boobs, she loves yours. gets messy really easily just by sucking your nipples. drools all over them and starts whining because she's already hot and bothered. if you have piercings, she'll tug on them to tease you and have the time of her life.

THIGH RIDING | usually, karina rides your thigh when she's undeniably needy and needs to cum as soon as possible. frequently done when she gets wet just by playing with your boobs.

FINGERING | she puts you in front of a mirror, between her legs and makes a mess of you. streches your hole with her fingers and when you start squirming and whining, she stops, watching your arousal dripping from you cunt on the bedsheets, hypnotized. when you complain, begging her to let you cum, she does, cooing in your ear, praising her little good girl.

MOMMY KINK | loves being called mommy because she loves taking care of you. treats you just right, stimulating you the way you like and praising you. as soon as the word falls from your lips, she's kissing and climbing onto your lap.

QUIROFILIA | karina is just obsessed with your hands, from the palm to the fingers, and absolutely loves when you come home with a new manicure. constantly playing with your fingers or just putting your hand on her thigh. she can't help but imagine how good you are with your hands, making her drool all over your fingers or just having them inside her. she definitely gets wet by that.

MORNING HEAD | giselle loves waking her girl up with a head, she says it's the best way to assure your day goes well. starts kissing your thighs while removing your bottom parts, then she plays with your clit, pinching and twisting it until you get wet, then she dives in. gives you the sloppiest head ever so you wake up quickly. makes sure to get her girl cumming on her tongue at least twice, then she lets you go.

BONDAGE | only when she's pissed off, not necessarily with you, but she needs to relieve her stress with something and that little thing is you. you're her toy, her pretty and obedient toy and she won't let you say or do anything she doesn't want to. puts your ass up and face down and ties you to the bed, blindfolds you and gets her whip.

SPANKING | always spanks you! no matter if you were a good girl or a bad girl, you are going to receive it. she loves your ass and it's almost a physical need to spank your ass and thighs until they're numb. after that, she licks and scatter kisses all over the affected parts.

CHOKING | the first times she did it, she didn't wanna hurt you, but she can't deny that the way you look so helpless turns her on and you too! every time she chokes you, you clench harder and drip even more, making her fucking proud.

MARKING | winter is kinda possessive of you, so she does anything in her power to make sure people know you're hers. she always marks you, whether it be her nail scratches or hickeys on your body. and she always smears her cum on you, making sure you smell just like her.

BULGE KINK | bought a bigger strap just for her baby. she wanted to try something and now is obsessed with it. makes you wet her cock in the messiest way you can find so you finally sit on it. her eager gaze is stuck on your belly as you sink deeper and deeper in the strap. she couldn't wait for you and was deeply sorry for that, but she needed to fuck you hard. you were just so pretty having her cock bulging in your tummy :(

RECORDING | she gets proud of herself every time she makes you feel good and needs to replay every expression you make. makes you sit on the floor while she stands up and rides your face and these are her favorite videos.

PUBLIC SEX | see, she loves doing it in public because she push your limits and your helpless state is priceless to her, but don't get her wrong, she's not a exhibitionist. you're hers and your pleasure is for her eyes only. loves to control your orgasm in public just to see your pretty face scrunched when you try to calm yourself to not let people notice.

FACE SITTING | this woman is a tease. ningning absolutely loves riding your face because that's the only time when she's “in charge” and she loves to tease you with it. she suffocates you, staying longer in your nose, but she can't keep that attitude, since she gets desperate easily.

SEXTING | again, a total tease. it's all unintentional, at least for you. she is the one who starts it. if you're away from each other, in a party, for example, she gets her phone and texts you, just to say how much she wants you, or how her pussy is wet just by looking at you all pretty. and she stands by what she said! not regretting any word, even when you're ready to treat her like the slut she is.

EDGING | keeps saying she hates it, but keeps begging for it, you don't really understand. whines, breathy moans and her unquiet hands holding you, begging you to stop and leave her, but when you do as she says, she complains. then how can you please your girl?

DIRTY TALK | has the dirtiest pretty mouth and uses against you. whispers dirty things in your ear to work you up and even uses her hands. be it on your thighs, sneaking under your tops or ligering a bit longer on your crotch, your girl is always down to make you go insane. rather do it in public though and that's why is dangerous going out with ningning.

CHOKING | when she gets too impacient because you're taking too long, she guides your hand to her throat and makes you squeeze. her eyes roll to the back of her head whenever you choke her. the first time she asked (begged) you to choke her, you were worried, especially because she was getting red because of the lack of air, but as soon as you noticed her cum dripping down her legs, it was gone.

SCISSORING | it is a must for her, if you don't scissor, then you don't love her! she needs to feel your pussy rubbing against hers and the thought alone is enough to make her cum. when she is close to her orgasm, she starts to pick up her movements and, eventually, squirt on you.

masterlist | all rights reserved to @https-lvesick don't copy or translate my works!

[pepsichrry]

Ride Pt. 2 || Theodore F. Nott

Summary: Your relationship with Theo escalates further

Set after the Battle of Hogwarts!

Warnings: Sexual content, Smut, Mentions of violence, Theo is in love, Theo is obsessed with his wife!!

—————————————————————————

The spring had flourished into summer almost overnight, giving way to the birth of the sunlight and the heat that came with it. The Nott family home had grown more and more familiar as these days passed and you hoped that it would continue.

Things had shifted around the house, and not just because of the change in weather. You and Theodore finally began to align like rigid puzzle pieces. What was once a secret glance became a staring contest, being in the same room became sitting together and rooms on the other side of the house became Theo sneaking into your bed each night and staying to just be with you.

You soon became comfortable with the marriage, allowing Theo to shadow you around the house from time to time or even to sleep in your bed with you, sometimes you even allowed him to distract you from your reading and eat fruit with you on the lawn. As your relationship bloomed, you thought back to the very night that broke the silence.

It had become a regular occurrence now for Theo to spread you over your bedsheets and burying his head between your thighs. But that was all. Even as the months passed by, he hadn’t asked for anything more from you, only to sleep beside you and watch you as you slept. You obliged, not minding the company. You grew used to the familiar creaking of floorboards and the gentle nudges against your skin as he slipped into what was now his side of the bed.

But something urged you further than your new routine, to find out the extent of what could be done. You wanted to know what it felt like to be completely and utterly full with him, body and soul.

So, when he finally crept into your room in the dead of night, worshipped by the dim lick of candlelight, you were already waiting for him. His deep blue eyes watched you like he never had before, sensing the shift in the air. As he got closer, you sat up, looking over the expanse of his body. His hard chest was blanketed by a soft jumper which made him all the more comfortable than he already was, and his legs were clothed in a simple pair of sweats, ready for bed. It may have not been all that enticing, but the sight of him always seemed to drive you crazy. There was something about him so siren-like, so enchanting.

“You’re awake?” He asked you with his smooth voice and cheeky smile. You nodded, waiting for him to get closer so you could finally reach out to him. “I thought you’d be asleep, I didn’t mean to wake you, Bella.”

He drew your duvet back and climbed into bed with you, lying flat on his back with his hands over his middle. You turned to him.

Bringing a gentle hand to his head, you brushed his stray curls from his forehead as he watched you with tired eyes. He happily reciprocated your soft kisses as his eyelashes fluttered against your cheekbones and he breathed in your air.

You couldn’t stop, you needed him. You needed to drink every ounce of him up, you needed to feel him all over you, you needed his soft hands to touch you and hold you to him. It was as though, suddenly, you were overcome by desperation, or better yet, adoration.

He sighed softly, fanning soft air onto you as one of his hands cupped your neck, the other finding the small of your back and pulling you closer to him still. You gladly obliged, pressing your chest against his and kissing him like he was your final breath, your only lifeline.

Theo felt giddy at the sudden attention on him. Your experimental hand dragged over his chest and slowly down over his stomach. He couldn’t help but squirm in anticipation at the idea of your hand trialling any lower. Your fingers entwined in the waistband of his sweats and you ran your fingertips lightly over the edge of the fabric.

By the sounds that he was making, you could tell that he needed you just as much you needed him.

Your pinky preached the top of his bottoms and ran over the slowly tanning skin of his abdomen as he kissed over your cheek and jaw. His pillowy lips traced over the curve of your jaw, leaving hot and damp hair to travel down your neck as his breath began to deepen upon your fingers trailing beneath his bottoms.

You pulled back, the ghost of your lips hovered over his as you watched for his reaction as your fingers began to brush over the tiny curls at the base of his cock. Slowly, they came into contact with the ache that Theo so desperately wanted to ignore, until your smooth hands were wrapped around it, he could have died on the spot.

His head flew back against the pillow, his eyes shut and his brows pulled into a deep frown, not of perplexity, but of utter pleasure. Your grip tightened ever so slightly around the thickness of his dick and he keened from where he lay. His mouth tipped open, so you opted to kiss around the apples of his cheeks, over every mole and dimple, further down over his neck and in the sickly sweet spot behind his ear, whispering for him to take off his top.

Theo couldn’t help but shiver as he peeled off his jumper, revealing him to the cool air and your piercing gaze. Every inch of his gorgeous skin was kissed by the sun, leaving freckles and birthmarks in its wake. You made sure to do the same, bending your head to press your lips against the moles on his collarbones. Theo sighed softly as you began to work your hand as best as you could whilst it was restricted by the fabric of his underwear, the sound carrying through the room. Merlin, he hadn’t even taken the rest of his clothing yet, but you felt him in the place where you needed him most, and he was big.

His slender hand soothed over your back as you sucked light purple bruises into his chest and neck while you pumped at his cock, encouraging you to do something, anything further. He didn’t know if he could take any more anticipation. He’d been waiting for you to allow him the chance to sink into you at last, but he was so desperate and pussy-whipped that anything would do. He waited patiently and happily for his climax and inevitably cumming in his pants again, until you slipped your hand back out of his underwear.

You looked up at him with desire on your face and he knew what you’d ask. “Take these off.” You told him and he obeyed.

Theo thought you could ask him anything and he’d obey, just like a slave to your command, not that he’d mind. It was just one of the many things he’d do for you in order to satisfy you.

He lay before you, nearly bare except for his underwear which did nothing to conceal the embarrassingly obvious fact of his need. His chest lifted up and down as his lungs worked double time and you eyed him admiringly. Despite the hardness beneath his boxers, you gently squeezed him through the fabric, enjoying the tortured whine he gave out.

You hushed him sweetly, rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip with a grin. His eyes lit up with desperation. You booked a finger beneath the band of his boxers, yanking them firmly, and with his help, he became entirely exposed to you. You still wore your nightgown, which he eyed hopefully, but you made no move to take it off just then.

The lower you took your body, the higher Theo’s heart rate became, until your face was just above his crotch and he swore that he felt his heart stop. Testing the waters, your hand wrapped around him once again and brought your mouth down to place a teasing kiss over the tip of his dick. He puffed out a breath that he never knew he was holding and entangled a hand in your hair.

Slowly, you grazed the underside of his cock with your tongue, trailing over the soft skin with ease, wetting it with your saliva. You continued to do so, each time your tongue met the tip, you’d broaden your tongue and do the same thing over again as he grew more and more restless each time. You placed a reassuring hand on his thigh as they began to tremble and your thumb rubbed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, dangerously close to the curve of his balls. His head pressed harshly into the pillows behind him as he panted.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you took the very tip of his dick into your lips, surprising you at how much bigger he was than you thought. You sucked, hard, and he let out a deep moan at the sensation. It was an unusual situation to you, but you found that you could learn quickly about what he liked, so you continued to suck. Your hand pumped his length as you suckled and licked at his tip, gaining confidence as his noises grew louder.

His cock began to throb and his balls tightened, the only warning he was able to give being the grip on your hair clamping down. That was when you pulled off of him with a ‘pop’.

“But- Wh-��� He began, but you cut him off with a kiss, enjoying how quick he was to melt into your sudden affection.

You didn’t give him long to ponder as you slipped your nightgown over your head, revealing your naked body for him to see. His intense gaze lingered over your chest before it trailed down to your wet pussy. You supposed he was half expecting for you to sit on his face like you often did, but you took him by surprise when you asked him:

“Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

Of course he was, how couldn’t he? All he’d wanted since he saw you in the big white dress at the wedding was to take you to bed and make love to you. And now that you were finally going to allow him the honour? How could he say no?

“Merlin, yes!” He rasped, watching you as you swung a leg over his hips as though mounting a horse. His eyes didn’t know where to look, so they raked over you as he prepared for you to take him.

You smiled sweetly, leaning down to peck his lips with your own. You took him into your hand and dragged his tip over your soaked folds; you had no idea how much pleasure it gave you to hear him whine. Finally, you lined his tip up against where you needed him most and sunk down onto him.

Theo felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him, you were right above him, as beautiful as the sun and the sky and he’d never felt such bliss. For a second, he swore he saw heaven.

That was until you started to move, and he was rendered powerless against the pleasure you were giving him. He moaned fully now, head twisting into the pillow as though it would give him some relief to be rid of the sight of you. He couldn’t take it, he was sure to come just by looking at you. His mouth was hung open as though he was screaming in agony, except he was only tensing in pure unbridled pleasure.

His length hit against the most dangerous of angles inside of you, sending shocks up your spine as you clenched around him. The twinge of pain you’d felt at the initial stretch had quickly subsided as you began to bounce on top of him and was replaced by a blinding blood rush to your head. You felt dizzy, only it was in the best way possible.

With each brush against his skin, your clit was stimulated, forcing you to let out a sigh each time. He poured every inch of his soul into yours with every breath he took, watching you like a lifetime of his memories and future all at once, worshipping at your altar of your goddess. He’d serve you, he’d obey, he’d care for you, if you allowed him.

You let out a loud cry as his hips jolted from the bed, pressing against your cervix in a sudden pain, though it soon dissipated, soothing into sparks of pleasure. He forced his weight off of the bed in time with you, encased to the hilt of his cock in your soft pussy. And with every meeting of your hips, the warmth in your belly loosened, allowing you to steal bursts of pleasure for your body. Heat throbbed over your body and your heart pounded, you were so close.

And then it stopped. Theo pulled you off of him with a firm grip, eyes wide, pupils dilated. He looked almost feral as you frowned up at him as he took his place above you. Without wasting a second, his lips were on you, trailing over your chest and sucking your nipples into his mouth.

His hand lowered down to where you needed him the most, guiding his painfully hard dick into your tight entrance, sighing as you squeezed him to nicely. The softness of his hair on your sternum, the kindness of his hands and the noises he made, it was all taking its toll on you. You were surrounded by him, his arms encasing you, the warmth from his body still on the sheets that you rested against, his dick inside of you. He was everything in that moment.

The slapping of skin filled the air as he drove his hips harder and faster with each pull of your charm. He let out a choked sigh as he pounded into you, chasing his high more desperately than he ever had. His constant motion made you clench around him, feeling your orgasm creep up through your spine.

“Theo!” You gasped, and he responded with a pitiful whimper. He’d dreamed about the way that you’d cry his name, about this very situation. It was feeling so real, so much. He couldn’t help but be dragged closer to the edge.

He buried his hot face into your hair, moaning with each thrust of his hips, his feet pushing against the sheets to look for any way to sink deeper into you.

Your body erupted with the winding of warmth and unbearable pleasure. Your orgasm washed over you like a tide as Theo’s body met your own. You tensed and it was like nothing you’d ever felt before, your thighs shook from where they were wrapped around his hips and your hand clawed at his scalp like you could pull yourself up from the fire of hell. But nothing felt better than the flames licking at your skin.

He couldn’t help but feel bus eyes water with tears as he so desperately wanted to scream. His climax hit him like a brick straight to the face, so much that he could hardly feel his own body. He tried to cry out, but it was as though you had complete control over his body as you shared your pleasure like treasured goods.

You felt him still, pushing into you as much as he could. That was when you felt him spill into you, a kind of warmth pouring into you, you realised that he’d just come inside of you, not that you minded. His skin was moist as he slipped his weight on top of you, and every inch of you was now touching him. You could get used to it.

You wondered if his nightly visits would escalate to this in the future. You certainly hoped so.

pt.1

[xoxochb]

— here comes the sun ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: just headcannons pairing: riordanverse boys x daughter of apollo

percy jackson loves how good you are with your bow and arrow. he sucks majorly at archery so when you found this out you did everything in your power to teach him to be just as good as you were. this took four months. but! the good thing was that he learned eventually. it took this long solely because every time you were explaining something his eyes would trail down to your lips and he’d zone out and one thing leads to another now he’s kissing you and now you’re kissing back and now you’re not even in the archery field anymore— it’s a whole thing. during the fourth month you got sick of his nonsense and forced him to finally listen to your words and he ended up finally learning basic archery (he later earned a reward for his obedience). besides your great archer skills you’re also skilled at painting. like usual, percy loves to fool around. you’ll have your canvas out and paint sprawled along your pallet but this dumbass takes a finger of paint a spreads it over your face. you both end up covered in paint and your work long forgotten. you made a mental note never to let him paint with you again, but knowing percy and his gorgeous sea green eyes you had no choice but to let him join you again. though you do warn him not to play around with your paint or he’d wake up blue (he probably wouldn’t mind this though)

jason grace is utterly obsessed with your singing voice— most to all nights this is the only thing that can soothe him to sleep. but not even just during the evening, it’s basically mostly throughout the day when you’re singing to him. sometimes you even play a variety of musical instruments to add onto the factor (he ended up learning how to play piano thanks to you). and!! another thing he loves about you is your poetry, especially when the poems are about him, those make his knees go all weak and his cheeks flush pink and he’s such a school girl, it’s ridiculous. but he loves your poems regardless if they’re about him or not, he likes listening to your sweet-like-honey voice and your extremely high vocabulary (gods, he loves your high vocab). along with your love for poems you also share a love for reading, often you’ll find old books to read together, whether it’s together, or separately then you talk about them later, he adores talking about nerdy books together. and since writing is something dear to you and your siblings you wrote your own novel some day with the help of your boyfriend (he’s your number one supporter), including a sweet dedication to him as a thank you and an I love you

leo valdez takes advantage of your healing abilities. every hour he shows up in the infirmary with a new injury whether it’s a small cut or something serious. after a while you started to realize he was purposely hurting himself so he could see you during your work. you scolded him for this and told him you’d much more appreciate his visits if he wasn’t hurt all the time. so after you told him this he started spending less time with his trinkets and getting hurt and more time bothering you in the infirmary (additionally bothering your patients). you’ve found, though, it’s not so easy to care for your patients when your boyfriend has permanently attached himself to you, you eventually had to restrict him from seeing you during your working hours. but do you think this would stop him? no it did not. every day he would wait for you outside as you work, your siblings scold him and tell you to take care of him so that resulted in you getting kicked out of the infirmary too. though with this new free time and all your siblings busy you were able to get the cabin all to yourselves!!

luke castellan is pretty sure every room you walk into instantly brightens up with beams of sunshine (not even figuratively, he really does believe this). your aura is enough the blind the regular man— but lucky for luke he is no regular man, he’s your boyfriend. unfortunately, this does have its downsides, which includes you waking up at the literal ass crack of dawn watching as the sun rises. slowly and carefully you slip yourself from his arms to sit on the porch of cabin eleven as you watch the sky switch from a dark purple/black hue to various colors including orange, pink, or yellow (sometimes all three if your dad is feeling generous enough). over time, though, luke realizes you aren’t in his arms anymore— the first time this happened he was confused and searched frantically for you, but eventually he gets used to you waking up early. on some mornings he will sit outside with you (he loves the way your irises get all bright and yellow at this time of day), he likes how everything is quiet and tranquil and this is one of the only times he’s able to spend alone time with you. he savors these moments over anything else in his life

[anonity]

BETTER -- drabble

been gone for a min for a last min road trip w/ friends for new years :) happy 2025! had this in my drafts after watching the paige ep on flau’jaes podcast

WC: ~1200 summary: paige catches you and your saved basketball edits

the amount of paige edits that popped up on your for-you-page was diabolical. especially considering she was your roommate.

you were waiting for her to return from practice, feet kicked up on the coffee table of your apartment, when the first of the day came up.

originally, you’d justified your ever-growing collection of edits as hype-videos: something you could scroll through before paige’s games to get you in the right mood. for a while, that checked out – you only saved her highlights, quick moving graphics with smooth transitions.

but then it had quickly devolved into what can only be described as an obsessive fan folder, filled with edits so thirsty you think you would actually combust if anyone saw them, let alone paige.

it was bound to happen.

you continued watching edits when the door opened, kept scrolling when it closed, and carried on even as paige leaned curiously on the kitchen counter. its not like she would know who you were watching – hell, you had juju watkins videos coming up on your page every couple days, too. 

this arrangement had worked perfectly for you for months. you got to indulge in your quietest delusions, and your best-friend-turned-roommate could continue on none the wiser. 

until her voice rang out clearly from your phone. you would’ve played it off, really, said it was an interview clip or something, had her voice not immediately been followed by the “or nah” audio. 

mortified did not even begin to describe the feeling clawing into your throat.

you scrolled impossibly fast and began praying. maybe she hadn’t been paying attention. maybe she wasn’t even in the kitchen anymore. maybe you’d imagined the entire thing and paige wasn’t even real and this was all some kind of awful dream you’d wake up from in 3, 2, 1…

“whatcha watchin’?”

you think your soul has left your body. 

paige is sauntering over and looking very smug. you’re wondering how fast you can make it from the couch to the balcony. 

“an interview,” you try anyway, despite the fact that not a single interview in the history of basketball has ever included fucking ty dolla sign.

paige smirks, leaning over the back of the couch. her breath tickles the top of your head and you shiver despite yourself, eyes trained on the tiktok now repeating on your phone – one of those orange muppet videos (pepe? is he supposed to be a shrimp?) stuck on the first slide. really, if it weren’t for the horrors of your current situation, you would find the irony funny. if you survived this event, maybe you would make one. you can see it now. “i’m watching edits of my roommate – my roommate walks in – i have to defend myself to my roommate –” i have to defend myself to my roommate.

“which interview?”

“umm,” you say, eloquently. you can’t think past your orange muppet spiral. “overwatch?”

paige laughs, a noise that distracts you long enough for her to yank your phone away. “overtime?”

shit.

you can barely get out a disdained “paige!” before you hear the audio repeating again. would a fall from the third floor kill you? is it still considered a fall if you jump?

you stop lunging for your phone – maybe you can just play it cool. who cares if theres a paige edit on your FYP? it's only weird if you make it weird. “you act like those don’t pop up on your for you page too.” 

paige shushes you, biting her cheeks in mock-seriousness. she shushes you! the nerve! if you weren’t so mortified you would argue with her! 

but you are mortified, and so you stay quiet.  the silence stretches on and on until your phone also goes silent. the apartment's heating unit is suddenly very loud, and for once you aren’t irritated at the noise – instead, you just think of how much you will actually miss your loud heating unit once paige processes the situation and kicks you out of your apartment in the dead of winter. 

you think it can’t get any worse, until another audio starts playing and a self-satisfied grin stretches across paiges face. “you have like 70 videos in here.”

somebody kill me.

the original silence is filled with mr. lover lover, and there is absolutely no way you can “it’s for the hype” your way out of this. she continues scrolling. you stare helplessly at the floor. after what you can only guess is six or seven incriminating edits, she pauses, her jaw clenching inexplicably. here it comes. 'get out of my apartment' – 'i can’t look at you the same anymore'. you’re so cooked. fried, even.

“whatchu got caitlin saved in here for?”

what?

you must’ve voiced that thought out loud, because she responds. “you got a thing for iowa players too?”

your brows furrow. this was not the direction you thought this would be going in. instead, theres an edge cutting through paige’s words that you can’t quite place. is she still pissed? you let out a nervous laugh. “relax, paige, it’s not like i’m making wedding plans with her.”

paige stiffens. “it’s enough for a save-the-date.”

“paige, it’s like a 30 to 1 ratio.”

“yeah, our points ratio is 30:1 too.”

what the hell? first of all, you watch enough basketball to know that's not true. second of all, again, what the hell? 

“i mean, it’s fine, i get it.” paige shrugs, suddenly uninterested in your phone. she tosses it on the couch and you (slowly) slip it into your pocket before she can change her mind. “i just think it’s funny you watch her when you literally live with someone better.”

“better at what?” paige splutters. “basketball.” 

suddenly, it clicks. you sit, quiet, stunned for a second. “paige, if i didn’t know any better i’d say you sound jealous.”

“it’s not jealousy! it’s.. like, respect.” paige gestures wildly, and you’d almost believe her if there wasn’t a flush creeping up her neck.  you raise a brow. “respect?” “we share a netflix account! and you’re saving edits of my competition!” “you’re totally jealous.” 

paige looks cornered, backing towards the kitchen. her gaze falls to the floor. “i just think, like, i dunno – i just think i care about you and i’m right here and you’re saving edits of caitlin freakin’ clark.”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes, the absurdity of this situation catching up to you. somewhere in the back of your mind, you see the orange muppet again. 

“what’s so funny?”

“you’re just –” you take a deep breath. “i can’t believe your jealous over a caitlin clark edit. you act like we’re together or something.”

“maybe i wanna be.”

paige freezes. you freeze. the heater kicks off. you're moving before you can think about it, standing in front of her. her eyes stay trained to the floor.

“i’m sorry. i just – you drive me crazy.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

she finally glances up, a smile cracking. “it’s not.”

“then what are you gonna do about it?”

her hand is on your jawline in an instant, and the nervousness bubbling in your chest is finally cut off with her lips on yours. when you pull away, she’s grinning.

“30:1 edit ratio, huh?”

your face heats, and you push your head against her chest. “not funny, paige.”

“i’ll make a new folder for you – poor decisions, filled with caitlin clark edits.”

"alright that's enough."

[kyemna]

Time-skip Haikyu boys and their love language

Tw: suggestive, implied sex below the cut.

---------------------------------------------------

Kuroo: Physical Touch

• When you first met, it was clear he had taken an intrest in you.

Subtle touches on your arm or wrist when you passed him, grabbing your hips to move you when you were in front of something he needed, etc.

• You two work for a sports promotion division (yes I looked it up), so every time you get to your desk, there's coffee waiting for you. You know exactly who put it there.

•When he got his shit together and confessed to you, he kissed you. Unexpected turn of events. Okay, maybe not that unexpected considering his prior boldness.

• He loves tying up your hair for you. You know where i'm going with that? Okay.

Look, I know people deny that he's a freak in the sheets, but looking like that? I beg to differ.

• Speaking of begging, he has this obsession with you saying 'please, can you do this' or 'please help me with that.' Just 'please' gets him off tbh.

• Will walk into you when you're picking something off the floor, bent over, and then claim it was an accident and that he didn't see you.

---------------------------------------------------

Tsukishima: Physical Touch

• Honestly, under that nonchalant attitude is a STARVING man.

• I know that's kind of controversial, but hear me out.

•When you first met, he treats you like any other he'd come across. But over time, he finds himself more attracted to you.

Is it the way your legs looked in those jeans? Okay, okay, maybe a little bit.

•So, when you get closer, he finds his hand resting on your thigh, your lower back or your hand. Like a subconscious attraction that he isn't really aware of.

• You were sitting together and you were reading an article written about his last game to him. His gaze constantly fell to your lips. He was listening of course! But it's just the way your lips moved when you talked..

• He couldn't really resist, so of course he kissed you. Not a normal peck, no. Hungry. Like he hadn't eaten in centuries.

---------------------------------------------------

Akaashi: Words of affirmation

• When you first met, you noticed how gentle he was with Bokuto. And apparently, so did many others.. but that didn't matter, for Akaashi's eyes were on you.

• You both work for Weekly Shonen Vai (Again, yes I did look that up), so when he sees you working, he lays a hand on your shoulder.

"You're doing so well, Darling. Keep it up."

We love motivation for the next couple of hours, don't we.

• He's always there to reassure you that everything is just fine.

Worried about your works due date? Don't worry, he'll help you out.

Scared you don't look good in that new dress you bought that he loves so much? He'll make sure you're never insecure again.

• Praise, Praise, Praise, I'm telling you.

"You're doing so good for me, baby"

"You're so pretty, just for me, hm?"

"You always know just how I like it, don't you?"

• Worships your entire existence. You don't have to tell him you're his, he knows. But he'll make sure you know he's yours.

---------------------------------------------------

Daichi: Acts of Service

• The first time you met was when the cops were called, because the shop owner accused you of shoplifting. Daichi went through your bag and patted you down. When he found nothing, the owner had to apologize and Daichi felt guilty for wasting such a pretty lady's time.

So he asked you to go to dinner with him.

That's right, he takes you out to dinner first.

• By the time you were done eating- Wait let me rephrase.

By the time he paid the bill (like a gentleman should) and got back to his car, he was craving dessert. Luckily, he had just the place in mind. His place.

• Eats you out like it's his last meal. I mean, he's a cop. He's got to serve the citizens, right?

• He gets out of bed before you wake up, on his day off, so he can get you your morning coffee.

• Puts his hand on the pointy side of the table, when you bend down to pick something off the floor.

I know this is a different of what I usually post, and I apologize for disappearing for so long😥

Thank you for reading!!

[spellboundtales]

FIC REC - the Wolverine

had to make this, because my obsession with this man is unbelievable

🩰 hurt/comfort

🧸Fluff

🦋angst

🌺smut

🩰🧸🌺This is Ours by @d1stalker || reader spends the summer at her grandparent's farm but they hired a new farmhand: Logan. slowburn and feelings arise!! when i tell you this was one of my fav fics EVER.....

🧸a little redecorating by @halohalona || reader in the middle of the night decides to rearrange the living room, Logan helps her. very domesticc and fluffy, this melt my heart

🩰🧸say yes to heaven by @happy74827 || Grumpy!Logan x Sunshsine!Reader OMG when i tell you I CRIED AND MY HEART WAS HEALED reading this....

🩰🧸🌺ice breaker by @happy74827 || Logan saves reader's life, the aftermath results in a lot of feelings and...getting really warm. I ADORED THIS

🩰🧸snapdragons mean i'm sorry by @thebestandworstdayofjune || reader owns a flowershop and is friend with Wade and Logan, everything's great until reader hears Logan saying something...

🌺GUILTY PLEASURE by @joelsgoldrush || bartender!reader meets worst!Logan. guys when i tell you this is amazing...

🦋🩰🌺GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE BY @joelsgoldrush || sequel to Guilty pleasure, just perfect.

🩰🌺Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby by @imaginedisish || Logan's alwaye being friendly with reader...maybe there's more than some friendly gestures...?

🩰Breathless by @i5uckersblog || Reader has a sudden health scare and Logan is there to help. I LOVED THIS

🧸the kids waking you up in the morning by @fandomxo00 || this healed me.

🧸holding hands with Logan by @ohtobeleah || this is so short and sweet, i cried

🧸this headcanon by @witchyy-kittyy ||it's just pure fluff with a bf!Logan

🧸pretty in pink by @starkwlkr || so sweet dad!Logan for his daughter's birthday party. guess what? i cried reading this

🧸it's a gift (you keep those) by @celestiamour ||giving Logan a plushie that reminds you of him. THIS IS SO SWEET DRDXCFGVBHJG

🩰🧸Logan meeting reader's parents by @boltwrites || Logan meets reader's parents...what will happen?

🧸just the two of us by @starkwlkr || some domestic Logan, very sweet

🌺Inside Out by @@imaginedisish || post intense battle with Logan...this had me on my knees

🌺Lover, you should've come over by @imaginedisish || pining after Logan with the convinction he's obsessed with Jean..or maybe he's not?

🩰🧸🌺Time After Time by @hyper-fixates || 4 times reader is in Logan's bed plus 1 time he finally goes for it

🌺What's That Smell? by @slushycoookie || Wade meddling with Reader and Logan's sexual life..also wade gifting reader Pheromone Perfume and Logan losing it

🌺Honey - Honey II - Honey III by @bpmiranda || Sunshine!readerr with smalla town reclusse!Logan...omg this short series had me squeaking and giggling...toe curling smut.

🦋🩰🌺Keep Up! by @iggyywrites || neighbour!Reader is friend with Wade... with a huge crush on Logan. this is a rollercoaster of emotions i sweare i loved every single word. also the wade's characterization? chef kiss

🌺older by @lostalioth || reader calls Logan old, and he's determined to show her he's not

🦋🩰🌺from eden by @eupheme || old man logan x mutant!reader...this is just...perfect. read it.

🦋🩰🌺never is a promise by @joelsgoldrush || old man logan x charles' caretaker reader. slow burn, misunderstadings, smut...OMYGOD THIS!!!

🌺the Devil and I by @mystra-midnight || this is an hymn to smut.

🩰🧸taste by @poorly-written-fiction || ex boyfriend logan??? he's with jean but his kisses taste like...you... GOD THIS!!

🧸Magnetic by @reddesires || does magnets stick on Wolverine? let's find out! this is so funny i swear-

🌺burning slow by @eupheme || this is a logan x inexperienced reader this is so sweet, i need him now.

🩰🌺loving him was never enough by @wyniepooh || cagefighter!Logan? sign me up.

🩰🌺shouldn't have by @atrwriting || reader has a really shitty boyfriend, thank god Logan saves the day (in more ways than one)

🩰second nature by @d1stalker || reader is saved by Logan who then takes her in. feelings arise, but so will misunderstandings.

🧸Suspension Bridge Effect by @d1stalker || reader saves another mutant who now is in love with her...Logan is slightly jealous

🌺Marks by @bpmiranda || reader is running away from Sabertooth, and Logan helps her out... the smut here....chills

🩰🌺sweet like honey by @bruhstories || baker reader and Logan saving her...he likes to go to his favorite bar that happens to be across reader's bakery

alright lovelies, my wolverine's obssession is not over so i'll prob update thisss (also i still need to read some Old Man Logan fics.. soo i'll keep you update)

have a loooovely day, week, month, year💐🌷

kisses😽😽😽

[toto-the-cactus]

Primarchs + Daughters (2)

Finally finished the damn part two. Been kinda busy here and there with my new job but lo and behold, the one yall asked for. Soon enough, yall find out why it took me a while writing this one for the two main guys I had to add here.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Konrad Curze

A’right, I’ll open this one with the fact we all know that this man shouldn’t even be legally allowed to have children. I’m gonna be real for a hot second and admit that I stared at the screen for HOURS not knowing what to write because any poor little girl that is born from this guy will have the dubious privilege of being the most sheltered and hidden secret the Primarch ever kept close. With all those visions of death and inevitable doom mixed with the sudden power rush that fatherhood gave him, it left in its wake a perfect storm for this lunatic to develop a paranoid and obsessive need (NEED) to keep his daughter safe; something hard to achieve when he already knows the essence of his Legion. His fatalistic nature regarding his own future would suddenly clash violently with the Primarch’s new found protective stance concerning his child. It's almost sad to consider that this poor man GENUINELY wished to avoid becoming the monster his visions showed, but knowing that he’ll be balancing in the thin line of one day hurting his precious girl (or worse than that) it'll put him in the hard decision of having to let go of her eventually. He is no Perturabo, for that matter. In the rare and far away moments of lucidity, I can see Konrad choosing to protect the innocence and life of his child by trusting in the last person ANYONE might expect the Night Hunter would seek help: Vulkan. Honestly this is just plain sad, man.

Sanguinius

This is it! The golden boy, yall! We all know the kind of person Sanguinius is, but add a precious little daughter in the equation and all you get is the perfect example of textbook girl dad. No matter how busy this man is, somehow he’ll squish some playtime with his baby and enjoy every bit of it. Seriously, this guy acting like a dedicated father is worth being in a stockphoto image. His baby girl asks him to play tea party? Some astartes will find their Primarch hunched over, awkwardly holding a comically small cup between his thumb and index while his precious princess pretends to pour more tea for herself. The daughter of Sanguinius doesn't go a single day without knowing that her papa loves her a lot and when the man isn’t around, the Blood Angels Legion are close to keep her company to the point that even she calls them ‘big brothers’. No one is safe when she wants to play dress-up. The single problem I see with Sanguinius when raising his little girl is that he sins of being completely oblivious to the more mortal side of his daughter’s needs. He easily gets so wrapped up in his role of The Perfect Angel that he doesn’t realize his tiny princess has boundaries that are being constantly crossed, but since she feels the need to prove that she can be like her father, endures all those problems and refuses to seek help about anything. It becomes a kind of toxic mix considering how much Sanguinius is loved and adored by others, to the point that his daughter becomes like a coveted gem too by relation, making her need to prove her own ‘perfection’ an unconscious action the older she grows. I’m not even gonna touch with a ten feet pole the “fun fact” called the Red Thirst on this one because, let's be fair, that would require for me to write more than 3 pages with ONLY Sanguinius and his daughter in the spotlight and that’s only assuming his baby girl didn’t inherit it. I specialized in visual arts and marketing, not psychology jfc.

Ferrus Manus

It took me a while but after some investigating and more reading I can safely put this man in between the Papa-tier and ‘tough love’ guys. His practical mentality and belief of the strongest are (oddly enough) healthily separated from his parenting skills. This is one of the few Primarch that can see their daughter as an individual of their own and makes sure to be as present as possible in her life but the loyalty of this man to the Emperor is his own flaw. Not in the case that he’ll choose the Imperium before his little girl, but because it’ll put him in the dreading and guilty notion that he’ll always prioritize his daughter despite his oath to serve for the Great Crusade. Most of his brothers (except maybe Jaghatai and Konrad) just assume or don’t even think about the long term future of their daughters or simply presume that they will become a great part of the Imperium’s well oiled structure. Not exactly their fault since they never grew up with anything resembling normal. On the brighter and wholesome side (whiplash change!), this is a man who finds handmade gifts more meaningful and always makes sure to explain the reason behind them mostly out of the enjoyment of watching his little princess look so amazed at her papa’s skills. More often than not, Ferrus’ belief of the strongest would falter a little as he perceives the true fragile nature of his daughter and, even if she share the resilient blood of a Primarch, that isn’t enough to convince him that she isn’t vulnerable but instead of letting the worry fester, he’ll try to teach the girl the art of fighting. That’s where the ‘tough love’ kind of guy I mentioned comes out to light. He will not spare kind words during those moments of teaching, as he wishes for his princess to prevail any difficulty but he’ll make sure to always end any sort of training with “I love you so much that the idea of one day not being there to protect you, pains me beyond any form” to make sure that his harsh actions have a reason behind. Honestly, it's the kind of father-daughter relationship that possesses so many shades that makes its own drama novel. Good thing that uncle Fulgrim is always there to smooth the hard edges that may come in the future and makes up for the lack of spoiling the little girl deserves. Ferrus is not amused by it. Forgot to mention that the Primarch will be even more motivated to take off the metal of his hands, for he has yet to truly feel the warm and soft flesh of his baby’s hand. It's the one feeling he keeps missing and craves so much.

Angron

Oh man, another of the hard ones. Okay, if I managed with Konrad, I can tackle this bitch too. You need to comprehend that we are talking about a guy that has been so intimate with the meaning of pain that it's amazing he’ll be capable of ranging through other emotions that don’t involve fury into that combo too. That being said, this whole shitshow of being the father of a young girl can only be described as sad AND tragic. First off, Angron’s daughter wouldn’t even be allowed to leave her chambers at The Conqueror for obvious safety reasons and having her stay on Terra can’t be an option too, as Angron would rather be death than leave in a silver plate this one single pittance of good he helped to create under the light of the Emperor. That being said, any little girl born from Angron would be terribly isolated and one can’t even blame the Primarch for that as he, despite his disposition, finds his daughter as a genuine reflection of what he could never ever dream to have or be. That sometimes results in him feeling short and spontaneous moments of anger from the impotence of not being able to be close to his daughter, let alone console her with anything resembling compassion. This is a man that is horribly aware that he’s away from one sharp stab of the Nails to his brain to end up killing his little girl in one single swat of his hand. The moments of anything resembling fatherly love are few and very tense, for Angron has to constantly be focused on not letting the pain control his actions and that always looks as if he’s dismissing his child’s love language or actions. What else can I say that most people don’t know already? This is just a sad story waiting to end in tragedy and had it not been for how Sanguinius ended during the heresy, I can see The Great Angel taking Angron’s daughter under his care as the only consolation and promise to his corrupted brother before his demise. After becoming a Daemon Prince, Angron’s only genuine and foggy memory of his little girl is her crying while calling him with heavy despair. Goddamn I almost tear up with this one.

Roboute Guilliman

Look at my big nerd! One of the few guys that actually is humble enough to feel more human than any of his brothers… sometimes. I gotta say it, Roboute has the vibe of what happens when someone incredibly autistic suddenly becomes a parent; expect lots of books to try and be prepared for what entails to take care of a mortal baby. He’ll have a wholeass strict routine of activities and diets that you AND the baby must follow to ensure both of your health along with “fun facts” regarding a toddler’s development that half of the time lack the keyword ‘fun’ in there. Honestly, Euten will be a BLESSING sent, for she’ll be the one railing back the most extreme attempts of her adoptive son to try and raise his little princess like she was just another task of paperwork. Over all his quirks, the Primarch of the Ultramarines is absolutely trying his hardest to be a good father just as the one that raised him, but this is a man that half of the time ends up clumsily trying to spend time with his little girl only for it to backfire as he simply doesn’t understand how to entertain his daughter. Good thing the child will simply be happy to spend time with her papa despite his weird personality. More often than not, some of the astartes will see the young lady at her father’s chambers in a little booster chair beside him, doodling on some papers to pretend that she’s a big girl helping her papa with his very important job. It's probably the most adorable sight anyone can ever get the chance to see. Just like most of his brothers, Roboute isn’t that good at expressing his love towards his daughter with words, so he simply let his little princess be on his lap and hug her as if it will be the last time.

Mortarion

I’ve written enough of this man being a father that you all can get a wild idea of how he will be when confronted with parenthood. Even if he believes himself to be undeserving of anything resembling happiness thanks to his perception of being nothing but a tool of the Emperor, this guy will only need to see his precious little flower and feel like everything in the world can be forgotten, including his ever festering negative emotions. His daughter is the single light of love that he selfilish believes is his right after such torturous upbringing although that mentality rarely affects his princess, as he simply shows nothing but care and tenderness towards her. He may be a nervous trainwreck, fully aware that his Legion and himself aren’t exactly safe-hazardous, but that never has stopped him from doing his utmost best to protect the little girl from anything that may hurt her. Like most of his traitorous brothers, Mortarion would not hesitate to bring entire worlds into devastation if it meant that his family can be safe, even if that’ll end up making a terrible gap to grow between him and those he loves. It's quite terrible and sad to know that, unlike Fulgrim or Angron, Mortarion was the closest to his daughter and showered her with as much genuine love as he could in an attempt to avoid being anything like his supposed father (adopted or creator equally), so when he turned into a Daemon Prince, the festering and rotting resentment that consumes him sometimes simmers down when he remembers the laugh of joy his little princess often released when he would carry her up in his arms. Oh yes, some good ol’ gut-wrenching emotional damage, teehee.

I will not apologize for being a mean bitch by writing sad shit. XOXO

[boyfiejay]

I love my girlfriend

PAIRING : Enhypen hyung line x female Youtuber! Reader

GENRE : fluff, bullet point

Warning : curse words, me rizzing up the reader😔

Word Count : 0.9k overall

Author's Note : this was long overdue☝🏻

Heeseung ☆

you're one of those underrated artists, that are underrated due to one sole reason

it's better to gatekeep a talented artist

yk the way some fans get sad that their favourites are now on everyone's fyp

yeah your fandom in a nutshell

they also thirst over you non stop

I mean you are stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, enchanting

just date me pookie

you used to be a youtuber before the music career fyi

imagine your fans' dilemma (dimension?) when you say out of nowhere that you have a bf

‘guys, my boyfriend sent me this :D’

and it's a silly picture of two cats or smtg

like your fans are fighting a fucking war on twt

and you are like cuddling with hee, listening to unreleased songs

you have no clue of what's going on

meanwhile heeseung…

he's ready to fight the war

posts a picture of you kissing his cheek on your insta story

he makes sure that only 1/4th of his face is visible

to keep his identity anonymous yk

…

your fans find his acc in 15 mins

he panics definitely 😭

tells you his innuendo after you wake up

and you're just like

‘yeah ok, sure’

WHY ARE YOU SO CHILL??

your boyfriend is getting deep fried on twt and you're like ‘el oh el’

dw your fans mean no harm

after a while they're like

‘they're cute tgt ig 😒’

Jay ☆

you're like a cooking channel

STAY W ME IK IT SOUNDS BASIC

you're like a blogger who blew up one day

because you're just soso pretty😻

alright anyways, your channel is focused around learning to cook

it's so chaotic sometimes

bcz you don't know shit about cooking

sorry if you do, let's pretend you don't >.<!!

you have almost killed yourself a dozen times

at some point people are like

‘??? how is she alive’

all thanks to your almost professional chef boyfriend

but no one has to know that ;)

anyways on like a milestone or something, you decide to cook blindfolded

bae you can barely cook with eyes open

your followers are concerned bro

like their blood pressure is rising by the minute

and like a holy light in the midst of the darkness

Jay stepped in, to save you from killing yourself fr this time

Your fans are seriously jumping around, squealing bcz he's just so soft and gentle to you :(((

but then they snap out and pretend to be angry

and you're like ‘meet my boyfie :3’

jk your fans love you two

like almost obsessed

also they're always sliding in Jay's dms

like I get it mans fine af but he's also taken

and also absolutely whipped for you 🤭

it's your world and we're just living in it…

Jake ☆

you are a gamer/streamer

your whole fan base is delusional

like so delusional, there are like hundreds and thousands of accounts claiming to be your bf/gf

but the iconic one ‘ynsboyfie’ is everywhere

like that acc is the most iconic thing in your lore

they are always there, no news of yours goes past them

always donating in your streams

and one day…

you forget to log in your priv acc

so your official acc has the comment

‘babe, you're so sweet ☹️🩷’

replying to ‘YNSBOYFIE’

???

oh your fans are livid

jokingly ofc

or maybe not

everyone on twt is like

‘who is this bitch???’

everyone hoping for his downfall

then you drop his pic

THE SWITCH UP IS INSANE

‘oh, oh, he's fiiine😏’

like I can't blame them, that's jake

but still they're supposed to be your fans

fucking snitches

my bae, pookum shmookum I would never

your fans love him

but also bully him calling him a lewser

hes so down bad he had a fan page for you

i dont blame him, i too would fangirl over you 😼

Sunghoon ☆

you're like a fitness channel

like those ones that have insane challenges

and your famous in people who have no interest in working out too

your face reveal went so viral, almost every single person knew your face

also your workouts (even tho deadly) always work so fast

people are in love with your figure and just you in general

you also upload mini vlogs once in a while

in these vlogs people noticed someone always being around you and in the back of the frame

at first they were like

‘obsessed fan😨’

but then they saw you laughing along with him in another clip

from the small clips, people couldn't see his face (bcz it's blurred) but omg the figure

the biceps, the buff and tall guy immediately steals everyone hearts

it's obvious from the clips that you're close with him

so naturally you are asked who he is and you just laugh

???

people are losing their minds woman

and you're just like ‘hehe’

they continue seeing him in your vlogs and in one clip you could see him putting his hands on your waist while you squat

you have no reaction to that

but twt…

he's getting dragged even though half of the people have no clue what's going on

you decide to take matter in your hands

and post this

with the caption ‘he's my boyfriend everyone :3’

the internet breaks

Sunghoon doesn't do his face reveal for a long time js bcz he doesn't feel like it yk

but when he does

good lord…

your fans love him

they also love how he glares at people who look at you the wrong way

you never notice that for some reason

[loganhowlettshousewife]

lazy mornings and the proposal

animal - bonus headcanons

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

i wanted to let everyone know that even with the epilogue coming out soon and the series being officially over, i'm still not ready to let go of these two. so if you have any ideas or prompts or questions about feral!logan feel free to submit an ask!

warnings: mentions of sex, light sweat kink (oops)

series masterlist │my masterlist

there’s nothing better than a lazy morning with logan, staying in bed long past sunrise, chasing the warmth that can be found in each others arms. it’s rare, these days, now that he’s gotten a job as a lumberjack and has to be up fairly early most mornings for work, making sure to wake you before he leaves, kissing you deeply and reminding you that he loves you. gone are the days where the two of you would stay home together, locked in your own little world with no one to bother you.

he’d wanted - no, he’d needed, really- to get a job. it gave him something to do with his days, a purpose other than stalking your every move, following behind you like a shadow as you went about your day. it’s a distraction, and a welcome one, one that gives him the opportunity to be a more balanced version of himself, to find peace and trust that you aren’t going to disappear if he leaves you out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

he brings home a decent paycheck, much more than you were making by selling the extra produce from your garden. it’s unnecessary, everything you own had once belonged to your grandparents and has long been paid off, but it’s nice to have the extra cash, to be able to go into town with logan and splurge on expensive alcohol for him and gorgeous new dresses for you.

he’s good at what he does, hacking away at wood with his unnatural strength given to him by his mutation. he’s the best at what he does, to the point where you occasionally worry it’s become too obvious that he’s not like the others, but he always comes home safe.

the smell of wood and sweat cling to him like a second skin and you bury your face in his neck, understanding his obsession with doing the same to you, loving the way the smell of him surrounds you, makes you feel like he’s the only thing in the world. maybe it should be gross, he’s exerted himself all day and is covered by the proof of it, but there’s something about it that makes you melt into him every time.

he takes off his muddy shoes and picks you up, ignoring your squeal of protest at the unexpected gesture, smirks when you wrap your legs around his waist. he brings you into your bedroom to take the stress of his day out on your body or into the bathroom where you run your hands over his bare skin and wash away anything that isn’t your loving touch. either way, the tension leaves him the moment he’s returned to you, able to recognise that you’re safe.

you love the life you’ve built, the ease and comfort of it, and yet those lazy mornings, so few and far between, are still your favourite. the days where logan doesn't have to go into work and you push back your daily chores for later because you would much prefer to stay snuggled up in bed, laughing as he kisses your neck and bare shoulders, twinning your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

the night he proposes starts off like any other. he returns home from work to the smell of dinner in the oven, takes you apart under the warm stream of water from the showerhead beating down on your skin, lets you wash away the grime from his body and dig your hands into the tense muscles of his back, massaging away the day’s activities. he melts into you, letting you care for him in a way he’d never let anyone else, and you smile beatifically.

when you exit the shower, it’s to the sound of the oven timer going off, announcing that the dinner you’d prepared for the two of you is ready. you hardly notice when logan doesn’t follow you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen as usual - some days he returns from a long day on the job and refuses to leave your side, on others he needs moments of solitude peppered in to keep the overstimulation at bay.

he stops in your shared bedroom as you plate the food, giving logan double your portion size as usual.

his body requires more energy to function, his healing factor taking a lot out of him. it’s not something logan ever noticed, since he doesn’t bother to worry about his own health most of the time, but you see the way it affects him when he doesn’t eat the way he should. it’s horribly taxing on his body, making his veins protrude from his skin in harsh lines, a reminder that no matter how easy it is to ignore it when looking at his muscular and imposing stature, his body is still starving.

you’ve made it your mission to feed him, and so you narrow your eyes into a glare until he finishes his plate, leaning over afterwards to kiss the annoyance from your lips, muttering praises and thanks that have your skin tingling and face feeling hot. 

he’s healthier now, a layer of fat covering his muscles, a softness to his body that wasn’t there before. it’s something you pride yourself on, the knowledge that you’re taking good care of him.

he doesn’t talk much throughout dinner, though he never does. you tell him about the latest book you’ve started reading, going back and forth on whether or not you’re truly enjoying it, complaining about the characters personalities while raving about the writing style. it makes logan smile, watching you be so passionate.

he gives you a few vague sentences about his day at work when you press him about it. “it’s not that interesting,” he says, the same excuse he gives every day. occasionally, he’ll have some gossip to share about the men he works with, his enhanced hearing allowing him to listen to their conversations without being forced to partake in them, but not today. “would much rather listen to you talk, darlin’.”

with desert in front of you and a peaceful lull in they conversation he takes your hand, kisses the back of it with his slightly chapped lips before getting down on one knee and pulling out the ring he’d bought a few weekends ago while you perused the farmer’s market stalls. it’s not big or flashy, the night is hardly out of the ordinary in any way, but it’s perfect. your eyes prick with tears that you attempt to hold back but fall anyway the moment you blink.

this is what makes yours and logan’s relationship, the understanding that there’s no need to be anything but yourselves, that as long as he’s here promising to love you forever, pleading you to do the same, there’s nothing else that could come close to matching the joy in your heart as you say yes.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 3-Threesome-Chrollo/Reader/HIisoka

Notes:  i've actually never written Chrollo, i hope this doesn't turn out ooc. Something about him is so vague, he's difficult to write, lol. Also I looked up poker hands for your welcome. I play poker with my family sometimes, but we prefer blackjack for whatever reason lol. Also i've never played the strip variety lol

It was raining. Drops fell through the jagged holes in the ceiling of the abandoned building, wetting the floor in uneven patches. It was dusk, a gloomy gray light cut with the golden candlelight coming from the candles scattered across the floor. You wished your colleagues had shelled out for a nice hotel. Heck, you would take a motel, anything with four walls, a roof, and wifi. But alas, the members of the Phantom troupe who were assigned to find shelter were the most dramatic ones(Chrollo, Feitan, and Nobunaga) and not any of the ones with common sense. 

And so here you were, hunched over your laptop. Gloomily watching the battery slowly tick down the hours until you would need to charge it at a net cafe, and occasionally moving to dodge raindrops. The sound of your fingers hitting the keys fills the large cavernous room, interspersed with the turning of pages and the occasional fluttering of cards to the ground.

There wasn't much to do, in the random abandoned lot the spiders had decided to hunker down in. You could sleep, you supposed. But the only other two people occupying the room would probably sabotage that. You would wake up with clown makeup(the actual clown makeup, not the stuff Hisoka wore) and a card tower balancing precariously on your stomach. And you would know, it had happened before. Your only other option was taking the forty-minute trek into town. Through the rain, which actually sounded more unpleasant than the clown makeup. At least that stuff came off. 

The sounds of Hisoka’s cards falling to the ground punctuate the formerly peaceful silence, and you sigh, watching your battery move to ten percent. Maybe it would take pity on you and that ten percent would last the rest of the night. A card wizzes by your ear. You don't even flinch.

“I'm busy, Hisoka.” You say, not even turning. He's probably where he was when the rest of the phantom troupe members left earlier, sitting cross-legged on the rock floor, making card towers.

“You don't look busy~” Hisoka says, from behind you. Another card lands beside you, this one a foot away from your thigh. You lay stretched out on the floor, propped up uncomfortably on your arms, occasionally typing on your computer. Every couple of minutes you obsessively switched positions. You got antsy after sitting for too long. 

“I'm working.” You say in return. Hisoka hums, and you imagine him tilting his head in confusion like a cat. Actually, you're watching a show. Muted with subtitles, because you forgot your headphones and you don't want to venture into the storm to get them. But that's none of his business.

Your battery ticks down to seven percent. Chrollo, sitting dramatically up on a rock at the front of the building, turns a page of his book. Another card wizzes by you, this one hitting an inch or two away from your computer keypad. You roll your eyes.

“Stop that.” You say, annoyance leaking into your voice. Hisoka chuckles. 

“But I'm bored~” He whines, sounding closer than before. You roll your eyes.

“Build another card tower.” 

“I'd rather not,” Hisoka returns, and another card flies by, this one dangerously close to your computer screen. “Bothering you is much more entertaining.”

“Careful!” You grumble. Your computer battery blinks, five percent taunting you. “If you break my computer you have to buy me a new one.”

Hisoka's response comes in the form of another card, this one landing a centimeter from your keyboard. Fed up you turn, glaring at the clown sitting behind you.

“Fuck you Hisoka,” You grumble, “just let me waste the rest of my battery in peace.”

He doesn't respond, just smiles at you. You hate to admit you find him attractive. He’s definitely moved closer and now sits perched above you on a rock, leaning back casually, hands lazily flicking cards about the hideout. 

You wished desperately that you had just taken a normal job, maybe as a receptionist or a waitress, and not decided to join the spiders of all things. You blamed it on your terrible taste in men. And your sister's ex-boyfriend. Because maybe, after your sister had come crying to you, telling you that John had cheated, you had immediately gone to beat him up. You had ended up beating him up pretty bad and went home and that was the end of it. 

Until you woke up the next morning, saw the spiders sitting in your living room, and dropped your coffee. After you cleaned up the mess, they informed you in various volumes, that because you had defeated one of their members you had to become a member. You had initially declined, and then you saw certain handsome men in spirit Halloween costumes and you folded like wet paper. So here you are, kind of deeply regretting your rash decisions. 

Chrollo turns another page. Water drips from the ceiling and hits your nose. You jerk back, turning back to your computer. Which is dead. Or course.

Grumbling, you slam the computer closed and lay back on the ground, letting the stone cool you down, and listening to the rain as it hits the building around you. It's peaceful, the smell of fresh rain, intermixed slightly with two different types of cologne and the faint smell of mildew. The rain calms you down from your annoyance, the cold sinking into your skin and putting a damper on your annoyance.

 If only you could find it in yourself to truly hate Hisoka. He was a nuisance, constantly inconveniencing you on a daily basis, and jokingly flirting with you because he knew it annoyed you. And you would get so fed up and upset and then he would smirk and you would see his stupid handsome face and you just couldn't bring yourself to truly hate him. 

His joke flirting actually kind of hurts you, because you know he's only doing it as a joke. You know he doesn't actually think you're attractive. Neither does Chrollo, now that you think about it, but at least he didn't give you false hope. He was straightforward in his dismissiveness. 

You sigh, and turn onto your side, already antsy. A breeze gusts across your face. A warm breeze.

The smell of flowers and blood hits your nose. How odd. 

You knew there were patches of greenery outside of the building, and there were probably a few inside as well, but blood? As far as you knew no one had died here yet. You sniff harder, your brow furrowed in confusion. And then a hand lands on your side. Your eyes fly open in shock, and Hisoka grins at you from his position mirroring you on the floor, about a foot away. You shriek in shock, as Hisokas hand strokes up and down your waist and hips. 

“You're loud.” He says, his mouth curving in a smirk. It sounds suggestive, but everything he says sounds suggestive. Unfortunately, he looks even more handsome up close. 

“You scared the crap out of me,” You grumble. “The hell Hisoka.”

“Oops, sorry.” He says. He doesn't look sorry and his hand is still stroking your side as you lie side by side on the cold stone of the floor. You hate how much that hand makes your stomach flutter. Rolling over you purposely trying to ram him onto his back. Maybe his stupid hair will get crushed. 

But alas, his body is a brick wall, and of course you only succeed in crushing your front into his muscled chest. Your face flushes, hidden where it is in his pecs, and you try to pull away. But an iron arm is holding you against him. Against all reason, you can hear his heart beating evenly in his chest. Your own skips around, propped up by the butterflies in your stomach. You wiggle, trying to escape but only managing to free your arms from his iron embrace. 

“My my, how eager.” Hisoka coos, probably about to say something equal parts annoying and mortifying. “You could have just asked.”

You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, trying to unsuccessfully pry yourself away from his body. Hisoka only chuckles.

“Fuck you,” You say against his chest. 

“Mm, maybe later.” Hisoka hums. You sigh.

“Chrollo? Your subordinate is suffocating me.” You grumble. You can't see him from here, but you assume he's still sitting on his big boss rock. He chuckles, and you hear a page turn.

“Let her go, Hisoka.” He says, sounding way too amused for your liking. Hisoka obliges, but not before his hand finds its way onto your ass. You kick his leg, and hold back the urge to ask him to do it again. Chrollo has put his book down, and is now watching the two of you curiously, illuminated by the candle sitting a few inches from his weird leather coat. Why both of the men in the room with you dress like absolute weirdos, you’ll never know. 

“You just let me squirm for a while, huh.” You grumble at him. He smiles

“You seemed like you were enjoying it, I didn't want to interrupt.” He replies, the candlelight flicking on the pale skin of his abs. You always wondered why he chose a leather jacket without a shirt, but you weren't going to ask and embarrassed yourself. He's snarky tonight for some reason. 

You flush, hiding it with a glare. 

“I was not enjoying anything!” You say, at the same time Hisoka unhelpfully chimes in with, “aww, don't be jealous Chrollo.”

You shoot Hisoka a weird look, but Chrollo only laughs. The sound echoes in the like twenty feet of space between you and Hisoka, and Chrollo on his big boss rock.

“Stop looming over us like that.” You say, flopping into a cross-legged position across from Hisoka. He's pulled himself up from the ground and is shuffling his cards in his hand. “If you're gonna talk you have to come down.”

Chrollo laughs. “Sure dear.” He says, and you watch him jump gracefully down from his perch and join the two of you on the ground in a little circle. 

Hisoka hums quietly, playing some weird nonsensical card game. Chrollo has opened his book again. You're the only one with nothing to do. 

“What are you reading anyway?” You ask the man beside you. Chrollo, sitting a foot away from you, looks up. 

“The Divine Comedy.” He says, flipping the heavy cover to show you. You roll your eyes so far back into your head they just might get stuck there. 

“How dull,” Hisoka says, and for once, you find yourself in complete agreement. 

“I shouldn't have asked, huh.” You mutter, settling back against a rock with a sigh. Chrollo raises an eyebrow.

“I take it you aren't a fan?” He asks, closing Dantes' glorified fanfic and placing it beside him. You roll your eyes with a sigh.

“Too long. Boring. Would rather read Crime and Punishment, at least that has a romance plotline.” You say, picking dirt from under your nails. “Do you even read, Hisoka?”

“Of course,” Hisoka replies, gathering all of his cards from their nonsensical placements. Cautiously, but too curious for your own good, you raise an eyebrow. He smiles at your silence, shuffling the cards in his hands. “Aren't you curious?”

“No,” You lie, watching him shuffle. You are curious, but for once you decide to hold your tongue.

Hisoka starts dealing three piles of cards. You eye him suspiciously.

“What are we playing?” You ask cautiously. It's always a good idea to air on the side of caution with Hisoka. The man just oozes sketchy vibes.

“Strip poker,” Hisoka replies. Your mouth drops open.

“Hell no.” You say. Hisoka pouts, looking almost harmless. Almost.

“You scared?”

“Fuck you.” You return. “No way in hell am I betting against you.”

It seems like an extremely unwise idea to play any games that have anything at all to do with lying or gambling against Hisoka of all people. You were totally going to lose. 

Hisoka tilts his head. “I'm disappointed by your cowardness” He coos, setting his deck of cards on the ground gingerly. “You're just as dull as him.”

He's goading you. You know it, you can feel the smart voice in your brain telling you to ignore him and turn around. But he gets you.

“Fine, whatever.” You say, picking up your cards with a sigh. “This is a terrible idea.”

Out of the corner of your vision, you see Chrollo also pick up his cards. You raise your eyebrows.

“You're joining us in this tomfoolery?” You ask, genuinely pretty surprised. Chrollo smiles. 

“Seems fun,” he says, a faint light behind his eyes that you can't place. You sigh, watching as Hisoka finishes dealing.

“This kind of thing seems pretty on brand for him,” You say, gesturing at Hisoka. “But you Chrollo?”

Hisoka makes a fake offended noise, and you roll your eyes. Chrollo simply smiles.

“Maybe I have ulterior motives,” He says. Turning his attention to Hisoka, he continues, “Five card draw?”

You catch on to that sentence, but you hurriedly move along when Hisoka nods.

“Yes, the person with the lowest hand gets to strip,” he says. 

Maybe you're imagining it, but you swear he's just looking at you when he says that last bit. Perhaps a prelude of things to come. You sigh, taking a look at your cards. This is going to be a long night.

○○○

“Gimme three cards,” You say, fiddling with your necklace. Hisoka takes a large swig of beer and tosses three cards your way with a grin. So far, nothing too bad has happened. Hisoka had lost the first round, betting on nothing while you escaped with two pairs and Chrollo won with three of a kind. Hisoka had taken off one arm badly, the other one still sitting unevenly on his arm.

You had lost the next round, and taken off your earrings.

 Chrollo had followed with two losses, losing his weird earrings that looked like Christmas tree ornaments, and the useless belt hanging from his coat. You had just lost a round, taking off your white kitten heels. 

So far you were sitting pretty, although you were wearing the least of the two men, with a zip-up hoodie over a sky-blue tank top and jeans. So far Hisoka was the one with the least losses, but you doubted anyone was surprised about that anyway. If you were ever gonna go to Vegas you would take Hisoka with you, and the two of you would be walking out bathing in ritches. 

You have a good hand this round. A straight is pretty hard to beat, and even if you didn't win you would probably get at least second. Privately, you hoped Hisoka would take off his other armband. It was starting to annoy you. 

“Four cards please Hisoka,” Chrollo asks. You hide your grin behind your cards. You can taste victory on your tongue, along with cheap beer. Hisoka trades out two cards, grinning inscrutable in your direction.

“You have a good hand, right Name?” He asks, crumpling up his empty beer can and tossing into the small pile the three of you had been adding two. You roll your eyes.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don't.” You say, holding your cards reflexively against your chest. “I'm not gonna tell you.”

Hisoka carries on, smiling a little too much to be friendly. 

“Your face, although very pretty, tells me everything I need to know.” He coos, leaning towards you with a smile. “You really should work on that poker face.”

You roll your eyes. Hisoka just smiles. Chrollo ignores both of you. 

“Done?” You ask. “Let's reveal our hands already.”

Hisoka is just trying to shake you up, it's obvious. It's all the man does for god's sake. 

“Turn on three.” Chrollo says. Your eyes come to him, catching on the small drinking flush on his cheekbones. His hair is drooping from its gelled place, a few strands falling over his forehead. Hisoka, on your other side, also looks a little unhinged. More than usual anyway, with a feral light in his eyes. He never looks away from you, even as Chrollo speaks.

“One, two, three.”

The three of you flip your cards and your heart sinks. Your straight is the lowest hand on the table. Hisoka smirks, a royal flush sitting proudly in front of him. Chrollo has four of a kind. Your jaw drops in disbelief. The odds of that are absolutely insane.

“What the hell,” You say in shock. “I cant fucking believe it. I thought I was set.”

Chrollo chuckles quietly. “You must have gotten unlucky my dear.” He says, taking a small sip of beer. Hisoka smiles.

“Don't be too sad Name.” He says, gathering the cards back into his hand. “Now put on a show for us, okay?”

You roll your eyes, shrugging your sweatshirt off and onto the pile of your already discarded clothes.

“That's good enough for you, creep?” You ask, rolling your eyes again. You've been doing that a lot lately.

“I suppose it'll do for now,” Hisoka sighs, dealing the cards out again. Chrollo chuckles. 

“A rather lacking show, don't you think?” he says, picking up his cards. You shoot him a confused look.

“Your acting weird today, Chrollo.” You say, eyeing your hand. Nothing good. 

“Am i?” Chrollo says vaguely. “Whatever you say dear. Another beer, Hisoka.”

Hisoka chuckles, lobbing a beer at Chrollo, who catches it in his free hand.

Hisoka loses the next few rounds, discarding his arm band and both of his shoes. Chrollo then has to discard a few of his weird bobbles and chains, and then his shoes. You're all dangerously close to losing an important piece of clothing now. The tension in the room is rising, along with the intoxication level. 

You sigh, feeling not drunk but pleasantly buzzed. You can tell Hisoka and Chrollo feel the same. 

And then it happens. You lose the next round. 

Staring sadly at the shitty hand in front of you, you calculate your options.

You can take your shirt off, leaving you in your bra, pants and underwear. Or you could take your pants off. 

“Come on now, move along.” Hisoka coos, words somehow sounding more suggestive than normal. You roll your eyes, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it into the pile of your discarded clothes with a frown. You hope they assume the flush of your cheeks is from alcohol.

Chrollo coughs a little, tossing Hisoka his hand and averting his eyes almost politely. Hisoka just stares shamelessly, at your boobs, cupped in your light pink lacy bra. You flush.

“Stop staring, creep.” You toss your cards his way. His smirks, dealing three hands again.

Hisoka loses the next round. You giggle, shouting payback until he takes off his shirt. You swear you're not looking at his chest or anything. Chrollo loses his jacket next, and you swear the universe is taunting you as you sit there, almost bare next too to really attractive shirtless men. 

You lose the next round, leaving you on the cold stone floor in your matching underwear and bra, trying to hide your embarrassment. 

The stone is cold, but it doesn't nothing to cool the heat you feel running through your veins, gathering in your gut as Hisokas pale hand deals out the fateful cards. 

The air is filled with an odd tension, something simmering under the surface. For once, everyone is silent, the only sound is the cards hitting the floor crisply. You find yourself mesmerized by the movement, the muscles of Hisokas arms as they ripple, as the cards hit the floor. You kinda wanna kiss his muscled arms.

“See something you like?” Hisoka coos. You flinch, looking in the opposite direction. It isn't any better, now all you can see is Chrollos bare chest. You choose to look down at your cards. The room sinks into silence again, Chrollos pants rustling as he shifts positions slightly, flicking three cards down onto the ground.

You choose to trade two, hoping for a full house. And miraculously, you actually get it. Hope fills your chest as Hisoka and Chrollo trade their cards. Maybe you're safe after all. 

Candlelight flickers, the moonlight pouring in through the large windows onto the three of you, sitting in your circle, clothes littered around you. Your body thrums with head and suppressed arousal, and your nipples stand in the cold night air. You wonder if they think you're pretty. You wish they did. A breeze blows through the building and you shiver. 

“Reveal your hands on three.” Chrollo says, his voice hushed. Hisoka nods, for once not saying anything. 

“One,” Chrollo counts. Hisoka shifts, hands rearranging his baggy pants. His eyes burn into yours, the rare yellow color clouded with something you can't place. He looks feral, his hair falling slightly from its usual style,a  few strands brushing his forehead and the tips of his ears. You feel breathless.

“Two,” Chrollo says. You jerk your eyes away from Hisoka, looking at Chrollo. It's not much better over there, but at least he isn't looking at you. Eye contact is too much for your sanity. He's just as strong as Hisoka, but his build is more lean. While Hisokas shoulders taper into his small waist, Chrollo's body is more of a straight line. You resist the urge to stroke down his visible abs. The air feels hot suddenly, as Chrolllo opens his mouth one final time.

“Three.”

Time seems to slow down, as each person reveals their hand. A full house, sitting in front of your bare knees. 

A straight flush, sitting in front of Chrollo.

And a royal flush, sitting in front of Hisoka. 

Time seems to still for a moment as each person takes stock of the hands, takes stock of who lost. And then they turn to you. 

“I don't have anything left.” You say, your voice pitched soft. 

“You sure?” Hisoka coos, sliding along the floor slowly. Closing in on you. You laugh nervously, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Was this all a ploy to get me naked?” You joke, avoiding eye contact. Hisoka chuckles. Chrollo remains silent. You can feel their eyes on you, tracing your body, catching on the lace hiding your privates from view. 

“Wasn't it obvious?” Chrollo says, a slight tremor in his voice. Your jaw drops open. 

“What are you talking about?” You ask. The tension still lingers in the air as you look up at Chrollo, taking in his appearance. He looks slightly disheveled, an almost invisible flush sitting high on his cheekbones, a flush on his neck. You trace it down until it disappears, and then find your eyes dropping down farther and farther until they land on the bulge in his loose pants. You swallow your shock.

“What,” You start, and then jump a little as a warm clawed hand traces your shoulder. Hisoka has crept behind you, his bare chest a few inches from your back, his hands tracing your shoulders. He bends down, and pressing a light kiss to your neck.

“What's gotten into you guys,” You ask, voice shaking as Chrollo moves forward, crouching in front of your body. His hands stroke up and down your legs, stopping just shy of your thighs. Hisoka chuckles in your ear.

“You're quite naive, you know.” He coos, one hand reaching down to flick the clasp of your bra. It comes apart seamlessly, and Hisokas hands tease the straps, the only thing shielding your boobs from hungry fingers and eyes. 

“He's so obvious, too.” Chrollo remarks, fairly casual as he presses a kiss high on your thigh. You muffle a whimper, biting your lip. He was quite physical with you. But you always brushed that off as Hisoka being Hisoka, and nothing more. Maybe you were a bit too hard on yourself.

“Why didn't you just ask,” You whimper, as Hisokas teeth scrape your neck. He leaves a hickey under your ear. 

“Already tried that.” Hisoka hums. Chrollo chuckles, hands smoothing over the delicate skin of your thighs.

“You're always so eager to reject me,” Hisoka teases, pulling your bra off with a flourish. “So mean.”

His hands whined around, nails scratching your nipples as your boobs are exposed to the cold air. 

You whimper, back arching and hands scrambling to grab something, anything. You land on Chrollo’s hair, yanking it a bit as Hisoka teases your nipples. Arousal is running through your body, and you accidentally shove Chrollo’s face into your thigh as one clawed hand grips your hair, pulling your head back.

Chrollo’s hands grip your hips, studying himself as your hands lessen slightly, allowing him to pull away from your thigh. His hair is a mess, black strands knotted in your hands. He looks a bit desperate. 

“Look at you,” Hisoka coos, clawed hand tracing slowly between your boobs, tracing up the pulse point of your neck, thumb smoothing over your lips.

“So pretty and eager for us.” 

You grumble, trying to protest, but HIsoka silences that by shoving two fingers down your throat. You give in, sucking with a whimper.

“She likes that,” Chrollo says, tossing the words upwards at the clown behind you. “She's soaked through her panties.”

You whimper in mortification, as shamefully your pussy pulses with heat. Chrollo's hands work your underwear down, pulling them off your legs and bearing your wet pussy to the cold air and Chrollo's gaze. 

The cold air hits your clit and you tense up, about to protest. And then he slips two fingers inside of you.

It's embarrassing how easy they go in, the squelch that echoes in the air. Chrollo hums in appreciation.

“She's so pretty like this.” He says, fingers fucking you open gently. You whimper in response. Hisoka chuckles in agreement.

“Indeed,” He says, the words almost a moan. “Irresistible.”

His fingers fall from your mouth, a trail of spit following as he pulls away. He pinches a nipple, drawing a moan out of your throat. 

“Wait,” You murmur, reaching back to grip Hisokas vibrant red hair. “Want you to fuck me.”

They both pause, tension hanging in the air as you tremble, your pussy throbbing. Chrollo pulls his fingers from you, the sound echoing in the silence. 

And then, your world spins. You're on your hands and knees, the stone digging into you. The cold leaks into your skin, not able to dampen the fire of arousal running through your body.

“Fuck thats hot,” You groan, looking up at Hisoka, who kneels before you. He chuckles, hand caressing your blissed out face. 

“You're a little whore, aren't you.” He purrs, gripping the side of your face. You get the full view from here, able to take in his pale abs, the large bulge in his pants, and his disheveled appearance. He looks radiant.

“Mmm,” You murmur, not agreeing or disagreeing. 

“Condoms?” Chrollo asks from behind you, hands smoothing over your bare ass. You giggle. How gentlemanly, but at this moment all you want is to be fucked out of your mind. 

“Dont care,” You grunt, taking a moment to suck Hisokas thumb. His pornographic moan is a reward. “You guys clean?”

“Yes,” Chrollo says, and you hear the clink of a belt behind you. You whimper, your pussy throbbing desperately. Hisoka chuckles.

“Yes,” he coos, and you watch eagerly as he pulls himself out of his pants. “Now put that pretty mouth to use.”

You whimper, obliging him and wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. He's big, thick, stretching your throat out as you do your best to take him in as deep as you can. He winds a clawed hand in your hair, gripping your head and pushing you farther onto him. Your so distracted you forget about Chrollo, until he abruptly shoves his cock into you pussy.

Your back arches in response, a gargled moan muffled by Hisokas cock shoved down your throat. Hisoka yanks your hair and you moan. 

“She liked that,” Chrollo grunts, his voice as controlled as ever. If you pay close attention you can hear a roughness in his voice, a sign that hes trying to disguise how affected he really is. But your too busy moaning like a whore to pay close attention.

“Did she?” Hisoka grunts, his breath coming in ragged pants as he grips your head, fucking your throat like a toy. “You like being fucked like a whore Name?”

“Oh god yes!” you moan, back arching. You can feel an orgasm on the horizon, looming as you get controlled from both ends. 

Chrollo winds a hand around, rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“Gonna cum,” You moan shakily, hands scrabbling at the stone ground. Hisoka chuckles dangerously, hips stuttering into your mouth.

“Already?” He almost laughs, sweat wetting his hairline. Chrollo speeds up, timing his thrusts with Hisoka. They drive you insane. 

“Can i cum?” You beg. Chrollo lands a slap on your ass and you clench around him.

“Hmm, I don't know.” Hisoka teases. “Should we?”

Chrollo chuckles roughly, hips stuttering slightly in between steady thrusts. 

“I think she deserves it.” He says. “She’s been so good.”

You whimper, holding back your orgasm as they speak over you. It's arousing, and you hate that. Hisoka chuckles, gripping the back of your head and abruptly shoving you deep onto his cock.

“Fine then,” He teases, “go ahead. Cum.”

You obey, your orgasm overwhelming you. Stars bounce in your vision, your body trembling as you cry their names and nonsensical words onto Hisoka’s cock. 

Faintly, you hear groans, and Hisioka cums down your throat, the salty liquid flowing down your throat in spurts. You do your best to swallow it all, orgasm still hitting you as Chrollo cums into your poor pussy. 

When your orgasm finally subsides, you find yourself laying on your back between them, cum dripping from your abused pussy. You sigh.

“Where am i supposed to clean up?” You ask, voice still raspy from moaning. Hisoka chuckles, running a hand through your messy hair.

“Oh dear,” He purrs. “Did you think we were done with you?”

You look at them, watching as arousal floods their bodies, as that light comes back into their eyes, and sigh.

Its going to be a long, long night. 

....

Endnotes: hope you enjoyed it, it's like three am and i'm gonna put this up and go to beddddd. Oh also you might have noticed that the Kinktober list changes. If you have anything you're particularly excited about feel free to dm me and i'll make sure to keep it in!! Feel free to leave a comment <3

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 10

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you're finally back at the house and you need to find yourself a new normal again. you take this time to get better acquainted with the others and make sense of what you know

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

When you arrive back at the house, you start to feel sick. 

You’re not sure if it’s nerves or stress, but in reality it’s probably the events of the last few days finally starting to catch up to you. You immediately excuse yourself to your room and crash onto your bed, fighting back the urge to vomit. 

Someone knocks on your door. You tell them to go away and they do; that’s how you know it isn’t Chan. The night comes and goes and you sleep your way through it. You sleep into the morning. Well into the morning, in fact, that you miss both breakfast and lunch. 

You wake up finally, drenched in sweat and completely sore all over your body. It’s the sound of yelling outside of your door that rouses you from your sleep, your door slamming open causing you to cower under your covers. 

“Get up,” Chan says. His voice does not allow room for argument. 

“Chan, you should leave her–” 

“Changbin, I don’t fucking need you to tell me what to do right now. Y/N, get up. You’re eating dinner with us. You’re not skipping another meal,” he says. Tears prick at your eyes but you’re successful at holding them back. You are not going to cry. Not in front of Chan. 

“I don’t feel good,” you say. 

“That’s bullshit,” he says, nearly cutting you off as if he anticipated your answer. “I know I have put you through a lot these past few days, but like Hell am I going to let you wither away in my house.” You let out a squeal as you feel the covers get yanked off of your body, leaving you feeling bare. The cold air pricks at your sweat covered skin and immediately you get goosebumps from the sensation. When you look up you see him standing over the mattress with his arms crossed, his gaze boring into your features, and you roll out of bed with a sigh. You feel nauseous as you follow him to the dining room but you don’t argue. However, the blood in your skin does start to boil. 

Who the fuck is he to tell you what you can and can’t do? He’s already locked you up in this house, killed someone in front of you, and controlled just about every movement since you’ve ended up here. Is he going to dictate your whole meal plan too? God, you’re seething. 

But you also know he’s right. That’s what infuriates you. Your physical ailments are just a manifestation of your trauma and your psyche, and maybe you have been letting them consume you for the past 24-hours, but that is your absolute right to do so. It chills you that he pays close attention to your each and every movement. 

You think back to your conversation with Woojin in the warehouse. “Chan doesn’t like in the way that normal people like. He gets infatuated. He becomes obsessed and controlling and people end up dead.” You suppress the urge to shudder. You’re not sure you want to be loved or even liked by Chan. He was a passionate, attentive lover. You can only imagine being with Chan being like that, but tenfold. 

On the other hand, you didn’t quite want to be disliked by Chan. 

Besides the lack of food in your stomach from the past day, something else makes you nauseous when you sit at the table. Felix. You shoot him a smile and despise the way that your heart squeezes when he grins back at you. At this point, you can’t deny that you feel something towards the man. You shouldn’t. You absolutely fucking shouldn’t. Despite his kind treatment, he is still in the mafia, just like everyone else here. You’ve just allowed yourself to lean into your delusion that you could be something more, that maybe there’s more behind his kind actions that meets the eye. 

You pick at your food at first. You realize it’s the first time that everyone has been here at dinner since before Woojin left. That feels like such a long time ago. Now, Lee Know is finally back, and you notice that the dynamic feels just a little bit more complete. Despite the last few days being absolutely wild, dinner conversation is just about as normal as it would be. You find yourself smiling subconsciously when jokes are cracked. And before you know it, you've eaten your whole plate. You really were hungrier than you realized. 

As you clean your plate and slide it into the trash, you run right into Felix. Literally. His warm hands find their way to your waist to steady you and you don't meet his eye. Your face warms up at the action and you turn away from him, suddenly nervous. 

“Hey,” he says, voice laced with surprise. “I haven’t seen you in a bit. You doing okay?” 

“I’m… better now, I guess. Thanks. The past few days were just…” 

“A lot?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, daring a gaze to his softening eyes, a warm brown hue. “A lot.” 

“If you’re feeling up to it, we could train some more?” he asks. His eyes are searching your face as if to confirm that you’re in a well-enough state to do so. You hope he doesn’t notice the blush that spreads over your features just from talking to him. You think back to the motel, and how his lips had gotten dangerously close to brushing against yours. You could feel his warm breath on yours, and if you had moved even just a centimeter closer you would have kissed, and there 

would have been no coming back from that. Can you trust yourself  to train with him? To not allow yourself to develop further feelings, or to act and cross that unreturnable line?

“No thanks,” you tell him as politely as you can muster. “I’m… still not feeling too well, physically. Still kind of nauseous, you know? Raincheck?” 

“Yeah, of course!” he says. It’s at this moment when you realize his hands are still on your waist from when he steadied you from your near-fall. If your face wasn’t red before, it certainly is now. Great. As if he’s realized this too, his hands fall from their place on your body and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I hope you feel better! Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” 

Felix is too polite and heartfelt for his own good, you think. It’s the quality of his that catches you the most off guard, the one that makes you forget so easily that he’s supposed to be dangerous. 

As you walk back to your room, his touch a hot remnant on your waist, you try to remind yourself of all the times that Felix has proven himself to be more dangerous than he lets on. The night you escaped, for example, he threatened the men that had cornered you with a gun. Felix punching Woojin in the nose after he touched you, another example. Then there’s the night he brought you to the hotel. He had shown up with blood covering his white stained suit, though you had never asked about it. So yes, he has proven himself to be a dangerous, strong man. Why hasn’t that deterred your heart from yearning after him, though?

You sigh once you’ve returned to your room. You realize that you will need to get a new book from Hyunjin. You decide to put that off for now, however, and opt to leave the room. You know you will need to shower the sweat off of your clammy skin from your excessive sleep anyway, so you might as well go to the gym while you’re at it. Without Felix, this time. You almost feel bad that you lied and decided to go to the gym without him, but it’s not for lack of a good reason. You pick out a pair of clothes from your wardrobe that are loosely-fitting, easy for movement, and throw your hair up into a ponytail. 

On your way to the gym, however, you realize there’s something that doesn’t feel right. A nagging feeling in your stomach. It’s at this time that you find yourself seeking out Chan, walking to his room for the first time since you moved in. There’s much you need to talk about, and it’s probably best to do so alone. 

The door at the very end of the hall. It’s the only one besides Chan’s office that is characterized with a big metal deadbolt, almost comical in nature. Before you can plant a seed of doubt in yourself, you’re rapping on the door three times, hard. You don’t realize that it’s already late to begin with, so you hadn’t considered the option that he might be asleep until you’re met with silence. Hesitantly you turn around putting pressure on the balls of your feet to walk away before you hear a click, the door creaking open. Your heart beats fast for a second, and you’re met with the sight of Chan before you can consider running away. 

He looks at you, confused. He obviously was not expecting you to be on the other side of the door. You wonder if he was expecting Hyunjin instead. You notice that he’s freshly showered, his dark hair falling in messy curls around his head and this kind of throws you off guard. In front of you, Chan has only ever looked neat and put-together, hair straightened and meticulous in his appearance. Even when he found you in the abandoned warehouse, he looked the embodiment of perfection, still in his suit from the gala. To see him in something so casual, sweats and a loose t-shirt after dinner… You almost forget for a second that the man in front of you is Bang Chan, one of the most dangerous men in the country, leader of the mafia. Almost. 

You clear your throat. “We need to talk,” you say. You feel triumphant for once, that you’re the one taking him by surprise, that you’re the one with the upperhand, but that’s all forgotten when he opens his door wider and invites you into his room. 

Well. You weren’t exactly expecting that. But you clear your throat and follow him inside. 

The first thing you notice about Chan’s room is how large it is. It makes sense, really, that the leader of the mafia would have the largest room in his own house. You’re sure there’s a reason why it was deadbolted shut, that there’s things in here that aren’t meant for just anyone to see. 

His bed is king-sized, placed in the middle of the room thoughtfully with a black duvet. The whole room matches, really, dark mahogany hardwood floors and black furniture. Even the walls, though sleek and elegant in feel, give a more gloomy yet modern feel. It’s very minimalist, you notice, no picture frames or paintings hung on the walls, though that feels very on brand for the man in front of you. 

Chan motions for you to sit on his bed. You do, trying to hide your hesitation, crossing your legs as you watch the man cross the room. He stands in front of you, arms crossed and looking down at you where you sit. Mindlessly, you smooth your hands over the duvet, neatly made and cold to the touch and probably more expensive than anything you’ve ever owned. 

“Yes?” He asks. He has a blank expression on his face and you curse yourself momentarily for being unable to identify what he’s thinking, but then you remember why you’re here. 

“Right,” you say. “I wanted to talk.” You take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves. 

He makes a noncommittal gesture with his hand, as if to say ‘so talk, then. What are you waiting for?’ 

“The gala,” you gulp. “That was… um, a lot, obviously. It’s just…” you try to think about where to even start and how to phrase what you had to say without offending him. As much as you want to curse him out, then and there, offending the man that is currently guaranteeing your safety probably isn’t the most wise decision. “Before we went inside, I told you about how nervous I was to see Jungwon. And you said… you promised that nothing was going to happen to me. I just can’t help but wonder, Chan. Was it a lie? Did you hand me over to them as a tactic? I know I don’t mean much to you guys, and at the end of the day you really have no reason to protect me. I just… I don’t want to think that you lied, but–”

“That’s enough.” When you meet his gaze you see how utterly pissed off he is. Shit. The words had spilled out of your mouth faster than you intended, but to be fair you had the right to know. Had he intentionally put your life in danger for the sake of getting his revenge on Jungwon? It really hadn’t come to your mind until now, but once the thought infiltrated your brain you couldn’t get it to leave. “I don’t fucking lie, Y/N,” he practically spits at you. “I thought you would know by now that I value honesty and loyalty above all else. What happened at the gala, as much as I hate to admit it, was out of my control. We should have prepared for it, but when we saw Woojin was there things got out of hand fast. The safety of one of my team members was in danger, so my priority was ensuring Minho’s safety. I hate feeling powerless. I fucking hate it, that they had the upper hand on us, but I thought that I made it perfectly clear after you got taken that they were going to pay for what they did to you.” 

You nod your head, solemnly. “I’m sorry, I just–”

He shushes you sharply. You can tell he’s not finished speaking and he’s still full of irritation so you let him continue. “I don’t want to hear you say that we have no reason to protect you. That’s bullshit and we both know it. Sure, at first, the only reason you were allowed to stay with us was so we had the upper hand on Yang Jungwon. But I think you and I both realize that you’re something more to us now. Something more to me,” he says. “Jungwon is dead now. I protected you. Give me a chance to protect you again, Y/N. Let me kill Lee Heeseung and show you that you’re safe, and that you belong here. Nobody will ever hurt you again,” he ensures. 

His words send a shiver down your spine. His words are so blunt and to the point, and if you weren’t listening carefully you would have almost missed the confession laced between his words. It scares you, this overprotective and controlling aspect of the man in front of you, the one who watches your every move. Chan, who makes sure you’re eating and taking care of yourself, Chan who loves too deeply, Chan who will make sure that nobody will ever lay a hand on you again. 

You don’t know what to say. It’s overwhelming, and unease settles in your gut. “He’s dead,” is what you settle on, surprising even yourself. 

“He is,” Chan agrees. “I’m not going to apologize for it.” 

“I didn’t ask for you to,” you reply. “It’s just… does it get any easier?” 

“Seeing the dead bodies?” he clarifies. You shake your head. 

“Losing the people that you love,” you say just above a whisper. You know he hears you. He grimaces. 

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I haven’t… I haven’t loved in a very long time. And I don’t intend to lose anybody anytime soon.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment. His words sit heavy in the air, swirling around before falling heavily upon your shoulders. You look at him with a grimace to match. 

“I’ve been having nightmares,” you admit. 

“You’ll be okay.” He reaches his hand out to guide you up, off of the bed. You take it, standing, trying not to think about how he invalidated your statement. You’re not sure what you expected from him but it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Your brain flashes to Felix, a day or two prior that comforted you in the motel bed as sobs racked through your body. Felix, who let you lay your head on his chest as he soothed you to sleep and actually made you feel like everything would be okay. You shake the thought from your head. Chan is not Felix. 

With a small smile you acknowledge the man and thank him. He surprises you when he brings you in for a hug, your head resting on his shoulder. He smells vaguely of rain, you think, though you think the man is more befitting of a storm, angry and all-consuming. You push yourself weakly out of his grasp, muttering a small ‘goodnight’ as you leave the room. 

You can hear the deadbolt click behind you and you let out a shuddering breath. You can’t help the way your skin pricks up at Chan’s every touch, though the man also leaves you feeling uneasy. 

It’s time for you to go to the gym. 

With an exasperated sigh, that’s where you end up. It’s late at night now, so you don’t expect anybody to be here when you arrive but someone is. You hear them grunting and breathing heavy before you see them, and you almost turn around and head back to your room before you change your mind. 

You need to relieve your stress right now. 

You never thought you would be the person to say that, let alone use working out as an outlet for your stress, but here you are. The last few weeks of your life would bring most people to the brink of madness, after all, so if going to the gym and finally becoming strong was your new coping mechanism, fuck it. 

You swing open the door and try not to make eye contact. Please don’t be Felix, you think. I don’t think I can emotionally deal with that situation right now. 

It seems luck is in your favor, for once, as Changbin is the one that turns around when you enter. You give him a small smile, as you are feeling pretty relieved to see him. 

You don’t spare him a second glance, however, as you turn on the treadmill and start running. You wish you had a phone in moments like these, a way that you could listen to music so that you could just turn your brain off. Felix would always play music off his phone when you went to the gym together. Fuck! If your brain could stop thinking about Felix for one moment, his flowery-yet-musky smell and his beautiful, fair hair and fae-like features, things would be so much easier for you. 

“Dude,” you hear. “You good?” 

You almost stumble on the treadmill, slamming the stop button to turn around and glare at the man behind you. 

“What?” you say, more venomous than deserved. 

“You okay?” he repeats himself. A thick layer of sweat coats his skin, and you notice the ridiculous amount of weight he has set on the barbell. Makes sense. As the bodyguard of the group, he is ridiculously in shape. You must be stupid or blind to not admire the muscles he has likely put a lot of time into. “You’re like, slamming your feet into the treadmill and you’ve been sprinting for a good 15 minutes.” He’s right. You hadn’t even noticed how effortlessly you had run almost two miles. 

“I’m fine,” you sigh. Neither of you seem convinced. 

“You seem pissed,” he points out. 

“I am pissed,” you finally agree. So much for being elusive and shoving away your feelings. It doesn’t take much for you to cave. “It’s been a long couple of days.” 

“I can imagine,” he sympathizes. “What can I do to help?” His words take you by surprise, as he seems genuine in offering his help. You ponder his question as you try and catch your breath. 

“Spar with me?” You ask, finally. You’re not too sure you want to go to Felix about this anymore. 

“I can do that,” he replies with a smile. 

After wrapping your hands up and getting ready, you take a defensive stance. Changbin looks like he’s been taken by surprise. 

“What?” you question, confused by his reaction. 

“Nothing,” he answers quickly. “It’s just… your form is good! I thought I would have to teach you some of the basics.” 

You preen a little at the compliment. Your form is actually good? That means your hard work is paying off! “I’ve been practicing with Felix,” you admit. 

A look of realization flashes over him. “Ohhhhh,” is all he says in response. “Are you ready?” You grunt in approval. 

Changbin does not go easy on you, to your surprise. He immediately goes on the offense, attacking with hit after hit. He’s not using his full strength, thankfully as you probably can’t take it just yet, but the man is fast. It’s also interesting to see how different his fighting style is from Felix’s, though you notice some similarities. 

Like how he plants his feet firmly after each right hook. Like how he leaves his left side open and unprotected after he bends his leg to connect his knee to your abdomen. He isn’t expecting your kick or the force behind it and it knocks him backwards. He regains his balance quickly and doesn’t completely fall, much to your chagrin, though the look of shock that crosses his features tells you all you need to know. You’re starting to get good. 

“You’re observant,” he points out. “That’s really good. That will make up for your lack of strength. Fighting is equal parts brain and brawn, you know. You’re good at using your brain to your advantage.” You remember that Changbin is one of the best fighters in the house other than Felix so you don’t take his praise for granted. 

“Thanks,” you say. “You’re strong, you know.” 

“So I’ve been told,” he laughs. “It’s a part of the job. I haven’t always been like this, though.” You try to think about a younger Changbin, weak and scrawny and you almost laugh at the thought. There’s no way. 

“Any reason why you decided to bulk up? Besides the job, obviously. It’s just, your physique isn’t something that someone would get for the sake of a job,” you smile. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs. “I had people to protect. I was weak and people took advantage of that, so I became strong. I wanted to become feared, let people know not to mess with me or the people I love, and what better way to do that than to look the muscular, intimidating part?” You ponder his words, not missing it when he said he had people to protect. You wonder where they are now. You wonder how he got here, even, but you don’t ask. You think there’s a lot more to Changbin that meets the eye. “Are you done already?” He asks after a beat. 

“No, I don’t think so,” you say, changing the subject. “Felix was starting to work with me on self-defense tactics to get out of a restrictive hold. Can you help me?” He quirks his brow in surprise. “Shouldn’t Felix help you, then?” 

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m not here with Felix right now, I’m here with you.” 

“Fair enough,” he mutters. You give him a small grin. Somehow, your stress has melted off of you in waves and you’ve almost forgotten what has gotten you so worked up in the first place. Changbin does a good job of making sure your focus is entirely on him, no distractions evident when he pulls you into a chokehold from behind. It’s not tight or malicious, but effective in its purpose as a demonstration. “This is one of the most common restrictive holds,” he explains. “Tell me, when I pull you in from behind and my hands are wrapped around your neck, what is your first instinct?” 

“To try to pry your hands away from my neck,” you respond. 

“Good,” he praises. “That’s what you want to avoid. Think about my body, behind you right now. What do you have open? What do I have open that you can attack?”

You mull his words over for a second, becoming hyper-aware of his body behind you. If both of his arms are around your neck, that means his torso is free. You could easily swing an elbow back and try to make contact with his ribs. Thinking about a previous lesson with Felix, you consider the more vulnerable areas of the body. The face, the neck, and the groin. 

“My legs are free,” you answer. “I could swing up a leg from behind and hit you in the groin.”

“That’s right,” he says. “Anything else?” 

“Your face? If I swing my head back hard enough, I should be able to smack you right in the nose. That’s enough to throw anyone off guard.” 

“Are you sure you even need me to show you how it’s done?” he teases. “Let’s practice now.” 

You’re not sure how long you and Changbin spend in the gym, but you feel thoroughly spent by the time you’re through. Your muscles ache, you’re dripping with sweat, and you’re out of breath so you decide to call it a night. As you leave, you have a lingering question you decide to share with Changbin. 

“What do you know about knives?” you ask. 

“Knives?” he questions, his brows furrowing and causing a crease to form on his forehead. 

“Yeah, knives,” you respond. “Daggers, blades, stabbing–” 

“I know what you’re talking about, smartass,” he interrupts. “Just… why?” 

“I’ve been thinking about learning how to use a weapon,” you explain. 

“Yeah, I don’t think knives or blades are a good idea, then,” he tells you. 

“What? Why not?” you all but shout. “I thought I was making some serious progress!” 

“I’m not denying that,” he argues. “Your skill definitely exceeds what I would consider a beginner, and that’s amazing given how little time you’ve had. It’s just that knives make for a horrible beginner weapon. For one, you need to get close and personal with your target. That’s not ideal; if you hesitate, they can easily overpower you and stab you instead. Second, stabbings are messy. You can’t half-ass shoving a knife into someone–you have to do it with as much force as you can and into a vital spot. If you’re using a knife to protect yourself, you need to do it with the intent to kill. Best case-scenario, you’ll need to stab them multiple times in order to really do some damage. Not to doubt your capabilities, but do you really think you can do that?”

You blanche. You suppose he does have a point there. 

“You’re better off learning how to use a gun. Sure, if you’re really in a pinch a knife will do the trick, but you’re better off shooting and giving yourself the opportunity to run. That stamina you’ve been building up doesn’t have to be for show, you know.” 

“So you’ll teach me how to use a gun?” you question, trying not to seem too hopeful. 

“Me? God no,” he laughs a little too loudly. “I prefer to use these as my weapons,” he says, flexing his biceps and kissing them to further prove his point. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your chest at his actions. “If you want to talk to someone who knows guns and weapons, you’re probably better off talking to Jisung about them. He knows a little bit about everything. Plus, he definitely has the best aim. He’s your man,” he tells you, closing the door to the gym behind him. He wishes you a goodnight and leaves you in the hallway. You decide it’s too late to talk to Jisung about it now, and instead decide to grab a cup of water from the kitchen. 

As you reach the cabinet to grab a glass, you see a shadowy figure that nearly has you dropping the glass and jumping out of your skin. 

“Fuck!” you whisper-shout, clutching your chest. As your eyes adjust to the light switch that has just been flipped on, you’re met face-to-face with Seungmin. 

“Hey,” he greets nonchalantly. 

“You scared me,” you accuse. He shrugs his shoulders as if to say, ‘whatever, not my fault.’ You’re reminded of the fact that you haven’t exactly had ample opportunity to talk to the man. He’s just sort of been around. 

You turn on the faucet and fill up your cup, trying to even out your breathing. 

“He’s going to be upset, you know,” he says. He sips on his own cup of water, staring at the floor and for a second you’re sure you misheard. Did he actually just speak to you?

“Who?” you question. 

“Felix,” he answers without missing a beat, like it’s obvious. 

“What? Why would Felix be mad?” The stress and anxiety has already come back, bubbling inside your chest. 

“You went to the gym without him,” he says. “With someone else, actually.” Confusion spreads across your features. So… not only does he know that you were just at the gym with Changbin, but he’s also aware of the fact that you’ve been practicing with Felix? How does he know so much!? You scoff and turn around, water in hand as you pay him no mind.  

“Felix can be quite jealous,” he adds as you leave the room. You roll your eyes. 

The world seems to be plotting your demise, you think. Of course you run into Felix on your way back to your room, spilling your water on him in the process. 

“Shit,” you cry, face flushing up in the process. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” he says. “No worries.” You don’t look at him and push past politely, trying to open your bedroom door when he calls after you. 

“You went to the gym,” he says. It’s not a question, merely a statement that he has observed. 

“I did,” you confirm. You think about Seungmin’s words and consider leaving it at that, but you decide to try to confirm his statement. “Changbin was just helping me spar.”

You hide a smirk when you notice Felix freeze. “You went… with Changbin?” he asks, distaste laced in his voice. 

“Yes,” you say, deciding to push him further. “Is there a problem with that?” 

“Not at all,” he says, feigning a smile. “I’ll take it you’re feeling better, then?” 

Right. You had told him that you were still feeling ill, so it probably comes across as rude to turn around and immediately go with someone else. 

“I tried to rest,” you tell him. “Sorry. I was feeling antsy and didn’t want to bother you. Changbin just happened to be there.” You don’t want to tell him that you really didn’t want to spar because the thought of close proximity to Felix made your heart flutter against your better judgment. 

“I see,” he nods his head in affirmation. “Next time, feel free to come and get me. You know where my room is, right?” You realize you don’t know where his room is, and he must recognize your hesitation. “Look–I’m three doors down. Do you see that white door on the right side of the hall? That’s me, so next time make sure you come and get me, okay?” You confirm that you will and you close your door, slumping up against it as it shuts. 

He did get jealous. Maybe Seungmin is more observant than you had realized. 

You fall asleep quite fast after your shower. That ugly feeling you worked so hard to work off earlier remains stagnant in your gut but you do a good job of ignoring it. You sleep through the night, body sore but full of food and content with the progress you’ve been making. You don’t have any nightmares, though your sleep is interrupted in the morning by a rapping on the door. 

It’s daytime by now, evident by the light shining through your windows but you still groan nonetheless, swinging your legs over the bed and letting your body carry you to the door. Swinging it open, you’re surprised to see Jisung standing on the other end of the door. Wearing a blue and brown striped sweater with large, thick-rimmed glasses, he looks very domestic which catches you off guard. 

“Morning,” he says with a smile. 

“Morning…?” you answer back, stretching into a yawn and rubbing sleep from your eyes. 

“I came to get you for breakfast,” he says. “Chan sent me.”

“Of course, Chan sent you,” you say with a sigh. “Give me one moment.” You close the door behind you, getting ready by changing into more presentable clothes and washing your face. You brush your hair back and suppress a yawn, thinking that coffee might do you some good. Opening the door again, you see that Jisung has waited for you. 

Walking to the kitchen together, you decide to talk to the man. “I have been meaning to ask you something,” you tell him. 

“Oh?” he asks, eyes shooting open and mouth widening into a small ‘o’ shape. He looks reminiscent of a chipmunk and it’s quite endearing–you find yourself wanting to run your fingers through the curly locks on his head that further drives the image. 

“Yes, Changbin was telling me that you might be able to show me how to use a gun?” you ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“Absolutely,” he says. You try not to look too surprised–that’s it? He’s not going to ask why or what for? “Want to stop by my room after breakfast?” 

“It might be closer to lunch, but that would be great!” you tell him. You actually have a busy morning planned out: a meeting with Hyunjin to pick out a new book, and training with Felix. You feel hopeful now, though, that on top of all this strength and stamina you’ve been building up, you won’t be so defenseless after all. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Your plans get foiled pretty quickly, as Felix tells you he can’t help you train today. He’s getting sent out with Hyunjin and Seungmin for a mission, one that he can’t fully disclose to him. You don’t give him any signal that you’re slightly relieved, unsure how to deal with all the tension that’s been building up. 

But that also means that you won’t get a chance to visit Hyunjin for your book. So, Jisung it is. After breakfast he’s kind enough to lead you to his room, seeing as you weren’t exactly sure where it was anyway. 

You’re not super surprised to see that his room is messy, as you sort of get that vibe from him that it would be. Piles of clothes are strewn about, some water bottles and dishes piled on his bedside table. He opens up a large wooden armoire with no clothes in it, instead filled with a large metal safe. He takes a moment to make sure you aren’t looking before inputting a code, the metal door whirring and swinging open. 

Guns. Lots of them, though you probably couldn’t identify which kinds there are, there are many of varying lengths and sizes. Some look more expensive while others are covered in grime and rust. 

You sit and watch as Jisung explains the very basics of even using a gun, including how to load it, how to hold it, and what not to do with it. He tells you to always act like a gun is loaded, even if you know it isn’t; you should also never aim it at someone unless you’re doing so with the intent to shoot at them. He talks for a bit about basic shooting techniques, as well as how to handle the recoil of a gun after shooting it with a good-enough stance. You honestly feel like your head is about to explode from this overload of information but you’re grateful for it nonetheless; you definitely feel like you know more than enough about how to shoot after your conversation with him. 

“You’re smart,” you tell him. “You know so much about guns. That’s awesome.” 

He blinks at you owlishly. “I guess so! I wouldn’t call myself smart. I’m useful. Minho’s always been the smart one,” he laughs. “When you have nothing good going for ya, you kind of have to find a way to the top. Make yourself useful somehow. I’m not book-smart, so this? This is what I’m good at. It’s all I’m good at.”  The statement settles uneasily in your stomach. This is all he thinks he’s good for? Nobody has ever told him otherwise? That can’t be right. That’s probably how he ended up here and your heart squeezes, but before you can pry further or refute his claims, he’s speaking again. “So, did I do a good job? You think you sort of understand what you’re working with now?” 

“I’m more of a hands-on learner,” you explain to him. “Is there any way I can practice shooting?” 

“Oh yeah, for sure!” Jisung exclaims. The two of you walk outside and you see the makeshift shooting range he has set up. He sets up a stack of cans on a table and guides you to stand about twenty feet back. 

He presses the gun into your hands, cold and foreign to you even though you just sat through his entire demonstration. You have half the mind to think he’s far too trusting of you, but you know realistically he could disarm you faster than you have the mind to aim and pull the trigger at him. 

He walks through the basics with you again, showing you exactly how to stand and posture yourself. He makes you unload and reload the gun a few times as well, that way you’re comfortable and familiar with the mechanics of it. 

You miss the first few times. Maybe the first twenty times you shoot. But Jisung is surprisingly a really good teacher–constantly correcting you or giving you helpful feedback. The first time you hit a metal can, you practically shriek with joy. 

You hang out with Jisung for a few hours. By the end of it, your ears are ringing despite the earplugs he encouraged you to wear, and your arms are worse for wear after holding the weapon. 

You take a nap at about 4pm but wake up in time for dinner. You’re hungry due to the exertion of the day and you decide to indulge yourself at dinner, eating more than your share. If Chan notices he doesn’t say anything. 

That night you hear when Seungmin and Hyunjin return from their mission. You listen for the low timbre of Felix’s voice but you don’t hear it. You want to see him, you decide, only for your peace of mind. You come up with the excuse of wanting to train despite it being a bit late and your body still sore from your earlier activities, but your body carries you down the hall to the white door only three doors down. Your knuckles wrap softly against the wood and you shift nervously from side to side waiting for his answer. 

When Felix opens the door you find yourself blinking and ogling. His hair is sweaty against his skin, pulled up into a messy half-up half-down ponytail. He dons a white tank top, showing off his beautifully well-built arms. 

“Y/N?” he questions. He leans against the doorframe, tilting his head to the side to look at you. “What’s up?”

“I… uh, I was wondering if you wanted to train? Me? Train with me?” you say, stumbling over your words. He cracks a small grin. 

“I’m not feeling the best at the moment and I was hoping I could rest for a bit, if that’s okay. Rain check our rain check?” You nod, looking him up and down before you realize something–he’s clutching his side. 

Felix moves his body slightly out of sight so that you can’t see but you push into his room. He doesn’t stop you. 

“Felix, what’s wrong? Show me,” you demand. Sighing in defeat, he lifts his hand away from the spot on his side. You notice the blood seeping through the fabric, staining his hand when he pulls it away. “Felix, what the fuck? Is that your blood?” 

“Don’t freak out… but I may or may not have gotten stabbed.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: next mini-member chapter this wednesday, and it's one of my favorite ones so far hehe (sorry about the cliffhanger)

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[sweetimpurity]

💖 day 24!! literally by a minute woah this is part three I hope it makes sense haha! it's hard to write when there's two different Miguel's. wc: 2.3k

Mig = Earth 731 Miguel = Earth 928

Part 1 Part 2

Earth 731

The dreams haunt him for days. Then for weeks. Then those weeks turned into months. Every night he’d dream of you. Your body, your face. Every day he would watch you. Watch you wake up beside your Miguel, watch you get ready for work, watch you leave for work. He’d observe your walk to work and like always, make sure you get there safely. And by the end of the day he’d watch you do it all again in reverse. All the while he goes about his days. Working on his portal generator and analyzing video feed, collecting parts for his machine and even going to a few shady shops to buy rare parts. Determined to get to you. Determined to leave his dimension and go somewhere else. With you. 

He’s got his sights set on Earth 546. It’s almost a mirror to your dimension but there’s no Miguel O’hara there. And there’s no you there. So you’ll both easily be able to take your place in this new dimension. 

And finally… finally after months of working, of obsessing, he finally cracks it. The generator glitching and sparking during his first few test rounds but then he’s able to send an object through and track where it lands. Tossing his ‘worlds biggest brain’ coffee mug through the swirling portal and watching it through his numerous feeds, plopping down in Earth-965A. Exactly the coordinates he set. Success. Now to think of a plan. He’s got the destination, he’s got the wristbands he constructed to prevent glitching across dimensions. One for you and one for himself. Now to find his opening. 

Tonight, he’s watching the feed as usual. Some of the views from street cameras and satellites are obscured as you and your Miguel take a walk on the beach. His brow is furrowed, studying the feed, trying to figure out what the two of you are doing. He knows it's your anniversary. He listened to you talk about it with a friend at work today. And he already knows that your Miguel is going to miss it. Even while you’re holding hands and walking on the beautiful sunset soaked sand, he doesn’t trust your Miguel to actually follow through.

Finally he watches the two of you entering the restaurant. Your favorite restaurant. He knows because he’s heard you say it before. Sitting down and watching you order the food. Watching the way your Miguel speaks to you, like he’s judging every inflection, every phrase. Pushing up his glasses and working quietly on something else he’s building. Always building something, always trying to work on new inventions, it’s one of the ways he escapes. 

"Babe... I'm so sorry... I think I have to go." He hears through the feed, looking up, turning up the volume and paying closer attention. Hearing your heartbroken tone when you ask if he’s sure. Like you’re just begging for him to give you a sliver of undivided attention. Watching your Miguel get up from the table and say a few more words before he’s leaving the place. Leaving you alone sitting there on your anniversary. 

"You'll be my number one babe... when I get back I promise… I love you…” He hears the words. Your boyfriend clearly is not caring about the effect his words and departure are having on you. Just watching him go. Switching the feed to watch him scaling the side of the building and swinging off to go fight another villain. Of course he can understand the temptation, with great power comes great responsibility. But this is you. You are the one being forgotten and he can’t let it go on. This is his opening. 

Over the next hour, everything is set and ready. Pressing his suit to go on, nanotech spread over his skin and his face. Punching into his generator and then…

Destination: Earth 928 calibrating…

"Baby!" He calls. His breath catching in his throat seeing you there at the end of the alleyway. Like an angel. A vision from his dreams: you're there. And it’s the first time he’s seeing you in the flesh. “You have to come with me. Right now baby… This dimension’s gonna go.” He explains, trying to sound believable. Trying not to break down when he finally feels the pressure of your hands in his. Just like how he’d always imagined it. And looking down at you through his suit, your eyes, your pretty face is so much more beautiful when it’s not on a pixelated screen. He has to stop himself from hugging you tight and never letting you go. 

When you willingly go with him, it’s an answer to his wishes. The promise of his torturous dreams come to life. Keeping his hands on you so he’ll never be separated from you again. He walks you through the portal and it closes behind you both. Gone. 

2 months later. 

Earth 546

“YOU!” 

Mig looks up from his desk, out his office door to see who’s shouting down the hall. Alchemax employees turning and looking too, whispering and discussing the drama unfolding. Whispering about ‘twins’, chatting about ‘that guy looks just like Dr. O’hara’ until Miguel 928 storms across the room. “Shit shit shit” Mig 731 grunts, leaving his seat and rushing to get up and try to close the door before he can barge in. But it’s too late. And that door wouldn’t have done much of anything anyway. BAM! Miguel bursts through the door, knocking it through, in his spider suit ready for action and shooting a death glare at the variant before him. “Where is she??” He demands an answer. 

“Where is who? I don’t-”

“Where is my girlfriend? The one you literally stole from me two fucking months ago??” He shouts through the small room, making people get up from their desks and wonder what's going on. Miguel growls, turning and seeing prying eyes. Grabbing the door he busted down and slamming it back in the doorframe, securing it with webs so no one can get in. 

“L-look you-”

“Just shut up and tell me where she is. She’s coming home with me, I’ve been searching for two months, tracking that damn portal and now I finally found you. Where. Is. She?” Miguel stalks closer to him, making Mig step back up to the windows, his back facing the glass. Increasingly on edge. He didn’t think this day would come. He didn’t think he’d be caught. There are infinite Miguel O’haras and yet he still found him. The two Miguel's face to face. 

“You-”

“What, did you kill some other Miguel and take his place here? Think you can put on a fucking lab coat and pretend like you belong here? There’s not even supposed to be a Miguel O’hara in this dimension!” Miguel shouts. 

“I know that! And I didn’t kill anyone!” Mig finally shouts back, taken aback by his alternate self’s aggression. But he’s not surprised after watching him treat you so poorly for months. 

“Then what’s this all about? What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Miguel growls. Glaring at him with fury in his eyes. “This is about her.” Mig says simply, stoking the fire that’s already blazing in Miguel. “You left her alone… so many times and… she needed you. She needs me.” 

 “You think you can be me, you don’t know the first thing about me.” Miguel seethes. And Mig gives him an incredulous look. 

“Are you kidding, I am you!” Mig shouts before he’s socked in the nose by Miguel’s flying fist. Knocking his glasses off his face, instant blood dripping down his lip. “You son of a bitch-”

Hands go flying, the variants tearing the place apart. Mig’s nose is bleeding still while Miguel’s anger gets the best of him. Webs scatter and stick to almost every surface in the room as the two hulking heroes try to take each other down. 

“I watched you ignore her for months!” Mig shouts, slamming Miguel up the wall and landing a powerful blow to his alternate’s jaw. “You don’t deserve her.” He growls, winding up for another punch before Miguel slams his shoulder into his opponent's chest, knocking him back, the fight continuing because they’re perfectly, flawlessly matched of course. Neither of them is stronger to defeat the other. 

“You think you deserve her any more? She doesn’t even know who you are!” Miguel yells, throwing punches of which most are dodged, shooting webs, pulling, knocking Mig off his feet. He scrambles off the floor, pushing through the broken door and webs. Alchemax workers gasping in horror watching him emerge. This man they’ve come to know in the past two months as a new geneticist. And his insane, violent twin come to kill him. 

Mig bursts through the door, dashing down the hall and loosening his tie. Pressing the side of his neck and his suit starts to appear. Nanotechnology spreading down his body and covering his skin, replacing the smart work attire he was wearing before. He runs down the halls, past panicked onlookers. Running for the door to the roof and when it’s locked he just slams his shoulder into it to get it open. Sprinting up to the roof of Alchemax Industries, the wind whipping past his cheek until his mask fabricates over his face. Masked in his signature red and blue cowl. Checking his surroundings to quickly make sure Miguel 928 isn’t on his tail before thwipping off and swinging from building to building to get to the apartment. 

…

Miguel’s been so lovely ever since the collapse. When he told you the dimension was as good as gone, he assured you this life would be better, guiding you through and explaining that this dimension was meant to be your home now. Together. 

You even have a diamond on your finger now. Finally after all this time. You suppose all it took was the collapse of the timeline to make him get his priorities straight. Proposing only days after getting to this new place. 

“Baby?” You hear him call from the living room. Poking your head out of the kitchen to see him stepping in through the bay window. In his spider suit? That’s a bit unusual nowadays. 

“Hey, how was work?” You ask with a smile. Mig smiles at you in the dimness of the apartment, trying to calm his breathing and act like everything’s normal. As he’s been doing for two months now. Pulling the shades in the living room closed, walking past you and kissing your cheek tenderly, passing to the kitchen to close those blinds too. It’s been a little hard to read him ever since coming to this new place. He’s just so different now in a lot of ways. But for the better you think. He hardly ever goes out as Spiderman anymore, always opting to stay home with you to make dinner, maybe slow dance in the kitchen. To spend the evenings talking and laughing, end the night making love. Even the way he makes love to you is a bit different. More tender, more patient. Less like he’s coming to you for relief and more like he’s genuinely interested in making a connection with you every time. Like every time he’s inside you it’s like he’s been longing for it for ages. 

“Work was good um… yeah it was good” He stops in the kitchen to face you and it’s in this light you’re able to see the marks on his face. The bruises and the stain of red under his nose. “My god, what happened?” Your smile fades, stepping closer and looking up at his beaten face. And why are you in your suit? You think silently. 

“Just ran into some crooks, y’know…” He sighs, not wanting you to worry,but his calm demeanor hardens when his super sensitive hearing picks up a thud on the roof. Staring at you with wide eyes as you speak. “You should put some ice on that, love, it’s going to really hurt…” You say, walking past him to get the ice from the freezer. He stays deadly still, listening. Footsteps, heavy footsteps on the roof and he just knows. He huffs, fast, long strides around the apartment to lock the doors, even pulling the chain locks closed. Making sure the windows are closed, the curtains closed. You’re trying to get him an icepack and he’s marching around the apartment like a madman. Locking up the place. He won’t let you leave him. Not ever. Not when he’s finally got you to himself. He loves you too much. 

“Baby…” He hums suddenly at the kitchen door. Watching you wrap an icepack in paper towel so it won’t be too cold on his skin. “Yes?” You look up at him, in his eyes. 

“I love you…” He sighs. All serious and sincerity. Slowing walking towards you around the kitchen island. “I love you too…” You reply softly, watching him come closer. “Did you hit your head or something?” 

“No… I just… want you all to myself tonight… and forever…” He hums, brushing some hair behind your ear and admiring your face. The face he watched on a screen for so long, takes his breath away every time he’s this close to you. Feels like he’s known you a lifetime. “Will you say you’re mine?” He whispers, cupping your cheek. 

“I’m yours…” You reply without a thought. Because why would you need to think?

His lips are instantly on yours, like he’s been yearning to kiss you. Like he’s needed to do it for a million years. His tongue delving into your mouth, his large hands coming to both sides of your face and holding. Bringing your mouth back to him anytime you gasp for air. Anytime you’re too far from him for even a second. Biting down on your lips and rubbing his tongue alone your firmly. Tasting you and licking into your sweet perfect mouth.

You’re his. And no one will take you from him. Not even himself. 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

plus those who requested a part 2+:

@d3stin7 @laysmt @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @marshhbs

@twwcs @resident-clown @haveclayeveryday

@fullmetal-spiderling @grumpyahjumma

@lxverrings @lazyjellyfish300