#and i miss my bed in my apartment so much

[fangel]

ohmygosh… you’ve done it (∩´���`∩)♡ my rambles ･⁀➴

i’d like to start with WHATTHEFUCKKK the concept alone is so good, so unique — I LIVE AND LOVE to find dark fics that are actually different from the ‘oh he’s a serial killer blah blah omg the nth scream slasher inspo blah blah’ NO GIVE ME PASSION, GIVE ME A MAN WHO IS TRULY LOST IN HIS WAYS W/ HIS MIND CRUMBLING IN ON ITSELF BC HES SO OBSESSED SO GONE !! GIVE ME REASON AS TO WHYYY HE IS A MESS !! you delivered that 🤍 !!

the way he has this dominance over her even without being there: picking out her clothes, specific preference to hair and makeup, surrounding her with his work--the dolls of her that can never quite be her no matter how hard he tries--aka the constant reminder of his afflicted obsession !!!! AHHH and she feels so has to maintain that perfection to keep his best interest to the point it's all she knows even tho disgusted !!!!

at first i was lowkey mad at him bc why are you spending all day trying to make a doll that looks like (me) her when the real thing is right at home !?!? but after reading i get it. he's just a sick fuck who is scared of the perfect love being gone one day. he's so desperate to hold onto the idea that he needs to preserve it, keep it forever. tbh.. #NeedThat level of obsession

okay ngl when she talks about the dolls and how they move and watch her etc i was like oh no she's gone schizo.. she's going crazy being cooped up at home with all those lookalike dolls -- BUT NO THEY'RE LIKE ACTUALLY MOVING ANDF SHIT?!?! wth and then i was like wait are they real people !? spirits !? THE HUMMING -- and then the missing girls that look like her on tv.. him being gone all the time.. okay i see you sunghoon. i know what you are

the dollhouse. just that. the dollhouse. how it depicts what's happening WOW ! such a cool twisted way to incorporate how she slowly puts things together. reminds me of until dawn with the dollhouse in the basement -- and more on the dolls, people or spirits whatever the hell, NO they are lil guardian angels trying to save her !! to warn her of what is really happening !!

the smut. HELLO???!/ the smut is a world in its own. absolutely insane but in a beautiful way. should i be scared? yeah, but i am Horny instead. break me apart !! mold me, shatter me, recreate me however you want just keeping fucking me with those glasses on dgasgfksgfa but fr... there's so much hidden tellings even in the smut. she's begging him to release that darkness he harbors onto her, telling him 'to do it' but doesn't realize the weight of her words and what's she's telling him to do. the way the darkness stirs in him, indirectly getting her permission to indulge on his twisted desires of having her as his REAL DOLL. crazy. all out of love they're both losing themselves yet getting what they want. (the audience stands and applauds)

"the experiment" and the dolls all being trial and error... fucking insane. i love everything about this so bad. his dedication.. his oath..

"Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. -- You didn’t care, you just liked the feeling of his hands on you, even if its intention was to destroy."

⤷ LOVED THIS, i feel like this sets up the whole story right here.

It’s what he couldn’t help but do to you every night. It was the only time he liked you to be messy, when you were laying in a heap of doll parts beneath him. He tried to be gentle with his curiosity, he really did, but it was as if something overtook him. That dark look in his eyes got bolder until he couldn’t hold himself back—until he just had to tear you apart

⤷ the way that this is literal... at night in workshop with literal doll parts and in bed with her she's breaking apart under his hold. wow. also doll parts by hole mention !!

her in the beginning "These days, you just wanted to be." and then sunghoon in the end "It just is"

⤷ chefs kiss, perfect. idk what else needs to be said.

the concept reminds so much of an old rpg game called "mad father" i was OBSESSED with it when i was younger and you've allowed me to escape in a (loosely) similar world. ily for this

dear kipo, your attention to details and way of storytelling is so wonderous and amazing. you've captivated me in this horribly perfect lil world. such a fucked up, pretty story. you are so so talented!! i could dissect the whole story tbh but i need to stfu

one last thing hdfjakhfkas this is so long im sorry but PLEASE listen to this song. i've had the artist on repeat for like 2 weeks and this song reminds me of this story SOOSO MUCh pls tell me what you think >.<

anyways <3 i ate this tf up. ty for your service 🍽️ !!

THE DOLLMAKER ˒˒ 박성훈 ▸  𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲!

you were sunghoon’s muse, his flawless, perfect wife that he dresses in frilly dresses and makes sure you always looked like the idealized woman. that much was evident from all the dolls he made of you that sat proudly throughout your home. but, when sunghoon isn’t there, the dolls move and show you things that would otherwise be hidden in the shadows. one day, they show you something so frightening, something completely sinister that you force yourself to believe that it isn’t real. your beloved husband wouldn’t do something like that, would he? you weren’t so sure about your answer anymore.

pairing ⸝⸝ park sunghoon 𝑥 fem!reader 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦!

genre ⋆ 📓 ⸝⸝ established relationship, angsty & mature themes, smut, some fluff, husband & dollmaker!sunghoon, gothic vibes, supernatural elements

warnings ⸝⸝ dark content, heavy dubcon, dollification, mentions of murder and kidnapping, really creepy dolls, sunghoon is actually insane lmao, heavy gaslighting, possessiveness, unprotected sex, soft dom!sunghoon, heavy body worship, slow sex to rough sex and back to soft sex (you’ll see), manhandling, handjob, cumshots, clit stimulation, fingering, brief somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, mentions of oral (f. rec), praise, petnames (my love, darling, doll), hair pulling (m. rec), cockwarming, a lot of skinship, teasing, brief nipple play, mentions of aftercare, they are very very codependent, traditional marriage aspects

𝓴ipo’s note ⸝⸝ went a bit insane writing this because why is the smut scene alone 5.4k words??? but it’s finally here!! my first post on my new blog (that’s not part of a series) and my first darker content fic!! this was really fun to write and opened a primal lust within me for sunghoon that made me crazier… hehe enjoy loves!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ❨ 14.8k ❩    ╱    ❨ 𝓶. list ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

You always strived to be nothing short of perfect, and you were immensely proud at the fact that you have never strayed from the path of the idealized woman in the eyes of their beholder.

And you were perfect. The perfect person, the perfect woman, the perfect wife. It was what you were born and bred to be, and with a smile you lived your life knowing that not a single frizzy strand of hair was out of place nor was there a single wrinkle in your dress. You were pretty, pristine, perfect. You’d ask for nothing more.

But, as the days started to pass—and your husband was out later and later for work—you started to hate the idea of perfection. You clawed at it like a noose wrapped around your pretty throat. Gone were the days where you’d be set alight with how well you presented yourself—with how much your husband loved to stare at you. These days, you just wanted to be.

In the beginning, you loved to be under Sunghoon’s watchful eye. You loved how he’d dress you in perfectly fitting clothes suited to what he loved to see you in—frills and lace. Loved how he’d fluff your hair if it was too flat or if it wasn’t up to his standard, or smooth down the fabric of your dress. You loved when he treated you like his perfect little doll. It meant the world to you, especially when it came from such an expert dollmaker like your husband himself. In his eyes, it meant you were the best of the best, that no other doll that he has made could compare—his perfect creation.

Now, the more you think about it, the more your throat closes up. But, as much as you’re growing to hate the idea, you just can’t let go of the deeply rooted perfectionism you still strive for. It’s as if it’s embedded in your skin, as if it’s in the marrow of your bones and in the blood that pumps through your veins. You don’t know how to live a life that isn't perfect, and at this point, you’re too scared to find out what that life entails.

So you put on the dress Sunghoon lays out for you before work and you style your hair just the way he likes it—and you be perfect. Because that is all you know how to do.

You stare at yourself in the mirror in your bathroom, your brows knitted together. Confusion spread throughout your body as you tried to put a name to what you were feeling. Disgust, maybe? Hatred? You didn’t know. Sighing softly to yourself, you picked up your makeup brush and dusted more of the blush onto your cheeks.

Sunghoon had already left for work, so it didn’t even really matter what you looked like right now. You stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. Dolls of various sizes greeted your sight. Some had intricate and realistic outfits, the same ones that you wore, and some of them were more plainly dressed. There were dolls everywhere in your home, even some perched on the open shelves of your kitchen. It was a little girl’s dream home. The most unsettling thing about all the dolls around you no matter where you turned was how much every single one of them resembled you in some way.

It was as if Sunghoon could never quite capture your likeness exactly. With some dolls, their eyes were too big, their lips were too small, or the arch of their brow wasn’t quite right. Sometimes he couldn’t accurately carve the curve of your nose. You knew it drove him mad, not being able to immortalize you in his craft.

“You’re too flawless,” Sunghoon had told you once. You were laying in bed together and the tips of his fingers trailed along your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He used to always give you goosebumps, the good ones. Now it feels more like a chill down your spine.

You stared up at him from your pillow and watched as his eyes devoured your frame. His fingers twitched, briefly stopping their descent back down your arm, and you could tell he had the urge to test his hand at making you again. “I don’t think I’m flawless,” you smile at him, “I’m just as flawed as everyone else—just as human.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked up to your face, specifically to your smile, like he was committing it all to memory. He moved the hand that was trialing your shoulder up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently caressed the soft skin before he grazed it along your lips. There was a certain glint in Sunghoon’s eyes that you knew all too well.

“You’re flawless to me,” he stated. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip and pulled it down a little. You watched as his pupils dilated and the mix of lust and fascination that swirled in them grew. Ever so slightly, his eyes widened, too. Sunghoon moved his thumb down to your chin before leaning down to press his lips to yours.

He captured them with a certain roughness—the type that always shocked you with how gentle it initially seemed. Sunghoon’s hand grabbed your chin harder, his fingers creating soft indents into your skin as he leaned your head back and further into the pillow.

You were so moldable for Sunghoon, a shiny lump of clay ready for his skilled hands to turn you into a masterpiece. He hummed into the kiss and his teeth delicately bit down into the flesh of your bottom lip, only enough to not leave a mark. You moaned into his mouth, your arms raising to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer. In response, Sunghoon pulled his lips away from yours. He pressed feather light kisses to your cheek and up to the shell of your ear. “You’re my muse,” he whispered, before his head dipped to the crook of your neck to leave kisses there too.

You suppose that being so perfect wasn’t so bad if it meant that Sunghoon couldn’t keep his hands off of you—if it meant that he couldn't keep his hands off of his tools to try and remake you over and over again. Perhaps you were viewing it all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a noose around your throat, but a pretty handmade necklace crafted by his nimble fingers. If it meant that Sunghoon never leaves, then you could be as perfect as he wanted forever. If it meant that he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on, then you would be his doll for as long as you lived.

Maybe it wasn’t perfectionism at all, but an act of complete devotion—an act of love.

Sunghoon left open-mouthed kisses along your chest and moved further and further down until the lace of your lingerie blocked his lips from your skin. He pulled away from you fully and looked down at it like he was offended. You squirmed beneath him, your chest heaving as you tried to take in any air that you possibly could. “Please,” you inhaled, looking up at him desperately.

You weren’t quite sure what you were begging for exactly; maybe for his lips to be back on your skin, or maybe for him to quell the heat radiating from your body. “Please,” you said again, your voice coming out quieter and more forlorn.

Sunghoon ran his hands underneath the sheer fabric at your stomach and you gasped at his touch. “So soft,” he sighed contently, hands trailing further up until they physically couldn’t anymore and were blocked by the lace at your breasts. His calloused hands were a stark contrast to your velvety skin and the slight roughness made you shiver.

He pushed the sheer fabric up your stomach with the movement of his hands until the bottom half of your body was completely bare under him. Sunghoon must’ve decided that he couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t bear to take the extra second to lift the lingerie over your head, because the harsh sound of fabric ripping filled your ears and the swift coldness of sudden exposure had you gasping again.

Sunghoon tossed the tattered fabric somewhere off to the side next to the two of you and in the corner of your eye you saw it fall to the floor below. His hands surged upwards, no longer bound by the restraints of your lingerie, and grabbed your breasts. Sunghoon’s thumbs rubbed against your hardened nipples and you arched your back off the mattress to give him more access. His hands dropped down to your thighs and he pushed them towards your stomach as he spread them further apart.

Sunghoon’s breath hitched when his eyes finally got a look at your glistening pussy, completely on display for him. His hand then moved from the back of your thigh and he dragged his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick on his fingertips. “Perfect,” Sunghoon breathed out.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he did to you every night—left you in a heap before cleaning you off and making you new again. You didn’t care, you just liked the feeling of his hands on you, even if its intention was to destroy. You knew that it was just a morbid curiosity. As long as he remained by your side, you were content in being a pile of doll parts for him to play with as he pleased.

In your bedroom, your eyes landed on a doll that wasn’t there when you had stepped into the bathroom. It sat in the center of your bed, dressed in the same lingerie that Sunghoon had ripped up. It didn’t look at you, but at the entrance of the room, with the hint of a smile that you knew was carved into the doll but couldn’t help but feel was mocking.

No matter how often it happened, you’ll never get used to the fact that the dolls moved around on their own. It only happened when you were home alone. The dolls never dared to move when their maker was home, but you still felt their eyes on you nonetheless. You had told Sunghoon about it—the two of you even waited around to see if one of them would move, but they never did. It was extremely frustrating.

You sighed at the doll and straightened your back. Leaving said doll where it was without a word, you left your room to put a start to your day.

What you weren't expecting was even more moved dolls in your kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as different, mini, and almost identical versions of you stared directly at you from the kitchen table in a circle. Usually it was only one doll that moved here and there, but this many moved dolls in the span of minutes was completely odd. Cautiously, you stalked towards them to see what they were surrounding.

It was the TV remote. You scoffed.

You grabbed the remote with a roll of your eyes. Aiming it towards the tiny box TV in the kitchen, you clicked it on and placed the remote back down onto the table next to the dolls. You let whatever channel it was left on play in the background as you started making breakfast for yourself.

“We’re here with the mother of one of those young girls today. Can you tell us a little about your daughter, ma’am?” you heard the news reporter ask. You took a pan out from under the lower cabinet and placed it onto the stove, ticking on the heat. You watched as a flame ignited, quick and large as lightning, before calming to something smaller.

A grief stricken voice filled your ears next between your soft humming. You didn’t realize that it was the tune Sunghoon always hummed when working from home—something he didn’t do as often anymore. “She was the most beautiful girl in the world—the most gentle and kind. She loved everyone and she loved love. My daughter was the single spark in this bleak night. Please, if you know where she is, please let a mother know.”

You moved about the kitchen, ignoring the way the dolls’ eyes seemed to follow your every move. Cracking the egg, you let it fall into the pan with a sizzle, fanning away the sudden smoke that rises. “The news station also has an anonymous tip hotline open for anyone who may know any information. The search for the six missing girls is still on. This Friday, the mayor will hold another search party and encourages everyone who can to join.”

Turning to throw away the shell of the egg, you caught a glimpse of the TV. “This has been—” You gasped, the shell falling to the tile below with a soft crack as your hand flew to cover your mouth. On the small screen were the pictures of the six missing girls—six missing girls who all looked eerily alike to one another, eerily alike to you. You rushed forward towards the screen, desperately needing to get a closer look at the girls’ image.

Fear and panic prickled at your skin and clawed its way up your throat. What if you were next? What if whoever was taking these girls had their eye on you to take next? You glanced around the kitchen, the dolls suddenly gone from the kitchen table and perched back in their rightful places on various shelves. What if one day you stepped out of your home to run an errand only to be met with a cloth to your nose and mouth?

You began to tremble as you focused your attention back onto the TV. Did the police have anything on who was taking the girls? Any physical descriptions or perhaps a drawing? You waited for the news to mention anything else, but they didn’t. 

Lightheaded, you felt yourself begin to spiral. Your hands grabbed tight to the kitchen counter as you tried to steady yourself and not let the fear cloud your mind. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe you just happened to look like those girls but the perpetrator was after someone else. You inhaled sharply, trying to swallow down the fear and panic and let the oxygen get through instead.

The sudden loud ringing of the smoke alarm startled you and made you jump. The eggs. They were still on the stove! “Oh!” you breathed as you hurriedly moved to turn off the stove. You accidentally stepped on the egg shell in the process. “Oh no,” you said softly under your breath as you moved from the stove to the trash can. You scraped off the burnt eggs, your appetite suddenly gone. You sat the pan in the sink for you to wash later.

Bending down, you meticulously picked up the pieces of egg shells on the floor to throw away as well. When you turned from the trash, there was a singular doll back on the kitchen counter. You jumped again.

It pointed towards the hallway to get to your living room, unblinking. You stared at it for a moment—at yourself. Why were the dolls doing this? “Fine,” you say, smoothing out your dress, “I’ll play along.” You need a distraction from the missing girls anyhow.

You left the kitchen and made your way down the hallway that the doll pointed to. As you slowly made your way down it, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary besides the way the various dolls’ eyes followed you. You make the bend to the end of the hallway and freeze.

At the end of the hallway was the displayed dollhouse that you didn’t touch. Sunghoon didn’t even let you clean it, opting to clean it himself. It meant a lot to him and he took great care for it to be in as pristine condition as possible. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of your home, down to the welcome sign you weaved on the front of the door. You’ve never even seen the inside of it… until now.

There was a crowd of dolls on the ground below it, more than you’ve ever seen moved before, pointing up at the scene portrayed in it. Swallowing thickly, you stepped further forward as a chill ran down your back.

In the dollhouse were only three dolls: one of you, one of Sunghoon, and one that you couldn’t even begin to understand what it could be. You took another cautious step forward, leaning in to get a better look and taking care to not step on any of the dolls. The scene depicted in the dollhouse was quite simple. You were upstairs in you and Sunghoon bedroom, asleep. Sunghoon was in some room you’ve never seen before, carving away at a doll that you could only assume was of you. Behind him was the other doll, covered in different, mismatched layers of fabric. It was so covered by copious amounts of fabric that it didn’t even seem to have the body of a doll anymore. It was almost grotesque looking, in a way.

Very quietly, almost indistinct, you heard the same melody Sunghoon hums when working. Your eyes widened in shock as you furiously tried to digest and decipher the scene. You shook your head a little. “I don’t understand,” you say, the confusion dripping from your voice. “What does this mean? What is that behind him?”

There was a creaking behind you and you swung around at the sound. More dolls were behind you, pointing. You weren’t sure if they were pointing at you or the dollhouse. Maybe it was both. You swung back around to the dollhouse when you heard something move.

Now Sunghoon was in front of the other fabric-covered doll. His doll was slightly bent at the torso and his head was tilted. The thin, wire-framed glasses he wears sat low on his nose bridge. You knew that look—that inspecting look. That morbid curiosity. It felt as if the dolls were screaming at you, “Do you understand now?” You still weren’t sure that you did. Too many puzzle pieces were missing from the board and it hindered you from seeing the whole picture. The sound of Sunghoon’s humming still filled your ears and you didn’t know what to do to stop it.

More creaking and you turned to look behind you. More dolls. They filled the entire hallway, their tiny fingers pointing at you, trying to force you to understand what they were trying to show you. Behind you, the dollhouse began to violently shake and you gasped as you looked at it. Sunghoon was now back in the bedroom with you. He stood over you, his hand hovering over your arm. You knew the action it was trying to convey—you could feel the tips of his fingers trailing up and down your actual arm now, making you shiver.

You stumbled backwards, even more confused and scared at the shaking dollhouse. The front of the dollhouse slammed shut, locking in the scene of you and Sunghoon inside, and stilled. Your chest rose and fell heavily and you clumsily stumbled your way out of the hallway and into the living room, avoiding any pointing doll that you could.

Later that day when Sunghoon came home from work, you didn’t mention the moving dolls or the dollhouse. It was as if nothing happened at all, every doll was where he placed them and the dollhouse was just as pristine as he left it. You especially didn’t dare mention the scenes depicted in the dollhouse. You feared your husband would think you were crazy.

You carried the plate of hot food to where Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. “Eat up!” you smiled placing the plate in front of him before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt him smile before you pulled away. You were turning to make yourself a plate when Sunghoon grabbed your wrist to stop you. You jumped, a gasp slipping between your lips. Trying to cover it all up, you turned back to Sunghoon with a smile.

His own smile faltered and his thick brows drew together. “Thank you, darling…” he trailed, the words falling from his lips one by one. “What’s wrong? You’re never so jumpy.”

You’d been jumpy since he got home, still shaken from the morning’s encounter. It was so bad that you nearly burnt yourself on the stove while making dinner, suddenly startled by the sound of the front door opening and Sunghoon returning home from work. When he kissed you hello, his arms coming to wrap around you, you jumped then too. You tried to distract him with your smile, but you should’ve known that nothing gets past your husband.

“It’s nothing,” you say, smiling again and giving him a slight shake of your head. “I guess my body is just getting used to not being by itself now that you’re home.”

Sunghoon sighed and pulled you back towards him by your wrist. You let yourself be pulled into his lap. Sunghoon buried his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he says, his words coming out muffled. “I know I've been working more and more lately and I haven’t had much time for you.”

You leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly. “Can’t you work from home?” you asked meekly, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Like you used to? You work so much and you’re always gone. I miss you when you’re not here, and in return I’m sad the whole day.”

Sunghoon’s black hair tickled you as he lifted his head to press his lips to your neck, right where the thumping of your heart could be felt. His eyes met yours and the gentle pout of your lips. “I don’t have all the tools here that I do at the shop,” Sunghoon responded. When you sighed again and looked away, he continued. “But, I might be able to work from here tomorrow… I already finished most of the workload. We can spend tomorrow together, what do you say to that?”

You glanced back at him, trying to not let the happiness you felt break through your sulky demeanor. Clearly, it didn’t work, because the smile returned back to Sunghoon’s face even larger this time. “I suppose that’s okay,” you grumbled, the smile tugging more at your lips by the second.

Sunghoon chuckled, “Yeah?” You nodded, giggling at the way he dragged his nose along your cheek and the coldness of his glasses. “I love that sound,” he says, holding you closer. “I want to hear it forever.” He pulled away from you just enough to get a good look at your flustered face. Sunghoon brought his lips to yours, capturing them in a sweet and slow kiss.

Giggling more into the kiss, you broke away from him with great effort. “Eat,” you say, standing to your feet. Sunghoon didn’t let you get far. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Your dinner smells amazing, my love, but I think I want something else on the menu,” Sunghoon replies. You swatted him with the kitchen towel hanging from the pocket of your apron, your mouth falling into an open-mouthed laugh. Sunghoon just laughed more. “Do what I said,” you scolded him.

Sunghoon pulled you down to chastely kiss your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

That night as you were getting ready for bed, you gathered all the courage you had. As you moved about your bedroom, Sunghoon watched you from the bed, his eyes trailing your figure and never leaving it. He was lounged up against the bed frame, his head tilted and the wire frames of his glasses low on his nose bridge as he stared. You were in the middle of brushing your hair, trying your best not to get crushed underneath his heavy stare. You were as bare as you could be without taking your clothes off.

When you stood from your vanity, the flowy fabric of your short nightgown moving with you, you met his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke and you just stared at each other. “Those missing girls…” you started, finally finding your voice, “on the news… Isn’t it odd that they favor me?” Your voice shook slightly and you swallowed down the lump forming in your throat.

Sunghoon sat up straighter, his eyes still on you as his brows drew together. You looked away, shakily climbing into the bed next to him. “I-I mean… how they favor each other. And I favor them too, don’t you think?” you continue. You really hoped that you didn’t sound crazy. That your time alone in the house hasn’t started to drive you mad and see things that aren’t there—that aren’t true. Finally getting settled as the words poured from your mouth, you looked over to him. For a split second, his face was completely devoid of anything—no emotion, not even a quirk of his eyebrow, nothing. Then, in a blink of an eye, his face was how it was before you looked away from him. Maybe you were crazy after all.

“I’m scared, Sunghoon,” you said in the gentlest whisper, “What if I’m next?”

“Missing girls?” Sunghoon says, “I’ve heard about them. But, don’t worry—” he reached over to caress your cheek “—I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe here, with me.” His hand on your cheek trailed down to the crook of your neck and then to your shoulder before he pulled you towards him. The two of you laid down onto the bed and Sunghoon enveloped you completely in his arms. You rested your head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “No one but me will ever touch you,” Sunghoon muttered against your hair.

His comforting words did nothing to dispose of the uneasy feeling you still harbored. The images of those missing girls were burned into your mind and every time you tried to close your eyes and sleep, you saw them staring back at you. While Sunghoon fell fast asleep, him still keeping you protectively in his arms, you lied awake.

Your mind shifted from the missing girls, to the moving dolls, and to the dollhouse. What did it all mean? What were they trying to tell you? You went over the scenes portrayed over and over and over again and still didn’t get it. The answer seemed so close, but so far away at the same time. What were you missing?

You thought about the scene of Sunghoon standing over you while you slept. Did he always do that, stare at you like that? How often did he do it? You wanted to ask him, but you didn’t want to risk him thinking there was something wrong with you—didn’t want to risk him thinking that you weren’t flawless like he believes. And the way he trailed his fingers over the soft skin of your arm… Perhaps it was just him checking on you. Maybe he left the room for some water and when he came back he was making sure you were okay. Yeah, that sounded logical.

Him touching you wasn’t something new—he always touched you at any chance that he could. Always admiring every curve and plane of you completely, it’s normal for him to do so. The tension in your shoulders finally dissipated and you relaxed, snuggling more into Sunghoon as you let your tired eyes flutter closed. You didn’t know what the dolls’ game was, but you didn’t like it. Sunghoon was just being a good husband, is all. It even showed subconsciously in the way his hold on you tightened as you leaned into him. He loves you. He’d never do anything that came remotely close to hurting you, ever. You were more sure about that than you were sure about anything in the entire world.

Slowly, you began to drift off—your body getting heavier and heavier in his arms—and you let sleep overtake you.

A couple hours later, you were suddenly awoken by the sound of something falling onto the hardwood floor. You jumped, eyes flying open. You were met with the cold bed, Sunghoon nowhere to be found in your bedroom. Sitting up, you looked around the room to see what fell.

You sighed as your gaze landed on the doll, it was laying on its side on the ground, staring at you. “Enough,” you said lowly, another sigh pulling from deep within you. “I don’t know what you all want from me.”

The moonlight peeked into your bedroom through the curtains and gave a little light to see with in the dark. You slipped from the bed, deciding to see where Sunghoon was. Smoothing down your bedridden hair and wrinkly nightgown, you opened the door to your bedroom and was immediately met with another mini doll version of you waiting by the top of the stairs. You couldn’t keep doing this.

You passed the shelves on the wall filled with dolls of you and other trinkets as you made your way towards the stairs. You didn’t even give the doll a second look as you made your descent down them.

Sunghoon wasn’t in the kitchen either, but there was another doll there, pointing down the hall again. You tilted your head up at it and followed its directions. He wasn’t in the lounge room or the dining room either. You turned the corner in the hallway and your eyes landed on the closed dollhouse. It was backlit by the hallway sconce, the light making the dollhouse look illuminated.

You dipped into the living room and Sunghoon wasn’t there either. None of the bathrooms were occupied as well. You were convinced that he just wasn’t in the house at all. You stood in front of the dollhouse, annoyance coming off you like steam. Your arms were folded across your chest and you glared at it. It was closed this time, and you were deciding on whether it was not to play into the dolls’ game and open it or just go back to sleep and question Sunghoon in the morning. Alas, you were too curious for your own good.

You slowly opened the front of the dollhouse, expecting to see some confusing scene waiting for you inside. Instead, there was only one doll inside—the grotesque looking one covered in different scraps of fabric. It was in the same exact place that it was in earlier, except this time there was no doll of Sunghoon inspecting it. It was alone.

Taking a closer look, you tried to figure out where this mystery room supposedly was in your home. In the dollhouse, it was located between the living room and the hallway bathroom. You looked at the hallway you were currently standing in with its own mini dollhouse inside. Your brows knitted together in even more confusion. According to the dollhouse, the room should be right where you were standing.

That couldn’t be right, unless the room was in front of you and behind the wall where the dollhouse was displayed. Closing the front of the dollhouse, you moved closer to the wall, inspecting it. There was no outline of a suspected door, no uneven floorboards that could suggest the entrance was underneath you. There was only the hallway, the small bookshelf filled with your cookbooks and Sunghoon’s doll making books, and the dollhouse. You placed your ear against the wall; maybe if there was a room behind it you could hear something.

After a few moments, you almost gave up, deciding not to play the game anymore and just go to bed. But, right when you were about to lift your ear from the wall, you heard something—humming.

It was the same tune you hummed earlier, the same tune Sunghoon hums when working. The same tune Sunghoon hummed when the dolls showed you him working in the dollhouse. This time, you knew it was real. You stumbled backwards from the wall, your elbow knocking the doll over that was suddenly perched there. You gasped before quickly covering your mouth.

Frozen in fear, you swear you heard the humming abruptly stop. You then heard slight creaking, like someone was walking towards you. Scurrying back around the curve of the hallway, you peaked around it to see if anything else would happen.

What if Sunghoon wasn’t even in there. What if it was some stranger living in your walls, and you were just assuming that it was him—that the dolls thought it was him. Or, maybe they were trying to warn you of the stranger in a way that they knew you would listen. What if Sunghoon wasn’t in the house at all right now? Your hand pressed harder into the wall and you began to shake.

More creaking broke through the air, and you watched as the small bookshelf slowly began to push off the wall like a make-shift door. You ducked further behind the wall, just enough to ensure you weren’t seen. You saw a shadow dancing across the floor as the bookshelf slowly closed again.

You were so scared they could hear how fast your heart was beating. So sure that they could feel how hard you trembled through the floor. Hear your heavy breathing like a hawk listening for its prey.

The shadow got larger and you saw a figure start to be illuminated by the light on the wall. A hand reached from the shadows and towards the doll of you that had fallen over—Sunghoon’s hand. He stepped into the light and you could finally see him clearly; saw the way the warm light bounced off his skin, the way the light reflected off his glasses, and how his dark hair fell into his eyes. You pressed your fist to your mouth to keep quiet.

Why did Sunghoon have a secret room in the house? Why did he never tell you about it?

He fixed the doll; shifting its dress so it laid properly and flattened its messed up hair. You saw the corners of his mouth raise as he placed the doll back on the shelf above the dollhouse. It’s big eyes bored into you.

Without a sound, you made your way back to your bedroom as quickly as you could. You closed your bedroom door silently and slipped back into bed, willing your body to stop shaking and your breath to even out. You closed your eyes.

You tried to remember what the inside of the secret room looked like from the dollhouse. From what you could remember, it looked to be some sort of workshop, similar to the one Sunghoon would have at the shop. If it was just a simple place for him to carve dolls, why hide it? It was possible he kept it hidden so you wouldn’t worry about how much he was working. Sunghoon knew how much you disliked him getting obsessed with his work, always carving and shaping dolls until the tips of his fingers were scarred. You relaxed again.

You’d be upset and worried, yes, but he didn’t have to hide it from you. You would understand his dedication to his craft.

A couple moments later, you heard the door knob twist. As you heard Sunghoon’s footsteps near you, you hoped you looked like you were still asleep. His presence covered you like a blanket. Just before you could feel the heat of his fingertips on your skin, you turned to look at him.

With false sleepiness in your voice, you ask, “Why are you out of bed?”

Sunghoon smiled down at you, lightly shaking his head. His hand caressed your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, my love. I was just getting a jumpstart on work so we could have more time together. Go back to sleep.” His voice was soft and gentle, like he was trying to lull you back to sleep with his voice alone.

You sat up more. “Well, I’m not tired anymore,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips. Sunghoon’s hand at your shoulder raised to smooth your hair before coming to your chin to lift it up. He leaned forward and delicately pressed a kiss to your lips. “No?” he asked in that same soft and gentle voice.

Sunghoon was already climbing on the bed and on top of you before finishing his question. He placed more delicate kisses around the edges of your mouth, his hands dipping lower. You shook your head. His hands slowly lifted your nightgown up your stomach. “You’re sure you aren’t tired anymore?” Sunghoon asked, the corner of his mouth raising ever so slightly. He was lifting the nightgown over your head so you were in nothing but your panties underneath him.

Light giggles left your mouth as you shook your head again, “Yes.”

Sunghoon’s fingers hooked underneath the hem of your panties and he slowly pulled them down your thighs. His eyes were completely focused on the way each tug revealed more and more of your cunt and how it glistened with the strips of moonlight coming through the window. You heard him exhale softly, like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Fuck…” he muttered lowly, “I don’t think I’ll ever get use to seeing this, and it’s all for me to admire.”

He fully pulled your panties off and tossed them somewhere to the side of the bed. Sunghoon spread your legs open and pushed them up towards your chest so he got an even clearer view—just like he always did before taking you apart. He moved his hands so they splayed out on the back of your thighs right near your pussy he was still admiring. You squirmed a little, the air suddenly cold on your skin and from laying there completely open for him as you waited. “Entirely,” you said hushed, looking up at him. His glasses reflected the moonlight and covered the look in his eyes. “It will always be all for you—I’ll always be all, entirely yours.”

You gasped, body jolting when a thumb was pressed into your eager cunt. Sunghoon ran his thumb along your folds, collecting the gathering slick that was forming by the second. Bringing his other thumb to your cunt, he spread you apart even more, like he wanted to watch the arousal drip out of you himself. A soft whine left your lips. You were completely naked and under your husband’s watchful eye while Sunghoon was still completely dressed. He hasn’t even pulled his pajama pants down despite the way you saw him strain against the thin fabric.

“Is that so?” Sunghoon asked, his gaze finally flicking up to you. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and you inhaled sharply when you finally saw that all too familiar dark look in his eyes. It reminded you of the way people dissected animals, excited to see its insides and how the body worked. Just beneath it you saw his intensely desperate, fiery hot need for you. The two expressions folded on top of each other over and over like an endless piece of paper, like he couldn’t decide what made him more excited. But, you knew which one would win tonight—which one always won.

You nodded slowly at his question. After all, no matter how bitter the idea of perfection tasted in your mouth, it was nothing compared to the sweetness of your husband’s love. It overshadowed everything, clouded your mind until you could think of nothing else. You lived for it, you’d do anything for it—to keep it. And Sunghoon, he loved you for it. So, the cycle continued until you forgot what the bitter aftertaste even belonged to.

Was it so wrong for you to love the suffocating attention he gave you once he wasn’t busy? Maybe. Maybe you should feel some shame for how obsessed you were with Sunghoon. But, at least you knew the feeling was mutual. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be surrounded by a house full of dolls that looked nearly identical to you made all by his hands. Right? Doll making was a labor of love, and Sunghoon never shied away from showing you how much he loved you.

Sunghoon leaned over you. You felt his arms brush against your thighs as he pushed his soft pajama pants down. His face hovered over yours and you stared at him with big, doe eyes. His lips brushed against yours, pulling away slightly when you tried to chase them. Sunghoon tossed his pants and boxers to the side and you felt his cock slap against your thigh, sending a wave of arousal throughout your entire body. The entire time, Sunghoon’s eyes never left yours. “Like my own, personal little doll,” he continued, his voice low. “The real thing, not any of these flawed imitations. Complete perfection, and all under my hands to do with as I see fit.”

His lips captured yours in an unexpectedly rough, hungry kiss. He moved further over you until his body shadowed you. His hands were on either side of your head as he pinned you to the bed with his body, the kiss deepening and growing hungrier. Sunghoon pulled away from you, lips plumped and wet with saliva that still connected his lips to yours. He tenderly caressed your cheek and asked, “Do you know how much I love you?”

With his other hand, Sunghoon grabbed his cock so he could line himself up with your entrance. He quirked a thick eyebrow as he waited for your answer, eyes trailing the way your chest rose and fell heavily and your breasts pushed more against his own chest. “How much,” he continued, slowly slipping the tip of his cock inside you, “I’d do for you? How I’d do anything?” Your mouth fell open as your back arched slightly at the action. Sunghoon’s gaze returned to you, his hips halting once his thick tip was completely inside you. “Do you?” Sunghoon asked you once again, his heavy gaze weighing down on you.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he couldn’t help but do to you every night. It was the only time he liked you to be messy, when you were laying in a heap of doll parts beneath him. He tried to be gentle with his curiosity, he really did, but it was as if something overtook him. That dark look in his eyes got bolder until he couldn’t hold himself back—until he just had to tear you apart. You used to be scared every time it happened, still not learning to expect it. You should be ashamed that you did let it happen. But, as time went on, you began to like being taken apart; began liking how each time you’d blink away the fog, you were more perfect in his eyes.

Nodding, you inhaled deeply. “I do,” you say quietly, meeting his swirling dark stare. “And I love you just as much. I’d do just as much.”

“No,” Sunghoon spoke plainly. You drew your brows together, confused. “The way I love you, it’s… cavernous. Deep and dark—pitch-black. There is no end, no beginning, it just is.” His hand trailed down to your chin. “It consumes me, my love for you. I can’t control it… I can’t control the things I’d do to ensure you’ll always love me. And you will… won’t you? Always love me?” Sunghoon asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“Yes,” you say meekly. Despite the way Sunghoon’s body blocked the little light in the room, you could still see the way he fought the darkness inside of him. “I’ll forever love you. There’s nothing that would ever change that, Sunghoon. I promise.”

Sunghoon’s body relaxed over you, and his eyes briefly fluttered shut as he shakily breathed in to further calm himself. “Good…” he muttered, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear despite him being so close. “Because sometimes… The thought of you no longer loving me… i-it drives me completely insane.” His grip on your chin tightened and he bent down to sloppily kiss your lips. Sunghoon’s lips slowly worked against yours, like he was using you to calm himself even more. Like he was basking in your love for him like you did with his love for you.

He pulled away, just enough that with each word from his mouth, his lips brushed against yours. “It makes me want to rip you limb from limb. Polish all the parts so you can see it—see how much my love for you breaks me apart.” With a harsh thrust, Sunghoon pushed himself into you completely. You cried out, the sound being muffled by his lips so close to yours. Your nails dug into his shoulders at the action. Sunghoon pulled out of you until just the fat tip of his cock remained inside. With each word, he thrusted into you. “My sweet love, my perfect wife, my doll.”

Loud gasps rang from your mouth and Sunghoon took your hands from his shoulders and pinned them above your head with one of his own. His eyes never once left yours. He wanted to see how you cracked and shattered beneath him. He wanted to witness it. Sunghoon trailed his other hand down the side of your face, his thumb running over the soft skin of your cheek before it moved closer to your mouth. His eyes shined when he dipped his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly swirled your tongue around it, his own mouth opening. Sunghoon’s pace slowed as if he was remembering himself. The languid strokes drove you crazy and your hips lifted off the bed to gain more friction.

It was a constant back and forth of back to back harsh thrusts that felt like it was splitting you open to slow, sweet thrusts that had you begging for more. With your arms pinned about you, you couldn’t even really move besides the slight lift of your hips, and they could only lift so high with how close Sunghoon pressed himself into you. He had complete control over you; over how you moved, how deeply and at what pace you felt him, and over what sounds you made with his thumb in your mouth. Your eyes began to get glassy with how much you wanted him.

You guessed that you liked being used—liked being his toy, his plaything. You guessed that you liked feeling desired, feeling like his doll. You glanced around your bedroom, back arching and loud, unashamed moans falling from your lips at the way Sunghoon fucked you. It felt as if every single doll was looking at you, watching you. Watched you succumb to your husband and watched as the cracks in your porcelain body began to crumble. Watched how you loved every second of it. How wet it made you to the point that Sunghoon was slipping in and out of you with ease and how the vulgar gushing sounds bounced off the walls.

Sunghoon’s pace slowed and he watched how his cock slowly disappeared into you before he slowly pulled it back out and examined how it dripped with your arousal. A soft chuckle left his parted lips as he did it over and over. You clawed at his arm still holding yours above your head, a loud whine came from the bottom of your throat and your body shifted in any way that it could to feel him deeper, to have his cock drag against your walls faster.

He replaced his wet thumb with his mouth, completely silencing your moans and whines. Sunghoon’s mouth worked slowly against yours once again, soft groans vibrating against your lips as he kissed you.

“You feel so good,” Sunghoon whined, barely able to get his words out before his lips were back on yours. He let out another moan, his shallow strokes growing quicker. “Taking everything I give you so well, my love. It’s like your body was made for mine.” Sunghoon finally let go of your arms, giving your body some space as his lips traveled down to your chest. He left wet kisses all over it, teasingly kissing around your perked nipples while you dragged your hands through his hair and pulled at the tips of the strands. Everytime his lips touched your skin it felt like white-hot coals were being placed on you where they touched. Sunghoon looked up at you over the rim of his glasses, lips pressed to your skin with a hint of a smile. “Do you feel good, darling?”

Sunghoon’s hips picked up speed, just barely, but enough to make your head spin wildly. His pace was agonizing and you were sure your frustration showed in how you tugged harder at his hair and pulled his head back and the way your hips pathetically raised to meet his. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and he let out a laugh. “Please,” you begged him, your eyes filled with unfallen tears, “please.”

He sat up, lips brushing against your skin one last time before he pulled away. Sunghoon pushed down on your hips with his hands to stop them from moving, his own still continuing at that agonizing pace. “Please, what?” he asked, head tilted to the side as he watched you squirm beneath him and claw at the bedsheets. “What are you begging me to do to you?”

You whined when his hands moved up to your waist and sent tingles throughout your body. Through your blurry, tear-filled eyes you could see his smile. Pitiful moans escaped your mouth and your chest rose and fell so heavily you would’ve thought you weren’t breathing at all—instead trying to gasp in gulps of breath. “Please,” you begged again. Sunghoon inhaled sharply at the way you clenched down on him, at how your whiny moans filled his ears and the way the corners of your eyes flooded with tears. He halted his movements and pulled out of you completely.

“No, no, no!” you cried and leaned up to reach for him. He pushed you back down to the bed gently. Sunghoon’s own breathing picked up as his wet cock hovered over you. He took one of your hands in his and guided it towards it. “I’ll continue once you can tell me—” his breath hitched once your hand wrapped around his thick length “—what you want.” Sunghoon guided your hand up and down his cock slowly, his hand tightening on top of yours so you squeezed him more. His breath shuddered as he watched your hand work, his stomach tightening every time your hand squeezed his mushroom tip. He moaned again at how easily your hand slipped over him from your arousal, and his moans grew louder when he’d move his hips to force your hand back down his length again and again.

“Tell me…” he breathed out, his eyes fluttering closed, once you still didn’t give him an answer. Sunghoon’s hands laid flat against the back of your thighs—right next to where you needed him the most.

“I… I-I want you…” you stuttered out, voice small. Sunghoon hummed in question, bringing his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles into it at the same speed he moved his hips. You gasped, back involuntarily arching off the bed. Your hand paused mid-stroke of his cock before his hips rutting against it stirred you back into action. “Closer…” Sunghoon says through a grunt, “but, I’m going to need more than that from you, my love. Don’t you want to be good for me and do what I asked?”

A soft whine left his lips when you squeezed a little too much at the base of his cock. “I want to hear those pretty moans of yours as I fuck you with my cock… see your pretty face as you cum around it. Won’t you give that to me? Do you really want to settle for my fingers tonight, darling?” Sunghoon continued.

How could you tell him what you really wanted? Explain the deepest desire that you had right now? He told you about his inner battle with how much his love for you consumes him. He told you the things that it made him want to do. You wanted him to let go and do it. You wanted him to wipe you clean so you watched it all—saw it all. Enough with holding back—like he tried to do every single night without fail. It was no use when you both knew what was coming. You wanted him to lose control. You wanted that swirling darkness in his eyes to take over. You wanted him to do what he said he wanted to do if you didn’t feel the same way he felt about you. How do you express that to him?

“Do it…” you say, your words coming out strained. A sweet moan left your mouth and you looked him dead in the eyes as the tears finally slid down your hot cheeks. “I w-want you… to do it.” Your voice was just above a whisper, loud enough that only his ears could hear your words despite being the only two people in the entire house. You squeezed down onto his thick cock more as your wrist worked harder. The hand he wasn’t using to rub circles into your puffy clit grabbed your thigh tighter, his fingers surely leaving indents into the plush skin. Sunghoon’s head hung lowly as he tore his gaze away from yours and went back to watching your hand.

Sunghoon plunged two fingers deep inside your dripping entrance and you felt like you could finally feel the oxygen reach your lungs. He pushed them in and out of you, his gaze flicking over to his movements instead of yours to relish in the way his fingers came back out more and more wet. As his fingers curled inside you, causing breathy moans to leave your willing lips, you watched the way his stomach tensed and his hips faltered. Without saying a word, you could tell what was running through his mind right now. You could see his eyes grow more and more darker, fill up more and more with desire. Sunghoon finally looked back up at you, his wire-framed glasses low on his nose bridge. “Do what?” he asks, his voice just as quiet as yours was.

You didn’t have to say anything else. Sunghoon’s hips froze and his stomach tightened even more as a pretty moan ripped straight through him. His eyes fluttered shut, his fingering waned and you lifted your hips to chase his hand. Sunghoon’s warm cum shot all over your stomach and splattered up to your breasts in thick spurts. He let out another moan, this one dragging out from deep within him as his body finally relaxed. You helped him through it all—hand never stopping as he rode out his high and marked more of your stomach with his cum until you were painted a creamy white and he was completely empty.

His eyes blinked open and he looked down at how messy you were. Something in his demeanor shifted as his eyes grazed over you and you couldn’t tell what had changed until he looked at you. You inhaled sharply at his stare, your breathing picking up. His own chest still heaved from his recent release. Sunghoon took his wet fingers out from your cunt, taking a moment to drag them through your folds to spread your arousal even more, all while his eyes never left yours. Gone were the barriers that held him back, that darkness took him over full force.

Meek whimpers escaped your lips and you dug your nails into the bedsheet beneath you. “You like being my doll, don’t you?” Sunghoon asks. His voice was almost flat, and he was still speaking in that hushed tone. His expression was decidedly blank except for the subtle way his brows drew together. “Don’t you?” he asked a little louder when you didn’t answer him. His hands squeezed the back of your thighs and his fingers dug into the soft skin there. You timidly nodded, not daring to look away.

His hands relaxed and his thumbs brushed over where his fingers dug into you comfortingly, his eyes finally leaving yours. Sunghoon grabbed his cock and rubbed his flushed tip in between your folds, the wet sounds it made piercing the silent bedroom. “You know,” he starts, his voice no longer so low, “you really are truly flawless, doll. My muse…”

Sunghoon is already slipping back inside you before you can process the way his thick cock completely stretches you open. You cry out as more unshed tears fall from your eyes. He continues, “It angers me how much I can’t capture you fully. How none of these dolls can compare to the real thing—the real you. It makes me… so angry…”

He’s pulling back his hips as he speaks, the tip of his cock just barely leaving your pussy, before he roughly thrusts his cock back inside of you. Another loud moan emits from you and your vision blurs from more tears as your face gets hot. You could barely hear Sunghoon’s wry laugh over the sudden ringing in your ears.

Sunghoon’s pace is brutal, and you’re suddenly regretting whining so much about how slow he was once going. It gave you whiplash, how fast he fucked into you, and the only thing you could do to keep yourself grounded is tightly wrap your hands around his wrists at your hips. Your arms smeared and got sticky with his cum but you didn’t care. With each thrust, your body shook and pushed you further into the mattress. With your iron-clad grip on Sunghoon’s wrists, your tits pushed together and bounced in accordance with his hips against yours. Sunghoon was fucking you like he wanted to break you in half.

“S-Slo—” you tried to speak but was cut off by the waves of sudden pleasure hitting you one after the other. Sunghoon just shushed you, his hands pulling your hips towards his so you’d feel him deeper. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you couldn’t think about anything other than the way he was making you feel so, so good. You wanted to feel this way forever. Wanted him to stay lost so you never escaped this feeling of immense pleasure. Wanted him to use you to take out his anger at himself—at you—like you meant absolutely nothing, just a doll for him to handle and put back in its place.

You adore it, the way he makes you feel.

Such nasty sounds fill the air, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care about it. If anything, it turned you on more just how loud and demanding to be heard it was. With how much the sounds of the sex the two of you were having penetrated your ears, you would’ve thought that you’d be getting multiple noise complaints at any moment. You both definitely weren’t trying to be quiet in the slightest.

Between your moans, you heard Sunghoon speak. “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” His voice was almost scarily plain, like he thought this over time and time again before. You blinked away tears and finally got a clear view of him and the way he stared down at you with a hint of a smile, head tilted as he watched you crack and begin to fall into yourself. “Forever my perfect little doll, to bend—” he pushed your knees closer to your chest so you were practically folded in half “—and to break—” he roughly thrusted into you once more, his hint of a smile growing into a smirk as you clenched down on him “—and to put back together and play with as I please.”

“Sunghoon,” you sobbed as your stomach tightened and you started to shake. You didn’t get the chance to get another word out before you were violently orgasming, your cum pouring out of you and leaving a white ring around the base of Sunghoon’s cock as he roughly fucked it back into you. Wet, gushing sounds came from his cock plowing into your pussy and your cum poured out from around him and down the curve of your ass. You could scream at the sudden overstimulation.

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says as he watched you shatter. He used your hands still limply wrapped around his wrists to pull you up off the bed and halfway into his lap, his cock still buried within you. One of his hands supported your back and the other came to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Pretty dolls don’t cry.”

Sunghoon brought your hands to his shoulders and you held tightly onto the soft fabric of his shirt. His own hands dragged down the expanse of your stomach and he wrapped one of his arms around your back. Sunghoon lowered his head so he could look you in your eyes, his free hand lifting your chin to raise your head more. “I love you,” he murmured, pausing a beat to make sure you heard him, before roughly moving his lips against yours and cutting off one of your watery whines.

Your hands moved from Sunghoon’s shoulders to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you. You deepened the kiss, letting Sunghoon open your mouth so his tongue could slip in and dance with yours. You’d give anything to keep his lips on yours forever.

Sunghoon began to thrust into you again, his hips moving slow at first before they rapidly picked up pace. You moaned against his lips, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt Sunghoon’s lips pull into a smile, “I love you so much.” He said it like it was a confession.

Head falling into the crook of his neck, you cling to him tighter with your last remaining strength and whimper into his warm skin. Your body shook all over until it felt like you might explode. It felt like Sunghoon kept repeatedly turning and turning the winding key in your back, going way beyond the motor’s limitations. It made you nervous for when he would let go and you would burst into action.

His deep moans and grunts rang in your ear and his arm around your back tightened. With his other hand, he pulled you back so he could look at you. Your face was tear-streaked, splotchy with drying tears and you tried to not cry even more. Your brows were knitted together from the overstimulation and whimpers fell from your lips. Sunghoon’s cum stuck to your stomach and your forearms and parts of his shirt, your own cum covered your pussy and Sunghoon’s cock. You were a mess.

Over and over, three words came from Sunghoon’s lips like a mantra as he filled you up with his cum to the brim and past that too. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I—”

Finally, silence rang through the air besides both of your heavy breathing. After another moment, your body finally stilled. The silence was so thick that you felt like you couldn’t move at all. Delicately, like he held the shards of you in his hands, Sunghoon laid you back down onto the bed. He pressed feather-light kisses to your jaw and cheeks before they finally landed on your lips.

You were so overwhelmed with emotions and feelings that you couldn’t feel anything at all. Your head was still foggy and your only penetrating thoughts swirled around him. Despite your eyes being wide open, your vision was cloudy.

Sunghoon kissed you again. “Stay here,” he says, pushing away from you. Your arms fell to your sides limply. He leaned back and pulled his cock out of you, eyes shining with adoration at the way yours and his mixed cum spilled out and dirtied the bedsheets. Sunghoon rubbed the tip of his cock through it a couple times, ignoring how you squirmed and whined. “Absolute perfection,” he said under his breath before standing to his feet.

You laid there on the bed, still spread open and a mess of cum, as your eyes went in and out of focus. When the clouds in your vision did part, all you saw were all of the dolls and how they stared at you. Sunghoon came back a couple moments later, his face coming into focus as the moonlight bounced off his glasses. He climbed over you and began cleaning you up.

You were barely aware of the way he meticulously made sure every nook and cranny was polished nor how he moved you to put new bedsheets on the bed. Your mind didn’t start to come back to you until he was pulling you over him and sitting you onto his cock. You came alive at his hands trailing the expanse of your body before landing on your hips. You moaned quietly, your gaze dripping to look down at him. The darkness in his eyes was not quite all the way gone.

Sunghoon brought you down to lay on his chest. “I could fuck you all night…” he trails and his voice vibrates throughout your whole body as he shallowly thrusts up into you, “and into the morning, too.” His hips stilled and instead his fingers caressed your back. “But then we wouldn’t have the full day together, would we, my love?”

You shook your head slightly and Sunghoon wrapped an arm possessively over you before pulling the blankets overtop of you both, his other arm caging you against him completely. As the moonlight filtered through the window of your bedroom, the two of you slowly fell asleep.

In the morning, you were awoken by kisses on your neck and your pussy fluttering around Sunghoon’s slow strokes. He lifted your leg into the air and you turned your body towards the warmth at your back, blinking away sleep. You hummed, a soft whine pulling from your throat as you looked at him.

His glasses were off, which let you know that it hadn’t been long since he woke up himself. Sunghoon leaned down to press his lips to yours, his cock still dragging at a snail’s pace against your walls. “Are you sore?” he asks, pulling away from your lips to kiss your shoulder.

You nodded. Him still inside you, lazily fucking into you felt good, but you couldn’t ignore the way he stretched you open and the deep soreness that came from it. “A little,” you say.

Sunghoon turned you onto your back so you laid beneath him and he pulled out of you completely. “I’m sorry, my love,” he says and his lips meet yours again. “Let me make you feel better.”

He kissed your lips once more and started trailing kisses down to your jaw and along the length of your neck. Sunghoon looked up at you through the strands of his black hair, kissing lower down your body to your breasts, his hands massaging them as he kissed at your perked nipples. Soft moans left you at his touch.

His kisses spread to your stomach, to your hips, and finally right above where you were already wet for him. He spread your legs open more. “I’ll be gentle,” Sunghoon says, placing a kiss to your clit before his tongue poked out to lap at your entrance.

Without Sunghoon around, the idea of perfection was bitter on your tongue—acidic in your chest. But, when your beloved husband was around, finally in your arms again, you understood why people strive for it. You love it.

If perfection was how Sunghoon saw you, then you’d forever be the most absolutely perfect person, woman, wife you could be.

Days pass and you are once again left alone in the vastness of your home. Sunghoon stood true to his word as best as he could, spending as much time with you when he didn’t have to work, but it still wasn’t enough. The house still felt empty, and the occasional early nights when he would come home didn’t help.

It felt like the early nights home he took came at a price. Most nights when he would finally walk through the front door, you were already asleep or close to it. He would wake you up with a kiss and a content sigh. It made your chest ache even more than it already did when he is away.

You were in the middle of washing the dishes, mind trailed off to someplace else as you idly let the sounds of the TV float around you. “The search for the six missing girls is still going strong. Police still has not found the perpetrator, but an interview earlier with the Chief says that they are very close to finding out who has taken these girls. Our anonymous tip hotline is still up and running for anyone who may have any valuable information on where these girls might be.”

The words brought you back to life, and you gasped quietly as you looked towards the tiny screen. You examined the bold numbers at the bottom of the screen. It reminded you of the secret room behind the dollhouse that you completely forgot about. You quickly finished the dishes, leaving them in the strainer to dry completely as you dried your wet hands.

Slowly, you took quiet steps towards the hallway where the dollhouse was displayed. You looked to the front door to ensure that it was still locked. Sunghoon could walk through it at any moment and you didn’t want him to know that you knew about his secret workshop before you had the chance to see what was inside.

You recalled the way the door to the room opened—the pushed opened small bookshelf that revealed the make-shift door. You tip-toed to the bookshelf, examining its sides and the books on it.

You didn’t really look at the books on the bookshelf besides your own cookbooks. Sunghoon’s doll making books were something you rarely touched, if at all. But, you took a hard look at those too, your fingers running over the spines. They all felt like books, the spines hard and sturdy, but something about them still felt off to you. You looked at Sunghoon’s books again, pulling each one out a little to take a peek at the covers.

In the middle of you pulling one of the books, you heard a quiet click and the bookshelf came loose from the wall. You took a step back, shock showing all over your face. Gently, you grabbed the side of the bookshelf and pulled.

The bookshelf creaked open and revealed an opening that you had to bend down a little to enter. When you stepped inside the surprisingly large room, your eyes did a sweep of what was inside. You froze, your stomach dropping as you stared at what was in front of you, absolutely horrified. You didn’t even really know what was in front of you… It looked like an amalgamation of various body parts, stitched and sewn into one. Its skin was weirdly shiny, almost like it was made of some kind of plastic or resin while still keeping its elasticity.

You disregarded the rest of the room, instead taking careful steps towards the strange creation in front of you. It didn’t look neither dead nor alive and that confused you even further—it barely looked human. Its eyes and lips were sewn shut and it was completely hairless. It was held up onto its feet by long strips of silk hanging from the ceiling that was tied around its naked body. Next to where it stood was a table with thick locks of hair tied with ribbons of your favorite color.

Maybe this was the final crack in your mind and it was crumbling completely, but it kind of looked like you too. Even the hair on the table matched yours perfectly. If you looked past all the stitches, the weird shiny skin, and the lack of hair, it almost seemed like you were looking in a mirror. It looked like an unfinished, life-sized doll of you. Your stomach turned in on itself.

The fear in you raised tenfold in you when it started to twitch. You took a couple steps back from it when it began to pull on its restraints a little. It seemed to start to panic and its shiny arms pulled at the restraints keeping it up even more as it tried to reach out to you. You jumped back more, fearful tears filling your eyes. Your mouth opened to speak, but no words would come out.

The uncanny creation tried to speak, though, before realizing that its mouth was sewn shut. When it began to frightfully hum—the sound off tune and terrifying—did your body start to feel heavy and limp. It pulled at its restraints with all the little strength it had as it reached out to you and began to hum wildly… it hummed Sunghoon’s melody, the one he hummed when he worked.

Realization hit you like a tsunami. Not only was you dear husband making dolls of you, but he was trying to make a real, life-sized human doll of you. And it seemed that every part of this surreal creation was taken from another until it resembled you as close as he could get it. Your mind flashed to those six missing girls—the six missing girls that all looked eerily similar to you. Despite having all the puzzle pieces right in front of you, your mind refused to see the whole picture.

You backed up further, the back of your thighs hitting the desk that was against the back wall near the make-shift door. You twisted towards it, chest heaving as you scanned the scattered papers and opened books. You picked up what looked to be a journal Sunghoon kept and read over the open page with trembling hands.

The entry remarked at how the experiment was working well and how none of the body parts were rejecting like they did before. He praises how the process was much smoother than last time, how the girls he chose were the perfect fit. The journal dropped from your hands.

Those girls going missing due to Sunghoon was no longer speculation. Your eyes snapped back to his “experiment.” It must be those poor girls, their bodies sewn into one to look like you. You still didn’t want to believe it.

Tears poured from your eyes as fear sunk its claws deep within you and forced its way down your throat and into your heart. Your entire world came crashing down around you and quiet sobs left your mouth as you fought against the idea that your husband wasn’t who he said he was—that he was a kidnapper, a killer.

You rushed forwards, your arms raised towards his creation before you wrapped them around yourself and remained a safe distance. “No!” you exclaimed as you rapidly shook your head. “No, this is all a misunderstanding—a mistake! Sunghoon wouldn’t do this… He isn’t that type of person!” You wiped at your eyes, almost believing your own words until you dropped your hands.

Dolls completely surrounded the peculiar creation—Sunghoon’s experiment. It was even more that the ones that surrounded you in the hallway when they were showing you the scene in the dollhouse. They all looked at you for a moment before slowly turning to look up at how the amalgamation of stolen girls thrashed towards you, still frantically humming.

The dollhouse.

It was a warning. Those scenes the dolls showed you… it was all a warning. This was what they were trying to tell you this entire time. This wasn’t just any ordinary experiment for Sunghoon, a dollmaker going completely mad in his craft—no. This experiment was for you. He was using these girls, tearing apart their bodies limb from limb and creating some freakish doll of them that was meant to be you. It was practice… He was doing all of this so he knew exactly what to do when he laid his tools down and cut into the real thing. You were next.

Sunghoon’s words rang in your ears and bounced around in your head: “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” You finally understood it now.

Suddenly, all thrashing ceased and the humming finally abruptly stopped. The only thing that filled the silence was your muffled sobs. “I’m sorry,” you cried, unsure if it even heard you. “I’m so sorry.”

You stumbled towards the opening of the room and barely missed hitting your head on the way out. You didn’t even wait for the bookshelf to click back into place before rushing through the hallway and to the kitchen. For once in your entire life, you hoped that Sunghoon had a long night at work.

Nearly falling into the kitchen counter, you shakily grabbed the landline on the wall. Those bold numbers of the anonymous tip hotline flashed behind your eyes and you rushed to put in the numbers, putting the ringing phone to your ear. “This is the anonymous tip hotline for the six missing girls. Please only share useful tips that could help a breakthrough in the case. Do you have any information to share?”

Your breathing came out heavy and you tried to force the oxygen to reach your lungs, inhaling sharply as you tried to find your words. “I… I-I think my husband kidnapped those girls…” you breathed in a whisper. The woman on the other end of the line started talking, but your focus was abruptly taken when you heard another, more familiar voice behind you.

“Something scare you, darling?” Sunghoon asks, his voice gentle and filled with worry. You couldn’t tell if he was being genuine.

You jumped, pressing further into the kitchen counter as you spun in place, the phone leaving your ear. Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his thick brows knitted together. You didn’t even hear him come back home. Despite the landline being away from your ear, you still heard the woman on the other end asking you questions, frantically asking if you were still there. You were completely frozen.

Sunghoon rose to his feet and the stove light illuminated him. You saw him differently now. No longer was he your loving husband, he was something else. Still, you hated the way your heart soared when you locked eyes on him. How your body relaxed, even in the slightest. You hated how you felt complete now that he was here and how you wanted to run into his arms.

He crossed the short distance to you, his arms coming to rest against the counter on both sides of you. You inhaled shakily now that you and Sunghoon were face to face. Without his eyes leaving yours, Sunghoon took the phone from your quivering hand and hung it back up on the wall. His arm returned to its position next to you, completely caging you within his arms.

Sunghoon leaned his forehead against yours. “I thought I told you that you had nothing to be afraid of, not when I’m here.” His voice was still gentle—soft—and it was lowered as he moved one of his arms to take one of your shaky hands in his. You wanted to pull away from him and wrap your arms around him simultaneously. You felt exhausted.

You voice shook, “Y-You kidnapped those girls, didn’t you? Turned them into… into…” Sunghoon drew back to look at you, his head falling to the side as his brows pushed together. His confused look made you start to question if you had been imagining everything—the dolls, the dollhouse, the hidden room, the experiment. “Into… what?” Sunghoon asks.

“...Into me!” you exclaimed, more tears running down your already wet cheeks as you choked out a sob. Sunghoon’s hand tightened around yours. “You killed them… and who knows how many others! Am I next? Are you going to kill me too?”

Sunghoon let go of your hand so he could cup your face with both of his hands, his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes to get rid of the fallen tears. “They aren’t dead!” he says. “And I swear to you that I’ll never hurt you, my love. You know that. Think of them as… reborn.”

You started to tremble in his arms and tried to shift away from him, but Sunghoon wouldn’t let you go anywhere. “Is that what you’re going to do to me? Was all of this—” you gestured around the room at all the dolls of you sitting pretty on the various shelves around the kitchen “—just practice for the real thing?” you spat out. You tried to move again, but Sunghoon’s hands dropped from your face to your upper arms to keep you in place.

“No!” Sunghoon started, his voice coated in disbelief that you would even ask him that as he shook his head. “No… can’t you see? This—” he used a finger to motion around the kitchen at the dolls “—is a reflection of how much I love you. My devotion to you. You, above anything else, above everything else. A peek inside my mind and how the only thing in there is you.”

“A-And that experiment of yours—the missing girls? Behind the wall?” you asked.

“That… is my dedication to you—m-my oath.” Sunghoon was completely desperate. He pleaded with you, his eyes wide and begging you to believe his words. His eyes were watery, like if you didn’t believe him he might cry as well, and he looked at you over the rim of his wire-framed glasses that slipped down his nose bridge.

You didn’t know what to believe. Didn’t know what to say. You just wanted to go upstairs with Sunghoon and lay in your bed and forget about everything that you’ve witnessed as he held you close to his chest. It was all too much, and your resolve was starting to crack and shatter. You wanted to smooth down your wrinkled dress and fix your messy hair, but Sunghoon didn’t let you move a single inch in fear that you would run from him. You couldn’t tell which one of you was more terrified.

His hands slid down from your upper arms and down to your hands, grasping them so tight that it started to hurt. “Come… Come with me…” he trailed, gulping thickly. You stared at him with wide, frightful eyes, suddenly unwilling to move, but Sunghoon desperately pleaded with you. He looked like he was seconds from getting down onto his knees. “Please,” he begged, pulling you into him, as his voice cracked. “You know I’d never do anything ever to hurt you.”

Sunghoon took a step back, hoping that you would follow after him, and you did. You let him guide you down the hallway all the way to the bookshelf and into the room behind it, his grip on your hands never once loosening. He led you in front of the uncanny image of you that he created. “I know how it looks,” Sunghoon says, his voice hushed. “But there’s no pain, no sorrow, nothing.”

It didn’t try to reach out to you like it did earlier and all the dolls that once surrounded it were gone. It didn’t hum that out-of-tune, terrifying version of the melody Sunghoon hummed when he worked either. It just hung limply from its silk restraints. “It just is,” Sunghoon continued. “And when it’s fully done, and completely polished, it’ll be flawless.” He delicately took your chin and guided your head to the side so you looked at him. Your body finally stopped fighting against itself and you relaxed in his grasp. “Like you are.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, hesitantly pausing to look at you again before bringing his lips to meet yours. He pulled you into him, his body wrapping around yours, and you timidly invited him in.

His lips felt so good against yours, and you knew that once you parted for air you’ll miss the feeling of them forever until he kissed you again. It felt right—it felt like home. The home where the two of you were always together and he held you like he was holding you now—like he was afraid that if he let go he would lose you. That if he didn’t hold you like a delicate porcelain cup you would chip and crack and shatter. And you would.

When Sunghoon’s lips moved against yours like they did in this moment, everything fell into place. All your worries slid off your back and for a brief minute, it was just the two of you in the whole wide world. Nothing existed but him, and his body enveloped in yours, and his touch that made you burn. And the flames danced so beautifully for him, didn’t they?

Just when you were about to pull away to quell the heaviness in your lungs, you felt a sudden sharp pain in your neck. You hissed, breaking away from Sunghoon’s lips just barely. Sunghoon chased your lips, holding the back of your head and pulling you closer against his body as he kissed you harder.

You whimpered against his lips, your nails digging into his arms as you tried to free yourself from his vice-like grip. It was no use, Sunghoon was never going to let you go. You felt your body grow heavy in his arms and he had to hold you up. Your vision began to spot black and fray around the edges, and your ears rang terribly. Just before you passed out completely, and over the ringing of your ears, you heard Sunghoon’s muffled voice as he kissed your neck where the pain stemmed.

“I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, I truly do.”

You fade in and out of consciousness as time passes around you. Sometimes you see blurred glimpses of Sunghoon, sometimes it's just an array of colors until you black out again.

You aren’t sure how long it’s been when your eyes finally do open and you remain conscious for good. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you examine how you're laying on the couch in your living room. Your entire body aches and it feels stiff. Your head is pounding and you almost close your eyes again to ease the pain you feel. You notice how you’re in different clothes and there’s a blanket over top of you. Too late do you notice the figure in your peripheral, and your eyes shift to look at them.

Sunghoon hovers over you, his expression a chaotic mix of hopeful, relief, and worry as he stares down at you. He’s wearing different clothes too, and his hair is a complete mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his glasses almost slide completely off his face. “Are you here, my love?” Sunghoon asks quietly. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.

You give him a confused look, pushing the blanket off of you and crying out from the pain you feel as you try and sit up. Sunghoon rushes to your aid, tossing the blanket to the side without a single thought, and helps ease you to your feet. Your gaze drops to your legs as he helps you stand and you notice how weird they look—shiny. There’s slight indented lines at your knees, too. You look at your arms and they’re the same.

You look doll-like.

Once you’re steadily on your feet, Sunghoon moves a step back to take you all in. You notice how done up you are and when you carefully raise a stiff and sore arm to your hair you feel how it’s styled. Your gaze lands on Sunghoon’s face, his eyes meeting yours.

His eyes are shining—completely full of love and pride. You’ve only seen him look like this when he first came to you with one of the dolls he made that looked the most like you, and when the two of you are in bed and his fingers are gently caressing your skin as he admires you. But, it was even more intense than in those scenarios. Confusion clouds you and you wait for Sunghoon to say something, and he does. One singular word.

“Perfect.”

[ kipo’s note . . . ] would it be wrong to say how i absolutely #needthat #desperately… like hehe yes i’ll be your perfect doll for you forever and ever and ever (๑´ω`๑)

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @hyukascampfire @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @fancypeacepersona @deobitifull @tinycatharsis @strawberryshoujosundae

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[robertsfloyd]

bunny

lando leaves his little pet home alone, has to deal with the consequences when he gets home

lando norris x bunny girl!reader

warnings: smut, pillow riding, thigh riding, power imbalance, angst, bunny girl is kinda gross (not taking care of herself), brat bunny, makeshift toys (hairbrush, don't do this), bratty reader, hints of dumbification, fingering, penetration, multiple orgasms

yes ik this is weird! but i love hybrid fic! they're so fun!

a week.

you had been left on your own for a fucking week.

this wasn't how it was supposed to be. a few days at most, but never a week. never a fucking week.

you sobbed into his pillow, soft ears drooping in front of your face. it wasn't fair. it wasn't fucking fair! you weren't supposed to be on your own for this long, you weren't supposed to take care of yourself for this long.

why even get a sweet little pet like you if you're not gonna take care of it?

you sniffled as you sat up and looked at the bed. his bed, the bed he let you sleep in when you felt lonely and needy (which was every night). the bed you'd been secretly sleeping in since he went away for the race weekend.

(secretly. he knew. he knew you spent every night in his bed, surrounding yourself in the comforting smell of him whenever he wasn't there. as much as he pretended to scold you, your pouty lips and wide eyes stopped him).

but the scent from his bed had been fading. his pillow no longer smelt like him, where you had gripped it between your thighs as you brought yourself to orgasm, pretending it was his leg. your whines and cries filled his monaco apartment, but they weren't accompanied by his answers, his praises.

you hated it.

you hated being alone.

a week. after a week he walked through the door of the apartment. you wiped your nose with the back of your hand, used your fluffy ears to wipe away your tears. you were a mess, wearing the same shirt of his you were wearing when he left you.

as soon as the door clicked, the lock sliding out of place as he let himself in, you were up. if you were normal, if you were like the 'girlfriends' he brought back, you wouldn't have heard it.

(girlfriends. that was what he called them. some you only saw once, sitting in your own room with a pout on your face as you listened, wishing he was you. some came over more than once, becoming so bold as to pet your ears as you ate your dinner. you hated it.

no matter what, you were always his number one girl).

"bunny?"

you ran into his arms. lando dropped his bags to wrap his arms around you, to hold you against his chest. to give you everything you had been craving since he left.

"i miss you!" you cried, hiccupping through your sobs.

his hand moved up and down your back as he held you light. "my girl," he whispered and tucked your head against his chest. "my sweet girl. i didn't mean to disappear for a whole week."

"why did you?" you asked through a sob, fists holding his shirt so tight, he was sure you would never let go.

"i was with-" lando said her name and you pulled away, scowling. her. the girlfriend that had tried to pet your ears. he was choosing her over you, his best girl.

it wasn't fucking fair!

you pulled away from him, a scowl on your face. you scowled a lot in the early days, when he first adopted you. you had been used to the other bunnies, sleeping in a big pile, kissing each other sweetly, gently. but then lando adopted you, brought you home, and you lost that comfort.

everything he asked of you in those early days was met with a scowl. but he found a way to fix it, found a way to reward you. he tried everything, treats and pets and more. the thing that worked? making you cum.

"bunny," lando called as you walked away from him. a day of travelling and he was exhausted. all he wanted was to cuddle up on the sofa with you, hold you in his arms as you waxed poetic about how happy you were to have him home.

but, instead, you were ignoring him, pouting as you disappeared into the apartment.

"bunny!" he called again, dumping his bags by the door. he could deal with that later. first, you.

you threw yourself onto your bed as dramatically as you could. your little cotton tail was poking through your grey shorts (disney in theme, but you didn't care about that. you card that they were cute, they were comfortable and, when you had them, lando couldn't keep his hands off of you).

he strode into your room, the door hitting the bookshelf beside it. he stared down at you, trying to stop his expression from softening. you were being a brat and it needed to be dealt with.

"bun."

you kicked your legs dramatically.

he caught your ankle. "stop," he said, voice commanding and authoritative. you hated it.

turning, you glared at him.

"you're being a brat," he said. you couldn't help the way your ears perked up. literally, they raised up, away from your face, allowing lando to see the pink underneath. immediately, he knew he had your attention.

a grin crossed his face. "like that, bunny?" he asked asked as he dragged you to the end of your bed. your shorts were short enough that he could see the swell of your bum, the little pink underwear beneath.

he flipped you over and a squeal left your lips. his girl. his best girl. that was who you were.

"you just want my attention, don't you, bunny?" he said it so sweetly, almost mockingly. "you've been needy since i've been away."

you nodded pathetically, dumbly. "please," you whispered. your pout had turned from grumpy to needy. fuck, you needed him. you had needed him for an entire week. it would have been a miracle if there was no wet patch in your shorts.

he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down. "oh, bunny," he whispered when he looked at your underwear. "so fucking wet. have you been good for me, bunny?"

no, you hadn't been good. you hadn't been able to refrain from touching yourself while he had been gone. wrapped up in his sheets, face buried in his pillow (before it began to smell like you cunt), you touched yourself, desperately wishing your fingers were his own, desperately wishing the too thin handle of your hairbrush was his cock.

but you nodded. you were a fucking liar. as long as he made you cum before he found out.

his fingers moved over your clothed cunt. a whimper left your lips. his fingers, so much more talented than your own. "just what my bunny needed, huh? someone to touch her?"

you nodded again, whimpers leaving your lips. "don't worry, gorgeous," he whispered. "i'm here, now. you can switch off your bunny brain now."

you just wanted him to touch you, just wanted his fingers inside of you. his name left your lips again and again and again and again. you knew what you wanted, you just couldn't vocalise it.

but lando took pity on you. he hooked his finger around your underwear and pushed it to the side, showing just how wet and sticky you were. a pathetic mess, but you were his pathetic mess.

two fingers inside of you. they were thicker than anything else you'd fucked yourself with over the past week. the toys he had bought you before he went away. they hadn't been enough; none of it had been enough

but his fingers, they were magic. a relief from that need you had been feeling for a week.

but you wanted more.

you wanted his cock. "easy, bunny," he said when you wiggled against him. "what do you need?"

"cock," you managed as you tried to reach for him, tried to hold his wrist still so you could ride his fingers. but lando settled his arm across your abdomen, holding you still.

he grinned as he looked at you, eyes shining. "need my cock, bunny?" he whispered as he moved his hand over your stomach, pushing your shirt up slightly. "greedy thing."

he was right, you were greedy. you were greedy and you didn't care who knew it as you begged for his cock.

flipping yourself over, you got onto your knees. your cotton tail moved from side to side as you wiggled your ass, presenting yourself for him. lando patted your ass, hand gentle and loving. "okay, bunny. i got you."

you heard as he unbuttoned his jeans, larger ears picking up on the sounds. he pulled his cock from his boxers and pulled you back, pulled you flush against him.

his cock rubbed against you. not pushing between your folds, just rubbing against your thighs. it was so damn tempting to push your legs together, to fuck your perfect thighs and leave you high and dry. that was just what you deserved for being a brat.

but he couldn't deny your cries and whines. he shushed you, trying to be so damn gentle as he pushed into you. his thumb moved over your bum cheek, trying to be soothing as he filled you for the first time in a week.

whines and whimpers filled your bedroom. it was rare he fucked you in your too small bed, one you couldn't cuddle in after. but you started moving your hips, rocking against him. "that's it, bunny," he whispered, his own eyes falling shut.

he let you use him, let you fuck yourself on his cock until you came, legs shaking it. it was quick, a testament to how fucking needy you were. his fingers helped, playing with your clit to push you over the edge so damn quickly.

the bunny in you kept you going. "god fucking damn," lando grunted as he began moving, fucking into you, pushing his cock through your folds again and again. you milked him as you let him pull you back onto him.

it was a release both of you needed. a good fuck after a long day of travelling. a good fuck after a week of being alone.

no wonder you both came to quick.

but lando held out. he held himself back, touched you some more to get you to cum for the second time. you spasmed around him, his hands holding your hips to keep you up as your legs gave out. "that's it, bunny," he said through grunts. "almost there."

he came. he spilled inside of you, hips stilling as he slumped over you. breathing heavy, he leaned over you and pressed a kiss to your neck. "feeling better now, bunny?" he asked gently.

you wrapped your legs around him, keeping him inside of you. "take me to the next race."

he laughed, breath fanning against your neck as he held you tight. "you know i can't do that, bunny," he mumbled as he went to stand up.

but you were still attached to him. even when he stood up, your arms and legs were still locked around him. "i promise i won't leave you alone for another week."

you hummed as he took you back to his bedroom. back to the big bed that you loved so much. "better fucking not," you muttered and he swatted your ass.

[sugarwarachan]

thinking about izuku missing you on a long mission - mdni

your phone rings as you’re curling your body into bed, izuku’s familiar face lighting up your screen.

“hi sweetheart,” he says the moment you pick up. no matter how long you’ve been with izuku, the fact that years of pro hero work have scraped at his vocal cords always makes your stomach drop. the slight rasp makes his soft voice sound dangerous. "how’s my girl?"

you squish your face into the pillow, cradling the phone close. "okay. be better with you here."

"missing me, baby?" you hear rustling on his end, followed by a low grunt. "as much as I’m missing you?"

arousal hits you like a truck.

an image fills your head of izuku with his pants shucked down to his ankles, shirt between his teeth and hips desperately lifting off the bed. you roll onto your back, snaking a hand down into your pajama shorts. izuku’s unabashed desire for you never fails to make you wet, and sure enough, your fingers slide through your folds easily.

“wanna see, izu?”

he exhales sharply. “fuck. yeah, i’m gonna need to see you, baby. already soaking wet for me?”

you might hate to be apart from izuku for a mission, but you love what it does to his mouth. he hisses through his teeth when the picture you send goes through.

"love how wide you’re spreading those pretty legs, sweetheart." izuku’s voice is gravelly and rough. "missing my cock the way I’m missing your pussy? my fist isn’t the fucking same, princess, you know that? doesn’t grip me tight and snug like you do."

your skin flashes hot. "need me wrapped around you, izu?"

he groans low and filthy. your pussy flutters around nothing as you rub little circles on your clit. you might cum just from this, you think wildly.

"when I get home, I’m making you cum at least five times before I get my dick in you," izuku pants, teeth clenched between gasps. it’s been a week since he’s touched you, and not a single thing has relieved the ache in his cock. "want the lower half of my face fucking soaked in you, sweetheart, wanna ruin our sheets."

you whimper. his hand slides over the head of his cock, thumb rough over the slit, just like the way you touch him.

"fuck, you like the sound of that, don’t you? you’re making the sounds you make when you’re close."

"izu, honey, I wanna hear you cum first, okay?" it’s like you can barely get the sentence out. he bucks his hips hard into the ring of his fist.

"fuck. next time, baby, okay? cum with me now, can you do that?" he hears what sounds like sheets rustling and imagines you nodding your head furiously. god, you’re so fucking cute when you’re like this, pliant and begging. "rub that swollen clit of yours for me, I know you’re almost there. I’m right behind you, sweet girl."

"izuuuu," you wail. he’s memorized what you look like before you fall apart, head tossed back, eyes rolling up in your head, full mouth chanting his name. he conjures the image now, matches it to the sounds falling from your lips.

"there's my fucking girl, let me hear you." he feels his orgasm unfurl in his lower stomach, a keening ache that makes his rhythm falter.

can't wait till i'll home with you. don't forget to clean yourself up, baby. don't groan," he chuckles softly. "i'll be home soon enough to do it for you, and you know you don't like going to bed sticky."

"especially if you're not the cause," you tease sleepily. "night, izu. love you."

"love you, sweetheart. be home soon."

in such desperate need of comfort like this!! ˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are so appreciated <3

[puck-luck]

patchwork hearts | nico hischier

warnings: unprotected p in v, chatgpt-level swiss german (since google translate doesn’t have swiss german. only regular german. f u google translate), angst i guess (argument), make-up sex, pretty vanilla all in all, oral f!receiving, fingering.

pairing: nico hischier x fem!reader

request: Reader and Nico get into a fight before we leaves for away from away games in the west coast and they make up when he comes back (or while he is away). Request by @hockeygirl1328. thanks queen! sorry it took so long!!

wc: 3,345

The memory of the argument flashes through your mind when Nico’s face appears on your screen. It’s the cuddliest photo you’ve ever taken of him, scruff in full form and hair messy, but that still doesn’t improve your mood. Just before he left for this road trip, you’d gotten into a massive fight about his constant travel. You love Nico, so much, but he’s always gone. It’s your first season together and the adjustment from Summer Nico to Season Nico has been really difficult.

Maybe you were being selfish, but you didn’t want to miss Nico for another week. He comes home for a few days, then leaves for a few more. The cycle repeats over and over again and there’s not enough time for you and Nico to establish a routine. There’s not enough time for you to even see Nico some days, which is just disheartening. Your boyfriend is basically a half-version of himself and, most of the time, it feels like his only priority in life is hockey. You don’t even rank.

Nico’s words had hurt, even though you know in your heart that he was right. It was just excessive, the way he’d dug his claws into you with only a few words. 

As the phone rings out, you hear the echo of what he said. “You knew what this life was when we got together. I don’t have time for a constant guilt trip every time I leave!”

“I didn’t sign up to be an afterthought,” you’d fought back.

“Not everything is about you, you know,” Nico snapped. “The world doesn’t revolve around you– my world doesn’t revolve around you.”

His eyes had grown immediately wide and his jaw had dropped, like he couldn’t believe he just said that. You couldn’t believe he’d said that. The argument ended immediately– only because there was nothing you could muster up in reply. 

You hadn’t broken up with Nico for the mere statement, although you’ll admit that it crossed your mind. Instead, you’d sat in place as Nico’s many apologies fell on deaf ears. You felt almost catatonic as he’d kenlt down in front of you and tried to gauge your reaction, touching your knee with a gentle nudge. He’d wiped away the tears that leaked from your eyes, even though you’d tried to turn away from his touch. 

You’d slept over that night because you hadn’t felt you were able to move. The shock kept you in place. Nico had tucked you into his bed and relegated himself to the couch. When you woke up and you’d finally felt able to move, ready to face the boy, he was gone. There was a note on the door and a message left on your phone, both of which said roughly the same thing: that Nico was sorry he had to go, but he couldn’t stay. You knew why, of course. It was time for his California roadie. As much as you felt like an afterthought at times, you aren’t unreasonable. You know that he has to travel for his job. 

You’re still hurt, to be fair. No matter how many times Nico apologized after dropping that bomb, it continues to cut at you and pop up in your mind whenever he calls. You’ve answered twice over the duration of the roadie, but the conversations had felt stilted and forced. After the last call, just over a day ago, Nico had asked if he could come over to your apartment and see you when he got back. 

You think that he was calling a moment ago because he made it back to the Prudential Center and would be driving to your place soon. Your palms are a bit sweaty knowing that Nico is on the way. You don’t want to fight with him again and you have a feeling that he doesn’t want to fight either, but you know it’s not resolved.

You take the time before Nico arrives to calm yourself. You get a glass of water, you grab a handful of your favorite snack, and you sit on the couch to watch a bit of TV.

He calls again a few minutes later. This time, you answer.

“Hi, Nico,” you greet, voice quiet.

“Hi, I’m downstairs,” Nico says. “Just wanted to let you know I’m here before I come up.”

“Okay, Nee. I’ll see you soon.” You pull the phone away fom your ear and end the call, standing up to unlock your front door. You return to the couch and when he knocks, you call out to tell him that it’s open.

Nico comes through the door and toes off his shoes. “How was your day?” Nico asks, coming over to the couch to join you. 

“Not bad. I went to work and the gym and then I came home,” you reply. You attempt a smile at Nico when he sits on the couch and circles his fingers around your ankle, rubbing his thumb against your skin. “How was California?”

“I missed you,” Nico says. “It was hard to focus on the games when I was thinking about you. I’m sorry I left after the fight. I wish I hadn’t needed to go. I wanted to stay and make things better.”

The breath leaves your chest in a deep sigh. “It was unfortunate timing.”

“I know,” Nico agrees, nodding. “It gave me a little time to think about what to say to you, which is nice. I know I can’t really make up for what happened last week, but–” Nico takes your hand and grasps it. “I’m sorry I said you weren’t a priority for me. You are. You’re a huge part of my life and I wouldn’t be anywhere without you, supporting me and cheering me on and being there for me every day. I’m sorry I wasn’t more considerate of your feelings.”

You almost want to cry again after hearing him spout this heartfelt apology. Nico sits in front of you and waits, blinking patiently and chewing on his lower lip while you take in his words. The lines under his eyes are deep and you can tell that he lost sleep over something this past week, likely this incident if his words have any truth to them. You nod and reach forward, cradling Nico’s face in your hands. “I’m sorry for not giving you the benefit of the doubt,” you tell Nico. “I know you can’t help that hockey is such a big part of your life. I know you don’t mean to put me on the backburner. I just felt a little neglected and I’m sorry that I accused you of making me an afterthought.”

“You shouldn’t have to apologize because of how you feel,” Nico says. He slides his arm down to your waist. “I was caught up in everything else in my life and didn’t give you the attention you deserve. I never want to make you feel that way again.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I know you won’t.” You lean in and press a chaste kiss to Nico’s lips. After kissing him, you shuffle forward and tuck yourself against his chest. 

Nico pulls you onto his lap and cradles you there, kissing the top and side of your head. He touches as much of your body as he can, rubbing your back and your arms, your waist and your thighs. You breathe together, leaning against each other, and taking in the presence of the other person.

“Please let me show you how much I love you,” Nico requests after a few minutes, caressing your sides and looking at you with his big, brown eyes. “And how sorry I am for acting like I don’t care. I care, babe, I care so much.” He drops a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek. “Please.”

You don’t reply, but you turn your head and find his lips. You touch the scuff on Nico’s face, which he seems to have shaved over his roadie, but it’s starting to grow back. His hair is at risk of being deemed “too long” in his own opinion, so you touch the strands reverently, knowing that they’ll be gone sooner than later. 

“Let me take care of you,” Nico murmurs, dipping down to brush a kiss over your jawline. 

“Okay,” you whisper back, touching the side of Nico’s neck and the curve of his bicep. 

He fits his strong palms under your thighs, lifting you. You wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to distract Nico on his walk to the bedroom. You might still be a little sad about what Nico said a week ago, but the apology worked well enough that you’re trying to let it go. 

Nico lays you on the bed, kissing down your body and undressing you as he goes. His touch is loving, almost overwhelmingly so. He removes his shirt and settles between your legs, kissing from your calf to the inside of your knee, up your thigh and all the way to your hip bone. 

The only sound that fills the room is the shared sigh of relief when Nico connects with your core. As his tongue flattens and licks a stripe up your slit, Nico’s eyes flutter shut and his hands fix on your hips to pull you closer. 

Ninety percent of the time, Nico gets ravenous when he’s eating you out. Today is different. 

His tongue trails through your folds. The tip of the muscle traces every inch of your cunt before he even considers pressing closer. Nico takes his time– he savors the taste of your slick. “Mm, liebste,” Nico groans. “You taste so good.” 

He works his tongue against your cunt, licking around the rim of your entrance before flicking further inside. One of his hands comes to your front, thumb contacting your clit and rubbing soothing circles over it. His other hand travels underneath your body and you let out a startled gasp when his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, dragging you even closer.

He’s systematic and precise, kitten licking at your insides. He focuses on one part of your body, then another– in this case, he goes from your hole to wrapping his all-consuming lips around your clit and suckling. 

His index finger finds your entrance and soothes the smooth ring, drawing circles over the outline of your most intimate area before you lift your hips into his touch. You’re silently asking for more and Nico understands that, gently pushing his finger inside. Just like with his mouthwork, he’s slow and attentive. 

The pad of Nico’s fingertip feels out your inner walls, welcoming the hug of your cunt around his digit eagerly and repaying you by trying to find that spot inside of you, the one that always makes you see stars. 

His hair has started to fall messily over his forehead, brushing his eyebrows. You find the strands with your hands, clutching at them and moving his head where you need it to be– for all intents and purposes, you keep him mostly aligned with your clit, but the movement of his head provides a friction that pure suction could not offer.

As you do this, his middle finger pokes at your entrance. The first knuckle disappears inside you with little resistance, then Nico starts to work on opening you up. His fingers scissor inside of you, spearing against the gummy ridges of your muscle, preparing you for his cock. 

You clench down a bit at the thought of his member, pleas for the length on the tip of your tongue. You know Nico is thinking about fucking you too, just based on the way he rolls his hips against the mattress and hums. 

He releases your clit from between his lips, which draws a whine of protest from you. Nico chuckles quietly and turns his head, planting a kiss on your inner thigh. Then, he dips his head and twists his wrist so that his palm faces upward. Nico licks between his two fingers, his eyelids open just enough that you can see how he looks up at you and takes you in. 

Nico draws away from your pussy only to ask, “Chunsch du, schatz?” 

He’s teasing you, plucking at an inside joke from when you felt you were brave enough to try to learn Swiss German. Thinking it would be sweet, you’d tried your hand at talking Nico’s native tongue in bed, but your words had just seemed too formal. Still, it’s something you can laugh over. Nico loves to parrot your effort at “Are you coming?” back at you, always smiling fondly when he does.

He’s worked his tongue back between his fingers, looking up at you with raised eyebrows. He waits for you to answer his question, sure to bump his nose against your clit when you open your mouth, so that you produce a moan instead of a sentence. Nico giggles at his little joke, cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling. He brings his mouth to your clit and kisses over the bud, steadily pumping his fingers to really bring you to orgasm.

You whimper when he works a third thick finger into your entrance, stuffing you full. You know it’s necessary since his cock is also thick, but there’s a dull ache at the first stretch that has you writhing on the bed. 

“I know, I know,” Nico soothes, lathing kiss after kiss to your sensitive center. “But I have to get you all open for me, baby. So you feel good later, hm?” He bends his knuckles and comes into contact with your sweet spot, the rush of pleasure making your back arch involuntarily. Nico notices this and grins, eyes determined and set on continuing this feeling for you.

Your noises grow more slurred with each touch of his fingertips to your walls, especially when he flicks his tongue rapidly over your clit. He’s still teasing you, dangling the climax just out of reach with the way he’ll overwhelm your clit with his tongue and then slow down, licking flat stripes along the parts of your slit that he can reach. 

“Nico,” you lament with a frown when he pulls away again, just as you were about to come.

“Sorry,” Nico apologizes with a crinkle-eyed smile. He captures your clit and keeps his mouth there, beckoning his fingers and creating a vacuum around the bundle of nerves at the apex of your vagina. This time, he doesn’t let up– he goes and goes and goes until your hands have found their way back to his hair and pull so hard that there’s a stinging sensation along Nico’s scalp.

He allows his eyes to drift shut again, free hand dancing up your body until he finds your tits, finally giving them the attention that he feels they deserve. With a few harsh gropes, a pinch or two to your nipple, and even a tug at your chest, you’re unraveling over Nico’s digits and making your situation very well known to your neighbors.

“Bravo, süsse,” Nico praises over the heaving of your chest. He stays in contact with your center, but slows his movements to something that keeps you teetering on the precipice of pleasure rather than in the throws of it. “Do you think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you rasp out, reaching for Nico and catching him by his biceps. You coax him forward, palms sliding up to his jawline. You lick over the seam of Nico’s lips and taste yourself already, the flavor of your cum only growing stronger when Nico parts his lips and slides his tongue against yours. “Fuck me, Nico.”

“Mm, hase, I’m not going to fuck you,” Nico corrects. “I’m going to take care of you. And you’re going to take care of me.”

While you were ready to protest the first part of his statement, your mouth quickly snaps shut when he finishes speaking. You lay back against the pillows, propping your head up, and you bring Nico with you. His body blankets yours, shifting atop you as he tries to remove his bottoms with one hand. His other roams on your torso, stroking the curves of your sides and stomach.

“So schön,” Nico murmurs.

“So beautiful,” you repeat, thumbing over his cheekbone. 

Nico reaches between your bodies and lines himself up with your entrance. Just like before, he moves slowly. He moves with purpose. You can feel every inch of Nico’s length as it sinks into you. 

When you roll your head back to let out a soft moan, Nico seizes the opportunity to paint a series of open-mouthed kisses on your neck. “I love you so much,” he mumbles against your skin. He rolls his hips, filling you further. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you reply, hands scrambling for purchase on the expanse of his back when Nico’s tip brushes against the cartilaginous wall of your cervix. He knocks against that wall again on his next thrust forward, only drawing out about halfway before snapping forward suddenly. 

Regardless of how he fills you, his movements are still tinged with reverence and tenderness. Nico holds you like something that will break under the pressure of his fingertips, but he’s still desperate to keep you close. He’ll let his hips fall flush with yours and remain there sometimes, then other times he’ll roll and snap his hips like your lives depend on it. 

You know that there was once an argument between you, but all that matters is the fact that Nico is here and he’s doing exactly what he promised he’d do: take care of you.

His hand finds your arm, then trails up to your wrist. He presses your wrist into the cushion above your head, but doesn’t stop there. He brings his fingers up to your palm, tracing over the lines that represent your love and your life. He slots his fingers between yours and intertwines your fingers, holding your hand tight as he continues to thrust into you. He repeats the same process on the other side, until both of your hands are wrapped in his. He pins you to the bed, but you feel only safe and secure, not trapped in the slightest. 

“You’re so tight around me, baby,” Nico says, ending his statement with a kiss. His voice is low and rough, breathless and nearly spent due to the tango you’re performing now. “Gonna fill you up, fill you ‘til all of my love is dripping out of you.”

You were already overwhelmed, but when he said that– and then nibbled your bottom lip after– you feel a dam break inside of you. You come suddenly and without warning, jaw dropping. A high keen falls from your mouth, only to be met with a coo from Nico and a deep grunt as he continues to fuck into your even tighter entrance. 

The squeeze of your cunt around Nico’s cock is enough to make him come too, the white spurts of cum filling your hole just like he’d promised. You can feel Nico trembling a bit from the aftershocks, your chest meeting his as you arch up into his touch and he deflates from exhaustion. He covers you just like a warm comforter and kisses you lazily, both of you wanting to stay connected after such an intense reunion.

You feel satiated, calm and happy that Nico came to you when he returned instead of going home and basking in the misery of the argument from a week prior. You certainly feel better now, after having gone through the throes of that low point in your relationship.

“Mm,” Nico hums, like he remembered something suddenly. His head tilts and he kisses along the crook of your neck. “During the break in February, I thought you’d like to come home with me. We can have a little couples vacation at home, just you and me. How does that sound?”

“Amazing, Nico,” you tell him, smoothing his hair beneath your fingertips. “That sounds amazing.”

note: read a stoner!nico fic recently that Cece reblogged and I tweaked. thinking of y'all! i think you'll see nico a lot sooner on this blog than you expect... perhaps a little "nico x ____ x reader".....

[amirasainz]

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl ♥️

The Nurse and her Racer

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as Yn hurried through the bustling paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix. The air was thick with the scent of fuel, burnt rubber, and the faint tang of espresso from the hospitality suites. Ferrari’s scarlet banners fluttered in the morning breeze, and the hum of engineers fine-tuning the cars filled the air. Yn, as always, was in the thick of it, her medical bag slung over her shoulder and a warm smile on her face. She was the heart of the Ferrari team, the one person everyone turned to when they needed comfort, care, or just a listening ear.

But today, something was off. Charles, their golden boy, was missing.

“Where’s Charles?” Yn asked, glancing around the garage. The usually lively Monegasque driver was nowhere to be seen. Lewis, leaning casually against a counter with a cup of tea in hand, raised an eyebrow at her.

“Didn’t you hear? Poor Charlie’s down with the flu,” Lewis said, his voice tinged with amusement. “Fred decided to bench him for the weekend. Can’t have him passing out in the car, can we?”

Yn’s heart sank. Charles had been looking forward to his home race for weeks. She knew how much it meant to him. “Is he okay? Has anyone checked on him?”

Lewis smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Funny you should ask. Fred’s sending you to his apartment to take care of him. Seems like you’re the only one he trusts to handle our precious Charles.”

Yn blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Me? Alone? At his apartment?”

Lewis chuckled, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. “Oh, don’t look so nervous. It’s just Charles. Besides, I think he’ll be thrilled to see you. He’s been giving you those puppy eyes for months now.”

Yn rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat. She and Charles had always shared a special bond. He was sweet, kind, and endlessly charming, and she couldn’t deny that she had feelings for him. But she had never acted on them, and neither had he. It was an unspoken thing, a quiet understanding between them.

“I’m just his nurse,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “Sure you are. Just don’t forget to take care of Leo too. That dog’s more protective of Charles than Fred is.”

---

An hour later, Yn found herself standing outside Charles’ sleek, modern apartment in Monte Carlo. She took a deep breath, smoothing down her scrubs and adjusting the strap of her medical bag. Before she could knock, the door swung open, revealing a very sick-looking Charles. His usually bright eyes were dull, his hair messy, and his cheeks flushed with fever. He was wearing a loose hoodie and sweatpants, looking far from the confident F1 driver the world knew.

“Yn?” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“Fred sent me,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “You look terrible, Charles.”

He managed a weak smile. “Thanks. I feel terrible.”

Behind him, Leo, Charles’ dachshund, trotted over to Yn, wagging his tail excitedly. She bent down to scratch his ears, earning a happy bark from the little dog.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” she teased, straightening up and giving Charles a gentle smile. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Charles groaned but didn’t argue. He shuffled back to his bedroom, Leo following closely behind. Yn took in the apartment as she followed him. It was spacious and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the Mediterranean. But it was also surprisingly cozy, with photos of Charles’ family and friends scattered around, along with a few racing trophies.

She helped Charles into bed, fluffing his pillows and tucking the blankets around him. He watched her with half-lidded eyes, a soft smile on his face.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured.

“It’s my job,” she replied, though her cheeks warmed at the way he was looking at her. She busied herself with taking his temperature and checking his vitals, her touch gentle and professional.

“You’re burning up,” she said, frowning. “Have you taken anything for the fever?”

Charles shook his head. “I forgot.”

Yn sighed, rummaging through her bag for some medication. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

He chuckled weakly. “Maybe. But you’re here to take care of me, so I’ll be fine.”

She handed him the pills and a glass of water, watching as he swallowed them. Leo jumped onto the bed, curling up at Charles’ feet and giving Yn a look that seemed to say, I’ve got this.

“You should rest,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Charles hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

Her heart melted at the vulnerability in his voice. “Of course,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Charles shifted slightly, making room for her. Before she could protest, he reached out and pulled her down beside him, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. Leo wiggled closer, pressing himself against her side.

“Charles—” she started, but he cut her off.

“Please,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “Just for a little while.”

Yn’s resolve crumbled. She relaxed into his embrace, her hand resting lightly on his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her palm, and she could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. Leo let out a contented sigh, his tail thumping against the blankets.

For a while, they lay there in silence, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Yn’s mind raced, torn between her professional instincts and the feelings she had been trying to suppress. Charles’ arms around her felt so right, so natural, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way.

“Yn?” Charles’ voice was barely a whisper, drowsy from the medication.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for being here. It means a lot to me.”

She smiled, her fingers gently stroking his hair. “Always, Charles. Now go to sleep.”

He hummed in response, his grip on her tightening slightly. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and she knew he was asleep. Leo let out a soft snore, his little body rising and falling with each breath.

Yn stayed there, her heart full, knowing that this was where she was meant to be—right by Charles’ side, taking care of him, loving him. And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way.

---

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur. Yn stayed with Charles, nursing him back to health and enjoying the quiet moments they shared. By the time the race was over, Charles was feeling much better, and the sparkle had returned to his eyes.

As they stood on his balcony, watching the sun set over the Mediterranean, Charles turned to her, his expression serious.

“Yn.” he said, taking her hand in his. “I need to tell you something.”

Her heart raced, but she nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I… I really like you. More than just as my nurse. You mean so much to me, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she smiled up at him. “I like you too, Charles. More than you know.”

He grinned, pulling her into a tight hug. Leo barked happily, wagging his tail as if he knew exactly what was happening.

And in that moment, Yn knew that her life was about to change in the best way possible—with Charles by her side, and Leo as their loyal protector.

[gojoscinnamonroll]

running into your ex bf!suguru as he stands outside your apartment door when you were leaving to have some drinks with friends at the bar late one night, not expecting to be back in your shared bed face down into your once shared silk raven sheets with your dress still halfway on.

“fuck, sweetheart… you don’t know how much i missed feeling how tight you are around me.” suguru gasped out. he was a respectful and well-mannered man– always spoke to you with such softness, but when he was splitting you open on him, his actions said completely otherwise.

he had you face down into the pillow, makeup running down your face and sweet moans spilling from your lips as he slams his hips into you from behind, pornographic sounds loud enough for almost the whole complex to hear.

you had missed how good it felt when he would caress you while he was buried deep in you and leave gentle kisses on the side of your neck. almost felt like this was his way of apologizing to you and telling you that he is still madly in love with you.

“i- i’m so close, keep cumming on this dick f’me like the good girl you are.” he grunted into your mouth as his strokes got faster.

and he knew exactly what you liked, because here you were, tears falling from your eyes from pleasure and coming undone on him as you whimpered into his mouth.

as you both came down from your high with disheveled faces, he gave you as kiss to the cheek, “stay right here, i’m gonna get a towel to get us cleaned up.”

he waited until you were sound asleep in his arms, and grabbed your phone to tell the groupchat with your friends (and to his surprise, your password didn’t change since the breakup)…….

“sorry guys. i’m going to have skip tonight. my boyfriend is going to move all his stuff in tomorrow morning.”

-

taglist! : @alivalentine @cuntphoric @yemmuis @beanietopia @xoxo-dede @takumasimp @xixflower

[casedclosedbye]

The Missing tag

Bucky Barnes x reader

Oneshot

Summary: What started as a simple misunderstanding over a missing dog tag escalates, with both of you blaming each other. You storm out in frustration, hurt by Bucky’s stubbornness and lack of understanding.

The apartment was unusually quiet, save for the sound of the occasional rain pattering against the windows. The kind of quiet that settled into your bones, heavy and thick, the way things did when tension grew thick enough to suffocate the air.

You paced in front of the couch, every step faster than the last, the anger and frustration bubbling up inside you. The argument had started small, a simple misunderstanding—at least that’s how you thought of it. But Bucky’s dismissive attitude had turned it into something else entirely.

“You’re really gonna blame me for this?” you snapped, glaring at him as he stood in the kitchen, his arms crossed. His posture was tense, defensive, and every second that ticked by only seemed to fuel your anger.

Bucky didn’t flinch. “You’re the one who lost it. I told you to give it back, and what do I get? One dog tag gone.” He gestured at the counter with a flick of his wrist, his voice low and sharp. “I’m not sure how you lose something that important, but here we are.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “I didn’t lose it, Bucky! I didn’t even have them when you took them back. You left one of them on the bathroom sink after you took them from me. I didn’t touch it!” You were yelling now, the frustration that had been building finally spilling over.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as if he was trying to make sense of what you were saying, but instead of looking guilty, he looked almost annoyed. "So what? It’s your fault now that it went missing?”

“Yes, it’s your fault!" you shot back. "You took them back from me, then left one of them on the sink when you went to shower! How is that my fault? You think I’m just going to sit here and pretend you didn’t make a mistake?”

Bucky’s face hardened. His expression shifted, that wall of armor he so often wore slipping into place as his temper flared. “I’m not gonna stand here and let you accuse me of things I didn’t do. You were supposed to take care of them.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I was careful with them, Bucky! I didn’t lose them. You left it there!”

There was a long, drawn-out silence as the words hung between you both, neither one of you willing to back down. But the tension in the room was suffocating, like it was building up to something much worse.

“I don’t need this right now,” you muttered, shaking your head. The hurt in your chest was overwhelming, your voice trembling. “You always do this. You always make it my fault when something goes wrong. I’m so sick of it, Bucky.”

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed your jacket and stormed out, slamming the door behind you. The cold hit you immediately as you walked out into the hallway, but it did nothing to ease the anger or the sadness that twisted your gut.

Bucky stood there in the kitchen, his mind racing, a mix of anger and guilt clouding his thoughts. He had never meant for any of this to happen. Sure, he had taken the dog tags back, but in his mind, they were just… tags. The connection wasn’t something he had verbalized much, but it was important to him, and now… now everything felt wrong.

But it wasn’t just the tags. It was you. It was always you.

Hours later, Bucky found himself alone in the apartment, the weight of the argument still heavy in the air. He had tried to distract himself, tried to get his mind off everything, but it was impossible. The longer he was by himself, the more the guilt ate at him. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, but his pride had gotten in the way. He knew that now.

It was late, far too late, but he found himself walking to the bathroom. He needed to clear his head, maybe wash his face and go to bed. He stood in front of the mirror for a long moment, staring at his reflection as if he could figure out where everything had gone wrong.

That’s when he saw it.

The dog tag.

There, lying innocently on the bathroom sink where he had left it the day before. He hadn’t even remembered to pick it up. His stomach sank as he realized it had been there all along, just waiting for him to notice. He had left it. It wasn’t your fault. It was his.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair as guilt hit him like a punch to the gut.

He cursed under his breath, realizing how much he had messed up. The argument had been petty. The way he’d blown it all out of proportion—it was foolish. But even more than that, he felt the sting of knowing he had let you walk out of the door hurt, all because of his stubbornness and pride.

Bucky didn’t waste another second. He grabbed the dog tag, his heart racing. Without thinking, he rushed out the door, the need to fix things with you consuming him. He couldn’t let it end like this.

You didn’t expect to feel so… alone when you walked into your friend's apartment. The anger was still there, hot and stinging, but beneath it, there was a pang of sadness. You had left because you needed space, needed to think, but you never imagined Bucky would dig his heels in like that. He never really saw things from your perspective, it seemed. And maybe that was what hurt the most.

Your phone buzzed on the counter, the notification lighting up the screen with Bucky’s name. You ignored it. You didn’t feel like dealing with it right now. You needed time to cool off, to let your emotions settle.

But then you heard a knock on the door. You frowned, wondering if your friend was coming back, or if someone else was visiting. It wasn’t until the door opened, and you saw Bucky standing there, his expression frantic, eyes wide, that you realized he’d come to find you.

"Bucky?" you whispered, your heart suddenly in your throat.

“I messed up,” he said, breathless. “I shouldn’t have—" He paused, taking a deep breath as if trying to gather his thoughts. "I shouldn’t have blamed you for losing the tag. It was my fault. I left it there on the sink after I took it back, and I didn’t even realize until now. I… I was too stubborn, and I hurt you. I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t want to admit I was wrong.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your mind racing. He was standing there, his eyes soft and regretful, holding the dog tag in his hand like it was the most important thing in the world.

“You always think you’re right,” you said quietly, the frustration still lingering in your voice, but the edge had softened. “I just wanted you to see it wasn’t my fault. I care about those tags. I care about you, and I hate that you think I’d lose something that matters to you.”

“I know,” Bucky said, stepping closer. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice was quieter now, sincere, and the tension between you both seemed to dissipate just a little.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “It’s not just the tag, Bucky. It’s about us—how we always seem to fight, and then no one wants to apologize first.”

Bucky reached out, gently taking your hand. His touch was warm, comforting. "I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to lose you over something so stupid."

You nodded, squeezing his hand. Maybe things weren’t perfect. Maybe it wasn’t all fixed in one conversation. But for the first time in hours, you felt the anger start to fade. There was hope again, quiet and uncertain, but it was there.

And maybe that was enough for now.

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART TWELVE

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: when ji-yeong goes missing you and sae-byeok go on a fever dream goose chase.

wc. 4.1k

warnings: a bit of physical altercation and the usual angst TT

(nowhere girl masterlist)

Your first day after cutting ties with your parents officially was dull. But in the best way. Your entire day was just waking up to head to school and then you headed straight to the art gallery. The workaholic trait both your parents have finally rubbed off on you, it’s addicting to stay away from home so you can’t bear the thoughts that try to consume your mind.

But now that the day is officially over, you enter the apartment. It’s so quiet and dark once you enter, it frightens you all the time.

You groggily remove your shoes and rip off the buttons on your button-up shirt, ready to let sleep overtake you.

When you finish doing to night routine and put on your comfiest pajamas you throw yourself onto the bed and let your muscles finally get some rest.

It was only eight o’ clock but were so tired that you didn’t even do your usual phone scrolling down a social media rabbit hole tonight.

The loud banging coming from the entrance door distrusted your half lulled state. You gasp yourself awake and press your palm to your beating chest. At first you thought you were experiencing a nightmare but the banging continued. It was like whoever was standing on the other side wanted to tear the door open.

As you descended down the stairs you take a deep breath before looking into the peephole. You cross your fingers hoping that danger isn’t lurking next to your apartment.

Your heart skips a beat when you see that it was Sae-byeok all along. Without further thinking you open the door with a great speed.

“Hey, are you—“

“Ji-yeong never came home since she left yesterday.” Sae-byeok says, her voice shaking horribly.

Her body was stiff, pale in the face, and she looks like she had seen a ghost.

Your stomach twists up hearing the news. “W—What?”

“Please, help me.” she begs, her deep voice replaced by something small and desperate.

“Yeah, of course.” you say without further hesitation. “But, Cheol—?”

“I dropped him off with my neighbor.”

You nod. “Let me get my jacket.”

It takes you less than a minute to head out the door. You didn’t put too much thought into the fact that you still had on your pajamas or that you were sporting your indoor slippers.

“Can you track her on your phone?” you ask her once you both ran out the building.

“Yeah, but it says she’s offline.” Sae-byeok says, running her hands through her short unruly hair in exasperation. “Fuck, I’m scared what if Deok-su actually got to her?”

“Come on let’s think before we jump into the worst conclusions.” you reassure her, reaching to grab her arms to prevent her from ripping her hair off of her scalp. “You said she had to do something important yesterday, right?”

Sae-byeok’s eyes move around rapidly, trying to collect her thoughts quickly as possible. “She went to visit her dad in Daejeon prison. I—I called but they said she left last night.”

“Maybe she got lost or something and could be wandering near the prison?”

“Could be.” Sae-byeok says, breathily. “But Daejeon is a big city how the hell are we going to find her?”

“Let’s think of a way to get there first and we’ll move on from there, okay?”

Sae-byeok, who’s at this point hyperventilating, doesn’t seem convinced but she doesn’t have a better plan than that so she just nods.

You pull out your phone to find the directions to the prison. “That’s a pretty far commute. We have to take the subway then the bullet train. That’s the only method of transportation she could take to go that far.”

“I—I can’t afford a twenty dollar ticket.” Sae-byeok mutters.

“Just pay me back by buying me a meal one of these days, okay? Let’s go!” you say, yanking Sae-byeok’s arm and running on foot to the nearest subway station.

After the twenty minute subway ride, you got dazed by the complicated maze that was navigating the railway for the bullet train. Running around like headless chickens, Sae-byeok finally figured out the location of the bullet train that was departing in five minutes.

“I should’ve brought water bottles.” you say, out of breath. You sink down in a seat after successfully making it the last second inside the bullet train.

Sae-byeok’s heavy breathing was loud beside you. She presses the back of her head on the seat and stares at the ceiling possibly still in fight or flight mode.

“It’s an hour train ride what if—what if we can’t make it on time?” Sae-byeok whispers, her eyes shinier than usual.

You’re in disbelief that her of all people would cry so you convince yourself that it was just the reflection of the light perfectly hitting her irises.

You check your phone’s map again. “We could look around any late night spots near the prison like…like restaurants, or motels, or convenience stores. Oh, do you have a recent photo of Ji-yeong?”

Sae-byeok is unresponsive. You shot your head up and saw that her eyes are shut tightly and her lips quivering. So you go and place your hand gently on of top of one of her trembling ones, waiting for her to look at you.

“If we can’t find her tonight we will report her missing to the police but let’s stay hopeful, okay?” you reassure her. “Ji-yeong is strong and resourceful.”

Sae-byeok still remains silent, the stress of losing her best friend is overwhelming. You understand that this is a weight too unbearable to sit on and that Sae-byeok isn’t going to be rationally thinking until Ji-yeong is found safe and sound.

Your head began throbbing due to dehydration and the stress of coming up with a thousand scenarios to what might’ve happened to Ji-yeong.

Back in high school, Ji-yeong was always known as a rebel child often defying her elders. You would often hear stories about how she used to like wandering around the neighborhood in the middle of the night smoking and drinking because her home life was unbearable. There was a point in your life when you judged her for it. But when she came to your doorstep the summer before senior year, you welcomed her in after seeing the look of distraught on her face. Like she witnessed something unimaginable to the human psyche.

Ji-yeong never revealed why she ran away from home but you had the rumors and the various hints she left. And with the piece of viable information Sae-byeok gave you, you probably have a few assumptions never to be spoken aloud. It astounded you how much grit and determination she had to keep trudging forward. And you are sure that if she truly got lost in the streets of Daejeon, that she would find a way to maintain herself. But you just hope that she isn’t scared shitless right now.

“This is it.” Sae-byeok low voice breaks you from your looming thoughts. She nudges you in the ribcage to get off your seat.

“The prison isn’t far from the station. So, I guess we can start looking around here.” you say a once you both get off the train station. “Maybe she’s in a train lobby or somewhere with customer service.”

After an hour, you guys searched every section of this large train station. You knocked out on very stall and talked to any workers that were still around this late at night but not a single sign of Ji-yeong was seen. Your legs are cramping up but you try shaking the feeling away.

You could visibly see the hope in Sae-byeok’s eyes die down with every minute that passes by. That’s when you suggest to look around the nearby areas.

The streets of Daejeon was bustling with activity as it was a Friday night and it was time for partygoers to arise from hibernation of the weekday. However, it wouldn’t be too hard for Sae-byeok to spot her with her height difference compared to yours. Her eyes dart around the crowds of people like an eagle.

After last nights rain, the air was hot and humid and you already began sweating profusely not to mention being surrounded by other peoples clammy bodies. You were feeling delirious and your heart couldn’t stop racing but try to hold it together. Deep down you know Sae-byeok needs you to be the calm one in this situation.

“There’s a motel nearby, let’s go ask there.” you suggest and lead her to where the map is suggesting you should go.

A ten minute walk lead you guys to the small motel secluded in this bright lively city.

“Hi, ma’am,” you greet hurriedly at the clerk. “our friend is missing, do you know if you’ve seen this girl possibly rent a room here?”

Sae-byeok whips her phone out and shoves the picture of Ji-yeong at the clerks face, startling her.

“Sorry, I haven’t here and I’ve been here since noon.” the worker says after inspecting the photo carefully.

“Fucking hell.” Sae-byeok groans.

“Thank you, ma’am.” you quickly bow and lead Sae-byeok out the motel, ignoring the scowl growing on the motel workers face.

“What’s your great plan now, huh?” Sae-byeok scoffs.

“Hey, I know this is a high stress situation but don’t lash out on me right now, okay?” you snip and go back to your phone.

Sae-byeok paces back and forth in front of you while your fingers rapidly type other possible motels nearby you can ask.

That’s when you hear Sae-byeok mumble your name and tug the hem of your sleeve. You look and question at the person she’s pointing at.

“Is that Ji-yeong’s purse?”

Sae-byeok’s face turns stone cold, but her dilated pupils tell a different story. She looks like she’s ready to pounce on whoever she’s glaring at. You swallow thickly peering ahead and look at the homeless man lying against the wall of a closed shop. He’s layered in multiple blankets and beside him is a bright orange flap purse you vividly recall seeing before.

“It—It looks like it.” you mutter. Now, it was time for you to panic.

Next thing you know, Sae-byeok is on the other side of the street and on top of the man who desperately tries calling for help.

“Sae-byeok!” you cry out and run in the middle of heavy traffic to get across. When you make it Sae-byeok has her pocket knife pressed on his neck.

“You’re seriously asking for help right now when you stole my friend’s purse?!” she bellows, her grip on his coat getting tighter as she shakes him violently. “What did you do to her?!”

The man starts vibrating in fear, his eyes popping out of his skull. “I—I—I stole it earlier today from a lady at—at—“

“Hurry up and say it!”

You glance around nervously, a few people in their cars and passerby’s are throwing looks and you’re scared one of them might get the police involved.

“At the train station!” he answers fast.

Sae-byeok adds more pressure to the pocket knife on his skin. “You’re lying, fucker.”

“No, I swear! I ran—she chased me all the way to the supermarket but she ended up losing me there. I—I swear please!”

“Is it, Local Food Farmers?” you ask him after searching the nearest supermarket.

“Yes, yes that one! That’s the last place I seen her yes!”

Sae-byeok throws him back on the ground with mighty force, making him land with a thud. She snatches the purse back and pulls you to run away from the scene she just caused.

“I don’t see any cash on here.” Sae-byeok growls, rummaging through Ji-yeong’s purse. “I should go back and—“

“Hey, stop it!” you hiss, pressing a firm hand on her chest to prevent her from turning back around. “Fighting a homeless man isn’t going to help us find Ji-yeong faster.”

Sae-byeok sighs in defeat and continues walking, still inspecting every item in Ji-yeong’s bag.

Of course, the supermarket was closed a long time ago and nowhere around the vicinity were there any signs of Ji-yeong as all the surrounding shops had been long closed as well besides a club down the road. While you were biting your nails, anxiously trying to find a solution on your phone maps, Sae-byeok’s sinks down on the edge of the sidewalk and burys her face on her hands.

“She’s nearby, Sae-byeok. You have her purse so we know she has to be here.” you say reassuringly, bending down to pat her back. “It’s so obvious now what happened. When she left she got mugged just as she was about to go to the train station and I bet her phones probably dead too so she’s trying to find a way to contact us.”

“If her phones dead wouldn’t she ask for someone else’s to call me?” Sae-byeok says muffled as her face was still covered.

She was right but you didn’t want to agree to make her more nervous. So, you pry her up and suggest walking around the block one more time. You didn’t want to admit it but you were also starting to lose hope.

“It’s midnight.” you sigh. “Should we go to the police?”

Sae-byeok removes her hands off of her face and becomes expressionless, like she was trying to dissociate from the situation. It was starting to worry you more.

“I think it’ll be more beneficial if we go—“

You stop mid sentence and gasp at the feeling of a cold sticky hand touching slight skin on your waist.

“What’re you doing out here in your pajamas, hon?” slurs a drunken man. You whip around to face a business man whose outfit is sloppily thrown on. He stumbles backwards to eye your entire body before skidding to get closer to your face. “Looks like you’re trying to make it to the bedroom quicker.” he reaches over to grab your arm.

Your flight or fight response kicked in and you use all your strength to hit him square in the face. Immediately, you felt awful watching how he stumbled backwards and landed on his rear end. You don’t know why your brain made you feel so guilty, he deserved it.

“Fuck that hurt!” you wince clutching your bruised knuckles.

“You little bitch I think you—you fucking broke my nose!” he stammers, dropping his bottle of alcohol to clutch his nose. The club goers down the block began watching and recording the commotion, you could hear their murmuring. “I’ll teach you—!”

The man tries getting back up to lurch towards you again until Sae-byeok goes and kicks his chest causing him to fall back down on the sidewalk. She grabs your non injured hand and quickly drags you both away from the scene.

“Where are we going?” you whine, your knuckles still throbbing in pain.

“A convenience store to get an ice pack for that.” she says, throwing you a quick frown. “I think I saw one down here.”

“But the police station is on the store side!”

“You’re injured—!”

“We are going to waste time, Sae-byeok!” you say, putting your foot down. She scoffs at your stubbornness. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! The pain will go away—“

“Your hand is all red!”

“It’s not like I broke any bones!” you protest and start walking the opposite way and hope that the man you just punched isn’t still there. Sae-byeok tries to pull you back but you swat your arm back. “Stop it! If it still hurts after we go to the police station then we will go to a convenience store, okay?”

“Ugh! Why are you being like this?” she barks back. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.” she grumbles lower but you heard it clear as day.

You huff in frustration and keep marching to the police station with her stomping angrily behind you.

There was heavy tension between the two of you the entire walk to the police station. You felt bad for throwing a fit when Sae-byeok was trying to help, but her last comment to you pained you a little and got in the way of you apologizing.

“Hello ladies, how may I help you?” says the police officer unenthusiastically at the front desk.

You send Sae-byeok a glare, hearing her mutter how annoyed she was with you again. But you quickly clear your throat before speaking.

“Hi, sir, we’d like to report a missing person. Her name is Park Jiyeong and she was last seen near here last night after getting mugged by a homeless man.” you explain, forcing a tight lipped smile.

The officer doesn’t respond right away and gives you an odd look. He turns around in his swivel chair and whistles over to one of his co-workers.

“Hey, Officer Lee, didn’t you arrest a young lady last night named, Park Ji-yeong?” he calls out to the worker.

“What?!” you and Sae-byeok say in unison.

The co-worker, in the middle of his meal, pauses mid-chew and nods casually before going back to eating.

“What did she do?” you say, appalled.

“Fought a homeless man and injured one of our officers—accidentally I think is what my partner said but let me figure that out.” he says with a sigh and stands up from his seat. You and Sae-byeok exchange worried glances. “To bail her out one of you needs to fill out the paperwork. Take a seat in the waiting room first and I’ll have you fill it out.”

When you both sat down in the waiting room, Sae-byeok starts shaking her legs uncontrollably, clearly freaking out. You bite your lip trying to decide whether you should try to talk to her or not. But you decide against it, feeling like you’ll only irritate her more than she already is. At least you stopped thinking about your swollen hand.

When the officer comes back you stand up to go fill the paperwork.

“Do…” you hesitate speaking as you read over the paperwork. “Do we have to pay any bail money?”

“Although she elbowed the officer by accident. However, legally speaking she needs to await trial,” he explains. That’s when your body starts leaving your soul. “but it’s been a long day so just fill that paperwork out and…stay out of trouble.” he raises a brow at your bruised hand which is of course your dominant one that you’re singing the paperwork with.

“Oh my god, yes of course officer thank you thank you we will!” you beam and deeply bow before finishing off the paperwork grinning ear to ear.

“Ji-yeong!”

After twenty more minutes of waiting, Sae-byeok throws herself on top of Ji-yeong once she arrived at the waiting room, squeezing her tightly. This reconciliation made tears brim from the corner of your eyes, you couldn’t believe it just yet.

Ji-yeong looked a mess. Her mascara completely smudged, her hair was tired up messily and she had a faint scratch mark on her chin. However she had a huge smile of relief seeing you both in front of her—you are sure she thinks you two are a figment of her imagination as well.

“About fucking time.” Ji-yeong sighs in relief. “I can’t wait to charge my phone and catch up on my—“

“Why the hell didn’t you call me?!” Sae-byeok queries loudly. Your breathing pauses when you actually saw a tear roll down the stone faced girls cheek.

“I don’t know your phone number but I asked the officer to look up your bakery and call them but no one answered and I could only make one call!” Ji-yeong whines, rubbing the sides of her temples. “My dad is a heartless monster, I got robbed, they threw me in jail and now you’re yelling at me…So, can we just go home so I can go to my room and cry?”

“Have you eaten anything yet though?” you frown. “Do you want to get something here on me?”

“No, let’s get out of here I want nothing to do with Daejeon anymore!”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.” Sae-byeok hisses, wiping her tears furiously with the end of her sleeves.

“I’m sorry,” Ji-yeong frowns. “to both of you. Thank you for coming for me though. I—I was starting to believe for a second that no one would actually come looking for me.” she mutters softly. You can’t even imagine to have the braveness Ji-yeong possesses. She starts sniffling but trying her best not to become teary like you two are. “Can we go now please?”

No one muttered a single word the entire ride back home. It was hard to process the events that unfolded and every so often you would check up on the girls who sat in between you, dazed in their own thoughts. You are sure they both share the same migraine you are suffering through right now.

By the time you all arrived at their apartment it was three o’ clock in the morning. The girls didn’t question your presence once you entered inside with them. It was like you never left back in March.

Sae-byeok enters two minutes later with a groggily Cheol who she was cradling like a baby over to their room. You hear Ji-yeong slam the door to her room loudly while you were heating up water on a pot to make tea to help calm any unsettled nerves.

“You still remember where everything is?” you heard Sae-byeok’s faint voice behind you. You turn and see her leaning against the doorframe of her room.

“Nothings changed here.” you mumble. “You want tea right? I’m making for three.”

Sae-byeok nods and starts approaching you. For some strange reason, your muscles start to get tense when she leans against the kitchen counter getting awfully close to you.

“I don’t think, Ji-yeong will want anything right now.” she says, looking sullen again. “We should give her space—she went through a lot.”

“Yeah, you’re right…”

You quietly pour the boiling water into the mugs and dip the tea bags inside.

“Your hand…is it still swollen?” Sae-byeok asks, timidly.

After remembering the small argument you two had earlier, your heart sinks. The hurt you felt by Sae-byeok’s words came back.

“A bit but it’s nothing.” you mumble and then sigh in defeat knowing that there’s no way around avoiding the awkward tension. “And I’m sorry—“

“Do not even finish that sentence. I’m the one who should be sorry. We were both frustrated and scared and I said things I didn’t mean.” Sae-byeok says firmly. “So, I’m sorry.”

“…You’re forgiven.” you say quietly and you hear Sae-byeok let out a breath of relief. Did she think you weren’t going to accept her apology?

“And you’re sleeping here tonight, right?” she asks you after you pass her a mug.

You finally look at Sae-byeok and notice how her eyes shifted now. What was once a look of fright and desperation is now replaced with security and comfort. They’re completely softened over.

“You’re finally letting me stay here? I never thought I’d see the day.” you say sarcastically and she rolls her eyes playfully. “Joking. But yeah if that’s okay with you? It’s already late so...”

“I’ll get you a blanket and pillow then.” she announces quietly and heads back to her room.

When you made your way to the living room couch, you managed to hear Ji-yeong’s muffled cries making your stomach knot. You wanted to head over to her and try to soothe the pain she must be in, but Sae-byeok knows her better and if she says to give her space then you need to do that.

A minute later, Sae-byeok comes back with the pillow and blanket. You mutter a thank you and was ready to call it a night but to your surprise she sinks down beside you. She takes a few sips of her mug before clearing her throat.

“By the way, you can take a shower and borrow something of mines for now I know we both did a lot of running and sweating tonight.” she says in her casual flat tone of voice. “I know you hate my taste in clothes but—“

“I never said hate. I told you to experiment.” you scoff with a playful smile on your lips. “I would love to take a long hot shower right now so thank you for offering.”

Sae-byeok nods and finishes the rest of her tea to your bewilderment as yours was still piping hot.

“I…don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there to help me. So, thank you for that.” she says, sincerely.

You are too nervous to look at her. Thats when your stomach began to flutter with butterflies, a common sensation you began feeling nowadays. “Of course.” you gulp.

“And it was admirable seeing how calm you handled—well everything.“

“Admirable?” you laugh.

“I don’t know that’s the best way I could describe it.” she shrugs, scratching the back of her head.

“I punched a guy so I don’t know if calm is the best way you should describe of my behavior.”

“That pervert deserved it.” she says, scoffing when she replays that moment in her head. “Also, was that your first time ever punching someone?”

“Yeah and hopefully my last because that seriously did hurt at first.” you say, pouting at your slightly swollen knuckles.

Sae-byeok snorts a your comment and rises up from the couch. “Okay, I won’t keep you up any longer I’ll go get you the clothes and a towel.” she pauses abruptly to look down at your feet. You look at her, puzzled. “By the way, nice bunny slippers.”

“Oh, fuck off!” you hiss, your face turning bright red.

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss @everly-summers-solace @we1rdth0ughts

[fee224]

First kisses

Rafe cameron x overlooked!reader

When he invited you over you were expecting a town house maybe, or an apartment. Just something smaller than this. He told you he lived alone, which meant a nineteen year old rafe Cameron owned this.

He told you he’d “swing by” after golf to pick you up, so now you were following after him as he swung his keys, leading you through the front door.

“All of this is yours?” You said, your mouth gaping accidentally. It had been four days since your date, and you for some reason missed rafe terribly.

“Ah yeah, kinda lonely sometimes but…. Not really here much so..” he rubbed his hand over his mouth. casually opening doors for you, only for you to wait for him to also come through the door so you were following him again.

“Hmmm it’s nice” you smiled up at him, and for some weird reason he took your smile as an invitation to hold your hand. So now he was holding your hand, leading you to the sliding glass doors that lead to his pool. “Glad you think so” he winked and your head span in the other direction quickly to hide the flush.

“You brought your bikini right? Or not bikini- your swimming costume or- whatever the fuck yo-” he stumbled over his words “uh huh I did” you smiled again, interrupting him, something he usually didn’t like, but he smiled.

“I actually saw ward and rose and wheezie at the club yesterday, I was wondering if you were with them” you sat on the beach chair next to rafes, stating the sentence you rehearsed in your mirror countless times, as a conversation starter.

“Well no, I was working yesterday so I opted out, only really see them at the weekend for barbecues now that I moved out” he dragged your beach chair closer, a makeshift beach bed, you lifted your legs, lying down and resting your hands on your stomach.

“How come you move out so early, seems so scary” you stared up at him as he adjusted the towel above you.

“S’not really, needed independence. I mean I love dad and rose, and my sisters but just prefer this” he shrugged, and when he laid down his more muscley arm brushed against yours.

“You like it all by yourself?” You pouted, although he couldn’t see when he laid next to you. You turned on your side so you felt like you were talking to him, so you could remember what it feels like later.

He sighed deeply “never said that, just….” His head shifted to turn to meet yours. You knew what he meant. You silently looked at each other until you spoke in a quiet whisper “why’d you call rose, rose not mom?”

“Shit i did, huh? Well rose isn’t my mom” you frowned in confusion.

“She’s not?” You’re surprised you didn’t know this, your mom knew the Camerons well, but she never mentioned that.

“No, ah mom died when I was small” you accidentally gasped, death stirring an odd reaction out of you always.

“M��sorry rafe” you reached out for him, and rested your hand on his which he just chuckled at, lifting his arm up for you, tucking you under.

“Watcha sorry for baby?” So casually he name dropped baby. You shook your head wanting to giggle and scream and not be as red as you were right now. You wondered what he thought of you. He had to have a romantic intentions if he was calling you baby.

“Nothing” you went quiet, so close to rafe, your head almost laying on his chest, being able to hear and feel his heartbeat.

“You should come” your head lifted, to gift a puzzled look “to a barbecue, meet my family” he nodded, trying to convince you.

“No no, I don’t think so..” your head flopped back down to rest on the skin lower than his shoulders.

“It’ll be fun. I mean dad usually has his brother and my cousins, Sarah brings John b, wheezie almost always has friends over. You can just stick by my side, it’s no pressure” his hand was stroking over your waist comfortingly and you softly shook your head again.

“Not good with people rafe” you murmured at the embarrassing fact. Refusing to look him in the eyes.

“S’not true, you’re good with me” you could hear the smile in his voice, and he could hear the nervousness in yours. He pinched your hip making you squeal, followed by a panting giggle as you tried to playfully push him, rafe not budging an inch.

“Move rafe!” You closed your eyes, pushing harder until he was lifting himself up, his hands reaching for your face, and kissing you.

It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, your first kiss, you weren’t sure what to do else than mirror rafes movements. His hands were in the chub of your hips, kneading your skin soothingly.

He was kissing you so delicately, painfully slow, so slow that you whispered a moan into his mouth. He pulled back, you staring at him, kissing your own lips inwards at the strange swelling feeling, a small giggle escaping your lips as you looked down at your fingers sitting in between your crossed legs, feeling silly.

“Thanks rafe” you whispered, still giggling at a tiny volume.

“Don’t thank me for kissing you” he smiled downwards, laughing too quietly. Doing everything to make sure you were comfortable and weren’t gonna run from him.

You leant over the deck chair to peck his lips once more before returning back to your chair. He smiled at your frantic sweet mannerisms, needing to desperately cool down in the pool.

- fee xxx

[xa3r1s]

✧⭑----⋆✩⋆-------⋆ ℂℍ𝕀𝕃𝔻𝕀𝕊ℍ 𝔹𝕀ℂ𝕂𝔼ℝ𝕀ℕ𝔾 ♡ [l. donghyuck & l. mark]

⠀⠀ ☆ (⠀ 꽃⠀ ) ...

﹢﹒ ✦⊹﹒..𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗.: “ MARK LEE & LEE DONGHYUCK ; ✧ ”

✦⊹﹒synopsis:ㅤit wasn't easy being stuck between two flames, especially when those flames are against each other. small arguments were happening here and there but when they both got the same intention with you, you're just completely left helpless, feeling like they teamed up against you. ✦⊹﹒warnings:ㅤnsfw!!, breeding, est. relationship, poly relationship, petnames, cussing, dirty talking, mean-dom!hyuck, mean-dom!mark, doggy, p n v, face fucking, oral, clit play, light spanking, cream pie, unprotected sex, hyuck calls u mommy, it's kinda just all filth im so sorry, multiple orgasms, lmk if i missed anything! ✦⊹﹒word count:ㅤ2,0k

a/n.: never wrote threesome, i don't quite know if this is how it works but enjoy my loves! [also i started working on this sooner than the requests so i'm posting this first]

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dealing with only one of them was already a challenge in itself, but making it the two of them? it quickly became an outright a big, hot mess.

treasuring an intense and feral personalities at once was something that could be easily overwhelming considering that you had to deal with their continuous fighting over and over. and once they start the argument just no one backs down really, their ego could crush people with its weight and we’re only scratching the surface.

“a girl? no way man, my genes are designed for a boy.” the younger boy declared proudly at himself, eyes skeptical and scanning the other one right in front of him. you could almost call him sassy with the way he puts his hands on his hips and familiarly scrunches up his nose, waiting -demanding- an answer.

mark on the other hand didn’t let his emotions got a grip of him so easily and stood his ground proudly. his back straightened up, only tilting his head down a few degrees to glance at hyuck through his thin eyelashes. he handled the situation much calmer and went for the root of it, attacking his dignity.

“what? your.. your genes?” the response was muttered, pronouncing the last words with his tone being laced with mocking while his index finger pointed towards hyuck’s chest as a cocky smirk rested on his face.

you never actively tried for a child, knowing these two would make the biggest fuss and argument about who’s child you gonna bear first —actually trying to even ignore the topic whenever it came up—

now, flushed skin and thin layered sweat covered bodies collided on your shared bed with little to no explanation given to you. clothes practically ripped apart and chucked to the other side of the room. the small lamp placed on the bedside table providing only enough light for them to admire your flushed skin rippling with every harsh thrust hyuck was delivering into you. the momentum pushing your mouth deeper on mark’s wildly pulsing cock, eliciting a muffled sound from the overwhelming pleasure you receive all at once on both ends.

they were always so smothering and compassionate, the main focus purely you, your pleasure and your well being shared between them. but now? as if they completely went nuts. it was a very rare sight, —not like you hated it— they saw red, the constant need to be better than the other drove them crazy and it seemed like they loved to take their dopamine out on you.

“shut up and fucking take it-..” he seethed, landing a sudden firm smack on your left cheek keeping up his relentless plowing. his fingers dug into your soft flesh on your ass as it jiggled with every thrust, feeling as if he’s trying to reach your guts, angling his hips for deeper penetration. hand leaving red print on your smooth, supple skin, the moan coming out as a strangled whimper, vibrating right against the other male’s cock stuffed into your pretty mouth, sending pleasurable shiver along his spine.

“d-don’t spank her, asshole..” mark’s eyes shot up with a harsh glare targeted towards hyuck behind you which he rewarded with a faint and throaty chuckle, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. concentrating on knocking you up.

“god-.. i’m trying to put a baby in her.. don’t you see, f-fuck-” his voice wavered with a harsh thrust, making your whole body jolt “.. from your eyes?” hyuck taunted, one hand gripping your waist, pulling you back on his cock with his every forward move, meeting you deeper and deeper even if his tip already brushed your cervix by now.

other hand snaked between your legs, his torso hovering over your back, his mouth coming right by your ear. your felt the familiar rubbing sensations around your clit, your body reacting with your muscles tensing tight.

“‘gonna be a good mommy, hm?” hyuck’s honeyed words made you absolutely melt, a high pitched whimper resonating from your chest straight to mark’s length pistoning eagerly in and out of between your lips. his precum mixed with your saliva dripped on your chin, your jaw aching and throat burning as he fucked you on your other side, the two of them moving in sync. “you’ll be stuffed so full, so fucking full of- my love-..”

“don’t you- don’t you fucking dare to get pregnant from him first-” noticing a sudden harsh grip in your hair, mark’s fingers digging into your scalp and tugging your head off from his throbbing, dripping dick and bending down to meet your eyes. his own burned with lust, his dark irises taking an even deeper shade. “cat’s got your tongue, my sweet whore? answer already..” he urged, placing small pecks and kisses on your jaw in the contrast of his painful grip on your locks. it was embarrassing but god it was so fucking arousing too, sinful blush danced across your face, doing your best to avoid his piercing gaze but no answer came from you, only pathetic whines and moans. —not like he even excepted you to say anything coherent, while being sandwiched between them.

his intense stare got your already needy hole rippling around hyuck instantly gushing on his cock, juices leaking down his shaft and dripping onto the already messy and crumpled white sheets under you. hyuck’s hips stuttered for a second before pushing himself in again, feeling the knot tighten in his lower belly too before snapping and hyuck now gripping your ass with both of his palms, practically slamming you back on himself, quickly sending you into over stimulation.

mark locked your jaw tight into his free hand, forcing you to gaze into his eyes while your body tingled all over. your head spinning and skin burning up as if you’re body is trying to push out hyuck’s stretching dick but his hard grip on your made it challenging to squirm away.

“you gonna take his load, you dirty slut?” venom dripped from the older man’s voice, the jealousy just filling up his veins if hyuck were to indeed impregnate you before him. you reached your head towards his dick dangling right in front of your face, eager to have it fill your warm, slick mouth again, swirling your tongue around it and have him moaning in delight but his hold on your face and fist in your tangled up, messy hair didn’t let you.

“mhm- gonna knock you up, my pretty girl.. you’d love that-” hyuck hissed quietly, teeth grazing your shoulder blades. “i fucking know you want it, you want my seed, huh? well- i’ll give it to you nonetheless, baby.” and with a low grunt, biting down harsh on your skin, warm, white fluid shot in thick ropes deep inside you, making sure to pump it well but still staring in awe at the way it oozed out around his cock from your twitching hole.

“pull out, fuck-face.” mark spat with a gruffy mumble, breaking the soft sound of your whines and moans echoing through the room mingled with hyuck’s fast and unsteady gasps. “you’ve had your fill.” reluctantly, the boy behind you obliged and with a squelching, wet pop he freed himself from your still quivering insides.

donghyuck pulling back to sit on his heels in the intention of pulling himself together after busting such an amount in you, mark was quick to maneuver you with your back facing his chest. one arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in for skin to skin touch, his other arm putting you in a tight headlock. his bicep rippling around your neck, not enough to cut your airflow but certainly enough to make your head even more dizzy, as if it was possible.

“holy shit-.. baby.” he cooed into your ear with fake pity “you look so fucked out already.. how you gonna put up with me?” his arm around your mid section moved to his pulsing and leaky dick, the flushed, red tip nudging your labia apart and squeezing its way deep inside you.

feeling every inch fill you, the ridges and bobbing out veins just scratching your warm walls as his hip stilled, his eyes taking in the amount of seed hyuck dumped into you getting pushed out while he bottomed out.

his strong muscles effectively kept you in place, preventing you from squirming away, your plump lips fell open in an attempt to gasp for air desperately when you felt mark immediately rutting his hips against yours without little to no buildup and hyuck suddenly holding onto your chin, tugging you to meet his lips in a hungry kiss.

he moved his lips against your fiercely, spit mixing and dripping past your mouth, him just absolutely devouring you. while the male behind tormented you with harsh thrusts, your body still tingling from your earlier orgasm, your body unwillingly fighting against their intense love making.

“aren’t i better, sweet thing?” mark’s low and throaty voice caressed your ears while the world spun around you, the only thing connecting you to your consciousness was their words that you barely even registered, drowning in the all consuming pleasure they showered you with. tears stung the corners of your eyes, spilling and rolling down on your flushed, hot cheeks.

while hyuck roughly explored your mouth, his hands came to the soft, meaty globes on your chest, cupping them and squeezing, pushing your breasts together, feeling it enticingly bounce from his torments—and mark’s rough fucking from behind—, made him smile.

“m-markie!” you mewled against the other boy’s lips, eyelids heavy, their sweaty locks dangling in front of their lust coated eyes, drinking up every bit of your expression and pleasure plastered across your features. “please—..”

“close, baby? are you gonna feel my seed deep too against your velvety walls, hm?” quickly locking gazes with hyuck for a few second, he turned his attention back to you, chasing his high like a wild animal in heat.

from your earlier, greedy oral work, mark was already pent up enough to teeter on the edge in the pass of a few minutes, having his abdomen burn with the promise of his release, his pace didn’t falter. your cunt eagerly clenched and fluttered around him, small moans escaping your lips only to have them vibrate against donghyuck’s mouth, aggressively making out with him while experiencing your second, really intense orgasm of the night, blurring your vision as your ears rang and your body felt like burning up.

the room echoed from their synchronized deep grunts and your sobs of pleasure, the bed’s creaking providing a quieter background noise between your moans. after a few, sloppy thrusts, mark shot his load deep into you, the headlock he was having you in tightening in for a few moments while his other hand held a tight grip on your hips as he emptied himself inside, thorough on pumping it in real good.

his cum was thicker, much thicker and there was a lot. just so perfect to impregnate such a pretty, needy pussy. their seeds blending with each other in your still wildly twitching depths, his softening cock stirring up the remained sticky fluid from hyuck, and pushing it out, a small cocky grin plastered on his face as he watched the white droplets track down on your quivering thighs.

you were full. just filled to the brim with their love, devotion and adoration, mostly physically.

your legs threatened to give out and have you fall face front to the crumpled up messy and sticky sheets, your brain turned to absolute mush, head spinning and your body threatening to pass out right there and then.

a drained to no end exhale slipped from your throat, not even noticing how the two men guided you to lay on the soft sheets between them, them trying to catch their breath alongside you but still staring at you in awe. of course, wondering whoever ‘won’ at the end with small smirks etched across their faces.

▚�� @xa3r1s ▚▚ my works belongs to me! do not translate them, copy them or publish them on another site.

[pursued-by-the-squid]

vi. wait for the green light

pairing: gi-hun x gn!reader x in-ho

word count: 9.3k

content warning: the games are finally beginning and i'm not shying away from the violence, so just be aware.

[ also, happy birthday in-ho!!! ]

ao3 | masterlist

Everything is painfully bright. You can see the lights through your eyelids even before you wake, but they’re still brilliant enough to hurt your eyes when you open them. For a moment, there isn’t much of anything beyond the sterile tint of fluorescent lights. And then, suddenly, there is everything.

The figure in your apartment, Gi-hun’s departure, the kiss – it all comes rushing back. You frantically push yourself up so you’re sitting and very narrowly miss hitting your head on a metal beam. “Oh, shit!”

Your hands fly up to shield your face while you simultaneously twist to the side, but the sudden shift in weight throws your balance off and you topple over onto the floor. Your shin rams into something hard and your tailbone aches when you land, but you’re otherwise unharmed.

“What the–?”

There’s a massive metal bunkbed looming above you, stacked five beds high and devoid of any personality apart from utilitarian despair. You see another one when you tilt your head back, then another and another, until your head is swimming. What kind of kidnapper has rows and rows of empty bunkbeds, and for what purpose?

You’re just about to spiral into a full panic attack when you spot a flash of teal green, then a splash of white, and suddenly there’s a woman kneeling in front of you. She has pretty eyes and the kindest smile you’ve ever seen, and stitched onto the breast of her jacket is a patch with the number ‘120’. She offers you a hand. “Are you alright?”

What the hell is she wearing? You glance down and practically crawl out of your skin, because what in the hell are you wearing? It’s the same outfit as hers – green zip-up jacket, green tracksuit slacks, white shoes, and white stripes running down your shoulders and legs – only your number is different. 457. Is that supposed to mean something?

“Hey.” Her voice is soft, Miss 120, and her touch is even softer, little more than a brush of her fingertips on your kneecap. And even though you’ve never met this woman before in your life, the contact is enough to soothe you temporarily. “It’s alright. Here.” Her palm is offered with a little quirk of a smile. “Take my hand.”

She pulls you up with a remarkable display of strength, damn near hoisting you off your feet instead of to them, but her other hand quickly comes to your shoulder to help you settle and find your balance. It’s only once you’re standing that you’re afforded a better look around, though there still isn’t much to see that you haven’t already taken note of. Rows and rows of bunkbeds, a swarm of green jackets, and too-bright lights that make your eyes hurt.

“What’s your name?”

“Huh?” You’re so disoriented that you’re finding it difficult to focus on any one thing, let alone whatever it is she’s saying. “I-I’m sorry, I’m…Where are we?”

Miss 120 shakes her head as her mouth tips into a slight frown. “I don’t know. I don’t think any of us know.” She casts her eyes about for a moment, cataloging the high rise of the ceiling and the glimpses of strange murals peeking out from behind the beds, before turning her attention back to you. “Did you play ddakji too?”

All your life, you’ve never thought it possible for the world to come to screeching halt. It hadn’t even done that when Gi-hun kissed you – oh God, Gi-hun. Where is he? Is he safe? Is he dead? No, no, wait, you can’t… you can’t think about that right now. Your mind is scrambling to make sense of what little information you have readily available and it feels like twelve separate traffic accidents are all colliding on the same city block inside your head.

Ddakji. She asked if you had played ddakji. That can’t be a coincidence, can it? Looking down at your jacket, you run your fingers over the stitched on ‘457’. The number is remarkably close to the one Gi-hun had given you once, the number that’s been taking turns with the dead recruiter haunting your dreams each night. This… can’t be right. The recruiter’s dead. While that hadn’t been Gi-hun’s end goal, surely that would be enough to get either himself killed or to put an end to the entire witch hunt, right? What more is there for Gi-hun or the higher-ups to do either than to kill each other?

But then, what else could this place possibly be?

“The recruiter,” you start, whirling around to look at Miss 120 once more. “The person you played ddakji with. Was it a man in a suit?”

Her frown deepens considerably as she nods. “Yes. Why?”

You press further. You have to know for sure. “The card. Did he give you a card? With the shapes on it?”

“Yes,” she replies, baffled, “didn’t you get the same?”

The room starts to spin around you, the ceiling tilting one way and the floor tipping the other until you’re stumbling backward into the metal frame of your bed. The games are real, then. You’d always assumed they were, assumed that Gi-hun was tortured enough not to lie to you about something so awful, but it was a distant fear that never came any closer than the printing of shapes upon a business card and a dead man in a suit. Now his words ring clearer than ever before – I was worried they’d hurt you because of me.

You run. It’s the only thing that makes sense. You have to get out of here before the games start. You are not killing anyone, no matter how much money they give you. You don’t need it and you don’t want it. You just want to go back home. You want Gi-hun back, you want–

The doors on the far end of the room open to show a line of men in zip-up hoodie suits, tall and ominous like the one who drugged you, only their hoodies are a vibrant pink rather than black. And just like that, your feet are rooted to the floor. Maybe they aren’t horrifically menacing to anyone else, but one of them wears the same mask as your attacker – all black with a white square. Is that him? The same one?

Where you had wanted to run only moments before, now all you want to do is hide. You push your way through the small section of people you’d already cut through to get back to your bed, back to Miss 120, anywhere so long as it’s as far away from those masked creeps as you can get. What if they drug you again? What if they drugged everyone else here? Your back hits the wall; it’s cool to the touch, almost uncomfortably so against the blazing heat of your neck and palms.

The man in the square mask takes a step forward. “I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you.” His voice is as modulated as the voice in your apartment, but you can’t tell if it’s the same person or not. Maybe it doesn’t matter, but it’s unsettling either way. “Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days. Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize.”

The sign hanging above his head – a digital display of Hangul and numerals – feels as ominous as the square emblazoned on his face. 457. The same number on your chest. 457 people, all gathered together so they might kill each other for money. What kind of sick fuck would design something like that?

It seems you’re not the only one wondering, even if no one else in the room has any idea what it is they’ve stumbled into. Miss 120 speaks up first, then another person, and another, and another until the entire room is buzzing with whispered musings and mild accusations thrown in the direction of the masked figures. Everyone is wondering what the hell is going on and how these strange, masked men have any authority over their lives.

And then everyone suddenly stops worrying about it so much because, rather than offer a genuine answer, Square Mask offers footage – men and women alike, ddakji colors flashing in their hands, their cheeks bright red from slap after shameful slap, and a massive debt attached to each name. One of them is Miss 120 – Cho Hyun-ju, apparently, at nearly two billion won. There’s another poor soul with ten billion won in debt. Gi-hun was right, they really do prey on the most vulnerable people they can find.

How is this even legal? Is there footage of you too? Did the woman who approached you so long ago have a camera in her pocket so she could secretly record you? And why? Why would anyone want to watch footage of desperate strangers getting publicly abused? What pleasure could possibly be found in something like that?

“All of you in this room have crippling debts and are now on a cliff-edge,” Square Mask asserts. “When we first came to you, you did not trust us either. But as you know, we played a game and gave you money as promised. And so you trusted us and volunteered to participate according to your own free will. You have one last chance to decide. Do you want to live like a piece of trash, running from creditors? Or will you seize the last opportunity we are offering?”

The room devolves into further whisperings and murmurs as people start leaning in to one another. You, personally, can hardly believe a word you’re hearing. The manipulation feels so blatant – he’s literally calling everyone in the room garbage, goading them into participating so they can rise above the name calling and the weight of financial stress, and they have no idea. They don’t know they’re walking into a death trap.

Someone should do something, or say something. But who, exactly? You? Who else is there?

Before you can wrestle with yourself further, the lights flash and flicker into a dim yellow glow, casting the edges of the room into shadow. A large, glowing orb descends from the ceiling – only it’s not an orb, but a pig. Plastic, maybe, or glass, you’re not really sure, and at first, you’re lost as to why they would choose such a strange design. It’s wildly out of place. Then you hear the sound of a clicking lottery machine projected over the speakers and you realize it isn’t out of place at all.

It's a joke. It’s a perverted, twisted, fucked up attempt at a joke and it’s enough to make you sick.

45.7 billion won. The number is so mindbogglingly high that you can hardly comprehend it. You’re not even sure how much that would be in your home country, just that it’s a lot. Enough to pay off that one gentleman’s debts 4 and a half times with close to another billion to spare. That’s lifechanging amounts of money. And they’re just giving it away freely?

Not freely, you have to remind yourself. There’s a price to pay and it’s steeped in blood. Even if no one else in this room knows it, you do.

Someone should really say something, you just wish that it could be anyone other than you. There are 456 other bodies in this room, 456 people who could be saved if you just had the courage to speak up, but something holds you back. You’re terrified. You’re frozen in place by the icy chill of fear and uncertainty that clings to your bones. 456 people could easily rise up and overwhelm five measly guards, so why can’t you just say it?

You’re so intent on beating yourself up for your cowardice that you almost miss it. That voice. You don’t actually comprehend the words, you’re too dissociated to understand much of anything apart from the rush of adrenaline in your veins, but you don’t have to understand him to recognize him. Because you’d know that voice anywhere.

Gi-hun’s always had such a distinctive timbre. You could pick him from a crowd of lookalikes simply by asking him to speak, so picking him from a crowd of 456 is light work. You trail blindly in the direction it had come from, somewhere at the back of the room, lost among the rows of bunkbeds and metal platforms, looking at every face, every shock of short, dark hair, every gently sloping pair of shoulders until you find him. Because you have to find him. Because he’s here, he has to be.

Your hand lands on someone’s shoulder, someone who has that same tall and lanky stature, and his name is already on your tongue by the time they turn to reveal that they are not, in fact, Seong Gi-hun. You weren’t imagining things, were you? That was definitely his voice, you’re sure of it.

And then you see him. Cloistered among the metal bedframes with his face tilted toward the back wall. You don’t know what he’s looking at, you don’t care, because all that matters is that he’s alive. He’s here. You’re not alone, you don’t have to face this hellscape by yourself.

“Gi-hun!”

His head snaps toward you, his eyes wide and body stiff, and for a moment you’re left with only the ability to stare and to study. The face swimming before you is familiar and foreign all at once. The angles of his cheekbones are more pronounced in this lighting and his scowl more severe, but it’s really him. Your Gi-hun. And then you’re sprinting, throwing yourself into his arms and choking on his name as you cling to him, the only solid lifeline you have left.

“You’re alive,” you weep. Your hands won’t stop shaking as they grasp at any bit of skin or clothing they can find, desperate to keep him close in case you wake up and find yourself living in a world without him in it. “Oh my god, you’re alive.”

“What are you doing here?” he mutters, all gravel and breathy disbelief.

You’re trying to find the words to tell him everything, but they come out as incoherent babblings. “I don’t know,” you cry. “There was this man, and he grabbed me, a-and then I woke up and I–”

Something iron strong wraps around your bicep and yanks on you until you’re tripping over your own feet. A long, hard rod of metal slams into your spine as Gi-hun wrenches the two of you apart, his neck arched and his face contorted as he transforms into some wild and snarling beast. “What are you doing here?” he demands. He’s shaking you, his fingernails digging into your skin even through the jacket, and he’s everywhere, too close and too angry. “I told you not to come here! You promised me, [___]. You promised! What were you thinking?”

You shake your head, you try to protest, but he won’t let you. “Gi-hun–”

“I told you!” he growls, and no amount of flinching away is enough to give him pause. “Don’t leave the apartment, I said. Don’t go outside. Why?”

You’re clawing at him now, trying desperately to push him back and away, but he’s stronger than you ever gave him credit for. You’d always thought he was just some tall, lanky thing, all bark but no real bite. Now you finally realize how much you’d underestimated him.

“Did you keep the card? You thought you’d call the number and play when my back was turned?”

“I didn’t call,” you explain tearfully, struggling against his grip yet still failing to free yourself from his wrath. “I-I didn’t do anything. Gi-hun, please, you’re hurting me!”

His hand smacks into your chest, and he hits you so hard that the ache he left in your bicep disappears entirely. Your player number is caught in his fist. “What is this, huh? You think this is a Game you can win? You think this is fun?”

“Gi-hun!” you screech, and this time you summon enough strength to tear yourself free. Your palms slam into his chest and shove him backward several steps before your legs finally give out, collapsing you upon the very bed he’d pinned you to, and by then you’re both breathless and wide-eyed, gazing wordlessly at one another as if the other person has just grown a second head. “I didn’t keep the fucking card.”

“Then how?” he asks, his nostrils flaring when his chin tilts in your direction.

“I…” You close your eyes for a moment, thinking that maybe if you squeeze them tightly enough, you’ll wake up back in your own bed, far away from all the death you know is yet to come. It’s a pretty thought, but you know better. You wish you didn’t.

Because you can remember it all so clearly. You can still feel the hands on your skin, the rough gloves and the blinding, gut-wrenching panic that had settled in your bones. Here and now in the arena Gi-hun’s been trying to keep you from for the last two years, your body finally curls in on itself as it threatens to collapse.

“Someone broke into my apartment. They drugged me.”

You’re shaking your head, trying to fight back the memory, the horror, trying and failing to keep your head above the waves of despair lapping at your throat, but instead you feel like you’re drowning.

Gi-hun is there, his hands hovering over you but never touching. You think maybe he sees the way you flinch when he comes close, but you don’t have the strength to either forgive him or indulge him. “Did they hurt you?” he asks softly.

“I fought him, Gi-hun. I really tried, but he grabbed me and I couldn’t…” You think you’re going to be sick.

“Listen to me.” Gone is the spitfire and rage. Now there’s just Gi-hun, a bit softer around the edges than you’ve seen from him in weeks. It’s in the eyes, you think, or the way his brows purse when he dips his head down to catch your gaze. “I’m going to get you out of here. Okay?”

Glancing up through tear dropped lashes, you shake your head. “How? You said they made you kill people.”

“It won’t come to that,” he promises. “I have a plan.”

It takes every ounce of restraint you have not to laugh in his face. A plan? Really, that’s what he’s got? “You almost got yourself killed twice this year,” you snap. “Was that all part of your plan too?” Was showing up at your front door with three hours left ‘til midnight and kissing you part of the plan? Or was that just the act of a desperate man determined to die?

You hate that that’s where your mind goes. You hate that your life and the lives of 455 other people are on the line and all you can think about is whether or not Gi-hun really meant it when he kissed you. You hate that when he looks away, either out of shame or embarrassment, your gaze dips to the bow of his lips and you’re suddenly standing in the open doorway of your apartment, yearning for him to kiss you again.

“This is all part of his game.” He looks back at you and you tear your eyes away as fast as you can, your pulse leaping inside your chest. You really hope he didn’t notice that. “He knows I’m here to burn everything down from the inside and he’s trying to stop me.”

It takes you a moment to comprehend what he’s saying. “‘He’?”

Gi-hun nods as he starts surveying the other players. “The man running these Games, the Captain.” He falls silent for a moment, and the bed squeaks a bit when he leans his weight into it, one of his arms extended to press against the frame by your knee. “Things are different this time. The money – last time it was 45.6 billion won, and now it’s 45.7. Like your number.”

The patch sewn into your jacket suddenly seems to weigh more than the entirety of the planet. “Maybe he got more money this year?” It seems like a far better option than considering that you might be a part of this Captain’s plans.

“No. This is intentional. Now that you’re here, both the money and player count are higher. Even the rules are different.”

“So, what, he’s playing mind games with you?”

Gi-hun nods again, his expression deadly serious. “With both of us. He’s trying to get inside my head. He’s trying to scare me.”

You have half a mind to admit that it’s working because you think you might actually have a panic attack if you have to sit through a single one of these games, but you lose the chance before you can even grasp it. There’s a man pushing through the nearby gathering of players. He looks like any other man you’d meet on the street – kind eyes, a smattering of facial hair, a big smile – but the way that Gi-hun reacts when he sees him is comparable to what you imagine it might be to meet a ghost.

“Gi-hun-a!” the man exclaims as he scrambles up to greet him.

“Jung-bae-ya?” You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this shocked in his life. Well, apart from just a moment ago.

They collide just as Gi-hun rises to his feet. The other man slaps a hand on his shoulder as he draws him into a hug, laughing in total disbelief. They’re talking so fast – or at least, Jung-bae is – that you can hardly keep up with him.

“I thought that was you. I’d know your voice anywhere, you old–”

“What are you doing here?”

Jung-bae’s head tilts to the side. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? I thought you were dead!”

Dead? Your attention snaps to Gi-hun, who has enough decency to look mildly embarrassed, though he doesn’t say anything to defend himself. You made peace with his quirks a long time ago, but the fact that someone he once knew also thought him dead is concerning. It’s not just you.

“No one's heard from you for three years,” Jung-bae continues, and God, he’s chatty. You’re trying to keep up with him while also processing everything he’s saying. “I heard your mom passed away. I had to hear about it from my wife! What kind of friend are you?” And then he’s spinning to point at you, his eyes wide. “We haven’t been here a whole day yet and you’re already trying to replace me? Is this just because I didn't lend you money? You had to cut me out?”

There’s a beat of silence while Gi-hun struggles to explain himself, but whatever he comes up with seems to fall short in his mind. In the end, he settles for a dejected sigh and a bashful shrug. “Ah, it’s not like that. It’s a long story.”

“Right. I can imagine, seeing as you're here.” Jung-bae scowls a bit, his eyes flickering all over Gi-hun’s face, searching for what, though, you couldn’t say. Likely whatever’s left of the friend he knew three years ago. “Still, you should've told me about your mom. You know how much she liked me.”

Another tense few moments pass as Gi-hun processes this. While you’re not entirely sure what specifically he’s thinking about, his mother or his mistakes, it’s very clear that he’s upset about this turn of events.

“Why are you here?” he finally asks. “What about your wife?”

Jung-bae flounders for a bit as his shoulders crowd inward. “We got divorced. But let's not talk about it here, yeah?” His focus slides to you momentarily. “When we get out, let's go for a drink and talk.”

At the mention of a drink, of actually getting out of here, Gi-hun’s eyes flash dangerously. His face, softened a bit with the weight of his affection for his friend, suddenly hardens and he grabs his friend by the collar, pulling him in so the three of you are crowded together.

“Jung-bae-ya, [___], whatever happens from now on, stay close to me. Both of you.”

You nod immediately. That’s all the convincing you need. Jung-bae, on the other hand, doesn’t realize how serious this is. After all, how could he?

“‘Stay close’?” he laughs. “That’s a bit melodramatic.” He looks to you for confirmation, as if expecting you to chuckle and nod along, only to receive a deeply concerned stare in return.

Gi-hun’s face warps once more. “Just do as I say!” he grits out. “I’m trying to keep you both alive.”

Your little nook is quiet for a long moment as the weight of Gi-hun’s words begin to settle. You know bits and pieces of what these Games entail – fucked up scenarios that twist your mind into something unrecognizable, friend pitted against friend, a detached sort of heartlessness that seeps into your bones – but Gi-hun has always been vague about the details. All this time you’d thought it was to keep himself safe from the trauma of reliving and recounting everything that happened, but now you’re starting to wonder if he wasn’t also trying to protect you. The look on his face seems to say as much.

Jung-bae is swiftly guided to sit beside you on the bed. He glances at you again, tries to smile at you, but you can see that he’s rattled, or at least confused. But by the time he attempts to ask anything more, Gi-hun is already crouching before you, his elbows braced against his knees.

“We don’t have much time, so listen carefully. Whatever happens out there, do exactly as I say. Understand?”

“But Gi-hun-a, out where? What is all this, huh?”

He swallows heavily, his jaw clenching, and then suddenly, he’s lowering himself so he’s kneeling, pressing his fingers inside his own mouth. You and Jung-bae both immediately recoil.

“What are you doing?” you ask, mildly horrified at the sight of Gi-hun gagging with his hands in his mouth. It’s… well, it’s…

“Fuck,” he spits a moment later, holding a –

“Is that your fucking tooth?” you exclaim, and it comes out much louder than you had intended.

He waves his hand absently in your direction, too focused on turning the tooth over in his trembling hands. You catch a glimpse of metal prongs and what looks like a hollow space carved out of the tooth, but it’s gone before you can make proper sense of it, caught in Gi-hun’s fist as he slowly slumps in defeat.

What the fuck is going on?

You’re leaning down to reach for him – his hand, his arm, his face, anything that will bring him back to you so he can explain, so he can help you understand – when his head snaps up and his eyes bore directly into your skull. “Talk to me,” you implore. “What is it?”

His eyes, dark and glittering, squeeze shut for the briefest of moments before he suddenly draws himself to his full height. With the way you’re sitting on the bed, it makes him appear mountainous and detached, soaring high into the stratosphere while you’re left at ground level, alone and confused and so painfully far away. “I’ll explain everything later–”

“But we might not get a later!” And that, at last, is enough to give him pause. He watches you pull yourself up and shuffle close. “You told me these games were deadly. What if something happens out there and–”

Gi-hun rests a hand on your arm, as gentle and soothing as he can manage under the circumstances. “Nothing is going to happen. Trust me.”

“I do. But you’re not making it very easy.” Your chin drops against your chest. “I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”

He shakes his head. “You won’t. I won’t let you. Stick with Jung-bae-ya and me, alright? We’ll keep you safe.”

Whether he’ll be able to or not remains to be seen, but you know Gi-hun well enough to know he means it. He’ll do anything he can to keep you safe. You just hope that fate agrees with him.

Player consent forms. As much as you despise the people running these games – the Captain, Gi-hun had called him – you have to admit that it’s smart. Many of these people will have already signed their bodily autonomy away in return for unpaid debts, so a blanket consent form with no real context isn’t going to matter to much of anyone. It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.

Your palms are clammy, sweat already slickening your skin as the player ahead of you departs. You don’t have any qualms about choosing not to sign – you have no desire to be here any longer, not even for a chance at 45.7 billion won. Besides, you already have all the money you could ever need.

“Player 457. Your signature has already been taken.”

Your head snaps up forcefully enough that you hear the joint pop. “What?”

The man behind the table inclines his mask to you – all black with a white circle – as if he were merely a polite, mild-mannered secretary breaking some unfortunate news. “Your consent form has already been signed.”

Maybe you’re not translating him correctly. Your Korean has improved a lot over the past few years, but there are still some gaps in your fluency. You take a step forward. “I haven’t signed anything. I didn’t even ask to be here. Gi-hun,” you start, turning to look at him over your shoulder, “I’m not hearing that wrong, am I?”

He shakes his head. The lump in his throat bobs just slightly, but Gi-hun’s focus isn’t on you. He’s glaring a hole into the head of the masked figure before you, his jaw clenched tightly enough that you hear his teeth scrape against each other.

The guard, however, doesn’t even seem bothered by either of your responses. “Rest assured, Player 457, that your consent form has already been signed and filed. Please step aside to allow the other players to sign.”

“No.” Your hand smacks on the table between you, hard enough that the discarded pen used by the previous player rattles and lolls to one side. “I don’t want to be here. I haven’t signed anything, so if you have something with my name on it, it’s a forgery.”

A quiet, creeping feeling has begun to swell deep within your gut. Gi-hun going AWOL last night was one thing, getting kidnapped and taken to the very games he’d told you about was another, but now being forced to participate against your will? It’s all horribly wrong.

“If you do not allow the other players to sign their consent forms, then we will be forced to disqualify you,” says the guard. “Please step aside.”

“Good! I don’t want to be here, and I’m not letting you sign me up for this shitshow without my actual consent!”

Already, the players lined up closest to you are starting to murmur amongst themselves. Some of them are staring at you, whispering behind their hands, and even a few of the guards have turned their helmets to watch you. That quiet, creeping in your stomach quickly turns to dread, hot and heavy and nauseating.

“[___].” Gi-hun rests a hand on your shoulder, his voice low and soothing, but you don’t know how he can manage that. How can he be so calm when your consent has just been ripped from your hands?

“Player 457.”

Your chest is suddenly tight. It… hurts. It hurts to breathe, actually. You press your palm flat against your sternum for a moment, your eyes fluttering wildly as you attempt to find your breath, to focus, to think, but it’s overwhelmingly difficult. The tracksuit itches at your wrists and neck, and the shoes are uncomfortable around the back of your heel. Your palms are getting sweaty again. And your pulse is skyrocketing faster than you can catch your breath.

Your name is called again, louder this time, and you know it’s Gi-hun, you know he’s trying to help you, but you can’t find it in you to hear him. You feel like a tiny sailboat adrift in a great sea of teal jackets and numbered patches. Everyone is watching, but not a single face looks familiar. Not a single face holds an ounce of pity for you.

“Player 457.” Your head snaps to the right, toward the voice, and you’re met with a massive wall of pink. It’s a different guard, you think. Taller. “Please step aside or we will be forced to remove you.”

“No,” you mumble softly, one foot already dipping behind you. The room tilts, and for a moment you’re back in your apartment, the room dark and shadowed, and you’re crying out for help because you’re about to be assaulted or worse. You can still smell the chemicals they drugged you with.

Something grabs you by the arm – to steady or to harm you, you don’t know – but you spin around in a blind panic, teeth bared, terrified and ready to fight when–

“[___].” It’s Gi-hun. Your Gi-hun, but he’s all wrong in this light. You don’t like the tracksuit on him, how the color clashes with his eyes and marks him as the same helpless, frightened animal that you’ve become.

“I didn’t sign it,” you gasp as you uncoil in his hands. “I wouldn’t, I swear!”

You half expect him to explode. It might almost be worth it to see him lose his temper, to give the bastards running this place a piece of his mind, but he simply doesn’t. If anything, he seems to freeze. You can see his hands trembling at his sides as they drop and curl into fists. He turns toward the Circle Mask, the back of his neck stiff above the collar and his shoulders tense. “Are you certain? You have the right player?”

The guard inclines his head. “Player 457’s consent form has already been signed and filed. We apologize for any confusion on the terms of your participation, but once consent is given it cannot be rescinded.”

Consent cannot be rescinded.

You cast your eyes about the room in daze. Most of the other players have taken to ignoring you now that you’re not making a scene, though you do receive several wary glances. You catch Hyun-ju’s eye for a moment – the only other person in this place you recognize, the only person out of 455 strangers to have offered you a bit of kindness – and she smiles briefly at you. You’re too upset to even attempt smiling back.

Consent cannot be rescinded.

You’re stuck here. You’re going to have to play. Everything Gi-hun has already told you about, every waking nightmare he’s been living with in the three years since his first bout of bloody games, is now going to become a part of your reality. The blood. The death. The bodies. You think of the corpse in the suit, his brain splattered on the wall, and you choke on your own saliva. Oh God, the bodies.

“Come on.”

His hand wraps again around your bicep, urging you to move even when your feet refuse to answer, although he’s mercifully gentler this time. You stumble blindly alongside him, not protesting, not crying, not able to summon a single thought apart from the realization of your impending doom. He guides you to one of the beds and forces you to sit.

“It’s going to be alright,” he promises, but the words are empty. They ring in your ears like a bell that’s gone sour with time and disuse. “[___], listen to me, you’re going to live. Do you understand me?”

You understand that you’re going to die. You understand that whatever comes next might be your last moments on Earth. What if they force Gi-hun to kill you? Or force you to kill him? What about his friend, Jung-bae?

“Whatever happens,” you can hear him say, “you stay behind me. If I tell you to freeze, you do it.”

When you don’t respond – too horrified by the notion of your own execution to do anything more than sit and wheeze – you notice Jung-bae lingering nearby. They’re talking about you, you think, but even if they are, you don’t have it in you to care. You know you’re going to die today and you’re trying desperately to find some peace of mind in the certainty of it, but all you can feel is the yawning, gaping pit of terror that’s opened up in your stomach.

The whiskey burns pleasantly at the back of his throat when he swallows. Normally he would be indulging merely for the sake of the drink, but he’s restless today, almost abnormally on edge. He could pretend not to know the reason why, but In-ho has never been inclined to lie to himself. The reasons for his uncertainty are displayed on the television with striking clarity. There’s no hiding from it now.

The first game isn’t yet in motion, so he takes the opportunity to study you. A review, of sorts, before the real test begins. He studies the footage of your capture the previous night with a hint of pride. Your strength is no match for his finest Manager, of course, but you’d put up quite the fight. After the bouts of vulnerability he has seen from you in the past, he wasn’t entirely sure you would have the mental fortitude to defend yourself; he’s pleased to note that the opposite is, in fact, true. And while he’s loathe to admit it, seeing you so quickly subdued after 456’s startling display of emotion only minutes prior is something of a balm for the grating ache in his chest.

Now that he hadn’t liked. Something dangerously sharp had stabbed through his lungs when he first saw it, akin to disgust but not entirely separate from anger either. Why should Seong Gi-hun be granted the pleasure of your kiss when, after everything he had killed and bled for, In-ho was left widowed and childless? Why should a man who had abandoned his own daughter to America and betrayed your trust countless times be allowed to have even the slightest glimmer of hope when In-ho has been the one to lose everything?

The Game is an equalizer. It is meant to offer no advantages or disadvantages, only opportunity, and yet Player 456 has somehow managed to survive an entire six rounds of gameplay, a bout of roulette with the most deranged recruiter under his employ, and has found both purpose and pleasure in simultaneously courting you and tearing In-ho’s empire to the ground.

And so, an idea had taken shape. It had started with your capture and blossomed into something more the moment 456 had stepped into his limousine and demanded to return. Rather than taunting Gi-hun with anonymous images of your gameplay, or even of your death, why not allow him to witness your destruction firsthand? Why not twist the Games in In-ho’s favor, just this once, to prove that there is nothing a deadbeat gambler like Seong Gi-hun can do in the face of human greed and bloodlust?

He'd watched you throughout the night, mulling over the possibilities as he nursed a bottle of whiskey. He’d watched you through the camera installed in your bedframe, watched your brows wrinkle as you slept, how your chest rose and fell beneath your jacket, and found himself inexplicably entranced. In the years he has watched you from your apartment, In-ho had never breached the privacy of your bedroom. That was a line he was uninterested in crossing, yet even now he finds himself wondering what details of your life he’s missed because of that decision.

How many hours have you spent pouring over Magritte’s book? How many hours have you dedicated to late night phone calls or messages exchanged with Gi-hun that he was unaware of? And that kiss… What else have you two been doing outside of his reach? What opportunities for manipulation has he missed out on by attempting to be gentlemanly, knowing full well the monster he’s already become?

He shakes his head and pours himself another glass. It’s better not to dwell on such things. The board is set, the pieces are eager to move, and the Front Man has a job to do.

Settling back into his chair, one leg crossed over the other, In-ho watches your player photo flash across the screen. Your eyes are devoid of emotion, the lines of your smile distorted into a flat expression that is so unlike you it makes him physically uncomfortable. It’s a remnant of your shock and horror, he knows, but the difference in your face is startling all the same.

He tries not to think on that either. Instead, he tries to recapture the contentment he has come to know during the Games. There is always death, there is always fear and greed; a cycle that never changes and never ends, and there is comfort in that certainty. He grasps it firmly with both hands and doesn’t let go.

Gi-hun’s reaction to the arena is expected, but enjoyable all the same. It’s an exaggerated rendition of the horror he’d displayed upon realizing his dental tracker was missing. In-ho almost wishes he had been the one to remove it, that his hands were suited for such a task, if only to revel in the knowledge of besting 456 yet again. But he finds that the satisfaction he craves comes in another, more surprising form.

He's never been sure of how much you were told. Likely vague ideas of heartless and bloody murder that have no doubt been tainted by Gi-hun’s irritating inclination for self-righteousness and self-pity, left to fester in your imagination. He’d seen glimpses of it earlier – the bobbing of your throat, the fear in your eyes, the wash of panic as you began to realize that you were trapped in his game, all the result of Gi-hun’s carelessness, not that either of you would ever see it as such. But the trepidation in your face as you stumble into the arena tells him that you know more than he first suspected.

This should be interesting.

What he doesn’t expect, however, is for Gi-hun to start interfering so soon. Perhaps he should have anticipated as much, but In-ho finds him to be something of a mystery. Every time he thinks he’s figured 456 out, the man turns around and does something unexpected like dyeing his hair, or abandoning his daughter, or taking in a stray. This time it’s taking command of the arena. A desperate attempt to save lives that aren’t even worth the effort.

“Don’t move! Everyone freeze!”

There’s a muscle in the corner of In-ho’s jaw that begins to tick. The whiskey suddenly tastes like gasoline, all traces of its usual bittersweetness erased in the wake of 456’s mounting victory. He’s not concerned – it’s been years since he’s felt anything, fear or otherwise, beyond the yawning void his soul has become – but neither is he foolish. Gi-hun may be a lucky scrap dug out from the garbage heap, but he is also a gambler and gamblers are dangerous. They take too many risks. They’ll crawl in the dirt like animals rolling in their own filth if it equates to survival.

A problem, he muses. A problem he may just be inclined to solve himself. After all, his hands are itching to wrap around something fragile and squeeze, and the urge is strong enough to make his breath catch.

The table clatters softly when he snags the remote from the center tray. The little display across the room lights up in shades of red and pale yellow, and In-ho swirls his tongue over his teeth as the music begins. He turns his gaze to you, to the small corner of the screen set aside for your live cam feed, and he finds himself wondering.

Your mouth is pressed into a thin, trembling line as you cower behind another player’s back, an old friend of 456 if he’s remembering the number correctly. A thin streak of blood is splattered across your ankle, but he can see no other signs of injury or contamination. Ironic, really. You would already be dead if he hadn’t given the order to spare your life.

In-ho swirls his glass in a slow, circular motion, studying the watery sheen of your eyes when a player falls dead on your right before finally downing the rest. He catches glimpses of you as he begins pacing around the room, can hear you screaming when Gi-hun does something particularly foolish and self-righteous, but it quickly becomes little more than background radiation. Another layer of music that curtains his thoughts as he strips himself of his Front Man attire.

The last thing he sees before rushing out of the observation room is your grief-stricken face and the gangling, flailing limbs of 456 as he stumbles over the finish line. In-ho catches himself smiling.

It’s quite a remarkable sight.

The chaos is overwhelmingly loud. Everywhere you look, there are people chattering, grasping at their friends or loved ones, weeping, conspiring in the shadowed corners. Everywhere are eyes too sharp and smiles too vicious, all pointed teeth and bloodlust. And oh God, the blood. You see it splattered on one player’s face, on another player’s shoes. When you walk, the soles of your feet are slick with half-dried blood caked in dirt. It’s awful. It’s so, so awful.

All this time, this is what Gi-hun had feared. This was the hellscape he’d escaped from, the very thing he’d warned you against. You’d known it was terrible, but now that you’ve seen it firsthand? Everything you’ve come to learn about him clicks into place.

He doesn’t protest when you curl yourself into his side, your eyes unseeing and your breath coming to you in stuttering phrases. It’s a small mercy. You think that if he had turned you away when you wordlessly reached for him, you would have burst into tears. Or even a mild panic attack. As it is, you’re already struggling to stay composed. But his presence is stabilizing and that’s good enough for now.

You don’t pay much attention to the masked figures when they enter the room, their garish pink suits at odds with the gruesome horror of this place. You simply burrow further into Gi-hun’s chest, nuzzling against his ribcage until he shifts uncomfortably and is forced to bend his frame around yours to accommodate you. The weight of his arm around your back is grounding enough to bring you back down to reality, to remind you that you’re alive.

People are crying, you soon realize. Not the same crying as before. It’s different now, they’re begging, pleading for mercy as they get down on their knees to grovel. But don’t they realize what they’ve done? They’ve signed their rights away, there’s nothing they can do now but accept the fact that they’re as trapped here as you are.

“[___].”

You’re blinking, staring at nothing in particular, when you suddenly realize Gi-hun’s speaking to you. Your head tips back slightly, your eyes bleary as you struggle to focus on his face. “Hm?”

His hands are curling around your shoulders, gently this time, as he prompts you to sit up and move off of him, only you don’t want to move. You want him to stay, to keep holding you. It’s not as scary when he holds you.

“Here. Jung-bae-ya’s got you,” he murmurs.

He passes you off like you’re a piece of bread or a bag of groceries, like you’re some inconsequential thing that he has to be rid of as quickly as possible, and you don’t understand why until he’s suddenly standing, staring down the masked men who have turned your life upside down. Some of the other players turn to look at him. Jung-bae rests an awkward hand on your arm and you try not to be rude and shrug it off; he’s only being polite, it’s just not what you want right now. It’s not Gi-hun.

“Clause three of the consent form,” Gi-hun announces suddenly, “‘the games may be terminated upon a majority vote.’ Correct?”

“That is correct,” says the Square Mask. He doesn’t nod.

“Then let us take a vote right now.”

There’s a bit of confusion between the decision to vote and the actual occurrence. As the shock and dissociation from the day’s events begin to wear off, you slowly become more and more cognizant of your surroundings. You note the decreased number of players and the newly accumulated prize money – 365 survivors out of the original 457 and a whopping 9.1 billion won.

A voting booth is displayed near the front of the room, designed to resemble a gift box with two buttons on display – a red X and a blue O to match the markings on the floor. Rules are announced, what each button means and how much money each player will receive should you all vote to leave now. (It’s ₩24,931,506 per person. You’ve never felt so thoroughly sickened by the thought of money before in your life.)

“If you wish to continue the Games, press the O button. If you wish to end them, press the X button. The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers.” The guard suddenly raises his hand and points to the back of the room. “Player 457.”

It takes you a moment to remember who Player 457 is. Gi-hun has to nudge you after several seconds tick by and you don’t budge. “Go,” he whispers, pressing his hand to the curve of your spine to urge you forward.

Everyone is watching, which only makes it worse. It’s not that you care what these people think of you because you know your own conscience, you’re not worried about your choice, but the memory of the game still lingers in the back of your head. With so many eyes on you, it’s almost like you’re back in the arena. One move and you’re dead.

“Aish, [___],” says Gi-hun, giving you another gentle push, “go. I’ll be right behind you.”

Maybe that’s what you were waiting for, this subconscious need for his permission. Whether you’re right or not, though, you don’t even want to guess. You just want this over with. You want to go home. The thought of crawling into bed in your own apartment is less appealing than it should be after being drugged in your own home, but at least it would be better than this.

That’s what finally gets your feet going. Home. Home with Gi-hun. A warm bowl of ramyeon, a movie, and his arm around your shoulder. You’re not sure that’s something he would ever want, but you allow the fantasy to persist anyway, if only because you can still remember the press of his lips over yours. It’s something to hope for, a light at the end of the tunnel.

“This one ends the Game, right?” You point to the red X button on your left. Now that it comes down to it, you’re illogically terrified of accidentally mistranslating every word spoken around you and pressing the wrong button, dooming yourself, Gi-hun, and every other soul in this room to another round of torment. “X means no.”

The guard nods. “Correct.”

You don’t even need to think about it. Your palm slams down on the button and the voting podium briefly flashes fully red before returning to normal. A patch is offered to you – a white X on a red background – which you proudly display on your right breast. Gi-hun is quick to follow, having already started toward the display while you were casting your vote, and when he joins you a moment later, your entire body goes limp with relief. He rests his hand on your shoulder, gives you an affirming nod and an almost-smile that you think you’ll treasure for the rest of your life, before guiding you to the designated waiting area.

You’ve both done your part. Now all you have to do is wait for the rest to follow.

If only it were truly that easy. While you were busy mourning the lives lost and yearning for home, many of the other players have been calculating. They’re greedy. You understand it to a point – life is never easy and money solves just as many problems as it causes – but you find it difficult to understand how anyone could choose to stay in the games after witnessing such a horrific and violent loss of life. Player after player chooses to stay. Young people likely around your own age, older folks with decades worth of debt, the awful man with the purple hair (not a surprise in the least), Miss Hyun-ju (it hurts your heart to watch – she seems so nice that her decision almost feels like a betrayal), all of them choose to stand in the blood and the gore for the sake of a little extra cash.

And when they aren’t dooming all the rest of you to unnecessarily violent deaths, they’re rioting at the slightest inclination of wisdom or sense. Gi-hun tries, he really does, to explain just how dangerous the games are. You can see it in his eyes how much it hurts him. The people who listen aren’t difficult to convince, but the ones who remain have hardened their hearts to anything he has to say, and that becomes a burden in itself. What hope had started to blossom in his chest and lift his shoulders is squashed the longer the voting goes on.

You want to take his hand and reassure him that everything will be fine, if only because the sight of his crestfallen face and haunted eyes makes you want to vomit what little remains of yesterday’s dinner, but it would be a lie. The only thing you’re capable of doing is waiting.

Ultimately, it comes down to Player 001. He’s been sticking to the shadows the entire time, the details of his face hidden behind other players and whatever uncertainties he carries with him. You catch a glimpse of his shoulder when he passes between the X and O groups, then the player number on the back of his jacket, but then he’s swallowed up by the crowd. Standing on your toes doesn’t offer you much more of a vantage point either, so you settle for leaning into Gi-hun and hoping for the best.

The room, once clamoring with competing voices all calling for their group to win, falls deathly silent. 001 pauses for a moment. If he says no, you get to go home. You get safety and freedom, you get Gi-hun, you get hope. But if he says yes…

Your eyes flicker to the scoreboard hanging overhead. A buzzer sounds when his choice is made and the number for the O team clicks up by one. All around you, your fellow players are groaning, hanging their heads in despair. Defeat rises up so quickly and so strongly in your chest that it feels like bile. Tears sting along your waterline as your surroundings grow blurry.

Somewhere in your vicinity, you think you hear Jung-bae attempting to comfort you and Gi-hun, but his words are hollow. Even grabbing for Gi-hun’s hand, clinging to him like some frightened thing lost in a storm offers little comfort.

When the sun rises tomorrow, you won’t be able to see it because you’ll be trapped here, forced into a game to kill or be killed, and you don’t even know if you or Gi-hun will be around long enough to survive to the end.

[janaelalfysloml]

open arms - jana el alfy x reader

warnings : angst a lil , idk what else , not rly proofread

summary : you missed one of janas games due to your plans.

a/n : this is short but ive been wanting to write so yeah

——————————————————————————

today was game day for jana & her team. “do you know if you’re going to be able to come tonight? ill get you really good tickets!” jana asked you as she rolled over to your side of the bed. “well, i dont really know. i have a midterm tonight at 6pm, so ill see if i can make it. no guarantees though.” you told her as you finger-coiled the last strand of hair.

it was already 7:32 when you finished your midterm for one of your classes. janas game ended at 8pm, but you were exhausted. you were wondering if you should go, or go home and rest. eventually you went home and texted jana that you wouldn’t be able to make it, knowing she wouldn’t see it but just sending it incase she was wondering where you were.

you were in the kitchen when jana had walked into the apartment. “hey how was the game?” you asked her with a soft smile on your face. “it was alright. i noticed you didn’t come, again.” jana said, not trying to make eye contact with you. “im really tired jana im sorry. the exam took everything out of me.” you replied, trying to break the tension between you too. jana didn’t respond, instead she placed her things down and walked to the room and shut the door behind her.

“why are you mad? i would’ve went if I didn’t have this test.” you said as you opened the door to the room, and stood in the doorway. “im just frustrated because you’ve missed my last 3 games in a row. and i understand that you were busy today, but— i dont even know.” she said, she didn’t want to finish the sentence because she didn’t even know why she was mad. you were busy today, but the last two games you weren’t. instead you ditched her games for some plans you made months in advance, in your defense.

you sat and processed what she just said. you sat on the bed as you spoke back to her. “im sorry jana i really am but i had plans that you knew about for months in advance! when I made the plans I didn’t know your schedule.” you told her, trying to fix the situation. “ it’s fine, trust me babe.” jana replied in a comforting tone. she know you probably thought she was mad at you or something but she wasn’t at all. “im sorry again, do u wanna just watch our movies?” you replied back to jana. you and her had a little playlist of movies that you guys watched together, and now they’re your guys favorite movies.

you guys ended up just watching some of each others favorite movies & cuddling with each other. “i love you, so much.” you told jana as you yawned, obviously tired, but wanting to stay up just to absorb this moment with her.

——————————————————————————

a/n: hey uh idk im bored and wanted to write so yeah!!

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 65

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,180ish

Summary: Wade is back with a cure. Will you take it?

Notes: Please send in reactions! The gift really has nothing to do with the chapter, I just love it.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Logan woke up with a pain in his neck. He grimaced as he moved his neck from side to side cracking it. Sighing, Logan finally opened his eyes and remembered where he was. Your apartment. He glanced down and a his lips pulled up into a smile. You were still asleep, cuddled up to him. His arm tightened around you. As he looked down at you, Logan wished that every morning could be like this, you asleep in his arms. 

A few minutes pass and Logan decided to carry you to bed. Trying not to jostle you too much, he maneuvered you into his arms and took you to bed. He covered you up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Peanut, Buttercup, I’m home!” Wade shouted from the living room.

Logan quickly left your bedroom, shutting the door behind him as he rushed to the living room. “Did you do it?” Logan asked. “Did you find something?”

“Well, hello to you, too, Peanut. Seems like a lot has happened since I’ve been gone. You and Buttercup—”

“Wade! Just tell me you’ve found something.”

“Oh… I struck a cord with the big bag Wolverine. Your whole world just revolves around our Little Flame, doesn’t it? You completely fell head over heels in love with her and I wasn’t even around to tease you about it. Come on,” Wade outstretched his arms, “give your favorite roomie a hug.”

“I am not giving you a hug.”

“Come on, just give Buttercup’s savior a hug.”

“So you did do it?”

“I’m not telling you anything until I get a hug.”

Logan groaned and clenched his jaw. “Fine,” he huffed.

“Yay!” Wade launched himself forward and wrapped himself around Logan. “Come on, Peanut, you have to hug back or I won’t tell you.”

Logan grunted as he allowed his arms to wrap around Wade. Laura was at the table, watching with amusement as she ate breakfast.

“What is going on here?” You asked from the hallway, having woken up from the loud voices. “Uh… should I give you two some space? Need to go have a moment alone after being separated?”

“Exactly the welcome back I was looking for,” Wade commented. He let go of Logan and immediately went over, wrapping you up in a hug. “I missed you, Buttercup. And I brought something back with me. Which,” he turned and shook his finger and Logan, “I told you not to tell anyone about my little mission, and Little Wolf over there clearly knew.”

“I didn’t tell her,” Logan said. “I only told Y/N.”

“And I didn’t tell her,” you added.

“Oh, please,” Laura spoke up, “it was obvious what Wade was off trying to do. No one needed to tell me anything.”

“Okay, well, it’s time for story time with Deadpool!” Wade announced. “Every one sit back, relax and enjoy the show!”

~~~

Wade was as animated as ever as he told the story. Wade had found a universe that had an Ember with phoenix abilities on a superhero team that was a combination of the X-Men and the Avengers. The different version of you didn’t have the same problem that you were having. But using her and the files that Wade had on you, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Jean Grey, and Hank McCoy were able put together something.

“You should have seen it!” Wade exclaimed. “Some of the greatest minds in the multiverse, all working together to save our Little Flame! I should have taken a video. It was amazing!”

“Will it work?” Logan wondered, failing to keep his hopes at bay.

“Well, we didn’t exactly have anyone to test it on, but Stark’s fancy AI ran multiple simulations and they seemed very hopeful.”

You were staring at the vial of red liquid in Wade’s hand as everyone else in the room stared at you. Your thoughts were spiraling as you thought of the consequences of taking this cure that Wade had managed to find.

“Mom?” Laura pulled you from your thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“I… Well, first, thank you Wade, for trying to find something. For risking yourself. It means so much more to me than you’ll ever know… But I can’t take it.”

“What?” Logan questioned.

“I can’t take it. At least, not yet.”

“Why not?” Logan was growing angry. Wade had potentially found a way to keep you with them longer—to keep you with him—and you were just going to throw that away?

“Because Wade can’t promise us that this will actually work. What if I take it and die instantly? What if I take it only to then die a slow and painful death? I don’t want any of you to have to witness any of the possibilities that my mind has come up with.”

“Doll, you’re dying a slow and painful death right now.”

“Yes, but it could be a lot worse. I want to live as much as I can while I can. And when the time comes that there is really no other option, I will consider taking the cure… I’m sorry. I can’t take the risk of losing time with you all. Can you understand that?” You looked at each of them. “Can you all respect my choice?” They remained silent. “Wade, I’m sorry if this upsets you. If I—“

“Hold it right there, Buttercup,” Wade interrupted, stepping closer to you and placing his hands on your shoulders. “This doesn’t upset me at all. This is your choice. And I will respect it. You want to live life the best you can for as long as you can? Then that’s what I’ll help you do.”

“Me, too, mom,” Laura stepped up. “However long we have.”

You gave them both a tight lipped smile before focusing on Logan. You could see the conflict behind his eyes. Logan was torn between forcing the liquid from the vial down your throat and obeying your wishes. He wanted more time. It’s something he felt was always slipping through his fingers despite the long lifespan. But you had a point, if the cure didn’t work, then taking it would only take you from them—from him sooner. And Logan wasn’t sure if he’d survive that.

“Lo?” You whispered, unable to wait for an answer any longer.

“I’m with you, darlin’,” Logan responded. “Whatever you need.”

You felt immense relief, but weren’t able to say anything before Wade beat you do it.

“Wait, Lo?” Wade questioned. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”

“Just her,” Laura smirked.

“Oh, really? Not as good as Peanut or Honey Badger but it will—“

“Not now, Wade,” Logan growled.

“Okay, okay,” Wade put his hands up. “But we,” he motioned between himself and you, “are so talking about this later.”

“Thank you for understanding,” you changed the subject back.

“I want you to keep this.” Wade offered you the vial. 

You shook your head. “No. Keep it. I don’t want it near me.” You leaned close and pressed a kiss to Wade’s cheek. “Thank you for trying. I’m going to go get ready for the day. I have to go to work early.”

The three watched as you slipped into the bathroom.

“Well, I guess that I’ll keep this baby,” Wade shook the vial, “in a safe place.”

“Give it to, Logan,” Laura said. 

“What?” Logan breathed out.

“You are the one I trust the most to kept it safe and to help do what needs to be done with the time comes.”

“Hey!” Wade exclaimed. “I found it!”

“And you did great, Wade. But I think it needs to go to Logan.”

“Fine,” Wade huffed, tossing the vial to Logan, who caught it. Wade yawned, dramatically stretching out. “Well, I need some sleep. Come on, Peanut.”

“What? Why?” Logan questioned.

“Because we need to talk before I hit the hay.” Wade went over to Logan and began pushing him out of the apartment. “See ya later, Little Wolf!” Logan and Wade entered their apartment, Wade slamming the door behind them. “What the actually fuck?! How have you not asked her out yet?!”

“It’s none of your damn business.”

“It kinda is! The tension between the two of you has increased by like a billion times and I totally saw you two asleep, cuddling on the couch earlier! Make a fucking move already!”

“It’s not that easy! I have no idea if she feels the same—“

“Then you are utterly stupid and your old age has caught up to your eyes!”

Logan shook his head and turned to look away from Wade. “What if I let her down? What if I fail her like I failed her in my universe?”

Wade scoffed. “You cannot be serious, Peanut. Fail her? You don’t have that in you, Howlett. I have watched you practically move heaven and earth to make her feel safe and wanted. You don’t have it in you to fail our Little Flame.”

The vial rolled around in Logan’s hand. “Thank you… For finding something, even though we don’t know if it will work and she didn’t take it… Thank you for trying.”

“Anything for my favorite couple. Now, I was serious when I said that I’m tired. But, one last word of advice, don’t wait to ask her. We don’t know know how many good days she has left and if this cure will work when she chooses to take it. Stop wasting time. You may have a good hundred years more, but her clock is ticking, Peanut. Don’t wait too long, only to regret it later.”

~~~

You were on Logan’s mind all day. You and Wade’s words about not wasting anymore time. He wasn’t try to waste time, at least that’s what he believed. What if you weren’t ready? What if he did something that pushed you away for good? At this point, Logan was sure that he couldn’t live without you. He is completely content to just be a friend in your life. To just love you without your love in return. He could live with that. But Wade had a point. Would he regret not trying something when it came down to it?

You could tell that Logan was stuck in his own mind, but didn’t push it as he helped you close up the bar. The two of you started walking home in silence. Logan’s hand that was nearest to you kept clenching and unclenching. He was debating on reaching for your hand, simply to see what would happen when he made a small move. So, taking a deep breath, Logan brushed his hand against yours. You immediately took a sharp inhale at the contact. Logan did it again, this time moving his fingers around your hand.

You yanked your hand away, immediately regretting it. You had simply become too self conscious of your hands because of how scarred they now were. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Logan’s face fall and his hands get stuffed into his jacket pockets. Guilt gnaws at you and you hate that you let your insecurities get the better of you. So you took a deep breath and looped your arm through Logan’s and leaned into him. Logan’s eyes went wide before he looked down at you. You can feel the tension release from his body as the two of you lean into each other.

The two of you walk slower, but it didn’t matter. You were both enjoying the silent time together and the connection. When the two of you finally reached your apartment door, you reluctantly pulled away.

“Thanks for walking me back, Lo,” you said quietly. There was something charged and changed between the two of you and you didn’t know what to do with it.

“Anytime, doll,” the edges of his lips barely lifted up, but it was enough for you to consider it a smile. “I… uh… I… Well, I was wondering if you, ummm, if you… you eat?”

“If I eat?”

“Fuck.” He raked his hand through his hair as he looked down at his feet, clearly nervous. “Of course you eat, we’ve had meals together. I’m a complete dumbass. What I’m meaning to say is… well, I… would you… I was wondering if you would like to do something tomorrow night… with me? Just the two of us.”

“Like a… date?”

“Uh, yes. Of course, if you don’t want to, please know that I take no offense. I know that this is—“

“Lo, stop, stop,” you placed a hand on his chest to try to stop his rambling. 

You paused as you could feel his rapidly beating heart. He was so nervous and it was both heartwarming and funny. You could feel your own heart begin to race. This was a big question he was asking and you knew that it could change the dynamics of your relationship. Were you willing to take that risk? You looked in Logan’s eyes and felt the safety and comfort that only came with him.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Lo.”

next chapter >

[strawhatmay]

Just a little drabble I managed to write, but it IS my first ever piece of Zosan fanfiction 😭 (althought it is not about them lol) As always, constructive critiscism is more than welcomed.

[Zoro runs into someone on the way to the bathroom in the Vinsmoke house]

It was late, very late, but Zoro really had to go take a piss, so he got up, grabbed Sanji’s robe and got out of the bedroom as quietly as possible.

 

This big ass house and no private bathroom, just the logic of Judge Vinsmoke, "let's make a gigantic one, practically a mansion, oh toilets? I don't give a fuck, put them wherever." Zoro never met him really, he died when Sanji was 6, good fucking riddance.

Even after the Vinsmoke siblings all turned 21, they still share a house. Sora insisted, she wanted them all in one place as long as they were happy here, and well, none of them had the heart to say no to their mom.

 

So that's why Zoro has to go through a maze to find a bathroom in the middle of the night, instead of just finding one a few steps away from the bed in a hypothetical apartment they would own. Or, Sanji would own, he means. Zoro would love to move in with him, but Sanji might like to have his own place for a bit before that.

 

 

Ah, Sanji. He needs to hurry up so he can go back to bed. They had a little argument a week ago and now they were back, he was back in his arms. It was silly, so silly, they just needed to talk it out, and last night Sanji called him saying he missed him, so Zoro was throwing tiny rocks at his window 5 minutes later.

 

"Yeah that's definitely the bathroom," Zoro thinks when he recognizes the door. Just when he's aproaching it, another figure in a bright pink robe appears in the dark and goes to the door as well. Both in robes so clearly from their respective partners, they stop and stare at each other.

 

 

"Roronoa" she aknowledges, a bit irritated.

 

"Tash" says Zoro, trying to sound friendly.

 

…awkward.

 

"Made up with Blondie?" Tashigi asks with a teasing smile.

 

"Back together with Pinkie?" Zoro answers.

 

She smiles. "Why else would I be here?"

 

"I don't know, maybe you were seeing one of her brothers."

 

"Ew."

 

"Or maybe you sneaked in," Zoro shrugs.

 

"Yeah right, cause I'M the one who climed through Sanji's balcony like three hours ago." Look at that, now she was teasing in a friendly way. Zoro can never tell if Tashigi is a friend or an enemy.

 

"How do you even know about that?" Zoro asks, suddendly worried the rest of the house heard him too.

 

"Sanji's room is right on top of the library, we literally saw you the whole time. You know you can just use the door, right?" she asks him like he's dumb.

 

"It's more fun this way" he says, trying to look nonchalant.

 

She pauses and then asks: "You’re scared of Zeff?"

Caught.

 

"...maybe, so what? He's intimidating" Zoro admits, because really, would anyone blame him?

 

"He's an old chef with one leg," she says, leaning on the wall and crossing her arms. "Besides, he likes you more than he likes me and I'm allowed to use the door."

 

"Yeah well, I've never broken up with *my* Vinsmoke," Zoro says, but then he feels that maybe it was a bit cold, so he adds "no offense."

 

"It's fine, it is what it is" Tashigi says, now seeming a little sad.

 

Zoro knows why Tashigi broke up with Reiju a couple times in the past. Reiju and Sanji are pretty close, and naturally, Sanji tells him everything. He doesn't wanna get too involved in other people's bussiness, but at least he can offer some advice.

 

"Hey, so...I don't know much about your relationship but...I often think I don't deserve him either, you know?"

 

Zoro tells her, carefully.

 

Tashigi looks at him, she seems to be paying real attention now.

 

He continues "and that's ok, it's ok to feel unworthy sometimes, but just...try to trust that she thinks you actually are, that you do deserve her and trust her judgement. It's her decision to be with you, to choose you, you know?"

 

A few seconds pass, Zoro starts fidgeting with the fabric of his yellow robe.

 

"Huh...and here I thought Blondie chose you only because of your boobs" Tashigi says, now fully on her feet, with her hands on her hips. She smiles. Zoro mirrors the smile.

 

"Thank you, Zoro" she says and bumps his shoulder softly with her fist.

 

"You're welcome" he says and does the same to her.

 

Just when they finish talking, the door to the bathroom opens.

A VERY tall guy with purple hair comes out wearing a red robe. He stands in the middle of Zoro and Tashigi, looks between them and says “all yours” as he walks away.

The other two stare at each other surprised.

“…was that Charlotte Katakuri?” Tashigi whispers as she looks at the red robe dissappear in the hallway.

“I can’t believe it” Zoro says, finally closing his mouth. “Did he not completely hate Ichiji?” he adds, whispering as well.

“Right, cause two people can’t hate each other but also want to fuck” says Tashigi and gives Zoro a pointed look.

“…ok, I get it” he answers and looks around a bit embarrassed.

“They are way more controversial than you two though, both captains of rival teams” she half whispers as she gets a bit closer.

“The Charlottes are gonna hate us even more” says Zoro.

“Us?”

“Well, yeah, we’re part of the Vinsmoke clan, aren’t we?” Zoro asks with a frown.

“I guess, yeah, I never thought about it before”

A moment passes.

“Hey, look at us gossiping” Zoro laughs. “Guess now I have a friend in this house” he adds as he opens the bathroom door.

“Hey ‘friend’, why do YOU get to go-“ but the door is closed to her face.

The end.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 9: Airport (R)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my own imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, so please do not copy it and claim it as your own. As always, I hope it gives you happy thoughts :)

A few hours later, you, Phoenix, and Jake stood on the tarmac at the local airport, watching as your private jet taxied in from the runway, about a thousand feet away. The three of you began walking toward the plane, the low hum of the engines gradually fading. Moments later, the engines cut off, and the door of the jet opened. The stairs were lowered, signaling that the passengers would be departing soon.

Abby steps off the plane, holding Christian in her arms. The moment he spots you, his face lights up.

“Mommy!” he yells, his voice filled with excitement.

Abby moves quickly but carefully down the stairs. Once she reaches the tarmac, she gently sets Christian down, and he takes off running toward you, arms wide. You catch him in a tight embrace, holding him close.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper, your voice thick with love.

Christian presses his chubby hands against your cheeks and plants a sloppy kiss on your face. You laugh, the sound pure and joyful.

Then his attention shifts. His eyes land on Phoenix, and his face lights up again.

“Ant Tosh!” he exclaims, reaching out for her with eager arms.

Phoenix smiles, lifting Christian into her arms. “Hey, kiddo!” she greets warmly. They share a tight hug, and he gives her a sloppy kiss, too. Phoenix grins. “I miss those kisses, buddy. Look what I got you.” She pulls out a stuffed toy plane.

“Pain!” he exclaims excitedly, reaching out for it.

“What do you say?” you gently remind him.

“Tanks, Ant Tosh,” he says with a grin.

“You’re welcome,” Phoenix replies, planting a kiss on his cheek. Christian’s attention then shifts, and his eyes narrow as he looks up at Jake.

“Who you?” he asks, his blue eyes studying Jake with a stern expression.

You chuckle softly. “C.J., this is Jake,” you explain. “He’s a friend of mommy’s and Aunt Tosh’s.”

Jake smiles warmly. “Hey, little man. It’s nice to meet you,” he says, extending his hand toward Christian.

Christian places the toy plane in his left hand and then shyly reaches out with his right, shaking Jake’s hand. “Nice meet you,” he says earnestly.

Jake chuckles. “Oh, you’re going to be a lady killer, Mr. Charmer.”

As Jake and Phoenix chat with Christian, you walk over to Abby.

“You got everything?”

“Yes, Doctor Astor.”

“My jet will take you where you need to go. If you need anything, just call me.”

“Will do. Thank you again, Dr. Astor. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“You’re welcome. See you later.”

Abby heads toward the plane, and you turn back to Jake, Phoenix, and Christian.

“You hungry?” you ask Christian.

“Getty!” he replies enthusiastically.

“Spaghetti?”

Phoenix grins, tapping Christian’s nose with her finger. “You’re in luck, buddy. I know a great place that serves spaghetti.”

With that, the four of you begin walking toward Phoenix’s car.

Later that night, Christian had fallen asleep in his car seat on the way home from dinner. You were about to reach for him, but Jake glanced over at you.

“I’ll get him. You grab his bags.”

“Thanks.”

You took Christian’s bags, watching Jake carefully unbuckle the harness of the car seat and lift him onto his shoulder. Christian let out a soft groan, but soon settled, making himself comfortable against Jake’s shoulder.

You walked toward the apartment door, which Phoenix held open for you, and into the spare bedroom.

“On the bed, please,” you whispered, motioning gently.

Jake carefully laid Christian down on the bed as you began getting his pajamas ready.

“Christian really took to you,” you commented as you slipped the pajamas on him.

“He’s a great kid. You’ve been raising him right,” Jake replied.

You smiled as you finished dressing Christian. “Thank you.”

Jake stepped closer. “May I?”

“Sure,” you murmured. You kissed Christian’s cheek before Jake carefully picked him up and placed him gently into the crib.

You looked at Christian’s face, and for a moment, it took your breath away—he was the spitting image of his father. The sight warmed your heart in a way you hadn’t expected.

“So, black hair and blue eyes. He must look a lot like his...”

“Father,” you interrupted softly, finishing Jake’s sentence.

“How’d you meet him?” Jake asked softly.

You looked at him, a laugh escaping your lips. “A bar, believe it or not.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “A bar? That’s where you two crossed paths? Doesn’t sound like the typical love story. Especially for a rich guy."

You smiled warmly as you sat on the edge of the bed, Jake following suit and sitting next to you.

“I was in Alabama for school, helping with a study. One night, a group of friends, including Phoenix, decided to go out.”

Jake chuckled, his gaze fixed on you as he leaned back slightly, clearly intrigued. "Alabama, huh? That’s a long way from home. What happened?"

You laughed softly, the memory coming back with a clarity that still made you smile. “I wasn’t really in the mood to go out, but Phoenix convinced me, like she always does. We ended up at this small bar on the edge of town. Nothing fancy. But there he was, sitting at the bar like he owned the place. A little too good-looking, a little too confident, and all too interested in the fact that I was just... different.”

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Different?”

You nodded thoughtfully. “I wasn’t part of his world. He was training to be an Apache helicopter pilot—that’s all I knew about him. I didn’t even know he was rich.”

Jake’s eyes widened slightly, clearly intrigued. “So, he was just a guy training for the military, and you didn’t know he had money?”

You smiled at his disbelief. “Nope. I wasn’t concerned with that at all. I was just focused on my studies and doing the research. And honestly? I didn’t really think I had time for a guy like him. But when Phoenix pushed me to go out with her, I ended up running into him. And, well, we started talking.”

Jake leaned forward slightly, his tone teasing. “And let me guess—he was all charm, right?”

You chuckled, remembering the way Christian had made his first move. “Yeah, but it wasn’t just charm. He didn’t try to impress me with his money or his status. He was different. Quiet, humble, but still with this undeniable confidence. And that, I guess, was what caught my attention.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Huh. And then?”

You paused for a moment, the memory feeling both distant and fresh at the same time. “We spent hours talking that night. And I’m not gonna lie—it was the best conversation I’d had in a long time. We clicked. But I still didn’t know who he really was. It wasn’t until later that night when I found out just how much he had been holding back.”

Jake smiled knowingly. “Figures. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “You’d think so, but he wasn’t quiet in the usual way. He wasn’t afraid to share his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams. He just didn’t put on a front. It was refreshing. And then, when he told me about his family and what he was training for, it hit me—he was part of this world I had no idea about.”

Jake leaned back slightly, giving you space to continue. “And you didn’t freak out?”

You smiled at the thought. “No, not really. I think I was more shocked by how real he was than anything else. And we just kept talking... and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Jake nodded thoughtfully. “I guess it wasn’t just the helicopter that took your heart.”

You smiled warmly, looking down at the floor for a moment. “No. It wasn’t.” You paused, lifting your gaze back to him.

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” Jake asked, his voice full of sincerity.

You nodded slowly, your heart tightening as the memory of Christian filled your mind. “Yeah, I did. I loved him more than I even knew was possible. He was my best friend, my partner... everything.”

Jake's expression softened, and he gave you a moment of quiet understanding, his gaze steady and warm.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been. Losing someone like that.”

You let out a breath, trying to hold back the wave of emotions that were never too far from the surface. “It still is hard. Every day. But, I had him, and I’ll always carry that with me. Especially with Christian Junior. I think that’s what keeps me going.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a beat, just watched you carefully, as though weighing his next words.

“I get it,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, “the fear of losing someone. But what you had with him, Y/N... that doesn’t just disappear. It stays with you.”

You met his eyes again, this time not as a woman trying to guard her heart, but as someone who felt the weight of everything you had been through—and yet still found the strength to move forward.

“Thank you, Jake,” you whispered, not just for what he said, but for the way he seemed to understand, without needing to press further.

He gave a small nod, his voice softer now, “Anytime.”

Jake looks at you, his gaze softening. He reaches out, cupping your face in his hand, and gently pulls you in for a kiss.

“Come meet my parents next week,” he blurts out, his tone almost a mix of hope and certainty, when you part.

“Are you serious?”

“Darlin', you should know the answer to that by now.”

You hesitate, your thoughts racing. “Jake, I don’t know. I’ve got Christian, and…”

“My mom already knows about you and Christian. Bring him. My niece and nephew will play with him, and my mom will adore him.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” He gazes lovingly into your eyes, his sincerity clear.

"I'll think about it. Let's just get through this week," you say, your voice tinged with uncertainty but warmth.

Jake grins, his expression playful. "Sounds good to me."

Tags: @smoothdogsgirl @alwayshave-faith @devil-angel-winchester @khouse712 @illisea @hookslove1592 @tgmreader @juliemarauderfan @djs8891

[emmg]

wip yeah yeah whatever it's never wednesday

I've been tagged by a few folks and I'm having trouble remembering because I've had a shitty ass day but I love you. And I miss you. And I need you.

So I'm tagging all my usual boos back. K thanksss. @aldisobey @heylittleriotact @thepalehorsevictoria @caffeinatedmunchkin @xxnashiraxx @jainydoe

I honestly don't really have anything in particular cooking, so this is just something from the next chapter of Aftertaste, the stupid sugar daddy AU I can't stop having fun with. It's one of the most cursed things I've written lmao

****

She tousles her hair. Bites her lips raw, like some tragic heroine wasting away in a garret. Paces the apartment for the most flattering light—nature’s filter, since she has standards—and extends one arm to the heavens, the other tugging at the neckline of her shirt. Nothing too obscene; wouldn’t want to inconvenience some tragically repressed colleague of his with a crisis of conscience. Then again—why not? 

Let them suffer. Let them swallow around the dryness in their throat, let them grip their pens a little tighter. A whisper of lace, just enough to suggest that yes, she owns lingerie, and no, it is not because she enjoys spending $80 on machine-washable disappointments. 

Let him imagine her breasts—imagine that they exist, that they could, theoretically, be his to touch, that perhaps, if he’s really exceptionally well-behaved, he might even get to slide his cock between them. Not that there’s much to work with—more symbolism than substance, more spiritual journey than actual grip—but hey, she suspects he’s the kind of man who would whimper at the mere suggestion of friction. The type to shudder through it, clutch at her shoulders afterward like she’s just guided him through some kind of sacred, transcendent experience—one that leaves him dazed, vulnerable, and in dire need of a therapist with very strong professional boundaries.

Maybe, just maybe, if fate is kind and the gods of dignity finally decide to smile upon him, next time he spills onto her face or neck, it will be on purpose. A deliberate choice rather than an unfortunate trajectory issue. Perhaps even with a plan this time, some semblance of aim, a fraction of control. And afterward, he’ll do the gentlemanly thing: wipe the tear tracks from his face, mumble something about how he’s never felt this way before (bless his heart), and take out his wallet to buy her a pearl necklace—the kind that actually comes in a box, not the kind she has to scrub off in the shower.

It wouldn’t be a hardship. She finds, to her mild surprise, that she actually likes the man. At least as a human being, which is more than she can say for most. 

Click. Send. 

She knows he sees it because he is the kind of technologically inept buffoon who never figured out how to disable his read receipts. A man living in blissful ignorance of his own transparency. How cute. 

A pause. 

Dot. Dot. Dot. 

Nothing. 

Dot. Dot. Dot. 

A great, yawning chasm of nothing. 

She sighs and plops her ass on the bed. 

Dot. Dot. Dot. 

Perhaps he has died.

Perhaps the mere implication of cleavage has sent him into full cardiac arrest, right there at his desk. Emmrich Volkarin, well into his fifth-or-whatever decade, struck down—not by time, not by fate, but by the revolutionary concept of boobs. Maybe he hit his head on a stack of his own pretentious books—some dusty, 800-page discourse on moral decay—and perished instantly, a martyr to propriety. Mr. Professor, defeated by décolletage. Tragic. 

Ah. Something. 

A ha-ha reaction, skittish and accidental, yanked back almost immediately, and replaced with the trembling penitence of a heart.

And still. No. Words. 

She rolls her eyes, sends him a photo of the most aesthetically offensive thing in her apartment. 

That’s my monstera

This time, a response. Still criminally slow, but at least they've moved past Morse code levels of hesitation. 

Emmrich, miracle of miracles, finally sends a photo back. 

It’s a dog. Poorly cropped. Enthusiastically blurry. A dog in spirit, certainly, but in form? A vague collection of fur and misplaced limbs. The man takes photos like a cryptid spotter. But hey, at least the pup looks happy. 

This is my Manfred.

Manfred. 

What an absolute catastrophe of a name for a dog.