#building your own family its about needing to get out and see the world and get it under your fingernails its about how we are always more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ariichive · 2 months ago

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ESCAPE -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

did you really believe it would be that easy to slip away?

cw: gender neutral, yandere, manipulation, wars, violence, possessive behavior, delusional behavior, reader tries to jump in the dreamscape, suggestive, anaxa uses a ball gag :,) 3.1 spoilers in mydei's

sunday `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

something wasn’t right. the extreme sense of deja vu was sickening and it felt as if eyes were on you at all times. the dreamscape was supposed to be a place of comfort and warmth, but all you felt now was anxiety.

of course, your dreams weren’t always like this. the planet of festivities was a guilty pleasure, admittedly. the vast opportunities of the dreamscape was hard to past on.

but now, you needed to wake up.

it didn’t help that there was no one else in your dream, no one but the head of the oak family.

“i think you look most beautiful like this, no? for my eyes only.”

you could hear his voice, but you couldn’t see him.

no matter what corner you turned, no matter what stairs you went up, it was all the same.

why couldn’t you wake up?

“see how you’re living in repeat? how everything is dreading on, nothing new in your dull life?”

you stopped your running, a pounding headache coming on. “g-get out of my head!” it was so frustrating, hearing the same thing over and over.

“i’m not in your head my dear.” there was a sharp intake of silence before you felt a breath on your ear.

“i’m here with you.”

turning around, there was no one there. faintly, you could hear the gentle sound of his laughter, on increasing your headache.

tired of the constant annoyance that was sunday, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

finding the nearest building, one that was high enough, you were quick to ascend its stairs. eventually, you found yourself on the edge of a roof.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

there was a hint of worry in his voice concealed by anger, one you would’ve missed if you hadn’t known sunday for the time you have.

“if you’re not going to let me out, i have to do it on my own.”

his former amusement was no longer present. "you think that's the way out?"

you didn't answer. the wind howled around you, tugging at your clothes, tempting you forward.

"you're being dramatic."

"and you're being insufferable," you snapped, gripping your arms. the weight of his unseen presence bore down on you, making it hard to breathe. "let me wake up."

a pause. then, softly, "i can't."

your stomach dropped faster than you were about to. "what do you mean you can't?"

"i mean exactly that." his voice was closer now, nearly right beside you. "this isn't just a dream anymore."

the world tilted. no, that wasn't right—the dreamscape itself twisted, colors bleeding into each other, buildings warping, the sky cracking like shattered glass.

"what did you do?" you whispered, taking a shaky step back.

a hand, unseen yet unmistakably there, pressed against the small of your back, keeping you from retreating further. sunday's voice curled into your ear, almost tender.

"i simply made sure you'd stay."

your breath hitched. the weight of his words settled over you like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating. "stay?" the word barely left your lips, a fragile whisper against the growing distortion of the dreamscape.

"mm," sunday hummed, the warmth of his unseen touch lingering, a stark contrast to the cold panic flooding your veins. "isn’t that what you wanted? a place where you could escape, where no one could reach you?"

you shook your head, gripping your temples as the headache intensified. "not like this. never like this."

without hesitating any further, you took a step off the roof.

the wind howled in your ears, your stomach lurching as the world blurred around you. the descent was faster than you expected, the colors of the dreamscape smearing together, twisting, unraveling. but the impact never came.

instead, you stopped.

suspended. weightless. trapped.

a pair of arms, unseen yet unmistakably present, wrapped around you from behind, halting your fall as effortlessly as if you had never moved at all. a familiar chuckle ghosted against your ear, low and amused.

"you really thought i'd let you go that easily?" sunday��s voice was steady, but there was something else underneath—something strained.

you thrashed against the hold, but it was useless. the dreamscape rippled around you like a living thing, reshaping itself at his will. the city, the rooftops, the endless stairs—gone. in their place, an expanse of nothingness stretched in all directions, endless and suffocating.

"let me go," you gritted out.

"where would you even go?" sunday murmured, tightening his hold. "there's nowhere else to run, my dear."

the weight of his words settled deep into your bones. this wasn’t just control—this was possession.

"wake me up!" you screamed, twisting in his grasp, trying to break free.

sunday sighed, and for the first time, you swore you could hear something like regret in his voice.

"i told you already," he murmured. "this isn’t a dream anymore. this is your reality.”

anaxa `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

“i must say, we get a long much better when you don’t interrupt me.”

anaxa was an asshole.

that was the only thing you could think as you couldn’t get any words out due to the ball gag currently strapped to your face.

“wouldn’t you agree, [name]?”

his voice was smooth, laced with that ever-present condescension, as if he were merely discussing philosophy over tea rather than reveling in your current predicament. his golden eyes gleamed with amusement, watching you struggle with something between fascination and boredom.

"ah, but i suppose you can't," he continued, tilting his head ever so slightly. "a shame, really. i do enjoy our little debates. but lately, you've been so very insistent on talking back, especially on matters you know nothing about.”

he leaned in, fingers ghosting over your cheek, his touch featherlight but deliberate. "and we simply can't have that, now can we?"

his smile was sharp, predatory. "good conversation requires patience, listening, knowing when to hold one's tongue." he chuckled, tapping a finger against the gag. "though in your case, i had to take matters into my own hands. don't take it personally."

he used one hand to tightly grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. his finger that was still on the gag pushed it deeper down your throat.

he sighed, “astounding that you were trying to leave me. now look at you, pathetic.”

anaxa’s irritation and anger was clear in his voice.

“you’re lucky i’m patient with you, the gag and restraints should make me seem like a saint.”

he gently tapped the hilt of his gun.

this whole situation was taken out of proportion. you simply wanted to go visit okhema, see people outside of the grove. of course, anaxa didn’t like that.

“you really think the world outside our little haven holds something better for you?” he drawled, his tone laced with contempt. “okhema isn’t some paradise you can just wander into. it’s a chaotic place where nothing is as controlled, as perfect, as we have it here.”

he seemed to take mercy on you as he undid the strap of the gag, taking it out of your mouth delicately.

“you may speak now.”

you almost didn’t want to out of pure spite. “you can’t keep me here forever, it’s inhumane.”

he laughed at that, “what scholar do you know that’s even remotely close to being humane?”

“none because you don’t let me speak to any one else!”

“good answer.” he sent you an approving smile.

he went to undo your restraints, knowing that you won’t try to fight him any more than you already have.

his fingers traced over the red indentations left by the restraints, a slow, deliberate motion that felt more like admiration than remorse. "tch," he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "see what you've done to yourself? all this struggling, all this nonsense about leaving, and for what?"

his gaze flicked back up to yours, sharp, assessing. "okhema won’t embrace you like i do. it won’t be kind to you. it won’t understand you." his voice dipped lower, softer, as if he were confiding in you rather than reinforcing his dominance. "but you already know that, don’t you?"

he let go of your wrist, allowing your hand to fall limply into your lap. the relief of movement was fleeting; your body ached, stiff from the restraints, throat dry from the gag. but he watched you expectantly, waiting, reveling in the sight of you thinking carefully before you spoke.

good. he'd taught you something, at least.

"i don’t belong to you," you murmured, voice hoarse but steady.

anaxa stilled. then, in a slow, calculated movement, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "no," he murmured, his gloved fingers curling beneath your chin once more, tilting your face upward. "but you don’t belong to them either."

his lips quirked into something almost affectionate, almost. "and that, my dear, is the difference between us. you keep chasing something that doesn’t exist. i, on the other hand"—his grip tightened ever so slightly—"know exactly what’s mine."

mydei `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

it's been too quiet in the fallen kingdom of castrum kremnos.

mydei's decision to fight off the black tide creatures and strife was to come with unrelenting battles and no time for rest. which it has, but the black tide never ceased. it never tired, never strategized. it was relentless in its hunger, mindless in its destruction. so why had it stopped?

his sculpted body lifted from his throne; if it didn't come to him, he'd just have to find it. he focused his attention on his surroundings, listening to anything that could give a clue.

in the distance, there was a faint sound of screaming and footsteps.

someone else was here?

mydei wasted no time to rush to the sounds.

the air was thick with the scent of old blood and decay, yet something new lurked beneath it—an unfamiliar presence, something that did not belong to the black tide.

rounding a shattered archway, mydei caught sight of movement ahead. a figure darted through the crumbling streets, their breath ragged, their cloak tattered from what must have been a long, desperate flight. behind them, the shadows twisted, writhing unnaturally, as if something unseen slithered just beyond his sight.

he was quick to make eye contact with the person, who looked more shocked than him to see another person.

they were too focused on you rather than mydei, which made defeating them rather easy and efficient.

you collapsed as mydei finished off the remaining monsters, tired from the constant running and trying to catch your breath.

"you look like you've never run a day in your life," he remarked, stepping closer.

before you could fire back, he reached out, grasping your wrist and hoisting you up without waiting for permission. your legs wobbled beneath you, exhaustion threatening to pull you down again, but mydei kept you steady.

"who are you? what kind of fool willingly comes here?" he asked, golden eyes studying you with the same sharpness he reserved for threats.

you gritted your teeth, trying to shake off the dizziness that had settled in your head. the last thing you needed was to seem weak in front of this insufferable man, but the endless running had worn you down to the bone. still, you managed to meet his gaze, your voice rough but steady.

"i'm from a distant town in amphoreus. i came to conduct research on my paper... i just didn't think it would be this bad."

mydei scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “research,” he echoed, as if the word itself was a joke. “you risked your life for research?”

his grip loosened, and you stumbled slightly but caught yourself. your body ached, but your pride refused to let you falter.

“i didn’t think i’d be running for my life the second i arrived,” you muttered, brushing dust from your tattered clothes. “the black tide’s aggression was… beyond what the records described.”

“of course it was,” mydei said flatly. “any book written about castrum kremnos is outdated the moment it’s finished. this place is a graveyard that keeps changing its shape.”

"you seem to know a lot about this place. who exactly are you?" now, it was your turn to do the questioning.

mydei tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering behind his golden eyes. "you're bold for someone who was just gasping for breath on the ground."

you crossed your arms, ignoring the lingering ache in your limbs. "and you're avoiding the question."

he let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no warmth in it. "fine," he said, stepping back just enough to put a measured distance between you. "mydeimos. i’ve been fighting the black tide longer than you’ve been writing that little paper of yours."

his eyes flicked toward the ruined horizon, scanning the shifting shadows with the ease of someone who knew this battlefield all too well. “this kingdom—what’s left of it—was mine once.”

your breath hitched. his?

the two of you began to learn more about each other as he brought you back to his throne. it was an unexpected friendship(?) but you were gaining many useful facts for your paper.

the history of this place goes further back than you could imagine.

you even learned more about the famous chrysos heirs you heard about in passing. you eagerly had him tell all his stories about them, making sure not to miss a detail.

it went on like this for a few days; he would fight off the black tide and answer your many questions.

there was a shift, though, when he came back from a battle to you packing your notes.

mydei paused in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he watched you gather your things. the usual calm demeanor he carried in battle seemed absent now, replaced with something colder, more intense.

"you're leaving," he said flatly, his voice carrying a trace of something you couldn’t quite place—was it annoyance?

you froze, your hands stilling mid-motion as you turned to face him. "i—" you started, but the words felt tangled in your throat.

"i’m almost finished with my research," you admitted, avoiding his gaze as you zipped up your bag. "i can’t stay here forever, especially with the black tide still lingering."

truthfully, mydei had grown quite attached to you. he hasn't had contact with another person for weeks before you came along; and for you to just leave so quickly?

no, he couldn't have that.

he muttered, almost to himself, his voice lowering as he looked away, briefly losing his composure. “no one... no one’s cared to come this far. you...” he paused, and when his eyes met yours again, they were heavy with something you hadn’t expected. “you’re not leaving.”

you took a step back, your breath shaky as mydei’s intense stare bore into you.

“mydei—” you started, but the words faltered on your lips. you wanted to argue, to tell him that you had your own life to get back to, your own reasons for leaving. but the weight of his presence—his intensity—made you hesitate.

he stepped forward, his hand snaking out to grab your wrist with an iron grip, pulling you closer to him in a way that left no room for resistance. "you're not walking out on me," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

“you came into my life at the worst possible time,” he said, his voice softer, yet thick with something you couldn’t quite name. "you walked into this kingdom, into my mess, and for a second, it felt like... like maybe i wasn’t as alone as i thought."

you realized the black tide was already getting to him, just not in the way it would most.

phainon `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

"you look absolutely gorgeous in the sun. though, i wonder, must you enjoy it without me?"

this was your third day walking out from phainon's grasp.

"why do you insist on following me?" you asked, keeping your voice steady as you continued walking, pretending as though his words hadn’t made your heart skip a beat.

you felt the weight of his gaze, the way it traced every curve of your form, making your skin tingle, making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t wanted.

phainon chuckled, the sound low and dark, a perfect match for the man he was. "follow you? darling, you belong to me. whether you like it or not."

he caught up with you quickly, his long strides making up for the distance you’d put between you. before you knew it, he was beside you, his presence as commanding as the sun itself.

"you think you can leave me so easily?" his voice was a whisper, just enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. you could feel his eyes on you, even though you refused to meet his gaze.

when you didn't answer, he took it as his sign to continue. "i do enjoy your confidence. you're just so perfect. you must like the chase as much as i. is that what it is, [name]?"

phainon placed a hand over his heart as he felt his face flush.

you felt a flicker of anger surge through you, though it quickly turned to frustration. "this isn't a game," you said, trying to bite back the heat in your voice. "you don’t get to decide what i do, phainon."

phainon’s hand placed itself over his chest again, but this time, it wasn’t just for show. his fingers curled against the fabric, almost as though he was holding back something deeper. "i feel it every time you try to leave me. every step you take away from me."

his voice dropped, smooth and low, like a promise or a threat. "and the more you try to run, the more I want to keep you close."

"you're insane." you couldn't hold back the venom in your voice.

"i'd like to think of it more as being in love." phainon's hand gently took yours, holding you in place.

he kneeled in front of you, bringing your hand to his lips.

his lips lingered on your skin, tracing along the tips of your fingers, sending a shiver through you that you couldn’t ignore. "so go ahead," he whispered, leaning in close, his breath brushing against your hand. "run again. i’ll let you. but just know... i’ll find you."

phainon rose to his feet, still holding your hand gently but firmly, his grip a reminder of the inescapable pull that seemed to draw you to him. "you don't have to make this harder than it needs to be," he murmured, the teasing edge gone from his tone, replaced by something more serious. "i just want you to understand... i will never let you go."

phainon was quick to shift his personality back to easygoing. "you've been out here long enough; care to join me for a bath?"

you knew there was no changing his mind. "...could we get something to eat after?"

phainon’s smile widened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as if he had already won some unspoken victory. "of course," he said smoothly. "i can even bathe and feed you. you must be tired after such a long day."

the familiar blush crept up his face, one he didn't care to hide. just the thought of being able to touch your body and be that close to your lips was exhilarating.

i loved writing mydei's, i might have to make another scenario with it 🤔🤔

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flux1563 · 21 days ago

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Sacrifice for Husband Ft Mina

Tags : pet play, degrading, creampie, squirting, creampie

Words :16k

Mina stood in her kitchen, the smell of burnt toast lingering in the air. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes late. Again. Her stomach tightened into a knot of anxiety as she thought about the long day ahead of her. Her husband, Alex, had been working late every night for the past two weeks. His business was failing, and she didn't know how to help.

The coffee machine hissed its final protest as she poured a cup, the dark liquid steaming in the stark light of the kitchen. The house was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the usual morning chatter of their daughters getting ready for school. She took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the mug seep into her cold hands. She had to come up with a solution. Their family was depending on it.

Alex's office was a mess of unpaid bills and half-empty coffee cups. She picked her way through the clutter, her eyes scanning the numbers that blurred together in a sea of red ink. The business they had built together, their dream, was slowly drowning, and she felt powerless. The phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. It was Alex, his voice tight with stress. He needed her to come in today, to help him figure out what to do.

Her mind raced as she drove to work, passing the familiar landmarks of their small town. The office was in a dingy building, the paint peeling in the harsh sunlight. Mina was the receptionist for a successful construction company, a job she had held for years. Her boss, Mr. y/n, was a fair man, but today she had to ask for something she knew he might not be able to give: a loan to save their family's future. She took a deep breath and stepped into the building, her heart pounding in her chest.

The lobby was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the street outside. The receptionist looked up and offered a tentative smile. Mina returned it, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. She couldn't put this off any longer. She had to see Mr. y/n. She took the stairs, her heels clicking on the linoleum, each step echoing in the stairwell. His office was at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar. She could hear his deep voice, discussing plans with a contractor.

Mina took a moment to compose herself, smoothing down her blouse and checking her reflection in the glass pane of the office door. She took a deep breath, knocked, and stepped inside. Mr. y/n looked up, his eyes widening slightly when he saw her. He was a black man, tall, well-built man with a shaved head and a no-nonsense attitude. His expression softened when he saw the worry etched on her face.

"Mina, what can I do for you?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

"Mr. y/n, I need to speak with you. It's about Alex's business," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

He gestured for her to take a seat across from his cluttered desk, his gaze concerned. "What's going on?"

Mina took a moment to gather her thoughts. "It's failing, Mr. y/n. Alex can't keep up with the bills. I've tried to help, but we're at the end of our rope. I was wondering... if there was any way you could lend us some money. Just until we get back on our feet." She met his eyes, her own pleading.

"I can give you money with two requirements," Y/n said, his voice firm yet understanding.

Mina felt a flicker of hope. "Anything," she replied desperately, leaning forward.

Y/n leaned back in his chair, his eyes sweeping over her body. "I want you to create an OnlyFans account," he said, his voice a low growl. "And you'll be my personal slut."

Mina's heart stopped. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What?" she sputtered, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Y/n's expression remained calm, his eyes unwavering. "Three days, Mina. Take the time to think about it," he repeated, his voice firm and unyielding. "I'm offering you a way to help your family, but it's a serious commitment."

Mina left his office in a daze, the door clicking shut behind her like a prison gate. She walked back through the lobby, her legs feeling like jelly. The receptionist's smile seemed to mock her as she stepped out into the unforgiving sun. The drive home was a blur, her mind racing with the implications of Y/n's proposal. The quiet hum of the engine was the only sound, punctuated by the occasional honk from an impatient driver.

When she arrived at the house, she found Alex in the living room, surrounded by bills and paperwork. The sight of him, shoulders slumped in defeat, made her want to scream. She couldn't tell him what Y/n had said. Not yet. Instead, she forced a smile and told him she was there to help. They spent the evening crunching numbers, trying to find a way out of their financial nightmare. The TV droned on in the background, a mindless distraction that did little to ease the tension in the room.

As they finally went to bed, Mina lay awake, Y/n's words echoing in her mind. The thought of creating an OnlyFans account, exposing herself to the world, was mortifying. But the alternative was unthinkable. Their house, their daughters' futures, all of it could be lost. Her heart raced as she thought of the second part of the deal. Being his personal slut. What did that even mean? Would she have to sleep with other men? Would it be just Y/n? The very idea of it made her stomach churn.

The next few days were a blur of work and worry. She couldn't focus, her thoughts consumed by the decision she had to make. Each time she saw Y/n's number flash on her phone, her pulse quickened. The silence was deafening, the weight of his proposal hanging heavy between them. She knew she had to make a choice, but she didn't know if she had the strength to go through with it. She felt like she was drowning, and the only lifeline was wrapped in a noose.

On the third day, she sat in her car outside the office, the engine idling. She had made up her mind. With trembling hands, she picked up her phone and called Y/n. "I'll do it," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Y/n's response was immediate. "Good girl," he said, the words sending a shiver down her spine. "Come to my office at six. We'll discuss the terms of our arrangement."

Mina nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her. She had agreed to become his personal slut, to do whatever he wanted, whenever he demanded it. The thought was terrifying, but the fear of losing everything pushed her forward. She took a deep breath and ended the call.

When she arrived at his office, the sun had set, leaving the room bathed in the glow of his desk lamp. The shadows danced on the walls as he stood up, his expression unreadable. "You've made the right choice," he said, his voice a dark promise. He handed her a contract, the pages thick with legal jargon. "Sign here, and it's all yours."

Mina took the pen with a shaking hand, her eyes scanning the document. It was all there in black and white: the loan amount, the terms, and her role as his sex slave. She felt sick, but she signed, sealing her fate. Y/n's smile was cold and calculating. "Welcome to your new life," he said, his eyes glinting with something that could have been excitement or malice.

The following days were a whirlwind of setting up the account, taking explicit photos, and recording videos. She felt like a whore, selling herself to strangers for money. But every time she saw Alex's hopeful face, she pushed down the nausea and continued. The money started to roll in, and she transferred it to Alex's account, watching the numbers rise with a sense of relief and self-loathing.

One evening, her phone buzzed with a message from Y/n. "Come to my house, slut. And make sure you don't wear a bra or panties." She read it over a dinner she couldn't eat, her heart racing. Alex looked up from his plate, noticing her sudden tension. "Everything okay?" he asked, oblivious to the deal she had made.

Mina took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just work stuff. I have to go to the office for a bit." She didn't know how much longer she could keep her secret from him. She showered, her hands trembling as she washed herself, feeling the weight of her decision like a noose tightening around her neck. She slipped into a short, tight dress, her bare skin feeling vulnerable and exposed.

The drive to Y/n's house was agonizing. Each minute stretched into an eternity, the anticipation of what was to come mixing with the fear of being caught. The luxurious mansion loomed before her, a symbol of the power dynamics that had shifted so dramatically in their lives. She stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing against her bare skin. The door opened before she could knock, and he was there, his eyes raking over her body with a hunger she had never seen from him before.

As she entered, she noticed the dimly lit hallway and the faint smell of expensive cologne. She knew that tonight would be the first time she had to give in to his desires, and the thought filled her with dread. He led her into a plush living room, the sound of her heels echoing off the marble floors. He offered her a drink, which she took gratefully, downing it in one gulp, hoping the alcohol would ease her nerves.

The "red room" was exactly as he had described it: a den of iniquity, filled with an array of sex toys that seemed to glisten in the soft, crimson light. There were cameras positioned at every angle, ensuring that no part of their encounter would be missed. Her heart pounded in her chest as he closed the door with a soft click that sounded like a prison locking shut.

"Strip," he ordered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. She obeyed, peeling off her dress and letting it fall to the floor, leaving her naked and trembling. He approached her, his eyes never leaving hers, and she felt the heat of his gaze on her skin as if it were a physical touch. He was tall, muscular, and powerful, his confidence palpable.

Mina lay down on the bed, the plush comforter cool against her feverish skin. Y/n pulled out a length of rope from a drawer, the sound of it slithering through his hands sending a jolt of fear through her body. He was surprisingly gentle as he tied her wrist to each ankle, her legs spread eagle, leaving her utterly vulnerable. The position was both humiliating and exhilarating, her body on full display for his perusal.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork, licking his lips. "Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes glinting with desire. "But not quite what I had in mind." He reached for another rope, looping it around her neck, and then down to her bound wrists, creating a tension that made her arch her back. She could feel the rope tighten slightly, the threat of choking if she moved the wrong way. "Now, let's get started."

Y/n approached the bedside table and picked up a sleek, black vibrator. He turned it on, the buzzing sound filling the room like a promise of pleasure and pain. Mina's eyes widened, her heart racing as she watched him approach with the toy. He knelt between her legs and spread her thighs even further apart, his breath hot on her skin as he leaned in.

With a practiced touch, he inserted the vibrator into her pussy, the coolness of the plastic giving way to a deep, pulsing warmth that sent shockwaves through her body. She gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head as he adjusted the speed, watching her reactions intently. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his breath hot and his words a dark contrast to the coldness of the transaction.

The vibrations grew stronger, each pulse making her toes curl and her body tense. She felt her muscles tighten around the invading object, her body betraying her by reacting with pleasure despite her mind's protest. It was a strange sensation, being both terrified and turned on, her thoughts racing as the room spun around her. He leaned over her, his handsome face a mask of concentration as he worked the vibrator with precision, his thumb circling her clit, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of an unwanted orgasm.

And then it hit her, a wave so powerful she couldn't hold back the scream that tore from her throat. "AHHHHHHHHHHH," she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls as her body convulsed with pleasure. The ropes bit into her wrists, the pain adding an unexpected intensity to the moment. Y/n watched her with a smug smile, his eyes never leaving hers as he pushed the vibrator deeper, making her scream louder. She bucked and writhed against her restraints, feeling the rope tighten around her neck as she reached peak after peak, her orgasms rolling over her like a stormy sea.

He didn't stop, not even when she begged him, her voice hoarse from screaming. He was relentless, driving her body to its limits, pushing her until she didn't think she could take any more. But she did, each cry of pleasure a silent admission of her defeat. She was his, utterly and completely, and she knew it. The thought should have filled her with anger, but instead it just made her want to come again, to feel that rush of powerlessness and pleasure.

As the last tremor faded, he removed the vibrator, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good girl," he murmured, stroking her cheek with a tenderness that was almost affectionate. "Now, let's see if you can handle the real thing." He stood and began to undress, revealing his massive cock that was already hard and ready for her. She felt a mix of fear and excitement, knowing she had no choice but to submit to him fully.

Mina couldn't help but ask, "How long and big is that?" Y/n smirked, his chocolate eyes holding hers as he replied, "12-inch length, 4-inch girth. But don't worry, I'll take it slow with you." His words didn't comfort her; instead, they sent a fresh wave of panic crashing through her. She had never seen anything so large, and the thought of it inside her made her feel both terrified and strangely eager to prove herself.

He climbed onto the bed, his weight making her gasp. He positioned himself between her legs, and she felt the head of his cock nudge against her wet pussy. He was gentle at first, pushing in just a little, allowing her to adjust to the size. But with every inch, she felt herself stretching, the pain bordering on unbearable yet mixed with a strange thrill she had never felt before. Her breaths grew ragged, her eyes watering as he inched further inside her.

Finally, he was all the way in, and she lay there, panting and trembling, feeling utterly filled and claimed. He began to move, his strokes long and slow, each one sending a bolt of pleasure and pain through her. She had never felt so alive, so used, so completely under someone's control.

"Ahh, so big," she gasped, her eyes watering with every thrust. "My pussy is gonna tear apart." Her voice was a mix of pain and pleasure, a sound she had never heard herself make before. His eyes held hers, the connection between them almost intimate. He knew exactly how to push her buttons, how to make her beg for more.

"Do u like it how a BBC destroy ur pussy?" His voice was a gruff whisper, the question a taunt that sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't know if she liked it or not, but she knew she craved it. The way he filled her so completely, the way he made her feel so small and vulnerable, it was a heady cocktail she hadn't anticipated. She nodded, unable to form coherent words, her body already preparing for another orgasm.

"Good," he said, his strokes becoming more intense. "Now tell me, slut. What do you feel?" Mina took a deep breath, the pressure building inside her, his cock stretching her to her limits. "I...I feel...full," she managed to gasp out, the word barely audible over the sound of his hips slapping against her ass. "I feel...like I'm yours."

His smile grew wider at her admission, his grip on her hips tightening. "That's what I want to hear," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He leaned down and kissed her, his tongue claiming her mouth as thoroughly as his cock claimed her pussy. She moaned into the kiss, the taste of him mixing with the metallic tang of fear and arousal on her tongue.

"I can feel your walls tightening around me," he said, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to cum again for me, aren't you?" She nodded, her eyes glazed with need. "Say it," he demanded, his thrusts growing faster, more erratic. "Say it, Mina."

"Yes," she whimpered, the word barely leaving her lips before she was spiraling into another orgasm. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, a crescendo of sensation that consumed her completely.

Y/n's grip tightened, his strokes becoming more frenzied as he approached his own climax. "Cum together, slut," he grunted, his eyes boring into hers. The command was a spark that ignited the final explosion of pleasure within her, her body convulsing as she screamed out her release. He followed shortly after, his hot seed filling her up, marking her as his.

"Ah, your womb is so tight," Y/n murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and amazement as he pulled out, his cock still pulsing with the aftermath of his orgasm. Mina felt a strange sense of pride, despite the circumstances. She had never felt so desired, so used, so completely owned.

As he untied her, she took a shaky step, her legs wobbling slightly. He handed her the crumpled dress, and she slipped it back on, feeling the fabric stick to her sweat-drenched skin. "Leave it here," he said with a cruel smirk. "Go home naked. And make sure you don't get caught by your husband."

Her heart racing, Mina nodded. She knew the drive home would be a mix of fear and excitement, her body still humming with the aftershocks of her forced climaxes. She stepped into her car, the cool leather of the seat a stark contrast to the heat between her legs. The engine roared to life, and she pulled away from the curb, her naked body on display through the windows. She had never felt more exposed, more alive.

The drive was a blur, the headlights piercing the darkness as she navigated the quiet streets. Every shadow could have been a hidden camera, every car a potential witness to her degradation. She felt a thrill at the risk, the adrenaline pumping through her veins like a drug. The cool air brushed against her skin, making her nipples peak and her pussy throb with the memory of his touch.

Pulling into the garage, she killed the engine and took a deep breath. The house was dark, and she knew Alex would be asleep. She stepped out of the car, her bare feet hitting the cold concrete, the chill sending a shiver through her body. She tiptoed inside, the sound of her heels echoing in the silence. She made her way to the bathroom, her legs still trembling with the aftershocks of her experience. She slipped into the shower, the water scalding hot as she tried to scrub away the evidence of her betrayal. But she knew it was more than just physical; she had crossed a line she never thought she would.

The warmth of the water washed over her, mixing with her tears as she realized she had become the very thing she had once pitied: a woman willing to sell her body for the sake of her husband's business. Yet, as the water cascaded down her body, carrying away the traces of Y/n's semen, she felt a strange sense of empowerment. Despite the fear and the humiliation, she had survived. And the thought of going back for more, of being used and degraded by her powerful boss, sent a thrill through her that she couldn't ignore.

Mina stepped out of the shower, her body still trembling. The mirror reflected a woman she barely recognized, her makeup smudged, her hair a mess, and her eyes glazed over with a mix of pain and pleasure. She took a deep breath and opened her phone, the message from Y/n glaring at her from the screen. "This is your video from the red room. Upload it on your OnlyFans account tonight and make a slutty title." The words were a cold reminder of her new reality.

With trembling hands, she opened the file, watching herself being taken by her boss. The sight of his large, black cock pumping in and out of her made her stomach clench, both with disgust and an unwelcome wave of arousal. She forced herself to watch, to acknowledge what she had done. The video was explicit, her moans and cries of pleasure clear as day, and she felt a strange sense of pride knowing that she could handle something so intense.

But as she stared at the screen, she knew she couldn't just upload it. Not without a plan. She had to keep her identity a secret from Alex, from everyone. So she took another deep breath and opened her laptop, logging into her newly created OnlyFans account. The platform was a world of anonymity and depravity, a place where she could be anyone she wanted to be.

Her heart racing, she titled the video "My First Night with the Boss" and wrote a steamy description that made her skin crawl. She posted it, feeling a mix of excitement and dread as the notification popped up. "Video uploaded successfully." The thought of strangers watching her, getting off to her pain and pleasure, was both terrifying and exhilarating. But she had to push those thoughts aside. For now, she had to focus on the money and keeping her secret from Alex.

The morning came too quickly, and with it the inevitable return to the office. She tried to keep her head down, avoiding eye contact with Y/n as much as possible. But she could feel his gaze on her, a constant reminder of her new role. She sat at her desk, her mind racing with the events of the night before. The office was the same, but she felt different, tainted by her secret.

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down, expecting it to be another notification from her OnlyFans. But it was a message from Y/n: "Came to my office, Mina. We have business to discuss." Her stomach dropped. She knew what he wanted, and she knew she had to go. With trembling legs, she stood and made her way down the hallway, the click of her heels echoing through the empty space.

His door was open, and she stepped inside, the smell of his cologne hitting her like a punch to the gut. He was sitting behind his desk, looking up at her with a smug smile. "Good morning, slut," he said, his eyes traveling up and down her body. "Take off your dress." She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew that she had no choice but to obey.

With shaking hands, she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing nothing but a thong and a bra underneath, and she could feel his gaze burning through the thin fabric. "Turn around," he ordered, his voice firm. She did as she was told, her stomach flipping as she heard the sound of his chair rolling back. He stood up and came closer, his hand tracing the line of her thong, sending a jolt of arousal through her body.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled it down, letting it fall to her ankles. She stepped out of it, her bare ass on display. "Spread your cheeks," he murmured, his breath warm on her skin. She obeyed, feeling a strange mix of fear and excitement as he inspected her. He stepped closer, and she felt the tip of his finger brush against her clit, making her jump.

Without warning, he dropped to his knees and buried his face in her pussy. His tongue was hot and wet, and she couldn't help the moan that escaped her. "Ahh, yes," she gasped, her body responding to his touch despite herself. He licked and sucked, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves through her body. Her legs trembled, and she had to grip the edge of the desk to keep herself upright.

"Y/n," she moaned, her voice a breathy whisper. He looked up at her, a smug grin on his face. "You like that, don't you?" She didn't answer, the sensation too intense to form words. He chuckled darkly and went back to work, his tongue delving deeper, finding spots that made her toes curl.

Mina felt herself getting wetter with each pass, her body betraying her as she leaned into the feeling. "Ahhh," she moaned louder, her voice echoing in the quiet office.

Y/n slid a finger into her pussy, and she gasped. The intrusion was sudden and intense, her mind going blank as she focused on the feeling. He moved his finger in and out, his thumb rubbing her clit with expert precision. It was as if he knew her body better than she did herself. She could feel her walls tightening around his digit, her muscles contracting with each stroke.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and she found herself moaning continuously, unable to form coherent thoughts or words. Her knees began to buckle, and she was grateful for the desk that kept her upright. "More," she begged, the need in her voice unmistakable. He complied, adding a second finger, stretching her even further.

The sensation was almost too much, the pain and pleasure blurring into a white-hot haze that consumed her. She couldn't believe she was letting her boss do this to her, but she couldn't stop. It was as if she was watching herself from the outside, a spectator to her own degradation. And yet, she craved more. "Harder," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the screams she had held back.

With a smirk, Y/n increased his pace, his fingers moving faster, pushing her closer to the edge. She could feel the pressure building, her orgasm just out of reach. "You're going to cum for me now," he said, his voice firm and commanding. And with that final push, she did, her body shuddering as she screamed his name.

The climax ripped through her, leaving her trembling and gasping for air. Her legs gave out, and she would have collapsed if it weren't for his firm grip on her hips. He pulled out his fingers, licking them clean, his eyes never leaving hers. "Good girl," he said, his voice a dark purr. "You're learning fast."

Mina couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride, despite the sickness in her stomach. She had never been one to enjoy pain, but the way he made her body respond was addictive. She reached for her dress, her hands shaking as she tried to cover herself up. But he stopped her, holding up a hand.

"Not so fast," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I think we need a little... souvenir of our time together." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black device. "This little beauty is a mini-cam," he said, flicking it on to reveal the recording of her orgasm. "Every time you come for me, it'll be recorded for us to enjoy later."

Her eyes widened in horror as she watched the video, her own face a mask of pleasure and pain. She had never seen herself from that angle before, never realized how much she looked like she enjoyed it. "Y/n, please," she begged, her voice shaking. "Please don't do this."

He stepped closer, his breath warm against her ear. "It's already done," he whispered. "And who knows, maybe your husband would like to see his pretty wife taking a cock that's twice the size of his." The threat was clear, and she felt the color drain from her face. He was in complete control, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Mina nodded, her body trembling with a mix of fear and arousal. She knew she had to play along, to keep her secret and her marriage intact. She pulled her dress back up, trying to ignore the sticky wetness between her legs. "I'll upload it as soon as I get home," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The rest of the workday was a blur. She couldn't concentrate, her thoughts consumed by the video that was now in his possession. Every time she saw him in the office, she felt a strange mix of dread and excitement. What would he do with it? Would he share it with others? The thought made her stomach churn, but she couldn't deny the thrill of the risk.

Finally, the clock struck five, and she practically ran to the elevator, eager to escape the confines of the office. The ride home was torturous, her mind racing with what-ifs and fear of discovery. She knew she had to keep this from Alex at all costs, the thought of his reaction too much to bear.

As soon as she was in the privacy of her own home, she rushed to her laptop, her hands shaking as she logged into her OnlyFans account. She uploaded the video with trembling fingers, the title "Boss's Pet Gets What She Deserves." The click of the mouse button was like a gunshot in the silence of the room, finalizing her descent into a world she had never thought she would enter.

The video went live, and she watched as the views began to climb. The comments were a mix of praise and degradation, her secret admirers reveling in her humiliation. She couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction at the thought of them getting off to her pain. It was a twisted reality she had never imagined herself in, but here she was, playing the role of the obedient slut for the man who held the key to their financial future.

The next day, Mina walked into the office with a heavy heart, her chest feeling bare without the protection of her usual lingerie. She could feel the fabric of her blouse rubbing against her nipples with every step, the sensation a constant reminder of her submission. Y/n's eyes met hers, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He didn't say a word, but she knew he was aware of her predicament. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with the scent of his dominance and her growing arousal.

Throughout the day, she found herself constantly checking her phone, the messages from her anonymous fans sending a thrill through her that she couldn't ignore. They praised her, called her their whore, their slut, and she found herself craving the validation. Her body was a battleground of emotions, torn between the fear of her husband finding out and the desire for the intense pleasure Y/n provided.

The moment she saw the message from him, she felt a jolt of panic. "Mina, come to my office," it read, simple and to the point. She knew what it meant, knew what he wanted from her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stood, her legs shaky as she made her way to his domain.

Y/n looked up from his paperwork, his gaze raking over her body as she entered. "Take off your dress," he said, his voice calm and in control. She knew the drill now, the power dynamics set in stone. With trembling hands, she unzipped the garment, letting it pool around her feet.

"Now, show me that you did what I say," he demanded, his eyes gleaming with lust. She took a deep breath, her cheeks flaming red with humiliation as she complied. She reached under her skirt, her fingers touching the bare, sensitive skin of her pussy. She had never gone without underwear to work before, and the feeling of vulnerability was intense.

Mina parted her legs slightly, allowing him to see that she had indeed followed his order. His eyes darkened with approval, and she felt a strange mix of pride and shame. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

He tossed her a pair of vibrating underwear, the kind that had a slit for her pussy. "Put these on," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. She caught the underwear with trembling hands, her heart racing as she realized what he wanted her to do.

With shaky fingers, she slid the garment over her bare skin, the material clinging to her curves. She could feel the vibrator nestled in the slit, the buzzing a constant reminder of her submission. Y/n watched with a smug expression, enjoying the sight of her in the compromising position. "Now, go back to your desk," he said, his voice a low growl.

Mina nodded, stepping back into her heels. She made her way back to her cubicle, the vibrator pulsing with every step. She tried to focus on the spreadsheet in front of her, but it was useless. The sensation was too intense, too distracting. Her colleagues were oblivious to the torment she was enduring, their mundane chatter a stark contrast to the war raging inside her.

Her body was betraying her, the vibrator sending waves of pleasure through her core. She bit her lip to stifle the moans, her cheeks flushing as the first orgasm of the day ripped through her. It was like a storm she couldn't control, a silent scream trapped in her throat. Her eyes glazed over, and she had to grip the edge of her desk to keep from falling.

The climax left her breathless, her body trembling with the aftershocks. She tried to compose herself, but the vibrator didn't relent. It kept pulsing, demanding more from her. She knew she couldn't last the whole day like this, but she had no choice. She was his plaything now, and she had to follow his every command.

The hours passed like molasses, each second a battle between focusing on her work and the relentless buzzing between her legs. She found herself getting wetter, her pussy swollen and begging for relief. The anticipation was agonizing, a delicious torment that she couldn't escape.

When the next orgasm hit, it was like a surprise attack. Her body tensed, her toes curling in her heels as she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. She hoped no one had noticed the subtle tremor that had passed through her, the way her hand had gripped the mouse so tightly. But she couldn't be sure.

The rest of the day was a blur of forced climaxes, her body a slave to the vibrator's whims. Each wave of pleasure brought a fresh wave of fear and arousal. She was living a double life, and the line between the two was blurring. By the time she was allowed to leave, she was a wreck, her nerves frayed and her pussy sore. But she knew she couldn't let it show, not when Alex was waiting for her at home.

As she pulled into the garage, she saw the notification on her phone. It was a video from Y/n, timestamped from the middle of the day. Her heart raced as she played it, the image of her own face, flushed and desperate, appearing on the screen. It was a recording from the office security camera, capturing the moment she had lost control in the throes of pleasure. Her mouth open in a silent moan, eyes squeezed shut, her hands desperately trying to keep herself from being heard.

The message that accompanied the video was a taunt, a declaration of his power. "Mina, remember," he had typed, his words a knife to her gut, "I put every camera on you in the office. Now, put this video on your OnlyFans with the title 'A slut craving for a big dick while at work.'" The reality of her situation hit her like a truck, her secret now in his hands, ready to be shared with the world.

With trembling fingers, she uploaded the video, the title a twisted jest that sent a shiver down her spine. She knew it would drive her viewers wild, the thought of her being watched while she worked, her desperation palpable. The comments began to flood in, each one more degrading than the last. But she couldn't bring herself to take it down. The money was too good, the thrill too intense.

The days turned into weeks, and Mina found herself caught in a cycle of submission and degradation. She continued to work, her OnlyFans account growing, her interactions with Y/n more intense with every encounter. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of desire and fear, her marriage hanging by a thread she didn't dare to pull. Her relationship with Alex grew more strained, their passion replaced by the cold, hard truth of their financial situation.

But every time she felt like she couldn't go on, she remembered the promise she had made to save her husband's business. And so, she endured, her body a battleground of pleasure and pain, her soul a tapestry of conflicting emotions. Each time she uploaded a new video, each time she felt the eyes of her anonymous fans upon her, she felt a strange sense of purpose, of power. She was more than just a wife now; she was a commodity, a source of income, and a woman who could survive anything.

The day the message came, she felt a strange mix of relief and dread. Her phone buzzed, and she saw the text from Y/n: "Our contract will end in 3 days. I want you to stay at my home until your contract ends." She knew what he was asking of her, and she also knew she had no choice but to agree. It was a final push, a chance to pay off their debts and end this twisted arrangement. But the thought of being so completely under his control, with no escape, was terrifying.

Mina took a deep breath, her heart racing as she replied, "Okay." The word felt like a weight on her chest, but she had come too far to back out now. She packed a small bag, her mind racing with what lay ahead. What would he make her do? How much more could she take? She tried to ignore the dark excitement that bubbled in her stomach, the thrill of the unknown.

When she arrived at his mansion, the gates loomed before her, a symbol of the prison she was about to enter. The house was as grand and intimidating as she remembered, a testament to his wealth and power. She stepped inside, her heels clicking on the marble floor, the sound echoing through the hollow halls. Y/n was waiting for her, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Welcome home, Mina," he said, a smug smile playing on his lips. The words sent a chill down her spine, but she forced a smile in return. "I've been looking forward to having you all to myself." His tone was one of ownership, a stark reminder of her fate. She swallowed hard, her body already responding to his presence.

"I will tell you right now," he began, his voice a deep rumble that sent tremors through her core, "that you will only be living in the red room for the next three days." The room she had come to know so well, the stage for their twisted games, was to become her prison. "You will eat, sleep, and breathe in that room. You will only leave when I command it."

Mina felt a cold hand of fear grip her heart, but she nodded in compliance. She knew what was expected of her, and she would see it through. The red room was her sanctuary of sin, a place where she could be someone else, do things she had never dreamed of doing. She had become addicted to the thrill of submission, the power dynamics that played out within those four walls.

As she stepped into the red room, she noticed that it had been transformed. The bed was adorned with silk scarves and leather cuffs, and the air was heavy with the scent of lust. Her eyes widened at the sight of the new toys laid out on the bedside table, each one more intimidating than the last. "You've been a good girl," he said, his eyes raking over her, "but now, it's time to push your boundaries even further."

Mina felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead as he approached her, his hand reaching out to caress her cheek. He guided her to a chair in the center of the room, one that she had never seen before. It was made of a sleek, black material, and it looked as if it had been designed with one purpose in mind: her submission. Her heart raced as he bound her wrists and ankles to the chair, the ropes biting into her skin, leaving her completely at his mercy.

He stepped back, admiring his handiwork, before he began his twisted game of tease. His fingers traced over her skin, skimming across her breasts, her stomach, and her thighs. Each touch sent a shiver through her body, her anticipation building to a fever pitch. The fabric over her eyes was tight, leaving her in darkness, heightening every sensation. "Please," she whimpered, her voice shaking with need. "I can't take it anymore. Give me your cock."

Y/n's chuckle was the only response she received. He continued his torturous exploration, his touch featherlight, driving her to the brink of madness. She could feel her pussy growing wetter with every stroke, her body begging for relief. "Please," she moaned, "please, I need it. I can't handle this."

He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "You want this, don't you?" His voice was a seductive whisper, a promise of pleasure wrapped in the threat of pain. "Beg for it," he ordered, his hand moving to her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. "Beg like the whore you are."

Mina's body responded to his dominance, her mind racing as she tried to comprehend the situation. "Yes," she choked out, "I need it. I'm begging you, please give me your cock."

The fabric was ripped away from her eyes, and she stared up at him, his expression a mix of amusement and lust. He stepped back, his cock already hard and ready. He didn't waste any time, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants fall to the floor. His shirt followed, revealing his muscular chest and abs.

He approached her again, his cock in hand, stroking it slowly. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice firm. "Look at what you've become." She couldn't help but watch, her eyes transfixed on the monstrous length of him. The fear and excitement melded into one, creating a potent cocktail that left her breathless.

He stepped closer, positioning himself between her spread legs. She could feel the head of his cock brushing against her, teasing her wetness. "Beg," he said again, his voice a low growl.

"Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I need you inside me."

With a sadistic smile, Y/n leaned down and untied the ropes around her ankles. She let out a sigh of relief, her legs feeling like jelly as she tried to stand. He took her hand and led her to the bed, the plush mattress a stark contrast to the cold, hard chair. Her body was a canvas of bruises and marks from their previous encounters, but she didn't protest as he laid her down, her back arching with the softness of the bed beneath her.

"On your hands and knees," he ordered, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill of excitement and fear through her. Mina complied, her heart racing as she positioned herself on the bed, her ass in the air. The cool air of the room brushed against her wet pussy, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

He approached her, his hand coming down to rest on her lower back. "You've been a naughty girl," he murmured, his voice a dark promise of what was to come. She felt his finger probe at her entrance, slick with her desire. He pushed it in, hard and fast, making her gasp. His hand was rough, his movements unyielding, and she could feel herself stretching around him.

The second finger followed, and then the third, each thrust sending waves of painful pleasure through her. She moaned, the sound echoing off the walls of the room. "Yes," she heard him murmur, his voice filled with satisfaction. "That's it. Take it like the whore you are." His grip tightened on her hips, his fingers moving faster, harder. The pain grew, but so did her arousal.

He pulled his hand away, and she felt the head of his cock at her entrance, thick and demanding. "U like that whore?" he repeated, his voice taunting, pushing her buttons. She nodded, unable to form words. It was a question that didn't need an answer, a declaration of her new reality.

With one firm thrust, he filled her completely, his cock stretching her to her limits. Mina cried out, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming her senses. He paused, his cock buried deep inside her, and she felt his hand come down hard on her ass. "Who has the best cock?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper in the quiet room.

"My husband," she lied, her voice trembling with the effort to maintain her façade. The lie hung in the air, a stark reminder of the life she had left behind for this twisted world of debt and desire.

Y/n's hand swung down again, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the red room. "The truth," he demanded, his voice a low rumble of dominance. Mina gritted her teeth, the sting of his hand on her ass a stark reminder of her new reality.

"You," she finally admitted, the word slipping out in a rush of breath. "You have the best cock." His grip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh, and she felt a surge of arousal at the admission. It was the truth, no matter how much she didn't want to admit it.

"Scream it," he ordered, his voice harsh and demanding. His hand came down again, the slap resonating through the room. She bit back a whimper, her pussy clenching around his shaft. The pleasure was almost unbearable, the pain a strange complement to the feeling of his thickness inside her.

"You are the best, my husband's dick was a quarter of your size," she gasped, her voice strained with each thrust. "He can't reach what you do inside my pussy." The words were a declaration of her submission, a confession that sent a jolt of arousal through her body. She felt the head of his cock hit her cervix, the sensation so intense it was almost unbearable.

Her body responded to his dominance, her pussy clenching and releasing around him, eager for more. Each slap on her ass brought a fresh wave of pleasure, a dark symphony of sensation that had her screaming his name. "Y/n, yes, yes," she chanted, her voice a litany of need and desperation.

Her orgasm was like a dam breaking, a flood of sensation that washed over her. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, the mix of pain and pleasure too much to hold back. "That's right," he groaned, his voice thick with his own desire. "You're mine now. You're nothing but a slut for my cock."

Mina's eyes rolled back in her head, her body writhing beneath him as she came. She had never felt so used, so utterly owned. And yet, she couldn't help but love it. The orgasm ripped through her, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

He didn't stop, his strokes becoming more erratic, his breathing ragged. She could feel his cock swelling inside her, the promise of his release imminent. "Cum for me," he demanded, his voice a harsh growl. "I want to feel you milk my cock."

Her pussy clenched around him, her body responding to his words. The orgasm built again, a crescendo of pleasure that had her screaming. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he bit down, claiming her in the most primal way.

With a roar, he released inside her, filling her with his cum. She felt it spurt hot and thick, the sensation of his seed filling her making her orgasm all the more intense. Her body was a wreck, her pussy sore and her ass bruised, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

As he pulled out, she collapsed onto the bed, her body limp and exhausted. He leaned over her, his hand coming to rest on her cheek. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice filled with possession. "And you will always come back for more."

Mina looked up at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure and pain. She knew it was true, that she would always come back for more of what he had to give her. Her life had changed irrevocably, and she was powerless to stop it. But as she lay there, the warmth of his cum inside her, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time: alive.

The morning of the second day dawned, and Mina woke up with a start in the unfamiliar bed. Her body was sticky with sweat and cum, the scent of sex still lingering in the air. She tried to sit up, but her muscles protested, the evidence of the previous night's exertion clear. The sheets were tangled around her, a testament to the tumultuous night she had endured.

Her eyes searched the room, and she spotted a gleaming chain and a collar lying on the nightstand. The sight of them sent a shiver down her spine, her stomach flipping with a mix of dread and anticipation. Y/n had left them there as a reminder of their arrangement, a symbol of her servitude. She reached out, her hand trembling, and picked them up.

The chain was cold and heavy in her hand, the metal links glinting in the soft morning light. The collar was made of the same material, with a small, delicate lock at the back. It was beautiful in its own twisted way, a stark contrast to the stark reality of her situation. She knew what it meant: she was his, to use as he saw fit, until the end of their contract.

The door to the red room opened, and in strode Y/n, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of her. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his tie askew and his hair disheveled. "Good morning, my pet," he purred, his voice sending a thrill through her. "I trust you slept well."

Mina could only nod, her voice failing her. She felt his hand on her neck, the collar cool against her skin as he fastened it around her. The lock clicked into place, the sound final and irrevocable. He attached the chain to the collar, the other end in his hand. "Today," he began, "we're going to explore some new boundaries."

He led her out of the red room, the chain jingling softly with each step she took. They moved through the mansion, her eyes downcast, her body sore from the previous night's exertions. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft glow over the opulent surroundings. He took her to the back of the house, and she knew what was coming next.

The door to the expansive lawn swung open, revealing a lush carpet of dew-kissed grass. The morning air was crisp, the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass filling her nose. Y/n attached the leash to her collar and gave a firm tug, guiding her down the steps. "Walk," he ordered, his voice low and firm.

Mina obeyed, her legs shaking as she descended into the role he had chosen for her. The cold metal of the leash was a constant reminder of her subservience, the coolness of the metal against her skin sending shivers down her spine. The dew on the grass was like a caress, a stark contrast to the harshness of her situation.

The leash was short, forcing her to move on all fours as he walked beside her, his grip unyielding. She could feel the leather of the collar cutting into her neck, a constant reminder of her new status. She was his pet, his toy, and she would act accordingly.

The world outside the mansion was quiet, the only sounds the distant chirp of birds and the rustle of leaves. The cool breeze kissed her skin, raising goosebumps despite the warmth of the early morning. Each step was a battle against her pride, her body moving in a way that was both humiliating and exhilarating.

He led her around the lawn, her breasts swaying with each step, the cool air teasing her erect nipples. The leather of the collar was already growing warm from her skin, the metal of the leash cold in her palm. She felt the tension in her body, the fear of being caught mingling with the excitement of their secret.

Without warning, Y/n stopped and bent down, his hand slipping between her legs. He inserted the vibrator into her pussy, the buzzing sound filling the silence. She gasped, the sudden intrusion both painful and exhilarating. He didn't stop there, his fingers probing until he found her ass, slipping the second vibrator inside her tight hole. She whimpered, the feeling overwhelming as he turned both devices to their highest setting.

"Walk," he commanded, tugging on the leash. She stumbled forward, the vibrations setting her nerves on fire. The sensation was intense, the vibrations from the toys sending waves of pleasure through her body as she stumbled along the grass. The coolness of the dew on her hands and knees was a stark contrast to the heat building inside her.

Her pussy and ass were stretched wide by the vibrating intrusion, each step sending new jolts of pleasure through her. She felt the grass tickling her bare skin, the sensation a strange mix of pain and arousal. The early morning dew soaked into her, making her feel even more exposed, even more like a wild creature being tamed by its master.

They continued their perverse journey across the lawn, the vibrations growing more intense with each passing moment. Mina's eyes were wide with shock and arousal, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. She could feel her body growing wetter, her juices mixing with the coolness of the dew.

As they approached the edge of the lawn, Y/n paused again, his eyes scanning the surrounding woods. The early light painted the trees in shades of gold, the leaves whispering secrets in the breeze. He leaned in close, his breath hot in her ear. "You're going to cum for me, my pet," he whispered. "And when you do, I want you to scream my name."

The anticipation was unbearable, the vibrations reaching a crescendo as she felt her orgasm building. Her body tensed, her muscles tightening around the toys as she struggled not to scream. But she knew she couldn't hold out much longer, the pleasure too much to contain. And when it came, it was like a dam bursting, her body shuddering with the force of it.

The scream ripped from her throat, echoing through the quiet morning. She could feel the eyes of the forest upon her, watching her degradation. But she didn't care. In that moment, she was free, a creature of pure need and desire. And as she collapsed to the ground, panting and trembling, she knew she would always come back for more of what he had to give.

Y/n's hand tightened on the leash, his grip firm as he pulled her back to her feet. "Who is your master, Mina?" he repeated, his voice a dark thunder in the stillness.

Her eyes locked onto his, the intensity of his gaze like a brand on her soul. "You are," she murmured, the words a declaration of her submission. The words were like a drug, a heady mix of fear and excitement that left her breathless.

They continued their perverse walk, the vibrations never relenting, her body a playground for his desires. The leather of the collar grew warm and sticky with her sweat, the chain a constant reminder of her captivity. Each step sent a new wave of pleasure through her, the vibrations from the toys in her pussy and ass creating a symphony of sensation that was impossible to ignore.

Mina's body was a battleground, her mind screaming for relief while her body craved more. Her pussy was a river of juices, soaking the leather of the collar, trailing down her stomach to pool on the grass beneath her. The sun had fully risen now, casting a golden light over the scene, turning their walk of shame into a macabre dance of submission.

The heat of the afternoon sun bore down on them, turning the dew to steam. Her body was a wreck, her muscles screaming with fatigue. Yet, she continued to follow him, driven by a force she didn't fully understand. The vibrations grew more intense with each step, the buzzing a constant reminder of her predicament. Her orgasms had become a blur, her cries of pleasure now mingling with whimpers of pain.

Y/n's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his grip on the leash unwavering. He led her to a small gazebo in the center of the garden, the ivy-covered structure offering a semblance of privacy. He paused, the leather of the leash taut between them. "You've done well, my pet," he said, his voice a purr of approval. "Now, let's see how much more you can take."

With a flick of his wrist, he attached the leash to a hook on the side of the gazebo. She was forced to stand, the vibrations from the toys inside her unrelenting. Her legs were shaking, her body trembling with the effort to remain upright. "Spread your legs," he ordered, his voice a low growl that sent a fresh surge of arousal through her.

Mina obeyed, her muscles protesting as she spread her legs. The vibrations grew more intense, the sensation like a thousand tiny hands caressing her swollen flesh. She could feel the eyes of the forest upon her, watching her most intimate moments. But she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the pleasure that Y/n brought her, the painful bliss that she had grown to crave.

He stepped back, his hand moving to his belt. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckled it, the sound echoing through the gazebo. "You're going to scream my name again," he promised, his voice dark and seductive. "And this time, I want the whole world to hear it."

The leather strap came down hard across her ass, the pain making her gasp. The vibrations from the toys grew more intense, the sting of the belt sending fresh waves of pleasure through her. Her orgasm was building again, the tension coiling in her belly like a snake ready to strike.

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. His hand caressed her cheek, the leather of the belt a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch. "You're going to love this," he murmured, the promise in his voice making her stomach flip.

He began to smack her body in a rhythm, the leather biting into her flesh with each strike. Her breasts bounced with each hit, the pain mixing with the pleasure from the vibrators. She could feel her body responding, her pussy growing wetter, her ass clenching around the toy inside her. The sound of leather on skin echoed through the gazebo, a testament to their twisted games.

Mina's cries grew louder, each smack pushing her closer to the edge. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body a tapestry of pain and pleasure. She was his, utterly and completely, and she reveled in the feeling of submission.

The leather met her skin again and again, each smack more punishing than the last. Her body was on fire, the pain a crescendo that built and built. And then, just as she thought she couldn't take any more, it stopped. The vibrations ceased, the world going silent.

Y/n stepped closer, his eyes boring into hers. "You're mine," he whispered, his breath hot and demanding. "And you will always be mine." The finality of his words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of fear and excitement.

He unclipped the leash, his grip on the collar tight as he pulled her closer. "Now," he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips, "it's time to show the world who you truly are." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, the screen glowing with the promise of a new audience for her degradation.

Mina's heart raced, her mind reeling with the implications of his words. What was he going to do? What would happen when the world saw her like this? The fear grew in her chest, a dark cloud threatening to swallow her whole.

He held the phone up, the camera focused on her tear-stained face. "Say it," he demanded. "Say you're my whore." Her voice was a broken whisper, the words sticking in her throat like shards of glass.

"I'm your whore," she choked out, the admission like a knife to her soul. He clicked a photo, the flash momentarily blinding her. The evidence of her degradation would now be etched into digital immortality, a secret that could be shared with the world at his whim.

The fear grew, a thick, choking presence in her chest. What would Alex think? What would their friends and family say? But even as the dread consumed her, she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her at the thought of being exposed.

Y/n's hand traveled down her body, his fingers finding her clit, the sensation making her gasp. "Good girl," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. "Now, let's make some more content for your adoring fans." He turned the camera to record, the red light blinking ominously.

Mina felt the panic rise, her body trembling with the weight of her decision. But the fear was laced with excitement, a toxic cocktail that had her panting and begging for more. He began to flick her clit with the precision of a master craftsman, her body responding despite her inner turmoil.

Her cries grew louder as he worked her, his other hand reaching down to remove the toys from her pussy and ass. He tossed them aside, his cock already hard and waiting for her. "Take it," he ordered, pushing her down onto her knees. She opened her mouth, her tongue flicking out to taste him.

The saltiness of his cock filled her mouth, the taste of their previous encounter still lingering. She took him deep, her throat constricting around his length. The camera rolled, capturing every moment of her degradation, every tear that fell from her eyes.

The vibrations started again, the toys in her hand now a part of the show. She brought them to her own pussy, her body responding with a desperate need for release. The sound of her moans and the slapping of his hand against her ass filled the gazebo, a symphony of submission for his enjoyment.

As he fucked her mouth, she worked the toys inside herself, her body a playground for his desires. She could feel her orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure that she knew would consume her. And when it did, she screamed, the sound a mix of ecstasy and despair.

Y/n pulled out of her mouth, his cock glistening with her saliva. He grabbed the phone, filming himself as he painted her face with his cum, the hot liquid a brand of ownership. She closed her eyes, her body shuddering with the aftershocks of her climax.

"Now, let's go," he said, his voice a cold command. He tugged at the leash, pulling her to her feet. Her legs were shaky, her knees threatening to give out beneath her. The vibrating toys were still lodged deep inside her, the painful pleasure a constant reminder of her submission.

They began the long walk back to the mansion, her body trembling with each step. The leather of the collar and the metal of the leash were slick with her sweat and his cum, a testament to their depraved play. Each step sent a fresh wave of pain through her, her ass and pussy still throbbing from the belt and his relentless fucking.

"Can you take out the vibrator, Master?" she begged, her voice a ragged whisper. The pain had become unbearable, the pleasure a distant memory. Her body was a canvas of bruises and marks, a map of his dominance.

He chuckled darkly, his hand coming down hard on her ass. "How dare you ask for mercy?" he taunted. She whimpered, the sting of his hand making her eyes water. The vibrations grew more intense, the toys inside her a constant torment.

"Please," she sobbed, her body slick with sweat and cum. The leather of the collar was biting into her neck, the metal of the leash digging into her wrists. But he ignored her pleas, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he watched her suffer.

The mansion loomed ahead, a stark contrast to the serene beauty of the garden. Each step brought her closer to the reality of what she had become. A whore. His whore. The thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, despite the pain.

As they approached the mansion, she could feel the vibrations growing stronger, the toys inside her a relentless tease. Her legs felt like they would buckle at any moment, her body a wreck of pleasure and pain. She knew what was waiting for her inside the red room, knew that her punishment was far from over.

Yet, she walked on, driven by a force beyond her control. The leather of the collar was a noose around her neck, the leash a chain that bound her to him. She was his, and she knew that she would always come back for more of his twisted games.

The mansion's doors swung open, the coolness of the air-conditioned interior a stark contrast to the heat outside. She stumbled through the entrance, her eyes downcast. The sound of the doors closing behind them was like the final nail in her coffin, sealing her fate.

He led her back to the red room, his grip on the leash unyielding. "On the bed," he ordered, his voice a harsh whisper.

Mina stumbled onto the bed, her body a trembling mess of need and pain. She went down on all fours, her eyes searching for his approval. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. "Give me your dick, my master." The words tasted like sin on her lips, but she couldn't get enough.

He stepped closer, his cock hard and demanding. "Give to me that big fucking black cock," she pleaded, her voice thick with desire. She could feel the toys inside her, the vibrations now a taunting reminder of what she had lost. Her dignity, her self-respect, all of it replaced by an insatiable hunger for his touch.

Y/n's eyes flashed with amusement as he climbed onto the bed, his knees on either side of her. He grabbed her hips, his grip bruising. "You want it, don't you?" he asked, his voice low and seductive. "You want me to pound you like the whore you are."

Mina nodded, her voice a desperate whimper. "Yes, master. Please pound me hard." She knew what was coming, knew that she would beg for mercy and he would give her none. But in that moment, she didn't care. All she cared about was feeling him inside her again, feeling that all-consuming pleasure that only he could give.

He positioned himself at her entrance, his cock slick with her juices and his own lust. "Beg for it," he said, his voice a dark command. "Beg me to fuck you."

Her eyes met his, filled with a mix of fear and arousal. "Please," she sobbed. "I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you inside me." Her words were a confession, a declaration of her complete and utter surrender to his will.

Y/n smirked, the cruel glint in his eyes telling her he knew exactly what she was feeling. He pulled the vibrator out of her pussy, the sudden emptiness leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. But he left the one in her ass, the constant buzz a reminder of her submission. He positioned himself at her entrance, his cock thick and throbbing.

With one swift movement, he plunged into her, the sensation making her scream. The vibrator in her ass continued to buzz, the sensation now amplified by the feeling of his cock filling her completely. Her body was a symphony of pleasure and pain, a fine line that she danced upon with each of his punishing strokes.

Mina felt his hands grip her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he began to pound her. Each thrust sent shockwaves of sensation through her body, the vibrations from the toy in her ass resonating with the impact of his cock. She could feel her orgasm building again, the tension coiling in her stomach like a serpent.

Her screams grew louder, her body moving with his rhythm, desperate for the release he had conditioned her to crave. He was her master, her god, the source of her pleasure and her pain. She was his to use, his to abuse, and she loved every second of it.

The room was filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the smell of sex heavy in the air. She could feel her pussy clenching around him, her body desperate for the release he had promised. "Please," she begged, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Let me cum, master."

He leaned over her, his breath hot on her neck. "You want it?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper. "You want to cum for me?" His grip tightened, his strokes growing more erratic. She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut, the world narrowing to the feeling of his cock inside her.

"Then cum," he ordered, his voice a low growl. And with that, she did. Her body convulsed, her pussy spasming around his length. She felt him swell, his cock pulsing with his own climax, and she knew that she had served her purpose once again.

As he pulled out, she collapsed onto the bed, her body spent. The vibrator in her ass was still going, the sensation now one of pain rather than pleasure. But she didn't dare ask for it to be removed. She knew her place now, knew that she was nothing but his whore to use and discard.

The chain of the collar jingled as he pulled her upright, the leather sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction.

Mina couldn't speak, couldn't even think. Her body was a maelstrom of sensation, the vibrations from the toys a constant reminder of her submission. She watched through hooded eyes as he strolled over to the wall of BDSM toys, his eyes scanning the selection with the intensity of a hunter choosing its prey.

He selected a set of nipple clamps, the metal gleaming in the soft light of the room. She whimpered as he approached, the anticipation of pain making her pussy throb with need. He attached them to her swollen peaks, tightening them until she gasped. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a low growl. She raised her gaze to meet his, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire.

The second night in the red room began with a fierce intensity that surpassed the first. He was an animal, his eyes wild with lust as he stared at her. She felt his hand come down on her ass, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing through the room. Each spank sent a jolt of pain through her body, the vibrator inside her a constant presence.

Her skin was on fire, each smack making her pussy wetter. She could feel his cock, thick and demanding, pressing against her thigh as he worked her over. The pain grew, the pleasure grew, until she could no longer tell where one began and the other ended.

With a snarl, he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her onto her knees. "You want this?" he asked, his cock bobbing in front of her face. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his, and took him into her mouth, the taste of her own juices mixed with the saltiness of his pre-cum.

The vibrations grew stronger, the toy in her ass a constant torment. She moaned around his length, her eyes watering with the effort. His hand tangled in her hair, holding her in place as he began to fuck her mouth with the same ferocity he had her pussy.

The room was a blur, the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of his cock in her mouth, the sound of his grunts of pleasure. The vibrations grew more intense, the pain and pleasure swirling together until she could no longer tell them apart.

He pulled her head back, his cock popping out of her mouth with a wet sound. "You're mine," he said, his voice a dark whisper. "Say it."

Mina could barely breathe, but she managed to gasp out, "I'm yours, Master." The words were a declaration, a promise that she would submit to his every whim, no matter how twisted or depraved.

He leaned in, his breath hot on her ear. "Prove it," he whispered. "Prove to me that you're mine." His hand left her hair, instead reaching for the vibrator still buried in her ass. He cranked it up to the maximum setting, the buzzing so loud it was almost deafening.

Her body convulsed, her eyes rolling back in her head. The pain was exquisite, the pleasure unbearable. Her pussy was a river, the scent of her arousal filling the room. He took his cock in hand, stroking it as he watched her squirm.

"Look at me," he demanded again, his voice a harsh command. She forced her eyes open, meeting his gaze as he stroked himself. The vibrations grew stronger, the pain in her ass now a crescendo of agony.

And then, with a roar, he came, painting her face with his cum. She could feel the hot liquid on her cheeks, her eyes, her nose. The taste of him filled her mouth, mixing with the metallic taste of her own blood. But she didn't flinch, didn't look away. She was his, completely and utterly.

The vibrations stopped, the silence deafening in their intensity. He pulled the toy out of her ass, the sudden absence of pain making her gasp. He threw it aside, his eyes never leaving hers. "Now," he said, his voice calm once more, "we begin."

He unclipped the leash, the metal clanking against the floor. "Clean yourself up," he ordered. She stumbled to the bathroom, her legs shaky from the abuse. The mirror showed a reflection she barely recognized: a woman covered in cum and bruises, a woman who had given herself completely to a monster.

But as she cleaned herself, the pain slowly ebbing away, she felt a strange sense of pride. She had survived the first two days, and she would survive the last one. For Alex, for their future, she would endure whatever Y/n had planned.

The sun had set by the time she emerged from the bathroom, the room cast in shadows that danced with the candles' flickering light. She knew the third and final night would be the most intense, a crescendo to the symphony of submission she had been playing.

Mina lay on the bed, her body a canvas of bruises and marks, each one a testament to her submission. She closed her eyes, willing herself to rest, to regain the strength she would need for the night ahead. Despite the pain, she slept deeply, her dreams filled with images of Y/n's dominance, her mind reeling from the tumult of emotions that plagued her.

When she awoke, it was to the sound of the door opening, the scent of his cologne filling the room. She sat up, her eyes heavy with fatigue, her body aching for his touch. The red glow of the room washed over her, the candles casting an eerie light that painted the room in a bloody hue.

Y/n walked in, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat from his day's exertions. She watched as he removed his tie, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You've been asleep for quite some time," he said, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down her spine. "I've missed my little whore." He strode over to the bed, his hand reaching out to trace the bruises on her thigh. She flinched at his touch, the pain a stark reminder of her place in his world.

"Please, master," she whispered, her voice a hoarse plea. "I need you." The words were a confession, a declaration of her need for his dominance.

He smirked, his hand sliding up to cup her pussy. She was already wet, her body betraying her. "You're eager, aren't you?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper. "Eager for more of my cock."

Mina nodded, her eyes never leaving his. She was his, completely and utterly. The last shreds of her pride had been stripped away, leaving only a desperate craving for the pleasure he could give her.

He leaned in, his mouth claiming hers in a brutal kiss that left her breathless. His tongue invaded her, tasting her, claiming her. She moaned into his mouth, her body responding to his touch despite the exhaustion.

When he pulled away, she was left gasping for air. "Tonight," he murmured against her lips, "you will truly understand what it means to be mine."

Y/n's eyes were wild with a feral hunger that sent a shiver down her spine. He grabbed the chain attached to her collar, pulling her off the bed. She stumbled after him, her legs still weak from the previous nights of abuse. He led her to the center of the room, the floor cold and unforgiving beneath her bare feet.

"On your knees," he ordered, his voice a low growl. Mina obeyed, her knees hitting the floor with a painful thud. She watched as he approached, his cock thick and erect, the head glistening with precum. The anticipation was unbearable, her body already quivering with need.

He grabbed the two vibrators from the bedside table, his eyes never leaving hers. "You've been a very bad girl," he said, his voice a dark promise. "You need to be punished."

Mina felt the coolness of the first vibrator as he pushed it into her ass, the sensation making her whimper. He didn't stop there, instead pushing the second one in alongside it, stretching her beyond what she thought was possible. The pain was a living entity, consuming her, becoming her. She felt her pussy clench in response, her body betraying her with its need.

With a cruel smile, he turned the vibrators on, the buzzing a harsh intrusion in the quiet room. Her scream filled the air, echoing off the walls. The sensation was overwhelming, the pain and pleasure a tornado that she couldn't escape. She felt him behind her, his hands on her hips, his cock pressing against her slick entrance.

He didn't bother with preliminaries, instead slamming into her with a brutal force that made her eyes water. She could feel the vibrators moving inside her, the sensation a symphony of agony and ecstasy. Her screams grew louder with each thrust, the vibrations setting her nerves on fire.

The world outside the red room ceased to exist, the only reality the feel of him fucking her, the buzz of the vibrators in her ass, the pain of his grip on her hips. She was lost in the maelstrom of sensation, her mind a blank canvas of submission.

He fucked her like he owned her, and she knew he did. Each thrust was a claim, a declaration of his dominance. She could feel her orgasm building, a pressure that grew with each plunge of his cock. "Scream for me," he demanded, his voice a thunder in her ears.

And scream she did, the sound tearing from her throat like a wild animal. Her body convulsed around him, her pussy spasming with the force of her climax. Yet, he didn't stop, didn't give her a moment's reprieve. He continued to pound into her, the vibrations from the toys driving her over the edge again and again.

Her cries grew more desperate, her body a wreck of pleasure. She didn't know if she could take anymore, didn't know if she wanted to. Yet, she begged for more, her voice a broken plea. He was her master, and she would endure whatever he had planned for her, for Alex, for their future.

Y/n's hand kept slapping her ass, each smack a brand that marked her as his. The vibrations from the toys were relentless, the pain morphing into something else entirely. Something that made her body quiver and arch back towards him, eager for more. Her orgasms were like a series of explosions, each one more intense than the last.

His grip on her hips tightened, his strokes growing more frenzied. She could feel him getting closer, his breath hot and ragged against her neck. "MINE," he roared, his voice a declaration of ownership that sent a fresh wave of arousal through her. Her pussy clenched around his cock, her body betraying her with its need for his release.

Y/n pulled out, the sound of her body's protest a symphony in the quiet room. He spun her around, her legs giving out beneath her. He caught her, his arms like steel bands around her waist. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with lust, her mouth open in a silent plea.

He didn't speak, his actions speaking louder than any words could. He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. His cock slammed into her pussy again, the angle hitting her g-spot with a precision that had her seeing stars. The vibrations in her ass grew stronger, the pain a beautiful agony that had her panting.

Mina's head fell back, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her body was his plaything, a toy for his pleasure. He fucked her mercilessly, his thrusts punctuated by the smack of his hand against her ass. Each hit sent her spiraling closer to the edge, the pain and pleasure coalescing into something dark and beautiful.

And then, with one final, brutal thrust, he came. The vibrations grew even stronger, the sensation too much to bear. She felt the warmth of his cum fill her ass, the pressure unbearable. She clenched around the toys, her orgasm ripping through her like a tornado.

Her vision swam, the room spinning. She could feel herself slipping away, the edges of consciousness a distant memory. But even as the darkness claimed her, she felt his hand on her throat, his grip firm but not painful. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a low growl.

Her eyes snapped open, meeting his gaze. He leaned in, his cock still hard, his eyes burning with a fierce hunger. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "Always and forever." And with that, he thrust into her mouth, his cum spilling down her throat in hot, salty spurts. She gagged, her throat tight around his length, but she didn't fight him.

As he pulled out, she felt her body give out. Her legs went limp, her arms sliding down his body. The world went black, the only sound the ringing in her ears. The last thing she felt was his hand on her face, his thumb stroking her cheek with a tenderness that was at odds with the brutality of their encounter.

And then there was nothing.

Mina's world went dark, her body a crumpled mess in the arms of the man who had just claimed her so thoroughly. She felt weightless, floating in a sea of pleasure and pain.

Y/n carefully laid her on the bench in the center of the red room, her legs still quivering from the intensity of her orgasm. Her mouth hung open, cum and saliva pooling on her chin, a testament to her complete submission. Her pussy was still wide, stretched from his brutal use, a slick mess of arousal and his seed. Her body was a canvas of red, the imprints of his handiwork a stark contrast against her pale skin.

While she remained unconscious, Y/n moved with a purposeful grace, his eyes never leaving Mina's limp form. He selected a length of rope from the wall of toys, his calloused fingers running along the coarse fibers. The scent of leather and sweat filled the air as he approached, a silent promise of what was to come.

He began by securing her wrists to the chair, his movements methodical and precise. Each loop of rope was tightened with a firm tug, ensuring she would be unable to move. Her arms were stretched taut, her breasts heaving with each shallow breath she took. Despite the pain that would surely follow, there was a strange beauty in her vulnerability, her submission laid bare for his enjoyment.

Y/n picked up a marker, the black ink gleaming under the candlelight. He bent over her, the tip of the marker tracing the word "slut" in an elegant script across her chest. She flinched at the cold touch of the plastic, the harsh reality of her situation sinking in deeper. With each stroke, he claimed her, branding her as his own. He moved lower, writing "Whore" across her stomach in bold letters. The words stung, but the pain was a strange kind of pleasure, a reminder of her place in this twisted game of power and control.

Next, he marked her thighs, scribbling "Y/n pet" and "BBC slut" with a sadistic smile. Each word was a brand, a declaration of ownership that sent a shiver down her spine. He took his time, savoring the moment, his eyes lingering on the words as if they were a sacred incantation that bound her to him for all eternity.

Mina's eyes fluttered open, the pain from the rope burns bringing her back to reality. Y/n's eyes gleamed with excitement as he took in her wide-eyed terror. "Good," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "You're awake for the grand finale."

He stepped away, his eyes scanning the room before landing on a duffle bag in the corner. He pulled out two vibrators, the size of them making Mina's heart race. They were longer, thicker, and more intimidating than anything she had ever seen. "Time to see if you can handle two," he said, his voice filled with a twisted sense of amusement.

Mina felt the coolness of the first vibrator as he pushed it into her already sore pussy. She bit her lip to stifle a scream, her eyes watering with the pain of the intrusion. He didn't stop, instead pushing the second one in alongside it. The feeling was overwhelming, a stretch that made her feel like she was being split in two.

Y/n's fingers danced over the buttons, the vibrations starting slow, almost gentle. She panted, her body trying to adjust to the new sensation. But he wasn't satisfied with gentle, not tonight. The vibrations grew stronger, the two toys moving in unison, a symphony of pain and pleasure that had her writhing in the chair.

Her mind was a whirlwind, unable to focus on anything but the relentless buzzing inside her. Time lost all meaning, the only constant the steady beat of the vibrators and the pain that grew with each passing moment. She was his, utterly and completely, and she knew it. The pain was a reminder, a brand that seared itself into her very soul.

As dawn approached, the red room grew lighter, the candles flickering out one by one. Y/n watched her, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak, didn't move. He was a silent sentinel, a god of lust and punishment, watching her dance on the edge of sanity.

When the sun fully rose, he finally approached her. His hands were firm as he turned off the vibrators, the sudden absence of noise and sensation leaving her feeling empty. He pulled them out with a slow, deliberate movement that had her gasping for breath. She felt the warmth of his cum inside her, a final reminder of her submission.

"Let's go," he said, his voice a harsh command that brought her back to reality. He fastened a leather collar around her neck, the metal tag jingling against the collarbone chain. She could feel the weight of his ownership, a constant reminder of her role in this twisted arrangement.

Mina's body was a wreck, her muscles screaming for relief. Yet, she managed to stand, her legs shaking with the effort. Y/n's hand was a vise around her arm, keeping her upright as he led her from the room. The cold morning air hit her skin like a slap, her bruises and welts standing out in stark relief.

He didn't speak as they walked through the mansion, his grip on her unyielding. She felt like a ragdoll in his grasp, used and discarded. But there was something else there too, a strange sense of pride that she had survived the final night.

As they reached the front door, she saw her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was a stranger, a creature of need and desire, of pain and pleasure. But she knew it was her, the woman she had become.

Y/n opened the door, the bright light of the outside world blinding her. "Let me take you to your husband," he said, his voice a dark promise. She had no idea what awaited her at home, but she knew she would face it with the knowledge of what she had become for their future.

The drive to her house was a blur, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the steady throb of the collar around her neck. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, too ashamed of what she had done. But she knew she had no choice, not if she wanted to save Alex's business.

When they pulled into the driveway, the sight of her husband standing at the door was like a punch to the gut. He was dressed in his usual business casual attire, looking every inch the successful entrepreneur. But the moment he saw her, his eyes widened in horror. "What happened to you, Mina?" he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n's grip on her arm tightened, his chuckle low and menacing. He stepped out of the car, pulling her along behind him. "Let me show you," he said, his eyes gleaming with a twisted pride. He pushed her towards Alex, her legs stumbling under the weight of her own humiliation.

Alex's face paled as he took in her bruised and marked body. The cum that still clung to her skin, the vibrator that poked out from her swollen pussy, the leather collar that branded her a whore. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, the reality of her degradation too much to bear. "What have you done?" he sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Y/n leaned in close, his breath hot in her ear. "This is what I've made of her," he whispered, his voice a dark caress. "Your little whore, my little plaything." His hand trailed down her side, his fingers tracing the words he had etched onto her skin. "See how she's marked, Alex. She's mine now, in every way that counts."

Alex stared at her, his eyes filled with a mix of horror and anger. "Why?" he demanded, his voice shaking with emotion. "Why did you do this?"

Mina looked at her husband, the love of her life, and felt a fresh wave of guilt. "For us," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For our future."

Y/n laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed through the quiet suburban street. "Don't be so dramatic," he said, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "It's just a bit of fun, isn't it, Mina?"

Alex's hand clenched into a fist, but he didn't move. He couldn't tear his gaze from the woman he once knew, the woman who now bore the marks of her submission to this monster. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Mina's eyes searched his, desperation in her gaze. "It's what we need," she replied, her voice firm despite the tremble in her chest.

Y/n's grip tightened, a silent warning. "Look at her, Alex," he said, his voice a purr. "Look at how she craves this. How she loves being my whore."

Alex's eyes fell to her body, to the words etched in black ink, the evidence of her submission. He felt his stomach churn, bile rising in his throat. "I can't," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I can't do this."

But Mina's gaze was unwavering. "You have to," she said, her voice steady. "For us."

The finality in her tone was like a slap. Alex knew he had no choice but to accept this new reality, to accept what she had become. And as Y/n led her into the house, his hand a brand on her arm, Alex followed, his heart heavy with despair.

The scene inside was one of quiet tension, the air thick with unspoken words and raw emotions. Mina's body was a canvas of Y/n's ownership, the words etched into her skin a stark reminder of her fate. Alex could only watch, tears streaming down his face, as Y/n proudly displayed her, his laughter a chilling soundtrack to their shattered marriage.

Y/n pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up the room. "Let's get a picture," he said, his voice full of amusement. "For the memories." He snapped a photo of Mina, the collar around her neck, the words "slut" and "Whore" clearly visible. Alex felt his world crumble around him, the reality of what she had become too much to bear.

Mina's eyes never left her husband's, her gaze filled with a mix of apology and defiance. She knew what this was doing to him, but she also knew that it was for their future. The pain of her submission was a price she was willing to pay.

As Y/n's laughter echoed through the house, Alex's mind raced. He had to find a way to save Mina, to save their marriage. But as he looked at her, the marks of her degradation stark against her skin, he wondered if it was already too late.

The tension grew palpable as Y/n's hand slid down Mina's body, his fingers lingering on her bruised skin. Alex's fists clenched, his anger boiling over. "Get out," he growled, his voice filled with a rage he had never felt before. "Get out of my house, and never come back."

Y/n's smile didn't falter. "As you wish," he said, his tone mocking. "But remember, she's still mine." He leaned in, his breath hot against Mina's ear. "And she always will be." With that, he disappeared into the night, leaving Alex to deal with the wreckage of their lives.

Mina looked at her husband, her heart breaking. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I'm so sorry."

Alex didn't respond, his eyes unable to meet hers. He couldn't process what he was feeling, the betrayal too deep to voice.

The silence was deafening as they stood there, the house a prison of pain and regret. They both knew their lives would never be the same again. The bond they had once shared had been irrevocably changed by the red room and the monster that owned her body.

And yet, as she saw the tears in her husband's eyes, Mina felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way back from this darkness. Maybe they could find a way to heal, to forgive, to move forward together.

But for now, she could only stand there, naked and trembling, her body a map of her submission, and wait for his next move. The future was uncertain, but she knew she had made her choice.

For better or worse, she was Y/n's whore, and she would do whatever it took to keep the man she loved.

#mina smut #twice smut #klook #kpop smut #male reader #girl group smut #gg smut

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sanjisluvbot · 2 months ago

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Take Me Home

⋆.˚ PAIRING: Mark Grayson Variants/Reader

⋆.˚ SYNOPSIS: The chaos of the past few days has been indescribable. The world, shaken to its core, is now in a state of panic. The Invincible variants—once a symbol of hope, now ominous harbingers of a twisted fate—have revealed their plan to the world. They’ve openly declared that Y/n L/n, the one person who could tip the scales, is the reason for the madness that’s consuming reality itself.

⋆.˚ NOTES: Posting this while editing CH 3 of Intuition. If you'd like a full fic please let me know and you can expect it within a week!! I might change some things, but this is my current base!! ENJOY ♡

The world had gotten used to the impossible happening. After Omni-man revealed himself to be a mass murdering villain among all types of creatures and monsters roaming the earth, humanity became jaded. The screams and destruction woke you bright and early that day, maniacal laughter eerily familiar to your ex-boyfriend brought you to the window.

There was not one, not two, but multiple people destroying the planet under the name of ‘Invincible’. You and your family made it safely to the bunkers with the rest of the scared, tired, and confused. The government allowed everyone to see with their own eyes the destruction of everything humanity worked for millions of years to be easily destroyed in less than twenty-four hours.

“ Oh god… Mark,” you whisper to yourself.

Although the world was shaken to its core, even now in a state of panic and fear there were still some bold enough. News reporters going as far as to film on top of buildings that still stood tall to get a closer look at the multiple Invincibles. However, being bold means potentially getting unwanted attention. The camera focused on one of the invaders destroying a prison when he finally caught eye with someone he has yet to tear in half.

A devious smirk and in a split second the camera fell, gasps surrounded the room as people gathered around the tv screen. The screen was no longer in focus and you could only make out feet and the background of fire and rubble. You could hear the poor man losing his life, gurgling on his own blood while the bastard laughed. Once the gurgling stopped and the blood painted the camera lens crimson the body was tossed aside.

The camera was picked up, you could only make out his smile before he wiped the lens with his finger smudging the blood to the left. “ oooh Y/n, where are you hiding— Get outta here!”

The screen went black and everyone around you began to scramble. You were stuck in place. That was Mark, not your Mark but a Mark with his hair shaved into a mohawk and bags under his eyes that made him look like a complete psychopath. There were many questions but the one simple one that made your heart race.

Why.

Why was he searching for you.

You and Mark had made the difficult decision to break up almost a year ago, and the two of you moved on. Thinking about your past while trembling in this present as everyone began to whisper about what they’d just seen. Eyes turned to you, was there a possibility they were talking about Y/n L/n who was hiding out with them. Your parents quickly shut the rumors down, but the people began to avoid you until they couldn’t anymore.

“ You have no proof! Other than the fact that the maniac on the screen was talking about someone with the same name! You can’t just harass my daughter!” Your poor sweet mother yelled.

The crowd surrounded you and your family, you felt sympathy and regret they were simply scared. However, as your mother said, they can’t just harass you and your family when all they had was a name without a face.

The madness continued, the chaos turned people against anyone with the name Y/n across the globe. The GDA not only had to deal with the death, the destruction of humanity, and multiple versions of one of the strongest men in the universe, but they needed to find Y/n. They were able to gain control of the media being broadcasted, all of the Mark’s were searching for the same person, letting you know that the longer you hide the worse it would get.

Cecil sighed to himself. Half of his hero’s dead or in critical conditions all because of one person. He felt bad for Mark, but this just furthered his desire to have a weapon strong enough to deal with the kid if need be. When Mark arrived battered up having fought himself for hours on end Cecil asked him who Y/n was, just to see if he’d lie.

“ Y/n… is my ex girlfriend. I don’t know where she is–”

“ Don’t worry about it, we found her already.”

“ What? Where is she– is she okay?”

“ She’s fine Mark, and so is her family, why don’t you go check on Eve.”

Mark felt relieved that you hadn’t been found by his counterparts, he couldn’t live with himself knowing you were possibly hurt by him even if it was a different version. He quickly went to check on Eve while Cecil made a hard decision.

When the GDA came to the compound they told everyone things would be alright soon, and picked you and your family up telling everyone that you were just going into extra protection. The people felt relief as they no longer had a target on their back.

Under the guise of providing safety you and your parents followed them. You couldn’t ease the uncertainty though, were they really trying to protect you or were they protecting the innocents without the name Y/n? The pentagon was intimidating, a lump in your throat formed with the seriousness of your situation beginning to dwell on you. You grabbed onto your mother’s hand and she squeezed, providing you the comfort she always did.

Now that you were far from the eyes of the public you were forcefully separated from our parents. Tears forming in your eyes as you’re pushed into a sterile white room. Cecil sat in front of you motioning you to sit and as you did armed officers appeared from thin air. Large rapid fire guns pointed directly at your chest and head. The silence of the room is suffocating, and it’s as though time itself is holding its breath.

You were hyperventilating in full hysterics, Cecil could do little to comfort you. His face is tight, full of regret, but his voice is steady. "Y/n," he begins, his words laced with an apology that he can’t fully express, "I’m sorry it had to come to this. But you have to understand, this is about earth’s survival. Think of the billions of people who have been murdered over the last two days. If you’re handed over to them, they’ll stop the destruction. It’s the only way to save what we have left."

“ How can you be so sure? How can you be so sure that they won’t just rip me in half and leave this planet disintegrated.” you argue.

“ Because I’ve already come to an agreement with them.”

Before you could question anything else you were blinded by a light beyond your comprehension and then everything went dark.

The first thing you felt was the wind, running through your hair while the sun warmed your cheeks. Rough hands cradle you into a sturdy chest and you lean into the familiarity, letting out a soft sigh when you realize it was Mark. He came to save you, take you away from the GDA and away from the evil versions of him. “ Oh, Y/n you’re even cuter on this earth.”

The chaos of the past few days has been indescribable. The world, shaken to its core, is now in a state of panic. The Mark variants—once figures of influence, now ominous harbingers of a twisted fate—have revealed their twisted plan to the world. They’ve openly declared that Y/n L/n, the one person who could tip the scales, is the reason for the madness that’s consuming reality itself. The world has descended into a frenzy of desperate attempts to find her, each moment pushing humanity further toward the edge of its own unraveling.

The government has been scrambling to restore order, but in truth, it’s been a helpless race against time. The Global Defense Agency (GDA) gets involved, but not to protect Y/n, as she first thought. No, their involvement is a calculated move. Under the guise of providing safety, they’re planning to turn Y/n over to the Mark variants to ensure the earth’s survival. The GDA has long believed that the Marks hold the key to stopping the chaos—and they’re willing to sacrifice one person to preserve the greater good.

Y/n is brought into a fortified government building, far from the eyes of the public, and led into an ominous, sterile room. She can feel the weight of every eye upon her, even though there is no one there. The silence of the room is suffocating, and it’s as though time itself is holding its breath.

Cecil, the GDA operative who had been an ally, stands before her. His face is tight, full of regret, but his voice is steady. "Y/n," he begins, his words laced with an apology that he can’t fully express, "I’m sorry it had to come to this. But you have to understand. The Marks—they hold the balance. If you’re handed over to them, they’ll stop the destruction. It’s the only way to save everything."

Y/n feels a surge of anger, betrayal, and fear in her chest. The only way to save everything? Her mind races through every possibility, every outcome, but one thing remains clear: this is no longer just about saving the world. This is about survival, about sacrificing herself to a twisted fate or becoming the puppet of beings that have already caused irreparable harm.

Cecil’s face hardens, though his eyes flicker with a sense of sadness. "You can either be the good guy, or you can save the world. But you can’t do both."

The words echo in her mind as the walls seem to close in around her. The good guy, or the world? The weight of her decision has never been heavier. She knows what has to happen. The choice is excruciating, but it’s becoming clear that there may not be another way.

Y/n's mind flashes to the alternate versions of Mark—those who have been wreaking havoc, making themselves into shadows of their former selves. They are no longer just individuals; they have become symbols of the madness that has consumed reality. But what if they could be stopped? What if there was a way to break the cycle? What if she could find a way to shut down the alternate versions of Mark without sacrificing herself or falling into their trap?

She stands tall, her eyes locked with Cecil’s. "If I go to them, there’s no guarantee they’ll stop. What if they want more than just the world? What if I’m their ultimate prize?"

Cecil hesitates, clearly torn. He can’t answer her. He doesn’t know the full truth either. All he knows is what the higher-ups in the GDA have told him—what they believe. But Y/n feels it now: the truth is slipping through their fingers, and her fate is slipping further away with every passing second.

"Tell me," she demands, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and determination, "how many others have they done this to? How many people have sacrificed themselves to them already? How many more will there be?"

Cecil remains silent. He doesn’t have an answer for that. But he knows what she means. The Marks have already been through countless others—versions of people, lives torn apart, worlds left in ruin. Y/n feels the weight of all those lost possibilities pressing down on her.

And then, in that moment, a new resolve fills her. She can’t let this be the end of everything. She won’t let herself become another pawn in their game. There has to be another way. She can stop the alternate Marks. She has to.

With every ounce of strength she has left, she turns away from Cecil. "I won’t be the prize they want me to be. I’ll find another way. I’ll stop them."

Cecil calls out, his voice pleading, "Y/n, don’t—"

But she’s already gone, slipping into the shadows of the building. She may be alone now, but her mind is clearer than it’s ever been. It’s time to end this—her way.

The stakes are higher than ever, and the final confrontation looms, but the fate of the world lies in the hands of one person: Y/n L/n. Will she find a way to destroy the alternate Marks and save herself, or will she be forced to make the ultimate sacrifice to prevent reality from unraveling completely? The clock is ticking, and there’s no turning back now

#x black fem reader #mark grayson invincible #mohawk mark #mark grayson #invincible x reader #invincible war #invincible season 3 #invincible #invincible mark grayson #mark grayson fanfic #invincible variants

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kenyummy · 2 months ago

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guysssssgyuysss ok i never thought id post about neglevtful batfam ever but im lit rotting so hard

spidey reader who gets transported to an alternate dimension where you replace a different you—a you that's the "forgotten" child of the waynes. in this universe, you're bitter, quiet, not the wise-cracking hero your universe adores—most of all, you're not spidey here. spidey doesn't even exist.

(alfred is the uncle ben esque figure??? perhaps???)

you don't even know who your supposed family even is—you only find out through diary entries and searching through this other you's phone—so you barely give them the time of day.

you're too busy now to fret about their vigilantism—to annoy them—you have your own problems as spidey to try and form a bond. you just want to go home.

the fam on the other handdddd — they are confused. a new spider hero pops up out of nowhere—and you're suddenly as cold as ice. you don't bother to cook meals with Alfred anymore, nor bring them first aid kits and give them sad eyes when they shoo you away.

the house lacks the presence of normality you used to bring—now you're up till 3am doing God knows what (spidey stuff) and you're too busy to even try and start a conversation (not that it ever went anywhere, but still).

theyre all so confused and freaked out by your sudden change overnight that they start to miss you and how normal you were—not knowing how it grounded them all until you started to ice them out </3

you have far more pressing matters to attend to, like the strange influx of people from your world either already existing or being transported here—on top of keeping your secret identity safe from your suddenly overbearing and worrysome family members.

(you don't even want to know what they'd do if they found out you're the reckless spider hero that stopped a train from going off its tracks just last monday).

at some point (probably after they find out you're spidey) you tell them about how this isn't actually their you, and that you're from another universe—but they're so far gone they don't even care at that point—they love u and just want u back already!!!

they don't care you're not technically their [name], they love you more than anything and you're their sibling!! no way youll be going "back home" now. this is your home, silly!

give up that whole hero thing—they got it covered. you just need to go back to normal and they'll protect you (even though you need protecting the least out of all of them—but they don't see that)!!! they miss their slice of normal in their hectic life, you can't take that away from them!

im lit geekinggggvggg stop guys i

lowkey im thinking of love interests being some of my guilty pleasure spidey ships ahgaseHhhh but like it'll acc play a part in the plot trust

spideytorch and parksborne my lovesloves harry and johnny so badddd but i also love kon GAHHHN fml

but I could see them HATINGGGG johnny like they would want him GONE. esp if they see him (before ur reveal) kissing you on a rooftop as spidey, then walking around arm in arm with you at school—convinced that he's cheating on their baby sibling (you're the same age as tim, but okay) !!!! every time they hear you're going out w him they try their hardest to keep you away—you have no business going out w a guy like that 😒

they wouldn't want a womaniser player like him anywhere NEAR you!!! you may trust him, but they do notttt

theyd probably be a little more okay with harry... hes one of those gotham elites—but he chose to go to the "poorer" school with you for years because he just wanted to be w you and mj. he's a little snobby, but isn't every nepo baby? hes lowkey your damsel in distress like you end up saving him in all kinds of situations by princess style carrying him out of a burning building heheheer

(also his dad isn't crazy and green goblin... yet)

obviously the fam already has a lil beef with kon... being... kon (even tim wouldnt want his bestest buddy to go after his spider sibling). not as bad as johnny... but you shouldn't be dating guys, period. aren't they all you need?

anywayssss yes. this has been rotting me so bad I lowkey need to spill this b4 I go crazy stfhhhgrsgghh

SHOULD I WRITE THIS BC I HAVE SUCH BAD BRAINROTTT

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freeabortionslol · 5 months ago

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don't marry him (quinn hughes x bsf!reader) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

summary: angst, quinn talks reader out of engagement, unrequited love (kinda), reader is a lawyer, lots of flashbacks, italics mean flashbacks, not a single y/n used (yay!) warnings!! anxiety, panic attacks, cursing, intense argument a/n: okay so I rly didn't know what to do with this bc it honestly felt wrong to have him confess his feelings in this moment LMAO so I think I'm def gonna do a pt 2. anyways this was the fic from my drafts that the people voted for so here it is!! hope u enjoy :)

wc: 4.1k

“You lost.” Quinn said, staring out at the Lake, not making eye contact with you.

“What?” You asked, twirling your flashy engagement ring around your finger.

Max had come into your life at a time when everything felt uncertain. You were fresh off a series of career setbacks, questioning your worth and your ability to build the future you had always dreamed of. He was steady, charismatic, and above all, ambitious. Qualities you admired and felt you needed to anchor yourself. He made you feel secure in a world that often felt chaotic.

Quinn sighed, turning to face you slightly. “At life. You lost.” He mumbled out, taking a sip of his beer before turning back to the lake. Your face quickly softened with a hint of sadness.

“I-I didn’t lose. I’m happy and successful.” You said, your tone coming off with a hint of anger.

You and Max met at a work conference, one of those overly formal events where you spent half the time pretending to be interested in panel discussions and the other half networking. Max had approached you during a coffee break, his easy confidence setting him apart from the crowd. His suit was perfectly tailored, his smile sharp but not unkind.

Quinn took one look at you, shifting in his seat slightly. “Y-You…you don’t want this.” Your heart thumped slightly, cracking your knuckles to drown out the sounds of your own thoughts. “I’m scared for you.”

Max’s love came with conditions. He valued success above all else, and he expected you to do the same. Work always came first, even if it meant skipping family events or cutting vacations short for a meeting. He didn’t understand why you needed to spend time with Quinn, Luke, and Jack.

“Quinn, I love him. You know that.” Your brows furrowed in an attempt to make him understand.

The engagement came as a surprise, even to you. It was during a charity gala, one of those glittering events Max thrived in. He had pulled you onto the stage during his speech, getting down on one knee in front of hundreds of people. The ring sparkled under the chandeliers, and the applause was deafening. You had said yes because saying no didn’t feel like an option. Not with Max’s expectant smile, the cameras flashing, and the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“But do you like him?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you continued to fidget with the ring on your finger. The ring that was far too heavy to be wearing constantly, its band made of gold instead of your preferred silver. His words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking in your chest like a stone tossed in the still waters of the lake. His gaze remained fixed ahead, unwavering.

Max wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t cruel or unkind. But he didn’t see you, not the way Quinn did. He saw your potential, your ambition, but not the person you were when all the noise fell away.

“I-I…I don’t- of course I like him. What are you getting at?” You stuttered, confused about your own feelings on the matter. Quinn glanced at you with a side eye, taking another swig from his bottle before speaking.

“Really?” He asked, his heart shattering at the sight of tears welling in your eyes. “I see the face you make when he talks. It’s blank, unreadable. And when he laughs? Your eyes scrunch up like when we would drag you out of bed to get on the boat.” Quinn lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. “You really want to wake up next to his mustache every morning for the rest of your life?” You roll your eyes, posture slumping.

“Don’t make fun of him.” You warned, your voice becoming stern. Quinn bites the inside of his mouth before turning away. “I’m successful, Quinn.”

“Yeah-yeah, that’s great. You have all the fuckin’ money you could’ve wished for.” He huffs out with a sarcastic smile.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me sound materialistic-” You crossed your arms, Quinn cutting you off quickly.

“Well it’s kind of hard when all you do is work and work-” His voice raises significantly.

“This is my dream! If you can’t accept the fact that i’m happy-”

“Yeah! And you’re so damn caught up in it that you don’t have time for us anymore!” He yells, sending you a look of anger. One you’d never seen before. He breathes heavily, trying to calm himself down as he moves to the edge of his seat. His eyes soften when he catches your expression, scared. He sighs reluctantly before he speaks again. “Luke notices the way you brush him off when Max is around. He notices how you never fly out to Jersey to see him and Jack like you used to.” Your breath hitched as Quinn’s words pierced through the air. His voice had calmed, but the raw emotion in his eyes cut deeper than his raised tone ever could. You looked away, not able to face the weight of his gaze, and stared at the rippling water instead. The golden light of the setting sun shimmered on the surface, mimicking the perfection you thought you’d built.

“Luke said that?” You whispered, your voice barely audible. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. You didn’t want this, not here, not ever.

“Yeah.” He replied softly. “Jack see’s it too. They miss you.” Quinn turned his head to face you, your gaze still not meeting his. “I miss you.” You turned to glance at him, tears bubbling as you brushed a strand of hair from your face. You continued playing with your ring, biting your lip to hold the cries.

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “This is my life. I won.” You croaked out. Quinn sighed, leaning back in his seat as he swirled the beer bottle in his hand.

“When we were kids, my Aunt Julia came over to visit us during christmas. Do you remember that?” He asked quietly, catching you off guard in a moment of vulnerability. You nodded your head, continuing to bite your lip. “She asked all of us- Me, you, Jack, and Luke ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’” Your eyes softened quickly, bringing your knees to your chest. “Do you remember what you said?” He asked, his tone empathetic.

“Yeah, a lawyer-”

“A mother.” He interrupted. The words hit you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You froze, staring at Quinn as the memories hit like a tidal wave.

“I…I don’t remember that.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn gave you a sad smile, his eyes softening. “You do. You just don’t want to.” He brought the bottle to his mouth, looking out at the lake again. The two of you sat in the thick silence. Quinn, knowing he was winning this conversation and you, overthinking every little moment from the past two years. Tears began to escape your eyes as you stared out at the lake, refusing to look at Quinn. He turned to you, seeing how hard this conversation was for you. He wanted to pull you into him, let you cry into his shoulder until all the pain went away, but that wasn’t his job anymore. It was Max’s. The pain burned deep into Quinn’s chest as he recalled every memory he shared with you at this house. Jumping off the boat together on hot summer days, neighborhood barbecues where you would wear those short little sundresses he liked so much, your first kiss while playing spin the bottle together, and of course every deep conversation you shared on this back deck, in these exact chairs. When he was thirteen, he was sure of the fact that he would marry you. He never expected to be sitting here, watching you fiddle with an engagement ring that he didn’t buy.

You blinked, wiping the tears from your face as you decided to face your fear of confrontation. “I-If I don’t work hard now, I won’t have anything left when I'm old and burnt out.” Quinn’s jaw clenched as he processed your words, his gaze fixed on the lake but his mind clearly elsewhere. He tilted his head back slightly, exhaling through his nose like he was trying to suppress his frustration. Your lip trembled, more tears falling by the second as you looked away.

“H-He um-” You paused, taking a long sigh as you looked over at Quinn. “He says there’s no time for children in our career.” Quinn whipped his head over to you, his expression softening as he got lost in your words.

“He’s a piece of shit.” Quinn mumbled, shaking his head as he returned his gaze to the lake.

You licked your lips as you rolled your eyes. “He’s not a piece of shit, okay? He’s a good guy, you just don’t know him.” You said, your tone growing in frustration. Quinn looked over to you, mouth open, brows furrowed as if you’d just said the most unbelievable thing.

He huffed out a small laugh before returning his eyes to the bottle in his hand. “You’re fuckin’ delusional.” He let out quietly, taking another sip. You whipped your head to him, your frustration quickly bubbling over.

“Excuse me-”

Quinn was quick to interrupt you, his voice raised slightly. “You heard me. You’re fucking delusional if you think that’s love.” He rolled his eyes, looking back at you.

You scoffed, licking your bottom row of teeth as you let out an uncomfortable laugh. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” Your expression had become serious, your tears stopping in their tracks. “This is love!” Your voice carefully rose in volume. “I fell in love,” You laughed slightly, letting a slight smile escape your lips out of frustration. “You’re just jealous.”

Quinn’s face turned bright red as he took in your words. He looked down at his lap, then back to you. He bit the inside of his cheek, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle before speaking. “Jealous?” He asked, brows furrowed. “My god, you're so full of yourself sometimes.” He didn’t mean that and he knew, but you didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears as your best friend tore you apart. “You seriously think i’m jealous of him?” He asked, his voice just below a yell.

“No, of me!” Quinn froze, his beer bottle mid air as the words echoed between the two of you. “You’re jealous because I found love and-”

Quinn slammed the bottle on the wooden deck, the sharp sound making you flinch. “Don’t.” He snapped, his voice shaking with anger. “Don’t twist this into me being the bad guy for giving a shit about you.”

“You don’t give a shit!” You shot back, standing up as your emotions boiled over. “You just can't stand the fact that i’m not following you around like a fucking puppy anymore!” Quinn stood too, his frame towering over you, but his expression wasn’t filled with intimidation. It was filled with raw, unfiltered pain.

June 23rd, 2012

Dear diary, today was pretty good. In the morning, Jack and Luke jumped on my bed to wake me up which sucked, but when are they not annoying? Anyways, they dragged me down to the lake for a boat day. We went with their dad and their brother Quinn (my future husband). Jack and Luke were doing this wakeboard surfing thingy so I decided to stay close to Quinn. He’s just sooo perfect. His hair is amazing and he smells so good. I wanna be his girlfriend like literally so bad but I can’t tell if he likes me or not. He held my hand when we jumped in the water which was literally the best thing that has EVER happened to me. Anyways, that was the most important thing that happened today.

“What are you reading? You don’t read.” Jack’s piercing voice pulled Quinn straight from focus. He quickly turned around, shutting the book immediately.

“Nothing uh- just something for school.” He stammered out. Jack furrowed his brows, crossing his arms.

“It’s summer.”

“Yeah, summer reading.” Only it wasn’t summer reading. It was your diary, something personal and private. Quinn was only reading it to find out where you hid the hockey puck you stole, but he stumbled upon a catalog of entries about himself. Do you expect a thirteen year old boy to not read it?

“Okay well, dinner’s in five minutes.” Jack said before spinning on his heel to exit the room. You liked Quinn, like really liked him and now he knows it.

“You need to think about what you just said.” Quinn said, his voice low. “Think about that and then compare it to every time I talked you through your panic attacks, or every time I picked you up at three in the morning when we were sixteen because you were too drunk to drive home, or every time I offered you a place to stay when your parents were fighting. Then, you can tell me if you think I give a shit or not.” He stared you down, his eyes becoming tense as your bottom lip began to tremble.

“I didn’t-”

Quinn huffed out his breath, interrupting your speech. “Do you know how hard it’s been to watch you? To see you become someone I don’t even recognize anymore?” His voice became stern, raising in volume. “You don’t smile the same way anymore. You don’t laugh like you used to!” Your breath hitched, the weight of his words suffocating. You looked down at the ring on your finger, the glittering diamond that once felt like a prize but now felt more like a shackle. “You think I don’t care?” His voice was quiet, but the pain in his voice was unmistakable. “I’ve always cared. A-And seeing you like this, wearing that ring, in this life that’s clearly eating you alive? It kills me.”

You licked your bottom lip, tears spilling down your face as you looked up at him. You swallowed the lump in your throat, letting out a shaky breath as you gathered your thoughts.

“Hey, babe. You almost ready?” You heard Max’s voice shout from the living room as you finished putting your earrings on.

“Yeah, just a second!” You yelled back, fluffing your freshly blown out hair in the mirror. You took a deep breath as you looked yourself up and down in the dark green bodycon dress that Quinn had gotten you for your 21st birthday. You’d never put it on, but you assumed it was fitting for a work Christmas party. Was it too much? You thought to yourself as you ran your hands down the sides, seeing that the length was about an inch above your fingertips. You decided it was fine and made your way out of the bedroom, purse in hand as you walked to the living room. Max sat on the couch in his tailored Prada suit, a bit pretentious to wear to a work party. His legs were spread wide as he had one hand on his phone, and the other on the back of the couch. He looked up from the screen to glance at you in your dress. You gave him a soft smile, your shoulders tensing up as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“It’s a bit short, don’t you think?” He asked as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. You looked down at your dress, then back up at him.

“W-Well, I was thinking that a little. Should I change?” Your voice was shaky, filled with nerves at Max’s disapproval.

He shook his head, standing from the couch with his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the door. “No, no. We're already gonna be late with how long you took to get ready.”

There were little moments like that that clouded your mind as you stood in front of Quinn. Your breathing was shaky, your face now fully engulfed in hot tears as he stared into your eyes. “You don’t get it.” You let out, your voice just barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to find stability. To feel…safe.” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself.

“Safe?” Quinn repeated, his eyes locking with yours. “Is that what this is? Because it doesn’t look like it. You’re not safe. You’re trapped.” He gestured to the ring on your finger, his voice lowering at the depressed sight of you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You stared at him, your chest tightening as his words dug into the thoughts you’d been trying so hard to suppress. Quinn softened, stepping closer. “You deserve more than this.” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And I think, deep down you know that.”

You bit your lip, sniffling your nose before wiping your tears with your sleeve. “I’m in too deep. I can’t get out.” You whispered, finally bringing yourself to the point to admit it. You weren’t happy, you knew that, but you couldn’t tell anyone. Well, you thought you couldn’t until Quinn finally pushed you to the point where there wasn’t another option.

Quinn let out a sigh mixed with exhaustion and a hint of relief. He sent you an empathetic smile as he absentmindedly grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of it. “You can.” He said, his voice quiet. “You’re not alone. I’m here…if you need help. I’m always gonna be here.” Your breath caught in your throat as Quinn’s hand enveloped yours, his warmth cutting through the icy wall you’d built around yourself. His touch was steady, grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. His words echoed in your head, soft and firm. You stared down at his hand, the calluses on his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as his thumb moved in slow, soothing circles. It felt so familiar, so safe, and the contrast to Max’s cold indifference hit you like a wave. You couldn’t help but let all the emotions running like a swarm through your head push you to the point of breakage. You began to sob, your eyes still looking at your hands intertwined as your breath came out in short, stammered increments. Quinn didn’t waste any time before pulling you into his chest, allowing your sobs to escape into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around your body. He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a shield against everything that had been weighing you down. His chin rested on top of your head as your tears soaked into his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in ages.

“It’s okay,” He murmured softly into your hair. “I’ve got you.” You clung to him, your fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would mean losing the only thing tethering you to solid ground.

The room began to shrink in an instant, reading the text from your mother. “It’s final. Dad and I are separating. You and I are moving to Gran and Pop’s when you get back from the lake house, so I need you to pack up everything.”

The tears came almost immediately, but that didn’t scare you. It was the feeling you got in your chest, like your heart was radiating pulses all over your body. Pounding over and over again, like the beating was the only thing you could hear. The sound of Quinn shooting pucks only made it worse, like each shot was another banging ache to your head. You tried to slow your breathing, but it felt like the most difficult challenge at that moment. Your breaths were short and hitched, gasping for air at any chance you got. Your hands shook as your phone fell out of them. You were terrified, you didn’t know what was happening. You couldn’t die, you were only sixteen. You still had so much to do in life. You tilted your head up, staring at the ceiling light, but that only made it worse. Quinn noticed when you didn’t say anything about the shot he’d just missed, immediately dropping his stick to run over to you.

“Hey, Hey. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He said frantically as he leaned down to where you were sitting on the floor. You tried to tell him, tried to speak, but your head was stuck looking up, and you felt like you couldn’t move it. Quinn placed his hand on the back of your neck, pulling your head down to face him. Your face was covered in tears, completely red as your mouth parted slightly. “Talk to me.” He said gently. “Please?”

You licked your quivering lips, trying your hardest to breathe. “I-I…I c-can’t. I can’t b-breathe.” His heart dropped at your words, the panic in your voice cutting through him like a knife. His hands moved to gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as more fell.

“Okay, okay,” He said softly, his own voice trembling but steadying for your sake. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re not dying, I promise.” You gasped again, your breaths shallow and uneven, your chest tightening with each attempt. “Look at me.” He instructed. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He blew out softly, his eyes locked on yours as he repeated the motion.

You tried to mimic him, but your breath was quickly caught in your throat, sending you a fresh wave of panic. “I c-can’t Quinn, I can’t!” You cried.

“Yes, you can.” He reassured, his hands never leaving your face. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just take it slow.” You managed a small, shaky inhale, your body trembling as you followed his lead. “There you go.” He said, his voice laced with a small flicker of relief. “Now, out through your mouth.” Quinn stayed with you, guiding you through each breath as the pounding of the room began to dull. Finally, your breaths came easier, the crushing weight on your chest lifting little by little. You looked at Quinn, your face still wet with tears.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your voice hoarse.

His thumbs still traced circles on your cheeks as he sent you a soft smile. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

You stayed, sobbing into Quinn’s shirt as his grip around you tightened. He listened to your breathing patterns, looking out for a sign of a panic attack. He’d memorized you at this point. He knew the exact time to jump in, and he knew how to calm you down.

“Quinn, I’m so scared.” You cried out, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer.

Quinn moved his hand from your back to your head, running his fingers through your hair. “I know.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.” He leaned back just enough to gently tilt your chin up with his fingers, his blue eyes meeting yours. They were soft, but filled with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You thought you had to want this.” He said, speaking the words you never had the confidence to say. “Doesn’t mean it’s right. It doesn’t mean it’s what you deserve.” You looked up at him, not seeing Quinn Hughes, captain of the Canucks, but your childhood best friend, Quinny, who talked you through every panic attack, walked you home from every party, and gave you a bed through every fight between your parents. That’s what you deserved. Someone willing to give you that much dedication, not some pretentious lawyer who only loves you for your accomplishments. In a moment of determination, after wiping your tears, you dramatically pulled off your engagement ring, slamming it on the railing of the deck. The sound of the ring hitting the wooden railing echoed in the stillness of the night, sharp and final. Quinn’s eyes darted to it, then back to you, his lips parting in surprise. You stood there trembling, not from fear but from the sheer weight of the decision you’d just made. Your chest heaved as the tears continued to fall. This time they weren’t from sadness, they were from release. Quinn hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, his hand hovering over yours as if to silently ask for permission. When you didn’t pull away, he took your trembling hand in his, holding it like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

“You-” He started, his voice breaking slightly before he cleared his throat. “You did it.”

“I did it.” You whispered, almost in disbelief yourself. You stared at the ring, gleaming under the soft glow of the porch light. It had once symbolized everything you wanted, but now it felt like a chain you’d finally broken free from.

#freeabortionslol #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl players #qh43 #imagine #hockey #hughes brothers

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ramp-it-up · 7 months ago

Text

Knock You Down: IV

Photo credit to @thebluemage. Edit mine.

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Finally! Date Number Threeeeee!

This is a follow up to Part III

Word count: 3.5 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This is the final part! (For now) I think that this is one that I will definitely write in answer to asks. I just love these two so so much! Thank all of you for rocking with me on this one. This was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. SMUT!!!! The end of the Slow burn, now it's burning very fast 😅. Cursing, flirting, jealousy, apologies, Bucky cooking (a warning!), kissing, dry humping, dirty talk in both English and Romanian, voice kink, oral sex (m and f receiving), protected sex (yay Bucky!) And these two are so fucking fluffy. I'm scared, y'all. I want it to be good enough for the build up.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

As soon as he entered the Brownsville Arts and Culture Center, James Bucky Barnes was hot. Blood was rushing to his ears and he needed a drink. He wasn’t sick; his symptoms were all due to you.

The black dress that adorned your body contained all of his hopes and dreams, but you seemed to be flirting with another man, twirling for him and then giving him a hug. To add insult to injury, you had the nerve to laugh and smile with the punk.

You in that black dress was everything in the world that Bucky could want, except maybe you out of that black dress. As his eyes traced down your form, he noticed the 5 inch red bottoms that you had on. Yes. You, out of that dress with just the red bottoms. That was what he needed in his life.

But first, he had to take care of that other man.

—-

“Benson’s work emphasizes the subjects’ spiritual essence over their physical appearance, don’t you think?”

You turned around at the sound of the deep baritone.

“Well hello, Mr. Rogers. How are you today? Delivering an art analysis given to you by AI? Oh. I forgot. You are an ‘art dealer.’ An art dealer who goes to Soul Cycle in Brownsville all of a sudden?”

Steve clutched his heart.

“Ah. I’m hurt, Y/N. I thought we were cool. But I guess I deserved the air quotes. I do actually love art. I took some art classes when I was a kid and I still love to sketch.”

“Hmmmph. Okay. I’ll give you that. But how is it that you popped up in my Soul Cycle class? Don’t play me, Steven.”

Steve raised his eyebrow at you and grinned. He understood why Buckiy was so drawn to you. Not only were you gorgeous, you were a spitfire. That was hot.

“I would never try to play you, Y/N. I also actually love Soul Cycle. Used to teach a class in Park Slope.”

“I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover, can you?”

Steve’s eyes slid over you appraisingly.

“Speaking of. You look very, very nice today.”

You twirled for him, feeling as safe as you would your brother.

“Nice. Okay, listen. I’m sorry about the other day. I was just trying to protect my friend. And you.”

Steve sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ve never seen Bucky like this. He’s never been this smitten with someone before and let them into his life. But I get it now.”

Steve’s blue eyes were almost as beautiful as Bucky’s.

“Bucky is my family. Since we were kids. He’s always taken care of me. And I will do anything for him.”

He raised his eyebrow at you.

“I can see now that means that I will do anything for you, because I have a feeling that you’re gonna be around a lot. So do you forgive me?”

You considered Steve. He was not too different from his best friend, and you couldn’t hold a grudge. Not after Bucky laid it all out to you last night You opened your arms.

“Let’s hug it out.”

Steve chuckled and gathered you into his warm embrace. You pulled back and giggled, grinning at him.

“So what makes you think I’m gonna be hanging around?”

“Well, judging from the look on Bucky’s face, he’s serious about you.”

Steve nodded behind you, toward the door. You looked that way and saw James Bucky Barnes headed straight for you.

And he didn’t look happy.

—--

“Good morning, Frumoasă. You look stunning today. The exhibit is amazing, the space looks great and it seems that the right people are in the building.”

Bucky came up and placed his hand on the small of your back as he spoke to you, ignoring Steve. His blue eyes were storm clouds at the moment, and his touch was electric.

“Thank you, James. You’re so observant, I appreciate that. And you look very handsome today.”

You looked him up and down and bit your lip, meeting his gaze and the way he kept eye contact as he inclined his head in response.

Bucky was attractive as hell in his black on black shirt, blazer and slacks. You noticed that his collar was unbuttoned; the medallion hanging on his chest made you want to take it between your teeth. You stared at it for a moment, imagining such a scenario where that could happen and then met his eyes again, prompting desire to roll through you as Bucky licked his lips. He was right there with you.

You smiled at him in a way that you didn’t smile at Steve. Who was Steve Rogers, anyway? You could hardly remember meeting him as your mind went to the feel of being in Bucky Barnes’ arms.

You sensed an air of proprietariness as Bucky took your hand and kissed it, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Possessive Bucky Barnes felt like a sin you wanted to indulge in. You cleared your throat and looked at Steve, as if surprised to find him still standing there, watching the show.

“Well, I see some board members over there, I’m going to go do my job. Talk to you later, boys.”

You walked away and gave them a wink over your shoulder, and you caught both of them looking at your ass. You shook your head and chuckled as you went on your way.

“You trying to steal my girl?”

Everyone stopped when Steve laughed, his deep boom a distraction. Bucky still wasn’t amused.

“Oh. So you’re in love.”

“What?”

“You’ve never worried about me taking your leftovers or vice versa before. Hell, we’ve even shared–”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

Bucky snapped at Steve who put his hands up.

“Whoa, there. Just yanking your chain, buddy; I know she’s special. I wouldn’t dream of making a move on her. Not that she knows I’m alive. When you walked up, I thought I was going to have to take off my jacket so you two could fuck on the floor.”

Bucky was barely listening to Steve as his eyes followed you around the room. One thing Steve said was echoing in his mind: “So you’re in love.”

—-

You floated through the rest of the day on a cloud. The exhibit was a smashing success with the

Board of Directors in attendance. Securing Howard Benson’s penultimate work from Rebirth was the feather in your cap.

And you had Bucky to thank for it.

Bucky’s visit was also a hit; he and Steve charmed the board members with the help of Sam and Nat, who arrived later. They all made amends for what occurred that week and you were left very impressed with James Barnes.

After a couple of hours at the event, Bucky came over to let you know he was leaving.

“I will see you later, Frumoasă. I have much to prepare for tonight. Nico will pick you up at 7:30.”

“See you soon, James.”

He kissed your hand again.

“See you soon, Y/N.”

—---

“It is actually insanely attractive how you handled yourself in the kitchen.”

You were seated with Bucky on his couch in his living room, looking over the New York skyline from his Brooklyn penthouse. The dessert had been delicious and the wine in your hand was spectacular.

“I was sure you’d order something in and just play it off. But I watched you create a meal in front of me, and I should have known that if you said you were going to cook, that you would do just that.”

Bucky’s heart beat double time at what you were saying. He wanted so much for tonight, but most of all, he wanted it to flow naturally. He saw that you were relaxed and open to him, which pleased him immensely.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Frumoasă. I enjoy cooking for my friends and family. Cooking for a beautiful woman is a treat.”

Bucky’s eyes slid over your form. You had changed to jeans and a color block sweater that just put your cleavage out there for the world, which was Bucky Barnes, to see. You also wore the same red bottoms from that day, and Bucky was beginning to think he had a foot fetish as you took them off at his entryway.

You took a sip of wine.

“How often do you do that? Cook for a woman?”

You barely hid your curiosity.

Bucky smiled and drained his glass, reaching over to refill it.

“Not as often as you’d think. Never had any other woman over here. Food is not usually the top priority with them.”

You pouted, which was so cute. Your spark of jealousy inspired Bucky.

“But I don’t want to talk about anyone else. Tonight is about me and you.”

Any uncertainty that arose was quelled by his assertion. You grew warm, so you finished your wine and rose to go to the window.

“This is the most gorgeous view I’ve ever seen.”

“Absolutely agree.”

You looked behind you and Bucky was still sitting on the couch, hands spread out on the back of it, checking you out. You gave him one of your adorable smiles and he came to stand behind you, and took you in his arms.

“I want you to know that you deserve everything, Y/N. To be cheered on and protected every day. And thoroughly ruined every night.”

You turned around and his hands went to your hips. It was the perfect moment.

“James?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

Bucky’s eyes dilated, and he moved his hand to your cheek. He licked his lips as he looked deep into your eyes.

“Ah, Frumoasă. I thought you’d never ask.”

His first movement was a subtle brush of your lips. He pulled back to assess the situation, and you didn’t know why, but that made your nipples tighten into stiff peaks. You gasped as Bucky watched you hungrily.

The air seemed to change around you, and you shivered. He lowered his head so his lips could meet yours again, and this time his mouth was gentle but demanding. You gasped at the spike of electricity that flared between you and Bucky took the opportunity to dip his tongue into your mouth, scorching your lips and soul. With a low groan, he shifted your angle, bending you backward a little to kiss you deeper and ripping a moan from you as you melted against him.

Good lord, could the man kiss.

At that point, he was holding you up, one hand on your hip and one hand on the back of your head as you molded yourself against him. Bucky’s fingers dug into you, sure to leave bruises the next day. You relished the thought as you moaned into his mouth again, giving him the opportunity to continue destroying your soul.

Bucky dragged his lips from yours reluctantly and stared at you, eyes almost black with desire. He brought his thumb up and wiped the moisture from your bottom lip. Motivated, you captured his digit, drawing it into the hot wetness of your mouth. He stared at you, mouth open, as you looked him straight in the eye and started sucking.

Bucky moaned as he pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth, and walked you back to the couch. He extracted his finger, watching the show your lips put on as he pulled it out, leaving them in a delectable pout.

“More,” Bucky demanded as he crouched down and took your head in both hands as he kissed you again.

His hands wound up in your hair, tugging gently, then on your back, then your ass as you arched your back to fill his palms. Bucky picked you up, then deposited you on his lap as he sat down on the couch, and you felt how aroused he was. His thick length was where you needed him most.

“Fuck! That feels good.”

Bucky was watching you grind on him like it was the best show on earth. Then he looked up at you.

“Yes, yes it does.”

He leaned forward and captured your bottom lip between his teeth, a preview of how rough he wanted to be with you. Then, he went in for another kiss. That continued for a good five minutes until he pulled away to stare at your swollen lips, and down to your cleavage, which was practically in his face.

When his eyes met yours, you were entranced.

“You good? You want this to happen?”

You nodded and took his hands in yours, guiding them up to your breasts, squeezing yourself with his hands. You rolled your hips, causing his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Like you said, James. More.”

You continued to grind on him, causing him to just gape at your body moving on his.

“I’ve dreamed of this so many times…”

“Yes? Tell me about your dreams, Baby.”

His hands moved to find your nipples through the lace of your bra and the wool of your sweater. He found them in no time, and pinched them lightly, then more roughly when you moaned.

“Mmmmnnnn. So fucking hot.”

Bucky kissed you again and then pulled away as he stared you down and tortured you.

“I dream about marking you up,” he kissed your neck under your chin, “to your clavicle,” a kiss there, “and all over this beautiful flesh until I get to your nipples.”

He looked at you for any signs of discomfort as he slipped his hands under your sweater to find the thin lace there. He found your hard peaks again and started rolling them both in his fingers.

“Then I want to kiss and suck them until you come in my arms.”

“Holy god, Jamie….”

Bucky’s eyes rolled at the second pet name you called him and continued.

“Wake up so fucking hard every morning since I met you. Then, I daydream about how wet and tight you will be after I made you cum, and how good it would feel to… to give you my cock. Do y’like that idea, Frumoasă?”

“Y-yesssss!”

“O să te fac să vii pe penisul meu iar și iar, Frumoasă.”

You almost came right then.

“D-don’t know what you said, but yes to whatever you just suggested.”

Bucky pulled you to him, and then chuckled into your ear.

“It means that I want to make you cum over and over again on my cock.”

You were already making a mess in your jeans, but you knew he could feel you soaking them at the moment.

“Please. Give it to me?”

Bucky groaned and kissed you again, this time encircling your waist in his grip and pressing you down on his bulge.

“You know I can’t deny you anything. Are you certain?”

“Yes, James. Please…”

He lifted you easily, kissing you as he walked you down the hall to his bedroom, depositing you on his bed.

“Y’look so fucking good.”

He crawled toward you on the bed and settled between your thighs as you hitched your leg over his. You pressed your core against his bulge and it had you muttering.

“Too many clothes.”

Bucky leaned up and you were fumbling with his button and he with yours. You looked up and laughed.

“Maybe faster the other way.”

“Agreed.”

You two made quick work of your own garments, flinging them around the room between frenzied kisses. The way your eyes widened when Bucky got naked made his chest swell. He wanted you to always look at him like that.

“Wow…,” you said as your eyes roamed his physique.

His cock seemed massive as it slapped him on the abs.

“Wow, indeed,” replied Bucky as he took you in hungrily.

Your white lace underwear looked amazing against your skin and against your cunt it served to make him hungry.

He moved toward you again, kissing up your leg until he got to the edge of your panties and nudged his nose there, making you squirm.

“Smell so good, look so good…”

Bucky kissed at the edge of your underwear,

“I just know you’re gonna taste good too..”

He moved to the center of you, placing a kiss over your lace-covered sodden slit. Then, he looked up at you and smirked before he leaned down and licked you over your panties.

“Fuck.”

He pulled your panties to the side and gazed at you there.

Those blue eyes threatened to steal your soul as he gazed at you and confessed, “This is the most gorgeous pussy I’ve ever seen,” and proceeded to lick a rude stripe up the center of you after he tore your panties away.

“Oh my god, James.”

You rolled your hips again and reached down to feel Bucky’s soft hair. He pulled your hips closer and his lips suckled you with more pressure, adding one finger, then two to stretch you out.

“Gotta get you ready for me, my love.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you moaned through Bucky thrusting his tongue inside you, then pulling back to focus on your clit.

“I c-can’t.. I–”

“Give me my cum, Frumoasă!”

You locked eyes with him as he buried his face in your cunt and shook against him as you came embarrassingly fast, pulling on his messed up curls.

“So fucking delicious. Taste.”

He took your head in both hands and kissed you deeply, and you responded by sucking your essence off of his tongue. You reached down and started stroking his cock, overjoyed and a little bit scared that your fingers didn’t meet around him as he unclasped your bra.

Bucky whimpered as your thumb came up and stroked his sensitive head, spreading his precum over the wide, mushroom cap.

“You’re so fucking huge, Bucky…”

Bucky pulled you toward him as he reached into his bedside drawer for a condom and a bottle.

“And you’re so wet, Furmoasa. We will make this work. Believe me…”

You continued to stroke and watched him as he brought the wrapper to his teeth and him tearing it open was about the hottest act of sexual protection you’d ever seen. Somehow, your mouth ended up sucking his tip as you watched his eyes roll back into his skull.

“That beautiful mouth…”

Bucky put his hand on your head as you tasted him experimentally, wondering if you’d ever be able to take it all. He seemed to read your mind as he spoke next.

“Don’t worry, I plan on us having a lot of practice with this later, but if you don’t let me put this condom on, I’m gonna cum all over your face, Frumoasă…”

You looked up at him and grinned as his cock jumped in your mouth, but you finally pulled off of him with a pop.

“I need to feel you around me when I cum love. S’all I’ve been dreaming of all week.”

Now his chest was heaving as he rolled the condom on, and he pushed you back onto the bed as his hand went to your core once again. You were even wetter than before and Bucky smiled at you, lining up and kissing you on the forehead as he began to breach your folds.

When he slid inside, your fingernails curled into his shoulders and your eyes grew wide. Bucky stopped, concentrating while his cock pumped, barely inside you.

“There is nothing. In the world. Like being inside your soft, wet, cunt.”

“Fuckkkkk!”

You became even wetter and he slid fully inside you. There, Bucky waited for you to get adjusted around him.

“So fucking tight. And hot. Just like I knew you would be.”

“More, Jamie!”

Smiling, Bucky started moving and you gripped him as he stroked in and out.

“Please don’t stop. Harder!”

Bucky grabbed the headboard and gave you what you wanted. His other hand pulled your hair and his strokes became more intense.

“Wanted to last longer, but I can’t, Baby. So beautiful. Pussy made for me. Cuming soon, but later… O să te fac să vii pe penisul meu iar și iar, Frumoasă. I never make a promise I can’t keep.”

You orgasm whited out your vision and your throat burned as you screamed. Bucky roared, filling the condom with copious amounts of cum. Your cunt was milking him and he hoped it would hold. He stayed sunk into you as long as he could before he had to get up and rid himself of the prophylactic.

He was only in the en suite for a few minutes as you floated in and out of sleep, lust drunk and exhausted.

Bucky climbed back into bed and got both of you situated under the covers, whispering in your ear.

“Stay tonight.”

“Of course. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

Both of you chuckled, because you knew it was true. Bucky kissed your ear and waited for your breath to even out. When he thought you were asleep, he whispered again.

“I’m going to be a better man for you, Frumoasă.”

“You are exactly who you need to be, James Barnes. Just keep moving forward. Tomorrow is another day to do that.”

After a few more minutes, you spoke again.

“Tomorrow will only be a week that we’ve known each other. Imagine that.”

Bucky buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Guess I better wait until tomorrow to ask you to marry me.”

You laughed a sleepy laugh.

“You got jokes.”

“You know me, Frumoasă. A professional comedian.”

But somewhere in the dark of Bucky Barnes’ closet, a diamond found some light and sparkled.

——

The next morning is here ;)

Please, please! Let me know!

#ramp-it-up falloween 24 #falloween #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #seb stan #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff

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imagine--if · 1 year ago

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══⋆✰* Dating Cha Hyun-Su Includes: *✰⋆══

A/N: In honour of the second season of Sweet Home, this was mandatoryyyy 😁 just started off with some relationship hcs first but feel free to send some imagine or other headcanon requests through my inbox for Sweet Home characters if you're into it! These headcanons cover season one and two. Enjoy reading 🖤

Warnings: Sweet Home series spoilers, mentions of violence

🩸• Starting from the beginning of this monstrous series of events, the most likely way you'll meet Hyun Su is at Green Home a bit before the monster outbreak and apocalypse comes along. All you'll see of the quiet, sullen young man is his weary, unfocused gaze that briefly trails up from the ground to glance up at you in acknowledgement as he bumps into you somehow while moving into his apartment in the complex. The only sign of his interest in you from first looks is his stare lingering for just a beat longer than he'd usually bother... and that's about it. Boy's too shy and broken and tired to feel like he's good enough to do much else, let alone have a shot at even being friends with someone like you, so he'll just admire you from afar every once in a while and leave you to live your life while he despises his.

🩸• HoWeVeRrR-

🩸• The apocalypse unleashes its hell before much else can happen, and before you know it, you two are out surviving in a ruined world riddled with horrifying monsters and mutations, hiding out inside Green Home as you form the group together with the rest and try to fight off the monsters inside the building along with it infecting and warping others into gruesome, inhumane figures.

🩸• This boy's absolutely damaged and drained from all he's been through before moving to Green Home, and so it takes a lot of energy for him to slowly, slowly break out of his shell and reach out to you in return. But he will. He just needs time and patience, and Hyun-Su will find himself making the tiniest amount of small talk when you're together with the rest of the surviving group in the apartment complex. Or, most likely, it'll be him giving you most of his food when you're eating by silently and gently pushing it over to you, no eye contact, no words.

🩸• Before you, he didn't have the slightest will or reason to live, and so the only idea he can think up while dragging himself around the wreck of Green Home along with the rest of the group of survivors is to follow you around and protect you. The way he wants to die is for you, shoving himself into the way of the monster or whatever else the danger is to take him instead. Hyun-Su's absolutely fine with that idea...

🩸• Until he starts falling in loveee- 😏🖤

🩸• Everyone gets used to the sight of this boy following around after you like a moon-eyed puppy, having a tall, slightly dropping shadow trailing behind your own whenever you go somewhere to find food or weapons or whatever you've been sent to find. From Season One, where Lee Eun-Hyuk tries forcing him to do everything and using his monster side as an advantage, if it involves steering clear of you or putting you in any danger, boy's had enough. Hyun-Su will defend himself in his own quiet but intense way, his dark glare bleeding into Eun-Hyuk's with a few mumbling words of a threat before he wanders off to find you again.

🩸• Hyun-Su does consider trying to completely leave you alone, since everyone's aware that he's dangerous with his monster brimming to the surface from inside of him and his other symptoms and dangerous instability being infected, but it feels like the worst form of torture. He's alone again, in a world grimmer than the last, and he has no idea what to do with himself except feel like crying and telling you everything about everything when you sit by him and ask him if he's doing alright.

🩸• I think that this guy would be mega touch-starved after living in isolation for so long after all the bullying and tragedies with his family, so having you as a comforting voice of reason and warmth is something he can't help but melt into after you've been unspoken friends during the apocalypse and doesn't have the fight left in him to reject you if you try to clean bloodstains and patch up his wounds after a nasty confrontation. After that, it's safe to say that out of the whole group of survivors together in Green Home, he'll always be naturally apprehensive and distrusting towards them all, but if it's you that's trying to point something out or is worried about something; let him go get his weapon, he's coming with you.

🩸• His general aim and instinct is to protect good people and be some source of help and comfort that's been so unfamiliar to him personally, but with you, instinct is boosted 10000000% because it's you. You're too good for this world, way too good for him, and if you die, he dies. This concept basically becomes something Hyun Su isn't even fully aware of until the point where you might almost die somehow being confronted by monsters with the others, which is where you'll witness himself having a full-on freak-out in his mind and using all his strength and darker, monstrous side to come out on top to save your life.

🩸• After the danger's gone and you're alone in a quiet room to recover and process what happened, that's all the time you need to make it official, hugging him tightly and thanking him, while Hyun-Su shakily pats your back in return before giving up and hugging you back equally as tightly, staying in a protected embrace as long as time will let you.

🩸• There's so much raw love and trust and protection in a relationship with Hyun-Su, it's unbelievable 😭 he's so clingy and sweet and ridiculously romantic in private with you until you point it out, which results in a blushing red sight and not being able to look you in the eye in bashfulness for about a straight hour before he gets over it. In public, it's still obvious that you're together, with smaller signs of affection and togetherness like holding hands, or doing that coupley thing where you whisper together in the back corners of rooms or give each other brief, subtle looks that say everything you need to understand what it means and where to run or go or something.

🩸• At first, he is a little reluctant to get too close to you because of that lingering fear of accidentally hurting you or his monster side popping out to ruin everything, but with some time and small steps, he'll eventually give up trying to be overly cautious and let him be wholly soothed by you, which was the biggest relief of all for him.

🩸• But just as you're getting properly closer and in touch with each other as romantic partners as well as best friends and survivors in this mess together, his monster alter ego personality will find it the perfect time to mess around with his head and find a way to overpower Hyun-Su, meeting you properly in the process.

🩸• Now, his monster side is a whole other story when it comes to personality, but if you think that means you'll be left alone or hated or something, think AgAiN, and then again, because no :)

🩸• Hyun-Su's monstrous side is darker, daring, dangerous, and with you, madly possessive and protective. I mean, he won't even try to hold himself back from taking things to extremes and spilling as much blood as necessary if he gets a weird vibe from someone around you, or if someone outrightly tries to attack you. Even if it's a monster like him, there's enough threat in thrashing them through a few solid walls and leaving some biting words behind before stalking off.

🩸• Monster Hyun-Su's a massive starer by the way, so those unnervingly blue eyes are going to be a sight you'll have to get used to, like literal inches away from your face when you wake up, studying you for wounds, or just studying you in general. There's something about you that's just so fascinating to him, and this side of him literally does not know what boundaries are, so he's all up in your face studying you in curiosity with a soft but dark smirk on his face, while you're just "😐"

🩸• Kind of gross but Monster Hyun-Su has the weirdest affection ever. Like, he enjoys feeding you when you're hungry, mostly questionably bloody-looking things until you get it in his head that you're not Hannibal Lecter and just want a breakfast bar or something 😭 and when this guy goes to hug you, it'll be ridiculously tight, sometimes his wing breaking out of its shell to wrap over you, which is kind of sweet. Until he goes to kiss you and it's not a kiss at all, it's more him living up to his monstrous reputation by licking at your skin like some kind of dog until you squeal and push him away, which he always finds hilarious. Meanwhile, normal Hyun-Su's mortified 😂

🩸• Normal Hyun-Su and Monstrous will most likely make an agreement between them to make sure you're kept alive and as unharmed as possible, protect you from any sort of danger, so if you thought you had a shadow following after you before the split between them, you've got a much more threatening one now, so it'd be very hard for much damage to come to you at all. And good luck if you want some time alone to wander and think by yourself, because if he doesn't straight-up follow you out with no buts like usual, he'll be watching you somewhere close at all times.

🩸• I feel like Hyun-Su's monstrous side would find it funny to make you jump, like falling down out of nowhere from a building or something right in front of you when you thought you were alone or something stupid like that. You'll give him an annoyed glare of protest, and he'll just smirk smugly and teasingly with a fake-innocent shrug of "something wrong?"

🩸• To sum up the whole. predicament you've gotten yourself into here, falling in love with Hyun-Su would pretty much protect you from ninety per cent of the apocalyptic mess of the world while being showered with all the lost love and affection and longing he thought were dead along with all the rest of his hopes and energy from the beginning. And then to keep you on your toes, you've got the monstrosity inside of his head coming out at random moments to obsess over you before Hyun-Su can come back to reality again. But whoever's at the surface, and wherever you two are, he'll always, always be there watching you and with you, one way or another.

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pierregazly · 2 years ago

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in the mind of another ꨄ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!soulmate!reader

warnings: mentions of sexual themes (no smut), pining/yearning for another, tiny bit of angst but hea! [wc is 5.4k]

in which soulmates always have a way of building the connection with one another. for you and max, you've always been the voice instead the others head, the one thing that has always been a constant presence. but will that voice inside your head, ever be the voice you hear from in front of you?

By legal terms, a soulmate was defined as “person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity. This may involve similarity, love, romance, platonic relationships, comfort, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, compatibility and trust.” In today’s day and age, more often than not, your soulmate was that of romantic origin, a person you yearned for on a regular basis.

It was something instilled in you at an early age, that everyone had a soulmate, but not everyone met their soulmate. Everyone had a way of interacting with their soulmate before they met. You learned early on, very early on, that you could interact with your soulmate through your mind. Through words, pictures, even internal conversations. But sometimes those interactions would lead to nothing, and your parents tried to ensure you were aware of that in the fear that you would be heartbroken one day.

One thing you could never do was tell them your name, who you were, or where you were until it was time. It was like your mind would go elsewhere when you tried to tell the male on the other end who you were. He told you the same thing happened to him every time he tried.

The both of you spent a plentiful amount of time interacting in your shared youth. He would often ramble on about his day, about go-karting, and his dad who he kind of hated but obviously loved, about his mum who he missed, and his sister who he couldn’t wait to see when she came to visit him wherever he was in the world.

You would do the same, you’d tell him about the things you did that specific day, explain little things about your family, the things you looked forward to for the remainder of the week. It was something you both just got used to.

The both of you grew up together. Even if it wasn’t physical, you were an emotional tether for one another when either of you needed it. He was there for almost all of your firsts, your first graduation, your first familial heartbreak, your first crush, your first boyfriend (which he was eager to help you through when it ended).

Ever embarrassing to admit, he was even the one in your mind, more times than you can count, when you felt the butterflies in your tummy growing as your fingers explored different parts of your body. He always pushed you to continue, telling you exactly what he would do with his own fingers, or his own tongue; when he finally got the chance to make you feel the way you were making yourself feel.

It was something you didn’t speak about after it happened, but it didn’t change the fact he was usually the one your brain went to when you made yourself feel that way. He argued it was the soulmate connection, that your soul just simply wanted him to be the one to do it.

As time went on, the conversations dwindled amongst the two of you, both of you growing up and growing out of the fantasy that you would meet your soulmate one day, meet each other.

You still got glimpses into his brain occasionally, pictures of blue and red cars, racecars are what you presumed. His fingers on what looked like a controller, but turned out to be a steering wheel when you asked him what it was.

“Seems like a bit of an extravagant steering wheel, no?”

The silent laugh was loud in your mind, as if you could feel his body rumbling in its laughter at your words, “Pretty extravagant, yeah. Not everyone gets to use something like this, though.”

“Explain the steering wheel to me, there’s too many buttons and toggles,” you prompted him, knowing full well it would dive him deep into an explanation about the object you so often saw inside his head.

That was another thing you learned about him early on. He liked to explain everything. He used to spend hours describing the go-karts he drove every weeknight and weekend, putting as much detail and emphasis into his explanations so that you would better understand. As time went on, so did his explanations, explaining situations he’s found himself in around the world, explaining how his career was kicking his ass but how he loved it, occasionally getting drunk and explaining how soulmates worked and that it was inevitable you’d meet one day, even if it felt like that day was never coming.

Not wanting to be the one to burst his fantasy and ruin whatever hope he had, you would usually just nod along and silently hum to him when the conversation of eventually meeting one day was brought up.

You still shared nights together, even from thousands of miles apart, your brain yearning for him as his did the same.

There were moments in time, where you were positive you had almost met him, or perhaps had made eye contact with him. It was a small feeling inside of you, like everything you were looking for was in the same building as you, or around the corner, or even in the same city.

Usually just as fast as the feeling appeared, it was gone. It never lasted for long periods of time, it was like your soulmate bond was teasing you, pushing for you to reinstate your faith in the connection. He always argued that if you lost faith in the soulmate bond, it would lose faith in trying to push the two of you together.

Yet another thing you learned early on, whoever he was, arguing was in his blood. If he disagreed with you, with something you said, or with an opinion you had, he would go off into a whole explanation and argument about why he knew you were wrong, and how he knew he was right.

It was endearing, how passionate he was about everything in his life, and seeing how his passion for everything just continued to grow as he grew up.

Over the last 8 years, you had learned not to even attempt to communicate with him on Saturday or Sundays. He had told you that it was the busiest time of the work week for him, and that he couldn’t handle internal distractions on those days.

You would only speak to him when he spoke to you on those days. Usually it was a fleeting ‘have a nice rest of your weekend’ or ‘I can’t wait until you’re here with me, celebrating this with me’.

He never elaborated on the last part, and you never went out of your way to ask. Whoever he was, he was usually celebrating something on Sundays, at least that’s what you assumed from the raw happiness and elation that usually went through your connection on those days.

You hadn’t heard from him, from your soulmate, in weeks. Which wasn’t necessarily unusual, either of you could cut off the connection for weeks at a time if things were stressful in life, or if you just needed a break from the never-ending person that was inside your head at all times.

It didn’t mean you didn’t miss his dry sense of humour, the bluntness with which he said things to you, the never-ending arguments about the stupidest things. You would never admit any of this to him, though.

Ignoring the yearning-feeling from inside of you, you allowed yourself to think about how things would be if you ever met the person on the other end of the connection. Would it be instant happiness? Relief? Joy?

People always explained their own experiences to you, saying it was like love at first sight, but amplified so significantly, because it felt like your soul was complete, like everything was finally where it needed to be in life. They described it as meeting the one thing that made you whole, the one thing that made you continuously push to be your best self, to continuously push to be better at everything you did in life.

You truly couldn’t believe what they said, not that it sounded exaggerated or silly. It was just difficult to imagine anything causing a feeling so instantaneously and intense as what they described.

Your friends had disappeared earlier in the day, eager to try and find themselves different drivers throughout the entrances to get photos or autographs with. You really had no interest in any of it. Your soulmate had eagerly admired, and shit talked almost every single person on the grid to you, at least once or twice, so it really wasn’t worth trying to interact with any of them after that.

Your paddock pass sat heavily on your chest, the lanyard rubbing against your neck as the bright Sun shined down upon your skin. The cheering of the Tifosi could be heard throughout the entire fan sections. The Ferrari faithful were dedicated, especially at their own Grand Prix.

He had told you that Monza was one of the ones not to miss. That it was electric, regardless of who you drove for, even if the fans were booing your favourite driver, or your favourite team, it was a delight to drive in Monza.

You found yourself staring at the different drivers names that were wrapped around the seating section. Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell... Max Verstappen.

He was handsome, that you could admit. With his pretty blue eyes, and his arrogant little smirk, and his annoying obsession with having to win.

“Oh, you think Max Verstappen has pretty blue eyes, huh?”

A small sound erupted from your chest as you listened to the words floating through your head from the man you hadn’t heard from in weeks.

“Look who’s alive! Thought you got lost with your little controller steering wheel.”

Laughing at your words, “You didn’t answer my question! You think Max Verstappen has pretty eyes?”

“I think Max Verstappen himself is pretty. Other than when he’s being an arrogant prick.”

That feeling had been eating at you all day, again. Like your soulmate bond was trying to force you to go in a direction you weren’t understanding. It was like it was trying to tell you that he was here, that he was so close you could almost smell him, almost touch him. You had been ignoring the little jabs inside of you all day, refusing to acknowledge the fact that maybe, just maybe, the person you were yearning for so heavily, was so close.

“My soulmate just called me an arrogant prick, without realizing she was calling me an arrogant prick.”

The Brit in front of him guffawed, his whole body moving as he gripped his side at Max’s words, “Mate, how did that even happen?”

Shrugging his shoulders as he looked at Lando, “Not too sure. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks, figured she had shut the connection off for some time alone and all of a sudden, she’s thinking about how ‘Max Verstappen has such pretty blue eyes’ and then told me that I’d... or he’d be attractive all the time if he wasn’t such an arrogant prick.”

Patting his shoulder gently, all Lando did was grin at him, “Just think, mate. At least whoever she is, she thinks you have pretty eyes and that you’re good looking when you’re not being an arrogant prick.”

Max shoved him as he walked by, walking away in the direction of his driver's room. He had been having that feeling again, like his body was yearning for something that it couldn’t explain to him. He had tried to ask a few people about it, had asked Sebastian in the past if it was something he had experienced before meeting Hanna. Of course, Seb hadn’t been much help when one considered the fact that he and his soulmate had met in their shared childhood.

It wasn’t something he could ask either of his parents, both admitting long ago that they weren’t destined for one another and that they had never had a connection with their true soulmates, which allowed them to willingly marry each other. Victoria had met her soulmate and now husband when they were young as well, so she would be of no help.

He was almost embarrassed to ask Christian, or any other older person who had already met their soulmate. He was a grown man, he could literally just google it if he wanted to, but what exactly would he type in?

What is that weird yearning feeling I get every now and then, out of the blue, in random buildings or random cities?

Max was almost positive the answer would be ‘allergies’ or ‘hunger’. He figured that maybe it was soulmate related, it would make sense, but it wasn’t a feeling he had often. It wouldn’t make sense to only yearn so heavily for your soulmate in certain areas.

It was always the strongest when he felt like he was truly connecting with you. He noticed it for the first time when both of you had touched yourselves to the sound of the other, egging one another on, saying exactly what the both of you know the other wanted to hear. Max couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed that time with you, how intimate it was, how much he craved to be the one making you moan and whimper.

The feeling always grew after that, the yearning for the other person, the desire to have you there with him, the desire to have you underneath him after a night of celebration, the desire to have you wrapped in his arms, the desire to send you an unnecessary bouquet of flowers... if he could just figure out who you were, all of that would be possible.

But the yearning today was different. It was like his body was trying to tell him he needed to go somewhere, trying to encourage him to walk down halls he didn’t usually walk down, or trying to push him in directions that made no sense.

“You gonna tell me why you’re thinking of Max Verstappen so much today, and why you’re thinking so much about his pretty blue eyes?”

He could feel the involuntary smile reach his lips when he heard your soft laugh. He really tried not to be someone who was smitten with a person he had never met, but he couldn’t deny that he was in love with you, likely had been since the both of you were young.

You were the one constant in his life, the one person he could always turn to when he needed someone. You listened to all his ranting, dealt with hours upon hours of ‘Maxsplaining’, dealt with unnecessary outbursts and temper tantrums, but you never complained about it. You always eagerly pushed for him to continue, asking him more and more questions, prompting him out of his head and prompting him to get over whatever frustration had pushed him over the edge that day.

“If you must know. I’m at the Monza Grand Prix, and I had to get away from all the Ferrari fans for a bit, pretty sure they were going to blow my ear drums. Max Verstappen’s name is everywhere, so I, of course, had to internally acknowledge his attractiveness while grimacing at his name in front of me.”

Max felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. You were here? In Italy? At the Monza Grand Prix? The same place where he was, at this very moment, at this very second?

He could tell you were waiting for a response from him to your words. It was like he could sense the raise of your eyebrows from the silence that emitted between your connection.

“You’re in Monza?” He questioned eagerly, his hands sweating as he waited for a response

“Yes sir, just about to try and force myself to go find my friends and head back to the paddock so I can avoid getting trampled by any other Ferrari fans.”

Max knew almost instantly that, that had to be what the feeling was. The yearning. You were close by, and his side of the soulmate connection knew it.

He had tried to tell you who he was before, had tried to explain it to you in words that the connection wouldn’t muffle or meddle with. It never worked. Any time he tried to explain to you who he was, or what he did for a living, it was like his brain malfunctioned and he had to hotwire it back on.

You had told him the same thing happened to you every time you tried to explain to him who you were, or the easiest ways to find you in the real world. Every time either of you tried, it was like the connection was shutting it down.

Daniel had told him it was likely the bond, telling him it wasn’t the time yet, that the both of you had to wait until the bond was steady and ready for you to finally meet in person. Max had never believed it, until right now.

You had never been able to tell him exactly where you were before, at least, not that he can ever remember. You had told him the things you were doing in the past, had told him the people you were spending time with, even that you were getting dinner in certain districts. Any time you had tried to tell him the restaurant, or the city even, the connection would malfunction.

But you were just mentally able to tell him where you were, you were internally able to tell him where you were going in the place that you currently were.

“I’m... I’m in Monza too. At the Grand Prix, I mean.”

He could almost feel the instant shock and excitement at his words. Before he or you could get the chance to say anything else, he heard GP calling for him, the annoyed expression on his face an indication that he had been looking for Max for far longer than he actually wanted to be.

“I have to get back to work. Please, don’t leave before you hear from me again. Maybe this is a sign.”

You could practically feel the shock coursing through your body. Both of you were here. In Monza. At the Grand Prix. At the same time, together... but not together? You tried to contain the giddiness at his words, a silent hum in acknowledgement when he told you not to leave. How could you leave? Especially now that you knew he was here? And that he was working?

It gave you some indication as to why he was always so busy on Saturdays and Sundays, if he worked for a Formula 1 team, or for Formula 1 in itself. Their biggest days of the week were the weekends, especially during race weeks. It made sense why he could never talk on those days of the week, or why he always seemed so happy or moody on Sundays.

You couldn’t believe that both of you were able to tell each other where the other was, that the connection finally allowed you to give that little tidbit of important information to the other. Maybe it finally was time, maybe the connection was finally allowing you to meet the one person you had been yearning for, even if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t.

The text message to your friends asking where they were garnered a response, which prompted you out of your train of thought. Letting them know that you were on your way to their location, your brain moved back to the previous thought your mind was on. He was here, like truly here. Within the same 10 kilometers as you. Probably the closest either of you had ever been to each other before.

Your friends greeted you eagerly when you finally found them, excitably telling you all about the drivers they had met, how Alex Albon even recognized two of them from previous Grand Prix and how they just knew Charles Leclerc was going to win today because the Tifosi were going crazy and how could you not win with all that support screaming for you?

Nodding along with a smile on your face, you had an inkling they were wrong. Max Verstappen was likely going to get his tenth win in a row, but you weren’t going to say that to them.

The drivers parade went by faster than you were expecting, before you knew it, the cars and their drivers were lining up in their respective places along the grid. Your friends eagerly itching for a better view of the upcoming race. You couldn’t even put the effort in to pay attention, wondering where he was right now.

Was he working? Was he one of the mechanics? One of the pit crew, eagerly waiting for their driver to pull into their spot? One of the engineers, hoping their instructions and their drivers did as they were supposed to? You tried not to let your mind wander to the other possibility, but it was hard not to.

What if he was one of the drivers? One of the 20 men now pushing themselves around the track at the fastest speed their car could take them? You tried not to stay on that thought too long, but your mind seemed to wander back to it.

It would make sense, really. Whoever he is, he had been karting since he was a boy. His father had been unnecessarily forceful with him about it, always pushing him even when he was down, telling him that champions didn’t cry and that if he wanted to win everything one day, he had to act like he wanted to.

He always made it seem like he was on top of the world on Sundays, like everything he ever wanted had happened that day. Would a mechanic, or an engineer, or someone from the pit crew consistently have that level of elation on Sundays?

You knew it was possible, if they were working for a winning team, or a winning driver, and that driver was making their lives as easy as possible, then you knew it was definitely a possibility. You just couldn’t shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was one of the drivers.

The crowd was cheering as eagerly as they possibly could, Verstappen had overtaken Sainz three laps prior after the Spainard had led for 15 laps straight. The Tifosi were relentless though, cheering as loud as they could for their two drivers. Your friends had resigned themselves to the fact that Verstappen was getting his tenth win in a row, which was slowly coming closer and closer as the time ticked down.

It felt like time was zooming by; the minutes on the clock trickling down as the stadium waited for that last lap to start. Sainz was battling to keep Leclerc in fourth, doing everything in his power to keep the third podium spot he had rightfully earned.

The checkered flag waved as the Red Bull car of Max Verstappen passed the finish line, a simultaneous cheer erupting within the crowd when the two red Ferrari’s passed the line with barely a second apart.

That feeling inside of you, the yearning, it had been getting stronger and stronger throughout the race. Strong enough that you had to rub at your chest with a grimace more than once, ignoring the signs that obviously your soul connection was trying to give to you.

The television in front of you showed Max Verstappen on the top of his car, both hands and 10 fingers up as he stared at the moving camera, an obvious celebration beginning as he ran towards his team. Verstappen jumped at them, right as you heard his voice in your head.

“Where are you right now? I want to see you. I need to see you.”

He sounded out of breath, but elated, as per usual on a Sunday. Must work for Red Bull then, you thought to yourself.

“I don’t really know how to explain where I am, I’m in the Paddock Club with my friends.”

Turning away from the screen, you tried to focus on the words coming through the connection.

“Come to the area where you can go towards the garages, I’ll have someone tell security to let you in. What are you wearing? I don’t think you’ll be able to tell me your name yet, and I don’t want to risk fucking this up.”

You had absolutely no clue how to find the area he was describing to you, explaining to him that you didn’t spend most of your time at Grand Prix’s unlike someone, apparently. All he did was laugh joyfully, explaining to you in simpler terms how to get to where he wanted you to go.

“I have to go do a few more things, but just wait for me, okay? I’ll come to find you, the moment I’m done. I swear.”

“I’ve waited for years; I think I can wait a few minutes more.”

He didn’t verbally respond, but you could still feel the happiness, the sense of something you could only describe as adoration come through the connection before he shut it off again. It was obvious he had commitments, but it was disheartening knowing you still had to wait a few more minutes, that he wouldn’t be there waiting for you, behind whatever security guard you were going to have to verbally grapple with to be let behind the barricades.

All you told your friends when you left was you had to go make a call, and that it may take a few minutes. They tried to argue with you, telling you the drivers were just about to do their post-race interviews and that it was always one of the best parts, but you simply brushed them off, eager to get to where you needed to be.

It didn’t take you long to find where he had told you to go, his explanations as thorough and necessary as they usually were. Before you could even get a word out to the security guard, a tall brunette in a Red Bull shirt lightly tapped your shoulder and gestured for you to follow her, flashing her entry pass at the guard and pulling you along.

“I’m Liv. I work in PR with Red Bull; I was told to wait for you. Sorry for just like... pulling you along. No one really gave me any explanation, just that I was told to look out for someone wearing the exact same outfit you are, and that it had something to do with a soulmate thing and I couldn’t get involved or ask questions.”

“This pass will get you in and out of pretty much wherever you need to be in the Red Bull garage and areas nearby,” the brunette rambled on as the both of you walked, pulling a second entry pass from her back pocket to give to you.

Both of you stopped in front of what only could be the hospitality lounge, if the plethora of food and drinks were any indication. You didn’t necessarily know where to go, or where to stand, so you looked back over at the brunette with confusion evident in your eyes.

“Just wait here! He shouldn’t be long. Feel free to snack, or make yourself a tea, or you know... drink whatever really. I have to get back to work. Just like, don’t leave. I’ll probably get in trouble for that. Anyways, bye! Good luck!”

Not giving you the chance to respond, Liv, as you learned previously, turned and basically ran out of the room. You were left alone in the hospitality area, everyone from Red Bull obviously still celebrating Max Verstappen’s tenth win in a row.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, deciding to sit down on one of the couches being the only real option you could decipher. The television was on low, the interviewer speaking to Sainz, Perez, and Verstappen.

“You look eager to get out of here, Max. Big celebration planned for your tenth straight win?”

The Dutchman chuckled, a cocky grin prominent on his face, “I have something I have to do after this, of course, though, not the celebration right away. I’m sure the team has a celebration planned, but it’s a bit arrogant of me to be involved in my own celebration party planning, no?”

The interviewer laughed in response; you simply cocked your head at his words. Ironic that Max Verstappen would call himself arrogant, just hours after you had told him how arrogant you found Verstappen.

A few more questions zoomed by; your own thoughts preoccupied by the idea that your soulmate could be coming towards the room at any minute. The feeling in your chest, in your body as a whole, had grown substantially again since you sat down. What you didn’t notice was him grabbing his chest at the same time you did, rubbing it with a grimace as the yearning grew and grew.

It didn’t take long for the interview to end, the television going back to the reporters as the drivers evidently went to go do whatever it is they do after their post-race interviews.

You could hear someone walking down the hallway, which was strange considering how busy the Red Bull garage had to be right now. The steps grew louder as they got closer and closer to the room you were in, the door slamming open being the only thing to pull you out of your thoughts as you spun around.

Making direct eye contact with your soulmate for the first time was exactly how everyone described it. It was instant, the feeling that seated itself inside your heart, inside your mind. It felt like you were whole, like everything you had done in the past 24 hours, let alone the past 10 years, had led you to this exact moment.

You subconsciously moved off the couch, stepping in the direction of the man that was now eyeing your every move. You couldn’t tell what was going through his mind, whether he was happy, disheartened, you didn’t know.

He stepped in your direction, just as you put another foot towards him. You could see the corners of his lips turning up, a smile starting to edge itself onto his cheeks.

“I can’t believe you’re really here. In front of me. Like, a real person.”

It was the same voice that you’ve heard in your head for years, except the words were coming from the mouth of the man in front of you, coming from the mouth of the man with the prettiest blue eyes you had ever seen.

You barely had time to process anything before he had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you directly into his chest as you wrapped your own arms around his body.

He was real. Everything you had yearned for, for years was real, and Max was right there, holding you in his arms as he pressed his lips against the crown of your head, not wanting to let you go.

Max could barely contain his eagerness as he basically sprinted down the hall of the Red Bull garage after the end of the interview. Olivia had told him where she had brought you, telling you to wait in the hospitality lounge and that he’d be there to see you as quickly as he could get out.

He couldn’t believe that you were really there. After spending years of talking to an invisible force inside his head, years of having a constant companion who he could turn to for internal comfort, you were barely seconds away from him.

Max didn’t hesitate to throw the door of the lounge open, making eye contact with you just a second later.

Everyone was right, the feeling you get when you finally meet your soulmate, the person that’s supposed to complete you in the best of ways. It was instant love, instant happiness, a feeling better than any win he had ever accomplished, a feeling that could barely be explained in one million words.

He knew right then that he loved you, and when you smiled at him, he knew you knew it too.

i am obsessed with the soulmate trope so this obviously got out of hand and way more descriptive than i intended. im hoping you all love it as much as i loved writing it!! let me know what you think

my requests are also open :)

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#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen x you #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 one shot #f1 imagine #soulmate trope #my writing #formula 1

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samkerrworshipper · 4 months ago

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sam kerr x sister!reader

um i wrote a fic? sorry for the chelsea fans but i simply couldnt make this solely chelsea. glad that i could please the SK fans tho yall are patient and queens! hope you all enjoy and lmk what else you might want to see in the future 👀 love you all!

warnings: none? that i’m aware of !

There was something completely all-consuming about the thought of a tiny alien growing inside of a body. It made you uncomfortable, thinking about a tiny human with a deformed body and underdeveloped everything just existing inside of a person. To put it lightly, it freaked you out. It was possibly the best birth control for a 16-year-old seeing firsthand what it looked like when a baby kicked or hearing the sounds of first-trimester morning sickness. You’d made it very clear to your sister that yes, whilst you were willing to babysit once the deformed fetus entered the world and was slightly less deformed, you would take some responsibilities. You wanted nothing to do with it until it made its grand entrance into the world.

That didn’t change the fact that yours, your sister’s, and your sister’s fiancé’s lives had very quickly come to revolve solely around your future niece or nephew in a very short amount of time. Normally, it wouldn’t bother you in the slightest. If anything, you were usually doing anything and everything to get Sam and Kristie to leave you alone, but there was something different about their attention completely revolving around the life that the two of them were building together.

It hadn’t mattered truly when they’d missed your parent-teacher interviews for an anatomy scan or missed your first training with the senior Chelsea team because Kristie had woken up with such bad morning sickness that she hadn’t been able to leave the bathroom for hours, or when you’d had to walk 3 miles from school to the training grounds because your sister had been up so late trying to make Kristie comfortable enough to sleep that she’d completely forgotten that she was supposed to pick you up early on a Thursday so you didn’t miss training.

None of it mattered individually, but altogether, it made a difference.

It had been a big decision moving halfway across the world to live with your sister at 15. You were a good football player, you weren’t anywhere near the prodigy of your sister, but if you wanted to make strides in your career, it was the best decision to move to London to play in the academy. It didn’t make the decision any easier; you were moving in with your sister that you’d essentially not known for most of your childhood. Too wrapped up in her own career in other countries to spend any time with you. Yet the moment it had even been an option, she was ecstatic at the idea of you joining her in London, taking you under her wing, and truly welcoming you into the tight-knit family that Kristie and her had built in London.

It was good, it was so good. You had made advancements in your football that you didn’t think were possible; school was good, and for once in your life, you felt like you were actually in a place where you were fully understood and at peace.

It had been perfect, until Sam had torn her ACL a couple of months into your stay, and then things had gone downhill. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t deal with; in terms of the footballing aspect of your life, it was definitely tough. You didn’t have your training buddy or your person to help you settle into the club that still kind of terrified you. On the flip side, you got to spend a whole lot more one-on-one time with your sister, and her girlfriend was there to cater to all of your football needs. After the initial impacts of her surgery, life had mostly gone back to normal; sure, your sister wasn’t there physically on the pitch with you, but she was there to support you in every other way.

Then, the idea of a baby had been mentioned.

It wasn’t alarm bells from the beginning. At first, it had mostly seemed like an idea for the future, not near future. Of course, they wanted to start a family, and of course, you wanted that for them. It just hadn’t been made clear to you that it was a plan for the present. Until you’d been sitting on the couch on a movie night, and a gift bag had been thrust into your hands. The both of them had the goofiest smiles on their faces that you’d known that something had been up. You just hadn’t expected a positive pregnancy test to be the source of the excitement.

Initially, not much had changed. The pregnancy was so early on that the biggest worry was an early miscarriage and making sure that the three of you didn’t let the information slip too early.

It had been completely fine. Life had kept on moving, until the symptoms had started.

First, it was a bit of exhaustion, then some vomiting, headaches, nausea, more vomiting, migraines, insomnia, every possible pregnancy symptom you could think of. Kristie was afflicted by every possible pregnancy symptom.

You felt bad. Here, two of your favourite people were trying to start a family, and it was starting off as hell.

Then the feelings of sympathy had very quickly turned into resentment and then into isolation.

You resented the fact that you didn’t feel at home anymore. There was nothing homey about the situation you were living in. You felt like in a number of fleeting weeks you had gone from feeling on top of the world to feeling like you no longer belonged in the life that you’d so recently settled into.

It was a rough realisation to come to that you were no longer wanted, that you were being replaced.

It was a slow process, but it was easy to figure out when you were and weren’t wanted, and in the picture-perfect future life of your sister and her fiancé, it was clear that you weren’t.

You were 17, you were on the cusp of being an adult, you just hadn’t expected to be thrust into your independent adulthood so early on. A shiny new baby was going to replace you, and once that happened you were going to be even more unwanted than you already felt before it was introduced to the world.

Whilst you knew that your mood was being affected by the neglect you were suffering, it was all too easy to blame it on the exams you were going through for your last year of school, or the slight injury setbacks that were keeping you from your first minutes for the blues, or the fact that you were a teenager with fluctuating moods. You didn’t expect your slightly off interactions or slightly less happy demeanor to be a warning sign for anybody, specifically the people closest to you. Your performance on the training pitch had been as good as usual, you’d been saying all the right things, acting in all the right ways even though you actively felt like a stranger in the apartment and life you’d once felt like was home.

You’d managed to allude to all of the people closest to you, it just hadn’t occurred to you that people on the outside would notice your slightly off behaviour.

Lucy was one person at the club who was newer than you, even though you didn’t necessarily fit in with all the older girls due to the age disparity it was common knowledge that you were an extension of your sister, people who were friends with Sam were friends of yours. It was a little bit embarrassing that in hindsight most of the people were only friends with you as a result of your last name but it was easier to just accept it.

Lucy was one person that wasn’t particularly close with your sister, on no means were they enemies, they just didn’t hang out with the same people. If Sam and her didn’t interact on the regular then neither did you, that was just how it worked.

It’s why you’d been a little bit surprised when she’d asked you to be her spotting partner in the gym. A few sets in, though, it had become abundantly clear that Lucy had ulterior motives.

“So what does a kid like you do nowadays to have a little bit of fun, uh?”

You weren’t sure if spotting for Lucy was much help at all. There was absolutely zero possibility that if she failed, you were going to be able to lift the weight that she was pressing. The ease with which she did it all was shocking and enough of a focus for you.

“Play soccer for one of the best teams in England.”

Lucy laughs, even though all you’re doing is being honest. Between school, football, and trying to live up to the expectations of your sister, you don’t have time for ‘fun’.

“It must be hard, having so much pressure on you, so young?”

You shake your head. You don’t think of it that way. Pressure is privilege. That’s what your mom had taught you, and then your brother, and now your sister. Pressure is what had made you good enough to be where you were.

“It’s more pressure trying to decide what to have for breakfast in the morning than coming here every day.”

Lucy finishes her set and sits up, looking at you in a way that makes you feel like you have to ask.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek, and you get the feeling that you’re going to be told something you don’t want to hear.

“You’ve been acting differently lately, spacey, less present. I’m just wondering if there is any particular reason.”

You focus on switching the weights from Lucy’s bar to yours and lying down on the bench she’d previously occupied.

“I don’t know what would give you that impression.”

You focus on your set, and Lucy uses it as an excuse to stare at you in the exact same way she had been all morning.

“You look like a kicked puppy all the time. You’re less happy, less comfortable. You look like you’re on edge all the time.”

It’s a list of traits that probably suit you. You’ll admit that you’ve been less than enthusiastic in recent times, but you hadn't thought it had been extremely noticeable. Sam hadn’t noticed, not that she noticed much about you anymore.

“Didn’t realise you were so focused on the team protege, Bronzey.”

Like Sam, you were a pro in humorous deflection, yet when you spoke it came off with an unfamiliar edge that made you uncomfortable.

“I’m worried about one of my teammates and friends because they’re exhibiting behaviours that are unfamiliar for them and no one else seems to be noticing.”

You finish your set and focus on drinking from your water bottle and not making too much eye contact with Lucy.

“Lot of big words coming from you, Luce.”

Lucy’s determination doesn’t fade. She looks at you the same way.

“So it’s not football. I’m going to make an educated guess that it’s not school. You’re going to be an aunt and you’ve got a good family situation. What is it?”

You must flinch, even if you don’t feel it. You must because Lucy’s eyes light up.

“So it’s Kerr household issues then?”

You focus on finishing your set again. You focus on the feeling of your arms pushing and relaxing, the feeling of all your muscles stretching and slackening.

“You know you can talk to me about it. I might not have the best advice, but I won’t judge you or go and tell your sister about it or anything.”

You finish the set, and all that’s on your mind is that you have one more to go. One more and you can remove yourself from whatever this awkward conversation is and go and hide in some other corner like normal.

“I don’t know what makes you think it’s any of your business.”

You’re three reps in, nowhere near failure, yet on the next one, Lucy takes over and pulls the bar up and onto the rack.

Before you can have a go at her, she sits down next to you on the bench, and for whatever reason, puts an arm around your shoulder. It makes you incredibly uncomfortable, and you flinch away almost immediately, but Lucy doesn’t shy away.

“Look, whether it’s from a teammate to another teammate, or a friend to a friend, or whatever you feel most comfortable calling it. You don’t seem like you’re doing okay. If I can tell, it’s not going to be long before other people figure it out. I don’t really know you properly, but you seem like a good kid. You also don’t seem like the kind of person who likes to be vulnerable in front of people you don’t trust. If you don’t let go of whatever has clearly been bothering you, then that’s probably the inevitable if you don’t talk to somebody about it or get it off your chest. That person by no means has to be me or anyone else here. Just think about it, okay? You’re not alone. I can’t imagine how hard it would be playing here and everyone constantly making you feel like you were in your sister’s shadow. You aren’t just your sister, though. People around here like you beyond that, and they’re here to support you beyond that. You aren’t your last name.”

You’d be a liar if you said that Lucy’s words didn’t hit you a little bit, but you didn’t let her see that. You shook her arm off you and rolled your eyes.

“You have no fucking clue what it’s like to be me. Don’t try and make it out like you understand.”

Before she could say anything else that remotely played on your heartstrings, you walked away, dragging your drink bottle and gear off to the other side of the gym and settling into whatever exercises for your ankle strength.

You didn’t like to admit it, but what Lucy said to you resonated with you for the rest of the day. It had you in your head, thinking about it over and over again. You were second-guessing everything, and it translated out onto the pitch. In training, you were sloppy, to the point of nearly injuring yourself due to a lack of awareness. If you were trying to prove that you were over your setbacks, then it was a clear testament to the opposite. You were evidently a shit show. It was what was expected of you. You were a teenager. You were expected to crash out, to not be able to live up to the constant expectations of being a professional every day. You were falling into the one stereotype that you spent every minute of every day trying to claw away from. Already consumed by the reality of your stupifying family situation and adding on self-doubt about your every action was a whole new mind game that you’d never truly experienced.

There was one part about what Lucy had said that had stuck with you the most. If you didn’t get it off your chest soon, it was inevitable that you were going to let it slip in far worse ways, and that was a slippery slope you had no intention of going down.

It wasn’t surprising that your sister wasn’t there to pick you up after training had finished. There was a slew of excuses that trumped you. You were used to being forgotten. As the reality of new life being brought into the Kerr household became more real, it only felt like you were fading further.

You didn’t want to go home, not to a place where you actively felt like an impostor. You didn’t have many people to lean on, though. As much as Lucy tried to make it out like you were an individual person at Chelsea, you weren’t. You were Sam Kerr’s younger sister, the baby of the family, the nepotism sister, riding on your sister’s success and reaping whatever benefits came from it. You were a complete result of your sister, stuck in a never-ending cycle of following her footsteps.

In Australia, you’d had individuality, your parents’ sole focus. Your football wasn’t as good, but you hadn’t questioned your existence or how you fitted into spaces. Yet in England, or with your sister, you had to second-guess everything, were forced to feel like you didn’t belong anywhere.

You didn’t want to go home.

There weren’t a lot of people in London you could call. A couple of months ago, Kristie was your go-to person for when your sister was tied up with her stuff, but with the baby on the way, Kristie’s sole focus had been shifted. You didn’t matter in comparison. Sam’s friends were like family, but they weren’t your family; they were people that had to like you because you lived with Sam and were with her all the time. You hadn’t made many friends at Chelsea; it didn’t seem important in retrospect. It left you with a handful of people. You could always call your mum or someone else in the family, but it seemed pointless in that there would be no outcome. So you called the only person that was really left.

It had been a long shot; St Albans wasn’t exactly in close proximity to Cobham, but you felt like you were at a crossroads.

You’d had to wait outside in the cold for a while, but it wasn’t awfully long until Caitlin pulled up in front of the training grounds. Before you could second-guess your decision-making, you got into her car, buckling your seatbelt before looking at her.

“Just drive, I’ll exp n later.”

Caitlin got the message and pulled her car into drive before heading back onto the highway.

“Where we going? Yours? Mine? An airport?”

It was hard not to laugh at the predicament.

“Just yours.”

The rest of the car ride was silent; it was good, it was hard for you to slot every feeling into place, but it was good to think about it all. You felt like a whirlwind of feelings, a big spiral of never-ending emotions that were completely nonsensical.

By the time you get to Caitlin’s house, not much was making any more sense, but you felt less panicked. You walked from the car into her house in the same silence that had stretched between the two of you the whole car trip. In through the front door, into the kitchen, and sat down at the island when Caitlin pointed at one of the seats. You felt like you were cemented to the seat, all of the weight of the day, or really the last few weeks, was weighing you down like there were rocks stuffed in your pockets. You felt heavy, filled with all of the uncertainties.

Caitlin pushed a glass of water towards you, and you took it gratefully.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

You’d been around Caitlin practically since birth. As a kid growing up, you hadn’t wanted to be around your sister; it had always been her best friend that had lit up your face. She was your sister’s best friend, but in every way, she was a sister to you; you’d spent every moment of your childhood following the two around and every waking moment with them when they were around.

“I can’t just spend an afternoon with my favourite auntie?”

Caitlin rolled her eyes, reaching over the table to ruffle your hair.

“Of course, you can, dickhead, but that doesn’t mean that you are. Something’s up, and if you called me, then that means you want to talk about it because it has something to do with Sam.”

Were you really that easy to read? First, Lucy, and now Caitlin. You were beginning to doubt your abilities to keep all of your cards to your chest.

“That’s some creepy shit; you should become some mindreader.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes at you.

“Tell me about it; I can’t do anything in this house without her sniffing it out.”

You turned your head to see Katie standing in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling at you, but mostly at Caitlin.

“Ya didn’t tell me mini kerr was coming over.”

You tried to stop the way your face flinched at the sound of your last name. You didn’t know why in recent times it had begun to bother you so much. It was just so synonymous with your sister. Every time you heard it or saw it on your jersey, it was a clear sign of the one thing you were becoming most afraid of. You weren’t living up to it or living the life of it.

“Just wanted to spend some time with my favourite derby losers.”

Katie’s reaction is visceral. Her face moves into something of pure disgust.

“That kind of slander is just not acceptable in this house. You want to embrace your Chel-shit culture? Keep it away from our house. We’re going to have to sage the bad vibes away now. Do a full cleanse.”

At a point in your life, you’d never felt less Chelsea than you did right now. The thought of the club put you on the brink of dissociation.

“Katie, can you please go get some pasta? We’re all out, and I’m making bolognese for dinner.”

It was a cue. You were sure of it because as soon as the words left Caitlin’s mouth, Katie was nodding dutifully and off and out of sight.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up or keep dodging around it?”

With your lip between your teeth and so much uncertainty, you nodded. There wasn’t much point in keeping it all in when you’d come here with the inadvertent intention to offload some of it.

“Sam doesn’t want anything to do with me. When I got here, it was hard. We made it work, and she tried to make me fit in with her life as it was, but it never quite felt right. But with the baby now, there’s no pretending. I’m not a part of her life, and she doesn’t want to pretend that I am anymore. And I’m sick of waiting in the background, hoping she’ll get her shit together and remember that I’m part of her life. She doesn’t care about me, and I can’t handle it anymore.”

Caitlin’s expressions are schooled. They are most of the time, but she doesn’t give anything at all away.

“Your sister loves you a lot. I’m not invalidating what you’re feeling. I am sure that you’re right. She loves you though. Before you came here, all she ever talked about was wanting to spend more time with you, going back to see you, Facetiming you.”

You shake your head. You didn’t come here to be told that you’re loved. You came here to feel a little bit less chained down.

“No, she doesn’t, or she doesn’t show it remotely. She doesn’t pick me up from school. She forgets me or stopped caring because she’s busy looking after Kristie or busy being worried about the baby, stressing about the baby. It’s all they talk about. It’s all they care about. It’s the shiny new toy, and I’m the old one at the back of the wardrobe that’s all broken and disgusting. I’m the last option. I’m the last option at Chelsea, the last option at home, the last option for everybody, and I can’t physically handle it. I’m done constantly being left on the fucking sidelines of life whilst everybody else plays.”

Caitlin nods. She listens. It’s what you need. You just need to feel listened to.

“Your sister should be focusing more on you. She doesn’t realise that you didn’t move for independence like she did. When we moved for football for the first time, it was because we finally wanted independence. We wanted freedom. We wanted to feel like adults. You want to feel supported, want to feel like you’re a part of a family. You’re feeling that whilst your sister is simultaneously beginning to start her own family, and that’s scary. I would be scared by that if I were you. You’re seeing the cementation of new roots, and in your eyes, you don’t fit into the foundation that they’re building. There’s one thing that hasn’t changed about your sister since we were 18, and that is the fact that she’s a little bit unobservant. She doesn’t do small feelings. She does the big ones. She doesn’t understand the anxieties that you’re experiencing because she doesn’t experience them. Also, whether you want to admit it or not, I think you might be a little bit jealous of this baby. You didn’t get to spend your childhood with your sister. That was stripped from you when she moved away. This baby gets all the attention and all the love and doesn’t get left behind, and that’s tough.”

You are a little dumbstruck for words. It’s been hard to pinpoint all of your feelings, and yet Caitlin has just laid them all out in front of you.

“I’m not jealous of the fetus.”

Caitlin snorts, a proper snort that has you in fits of giggles.

“Not even a little bit?”

You shake your head defiantly. It’s easier to deny than admit it.

“Because think about it. This time you’re like the older sister. That kid won’t want to be spending time with Kristie and Sam. It’ll be fawning over you from day one. Babies take a village. I know you feel on the outs right now, but when that baby comes, it’ll change.”

It’s easy to say that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, but in your opinion, there really isn’t. You can’t see any future where you feel any less of a misfit.

“It’s not just Sam though. It’s everywhere. I don’t have friends, not at Chelsea. I’m my sister’s shadow, I always have been, but since the move, it’s been worse. I can’t make friends at school. I’m there purely to go to class, and I miss half of them anyways. Everyone at Chelsea sees me as my sister. I’m just an extension of her. Everything I do that is any good is because of her. Nobody can see past it.”

Caitlin didn’t have a quick answer for you. Your eyes burned with angry, hot tears. They were yet to spill, but they were on the brink, and it was impossible to ignore.

“I can’t get away from my sister’s shadow, and it would be fine if I felt like I was a byproduct of her, if she spent every waking moment helping me be that way. But she hasn’t. It’s all been me. It’s been my hard work, my own push. Sure, she’s helped me into environments that have made me better, but it’s been my hard work. She hasn’t done shit, and yet all anybody says is that I’m good because of her, that I’m just a result of my sister’s influence. I’ll always be a shadow of her to everyone, even her.”

It’s a cathartic feeling. The tears slip down your face. You push and scratch at your cheeks, trying to remove the evidence, but it’s obvious. It’s ugly. It’s everything that’s been building.

Caitlin doesn’t say anything. She just walks around the counter and gives you a big hug.

“You are a lot more than your sister, and if people don’t recognise that, then you should be getting away from that, taking a break. You deserve to feel like your own person because you are.”

You don’t have anything left to say. You’ve laid it all out, and it feels good, but there isn’t any change. Venting is good, but when you’re going to go back to it all, it doesn’t truly matter. You’re stuck in the prison of your life, and there is no escaping.

“I’m sure you’re exhausted. How about you go and take a nap before dinner? Refresh and let your mind rest, and we can regroup, okay? I promise you we can find a solution to some of this.”

You nod; you are feeling tired. It’s been hard to sleep at the apartment with Kristie constantly getting up during the night to hurl her guts.

Caitlin’s guest room is warm, it’s nice, it’s virtually the same as your room at home, and yet it feels so much more welcoming. It doesn’t take you long to drift off.

When you wake up, it’s very clear that quite a few hours have passed. Not only is it completely black, but the sleep in your eyes and fogginess in your head is enough of an indicator that what was going to be a quick nap had turned into something a lot longer. The edges of your vision are hazy and blurred as you blink your way back into consciousness. You don’t want to get up, not at all. It would be so much easier to just stay where you are, forever. Just stay lying in bed and warm and cozy, comfortable. You didn’t get to where you were today, though, by allowing yourself to be comfortable.

So begrudgingly, you pulled yourself out of the bed, still dressed head to toe in a Chelsea tracksuit and hoodie. It really did feel illegal amongst all of the Arsenal memorabilia in every corner, and on every wall of the house, it only made you feel like more of a dichotomy.

Your stomach began to rumble as you walked down the stairs to the kitchen. You were sure that you must have missed dinner but hoped that maybe something had been left aside to tide you over.

You could hear murmurs coming from the kitchen, and in your state of half-awakeness, you’d put it down as being Caitlin and Katie.

You were off guard, and that’s why you’d been more shocked than you thought possible when you walked into the kitchen and your sister was seated in the exact same place you’d been sat a couple of hours ago. Immediately, both Caitlin and your sister’s eyes were on you, them both seeming just as surprised as you.

You were ready to bolt, but Caitlin’s voice stopped you.

“Your sister came to talk to you. She was worried when you weren’t home tonight for dinner.”

You roll your eyes, if you’d moved out a month ago Sam wouldn’t have noticed.

“We haven’t had dinner together in months, don’t lie to my face. You called her, you fucking called her, I trsuted you with something and you called her.”

Sam looked like she was going to butt in but Caitlin stopped her.

“Okay, yes I called her. Because I was worried but also mad and I wanted to fix that. I’m going to leave you two to sort this out.”

Caitlin started to walk towards you and out of the kitchen, you couldn’t help but clutch for her hand as she walked away.

“It’s going to be fine. Trust me and listen to what she says and tell her how you feel. She came here to fix things, or start to fix things.”

Caitlin closes the kitchen door leaving just you and your sister alone with each other.

“Just because we don’t have dinner together doesn’t mean I don’t notice when you’re done. Mum would kill me if I wasn’t keeping an eye on you and let her baby sneak out.”

It was the connotation of it all, Sam didn’t care, she was doing all of this for your mum.

“I’m so sorry mum decided to burden you with my presence.”

Your sister exhales, like she’s trying to keep control, because she feels she has to.

“That’s not what I meant. You matter just as much to me as you do to mum.”

Rich. Really rich coming from her.

“Oh yeah, so that’s why mum calls me everyday to ask me about my day and how I’m doing and you just exist beside me. When was the last time you talked to me about anything besides football or the baby or Kristie? When was the last time you did anything with me that wasn’t related to football. When was the last time you asked me anything about my life or even acted like you cared?”

Sam exhales again, and breathes in like she’s trying to suck in every bit of oxygen in the room.

“It’s not like that.”

You didn’t want to be angry about all of this, sad, disheartened, depressed. You could deal with that, but anger was so much harder.

“Oh tell me how it is then. I know you didn’t ask to be looking after your teenage sister fulltime but you could at least pretend like my presence isn’t a complete burden to you. I fucking idolised you my whole childhood, when we had dress up days at school I would always dress up as you. I’ve always wanted to be you, and I was fine with everybody putting me into the box of Sam Kerr’s sister, I didn’t care, if anything it was the best feeling in the world. I didn’t care about being your shadow when you were my favourite person. But now that I’m here you’ve wrecked it all. You don’t have to tell me that I don’t fit into your picture perfect life, I’m well aware. I just didn’t expect you to treat me like fucking shit. I’m sick of it, I want to go home, I’d rather jeopardise my football career by going back then deal with anymore of this.”

Sam looks like she’s about to start crying and it feels good, you want her to feel what you are feeling, you want her to feel an inch of what you’ve been feeling for the past months.

“You aren’t a burden to me. Not at all.”

You scoff, you aren’t a burden but she just opts to forget your existence, makes a lot of sense.

“Okay so am I a ghost then? Do I have the ability to turn invisible and nobody has told me about it because you sure fucking act like I’m not here 95% of the time.”

Your sister stands up and starts to walk towards you and you immediately move. You don’t want touch or hugs or whatever she’s going to offer.

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way. I’m really sorry.”

You really don’t know what to say to that. It’s a step forward but it doesn’t do anything, saying sorry is good and well but it doesn’t change an action.

“I thought you came here for independence. God mum made it out like you were going to blow perth up if she didn’t get you out soon enough. I’ve wanted to be close to you since you were born, you were the light in all of our lives. Then you were here and I underestimated what it was going to be like but it was awesome and just having you in the house made it all so much better. Kristie and I had always wanted kids but having you around just made it seem like it would be the right fit, you have made our lives so much better. So, we started the process and it was all I could think about. I was your age when mum had you, I got to see you take your first steps and grow your first tooth and I thought it would be good for you to have the same experience. I just didn’t get how much time it would take up and how consumed with it I would get. You don’t deserve to feel this way, you don’t deserve to not feel cared for. I love you more than anybody else, I would put down anything for you, without a question. I haven’t made it seem that way recently but it’s true. You’re my priority, you always have been and you always will be. I don’t want you to go back home, having you here has been the best thing that has ever happened. I don’t know how i;m going to fix this but I’m going to. I’ll maker the changes, I’ll talk to Kristie, I’ll spend more time with you like I did before.”

So many feelings, so little words.

“You don’t get me. I don’t want you to give up time, Kristie is the love of your life, this baby is going to be your kid. Your kid, not your sister, your kid. I don’t want you to detest me because I take away moments from your life.”

Sam shakes her head.

“You are just as big a part of my life as anything else is. You fit into it all, if I haven’t amde you feel that way that is completely my fault.”

It’s nice to hear her say that, it’s nice to feel accepted even if it’s just for a second.

“It’s not just that. I am literally your shadow. I don’t have any friends at Chelsea, everyone thinks I’m good because of you. Kerr is plastered everywhere and I’m just synonymous with all of your achievements. I don’t get to be me, the only difference is the different first name letter on our jerseys. I’m a good football player, because of me, not because of you. I’m sick of everyone telling me that I have a good right foot because my sister is Sam Kerr, or that I must have gotten my good defending skills from practicing with you. Everything has to be because of you, and I can’t handle it. I don’t have any friends that aren’t yours, my life is a by product of yours and I’m done with it being that way.”

This time when Sam takes a step towards you, you don’t immediately step away. Her presence doesn’t bother you, it’s the look on her face.

“Okay, we can fix that. You want to quit? Move clubs? Go on Loan? I can talk to everyone at the club and make changes. Wew can change jerseys, you can have your first name and not last name. You should spend some extra time with the younger girls, stop feeling restricted by what I do and don’t do and just live your life. I’ll tell everuone how much of a fuckup I am and how you are skilled because of you. Whatever you want, I am here to support it. I haven’t done that enough recently and it needs to change, I want to make you my complete priority. No more forgetting you because I’m being selfish and only thinking about myself. My asshat behaviour ends now, I promise. What do you want, I will try my hardest to help you get it. I can call our agent right now and you can be playing in a different country.”

You shake your head, a small smile working it’s way to the corners of your mouth at your sisters franticness.

“I don’t know, I have no fucking clue what I want. I just want you to know, I want help, I want to not feel like shit everyday just because of who I am.”

Sam nods, and reaches out for you. The hug is easy, it’s cathartic, you feel so much pressure releasing from your body as her arms tighten around you.

“Okay, I can do that. We can do that. You and me yeah, you and me against the world.”

It’s not even close to fixed, your life hasn’t changed. But the overall weight, the soul crushing pressure of it all fades. You don’t trust, you don’t trust her to make changes. She hasn’t earnt that trust but you hope, you fucking hope that maybe something is going to happen.

#sammykworshipper thoughts #woso community #woso #sammykworshipperfics #sam kerr #sam kerr being protective #sam kerr x kristie mewis #sam kerr imagine #sam kerr x reader #samkerrworshipperactuallywritingaboutsamkerr?#sister sam kerr #woso fic #woso imagine #woso couples #woso fanfics #woso one shot

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winterzsurprise · 3 months ago

Text

Change My Mind [7]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 8.6k

IM BACK

laptop problem is solved. Rushed to finish this so this shit ain't beta read nor proofed, that's for Vuinterro of tomorrow to stress about.

also, what do you all think about having purely the boys' pov at some point in the story? Been thinking about having the boys' perspectives once the courting starts but that's prolly just me

lastly, enjoy this chapter. I hope my tired mind was able to write my vision down clearly, I'll fix the mistakes and add more details later on. Pls comment or like, I'm in desperate need for validation lmao

<<Prev || Masterlist || Next>>

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Jung Hoseok is not scared.

Sure he screams bloody mary at the sight of bugs a thousand times smaller than him, and yeah he’s easily startled but he’s not scared.

Especially not by a piece of paper, that would be ridiculous!

The reason he went to his noona’s house instead of heading straight to the dorms after the news broke out that his Seokjin hyung is tethered to you is because she needed his help on something, and being the dutiful brother he is, swooped in to save the day!

“At least wash the dishes for me if you’re going to hide in my house because you’re being a scaredy cat,” Jiwoo says from the kitchen archway, leaning on the wall with her arms crossed. “I still don’t get why you’re so scared of a piece of paper. The most it’ll do is give you a small cut.”

“Well, that ‘small cut’ still stings a lot!” He argued back, pulling the throw pillow closer to his chest. “And I’m not scared!”

It was irrational how he’s getting cold feet at the thought of the blood result. It’s not like he was hoping to see anything other than ‘negative’ there.

Jimin would argue that he’s being pessimistic for thinking so but it was the obvious answer if you looked at his family tree.

From his grandparents’ parents and down to him and his sister, there hasn’t been a single tethered from his bloodline like most of the world’s population. Unlike his Jin hyung who at least had one distant cousin who got a soulmate or his Yoongi hyung who at least had his grandparents as soulmates, his family was barren from such a blessing. His grandpa had joked once, saying their family was cursed for never birthing a single tethered. Ever.

Not even with the people they ended up had ever resulted in having a tethered no matter their family background..

For him to turn out to be a part of your nexus would be a miracle of the highest degree that would make the tales in the bible pale in comparison.

Daring to have himself tested is stupid, he already knew the result and submitting his DNA meant he was hoping.

But hope is nothing in the face of facts, he should be wishing instead; prayer sticks, shaman blessings and all that.

Hoseok knew he was being greedy, wishing to be a part of a nexus relationship as crowded as yours. Growing up with the rest, he knew how much of a handful Jungkook can be on his own, matched with Jimin who now possesses bottomless energy, he has no business trying to squeeze himself in places he can’t fit in.

Sometimes he thinks he’s being influenced by the fact that he’s being singled out in the group. Now that their oldest has joined the harem, being the odd one out oddly felt ostracizing, being subjected to Taehyung and Jungkook discussing courting gifts, and Yoongi talking to Namjoon about their soulmarks shouldn’t have made him feel bitter but it did.

“You saying that while pouting on my couch, miles away from your friends who now have your exam result, is not helping your case.”

“If you don’t have anything nice to say to your brother, you shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m saying a lot because I care about you. This,” She says, motioning to him to which he replied with an offended look. “Isn’t healthy. The more you’re hiding away, the more this will haunt you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ll have hyung over soon.”

“That I am, so just get your shit together and go! I planned a night for us but I had to move it because of you.” She shot back but he knew it had no actual snark behind it. She had welcomed him with warm arms after all.

Hoseok had seen how his friends slowly fell in love with you while he continued to look at you and see a best friend. Seeing how everyone seems to have been captured by you, he got curious.

For a long time since debut, Hoseok had stopped perfecting his craft and pursuing his aspirations to pay attention to someone else. It was uncommon but he too once wished for a soulmate until practice, video shoots, and music production began to eat up most of his time and he forgot about his initial wish.

Seeing his brothers be taken by their best friend, his crush, he couldn't help but be curious how it came to be.

Was it because you were closer to their age and, for the lack of better terms, accessible to them that they had begun to seek the comfort of a lover in you?

“Do you think because she's also been busy with us that she began to seek comfort with us too?”

“Tae, just eat your breakfast.”

It was such a random thought from Tae one random morning, and Hoseok would’ve brushed it off like the other time he gets struck with an idea but this one stuck to him like an annoying ex. The idea loomed over him the whole journey to the company and back home. He grew hypersensitive to how he approached you since that morning and he began to notice the miniscule details he would’ve shrugged off any other day.

From how your touches would linger on their skin, how you’d comfortably lean in closer to them without batting a single eye at how unusual it may seem to others, he took note of them all. It was how he knew their leader’s feelings for you, even if the man himself hadn't noticed it yet.

Hoseok found his proof in Namjoon’s eyes that restlessly roamed the room until he’d find you in the bustle of the staff. It was also in the way he’d always reach out for you, may it be when you’d turn to leave and he’d catch a drama-esque scene where instead of calling out for your name, Namjoon would reach for your hand and speak to you with that soft look in his eyes and the genuineness in the dip of his dimples when he smiles.

Eyes never lie nor do the dimples on his cheeks whenever he grins, even when the beholder hasn’t realized it yet.

It was then did he realise how odd your relationship is with them and decided to take a step back to draw a line.

Friends, especially ones whose gender are opposite of each other, aren’t supposed to be as touchy and comfortable the way you and his brothers are. You didn’t say anything when you noticed and wordlessly respected his decision. He was firm on drawing the line, his sister had questioned his actions but he’s determined, nothing is going to stop him from going back on his decision.

At least until he got sick.

Without any of his brothers available to tend to him as they had to leave for Japan the very day he fainted—he had to pass out while talking to the migration officer, so embarrassing!—, he thought he'd power through it alone for a few days. But then you volunteered to stay back to take care of him and everyone just let it happen as if it's normal.

Which is not.

He'd understand taking care of him during the job but to take a leave of absence just to watch over him because his family is unavailable due to the rough weather at the time, in a house far too big for the two of you while the rest flies to another country. It wasn’t appropriate, not normal at all.

In the haze of his high fever, he had asked you how you were acting as if the situation was normal and in response, you had hit him lightly with the drenched towel you used to wipe his face.

“Don't be ridiculous. You're one of my best friends even if you’ve been acting up these past few days. I'm not about to leave while you're sick and alone in the dorms. If your family could come to Seoul, I would've left with the others so don't overthink. This is just me being a good friend.”

Cooking for him, wiping his face and making sure he's comfortable in bed—It felt far too domestic to be friendly.

Familial doesn't sound like the right word either. There’s nothing familial about the butterflies in his stomach when you had kissed his forehead good night that day as a joke when Jimin had called you or when you had woken him up the next day.

Oh how beautiful you were that morning.

He knew at that moment that the goddess of beauty had favorites when she made your skin glow softly under the radiance of the rising morning sun like a halo and had your messy bed hair look frustratingly good on you.

You were borrowing their clothes that day since you had already got your items shipped with the other staff, Taehyung’s white striped polo hung off on you like a dress and Jimin’s red basketball shorts gobbled up your form yet even with the fabrics dwarfing and hiding the curves of your body, he still thinks you’re the cutest sight he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

You were especially cute in their clothes though.

In his feverish haze, all he could think about was how pleasant it’d be if you were to wake him up every morning like an angel welcoming him to heaven. What he’d give to the world to have you be the first thing he’d see in the morning.

Then you spoke and greeted him in that roughened sweet voice and Hoseok was gone.

Realization immediately had him freezing, tensing up as you let yourself fall across his blanket covered feet to groan about how sleepy you still are after putting down his medicine and breakfast on the bedside table. He hadn’t been able to reply, busy with tampering down the racing heartbeat echoing in his ears.

Looking back a year later, him falling in love with you wasn’t as odd as he thinks it is, uncommon but still cliche.

Jiwoo taking the space next to him made him jump, breaking off his line of thought.

“Seriously, just get it over with. The faster you see the result, the faster you can decide whether to move on or not.”

It was the most logical step to take but it felt…wrong somehow.

He couldn’t imagine a day where he’d look at you and never feel the tickles of butterflies filling his stomach or the warmth your fingers would leave behind after carding through his hair or tilting his chin up to have a better look on his makeup. It felt like an offense to the fates.

Although loving you has its downsides, with your obliviousness to their feelings whether intentional or unintentional often makes him want to pull his hair out, he’d never regret feeling the joy of admiring someone when he’s with you. Hoseok has never felt more motivated to produce music with lyrics far too romantic to come from someone who has never had a lover since pre-debut. Not that you’d see that of course.

He couldn’t remember how many times he found himself wanting to grab you by the shoulders to shake you whenever you teased him about his creations, and hoped it would be enough to let you know that all those cheesy lyrics he had uncharacteristically puked out was all because of you.

“Don’t you go souring your face like that, you know that I’m right.”

“And just because you sound right, doesn’t mean I’m gonna listen to you.”

Jiwoo rolled her eyes and turned to her kitchen, probably to take a pan and hit him upside the head with it or to save herself from seeing the pathetic image of her brother being a fool for love.

He knew not to hope, he repeated those words to himself but at the same time, he could sense the small, miniscule bead of it hidden within his heart, pushed down to the bottom of the barrel and awaiting its eventual death once he set his eyes on the negative results on his test.

In all of the times he got scared, Jung Hoseok has never been so terrified at the thought of being left out of your nexus. It would be the highest form of torture, a cruelest fate the heavens have dealt.

How would he function seeing all his brothers do all the things he had imagined himself doing? Due to how sensitive the bond is, he wouldn’t be able to get a feel of your touch for a year, maybe two if the gods deemed it funnier.

What is he going to do then? Die from envy?

He wouldn’t be able to survive, it would ruin him completely. That parasitic feeling would eat him up from the inside and eventually spill out of him, it would damage the relationship he and his brothers had established through hardships and time. Something he too treasured as he does you.

A chime rang out and his eyes immediately fell to his phone on the coffee table. From the familiar set of emojis on the name of the messenger, he reached over to answer to his Yoongi hyung.

[18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i know what you’re doing [18:23] Me: i don’t know what i’m even doing right now hyung [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: you may fool the others but im not like them [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: jiwoo had already asked me last week about this problem ur supposed to be fixing so dont even try to lie to me [18:23] Me: im just worried [18:23] Me: you know about my family history right? We never had a single tethered so idk what even possessed me to take that test with jin hyung when we already know the answer [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i think you’ll be surprised [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: not that i’m spoiling or anything, im just saying that if jesus could turn water into rum, then you can be the first tethered in your family [18:23] Me: well im not a son of god am i? [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: don’t get sassy with me [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: im just saying, miracles can happen [18:23] Me: i think i already lucked out with our jobs hyung [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i doubt that [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: come home tomorrow [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: the maknaes are planning a party for you [18:23] Me: LOLOLOL WHAT [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: they even bought two different cakes [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: wont spoil what they say [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: come home if you want know [18:23] Me: i will

Despite telling his hyung that he’ll return, he wasn’t sure if he’s going through that decision just yet.

“Did you at least bring a change of clothes with you?” Jiwoo chimes, reappearing from the kitchen archway.

“What if I don’t have any?”

“Then you’re sleeping in those.”

Despite her words, she eventually pulls out a pair of pajamas from her boyfriend’s temporary side of the closet for him to borrow. Sleeping that night was far from being an easy task when he could read and see from the images the maknaes are spamming the group chat, photos ranging from decent captures of moments to a blurry mess where the one holding the phone is running away from a figure that distinctly look like Jimin.

He tried to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of his head and the way his stomach seems to shrunk and eat itself up with every picture and video he sees. He truly does try to ignore the voice judging him for daring to squeeze himself in an already perfect dynamic.

Eventually though, the voices quieten and he falls asleep.

______

Jimin is falling in love with his soulmate.

It shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone but he's actually falling in love with his soulmate. Tingling butterflies in his stomach, skipping heartbeat, tickling warmth in the chest, the whole mile.

What started off as playful admiration where he’d tease you and lightly tug or pull your hair up while you were putting setting powder on his under eye, quickly developed into a giggly high school romance kind of love where he’d avoid your eyes just so his stomach would stop feeling weird and feel the heat of your touch linger from where you last held him.

Now that he’s thinking about it, the whole thing sounds silly because of course he’s going to fall in love with his soulmate.

The morning started as most mornings have begun for him since Jungkook’s birthday, with your face, bare and naked of any products, and the warmth of your body seeping through the fabric of his clothes. More often than not, he’d find himself coming to consciousness feeling your body weight pressing on his arms or your breath ghosting against his throat and he'd just freeze.

Every time it happens, electric shocks would run down his skin and he’d be taking a quick trip to the bathroom to calm his racing heart.

It was insane how often he had to lean over the ceramic sink so early in the morning, breathing heavily to try and ground himself before he reenters the room and sneaks back into his bed, but strictly keeping himself on his side of the pillow fort while careful to take your hand in his once again without waking you up.

But today, he found himself wishing for time to stop just so he could stare at your face at this very moment.

With the light sheen of the light filtered through the curtains bouncing on one side of your skin giving you an ethereal appearance, he found himself at a loss for words at the beauty presented before him. His eyes traced the lines of the long lashes kissing the apple of your cheeks, the slope of your nose, and down to the plush of your lips.

Jimin has lost count on how many times he has wondered about how it’d felt pressing against his.

In the peaceful silence of the early mornings, all he did was stare and wait for time to pass while wishing internally for the world to slow just so he could soak in the peace the morning brought.

Eventually though, he had to steer his attention elsewhere. Jimin rolls to the other end to reach for his phone on the bedside table.

He’s been scrolling on his phone for a couple of minutes, lurking in the fandom space—both international and local—when the door creaks open and Taehyung steps in with sleep-lidden eyes and body heavy with lethargy. Forgoing to close the door of their room, he trudged towards the bed like an overworked employee before promptly falling face first to the spot between you and him. He churned in the small space, making himself comfortable by throwing an arm around your blanket-covered form.

For a long while, the only sound in the room came from the occasional videos he plays.

It was weird. Having a soulmate who has multiple soulmates is weird.

He should be feeling disturbed seeing someone cuddle up to his soulmate but he wasn’t. Jimin, contrary to popular belief, is possessive, probably more than Jungkook was in his younger age. Although it wasn’t to the point of killing like people like to showcase in films these days, possessiveness for him is as tame as snaking arms around waists and narrowed eyes.

Maybe there’s a bit of pulling them aside for a quick reminder in the middle of an event but the point is, he’s possessive.

But he couldn’t find a single cell in his body who was bothered by the presence of someone else in the room.

This soulmate thing is weird.

When he laughed at a post, Taehyung dragged himself up to shoulder level just to see what he was laughing at before giggling himself. Suddenly, you push yourself up and turn to them with squinted eyes.

“Good morning, noona.”

“Tae? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Seokjin hyung sent me up here to wake you both up—”

“It’s still too early!” she groaned, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m not built for working this early!”

“— he said if you don’t go down before seven, he’ll eat the can of smelly fish you bought for him in Sweden as a joke.”

You paused, the threat successfully shutting you up before you let out an exaggerated groan and dramatically burying yourself back into the pillow.

“Can’t a girl rest? I have a bad headache, and I don’t even know if the beating is Namjoon’s or mine.”

It’s easy to forget how there’s six different soulmarks affecting her all at the same time. From how she’d hear their leader’s heartbeat no matter how far, to the altered taste due to his Seokjin hyung’s mark, and to his Healing Touch. He couldn’t even fathom how much of a nightmare it is sensing everyone.

They eventually dragged themselves down to the dining room after a quick bathroom break. Jin had immediately greeted them with heaps upon heaps of pancakes with maple syrup drooling over the side and scrambled eggs on the table.

Yoongi and Namjoon were already nursing their cups of coffee on the table—with Joon hyung taking his rightful spot on one end of the table as the leader, Seokjin hyung taking the seat on the opposite side, and Yoongi next to their leader—Seokjin was occupied with his food when they arrived, one scrolling on his phone while the other crazily scribbled on his journal.

“You didn’t even try to at least cook me waffles, hyung. I’m hurt!” He exclaimed and the man rolled his eyes.

“In another life, if you were my soulmate, maybe I would’ve considered it.” Jin then flashed a smile at you before skipping back to the kitchen.

Jimin couldn’t help but notice how you shifted uncomfortably on your seat at the noticeably more generous portion on your plate and he switched his plate with yours, immediately shoving one into his mouth before his hyung returned. An action noticed by everyone in the room.

“Jimin,” Yoongi called out, voice gentle as a whisper. “Give me one.”

He followed, standing up to bring his plate closer to his hyung and passing it over, adding the eggs into the equation when Yoongi motioned him to add it. Seokjin returns when Jungkook has trudged out of his room and taking the empty space next to Taehyung.

Jungkook immediately noticed the generous amounts on his plate and immediately reached out for two pancakes with his fingers and plopping it down on his plate before taking three more from the middle dish and practically drowning his towers in maple syrup. As if it wasn’t enough, he reached for the softened butter.

When Jin returned, it was with another dishful of bacon and slices of apple. If he noticed the change of plates, he said nothing.

For a long while, they all occupied themselves with their food. A companionable silence

“What’s the agenda for today?” Jungkook was the first to break the silence.

“Yoongi hyung is coming with us to buy furniture for noona.” Jimin replied.

Taehyung then stops slicing his pancake and jutted out his lips towards Yoongi’s direction.

“Can I come with you?”

“I need your voice for the new song I’ve been working on.” Namjoon replied, looking up from his journal with a stern stare directed at the pouting boy. “You’ve been gone for so long, I have a couple for you to work on.”

“I can do that tomorrow, hyung. Let me go just for today? Hm?”

“I can go right? Since you need Tae’s voice instead of mine.” Jungkook sleepily chimed in, eyes still half closed and a hand raised halfway.

“You’ll do the carrying?” Yoongi challenges.

“I’ll even do the talking.”

Jungkook held his gaze with a small, playful grin, waking his face up which Yoongi matched after a couple seconds passed.

“Alright, you’re going with us, kid.”

“I have a touch-based soulmark, I need to come too!” Taehyung argued..

“It's not as drastic as Jimin’s. Even then, you’ve recharged enough.” Seokjin responds, pointing his fork at him.

But before Tae could reply, a shrill notification sound pierced through the air and Y/N pulled her phone out of the pockets of her sleep shorts. Eomma <3

Shit.

Seeing how fast the entertained lilt in her expression drops into dread, the table falls into a hush. As if sensing the approaching tsunami of words from her mother, Yoongi takes his mug and walks out of the room with Seokjin following close behind.

_____

“What did I hear about you getting a soulmate? You ungrateful child, I carried you for nine months and raised you with my blood, sweat, and tears yet this is how you treat me?!”

That was how your mother had begun the moment you had accepted her call. Her voice, despite being carried through such a small device, had blasted out, her uncontainable rage far too grand to be limited by the phone’s initial features. How a small woman could hold such an explosive anger and powerful voice is a wonder no one in the world has the answer for.

Hearing her voice through the speakers had Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon fleeing the scene, but not without karma immediately hitting their leader who had accidentally checked his shoulder on the wall on his way out.

Jungkook followed quickly, dunking his milk in one go and taking his plate with him as he jogged to follow his hyungs, Taehyung behind him.

Jimin had tried to leave but was stopped by both your entangled hands.

“So damn ungrateful you are! Didn't even tell me what was happening, a fucking lawyer knocked on my door and there I find out that my child is tethered. What was my daughter doing to forget to tell HER mother she had soulmates? Why did I have to hear it from someone I don't know?!”

“Did you really think you could leave me alone here?” I whisper-shout at him.

“Noona, let me go. I know we can go for five minutes now.”

“You’re really gonna risk our health for that?”

“At least don’t turn the camera at me, let me hide under the table.”

“Is that my new son-in-law Jimin?” Your mother had chimed, her tone taking a sudden turn. I turned the camera to him despite the insistent shake of head and wide eyes. “When you said you were also trying to find a husband for my daughter, I didn’t think you’d mean you and your brothers!”

“I know right?! Who knew I’d be one of the husbands I’ve been talking about, right auntie?”

“Already talking about marriage, huh? Y/N!” You turn the camera to you and find her smiling so wide you feel your cheeks ache for her. “Your soulmates got good heads on them, already thinking about marriage this early on!”

You shake your head.

While marriage had once been an issue you lost sleep on, you knew it was impossible to attain as idols. They still got stadiums to perform in, songs to compose and perform for the ARMY. Bangtan would continue on for years as long as they sing and dance or as long as their passion remains alive and roaring. They had worked hard to get where they are now, with the taste of glory and power that comes with their rise in fame, retirement is a far away dream when they’re just getting started.

Not to mention, your brain still struggles to accept your new reality despite the very apparent a red string connecting you and Yoongi over the table, and hearing Namjoon's heartbeat at the back of your mind. Hoseok hasn’t even checked his test result yet but your mother is already looking decades ahead.

“Ma please, you know that’s after they retire which is thirty years from now.”

“Jimin,” she calls out, lip jutted out in a pout and he leans over to get into the frame. “Are you guys going to make this old woman wait to see her daughter be a bride? I’m not gonna last long you know? My bones hurt every morning and my appetite is beginning to weaken.”

Jimin laughed nervously, eyes wide as he turned to you for help but you're not going to jump in when his face has calmed the raging beast.

“Don't think for one second that I'm done with you, you ungrateful brat! You haven't even told me why you broke it off with Guwon when he was about to propose!”

“D-does it really matter now?” You winced when Jimin narrowed his eyes at you. Suddenly remembering what was drowned out by the sudden revelation of your soulmate links.

“It doesn't, global popstars sound much better than a lawyer anyway but would it hurt you to tell me what happened exactly? Don't you think your mother deserved an explanation at least after I toiled away trying to find you a husband?!”

“Don't you worry about it anymore, auntie,” Jimin says, voice like a gentle caress trying to tame her fierce anger. “Noona now has seven to care for her now, we'll get to that bridge when it comes but for now, how about we treat you girls to a nice spa out in Jeju?”

“Oh? I wouldn't want to impose on your bonding period, but I'd like to take that offer later. How so nice of you, Jiminie.”

“It’s not the best of gifts but I assure you that there’s plenty to come. Expect a couple of fruit baskets from Yoongi hyung and other stuff too from the others.

“You seven better take care of my daughter, it would be a shame if you all mucked it all up and I have to resent you all.” Your mother sighed, feigning sadness. “Anyways, expect a visit from Soo-in soon dear daughter. She will deliver my heartfelt joy in my stead, your father still needs my help around the house, damn pride of his, he shouldn’t have mindlessly tried to fix the roof himself.”

A shiver wracks down your spine at the thought of your mother’s gift after ghosting her and Soo-in for almost a week now.

The last time your sister had visited, it was after Jungkook had ‘ran-into-the-sunset’ with you on his shoulder and him covered from head to toe in black. The vile wrench had switched your sugar and salt, hid the lids of your tupperwares, hid lego in your shoes before eventually ending her wickedness by hiding the wires of your charger and the wifi router’s adapter.

If your mother only threatened to hang you upside down, Soo-in made sure everything in life became irritatingly inconvenient.

“She won’t be pinching my ears?”

“She’s classier than that, I raised her first so expect more. I love you, dear daughter! Visit us soon with your seven soulmates!”

__________

[Today, 12:42] [12:42] The BADDEST💅: so let me get one thing straight and two things gay [12:42] The BADDEST💅: ur linked with bangtan? [12:42] The BADDEST💅: THE ENTIRE ROSTER????? [12:43] The Mother😌: congratulations Y/N, I’m so glad you finally found your soulmates😊 [12:43] The Mother😌: always knew you’d be tethered [12:43] The PRETTIEST🌸: so who’s the biggest?👀 [12:43] The BADDEST💅: girl I don’t even think you got the libido for two [12:43] The BADDEST💅: how tf are you gonna handle seven?!?!?! [12:43] The BADDEST💅: she was in the hospital u fiend @The Prettiest [12:43] The BADDEST💅: she needs to be worrying about a different type of d to receive [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: SHUT IT MINHYUK [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: hoseok isn’t confirmed yet so its just six for now [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: bet you wish he’s your soulmate too [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: cuz the way that man thrusts his hips in baepsae? [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: 🥵 [12:44] The Mother😌: have some faith in her, she’ll manage [12:44] The Mother😌: gift giving for your birthday just got a whole lot easier though😊 [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: wdym by that @The Mother😟 [12:45] The BADDEST💅: NO BUT SRSLY [12:45] The BADDEST💅: HOW TF ARE YOU GONNA MANAGE SEVEN [12:45] The BADDEST💅: ONE DICK PER DAY??? SEVEN DAYS A WEEK??/ [12:45] The BADDEST💅: lowkey wish that for me BUT [12:45] The BADDEST💅: HOW?????? [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: MINHYUK PLEASE [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: JIMIN IS LITERALLY NEXT TO ME [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: NABI CONTROL YOURSELF [12:46] The PRETTIEST🌸: don’t scold me when ik ur thinking about it too [12:46] The Mother😌: when’s the soulbinding? [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: Jihae please, its only been a few days [12:46] The Mother😌: back in my days, people bound themselves and completed the bond on the first day… [12:47] The PRETTIEST🌸: minhyuk i think you're forgetting the best part out of this [12:47] The BADDEST💅: wut? [12:47] The PRETTIEST🌸: imagine Alexa’s reaction when she finds out our dearest Y/N is Seokjin’s real soulmate [12:47] The BADDEST💅: OH [12:48] The BADDEST💅: she better HOPE she’s not in bighit anymore the moment the NDA expires [12:48] The BADDEST💅: im going to be the most annoying fucker she’ll ever meet [Today, 13:02] [13:02] The BADDEST💅: no but srsly how? [13:02] The PRETTIEST🌸: R I P that pussy ayee

________

There’s nothing more infuriating than picking furniture with your soulmates, you decided.

Yoongi wanting everything to be practical and of the greatest quality matched with Jungkook’s penchant for only liking soft things, it was hell to be stuck in a furniture warehouse with the both of them. Jimin had never looked so godly when he insisted on letting you pick the brownish-red persian rug to be placed under the wide round canopy bed you had eventually settled with after a long debate with the rapper and the youngest.

What started as Jimin towing you around the shop to place you in front of every furniture before a mischievous grin spread across his lips, and the strength of the bed frames immediately turned sour when you both found your other two companions calmly arguing about the color of the curtains—they both eventually settled with thick white, and beige curtains, to Jungkook’s dismay.

He wanted black-out curtains for when he eventually ends up sleeping in your bed, he claimed.

The current dilemma, however, had you going silent as the prickles of irritation began to itch your skin.

Yoongi wanted to commission a carpenter he knew for a custom desk made for you and is insisting on you to skip shopping for tables and shelves, and take the cheapest one for now but Jungkook thinks it’ll take too long and wanted the boho vanity table set with a huge round mirror with stained glass around the edges. The rapper wanted the place you’d be doing work on, to be built with the practical features while keeping it organized but Jungkook, although he saw his hyung’s vision, refused.

“Imagine waking up with a canopy, great quality bed, amazing decor, then you have to stand up and work on a rackety blue plastic table because you have to wait months for that desk. How does that sound, hyung?”

Jimin not picking sides only added to the pounding headache you’re having.

While you understand both sides of the argument, either of those options didn't make you feel less guilty about having them skip work to spend all this money for your room, even if you knew how barely of a scratch their collective funds will take.

If Taehyung hadn't had the foresight to hide your wallet while you were in the shower with Jimin, the guilt would've been lighter.

You envy Jin who has been prickling your tastebuds with honey glazed fried chicken back in bighit, the lingering taste on your tongue making your stomach uncomfortably churn in hunger.

The disguises could only last for so long before people start noticing how familiar your soulmates’ eyes are, seeing as they’re plastered everywhere in the major cities. For the public to see your hands entangled in the pocket of Jimin’s coat would fuel the press for a year; hell, a century even with how the media moves these days.

As Jungkook’s voice picks up, you reach for the red string and Yoongi halts, looking down at the connecting line before gently grabbing it too.

‘Head hurts’

‘No more’

The rapper lets out an exhale and Jungkook stops.

‘Sorry’

‘Forgive?’

“Ok, so how about we take the set and I commission my guy then we’ll change it out once it's done?”

“Deal.”

Next to you, Jimin sighed in relief. “Thank god that’s settled, I thought I was going crazy listening to them debate on what’s better.”

“I don’t think either of them has ever fought for something they wanted that much.”

You turn to Jimin and a teasing smirk grows on his face.

“They love you like that, noona. Wanted nothing but the best of the best for you.”

In a different context, you would've easily brushed off his comment but having the warmth of his touch thrum from your hand to your toes, the healing touch always at work, your cheeks flushed dark and you lightly slapped his arm.

Ever dramatic, he clutched his bicep and winced.

“Why are you hurting me like this?”

“Please, we have regeneration as our soulmark. You're barely hurt.”

“I'm gonna bruise and the fans are gonna see it then I'm telling them how much you like hurting me!”

________

When Hoseok arrived it was with a chorus of loud bangs!. The man had leapt at least a foot or two from the shock as confetti rained on him.

Once he recovered though, he rained curses on the mischievous maknaes—and surprisingly, Yoongi and Namjoon too but they were spared due to one having his hyung privilege and Namjoon having retreated to the kitchen before his hyung had recovered from the shock.

Jin had clapped him in the back when he entered the dining room, fitting the huge and frilly birthday hat on his head and taking a picture of his dumbfounded reaction before the man could even realise what was happening.

Seeing them celebrate such a small thing, an odd feeling settles in your heart. You try not to be a killjoy but you couldn't ignore the mass settling on your gut.

Everything continued on as normal, everyone acted like they had before Jungkook's confession. They find out their links to you and suddenly, the past is behind them. As if you hadn't—although unintentionally—led them on and hadn't rejected three of them. A soul link appears and every fault was forgiven.

It wasn't only you who seemed to be feeling this way though.

Namjoon too it seems, seeing how he had kept his distance. Not in a bad way but rather a respectable, perfectly platonic way. You guessed it'll take long before the information would sink in for the non-believer, he was the one who had treated you more professionally than the others. You'd feel his concerned eyes ever so often but other than that, he'd treat you like a fragile glass.

Never to be touched and never to be perceived too long, fearing the weight of his gaze is enough to make you crumble.

(Or was it just you turning something that was normal before into fuel for your restless mind with the soulmarks now in the picture?)

You knew Namjoon is just having a hard time settling down with the fact that he's in a nexus connection with you but the ugly voice at the back of your head whispered a different tale. All of them are negative and judged far too harshly than you normally do yourself.

Jungkook bets his hyung will break after the third week, Tae says a month, and Jimin slyly says next week. You think it'll take Namjoon at least half a year before he properly processes him being tethered to someone, a non-believer.

The thumb that began to caress your knuckles snapped you out of your thoughts and you immediately found Jimin’s concerned eyes.

“You okay?”

You nod but he knew you better. Luckily, he lets it go.

“Open it, open it!” Jungkook chants, bringing everyone to gather around them.

Hoseok nervously laughed, placing down his car keys, phone, and wallet on the table before flipping the envelope’s flap.

Unconsciously, you leaned forward as he carefully tears the paper, the sound seeming to echo loudly in the silence of everyone’s nervous anticipation. As his brothers had gone from standing at a respectful distance to noisily looking over the main dancer’s shoulder, Jimin had tugged you closer to join them, standing in front and peering over as Hoseok flips open the first fold.

Then out of nowhere, Yoongi had a burst of energy and screamed.

Everyone jumped at his sudden burst of energy making Hoseok’s hand shoot up to his heart and the three maknaes snapped their head to their hyung. The man in question laughed noiselessly, satisfied with the reaction he garnered.

“Hyung, why did you do that?! I just got out of the hospital and you want to send me back again!”

“You’re practically invincible, what are you talking about?” Yoongi shot back.

“Just open it, all I’m seeing is your information hyung and that’s boring!” Taehyung cuts in. “I already know what your blood type is, your last name—”

“You go open it then—”

His words died on his tongue when Taehyung snatched the paper up from the envelope and pulled it open. But before he could start reading the result, Hoseok took it back.

Waiting as he read through his results felt like watching the presidential race on the tv, heartbeat rising every time the opposing candidate gained more than the man you elected. You worried your bottom lip with your teeth. His eyebrows furrowed, his frown deepening as his eyes wandered lower and you began to panic.

Why are you even nervous?

Aren't you being too greedy for wanting to have Hobi too?

Hoseok then crumbled into the floor, curling up to himself as he clutched the paper to his chest. Instantly, everyone panics as his heart shattering sobs echoed in the living room.

Suddenly, the colorful decorations hanging on the wall and the balloons scattered on the floor made

“Hoba? What’s wrong?”

“Hyung come on, don’t make me nervous like this!”

“What did it say?”

Jimin falls next to him, your hand momentarily forgotten to comfort his hyung and Jungkook follows, hugging the sobbing man while Seokjin reaches for the crumpled paper peeking out of Hoseok’s curled up form, a grim expression on his face.

“I am writing to inform you of the results of your recent soulmark evaluation and tethered status assessment. After a thorough examination and review of your diagnostic tests, it has been confirmed that you are,” Seokjin takes a deep breath then releases it shakily, a wide smile spreading across his lips. “Indeed tethered.”

You let go of the breath you had unconsciously held in as everyone in the room began to celebrate. Jimin pulled Hoseok to stand, laughing as the man continued to weep before reaching up to fix the birthday cap Seokjin had slipped onto his head. Jungkook, unable to stop himself from ridiculing his hyungs whenever he could, pulled out his phone to record them.

“How do you feel knowing you’re the first ever tethered in your family?”

Taehyung follows by placing his phone under Hoseok’s chin like a mic.

“You must be so happy being the first Jung to have a soulmate since the dawn of time, sir. Please tell us what you’re feeling right now.”

“Get that fucking… camera off my face or I’ll break it.”

Hearing this, Namjoon turns to the maknaes. “Stop teasing him, Seokjin hyung isn’t even done reading it.”

Despite this, Jungkook didn’t stop recording but Taehyung had skipped over to look over Seokjin’s shoulder.

“I think you’ll want to read this one yourself, Hoba.” The oldest says, handing the paper over to the sniffling man.

With his result back in his hand, Hoseok straightened himself, clearing his throat as Jimin gently wipes his tears off of his cheeks.

“This means you have a soulmate, a unique and profound connection that is both rare and significant. Furthermore, based on the characteristics of your soulmark and the energy patterns observed, there is a high probability that your soulmark is of the altering type.”

“They have the technology to figure out the soulmark type too?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“Unfortunately, the global fated registry haven’t figured out a way to pinpoint what soulmark our patients have. It is with our deepest—”

“Didn’t know that, had mine cancelled when I figured it out before the results came.” Seokjin replied. Beside him, Taehyung pulls up his phone to rapidly type out whatever he had in his mind.

“I wonder what kind of altering mark it is. There’s a lot of documented ones but what if it’s also a new soulmark? A revived one from the 19th century like Jimin’s?”

“That’s unlikely.” Yoongi refutes.

“You don’t know that.”

With the initial elation ebbing away, everyone continued the celebration seated around the dining table where Jimin had parted from you to take out the congratulating cake from the fridge to light up and serve in front of their hyung who had almost toppled over with how hard he laughed seeing it.

Yoongi had insisted they also take out the apologizing cake so it wouldn’t go to waste. Upon hearing this, the group broke out in laughters, unbelieving until Jungkook brings out the ube flavored cake with the sentence “sorry your family nerfed your potential to be a lover boy.” placed on top in red icing.

The excitement never faded away through the night, dinner was lively, as if they had swept the four daesangs on both award shows. But instead of being influenced by the joy you feel down the red line from Yoongi and the practically vibrating maknaes sitting across you who keep cutting through conversations with suggestions on what soulmark their hyung might have, you find yourself standing behind a tall wall.

When everyone cheered and raised their mugs to toast, you only felt yourself mentally retreat further as a mass settled deep in the pit of your gut.

Seeing the men around you with wrists decorated in thick bands of gold that cost more than your yearly wage, faces flawless from careful maintenance, and names carrying the weight of their country’s pride, did you really deserve them?

You, who was a nobody staff they just happen to gravitate to due to the closeness of age, matched with the members of the world’s biggest boyband. They weren’t just out of your league. You’re the human on earth wishing to reach the stars from another, far away galaxy, yet by fate’s generosity, you were given the chance to see the beauty of them from up close.

How does one come from dating sleazy men with oily hair and faces akin to an infant’s drawing to being tethered to superstars everyone in the world would sacrifice a life for a chance to talk to them?

When everyone had begun to retire for the night, Jimin had silently guided you back to his room. The sensation of him pressing a kiss on your forehead cuts off your thoughts, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug grounding you further.

“Are you with me now, noona?”

“Of course, I always am.” You answered with a scoff, pulling away and he frowned.

“I could sense your feelings the entire dinner, don’t try to lie to me.”

Even in the shades of his room bare of any bright lighting, you feel Jimin stare past your physical body and peer into your soul. In the harsh darkness with only you and him standing in it, you felt exposed, stripped to the barest bone under his gaze.

Never have you ever hated having a soulmate than you do now with someone perceiving your feelings openly, sensing the slightest shift in your mood with a brush of skin. It's annoying, scary yet at the same time relieving that there’s someone who could hear the tune of the noise in your brain.

Not many people have the same luck you have, seven soulmates with one of them granting you what technically is immortality, who else wins at life like that?

But do you really deserve it? Deserve them?

“Stop that. You deserve this, deserve all of us. If someone thinks otherwise, tell me their name and I’ll go beat them up.”

You laugh. “You can’t do that, that’ll stain your image.”

“I don’t think you understand just how important you are to me, noona.” He says, pulling you closer to him. “Before you think about it, I’ll beat someone up for you with or without the soulmarks.”

The image of someone with the face of an angel and a sweet demeanor like Jimin jumping someone in the parking lot to fight for your honor shouldn’t have made you cackle the way you did. The warm rumbles from your linked hands spread across your body and the thoughts were immediately silenced.

“I know you wouldn’t like it but I’ll be telling the other guys about this. I don’t like how you think you’re undeserving of all this when you do, in fact, deserve this bond after sticking with us through thick and thin. You saw all of our flaws and helped us in our bad days, you may think you haven’t done much to warrant this kind of luck but you do.”

Jimin pressed his lips on your forehead and your heart skipped a beat.

“Namjoon hyung might have a problem expressing it, Yoongi hyung might not show it openly like Jungkook and Taehyung does, but they share the same sentiment. It’ll take them time to be more expressive so I hope you find it in yourself to be patient. We’re still in the adjusting phase so if anything bothers you, don’t hesitate to tell us.”

Tears were streaming down your face at this point, eyes burning as they poured out like a waterfall. The softness in his voice has eased its way into your heart and dispelled the gloominess surrounding it, replacing it with a crashing wave of relief followed by the warmth provided by the soulmark.

You didn’t realise how much your thoughts had been wearing you down until tonight. Comforted by his words and the tightness of his hug, the dam finally breaks and you falter in his hold.

“Shh, cry it all out, noona.”

“I-I shouldn’t be crying over something so stupid like this.”

He shakes his head. “It's not stupid. Don’t say that.”

There’s a tug on your pinkie and you feel the string grow heavier. Immediately, Yoongi’s concern bleeds into you.

‘Why crying?’

‘What happened?’

“Let’s go lay down, noona. I’m feeling the ache in my muscles bending down like this.” He says lightheartedly, giggling. “Don’t worry about answering the others, I’ll handle it later.”

Guiding you to the bed, Jimin tugs you to fall into his arms and you let yourself be pulled into his chest.

Between the sound of Jimin and Namjoon’s heartbeats, and his fingers tracing slow circles on your back while the other hand massaged your scalp, it was easy to be lulled into sleep. In the echoing sound of your sniffles and hiccups, his sweet humming permeates through the air. His song was familiar yet your sleep addled mind took a second to realise what it was.

Serendipity, your mind eventually supplied.

For a moment, in the solace his arms offered, the world became quiet and you fell asleep, forgetting to worry about what chaos yesterday will bring.

_________

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