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dandelions-143 · 3 days ago

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Obsession 2

Obsession Part 1

Minho Masterlist

Member Masterlist

Pairing: Non- Idol, Rich Minho x Curvy/mid-size Dancer

Word Count: 8386

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Sexual content, Violence and physical abuse, Emotional manipulation, Dubious consent, Power imbalance in relationships

Summary: The usually cold, calm, and collected Minho is losing his grip. He’s losing his control all due to his intense feelings for his little dancer…

Minho glanced over at his friend Hyunjin, who sat rigid in the passenger seat of the sleek black Lexus LX. The leather interior creaked as Minho shifted, his voice low and cautious. "Are you absolutely certain about this, Hyunjin? This isn't like our usual... activities. Once we cross this line, there's no turning back."

Minho's eyes flickered to Hyunjin's face, noting the taut line of his jaw and the barely contained fury in his eyes. A muscle twitched near Hyunjin's temple, a telltale sign of his suppressed rage. Minho understood his friend's anger all too well. The man they had bound and gagged in the trunk of the SUV had committed an unforgivable act - he had dared to lay his hands on the woman Hyunjin cherished above all else.

The weight of what they were about to do hung heavy in the air between them. Minho's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his grip. He could feel the thrumming of the engine, a stark contrast to the eerie silence inside the vehicle. In the rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of the deserted road behind them, stretching out into the darkness.

"He deserves everything that's coming to him," Hyunjin muttered, more to himself than to Minho. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, a mix of righteousness and something darker, something that sent a chill down his spine despite the warmth of the car.

"I've made up my mind," Hyunjin's voice was cold, devoid of its usual warmth. His eyes, usually bright and expressive, now held a dangerous glint. "No one hurts her anymore... not me... not anyone." He turned to face Minho, his gaze unflinching. "I'm doing this."

With those words, Hyunjin reached for the door handle. The soft click of the latch seemed to echo in the tense silence. As he stepped out, the crisp night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth. Minho hesitated for a split second before turning off the engine, plunging them into darkness save for the faint glow of the dashboard lights.

Minho exited the car, his shoes crunching on the gravel. The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet forest clearing. He made his way to the trunk, where their captive, Joo Won, lay bound and gagged. Even through the metal of the car, Minho could hear the muffled screams and the dull thuds of Ji Won's attempts to free himself.

As Minho's hand hovered over the trunk release, he caught Hyunjin's eye. In that moment, a silent understanding passed between them. There was no going back now. With a deep breath, Minho pressed the button, the trunk slowly opening to reveal their terrified prisoner. Joo Won instantly started screaming and cursing at them. Some how the idiot managed to get the tape halfway off his mouth.

"You fucking pricks!" Joo Won bellowed, his voice echoing in the clearing. His eyes, wild with fear and rage, darted between Minho and Hyunjin. Spittle flew from his lips as he continued his tirade, "You'll pay for this! You won't get away with this! I'll have your heads for-"

The rest of his threat was cut short as Minho's fist connected with his temple. The sound of the impact was sickeningly loud in the quiet forest. Joo Won's head snapped back, his eyes rolling up as consciousness fled. His body went limp, sagging against the edge of the trunk.

Minho flexed his hand, his knuckles already reddening from the force of the blow. His voice was barely above a whisper, cold and detached. "You talk too fucking much."

Without a word, Hyunjin moved to help. Together, they grasped Joo Won's unconscious form, one taking the shoulders, the other the feet. The man's dead weight was substantial, and they grunted with effort as they maneuvered him out of the trunk. Joo Won's head lolled lifelessly as they carried him, a thin trickle of blood now visible at his temple where Minho's fist had connected.

They carried Joo Won's unconscious body across the clearing, their footsteps muffled by the carpet of pine needles. The abandoned garage loomed before them, a dark silhouette against the night sky. Its weathered wooden doors creaked ominously as Hyunjin pushed them open with his shoulder.

The interior of the garage was musty and thick with the scent of old motor oil and rusted metal. Minho fumbled for a moment before finding the light switch. A single bare bulb flickered to life, casting long shadows across the cluttered space.

"Over there," Minho grunted, nodding towards a sturdy wooden chair in the corner. They maneuvered Joo Won's limp form into the seat, his head lolling forward onto his chest. Hyunjin quickly set about securing him with rope, his movements efficient and practiced.

As Hyunjin worked, Minho took a moment to survey their surroundings. The garage, once his father's pride and joy, now stood as a silent witness to their dark intentions. Tools hung on the walls, their edges dulled by time and neglect. A workbench stood against one wall, its surface covered in a thick layer of dust.

With Joo Won securely bound, Minho and Hyunjin stepped back, exchanging a loaded glance. The reality of what they were about to do settled over them like a heavy shroud. In the harsh light of the single bulb, their faces looked gaunt and haunted, shadows deepening the hollows of their eyes.

"Wake the fuck up!" Hyunjin snarled, his foot connecting hard with Joo Won's leg. The impact reverberated through the chair, causing it to teeter precariously. The wooden legs scraped against the concrete floor, the sound echoing in the dimly lit garage. For a heart-stopping moment, it seemed as if both Joo Won and the chair would topple over, but they settled back with a dull thud.

Joo Won's head snapped up violently, his neck muscles straining from the sudden movement. His eyes, bloodshot and wide with panic, darted around the room. Confusion clouded his features for a split second before raw, unbridled fear took over. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths, each one punctuated by a small, terrified whimper.

As consciousness fully returned, Joo Won's gaze locked onto the two figures looming over him. Minho stood slightly back, his face an impassive mask, while Hyunjin's presence was more immediate, more threatening. Joo Won's eyes flicked between them, searching desperately for any sign of mercy or hesitation. Finding none, he felt the last vestiges of his earlier bravado crumble away.

"W-what... what do you want from me?" Joo Won stammered, his voice cracking. Saliva pooled in his mouth, making his words come out thick and slurred. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. A bead of cold sweat trickled down his temple, leaving a glistening trail on his pale, clammy skin. His fingers, bound tightly behind his back, twitched and trembled, searching fruitlessly for any weakness in his restraints.

Hyunjin leaned in close, his breath hot on Joo Won's face. The scent of fear emanating from Joo Won was palpable, mixing with the musty air of the garage. Hyunjin's eyes, usually warm and friendly, now burned with a cold fury that would send a chill down anyone’s spine. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously soft, barely above a whisper, yet it carried clearly in the tense silence.

"What do we want?" he echoed, his words dripping with venom. He paused, letting the question hang in the air, watching as Joo Won's eyes widened in terror and pool with tears. "We want you to suffer, just like you made her suffer. Every bruise, every tear, every moment of fear - you're going to feel it all."

Minho stepped back, the soles of his shoes scraping against the concrete floor as he leaned against the far wall. His face was an impassive mask, but his eyes never left the scene unfolding before him. He crossed his arms, the leather of his jacket creaking softly, as he watched Hyunjin reach into his pocket.

The sound of metal sliding against fabric filled the air as Hyunjin pulled out a set of brass knuckles. The weapon gleamed dully in the dim light, its surface pitted and scarred from previous use. With practiced ease, Hyunjin slipped them onto his fingers, flexing his hand to ensure a snug fit.

The harsh angles of the weapon seemed to accentuate the cold determination in his eyes. As he raised his fist, the brass knuckles caught the light again, this time reflecting it directly into Joo Won's terrified eyes. The man whimpered, his bound body trembling in anticipation of the pain to come.

"No, please," Joo Won whimpered, his voice cracking with fear. Tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled against his bonds, the rough rope digging into his wrists. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" His desperate plea was abruptly silenced as Hyunjin's fist, now a lethal combination of flesh and metal, connected with his jaw. The sickening crunch of bone meeting brass reverberated through the garage, a sound that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Joo Won's muffled cry of agony followed, a guttural, animalistic sound that spoke of pure, unadulterated pain.

Minho stood motionless, his face an impenetrable mask of indifference. His cold, calculating eyes swept over the scene before him, taking in every detail with clinical detachment. Almost involuntarily, his gaze flickered down to his watch, the subtle movement betraying a hint of impatience. In his mind's eye, he could see his dancer, her lithe form moving gracefully as she began her shift. The urge to be there, watching her, observing every nuance of her performance, gnawed at him relentlessly. He felt a sudden, powerful impulse to leave, to abandon this grim scene and lose himself in the mesmerizing rhythm of her dance. But a sense of loyalty, as cold and unyielding as his exterior, kept him rooted to the spot. He knew he couldn't leave Hyunjin here alone, not with what they had started.

The abrupt cessation of violence snapped Minho's attention back to the present. The silence that descended upon the garage was deafening, a stark and jarring contrast to the cacophony of brutality that had filled the air moments before. The sudden quiet seemed to have a weight of its own, pressing down on them with an almost tangible force. Minho's muscles tensed as he pushed himself off the wall, his movements deliberate and controlled. He took a measured step towards where Hyunjin stood, looming over Joo Won's slumped, battered form. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, the aftermath of violence hanging heavy in the musty garage air.

Even though Joo Won was knocked out cold, Hyunjin continued his assault with a terrifying intensity. His fists, now slick with blood, rose and fell in a brutal rhythm. Each impact produced a sickening sound - a mix of flesh yielding and bone creaking under the relentless force.

"Hyunjin, I think you've taught him a lesson," Minho said firmly, his voice cutting through the violent cacophony. The words seemed to hang in the air, unacknowledged.

Hyunjin appeared lost in a trance-like state, his eyes glazed over with a mixture of rage and something darker. Sweat poured down his face, mingling with specks of Joo Won's blood. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, punctuating each blow. "Jesus Christ..." Minho muttered under his breath, a hint of annoyance creeping into his usually composed demeanor.

With a swift movement, Minho lunged forward. His hands clamped down on Hyunjin's shoulders, muscles straining as he forcibly pulled his friend back. "That's enough," he growled, his grip on Hyunjin's arm tightening to the point of bruising. Minho stepped closer to Joo Won and roughly took hold of his face to get a better look at him. Joo Wons blood getting on Minhos hand as he peered down at the lifeless man. "He's out cold. We don't want to kill him. Just send a message."

Hyunjin's chest heaved with ragged breaths, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from his system. His knuckles, raw and bloody beneath the brass, trembled slightly. Slowly, as if emerging from a fog, his gaze focused on Joo Won's battered face. The man was barely recognizable, his features a swollen, bloody mess. A mix of emotions flickered across Hyunjin's face - satisfaction, horror, and a dawning realization of the extent of his actions. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of their labored breathing and the occasional groan from their unconscious victim.

A muscle ticked in Hyunjin's jaw as he backed away, his chest heaving with exertion. He threw the brass knuckles down with a clatter, the sound echoing in the musty garage. "Fine," he mumbled, his voice hoarse from the intensity of his earlier shouting. With trembling fingers, he ran his blood-stained hand through his sweat-damp hair, leaving behind streaks of crimson.

"Come on, let's get this piece of shit back so I can get cleaned up. I've got somewhere to be," Minho said to Hyunjin, his tone clipped and businesslike. His eyes darted to his watch, a subtle reminder of the ticking clock and the life that awaited them beyond this grim scene.

Hyunjin nodded, his breathing still labored, each exhale carrying the weight of what they'd just done. He glanced at Joo Won's unconscious form, slumped in the chair like a broken marionette. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Hyunjin's face - a momentary crack in his hardened exterior - before his expression set once more into grim determination. Together, they approached the chair, the floorboards creaking under their feet. Their hands moved with practiced efficiency as they began to untie Joo Won, the rope rough against their fingers. Despite the gravity of their actions, their movements were quick and precise, a testament to a familiarity that spoke volumes about their shared past.

As they hauled Joo Won's unconscious form back to the car, the weight of their actions pressed down on them like a suffocating blanket. The forest around them seemed to close in, the trees looming ominously, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. The rustle of leaves in the night breeze sounded almost like whispers of judgment, as if nature itself was recoiling from the violence that had just transpired.

Minho's muscles strained under Joo Won's dead weight, and he could feel Hyunjin's labored breathing beside him. The moonlight filtering through the canopy cast eerie shadows on the forest floor, making their trek back to the car feel like a surreal journey through a nightmarish landscape.

—

Upon reaching Joo Won's neighborhood, they unceremoniously dumped his battered body on his front lawn. The thud of flesh hitting grass seemed to echo in the quiet suburban night. After dropping Hyunjin off at his apartment, the silence in Minho's car became oppressive, filled with unspoken thoughts and the lingering scent of violence.

Minho finally entered his own apartment, the sudden stillness a jarring contrast to the chaotic energy of the night. The soft click of the door closing behind him sounded final, like the period at the end of a dark chapter. He made his way to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing hollowly in the empty space. His movements were mechanical, almost robotic, as if his body was operating on autopilot while his mind grappled with the events of the night.

Stepping into the shower, Minho turned the water on full blast. The scalding spray hit his skin like a thousand tiny needles, each droplet a searing reminder of the night's events. He welcomed the pain, his muscles tensing and then slowly relaxing under the relentless assault of hot water. Steam began to rise, filling the small bathroom with a thick, oppressive heat that matched the turmoil in his mind.

As the water cascaded over his body, Minho watched with a detached fascination as rivulets of pink-tinged water swirled down the drain. The sight of Joo Won's blood mixing with the clear water was mesmerizing, a visual representation of how the violence of the night was being washed away. Yet, even as the physical evidence disappeared, Minho knew that the memory – the weight of his actions – would linger far longer than any visible stain.

The steam continued to build, transforming the bathroom into a foggy cocoon. The mirror gradually clouded over, obscuring Minho's reflection and creating a barrier between him and the outside world. It was as if the fog in the bathroom mirrored the haze that had settled over his conscience, blurring the lines between right and wrong, justice and vengeance.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as Minho stood under the relentless spray. The water began to cool, but he barely noticed, lost in a swirl of thoughts and rationalizations. Finally, when the water ran ice cold, shocking him back to reality, Minho stepped out of the shower. His skin was red and raw from the prolonged exposure to the hot water, a physical manifestation of the emotional rawness he felt inside.

With mechanical precision, Minho dried himself, his movements slow and deliberate. Each pat of the towel revealed more of his battle-worn body. A long, jagged scar ran from his left shoulder down to his ribcage, a reminder of a knife fight from years ago. Smaller, circular scars dotted his torso, testaments to bullet wounds barely survived. As he dragged the towel across his arms, the raised edges of burn scars became visible, a patchwork of pain etched into his skin.

As the fog in the bathroom began to dissipate, tendrils of steam curling away to reveal the mirror, Minho found himself face to face with his reflection. The clarity of the image stood in stark contrast to the moral ambiguity he felt. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, now held a haunted look. He stood there, naked and vulnerable, his scarred body a roadmap of violence and survival. The mirror reflected not just his physical form, but the weight of his actions and their consequences. A particularly nasty scar across his abdomen seemed to throb, as if reminding him of the brutality he was capable of. He truly hated himself at times.

Minho began to dress, each item of clothing concealing another layer of his scarred history. He slipped on a crisp white shirt, buttoning it up with steady fingers, hiding the web of scars across his chest. Next came the tailored black trousers, covering the burn marks on his legs. As he shrugged on the sleek black jacket, it masked the uneven texture of his scarred shoulders. Finally, as he knotted his black tie, Minho felt himself slipping back into his usual persona - cool, collected, untouchable. The suit became his armor, hiding the physical reminders of his violent past beneath its impeccable surface.

Finally, he shrugged on his signature black suit jacket. As he smoothed down the lapels, Minho took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. The night's events were now just a memory, carefully locked away behind the impeccable facade of his black suit. He was ready to face the world again, ready to watch his dancer perform, as if nothing had ever happened. Despite this his still felt slightly on edge.. like any little thing could set him off.

Twenty minutes later, Minho was stepping into the gentlemen's club, his senses immediately assaulted by the ambiance. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. Soft, sultry music wafted through the air, punctuated by the melodic tinkling of ice in crystal glasses and the low hum of hushed conversations. The scent of expensive cologne and perfume mingled with the faint aroma of cigars, creating an intoxicating atmosphere.

Minho's polished shoes clicked against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards the darkened hallway. This was his usual route, leading to the private room reserved exclusively for him and his dancer. The familiarity of the path did little to quell the anticipation building within him. However, his purposeful stride was abruptly halted by a sound that sent a chill down his spine - a deep, rumbling laugh he knew all too well, followed by his father's commanding voice filling the room.

Slowly, Minho turned, his body tense with apprehension. He expected to see his father engaged in some typical activity - perhaps enjoying the company of a random dancer, indulging in a lavish meal, or sharing drinks with his business associates. After all, this was his father's club, and his presence here was not uncommon. But as Minho's eyes adjusted to the dim light and focused on the scene before him, a white-hot rage began to build within him, threatening to consume him entirely.

There, in the center of the room, sat his father, but it wasn't just any dancer perched on his lap. It was you - Minho's dancer, the one he had claimed as his own. His father's large, weathered hands roamed over your body with a familiarity that made Minho's blood boil. Those filthy hands caressed your hips, fingers splayed possessively across your skin. They lingered on your thighs, inching higher with each passing moment. Minho's jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides as he watched, paralyzed by shock and fury.

But it was the next moment that shattered Minho's last shred of control. His father, emboldened by the intimate setting and perhaps by the alcohol coursing through his veins, reached up and gripped one of your breasts. The lewd gesture, so blatant and disrespectful, was the final straw. Something deep within Minho snapped, a primal, possessive instinct taking over. His vision blurred, tinged with red as rage consumed him. In that moment, all thoughts of propriety, of family ties, of potential consequences vanished. All Minho knew was that he had to act, to reclaim what was his, to punish those who dared to touch what belonged to him alone. His father had taken so much from him through out his life but he was not going to take you.

You flinched as his calloused hand made contact with your skin, a wave of revulsion washing over you. Men weren't supposed to touch you like this, but this wasn't just any man - it was your boss, the owner of the club. Your stomach churned as you realized your powerlessness in this situation. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to regain composure, plastering a saccharine smile on your face that didn't reach your eyes. You leaned into him, every fiber of your being screaming in protest as you did so. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with cigar smoke assaulted your senses, making you want to gag. Your skin crawled as his meaty hands roamed over your body, leaving invisible trails of disgust in their wake.

The older man's lips, dry and rough, grazed your shoulder. You couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through you, your body instinctively trying to recoil from his touch. Just as you were about to force yourself to endure more, a strong hand suddenly gripped your arm, yanking you away from your boss's embrace. The abrupt movement left you disoriented for a moment. "Minho?" The name escaped your lips in a whisper, more to yourself than anyone else, as your eyes focused on the familiar face contorted with rage.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Minho's hand shot out, gripping his father's expensive silk shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulled the older man to his feet. The crack of Minho's fist connecting with his father's face echoed through the room, the force of the blow whipping the older man's head back. You watched in stunned silence as Minho landed two more vicious punches, each impact punctuated by a sickening thud. Blood sprayed from his father's split lip, staining the pristine white of his shirt.

The commotion finally stirred the bodyguards into action. They rushed forward, their large frames filling your vision as they struggled to pull Minho away from his father. Minho fought against their grip, his muscles straining as he tried to break free. With a grunt of effort, he managed to shrug them off, the fire in his eyes undiminished. He advanced on his father again, who was now slumped against the bar, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.

Minho leaned in close, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper that sent chills down your spine. "You may own this club," he hissed, each word dripping with venom, "but I own her." His arm shot out, finger pointing directly at you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, the words not quite registering in your shock-addled mind. "Own me?" The question tumbled from your lips, barely audible over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Before you could fully grasp the implications of Minho's declaration, his hand was on your arm again. His grip was firm, bordering on painful as he began to drag you away from the scene as his father barked out orders to the body guards. Minho didn’t seem to care about the possible consequences of his actions towards his father. All he had on his mind was you.

You stumbled, struggling to keep up with his long strides as he pulled you down the dark hallway towards a secluded room. The last thing you saw before being yanked around a corner was Minho's father, hunched over and spitting globules of blood onto the polished floor, the red stark against the gleaming surface. The image burned into your retinas as Minho pulled you deeper into the bowels of the club, leaving behind a wake of violence and unanswered questions.

Minho swung open the door pulling you inside with such force you stumbled and fell hard onto the plush carpet in the room. “What the fuck! You can’t just drag me around! I’m not your rag doll!” You yelled as you got back on your feet. Minho stalked towards you his eyes furious, it made you a bit nervous but you still stood your ground with him.

"You're mine," Minho breathed out, his voice a low, possessive growl that sent shivers down your spine. His strong hands gripped your arms, pulling you flush against his body. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, his scent a heady mixture of expensive cologne and something uniquely Minho. You could feel the hard planes of his chest pressed against you, his heart hammering in sync with yours.

For a moment, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, your body betraying your mind's protests. But you steeled yourself, pushing against his chest with all your might. "I am not yours!" you spat, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desire. "Let go of me!" Your hands splayed across his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt tensing at your touch.

Minho's grip remained firm but not painful, his eyes darkening with a primal hunger that both terrified and excited you. He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin as his lips grazed your jaw. "No one gets to touch you but me," he murmured, his words vibrating against your skin. "You're my dancer." His tongue darted out, tracing a hot, wet path along your jawline, eliciting an involuntary shiver from you.

You slowly turned your head, your angry eyes meeting his heated stare. The intensity in his gaze was almost palpable, a swirling vortex of desire, possessiveness, and something darker that you couldn't quite name. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw your own conflicted emotions reflected in his eyes.

Without warning, Minho's lips crashed onto yours, the kiss hard and demanding. It was as if he was trying to devour you whole, his passion all-consuming. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting, exploring, claiming. One of his hands tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he angled your head to deepen the kiss further.

His other hand roamed your body with a possessive urgency, fingers digging into your flesh as they traced the curves of your waist, hips, and thighs. Each touch left a trail of fire in its wake, your skin tingling with an electric current of desire. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, swallowed by Minho's hungry mouth.

The intensity of his passion overwhelmed you, your anger melting away like snow in the summer sun. In its place, a burning desire took root, spreading through your body like wildfire. Your hands, which had been pushing him away just moments ago, now clutched desperately at his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer.

You found yourself responding with equal fervor, your tongue dancing with his in a passionate tango. Your fingers, trembling with anticipation, fumbled with the buttons of his jacket, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin beneath. As each button came undone, you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing matching your own frantic pace. The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the heady scent of desire and the intoxicating musk of his cologne.

Your bodies pressed closer, every inch of you yearning for contact. The soft fabric of your dress did little to mask the heat radiating from your skin, and you could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against your thigh. A low moan escaped your lips, swallowed by his hungry mouth as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every crevice as if mapping out uncharted territory.

It was as if all the tension that had been building over countless nights of furtive glances and suppressed longing had finally reached its breaking point. The dam of restraint had burst, unleashing a torrent of raw, unbridled passion. You were both drowning in the flood of need that threatened to consume you entirely, and neither of you wanted to come up for air.

Minho's lips left yours, leaving you gasping for breath. But he didn't relent in his assault on your senses. His mouth trailed a blazing path along your jaw, each kiss igniting sparks of pleasure that coursed through your body. When he reached the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazed the skin, eliciting a shudder that ran from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

His lips continued their journey down the column of your neck, alternating between soft, teasing kisses and more insistent nips that were sure to leave marks. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin as he murmured, his voice husky with desire, "I've wanted this for so long. You have no idea how much I've craved you." His words sent a shiver down your spine, the raw honesty in his voice making your heart race even faster. "Every night, watching you dance, imagining my hands on your body ... it's been torture."

Your head fell back, exposing the delicate column of your neck as you gasped, "Minho... I... we shouldn't..." The words came out breathy and uncertain, your voice quivering with a mix of desire and hesitation. But even as you spoke, your body betrayed your true feelings. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest firmly against his, your skin tingling with every point of contact. Your fingers, which had been pushing against his chest moments ago, now curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as if he were your lifeline.

Minho's eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. His lips curled into a predatory smile as he growled, "I do what I want, and I want you." The low timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within your core. With a swift, fluid motion, he pressed forward, guiding you backward until your back hit the wall with a soft thud. The cool surface against your heated skin made you gasp, the contrast of temperatures heightening every sensation.

Minho's hands moved with a fervent urgency, his fingers finding the delicate straps of your sheer black thong. With a swift tug, he tore away the flimsy material, as well as your matching lacy bralette, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. The cool air of the room caressed your newly bared skin, causing goosebumps to rise across your flesh. Your nipples hardened instantly, partly from the chill and partly from the intensity of Minho's stare.

Your body responded to his touch as if it had a will of its own. A rush of heat flooded your core, your arousal evident in the way your thighs trembled and your breath came in short, ragged gasps. You could feel the wetness gathering between your legs, your body preparing itself for what was to come.

With deliberate slowness, Minho stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours as he shed his jacket. The expensive fabric fell to the floor with a soft rustle. His tie followed suit, his fingers working deftly at the knot before letting it slip from around his neck. Your eyes roamed hungrily over his sculpted form, drinking in the sight of him. The crisp white shirt clung to his broad shoulders and toned chest, hinting at the muscular physique beneath.

He returned to you with an intensity that made your knees weak. His hands explored every inch of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was both gentle and possessive, each caress a claim of ownership. His fingers trailed up your sides, ghosting over the curve of your breasts before sliding around to your back. You shivered as he traced the line of your spine, his touch feather-light yet electrifying.

Minho's hands finally came to rest on your ass, cupping the firm flesh with a grip that was just shy of painful. He pulled you flush against him, letting you feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against your stomach. A low moan escaped your lips at the contact, your body instinctively grinding against him, seeking more friction.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with want. His hands continued their exploration, mapping out every curve and valley of your body as if committing it to memory. His fingers traced the delicate line of your collarbone, then slowly trailed down to the swell of your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The calloused pads of his fingertips circled your areolas teasingly, making you arch into his touch, desperate for more.

Minho's plump lips found your hardened nipples, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive peaks before he took one into his mouth. The sudden warmth and wetness made you gasp, your body jerking with pleasure. He sucked hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the bud, then soothed it with gentle laps. Your fingers tangled in his thick hair, gripping tightly as waves of pleasure washed over you. The slight pain from your tugging seemed to spur him on, his ministrations becoming more fervent.

"Minho..." you moaned softly, his name passing over your lips like a prayer as he worshipped your body. He hummed in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core. His free hand kneaded your other breast, thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching the neglected nipple in time with the movements of his mouth.

His tongue swirled around one sensitive peak, then the other, alternating between them with a rhythm that had you writhing beneath him. The occasional graze of his teeth sent jolts of electricity through your body, each sensation more intense than the last. Your back arched, pressing your chest further into his eager mouth, silently begging for more. Minho's hands roamed your sides, his touch both gentle and possessive. His fingers danced along your ribs, then gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer. Every caress ignited sparks of desire, your skin hypersensitive to his every touch. The heat between you built steadily, a smoldering fire threatening to consume you both.

As he continued his ministrations, you felt your legs weaken, your body trembling with an overwhelming need. Minho sensed your unsteadiness, his strong arms wrapping around you, supporting your weight as he continued to lavish attention on your breasts. The heat between you intensified, the air thick with passion and unspoken desires. Your skin tingled everywhere his hands touched, each caress sending sparks of electricity through your body.

Your fingers, shaking with anticipation, began to unbutton his shirt. Slowly, you revealed the smooth, taut skin beneath, your fingertips tracing the contours of his well-defined muscles. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm, matching the frantic rhythm of your own. Just as your hands slid beneath his shirt, exploring further, he suddenly pulled away. "Don't," he commanded, his voice husky and strained with barely contained desire. Before you could protest, he gripped both of your wrists firmly, pulling you down onto the floor with a swift, controlled movement. Minho loomed over you, his body a cage of heat and muscle, as he pinned your hands above your head with one of his own.

"Let me touch you," you nearly begged, your voice a breathy whisper. Your eyes pleaded with him, filled with a desperate hunger that mirrored his own. Minho's gaze raked over your exposed form, drinking in every curve and dip of your body. His tongue darted out, slowly wetting his lips in a gesture that was both predatory and sensual. His eyes, usually so guarded, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. There was no mistaking the raw desire etched across his features, his usual composure cracking under the weight of his want.

"Keep your hands here," he growled, his voice low and commanding, sending shivers down your spine. "Or I'm punishing you." The threat in his words was clear, but instead of fear, it sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. Your body tensed in anticipation, wondering what kind of 'punishment' Minho had in mind, and finding yourself eager to find out. In your mind this was a game and you were very eager to play.

You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation. Minho's free hand began a torturously slow journey down your body, his touch so light it was almost imperceptible, yet it left a trail of fire in its wake. His fingertips ghosted over the swell of your breast, causing your nipples to harden even more, painfully so. He traced the curve with agonizing slowness, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched every minute reaction on your face.

His hand continued its descent, following the dip of your waist and the flare of your hip. Each caress was deliberate, as if he were committing every inch of your skin to memory. When he reached your thigh, his touch became firmer, his large hand spanning the width of your leg as he slowly pushed it aside, exposing you further to his hungry gaze.

You couldn't help but squirm beneath him, your hips lifting of their own accord, silently begging for more. Minho's eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours. A smirk played at the corners of his lips, a mix of amusement and satisfaction at your obvious need. "Patience," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

His fingers danced along your inner thigh, tracing intricate patterns on the sensitive skin. With each pass, he inched closer to your core, but never quite reaching where you needed him most. The anticipation was maddening, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"So responsive," he purred, his eyes gleaming with approval as he watched your body react to his every touch. Finally, mercifully, his fingers brushed against your core. The contact, though light, sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. You gasped loudly, your back arching off the floor, pressing yourself more firmly against his hand.

Minho's touch was expert, alternating between feather-light caresses and firm strokes. He explored your folds with deliberate slowness, spreading your wetness and teasing your entrance. When his thumb finally found your sensitive bundle of nerves, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. He circled it slowly, building your pleasure with each precise movement, watching intently as you writhed beneath him.

As he continued his ministrations, you fought against the overwhelming urge to reach for him, to touch him in return. Your hands clenched into tight fists above your head, knuckles turning white with the effort to keep them in place. Every muscle in your body trembled, torn between obedience and desire. Minho noticed your struggle, his smirk widening into a predatory grin that sent shivers down your spine.

"Good girl," he purred, his voice low and husky. The praise washed over you like warm honey, intensifying the heat pooling in your core. Rewarding your obedience, he increased the pressure of his touch, his skilled fingers moving with deliberate precision. Your moans filled the room, growing louder and more desperate as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke of his fingers brought you to new heights of pleasure, your body arching off the floor, seeking more contact.

The air grew thick with the scent of arousal, punctuated by the wet sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you at an increasing pace. Minho's mouth found your nipples again, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds before trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses across your flushed skin. The contrast between the coolness of his breath and the heat of his mouth sent jolts of electricity through your body.

"Oh my god!" You cried out, your voice breaking as Minho's other hand began to rub soft, tantalizing circles over your swollen clit. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, pleasure building to an almost painful intensity. Your thighs began to tremble uncontrollably, toes curling as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy.

"That's right... I am your God," he mumbled against your skin, his hot breath fanning over the wetness there, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Your body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve ending alight with desire. The need to touch him, to feel more than just his fingers deep inside you, became overwhelming.

Unable to resist any longer, you gave in to temptation. Your hands moved of their own accord, sliding beneath the hem of his shirt. At first, you felt smooth, warm skin, taut with muscle. But as your fingers explored further, they encountered raised lines - scars, you realized with a jolt of surprise. Before you could investigate further, Minho's hand shot out, snatching your wrists and pressing them firmly back above your head.

"You don't know how to listen," he growled against your lips, his voice a mixture of frustration and barely contained lust. His free hand pressed hard against your clit, making you gasp, as his fingers slid back inside you with renewed vigor. He fingered you with a roughness that teetered on the brink between pleasure and pain, each thrust of his digits sending shockwaves through your body.

Your response was instantaneous and intense. Your thighs began to shake uncontrollably, your back arching off the floor as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Minho's name fell from your lips in a desperate cry, muffled by his mouth as he captured yours in a searing kiss. You could feel your orgasm building rapidly, an unstoppable force threatening to consume you entirely.

"Fuck!" The expletive tore from your throat as you struggled against his iron grip, your body writhing beneath him. The pressure continued to build, pushing you closer and closer to that blissful edge. Just as you felt yourself about to tumble over, right on the precipice of sweet release, everything stopped. Minho's fingers were suddenly gone, his hands and body no longer touching you. The abrupt loss of contact left you gasping, your body aching and trembling with unfulfilled need.

You whimpered at the sudden loss of contact, your body aching for release. Minho stood over you, his eyes dark with a coldness you hadn’t seen before. "I told you what would happen if you disobeyed," he said, his voice low and husky. You huffed out in frustration, instantly getting up, your legs shaky as you stepped closer to him. You slapped him hard a cross the face, not being able to hold back your anger. “You bastered your voice dripping with venom. Minho's eyes flashed dangerously, a mix of anger and desire swirling in their depths. In one swift motion, he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head against the wall. "You're playing a dangerous game, little one," he growled, his lips mere inches from yours.

Minho's lips hungrily pressed into yours, his passion undeniable. At first, you tried to resist, your anger still simmering beneath the surface. But soon, your body betrayed you, responding as it always did to his touch. You melted into him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. Your tongue tangled with his in a fierce dance, the taste of him intoxicating.

The kiss stole your breath, leaving you gasping when he finally pulled back. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. "Don't forget," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "you're mine and you only dance for me." The possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through your veins.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something wilder, more primal. His hands gripped your waist tightly, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. The gentle lover you had come to know was gone, replaced by this demanding, domineering man who both thrilled and terrified you.

Suddenly, Minho stepped back, breaking all contact. The loss of his warmth left you feeling cold and bereft. You watched, confused, as he picked up his jacket and tossed it to you. "I'll send a car to take you home," he said, his voice now devoid of emotion.

Your confusion turned to disbelief as you saw him reach into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed a stack of bills onto the nearby couch. The implication of the gesture hit you like a physical blow, leaving you reeling. “From now on you’ll come dance at my house.” Minhos words came out harsh and final. He wasn’t giving a choice in this and that pissed you off.

Without another word or even a backward glance, Minho strode out of the room. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with a whirlwind of emotions. Confusion swirled in your mind, battling with the hurt that threatened to overwhelm you. But above all, a white-hot anger began to bubble up inside you. How dare he treat you like this? The bills on the couch seemed to mock you, reducing what you thought was a passionate encounter to nothing more than a cold, financial transaction.

You stood there, clutching his jacket, your body still tingling from his touch, but your mind reeling from his abrupt departure. The contrast between the intensity of your shared moment and the callousness of his exit left you feeling used and discarded. As the initial shock began to wear off, your anger solidified into a hard, burning core in your chest. You were determined that this wouldn't be the end. Minho would have to answer for his actions, one way or another.

On the other side of the door, Minho maintained his cold, impassive mask as he navigated through the bustling corridors. His footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors, carrying him past curious glances and hushed whispers. The main room, now teeming with patrons, seemed to part before him, his commanding presence demanding respect even in silence.

As he stepped out into the cool night air, the neon lights of the club's exterior cast an eerie glow on his features, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. He moved with purposeful strides towards his sleek black car, each step measured and controlled. To any onlooker, he appeared the epitome of composure and authority.

It was only when the car door clicked shut behind him, sealing him in the cocoon of privacy, that Minho allowed his carefully constructed facade to crumble. His shoulders sagged, the tension in his jaw released, and a deep, shuddering breath escaped his lips. In the silence of his car, away from prying eyes, the weight of his actions settled heavily upon him. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as a storm of emotions - regret, anger, desire - battled within him.

He was losing his grip, his carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of unfamiliar emotions. This woman had awakened something in him, a vulnerability he had never experienced before. Your touch, your scent, the way you looked at him - it all threatened to unravel the control he had maintained for so long. Minho found himself caught between desire and fear, longing to let you in while simultaneously wanting to push you away. The intensity of his feelings both thrilled and terrified him, leaving him off-balance and unsure for the first time in years. He realized, with a mixture of awe and dread, that you had the power to either heal or destroy him completely.

Taglist:

@hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @vixensss @doohnut @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @rockstarkkami @moonchild9350 @myflowercloud @143hyunes @luvyblossom @thisaintredwine @jisuperboard @velvetmoonlight @skzfelixlove @athforskz @cashtonsbetch @babigriin @seunmong-in @cookiesandcreammy @bangchans-angel @iovecb97 @juskz @fawnpeaks @chuuyaobsessed @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @simpforleeknaur @mihoonz @redlightsrachaaa @minniesverse @everythingboutkpop @yaorzu-blog @catlove83

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questionableratatouille00 · 2 days ago

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ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The reason? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Reader wears a dress, cursing, mentions and eating of food, let me know if more needs to be added.

[Series Masterlist] <- Haven’t seen pt. 1?

𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒈𝒖𝒏

Day Two

"You look..fine." You mumble, refusing to say what you really meant: hot.

He nods awkwardly, before tilting his head towards the elevator. You walk with him to the elevator, and you try and study his expressions as you wait to get to the first floor.

He looked lost in thought. Shit. That was never good. If he wasn't talking, whether that meant exchanging insults with you and Sam or marveling at modern technology with Steve, he was lost in his head.

You’d noticed that since he’d moved to the Compound was that he was getting better. Better, in the sense that he wasn't staying holed up in his assigned bedroom pretending that the world didn't exist. Better in the sense that he was talking to people now. Better in the sense that he wasn't waking up violent or screaming in the middle of the night.

Yeah, sure, he's a petty asshole who's extremely good at pissing you off, but even semi-joking insults are better than eerie silence and pure fear of the outside world.

When he'd arrived at the Compound, he'd avoided everyone, even Steve. He didn't speak, barely acknowledged people unless he had to. He didn't eat. He could barely sleep. It was like he was a ghost. The first time Peter came over while Bucky was around, Bucky seemed to have shut down a little.

Peter was a good kid. He stayed over in his room during weekends, or even occasionally during weekdays in the summer. He didn't ask intrusive questions, and he really did try his best to make Bucky feel welcome. But it really just terrified Bucky.

After a few months of court-mandated therapy, which slowly evolved from twice a week to once every two months throughout the span of a year, he seemed to recover. He slowly learned to get out of those post-HYDRA habits he'd picked up. He'd eat with the rest of the team. He'd join in on weekly movie nights. He'd even help Wanda when she cooked for the monthly 'nice-family-dinner' days. She always loved making the food for those.

He started watching baking shows with Vision. He'd hang out with Natasha. He pestered Steve in a way only a best friend ever could. He made jokes. The first time you ever heard the former brainwashed assassin make a joke will be forever ingrained into your mind. It had been some stupid joke about Steve's old costume, and it had shocked everyone in the room. Except for Steve.

He only went silent like this on particularly bad days. Nobody ever said anything, because they knew that would only make it worse, but it was obvious whenever something rough went down. 'Bad days' meant days that followed nightmare-filled nights, or days that involved flashbacks or recovering from flashbacks, or days that were ruined by something triggering him.

"You good, there?" You decide to speak up, just as the elevator door opens.

He nodded quickly, beginning to walk to the truck. He hops into the driver's seat, and you don't fight him on it.

"We're a bit late." You note, glancing at the time. 6:13pm. Technically, it started at 6:00pm and ended at 10:45pm.

"Holy shit." You say aloud, looking through Bucky's window at the beautiful decorations. There were string lights strung from light posts, and hay bales for some reason, and other cute things. There was a little stage set up, with a small band playing vintage songs. There were little stands set up where you could buy food or random 1940's themed shit.

"You ready?" You looked to Bucky, before checking in the mirror to make sure the red lipstick you'd applied hadn't smudged.

He nodded, parking the truck against the sidewalk. He waited for you to walk around the front of the vehicle to join him.

"I'll grab us some dinner. You up for this? We can always go back--"

"I'm fine." He said, and at first you thought that he was getting annoyed at you, before a quick glance to his face assured you that he was just trying to convince himself of this. "I'm fine." He repeated.

The air was warm, and the yellow light of the string lights combined with the street lights made Bucky look..really nice.

"Ooh! That place looks good. C'mon!" You grabbed his hand, pulling him forward.

You pulled him to the food stand, excitedly looking around the little square. People from well into their nineties to kids who couldn't be older than five were all dressed up. You and Bucky blended in incredibly well.

"What do you think you're gonna get?" You asked Bucky, intending to pay.

"Not sure. Might just get a burger and fries."

"That sounds good. I'm not sure what I want yet. Everything looks amazing."

When the family in front of you got their food and left, you quickly made your decision, and Bucky made his. Just as you were about to put your card into the card swipe machine, Bucky beat you to it. When you opened your mouth to argue, Bucky gave you a sharp glare, silently telling you to shut it.

“I was going to—“ You begin, but he cuts you off quickly. “I got it.” He paid quickly for the meal, before leading you off to a table. There were a bunch of circle tables set up in a large rectangle. In the center, people danced in small circles or in sets of twos.

Setting the plastic baskets on the table, Bucky pulled out a chair for you. “What a gentleman.” You tease, and he just rolls his eyes.

The band played covers of old songs, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky recognizes any of them.

Once the both of you wolfed down the delicious food, you looked around. The band was loud, so you had to talk at a slightly louder volume than normal.

There were lots of couples, ranging from elderly couples slowly swaying together, to newlyweds quickly moving and bouncing to the upbeat music.

You noticed Stacy, the long-haired brunette who worked at the Brandon Center. She was in her own baby blue 40’s dress, which paired well with her hair and bright green eyes.

She was standing at a table in front of her Aunt Brenda, and Barbara from the hotel.

Her grandma and her great aunt live up here, you remember. She’d said so at the store.

Barbara and Brenda were also dressed up, smiling and laughing at something Stacy said. Stacy was standing, but Barbara and Brenda were sitting together.

You looked to Bucky who was zoning out. “You okay?” You asked, and he snapped his gaze up to meet yours.

“Fine.” He assured. "Dance with me."

"What?" You look at him, bewildered.

"Dance with me." He repeats, standing up before pulling you out of your chair by your hands.

"Why are you--" You don’t get to finish as he pulls you to the makeshift dance floor, before pulling you close to him.

"Shut up and dance with me."

"Y'know, that's a song." You felt it was important to note this.

"Weird." He states, before he glances past you, his eyes narrowing.

"If looks could kill." You commented, and he focused back on you. "Who're you looking at?"

"The douchebag who's been staring at you for the past eight minutes." When you turned your head to look back, Bucky stepped to the side, forcing you to swing your body to avoid being crashed into.

"You've been watching him?" You thought it was weird that the guy who hated your guts seemingly wanted to keep you safe.

"Shut up." He glared at you, before he continued to sway with you to the rhythm of the song.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance."

"I said that I didn't. Not that I couldn't." He muttered, before spinning you.

You instantly recognized the opening notes of 'It's Been a Long, Long Time', and you look to Bucky, who also seemed to recognize it.

You laugh as the two of you continue to sway to the music together, before the song ends. Bucky keeps his hands on your hips, your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. You’re not that bad.” You grin goofily.

“You’re not so bad either.” Bucky looked at you, a small grin on his face.

“Friends?”

“Something like that. You’re a punk.”

“And you’re a dick.” You shot back.

It was impossible to miss how all of the couples close to you glance at Bucky's hand, clearly metal against your red dress.

"They're all staring at me like I'm some kind of monster." He mutters darkly, beginning to pull away.

You pull him closer. "Who gives a shit.”

“I do. Tony does. The Avenger’s PR team does.” He retorted.

“Okay, smart ass.” You rolled your eyes, before glancing around. One old guy was staring at Bucky, as were the surrounding groups of people. “We can go, if you want. My feet kinda hurt.” You lied, hoping that if you gave a reason to go, he’d feel better about agreeing. When he gave you a simple nod, you smiled. You lead him to the truck, taking him by the hand. Once you reached it, you stepped down off the curb, opening the passenger door.

“That was..fun. For you, right? Like, you’re doing okay?” You asked after a few minutes. Everybody in the tower knew about Bucky’s nightmares and night terrors. Whether it was from hearing him scream late in the night or in the earliest hours of the morning, or if it was from being the one to wake him up from them a few times. It was just something that nobody talked about.

“It was alright.” He murmured. This was a win.

As he drove the two of you back to the hotel, you smiled to yourself.

Shorter chapter this time. Not feeling so great post-elections. Also, my taglist won’t link unless I format it like this. For the good of all, subscribe to/follow the HtH Masterlist post and I’ll reblog with a link to the newest chapter each time. (Hopefully you’ll get a notification?)

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @kandis-mom @laughterafter @cjand10 @emmsybucky

@mrsnotfeelingsogood

@matchat3a @identity2212 @ilovemcuff @unaxv

@mysticalfuncollectorus @highwaytomichelle @lilbloggs @ordelixx @skiemi-blog

@allieb913 @winterslove1917 @chimchoom

@moonlight-readings

graphics by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes

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madrone33 · 3 days ago

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I have been CHILLING this week post-Vengeance saga release! I managed to avoid debilitating stress and anxiety from the onslaught of fan stuff by simply avoiding all social media for the first two days, so it's been good!

However, I am now BACK, dumping my immediate reaction of the saga from a week ago. I thought I was ready. I was not ready. 600 Strike blew my mind. I was left staring blankly at my ceiling. Jorge please rest sometime, I'm begging you. The amount of talent beaming through my screen is exhausting even me.

Also, to every cast member and collaborator and behind the scenes person: y'all are amazing. Like seriously. I hope you all get a yummy drink and a cozy blanket and just. Bask in the satisfaction of a job well done. Hats off to y'all fr.

Anyways! I keysmashed the following at around midnight, 14 hours before the livestream ('cause australia is the superior timezone /j). Be warned there's LOTS of swearing 'cause sleep deprivation + incoherent excitement lol

AHHH IT'S GO TIME

Ok it's starting the same as the Goodspeed festival showed. Tho, the first lead in sound thing reminds me of Lucids.

Gorgeous vocals. Hate Calypso, love Wangui fr

"Let me speak!" She really doesn't care about his feelings huh. I noticed in LIP as well, she always makes it about her, which is absolutely in character.

Those ensemble harmonies tho!!

"... You do?" Girl you literally told him to lie smh

"Why in the world won't you love me too?" 'Cause he has a WIFE

IT'S HERMES TIME

FSA melody? YO??

"Cause I had one goal in mind..." the silence where the crew's chorus would come in is PAINFUL

BAG?? HERMES!!

"Hello old friend!" Grinning so hard rn

"Well it's a little bit ✨dangerous✨" AHHH IT'S HAPPENING

Fingertapping and headbopping to this chorus

"Put your whole braiin in it!" I love how he says that sm

"And lastly the wind bag" NEW STUFF

WINIONS

Wow ok I did not expect the wind bag to show up again. Tho it makes sense; this is probs the storm that Ody told Sirenelope kept blocking the way home

ODY SINGING THE CHORUS!!!!

RUTHLESSNESS MENTION

"Hermes! Thank you" AHHH THE CALLBACK! He sounds so tired and like down to his bones grateful this time 🥺

"I'm not the one who fought for you!" MY EYES WIDENED SO FAR. WE ALMOST GOT AN ATHENA NAMEDROP. I'll settle for the reference to her

Okeee. Charybdis!!

Oooh it's just like in the reference vid. No lyrics for this start part!

The 5/4 is amazing. And the electric guitar!!

God this song is SO BADASS

LETS GOOOO ODY!!!

ahhh I KNEW there'd be some sort of soft KYFC esque "I can't wait to make some new memories" type verse AND I WAS RIGHT

he sees ithaca!! Oh god poseidon's gonna show up isn't he

my heart's beating so fast i'm scared

PENELOPEEE

the ELECTRONIC DISTORTION OH NO IT'S HIM

RIGHT INTO GET IN THE WATER AHHH

"Coward" AHHHH I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE FINALY HEARING THIS FOR REAL

"That's when our paths collide!" THE RASP

"Now get in the water" Oh shiiiit here we go

the choir is so eerie

"GET IN THE WATER" THE GROWL

"aren't you tired poseidon" ooh it's this part!!

ha he changed it to ten years instead of eight like the demo had XD

"maybe you can learn to forgive" the line from that one snippet!

"No" oop

"DIE" DAMN that deep echo!!

*underwater sounds* oh shit ody's fucking dying

NO! FUCKING POLITES

EURY

ANTICLEA

FUCK YOU JORGE

THE CREW

WAITING??? EXCUSE ME WTF

AHHHHHH WHY TF DOES JAY LOVE HURTING US SO

HUH? HUH??? WHAT WAS THAT! AND THERE'S A FUCKING AD. Probs good, I need the break but WAHT. I KNEW he'd do another fucking polites reference gods damnit jorge WHEN I CATCH YOU

Ok time to hear 600 strike. Holy shit we're here

ELECTRIC GUITAR LETS GOOO

Aeolus theme. IS HE GONNA OPEN THE WIND BAG AGAIN??

600 MEN MOTIF HOLY SHIT

ANIME SCREAM

HOly shit there's magic sounds happening. I'm really curious about whatever Jorge's cooking up for the animatic in the livestream, 'cause I have no clue what's happening rn 👀

"For every comrade!" FSA melody!

"all those _ who were slaughtered by your hand" hmm I can't quite hear what he's saying there?

wait wait wait he's ACTUALLY using the power of his 600 men!!

"You idiot" damn lol

DIFFERENT BEAST ODY HOLY SHIT

is that a blade sound effect?

WAIT DID HE JUST STAB HIM WITH HIS OWN TRIDENT

HOLY SHIT ODY

HOLY FUCK

POP OFF ODY

OMG "MONSTER" AND THEN "RUTHLESSNESS"

BRO HE'S BEGGING??

*trident drops* hot damn ody

"Next to my wife." OHHHHHHH MIC DROP

Holy FUCK that was crazy

I'm gonna listen to it again.

Ok but holy shit Odysseus literally just tortured a god until he gave in?? Daym ody

Tho I like how he tries using open arms first, and then ruthlessness. He's kinda found a balance? I say kinda, 'cause he went hard on the ruthlessness, but since he sincerely tried to ask Poseidon to just drop the whole thing already, his later actions in 600 Strike feel more warranted.

I honestly don't know how Jorge keeps doing it. He just keeps topping himself! Like! Thunder Bringer? And then God Games?? And now Six Hundred Strike??? They just keep getting better! Banger after banger, like!! How.

Wait I just wanna. Sit with it. Imma lie down and stare at the ceiling for a bit, aight?

... I am shooketh.

But BRO THAT WAS INSANE! ODY FUCKED HIM UPPP

AMAZING BRAVO EXTRODINARY INCREDIBLE SHOWSTOPPING GORGEOUS WONDERFUL HOW DARE YOU

#long post #my posts #epic the musical #epic the vengeance saga #immediate reaction #jorge rivera herrans #pay for my therapy

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anachronistic-falsehood · 6 months ago

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the part of roier’s stream where i lost my absolute mind

#qsmp #KILLING DOIED WITH MY BARE HANDS #GOD i wish the music was saved in vods bc the music rly made this part tbh #but the silence feels like. eerie in a way #it feels ✨sinister✨#i would transcribe this but my spanish is so shit and i don’t wanna fuck it up #CINTA TRES ROIER POR FAVORRRRRRRRRR

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zharizard666 · 1 month ago

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cetoddle-archive · 1 year ago

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public bathrooms are so so scary

#idk it's the unwelcoming fluorescent lighting the impersonable tiling on the walls and floor #the cold feeling of the porcelain sink on your hands the way reality feels warped when you look in the mirror #the eerie silence when no one else is in there #the way you have no idea if the quiet is from actually being alone or if someone is hidden silently in one of the stalls #for some reason scenes in movies and stuff where people smack their heads on bathroom sinks or even the toilets #always get me rlly good. it's just so. creepy. cause it's always quiet and just. not a welcoming place to begin with #and like. imagine dying in a fucking dirty ass bathroom. one of my sims did that once and she was PISSED #snow.txt

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clownwritesfanfic · 3 months ago

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So Come One, Come All - Five Hargreeves X GN! Reader

Summary: After you find out that your husband of 40 years cheated on you with his own brother’s wife, you give up on figuring out how to fix the apocalypse and run off. That’s when you’re lead to a suspicious deli full of the exact face you never wanted to see again.

Word count: 1647

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Cheating, Heartbreak, Happy Ending, rushed writing, not beta read we die like men

Disclaimer: Five is canonically in the body of an 18 year old in this season. Not to mention he aged like 7 more years with Lila. Also, obvious Season 4 spoilers. This season was awful and Five was done so dirty and he’s still ooc in this fic (or at least a version of him is)

———————————————————————

You had no idea how long you had been walking for. All you knew was that you were tired.

Tired of everything. Of the constant apocalypses, the fighting, the stress, …the lying, the heartache. Everything.

You had to get away from that place. You couldn’t stand to be around anyone from that family anymore. Around…him.

You and Five have been married for forty years. You both met in the first apocalypse as teens. You weren’t special like him or his siblings but you were both grateful to have someone else around.

You slowly fell in love over the years as you grew older together. You had a makeshift marriage with a ring Five had made for you out of random bits of metal he had found.

You had both been recruited into the Commission together and quickly became the most badass couple in the entire organization. You were always put on missions together for your efficiency and speed.

You had followed Five back in time to see his family, consequently getting stuck in your younger body as well. You followed him everywhere. You would’ve given your life for him.

So, how could he do this to you?

Forty years, thrown away all because he supposedly got stuck for seven fucking years in a stupid timeline traveling subway station with another woman.

You wanted to kill him. He knew that you didn’t like how comfortable Lila was with him since the beginning and he had assured you he wasn’t interested in her at all and that you were all he wanted. What a load of bullshit that was.

You had left after their explanation. You saw the way he looked at her. The exact same way he used to look at you. For him at had been years since he last saw you. For you, it had only been a few hours since he last looked at you like you were the world.

You had slipped off the wedding ring and threw it at his face before leaving. You could hear him trying to get you to stay and try to follow you but he was stopped by Diego.

You were so lost in thought before you found yourself in front of the entrance to a subway station. This must be the one they were talking about. You looked behind you, making sure no one had followed you but also as a way to look back on this life.

If they were telling the truth about the timelines…then you weren’t going to be coming back to this one. Maybe there is a timeline where you’re happy. One where you and Five don’t meet. Or maybe one where none of this happens. Where you’re both a normal married couple.

You took a deep breath as you gazed down the steps. Once you took your first step down, you knew there was no going back.

As you descended the steps, the eerie silence unnerved you. You could hear only your footsteps on the ground and the squeaking of the turnstile as you pushed through it.

You were startled by the sound of the speakers playing some sort of announcement. It was impossible to understand considering it was all backwards.

Soon, the subway entered the station and came to a halt. The doors opened and you stood still, you were still a little creeped out. Five always made you feel more comfortable in situations like this…but he wasn’t here anymore.

You swallowed your unease and entered the subway car. You slowly took a seat and looked around before the doors closed and the subway started moving. You looked out the window as flashes of colour went by.

You were there for a couple minutes before you stopped. The doors opened but you didn’t get up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get off yet. You wanted to be sure you were as far from the timeline you were just in as possible.

You felt something pull inside of you though. Something wanted you to get off and explore. So you did.

You let yourself be guided by this feeling deep inside. It was like your heart was pulling you somewhere.

It isn’t long until you end up in front of a building of some kind. Could you even call it that? You never left the station and it’s the only other place in here. Is it more of a building in a building? You didn’t want to think about it too much.

The words “Max’s Delicatessen” were shining brightly in your face. You were a little amused. Maybe you were hungry and it was actually your stomach bringing you here rather than your heart.

You sighed and decided to check it out.

But when you entered, you were horrified at what you saw.

The entire deli was full of copies of your (now ex) husband. This was the last thing you wanted to see and you internally cursed at your conscious for bringing you here.

You could feel your heartbeat pick up and your breathing become heavy as tears pricked at your eyes.

Finally, one of the Five’s had looked up and noticed you stuck in place at the door.

“Darling!” He shot up out of his seat, audibly hitting his knee on the table but he didn’t flinch.

Suddenly, every single Five in the place had his eyes on you, each with various emotions displayed on their face.

The Five that spotted you quickly made his way over to you. He lifted his shaking hands and held them over your cheeks, too scared to make contact in case you fade away.

You could see the disbelief and love in his eyes. This snapped you out of your confusion and slapped his hands away from you and backed yourself up into the door.

The Five in front of you looked confused and hurt before sighing and lowering his hands.

“Sorry…I forgot that you’re not the same one.” He apologized.

“What the FUCK is going on?” You exclaimed as you looked around to be met with all the Five’s still staring at you. “How did you get here? Why are there multiples of you? Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

“Woah, woah, slow down. Breathe. You’re okay. Everything’s fine.” The Five in front of you tried to calm you down. “You took the subway right? This is a different timeline. We’re all the same person from different timelines. Usually the only new people that enter here are a version of me…or…us I guess. You’re the only…well…you, that has shown up here.” He explained.

“What?” You looked at him like he was crazy.

“They should sit down.” Another Five had said.

“Come on, hun. Come sit down and we can talk.” He had reached out towards you, careful not to touch you while he guided you towards the opposite end of the booth he was previously at.

You sat down, still in shock. It felt weird being surrounded by so many Five’s. Especially when you were trying to get away from him.

“I guess I’ll start.” Five had sat down across from you and sighed.

“In my timeline, you and I had been together for years. We met at the Commission. At first we hated each other but we were always put on missions together. Over time…I had fallen for you, and luckily for me, you reciprocated those feelings. We were together romantically for years. We were on our last mission before our contract with the Commission ended. We were planning on getting married after and retiring somewhere nice. But…it went wrong…and I lost you. You died in my arms.” He looked off to the side and tried to play off wiping away his tears.

“I haven’t seen you in years. You’re just as beautiful as the day I lost you.” He reached a hand across the table and gently placed it on yours.

You teared up as you saw the pure love in his eyes. Your Five used to look at you like that and it still hurt knowing he no longer felt that way.

“If you’re here…then something must’ve happened to the Five in your timeline.” He rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.

You stilled and took your hand back, making the Five in front of you frown.

You hugged your torso for comfort and curled in on yourself slightly as you looked down at the table.

“We were married for forty years…but he got stuck in the subway with Lila and…I guess forty years didn’t mean anything because in seven years he threw it all away for…her.” You hiccuped as you tried to hold back your tears.

There were multiple grumbles and scoffs around the deli.

The Five across from you reached across the table and held your shoulder gaining your attention.

“Everyone here had a version of you in their timeline. We all lost you in one way or another. I think I speak for all of us when I say…having you here is the best thing to happen to us, and he’s a complete idiot for throwing you away like that.” He smiled as he lightly caressed your cheek.

You smiled slightly at his words.

“Aww there’s that beautiful smile.” Five said as he lightly pinched your cheek.

You giggled and batted his hand away and wiped your tears away.

A sandwich and drink was placed in front of you and you looked up to another Five holding a now empty tray.

“Your favourite, just the way you like it.” He said as he gently grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the back of it with a wink.

You blushed at the action and thanked him.

Even though you got on that train in order to get away from him…you don’t think you’ll be getting back on any time soon.

#ngl I kinda wanna make a smutty part two of this #both the character and actor are whole adults in this so don’t get pissy with me #five hargreeves #number five #tua #tua s4 #tua season 4 #tua spoilers #the umbrella academy #umbrella acedmy #five hargreaves x reader #five Hargreaves #five hargreeves x reader

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iceunhie · 4 months ago

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— KISSES OR KISSES? : honkai star rail

premise. testing out your new lipstick is no fun (normally), so what better way to make use of it by kissing your lover senseless? not to mention, leaving a little something behind.... (aka, lipstick kisses with them.)

ft. blade, dan heng, boothill, dr. ratio, aventurine !

warnings: feminine reader! reader is ultimately genderless but you may interpret this as fem!reader if you want, reader wears lipstick. nicknames hehe, boothill is his own warning, mid writing tbh, unedited

a/n. the lipstick trend does not escape me at all 😞😞 but this consumed me so now i write about it ijbol

MAIN MASTERLIST || PART 2 (sunday, jing yuan, gallagher, sampo, gepard.)

“what are you doing?”

BLADE ceases all functions. like, immediately.

you'd think he'd even stopped breathing once he'd felt the soft sensation of your lips on his, and the pretty sight of the normally aloof stellaron hunter covered in multiple lipstick kisses all over his face to his neck nearly makes the rest of his other comrades keel over from laughter. his silence is indicative of his rather unusual state of shock, the only indication a menacing furrow of his brows (to an outsider, they'd think he's plotting a murder spree, but you know him too well for that) that twitch and simultaneously react the more you kiss him everywhere on the face.

silverwolf will then relay to you that blade walked around for nearly 5 system hours covered in your... marks of ownership, kafka helpfully supplies, and was only made aware when firefly accidentally bumped into him, face exploding in red when she saw the audacious sight of blade covered in your lipstick. “er, blade.... your face is...”

—

blade has never known mortification quite like today, but the intense feeling of something akin to shame is vivid as he stares at himself in the mirror, glaring.

his face is a mess, to put it simply. trailing a hand on the red stains your lips left on to him leaves him with a smudged countenance, furthering the utter chaos that is his kiss-ridden face.

“...ridiculous girl.” avoiding the uncharacteristic way his fingertips feel hot, blade reckons this is probably why firefly stopped dead in her tracks and gaped, stared, and flustered.

clever as you were, and with your equal penchant for mischief, blade, the ever unsuspecting lover he is (he doesn't normally allow anyone to touch him, but you're not just anyone) had easily become the target of your new tricks.

“pfft, nice get-up, old man. got yourself a good day?”

....so that's what silverwolf meant.

DANHENG immediately scolds you, but not in the serious way he normally does whenever stelle wants to eat an origami bird or dives into trashcans or when march accidentally destroys one of the archive books, but in a way that only dan heng ever shows you. he's red, painfully red, and is struggling to face you because he knows that the smug grin you're holding has to do with the sight he'd glimpsed himself to be in moments prior.

unfortunately for him, for all his ways of trying fervently to remove the lipstick stains plastered all over his face, it only took march one look and a melodramatic gasp before the entire express knew, the conductor included.

—

“dan heng and [name], sitting on a tree-”

“k-i-s-s-i-n-g~”

my friends are all senile, dan heng thinks, rolling his eyes while avoiding himeko's friendly (read: eerie) smile. and he's already given up on trying to meet welt's eyes. (read: concerned but not surprised)

the reason? the rouge tinted matte lipstick generously spread all over dan heng's face, slightly smudged and spanning from his cheeks to his lips, nearing his neck.

he'd never tell, but a part of him—one that was reptilian in nature, a primal need of possessiveness—adored the show of affection you showered upon him. it was only right—he was yours, and you were his.

welt is sheepish, coughing lightly that all five heads of the express members turn to him (pom-pom included) “dan heng, is that your tail wagging?”

“....”

(a resounding click! can be heard afrerwards. oh, dan heng is so going to steal march's camera.)

the loud whir of BOOTHILL’s cooling system can't even keep up with how fast he's overheating, because one thing led to another and one look you gave made him weak in the knees and now his body is covered in your kisses, scarlet against the metal gray of his limbs. he no longer has a heart, but the rapid feeling of heat emitted by his body speaks more about his current mental state in more ways than one—he can't even form words because his brain chip is practically glitching itself up into overdrive, because your lips were so warm, soft and gentle and—

“...oothill? boothill? your circuits are—”

a startling sound that sounds just like a mini explosion reverberates somewhere in the tangle of wires near boothill's power source.

oh dear.

( p.s: no warp trotters were harmed, rest assured )

“[name]...” AVENTURINE’s voice falters when you press a soft kiss near his forehead, your lover closing his eyes as he lets out a soft sigh of joy — a bit like a peacock preening... but in any case! he certainly sees no argument being swayed by you, his dignity in shambles, yes, but when you were showering him with affection like this (which, in all honesty, aventurine did not think he deserved) leaves in in a flushed and tattered mess of a man, whose strings are wholly puppeteered by you and you alone.

you are everything; and aventurine certainly can't get enough. (he doubts if enough will even be enough someday) he's the lover who'd proudly want to flaunt such salacious marks everywhere, though his craftily built reputation as a stoneheart—blood sweat and commodity code and all—leaves him to hide your marks on him, as much as he'd like them to stay. (you are a weakness that aventurine keeps like an oath, and an existence that he'd do anything to keep.)

that doesn't, however, stop him from getting you to leave a kiss near his collar, discreet enough to signal his status as irrevocably, undeniably yours.

DR. VERITAS RATIO is actually the most calm and most normal (read: boring) of all the men above when barraged by your kiss attack. letting out a tsk that's more chiding and speeachless than actually annoyed, he casually pulls you away from his face, nevermind his rapidly heating cheeks, which is only made more humorous given his lipstick stained face.

“stop that. you're making too much of a mess of me, fool.” <- is visibly leaning to your face to allow said actions. you're not fooling anyone here, doctor. smh.

however, he does get pretty flustered when a certain blond gambler notes the new addition of a ‘tattoo’ right near his lower lip. “wow, doctor. seems you woke up on the good side of the bed today.”

he spends a whole day scolding you hoarse afterwards, whatever that may entail ;).

(as a way of petty revenge, he will make sure to kiss you senseless right after, until he's sure his own lips are swollen and covered in the warm red of your chosen shade.)

a/n: blog is running on queue as of today, so this post will probably come wayyy overdue lol but hope u enjoy nonetheless!

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

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teapartyprincess4two · 3 months ago

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On Stream- M. Sturniolo

pairing: gf!reader x bf!Matt

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, short, slight cursing, some suggestive comments

summary: Matt mentions you on stream, causing the chat to go crazy.

—

Nowadays it seems that Matt and Chris have an abnormal amount of free time.

The pair have spent the past few days running errands, catching up on chores, spending quality time together, and unwinding. But two energetic young men can only do so much relaxing before it becomes unbearably boring, especially without you and Nick around.

Nick’s somewhere across the globe, relishing in the perks of having good friends. He’s experiencing the world with a sense of individuality, having been apart from his triplet brothers for over a week.

Without Nick around the house is quiet and boring enough, but Chris and Matt can usually count on you to keep them company. But it seems that they see you less and less every day.

You aren’t somewhere far away, not physically at least, you’re just very, very busy. As you enter the fall semester, you’re juggling a multitude of responsibilities including school, work, your social life, and your relationship. But as you adjust to your crazy hectic schedule, you spend less time at home with Matt and more time nose deep in a book.

So, just as the brothers grow accustomed to the eerie silence that haunts the halls of their home and the boredom that settles into their everyday lives, they decide enough is enough and take up a new hobby. Streaming.

Today, as Matt anchors himself in his rolling chair, his eyes skim through the endless chats that flood his screen. Chris sits next to him, a vibrant and excited smile adorning his features.

This is their third consecutive day going live on Twitch. At first they went live to entertain and chat with their fans, but now they’re doing it to occupy their bored minds.

Chris’s eyes skim the chat, fixating on one message in particular. He subconsciously reads it aloud, “Is Y/n on tour with Nick? We miss her.”

After reading the comment, the chat was flooded with similar messages asking for you. Matt slumps into his chair, the mention of your name reminding him that it’s been a week since he’s seen you.

“Nah, she’s just busy with school right now,” Chris replies mindlessly, skimming for another comment to read.

A lot of the viewers noticed Matt’s mood shift. They noticed the way his eyes drooped and the way the corners of his mouth turned into a frown. They especially noticed the disassociated look he wore, mind traveling to a place only you could bring him out of.

“Matt,” Chris says, waving a hand in front of his brother’s face. No response. “Matt!” He tries again, louder this time. Matt still doesn’t respond, only coming back into reality when Chris violently shakes his shoulders.

“What, dude? What?!” Matt asks, annoyance evident in his tone.

“Your phone’s ringing.” Chris replies with an eye roll and a small scoff.

Suddenly the blaring ring registers in Matt’s mind as he pats his pockets in search of his phone. When he finally finds it, your name illuminated the screen.

“Who’s calling?” Chris asks, stretching out his neck in hopes of catching a nosy glimpse at the caller ID.

“Umm be right back chat. Y/n’s calling,” Matt says, words spewing out a mile a minute. He disappears from the room faster than ever, immediately pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” Your voice is music to Matt’s ears. It feels like forever since he’s last heard it.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “everything okay?”

You hum in response, followed by a soft yawn.

“You sound tired. When are you coming home?” Matt asks, softly leaning against the wall. You’ve been at school all day stuck in lectures and studying, so Matt knows you need some well deserved rest.

“I’m on my way now. That’s why I called, wanted to see if you guys were hungry so I could pick up something to eat.”

The excitement that courses through Matt’s veins is unreal, winding him up with enough energy to last until tomorrow. He can’t wait to see you, hold you, kiss you, and make up for all the lost time.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he replies, pausing for a second to compose himself, “I just wanna see you.”

A warm smile graces your features and if Matt could see it he’d mirror your expression.

“I’ll be home soon don’t worry. How’s the stream going?”

“Huh?” For a second Matt forgot that he and his brother were live streaming for thousands of people.

“The stream. Aren’t you live with Chris right now?”

“Ohhh. It’s going… it’s going good.” Matt replies with a soft sigh.

Your smile is momentarily replaced with a frown. “It doesn’t sound like it’s going good. What’s wrong?”

Matt’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose before gliding across his eyelids and massaging the tense nerves and muscles on his face. “It’s going fine. I just can’t focus. The chat keeps asking about you and it’s honestly making me really sad.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips. “Aww my poor baby. Can’t focus on Fortnite?”

“Not Fortnite.”

“Oops, sorry. Fall Guys?

“Y/n.” Matt warns, though he finds it slightly funny too.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. I’ll be home soon with some good food and open arms. We can cuddle and watch a movie, or do anything else you wanna do. Okay?”

Matt feels his spirit lighten up again, a cheeky smirk forming on his face. “Anything?”

“Don’t push it,” you laugh.

Just as Matt’s about to respond, he’s cut short by Chris calling his name from inside the room.

“Get back to your stream. I’ll be home soon, handsome.”

Matt’s lips form a silly pout you can’t even see as he replies, “But I wanna keep talking to you. Miss you so much.”

“MATT!” Chris calls again, this time much louder than the last.

“We’ll talk all you want when I get home. Now go! I have the stream pulled up on my computer and I think Chris is gonna start twerking,” you say, trying your best not to laugh.

“Holy fuck this kid,” Matt groans, face palming. “Alright baby, I love you. Drive safe.”

“I love you too,” you say through small giggles before hanging up.

When Matt renters the room, he’s not surprised to find Chris dancing for the camera. He pushes past him and settles back into his rolling chair wearing a huge, toothy smile.

“What did Y/n want?” Chris asks, briefly glancing at Matt as he switches from doing the griddy to shuffling across the room.

“Just asked if we were hungry,” Matt shrugs, attempting to act nonchalant, but there’s no hiding the newfound pep in his step.

“And it took you that long?”

“I was catching up with my girl. —Why the fuck are you still dancing?”

“Someone gifted,” Chris says, slightly breathless as he bops from corner to corner.

“Alright…” Matt shifts towards the computer, “What did I miss?”

He reads comments, expecting most of them to be about Chris and his absurd dancing skills, but he’s surprised to find that they’re all about you.

Some fans ask where you are, others ask what you’re doing, some speculate on the conversation you and Matt had, and others simply comment on how much happier Matt seems since talking to you.

All Matt can do is smile and patiently wait for you to arrive, ready to bombard you with kisses as soon as you step through the door.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: hi babies! Hope you enjoy this short oneshot! I know I haven’t updated or posted much in a longggg time but I honestly had writers block :P I’m trying to get into the habit of writing again, so bear with me pls. I have a lotttt of drafts (some that just need to be edited) so be expecting that soon! Luv you all 😚

- L.A.M.B🪽💝

—

taglist: @nickgetsmewetter @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @rxeae @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @certifiednatelover @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @luvr4miya @somegirlfromasgard @l0vergrlll @pepsicolapussy333 @unbruisable @sugrhigh @khxna @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @callsignwidow @sturnstvr @inkyray-deactivated20240729 @stasiesturn @poopiepantsworld @cvnt4matty @eleanore2204 @jhutchismyl0verb0y

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

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soaps-mohawk · 2 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 37: The Silence

Summary: Tensions are at an all time high in the pack as an eerie silence settles over the cottage

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,069 words

Warnings: Angst, heavy emotions, arguing, medical stuff, injuries, descriptions of pain, brief discussion about strangulation, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, panic attack, PTSD, language

A/N: Uh yeah, this one did emotional damage. Prepare yourselves.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

They stand there watching like four knights in a tower guarding their kingdom. Their eyes are glued ahead, staring through the glass out into the backyard. They’re alert and watchful, eyes assessing and scanning for any threats. There are none except for your trembling legs.

They stand there watching like four knights guarding their princess. None of them are brave enough to move, none of them dare break the moment. They can’t help but wonder what’s going on in your head, what drove you to push past the pain and exhaustion to shuffle your way outside.

Panic bubbled in Kyle’s chest when he saw you shuffling your way across the living area. He’d nearly intervened when you stumbled, but John’s hand on his chest stopped him. You were in your own world, oblivious to everyone and everything as you shuffled determinedly toward the back door. They’d silently followed you, Johnny and Simon joining them when they descended the stairs.

All you’ve done is stand out there. It feels like it’s been an hour, but it’s been less than five minutes. You’re frozen there, all except for the tremble of your legs and the subtle shake of your shoulders.

You’re crying.

It hurts his soul. It tears through his very chest as he watches you. He wants nothing more than to run out there and take you in his arms and soothe your tears.

He can’t.

He lost those privileges when they left you, when they betrayed you, when they abandoned you. It may have been John’s choice, but they were all complacent in it. None of them fought that decision, none of them questioned it. Would John have changed his mind if they did? Could they have avoided all of this if they had just questioned their alpha, their captain?

Not all of it would have been unavoidable.

You would have still been hurt. You would have still been traumatized. There was no guarantee Graves would have held off, even if they came for you in the first place. Things might have been worse. Graves might have gotten impulsive as soon as he realized the outcome of his own situation.

Shepherd fucked him over too in the end.

Things happened the way they did and they can’t change that. That’s what Christine keeps telling them. The past is the past and you can only work to build the future.

It’s going to take a lot of work.

“How long has she been out there?” Christine asks, stepping up next to them.

“About four minutes.” Simon answers.

“She shouldn’t be out there like that.” Christine goes to move to the door, but John stops her.

“Let her have a moment.” He says, still staring out the window. “She needs it.”

Christine lets out a quiet huff but she doesn’t move, turning her gaze out the sliding glass door as well.

You continue to stand there, frozen like a statue. Time passes slowly, all of them captivated by the silent moment they’re witnessing. It’s almost hypnotic. The fading light, your figure standing there surrounded by grey skies and green earth like some sort of painting.

Pain and bliss.

That’s what he’d title it. He knows that’s what you must be feeling. Pain, visible and invisible from wounds that go far deeper than the flesh. Pain in its purest form as you stand there under heavy grey skies that echo the heaviness in your mind. The bliss echoes from John’s words, his reveal of your desire to see the ocean again, to stand on its shores and let its essence consume you.

It all makes sense now. No wonder you would cling to him the most, press your face into his neck and just breathe. His own briney scent was a gateway to what you desired in your landlocked position. How long had you been holding that desire in? Were you disappointed when you rolled up on their doorstep to find yourself still far away from the sea? You hid that desire from the knowledge that, as an omega, your wants and needs would always come last, in the knowledge that their jobs would come first and you would be at the mercy of that job.

His eyes burn with tears as he stares at you.

You begin to tremble more and more the longer you stand there, shifting on your feet. It breaks the haze they’ve all been frozen in, the five of them snapping back into reality. Christine is out the door before any of them can move, hurrying to your side. She wraps an arm around your back, careful not to touch your left arm as she steadies you. Kyle jumps into action automatically after her, hurrying to your new designated room to grab the wheelchair. With how much effort it took to walk out there, you won’t be walking back in.

He wheels it out, holding it still as Christine maneuvers you into it. As much as he doesn’t want to, he turns, slipping back in the door as Christine wheels you towards the house. The four of them watch as she passes, time pausing as they stare at you. You don’t look up at them, don't acknowledge them at all. Your gaze is turned down in your lap, head lowered as you hunch, shoulders rounded.

Pain and exhaustion are weighing on you from your exertion as Christine takes you back to your room. How heavy the world must seem from the combined weight of your physical and mental injuries. The state of your mind would be one thing, but being stuck in a temporary handicapped state due to your physical injuries must be driving you nearly insane. There’s no getting away, no isolation. You can’t even walk fully unaided yet.

There’s no freedom.

All of them share a look in the heavy silence, understanding without even needing to say a word.

The mug is burning his fingers but he can’t bring himself to care. His gaze is locked, mind focused elsewhere. He hasn’t moved in so long his joints are aching, but he can’t find it in himself to even shift his position.

“Drinking it black?” His fingers twitch as Kyle takes the seat next to him, his own mug of tea in his hands. It clunks as he sets it on the table before he lowers himself into the chair with a sigh. “That’s low even for you.”

Simon lets out a grunt, eyes still focused out the sliding glass door.

“She’s fine.” Kyle says, pulling out his phone. “The Doc won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Don’t like that she’s out there alone.” Simon says, finally releasing the mug, squeezing his burning fingers into his palm.

“Technically she’s not alone,” Kyle says, giving him a sideways glance. “We’ve been over this. We’re perfectly safe here.”

“For now.” Simon lifts his mug to his lips, ignoring the burn of the tea on his tongue. He’s long become numb to that sort of pain.

“No one knows we’re here except Kate and my sister. Neither of them would say anything, no matter what.” Kyle turns his gaze back to the sliding glass door, to your figure huddled in the chair outside. “She’s where she needs to be right now.”

Footsteps thud down the stairs, John letting out a groan as he reaches the bottom. He takes a moment to stretch before heading for the kettle in the kitchen.

“Rough night, sir?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“I’ve slept worse.” John grunts, grabbing a mug from the cupboard.

Both of them had tossed and turned last night. Simon had listened to the occasional creak of the bed frame as they turned. He knows that’s what it was. They’re not ready yet. None of them are. Things are too fragile, too frayed.

“Anyone thought about breakfast?” John asks.

“Still some eggs left, and some bread. We need to make a store run soon.” Kyle says.

“Today.” John says, pouring water into the mug. “A lot of things we need to pick up.” He turns to face Simon and Kyle, leaning against the cupboard. “Simon and I will go.”

Simon shifts in his seat, his hand tightening around his mug again. “That’s not a good idea.”

“What, you’re doubting our ability to watch the house?” Kyle says, turning to Simon.

Simon glances at him, his eyes hard. “No, There should just be an alpha here at all times.”

“Really? Because that sounds a lot like you don’t trust Johnny and I.” Kyle says, getting angry.

“Enough.” John says, setting his mug down on the table. “We keep fighting amongst ourselves, nothing is going to get better. Tensions are high, but none of this is about us. We have to keep our heads on straight for the sake of our pack, and our omega. Simon and I will go to town today. That’s final.”

Kyle and Simon both lower their eyes to their mugs of tea as John takes a seat at the table. He is right. Fighting amongst themselves will only make things worse for you. You’re already struggling, and the bonds fraying further will only cause more damage, more stress for you. Their bonds with you are delicate enough. They can’t risk the bonds between themselves getting any thinner. They have to be strong for you. They have to be strong for each other. They have to be strong for the pack. The whole pack.

It falls silent between the three of them as they sit there, sipping their tea. Johnny is the only one still in bed. He cried most of the night last night. He’s cried most of the night the last three nights. He’s probably shed more tears than you have.

Simon feels stuck in the middle, like he’s being torn in two separate directions. He got up in the night to free himself from the sounds of Johnny crying just to hear your own quiet sobs through your closed door. Each broken sob had his heart splitting in half, the ache in his chest getting worse and worse. He was sure he was having a heart attack that first night, his chest compressing and squeezing, his hands going numb from how tense his body was.

He wants to reach out and make it better, but he can’t bring himself to. Johnny will just shrug him off, and you won’t even look at him. Even John and Kyle are distant, gravitating further and further away. The gravitational field in the center of their pack continues to get bigger and bigger, forcing them further and further away from each other, and none of them know how to stop it. They’ve lost their point of equilibrium. They’re all spiraling further and further away. Eventually that gravitational field will dissipate and they’ll be left free-floating through space and time.

They all turn to look as the sliding glass door opens and you crutch your way in. Dr. Keller is right behind you, closing the back door before guiding you back to your room, the blanket you had been draped in folded neatly over her arm. You’re moving better, even just in two days since their arrival. Steadier on your feet, walking better with the crutch. You even look a little better, more alive than you were when you arrived here.

They all watch you walk to your room, but you don’t spare a glance their way. You haven’t looked at any of them in two days. You haven’t spoken a word to them, to anyone, in two days.

Kyle gets up to make breakfast as soon as you’ve passed, broken from the spell as Dr. Keller gets you settled in your room. You’re almost hypnotic now, all of their gazes drawn to you as soon as you enter the room. They’re all thinking the same thing every time you pass. Maybe this will be the time you finally look at them, when you finally glance their way. What he wouldn’t give to have you smile at him, give him that cheeky little grin after sassing him.

Little shit.

His hand tightens around his mug again as guilt floods him. You’ve sunken into an empty shell because of them. They sucked the life right out of you. They dragged you into this and failed to do what they were supposed to do. Anger bubbles in him as he thinks back to that moment. He should have fought back. He should have used his position to change John’s mind, or forced him to change it. He should have stepped up for you.

He’s not your alpha.

He almost wishes he was.

He stares down at the scabbed imprint of your teeth on his skin. He should pick up a bottle of ink in town, tattoo that mark on his skin forever as a reminder of both you and what he did to you.

“How is she?” John asks when Dr. Keller enters the kitchen. Simon’s shoulders square as she passes him, having been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed her enter.

Bloody hell, he’s as bad as you.

“As good as she can be.” She sighs, grabbing a can of soup out of the cupboard. You won’t get the eggs and toast Kyle is making. Your diet consists of soup and only soup.

“Hasn’t said anything still?” John asks, turning to look at her.

“Not a word.” Dr. Keller shakes her head. “I’d be worried, if it wasn’t expected.” She pulls out a pot, opening the can before dumping the contents in. Chicken noodle. The staple soup in your diet. “Strangulation can be a hard thing to recover from.”

“I know.” Simon winces, taking a sip of his tea.

The doctor gives him a sympathetic look. He doesn’t want it. “She had some mild damage done from it, which will take time to heal. And, everyone deals with trauma differently. Silence isn’t that unusual of a response.” She puts the pan on the hob, turning the heat on. “If I was worried, you would know.”

“Thank you for looking after her.” John says, nodding at the doctor. “You didn't have to stay.”

“I made a promise.” She says, stirring the soup. “She's still my patient, even if the initiative was bogus. I still have a duty to perform as her doctor. Kate wouldn't have chosen me from the start if I was the type to just up and leave as soon as I found out my job wasn't actually real. I care about her a lot, and I want to help her get through this.”

“We all owe a lot to you.” John says. “We wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

“No,” The corner of her mouth twitches. “You probably wouldn't have.”

Christine lets out a quiet sigh as she steps into your room. You're in the chair by the window, your usual spot when it's too damp and cold to sit outside.

It's dark in the room aside from the light coming through the window. It’s always dark in the room, except at night when you sleep with the bedside lamp on. She flips that lamp on, not wanting to blind you suddenly with the overhead light. You’ve been blinded by enough bright lights over the last week. Nearly a week and a half. It feels like so much time has passed, yet it still feels like yesterday when she was coming to in her office after being attacked and drugged. The terror she’d felt upon finding you missing still fills her stomach, and she finds herself getting up in the middle of the night to check and make sure you’re really there.

She’s not the only one that does it.

The paper bags in her arms crinkle as she carries them over to you, setting them on the other chair. Your gaze is far away, staring off at the grey, stormy sea in the distance. How fitting the weather is, both for you and the members of the pack. The tension between them is still palpable, all of them moving stiffly around each other. They’ve lost the natural fluidity of a pack comfortable in their bonds. They’re stuck, and they can’t, they won’t, heal until you do. They won’t allow themselves to until they know you’re willing to at least try.

“John and Simon went to town and did some shopping. They picked up some things for you.” She says softly, breaking the heavy silence in the room.

You don’t even turn to look at her.

“More warm clothes.” She continues, looking in one bag. “As well as some boots.” She pulls a box out of another bag. “A nightlight, so you don’t have to keep using the lamp.” She looks in the third bag, the heaviest one of the three. “Another stuffed animal.” She says, pulling out a stuffed bear. It’s a nice thought, but she’s not sure you’ll even want to touch it. “And some books.” She says, pulling the stack out of the bottom of the bag.

There’s three of them, ones not in the collection on the shelves in the living area. Some of your favorites. They’re trying, putting in efforts to try and make you as comfortable as possible in the only ways they can right now. She sets the books on the side table next to you, taking a long look at you as you sit there.

You haven’t picked up a book in the two days they’ve been at the cottage, though she’s not surprised. You’ve been in and out of it, sleeping off the pain medicine, or sitting in a haze, mind far away from the cabin. She wonders where you are, where your mind is going. Out on the water? Out on the beach? Or maybe somewhere back in your memories where it’s safe. Receding back somewhere when life was easier and safer.

Are you thinking of your mother? Are you imagining her here with you?

Her heart hurts for you, being torn away from her at such a pivotal moment in your life. If she had the ability to find her she would. If she could track down your mother and bring her here for you she would.

You begin to sniffle, almost as if you can somehow read her thoughts. The tears are falling, streaming down your cheeks again. She doesn't say anything, she doesn’t have to as she stands there beside you, gently stroking your hair. She’s seen many things in her time as an omega specialist. She’s had patients that have gone through things that would make even the most seasoned doctor’s stomach churn. She’s helped omegas that have been pushed to the brink of insanity, omegas pushed to the brink of death. Yet none of them have affected her the way you have. Maybe it’s because she’s never been quite so invested in an omega’s life before, never been quite so inserted into an omega’s reality.

If she was a better doctor, she might have refused to stay here, keeping distance between herself and your pack. She’s gotten too close, pushed past the barrier of professionalism. If she was a better doctor, she’d distance herself, stick to the decorum and expectation of doctor/patient relationships. She knows omega specialists can get too close. She’d been warned over and over about how easy it is to invest too much into the lives and well beings of omegas. There’s a boundary that must be kept, both for the professional and for the sake of the omega. She won’t be around you forever.

Eventually she’ll have to distance herself. She’ll have to go back to America, return to her practice. Now that the initiative is over, now that her job doesn’t even exist, she’s running on borrowed time. She’ll have to leave you at some point, close your case and move on.

When is the question there. When will it be the right time? When will she decide you’ve healed enough to be graduated from her care? When will she be confident enough to break the bond that has formed between the two of you.

Will she be able to? That’s the deeper question.

Those are thoughts for a different day, she decides, pushing them aside. Instead she pulls you into her side, resting your head against her hip as she continues to stroke your hair.

You look just about as happy to be at the table as they do. It's quiet in the room aside from the clanking of dishes in the kitchen and the occasional sizzle of food in a pan. Your gaze is in your lap, assuming your normal position of a drooping head and rounded shoulders.

Your back and neck have to hurt from being in that position for so long.

The only time you're not in those positions are when you're outside. Then your gaze is out at the sea in the distance. You sit there and stare, almost like a statue. You’d make for a good painting, seated still enough for long enough a skilled artist could make a masterpiece of it.

He's surprised Johnny hasn't even sketched you like that yet. Perhaps if you can ever come to be more comfortable around them, you'll allow him to paint you. You’ll be taking up residence out there in that chair as often as you can.

He’s not even sure rain or storm would deter you, if it wasn’t for Christine’s intervention.

Kyle sets a plate of chicken on the table as Christine brings over your soup, setting it down in front of you. Always a bowl of steaming hot soup. How you’re existing off of mostly liquids is beyond him. Maybe that’s why you look so fragile and frail.

“There you go,” Christine says as she sets a spoon down beside the bowl. Chicken and rice, a changeup from your normal chicken noodle. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to. You’re not going to feel better without food in your system.”

You let out a quiet noise, just barely audible over the shuffling of bodies as they sit at the table. Simon is to your left, Kyle next to him, Christine and Johnny on the other side. He’s on the opposite end of the table, staring right at you. No wonder you don’t want to move from your hunched position.

They keep their eyes off of you as they begin serving themselves. The food they’ve managed to make is decent with the help of their combined cooking skills. They’d had a long discussion about the intricacies of British food versus American food the first morning after their arrival. Christine advocated for more American-based dishes, with Johnny taking her side purely out of spite for the three Englishmen.

John has caught Christine sneaking seasoning into the food every so often. He hasn’t said a word.

“Come on, eat up.” Christine says, gently nudging your hand where it rests over the spoon.

Your face screws up in a grimace as you stare down at the steaming soup. It’s a breath before your fingers wrap around the spoon, lifting it to the bowl. Every movement feels practiced and calculated as he watches you sink the spoon into the bowl, just barely sinking below the surface to get just broth. He watches as you lift the spoon, holding it halfway to your mouth. There’s a subtle shake to your hand, not much but noticeable to him. You stare down at the spoon for a long moment before lifting it the rest of the way, quickly putting it in your mouth before your hand starts shaking too much.

You grimace as you swallow, a quiet grunt leaving your lips. He can’t bring himself to look away as you sit there, taking in a couple deep breaths. He can’t bring himself to eat as you stare back down at the bowl, your fingers trembling around the spoon.

Fuck.

You sniffle as you sink the spoon into the bowl once more, the spoon shaking more now as you bring the second spoonful to your mouth. It’s like watching some kind of sick, twisted children’s windup toy as you feed yourself, following the pattern of spoon in soup, soup to mouth, pained grimace, quiet sob. It gets worse and worse with every bite, John barely able to stomach his own food as he watches you with every bite.

You stare down at a chunk of chicken on your spoon, a fearful look on your face. Your hand is shaking enough that soup is dripping off the bottom back into the bowl. Christine had cut the chunks up smaller, yet you stare down at it like it might jump off the spoon and bite you.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks as you bring the spoon up to your lips, forcing it into your mouth. You chew and chew and chew, delaying the inevitable. The face you make as you swallow nearly breaks him. He lowers his gaze to his own plate, barely touched despite the fact he feels like they’ve been eating for a lifetime.

“Take a break.” Christine says quietly, lowering your hand with the spoon back onto the table.

None of them can bear to look at you. Johnny and Kyle are busy staring at their plates as they eat while Simon glares holes into his water glass. He’s watching you just as closely, he’s just not brave enough to stare at you so openly.

The tears continue to fall as you start feeding yourself again, Christine watching you as your hand begins to shake more and more, the pain starting to get to you. John wants to reach out, to take the spoon and feed you himself, but he can’t. It’s destroying him inside, seeing you struggle so openly. Christine won’t intervene, she won’t do anything as she sits there. Rationally he knows why. You need to get used to feeding yourself again, you need to work past the pain and exhaustion to keep yourself going.

His alpha is screaming.

Your hand is nearly vibrating as you hold another spoonful up, this one full of rice and chicken. You let out a quiet sob as you stare at it. That’s going to hurt. He can nearly sense your pain, the agony you’re feeling. Your scent is like a cloud fogging up the air, sour with fear and pain. It’s sinking right into his brain, his alpha clawing at him to do something. You’re in such open distress in front of him but he can’t move. He’s frozen, staring at you in shock, unable to look away.

It’s Simon’s quick reflexes that save you, his hand darting out to flip the spoon onto the table before you drop it on yourself. It lands with a clang, startling all of them out of their ruminations as it hits the bowl of peas, splattering rice and chicken and broth across the tablecloth. Christine is on her feet almost immediately, checking you over for burns from any of it that might have landed on you.

“You're okay.” Christine says, wiping your face with a napkin as you sob loudly, openly crying now. “It was a good try. Come on.”

She helps you to your feet, grabbing your crutch before leading you back to your room.

All four of them sit there in silence, still as statues as they process what they had just witnessed.

“Fuck,” Kyle breaths, his eyes glued to the half-eaten chicken on his plate.

Johnny starts to sniffle himself, his gaze locked on his own plate. Simon's eyes are on the spoon he'd flipped where it lays on the table.

He had no idea just how bad things really were. He knew they were bad.

He just didn't think they were this bad.

You’re sitting outside in that chair again. It’s a lovely morning, cold but the sun is rising up over the hills, casting a pink and orange glow across the sky. You look almost ethereal out there, even if he can only see the back of your head. Your eyes are cast out at the sea in the distance, where your gaze always seems to lie.

His fingers itch in a desire to draw you, the art supplies Simon had picked up for him sitting unopened upstairs. It’s the first time he’s felt the desire to draw in weeks. Not since your heat when he’d sat there by your side, drawing to keep the thoughts away. The pictures are probably still up on his wall, the pieces he’d done to keep his own distress away. Had you laid there and stared at them after they left you? He can picture you laying there numbly, eyes glazed as you stare at them, picturing yourself far away.

You don’t need his drawings now to imagine yourself far away.

You’re still as a statue as you sit there, the thick blanket he’d picked up in Texas tucked around you. It warms his heart, even if he knows it was Christine who wrapped you up in it. The mug of tea beside you is still steaming in the cool air, untouched as it will remain until Christine eventually brings you back inside where you’ll recede to your room to sit in front of the large bay window to stare out at the sea.

He wants to take you.

He wants to load you up in the car and take you the short drive down the road to the beach. He wants to let you stand there in the sand, see the waves as they crash onto the shore. Hell, he’d let you walk into the water, let it soak your shoes and pants. Whatever you need to do, he’d let you do it.

John would have his hide if he left with you like that.

Simon would eat him alive.

He won’t do that, though, mostly because he knows you wouldn’t be strong enough to make it down to the beach, nor stand there for a long period of time. Carrying you would be out of the question. You’d never let him that close.

Instead he takes a gamble, getting as close as he dares as he slides open the door, stepping out into the cool morning. You don’t move, don’t even look up as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, the one Christine occupies when she’s out with you. He’d volunteered to watch you through the door to allow her some time to herself, something she hasn’t been getting much of. She’s been caring for you nearly 24/7, only getting breaks here and there while you sleep or nap, or on the rare occasion she trusts one of them to watch you. She never complains, but he knows she’s tired. Anyone would be after everything they’ve been through, after everything she’s had to see and experience over the last week and a half.

It’s the least they can do, even if you won’t allow them to do more. They all wish they could. They wish they could ease some of your suffering, take some of the strain off of Christine’s shoulders. Kyle even went so far as to invite his sister to visit over for the weekend in hopes she might be able to lighten the load, and to see if you’ll allow her closer than you’re allowing them to get.

He moves cautiously like he’s approaching a wild animal, not wanting to startle you and cause you more pain than you have been in. He can be a bull in a china shop, or he can be silent and deadly. He chooses something in the middle, making his footsteps just loud enough to be heard across the wooden planks of the porch, but he moves slowly enough he won’t startle you as he appears in your peripheral.

Your gaze never leaves the horizon, focused and far away even as he takes a seat next to you. His mug of coffee is warm in his hands, fighting off the chill outside. It’s a natural response to the sudden temperature change after being inside in the warm house. He almost wishes he had his own blanket, but then again, he’s not sure he’ll be outside very long.

He’s prepared for yelling, screaming, getting hit with your crutch as you tell him off, chasing him back inside. He’d almost prefer it over the eerie silence. He has to glance at you just to make sure you’re breathing, make sure the blanket is rising and falling over your chest. He follows your gaze out to the sea, sitting there silently as he gazes out at the dark blue water. Silence is hard for him. He can feel it throbbing in his ears, the ringing that fills his head when it’s quiet. He likes noise. He needs noise.

He just wants to hear you speak again.

He needs to hear you speak again.

He wants to talk to you, he wants to say something, he wants to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness. He wants to feel your touch again, even if it’s just a brush of fingers across his hand. He wants to get something out of you, some kind of reaction. You’re an empty shell, a ghost of what you were.

Tears fill his eyes as he stares out at the blue water. The silence is deafening as he sits there with you, still and quiet.

He might as well be sitting alone.

It’s the dead of night. The stars are out, or they would be if the clouds weren’t blocking them. It makes the world seem so much darker without their light. The fire is out, the curtains drawn closed. The only light is from the porch and the lights on the patio out back. The house is quiet, not even the hum of appliances filling the silence.

Kyle’s breaths are quiet and even, finally asleep after laying awake for far too long. Their backs are turned towards each other, yet the double bed forces them close enough they can feel the warmth radiating from the other. It’s the only position they can sleep in, even if they’ve woken up cuddling a few times in the night. It’s almost as if their brains are subconsciously trying to force the bonds back, to force the healing. It’s as if their instincts are laughing at them for trying to deny what they want deep down.

John lays there in the silence, his mind racing. He can’t sleep again for the fifth night in a row. He hasn’t been able to sleep since they left weeks ago on their mission to track down the missiles. No, it’s been longer than that. Not since you revealed the cameras to them. How long ago that seems now. How inconsequential it feels. If he knew back then what was going to happen, he would have changed a lot of things.

You can’t undo what was done. You can only change what happens going forward.

Things happened the way they happened. Now he has to make up for it. Now he has to prove himself not just as a capable alpha, but as a trustworthy human being. Your omega is screaming. He knows it. He had sensed it at dinner with your quiet sobs, the pain flooding your scent. He can still smell it, the sourness permeating his nostrils and sinking right into his brain. His alpha is still clawing at him angrily for just sitting there, for just letting it happen.

Simon intervened. Simon saved you once again.

He had barely comprehended the quick movement of Simon’s hand as he knocked the spoon out of your grip. He’d gotten soup on his hand, the droplets visible, yet he hadn’t moved as he sat there, letting it burn his skin. Better his than yours. He could almost hear Simon’s thoughts at that moment.

What a good alpha Simon is.

What a failure of an alpha John is.

Your omega must be screaming in your mind, clawing at her cage. It’s almost like he can hear it rattling in his ears, reminding him of the pain he’s caused you. The pain brought on by his failures.

Something is rattling in his ears, piercing through the silence.

It is a scream.

It’s your scream.

NEXT ->

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classyrbf · 4 months ago

Note

Heyyy could I request Trueform!sukuna fucking his wife in his throne pleaseee!! If that’s okay

LIKE A QUEEN! — RYOMEN SUKUNA

SYNOPSIS...what better way to get fucked than on your kings throne

INFO...true form!sukuna x wife!reader, reader calls sukuna “my lord”, groping, nipple play, oral (f!receiving), double penetration, anal, rough sex, squirting, love bomb (from reader), sukuna is kind sweet (?), sweet ending, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thanks for the request anon!

The door to the throne room echoed loudly against the stone walls. Your bare feet hit the cold porcelain floors as you stepped into the room, the door shutting behind you. The eerie silence surrounded your cold body, shivers form down your spine as you take notice of your husband, the king, sitting on his throne, wiping blood off one of his hands.

One of the servants had fetched you from the room, said the king ordered you to come to the throne room for a talk. After being married for three years now, you know a talk meant Sukuna was feeling frustrated, looking to take it on you in a sexual manner. “Come.” His deep voice rang in your ears.

Your feet pattered as you walked over, nipples hardening under the silk robe you wore, nothing else underneath. “My lord.” You got down on your hands and knees, bowing to him, showing your respects. Just standing a few feet away from him, you could tell he’s been pushed to his limit. A low audible groan could be heard as he stood from the throne, walking down the steps and standing just inches away from your head.

Your breath hitched, anticipating the moments that would could in just mere minutes. What twisted position would he put you in this time? How many hours until he was done with you? “Look at me.” You followed the simple order, rising your head slowly, still remaining on your knees. You gulped, biting the inside of your cheek, his tall stature casting a shadow over your figure like a mountain. “I’ve had a rough day.” His voice was almost like a growl, yet kept a stoic tone.

“I understand, my lord.” You went to undo his robe, instinctively thinking he wanted you to use your throat first, but he stopped you. His large hand grabbed yours, eyes piercing into yours. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.” You cast your eyes to the ground, wincing slightly when he squeezed your hand a little tighter. A small yelp fell from your lips as he pulled you to your feet, wide eyes staring into his. Your chest pressed against his, heart beating frantically.

He sighed, scanning your features. You stood there, unable to say or do anything. He was acting different, more quiet, less demanding. You weren’t sure what he was thinking—you never do. “Undress.” He pulled away from you, walking back up to the throne and sitting down, legs spread wide as he watched you carefully untie your gown. He rested his head in his hand, eyes focusing on the skin that started to reveal itself, before your robe dropped to the floor. A smirk lifted the corner of his lips. “Come closer.” He gestured with his finger. You inched towards the throne, afraid to even step foot near it as no one else but Sukuna was allowed to touch it. “Closer.”

You gulped, going as close at you could without wanting to be disrespectful towards your king. He leaned forward, one of his arms effortlessly pulling you onto his lap. You felt vulnerable, embarrassed. Everytime you’ve had sex with Sukuna, it has never gone this way. He was being so patient, leaving you guessing what’s going to come next. His hands cupped your tits, massaging them, squeezing them, playing with your nipples, tweaking them between his fingers. “Mmph!” You covered your mouth in an attempt to hide your moans, looking away from him.

You could feel his bulges press up against your wet cunt and ass, nudging against your clit each time he moved his hips. “Such perfect tits.” His words went straight to your pussy, your hole clenching around nothing as you began to grow needs for some sort of friction. But you knew better than to get yourself off without permission. “I’ve had a rough fucking day…and all I want,” he clenched his jaw, “is to taste you.” His two arms hoisted you up, sitting you on his face, holding you there on his shoulders. A blissful sigh escaped your throat at the feeling of his hot tongue darting between your folds. He growled, pinching your nipples while his tongue circled your clit.

You were caught by surprise, shocked and even more turned on than ever. It’s very rare that he takes his frustration out by eating your cunt and not fucking you till you can’t walk. Maybe it’ll be both. “Hah! Nngh!” Your eyes screw shut when he sucks on your puffy clit. He sucks up every last drop of your juices on his eager tongue, dark red eyes staring right into your soul. Without realizing, your hands reach for the tufts of his pink hair, grabbing onto it and pulling his face in closer, grinding your hips against him.

He lets out a deep chuckle, placing a sloppy kiss to your clit, his tongue fucking your hole while his nose nudges your clit. “Taste so fucking—mmm—good.” He pulls at your sensitive nipples, earning a squeal from you as you gasp for air. “Eager to cum, aren’t you?” He smirks against your pussy.

“Yes! Yes!” You nod, biting down on your bottom lip as you keep riding his face, his lips and chin coated your slick, glistening under the dim candle light of the throne room. “Please make me cum, my lord,” you beg, meekly. Just the thought of cumming on his tongue while being on his throne has your head spinning.

“You’ve been so patient—fuck—such a good wife to me,” he breathes heavily, savoring your taste on his tongue before he goes back in for more. He twists your nipples as his tongue flicks your clit, running up and down your folds.

“Right there! Hah! Ah! Yes! Fuck!” You cry out, legs quivering above him before you’re finally coming undone, tossing your head back in pleasure as laughs at the way you get so sensitive during your orgasm. “Nngh! Shit!” Your gasping, fistful of his hair in your hand while he drinks up every last drop. “Thank you,” you weakly mumble under your breath.

He placed you back down on his lap, watching the way you fall against him as you prepare yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Go slow, please,” you whisper into his ear, anticipating the moment you feel his two cocks nudge against your holes. His large hands get a grip on your hips, sinking you down on his throbbing cocks. You’re already shaking, holding onto him so tightly. His swollen tip nudges through your soaked folds, the other slowly entering your ass, inch by inch.

“Always so fucking tight,” he grunts through gritted teeth. He thrusts up into you, pushing your hips all the way down until your hips meet, a long drawn out cry leaving your lips as you bite down onto his shoulder. “My queen, always treating me right—ah, fuck yes!” He thrusts his hips upward, the tip kissing your cervix as your eyes roll bock from the sensation of being fucked in both of your holes. “Sucking me in, milking my cocks,” he breathily says. His heavy balls slap against your ass, his nails digging into your plush skin as you mewl, moans echoing through the chambers.

He’s going rough, gritting his teeth and baring his fangs, slamming your hips down to meet his thrusts because you’re not allowed to run from it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can barely talk, voice barely above a mumble as your brain turns to complete mush. Nothing else filling that head of yours except him fucking you. His hands pulls your arms back, allowing him to get a good look at you while plows your cunt.

He smiles as he watches the way you get shy, trying to avoid eyes contact with him but he makes it even harder when he has a good grip on your chin. You try and wiggle from his grip, but his sheer strength overpowers yours. Your back arches more as he hits your sweet spot, eyes rolling into the back of your head and your jaw goes slack.

His eyes are fixated on the way your titties bounce, snarling at the sight that was you, making him even more hungry for your pussy. He fucks deeper and harder, a cry leaving your lips as you struggle to take it, so much pleasure coursing through you, you were unsure if you had already came on his cocks or not. That was until you felt a liquid gush between your legs followed by a string of curses. “Oh my god! Yes!” You keep squiring the more he fucks you, Sukuna growing feral at the feeling of your holes clenching around him each time you do.

His thighs and abdomen are soaked, covered in your juices as he continues to hit that sweet spot over and over. You’re trembling in his hands, melting like putty, but he enjoys it so much, getting to fuck you like this on his throne. “You deserve this. Getting fucked on my throne like a queen should—like my queen should,” he snarls. “Fuck!” He pushes in deep, holding you there while you feel his cum fill up your holes, coating you insides before slowly dripping down his shaft. He thrusts up into you once more with a grunt, fucking his cum into you. “My fucking queen,” he breathes.

You fall forward onto his chest, head resting on his shoulder, completely exhausted. You can’t find it within yourself to move. “Thank you, my lord,” you weakly say. He removes himself from you, both of slightly whining at the loss of sensation. Though you’ve never done so, you take it upon yourself to plant a soft kiss on his lips, pulling away to scan his eyes. Without fear, you do so again, holding it for longer until he kisses you back. “I love you, my lord,” you say barely above a whisper. You understand he’d probably never say it back, but you’d like to think he’s shows it through his gestures.

“Stay here for a moment.” He holds you on his lap while you both catch your breath. His nails tracing patterns on your sweaty skin. He closes his eyes and rests the back of his head on the throne. Never once has he fucked any of his past wives on his throne, most of them didn’t even make it as far as you have. He’s starting to wonder if you’re actually something special, different. Your words ‘I love you’ is something he’d never heard from his past wives, nor from anyone before. He thinks they mean nothing, but hearing you say them sounds sweet, caring. He can tell you’re still scared of him at some points, but you still cling to him, find comfort in him. It’s odd.

With you in his arms he walks down the throne stairs, setting you on your feet. You look up at his tall stature as he grabs your robe from the cold floor, placing it around your body and tying it tightly. Without uttering a word, he lifts you back into his arms again, carrying you out of the throne room and back to his quarters, your shared bedroom. “We will clean together,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Yes, my lord,” you simply respond.

#—☆classyrbf #anime #anime smut #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna oneshot #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna x you #jjk x reader smut #jjk oneshot

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hvseung · 3 months ago

Text

stuck (s. jy)

pairing: older ceo!jake x employee!reader (f)

genre: smut.

warnings: explicit smut, dominant jakey, profanity, cheating, oral (m receiving), minor mouth play, unprotected sex🥸, minors DNI !

wc: 4.4k

🎵now playing: slow down by chase atlantic

.｡.:*:.:**:.☆*.｡.:*:.:*.｡.:*:.:**:.☆*.｡.:*:.:*

As the clock ticked toward 6:00pm, the office was slowly beginning to clear out, the only noises heard being the soft whirring of computers and a few stragglers murmuring soft goodbyes as they packed their things. However, here you were, furiously wracking your brain on how you were going to manage to get through the piles of paperwork, which had been dumped on your desk during your shift, in the span of the next half an hour when all you could focus on was the night ahead of you. After a long and grueling week, a peaceful night with your boyfriend, Soobin, was just what you needed. You smiled to yourself, already imagining his easy laugh and the way he always reaches for your hand without even thinking. You loved your boyfriend, obviously…. “Fuck this” you thought as you gathered your belongings, eager to leave and push the rest of your work responsibilities to the back of your mind. That’s a Monday job.

You adjusted the strap on your purse as you stepped into the elevator, mind too preoccupied to notice the hand quickly jamming between the doors just before they could slide closed. They opened again with a soft chime and you were pulled out of your daydream by the sight of your boss, Mr Jake Sim, standing on the other side. His tall frame, clad in a perfectly tailored suit, was almost the caricature of corporate authority. Of course, he was still here. He was always the last to leave, the type who believed in leading by example, even if it meant setting an impossibly high bar. You’d grown to admire his work ethic, even if it made the rest of you look a little lazy by comparison. “Heading out?”

“Yes, just about to.” You replied, trying to mask the slight annoyance in your tone. The last thing you wanted was to get trapped in a conversation about quarterly reports when you were this close to freedom. You shifted awkwardly as he stepped in. The silence between the two of you was loud, the only noise being the hum of the elevator as it began its descent, the small space amplifying the tension between you. It wasn’t that you disliked Jake; it was just… you two had history and he had a way of making everyone feel like they were being judged. His presence was a stark reminder that, in the hierarchy of the corporate world, you were just another cog in the machine.

12…11…10…9… You glanced at your watch, willing the elevator to move faster. You were eager to get out of the building, away from the sterile fluorescent lights and the endless stream of emails that had plagued you all day. You thought about texting Soobin, who was probably waiting in the car park for you right now, to let him know that you were on your way down. 8…7… But as if in response to your thoughts, the elevator jolted to a sudden halt. The lights flickered before the emergency lighting kicked in, leaving a dim and eerie glow over the two of you.

“Did we just…?” You murmured, looking up at the ceiling.

Jake moved quickly, pressing the buttons on the panel, but received no response from them. He pulled his phone out before sighing, the first sign of irritation breaking through his composed exterior “No signal.”

“No… no no this can’t be happening-“ You groan, panic evident in your faltering tone.

Jake responded with a short nod, his expression unreadable. “It looks like we might be in here for a while.”

As the minutes dragged on, you tried not the think about how long you were going to be stuck like this, or how it was ruining your plans with Soobin and how you didn’t have signal to let him know. Instead, you focused on staying calm, hoping someone would come to your rescue soon. But with every passing second, the shiny metal walls of began to close in on you. The silence between you and Jake grew heavier… and it wasn’t just the discomfort of being trapped. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you that neither had fully addressed but were both painfully aware of.

A year ago, things had been different. You had been one of Jakes top performers, a rising star in the department. You were quick, innovative, and always willing to go the extra mile. Jake had recognized your potential early on, and he had taken you under his wing, mentoring you and giving you opportunities to shine. You had spent long hours working together on projects, strategizing late into the night. You had respected his keen business acumen, and he had appreciated your fresh perspective and dedication.

It was during those late nights that something had shifted between you both. At first, it was just a shared glance that lingered a little too long, or a casual touch—a hand on your back as he guided you into a meeting room, or the brush of fingers as you passed papers to each other. Neither of you acknowledged it but it was intoxicating, this mix of professional respect and undeniable attraction. Both of you knew it was dangerous. He was your boss, nearly a decade older, with a reputation to maintain. You were becoming a crucial member in the company, with too much at stake to risk your career over something that could never be. Yet, the attraction was there, undeniable and electric, simmering just beneath the surface of your interactions. Not to mention your relationship.

But everything changed six months ago. You had been working on a major client pitch—one that could secure a crucial contract for the company. You had poured everything into it, sacrificing weekends and late nights, and Jake had been there every step of the way, guiding you, challenging you to push harder. There was an unspoken understanding between both of you, a mutual trust. The late nights grew longer, and the tension between you more palpable. There were moments when you were alone in his office, when knees would bump and the conversation would drift away from work, and for just a second, you would both forget who they were supposed to be. The lines blurred, and the unspoken attraction nearly spilled over into something neither could take back.

Then, just days before the presentation, he had unexpectedly pulled her from the project. No explanation, no discussion—just a curt email informing you that the project would be handed over to another colleague. You had been blindsided. You tried to ask him why, to understand what had gone wrong, but he had become cold and distant, shutting down every attempt you made to discuss it. Rumours circulated that the decision had come from higher up, that Jake had been pressured by senior management, but he never confirmed or denied them.

The fallout had been swift. You felt humiliated, betrayed by someone you had looked up to. You distanced yourself, retreating into your work, but the easy camaraderie you once shared was gone. You could barely look him in the eye during meetings, and your interactions became strictly professional, devoid of the warmth and mutual respect the two of you once had.

For you, being this close to him again brought back all the confusion, the hurt, but also the desire that had never fully gone away. The small space seemed to amplify the awkwardness, each moment stretching into an eternity as you both grappled with the weight of your unspoken history. Neither knew how to bridge the gap, or if it was even possible anymore.

Jake leaned against the wall of the elevator, his eyes flickering over to you every so often. You could tell he was uncomfortable too, if not more than you, but his poker face gave nothing away. He looked away, clearing his throat.

“You still seeing whats-his-name?” His voice was casual, but laced with an underlying curiosity

“Soobin?” You shifted awkwardly, playing with your fingers “Uh, yeah. I am.”

He nods slowly, as if he expected the answer, but still felt a pang of… jealousy? “Serious, huh?” He almost scoffed, feigning nonchalance.

“Yeah. We are.” I shrug, making Jakes eyes narrow slightly.

“Why him?” The question was blunt, almost blunt enough to be rude. He couldn’t help himself though, the thought of you with someone else, especially someone as carefree and easy going as Soobin, rankled him in a way that he couldn’t admit.

I scoff lightly. “Are you really going to do this now Mr Sim?”

“Oh, so its ‘Mr Sim’ now, is it?” He retorts, a familiar irritation settling in. “What happened to ‘Jakey’?”

“I’m pretty sure you made it clear that you wanted us to be strictly professional when you dropped me from that project.” You grit, the memory still a sore spot between the two of you.

He bristles at the reminder. “That wasn’t my decision,” he sighs, the excuse sounding weak now, especially in the confinement of the elevator. He turns to look at you properly. “And that was different. That was work. This… this is something else.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit, don’t act like that.” He takes a step closer towards you, invading your personal space “Like you don’t remember the late nights, the tension, or have you conveniently forgotten all about that part?”

“Mr Sim don’t do this. Not now.” You finally meet his gaze, your patience warring thin.

“Why not?” He counters with a bitter laugh. “Seems like as good a time as any to have this conversation.”

“There is no conversation to be had,” You swallow harshly as he steps closer, his tall frame looming over you “it was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” His jaw clenches, the air thicker than it was. “Is that really what you think it was?”

You couldn’t deny that you knew full well what it was. You liked Jake, as much as you wouldn’t admit. The worst part being, he was everything your boyfriend wasn’t. He was everything you longed for your boyfriend to be. You felt awful, in fact, the knowledge of your feelings towards Jake had been eating away at you everyday since the day they started. The late nights working side by side, the discreet touching, it was more than a simple attraction; it was completely wrong. But that just made you want it even more.

The proximity was almost intoxicating, the familiar heat of his body igniting a fire in you that you had tried so hard to smother. You could smell his cologne, the same scent that you would spend hours trying to rid yourself of before going home after late nights spent with him at work. The memory hit you like a physical blow, and you found yourself holding your breath. You cursed your body’s betrayal, the way it ached for his touch, even as your brain screamed in protest.

Jakes gaze darkened, the last shred of his patience and self-control hanging by a thread. He lifted his hand, his fingers hovering a mere inch away from your face. It would be so easy. So easy for him to claim what he had been yearning for, to forget the boundaries he had placed between you.

“Would this be a mistake too?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Jakey…”

His resolved shattered. He surged forwards, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you hard against his chest, crashing his lips onto yours in a passionate, desperate kiss. The months of pent-up desire, the longing, the uncertainty, it all exploded in that moment. You opened your mouth to protest, but his tongue delved deep, silencing any words. He pushed you back against the wall, pinning you there as his lips claimed you with an intensity that was almost animalistic.

One of his hands reached to tangle in your hair, tugging it back to give him access to your neck as he began to suck and nip at the sensitive flesh. You gasp, almost whining, and he relished in the sound, his other hand gripping your thigh and hoisting it up to hold against his hip.

“Jake we can’t- not here.” You protest.

“Don’t care,” he retorted, his lips trailing to your collarbone. He nicked softly at the skin, his teeth grazing the flesh and leaving small marks “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.” He ground his hips against yours, making his intentions and arousal blatantly obvious. His hand caressed your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “You don’t understand how torturous it’s been, seeing you every day and knowing I can’t touch you.”

His hand slid under your blouse, his touch igniting sparks across your skin. It was wrong, so wrong, and yet it felt so right. He pulled the fabric taunt, his large hand splaying over your stomach. You arched into his touch, begging for more.

Jake smirks at your reaction; the small sighs and whines that leave your pretty lips as you subtly arch your back. He knows you want it as badly as he does, your body giving you away. His hand slides up your ribcage, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin below your bra.

“See?” He murmurs, his hand cupping your breast through the thin lacy fabric that he loved so much. “I knew you wanted this; wanted me.” His voice was gravelly, rough with desire. You knew he was right. Youd fought against it for so long, denying your feelings and convincing yourself you were happy with your relationship. But now, here, with jakes body pressed against yours like this, all your justifications seemed hollow. He tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his heavy gaze. His eyes were dark, almost predatory, and they pierced right through you.

“Say it.” He commanded and his hand kneaded your breast gently “Say you want me.”

“I want you Mr Sim.” You whimper without any hesitation.

“That’s what I thought.” His mouth was back on your neck, his tongue licking a hot, wet trail down the column of your throat. His teeth sink into your pulse point, sucking the skin into his mouth. You could feel his hand sliding lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your trousers. He was driving you insane, reducing you to nothing but a whining mess as he slowly unbuttons your blouse. He pops one button at a time, kissing and biting the skin in between each one.

You moan, tilting your head back to give him complete access to the sensitive skin on your neck whilst one of your hands reaches to tangle in his hair. He responds to your touch with a deep, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a purr. He pushed your breasts together, pulling away from your neck to purse his lips. You watched as a glob of spit falls from his lips and lands on one of your nipples before rolling down the crevice.

Jake moaned loudly, immediately ducking his head to smear his lips around your boobs, nipping and sucking at them. You moan louder, arching your breasts further into his mouth and allowing his to suck them properly. He devours your tits, each falling out of his mouth with a satisfying 'pop'. His mouth returned to yours, his tongue delving between your lips to devour you entirely. He catches your lip between his teeth, biting down gently.

“On your knees.” He ordered, and you obeyed immediately.

He inhaled sharply as he watched you sinking to your knees before him, his hands instinctively going to your hair. “Look at you, doll,” He muttered. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, smearing any lipstick that remained. “I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t approve of this.”

You whine, the mere idea of your boyfriend having completely slipped your mind. But you were too far gone to care, opening your mouth slightly, just enough for him to slip his thumb past your teeth. His eye darkened further, the digit sliding further into your mouth.

“You like sucking on my fingers, don’t you?” He chuckled; his voice thick with need. “Bet you like your boyfriends just as much.”

“No sir.” You shake your head meekly. “Like your fingers so much more.”

“Is that so?” His voice was a little raspier now, desperate for something more than just this back and forth teasing. “Then show me how much you like them.”

You take index and middle finger whole, gagging and swirling your tongue around the thick digits. Jake groaned, his eyes widening as he watches you take him so easily. He tightened his grip on your hair, pulling slightly. “That’s it.”

His unoccupied hand moves to the front of his trousers, undoing his belt and top button in one fluid motion. He was achingly hard, and the slight of you like this in front of him was thinning his patience. You pull your mouth from his fingers, reaching up in a desperate attempt to help him undress. He let out a hiss as your fingers make contact with his strained pants. “Yeah, unzip me then.”

The sound of his zipper being drawn echoed in the quiet elevator. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, your wet lips, the way your fingers fumble with his pants, the flush on your cheeks that gave away your mounting excitement. God, he was desperate.

You get his pants down, whining as he tugs your hair forward to press your cheek flush against his thick bulge. The feeling of you face against his clothed dick make him shiver, his hips canting forward involuntarily; seeking more contact. “You like that, don’t you? God your so dirty. Are you this dirty for your pathetic boyfriend too?”

“No sir, only you.”

“Good,” He groaned again, pulling on your hair again. “I don’t share.”

Your finger hook underneath his boxers waistband, tugging on the elastic and letting it snap back against his skin before pulling them down completely. He helped you, kicking the boxers down until the pooled at his ankles with his trousers He stood there, his lower half completely exposed to you, but he held your chin in his face, keeping you gaze on his.

“You see how much you affect me, doll?” He smirked predatorily as your eyes fixed on his cock, hard and flushed against his stomach. “But you’re gonna take care of this for me, aren’t you?”

Your tongue darted out, licking a tentative stripe up the underside of his boner. He let out a shuddered breath, his hand clenching reflectively in your hair. He guided your head closer, encouraging you to take him properly. You run your tongue over his slit before closing your lips around the head. He groaned, his body arching towards you and silently bidding you to keep going.

“Look at me when you suck my dick baby.” He ordered. Your eyes immediately catch his gaze; his half-lidded eyes that perfectly complimented his bottom lip caught between his teeth. The sight encouraged you, holding his gaze as you take him whole and wrapping your lips around his base. Jakes head rolls back, a deep, guttural moan escaping his throat. He pants as you begin bobbing your head at his base, your nose nudging against his lower abdomen with a soft gag. “Fuck, just like that.”

You speed up, taking him even deeper - if that was possible, desperate to take as much of him as you possibly could. His muscles clenched in response, his abs flexing as he drew in a gasping breath. He finally looks down at you again, eager to see what you look like taking him so far down your throat like this; and you didn’t disappoint. You looked at him through your eyelashes, sucking him so deliciously with a teary expression. He couldn’t look away; he didn’t dare. It was too perfect, so erotic and beautiful.

“You can’t look at me like that, YN,” He moans. “I won’t last.”

You immediately double down, bobbing and swirling your tongue like your life depended on it. You had a different purpose now; this was no longer about him, this was about you. You and your desperation to taste him. His hands twist in your hair, his grip border lining on painful.

“Holy fuck-“ He choked, his stomach coiled like a spring. He was so close to cumming, but he didn’t want to. Not yet, not like this. He moved your mouth off him, pulling you up to your feet and pushing you back against the wall. “Turn around. Now.”

As soon as your back is turned to him, his hands are on you in an instant. His fingers run up the clothed skin of your thighs before reaching around the unbutton your trousers. He undid the button and zipper with a swift, practiced motion, each tooth separating echoing in the cramped space. He pushed the material down, the cold air hitting your soaked core immediately. His hands glide slowly over the newly exposed skin, teasing you.

“So smooth,” He mused, his voice almost a soft whine. “I knew you’d be.”

He pushes your thighs together, rutting his dick between them. You moan in unison, his tip bumping against your clit. He just couldn’t help himself, seeing you so wet and puffy for him was making him borderline insane.

“Don’t tease me, Jakey.” You whine as he holds your thighs closer together. He chuckled at your pleading, the old nickname making his spine shiver. He ruts between your thighs one more time before abruptly slipping into your pussy. You gasp loudly as he pushes in, grasping onto the hand-railing in front of you as you adjust to his size.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” He groans as he grips your hips, pulling you back to take him fully as he finally begins to rock into you. “Does your boyfriend even fuck you?”

You were too lost in the moment, the feel of him, the way he held you, the sound of his voice, that you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak. But when he mentioned your boyfriend, a pang of guilt stabs at your chest.

“No?” He assumed, scoffing loudly. “I bet he doesn’t even know how to.”

His arm tightened around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. His hips speed up, making your head fall back against his shoulder with a loud moan.

“You need someone who can take care of you,” he told you, his breathing becoming a little ragged. “Someone who knows what you want, what you need.”

The only thing that can be heard in the confined elevator now is skin slapping, combined moans and your body hitting the metal wall with each deep thrust. You respond with a whine, pushing your hips back to encourage him. He catches your signal, slamming his hips against yours.

“That’s it, baby,” He hisses, his fingers digging into your hips desperately. “Take what you need.”

You could feel every inch of him. Every inch of his thick, veiny length as he filled you up perfectly with each thrust. It made your head spin as you moaned and cried desperately. There was no you could go back to your boyfriend after this, not now that you knew what real dick felt like. And he seemed to sense your realisation, the way your body arches against him, the way your eyes rolled back so beautifully. You were his now.

He increased his pace, his tip bumping against your g-spot with every harsh blow. The pleasure was mounting between you, both of your stomachs coiled like springs. But neither of you dared to say anything, too desperate to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

He could feel you getting tighter, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice; like you never wanted him to pull away. Jake moans, a needy whine in his throat. Every movement, every breath, moan – it was all for you. He was entirely wrapped up in you.

“I’m so close baby.” His hips bucked forwards more, aiming to get as deep as he possibly could.

The sound of his moans, the way he was falling apart because of you, it only served to push you closer to the edge. You could feel his eagerness and it made you want him even more. “Me too!”

“You gonna make a mess on my dick?” He pants, his tip continuing to slam against your g-spot. "Gonna make a mess like a good slut?"

“Yes!” You moan loudly. His hips stutter at your admission, his rhythm growing erratic and sloppy. “Wanna cum with you.”

“Please let me come in your sweet pussy, baby” He whines, desperately nudging his nose against you neck before attacking the spot with bites.

“Fill me up sir!” You push back against him again. But it wasn’t enough for him, he needed you to cum.

“Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum on this dick.” And that was all it took for your walls to clamp down on him and for your juices to explode down your thighs with a loud cry. His head dropped to your shoulder, his breathe catching in his throat, the feeling and sound of you pushing him headfirst into pure ecstasy.

“Fuuck, doll!” He came, filling you up perfectly with a loud whine as his arms wrapped around you in a vice-like grip. He stayed like that for a moment, panting into your neck. He didn’t want to move, his body taut with exhaustion. “You look so pretty when you fall apart like that. So pretty.”

He slowly pulls out of you, almost hardening again when he watches his cum drip down your thighs in thick globs. You flinch as you turn around, a ball of clothes hitting you in the face. Your fingers grasp the clothing, pulling them down from your face to glare at him. “Yeah, real classy.”

As if on cue, the elevator jolted, beginning its decent again. You sigh, relieved that you could finally escape the humid box you had been trapped in for the past 20 minutes. You both put your clothes back on, smoothing the fabric and fixing each other hair. The elevator finally reaches the ground floor, both of stepping out together.

“See you Monday?” He smirks.

“See you Monday.” You roll your eyes as you turn on your heels. You walk away from him and out into the car park, desperately hoping Soobin hadn’t left yet. Jake watched as you retreat out of his view, thanking god.

Thanking god that you didn’t notice him push the emergency stop.

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@ hvseung, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway. thankyou :)

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#enhypen #kpop #fanfic #fanfiction #sim jaeyun #sim jake #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #enhypen smut #enha #enhypen fanfiction

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hayw1res · 3 months ago

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𖦹 ` 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝅄 ; synopsis : von lycaon is a true gentleman, he would never act on his selfish desires on his master. that is until mating season rolls around…

𝅄 ; warnings : 18+ , knotting , mating press , mentions of breeding “pregnancy and pups” , p in v , unprotected sex , light predator x prey , slight dubcon but everything is consensual , animalistic urges , slight fluff at the end

𝅄 ; a/n : my first fic on this account, i do hope you enjoy! my requests are open of course. not proofread ; sorry for any errors!

NEW ERIDU, is home to many individuals and home to many different factions. One of those being Victoria Housekeeping . You found yourself at the mercy of those individuals from time to time, especially the ever so proper Von Lycaon. A gentleman through and through , who isn’t afraid of protecting his dear master from the depths of the hollows where you often find yourself after conducting research.

Now, you knew better not to get too involved in any of his personal business, but when he sent a sudden notice of absence it worried you. Why on earth would he need to leave? For how long? What was wrong with him? You had to know, as his close friend and well.. esteemed patron. That’s what lead you to meet at the place you knew would have your answers. Strangely enough, none of the girls were home either, not even Ms Alexandrina.

It sent a shiver down your spine as you crept through the empty halls, it was silent..eerie. It was almost perfect for their faction at least but even for them this seemed a little far fetched. A little too silent for your liking. You could hear the way your heel clicked and clacked against the concrete floor beneath you. It was dark, the sun set a while ago..the moon shined bright through one of the cracked windows, the cold hair caused your hairs to raise and goosebumps to form. Why was everything suddenly so much scarier?

You just needed to find Lycaon and deliver the basket of treats you made for him , to hopefully quell whatever illness he described in his latest message as to why he had to be distant for a while. You turned the corner, only a few feet away from the room of the wolf thiren when you heard a growling. It pierced through your ears as the only thing breaking the eerie silence, that and now your increased heartbeat. You gasp, It sounded like he was in pain.. you didnt want him to feel pain anymore! You were just here to help.

You pick up the pace almost speed walking to his door, it was locked. You turn the handle again and again, calling out to him to let you in! To let you cure his sickness. Oh how naive and ignorant you are. The wolf was no longer the pristine and well groomed man you usually met , but more an untamed beast of pure and undeniable lust. The door swung open, almost off its hinges as he towered above you. Did he get taller? His chest was exposed, his once clean attire was discarded in rags behind him. He panted , his fangs almost dripping in saliva as he looked at you like you were his meal.

You didnt know why your legs burned as you ran away from the beast, you didn’t even know why you were running to begin with. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you heard his heavy footsteps behind you, no less giving you a lead. You knew Lycaon could catch up to you if he truly wanted to. But this wasn’t Lycaon this was someone—something else. You blanked, which way did you come from? Where were you? You made the mistake of standing idle while an animal hunted you. His breathing was ragged in your ear as his clawed hand tightened around you waist yet he didnt hurt you, in fact it was the opposite.

“Stay.” He finally spoke, his voice was almost unrecognizable as the rest of his appearance. His fur was unkept, his eyes were almost completely black as he stared down at you..but the small part of him was still there- that still wanted to protect you, his master. He knew exactly how to, he knew how to protect you from everyone else, everyone who wasn’t him—every other thiren or human out there who dared to claim you. No. He would do it first before them all.

Completely compromised, you’re almost forced in position with your face touching the hard cold floor and his hands forcibly tearing apart your garments. You squeal, you try and break free and tell Lycaon to calm down! Your pleads fall deaf to his ears, the only sense he can make out is your scent. Arousal, fear.. it was a deadly mix for a wolf, it made him crave you more. His hands were somehow soft against your plush skin, playing with the fat of your thighs as he forced your body in every position he could until he was satisfied. You couldn’t help but feel your core leak at the sight of him when you’re finally on your back. His cock was large and swelling, pulsing over your entrance as he tried to hold back every urge he could until he knew you were ready.

His long digits found way into your core, it stun as he dragged them in and out, you knew you needed more than this you needed him. “Ly—Lycaon” You’d call, forcing him to throw out every thought telling him to take his time. You needed him as he needed you, and who was he to deny his master their desire? He almost couldn’t resist when your walls clamped around his thick member, his saliva dripped down onto your exposed chest- coating your mounds with the liquid as his hand came up to massage it in. His pace began slowly, he still cared of course. You could feel everything, every thrust, every twitch—you could feel it all.

Gradually he sped up, he started to thrust at an unforgiving pace, his moans breathless and mixing with your downright pornographic voice, he never felt so much pleasure in his life—all that buildup truly meant something now that he can unload everything he had into you, yes, yes hed give you his all. He would fill you to the brim and get you nice and pregnant with his kin—with his pups. You could do that right?

“you-you will mother..mother my kin—wont you master?” He purred, his tongue lapping at your neck as he started to fuck you like an animal- like the beast he truly was. You could barely speak back, your brain was practically mush at this point. You could only cling to the little you could as your poor cunt got abused by his unforgiving pace. His knot began to swell against the base of his cock, you could feel it prodding at your entrance— no, you couldn’t take this! Not when you could barely take his cock. That didn’t matter to Lycaon though, you would take it whether you liked it or not. His hands came to your thighs yet again but this time to force them beside your head, your teary eyed fucked out face only urged him on.

“yes—yes! take my knot.. my beloved-! my master—please, please let me in..” He’d growl before biting down on your neck , you scream as you feel that familiar burst of energy shock through you- the slick from your cum and arousal created the perfect substance for his knot to slide inside of you..filing you to the brim with his cum. He licked at your neck as his tail wagged behind him furiously.. he finally found someone suitable for his kin.. for his love..for his desires to be fulfilled.

He couldn’t let you go now, not even long after he calmed down. In reality, he was terrified on seeing you now that he was in the right state of mind..what an idiot he was. “Master—I deeply apologize for my behavior. This is why I notified everyone about the full moon” His voice made you chuckle, of course.. the damn moon. “Master-?” He called again, afraid he may have broken you. You surely were “broken” at least that’s how your body felt.

“Lycaon”

“Yes Master-?”

“Carry me to bed”

“Of course..I am at your service”

#zzz #zzzero #zzz lycaon #von lycaon #zenless zone zero lycaon #lycaon x reader #lycaon smut #von lycaon x reader #hoyoverse #genshin impact #honkai star rail #smut writer #zenless zone zero #von lycaon smut #zzz x reader #zzz smut #zenless zone zero x reader #𖦹⠀⠀ ˖ haywires ! ~

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stunie · 5 months ago

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“DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU, I SWEAR!”

WIND BREAKER BOYS + ACCIDENTALLY HURTING YOU. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, nirei akihiko, sakura haruka, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader.

filled request: “Hi there i want to request something, asking Sakura, Ume, Nirei, Kaji and Suo to play fight and they accidentally hit you hard (If it's to many you can just do Suo and Kaji, no pressureeee)”

sfw. 3.2K wc. a/n: added togame! & tried to make suo & kaji’s xtra long since those 2 look like they might be ur faves <33

HAYATO SUO.

in the time you’ve spent dating suo, you have never once managed to successfully sneak up on him. not even remotely close. it’s impossible to the point that you’ve started to consider the fact that your boyfriend may have developed a sort of sixth sense since meeting you, an intuitive awareness of your presence— because as soon as you step within a three foot radius of him, his head is swiftly turning to face you, greeting you with an amused smile and a “this again?” with that tone that has your eyebrow twitching all over again.

you continue to fiddle with the bottom of your shirt from where you’re hidden behind your apartment door, anxiously awaiting for the moment suo emerges from outside. your plan was nothing short of perfect, every little detail thought out— and you were entirely sure of it this time.

you had given suo a copy of your key ages ago, so that he could come in at anytime without you needing to be there. a second check of your phone’s messages has you mentally preparing yourself when you reread his “i’m coming~” text from exactly twenty minutes ago, and you smile to yourself. asking him to come by and babysit your cat while you went on a quick snack restock errand was the best excuse, and a part of you feels a little guilty for formulating such an intricate plan just to get a scare out of your boyfriend— but it had to be done.

the sound of suo’s key wiggles inside the doorknob, your breath hitching in your throat when you hear the lock switch just a few seconds after, followed by the eerie creaking noise that your door always seems to make.

“i’m here,” suo sings out to no one in particular, his usual smile etched onto his face as he takes a peek inside. dark, and empty. nothing unusual, not that he was expecting anything out of the ordinary in the first place.

as soon as he takes a step inside, he’s going to take off his shoes first, and you jump on the opportunity. you’re quick to lunge at him the second his thumb slips in his shoe, aiming to launch yourself into his middle and crush him in a suffocating hug. you don’t miss the way he tenses for a split second, eyes widening at the sudden movement— mind immediately flashing to his first thought…. an intruder?

he doesn’t recognize you at first, your figure reduced to a blur— and all he knows is that something is headed towards him. and fast. he’s moving on pure instinct, arm reaching for the closest thing to him at that moment: your arm.

you gasp when you realize just how agile your boyfriend really is. the truth is— you’ve never seen him fight, and he doesn’t really talk to you about it. he has a habit of leaving all the details out, and you don’t usually find yourself asking him about it after seeing the way he’s always coming out of fights unscathed. so sure. you knew he was probably pretty strong.

but you had no idea he was like this.

“w-wait!” you yelp when his foot comes to loop around your ankle, and you’re suddenly falling backwards. your hand desperately moves to catch onto something— anything to avoid falling onto the floor, so you grab a fistful of suo’s shirt.

he’s clenching his jaw in shock when you roughly yank him down with you, the familiar sound of your voice registering a second too late, because the two of you are crashing onto the ground a second later, suo’s weight knocking the wind out of your chest.

there’s a moment of silence as the two of you wince, your eyes fluttering open to meet with suo, looming over you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. genuine concern … and what looks to be .. shock?

it takes you another moment to take note of the subtle warmth you’re feeling until you finally recognize it as suo’s hand that’s currently cradling the back of your head— and you’re at a loss as to exactly when or how he managed to do that in only a split second.

“i’m sorry,” suo chuckles sheepishly, “you got me this time. i really thought you were an intruder.”

“but did you hit your head? hard? are you okay?” he continues, other arm coming to pull you up and hold you against his chest. “tell me.”

“i think so,” you’re barely able to mumble, heat rushing to your cheeks at the realization that suo’s first thought wasn’t to cushion his own fall, but to protect your head instead. “not that hard though… i think. it doesn’t hurt very much.”

suo’s gaze on you is suddenly much more noticeable, and you’re tearing your eyes away from him a second later, sneaking glances back and forth as he continues to search for any signs of pain.

none that he notices, and the way your lips are pressed in a nervous line is a good sign, at least. suo lets out a relieved sigh before he’s smiling again, as if you hadn’t just spooked the sealed spirits out of him.

“let’s not do that again, okay?”

KAJI REN.

you’ve never seen the night market this packed in your entire life.

it’s so busy that it’s almost suffocating, each breath taking double the effort from the way your body is being smothered between people as kaji leads you towards the food stands.

‘the best fried octopus you’ll ever try,’ your friend had said…but you’re seriously reevaluating you and kaji’s decision to come here— on the busiest night all summer to top it off.

it definitely wasn’t the best idea the two of you have come up with.

you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve said the words “excuse me!” and “sorry, getting through!” tonight. a part of you feels bad for your boyfriend— because you knew kaji was way worse off than you, the scowl on his face running the risk of being permanently etched onto his face from the sheer intensity of his glare. the grip he has on your wrist is tighter than ever before, trying his best to weave his way through the crowd without losing you.

kaji knows his mood is worsening each time someone bumps into him, and twice— or even three times as much when he feels someone bumping into you instead. he can feel the way your body roughly jerks back from the impact, and it was stressing him out more than he could imagine. the possibility of losing you and leaving you all alone in an aggressive crowd like this was the last thing he wanted.

he’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear you call out his name the first time, or the second time. not even the third time. he doesn’t hear your voice trail off a bit when you mention that his grip is starting to hurt a little— to maybe hold hands instead.

he didn’t hear any of it.

kaji catches a glimpse of an emptier area, and he’s suddenly pulling harder at your wrist to lead you to it, not hearing you squeak out an “ouch, that hurts!”

and it hurts badly, warm tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to try and keep up with him. it’s only when he suddenly jerks you around a corner that you’re tripping over the curb, stumbling and crashing into his back with a loud ‘ouch!’ that he finally turns to take a look at you.

kaji’s eyes are widening at the sight— your teary eyes peering up at him through wet lashes and your hand gingerly rubbing at your wrist. his words catch in his throat, barely able to sputter out an “are you.. okay?”

you shake your head quickly, lips tugging to a shaky frown. “you were hurting my wrist, kaji.”

his chest feels tight.

kaji is quick to bring your hand in his, gently cupping your hand as he looks at your wrist, and the guilt is flooding through him all at once. the thought of hurting you has him grimacing, feeling physically ill just thinking about it, and it’s not long before his mind is racing through all the scenarios.

he didn’t want to hurt you— and he doesn’t want to be someone you saw as ‘dangerous’ either. your wrist was so delicate, and it was a terrifying reminder of his strength— because he didn’t even realize that he was squeezing in the first place.

he truly had no idea.

“it’s okay,” your voice slices through the thick air, ripping him out of his thoughts, “i know you were stressed— it was scary over there.”

“i was scared too, kaji.”

the gentle smile you give him is the only thing that can bring him this much comfort, he thinks. it’s enough to clear his head, his heartbeat settling down, and he’s ripping another lollipop open before popping it in his mouth, turning and kneeling onto the floor.

“you can get on.”

even without his words, it’s a gesture you’re very familiar with— so you don’t hesitate for a second before climbing onto his back, arms circling around kaji as he lifts you up. there’s a subtle pink dusting the tips of his ears when you press a gentle kiss to his head, thanking him for carrying you.

“it’s not a problem,” he grumbles, voice coming out low as a futile attempt to hide the excited thump of his heart.

“get comfy up there, because we’re not leaving this damn market until we get a hold of that octopus.”

NIREI AKIHIKO.

nirei swears that he had no idea that the pillow he had just thrown towards you a moment ago had buttons decorating the outside.

he really didn’t know, and of course it was the only pillow that happened to land right on your face.

“i’m so sorry! are you okay?” his voice comes out frantic as he rushes towards you, terrified eyes watching the way you rub your eye and groan in pain. this was terrible, he was terrible. pillows were never supposed to cause you any pain.

“it…it hit your eye? i’m so sorry,” he repeats, hands coming up to do something— wave around you in panic, because he’s not quite sure if he should touch you or leave you be. his hands hover just in front of your face, mind racing with potential ways he could help.

he jolts when you laugh a bit.

“you really picked the worst pillow,” your laugh comes out strained as you try and blink, vision spotted with dots from the hit you’ve taken. “…it’s okay though.”

it takes you a couple more seconds to see nirei clearly, and you can tell that he’s absolutely devastated with just one glance, nervous hands finally coming to grab at your shoulders, keeping you still so he can inspect your eye.

“let me see.”

he’s leaning in a bit, until his face is just a couple inches in front of yours. “i think um,” he squints a bit, ignoring the warmth rising to his cheeks from the proximity, “i think your eye looks fine.”

the guilt is still eating him alive. a part of him wishes that you had been the one to grab that pillow instead, because he’s certain he would have jumped on the opportunity to tank a hit from a buttoned pillow a thousand times before letting it hit you just once. straight in the eye. anywhere. it doesn’t matter to him.

“it probably is,” you give him a small smile, “but you still cheated. i won that fight.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“i-i didn’t know you were there!”

sakura’s a complete and utter mess, and he genuinely didn’t know any better. he didn’t hear you creeping up behind him, so when your arms suddenly wrapped around his middle, his reflex was to jab his elbow straight behind him— and it hit you square in the face.

he could feel his heart shatter into pieces when the sound of your yelp rang in his ears, jerking his body around only to see you stagger backwards, clutching your nose and peering up at him through those teary eyes.

sakura doesn’t know what to do. you’re sniffling now, your arms reaching out to hug him a second time, your voice barely coherent as you start babbling with a shaky voice, the only words he could recognize being “i deserve a hug for that.”

he’s a complete mess. he’s stiff when he lets you wrap your arms around his middle this time, face flushed with red at the simple touch and his heart hurting at the sound of you sniffling against his jacket, hand coming to wipe at the tears welling up in your eyes.

it’s impossible for him to not think of the worst— because he knows other guys wouldn’t be making this kind of mistake. his friends wouldn’t have elbowed you in the face in the first place. or at the very least, his friends would know how to comfort someone in this type of situation. he wants to kick himself for just standing there, words catching in his throat every time he tries and apologize.

“sorry…” your voice is quiet, but it’s enough to yank him out his thoughts. “i shouldn’t have scared you like that.”

it takes sakura a couple seconds before his mouth is falling at the apology. “huh?” he’s dumbfounded, hands coming to grab at your shoulders, “i should be apologizing!”

his face erupts in a furious blush when you giggle at his reaction, thumb coming to swipe at the tears that have spilled onto your cheeks. it’s only then when he tugs you back into a tight hug, hand cradling the back of your head to hold you flush against him.

he thinks it’s because he can’t stand to see you cry.

“o-oh?” you whisper against his chest. “this is new.”

sakura chooses to ignore your little remark, clenching his jaw as he glares at your wall, gaze locking on anything except you. “i should be sorry,” he repeats again, his voice barely coherent with the way he’s fighting against his blush, “so you should just … you know. tell me. when you want a hug..”

TOGAME JO. (pet name: doll)

“that’s not right, doll,” togame coos from below you, lips tugging into an amused grin as he watches you struggle to master the self-defense moves that you asked him to teach you an hour ago. or maybe two. it’s normal for him to lose track of time when he’s with you anyway.

your boyfriend doesn’t seem to realize that you don’t have the same stamina he does. or the focus, because you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again— unsure if it’s because you’re embarrassed of your confused attempts at grabbing him, or if it’s the fact that he’s so casually sprawled out underneath you.

“you listenin’?”

you perk up, followed by a delayed nod. a little too obvious, but he doesn’t say anything.

“you grab me here,” his voice is gentle, guiding your hands back to hover over his body, “and then you pull. remember?”

and you nod again. but the sound of his voice, slow and steady, paired with the way he’s lazily propped up on his elbows to look up at you through tired eyes has your mind spinning all over again, instructions already going out your other ear as you try again and take a large fistful of his sweatshirt.

“..like this?”

he hums, lips tugging into a smile. “that’s good, doll. now pull the way i showed you.”

and you do— or you try to. you tug with all your strength, but you can tell he hasn’t moved an inch. you can hear him hum in wonder above you, and that’s all it takes for your eyes to slam shut as you jerk and pull with all your strength— and you feel some movement for the first time tonight.

“wait…” togame interrupts, but you don’t stop, pulling and pulling— not realizing you’ve inched towards to very edge of your mattress. “wait— we’ll fall,” he repeats with a little more urgency.

it’s a second too late when you realize it, eyes shooting open the second gravity tips the balance, and you’re plummeting backwards with a shriek. togame’s twisting his body to catch you as fast as he can, but the frantic movement has his fist connecting with your cheek before he grabs a hold of you, yanking you upwards and into him.

“fuck,” you wince, rubbing your cheek with the back of your hand as you huff. “that hurt a bit..”

“sorry,” togame lulls, legs spread to have you seated right in front of him, “i was trying to catch you… didn’t mean to smack you like that. are you okay..?”

his hands come to cup your cheeks, tilting your head up to look at the him. the familiar heat in your cheeks returns as soon as you lock eyes with him, because he’s so close. you can feel his breath fan against your lips with the proximity.

and he’s looking right at you.

“‘m okay,” your voice is just above a whisper, “you barely even grazed me, anyway..”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

“when did you take that?!”

your arms shoot up to reach for ume’s phone, cheeks burning with embarrassment— because that had to be the most foul photo you’ve ever seen of yourself. the sound of your boyfriend erupting into the loudest laugh you’ve heard all day only has you seething— and he’s effortlessly holding his phone just out of your reach, as if to taunt you even further.

“you don’t need to know,” he grins widely, watching the way you shift your weight onto your toes in a futile attempt to reach his phone. “and it’s cute! you don’t think so?”

“give it!” you hiss, and you lunge forward to start pulling at the arm that has the phone, “i’m deleting it!”

“no way,” he retorts with a huff, but you’re pulling his sleeve with your full strength, and it catches ume off guard a bit, foot stumbling forward a step. he’s never seen you pull with all your might— so he just wasn’t expecting it.

you’re lunging again before he’s regained his balance, and he shifts his weight backwards, lower back colliding with the table behind him. his phone slips from his grip too fast for either of you to react, and it lands on your nose with a sickening thud.

his laughter vanishes as soon as you’re letting out a pained yelp, hands coming to clutch your nose, squeezing the bridge to ease the pain.

“ow….” you whimper, voice cracking a bit as tears start to flood your lash line. his heart breaks in two when he sees you sniffle, desperately blinking away the tears that threaten to spill as you check your hand.

no blood. just a lot of pain.

“i’m so sorry,” he’s hovering over you within a second, nervous arms fluttering just above your frame— because he hasn’t quite figured out what to do, and you look so fragile like this. he just doesn’t want to break you.

“..are you okay?” he breaks the silence, “let me see you.”

your face is buried in your hands when ume kneels in front of you, hands coming to gently tug at your wrists so you can look at him. “i’m sorry,” he repeats even quieter, worry flooding his expression when you tear your gaze away from him.

it’s your attempt at trying to get rid of the tears threatening to spill, but he doesn’t know know that. his lips are tugging into a deep frown, eyes filled with worry as he tries to get you to just look at him again.

“look at me, okay?” he whispers, “let me see.”

a deep inhale, and you’re trying to make your voice come out steady again. “i think..i think it’s okay.”

your eyebrows furrow. “you klutz…”

the relief in his face is almost too obvious. he’s taking a sharp inhale, opening his arms to urge you to come for a hug. “i know,” he chuckles, “are you sure? you’re okay?”

you give ume a nod, ignoring the throbbing in your nose as your arms wrap around him, holding him close against you. “i think i’ll be okay if you delete that.”

“no way,” he retorts, relieved that you're at least not crying anymore. "but i'll give you cuddles. deal?"

he's pulling you tighter against him before you even give him your answer, and his shoulders relax a bit when you finally nestle into his arms, leaning into his hold with a soft smile and a throbbing nose.

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