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jaewritesfic · 6 months ago

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Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid.

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving.

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously.

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride.

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible.

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer.

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

#dp x dc #danny phantom #tim drake #red robin #duke thomas #signal dc #tim isnt just pissed about the bee movie script #hes pissed because there could be information hidden in it #so he knows hes going to have to READ the ENTIRE BEE MOVIE SCRIPT and read it closely #spoiler alert #there are no clues #its really just the bee movie script #danny accidentally got a job as an engineer for the bats #and is cackling away while he drives them nuts

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thef1diary · 2 months ago

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the way you’d run straight to the internet to buy your own spirit box so max could talk you through the ghostly orgasm 💀

— you finally bought the right device, everyone cheers! but now, how would max use this form of communication to make you lose your mind over and over again? 18+ content below

The static from the spirit box buzzed faintly, filling the air with anticipation. It was the fourth device you’d tried, but this one… this one worked.

“Max?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you adjusted the dial. The static shifted, crackling, until—

“Missed me?” came his distorted voice, low and rough, sending a shiver straight through you.

Tears pricked your eyes at the sound of him. Weeks, months even, of feeling him but never hearing him. Now, his voice filled the room, warped but unmistakably his. You barely had time to respond before the bed dipped, invisible hands pushing you back against the mattress.

“I can hear you,” you breathed, already pressing your thighs together in anticipation.

“Yeah? Good,” he replied, the slight distortion only making his words rougher, filthier. “Because I’ve got a lot to say now that you finally got it right.”

Instantly, hands you couldn’t see but knew intimately gripped your thighs, spreading them apart firmly. The fabric of your shorts was tugged down, your underwear following in one swift, decisive movement.

“Fuck, you’re soaked already,” his voice hissed through the static, mocking and dripping with approval. “Were you hoping to hear me like this? Whispering all the dirty things I’m going to do while I ruin you?”

Your head tipped back, a whimper escaping your lips as his hands—strong and sure—gripped your thighs tighter. You arched into nothingness, gasping when his mouth—cool, solid, and so painfully real—latched onto your nipple, teeth scraping, tongue flicking.

“Max!” His name left your lips in a desperate cry, but his laugh—deep, teasing—cut through the static.

As he continued lapping at your nipple, his hand, firm and skilled, slid between your thighs. Fingers thrusted into your soaked heat without hesitation, curling and stretching you, preparing you for his cock.

“That’s it,” his voice growled, the spirit box crackling in tandem with your moans. “You take my fingers so well. So perfect, schatje.”

After placing one more kiss each to your nipples, he curled his fingers inside your pussy. “So wet, so ready for my cock.”

You gasped hearing his filthy words before a plethora of pleas escaped your lips, asking for his cock. Your cunt clenched at the thought of being fucked by him.

The bed creaked under the force of his invisible weight, his cock pressing into you in one hard thrust that knocked the breath from your lungs. The sound of his groan through the spirit box was nearly as intoxicating as the feeling of him inside you.

“Max,” you gasped, clawing at the sheets as he set a brutal pace, each thrust hard enough to rock the bed frame. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you against him with every snap of his hips.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he hissed through the static, his voice raw with pleasure. “Feel how good you take me? How you clench ‘round me?”

Your head tipped back, eyes rolling as he pounded into you, each word making the coil in your belly tighten. “I need you,” you cried, your voice breaking as he angled his hips, driving deeper.

“Good girl,” he groaned, the spirit box crackling under the weight of his praise. His thrusts grew erratic, his grip bruising as he chased his release.

“Fuck, Max, yes—don’t stop, ‘m gonna cum,” you begged, the words spilling from your lips unchecked.

You shattered first, his name a scream on your lips as your orgasm tore through you, your body convulsing around him. He followed seconds later, his groans—raw and guttural—filling the room.

As you lay there, trembling and boneless, the static from the spirit box crackled softly, his voice cutting through with a low, satisfied murmur.

“Leave it on,” he said, referring to the spirit box. “We’re not done. Now that I’ve got a voice, I plan on using it.”

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

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wantonlywindswept · 9 months ago

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another trope inversion of GAR/Guard interactions:

the GAR is entirely aware that Coruscant is a shit posting.

they're not blind; they can see all the anti-clone sentiment when they're on leave. even when they're deployed, it's not like they're cut off from all news - they know how many times bills for clone rights have gone to the Senate floor and been ruthlessly voted down. they can see how even their Jedi are restrained by the Senate dragging its feet and making bad choices and handling the war like it's a game of dejarik since it will never affect them personally.

very few politicians have the respect of the clones.

but the Guard still have to work with the spoiled, self-centered bastards, and the GAR knows that they're not being treated well. but what can they do? they have no rights, the Jedi are as trapped under the Senate's thumb as they are, and it's not like they can get regular citizens to do anything.

so they offer their support as much as they can. any Guard, any Corrie who needs help, all they have to do is find one of their brothers and it will be offered without any questions.

you'd think that crime rate would go up when battle-traumatized soldiers are given leave on a city-planet like Coruscant, but it actually goes down.

way down.

the thing criminals come to realize is that if you are being chased by one of the Guard, if ANY other clone catches sight of you, it is ON SIGHT. clones in casual clothes carrying food and drinks have dropped everything to immediately join a Guard's hunt, throwing themselves into the pursuit with glee and an energy that the usually-exhausted Guards often lack. (some of them howl. those, the criminal underground agrees, are the worst.)

and with hundreds or thousands of clones wandering around during battalions' leave, it's possible to run into one of them anywhere. and they usually travel in packs.

best just to lay low for a while.

when it leaks that the Guard regularly run low on supplies, all sorts of things start to go missing on the venators. just a box or a crate here or there, ration packs or bacta patches or cold-weather gear. there are millions of clones and thousands of ships; it's not like every little thing can be tracked by the quartermasters.

(rex realizes that, for whatever reason, his battalion is always prioritized for resupply, and rarely any questions are asked about their requisitions. rex takes immediate and shameless advantage of this. rex manages, somehow, to lose two entire bacta tanks, along with the bacta to fill them.)

and ofc the idea that started this whole ramble - when a shiny Corrie stumbles somewhere where some of the 501st are shooting the shit, causing everything to immediately come to a halt. the kid is clutching his helmet and one of his pauldrons to his chest; his hair is mussed up and there are tears on his cheeks and bruises on his face and unadulterated panic in his eyes.

there's an angry call in the corridor.

the shiny flinches.

fives grabs him, hears him squeak, snaps out orders. echo yanks off his bucket and his upper armor; jesse lunges for a blanket. they hustle the kid into a chair, drape the blanket over his lower body, hastily swap his upper armor and helmet for echo's. fives shoves the armor somewhere, doesn't matter, it's out of sight with the telltale red, and they all barely have enough time to drop themselves back into the chairs arranged around the table and pick up their cards before some natborn stomps into the room.

anything we can do for you, sir? sorry, no, the Guard didn't stop in here. we saw him head back down toward the rotunda, though. yes, sir. have a nice day, sir.

they close and lock the door. fives goes back to the shiny. fives was instantly prepared to help a fellow clone in need.

fives was not prepared for tears.

the kid gets snot all over the inside of echo's helmet. they take him back to Guard HQ. fox is painfully, desperately relieved to see him. fox looks too-thin and too-tired but there is a fresh GAR-issued bacta patch covering a slash across the side of his cheek. he thanks them for saving the shiny, like that's something that ever needs gratitude, but is swept away before any of them can say that.

fives doesn't think that misplaced bacta and pilfered rations are enough support for the Guard anymore.

thankfully, rex and the rest of the GAR agree.

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #of a sort #coruscant guard #captain rex #clone trooper fives #commander fox #someone else should write that

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soapcloth · 8 days ago

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CW: ghost/referenced ghoap x reader, slight angst, possessive behaviour - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Being the one to pick up Soap’s wardrobe from a secondhand store— the donation so fresh that the scent hadn’t even had the chance to fade and mingle with the rest of the shop. You’re wearing a dead man’s hoodie and you haven’t got the faintest clue.

You like his overbearingly rugged smell; find yourself lifting up the collar to inhale and wonder what the person who donated it is like. The hoodie is emblazoned with a name— maybe he’ll see you on the street one day in his old clothes and use it as an ice breaker. The thought is nice. You don’t even know.

Soap was a man who liked personlized items; a taste for things that were one of a kind— just like him. Everything he touched had been marked by a man living a full life and was wholly unmistakable to the discerning eye of the shadow who knew him inside out.

So why was ghost, absolutely swamped in grief, forced to see an interloper wearing his boy’s clothes? He just wanted a fucking coffee.

Johnny’s official family funeral had been no more than a month ago and there was already a stranger wearing his stuff. If ghost had the privilege to grab that box of Johnny’s items and run, it would be neatly tucked away in his closet, silently cherished. Not hanging off the frame of some random civilian who could never even begin to fathom the depths of a man like John MacTavish.

It must’ve been the world playing a sick joke on him that you, who didn’t even know the man, would be able to collect Johnny’s stuff before him. Never allowed anything.

Suffice to say, he’s pissed when he spots you. Stands a bit too close to you so Johnny’s scent can catch in his nose. You’re clearly nervous, but manage to smile hopefully when he makes an offhanded comment about liking the garment. You probably think they’re his clothes, don’t you?

Well, for all intents and purposes, they are.

You ask if he’s ‘MacTavish’ and something in him wants to scream at you that the world hated him far too much for that to ever happen— instead he just nods, leering at how happy that makes you. He can’t tell if your response lights up his brain because he wants to bite your head clean off— or because somewhere, deep inside him, seeing someone so excited about ‘finding’ Johnny is nice.

He hatches a plan. Knead away at your apprehension towards his intimidating appearance, bag a quick fuck— god knows he needs one, grab the clothes, and disappear from your life with Johnny’s items finally where they belong. It’s perfect.

Well, it’s perfect until an unavoidable, nagging voice starts to rattle around in the back of his skull that Johnny would have been absolutely smitten with you. You might have been one last parting gift sent from his boy, how could he ever turn that down? The thought of fucking you in Johnny’s clothes, being able to nudge his crooked nose into the fabric and chase the scent that’s starting to entangle with your own— it sends him reeling

Johnny would be so pleased if the scent of their sweet lamb caught. Can vividly picture him absolutely beaming while huffing at the clothes before urging ghost to take a sniff for himself.

He latches onto the notion that maybe, just maybe he could tuck you and the clothes away somewhere safe for his eyes only— teeth already sunken deeper into you than he could ever possibly imagine by the point he finally acknowledges the gnawing revelation.

Johnny would want this for the both of you. This time he’d keep you safe.

#love ‘he fell harder’ okay? 😭😭😭#you can’t tell me that ghost doesn’t come around to coffee after the incident btw #reader and ghost both seeing soap in each other… maybe in vastly different ways but still… ough #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost #x reader #x you #cloth writes

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menagerofmischief · 2 months ago

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hi!! i absolutely adore your blurbs so i have a question?

thoughts on vibrators/toys with oscar? or like free use with him?

oscar loves toys. he's got quiet a collection, stashed away in a box under the bed. and it all started with a flashlight he got as a gag gift when he was a teenager. the collection evolved over time but most of it happened when the two of you started dating and he started getting them to use them on you.

now next to toys for him, such as cock rings and flashlights, are also a wide variety of toys for you. he's got a lot - and I mean a lot! everything from vibrators and dildos to clamps and gags.

but he's got a bit of a soft spot for vibrators. especially the remote controlled ones, those are his favorite.

one day you're getting ready for dinner, putting on finishing touches to your make up and leaning your body forward over the bathroom sink as you chase the reflection in the mirror. oscar comes in, doesn't say as much as a word before pressing your body down onto the counter and lifting up your dress, hooking his fingers into your panties and moving them to the side and then next thing you know he's pushing something inside of you.

it takes you a moment to realize what it was, a small vibrator. oscar's eyes lock with your in the mirror and he smirks, his open palm tapping against your cunt. "don't even think about taking it out," he says in a dark tone. and then he's gone, exiting the room and the apartment as he makes his way to the garage to get his car.

oscar doesn't do anything in the car, doesn't do anything as you enter the restaurant and doesn't do anything when you sit down. you start to fall into a false sense of the security. and then the waiter comes over, asking what you'd like to order and you feel the device come to life, vibrating inside of you and sending sparks of pleasure. your fingers grip onto the menu as you stutter out your order while oscar watches with an amused smirk.

the waiter leaves and you're oh so close when everything stops and oscar grins at you when you glare at him. he keeps you on edge the whole night, teasing and bringing you close only to turn it off. he finally let's you cum once desert is served and you're gripping the table, knuckles turning white.

he watches the expression on your face with great interest, pushing his fork down into the cake and bringing it to your lips, telling you to open up. "come on baby, eat up. it's sweet, but I think I'll be having my dessert when we get home", and then he laughs at the way you silently whimper, the vibrator turned up to it's maximum, and your cheeks flushed. you wrap your lips around the fork, taking the food he's offering, chewing fastly because you can't wait to go home.

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x you #f1 smut #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #op81 smut #op81 x reader #oscar piastri smut #dia's smutty thoughts #f1 blurb

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majikkulu · 20 days ago

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✮ ˖° ⸜ masterlist ꕤ ･

╭₊˚๑ i'm not a professional astrologer, so they may not resonate with everyone—take them with a grain of salt. consider the planets, degrees, etc! these are just my personal observations and opinions

if you have any astrology post suggestions, feel free to drop them in my ask box, and i’ll make it happen! xoxo.

☁️₊˚੭

⋆⁺₊ your ascendant persona chart (apc) reveals a more intense, refined version of how you present yourself to the world. it dives deeper into your rising sign, showing a clearer expression of who you are. think of it as a magnified first impression, offering more than your natal chart. the apc also explores how you shift in different situations, especially when your natal rising differs from your ascendant persona.

⋆⁺₊ in my opinion, your rising in the natal chart reflects how you see yourself—your inner self and how you outwardly express that. it’s the balance between your personality's essence and your physical appearance. on the other hand, your rising in the ascendant persona chart reveals how others see you, how you come across to them, and how your energy is perceived by the world around you.

⋆⁺₊ take me, for example. in my natal chart, i’ve got gemini rising, so i’m talkative, expressive, and always buzzing with youthful energy. i get bored easily and crave mental stimulation—constantly chasing new knowledge, exploring, analyzing, overthinking. it’s the classic curious gemini vibe. but then, in my ascendant persona chart, capricorn rising takes over, and that’s where things get interesting. now i’m seen as serious, reserved, and cautious—basically the opposite of gemini’s free-spirited nature. my face usually looks serious, and i’ve been called “bitchy” or “mean,” which is far from who i really am. this mix of gemini and capricorn gives me versatility, shifting from playful curiosity to calm maturity depending on the context. in most situations, that capricorn energy takes over. funny enough, people often tell me i ooze with capricorn traits, rather than the gemini ones i feel inside.

✮ ARIES RISING IN APC you’ve got this fearless, bold aura that immediately grabs attention. no hesitation, no fluff—just straight-up honesty and fiery energy. people might find you hot and a little intimidating, especially when you take charge and lead the way. conversation? you’re always the first to spark it. you thrive on competition, and it finds its way to you naturally. your energy is magnetic—too much for some, but others can’t help but be drawn in. rebellious, decisive, and independent, you crave excitement, new experiences, and constant movement. your actions can be impulsive, sometimes reckless, but somehow you always land on your feet. frustration may follow when things don’t move as fast as you'd like, but chaos? you thrive in it. you radiate sex appeal in a way that makes heads turn.

✮ TAURUS RISING IN APC you have that cool, composed vibe that makes everyone feel at ease. people are drawn to your quiet, sensual beauty. you take your time with decisions, always careful and deliberate. there's a calm, almost magnetic confidence about you—it's understated yet undeniably powerful. you don’t show your vulnerabilities easily, creating a sense of independence and self-sufficiency. underneath it all, though, you’re grounded and in tune with what’s real. chaotic spaces drain you, but you bring peace and comfort to others. where aries is all flash, you’re slow, steady, and enduring. your energy is soothing, warm, and draws people in without trying.

✮ GEMINI RISING IN APC curiosity and communication are your driving forces. even if you’re not the most social, people see you as lively and engaging. you’re constantly learning, always on the lookout for new experiences. your energy shifts faster than anyone can keep up, and your quick wit makes you fun to be around. talkative, expressive, and ever-restless, you might leave people guessing who you are. you’re full of surprises—constantly changing, adapting, and keeping things fresh. your style? it mirrors your personality—constantly evolving. you can be self-conscious, worrying about how others see you, but your charm always wins them over.

✮ CANCER RISING IN APC you come off as a gentle, nurturing soul, making others feel safe and comfortable around you. soft-spoken but never weak, you have a quiet strength. mysterious, private, and sometimes moody, you might not reveal everything at first, leaving people curious. you feel deeply, and sometimes, that causes you to retreat when overwhelmed. intimate settings feel like home, but you’re also more social than most realize. there's something magnetic about your warmth and sensitivity, and once people get past the surface, they see your depth. you’re fiercely protective of your loved ones and incredibly loyal, but you need space to recharge.

✮ LEO RISING IN APC you light up the room with a radiant, magnetic energy that can’t be ignored. people are naturally drawn to you—whether it’s your loud, expressive nature or your vibrant charisma. you’re a people person with a heart of gold, always bringing excitement and joy wherever you go. there’s an artistic side to you that shines through, whether it’s in hobbies or raw talent. everyone wants to be around you because you make them feel seen and heard. you lead with warmth, generosity, and an infectious enthusiasm that makes you unforgettable.

✮ VIRGO RISING IN APC you give off an aura of quiet confidence. observant and thoughtful, you pay attention to the tiniest details others miss. reliable and practical, you get things done without needing the spotlight. you’re self-aware and often find yourself analyzing everything in your path. your actions speak louder than words, and though you might seem busy, you’re always on top of everything. stress may come naturally, but so does your knack for solving problems like a detective. competent, responsible, and always prepared, people trust you to handle things when it counts.

✮ LIBRA RISING IN APC people can’t help but be drawn to you with your natural charm and ease in social settings. you know how to make others feel comfortable and welcome, and your sense of justice makes you the one who stands up for what’s right. optimism flows from you, and negativity doesn’t find a home in your vibe. though you radiate kindness, your humor can be surprisingly dark. you’re dramatic in how you express yourself, and you’re always quick to make friends. at first, you give people everything, but it can take time for them to truly get to know the real you.

✮ SCORPIO RISING IN APC there’s a magnetism about you, one that pulls people in or pushes them away. you have a private, mysterious side, and your calm, composed exterior hides a fierce emotional depth. you’re not easy to figure out—your thoughts and feelings stay under lock and key. but those who earn your trust find an incredibly loyal, intense connection. you’re fiercely protective of your boundaries, and people see you as powerful and enigmatic. your intelligence lets you see through people and situations, and your empathy allows you to connect deeply with those close to you. hardships may have shaped you, but you wear them like armor.

✮ SAGITTARIUS RISING IN APC optimistic, adventurous, and always on the lookout for something new, you have an expansive energy that makes you seem larger-than-life. you’re always in search of meaning, diving deep into philosophy or spirituality. straightforward and direct, you speak your mind without hesitation, though it can sometimes come off as blunt. honesty is your signature, and you’re always keeping things light and enjoyable. family matters to you deeply, and you expect the same loyalty and support you give.

✮ CAPRICORN RISING IN APC you might come off as serious or even a bit distant, with a reserved vibe that gives off the impression of someone who's always in work mode. people might mistake you for constantly unhappy, but that’s just the exterior. underneath, you have a quiet strength that draws people in. you’re committed to your passions and interests, taking them seriously and with a focus on stability. you’re selective about the people you let into your life, and even more selective about what you share. your presence can be intimidating, but those who get past your guarded exterior see your reliable, supportive side.

✮ AQUARIUS RISING IN APC you have an unconventional energy that catches people off guard. a little aloof, a little detached, you stand out without even trying. independent and easygoing, you have an unpredictable streak that keeps people guessing. your rebellious side can make you seem a bit dangerous, and you’re always changing in ways others don’t expect. you connect with all kinds of people, from all walks of life, effortlessly. you’re open-minded, curious, and cool—like a more laid-back, intellectual gemini.

✮ PISCES RISING IN APC gentle and empathetic, you have an approachable, almost ethereal vibe. you make people feel understood without saying much. your kindness and compassion are evident in everything you do, even when you might seem a bit distant and disconnected. you’re highly sensitive, and emotions can sometimes overwhelm you, making you retreat to recharge. you live in your own world, but once people get to know you, they see a different side—one that’s outgoing, bubbly, and full of life. you’re sweet, and your energy is almost ghost-like, flowing in and out of spaces, leaving a trail of warmth behind.

#astrology #astro community #astronote #divination #astrology signs #astro notes #astro observations #astro placements #astroblr #astrology readings #birth chart #natal chart #persona chart #astrology observations #astrology community #astrology notes #astrology blog #zodiac signs

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hanniebaeee · 23 days ago

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The Wedding Night

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: psychotic family rituals, use of weapons (guns, knives, crossbows), threats, some blood, chasing MDNI

Genre: established relationship, thriller/romance

Summary: You and Hyunjin get married, and on your wedding night, you play a deadly game with his eccentric family - his seven brothers.

a/n: Written after watching 'Ready or not'. The plot is not exactly the same, but very similar. I absolutely love horror thriller movies and this one has such a strange gothic vibe to it that I love hehe! Please feel free to skip if any of the warnings bother you. But also remember this is just a story! Thank you!

The storm outside the sprawling mansion mirrored the turbulence Hyunjin felt in his chest as he watched you adjust your dress. Hyunjin’s arms snaked around your waist from behind, his touch gentle. He pressed a lingering kiss to your neck, his lips warm against your skin.

“What's wrong Jinnie? You look nervous.” You said, you hand cupping his cheek as his eyes met yours in the mirror.

“No, I'm good…just don't feel like sharing you tonight,” he murmured, his voice low, sultry.

“It's tradition, right?” you asked, turning to face him.

His long, dark hair fell in soft waves, framing his face like he was a gothic prince from a fairy tale.

“Right. Tradition.” His gaze flicked to the clock above the fireplace. Just about half an hour to midnight.

“Hyunjin… what’s going on?” You were worried now. Hyunjin has been on the edge the whole day, and you'd thought that he was just nervous - it was his wedding after all.

But now? It was starting to get to you.

His hesitation sent a ripple of unease through you. His family had been off from the moment you met them. Apart from his mother and twin sister, Yeji, they were all men. His brothers - Jisung, Felix and Jeongin. His cousins - Chan, Minho, Chanbin and Seungmin.

They moved like shadows through the halls, their smiles never reaching their eyes. But none of that mattered because you loved Hyunjin. You married him knowing that he came with this… oddness.

And now, on the night of your wedding, they’d insisted on a "family tradition" - a game to welcome you into the fold.

Hyunjin’s hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I need you to trust me,” he said, his tone urgent. “No matter what happens tonight, I will keep you safe.”

Before you could ask what that meant, there was a knock on the door.

“It’s time.” Minho's voice came from the other side of the door, and Hyunjin’s grip on you tightened.

---

The family was gathered in the dimly lit dining room around a massive oak table, all still dressed in their elaborate, somewhat gothic outfits from the wedding. Hyunjin’s father sat at the head.

“Tradition binds us,” he said, his voice echoing through the room. “Tonight, the newest member of our family will prove their worth.”

Jeongin, Hyunjin's youngest sibling, placed an antique box before you, its surface etched with intricate symbols. Hyunjin's mother opened the box and inside, you found cards.

Are you playing cards?

Hyunjin’s hand found yours beneath the table, squeezing tightly. His expression was unreadable, but the tremor in his fingers betrayed his fear.

“Draw a card,” his father commanded.

You hesitated, your heart pounding as you glanced at Hyunjin before reaching into the box, and pulling out a card.

It bore a single word: Run.

Gasps rippled through the room. Yeji gave you a look that was borderline smothered with pity, and she looked away quickly. So did his mother.

“Oh, this will be fun,” Minho purred, his grin sharp.

Hyunjin shot to his feet, as he said “No. We’re not doing this.”

“Sit down, son,” his father growled, his tone laced with authority.

“She’s my wife!” Hyunjin said, his voice way too loud to be friendly, and you glanced around the room to find all eyes on you.

“And now, she’s the game,” Chan said, his smile chilling.

You didn’t have time to process what was happening before Hyunjin pulled you to your feet.

“Run,” he whispered urgently.

“What?”

“Run!”

He had pushed you out the door so hard that you nearly collided with the wall on the other side. But you did as you were told. You ran.

The manor was a labyrinth of dark twisted corridors and hallways as you fled. You could hear them behind you - their laughter, and the clang of metal.

What the hell was happening? What was this game?

You almost screamed as Hyunjin burst out through a door in front of you, his breathing ragged.

“We need to get you out-” he said, pulling you into a dimly lit hallway, but you yanked your hand back, making him stop on his tracks.

“Hyunjin, what the hell is going on?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

“Baby there's no time-”

“HYUNJIN, STOP FUCKING WITH ME!”

“My family… this tradition, it's been in my family for ages. Only the strongest gets to be part of it. To carry the bloodline forward. It's sick, I know. Baby you picked the wrong card. You picked the worst, oh God. ”

“Hyunjin, what the actual fuck are you saying right now?! What is this game?!”

“It's not a game…it's a hunt. And if you're caught before sunrise-”

You stared at him like he was actually insane. Like you couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

“Babe, you -”

“I know!” He cupped your face, his dark eyes shining with desperation. “But I swear, I’ll get you out of this. I’ll die before I let them hurt you.”

Your heart pounded as you ran, your shoes kicked off long ago because it made way too much noise on the wooden floor. The distant, mocking laughter of Hyunjin’s brothers echoed through the halls, growing closer.

“I can hear you, sweetheart!” Jisung’s sing-song voice reverberated somewhere behind you, unsettlingly cheerful.

Hyunjin’s grip on your hand was iron-tight as he led you down a narrow, hidden staircase.

“They’ll split up soon,” he hissed. “It’s how they always do this - divide and conquer.”

“You've been part of this?” you asked, horrified.

Hyunjin hesitated, but said, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is keeping you alive.”

---

The first time you truly noticed Seungmin was at the wedding dinner. Quiet and poised, he seemed like the least likely person in the room to partake in the family’s macabre rituals. He had sipped his wine with a detached air, his sharp eyes watching everyone with an almost clinical curiosity.

So when you found yourself face-to-face with him during the game, it was… unsettling. Especially so, with Hyunjin not at your side - he'd taken a different route to take Chan off your path.

You were sprinting through the east wing’s library when his voice floated out from the shadows.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual like this was a normal conversation, “I root for you.”

Your heart stopped. He was there, perched casually in one of the high-backed chairs, legs crossed, holding a long rifle. And looking totally chill.

“Seungmin,” you breathed, backing away slowly. “I don’t want to hurt you-”

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t,” he interrupted, standing smoothly and taking a few steps towards you. “But I have a job to do, Y/N. Family obligations and all that.”

He raised the rifle, aiming it directly at you.

“Let’s make this quick. No hard feelings?”

You ducked just as the shot rang out, the bullet whizzing past your head and shattering the glass of an antique vase. You scrambled for cover behind a massive oak desk, your heart pounding so loudly it literally masked any other sounds in the room.

“Do you know why I like this game?” Seungmin’s voice floated closer as his footsteps echoed against the hardwood floor. “Strategy. Planning. Timing.”

You peeked around the desk just in time to see him reloading his rifle like a pro. Desperate, you scanned the room. Your eyes landed on a shelf of heavy leather-bound books.

“Seungmin!” you said, trying not to let the fear in you bleed into your voice as you carefully moved behind the shelf. “Can't we talk about this?”

“What's there to talk about?” he replied, circling toward you. “It's just survival of the fittest.”

Just as he turned the corner, you book one of the heavy books and threw it right at him. It hit him right in the chest and he looked surprised even though he pointed his rifle right at you. Ok, maybe a book at a time wont help.

Mustering all your strength, you shoved the entire bookcase toward him. It was quite the task but thankfully it toppled with a deafening crash - a cascade of books and wood slamming down where he stood.

For a moment, you thought you’d won. Just for a moment. But then, from beneath the wreckage, came his low laughter.

The rubble shifted as Seungmin emerged, his pristine shirt now streaked with dust and a thin cut tainting the flawless skin of his cheek. And he looked eerily calm.

“Well played,” he admitted, brushing himself off. “Very resourceful.”

Then, he lifted the rifle again. And just like that another shot rang out as you bolted for the door. You ducked into a side hallway, your bare feet slipping on the polished floors.

“Ah, sister-in-law, cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.” Oh damn him and his damn calm voice that had the skin on the back of your neck prickling.

“Seriously?!” you yelled, running as fast as you could in your dress. “You’re quoting Julius Caesar right now?”

“Context is everything, don’t you think?�� he called back, the sound of his footsteps growing louder.

He was close, really close and you glance around frantically for something you could use. And your eyes fell on a spear embedded on the wall.

Who used spears as wall decorations? Oh, rich people, apparently. Your hands fumbled as you yanked it off the clips holding it up.

You gripped it tightly, moving carefully until you found a little space in the wall. You waited, Seungmin's footsteps now way too close.

“Peek-a-boo,” he whispered, stepping in front of you, and before you could swing the spear at him, someone grabbed him.

You screamed, until you came face-to-face with your husband, who was now tackling Seungmin onto the ground.

“Oh my God,” You groaned, breathing heavily as another shot was fired, this time creating a hole on the ceiling.

“Run!! GO!” Hyunjin was shooing you away, and you did, straight for the window that was partially open, and not thinking twice before slipping right out.

It was so silent. The storm had reduced to a drizzle, and the moon was out. And there was no one around. Or so you thought.

You stumbled into the mansion’s greenhouse, hoping you could hide here till Hyunjin found his way to you. Your lungs burned, and your legs felt like they might give out.

The greenhouse was eerie with the moonlight streaming through the stained panes. The air smelled of damp earth and flowers.

You were catching your breath when you heard it: the unmistakable twang of a crossbow. A bolt shot past your head, embedding itself into a wooden post.

“Oh, damn, I missed,” came Felix’s deep voice, the sound somehow both casual and unhinged all at once.

“For fucks sake,” You muttered under your breath, turning around slowly.

Felix and Jeongin stood near the greenhouse entrance, their crossbows glinting menacingly in the moonlight.

“Hyung said to keep it clean,” Jeongin muttered, ready to fire.

Felix chuckled, stretching dramatically. You took a step back.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in clean? Besides…” His sharp gaze landed on you as you pressed yourself further into the shadows. “She looks ready for some fun.”

Before you could even think about running, Felix raised his crossbow and fired. You dropped to the ground, the bolt whizzing past and snapping through a pot behind you.

“Nice move!” Felix called out, as if this were some casual game of tag.

“She’s scared,” Jeongin said, stepping closer. He was aiming at you now too, his aim steady. “They all panic eventually.”

Your heart raced as they moved closer, their steps slow and deliberate, like predators circling prey.

“Hyunjin did really well, finding you,” Felix mused, his tone flirty. “But I don’t think he told you everything, did he? Like how the odds of surviving this game are… slim.”

You gritted your teeth, your eyes darting around the greenhouse.

“Oh, she’s thinking,” Jeongin said with a grin. “What’s the plan, sister-in-law? Gonna throw a cactus at us?”

You didn’t wait for them to make the next move. Instead, you bolted deeper into the greenhouse, weaving through the labyrinth of plants and tables.

Another bolt zipped past your ear, shattering the glass on one of the panes.

“Stop running!” Jeongin called, his voice echoing through the space. “You’re just making it harder on yourself.”

“Let her run, Innie,” Felix drawled, his voice teasing. “We’ll still find you, love. We always win.”

You ducked behind a massive planter, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You could hear their footsteps closing in.

“You take left,” Felix said, his tone annoyingly confident.

“Got it,” Jeongin replied.

As they split up, you spotted your opportunity - a shelf lined with gardening supplies. Biting back your fear, you grabbed a metal rake.

Just then Jeongin appeared in front of you, grinning. And you've had just about enough of it, as you used the back of the rake, running it straight into his abdomen.

Jeongin looked thoroughly shocked as he lost his balance as fell back, the impact sending everything crashing down - pots, a bag of fertilizer - all of it raining down on Jeongin.

“Shit!” he yelled, his crossbow clattering to the floor as he tried to fend off the avalanche of gardening supplies.

Felix whipped around, his smirk vanishing as he realized what had happened. “Jeongin!”

Before he could react further, you grabbed the nearest object - a heavy watering can - and swung it at him. The impact caught him off guard, and he stumbled.

You didn’t wait for them to recover. Grabbing Jeongin’s fallen crossbow, you sprinted toward the greenhouse exit, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Behind you, Felix’s voice rang out, furious now, “Oh, you’re dead, Y/N! Do you hear me? Dead!”

“Can you help me, hyung?”Jeongin groaned, still half-buried under the pile of tools.

“You’re useless!” Felix snapped, though his irritation seemed directed more at himself than his younger brother.

As you burst out of the greenhouse and into the cool night air, you noticed that you'd ripped your beautiful dress. Now it hung awkwardly, and you felt a pang deep inside you. But you couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard Hyunjin calling your name.

“Hold on my love,” you whispered to yourself, gripping the stolen crossbow tighter. “I'm gonna fucking kill you.”

You were starting to think you might actually make it. You were trying to follow Hyunjin’s voice, but you knew stepping back into the house was a poor move. Because as you moved into the billiards room - you felt something was terribly off. Well, more off than the current situation.

The soft glow of a fireplace lit the room, casting shadows that danced across the green pool table. You leaned against it, catching your breath, but your grip on the crossbow was still tight.

And then, from behind you, came the sound of slow, deliberate clapping.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s made it this far,” a voice drawled, smooth and dripping with amusement.

You spun around, raising the crossbow instinctively, only to come face-to-face with Chan. He leaned casually against the doorframe, a sleek black pistol twirling lazily in his fingers. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and his dark eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Put that thing down, sweetheart,” he said, smirking. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Stay back,” you warned, keeping the crossbow aimed at him despite the tremble in your hands.

He raised his free hand in mock surrender, the pistol still balanced in his other.

“Whoa, easy there. I’m just here to chat. Family tradition and all, you know how it is.”

“Chat?” you scoffed. “You’re holding a gun.”

“And you’re holding a crossbow. We’re even.” Chan tilted his head, his grin widening.

He took a step closer, his gaze locked on yours.

“I have to admit, Y/N, you’ve done better than most. Usually, they don’t make it past Felix.”

You stepped back, your back hitting the pool table.

“But you…” he continued, his tone low, “…you’re different. Smart. Quick.”

Your grip on the crossbow tightened as you said, “If you think flirting is going to stop me from shooting you, you’re out of your mind.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not trying to stop you.” Chan chuckled.

With a flick of his wrist, he aimed the pistol directly at your chest, his playful demeanor not faltering for a second.

“Let’s play a little game, hmm? I’ll put mine down if you put yours down.”

“Why would I trust you?” You swallowed hard.

“Because you don’t have much of a choice,” he replied smoothly, stepping closer. “And because I like you, Y/N. I almost want you to win.”

“Almost?”

“Well…” He shrugged, his smirk growing darker. “It’s nothing personal. Family is… family.”

Before he could get another word out, you grabbed the nearest billiard ball from the table and hurled it at him.

“Whoa!” Chan ducked, laughing as the ball narrowly missed his head and cracked against the wall behind him. “Feisty! I like that!”

You didn’t wait for him to recover. Grabbing a cue stick, you swung it at him, forcing him to stumble back.

Chan, ever the showman (or show off), twirled his pistol and aimed again. But you jabbed stick towards him and the shot went off, shattering a whiskey decanter on the bar.

“Damn it,” he muttered, sidestepping as you swung again. “That was expensive!”

“You’re insane!” you yelled, as he grabbed the stick mid swing and tossed it aside. But you moved again, using the crossbow to slap the pistol off his hand. It fell to the floor with a clatter, and skidded away from Chan's reach.

“You’re incredible my love,” he said, and now mere inches apart.

Chan grinned at you, unapologetically, his chest rising and falling with exertion, his eyes flicking to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

“You know,” he murmured, voice soft and teasing, “if things were different, I’d marry you myself.”

You glared at him aiming the crossbow at him, “Too bad you’re a lunatic.”

“Guilty as charged.” he said, raising his hands as you got ready to take a shot. “Not bad, Y/N. Not bad at all.”

He watched as you backed toward the door, keeping the crossbow trained on him.

“Tell your family I’m not dying tonight.” you said, and he just smiled, and it looked way too genuine for someone who was trying to kill you.

“Oh, they’ll figure it out,” he replied in an infuriatingly calm tone. “Don't miss me too much, ok?”

You snorted. “Not in a million years.”

“We’ll see about that, sweetheart. We’ll see.” Chan’s laugh followed you as you slipped out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest.

You hadn’t seen anyone for a while now. You sat hidden behind the kitchen counter, the crossbow still in your hands. You wondered where Hyunjin was. And even though you were so mad at him, you worried if he was safe.

Then you heard it.

The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of a blade dragging along the steel counters.

“Y/N…” Minho’s voice sang out, eerily calm and lilting.

Your stomach dropped as you froze in place, listening. It was such a shame really, when Hyunjin had first introduced you to his cousins, you'd thought Minho was absolutely gorgeous. His soft voice and his smile. Huh what a waste.

Tap-tap-tap.

“Come on, Y/N,” he called, his tone laced with mock sweetness. “Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be. You know how this ends.”

The blade scraped again, sending a metallic screech through the air.

Keep moving, you told yourself. Don’t freeze. You crept along the counter, your bare feet barely making a sound against the tiled floor.

Your breath hitched as you caught sight of him through the narrow gap between the counters. Minho was toying with a massive butcher’s knife, the blade glinting under the yellow lights. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he smiled, the kind of smile that sent shivers down your spine.

You stayed low, gripping the crossbow in your hand, though your palms were slick with sweat.

“I know you’re in here, Y/N,” Minho continued, his voice teasing.

He stopped suddenly, tilting his head like a predator sniffing the air. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he plunged the knife into the nearest wall, the sound of it sinking into wood reverberating through the room.

Your heart nearly stopped. He was close. Too close.

“You know what’s funny?” he mused, pulling the knife free and resuming his casual walk. “Hyunjin thinks he can save you. He really believes that. But I’m not so sure. You've got him wrapped around your finger haven't you? Making him fight us for you?”

You clenched your teeth, anger flaring in your chest. How dare he!

“He’s twice the man you’ll ever be,” you whispered under your breath, more to steady yourself than anything else.

Unfortunately, Minho heard. His steps halted abruptly.

“Oh?” he said softly. “You do have a mouth on you. Let’s see if you can back that up.”

You didn’t wait for him to find you. Taking a deep breath, you leapt out from your hiding spot, aiming the crossbow directly at him.

“Tsk, tsk,” Minho chided, lunging toward you with the knife. “Is that Innie's?”

You barely ducked in time, his blade slicing through the air where your neck had been moments before. Scrambling backward, you grabbed a cast-iron skillet from the counter and swung it at him.

The clang of metal meeting metal rang out as he deflected your attack with his knife, his grin widening. “Oh, this is fun!”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” you snapped, dodging as he lunged again.

The two of you danced around the kitchen in a deadly game of cat and mouse. Minho was relentless, his movements fluid like that of a dancer, while you were running purely on adrenaline. And you hissed in pain as he managed to slice the knife over your arm, drawing blood.

Minho backed you into a corner as you lost focus on seeing blood, the knife glinting dangerously as he raised it.

“Any last words?” he asked, tilting his head with a mock pout.

You were almost ready to accept your fate when a head popped in through the door, and you nearly wanted to cry when you saw Hyunjin stepping in quietly, grabbing a pan from the counter.

“Yes actually,” you said, your voice shaking but defiant.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Let’s hear it.”

“Watch out.”

Before he could react, Hyunjin had swung the pan right at him, catching the side of his head in a dull clang. The impact sent Minho staggering back and dropping his knife, looking absolutely pissed.

Hyunjin jumped at the opportunity to grab the knife from and used his other hand to grab you before pulling you out the door.

“See you later, butcher boy,” you taunted, hearing Minho’s laughter loud and clear as you two fled.

You both slowed down as you reached a dark quiet corridor, and Hyunjin dropped the knife, and cupped your face with his hands.

You froze, torn between throwing yourself into his arms and wanting to use that knife on him.

“Don’t you dare -” you started, but Hyunjin ignored your warning, pulling you into his chest so tightly you could barely breathe.

“Thank God,” he whispered against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re okay. I was so scared -”

You shoved him back with enough force to make him stumble, glaring at him with all the fury you could muster.

“Okay? Are you insane? Your family is trying to kill me, Hyunjin! You’re all insane! If I survive this, I’m going to kill you myself!”

He winced, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m trying to fix it, I swear.” he said, his voice as soft as ever. Fuck, this man won't let you hate him.

“You better fix it faster,” you hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Because if someone kills me tonight, I'm gonna haunt your sorry ass forever!”

Hyunjin’s lips quirked into a faint smile despite everything

“You’re terrifying when you’re angry. It’s… kind of hot.”

“Shut up!” Before you could say more, a low whistle interrupted you.

“Well, isn’t this touching,” Felix’s smooth voice cut through the hallway.

You and Hyunjin turned to see him casually strolling toward you, crossbow slung over one shoulder. His hair was wild, streaks of blood on his cheek, and yet he somehow still managed to look annoyingly composed.

Behind him, Jisung followed, twirling a machete in one hand and his grin? Unsettlingly cheerful.

“What do you think, Lix?” Jisung asked, glancing between you and Hyunjin. “Do we give them a few more minutes, or do we get this over with?”

Felix tilted his head, as if considering it.

“Hmm… I think we’ve waited long enough.” he said, his eyes fixed on you.

Hyunjin immediately stepped in front of you, shielding you with his body.

“Don’t even think about it.” he bit out.

“Hyunie,” Felix said, his voice taking on a wheedling tone. “You’ll let me have her won't you? I’m your favorite brother!”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened, his tone dangerously low. “Felix, I swear to God-”

“That’s hurtful,” Jisung interjected, his grin faltering as he clutched his chest dramatically. “What about me? I’m your brother too, you know.”

This was getting absolutely crazy, when the loud, unmistakable click of a shotgun echoed through the hallway.

“Looks like we’re just in time,” Yeji’s voice rang out, dripping with sarcasm. “Are we talking about favorites?”

All four of you turned to see her standing at the end of the hall, her ponytail swaying as she cocked the shotgun. Behind her, Changbin appeared, hefting an axe with ease.

“Oh, come on.” Felix groaned audibly.

“Go away Yeji!” Jisung whined. “This was just getting good!”

Yeji smirked, aiming her gun right at Felix.

“Lixie, I told you if you tried to go after them, I’d take you out myself.” she scolded, as if Felix was a toddler.

Changbin grinned, resting the axe on Jisung’s shoulder. “And I’ll help.”

“Fine. Whatever. Is this a twin thing? Is that what this is?” Felix sighed dramatically, lowering his crossbow.

“Call it whatever you want.” Yeji said, her gun pressing against his chest. “Walk away, Lixie. I'd hate to choose between my brothers. And I'm sure you'd hate it more.”

“I doubt it,” Hyunjin muttered under his breath.

“You’re all such buzzkills,” Jisung complained, dragging his machete as he followed Felix, though he paused briefly to glance at Hyunjin. “And I am a good brother, you jerk.”

“Jisung!” Hyunjin barked, exasperated.

---

As Felix and Jisung disappeared down the corridor, Yeji and Changbin walked up to you.

Yeji reached out to take a look at the wound on your arm, but smiled and said, “You’re tougher than you look.”

“Yeah, she’s cool. Let’s keep her alive.” Changbin nodded, grinning.

“Uh… thanks?” You blinked at them, still trying to process the whirlwind of events.

Hyunjin sighed, pulling you close again. “I told you I’d keep you safe.”

You shot him a glare and said, “I still want to kill you.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I love you, baby.”

“I'm not saying it back.”

Yeji cleared her throat.

“Alright, lovebirds, let’s keep moving. I haven't seen Channie or Minho, so -” Yeji fell silent as you rounded a corner, and walked right into them.

Minho and Chan.

Both of them stood with smug grins plastered on their faces, completely relaxed, as though they hadn’t just spent the last few hours hunting you down.

“She really made it this far,” Chan said, his voice dripping with a playful menace, his beloved pistol back in his hand.

Minho’s eyes narrowed in amusement as he approached you. “Not bad, but I'm afraid this is where it ends, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You bristled, hating how amused they seemed.

“Are you seriously enjoying this?” you snapped, stepping toward Minho, as Hyunjin grabbed you back into his chest.

Minho cocked his head, his lips curving up into a smile.

“Oh, darling. I don’t know about the killing part. But yes I am enjoying watching you fight for your life.” His eyes flicked over to Hyunjin. “Both of you, really. It’s a beautiful thing to witness.”

Hyunjin held you tight so that you didn't do anything stupid.

Chan, on the other hand, was casually strolling toward you, eyes full of mischief.

“You know, Hyunjin,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ve got the perfect wife. She’s tough, strong-willed, and just as deadly as you are. But…”

Yeji had her gun aimed at Chan, and Changbin was ready to attack, when the first rays of sunlight broke through the grand windows, casting golden light over the hall.

It was dawn. The game was over.

Chan and Minho’s expressions shifted instantly. The tension drained from their faces, and their smiles, previously so sinister, softening.

“Well, shit,” Minho muttered, tossing the knife aside.

Chan let out a long breath, also dropping his weapon.

“Congratulations love, it's finally over.” he said with a smile so genuine, you were thoroughly confused. “You won.”

Hyunjin let out a sigh (or a sob) of relief, before he hugged you tighter and almost tackled you into a kiss. He couldn't speak at all, like he was processing it all. It was over.

Before you could say anything, the sound of more footsteps echoed through the corridor. You turned to see Seungmin, Jeongin, Felix and Jisung approaching, looking equally exhausted but with visible relief in their eyes.

“Oh thank god,” Jisung breathed, a grin breaking out across his face. “I know what we discussed, but I couldn't help but feel like one of you would break-”

“Well, everyone's still breathing. That’s a win.” Felix clapped his hands, clearly relieved.

Hyunjin stood there, quietly surveying the group around him. His brothers - his family - had all stepped back, looking less like the men who had been hunting you down for hours, and more like… well, like they’d just wrapped up an intense game of tag.

Felix gave him a quick wink, his ever-present cocky grin on his face as he nodded toward you and Hyunjin. But there was something in his eyes, something that only Hyunjin knew - they’d all been sparing you two.

Minho, standing just behind Felix, let out a soft laugh and patting him on the back.

“Welcome to the family, sister-in-law,” he said in his trademark deadpan voice.

“What the fuck is going on here?!” you blurted, the realization hitting you real hard. “You…you didn’t want to kill me? This whole time?”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicked over to Yeji, who was watching the exchange with a bemused expression.

She knew. She had to have known.

“They didn’t,” Yeji confirmed, her voice a soft whisper. “None of them did. This was all for show.”

Her eyes locked onto Hyunjin’s for a moment, giving him a smile. She stepped forward, taking your hand in hers.

“We had to make it look real. The elders would have interfered if they thought we weren't doing it right.” She said. "They have cameras everywhere."

You blinked, your head spinning as everything began to make sense.

“But… but why? You could've given us a hint-”

“We couldn't,” Minho interjected smoothly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If we hadn’t done this right, the old man would’ve figured something was up. They don’t exactly trust Hyunjin, he's been the softie since day one. Or Yeji for that matter. But if we wanted to give you a chance, it had to be like this.”

You just looked at him with a blank look on your face and his eyes fell on your bleeding hand.

"And I'm sorry about that. Someone had to do it, and none of these pussies would-"

"MINHO!" Yeji hissed.

“And that's cos we wouldn't do it to Hyun...” Seungmin said, giving you a smile. “Besides, I was actually glad to finally have someone who had good taste in books, I wasn't gonna let you die-”

“Oh wow Seungmin, that was heart touching-” Hyunjin scoffed.

“Family…” You echoed, your voice shaky.

“Baby, I'm so sorry I dragged you into this. I knew the minute I told you the truth, you'd run for your life and I'd lose you forever. I… I never wanted you to go through this, baby. I will do anything it takes to win your trust again.”

You nodded, still not sure how you felt about all this.

“But you’re lucky, Hyunie.” Felix said, grinning at Hyunjin. “She’s a keeper. We'll be here for you both, always. No ones gonna do anything.”

“You're finally free, Hyunjin, take your girl and go live your life. You passed their fucking test. They won't come after you.” Yeji said, giving him a nod.

Hyunjin’s hand tightened on your shoulder, and he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You can walk out right now if you want, baby. I won't stop you. But if you decide to give me a chance, I need you to know that no matter what, I’ll always keep you safe.”

You nodded slowly, a knot in your chest loosening as you processed his words. The night had been a mess, yes, and you will probably never forget everything that has happened. But you also know Hyunjin was genuine.

“Let me sleep on it, maybe I'll give you a chance after all. If one of your siblings don't kill me in my sleep.”

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz thriller #hyunjin fluff #skz fluff #The Wedding Night by Hanniebaeee

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pearlywritings · 2 years ago

Text

In father’s embrace

synopsis: HSR men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Blade, Gepard, Loucha, Sampo, Jing Yuan x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, implied initial mortal x immortal in Blade’s

word count: 5.2k words

a/n: Luofu Xianzhou timeline is hell, so Blade’s one is quite vague. Here’s the Genshin version!

Blade

Blade tends to say that he has no connection to his past, but that is not true and very few (mostly Kafka) know he is lying. Even with his life and death fucked up he can't simply let go of someone his heart has been always full with, of someone who he promised himself to by the altar, even if under another name, of someone, who gifted him the joy of both his previous and current life - your daughter.

The blade - a cold weapon with no feelings - should not experience being lucky, but that’s what he was, when you clutched him in your arms the first time after his return from the dead and sobbed in his chest, telling him how much you missed him, how much his little angel missed him.

Back then he should've left without a trace, maybe even coming to you in the first place was a mistake, but he just couldn't. And his resolve crumbled completely when a white-haired toddler in your arms gazed at him with the same soft eyes as yours and reached out to his face, hesitantly asking "dada?".

As much as Blade is capable - he loves you and your daughter. He is quite absent due to his involvement with the Stellaron Hunters, but you understand how important that magenta-haired woman's ability is when it comes to restraining the mara in his body. After all that's the reason why he can visit without fear of hurting you or his little girl.

Some other sacrifices had to be made - one of them was moving from the Lofu Xianzhou, but that was alright and your daughter loved her new environment. Besides, dada has been visiting more often ever since you moved! And no one really bothered or chased after you (after all, you are still registered as his wife and higher ups of Lofu know), which, you assumed, was somehow connected with a young girl that once came with Blade.

Kafka once brought up a proposition of moving you two to the Stellaron Hunters' base for Blade's easier access, but he declined. At least his loved ones should have a peaceful everyday life.

With a tired sigh the black-haired man lowers himself on a sofa in the living room of the house you two purchased to start a seemingly new life. The red-hot iron in his eyes disappears behind the heavy eyelids and for a moment Blade allows himself to relax. The little wonder, that is his daughter, ran to your bedroom to fetch some hair accessories, after you encouraged your husband to let her style his long locks.

He doesn’t move when you sit next to him, hip to hip and heart to heart. He welcomes your sneaking fingers, curling his, creating a secure lock of hands. The weight of your head resting on his shoulder is grounding and he can’t help but press his cheek against it.

It’s soothingly silent.

It almost reminds him of the past.

“For how long will you be staying this time?

Even your question, spoken in a tender, understanding voice, is familiar. You used to ask him the same thing in-between his Cloud Quintet-related missions.

These days it’s difficult to sneak and see you during breaks though.

“Fifteen days,” his breath is even, and eyes are still shut, but he senses a smile that tugs on the corners of your lips.

“That’s a lot. She will be so happy,” and he knows that you are as well.

The rapid stomping of little feet bursts into your peaceful serenity, and you simultaneously glance at the doorway. Low and behold - the soon-to-be hair stylist is proudly running into the room, tightly clutching your jewelry box with various hair pins inside.

“Dad, I practiced! Mom says I’ve been making huuuuuuge progress!”

A tiny smile touches his pale lips - it’s such a miracle that a monster like him is blessed to have the most adorable child in the whole universe. With her and you by his side, this life gets more and more bearable.

“If mom says you’ve been, then it must be the truth,” he nods, letting go of your hand - but not before giving it a little affectionate stroke with his thumb, - sliding down and onto the floor, turning his back to the girl.

Giggling excitedly, she gives you the box, which you quickly unlock, and starts looking through the many intricate pieces of jewelry (many are your beloved’s presents), until finding the perfect one.

Having his hair being touched is weird. He was aware that the white luscious locks used to draw attention, but only you were honored to run your fingers through them, and only his baby was allowed to tug on them, making her father wince. Now it’s different - she is oh so careful, brushing, collecting stray locks and braiding, not once causing him pain.

Blade sighs again, but looks at you from the corner of his eye, catching you snickering in your palm upon gazing at something that your daughter is turning his hair into. Well, that’s concerning.

But at this very moment he can’t bring himself to care. If he gets fifteen whole days before his next mission, he is going to savor this time with his family - no matter how disastrous he’s going to look by the end of it.

Gepard

A family man. So no one was surprised when in the end the leader of the Silvermane Guards ended up with three kids - two sons and a daughter. Partly it was dictated by the rules of nobles and his family among them, but ultimately it was your mutual sincere decision.

It’s obvious he is not there for many of his kids’ first times, as sometimes his duties prevail and even the Supreme Guardian cannot help it, but he really-really tries to be there as much as possible. He appreciates the videos you send him, has every single one stored in his phone’s memory and sometimes, when there is no communication, in his spare moment he replays them to remind himself that soon he’ll return home and see his kids and you.

Only one time he really fucked up because of work - during your first pregnancy you both underestimated the soon arrival of your due date and he left on a mission with his troops, reassured that he’ll be back before the day you go into labor. The snowstorm was severe and the connection was cut, so the message Serval sent him when your water broke was not delivered. His soldiers would bring to their graves the image of a deathly pale Gepard, when many hours later he checked his phone back at the base and nearly broke the screen, trying to type his sister’s number.

After that he started taking paternity leave seriously.

You do not keep in touch with his parents a lot - there were instances where they disapproved of you, but all of his siblings are always welcomed in your house and to see their nephews and niece, because they supported your relationship from the moment they met you in flesh.

Serval is an enormous help when it comes to babysitting. It’s like her part-time job honestly - you even offered to pay her, but she declined, suggesting offering her a helping hand whenever she’d need instead. Oh, and to be the first one out of all the Landau siblings (after her brother, of course) to know about the latest updates on your kids.

The kids that are adorable. All three won the ‘blue eyes’ lottery, which, given the previous generations of Landau, is not a big surprise; both boys look like Gepard, while the girl took more after you in appearance. The man really doesn’t want to play favorites, but sometimes he is just too weak for his little princess, who looks just like her mom. She is the youngest too with a pretty big age gap between her and her brothers, who were born a year apart, so there is literally no jealousy, because your sons took their father’s example and became her protectors.

Even from a 'big bad dragon' that is their aunt…

When you step inside your house and hear the kids still fussing somewhere in the rooms, involuntarily your gaze falls to the old grandfather’s clock in the foye. Almost midnight. All three should be long asleep with Serval sending you a notification of her success. Which you didn’t receive and for that reason had to cut your date short and hurry back home.

Your husband looks as concerned as you are, locking the door and straining his ears to determine what’s going on. With both your coats abandoned, you carefully step further into the house, making your way to the line of light coming from under one of the doors.

Two jaws almost kiss the floor when you see Serval lying on the floor tied and gagged with a scarf. Alone. For a moment you fear the worst.

Rushing inside, you let Gepard search the other rooms for intruders. Helping your sister-in-law to sit is no problem, but the knot behind her head is awfully tightened. In the end you manage to yank it down to free her mouth, quickly switching to the rope constricting her hands.

“Y/n, oh my god,” she gasps, finally able to speak. “Who taught your sons to tie knots like this!? I didn’t know a sixteen- and fifteen-year olds can be so strong-”

“Come again?” Stunned, you stop untying her wrists, looking at the woman with widened eyes. Your boys did what?

“My precious nephews - whom I really do not want to strangle - took the game of knights too seriously, and when - maybe a half an hour ago? - I decided to play the dragon who was stealing the princess - my niece of three years, - they attacked and tied me!”

“Huh…” is all you can say, feeling relief wash over you. At least there are no burglars or kidnappers and your kids are safe.

When, listening Serval’s huffs of complaints, you move to untie her legs, the heavy steps of your husband are heard in the hallway, accompanied by the boys whining and begging their dad not to come to the living room, because the dragon would eat their sister.

His tall figure appears in the doorway, with your daughter in his arms, looking very sleepy, and two almost carbon copies of their dad pulling at his jacket to give them their sister back.

“Serval, what in blazes have you told them?” The judging tone and the squint of his blue eyes are directed at his elder sibling.

“It was just a game, Geppie! A silly game they turned into reality.”

“Aunt said she’d eat her,” your oldest pouts, eyeing her cautiously. “And she told us stories about the cannibals the other night-”

“Serval, you what?”

“Hey, they asked me to! Oh, thanks, Y/n,” she shrugs the loosened rope off of her. “Where did you even get this?”

“Aunt Lynx gave us,” the second son chirps, hugging Gepard’s side. “She showed us how to do knots.”

“This little-”

Suddenly you feel a headache coming. With big family come big challenges, but something of this caliber hasn’t happened in a while. It makes you smile though - you almost forgot what it was like - to raise two boys. Seems like your girl brings the borderline naughtiest out of them.

Loucha

To begin with it's worth mentioning that your and Loucha's marriage started as an unpredictable necessity. You both needed to enter the world that allowed only married foreigners' access. So, quickly figuring that your goal matches, you got married on a neighboring planet, spent a month there to make the marriage more believable in the sense of its duration and learning more about each other. Yeah, all of that just to fulfill your respectful jobs. You invented and rehearsed all the possible answers to the questions, perfected your affectionate act and were actually feeling quite comfortable around each other.

It was almost funny, when on the 'how many kids do you plan to have?' Loucha confidently answered 'two', and a couple of years later your first son was born, and then, after 7 more years, another one was too.

Admittedly, the oldest one was kind of unplanned, but at that point you traveled so much together, shared so many memories, even ended up caring for each other on a lover-like level, that you decided to give it a shot, just like you did with the continuation of your marriage.

And Loucha couldn't be more pleased. Surprisingly, he found the peace of those first years he spent settled down to raise your boy delightful. And there was something exciting about having a little wonder with a perfect mix of both of your features in your arms, as your husband's hand is resting on the small of your back, leading you through the crowds of the new planet's lively market, as the child's eyes shine with marvel, taking in his surroundings.

When Loucha suggested having another one it simply felt right.

Your sons are so lucky in the sense of seeing the universe, because their father is a traveling merchant. Sure, he doesn't always take you and your two boys with him, but whenever his deal allows him enough freedom and your kids are doing great in school and can be taken on a little vacation - you three are going with him.

Usually he gets to take care of the youngest one, since only Loucha's vast knowledge can satisfy his curiosity, while the oldest one calmly walks hand in hand with you, content with listening to their conversation and pointing out to you the things he already knows himself, receiving a soft praise from you and an approving nod from his father.

Back home the roles reverse - the oldest is spending most of his time with Loucha to learn all about medicine and healing techniques, while the youngest is more interested in sharing your hobbies.

The two hardly ever quarrel as siblings tend to do, and it must be because of the overall serene atmosphere of your family dynamic, your soft nature and your husband's tranquil behavior.

More than a decade ago Loucha wouldn't have imagined himself with a wife and kids. Nowadays, however, he doesn't like the thought of not having the three of you by his side.

It is a quiet afternoon. A little house you rented for a little vacation has a nice yard - perfect for the kids to have fun outside. You occasionally glance at them from the window of the kitchen to make sure everything is fine, while your hands never stop moving - washing, cutting, stirring.

At some point you are so caught in the moment of tranquility, that you do not hear your husband walking in, until he softly hums to alert you of his presence, and puts his palms on your waist.

“Smells delicious,” you smile, feeling his chin on your shoulder, and grab a piece of a tangerine you are meaning to use for dessert, offering it to him.

“Mhm, I am trying to cook what we had yesterday at that restaurant.”

Ah, right, the restaurant the kids enjoyed. He remembers how you sneaked to the kitchen and came back with a little less credits, but with new recipes and an excited smile on your face.

“Hopefully my rendition will be to our boys’ liking. And don’t think I forgot about you - those Loufu Xianzhou-style noodles are already on their way!”

“So thoughtful of you, darling,” his silky voice caresses your ear and not a second later a kiss is pressed to your cheek. “Do you need any help?”

“Weren’t you busy?” You decide to clarify, clearly recounting how he locked himself in one of the rooms earlier that day to test something. To your question Loucha shakes his head.

“All done already. And I missed you and the kids.”

“Then go and play with them,” you urge, turning to face him to offer a sweet smile. “I’ll handle it here, but the boys could use some quality time with their father.”

“You say that as if they didn’t drag us all around the city yesterday and then climb into our bed and refuse to leave.”

“I mean, it’s the first time in two months they properly see you. That last deal of yours was exceptionally time-consuming.”

“You kept me updated on them so well and those video calls we had… it didn’t even feel like I ever left.”

You only huff and return your gaze to the stove, yet leaning into his chest a little. For a minute it’s quiet, and the man is taking his time before parting from you. That is until he takes a deep inhale and nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“What for, handsome?” There is that teasing lilt in your voice he came to love. Over the course of your lives together he discovered many things to love you for, and if not for that desperate decision to get married - he thinks he’d hardly ever feel the same about his life.

“For everything.”

He leaves your side with a kiss on your shoulder and the next time you glance out of the window again - he is already there, hoisting his youngest in one arm and chasing after the oldest one with his hair swaying in the gentle wind. And your heart is at peace.

Sampo

In all his life Sampo has managed to never impregnate a single woman and he considers that a success. For all the crap people speak about him Sampo is not an idiot, even though he acts like a fool at times. He is extremely self-aware and bringing a child to this world is probably the last thing on his list.

But no one said anything about someone else’s child, right?

Your and Sampo’s relationship is… strange, not going to lie. One evening you happened to help a scared woman to escape from some drunkards (whom you lately found out were the Silvermane Guards, sober and on duty), only for the long wig to slip and the heavy coat to slide down, revealing shortly cut but nicely styled hair and obviously male broad shoulders. The only thing the man managed to get out was a sheepish “hehe”.

And boy did that “hehe” change your life.

That day Sampo Koski got off the hook, since you didn’t comment anyhow and just let him go, which, given you were an overworlder, he found intriguing. So he dug a little bit, out of pure curiosity. Besides, this man didn't like staying in debt to someone and he needed information to see how he could pay you back.

That’s when he found out you were a single mother. An opera singer, but divorced and with full custody over a six-year old daughter.

And honestly, he didn’t give it much thought at first. He simply arranged a nice bouquet of red roses for you, paid Natasha a little for a handmade plushie and left it all at the door steps with a ‘thank you’ note.

Until a couple of weeks ago, disguised again, he didn’t stumble into a group of kids obviously bullying a little girl, mocking her for not having a father, and throwing something among themselves that she tried to catch. And he recognized the toy. And one glance was enough to see how much she looked like the woman he met only once. And against his better judgment Sampo walked to the children, easily snatching the toy and effectively scaring everyone off. Only with that little girl still being there, eyes full of unshed tears and fingers digging in the skirt of her pretty dress.

That tiny ‘thank you’ when he handed the plushie back to her and she hugged it tightly to her chest made the conman’s heart clench, and for the second time that day he sent his plans to hell, keeping her company near the house you lived in until you arrived from work.

That day he learned many things - how much your daughter loved the toy and what a sweet little thing she was, how tired a person can look and how much a throat can hurt from the whole day of singing during rehearsals, how nice a home-made dinner can be once you are invited, but most importantly - how even such a damned man like him can be gazed upon with gratitude and not from one, but two people.

From that day many other instances happened, but in the end he just stuck around. It was strange, it was new, but in a sense it was comforting, especially when you would come home - on Friday, for example, - and he’d be there, entertaining your daughter and then greeting you with a smile and a silly wave of his hand.

You don’t have a husband, and your daughter doesn’t have a father - but with his presence Sampo Koski manages to fill those voids even if a little bit.

Aeons you love days off. A morning to finally sleep in and do not run around like crazy in attempts to get yourself and your kid ready. Even breakfast wasn’t on you today, because the ‘silly man’ stayed the night and told you to get your sleep, assuring you with that confident puff of his chest that the Sampo Koski would offer you his best service, which effectively made you giggle.

Tonight he even cuddled with you, letting you bury your face in his neck and be a little vulnerable in the arms of a man with whom you had the most peculiar relationship ever. But after such equally peculiar moments you really start thinking of suggesting moving from the couch in the living room to your bedroom permanently. It’s been months already, who would’ve thought.

Barefoot and not even glancing at the robe on the chair near the window you leave the room, rubbing at your eyes and brushing your hair away from your face. You are craving the cup of your morning drink, and so you let your legs carry you to the kitchen at first. However two voices coming from your wardrobe room instantly peak your interest and make you halt in your walking. What on earth could your daughter and your clown of a man be doing there?

And soon enough you find it out.

“Sit still, please!” The girl begs with an eye shadow palette in one tiny hand and a huge brush in the other. “It’ll smudge if you keep turning to the mirror!”

“Just can’t wait to see how beautiful I am, princess, ‘s all~”

There, on the floor among the rows of your clothes and shelves with beauty products and accessories, none other than Sampo is sitting, willingly offering his face to your daughter’s practice of applying makeup. And gods he looks absolutely hilarious.

But that’s not what exactly concerns you.

“Is that my dress?” You point at the red shimmery thing snuggly sitting on the man in front of you and that’s when the two notice you.

“Yes, mommy!”

“Say I pulled it off, right?” With a smirk the green-eyed menace winks at you and it looks even worse with poorly done lashes. You have to stifle your laughter. “Though I must admit, we had to keep it unzipped - my chest appeared to be bigger than yours-”

And that’s when you regret not bringing slippers with you - one flying in his head would be of great help.

“Sometimes I really hate you.”

“Nuh, sweet thing, you love me!”

“Well,” you step closer, grabbing a tissue to try and fix at least the overly bright blush on his cheeks, “maybe. Maybe I actually do.”

Suddenly Sampo is tongue-tied and silent, trying very hard to fight off the stupid grin forcing its way onto his face. But with thoroughly smeared red lipstick on his mouth it looks so damn comical.

“Mom, do you think pa looks pretty?” Your daughter hopefully asks, putting aside her tools, and that little two-letter word doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. You feel a real blush burning under your deft fingers.

“Yes, sweety, Pa-mpo looks very pretty,” his head whips in your direction like you’ve just told him to go and surrender to the Belobog’s esteemed order keepers.

“...Pa-mpo?”

“Would you prefer Da-mpo instead?” Cocking your head in question, you smirk at him, relishing in the pout he is wearing at the moment. “Or maybe Sam-pa?”

“No, thank you very much,” he huffs. “Little princess called me ‘pa’, so be nice and respect it.”

And now it is you who is surprised. You haven’t really discussed with Sampo who he was to your daughter, and who she was to him - but if he is making this step of acknowledging the matter, then who are you to spoil it? Who knows, maybe things will work out quite pleasantly in the end.

“Alright, pa, I will respect that.”

“Hey! For you I am your precious popo baby, a koskiss to your lips, the love of your-”

“Don’t even dream of it.”

Jing Yuan

Yanqing would be enough of an answer to the kid question, but it is not. Sure, his young disciple is practically a son to the General, but it doesn't mean the man doesn't want his own children.

He does and he has. On multiple occasions Jing Yuan's subordinates walked in on him with a small figure sitting in his lap or perched on his strong arm, observing what the dad's been up to with his plans and documents. You scolded your husband for this many times, but the bastard only smiles and keeps stealing his daughter to work to keep him company. Or she sneaks on her own - that caused you many almost heart attacks when she was no older than a couple of decades.

For Jing Yuan it’s all good though - he gets to spend time with his baby and have you inevitably join him in search for your adventurous child.

The General has a separate folder for all the pictures of his daughter on his phone - every single one he takes and every single one you send him when he couldn’t bring his girl to some of his meetings (yet he really tried, until you put your foot down and saved many of his subordinates from the prolonging of said meetings). Even the background, hidden from prying eyes behind the passcode of your and her birthdays, is his little one, cradled in your arms, as the two of you are watching kites flying in the sky.

Yanqing at first was set on treating her with the same respect he does his mentor and you, his wife, but you quickly put an end to it, basically turning the boy into her older brother. He didn’t mind at all - if anything he is sometimes way too eager to push the two of you to go on a date so he can babysit. Often you would return to the two fast asleep either on the girl’s bed or cuddled to Mimi with toys scattered and at least two books lying on the floor. The huge lion adores the girl - sometimes you feel like it thinks of her as its own cub, and the thick mane of hair your daughter got from her father does not help.

And it appeared to be as eager to steal your daughter from you as your husband is…

“Y/n!” You practically jump when the doors to your bedroom fly open and Jing Yuan bursts inside. Immediately you notice his disheveled state - hair down and a mess, the robe he wore this morning for comfortable work in his home office is falling off one of his shoulders and a shoe is missing from his foot.

“Aeons, Yuan, don’t scare me like that,” you put a comb down on your vanity table and fully turn to face him. “What happened?”

“Is our precious baby with you?” He steps further into the room and starts looking around frantically. Okay, now that got worrisome.

“No? You took her earlier this afternoon after lunch to play in your study while you work. Have you really forgotten that? My love, you are getting old.”

You hear clearly as he curses under his breath, raking thick fingers through his hair. The golden eyes look at you and in them you spot a flicker of anxiety.

“...Jing Yuan, don’t tell me that you managed to lose our daughter.”

“I didn’t, I swear,” he winces at the full name usage, watching you rise from your seat and quickly approach him. “She was right by my side, watching the animal videos on my phone, but then I got immersed in the latest reports from the Sky-Faring Commission and when I finished whose - she was gone!”

“Uh, want me to call your phone? Maybe she still has it.”

To that he puts a hand in the robe’s pocket and brings out his device. Oh god.

“It was lying on the floor, still playing videos.”

“Okay, deep breaths,” you are not sure if you are telling it to him or to yourself, but you too take an inhale, meanwhile busying your hands with adjusting his clothes. “Even buried in work you’d still notice if a human sneaked in, right?” He nods. “And you’d notice if she left - she would’ve warned you about that.” He nods again, lips pursed and eyes staring at one point. “Yanqing is not as skilled to come unannounced and take her, and he wouldn’t do it without your permission, so-”

“Wait,” his hand catches yours and realization flashes in his features. “Mimi came.”

“...Mimi?” Before you can ask him to elaborate, your husband turns around and rushes out of the bedroom. Concerned and a little bit intrigued, you quickly follow.

In one of the rooms of your huge house the two of you finally find the lion, and Jing Yuan almost drops on the floor in relief when his girl is spotted in the animal’s embrace.

“Is she…sleeping?” You ask, glancing from behind his broad back.

“It appears so. Hey, Mimi,” the maned head lifts, two ambers taking in your appearances and a pleased huff is let out through the nose upon recognition.

“Well, my dear,” you pat his shoulder, shaking your head, “it appears that people were right - like the owner, like the pet. Congratulations, your lion took your habit of stealing our daughter to heart. Good luck prying her from it.”

“You say it like it’s something hard to do,” there it is, a confident smile is back on his face as he strides closer to the animal, ready to bend down and get his girl. Only for that lift of the corners of his lips to be gone when Mimi growls at him in a warning and shields your daughter’s little body with its head.

You only smirk and leave the scene to go and get your phone - there is no way you are not filming your husband dealing with the consequences of his own behavior.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #blade x fem!reader #gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x fem!reader #loucha x reader #loucha x fem!reader #sampo x reader #sampo koski x reader #sampo x fem!reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x fem!reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff

7K notes · View notes

bassguitarinablackt-shirt · 8 months ago

Note

Uh I feel like you should know.

I counted my rp blogs and.

36 total.

You may boil me.

i don't even have the words to describe my disappointment in you.

#inside chases ask box #percys boiling pot

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moonlightwritingf1 · 18 days ago

Text

The Sweet Surprise | LN4

⋆˚✿˖° summary ━━━━━━━ Lando finds Y/N's sex toy

⋆˚✿˖° pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆˚✿˖° word count ━━━━━━━ 2.7k

⋆˚✿˖° warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

Based on this request.

It was a quiet Friday evening in London, the sky painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun began to set. Inside her apartment, Y/N was still at work, wrapped up in her typical 9-to-5 routine. The familiar hum of her laptop screen and the rustle of papers were the only sounds filling the space. But there was something different in the air today, something she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was the way the evening light seemed to make the room feel a little warmer, or maybe it was the anticipation of the surprise she knew was coming.

Lando had always been a bit unpredictable when it came to their time together. After weeks of gentle teasing and persistent gifts, she had finally agreed to go on a date with him—six dates, to be precise. Each one had brought them closer, the chemistry undeniable, the tension palpable. Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was just playing with her. She wasn’t sure whether he was serious about her or simply enjoying the chase. And as much as she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t falling for him, she couldn’t ignore the fluttering in her stomach whenever she saw him.

Tonight, she had no idea what to expect. All she knew was that Lando was coming over, and he had promised her a surprise.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

She opened the door to find Lando standing there, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In his hands was a box, carefully wrapped with a ribbon. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he said, his voice low, yet teasing. “I brought you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, feeling a sudden wave of curiosity. “What’s this?”

Lando grinned mischievously. “You’ll see. Open it.”

Inside the box was a cake—no ordinary cake, but the one from her favorite bakery. The one she had mentioned in passing months ago, how she rarely got the chance to have it because it was always sold out. Lando had somehow managed to secure a special order, paying extra for the bakery to make it just for her.

“You actually got it?” she asked, her voice filled with surprise. “How did you even—”

“I have my ways,” he said with a wink. “But you deserve something special. I figured this would be the perfect treat.”

Her heart warmed at the gesture. She hadn’t expected something so thoughtful. “You really went all out.”

“I would do anything for you,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “I hope you like it.”

They sat down together, savoring the rich layers of the cake, the sweetness of the moment matching the sweetness of the dessert. The conversation flowed easily, the two of them slipping into a comfortable rhythm. The tension between them was undeniable, but they both danced around it—teasing, flirting, but never crossing the line.

After they finished their cake, Y/N stood up to put the remaining slices in the fridge. As she did, Lando leaned back in his chair, watching her with that familiar glint in his eyes.

“So,” Lando said casually, leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched her put away the leftover cake. His tone was smooth, almost too casual. “Do you have the book you promised me?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, momentarily confused. “Book?”

“Yes, the one you said I absolutely have to read,” he replied, smirking. “You said it’s in your room.''

“Oh!” Y/N’s eyes widened as realization struck. “Right. That book.”

He chuckled softly, amused by how easily distracted she was. “Where is it?”

“It’s on my nightstand,” she said, closing the fridge door. “You can grab it. I think it’s on top of the stack.”

“Sure,” Lando said, pushing off the counter and heading toward her bedroom.

Y/N didn’t think twice about it. Why would she? The book was exactly where she said it was, and her room was relatively tidy—at least, she thought it was. She turned back to the counter, wiping it down absentmindedly as her mind wandered to the cake he had surprised her with.

Meanwhile, Lando stepped into her room, his gaze immediately falling on the nightstand. The book was there, just as she’d said, but his attention didn’t stay on it for long.

Because there, on the bed, lying in plain sight, was something far more attention-grabbing: her dildo.

He blinked, taken aback for a second, before a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. Of all the things he’d expected to find, this was certainly not one of them.

“Did you find it?” Y/n called out from the kitchen, her voice carrying a casual tone as she slid the remaining slice of cake into the fridge. The sweet aroma of vanilla and buttercream lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of Lando’s cologne that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Silence.

“Lando?” she tried again, this time tilting her head toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. Her heart began to thud softly in her chest, a nervous flutter she couldn’t quite explain. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and stepped into the hallway, her bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor.

When she reached her bedroom door, she froze.

Lando was standing by her bed, his back to her, shoulders tense. His gaze was fixed on something on the mattress, something Y/n had completely forgotten about until now. Her dildo.

Oh God. Her stomach dropped. Heat rushed to her cheeks, spreading down her neck and across her chest. How could I forget? Earlier that day, after a particularly steamy session in the shower, she’d left it there, too lost in her own thoughts to remember to put it away.

“Uh…” she started, her voice barely audible. “I can explain…”

Lando turned slowly, his blue/ green eyes darkening as they met hers. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it wasn’t mocking—it was hungry. “Explain what?” he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off a spoon. “That you like to keep things… handy?”

Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, trying to will away the embarrassment. “It’s not what you think,” she muttered, though even she knew how weak that sounded.

Lando took a step closer, his fingers brushing against the edge of the bed. “Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think,” he said, his tone teasing yet laced with something deeper. Something raw. He picked up the toy, turning it over in his hands as if inspecting it. “Impressive size,” he added, his smirk widening. “Guess you don’t settle for less, huh?”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Could you not?”

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Why? Embarrassed?” He closed the distance between them, stopping just inches from her. His free hand reached out, gently tugging one of hers away from her face. “You shouldn’t be.”

His touch was warm, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that made her breath catch. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, searching his for any hint of judgment. But all she found was… desire.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. “Do you really think I care about that?” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “If anything, it just makes me wonder… What else are you hiding behind that tough-girl act of yours?”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. This was dangerous. Too dangerous. She’d spent months keeping him at arm’s length, convincing herself he wasn’t serious, that he didn’t see her the way she secretly hoped he did. But now, with him so close, with his words unraveling her defenses, she wasn’t sure she could hold back anymore.

“I’m not hiding anything,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Bullshit,” he said bluntly, his tone firm yet gentle. “You’re always hiding, Y/n. Behind your sarcasm, your independence, your I-don’t-need-anyone attitude. But I see you. I always have.”

Her breath hitched. No one had ever talked to her like this, stripped her bare with just a few words. It terrified her. And yet…

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “And what if you don’t like what you see?”

He paused, his expression softening. Slowly, he set the toy down on the nightstand and cupped her face in his hands. His touch was so tender, so genuine, it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “I already do,” he said, his voice steady. “Every single part of you.”

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with tension. Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as she searched his face, looking for any sign of deceit. But there was none. Just honesty. And something else… something that made her knees weak.

“Lando…” she breathed, her resolve crumbling.

He didn’t wait for her to finish. His lips crashed onto hers, the kiss fierce and hungry, as if he’d been holding back for far too long. Y/n gasped into his mouth, her hands instinctively clutching the front of his shirt. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers, and she melted into him, every thought, every doubt, vanishing in an instant.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Lando rested his forehead against hers. “Stop running from me,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Let me in.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body trembling with the weight of his words. She wanted to. God, she wanted to. But fear still lingered, clawing at the edges of her mind.

“What if I’m not enough for you?” she asked, her voice breaking.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still cradling her face. “You already are,” he said firmly. “You always have been.”

She searched his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity. For the first time in months, maybe even years, she let herself believe it.

“Okay,” she whispered.

His lips curved into a soft smile, and he kissed her again, this time slower, more tender. Their bodies pressed together, heat building between them, until neither of them could think straight.

“Bed,” Lando murmured against her lips, his voice husky.

She nodded, her heart racing as he guided her backward, their movements clumsy yet frantic. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, she fell onto it, pulling him down with her. He hovered above her, his eyes burning with desire as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, her hands gripping the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you dare.”

Lando’s lips trailed down her neck, leaving a searing path of heat as his fingers gently traced the curve of her waist. Y/n’s breath hitched, her mind still reeling from the intensity of their kiss. She could feel the weight of him above her, the warmth of his body pressing into hers, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

His hand slid lower, brushing against her thigh, and she instinctively parted her legs, inviting him closer. But instead of continuing where she expected, Lando pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with mischief as he glanced toward the bed. Her cheeks flushed when she realized what—or rather, who—he was looking at.

The dildo. Still lying there, shamelessly exposed.

“So…” Lando drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Is this how you spend your Friday nights?”

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God, can we just forget about that?”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Why would I want to forget?” His fingers brushed over her wrist, prying her hands away from her face so he could look into her eyes. “I think it’s hot.”

Her heart raced at his words, and she bit her lip, unsure how to respond. Hot? The idea of him finding something like that attractive made her stomach flip in the most delicious way. But before she could say anything, Lando reached for the toy, holding it up between them with a smirk.

“You know,” he said, his tone dripping with playful confidence, “I could give you a much better experience than this.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as she processed his words. “W-what are you saying?”

Instead of answering, he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Let me show you.”

A wave of heat surged through her, pooling at her core. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, all she could do was nod weakly as Lando moved down her body, his hands trailing along her skin. He pushed her dress higher, exposing her thighs, and she tensed slightly, her nerves getting the better of her.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing despite the wicked grin on his face. “Just let me take care of you.”

She swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears as she watched him position himself between her legs. His gaze locked with hers, and he held up the dildo, his expression daring her to stop him. With deliberate precision, he slid her panties to the side, exposing her to him fully. But she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. The anticipation was too intense, the desire too overwhelming.

When the cool silicone touched her bare skin, she gasped, her hips arching instinctively. Lando’s free hand pressed against her hip, holding her steady as he teased her with the toy, tracing slow, deliberate circles around her most sensitive spot.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

All she could manage was a whimper, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. The sensation was maddening, every touch sending jolts of pleasure through her body. And then, just as she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he pressed the tip of the dildo against her entrance, slowly pushing it inside.

Her back arched off the bed, a moan escaping her lips as she felt herself stretching to accommodate it. Lando’s eyes never left her face, watching intently as he began to move it in and out, setting a slow, teasing rhythm.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her head falling back against the pillow. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before—the coldness of the toy contrasting with the heat of his touch, the way he seemed to know exactly how to move to drive her wild.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Lando murmured, his voice thick with admiration. “Completely undone.”

She opened her eyes, locking gazes with him, and saw the raw desire in his expression. It sent a thrill through her, knowing that she was the one who had put that look on his face. Without thinking, she reached for him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him down for a bruising kiss.

Their lips clashed together, messy and desperate, as he continued to work the dildo inside her. The dual sensations were almost too much—the deep, filling pressure of the toy combined with the soft, insistent movements of Lando’s tongue against hers.

“More,” she begged against his mouth, her voice trembling with need.

He obliged without hesitation, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts until she was writhing beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders. Every nerve in her body was alight, every inch of her skin on fire. She could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it threatened to snap.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “I-I’m close.”

“Come for me,” he commanded, his tone firm yet tender. “Let go.”

And just like that, she shattered. Pleasure exploded through her, white-hot and all-consuming, as her body convulsed around the toy. Lando held her through it, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she rode out the waves of ecstasy.

When she finally came down, her chest heaving and her limbs boneless, Lando set the dildo aside and shifted to lay beside her. He brushed her damp hair from her face, his eyes soft with affection.

“See?” he said, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. “Told you I’d do better.”

She laughed breathlessly, her cheeks flushing again. “Okay, fine. You win.”

“Good,” he replied, leaning in to capture her lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more tender, but no less passionate. When he pulled away, his eyes sparkled with mischief once more.

“But don’t think for a second I’m done with you yet.”

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pasukiyo · 1 year ago

Text

HANDLE IT

mike schmidt x f!teacher!reader word count; 2,417 warnings; once again, no plot, just porn <3 summary; mike has a look. that's never a good sign.

“Follow Mrs Davis and her class for lunch!”

Mike watched from his seat behind the teacher’s desk as his girlfriend saw her class out the door, hand on the handle and pulling it closed behind them, making sure to twist the lock while she did. The corners of his mouth twitched as she sighed and fell back against the door, blowing a strand of loose hair out of her face.

“Long day?” Mike asked and she narrowed her eyes over at him, her lips quirked in a tired grin. “Don’t even get me started,” she grumbled as she pushed herself off of the door, heels clicking against the tile as she made her way back to her desk.

“Abby hasn’t been a problem, I hope?” Mike cocked an eyebrow to his hairline as she leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, settling herself down in her chair. She rolled her eyes at this, “you always make it seem like she should be causing trouble,” she tittered. “No, Abby’s always great.”

She watched as Mike reached for the floor beside him, a plastic takeout bag in his hand and she grinned, wiggling in her seat as he began to unravel the knot in the handles. “Sooo… what did you bring me?” She asked, letting the smell of what she swore was tomato sauce waft through her nostrils.

“New Italian place opened in the mall. Figured we could try it out,” he replied as he handed her one of the takeout boxes in which she ripped the lid off of, grinning over at Mike. “Spaghetti with meatballs. You know me so well.”

She leaned forward as he handed her the plastic fork to press a kiss against his lips and Mike smiled, practically chasing after her mouth again when she pulled away. He watched as she spun the spaghetti around her fork, as she took a bite and moaned at the taste.

Suddenly, Mike’s jeans felt very tight.

“What is this place called? It’s amazing,” she moaned, chewing behind her fingers as she turned to glance over at Mike. “Ten out of ten. This might even be better than your spaghetti and meatballs.”

Mike, although distracted by something else entirely, furrowed his brows at this, tossing his hands up. “Hey,” he said. “Thought you loved my spaghetti and meatballs.”

She shrugged, “they’re alright.” Mike playfully shoved her shoulder and she tried to bite back a chuckle, glancing back over to him. “Hey, I don’t see you eating spaghetti and meatballs, why don’t you try and find out?” She laughed, taking a bite from a meatball as Mike pressed his lips together, curved into a grin as he shook his head. “Nah, I’m not that hungry right now.”

She raised a brow and tilted her head to eye the other takeout box in the plastic bag. “Mike, you haven’t even touched your food,” she tittered, eyeing him incredulously. She narrowed her lids, “you have a look.”

The corner of Mike’s mouth twitched— she was catching on. “I don’t have a look.”

Her face fell and she dropped her fork in the to-go box, eyebrow cocked. “Yes, you do.”

Mike leaned back in his seat and locked his fingers together on his lap, shrugging as he turned his head to face her. “Enlighten me, what look do you think I have?”

For a fleeting moment, her gaze lowered to the very evident tent in his jeans, her thighs subconsciously clenching together at the sight, cheeks growing warm when he chuckled. She looked away, soothing her palms up and down the length of her skirt and Mike watched, teeth sunken into the inside of his cheek. A scenario played in the forefront of his mind, fantasizing about ripping the skirt clean off her legs and taking her right there on top of her desk had him balling a fist, squeezing his thumb so tight, it almost felt like it’d pop.

“Mike…”

“What?” He murmured, leaning in closer, brushing away the hair curtaining away the side of her face back behind her ear. She melted like wax at his touch, as if her fingertips were flames. Her skin burned so hot now, she feared she actually would melt into a pool of magma on the floor below.

“Here?” She whispered as he rolled his chair closer, his breath a phantom looming over her flesh, sending shivers slithering down the coil of her spine. Mike peered up into the sides of her irises, “why not?”

His lips pressed against the delicate skin just below her ear and she trembled, panicking eyes darting to the door she had thankfully locked. “I’ll give you a million reasons why not,” she murmured as his kisses trailed down to the curve of her shoulder, the scruff on his chin and just above his lips deliciously burning her skin.

“I can be sneaky,” he whispered against the valley between her neck and shoulder, his lips a crescent against her skin when he playfully nipped her flesh between his teeth there. She jolted and hissed, clenching her thighs together once more as the familiar slick of warmth burned the pit of her belly. “If somebody walks in, we’re both dead,” she murmured as his palm gripped and soothed down the length of her thigh, kneading at her knee, teasing her, taunting her.

“Relax, babe,” he breathed a chuckle against the crook of her neck. “I just want a taste, that’s all. Wouldn’t want you to get all fucked out before the day is over.”

His low, raspy words had her reeling, her head in a frenzy and teetering on the edge of a mindset she knew she was at risk of falling down into. “Screw you, Mike,” she muttered through gritted teeth as he grinned, placing one last kiss against the breadth of her shoulder before sinking down to his knees on the floor, hanging his head so that he could fit beneath the desk.

Her heart drummed against her chest as he slithered his way between her legs, hands on her knees as slowly he parted them, as if he were unwrapping a present on Christmas Day. Through heavy eyelids, she peered down at him just as a silent curse fell from his mouth, teeth burrowed into the plush of his bottom lip as the pads of his thumbs rubbed circles into the inside of her knees.

“You’re soaked clean through your panties,” he chuckled and she burned brighter, sweat already beginning to bead at her hairline and her chest heaving to the unsteady beat of her heart. His name fell from her lips in a whispered sigh as he reached forward with his right thumb, pressing the fat of it straight onto her clothed clit, her back arching up off of her chair as he traced an agonizingly slow and painful circle against it, sighing at the way her slick showed through the thin fabric of her underwear.

“Fffuck,” he grumbled beneath his breath, hiking the skirt that hugged her curves until they pooled at her hips, pushing her knees further apart until he had full access to everything. His gaze was like a laser, burning through the damp fabric of her panties straight through to her pussy. He eyed her like he was starved, like he’d go hungry if he didn't get himself a taste.

Mike hooked his middle and forefinger around the hem of her underwear and tugged, although with some resistance with how wet she was. She gasped when the fabric unstuck itself from her arousal, Mike’s lips falling agape as he tugged her panties all the way down her legs until they hooked around one single ankle. He pressed himself closer, wrapping his arms around her hips and with his palms to her ass, drawing her in even closer until she sat on the edge of her seat.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he marveled at the sight before him, admiring every single inch of her as if she were an artifact. She shuddered beneath his stare. “Mike,” she mewled through a shaky breath, “please.”

With those deep, rich chocolate brown eyes, he glimpsed up at her and she gazed back, wondering when his pupils ended and his irises started. His eyes glimmered with longing, with desire, with lust. She thought she’d come from just his stare alone.

“Have to stay quiet, hm?” He nodded up at her, maintaining eye contact as he pressed a kiss just above her clit, feeling it throb against his chin as she writhed, trying to suppress her mewl. She nodded, pressing her lips together as she briefly glanced up at the door then to the windows— she was so grateful she’d drawn the blinds earlier.

Their gazes never leaving one another, Mike carefully leaned down to press a tender kiss on top of her aching bud, her toes curling in, back arching off the back of her chair. One of her hands flung to the mess of dark tendrils atop his head, the other gripping the armrest of her desk chair. Mike pulled away again, the makings of a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Think you can handle it?” He asked and she whimpered, nodding, every ounce of dignity in her body long gone, thrown somewhere far away from right there.

“Just… please, Mike,” she whined, trying to keep her voice on the low as she gripped the roots of his hair tighter, inviting him back into her warmth, his arousal like a gloss on his lips. The crescent shape of his lips fell back against her clit as he pressed another kiss to it, electricity flowing through her body and making her jolt once more.

Mike eyed her through hooded lids as he licked a stripe all the way from her entrance back up the underside of her clit, relishing in the way she’d tremble and press her lips together in a desperate attempt to silence her whimpers. The delectable taste of her arousal coated his tongue and simmered on his taste buds as if she were his ambrosia, and he hummed as he licked another line up her slit.

“Taste so damn good,” he practically growled against her cunt as he plunged his face back in, his lips around her clit and tongue swirling against the sensitive nub. Tears were streaming down the sides of her face now as she threw her head back, using every last ounce of strength inside her body to will her moans to stay at a minimum. All she could do was pray that nobody would come knocking on her classroom door now.

A string of curses, his name among the mix, tumbled from her lips as he sucked her clit, every swirl of his tongue coaxing her closer and closer to the edge. She was balancing on a tightrope now, teetering on bliss as his tongue trailed down to her entrance, slow but firm as it pushed its way in. Her fingers tightened in the mess of hair on his head, pulling harder, making him surge into her.

She could feel every inch of his tongue inside of her and he was so close, the bridge of his nose pressed deliciously down on her clit, sending her down into a spiral of pleasure. She squeezed her eyelids together so tight, she was seeing stars, a shimmering backdrop of glitter as he swirled his muscle inside of her, humming into her at her taste.

“Sh… shi… shit, Mike!” She gasped as he nodded his head, tongue swirling inside of her, the bridge of his nose rubbing up and down against her clit. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her hand, every move his tongue made and every bit of pressure his nose applied to her clit added more rubber bands to the ball pressing down against the pit of her belly, dangerously close to erupting. “I’m… I’m gonna come if you don’t… if you don’t stop.”

Mike blinked up at her and pulled away for breath, every inch of his face from the bridge of his nose down slick and shiny with her arousal. She felt herself clench at the mere sight as his chest heaved, chasing air back into his lungs, a smug smirk on his face. “I’m betting on it, babe,” he chuckled before diving back in, her pussy empty one moment and nearly full of his tongue the next.

His eagerness almost had her screaming, her nails scraping so hard against his scalp, somewhere in the back of her mind, she feared she’d draw blood. Mike hummed against her— he didn’t seem to mind so much.

Oh, how could he when he could sense she was so close? He could practically smell her orgasm, using every ounce of skill in his body to push her even closer to the edge, to knock her unsteady on top of that tightrope until it snapped below her altogether.

With her hand not tangled in his hair, she sank her teeth into the side of her hand to muffle the scream that ripped through her body, squeezing her eyelids shut even tighter as her body spasms, bones rattling in her release’s wake. Her orgasm thundered and cracked through her body like an earthquake, the sheer power of her release like a tempest. Her thighs squeezed around Mike’s head and he palmed at the sides of them as he swirled his tongue inside of her again and again, making sure not a drop of her went to waste.

He was practically drinking her, slurping every last drop until there was none left to be had. And only when that moment came did he pull away, breathless as he sat back on his heels below her desk, swiping at the slick dripping down his face with the back of his hand.

Mike gazed up at her curiously, her head still thrown back over the back of the chair, chest heaving up and down as she struggled to catch her breath. He chuckled as he pushed himself out from underneath her desk and up so that he could stand beside her, a palm cupping her cheek, the other aiding her head to sit normally on her shoulders. The pad of his thumb soothed over against her cheek, coaxing her out of her bleary state, her vision slowly beginning to clear again.

Mike tried to bite back his smile, “doing alright there?”

She huffed as her cheeks burned, “shut up, Mike.”

a/n; i ended up writing up this one in like 45 minutes while sitting in the bathtub LMAO y'all went absolutely crazy with the last mike fic, you literally broke my tumblr notifications 😭 glad to see so many others horny for josh in this movie too

TAGLIST !!

@bxbyyyjocelyn

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #michael afton #michael afton x reader #mike schmidt imagine

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girliism · 3 months ago

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more of art with his mean femdom fuck buddy cause why not.

it’s been a week since you heard from art, which is weird because he’s usually blowing up your phone the second he wakes up. now, you would never be caught dead chasing down a man but this was art, your art. and though you’d never admit it because you and him were nothing more than fuck buddies, there was a part of you that was actually worried about him.

you rapped your knuckles against his door. art opening the door in his his striped boxes and a plain t-shirt. “what are you doing here?” art was shocked to see you, you didn’t bother answering him just pushed your way into his dorm.

“you’ve been super m.i.a recently, just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.” you took in the state of his room, his bed wasn’t made and there was papers and books scattered around his desk. “o-oh, sorry about that i’ve been busy studying for my test.” he scratched the back of head looking down.

studying. you knew art wasn’t much of a scholar and by the state of him preparing for this test was taking a toll on him. you stalked towards him, running your hands up his chest to rest on him cheeks looking him in the eye. “you’ve been working so hard haven’t you?” art pouted, nodding his head. his eyes were getting glassy as he started to slip so easily into subspace. you ran your hands through his soft curls.

you pushed art to sit down in his desk chair then climbed onto him, settling down in his lap.

“i really don’t like it when you ignore me.” art takes a deep breath, fingers lightly squeezed at your thighs. “i didn’t mean too. i-i just am failing this class and i really needed to study, i’m sorry.” he whispered the last part. you trucked his hair behind his ear sighing. “failing? art, i know you’re not the brightest but failing.”

you were disappointed and art could hear it in your voice. it was making him horny, you were practically calling him stupid and his dick was hard.

you tsked, shaking your head. “you’re so useless. failing classes i could pass in my sleep.” you look him straight in the eye. “what are you even good for?” you asked in mocking pout. art shook his head, his pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. “whatever you want. i-i can be good and-and i’ll stop failing. i just wanna be inside you right now. please.” your uninterested eyes bore into his pleading one’s.

you got off arts lap, his eyes following your movement. “need to get your dick wet in order of your brain to work?” you stood over him with your hands on your hips. art gave you a pathetic little nod before you motioned for him to get on the bed.

art layed out on the bed waiting for you to do something. you crept your hands up his strong thighs, yanking his underwear off and his cock sprung free. you didn’t touch it even though it was practically begging you too. his shirt was taken off next leaving him bare underneath you.

you stripped yourself of your clothes and situated your body on top of art’s. his hands instinctively flew to grab at your waist. you swatted his hands away “dumb boys don’t touch.”

“s-sorry.”

you grind your cunt over art’s cock before gripping it and sinking down on it. “fuck.” you let your head drop back as you embraced the stretch of your walls. art dug his nails into the palm of his hand. it was taking everything in him not to touch you when you started to slowly bounce on him. art was whimpering and whining, tears were starting to to prick in art’s eyes. the way you were squeezing him tight making his cock all warm and wet, the feeling of your fingers pinching at his nipples before slipping into his mouth pressing down on his tongue. it was getting to be all too much.

“i’m so-so close, please please can i cum.” his words were slightly muffled around you fingers.

“of course you can.” your voice was so sweet, art let out a moan as if he were about to cum right then and there before you spoke again. “but only after you take a practice test and score no lower than a b minus.” it was an ambiguous task for art but him ditching you to study all week should pay off right.

“what?! no, please! i can’t hold it. need to cum.” art sat up taking hold of your hips. you hand rested now on his neck as you pushed him to lay back down. “if you cum right now art i swear i’ll all your little tennis buddies what real slut you are.” art’s face flushed making him redder than he already was.

he could see it now, walking onto the courts for practice only to see the guys huddled together staring at the all the pictures and videos of him that you sent out. the humiliation alone would kill him.

you could feel art’s cock twitch inside you at the threat. “i thought you wanted to be good.” art had thick tears sitting on his lash line. “i do. i wanna be good, but you just-you feel so good. best pussy, my favorite.” he buried his face in your chest and you let him. “but i’ll wait.” you smiled, rocking your hips again chasing your own high.

you moaned directly in his ear, and your fingers pulled lightly at his hair. “you’re such a good boy art. so good for me.” you were getting closer and art placed his thumb on your clit rubbing it. “th-thank you.” art gave your neck messy kisses and you came on his cock with a harsh pull of his hair and a loud gasp.

you let art sit inside you for a bit before having him do the test you mentioned earlier. he ended up doing better than you both excepted and was rewarded accordingly.

“art. you know if you ever need help with your work and stuff you can ask me.” you broke the calm silence. art raised his head from where it was resting in the crook of your neck. “i’ll remember that, thank you.”

#girliism #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut

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zepskies · 2 months ago

Text

'Twas the Night...

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean listens, sometimes when you least expect it. This year, Christmas begins to become something new for both of you.

AN: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa gift for @eldritchlibertine! The idea is based on this request from @whichwitchwanda (a story prompted from the header image).

Word Count: 2.4K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and more fluff! Christmas feels. ❤️

A door burst open, and your eyes raised from the page. You nearly dropped your book into your lap when you saw it—the wide, bristled top of an evergreen tree trying to shove its way through the door of the bunker.

Or rather, it only seemed that way.

All the way up at the top of the rod iron staircase, grumbled cursing and muttering and arguing filtered down to you in the common room, where you were leaning back in your seat with an old copy of Wuthering Heights. You sat up, an incredulous smirk beginning to curve your lips.

“Dean, it’s not gonna fit.” That was Sam, obviously. You’d recognize his testy bitching anywhere.

“You kiddin’ me? All that work I spent sawing this thing outta the ground, I’m gonna damn well make it fit. Come on, put your big boy pants on.”

The equally familiar gruff, grousing tone of your man’s voice almost made you snort. You set down the book on the table and debated whether you were going to get up and try to help, or let them hash it out. You were surprised they hadn’t called out for you yet.

After a few more seconds of listening to their frustrated huffing and puffing, you shook your head and got up. You reached the top of the stairs, and their sounds of irritated, breathless struggle became even clearer.

“Dean,” Sam protested.

“Shut up. I’ve almost got it…”

“You’re gonna break the damn frame—”

“Something tells me you didn’t get this thing at Home Depot,” you remarked.

There was a pause, and Dean called your name questioningly. He also sounded a bit embarrassed.

“Yep, I’m here, Chevy Chase,” you said, laughing as you grabbed the branches that were stuck in the doorway. You bent them at the angle the guys needed to get the whole thing inside, and all too quickly you had to step out of the way as Sam and Dean broke through the doorway with the rest of the tree.

Sam caught himself on the wall, while Dean threw a hand out to grasp at the railing of the stairs. You grabbed Dean’s arm to help steady him. Once he had his feet planted, he slung an arm around your waist and looked down on you with a satisfied smile—one that he then aimed at Sam.

“See? Told you it would fit.”

“Where did you even get this thing?” you asked. You eyed Dean in curiosity, even as you were helping him stream the lights around this seven-foot monstrosity. You’d also taken great delight in putting on some holiday music. Now, Frank Sinatra’s “White Christmas” was playing from a Bluetooth speaker on the War Room table.

Dean shot you a distracted smile as he worked in concentration, bringing a string of lights around the part of the tree that was closest to the wall. He handed off the other end to you, and you wrapped the line of multicolored lights around.

“Eh, there’s a nice bit of forest a few miles out of town,” he said. Your brows raised high. You’d suspected, of course, but you still shook your head with a smile.

“You know you need a permit for that, right?” you said.

“I tried to tell him,” said Sam. He was on his way up the stairs, heading out back to the car to get the box of ornaments he and Dean bought at Walmart this morning along with the pretty multicolored lights, all while you were still sleeping.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, but just kept focused on his task. Once he started something, he had to finish it, you noticed. And when he got into something, he was Mr. DIY, putting in his all. You liked watching the crunch between his brows, the set of his lips, the sureness of his hands while he mentally calculated what they were going to accomplish next.

Most of all, you liked the look of self-satisfaction when he was done, and happy with his finished product. It didn’t matter if he was tuning up the Impala, making a home-cooked meal for the three of you, or decorating a wild tree. That face was the same.

“Illegally obtained tree aside,” you said, not bothering to temper your smile, “I thought you guys didn’t really celebrate Christmas. Or any holidays, for that matter.”

Dean gave you a small grin, though again, he seemed a little embarrassed. He freed one of his hands to scratch at the back of his head.

“Yeah, well…weren’t you the one who was talking about the Christmases you had growing up?” he said.

You blinked, your mouth gently falling open in surprise. That had been a couple weeks ago, when the first snow of December began to fall over Lebanon. Late that night, after settling into bed together, you’d turned towards him in his arms. Maybe it was the turn of the season making you nostalgic, but somehow the conversation drifted into you making a confession, about what you missed the most about your family.

Your parents had passed on, and your sister was distant. She had her own family and her own life, and she wanted to keep it far away from the things you hunted. You couldn’t blame her, even if the thought of her always pierced your heart.

Beyond than that, what you missed was the house where you grew up, small but cozy and lived in. You missed the smell of pine and cinnamon that filled the living room every day of December. You missed the nights you and your sister curled up by the fire late at night playing imaginary games, long after your parents’ had put you guys to bed. You missed your mother’s cooking, and helping her bake molasses cookies on Christmas Eve.

You missed togetherness, the feeling of warmth and safety.

You tilted your head at Dean.

“Yeah, but…” you trailed, not willing to finish the thought as another suspicion grew in your mind.

“Just thought we could do some of that this year for you, that’s all,” he said. And he shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. His hands were busy untangling some lights. “Matter of fact, we could all use the time off.”

You couldn’t help but pause. Your breathing shallowed, and no matter how much you fought it, tears stung in your eyes. You bit your lip to try and hold it all at bay. When Dean glanced up at you, he had to do a double take. It made you smile, despite your slightly blurring vision.

“Hey, what—”

You dropped your end of the lights and went to him. You raised up on your toes so you could wrap your arms around his neck in a warm hug. Dean uttered a surprised huff, but his arms came around your waist and gathered you closer. He soon realized he was still holding onto the tangle of lights, and he hung them on a nearby tree branch for now. His smile overtook his surprise and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I love you. You know that right?” Your voice was muffled in his neck, but he heard you well enough. He chuckled and slipped a soothing hand up and down your back.

“I do know, actually,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

A giggle escaped you. You tugged on his short hair in retaliation, making him chuckle.

“Hey,” he warned, but it had heat of a different kind. His hand began venturing down to your ass, but before he could do some retaliating of his own, a door swung open and Sam came down the stairs hefting a couple different boxes of ornaments.

He raised a brow, though he smiled at the way you and his brother were entwined. You half pulled away to nod at Sam, sniffling at quickly wiping at your face. Dean dried some of the wetness from the corner of your eye with a curled finger. You glanced up at him and couldn’t help blushing, smiling, despite your embarrassment.

Dean still had an arm wrapped around your waist as you peered over at the boxes Sam set down near the tree. One of them caught your attention and made your eyes widen.

“Oh my God. They’re Scooby Doo themed!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent decorating the tree with Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby echoing throughout the common room. After you made a trip to the grocery store, soon the smell of cinnamon, brown sugar and rich molasses joined the scent of pine throughout the entire bunker.

It was a Christmas Eve well spent. The night was filled with a rewatch marathon of Home Alone and Christmas Vacation. You agreed to Dean throwing in Elf into the mix, as long as you got to watch Love Actually, and The Holiday with Jude Law. Dean complained more than Sam about your girly chick-flicks, but he became just as invested in Colin Firth pouring his heart out in mangled Portuguese to Aurelia as you were, if less teary-eyed.

When The Holiday came around though, he was half asleep as he laid sprawled across your lap and the couch. Your nails gently massaging his scalp nearly did him in, along with Sam’s heavy-ass pour of eggnog. It was tradition, at this point.

By the end of the movie marathon, you were the one snoozing from your corner of the couch, your hand still in Dean’s hair.

He carried you to bed that night, your eyelids heavy as you teetered back and forth between slumber and the waking world. At least you were already in your pajamas. All he had to do was tuck you under the sheets on your side of the bed, then slip in behind you afterwards.

His arm draped around your waist, and you curled towards him, half on instinct as you let out a deep breath. Dean smiled as you settled against his chest. Your soft snores soon greeted his ears. Only then did he let himself rest…

Just not for long.

You woke earlier than you planned to in the morning, mainly because your man pillow was no longer beside you. You reached out a hand and found Dean’s side of the bed empty and cold, the covers pulled back. With a frown, you opened bleary eyes and checked your phone. It was around the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m.

What the hell was Dean doing up at the crack of dawn?

Unless… You paused as your memory served you a grim reminder. Unless he’d had a rough night, kept up by memories and dreams he didn’t always want to talk to you about. It wouldn’t be the first time he came back to bed after a few hours with the heady smell of bourbon on him.

You got up with a sigh, rolling your neck as you did so. You just wanted to check on him. Maybe you could even persuade him to come back to bed.

You threw on a sweater over your pajamas and some fluffy slippers Sam bought you for your birthday—all to shield you from the bunker’s chilly air and ice-cold floors. You’d have to remind Dean to check on the heater.

You padded out of the bedroom and down the long hall…and became distracted by the Christmas tree in the common room. It really was beautiful all lit up. The lights softly flashed in green, red, purple, and gold. Traditional red and gold ornaments hung beside the Scooby Doo themed ones, with Fred and Daphne front and center, along with the rest of the gang scattered throughout.

And then you found Dean.

“Damn it…friggin’ piece of shit ribbon…”

Dean’s muttering drew your attention to his hunched figure kneeling at the base of the tree. Your head tilted in wonder as your face broke out into a smile. What the hell is he doing? You tried to be light on your feet as you approached him from behind. Peering over his shoulder, you could almost see what he was trying do with some shiny red wrapping paper and a big golden bow.

Your heart swelled. Had he really gotten you and Sam something for Christmas too? He didn’t need to get you anything…

Dean’s hunter reflexes must’ve been tingling though, because suddenly he sat up straighter and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw you standing there in your pajamas, arms crossed over your robe.

He actually jolted, muttering a curse as he tried to cover up what he was doing.

“What’cha doin’, babe?” you asked. Your eyes gleamed with amusement.

Dean tried to get up, but his foot slipped on a stray ribbon. He careened back onto his ass and knocked into the tree. Not only did its branches poke into his face and arm, making him wince, but he managed to displace a couple of ornaments, sending them tumbling to the floor by his hand. He grunted and raised up onto his forearms. For the pièce de résistance, that lovely golden bow landed right in his lap.

With raised brows, you took in the sight of your man—all bedraggled and looking sheepish (and adorable) as hell. Your hand went up to cover your mouth, but you were unable to quiet the giggle that bubbled up and escaped your lips.

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey.”

You glanced down at the bow, almost perfectly placed in his lap.

“Hey,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile.

You lowered down to kneel in front of him, and you took his face in your gentle hands before you leaned in for a sweet, sensuous kiss. Dean breathed into it. Your eyes shut along with his as you savored the moment, and him.

When you parted, your smile remained as you fingered the shiny edge of the bow. Dean began to smirk as well, despite how warm his face had gotten. His big hands found their way to your hips, welcoming you when you took a comfortable seat over his thighs.

You whispered against his lips, “I already know which present I’m gonna unwrap first.”

AN: Lol there we go, a cheeky ending for you! Let me know if you liked this! ❤️💚

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