#so that i wouldn't be getting Stared At all the time for using words that people didn't know

[kwittuwi]

★ Clothing Haul—

— Saja Boys x M!Manager!reader ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

▍𓉸⋆ྀི summary, when you find out the saja boys only have one outfit in different colors, you insists on going on a shopping trip to get them more clothes…but the saja boys have other ideas.

▍𓉸⋆ྀི content, fluff & silliness ˃ 𖥦 ˂

You were currently staring at the Saja Boys with a (not so) intense glare. Each member darted their gaze somewhere other than your face.

When trying to be nice by washing the boys clothes you found out they each only had the outfits they wore on stage. You called them into the living room to question them, but for the first time since meeting them they were quiet.

Mystery was keeping to himself while looking off to the side hoping you wouldn't notice him. While Romance would have normally loved you staring at him, the implications of your stare made him upset. Baby was trying not to laugh because he thought your “intense glare” was more of a cute pout than something scary. Abby was distracting himself trying to think of something to say.

Each member stayed quiet till Jinu spoke. “Is it really that big of a deal?” His voice was unsure and as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You whipped your head towards him. “OK, ok,” he put his arms up in defeat. “What do you suggest then?”

An hour later all six of them were standing in front of an expensive clothing store that you personally couldn't ever afford. When you said nice new clothes this is not what you meant.

Lost in thought about how beautiful the exterior was that you didn't realize the boys had gone inside. It wasn’t until you noticed Mystery looking at you like he was waiting for you.

After acknowledging him you both walked inside to see the others looking for clothes they liked. Baby was near the oversized sweaters. Abby was looking at button shirts that definitely were too tight. Romance grabbing anything that had hearts on it. And Mystery had walked off and was replaced with Jinu.

“Why don't you help us since this was your idea.” It sounded more like a statement than a question. “Ok,” you paused, looking around the store. “So what do you typically like wearing?” Jinu's face looked of shock and confusion like he had never been asked that. “Um…I um…” he stumbled looking for words, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Why don't we help the others out since it seems they have more of an idea what they want?” You said trying to reassure him. He giggles before you both start walking to Romance.

While walking towards him you spotted something it was a pink sweater with white checkered pattern in each white square was a red heart. Your eyes lit up. It was perfect.

You grabbed a random size you thought would fit Romance and almost ran to him with Jinu wondering why you were running so excited. “Romance!” you said holding up the sweater as he turned around. He walked towards you eyes lit up in excitement. “I found this and I thought it was perfect for you.” He thought it was cute the way you cared about him.

Romance took it from your hands. “It's perfect. We should look for more.”

“Yea!”

You both started wandering around finding more and more pink and red heart themed clothes. Jinu just followed you two trying to see if there was anything that caught his eye.

After getting half a shopping cart (you guys realized half way through you probably need it to help carry the clothes) full of clothes you decided to go looking for Baby to help him. But once you three got there Baby threw a heep of oversized sweaters and shirts filling up the cart completely.

You four looked at him in shock that he could find that many different types of stylized sweaters without anyone’s help. “We’re gonna need another cart,” He said while walking towards where Abby was.

Abby turned around when he heard all your guys footsteps. He held up a tight button up shirt almost like he was making sure it was too small for him. You looked at him with an ‘are you serious right now’ expression on your face.

You walked over to him, grabbing the shirt and putting it back on the rack. Turning around you walked towards tank tops with different colors and patterns picking one and holding it up to see if it would fit. Abby seemed happy with your choice for him.

Abby grabbed the tank top. “Perfect! I’m gonna find more like this,” he said before walking away to find more shirts that would show off his abs and muscles, such as more tank tops, more tight button shirts as well as some shorter shirts (the ones that when u raise ur arms it lifts up). Romance and Baby followed him wanting to help him.

A couple seconds later you felt someone tap your shoulder. When you turned around you were met with Mystery. You looked at him tilting your head to the side as to silently ask if he needed anything. Mystery pointed to the other side of the store, following his finger you understood that he wanted your help and you happily started walking to where he was pointing.

Jinu followed you with Mystery close behind. “You’re good at this aren’t you,” Jinu said. “Good at what?” You asked, confused by what he ment. “At helping us. More specifically, helping us pick out clothes.” You looked at him. “It’s because I wanna help you, all of you.” He smiled, taking his gaze off of you.

Soon all three of you reached to the section Mystery pointed at. It was mostly casual clothes, clothes that most people wear when lounging around. Mystery guided you to a specific aisle. It was filled with short sleeved shirts, arm warmers, cardigans, and many other items. Pacing the aisle you soon spotted a cardigan that was dark purple with eyes covering it.

You pointed to the cardigan to get Mystery’s attention. “What about this?” You asked while he stood behind you. “I like it,” it wasn’t much but it was all you needed. You both looked at the items one by one trying to figure out what style he had. Mystery didn’t really have a distinct style but it definitely screamed him.

When you two were occupied Jinu walked off to another section after he saw a couple of items that caught his eye. It mostly was button ups, hoodies, jackets, and shirts. Some were plain, some had patterns. Jinu grabbed the ones he liked most, walking towards where you and Mystery were.

You turned around when you heard someone approaching you only to see Jinu. He raised his arm showing you the things he found looking for approval. You nodded happy with his decision not to be completely boring.

A couple minutes later Romance, Abby, and Baby came with a second cart with piles of the clothes Abby picked out. Both Jinu and Mystery put their respective clothes in the cart filling the second one.

“Well now that that is done with, we can leave.” Turning around before someone grabbed you. “Not yet exactly.” You recognized his voice as Baby’s and the hand as Abby’s. Turning around you saw Baby, Mystery, and Romance had a clothing item that was not something you remembered one of them putting in the cart.

Abby guided you towards the changing room while the other three threw the clothes at you. Before being shoved into the changing room you saw Jinu looked confused yet amused while the others were smirking.

Looking down at the clothes in your hands seeing what they had just given you. To your surprise there was actually something you might wear. All of the shirts, hoodies and sweaters given to you were too big almost like this was on purpose. You actually liked it almost as if you could hide in your own personal cave. There were shorts, leg warmers and arm warmers. You giggled ‘probably from Mystery.’

At the bottom of the pile was a pink cardigan with a hood, it had two pointy ears with the outer part of the hood having fur. After putting it on you realized what they had done, they had found a cute cat or lion hoodie you couldn’t tell but you knew that they saw it as a lion. A lion their band's mascot.

You giggled. It was cute, you liked it. Wanting to amuse the four boys who had picked this out for you, you walked out the changing room to show them the cardigan. They surrounded you looking at you. Jinu chuckled once he realized what they did.

They complimented you, barely even about the cardigan, just you. They called you their pretty boy, lion cub, and many others. All of them started to hang off of you like how they do with each other. You couldn’t help but blush bright red.

After buying everything you guys went home to perform a fashion show before getting into your new comfy clothes to watch a movie, you specifically choosing to wear the lion cardigan.

[snail-day]

You know that trend where you convince your S.O. that a ribbon is your new bikini top?

You thought it’d be funny, walking into the living room of the hotel suite in nothing but a silky pink bow tied across your chest. You had plans to head to the beach, hang out by the resort pool, soak up the sun. But now, well, the air feels a little warmer and it's not from the Caribbean.

Satoru’s halfway through a popsicle when he sees you.

It slips from his fingers. Hits the floor with a dull splat. His jaw goes slack, eyes locked dead center on your chest. There might be a little drool at the corner of his lips. Gawking would be one word for it. Worship might be another.

“Is that…” he starts, voice thin, then trails off completely. His snowy lashes flutter, as they flick back and forth between your face and the ribbon straining across your chest. “Is that the whole thing?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from giggling, pressing your thighs together as you lean against the door frame.

He picks up the matching ribbon you left on the table, still convinced it was from some fancy item you bought earlier when the three of you were shopping around town. He turns it over, lets it flow between his fingers as he tries to process whatever the hell is going on. You have to be pranking him, right? But his sweet girl wouldn't do that. “Okay, so… this part goes around the - wait. No. This can’t even fit - ”

“Toruuu,” you coo sweetly, “it’s just a bikini.”

He whips his head toward you, lips parted, fluster written across every inch of his too-pretty face. “That’s not a bikini. That’s a felony. And not for public nudity - for homicide. Are you trying to send me to jail, baby?” He goes back to playing with the ribbon, staring at it, muttering under his breath, What the fuck.

It’s honestly hurting his brain. “I mean - sunshine, my love - obviously I know how it works. Duh. I just want to make sure you know how it works. For the safety of… others.”

You’re still grinning when Suguru rounds the corner, towel draped over his shoulders, drying his damp hair. His dark strands are loose, curling slightly where they brush his jaw. His half-lidded violet eyes flick toward you and then down. To the bow. To the skin below it. To the other pink ribbon pinched between Satoru’s fingers.

There’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth.

“…What is this, baby?” he asks slowly, indulging in your little prank.

“She said it’s her new bikini,” Satoru mutters, lifting the ribbon higher, waving it a little.

Suguru walks over, slow and predatory, dragging his hand along his jaw as his eyes rake you head to toe. His stare lingers on your chest. Then your hips. Then the barely-there ribbon bottoms in Satoru’s grasp.

“Oh, she’s fucking with us,” he says, flat and unimpressed. “What happened to the bikini I bought you? The one that matched ours.”

“Mmm. Left it at home,” you say, all faux innocence and no real regret.

Suguru doesn’t even blink. He takes the ribbon from Satoru without asking. His fingers graze yours before wrapping the rippob around your waist. He attempts at any form of bikini bottom, twice, expression blank, except for the subtle twitch of his brow.

“This wouldn’t cover anything,” he murmurs, voice barely above a hum. “Is this what you want? To get stared at? Or were you just trying to get a rise out of us?”

He lifts his eyes, gaze sharpening like a blade.

“You think it’s funny?” he asks, and this time there’s something dangerous in his voice, something just beneath the surface. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Not even close. He steps in, close enough for his cologne to sink into your lungs - dark and spiced, all heat and warning.

Satoru fidgets beside him, playing with the ends of the ribbon top “Like, seriously baby, just - explain how this is supposed to stay on. Because I’m not trying to sound mean, but… wind exists. Movement exists. You breathe wrong and you're gonna be trending on Twitter.”

Suguru tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure out what kind of punishment fits the crime. “Maybe she wants to be seen,” he murmurs. “Hm? Want someone to film our pretty girl?”

You swallow. Suddenly the joke doesn’t feel quite so in control anymore.

“…Maybe we should just, y’know, test it out at home first,” Satoru says, voice light, but his fingers are already tugging at the bow on your chest. The knot loosens in one pull. Your breath hitches as the fabric falls, baring you completely to the cool breeze of the hotel room.

Suguru doesn’t move for a moment. Just watches. Watches the way your shoulders twitch, the way your thighs shift together. Then his mouth curls into a sharp, knowing smirk as he steps forward, crowding you back toward the bed.

“Got the attention you wanted, baby?” he coos, dark lashes low over gleaming eyes while Satoru turns to quietly lock the door. “Good. Because we’re going to be cooped up in here for a while… just to make sure you don’t get any more silly ideas.”

[reallyromealone]

Title: idol

Chapter: 3

Part 1 part 2 part 4

Fandom: Kpop demon hunters

Genre: omegaverse

Warnings: omegaverse, male reader, angst, fluff, Omega male reader

Notes: if you want to be tagged, comment

Summary: reader tries to not fall in love while he watches helplessly at the fact his world falls apart

🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛

(name) stared at the five, it was a depressing request and a selfish one.

"Get your souls back... And I'll be with you" (name) whispered, eyes threatening to spill tears "I-I don't want to get attached... We wouldn't see each other after I die... I don't want to be with you guys and have you all ripped away! I don't want to resent my sister for doing her job! I-I can't do that to myself or anyone else!"

(Name) Would love to be selfish but the reality of it all, he couldn't do it.

No matter how much the bond between them craved it.

"If we get our souls, you will be ours..." Jinu mumbled and (name) nodded "can we get to know you before then?"

"As friends, not a couple"

"Deal"

(Name) Knew it was a mistake but he could at least say he was friends with his soulmates, he wasn't going to let himself be hurt like this... How was he going to keep this from Mira?

"Then as friends... Would you care to watch a film with us?" Jinu asked and mystery pulled him close from behind "as friends" (name) mumbled "I can't leave the apartment though... It's too risky for me" (name) said softly while he was dragged to the couch and moved himself so Mystery wouldn't have him sitting in his lap, much to the demons annoyance.

"So... What movie are you guys thinking of?" (Name) Asked softly and Jinu wrapped his arm around (name)s shoulder "ah, just something simple..."

It wasn't simple it wasn't simple!

They knew better than to use paranormal movies instead, Train to Busan played on and (name) wanted to sink into the couch but tried to be brave for the alphas who could smell his fear, baby wanting to lick the tears building up in his eyes so badly.

God (name) was so perfect, so pretty and smelt so good... They wanted to tear that bite collar off with their teeth.

But unfortunately they had to play nice with their omega, play by his rules but they knew he wouldn't be able to hold out long.

"You ok, (name)?" Jinu asked softly and (name) shakily nodded "y-yeah totally..." (Name) Said sheepishly and Romance chuckled "are you sure? You're shaking like a leaf" he teased and (name) glared softly at him "am not!"

"You so are~"

"I'm totally not shaking!"

"You're so cute when you're huffy~"

"Shut uuup! Stop using the Saja boy charm!"

The two went back and forth, the others watching in amusement while the movie ended and (name) glanced at the time "you guys are gonna wanna leave... Mira is coming to check on me"

"Well... We will see you soon" Jinu said softly and Abby winked at him, the boys vanishing out of thin air.

-

"Pretending to get your soul back to earn his trust... Very good" Gwi ma said lowly and the Saja boys looked at the king with false confidence "of course, getting close to him makes it easier to destroy HUNTR/X" Jinu spoke firmly "sacrificing your own soulmate for souls... Truly you are just as selfish as when you died" Jinu hated this feeling, the feeling of selling out his soulmate "of course, my king"

"After all, why would someone like him be with the likes of you?"

-

(Name) Watched the Hommoon weaken more and more from his window, the smell of distress heavy in the room while Mira stepped into the apartment "I know... It's bad"

"So many people are gone, the news keeps talking about the spike in missing persons reports..." (Name) Mumbled and his elder sister hugged him from behind "I know-- were trying our best"

"As long as you do your best, I believe in you" his words soft and his sister hugged him tighter "thanks, brat"

"Of course, ass"

-

(Name) Couldn't tell his sister about his deal with the Saja boys, he knew how upset she would be... He would be upset too honestly.

Especially if she saw him playing Mario Kart with romance and Baby, mystery watching from the couch with Abby. Jinu was doing something... (Name) Ignored not having all five of them near and the way it made his Omega so upset, so instead he took those emotions out on destroying the two alphas in Mario kart.

And damn, Baby was really good at it.

"It's all he does when we aren't doing anything, that and those shooting games" Abby said simply and (name) snorted at the fact "he's surprisingly really good" romance added on and mystery nodded quietly at the fact.

"Well I guess I have my work cut for me" (name) said softly and sat closet to baby who watched the movement with calculating eyes, eyes glowing slightly and his alpha instincts intertwined with the demon instincts, his fangs pushing out and he wanted to bite the distracted Omega so fucking badly but romance pulled him back with a sharp look.

'dont.' he communicated telepathically and baby seemed frustrated at the fact he couldn't take the Omega right then and there 'remember, Jinu has a plan'

(Name) Cheered when he won, hugging romance excitedly "finally! I beat baby!"

"You sure did" romance rumbled and wrapped his arms around (name) and held him close, subtly scenting him and tempted to let his hands slide lower but resisted it.

When the alphas left, (name) let out a whine and covered his mouth after it slipped "don't worry Omega, we will be back after the idol awards... Don't you worry" Abby said softly and mystery leaned and nipped his ear, unable to help himself and the reaction they for from (name)....

"When... When you get your souls... I want to know you guys, the real you... No Saja boy charm" (name) said softly "will you join us? At the show, we promise it will be special"

"I can't choose a side... Just-- I want you all alive and well, you guys and my sister and her friends..."

"We will do our best, (name)"

And with that, he was alone again.

"Until the idol awards, I guess..."

[n3wlove]

affection

synopsis — you get into an argument with namgyu

note — i'm still not okay since season 3. making this fan fiction to cope, because in my mind it is still december2024-february2025 and we are all singing bang bang bang, playing mingle on roblox, and still making hopeful theories. guys, promise me we will never let this fandom die, because i am not ready to let go, ive been a fan since 2021 and got attached. ty! p.s, this is short and i had no idea what i was doing with it. i could write a pt 2 to this if people like it. . . probably fluff because i hate angst. requests are open as always! ♡

tags — mentions of drugs, alcohol, cheating, hurt/comfort, angst, casual argument things, kind of abusive namgyu, kind of bipolar namgyu? dependent reader, dont worry fluff coming soon methinks, im unsure if pronouns were used but fem!reader just incase

The relationship between you two was far from ideal. Most nights ended in arguments, half-hearted makeout sessions, or silence. No words exchanged like "goodnight" or "i love you", just anger and fatigue hanging heavy in the air.

Maybe that was just how things were. Nam-gyu worked long shifts at the club and you had worked at the store nearby, both having to deal with impatient customers/patrons and needy managers. By the time either of you would get home, you were both too tired and too irritable, ready to take it out on each other.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. The excuse you clung to. The thing you constantly told yourself to make things feel even a little better.

But one night, it all felt like too much.

All you wanted, all you needed, was to rest in his arms. To feel his fingers in your hair. To hear something soft, something kind. Just one moment of warmth, one sign that maybe this wasn’t all for nothing. Something every normal, healthy couple got without having to beg for it.

You weren’t asking for much. Just affection.

So when he came through the apartment door, throwing his coat and his shoes lazily against the corner of the entrance, you clung onto him, burying your nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him. (even though it consisted of sweat and cheap weed.)

It felt good, the feeling of feeling his warm body pressed against yours.

However, suddenly, you felt a force against your chest. Your eyes widened when he shoved you off him, stumbling backward.

As you looked at him, you noticed how his eyes were blown wide and unfocused. His skin was slick with sweat. He didn’t need to say a word, you could already tell he was completely wasted.

“Nam-gyu, what the fuck... I—” You had barely gotten yours words out before he cut you off, dragging his hands up to his temples like you were the one being too much.

"Just... just shut up, okay?” he slurred, brushing past you hard enough that his shoulder slammed into yours. You spun around, facing him, staring at him like he’d just killed your firstborn.

“What is wrong with you dude??" You snapped, stepping back. You had already been reading the warning signs in the way his body tensed, and the way his fists twitched by his sides like they were searching for something to hurt.

"You always fuckin' ruin my nights..." Nam-gyu started, making his way to the kitchen, where he leaned over the counter to support his body.

You held back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You couldn't show your weakness, not now. You had to do it alone at least, because then he wouldn't see how every part of you was on the lashing out.

"What, you about to cry? Give me a break.." He sneered. "I didn't even do 'nything, you're just a drama queen.."

Your breath hitched. God, not now, please, save it.

"Okay, Nam-gyu." You said in a hushed tone, turning away from him. He smirked in response, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with the dingy little lighter you had given him back when you first met.

He took a slow drag, the smoke curling around him like a ghost, then climbed up onto the counter gracefully whirling around. The silence that followed wasn’t safe, it was taunting.

You sighed, pulling out your phone, already knowing exactly where you were headed. This had to be done. You didn’t really imagine that Nam-gyu would cheat on you. You trusted him, maybe too much, and you had faith in him, or at least, you believed you did. But the second you opened Instagram and tapped on his story, your face drained of what little color it had left.

Your eyes were met with the sight of him pressed up against a girl, grinning hard with a flushed face with his hands sliding up to her chest. She was leaning on him, her lips against his cheek. The kiss didn't seem gentle. It seemed sloppy, harsh, desperate. You held back the urge to throw up.

You didn't even have time to go off to your shared bedroom before you broke down, your body collapsing against the doorframe. The tears came down your face warm and salty, whimpers escaping your lips as you tried to stay silent.

You didn't want him to notice, but you knew he would anyways. Why else would you drop to your knees like that?

"What happened now?" Nam-gyu murmured. He came around swiftly from the counter, now approaching you.

"Stay away." You replied quickly, coming to your feet, clenching your phone tightly in between your fingers. Even when he was drunk, he wasn't stupid.

"Y/n, let’s be real, she was just some girl. Don’t be a bitch,” Nam-gyu explained, throwing his hands up in lazy gestures. Was that supposed to be comforting? It seemed like he didn't care.

"'Don't be a bitch'?!? Nam-gyu, are you serious?!" You bit back, turning to face him, wiping all the tears from your face. "You are practically cheating!"

He sighed, eyes dropping to the floor. For a second, what appeared to be guilt flashed across his face. However it disappeared almost instantly, defeated by that same irritated, puzzled expression he had previously. With an exasperated sigh he crouched down to your level, his hand dragging up and down your back. You shuddered. You hated how good his hands felt on you.

"It wasn't cheating Y/N, I was just trying to make her happy. My job is to get money to the club. You know that, right? Make her buy more drinks... she didn't mean anything to me. You need to stop overthinking this shit."

You swallowed. It sounded reasonable. Yes, he was right, this was his job. Were you being controlling? Now you felt like the bad one. You thought again. No, you wouldn't let him make you think you were the one in the wrong when you were so obviously in the right.

You remained silent, crouched against the doorframe and slowly sinking to your knees. Another tear dripped down your cheek. Nam-gyu tilted his head patronizingly. Pouting, he brought his thumb to the corner of your eye and wiped away the rest of the tears.

"Don't cry." He said gently, pressing against you so you could feel his warm body against your side.

Was this manipulation? If so, why did this manipulation feel so good? You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. You felt yourself giving in every second that passed by, eventually letting yourself fall into his arms.

"There we go, just relax." He nodded, wrapping his arms tighter around your shaking body. This action made you begin to think even more that the outburst you had about Nam-gyu's story was overdramatic, like he said it was.

You heard him sniffling above you. Not because he was upset, but because whatever he drank from earlier was getting to him. You let yourself pretend for just a second that it was because he felt guilty, because he felt everything you felt alongside you.

"Nam-gyu, don't do that shit again." You said in between heavy breaths.

He scoffed, his thumb rubbing circles against your back. He didn't reassure you, he didn't tell you any sweet words or pretty lies, not even "I won't do it again," or "trust me," instead, he just let out a scoff, it was all he could do.

Suddenly, after sitting with you in silence few oddly comforting minutes, he stood up. The tears stopped streaming down your face as you blinked, confused. You looked up at him, unsure why he had suddenly stopped touching you, why the warmth of his hand was gone like it hadn’t just been there a second ago.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked nervously, fidgeting with your fingers like a frightened child. You said it in a way that made it sound like you were the one who had something to apologize for, like you were the one in the wrong for having an outburst like that. You reasoned with yourself saying it was safer to act sorry. If you stayed bitter, he’d only get more irritated and unfaithful.

Nam-gyu grinned. He wouldn't respond. Why would he anyways? It's not like it would make a difference if he did or if he didn't because either way you would listen and accept it. Thats who you were. Forgiving.

As he walked to your bedroom, he motioned for you to follow after him with a lazy flick of his hand. You did. Once you had entered the room Nam-gyu flopped down on the bed, tired, out of it, done.

You sat down next to him, a gentle sigh escaping your lips. Slowly you allowed yourself to sink back until you were lying beside him.

“Maybe do you wanna go out tomorrow and get dinner or something?” you asked quietly, reaching for a strand of his long black hair and twirling it between your fingers.

"Yeah, I need a break." He responded, turning onto his side and resting his head on the soft pillow. He seemed tired. You wouldn't bother him.

You nodded to his response, draping your arm over his waist and pulling him a bit closer to you. For once, you were the big spoon and you didn't find it annoying.

You suspiciously watched over his shoulder as he pulled out his phone and went to his instagram, the glow of the phone illuminating the space in between the two of you. A lump in your throat began to form.

However, it went away quickly as you watched him go to the girl from his story's instagram page and block her.

He genuinely considered your words, and knowing that made you happier than it should've.

You didn't say anything to him about it, you just smiled to yourself, pulling away from him and shifting onto your back. He didn't say anything either. You both just went to sleep peacefully that night, how it should've been.

And though you slept beside him so content that night, you couldn’t help but dread the thought of taking care of him during his hangover the next morning.

[fear-less]

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ toxic till the end I ⌗ pairing: james potter x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: part 2 (? idk the same thing but in james pov) of this!!

⤑ warnings: angst, literally no fluff, James blaming everyone and anything but himself, and cheating – 2.5k words

James knew you weren’t exactly happy with him at the moment. Just a few hours ago, you'd caught him talking to some girl near the courtyard. He wouldn't call it flirting — not really. He was just being friendly, charming maybe, but that was just how he talked. You got mad, and he figured you’d get over it by dinner. You always did.

But even in the shared classes you had today, you hadn’t once looked his way. Not even a glance. Usually, when you were upset, you’d sneak glances when you thought he wasn’t looking, eyes darting, stubborn but still soft. But today? Nothing.

James brushed it off. Told himself you were just being petty. You'd come around.

Still, something in his chest twisted uncomfortably, and it hadn’t left him since.

After classes ended, he told himself he’d wait, give you space, let you cool off but that ache in his chest only got worse. Eventually, he caved and went searching. He checked all your usual spots: the hidden corner in the library, the tree near the Black Lake. Nothing.

He almost gave up until one final place came to mind. The old clearing just past the gates. He told himself that if you weren’t there, he’d leave it alone. Let you come to your senses.

But then he saw you.

A single figure sitting in the tall grass, still and familiar. He sighed quietly in relief, the tension in his shoulders easing. Of course you'd be here. Of course.

You didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him, but James noticed the slight shift in your posture. the way your back stiffened ever so slightly when he stepped on a dry leaf. You heard him. You always did.

He slowed as he approached, letting out a quiet exhale. He thought about walking away, letting you cool down more, avoiding a scene but he stayed. You could be dramatic sometimes, but he wouldn’t let your little meltdown win over him trying to fix things.

“Hey,” he said gently, carefully.

You didn’t respond. Your silence tightened something in his chest. It pissed him off a little. The way you ignored him like he had done something awful. Still, he kept it buried. No use pushing your buttons.

While you stared blankly at the trees ahead, James stared at you.

The curve of your shoulders. The tired way you held yourself. There was something different in the way you sat, like you were exhausted. Not angry. Not emotional. Just... done.

Regret started to crawl in then. Slow and quiet.

He wasn’t the best boyfriend. He knew that. But he tried, didn’t he?

Or at least, he thought he did.

That’s when he finally sat beside you.

“You’re not gonna curse me or throw something?” he said, trying to sound light, casual.  Like things weren’t already falling apart.

Still, you didn’t look at him. “I thought about it.”

He let out a short laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Would’ve deserved it.”

“You do,” you replied, your voice sharper than he expected. Sharper than you probably meant it.

Silence dropped between you again. But it wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t comforting. It was heavy. Final.

“I messed up,” he said eventually, voice low.

And for the first time, you looked at him.

His heart kicked in his chest some small, stupid part of him still hoping. But the flutter died the second he saw your face.

Your eyes were tired. Not puffy from crying, not blazing with rage, just tired. Empty. Done.

James frowned, confused. You looked... worn down. Hollowed out. But he hadn’t done that to you. Had he?

“You always mess up,” you said, quiet but steady. “That’s the only consistent thing about you.”

He winced. Not because it wasn’t true, but because you said it like a fact. Like you’d rehearsed it. Like you’d been holding it in for a long, long time.

He wasn’t used to this. You standing up for yourself. You not softening, not folding.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You scoffed. “But you still did. Over and over. And I let you.”

There was a long beat. Just wind in the trees and your voice in his head, over and over.

Then came the final blow.

“James, I never want to see your face ever again.”

He froze. The words sliced through him with a precision he hadn’t expected. No screaming. No drama. Just a clean break. And for once, you actually meant it.

James stared down at his hands, frowning, a crease forming between his brows.

You didn’t say the words  ‘we’re done’ but he knew. You didn’t have to.

And maybe, maybe this should’ve felt like relief. Like freedom.

No more worrying about his “crazy” girlfriend getting jealous when he talked to other girls. No more Sirius bitching in his ear about how you were always nagging or how “you’d tamed the mighty James Potter.”

He was free now.

But the word tasted bitter in his mouth.

Because the truth was, he didn’t want to be free. Not from you.

He loved you. And maybe he was too much of a coward to say it — maybe that’s why your face always fell just a little when you said it first and he never said it back.

James felt like a bloody idiot.

His mind started racing, flooded with memories. The late-night walks. Your sleepy laugh. The way your fingers curled when you were anxious. The way you looked at him like he was good, even when he wasn’t.

And he was so caught up in those memories, all the things he should’ve said, should’ve done, that he didn’t even notice you’d stood up.

Didn’t notice until it was too late.

You were already yards away, your figure retreating into the trees, back turned, your pace steady. You didn’t look back.

If he’d noticed sooner, maybe he would’ve stopped you.

But he didn’t.

And this time, he knew...

You weren’t coming back.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

James made it back to the common room about thirty minutes before dinner. Sirius, Remus, and Peter were already lounging on the worn couches, the fire crackling lazily behind them.

The moment James stepped in, Sirius glanced up and raised an eyebrow, that smug little smirk tugging at his mouth, the same look he always wore whenever James disappeared for too long. He didn’t have to say anything. James knew what he was thinking.

He thought James had been off shagging someone again.

And why wouldn’t he? Sirius was the only one James had ever told about the cheating. He couldn’t tell Remus or Peter, they’d get pissed. They’d judge him. Probably even tell you. But Sirius? Sirius encouraged it. Said it was normal. Said that “blokes need variety” and that you were too much work anyway.

So of course he thought James had just been off with another girl.

But he hadn’t.

No, this time he’d just gotten his heart broken by the same girl he swore to everyone, especially Sirius, was the worst girlfriend on the planet.

He dropped into the open seat next to Remus, letting out a slow sigh as he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling like it might have answers.

Remus glanced at him, confused, then looked to the other two for an explanation. Sirius only shrugged, still smirking faintly. Peter blinked and kept quiet.

James didn’t say anything.

He just stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, heart pounding too loud in his ears.

He hadn’t cried. He wasn’t going to cry. But he felt weird. Off. Like the world had tilted a little to the left and no one else noticed but him.

And somehow, Sirius’s smirk only made it worse.

James was still deep in thought when the other boys stood up, ready to head down to the Great Hall for dinner. The only thing stopping them was James.

“Mate?” Remus asked, hovering near the back of the couch. “You coming?”

James blinked, like he’d only just realised where he was. His hands were still clasped in his lap, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “He’s fine. Probably just tired from all the studying he was doing.”

Peter snorted.

James didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at them.

Remus frowned. “Seriously, you alright?”

James finally sat up, running a hand through his hair, the same way he always did when he was stressed but trying to pretend otherwise. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Just... thinking.”

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. “Thinking too much’ll kill you, mate. C’mon. Let’s eat.”

The other boys filed out ahead, their voices trailing down the corridor. James followed a few steps behind, quieter than usual.

As they made their way to the Great Hall, his thoughts stayed tangled, all sharp edges and old memories. The clearing. Your voice. That look in your eyes. How cold your words had been. How final.

He kept his head low as they entered the hall. It was already buzzing with noise, laughter, clinking silverware, first years whining about the meatloaf.

James’s eyes instinctively searched for you.

But a frown tugged at his lips when he spotted your friends, Isla and Lydia, seated at your usual spot without you. They were talking quietly, heads close together, but you were nowhere in sight.

It was strange, suddenly looking for you again. He hadn’t done that in weeks. Maybe months. Not since the second month of your relationship, when things were still soft and new and he actually tried. Somewhere along the line, he’d stopped checking the crowd for your face. You’d always been there. Always come to him.

But now, with your absence so loud in the room, he felt off-balance. Like trying to find someone in a crowd and realising you don’t even know what you’re looking for anymore.

Then a hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

Sirius.

James blinked, pulled out of the fog. “You alright, mate?” Sirius asked, his voice low, not out of concern, more curiosity.

James just nodded, jaw tight, and followed him to the Gryffindor table. But even as he sat, even as food appeared in front of him, his thoughts stayed somewhere else.

With you.

Where were you? Were you avoiding him? Still angry?

No. Not angry. You hadn’t looked angry the last time he saw you.

You’d looked done.

And that, somehow, was worse.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

James woke up that morning looking like a whole new person — and not in a good way.

He felt like shit.

His head ached, his chest felt heavy, and all he wanted was to stay curled under the covers and rot for the rest of the week. But of course, that wasn’t an option. It was Thursday. Classes still existed. Life, unfortunately, went on.

He let out a long sigh and glanced around the dorm. Remus was already up and dressed, predictably organised. Sirius had just woken up, stretching with a dramatic groan. Peter was still snoring softly, completely unaware of the storm brewing in James’s chest.

Eventually, all four boys found themselves at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Food appeared on golden plates, the chatter of students swelled around them, but James wasn’t listening. He was too busy scanning the hall, eyes darting across the tables, searching for you.

You weren’t there.

Neither were your friends.

And weirdly, that made it okay. If they were gone too, maybe it meant you weren’t avoiding just him. Maybe you’d all slept in. Maybe you were in the library. Maybe—he didn’t know.

He didn’t realise how obvious he was being until Sirius spoke, casually, like he was talking about the weather.

“By the way,” Sirius said, loud enough for the group to hear, “James and his girl aren’t speaking. Might be a full-on breakup, finally.”

James’s head snapped toward him, jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said enough: Shut up.

But it was too late.

A few seats down, a girl perked up. Her name was Arabella — a pretty Gryffindor with a sharp voice and a habit of inserting herself into things that didn’t concern her. James had fooled around with her once, months before you and him had ever become official. He didn’t even remember much of it. But she remembered everything.

She was next to him in seconds, sliding into the open seat at his side like she’d been invited.

“You and her are done?” she asked sweetly, already reaching for his arm, curling her fingers around it like it belonged to her.

James stiffened.

He didn’t pull away. Not yet.

But he didn’t look at her either.

His eyes stayed locked on the doors, willing you to walk through them.

“We aren’t speaking right now. We’re still together,” he muttered.

It was a lie. A pathetic one. And anyone listening could hear it in his voice.

Arabella rolled her eyes. “Ugh, she keeps holding you hostage. You cheat on her all the time, but never with me. Let’s fix that, yeah?”

James’s stomach turned. The little food he’d managed to eat suddenly sat like stone.

He hated hearing it out loud, and hated how casual she made it sound. Like what he did to you was some open secret. Like it wasn’t supposed to matter.

He finally looked at her, his expression cold.

“No thanks.”

She blinked, clearly confused. Rejection wasn’t something James Potter usually handed out, especially not to girls like her.

But she didn’t budge. She stayed pressed up beside him, far too close, closer than you had been in weeks. Closer than you’d ever be again.

And maybe that was the part that really stung.

James was too distracted trying to subtly push her away, all while shooting Sirius a venomous glare for opening his mouth in the first place. Sirius, of course, just shrugged like it wasn’t his fault.

Because of all that, James didn’t notice when you walked into the Great Hall.

Not at first.

It wasn’t until he was about to leave, deciding he’d had enough of Arabella’s clinging and empty flirtation, that his eyes wandered toward your house’s table, the way they always used to, back when you still smiled at him.

You weren’t in your usual spot. He almost sighed and looked away.

But then he saw you.

You were at the far end of the table, flanked by your two friends.

Smiling.

And it wasn’t the polite kind you gave when someone asked if you were okay.

It was real.

And James felt it like a punch to the ribs.

Because for the first time in a long time, you looked light, like a weight had been lifted off you.

And he was just now realising he had been that weight.

lets go finally finished this, what do we think👅🙏🗣️

[blankestnameyet]

🌸~Hiii, so first time ever posting my writing! I've only ever used Tumblr for reblogs before so I'm new to this, but I'm hoping it's good! If you take a chance reading this, even if you don't like it, thank you!!!

🌸~When it's supposed to be a one night stand but the morning after proves otherwise~🌸

(With Diluc, Kinich, Ifa, and Kazuha)

Diluc:

You shuffle your feet nervously under the table as you watch the man in front of you drink grape juice like it's a fine wine, his fiery red hair still slightly messy from when you ran your fingers through it and his lips just as soft and kissable looking as the night before.

Was this normal for a one night stand? Do you usually eat breakfast together in a slightly uncomfortable silence or were you supposed to leave? You weren't sure and now it was to late to take it back...so you cleared your throat, "So do you grape juice and dine all your one night stands or am I just too good to let go?"

His eyes went right to yours and for a second you were worried you'd upset him, until he finally responded "I've never had a one night stand before, but even if that's what this is, I wouldn't let you leave without breakfast."

You pause mid bite as his words sink in...if that's what this is??? Was it not???? And never had a one night stand before??? "Thank you for that, but is it okay if I ask what you mean by if that's what this is? I'm sure you wouldn't want anything more with me but-"

"I wouldn't share a intimate night with someone if I didn't want anything more with them."

OH...

Kinich:

You snuggle in deeper to the blankets, feeling safe and warm, with covers that are just heavy enough...wait. Your eyes crack open, taking in the wonderful sight in front of you. Kinich, whom you've had a crush on for months now, holding you tight with the morning sun tinting the room in pretty oranges and pinks.

For a second you're worried this is a dream, that you'll wake up and be alone in your bed, wishing he'd pay you a second glance, but he pulls you in closer, making your breath hitch and confirming you're not, in fact, dreaming at all.

"Good morning~"

Your face burst into a furious red, his voice is heavy with sleep and when he opens his eyes just enough to let you know he caught you staring, you feel like you're going to turn to flames on the spot. How are you ever going to leave his bed again?

Ifa:

You groan in delight as you snuggle deeper into the most comfortable pillow you've ever used, it smells like clean laundry and it's so soft you swear it's made of clouds. It brings back all the memories of last night slowly, until your half sleepy state is actually aware you're in someone else's bed.

"Good morning lovely, sleep well?"

Your eyes flutter open and there he is, the man from last night who stole your breath away, coated in sunlight and taking the sight of you like you're treasure chest full of gold. You can't help but smile shyly at him, "I slept perfect, your bed is so comfy Ifa~"

His mouth dips into a smooth grin that could make you melt like butter as he places a cup of coffee next to the bed for you. It smells delightful and you can't help but notice that it looks like he put in just the right amount of cream...you could get used to this..

Kazuha:

"And even the brilliant morning, with all it's colours and splendor, cannot touch the beauty of you, for you are meant for no less then the adoring of all whom see your smile~"

His voice eases you out of sleep, making you feel like you're sailing on gentle waters. You could listen to him tell you poems all day, about anything and everything, and be perfectly happy. It shouldn't be that easy to like someone so much, but he achieved the impossible with one night and now you were unsure if you were strong enough to let it stop there.

"Kazuha, is it strange of me to ask you to tell me more? I know this is probably just a one night only...but I'd like to enjoy every second." Your cheeks heated and you steeled yourself for whatever he might say in response.

But there wasn't a need, he merely smiled at you in that east way of his and pulled you into him as he recited more poems from memory. His chest rising and falling in time with his words, like a calming lullaby. Maybe he could hold you like this again...hopefully.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

[floraliike]

K-pop Demon Hunters | Fanfic

Seven minutes to forever

Abby x curvy/chubby reader.

Fluff, idolAU, mutual pinning | 3/?

Part 2 - Part 4 | (m.list)

Reader's POV

Rumi, Mira, and Zoey stared at me, their eyes wide. A beat of stunned silence, then Rumi clapped her hands together, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "I knew it! My hunter senses are never wrong!"

Mira let out a soft gasp. "Oh, Y/N! That's wonderful! But why the long face? This is fantastic news!"

"Because it changes nothing," I sighed, picking at a loose thread on the sofa cushion. "He's an idol, I'm staff. There are rules, expectations, fans… It's just not appropriate. He's probably just being kind, like I said. He's used to being charming." The words felt hollow even as I said them, a desperate attempt to talk myself out of the hope that had just bloomed. "It's just wishful thinking."

"Nonsense!" Zoey interjected, her calm voice surprisingly firm. "Abby doesn't 'just' do anything. Every gesture, every look... that's genuine, Y/N. He's absolutely smitten."

"He practically breathes you," Rumi added, nodding emphatically. "Trust me, I've seen Jinu with me. It's the same overwhelming devotion."

Before I could protest further, the door swung open and the boys re-entered, arms laden with crisps, fizzy drinks, and sweet pastries. Abby, of course, was carrying the biggest bag, his bright smile back in place.

"Snacks acquired!" he announced, though his eyes immediately found mine, lingering for a moment.

Just then, one of the production assistants, a tired-looking man, stretched and yawned. "Alright, everyone, I'm calling it a night. Long flight tomorrow. Y/N, you heading back to the hotel now, too?"

My heart sank.

He was right.

It wouldn't look good if I was the only staff member left hanging out with them late. "Oh, yes, I suppose I should," I started, gathering my small bag.

"No, wait!" Abby blurted out, a panicked look flashing across his face.

"Stay!" Baby chirped, practically tackling me back onto the sofa. "We were just about to start a game! And the girls want to keep talking to you, right?" He shot a significant look at the girls.

"Absolutely!" Mira agreed, pulling me back down. "We have much more to discuss, Mr. Kim. Y/N's officially off duty."

Mr. Kim chuckled. "Alright, alright. Don't cause too much trouble. Good night, everyone!" He waved and left, leaving me as the sole staff member among the Saja boys and their girlfriends.

My cheeks burned.

The night settled into a comfortable, if slightly tense, rhythm. We played silly card games, told tour stories, and I tried my best to ignore Baby's continued, not-so-subtle attempts to get close to me. He'd lean over my shoulder, whisper compliments about my hair, or just find excuses to touch my arm. I’d try to act casual, but I felt Abby's gaze on me. I caught him looking upset a few times, but surely that was just me imagining things.

Abby's POV

She's staying!

My heart did a little leap.

Thank goodness for Baby and the girls. Though Baby was quickly becoming my arch-nemesis for the night. He was practically glued to Y/N's side, his hand making far too many casual touches.

I saw Rumi and Jinu talking in a corner, their heads close. Rumi looked at Y/N, then back at Jinu, whispering something. Jinu’s eyes widened, then he glanced at me, a thoughtful frown on his face. My blood ran cold when I distinctly heard Rumi say, "...she told me she likes someone."

My heart plummeted.

Likes someone?

She must mean Baby.

All the hope I'd felt drained away, replaced by a cold, bitter jealousy. He was just so... charming. And she was so sweet. Of course she'd like him.

I went distant for the rest of the night, barely speaking, my laughter forced. My movements felt stiff, disconnected. Y/N occasionally glanced at me, a confused frown on her face. I probably looked like a moody brat, but I couldn't help it. My mind was fixated on Y/N, laughing with Baby, liking him.

Eventually, someone suggested True or Dare.

A terrible, wonderful idea.

This was it.

As the rounds kept going, absurd questions and silly dares left and right. The bottle spun, landing on Baby. He grinned, his eyes instantly locking onto Y/N. "True or Dare, Y/N-noona?"

"True," she said, her voice light.

"Do you like someone in this room?" Baby asked, his eyes dancing mischievously.

My breath hitched.

My entire body tensed, preparing for the blow.

This was it.

She was going to say Baby.

My chest felt like it was caving in.

"Yes," she said softly.

The word hit me like a physical blow. My face must have fallen, because I saw a flicker of confusion in her eyes. I pushed myself up from the sofa, ready to make my escape, to run somewhere, anywhere, where I didn't have to hear it confirmed.

"Abby-hyung, your turn!" Jinu's voice cut through my haze, stopping me mid-movement. He was looking at me, a strange glint in his eye. "True or Dare?"

I glared at him, desperate to just leave. "Dare," I bit out, my voice rough. What else could I do? Run? That would just confirm my humiliation.

Jinu smirked, his gaze flicking between me and Y/N. "I dare you and Y/N to seven minutes in heaven."

A collective gasp, then cheers erupted.

My head snapped to Y/N, whose eyes were wide with shock. This was Jinu's doing. This was the plan. My heart hammered against my ribs, a mixture of terror and a forbidden, desperate hope.

"What?!" I heard Y/N squeak.

"Come on, lovebirds!" Rumi giggled, already pushing us towards a small, darkened storage closet near the back of the room. "Seven minutes! No peeking!"

Before I could protest, or Y/N could, we were shoved inside, and the door clicked shut, plunging us into near darkness.

The closet was tiny, cramped.

My back hit the cool metal of some shelves, and Y/N was pressed so close to me I could feel the warmth of her body, the soft curve of her hip against my thigh. Her scent, a mix of something sweet and clean, filled my senses, making my head spin. I could hear her quick, shallow breaths, mirroring my own.

This is it.

This is a disaster.

She likes Baby. I'm practically suffocating her in here. I can feel her body, so soft, so delicate, completely contrasting my own hard, tense frame.

I should apologize. I should confess.

But what if she pulls away?

What if she hates me?

Why did I let Jinu do this?

Reader's POV

Oh, my god. Oh, my god.

He's so close.

I can feel the heat radiating from him, the solid strength of his chest inches from mine. His scent is all around me—stage makeup, a faint clean musk, uniquely him.

My heart is beating so fast I swear he must hear it. He probably thinks this is awkward. I probably look like an idiot.

Does he feel my legs trembling?

This is wrong, he's an idol, I'm just staff, but oh, I want to reach out and touch him so badly.

"So," Abby's voice was a low murmur, surprisingly close, laced with a familiar, disheartened tone. "You like someone in this room, huh? Who is it?"

My heart pounded, a drum solo in my ears.

He knew! He was asking me directly. Oh, this was so embarrassing, but also… so thrilling. "Yes," I whispered, barely daring to breathe. "I do."

Abby was silent for a long moment, the darkness making it impossible to read his expression. The tension in the tiny space was suffocating. I thought he was waiting for me to say his name, to confirm what he already knew.

Why isn't he saying anything?

Does he want me to say it?

It's so awkward! But he asked.

"Well," Abby finally said, his voice a strained whisper, a new, almost reckless note in it. "Since this is a dare, and we're stuck in here anyway… maybe we should at least do the dare properly? Just… one kiss?" His voice was laced with a strange, impulsive edge.

My breath hitched.

He was offering?

Was this… pity?

Was he just being a good sport for the game, knowing I liked him and not wanting to make it more awkward? My heart ached, but also soared. Even a pity kiss from Abby was more than I'd ever dared to hope for. "Okay," I whispered, my voice shaky. "Okay, yes."

Then, his hand, larger and stronger, found my jaw, gently tilting my face towards his. His lips, soft and warm, found mine in the darkness. It was hesitant at first, then deepened, becoming a tender, yearning press. Then, his other hand found my waist, pulling my soft curves firmly against his lean, strong body. It was a perfect fit, a stark contrast of our forms, and suddenly, all the tension, all the fear, melted away. My small hands instinctively curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, wishing this wasn't just a dare, just a game. The taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against mine, was everything I had ever dreamed of, fleeting and bittersweet.

Just as the kiss deepened, lost in the thrilling, confusing moment, the door suddenly burst open. Bright light flooded the small space, revealing us, pressed close, lips still slightly parted, eyes wide with surprise and embarrassment.

"SEVEN MINUTES ARE UP!" Baby yelled, followed by a triumphant chorus of cheers, laughter, and whoops from the others. "FINALLY!"

I immediately broke the kiss, pulling away sharply, my cheeks burning crimson. The sheer volume of their cheers, the knowing grins on their faces—it was too much.

This wasn't how I'd wanted it.

This wasn't real.

They thought we were together, actually together! And Abby... he'd just been doing the dare. He'd probably be furious about this public display.

"Oh, uh, wow, that was... fun!" I stammered, pulling completely away from Abby, clutching my bag tightly. "But, um, I actually just remembered I have to... prepare for the early flight! Lots of... interpreting to plan! So, bye!" Without waiting for a response, I practically bolted from the closet, pushing past the grinning Saja boys and their girlfriends, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm of mortification and crushed hope.

I had to get out of there.

Abby's POV

She's not saying it.

She's not saying Baby's name.

But who else could it be? No one else flirts with her like that.

This is agony.

Her "Yes" had been a quiet, shy breath, and it sent a jolt of hope through me. But then she didn't say my name, just confirmed she liked "someone." Who? Desperation clawing at my throat.

My jealousy, fueled by Baby's earlier antics, spiraled. If she wouldn't name him, it had to be Baby. It had to be.

That's when the impulsive, reckless thought hit me. If she liked him, but I was stuck here, maybe... maybe just one taste.

Just one.

"Well," I said, my voice strained, fighting against the bitter ache in my chest, "since this is a dare, and we're stuck in here anyway… maybe we should at least do the dare properly? Just… one kiss?" I hated that I was framing it as a dare, but my pride wouldn't let me beg. I just wanted to feel her lips against mine, just once, before she walked away for good.

Her hesitant "Okay" was a fragile thread of hope. My heart pounded as I reached for her, my lips finding hers in the darkness. It was everything I imagined, soft and warm, a desperate hunger rising in me. I wanted to deepen it, to lose myself in it, to make her feel what I felt.

Then, the door burst open.

The blinding light, the roar of cheers.

They thought... they thought we were together.

But Y/N, her eyes wide with what I could only interpret as panic, immediately broke the kiss.

"Oh, uh, wow, that was... fun!" she stammered, pulling away as if I'd burned her. "But, um, I actually just remembered I have to... prepare for the early flight! Lots of... interpreting to plan! So, bye!"

And then she was gone, a blur of motion, fleeing the room as quickly as her legs could carry her.

I stood there, stunned, my hand still reaching out into empty air. The cheers of my bandmates faded into a dull roar in my ears. Baby, who'd been roaring with laughter, suddenly looked confused.

"Well, that was... anticlimactic," Baby said, scratching his head.

My chest felt hollow.

She left.

She ran.

And why?

Because she was embarrassed by the cheers? Or because she had just kissed me, when her heart belonged to him? My heart sank to my stomach. She liked someone else. And she ran because kissing me was a mistake.

A dare. Just a dare.

a/n: Next part soon <3

Tags:

@tiger-lilee-5 @turkey-tom-mybbgalpha

[brattyvox]

★ BETTER OFF GONE — MxF.

NAVIGATION — MASTERLIST // Inbox to be on Taglist!

Post-apocalypse. You're scared; Daryl is scared but is too proud to admit it. And upon seeing Rick and the others come back without Merle, when you two are alone, he breaks down.

GENRE ★ Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

PAIRING ★ Fem reader x Daryl Dixon

WARNINGS ★ Established relationship, Mentions of death, Age gap [age of reader not specified, but definitely over 21 at least], Sad Daryl :(

Word Count — 1.73k

"It ate my damn deer!" Daryl yelled, repeatedly kicking the headless walker. Everyone else took it seriously, while you were covering your mouth and giggling. The tension of the day had been thick, and you couldn't help but find a little bit of humor in the absurdity of it all.

"Daryl, that's not gonna help." you laugh. "It doesn't even have a head anymore. You're not gonna get your deer back."

"What she said." Shane chimed in, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Y'know how much time I spent lookin' for that deer?" Daryl grumbled, finally stopping his assault on the lifeless corpse. His eyes stared at the deer on the ground.

"Daryl, cmon." you grab his arm. "It's not worth it." Your voice is soothing, trying to calm him down. His muscles tense under your touch, but he doesn't shake you off. Instead, he takes a deep breath and looks up, meeting your eyes.

"Whatever," he walked off toward the camp. "Merle!"

You followed Daryl closely, feeling the weight of his mood. You understood why he was so upset about the deer, but it really wasn't the one thing he should even be worrying about. And once he finds out about what the new guy did to Merle, it's going to be so much worse.

"Merle! Get your ass out here!" Daryl's call echoed through the dense foliage as you both approached the camp. The group had returned earlier, except…without Merle. You hadn't asked what happened, but knew Merle probably deserved it.

"Uh," Rick wipes the underside of his nose. "Merle's not here."

Daryl froze. You felt his entire body tense up as he spun around to face the sheriff. "What?"

You stood behind Daryl, hugging yourself and furrowing your eyebrows. All hell was about to break loose.

"Where is he?" Daryl blinked, glancing at Shane. "Is- Is he dead?"

"…We're not sure." Shane said, his eyes flicking to the ground. "He was on the roof, handcuffed. We had to leave him."

"Who the hell handcuffed Merle to the roof?" you butted in. "How did anyone manage to wrangle him and get ahold of his wrist anyway?"

Daryl's eyes searched each of their faces, his jaw clenching tightly. "It was that new guy, wasn't it?" He spat out the words like they were a mouthful of nails.

Rick looked like a deer in headlights. He inhaled sharply and nodded. "Yeah. Look, he was a danger to us- to everyone. I handcuffed him to that roof so that he wouldn't be."

Daryl's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching. "And you just left him there?" His voice was eerily calm.

You grabbed Daryl's shoulder and he moved away from you, stepping closer to Rick. "You handcuffed my goddamn brother to a roof all by himself and left him there?! He can't even defend himself!"

Rick raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Look, we had to. We didn't have a choice. Those walkers-"

"There were walkers too?! You left him to be food for them?!" Daryl's voice grew louder, his anger palpable. You felt your own heart sink, knowing that even in this harsh world, no one deserved such a fate. He went silent for a minute and dropped his crossbow, grabbing a knife from his pocket and moving closer.

"Daryl-" you whispered, fearfully reaching out to him, but he didn't stop.

"You had a choice!" he roared, pointing the knife at Rick. "You always had a choice! And you chose to leave him to die!"

Within seconds he swung and a fight broke out. Shane and Rick had to wrestle him to the ground just to get him to stop. You watched, horrified, as the knife clattered to the earth, just barely missing its intended target. Daryl's fury was something you'd never seen before, and you couldn't blame him.

"Alright! Let him go!" you shouted over the chaos, pushing through the group. Shane and Rick's grips on Daryl loosened and he sprang up, his eyes wild with anger and pain.

"Daryl!" you screamed his name, trying to get through to him. The fight had stopped, but the air was thick with the scent of rage and fear. His eyes snapped to yours, searching for understanding, but finding none. You stepped closer, your voice steady despite your trembling hands. "Come here."

You grab his arm, dragging him toward the RV. "We need to talk." You're firm, but your voice is laced with a gentle concern that you hope reaches through his anger.

He didn't even try to fight your grip, which was unusual for Daryl. Normally, he'd resist like a feral animal. But today, his usual fiery spirit was replaced with something darker, something that scared you. Once inside the RV, you shut the door and turned to face him. His eyes were red and swollen, and you could see the grief etched into every line of his face.

"Sit down." You guide Daryl to the bed, his boots scraping against the floor. The RV felt suffocatingly small with the weight of his anger, and the tension was palpable as you both sat down, the metal frame squeaking under your combined weight.

"Daryl," you began, placing a hand on his shoulder. His muscles were as tight as a bowstring. "I know you're hurting right now-"

Tears. Tears started falling down his cheeks. Big, salty drops that rolled down the contours of his face, leaving trails in the grime and sweat. You'd never seen Daryl cry before. Sure, you've seen him sad, even devastated, but this was something else. It was raw, and it was breaking your heart to witness it.

"…Daryl?" you whispered, your voice cracking. You'd never seen him like this. So vulnerable, so utterly broken.

"Merle's gone," he choked out, his voice hoarse and tight. "They just left him there to… to die." He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving with sobs.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Daryl was never one for physical affection, but in this moment, he seemed to crave it. He leaned into you, letting you hold the weight of his pain.

"I'm sorry," you murmured into his ear. "We'll find him." It was a lie, you weren't sure you believed it yourself, but you had to say something to comfort him. The truth was, you were scared too. Merle might have been a handful, in fact he was a douche a good portion of the time, but he was part of their makeshift family. And now, he was out there alone.

"And now we're stuck fightin' those goddamn walkers!" Daryl's voice was muffled by his hands, but you heard the anguish in every syllable. You rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles, hoping it would offer some comfort.

The RV felt like it was closing in on you both, the silence only broken by his painful sobs. You took a deep breath and leaned back, gently taking his face in your hands to force him to look at you. "We'll get through this, okay?"

"No we won't!"

"Daryl, I've known you for a long time. You're tougher than this." You spoke softly but firmly, trying to be the rock he needed in this tumultuous moment. His eyes searched yours, looking for a glimmer of hope, but all he found was a reflection of his own despair.

He sniffed, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. "I ain't tough. Not anymore." His words were barely a whisper. "Merle was the only family I had left."

"Daryl," you began, "you still have me, and everyone out there. We're your family now."

"The hell they ain't." Daryl's voice was gruff, the anger and sadness melding into something that sounded almost like a challenge. "Merle's all I had left. My blood."

Your hands dropped slightly, but you didn't let go of his face. "Daryl, you're wrong." You spoke with a calmness that surprised even yourself. "You're not alone anymore. They may not be your family but they're all you got. Whether you like them or not, they're going to be the main ones protecting you out there."

He looked away, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "They ain't Merle."

"I know. But still, they care about you," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. Daryl's eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of dishonesty, but all he found was earnest concern.

"Merle's gone," Daryl murmured, his voice cracking. "What if I'm next?"

"You're not." You say firmly, your voice cutting through the dense fog of Daryl's grief. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your own racing heart. "I'd die before letting any of those walkers get to you."

He snorts, a sad smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I know you would."

You sit with him for a long time, the silence stretching out between you like a tightrope. You can feel the sadness in the air, thick and heavy, and you're not sure how to cut through it. You just hold onto him, letting him cry, letting him feel. It's all you can do.

"I love you, Daryl." The words slipped out, unplanned but true, and you watched as he stiffened in your arms. It wasn't something you said often, and certainly not in a moment like this, but it felt right.

He took a shaky breath, his eyes flicking to yours. "You do?" His voice was quiet, almost hopeful.

You nodded. "Yeah, I do." It was strange, but in the middle of all this horror, your feelings for him had only grown stronger. You'd been too afraid to say it out loud, but now, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

Daryl looked at you, his eyes searching your face. For a moment, you saw a glimmer of something in them that you hadn't seen in a while: hope. It was as if your words had reached into the darkest part of his soul and lit a candle.

"You do?" he whispered again, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Oh god, c'mere." Daryl's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a crushing embrace. You could feel the warmth of his body, the way his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. It was a stark contrast to the cold, hard exterior he usually wore like armor.

"I won't let anybody hurt you, Dar."

[jellynie]

synopsis. joshua is a gentleman with impeccable sense of direction and lucky strike in finding you

paring(s). hong joshua x f!reader

genre(s). non-idol au (not specified), fluff?, angst?, drama

warning(s). mentions and apperiance of a toxic ex (reader's), mention of drinking, reader knows how to drive (and practices safe driving as you all should), again angst? if you count it as angst

word count. 2.7k

a/n. original plot was darker but then I realized that it's joshua and I like him too much for that, I hope the flow makes sense, I was writing this and school work at the same time so it might sound bit... too professional, mouth-full?

no usage of y/n, written in second person pov

If everyone who knew Joshua could describe him in one word, it would be the word gentleman. Suitable noun to be attached to him, for the man did have a gentle smile and all of the proper manners memorized in the tip of his pinky finger. Always holding respect for people around him, acts of consideration before you could even notice with the touch soft as a feather, tender, comforting, many wouldn't ever think twice to trust him.

You too share the same credence as others, Joshua is a gentleman. You would never deny that. How could you, he was always one step ahead of your needs, like now for example, as he was moving through dresses laid on the bed, the ones he made sure to steam and place out for you. 

It was your anniversary dinner, and as always he took care of everything. Part of you feels bad about it, how all you had to do was bring along your gift and dress up, well he helped you with the later too. Showing you options with his giddy smile he was forcing down, he used the excuse of matching, but part of you had suspicion he just wanted to see you in those dresses, but was too awkward to just ask. 

Perhaps you did notice how he stirs your opinion on each dress, always finding a fault in it, but just in the same you don’t think twice when you settle on his choice for the night, simply thinking that once again your tastes are overlapping. One more concurrence in your relationship, you liked it that way.  

You are reminded he is a gentleman in the hallway where he puts your heels on for you, avoiding the ones he knows hurt just enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to be thrown away. Once more, when he drives you to the restaurant, he talks, filling the silence with his voice, reminding you of your nail appointment next week and asking when to pick you up. 

With that in mind you think of the last week, the day that actually started this spiraling of you pondering Joshua’s title of gentleman, you offered to drive your friend and their car home, considering they were more than tipsy to get there safely, and just as you checked if you had your driving licence on you noticed something amiss, its expired. 

There was staring back at you a license that expired last year, not a couple of days, weeks even, it was almost ten months ago. You try to figure out how you hadn't noticed that as you balance your drunk friend on your shoulder and then it clicks in your head, you started dating Joshua last year. The guy who insisted on driving you almost everywhere, the guy who had a GPS installed in his head when it came to you. 

As you start laughing at your predicament, finding the whole situation insane and sharing the bad news with your friend. The same one who, bless her heart, started teasing about what gentleman your boyfriend was, gagging at the sweetness of not turning on your car for almost a year because you had a private driver. You nod your head, half listening to her rant as you dial his number, heart beating against your chest as he picks after the second ring, you almost second question if you were the sober one. 

Usually, event like that would go over your head, you would laugh about it when you had debrief with your boyfriend and move on, shaking your head as you mumble about renewing your license, but what made you pause was simple, ‘You don’t have to rush you know, it will continue to collect dust anyways. Besides, that way you can’t run off too far’ It was a joke, obviously, driving yourself wasn't the only way of transportation, but what made you choke on air was the words that followed. ‘Well even if you go too far I will find you, I always do.’ 

Romantic, you think at first, flush covers your cheeks, you even giggle, like some highschool girl with a crush. It feels nice, he did always seem to find you, no matter where you were, like he was your personal guardian angel, always there, lurking even when you couldn't see him.

And that is when you realize that most people who claim Joshua's gentleman agenda don't understand that despite him being as gentle as the rose petals whose scent overtakes the whole room he will always be too overwhelming in the same way you cover your nose when you pass the perfume aisle in the store. Basic as you may be to make that comparison it was the first that came to your brain when Joshua showed real interest in you. His usual passive expression on his face, the one with an automatic smile you used to question if it was practiced, as he holds the umbrella over your head, for some reason the droplets of rain that soaked your clothes didn't feel as cold as his gaze did.

You aren't sure how or why he was there, you just got broken up with and he showed up, shielding you from the rain. Like he was some k-drama’s male lead you watched when you wanted to feel something other than constant disappointment of your own relationships. His own clothes were getting ruined at a rapid pace yet the world stopped for a minute. Million other thoughts running through your head yet you couldn’t verbalize them, couldn’t even open your mouth to greet him, thank him, nothing. All you could do is listen, to the murmur of the raindrops hitting the world around you, and his voice-

‘Are you okay?’

You were’t sure.

‘Are you cold’

Maybe

‘Do you want to go inside?’

Possibly, but then you would have to face the fact that your face was wet from tears and not the dumb rain.

‘Hey, can you look at me?’

Oh.

You raise your gaze to meet his, it is not the same expression he had five, ten minutes ago. His brows were pulled together, something like a frown but you weren't sure. You come to the conclusion you aren’t sure of many things, considering you wouldn't be able to describe the emotion that was burning behind those beautiful brown eyes of his. He steps closer to you, pushing you to take steps of your own, just backwards. You are too immersed into his expression that you almost don’t notice your back hitting the wall of the covered bus station. 

‘’Did you finally break up with that bastard?’

Oh?

He must have seen your raised eyebrows and gaping mouth like a fish on the shore, because he laughed. What a gratifying laugh, your lips pressed shut together forming into a smile. He runs his fingers through his wet hair strands and shakes his head in a way that reminds you of a wet dog drying off, you bet you looked like a wet cat in comparison. 

‘Is that a yes?’

‘Yeah, its a yes’

You answer his question for the first time, voice quivering from coldness and something more. 

‘What a relief, he was ugly’

Your cheeks are hurting from the smile stretching on your face, a hum graces his ears, like you are agreeing with the statement but trying to be a bigger person.

‘And you are really pretty… What an ass, he had someone as amazing as you and let you slip right trough of his fingers’

Oh!

Joshua raises his eyebrows, a boyish smile covering up and replacing all of the memories of previous times you saw his smile. He must really enjoy your shocked expressions, but you don’t think of that, you don’t dare think of that.

‘I like your smile the most but surprise is a close second. No, I lied, I still haven’t seen them all, I bet you look even more beautiful when you wake up and your brain tries to catch up with the world, you seem like the type.’

He says, and for the third time this night he shocked you.

‘Sorry? Too fast? Maybe, but I've been biting my tongue for as long as I've known you. like every cell in my being was screaming to make you laugh, to be the reason you laugh. And seeing you drenched after getting out of the shackles that asshole put you in, seeing your face light up again like you remembered you are alive? I just want to make sure your mind never goes back to clouds of doubt that you aren’t deserving of everything a real man can offer.’ 

Oh! OH!

He doesn’t stop, tripping over some words, you yourself never saw him like this, trying to catch up with his own thoughts, fixing mistakes he stutters out.

‘Woah, that’s a lot. I know. I should be poring everything out right now, very bad timing’

At least he recognizes it.

‘But…ever since we met, I find myself always around you, like there was some sort of running joke I wasn’t aware of. Suddenly we had mutual friends, same gym, same schedules, same coffee shop, same hobbies, same taste in decor, it was some kind of twisted torment to be pinning over you while you were in a stable relationship, constantly seeing you like a reminder that you are…too much of compatibility for me to be just a coincidence.’

Was he two steps behind or two steps ahead of you? Did it matter? He was there, wasn’t he? A friend of a friend? An acquaintance from all of your usual spots? A guy with whom you go to pottery class every Thursday afternoon? A neighbor down the street who gifted you a new watering can when yours rusted from being left out during winter. A friend who makes sure your cup is full and the plate never empty when he sits next to you? 

You think of what you would use to describe him as that isn't a gentleman.  It wasn't rose either, nor petals, nor any poetic shit you come up with when you think of him. 

He had a honeyed smile, talked in the same sweet way, with a saccharine voice, like you would get a sugar rush every time he spoke to you. Tone soft, precious, like he was reading poetry rather than spitting lies one after another. He wasn't some bad guy in your story, far from it. 

He loves you, you are almost certain of that. Even beyond his facade, beyond the dark glimmer of his gaze when he thinks you aren't looking. He truly loves you, maybe that love is mixed with obsession, maybe a bit of hatred too. Hatred for making him wait so long, hatred for dating that guy instead of him, hatred for your uncertain words the day he confessed under the rain. Yet that hatred was never directed to you, for he never turned his hypothetical rose thorns towards you, he was always soft, delicate, gentle. There is that word again, gentle. He was a gentle man, your man, yet you couldn't use it to describe him completely without feeling that there is something missing.

You think back of the day you went to pick your things from your ex's place, Joshua was there, funnily enough, he drove you there after a date you two went to. Your ex boyfriends dropped your stuff unceremoniously in your hands then glazed back at Joshua waiting in her car, then back at you.

‘That dude…You..’

‘What?’

‘I know I've been an ʼʼasshole’’.’ 

He says, mockingly muttering out those words, as he doesn't believe he ever was in the wrong throughout your relationship- ‘but that guy is bad news, a real creep’

‘What do you mean?’

You never heard someone use creep as a word to attach to Joshua. 

‘Ugh’, a groan, like the need for explanation shouldn't exist at all, like it should be so obvious. You are reminded of all the times he would act like your questions were stupid and once again you are glad you don't have to put up with him. 

‘Are you seriously asking that? He was always two steps behind you, every time there was an event he was there! Every time I open socials there he is, next to you! Like he was your boyfriend and not me, and do you know how creepy it is when he calls me for you!’

‘Calls you?’

‘Duh, like he just says, where are you? Why does he want to know, even when I broke up with you, hold and behold, his ID was showing up on my phone as you finally left to swallow in your own pity party’

He irks you, with his words and part of you wants to just snatch your stuff from his musty hands and leave…but part of you wants to hear him out. Wants to know if it is really true Joshua was talking with your ex while the two of you were dating. He never mentioned that, hell you didn't even know he had his number, your ex never joined your friend group, hell you even forced him to join you on events they would be present. And Joshua never put much attention on who you were dating, then again he never put attention on the fact he liked you either.

‘Did he now? You sure you aren’t just bitter I am moving on?’

‘Wow, wooow’ He boasts, loud and loutish, and you don’t even have to turn around to know Joshua now had his window rolled down. What a circus, and the head clown was convinced his nose is a red ball and that it is in fact fabulous. 

‘Think what you want, you are missing out on a catch like me, not the other way around. Be with a stalker if you want, I don’t care’ 

He rambles on for a couple minutes more, about how you are insane to think he would ever think twice about you after today, and that you better not come crawling back after you realise what mess you made for yourself, you stop listening and check if all your things are in the busted-out basket. Once you conclude that what could be left with him isn’t important enough to wait for him to finish his rant you scoop your things back up, away from his ugly basket. 

Once you turn you see Joshua with one leg out of the car, eyebrows raised, eyes widened as if he was a meerkat caught in some trouble, back straightening up once your eyes meet. You chuckle and your ex must have realised you aren’t paying him attention anymore, with a surprisingly short string of curses he slammed the door shut. 

Joshua returns your smile once you are near enough for him to hold onto stuff you were carrying, pushing them into the backseat. 

‘He is louder when there aren’t people around. Glad you won’t have to hear such badly articulated sentences anymore’

‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Aren’t you glad you won’t have to listen to him anymore?’

A pause. Then a shake of his head and a laugh, he doesn't do it condisending way, rather he does it to himself, you soon realize why, once he mumbles out next words like a secret confession.

‘I tried not to listen to him speak in the first place, but then again I wasn't the one in relationship with him, couple of exchanged words that are ignored don't come close being with him’

‘Woah, Joshua ignoring people, that's a new one…’

‘Well he was always a churlish pal, lacking much grace when talking about…others. I don’t think paying attention to whatever brash words may come out of his mouth are worth anything really.’ 

He gives an awkward smile, the one that tells you more than words. You pretend not to notice the pause, a deflection on not to say he talked bad about you specifically, you nod along, agreeing. 

So wherever that question comes up, wherever someone asks you who your boyfriend is, what's he like. You would smile and say. Gentleman, because the parts of him that would question that statement are the parts that only you will see, and you will make sure of that. You will leave your location on, ask for a ride even when you don’t have to, turn a blind eye to his soft influence, pretend you don’t know that lucky meetings were not dependent on fate but on how good Joshua knew you.

[kiigan]

There.

He said it. Or... asked it, rather.

ㅤAnd was now holding his breath subconsciously, allowing his mother all the time she needed to put her thoughts into words meanwhile. One wouldn't need to be a genius to notice how much it was affecting Mikoto, he was half-surprised her sharingan had not activated on its own given the amount of conflicting emotions that were dancing in her beautiful features. Maybe he truly should not have asked... but he couldn't take it back, now. So he might as well not let all this discomfort be in vain.

ㅤ«It's alright,» Itachi said, voice quiet but soothing, as he held her hand back just as tightly; wanting her to know there was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to be ashamed of. That, even if she somehow turned to him and said that, yes, she hated Fugaku with every fiber of her being, he would not judge and he would not think any less of her. But, of course, she didn't. She remained tender and loving, as ever, a delicate flower standing strong in the storm pouring from above. He shifted a bit, then, just enough to tilt his head to the side and plant a little kiss on her lap for further reassurance.

ㅤ«I am very grateful for everything you have done for us. And I'm certain that Sasuke will be as well, once he's old enough to understand these matters.»

ㅤIt wasn't really new to him that their parents had married out of convenience for all parts involved; a rather common practice within such a traditional clan. And... it wasn't really new to him that their parents didn't always get along, much less saw eye to eye on various matters. Suffering from insomnia from a very young age meant that Itachi, sometimes, would catch fragments of their yelling at each other late at night, likely believing their children to be asleep already. Not to mention, soon after Sasuke's birth, the way their mother had gone chasing after Orochimaru-san to ask for sanctuary. As the years passed and the tension within the clan grew exponentially, Itachi began putting together the pieces of the puzzle - culminating in the question he had just asked.

But... what could he do about it, really?

ㅤTell his mother now to follow her heart and her dreams? Get a divorce, go find a husband whom she felt she could love unconditionally? Live her youth in a way she never could before because she'd been raising a baby when she'd been so young, herself? She wouldn't, he was certain that she wouldn't. Had he been in her shoes, he likely wouldn't have, either. He could understand the nuance in her choices, the reasons for sacrificing so much, and, even, he could understand the sincerity in her words as she said that she did love Fugaku in her own way and was grateful to him. How could he not? It only made Itachi love her more fiercely, respect her, cherish her.

ㅤBefore he had chance to voice this sentiment, however, his mother's blatant attempt to point the spotlight at him instead cut him short. To say the least. Because, even if he could clearly tell her intention was to deflect from the touchy topic, the whiplash hit him so hard that it threw the whole genius brain for a loop. And it didn't help that, hearing those teasing words, it was Izumi's cute face that immediately appeared in his mind's eye - to the point where a cherry-pink flush came to usually pale cheeks, as Itachi all but brought his gaze to stare at the flower pots by the opposite end of the garden, now.

«N-no... of course not!»

      Her son’s words caused her to laugh, carefree and delighted at his logic despite the rather dark topic they had found themselves discussing. The passing of time was just as much magical and it was cruel, and for Shinobi like that it was even more unpredictable for they could truly die at any time — regardless of age, of time spent living. Still, her son filled her with joy with his words that to some would have seemed so detached, so lacking to emotions and yet to her, they were filled to the brim with love. ❛  I know you will,  ❜  she squished his cheeks gently, leaning down to kiss his forehead before continuing. ❛  I always did tell your father that you had my eyes, I’m sure you’ll show me a lot of great things through them when I’m not longer here.  ❜

      Still with a smile on her face Mikoto used one of her dainty fingers to boop Itachi’s nose, thinking him silly for even imagining not being interesting enough for anyone even for aliens. ❛  I’m sure it wouldn’t take them long to adore you, even if you don’t immediately captivate them.  ❜  She said, just as realistically as her son in that matter. Though that instinct of every mother was there inside of her — the instinct of thinking her child perfect in every way, Mikoto was aware that everyone had flaws, everyone was different and liked different things and different people. It was all a matter of preference.

      ❛  Mhm?  ❜  She responded with a tiny hum the moment he called for her, eyes closing into little crescent moons in sheer elation every time he called her ‘mother’. Though her happiness was quickly replaced by fear — panic rushing through her veins at his question. Was it invasive? A little. But Mikoto wasn’t worried about that, she was worried about the fact that his questions could mean her carefully constructed mask was falling apart. How long had he been worried about it? How long had he seen through her walls?

      ❛  It’s okay, darling,  ❜  she began, voice gentle but soft — frail almost as she considered how to answer him, considered if she even should let him into her mind like that. ❛  I—I am happy with what this marriage has given me,  ❜  marrying Fugaku had not been in her plans, and yet he had given him her children, had been a good husband — for the most part — so Mikoto felt guilty about not being completely happy with how things were going. She felt caged, shackled to Fugaku, struggling to protect her babies from his decisions.

      Mikoto squeezed Itachi’s hand, trying to reassure both him and herself, eyes kind as she looked at him. Her sweet boy, her little angel. ❛  You don’t have to worry about be, Itachi. I do love your father, perhaps not in the way I should, but I’ve loved and respected him enough to form a family with him. He gave me my children and for that I’ll always be grateful.  ❜ She wondered if Itachi could understand that, her son was so righteous, so passionate about what he thought right and wrong, could he truly understand the intricacies of an arranged marriage?

      ❛  It isn’t something you’ll have to worry about, you’ll get to choose whom to start a family with in the future.  ❜  Mikoto would make sure of that, regardless of how many screaming matches she’d have to have with Fugaku to ensure her boys wouldn’t be shackled to someone they did not love. ❛  Why are you asking that all of the sudden? Are you interested in finding someone already?  ❜  She switched the topic from her to him, a lousy change if she was honest, but much more easygoing that focusing on her crumbling marriage. 

[aropride]

it's so fucking frustrating to be in college and know everyone uses chatgpt and to be tempted by it constantly while also knowing intellectually that it doesn't work and it's a bad idea. like, i hang out in the library a lot, and i see people using chatgpt on assignments almost every day. and i know it isn't a good way to learn, because it's not really "artificial intelligence" so much as it is an auto text generator. and it gives you wrong information or badly worded sentences all the time. but every week i stare down assignments i don't want to do and i think man. if only i could type this prompt into a text generator and have it done in 10 minutes flat. and i know it wouldn't work. it wouldn't synthesize information from the text the way professors want, it wouldn't know how to answer questions, it just spits out vaguely related words for a couple paragraphs. but knowing my classmates get their work done in 10 minutes flat with it while i fight every ounce of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder in my body is infuriating.

[windownextdoor]

RENOVATIONS

sfw + nsfw + plot + simon riley x fem!reader wc: 1.3k wanting independence, you buy a home. yes, it was a fixer-upper. but, who said your neighbor couldn't help? pt. 2

home depot was...

something else, you described it.

could barely look around without a man coming up and seeing if you needed help or wanted to ask you what you were doing that you needed such tools; just a sander and a bauer drill.

"sugar, what are you doing with such tools? your man ain't here to help ya out?" the employee said condescendingly.

fucking men and trying to mansplain shit.

you were trying to be polite, "uh, sir, i'm fine. just trying to look around-"

"how about you come back with your man? he'll know what to get for whatever you're doing, alright sugar?"

you just stared at him. stared at him because who has the audacity to be misogynistic in the 21st century?

see, you were about to tell him off, shout loudly that he should go fuck off and stick his fist somewhere where it doesn't shine.

until a very familiar, a very deep voice was directly behind you.

"honey, you find what you needed?"

simon.

you turned around to find him, a little too close for people who just met the day before. shoulders directly in front of your face and his eyes on the employee who just wouldn't leave you the fuck alone.

also, honey?

your mouth was slightly ajar, but you closed it and nodded your head. "yeah...i did." you said, looking back at the employee.

the employee who was as stupid as ever, decided to start talking again. "you must be her husband! see, i told her to wait for you to make sure you got the right tools and whatnot, but-"

"now why the fuck would you do that?" simon's voice was dangerous, but oh-so tranquil. like he knew the employee wouldn't think about doing this again.

the employee just blinked and stuttered his next words a little.

"what was that? because the next words out of your mouth better be an apology to my wife."

my wife. goddamn did that sound good coming from his mouth.

"a-ah, yes, i'm so sorry ma'am. very sorry, my apologies." that apology was quick and certain as he walked away from both of you.

a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding left you as you turned around to your neighbor. "god- thank you so much for that. he would not leave me alone."

"just being a misogynistic prick." simon rasped, his eyes went to the two tools in your hands.

"drill and sander? fixing that porch o'yours?"

you smiled up at him, "yes sir, that i am. i know we only exchanged a few words but you were right. i am really excited to fix this house." his eyes darkened ever-so-slightly at the 'sir'. you didn't know what that was about.

you looked at his hands; empty. "what are you here for, then?" you asked.

"nosy neighbor." he said gruffly, but there was an upturn in his lips. "just here for trash bags. out of them."

you nodded, the silence filled the isle. a comfortable one. until- an idea struck you.

"want to help me out a little, simon?" you asked, a pleading tone in your voice.

"oh lord." was all simon said before getting swept up in your home depot shopping spree.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

he helped you put the planks of new wood into your small car, along with the two tools and nails you'd purchased.

"i'll meet you back at your house." simon said, closing your trunk.

you raised an eyebrow.

"you wanna help with this home renovation?" you say, perplexed at his assertion.

"wouldn't be good neighbor if i didn't help, would i, love?"

jesus fuckin' christ, his accent and rough voice could probably make you come on the spot-

you just laughed a little, "whatever you say, simon. i'll make us some coffee, because lord knows we are going to need it."

he gave you a look, his eyes. they say a lot. they're pretty, and tell a story. you just don't know what story.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

back at your house, you stepped through the door with simon trailing behind you. you both got home at about the the same time, since his car was basically following yours.

the sigh that left his mouth was disgruntled.

"jesus christ, woman, are you sure you're livin' 'ere?"

you planted your hand at your chest, a mocking shock of offensiveness. "don't be mean to my house! it's a work in progress. she just...isn't furnished yet."

he opened your fridge. "nor stocked with food yet." he said, closing it and looking at you with a look as he tilted his head.

you tilted your head back at him, hands on your hips. giving him the same look.

"don't get bratty with me, honey." he said, using the nickname from earlier on you, the way he said it was rough. "get some food in here." he said before walking around your island to sit on one of chairs you did have.

you rolled your eyes and started making coffee.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

music played from your speaker sat on your driveway as you and him pulled the old, rotten boards up and threw them in a pile.

after that, the real work started. fresh, new wooden boards, nails and your drill and hammer. sweat dripped down the sides of your temple as you and simon worked hand in hand, surprisingly. he needed nails, you knew which ones. you needed a piece of wood, he was already handing you one.

you and him were about seventy-five percent done, when you went into the house to wet two rags and came back out with them, handing one to simon. "i underestimated how fucking hot it would be out here." you swore, putting the cold, wet rag on your forehead, which felt absolutely heavenly.

simon laughed. a small, but full laugh, as he put the wet washcloth also on his forehead, standing up to see the progression. "oh, look at that. almost done, aren't we?"

you smiled at him then looked at the porch, yes, the porch was almost done. first home change and it looked pretty fucking nice.

you spoke, "20 bucks says we get this done today."

simon immediately retorted, "how about a beer says we get this done today? cause i ain't takin' your money, love." he says with a small smirk.

"but, i was going to pay you for helping me-"

"and tha' money would end up back in your hands. not taking money from you. today was nice, and i offered." simon said with a tilt of his head.

you sighed, your shoulders shrugging a little. "okay, if that's fine with you." you stretched and put the washcloth back on your forehead, letting it rest there for a moment before pulling it off. "let's get this porch done, then." you said with a small, tired smile.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

the sun was setting before simons and yours eyes. what a pretty view. you and him shared one last beer of yours as you promised to get more at the store later on in the week.

you and him sat on the two steps that lead up to your new porch. you gave the last of the beer over to him, "thanks for your help today, simon. it was really fun. very neighborly of you."

he laughed and shook his head as he downed the rest of the beer, "no need for thanks, just happy to help. don't do much, so it was a nice change of routine for an old man like me."

you rolled your eyes, and shoved his shoulder lightly, "bee-keeping age." you reminded him.

as he gruffly chuckled at your statement, your phone pinged. you grabbed your phone out of your pocket and saw it was from one of your friend from college, ava. a simple text of 'how's that house doing?'

you smiled at your phone and opened the camera app. without asking him, you took a picture of you and him with the new porch in the background, you smiling and simon holding the empty beer bottle as his forearms rested on his knees. catching simon off-guard.

"thanks." you said before sending the picture to your friend, a small brazen smile on your face.

simon just laughed, mumbling the words, "cheeky girl."

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

pt. 3 (soon!)

[muntitled]

Indebted

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: He wouldn't call it jealousy... He just wasn't very fond of sharing his toys.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Jealousy Language, Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Caning, Forced Orgasm, Controlled Orgasm, Dumbification, Impact Play, Blood Play, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Rough Sex, Blood Play, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

4k words

"Seriously, if it weren't for your help, I'd probably fail this module-" you meet him at the door, your Salesman, who's come to play one of his games. He arrives just as you're ushering someone else out.

"It's honestly my pleasure," you say, "You've made me feel useful."

As you speak, you open your front door to reveal your Salesman standing on the opposite end of the threshold.

You hadn't been smiling, not until you saw him standing there in a crisp, well-fitted navy blue suit. He's not looking at you. Not immediately. His eyes are trained on the boy you're standing beside. The one who's slipping on his sneakers, still murmuring about how incredibly grateful he is for your tutoring.

'It's nothing,' you replied modestly, even though it was most definitely not nothing to dedicate your entire Wednesday afternoon to tutoring. The boy is a first year and budding with the need to get better in psychology. His essay would have been flawless, had it not been for the grammatical and spelling errors that plagued the page. You'd both sat for the majority of this Wednesday afternoon hacking through the issues and improving on his spelling. It was endearing. To be in university and still need a spelling tutor.

"Thanks so much for the help." The boy tries to maneuver his lanky frame past your Salesman who takes up the majority of the space by your little doorway.

"See you next week." He shoots you a small smile before giving an uneasy glance to your Salesman.

"Hello." Says the Salesman, so painfully formal it causes a wave of unease to swell. He peers down at the boy like a tiny little thing.

"H-Hey." Your student replies before thanking you once more.

When he leaves and it's just you and the man you're paid to please every Wednesday evening, an uneasy sort of silence settles between you both.

You're smiling up at him.

And he's smiling down at you but it's different somehow. Tighter. Not a genuine smile at all.

Although admittedly, none of his smiles were genuine. His entire face was a carefully orchestrated scam, to get any suspecting victim to trust him.

And yet somehow, this smile feels more phoney.

Like a tempest is brewing beneath.

Before you're able to dissect it further, he's already stepping closer, letting his large, elongated shadow fall on you. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"The last time you came to my house, you killed someone." You lean against the door, your hip leaning against the wood as you fold your arms over your chest. His eyes zero in on the movement and a rare occasion occurs: You feel powerful. That's the last thing you've ever been made to feel in his presence.

"It took a week to get the smell of blood and death out of my room." You continue.

He lifts his hands in front of you, showing the briefcase that hangs from his heavy fingers and the blisters coating his palms. Like a magician convincing you his hands were clean, "I come in peace." That deep and gravelly vibrato veneering his voice causes a tantalizing hum to run all the way down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You step aside, staring blankly ahead of you as he steps into your house, bombarding everything with his presence.

From his brisk walk alone, trudging into your apartment like he owns the palace (which he regrettably does) you almost immediately realize that something is wrong. You are not under the impression that you've done anything to make him angry but unease still rolls in your stomach like a tempest that's brewing. When you make it into your adjoining living that bleeds into the kitchen, you find him standing in the kitchen. He lowers his briefcase onto the counter before resting both his heavy hands there.

You move to the other side of the counter, leaning down- giving him a more than perfect view of the cleavage spilling from your dress. You hope it might appease him as you try to wrack your mind for possibile slip-ups that would've caused this terrible silence.

This little-to-no-conversation between you both makes your dynamic feel like the transaction that it actually is: a girl, who needs her university fees paid and a sadist who wants his needs met. Feelings weren't in the equation and yet, your heart stops when he asks,

"How was school?"

"School was school." You reply, sounding pathetically excited to finally hear his voice since the moment he entered your little home.

"Although," you peer down at your jittery fingers on the counter. Your nerves are shot to hell as you admit, "I don't know how proactive I'm going to be tonight-”

He was a ruthless dominant, never failing to leave you absolutely spent by the end of the night. It left you with great discomfort to not be able to perform to the greatest of your abilities during these sessions. “I'm so tired... I've got this psychology quiz and-"

"Who was that?" His questions cut through yours like the tip of a hot knife.

“Who was who?” You ask.

He only smiles before turning his back to you, frantically pulling open cupboards as he says, “Rice. Where's the rice? Do you have rice?”

“The cupboard in the bottom row- Who are you referring to?”

He pulls out your tall container of rice and you watch him round the counter with it in his hands. “This place is so fucking small.” He says, popping the lid of the container, “Reminds me of my childhood home.” He stands right in the only open space in your apartment and all you do is watch as he tips the container over, watching millions of rice grains scatter to the bare floor.

“THAT'S MY FOOD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-”

His voice is like molten lava when he looks down at you and points toward the ground. “Kneel.”

You feel nothing but cold air slide across your exposed arms when he trudges back to your little kitchen. Your mind reels and your stomach sinks and sinks and sinks- burning a hole through the rest of your organs.

“Am I being punished for something?”

“Be a good girl and kneel on the rice.” He says and because you were nothing but a slave to the dominance in his voice, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. From behind the kitchen counter he watches your face contort into unmistakable pain as the rice grains dig into your knees. He takes a while but soon you're fully kneeling on the floor. He rounds the counter once again until he's standing before you.

“That… child that was just here,” his voice is eerily calm as he caresses your cheek, “Who was that?”

Had you been in any other situation, under vastly different circumstances, you might have looked for the urge to laugh. His blatant jealousy of some university first-year was nothing if not laughable.

“He's just a friend from class- ah.” It almost becomes unbearable but for the sake of your self preservation, you know not to get up.

He continues to caress you, loosening his tie as he asks. “Which class?”

“P-Pardon?”

“You mean to tell me you only go to one class?” He snaps and you fight off tears, “What the fuck am I paying for?”

“You're paying for me to get my psychology degree.” You reply with feeble words, trying to put away the thought of all the little stabbings plaguing your knees.

“And does that entail sleeping with your classmates?”

“What?!” You screech as he walks away. You're suddenly left without nothing to hold onto and you sway forward, your palms landing on more rice.

“Y-You know I don't do that.” You cry, feeling the sting more from the accusation than the pain of all this bloody rice, “Y-You know I don't sleep around- You know I don't talk to anyone-”

You hear his briefcase click open. From your vantage point on the lowly rice-filled floor, you cannot see what he's taking out. It fills you with more dread than you've ever experienced before. Which was utterly ridiculous.

With him, dread is a thing you ought to be accustomed to. Dread is where you live now. You ought to get comfortable with it.

“Such a shame.” He tsks as he finally rounds the corner to reveal whatever it is he's gone to go fetch. His dress shoes clack against your recently varnished floor and you breathe heavily. The pain had subsided- or perhaps you've gotten used to it- which scares you more than anything. He's messing with your pain threshold. Causing you to build a tolerance for certain things and that terrifies you.

Hidden under all that terror was unmistakable lust.

God help you.

“I thought we were making progress, you and I.” you see the cane first. Made of rattan, it hangs from his strong hand corded with tense veins. A gleaming watch is secured around his wrist and you're already shaking your head as you slowly look up at him. Now the tears are right by the doorway. No matter how much pain he forces you to get accustomed to you could never survive this. Your body still has limits.

“He just asked me to help him with his spelling- Please!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spelling, you say?” he pats down on your head, eliciting a dizzying wave of subordination as he says, “I think you've just given us our game for tonight, Doll.” He bends down, knees bending until he's somewhat closer to your height. He's still far too big for you. Far too much. You try to crawl backwards, you try to crawl away but he grabs you by your face. You're quite literally being expertly manhandled as he turns you around until you're on your knees in the opposite direction.

“Please…” You're begging but you don't know what for. Once his games were set in motion, nothing could stop him.

Your movements still when you fill him lower his large hand onto your backside. It's so big and warm and you momentarily forget about the rice digging into your skin. He slowly lifts up the skirt of your dress, revealing your underwear beneath.

“Our little Spelling Bee,” he lowers your panties down your thighs, causing a shiver to wrack through your entire body. It's pointless to hide how affected you are by every little thing he does.

“For every word you spell right,” he lifts your leg for you, giving you momentary reprieve from the pain as he manoeuvres you out of the underwear, “You get to cum.”

You'd never felt more degraded: being forced onto doggy style onto a million grains of rice while this man lets his fingers graze over your exposed cunt. He parts your folds and a wave of embarrassment rolls over your face. It's all so normal to him though, just sticking his fingers inside your cunt. He does it with the professionalism of gynecology and all you're able to do is stare blankly ahead while he prods at you.

“We can't make things too easy, though, so you're gonna keep this little thing warm for me while we play,”

You're craning your neck back, trying to get a look. “What thi-”

You release one hoarse gasp when he inserts something round and bulbous and vibrating, straight into your cunt.

“Th-This isn't a game. It's a punishment.” You say through gritted teeth, trying to fight off a moan as the vibrator hums inside you, “I've only ever had sex with one person-”

You. That voice pipes up in the back of your head, feeble as you felt. You think back on the time you gave him your virginity. It had been a bloody affair.

The second his cock ruptured your hymen and the blood began to coat your thighs, it only made him ravage you more. You'd gone to bed crying that night, your tears soaking into your pillows. You were unable to get up and head to classes the next day. All that pain and yet you also felt so incredibly fulfilled. The pain was a godsend.

But this pain? It's angry.

He's angry and he's punishing you for it.

Silence follows your pleas.

“Are you done?” He asks and your shoulders slump as the tears begin to fall. The urge to grind down onto the vibrator coupled with the rice stabbing your knees puts you in an odd predicament. The inner workings of your body is being made a fool of and he's the root cause.

“I'm afraid you've gotten too comfortable with me-”

“Comfortable?” You scoff, whipping your head back to glare at the man watching you with calm eyes and raised eyebrows. “I could never feel comfortable around you.”

“And you've forgotten your place.” He smiles before standing to his full height, “Letting little boys over to your place-”

“We were studying-”

“I've gone soft on you as of late.” He lets his other hand drag across the length of the hard cane. “Shame on me. It's clearly deluded you into forgetting about our arrangement.”

He steps around you until he's once again standing in front of you. “You've forgotten your place as a thing.”

He grabs your face. “My thing.”

You do a very wrong thing then.

You moan.

It's soft and insecure and so dreadful but you moan

His eyes search yours. You can see the pleasure diluting them. Causing them to go as round as saucers.

He wants to lean into that sound you just made, but he's still furious with you and that sends you into a spiral.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay-”

“So you admit you're a slut?” He asks, inches the buttons of his blaze as he readies his assault. “You whore yourself out to that little boyfriend of yours.”

"Boyfriend?” It's laughable. “Me?”

“Are you condescending me?” He asks darkly and you screech in frustration.

“You know I don't talk to anyone- Why are you so angry with me!?”

“You haven't seen angry, Little girl.” His face is calm. Dangerously so. “You haven't fucking seen angry.”

A shiver wracks through your body as you look up at his cold dead eyes.

“Fine.”

Whatever it takes.

“I am a slut-” you really weren't and the words barely register as truth but you're scrambling as he steps away from you. His hands folded in front of him and he appears oh so in control as he says, “Your first word is Gorgeous.”

You breathe out as you try to refocus enough to successfully spell the word.

“G-Oh.. fuck.” Your cunt spasms around the device and your eyes roll back. You're rocking backwards and forwards, frantically searching for friction that just isn't there. He loves the show you put on for him, writhing on the floor like a puppy in heat. He barely contains his glee as he raises his hand and says, “Wrong.”

“W-What!?” you blink, trying to shake away your pleasure-filled daze, “N-no that wasn't my final-”

“G-o-r-g-e-ou-s,” he says smugly as he moves until he's behind you. Your body tenses and the world shatters when he darkly repeats, “Wrong.”

The cane cracks through the air before it ever lands on your backside. The word ‘sting’ doesn't begin to cover the utter agony that blossoms across your asscheeks. All you know for all those seconds is white hot pain. Everything is at attention, and your body vitaly tries to urge you to take care of the inflicted wound but you can't.

“Sane.” He's breathing heavily as he walks over to stand in front of you. He's getting riled up, a strand of black hair falls in front of his almond eyes. His shoulders rise and fall and rise and fall. Seeing you get caned once does unspeakable things to his resolve. “Your next word is sane.”

Too easy.

"W-Which one?" You blink through the pain, trying to will the tears away. The second you slipped into self pity, it'd be over for you. "S-Sane is a homophone.” You say thickly. The pain. The pain. The pain. “There's Sane,” you glare up at him through wet lashes, “Which you very much aren't-" that amuses him greatly. You're regrettably far too happy to hear the dark chuckle. “Then there's Seine, like the fishing variety-”

He places his hand on your head. “Clever girl. I thought you didn't have a dad.”

“I don't,” you hiccup, “I just like fish. Men aren't the only fishers in the fucking world.”

“Smart mouth.” He pulls away again until he's standing at his full posture. “You use it like that with the boy from Psyche?”

Your shoulders slump and you don't care about the desperation in your voice as you reaffirm, “I'm telling you I haven't done anything-”

“Seine as in the fishing practice. Spell it.”

“S-E-I-N-E” your eyes are squeezed shut as you take a strike from a whip that never comes. Your eyes that had once been squeezed shut, slowly flit open and you're amazed to see his grinning face right in front of you. Every wrinkle running like tributaries around his eyes. The smile lines. He's so handsome it's devastating.

“Correct.” He says. “You're allowed to cum. Congratulations.” Just those few words have your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you begin to rock back and forth. You lean into the pleasure like a warm and fluffy blanket during aftercare. It's a godsend and it has you moaning and whining into the air.

“Let me give you a hand,” he says, before stopping to deliver that signature, “My little winner.” He brings you in close, your hands cling onto his forearm while the other reaches behind you. He delivers a kiss to your forehead as his fingers find your puffy clit.

“I'm gonna-”

“Cum for me my Clever girl. Cum for me before I change my mind,” There is nothing but him. He consumes you as you fervently hump against his hand on all fours like the animal he reduced you to. Your hips move on their own accord and in his eyes, you can see his own pleasure mounting. Its in the gravel in his voice when he clears his throat and says, “Thank me for letting you cum.” your orgasm crashes down on you and it's ferocious. It's vicious. It's guttural. The rice underneath you still serves as a reminder of your punishment and that somehow has you coming harder.

“Thank you for letting me cum Sir,”

his eyes flutter shut and his chest expands as he basks in your servitude. He breathes it in, letting it settle in his bones, making him feel as important as he needs to.

“N-No more, please,” you whisper once the orgasm passes. He doesn't switch off the vibrator and soon the pleasure bleeds into a painful discomfort. the aftershocks rattle through your body as you drift into overstimulation, “Please-Done-” you became horribly useless with your words when he had you like this, and he watches you so intently as if not only turned on by your torture but so completely intrugued by it. You intrigued him.

“Stop-” You begin but he chuckles as he moves away from you. He straightens his suit and readies the cane, “Why? You’re not even bleeding yet.” He says, “Suck it up.”

“Oh my god, I need to come again,” it rolls through you quite literally out of nowhere and you gasp as you try to keep it at bay. Cumming without having won a round was a breach in the rules of the game and you didn't wanna do that.

“Well then, I guess you better spell the next word for me.” he says with a smile.

You swallow thickly. Your previous win elicits a tiny sliver of confidence and spelling is something you excel in so you steel your nerves. You breath in deeply and stare blankly ahead.

“Honorificabilitudinitatibus.”

You immediately look up at him.

“Latin words arent-” another aftershock rams through you. You're so close to cumming completely hands-free. “L-Latin words aren't allowed.”

Nothing but a dark chuckle escaped him at your expense. “I had no idea you were making the rules.” He says sarcastically. “Had no idea the cane's in your hand.” That draws your gaze to the cane, leaning in his palm.

Point made.

He could throw in whatever wild-card word he wanted because he held the cane.

“H-o-n-o-r-” you make the mistake of looking up at him then. He's gazing down at you with his head tilted slightly to the right. His cane behind his back as he leans down slightly.

“No cumming,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Disqualified.”

“B-But I didn't-” even as you say those words, you feel it. The lightning zipping through you like a phantom. A ditzy sort of smile flashes across your face as you succumb to the pleasure being forced out of you. “F-Fuck-” its so painful and so fucking good you're seeing stars. He runs a hand through his messy hair and the cane comes down on your backside. This time it draws blood.

“I'm a rusty old man, glad to see I've still got a firm grip,”

“P-Please-” You're still caught in the world of unicorns and rainbows. Your orgasm is center stage, in spite of all the pain. You didn't even know your body could cum for this long. You didn't think it was possible but here you are, riding wave after wave of pleasure induced by a vibrator in your cunt while he canes you almost mindlessly.

He transcended every realm of physical possibilities.

He's breathing heavily now as the cane falls to the floor. The end is bloody. You stare down at the floor while he moves behind you.

“Don't forget, this is a transaction,” Behind you he kneels behind you, his fingers graze your backside, “This is about you avoiding student debt for the rest of your miserable life. A life you'll probably spend married to some depressed drunk who beats you and doesn't even let you cum.” A hand pulls you back by your hair until you're seated on your haunches. Skin had broken.

Your blood drips down your backside like a marble statue in the rain. There were marks. Scars.

“You're indebted to me.” He says behind you. “Say it.”

“I'm indebted to you.”

“Thank me for hitting you, Doll.” His hands drift over your body. The softest touch after these moments of brutality.

Th-" You struggle to catch your breath as he digs his fingers in your cunt, finally freeing you of the vibrator that rattles to the floor, “Thank you… for hitting me.”

He hums into your hair, smelling you, feeling you. “You're welcome, my little winner,”

You hear the sound of his zipper, and frantic movements behind you. You're utterly spent. You'd let him do anything he wanted. Anything at all.

“You look so pretty, Baby. Look at you,” his fingers swipes down the arch of your back. He brings his hand around to show you the crimson dropping from his index. Almost automatically as if the two of you were in communication far beyond that of human understanding, he brings your finger forward the same time you dip your head lower and roll your tongue out. Until the taste of your own blood drawn from all his sadistic torture is wiped along your tongue.

He groans. “I wanna jerk off with your blood.” He admits, “Fuck-”

You gasp, beginning to rock on haunches as if you could still feel that vibrator inside you, “Please- don't say stuff like that-”

This was bad enough.

You were bad enough.

He's already corrupted you to a point where you didn't even recognize yourself.

Where is the quiet, shy girl you had been? She's drowning under all the blood he'd spilled to make himself cum. She's buried under all the pain, all the turmoil and all the damn torture.

You don't miss her

"Pl-lease fuck me, I need it." Your voice is hoarse and you realize you're making demands but still you peer at him over your shoulders. Your tired eyes plead with him.

“I never ever ask you for anything. I've let you control everything.”

While you speak, your voice deep and hoarse, his hand is already moving over his erection. He bends you forward, until you're in doggy style again. Fabric rustles. Your limbs are trembling.

“For once, just grant me th-” the words are barely out your mouth before he's shoving his cock all the way inside you.

“O-Oh God!” Your eyes squeeze shut as he fucks you on the floor like a rabid animal. You try to crane your head back, to watch him ravage you.

His hair is a mess, his tie completely undone. He's everything he tries to hide from the rest of the world. Nothing but an untamed beast.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight-” he says, resting his hands on bloody ass. He guides your movements, pulling you roughly down on his cock until you're screaming into the open air. You're both like animals. You've both regressed to the very basis of your instincts.

“I need to see your blood on my cock,” He's already pulling out of you. The sound reverberates with finality all around the apartment and you cry. It's all you're able to do as you crane your head back to watch him stroke his cock with a bloodied fist.

“Are you ready to cum for me again, baby?”

Your lips are quivering as you rock backwards urging his cock in, “L-Like you won't believe,”

“Then cum for me, Princess.” He says, sliding his cock back inside your overstimulated cunt. Your orgasm is instant and swift and it rocks through you, tightening your cunt around his cock like a vice. His movements grow more frantic as he fucks you through it, keeping a firm grip on your ass.

Your mouth falls open when you realize he's fucking his own cum and your blood back into you and its all too much. He throws his head back when he cums, letting his hips stutter against your ass and the world spins.

“You're s-such a fucking slut,” he laughs manically. You've quite literally given yourself to a sadistic monster and the post nut clarity is vicious.

“I want to take you out,” he says, way softer than he had been a minute ago.

Your body tenses. “Out? Where-”

“Dinner.” He says. “You deserve it… my little winner.”

If you knew anything about anything, you knew it wouldn't just be any ordinary dinner.

But who were you to refuse?

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[dollgxtz]

Hide and Surrender

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: A simple game of hide and seek turns way more intense than you thought it would.

“I caught my prey, it’s only fair I get to eat my catch right?”

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, cnc, cunnilingus, predator play, predator x prey, hide and seek with roleplay, restraining, chasing, slightly rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, forced blowjob

AN: Another fic idea that wouldn't leave my head. Can't remember which Touring in Love chapter it was, but in it Sylus plays hide and seek with us. And I was like, yknow what would make this 100x better? Predator play :3

"What would you like to play? I'll join you."

Those were the words that started it all.

You had half-expected Sylus to scoff at your suggestion, to find you childish for wanting to indulge in a game meant for children. But to your surprise, he agreed without hesitation, not even asking why. There was something in the way he said it, though—something that made your pulse quicken.

"You've played this before, right, Sylus?" you ask, covering your eyes with your hands to demonstrate. "You cover your eyes like this and count to ten. Then you come find me."

A moment of silence stretches between you, thick with something unspoken. Then, warm fingers wrap around your wrists, prying your hands gently away from your face. Your breath catches as you find yourself trapped beneath Sylus’ gaze—two crimson eyes watching you with something unreadable, something dangerous.

Those eyes—burning, searing, all-consuming—lock onto yours with something unreadable, something dangerous. It’s not just amusement or curiosity; it’s something deeper, something that snakes around your ribs and makes it hard to breathe. The way he looks at you is slow, patient, as if he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece, as if he’s already thought of a thousand ways this game will end.

You feel your heart hammering against your ribs, loud, deafening, a traitorous thing that gives away too much.

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, as if studying you. The corners of his lips twitch—not quite a smile, but something just as unsettling.

"I didn’t have time or interest for such games when I was a child," he murmurs, his voice low, almost predatory. His lips curl into something between a smirk and a smile, and the way he looms over you makes you feel smaller, caged. "But for you? I’ll learn quickly, kitten."

The pet name slithers through the air, coiling around you, sinking into your skin like a brand. A shiver ripples down your spine, slow and deliberate, leaving a molten trail in its wake. Heat pools deep in your underwear, an unwelcome warmth that you fight to ignore. Your throat goes dry, and you tear your gaze away, desperate to escape the weight of his stare. But it’s too late—he’s already seen it.

A low chuckle spills from his lips, rich and smooth, yet laced with something dark. Something knowing. The sound wraps around you, thick with amusement, but there’s something beneath it, something that burrows under your skin and makes your pulse falter in a way that has nothing to do with fear. It’s dangerous—not because of what it is, but because of how your body reacts to it.

Like a predator toying with its prey.

He lingers, close enough that the heat of him prickles against your skin, close enough that you can see the glint in his half-lidded eyes. Yet, just as your breath catches in your throat, just as the tension coils so tight it threatens to snap, he takes a step back. Barely. Not enough to be safe—never enough to be safe—but just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.

His head tilts slightly, gaze lazy, his voice dipping into something slow, syrupy, dangerously smooth.

"Go on, then."

The words are soft, but there’s no playfulness in them anymore. No lighthearted teasing. Only promise. A single word, unspoken but heavy in the air between you.

"Hide."

There’s definitely no playfulness in his voice now.

Your pulse roars in your ears as adrenaline surges through your veins. Fine. You weren’t going down easy. This was just a simple game of Hide and Seek—nothing more. You force yourself to ignore the way your stomach twists, how your breath feels too fast, too shallow. You're overthinking it. Sylus loves to tease you, to get under your skin, to watch you squirm. He loves making you flustered, and you know that. But still…there's something in the way his lips curled into a smirk before he turned around to count, something in his tone when he called out, that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"One…two…three…"

The second his eyes leave you, you bolt. Your feet pound against the tile floor as you dash up the stairs, each step groaning under your weight. Your movements are clumsy, fueled by nothing but instinct. You wince at how loud you are, practically announcing your location, but at this point? Who cares. The only thing that matters is finding a place to hide before—

"Ten." His voice is slow, deliberate. You swear you hear amusement laced in it.

You don't stop running. You throw yourself into his room, nearly tripping over your own feet as you spin wildly, scanning the space for the perfect hiding spot. Your chest rises and falls in quick succession, air burning in your lungs. The bed? No, too obvious. Under the desk? Not enough coverage.

Then, you hear it.

"Let's see where my little kitten decided to hide."

Your blood turns to ice.

Without thinking, you dive toward the closet, yanking the door open just enough to squeeze inside before gently—so gently—pulling it shut, leaving only the smallest crack to peek through. Darkness swallows you whole, the scent of Sylus’s cologne thick in the enclosed space, invading your senses. Your back presses against the wall, every inch of you wound so tightly that your muscles ache. Your breath comes in rapid, uneven pants, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to silence yourself.

Your heart pounds violently against your ribs, so loud it feels like it’s betraying you, threatening to give you away. You try to steady it, to slow your breaths, but every little sound—the creak of a floorboard, the soft click of a door opening—sends another jolt of panic surging through you.

Then, footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Getting closer.

You hear him before you see him.

The door creaks open, a slow, deliberate sound that cuts through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. The room seems to shrink, the air thickening as his presence fills the space. It’s not just the sound of his footsteps—it’s something deeper, something intangible, an unseen force that presses against your chest, making it harder to breathe. Your heart pounds in response, the steady thump-thump-thump filling your ears like a war drum. Even as fear coils in your stomach, there's an undeniable thrill laced within it, a rush of something you refuse to name.

Through the narrow crack in the closet door, you finally see him. Sylus moves with practiced ease, unhurried, precise, like a predator that knows its prey has nowhere to run. His crimson eyes flicker with something unreadable as they scan the room. He doesn’t fumble, doesn’t hesitate. There’s an unsettling certainty to his movements, a quiet confidence that makes your pulse quicken.

His fingers trail lazily along the back of the couch before he crouches, peering beneath it. “Not under the couch, I see,” he muses, his voice smooth, almost casual. But there’s something beneath the words, something sharp, something laced with amusement, as if he already knows exactly where you are.

"Behind the curtains, maybe?" He doesn’t sound like he’s searching. He sounds like he’s toying with you.

He straightens, then shifts his focus to the glass windows, where the heavy curtains hang still. He moves toward them, fingertips grazing the fabric before he suddenly jerks them aside. You tense instinctively, though you know you aren’t there. He pauses, as if savoring the moment, before releasing the curtain and letting it drift back into place.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. Your lungs burn with the effort of staying quiet, of keeping still.

Then he turns, and your heart stutters violently in your chest as his gaze lands on the bed. No way he doesn’t already know where you are. No way his senses are that dull. You watch, frozen in place, as he slowly kneels, resting a hand against the mattress as he leans down to inspect the space beneath the frame. He hums softly. "Hmm...not under the bed either."

The moment he stands, you know. His next stop is the wardrobe.

A faint chuckle spills from his lips, low, knowing, as he starts toward you with slow, deliberate steps. Every cell in your body screams at you to move, but you remain paralyzed, pressed against the back of the closet as if you could somehow will yourself into the shadows. You can barely hear over the deafening thud of your heartbeat.

"Y’know, kitten," he drawls, his voice a lazy, syrupy purr that drips with something thick, something dangerous, "the sooner you come out, the gentler I’ll be with you."

Your breath catches violently in your throat. His voice alone sends a jolt through you, a sharp, involuntary response that leaves you feeling raw, exposed.

Then—he stops.

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, before abruptly turning away. "Oh right, I almost forgot to check the living room."

This is your chance. Your only chance.

No time to think—just move!

Your body reacts before your mind catches up. With a burst of energy, you shove the closet door open and bolt. The sudden shift from stillness to motion is disorienting, but you don’t stop, don’t hesitate. Your feet slam against the floor as you propel yourself forward, the only thought in your mind being run.

You don’t dare look back.

But then—air shifts behind you.

A sharp inhale. A pivot of movement.

And then—footsteps. Fast. Closing in.

Panic surges through you, raw and electric, as you push yourself harder. Your legs burn, your lungs ache, but you don’t stop. You just have to make it downstairs. Just a little farther. Just a little—

A rush of air. A presence at your back.

And then—a hand. Wrapping around your wrist.

You scream, a sharp, startled sound that barely has time to leave your lips before Sylus yanks you back with a firm tug of your wrist. The sudden force sends you stumbling, crashing into his chest, your breath hitching as his arm snakes around your waist, keeping you locked in place. He’s warm, solid, unyielding, and far too close. His scent—something dark and intoxicating—invades your senses, making your already racing heart hammer harder.

“Found you, kitten,” he murmurs, amusement dripping from his tone. His lips curl into a smirk as he tilts his head slightly, eyes glowing with satisfaction. “I was starting to worry I lost you forever.”

The mockery in his voice is unmistakable, but inwardly, you’re grinning, nearly laughing. This was exactly what you wanted—a chase, a fight, a chance to push back. But you don’t let him see that. Instead, you put on your best scowl, defiance burning in your gaze.

"Your acting’s gotten worse," you spit, jerking against his hold. You bring your knee up sharply, aiming for his groin with all the force you can muster.

But he’s faster.

Before your knee can make contact, a thick tendril of red mist swirls around you, his Evol surging to life in an instant. The energy coils around your limbs like living chains, locking you in place just as he moves.

In the blink of an eye, he shifts, twisting effortlessly, using his grip on you to throw you onto the bed with little more than a flick of his wrist. The mattress dips beneath your weight, and before you can even think of scrambling away, he’s already on top, looming over you, his expression smug, too amused.

You lash out.

Your fist shoots toward his face, but he leans back smoothly, just enough for your knuckles to miss his jaw by mere inches. You shift, twisting your body, using the momentum to kick upward, aiming for his ribs. Again, he dodges—his body shifting effortlessly, as if he already knows exactly what you’re going to do before you do it.

“Tsk, tsk,” he hums, easily maneuvering around another wild swing from you. “You’re getting sloppy, kitten. I thought you were actually trying.”

You grit your teeth, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. You manage to free an arm from the tendrils of mist, and without hesitation, you try to land a punch to his shoulder. This time, he catches your wrist mid-air, his grip tightening just enough to still your movement.

“You bast—” You twist your hips sharply, using every ounce of strength to break free, but he barely even moves. If anything, he looks bored, like he’s humoring you.

Sylus chuckles, low and deep. “You really don’t know when to give up, do you?” His grip on your wrist shifts slightly before he suddenly pushes you down hard, making you gasp as your bodies gravity shifts, forced into submission once again.

You feel your pulse jump when his lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to something even smoother, even softer, but no less dangerous.

“And here I thought we were just playing.” His fingers tighten ever so slightly around your wrists, his body pressing just close enough to remind you how little control you actually have in this moment. “I guess it’s my turn to get serious, hm?”

Your breath catches.

Something shifts in the air.

"S-Sylus, wait—" you gasp, your words catching in your throat as the sound of fabric tearing fills the room. In one swift motion, he's ripped your shorts apart, leaving your legs exposed to the cool air, the sudden chill a stark contrast to the heat still simmering between your thighs. Your underwear is the only thing left, a flimsy barrier between his intentions and your already soaked folds.

You start to protest, a mix of shock and anticipation swirling inside you, but the words die on your lips as Sylus shushes you softly, his voice a low, calming murmur. "Shh..." he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver racing up your spine.

"All that fighting, and yet you're soaked down here, kitten".

With deliberate slowness, he lowers his head between your thighs, the anticipation building as his lips hover just above the thin cloth. His tongue flicks out, tracing the outline of your folds through the fabric with agonizing precision. Each stroke is slow, torturous, a teasing promise of what's to come, and your protests dissolve into soft whimpers of need.

"An orgasm or two should get rid of that feistiness," he murmurs against you, his voice a rich, dark promise that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

Sylus's fingers deftly hook into the elastic of your panties, pulling the cloth aside with a practiced ease that leaves you exposed to him, vulnerable and aching. The cool air brushes against your skin for a fleeting moment before his mouth descends, and all coherent thought shatters as his tongue finds your aching cunt.

"Ah!"

The first touch is electric, a jolt of pure pleasure that arches your back off the bed, your hips lifting to meet him with a desperate need. His tongue works with a deliberate, maddening rhythm, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks that have you gasping for breath.

Your hands find their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you hold him to you, guiding him closer even as your mind spins with the intensity of it all. He doesn't mind in the slightest, his low, satisfied hum sending vibrations through you, drawing a gasp from your lips.

"This—is c-cheating..." you manage to whine between ragged breaths, though your actions betray you as your hips move of their own accord, grinding against his mouth, seeking more of the pleasure he's so expertly giving.

“I caught my prey, it’s only fair I get to eat my catch right?” he says, before continuing his assault on your clit. His words send your head spinning and you suddenly feel like you can barely breathe.

With a renewed dedication, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that leaves you trembling. The world dissolves around you, leaving nothing but the exquisite sensation of his mouth on you, driving you relentlessly toward the peak of ecstasy.

The sensation of his tongue slipping inside you leaves you reeling, each thrust a masterful stroke that has you feeling drunk on the sheer ecstasy he’s delivering. It’s a skill that seems almost divine, the way he knows exactly how to unravel you, how to make you moan and whine so uncontrollably that it borders on begging.

Your body responds helplessly, hips bucking against him as your hands clutch at the sheets, trying to anchor yourself in the storm of pleasure. His tongue moves with purpose, each flick and thrust pushing you closer to that precipice, until finally, he shifts his focus, sucking on your clit with a precision that sends you spiraling over the edge.

The orgasm tears through you, leaving you breathless and shaking, your cries echoing in the room as you ride out the waves of bliss. But even as you begin to descend from the high, you’re dismayed to find that Sylus isn’t stopping, his mouth still working you with relentless dedication.

“P-please...no more...” you plead, trying to twist away, your body oversensitive and overwhelmed. But he simply adjusts his grip, his hands firm on your waist, holding you in place with an easy strength that keeps you from escaping.

“Still a little feisty, hm?” he teases, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looks up at you. “Like I thought. One more should do.” His words are a promise and a challenge, and as his mouth returns to its task, you know you’re helpless to resist the pull of his mastery, your body already surrendering to the inevitable wave building once more.

"Mgnh...ah..."

And just as promised, the fight within you starts to ebb away, like sand slipping through fingers, as Sylus's tongue continues its relentless, masterful assault. The pleasure builds higher to the point where it almost hurts, a crescendo that leaves you breathless and trembling, unable to do anything but call out his name, your voice breaking as your body jerks and shakes under his skilled touch.

"Sylus!"

The second orgasm crashes over you, pulling you under its tide, leaving you riding the waves of ecstasy until you finally collapse, utterly spent, like a boneless heap of jello. Your chest heaves with each ragged breath, tears of overstimulation gathering at the corners of your eyes, evidence of the intensity that just ripped through you.

Sylus leans back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he licks his lips, savoring the taste of you. He studies you with a mixture of amusement and triumph, taking in your ragdoll form sprawled before him. "Going to try and fight me again?" he teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

You manage a weak shake of your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your own lips, despite the exhaustion. Damn this slick bastard and his godly tongue, you think, a mixture of exasperation and admiration swirling within you.

"Good, just how I like you," he murmurs, his voice a low purr that sends a shiver through your already sensitive body. His hands move to his belt, fingers working with deliberate slowness to undo it, each click of the metal buckle a promise of what's to come. "Seems you're ready for the last phase of our game," he declares, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with a hunger that promises there's much more yet to be explored.

You lay there, your body still humming with the aftershocks of the intense pleasure he had delivered, your eyes heavy-lidded, your breath coming in short gasps. Sylus, ever attentive, noticed your gaze drifting downward, a mix of anticipation and desire in your eyes as you took in the hard and prominent bulge in his pants.

Your cheeks flushed as you realized the effect you had on him, his hard length straining and throbbing against the fabric of his pants, a testament to the pent-up desire that had been building throughout your little "game." He had only eaten you out and yet his cock seemed like it was about to burst and break the zipper.

Sylus finishes undoing his belt, the soft clinking of the metal a rhythmic counterpoint to your pounding heartbeat. The anticipation is electric, a live wire thrumming between you as his pants finally fall away, revealing the impressive length of him. Even after all the times you’ve had each other, his size never fails to elicit a sense of awe.

Your eyes widened as Sylus, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, moved closer, his hard length throbbing in front of your mouth. You shook your head, a silent refusal, playing hard to get, but he was having none of it. With a swift motion, he cupped your chin, tilting your head back and guiding his throbbing cock towards your mouth.

"Open up, sweetie," he whispered, his voice a low command. "Good little prey does as they're told."

Your heart raced as you felt the heat of his cock against your lips, his hands firm on your head, guiding you to take him in. You strained for control, but his grip tightened, and with a gentle yet insistent pressure, he pushed his length past your lips, filling your mouth with his hardness.

You gagged slightly, your eyes watering, but he held you firmly in place, his cock sliding deeper, his hands holding your face still, ensuring you took him all the way down your throat.

"Good girl," he moaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "Breathe through your nose, kitten."

You did as he commanded, your mouth working around his length, your tongue swirling, your throat constricting around him, the sensation of his hardness and the taste of him overwhelming your senses. He began to thrust gently, his hips moving in a slow, controlled rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, his moans filling the room.

"That's it," he whispered, his breath ragged. "Take all of me, claim me as I'll claim you."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you redoubled your efforts, your mouth and throat working in unison, your hands gripping his thighs as he used your mouth for his pleasure. But just as you thought he would climax, he pulled out, his cock glistening with your saliva.

"Not yet," he said, his voice hoarse. "I won't miss the chance to claim my freshly caught prey with my seed."

He catches the wide look in your eyes and grins again, a wicked gleam lighting up his features as he moves closer, positioning himself between your trembling thighs. The head of his cock teases your entrance, brushing against your slick folds with a touch so light it sends a tremor of anticipation through you.

"Stay still." he murmurs, his voice a low purr that vibrates against your skin. You nod, breathless, as he begins to push forward, the slow, steady pressure parting your folds and stretching you inch by inch. The sensation is both exquisite and overwhelming, a delicious burn that leaves you gasping, feeling impossibly full as he sinks deeper inside you. You unknowingly tense up, and Sylus pauses.

Sylus's voice, low and soothing, filled the room as he slightly broke from his rough and demeaning role. His hands gently caressing your hips, his body still poised at your entrance. "Might as well relax" he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. "You have no choice but to take it anyways, kitten".

His words, spoken with tenderness and experience, were a balm to your nerves. You recognize this as his way of checking in and reminding you to relax without fully breaking the mood. He began to move with slow, gentle thrusts, his length sliding into you with deliberate slowness, allowing your body time to accommodate his size. "That's it, squeeze around me," he encouraged, his lips brushing your ear. "Feel me filling you, stretching you, making you whole."

The pain began to subside, replaced by a building pleasure as your body accepted his intrusion, the discomfort transforming into a unique blend of sensations. You moaned, a mix of relief and arousal, as he continued his slow, steady rhythm, his body moving in sync with yours, his hands guiding you through the waves of pleasure and discomfort, until the pain was a distant memory, and all that remained was the exquisite sensation of being filled by his hard length.

Your fingers curl into the bedsheets, clutching them for support as he begins to move again, each thrust firm and unrelenting, setting a rhythm that has you moaning helplessly beneath him. The friction is intoxicating, the sound of skin against skin mingling with your cries as you arch into him, your body alight with pleasure.

Sylus's breath came in short, sharp gasps as he thrust into you, his voice thick with desire. "So tight, so fucking wet," he growled, his words a testament to the pleasure you were providing. His hips moved in a relentless rhythm, his powerful strokes driving into your core with a force that left you breathless, your body trembling with each impact.

As the pleasure mounted within you, swelling like a storm threatening to break, Sylus transformed his movements into a slow, torturous dance. Each thrust was languid and deliberate, a teasing rhythm that played your body like a finely tuned instrument. You were on the brink, right at the precipice, but he held you there, tantalizingly close yet agonizingly far from the release you craved.

"Please, Sylus..." you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea, raw with need. "I need to...I need to finish..."

He leaned in, his breath a scorching whisper against your ear, his lips brushing your skin with feather-light caresses. "I'll let you cum, my love, if you tell me who won."

This bastard. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy.

The challenge in his words sent a shiver racing through you, a heady mix of excitement and frustration. You yearned for the release, but admitting his victory felt like a concession too steep. "Fuck you" you spat, your voice caught between resistance and the relentless pull of longing.

Sylus's pace slowed further, each thrust a deliberate tease, his body a contradiction of slow, sensual movements and the raw, simmering desire you could feel pulsing in every inch of him. "Mmm, not quite the answer I'm looking for. Tell me, sweetie," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sending tingling sensations along your skin. "Who won this little game?"

Your body trembled beneath him, caught in the crossfire of need and stubbornness. The sweet torture was a dance of agony and ecstasy, and it was almost too much to bear and you snapped. "You w-won," you finally admitted, the words spilling from your lips like a confession, tearing free as you surrendered to the pleasure he offered, your body arching toward him in a silent plea. "Please...let me cum!"

"That's my good girl," he growled, his voice a low, primal rumble that resonated through your very core. "Now, cum for me."

His pace shifted, each thrust gaining force and urgency, driving deep and hard, a relentless rhythm that pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed around him, muscles tightening in a wave of release, the climax ripping through you with a sweet, shuddering ferocity that left you breathless and utterly spent. In that moment, the world dissolved, leaving only the blissful aftermath of his mastery, the sweet torture finally giving way to a bliss that wrapped around you like a warm, comforting embrace.

As your body shudders around him, gripping him with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Sylus's thrusts grow more frantic, driven by his own approaching climax. The room fills with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

His movements become erratic, each thrust deeper and more urgent, as if he's chasing the very edge of his own orgasm. You can feel the heat building within him, a primal energy that seeks release, and you arch into him, encouraging him to finish inside you.

With a final, powerful thrust, Sylus groans deeply, his body tensing above you as he finds his own release. You feel the hot rush of his climax inside you, a flood of warmth that fills you completely, making you feel full. His body shudders, muscles taut, as he pours himself into you, the sensation a sweet, intimate mingling of pleasure and finality.

Sylus, his breath ragged, withdrew from your body with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent understanding passing between you. He laid down beside you, his body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, his hand gently caressing your sweat-slicked skin, his touch tender and possessive. He peppered kisses on your lips, cheek, forehead and neck before settling next to you.

Both of you lay across the bed, chests rising and falling in sync, the aftermath of your "struggle" leaving a lingering heat in the air. The sheets are a mess beneath you, tangled from the chaos of it all. Your limbs feel heavy, aching from exertion, but there’s still a stubborn pout on your lips as you turn your head to glare at Sylus.

“Not fair!” you huff, breath still uneven. “I should’ve known you’d pull your dirty tricks…You owe me a new pair of shorts, by the way.”

He merely chuckles, the sound deep and rich, and before you can react, he shifts, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you flush against his side. His warmth seeps into your skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest oddly soothing despite everything. He squeezes you playfully, pressing his face against your hair as his laughter rumbles through his body.

“I could buy you a hundred new shorts if you wanted,” he murmurs, his tone amused.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t fight his hold. Instead, you melt into him, letting your body relax as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. His scent is familiar now, something dark and warm, laced with a hint of something uniquely him. It’s comforting, even if you’d never admit it out loud.

For a moment, there’s peace. Just the steady rhythm of your breathing, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the ghost of a smirk still tugging at his lips.

Then, his voice, soft but teasing.

“I definitely wouldn't mind a second or third round if it ends like this every time. What do you say?” he says, his breath hot against your ear.

Your breath catches, and you pull back just enough to look at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

The way his smirk deepens tells you everything you need to know.

[darlingsblackbook]

Zayne x CrushingNurse!Reader | Part Five

Where has your smile gone? ANGST PT.2

Part One • Part Two • Part Three • Part Four

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

I | Zayne drops his voice a little lower than necessary while standing beside you knowing it will usually make you nervous, murmuring, “You’ve stopped stuttering. I almost miss it.” Your heart skips a beat but you keep your face neutral, “I practiced.”, you reply before walking away.

II | Zayne purposely asks you to help with something simple, things he could easily do himself. He knew it made you nervous, he could always feel the ice around his heart melt everytime he saw your hands shake as you tried to help. What he loved even more was teasing you about it. “Hands shaking today?” he asks lightly- carefully. You don’t even smile. “Not at all." He frowns.

III | “Your notes are unusually thorough, much more than usual. Am I making you nervous again?”

“No.”

He pauses. He pauses in that way that would always make you squirm, eye darting everywhere but his way, fingers twisting in the cloth of your scrubs.Now, you don’t even blush.

IV | During rounds, he lingers at your side a beat too long- long enough that you’d normally turn tomato-red and trip over your words. Now, you just shift away and keep taking notes. He stares at you. Silent.

V | You haven't brought him coffee today, nor did you yesterday - or the day before that actually. A routine you had been stuck to for months, suddenly halted. Zayne tried to recall the few days before you started acting so distant, had he done something? Said something? Where has your smile gone? Zayne thought, just as he saw you walk past his office- cup of coffee in hand.

VI | He bumps your shoulder very lightly while reaching for a chart. “Careful,” he says dryly, “wouldn't want our nurse to fall and get hurt." You reply, “There are things that cause a lot more pain than just a fall." He stops mid-motion, like what?

VII | He starts standing closer when reviewing reports with you—close enough that your elbow brushes his. You used to flinch. Now you don’t even react. You shift your chair away and don't even look his way.

VIII | “Nurse." Zayne calls out one day, "Could I speak to you for a moment?" You hesitated for a moment before taking a step forward before halting again at the faint sound of giggles. "I'm busy, Doctor." “Yeah." Zayne mutters, eyes locked on you, "You seem to be a lot these days.” You could barely keep your bottom lip from trembling, responding with a simple, "Yeah." before you walked away.

IX | Zayne starts correcting your minor errors in a purposely sharp voice, just enough to gurantuee a reaction from you - at least it used to. You only say, “Thanks for pointing it out." and fix it. It feels too calm. Too clinical. Nothing like his nurse.

X | He tries to joke during a lull between patients: “Still not a slightest hint of a smile. Should I be worried?” You just reply, “Probably not,” without even looking up. Zayne’s smile falters just slightly.

XI | He casually mentions, “You haven’t tripped over the IV cart all week.” You respond, “I learned how to walk.” There’s no laughter in your voice. It doesn’t sit right with him at all.

XII | He walks up behind you while you’re writing and says your name. A few weeks ago that would’ve made you jump and stammer. Now, you turn slowly, blink, and wait.

“…Yes, Doctor?”

It irritates him- if only you knew how much.

XV | He's done, he can't take it anymore. He corners you one day, just as you're about to leavs, quietly and not so casually this time, “Did I… do something?”

You give him a polite smile. “Of course not.”

"Then why? Why have you been acting like this? Who hurt you?" He fires one question after another.

You feel the tears pool in your eyes but you don't say a word. Not one. You just push those tears back and smile sadly, breaking the doctor's heart into a millions of pieces and walk past him and out of the door.

All Rights Reserved © DarlingsBlackBook

This is a bit of a filler part but it is needed to fill the gap between the last part and the next one ( a lot of drama will go down )

Taglist : @sylusgirlie7 @jeonjenny @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @draftbeerbibi @weebinator01 @satorustorm @asilaydead @ninaandtuna @gremlinartstudio @keyiswatching @dreamlesssleepsaga @eurynam @amerti @neobitch127 @m30wk1ttycat @yuurisfavblog @dysphxriaii @zainaaryam @floofycookie @beesin03 @thatpersonnamedrook @chiikasevennn @ollie-the-fae @dramaticalsachan @babylilxc @minsified @destinysrequiem @xsammijoanneex @hirostrvw @pepperushia @starllight613 @seris-the-amious @moonlight-inthe-sea @luvvhue @gojosballsack69

If I have missed anyone, please let me know! I'll make sure to add you for the next parts♡

[l1tw1ck]

Denial

Omega!Bottom!FTM Kenma x Alpha!Top!Male Reader

Kenma couldn't force himself to think about any hot girls whenever the two of you would get off using each other's bodies. Not even that hot domme he saw on twitter could beat you.

🏐 Word Count: 2,021 🏐

AFAB Language Used | (had this in my drafts since DEC.. i forgor)

CW: Mild Dub-Con, Thigh Fucking, Oral Sex, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, Virginity Loss, Fingering, Creampie

“This is just what best friends do, Kenma.” You reassure him as you rub your cock in between his thighs.

“You're such a great friend.” You groan. Kenma silently stares in between his legs, extremely turned on and intimidated by your size.

You convinced him that doing this is perfectly normal between friends and that you’d be helping each other from getting blue balls.

“So you're into that kind of thing, huh?” You ask, looking at Kenma’s phone. He jumps and drops his phone in his lap. “Hey, don't be embarrassed. Nothing wrong with being into pegging. If it makes you feel better I’ll share my kinks too.”

Then one thing led to another and here you are.

It's risky for an alpha and an omega to do this kind of thing since it can escalate pretty quickly but you're both taking suppressants and you're virgins with absolutely no suitors, which helped get Kenma to agree.

“You just gotta imagine I’m a hot girl, like the one in that drawing.”

“Okay-” Kenma shuts his eyes and tries to visualize the hot fictional woman in the drawing he saw online. He tries his best to focus but the only thing he can think about is you. And how fucking hot you sound. The sound of your labored breaths and restricted moans is more than enough to make him come. Is it strange to get off on a guy’s moans? He slightly opens one eye, just enough so that he can see without you realizing, and shuts it right back when he sees you staring straight at him. Did you open your eyes first? Did you realize he opened his?

You bite down on your lip. “Shit— I’m close–” You warn him.

He opens his eyes. “‘s okay..” He mumbles. “You…you can.”

“Yeah? God, you're the best.” You groan. Kenma shudders and orgasms, his pussy longing for you to be inside it. He watches as spurts of cum splatter on his stomach and on the band of his sports bra. He wants to taste it. He wants it inside him. “Did you come?” You ask, wiping him off with a tissue.

“yeah-” Kenma says shakily, leaning back. “We…we should do it again..another time..”

“Agreed. This is so much better than getting rejected all the time.” You grin.

Kenma hugs your pillow as your cock slides back and forth in between in his ass. He’s once again only in his underwear. He has a vibrator, one part stuffed up his cunt and the other pressed against his t-dick. Kenma knows deep down he doesn't need the vibrator and that he could go multiple rounds just with your cock sliding against him but he doesn't want to admit that or worse, admit it to you.

You're under the impression that Kenma’s watching porn with noise cancelling headphones but in reality, the audio is muted and the noise cancelling feature is turned off. It's not gay to like the sound of a guy pleasing himself…it's basically the equivalent to watching porn with a guy who isn't afraid to moan.

“That's it– just lay there while I use you…like a good boy..” You resist the urge to slap his ass.

Kenma bites down on his lip. He’s glad you can't see his face or else you’d realize he doesn't give a shit about the random porno he has playing on his phone.

“So good for me…so fucking good..”

He whimpers quietly, his cheeks red. It’s hard to justify the arousal he’s feeling. He can't even convince himself that he's imagining some random girl saying that to him. He's getting turned on by you, your voice, your hands, your cock, your scent. He really wishes it was him you were thinking about. Then he wouldn't feel so weird.

Kenma’s toes curl when he hears your about-to-come voice. The slight change in pitch and your breathlessness is just what he needed to hear to push him over the edge.

“So good for daddy..” You groan. Nevermind, that is what he needed. Kenma squirts, shaking heavily. You come just seconds later.

You slowly breathe in and out, staring at the cum splatter on his back. There aren't many things more erotic than this. Your eyes trail down to his clothed pudgy cunt, a patch of his gray underwear darker than the rest, making you realize he squirted. God, you wish you could just stuff your face in that.

Kenma turns around and takes off his headphones. “I’ll shower first.”

You lean back into Kenma’s couch and look at him as he's avenging your character's death in the game you're playing. You wonder what he really thinks about all this. “Hey…I’m curious..”

“Hm?” Kenma hums.

“Can I touch you? Like…more than usual?”

He keeps playing the game despite his surprise. “If you want to.” His cheeks are red. “I don't mind doing whatever…cause we’re best friends, like you said.”

“Really? So I could like…finger you and that’d be okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracks a bit. “You could go all the way..if that's what you want..”

“Wow…okay.” You gulp, slowly inching towards Kenma. You hesitantly place your hand on his thigh before sliding it inside his shorts. He does his best to keep fighting the boss while your fingers explore the space between his legs. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm-” He nods, losing focus as you reach his dick. He lands the final hit on the boss and pauses the game. He can feel your heavy breaths.

“You're so wet— sorry.”

“‘s fine. You can…you can talk.”

You feel more confident now. “I just started and you're already this worked up..” You murmur, sliding a finger inside him. “See how easy that was..” You slowly add a second one. Kenma leans back. His heart is beating so loudly. He sets his controller next to him, then roughly grips the arm of the couch. Your fingering skills need work but Kenma definitely can't tell.

“Uh~ Daddy~” Kenma moans, a bead of sweat drips down his forehead. The noise you made in response makes him shudder.

“Say it again.” You breathe out, somehow finding his g spot.

“Daddy!” He cries out, his cunt aggressively squeezing around your fingers.

“Good boy.” You take your hand out of his pants. The two of you look at each other for a few seconds before turning away. You’ve both decided to ignore the elephant in the room.

“I- I’m gonna…. clean up..” He says, standing up abruptly.

Kenma figures that since you’ve basically given up on getting a girlfriend, he no longer has to feel bad about his arousal towards you. He can just give you everything a romantic partner provides without even having to tell you about his feelings. It's perfect.

“You did really well today.” Kenma holds your hand, pulling you inside your hotel room. “We're going to the quarterfinals ‘cause of you.” He pushes you against the door. He pulls your shorts down while getting onto his knees. He kisses your length and tucks his hair behind his ear.

“This is so much better than an after party.” You throw your head back as he sucks your cock. He makes good use of his tongue as he takes all of you in his mouth. Kenma’s head bobs up and down while he humps his hand.

The two of you jump at the sound of knocking at the door.

“Hey!” Kuroo calls out your name. Kenma knows he should get up and hide in the bathroom but he just can't pry himself away from your cock. You grab a fistful of Kenma’s hair and push him further along your length, letting him know you don't want him to leave either. “You're not coming to the party?” He jiggles the door handle. Kenma looks up at you with the most seductive eyes you've ever seen, his tongue swirls around your cock.

“Are you asleep?” He knocks again.

“I’ll be there later!”

“You better be! You're the reason we're celebrating! And tell Kenma to come too!” Kuroo leaves.

The adrenaline rush makes your cock erupt like a volcano in Kenma’s mouth. Kenma swallows it all then stands up. He leans into your ear. “I’ll give you something else after the party.” He smiles, making his way to the bathroom to freshen up.

As soon as you get back to the hotel room, you press Kenma against the door, reversing your previous positions. You couldn't stop the guys from getting you drunk. You forgot you're not supposed to drink alcohol when you're taking suppressants and now you're extremely horny. “Sorry, Ken-” You mumble with your face buried in his neck. “You're such a good friend for me…so fucking good, baby.” You quickly expose both of your lower halves and grab Kenma’s legs, your dick throbbing against his pussy.

“Wa- wait-” Kenma looks down. He was planning for this but he didn't anticipate you acting like this. He's only a little tipsy but he can tell his scent is making you drunker. And your strong pheromones definitely aren't helping him suppress his own.

“You can handle it, Ken, it won't even hurt.” You slowly align the tip of your cock with his entrance. “‘Cause your pussy’s made for me. It’ll fit.”

His cheeks are burning hot. He knows you're super drunk and super influenced by your arousal and his pheromones but hearing that makes his heart flutter. He is made for you. Every part of him. It won't hurt. “Ye- yeah- it's made for you.” He watches your lips curl into a smile.

“That's right.” You slowly slide inside him without much resistance. “There we go…there we go, baby.”

Kenma digs his blunt nails into your shoulders and presses his head against the door. It does hurt but it's not as bad as he thought. He moans your name. None of the dildos he's used could even come close to your cock.

“Fuck—” You moan. You sink your teeth into his neck. Kenma gasps, his eyes widening. You marked him. He bites down on his lip and grins as you bottom out. He knows it's wrong but he's so glad you marked him. Now you have no choice but to stay with him. You belong to him.

You thrust into him slowly. “You feel so good..”

He moans your name. “Yes- yes– like that—” He loves the pace you're going at, it gives him the opportunity to really take you in properly. He doesn't even care if his teammates can hear him. He's too happy. “Daddy~”

“‘M gonna knock you up, Ken…breed you til you're full.” You grow.

“Yes! Breed me~!” Kenma squeals. He rolls his eyes back and moans shamelessly. He's already gonna come.

You quicken your thrusts. “Mine.” You both reach your climax at the same time, his pussy happily takes in your seed.

You slowly open your eyes. Kenma’s next to you fast asleep and wearing your shirt. Your memories of last night are foggy. All you remember is fucking Kenma and marking him. You wonder if he’s mad at you. You hope not...this is what you wanted all along. You didn't plan for it to happen so soon though.

He wakes up thanks to you shuffling out of bed. He says your name sleepily.

“Sorry, I didn't want to wake you up.”

“‘s fine.” He sits up. “Last night…”

“I…I barely remember it, but I know I marked you..” You stare at the teeth marks on his neck. “I’ll take full responsibility. You're my best friend so I won't abandon you.”

“Thanks..” He smiles softly. “I don't mind. It's better than dealing with rejection and break ups, right?”

“Right.” You nod, smiling back.

“Can you help me shower? My legs are sore.”

“Of course." You pick him up.

The team stares at you and Kenma as you sit down for breakfast. They're almost done eating. Kenma’s ears are bright red.

“Soo…” Kuroo pokes the last chunk of his food with his fork. “Should we be worried about…a baby….?”