#thanks for the ask! I appreciate it so much!

[simpforboys]

Surprise! (3)

Drew Starkey x fem!singer!reader

Summary: reader and Drew celebrate the release of the ‘Perfume’ music video!

Warnings: fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), praise, swearing, male masturbation, dirty talk, missionary position, sex on couch, daddy kink, protective piv sex, boob worship (?), drinking wine, fangirling

Part one, part two

taglist is full :(

Two weeks had went by.

Two long, busy weeks of you not hearing much from Drew, other than the promotions and photo stills you would send him.

It was finally the release day, and within 18 hours, the video had already reached 200 million views.

You were currently sitting on your light grey couch, flicking through Netflix movies when your phone buzzed with a notification.

Drew Starkey: Hey, congrats on the success of the video. I’m still very honored you wanted me to he apart of it. You still down to celebrate?

Oh.

In all honesty you were expecting Drew to stop talking to you after the shoot.

But within those two weeks, you were both extremely busy, so reaching out was hard.

That didn’t mean you two didn’t text at all, it was just two or three messages a day.

Drew was notorious for being a bad texter, not to mention how filled up his schedule was.

So you never took it to heart. Or, at least tried.

But seeing the notification that he actually still wanted to hang out, wanted to celebrate with you…

Your User: hi, thank you so much! i’m still so happy and grateful you said yes <33

Your User: and yes i’m still down to celebrate!! when are you free?

Maybe the double texting was too much, but you were already a glass of wine in, and texting your celebrity crush.

To your surprise, he replied pretty quickly.

Drew Starkey: I’m actually free rn surprisingly, are you?

Oh.

You were in fact free, but ready was the better question.

No, you were not ready to see Drew fucking Starkey, especially looking like how you were currently dressed.

Only wearing sweatpants, a shirt that is three sizes too big, fuzzy socks, and no bra was not exactly presentable to meet the love of your life.

Your User: yes, but i look absolutely horrible rn

Again, another quick response.

Drew Starkey: I doubt that. Can I come see you?

You typed out a message.

Your User: CNEOSHWOSHEODNEOWHSOWBSIFBEOSBAJDBDKDHOSBSKSBDJSHS😜✊👍😜🤭🔥🫶😩

That was what you really wanted to reply with, but instead went for something more nonchalant.

Your User: yeah, you want my address?

It was never good to share your address to anyone online, especially after only meeting in person twice.

But it was Drew Starkey. You would send anything to that man, no questions asked.

Drew Starkey: Yes please

You had spent the last 30 minutes frantically cleaning your apartment. Not that it was a complete mess, but you did want it to be cleaner than what it was.

A soft knock on your door was heard, heart pounding in your chest, hands shaking with nervousness.

Peeking through the peephole, seeing his familiar face was enough to make you almost back out.

Why did you have to be so fucking nervous? He was just a man.

Your fingers unlocked the door, opening it gently.

“Hey, Y/n.” Drew smiled warmly at you, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Hi… come on in.” You grinned back, trying to hide the feeling in your chest.

Drew’s long legs guide him inside the apartment and he takes a second to look around.

It was cozy, and definitely you.

“I got these f’you.” He hums, holding out the flowers.

“Oh, these are my favorite flowers, Drew… you didn’t have to do that.” You awed, taking the bouquet as he practically handed it to you.

He knew they were your favorite flowers. He might have looked up y/n l/n’s favorite flower onto Google. Not that he would ever admit that, though.

“Really? Damn, lucky pick, I guess.” He chuckled, scratching the side of his neck a little sheepishly.

Putting the flowers in a vase, you realized that he was wearing sweats and a hoodie. It was 10:23pm on a Friday, and clearly you two were appreciating a night off.

It made you feel better about your outfit.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink? I have white or red wine, beer, vodka, soda, water…” You trailed off your options.

“What’re you drinking?” He hummed.

You nodded over to the coffee table, an open bottle of wine with a half filled glass on it.

“Wine.”

“I’ll just have some of that, then.” Drew murmurs.

You grabbed another wine glass and walked over to the couch, hearing his feet behind you.

Sitting down on the couch, you got all comfortable underneath the blanket again, then reached over to pour him a glass of wine.

“Cheers, to the success of ‘Perfume’, and to you.” Drew says softly, holding his glass out for you to clink.

Feeling your face grow a bit warm, you tapped your glass with his.

“Cheers to you being amazing.” You took a sip of the wine, your eyes locked onto his blue ones.

“You have a nice apartment, by the way. Forgot to say that.” He hums.

“Thank you, I wanted to make it as cozy as possible for those rare times I am at home.” You explain.

"Yeah, I get that. Life nowadays is just so hectic." He agrees, blue eyes trailing over your face, as if committing each feature to memory.

"Well, yeah. You're all big and famous now," you tease.

He chuckles sheepishly, his large hand running along the back of his head.

"You have any big plans coming up?" He asked you.

"Yeah, actually. I'm supposed to be preforming at the iHeartRadio Jingle Ball festival in a week," you nod.

"Really? Damn. That beats me, then." He joked.

"What do you have coming up?" You questioned.

"Variety is going to have Harris Dickinson and I do that Actors on Actors interview thing."

"Yeah? That sounds fun," you hummed.

The two of you spent an hour and a half talking about life, success, and just got to know each other.

You both finished the bottle of wine and were now onto your second bottle, the two of you tipsy as you giggled on the couch.

Your body felt warm and you weren't completely sure if it was from the alcohol or the fact that a beautiful man was sitting a foot away from you on your own couch.

Drew felt the same, and one specific joke you made had him laughing a little too hard. His eyes creased in the corner as he smiled, those pretty dimples on display.

But when his large hand went to rest on your knee, the wine in your system completely fought off your anxiety, making you more relaxed.

You found yourself leaning into his touch, your hand resting atop of his.

"Your laugh is so cute, Drew," you murmured.

"Yeah? You're cute," he responded.

You bit your lip, eyes locked onto his. "Is that the alcohol talking or you?"

He grinned, shaking his head.

"That's me talking."

Oh.

"You're sweet..." you trailed off, trying to ignore how butterflies filled your belly.

He just hummed, a comfortable, tension-filled silence falling between you two.

"So, you really had a crush on me for four years?" He teased, squeezing your knee a little.

"Oh, god. We're back at this now, huh?" You grumbled in embarrassment, although there was no real malice behind your tone.

He smirked, licking his lips. "We never left it."

"I certainly did."

"Yeah? You don't have a crush on me anymore?" He murmured, the playful tone in his voice making your stomach turn more.

"I didn't say that...." you trailed off, picking at the extra skin near your nails.

His eyes trail over your form again, taking in every inch of you he can see that's not hidden by the blanket on your lap.

"Hm? Sorry, I didn't hear you."

You rolled your eyes, face hot. "I'm sure you didn't."

He laughed, scooting a little closer to you so your legs were touching.

"'m just fucking with you," he said softly.

"I know..." you glanced over at him, eyes instinctively falling down to his pretty lips.

It had been too long since you felt them on you.

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the boost of confidence Drew had gotten, but he slowly leaned in, his free hand going to run his index finger and thumb on your chin.

"Is this okay?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah... yes..." you breathed out shakily, heart racing.

He hummed, gently connecting your lips to his own.

Feeling that familiar, addictive spark when his skin touched yours. You immediately kissed back, your left hand going to cup his jaw.

Kissing. You were kissing Drew fucking Starkey. And it wasn't for work, wasn't for cameras. He kissed you first.

Within moments, he was laying you back on the light grey couch, the fluffy blanket being left abandoned on the floor.

His tongue was in your mouth, sculpted body hovering over yours. Your thighs were spread for him to nestle in between, left hand still cupping his strong jaw, right hand in that soft brown hair.

On instinct you pulled a little on the strands, making him grunt into your mouth. He disconnected your lips, trailing sloppy, needy kisses down your jaw and neck.

Chests pressed together, it was as if you two couldn't get any closer.

"Mhmm... Drew..." you whimpered softly when he nipped at the skin of your pulse point.

"Yeah? That feel nice, sweet girl?" He murmured, voice muffled from his attention on your neck.

You nodded, legs squeezing him in between your body.

"Can I take your shirt off, baby?" He asked, not wanting to do anything you weren't desiring.

"Please.." you breathed out, heart racing, stomach flipping.

His large hand slipped the oversized fabric off and over your head, a small whine leaving him when he saw your pretty tits.

"Fuck, Y/n... you been hiding these from me?" He mumbled teasingly, continuing his line of kisses and nibbles down your collarbone, in between the valley of your breasts.

"All you needed to do was ask," you panted. Your back instinctively arched up, your chest needing some attention from his warm mouth.

He groaned at your answer, moving slightly down your body until he was eye level with your hard nipples. He swirled his tongue around the bud, blue eyes locked on your face when he sucked your nipple into his mouth.

Your body jolted a little, making him hold your side with his left hand, his right hand massaging the other stiffened bud.

He switched sides after a few moments, relishing in the sounds of your pretty moans and pants.

But something else was throbbing and aching, desperately needing his attention.

"Drew," you whined.

"Hmm?" He hummed, still worshipping your boobs.

"Need you."

"Yeah?" He cooed, reluctantly disconnecting his mouth from your right nipple as he continued to kiss down your stomach.

You nod, breathing short and needy. He got to the waistband of your sweatpants, looking back up at you.

"You can take those off too." You gave permission, already knowing what the man was going to ask.

He wasted no time in slipping the fabric down your legs, readjusting so his face was in between your spread thighs.

"Look how you ruined these panties, pretty girl... you're so needy f'me, huh?" He murmured softly.

All you could do was whine when he pressed a tender kiss to your clothed clit, the fabric absolutely soaked. It had been way too long since you'd had sex.

His large hand slid the fabric down your thighs, leaving you completely bare for him.

"So beautiful, baby. So beautiful..." he muttered, talking more to himself than you.

Your legs twitched when he flicked his tongue against your clit, hands digging in his hair.

"Drew--"

"I know, baby. Let daddy eat this pretty pussy, yeah? Just sit back and relax."

A needy whimper left your mouth, but you didn't respond. Not that you could, as he licked a stripe from your pulsating hole to the top of your clit.

He hoisted your thighs over his broad shoulders, moaning a little at your taste. His movements became more eager, beginning to lap at your cunt like a starved man.

Right hand in his hair, left hand gripping the couch. Your eyes rolled back, hips bucking up towards his face.

He made a grunt directly into your clit, another jolt of pleasure going into your body.

"Daddy... fuck..."

His piercing blue eyes were feeding off of your facial expressions, his cock throbbing in his own sweats.

He slipped two fingers into your cunt, focusing his mouth on your clit. His left hand slid down his own pants, beginning to palm his cock through his boxers.

"Yeah? Is daddy making you feel good, sweet girl?" He coos, whining a little as his own hips buck on the couch, desperate for more friction.

His noise and hips bucking made your cunt clench around his fingers, as if trying to pull him in deeper.

The knot in your stomach was already forming, almost embarrassing how quickly he turned you into a mess.

Legs trembling over his shoulders, hips rocking against his face and chin. You couldn't even announce you were coming, mind fuzzy from the pleasure.

He hummed when he noticed you releasing, continuing to lap up all your juices as he came in his pants.

When your body calmed down, he pulled away from your pussy and kneeled in between your legs.

He peeled his own hoodie off, revealing that perfect, toned body of his again. Your eyes drank in the sight, licking your lips.

“You’re so hot, Drew…” you murmured.

His ears were ringing, need coursing through his veins as he slipped off his sweats and boxers.

You had to physically hold back a gasp when you saw his cock for the first time.

People had always written it differently in all those guilty pleasure Rafe Cameron fanfics you would read when you couldn’t sleep.

But seeing it in person was just a whole new experience.

It was long and thick, which was to be expected. The man radiated big dick energy.

Pretty mushroom tip that was still leaking, his pubic hair slightly fuzzy as if he hadn’t shaved it in a week.

“Holy shit…”

“Mhm? Better than you imagined?” He asked teasingly, a smirk on his face as he grabbed a condom from his wallet.

You couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes, a small snicker leaving you.

He rolled the condom onto his shaft, moving to hover over you again.

“Are you sure you want this, Y/n?” He asked softly, eyes gazing intently into yours.

“Yes… please fuck me, daddy.”

He let out a small groan, nestling himself in between your thighs. He used a long, strong arm to grab a couch pillow and tuck it under your hips.

You watched as he teasingly slid his head up and down your slit, tapping it against your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Don’t tease me, please,” you beg.

Your pretty begging weakened his resolve as he slowly slid into you.

Whimpers and noises of pleasure left the both of you at the feeling, a course of energy being shared within your two bodies.

He kept pushing until he was all the way inside, giving you a moment to adjust as he captured your lips in his.

Your hands roamed over his biceps and back, loving the way the muscles flex against your palms. His skin was burning, adding to the electric feel.

When he felt you stop tensing around him, he began to slowly pull back, before pushing in, creating a delicious rhythm.

“Fuck… you feel so fuckin’ good, baby.” He moaned.

Your legs tightened around his hips, a noise leaving you as he rubbed right against that spongy spot.

“So deep, Drew… can feel you so deep,” you whined in between breaths.

“Yeah? You take this dick so good, pretty girl.”

His movements were getting a little rougher with every minute passing, both of you needing this.

Your crush on him for four years, the sexual tension you shared in the music video, the chemistry when you first met him on The Tonight Show.

It was all so surreal and felt like you were living straight out of a fanfic or dream.

His head dropped down to your chest, clearly having a thing for your hardened nipples as he nibbled gently.

Maybe one day Drew would fuck you without the condom and be able to feel your warm, velvety walls squeezing him without the protection.

He could dream.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You swore, the pillow under your hips allowing for his tip to kiss your cervix with every thrust.

“Mhm, yeah. Good girl.” He praised breathlessly, feeling a little lightheaded from everything.

The couch creaked a little beneath you two, your nails digging into his back.

He was already close, eyes fluttered shut as he lifted his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

His calloused thumb went to rub your clit, making your legs twitch around his sculpted hips.

Your cunt squeezed around his cock, your belly on fire with your building orgasm.

“You gonna cum f’me, sweet girl?” He choked out, hips snapping against yours.

“Y-yes!” You squeak, mind hazy, body trembling.

“Yeah… that’s it… let me feel you…”

His breathy words, deep penetration, and touch on your clit sent you over the edge again.

You moaned loudly, clinging onto his body as he talked you through your orgasm.

He was also talking himself through it, feeling his cock twitch as he spilled his seed into the condom.

His body was still against yours, both of you catching your breaths from the intensity.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead again, his chest rising and falling.

“You okay?” He asked you softly.

“Mhm… ‘m good…”

You kissed his lips again, more gently this time. His nose brushed against yours when he pulled away, lips connecting to your cheek.

He reluctantly slid out of you, kneeling between your legs again as his blue eyes gazed down at your cunt.

“Did you bring any more condoms?” You ask after a few moments.

He looks at your face, then reaches over to grab his wallet. He pulls out two more condom wrappers.

You grinned, licking your lips.

“So are we going two more rounds or what?”

tags!!

@slut4you @sweetlike-sugarplum @snowtargaryen @fastlovela @christinechickiee @ahgrace6 @evermorx89 @loren8818181 @eddiemuns0nl0ver @sophiesmovingcastle5 @chimchimjiminie16 @amel1ee @reader1402 @tqd4455 @rxeae @caraxes-syrax @shrimpybbq @drewstarkeysbabe @rafeswhoooreee @meropeeonmee @rafeluvrr @marvelahsobx @raeven-marie43 @fallout-girl219 @brendazzlingg @10ava01 @secretsideofbree @drewstarrrkey @p0gue420 @gibson-g1rl @kiiyomei @spiderstyles04 @sexualparkour @vinaluvsu @domainexpandme @mariadu2 @toterry @taliawz @always-reading @angvl3tears @iloveoldermenn @aesthetic-lyss @lover-girl-estxx @cadhlabear @kaiparkerwifes @herbookgarden @luvleyshif4 @caraxes-syrax @mymultiveres @reader1402 @dinnodallas @darkreymbow @vinaluvsu @sarahskywalker-amidala @christinechickiee @hoelesslyt @tincanhat @scenesofobx @james-bucky-barnackle @angvl3tears @belledawnidk @millietozier @vrsluts @chimmysoftpaws @brathwaite444 @urmanicpixieangelgirl

[elixirfromthestars]

By The Warmth Of The Oven

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. tipsy bucky.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> is it those cookies that smell delicious or is it you?

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my dear Bella @nickfowlerrr ♡ In honor of Can You Feel It? being the first of many beautiful fics I read of yours 🥹🩷 Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

“Smells good…” Bucky’s voice comes out of nowhere from behind you as you grab another tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. You glance over your shoulder to find him sauntering into the kitchen, making his way over to you. 

“Freshly baked cookies always do,” you reply with a gratified grin, placing the tray on top of the stove so the cookies have some time to cool off before you plate them. Your friends had already gone through three batches of them and they practically begged you to make more. It was a nice feeling, almost rewarding in a way, knowing something you made was so loved by your friends. 

“‘m not talking about the cookies, doll,” there’s a bit of a slur in his cadence that catches your attention at the same time that your heart skips a beat at his words. You turn to him to see he’s staring at you with a dreamy smile and a twinkle in his eyes, propped up against the counter by his elbow. You frown at his unusual nonchalant demeanor. You’ve never seen him act this way before. 

Your head tilts slightly as you examine him a little closer. There’s a bit of a sway to his stance and his cheeks are tinted pink. “Bucky, are you drunk?” Almost immediately he shakes his head at your question, “No. I can't get drunk,” he replies with an obvious tone, and yet the pouty frown on his face tells a different story. 

“Right, you can’t…” you affirm, mulling it over for a moment,“Unless…did Thor give you some of his special Asgardian liquor?” You ask, stepping slightly closer to him, the apples of his cheeks getting rosier in response. 

“I took a shot. I started feeling funny and came here—felt safe,” he mutters that last part reluctantly, sharing something with you he wouldn’t if it weren’t for the alcohol in his system.

“In the kitchen?”

“With you.” 

Your amusement is replaced with a soft expression at his response. He most likely hasn’t felt the effects of alcohol in decades and a part of him doesn’t know how to cope with the resurfaced inhibitions. The fact that while feeling unwell his first instinct was to come looking for you—it made a warmth spread throughout you that could easily rival the heat of the oven.

You reach out to cup his cheek, soothing the flushed skin with your thumb. He instinctively leans into your touch, his eyes shining with a gentle vulnerability that causes your heart to squeeze in your chest. You and Bucky have always had a flirtatious friendship for as long as you can remember, but it's never gone past that. Seeing him so openly affectionate with you stirs emotions deep within you that you aren’t sure you’re ready to bring to the surface.

“I don’t think the alcohol is going to stay in your system for long, Buck. How about we do this…you wait for me here while I go out and serve the cookies I baked,” his eyes widen slightly and you can tell he wants to protest until you add, “I’ll bring back some hot chocolate for us to share and we can enjoy it along with some cookies while we wait for that liquor in your system to wear off. How does that sound?” You suggest softly and you can see the way he thinks it through before he agrees with a nod.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you plate a few dozen cookies on decorative plates, leaving a handful behind for you and Bucky to share. You make sure to quickly take them out to your friends and serve up two piping hot mugs of hot chocolate before making it back to the kitchen in no time. 

When you meet back with Bucky you find him sitting on the counter where he watches his legs as he swings them lazily to and fro. You observe him fondly for a moment longer than necessary. Trying to commit to memory how carefree and unguarded he is at this moment. When he notices you his face lights up in a way that makes you feel like the most precious person on earth. 

“Here, as promised,” you hand him a mug of hot chocolate which he takes eagerly—too eagerly—as he immediately goes for a sip of it. Before he can, however, you stop him, placing your hand as a barrier between his lips and the mug. His mouth ends up pressed into your palm, and you ignore the heat that finds its way to your face at the softness of his lips brushing against your skin.

“Bucky, it's scalding hot! You’ll burn yourself! Wait until it cools down a bit, please.”

“It’s not gonna burn me, doll. I’m a super soldier. Watch—”

“Bucky!” 

You use the cookies as leverage to coax Bucky into waiting for the hot chocolate to cool down before he drinks any of it. For the next hour or so, you enjoy each other's company. Between the sweet treats and the lighthearted conversations, time flies by in a heartbeat. 

Then, while in the middle of a discussion over your last mission, Bucky does something that completely takes you by surprise in the best way possible—he kisses you. It’s short, but profound in the way he pours everything into it. Every flirtation you ever questioned could mean something more was proven here with this kiss, that it had meant so much more for more than just you. 

You’re speechless when he pulls away beaming as if his heart might burst.

“Looks like I was right.” 

“Huh?”

“I asked myself what was sweeter. You or the cookies. I knew it'd be you,” he states as a matter of fact, drinking up the way his words affect you as much as the kiss had. There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe him, but it's not because of him, but more so because you think you must be dreaming. 

“That's the liquor talking.”

“I've sobered up a while ago, doll.”

You search his eyes for the truth of it all and you find it. This is real. This isn’t a dream. And the yearning that burns bright in his eyes is one you know all too well. It’s the same one reflecting in your eyes as your gazes lock on one another.

“I still think the cookies are sweeter,” you whisper, your eyes shining with a playful challenge despite the way your heart races in your chest with anticipation. He catches on, licking his lips as his flesh hand snakes its way to the back of your head to cradle it gently.

“‘m gonna prove you wrong, doll,” he declares in a huskier tone as he pulls you in for another kiss. And that night, by the warmth of the oven, Bucky continues to kiss you until he successfully proves you wrong. 

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 16

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 15 | Series Masterlist | Part 17

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.4k

Chapter Summary: Bucky tries to pull you closer when you want to pull away, and someone else in your life my not take no for an answer.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, arguing, tension, slight harassment, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky traded lazy kisses with you as your tears slowed, and you had no idea if it was his mouth that had your heart pounding and the crushing weight of everything that surrounded him. It was so much to unpack. Every encounter with him seemed to be that way. Something blindsided you or suffocated you, but you hadn't been at all prepared for what he just shared. And how could you? He didn't keep photos of his mother around, and you hadn't gone poking around online.

Would you have found out the truth if you had?

He followed your lips when you pulled away. “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you back in.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Though it partially made sense now why he was moving so fast. He believed if he met you then that you would've fallen in love and been together to this day. Because he didn't seek you out then and lost so much time, he was packing everything into a rushed time span. Dating, meeting his friends, getting you into his place. He was moving things along at an accelerated speed, and you were barely keeping up with the ride.

“No.” The muffled word against his lips somehow rang out loud and clear enough for him to stop, but you put a hand on his chest in case he tried to lean in again. “Why are you punishing me?”

His eyes rounded. “You think I’m punishing you? Jesus, why would you think that?”

“Because of how you went about all of this. I know you were desperate, and I get the drive behind some of your actions now,” you said, which you refused to excuse. You got it but couldn’t excuse it. “Your response of ‘where’s the fun in that?’ when I said you couldn’t just ask me out like a normal person? You almost seemed to delight in intimidating me. Why?”

If you saved his mom, why do this?

“I didn’t delight in that. I played it wrong,” he admitted in a quiet voice, surprising you. “I approached it like…”

“Like everything else in your life where you have everyone under your thumb through fear. You did the same thing to me.” You laughed just a little. “In a way, it worked because I’m officially afraid to try to leave you.”

Had things blossomed between you two organically, you’d like to believe that things would’ve been better. Healthy. There was always the chance that a relationship might’ve come to an end because life was like that. But if he frightened you enough to stay forever, he’d never have to worry. The stars would still align as far as he was concerned.

“I don’t want you to fear me or what we have,” he whispered, reaching for you as you scooted back.

“What we have? Tell me, do you think your mom would be proud of your actions to obtain me or ashamed?” You couldn’t believe that was the kind of man she raised, to put fear into the heart of the person he supposedly loved.

He flinched. Actually flinched. You might as well have raised a hand to him. “She…” He swallowed. “She would’ve wanted us together.”

“Like this? By you not giving me a choice?” you asked, pushing yourself up. “I need to go home.” There would be no getting through to him and this revelation was doing your head in. One cup of coffee wasn't enough either.

He got up to follow you. “Why are you rushing off?”

“I have a shift today, and I have to go home and shower,” you said, grabbing some of your things. “Don’t worry about dropping me off. I’ll get a cab.”

“What? No, you-”

“You put money in my account, so it’s not like I have to worry about paying for it. And it’s not like I’ll be alone either since you’ll have me followed whether I want it or not,” you said as a matter of fact.

“You’re putting a wall up,” he said, frowning as you grabbed your phone charger before he could. “Don’t shut me out, please.”

“I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to process the gigantic bombshell you dropped on me,” you said, stopping to look at him when he grabbed your arm. “Bucky-”

“This has been a lot, all of it, but we can’t go back and change it, and you know I can’t let you go because we’re meant to be together,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You feel it. I know you do.”

How many times would he say that until you agreed? “Just because you think fate stepped in-”

“Fate brought you into my club, but I gave it a much-needed push to bring us together after leaving things to chance for so long,” he said, tugging you closer and putting his other hand on your cheek. “You can’t tell me you don’t care about me in some capacity. You’re just afraid to admit it because it isn’t conventional in your eyes, but you don’t have to be afraid of how you feel.”

How could you truly fall in love with him when he orchestrated everything from the start? “Feelings or not you’re still going to force me to move in with you soon, and that scares me,” you said. Your wings would forever be clipped.

“We should’ve been living together and married by now,” he argued, keeping a tight hold on you. “I know I’m making you move in sooner than you want, but beyond safety it’ll give us a chance to really know each other before we get married.”

Talk of marriage had your heart thudding. The man would probably force you to marry him sooner than you wanted. “You said you already know everything about me,” you said. At least he thought he knew you. The vision of you he built up in his mind scared you, too. He couldn’t keep you on that pedestal.

“But you don’t fully know me yet, and I don’t know what it’s like to live with you. The experience will bring us closer together.” His smile was full of hope. “We can read together, do movie nights, dance in the kitchen.”

“Bucky-”

“We can exercise together, in and out of bed,” he continued, your breath hitching as he rubbed his nose against yours. “Don’t you already feel closer to me now that you know we're meant to be?”

A quick knock on the door followed by a long one saved you from answering. “It isn't check-out time, is it?”

“No. That would be Ray,” Bucky headed to the door and kept you back a small distance before he answered. The man really was protective, wasn't he?

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Ray said, giving you a polite nod before he leaned in and whispered something to Bucky. Whatever was said to him made his face harden. The entire change in his demeanor worried you.

“Kotyonok, let’s get your bag and get you back to your place so you can get ready for work,” he suggested, his smile tight.

“What’s the matter?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered, kissing your forehead. “And before we go, I know you suggested taking a cab, but please let Ray take you back to your place. It would make me feel better.”

The hint of a plea in his voice and the look in Ray’s eyes kept you from protesting. “Fine, Ray can take me home. Just give me a second to change out of these pajamas,” you said, a bit surprised that Bucky wasn’t offering to take you home himself. “But you are going to tell me later what’s going on, right?” you asked.

“I will, but I need some answers myself first. Get changed. I’ll get your bag,” he said, gently guiding you to the bathroom so you could change and officially ending that conversation.

Ray was still by the entry door once you came out, looking a bit stiffer than usual, too. You stole a glance at Bucky as the three of you headed to the elevator, catching the anger etched in his features as he gripped your bag handle tight enough that you thought it would rip. They were leaving you in the dark about something. You weren’t sure if you could take any other bombshells.

“Ray may need to pick you up from work instead of me, but I’ll message you if that’s the case,” Bucky said, fixing his hair in the elevator reflection. “And… we may need to talk about your girls’ day out.”

“What about it?” you asked, already knowing where he was going with this.

“If you can cancel or reschedule it,” he replied.

You stared hard at him. Where was that coming from? “No, it's tomorrow, and I’m not cancelling or rescheduling. And don’t you dare use Zemo as an excuse to get your way,” you snapped. Even if it was a valid reason, you didn’t want to hear it.

His jaw clenched, but he looked sad as he glanced at you. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“We talked about this. If it’s a safety issue, Ray agreed that someone could watch out for me. That should keep me safe,” you reminded him. You’d be fine. “Right, Ray?”

The blonde stared straight ahead. “That isn’t my decision,” he said apologetically.

Your shoulders slumped. For a short time, you thought he could be on your side or at least help give you some slack. “Right. Because you don't get to make decisions, and neither do I. You’re a bodyguard, I’m just a doll,” you said, looking straight ahead, too, and pulling your hand back when Bucky tried to take it. “Please, don’t.”

“Kotyonok…” Bucky sighed as the door opened. You marched out, not waiting for either of them. “Wait.”

You headed straight for the desk, feeling sadder when you didn’t see Natasha. “Checking out, please,” you said, sliding the room card over to the woman standing there.

“Of course. I hope you enjoyed your stay.” She looked behind you likely at Bucky before giving you a smile. “Ms. Romanoff also wanted to remind you that you have a place here if you need one.”

“I’m sure I’ll take her up on that soon,” you said, turning your head to glare at Bucky. While his expression was stoic, his eyes told you he didn’t want you to be upset with him. “And make sure she adds an inconvenience fee to the damaged wall bill. She’ll know what I mean.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she smiled. “Take care.”

Bucky was hot on your heel and you didn't make it two steps out the door before he had a hand on you. “You’re upset with me. Putting up more of that wall.”

You didn't speak until Ray walked past you to get his car. “You’re trying to get me to cancel my day out with my friends, after you went through the whole charade of buying me a new dress for it and everything. And after what you told me about your mom.” You took a breath to try to calm down. “Yeah, I’m upset, and yeah, you’re supplying me with the very bricks to build that wall.”

“I said we may need to talk about it, I didn’t flat out say you weren’t going,” he corrected you. He might as well have. “I know it means a lot to you, but-”

You held a hand up. “No. There are no ‘buts’ in this. For all you keep taking from me, I don’t ask for much. I really don't,” you stated. In fact, you’ve shown lots of restraint. “Who knows how many moments I’ll get like this with my friends once you move me in.” He wasn’t about to take this small thing from you after everything.

He titled his head. “You think I’ll keep you from them?”

“Part of me thinks you will, yes. Because as soon as I think that there’s hope, the second I think that we could be closer together while you loosen the reins, you say or do something that puts me back in your full control,” you said. He had to see that. “And every time you do that, like you are right now, it makes me want to push you away.”

“And you can push all you want, but I’ll just pull you closer,” he smiled, making you huff when he actually did so. “I’m not afraid to let you burn me.”

“You keep saying that. Give me a match or a lighter and we’ll test that theory,” you said. He burst out laughing, the sound loud in the morning air as your eyes widened. “Why are you laughing?” you asked incredulously. How could he laugh when you were still worked up?

“Because even arguing with you makes me happy,” he sincerely stated. “And now all I want to do is find a way to put a smile back on your face.”

You exhaled. He was so in love with the idea of a relationship with you that arguments appealed to him? Anyone else would've walked away by now.

“You’re infuriating,” you whispered when he touched the corner of your mouth and made it twitch in a small smile. “Impossible.”

“I know,” he whispered back, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, you’re tired and you’re overwhelmed, which is completely my fault. Am I right?”

“Yes,” you sighed. He hit it right on the nose.

“And maybe I was rash in suggesting that you cancel your plans, but I need to take care of a couple things before we discuss that more,” he said, leading you to Ray's car before you could protest. “You just have a good shift, okay?”

He was placating you now, and it was sadly working. “Fine,” you said, touching his hand, the metal one. “I don’t think I said so earlier, but thank you for finally telling me the truth,” you said, calmer than you were moments before. He should've told you from the start, but it couldn't have been easy reopening old wounds regarding his dad.

His gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me.”

“And whatever Ray told you or whatever’s going on, just breathe, okay?” you begged.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll just think of you and it’ll help,” he said, adding in a low voice as he pulled you against him. “And this.”

This was nothing like the slow, languid kisses from minutes ago. This was dominant, claiming, threatening to rob you of the air in your lungs, like he wanted you to feed your own breath into him. He either forgot Ray was there, or he simply didn’t care.

By the time Bucky stopped kissing you and helped you into the car, you didn’t want to look either of them in the eye.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing your temple and shutting the door as your heart flip flopped. God, he was insufferable. Confusing. Obsessed.

“You're certainly keeping him on his toes,” Ray said, not driving off until he made sure Bucky was in his vehicle, too.

“Someone has to,” you said, staring out the window. “I’m going with my friends tomorrow. I don't care if he makes you drag me back,” you said. Unless your life was in some sort of immediate danger, there was no reason for you to skip out on meeting up with the girls.

“So you’re aware, the suggestion of you moving your day out has nothing to do with wanting to control you. He’s upset because of the news I delivered and he wants to keep you close,” Ray explained, making you feel a little bad.

“So, that news was the reason why you both changed your tune, and you can't tell me what that news is,” you guessed. If you were in some sort of danger though, surely Bucky would’ve said so. “He told me about his mom. How I saved her.”

Silence filled the vehicle. “So, you know the truth,” he said after a minute, his voice neutral. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to be,” you answered carefully. You really were.

“That’s all you can do,” he said before adding under his breath, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

You snorted. “I guess I'm living breathing proof of that.” It was ironic how an act of kindness put you on this path. “And as much as I don't like to wish pain upon people, I hope Bucky's dad got whatever he deserved.”

Winnie, from the short time you knew her, was nothing but wonderful. Bucky said the dahlia painting in his office served as a reminder that he would never do to you what his dad did to his mom. He would never set you up to take the fall for anyone else, wouldn’t let someone else hurt you if he could help it. He would forever stand by you.

Was pushing him away doing you any good?

“He did,” Ray promised you. “And I say with complete sincerity that I hope today is very uneventful for you after the time you've had.”

Your nose scrunched as you laughed. “So do I, Ray. So do I.”

Ray was kind enough to wait outside of your place as you showered and got ready for work, and didn't push you to talk more before he dropped you off at the shop. He was even kind enough to stop so you could get another cup of coffee. It helped improve your mood.

“There she is!” Kate smiled when you walked in. “Little miss not-so-single anymore.”

“Hey,” you giggled before you paused. “I didn't know you were working today. Did you switch shifts with someone?”

“God, the schedule’s all messed up. Mrs. Crandle called out for some business thing-”

“Business thing?” you asked, your brows pinched. She hardly ever took time off for things like vacation let alone a business thing without informing her staff.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure about all the details, but Lorraine ended up switching the whole schedule around. Mya’s coming in later, and I had to come in early, and your shift’s ending early.”

“What?” you frowned, checking the schedule to make sure. She was right. Your shift today was almost cut in half. “Would’ve been nice to get a text or something.”

The assistant manager wasn't bad to work with, but she could be a little forgetful with things like that. If Bucky hadn't just put money in your account, you may have been more upset over having half a shift cut. After the night and morning you had though, maybe an afternoon off wouldn't be so bad.

“She probably forgot since you were coming in at your normal time. Who knows?” Kate shrugged. “You know, I half expected Clark to be here waiting for you. Seemed really eager to see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, about that.” You looked toward the door, your body tense in anticipation even though he wasn't there. “Why did you tell him I was working today?”

“He’s kind of a regular, and I didn't really think about it. Then Mrs. Crandle brought up your boyfriend and…” Her face fell as she stopped cutting stems, which made you feel bad when she glanced your way. “Crap, I did something wrong, didn't I?”

You weren’t about to go into specifics regarding your personal situation. “I just don’t want customers to know when my shifts are unless I’m specifically working on an order or event for them, okay?” you said, hoping she understood that it was a general request.

Bucky was not getting in your head about your safety.

“Okay, as long as you aren’t mad,” she said. You gave her a smile to assure her that you were okay. “So, tell me about your new boyfriend.”

You filled her in as much as you could to make it sound believable, just like you had with Addison. Like her and Mrs. Crandle, Kate was excited for you. And they would never know the full truth.

As your shift went on, you were surprised you hadn't heard much from Bucky. It was for the best though. He was clearly dealing with something. As much as you didn't want to defend him in your mind, it had taken a lot for him to talk about his parents. To show you some of the damage done to his body. It was a vulnerable moment. Did you owe it to him to be vulnerable, too?

Wait, why did you owe him anything?

“Heading out?” Kate asked once your shift was up.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing at your phone. You wondered if you should text Bucky before you decided against it. You'd let him know once you got to your place that you wouldn't need a ride. “Just call me if you need me to come back in.”

“Don’t worry about that. Enjoy the rest of your day!” she smiled.

Satisfied when you didn't see Bucky or Ray’s car waiting for you either, you decided to take a walk. It was a nice day, and you needed the fresh air. You hoped the weather was nice for the winery. You’d have to take photos to look back on what was going to be a fun time.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout after a few minutes of walking.

You stopped when you spotted Clark waving at you from the other side of the street. You barely waved back before he joined you. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood,” he smiled, pushing his glasses up. “You done working already?”

“Yep,” you said, adjusting your bag. “And I should really-”

“Could we talk for a minute?” he asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Sure,” you said, falling in step beside him.

“You know, I actually went to the shop to buy you flowers yesterday. I was going to buy you some roses,” he smiled.

Oh, God. “You were?”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there and… It doesn’t matter,” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But I was thinking… Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? My treat.”

The hopeful look in his eyes made a pit form in your stomach. “Clark, I’m seeing someone,” you said, his blue eyes dimming. Hadn’t Kate said that Mrs. Crandle brought up that you were in a relationship? “It’s fairly new, and I don’t want to mess things up,” you explained, though he wasn’t owed an explanation.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” he mumbled, kicking a small rock on the sidewalk. “Well, if it’s fairly new, I'm sure you can get coffee with other people.”

“Get coffee with people? Yes. But this kind of sounds like a date, and I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry,” you said. That would feel like cheating even if you didn't consider it a date, and you weren't that kind of person.

“Then we won’t call it a date,” he grinned.

Maybe you were feeling paranoid, but there was something weird behind his smile. “You just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to send mixed signals by agreeing to go with you.”

His smile shook a bit. “It's just a coffee.”

“Is it?” The longer he stared, the more odd things felt, and you didn’t like it. “Listen, when you find someone else to give flowers to I’d be happy to pick some out for you.”

“I don't understand.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You’ve always been nice to me.”

“Well, yeah. You’ve always been kind, too, when you come into the shop.”

“Too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, his smile disappearing completely.

You gaped at him, almost faltering in your step. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he said louder, his ire clear as day. “You think I don’t know about his reputation? He’s dangerous, and you’re too good for him.”

“How do you know I’m dating him?” you asked. And what did he know about his reputation?

He was quiet for a moment. “Mrs. Crandle said his name, and she has no idea what kind of man he is,” he said, making you feel uneasy. “I don’t think you do either.”

Oh, you knew plenty. “I appreciate your concern, really, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well, I do. And I just don’t see why we can’t have one cup of coffee together,” he said, flashing a smile again. “It’ll be fun.”

“Because you know I’m seeing someone,” you said. He knew it before he bumped into you, but was still pushing for you to go with him. “And I also kind of make it a rule not to date customers,” you added, stopping when you got to your building. You walked faster than you thought.

“Well, rules should have exceptions, right? And if Bucky cared so much, where is he? Why wasn’t he waiting to pick you up and take you home?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing when you dug into your purse. “Maybe he doesn’t care about you as much as you think.”

Your next breath came out shaky. He hadn’t raised his voice at you, but you didn’t appreciate the third degree, or the implication that Bucky didn’t care. “Because he’s a busy man who sometimes works both days and nights. I don’t expect him to drop everything just to take me home.”

“If you took a chance on me, you’d never have to worry about things like that.”

You were starting to feel nauseous. “Well, sometimes I like the quiet after the bustle of the shop, so walking helps me decompress. And I can't take a chance on you when I’m seeing someone else.” Why was he being so pushy?

He took a small step closer. “You know, it’s dangerous to walk home alone.”

You took a step back, your keys between your fingers. “You’re right about that,” you agreed. The only reason you did so today was to take back a little control, which didn’t seem so smart now.

“I can start walking you home if you want,” he smiled, towering over you. Was he always so imposing? “When’s your next shift?”

You managed a smile in return, but it was extremely forced. “Clark, that’s really not necessary, but thank you for the offer. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He gently took your arm when you turned toward the door, worry crawling up your spine when his hand tightened a fraction. You suddenly wish you had Bucky or Ray around. “I really don’t mind.”

“My boyfriend will mind, and I’m sure you can understand that. So it’s a no on the coffee and the walks home,” you said gently but firmly, pulling your arm back and rubbing the spot where Clark grabbed you. He wasn’t listening. It somehow felt worse than Bucky and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it because Clark tried to act nice? “It’s been a long few days, and I’m going to get some rest. Have a nice day, okay?”

His eyes narrowed again, but it was his chilling smile that unnerved you. “I’m sure I'll see you again soon. We’ll have to get that coffee,” he said, walking off before you could say another word.

You rushed into the building once he was out of sight, your hands shaking. It may have been from the confrontation or the combination of everything. Maybe Clark was just lonely and latched on a bit because you were nice. Hadn't Bucky done something similar?

But if Clark wanted to see you, why hadn't he just gone into the shop if he knew you were working?

Double checking your locks once you were in your apartment, you took a breath and stared at your phone once you sat down. You had to talk to Bucky. He answered within a few seconds of you calling.

“Kotyonok, is everything okay?” he asked, sounding both happy and concerned to hear from you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” you asked, hearing a few other men speaking in the background.

“Because you’re calling me and not texting. And you sound a little off. What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. How did he recognize that you felt off? “I just wanted you to know that the assistant manager changed my shift, so I went home early.”

“Wait, you’re already home?” he asked. The background noise suddenly stopped. “Did you get a cab? Please tell me you didn’t walk back to your place.”

“…Fine, I won’t tell you that.”

Bucky let out an impressive string of curse words as you pulled the phone away from your ear. “That’s not safe. You know it isn’t,” he hissed, but you knew he wasn’t actually angry with you. Just the situation. And bumping into Clark today and Zemo the day before, he had a bit of a point. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Because I said it may not be a good idea to go out with your friends.”

You closed your eyes. He was not going to make you feel bad. “I just needed a breather, okay? And I made it home just fine.”

“But did you? How do I know someone didn’t follow you?” he asked. Clark’s face flashed in your mind when you stayed quiet. “…Kotyonok, did someone follow you?”

“No one followed me that I know of,” you said. You really didn't have any idea. “But… I did bump into Clark. He was in the neighborhood.”

“Clark? That guy from the shop who tried to give you flowers just happened to be in your neighborhood when I wasn't around?” he asked, fury seeping into his tone as you winced.

“I… I’m sure it was a coincidence,” you said. Placating him in this wasn’t going to work, but you had to try.

“That isn’t a fucking coincidence and we both know it. Did he say anything? Try anything?”

You shut your eyes. It would be like ripping off a band-aid. “He asked me to go get a cup of coffee with him, but I told him I was seeing someone.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “He asked you out?” he asked, making you shift in your seat. “Why the fuck do I not have a file on him yet?!” he snapped at someone in the background.

“I’m working on it, boss!” you heard someone promise. “Should I call-”

“No. I’ll call him myself,” Bucky growled.

Who was he talking about? “Bucky, it’s okay. The guy asked me out and I said no,” you assured him. You weren't going to go out with Clark. “I’m sure women throw themselves at you every day and you turn them down.”

“They don't ‘bump’ into me in my neighborhood. And had you told me you were leaving early, I could’ve made sure this guy didn’t go anywhere near you. I don’t even want him near your shop until I know more about him,” he said, his anger not lessening. “If he tries anything, I will tear him apart piece by fucking piece,” he promised you, the intensity in his tone making your throat go dry.

“That isn’t necessary,” you whispered.

He sighed. “Why would you deliberately put yourself in a spot like this just to prove a point? Be pissed at me, I can take that, but do not risk your safety,” he said, adding in a quieter voice, “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how guilty you felt, how worried he sounded on your behalf. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to worry you,” you said. It was stubborn and dumb on your part, and now you were afraid that Bucky really would try to cancel your day out tomorrow. You couldn’t let him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Make it up to me?” he asked. That seemed to get his attention. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll…” you began, steadying yourself. Natasha said you had power, and maybe you’d have to test that sooner than you expected. “Stay at your place tonight.”

You could hear a pin drop from the quiet. “You’ll stay the night?” he asked, his voice moving like lava through your veins.

“Yes,” you whispered, hammering the nail in the coffin.

“Give me two hours and I'll come get you,” he said, his voice strained, eager. “Be ready.”

“I will be.”

God, you hoped you knew what you were doing.

Oh, Clark. He's a problem now, isn't he? What do we think Ray told Bucky? And what's going to happen when you spend the night? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cherryblossom-heart]

Responsibilities (8/8)

bestfriend!Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

The end.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7

A/N: Hi besties! I can't believe we're finally here. Thank you so so so much to everyone that followed this series and to all those who interacted with it. I saw all your comments and I'm so happy everyone got so invested in this. Without further ado, I leave you with the final part of Responsibilities. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. Also if I missed anyone in the taglist let me know 😊

Help me decide what to do next!

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

Taglist

@ermbehindyou @totallygyomeiswife @ash4ree @lov3vivian @namjooningera @sleepykittyenergy @silllly-jokesterr @shigarika @7haze @lizzie3d2y @jaybirdluvr73 @sweetdreams-inumimi @anuncalledbridge @troyesivanfrl @lavenderdaydream97 @n4tr3ad5 @aldebrana @erintaro @saccharine-nectarine @vorfreudevortex @burritost @lastsubstance @blubearxy @nanamineedstherapy @luringfantasy @comeonatmebruh @sosole @lady-of-blossoms @gigiiiiislife @beautifulwitchcandy

[uluvjay]

NHL players reacting to you flashing them..

Based on this tik tok!!! Thank you to @turcott3 for always helping with these

| Jamie Drysdale | Blushes so hard but he doesn’t hesitate to make a move, tells you how gorgeous you are before laying kisses all across your chest and breasts.

| Mason McTavish | He’s confused as to why your boobs are out and what’s going on, he’ll laugh and ask what’s going on. He does worship you though, it’s one of his favorite activities!

| Juraj Slafkovsky | He gets very excited, his eyes light up as a smirk tugs at his lips. He giggles softly before tackling you and getting to work!

| Luke Hughes | He kinda just sits there for a second very very confused and concerned, he doesn’t understand but he’s lightly blushing. Asks if you’re okay and feels stupid when you tell him why you did it.

| Kirby Dach | Raises his eyebrow but blushes immediately, looks at you with an “uhh?”. He honestly reaches out to cover them but when you start giggling so does he and then just shakes his head when you tell him why.

| Cole Sillinger | Waste no time before going in, he’s got one in one hand while his lips are sealed around the other. Very happy and excited man. I can hear him saying an “Ohh baby” with a soft chuckle before he takes very good care of you.

| Brandt Clarke | Turns bright red, he’s so confused but quickly turns shy. He doesn’t get sexual at first, pulls your shirt down before pulling you into him and giving you a light kiss and it could lead to some soft sexy time or just some cuddling tbh.

| Adam Fantilli | “baby what’re you doing?” With a soft laugh, he’s so smiley as he bear hugs you and kisses all over your face and your chest. He doesn’t kiss your breasts but he does tell you how beautiful you are and how much he loves and appreciates you.

| Cole Caufield | He finds it funny, definitely asks what you’re up too but he’ll absolutely initiate some sexy time because why not.

| Quinn Hughes | eyes go wide, very confused as to why you’re flashing him in the middle of your living room. Slightly panicked because some of the blinds are open even though you guys live on one of the highest levels. He’ll tell you that you look gorgeous but politely pull your shirt down and drag you to the bedroom.

| Matt Rempe | Giggles and tells you how beautiful you are, he’s a very big fan of you and he makes sure to show you. He’s not sure what he did to deserve being flashed on a random afternoon but he’s making the absolute most out of it.

| Arber Xhekaj | Another confused man but he’s also honored because you’re gorgeous and you’re showing him one of his favorite things about you. He’s takes you to the bedroom and gets to work, laughs when you tell him you did it just to do it later in the day.

| Mackie Samoskevich | Blushes so damn hard, gets a little shy but he’s also very turned on. “What’s this for??” As he’s doing his best to remain seated and not rush for them like a madman.

[hischierslovergirl]

“I don’t like them all looking at you.” with Luke Hughes please 🥺🙏

Thank you so much for requesting! xx

Spending the summer with Luke was something you had been looking forward to since he asked you all those months ago, and now it was finally here. You had arrived in Michigan a few days ago with Luke and Jack, spending the time since then getting settled in to their lake house and waiting for a few of their friends to arrive. It was a quiet and relaxing start to what would likely be a busy and loud next few weeks, but you weren’t complaining. You were ready for it.

The house was stocked full of hockey players, beer, and a whole lot of food by the fifth day of the trip. They had been running around practically since the sun had come up, making sure they had everything they needed for their first big get together of the summer. Luke mentioned that a few of the guys had, thankfully, invited their girlfriends or girls that they knew around the area, and you were appreciative to not have to drown in that much testosterone by yourself. You loved Luke and his friends, but they could be a bit too much for you to handle all by yourself on occasion.

“Luke, stop making out with your girlfriend and help me get the chairs out,” Jack yelled from down stairs as you walked out of the bathroom.

“I’m coming,” He shouted back, mumbling under his breath in annoyance as he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Duty calls,” You giggle at him as you pull open the drawer that contained your bathing suits, “Go help them. I’ll meet you guys outside.”

With a swift kiss to your temple, Luke begrudgingly joins the boys down stairs to help them with whatever they forced him in to. You slipped into a red bikini that accentuated you in all the right ways before grabbing one of Luke’s t-shirts to use as a coverup. Once you found the sunscreen and a couple of towels tucked under your arm, you made your way down the stairs and towards the pool.

You heard everyone before you could see them, an aggressive mixture of light arguing and cheerful shouting filtering in through the open door. Though you weren’t all that surprised given how many people had planned to come. The second you stepped through the door, you could feel the sun beating down on your skin and it made you let out a quiet sigh of content. This was your favorite time of the year, and you couldn’t be happier now that it was finally back.

“Hey! I’m Dylan, one of Luke’s buddies from school,” A face you had seen in many pictures introduced, holding his hand out towards you, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hopefully good things,” You playfully snicker as you shake his hand, glancing at Luke who was carrying a bunch of outdoor chairs while Jack pointed to a spot by the pool.

“Oh, trust me. We’ve all heard very good things,” Another boy interjected. A boy you recognized to be Ethan, if your memory proved to be correct.

“Right,” You drawl, subtly raising your brows at them as you retract your hand, “Well, I’m gonna go.”

You left the two twenty year olds behind as you made a beeline towards your boyfriend, who was now graciously free from the labor he was forced into. He was wiping away at the sweat on his forehead, his biceps flexing in a way that made your cheeks warm, as he tried to catch his breath. Luke had always had an affinity for knowing when you were near before you got to him, and today was no exception as he abandoned his conversation with his brother to find you.

“Hi, baby,” You lightly greeted, giving him a small smile, “Ready to go for a swim?”

“You have no idea,” He eagerly rushes out before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

You follow Luke to one of the empty lounge chairs, placing your towels on the backs of them before stepping out of your shoes and slipped the shirt over your head. A small bout of silence suddenly fell over the group around you, and you could see Luke’s eyes narrow on those that were already in the pool. You peeked over your shoulder, quietly chuckling when you noticed that everyone was dramatically glancing everywhere but in your direction.

“Hey! Quit ogling,” He shouts, shifting to stand in front of you, “You too, Alyssa!”

For the next two hours, you spent the majority of your time switching from playing various pool games with everyone, or lounging on one of the chairs with some of the other girls. You could feel the occasional pair of eyes linger on you for too long, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Luke did, though.

You were in the kitchen talking with Mark’s girlfriend when Luke walked through the back door with his lips turned down at the corners. His hair was damp from the pool, his cheeks and shoulders tinged red from the sun, but he looked like someone had wrongfully insulted his hockey skills. Farah exchanged a knowing look with you before she excused herself and slipped past Luke, who didn’t even glance in her direction.

“You okay,” You called out, meeting Luke as he leaned against the center island.

“No,” He groaned, finally meeting your gaze when you slid your hands around the back of his neck. His hands instantly found purchase on your hips before he began to massage the skin underneath his fingers.

“What’s wrong, baby,” You delicately ask as you slightly tilt your head and absentmindedly twirl his curls around your fingers.

“Everyone keeps staring at you in your bathing suit,” He murmurs, jutting his lip out in a pout, “I don’t like them all looking at you. I know you’re hot, but you’re my girlfriend. They can’t look at you.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth to keep yourself from giggling, flattening your palm at the nape of his neck. His hands slid from your hips to wrap around your waist and press you closer against him, your hot skin slightly sticking together.

“Luke, you can’t stop people from looking,” You started, quickly continuing when his eyes widened in panic, “But that’s all they can do. You’re the only one who can do anything more than that. You’re the only one who can touch—”

Luke cuts you off by swooping down and slamming his lips on yours, using the leverage he has on you to slightly lift you off your feet. It was short and simple, but it was also a promise. A promise that he was going to put all the privileges he had as your boyfriend to use later.

[deslizada]

first thank you for all this info and explanation, it's super helpful!! I am a baby ML and I've recently been working with the local Revolutionary Communists of America chapter (used to be IMT), but I did have some concerns about them. It would be really good to hear from a non-trot about my experiences. This is focused on modern Trotskyism, not Trotsky as a person, who imo was kind of a bitch.

First some background, I live in [city redacted] and most of the leftists here are anarchists, so getting any of them together is like herding cats. The PSL (Party for Socialism and Liberation) and the RCA are really the only organized leftist groups here. I found the RCA through student strike for Palestine organizing at the local DSA meeting. They have done a lot of work with Palestine action groups and were at the university divestment encampment, which was a good sign for me. I decided to organize with the RCA because the PSL (or at least my local chapter) supports a two-state solution in Palestine and denies that the Uyghur ethnic cleansing is happening, among other things. Also, my local PSL chapter does a lot of agitating but not much in terms of education or long-term organizing. The RCA seems focused on building a vanguard party for the long term with a thorough theoretical education, which imo is the only viable strategy in the US at this point given the (almost) complete lack of revolutionary potential right now.

In terms of my personal experiences, I will say that the RCA does uphold democratic centralism and focuses on the works of Marx and Lenin much more than Trotsky. (I have yet to be recommended anything written by Trotsky, actually.) They fully support revolutions outside the imperialist core and critically support existing socialist projects. Also imo they have a good analysis of current events, i.e. the situation in Syria, China's economic imperialism, how to combat imperialism internally in the US, etc. Their interpretation of permanent revolution is not "all countries must revolt at the same time", but rather "countries do not have to adhere to Marx's stage theory and can progress straight to socialism regardless of their previous conditions". (Caveat that I have no idea if this is a correct interpretation.) They do emphasize international coalition-building very heavily though. All this to say that my experiences with my local chapter have been generally good and I haven't run into any big red flags re: theory yet.

My first concern is that they do ask for one day's wages for monthly dues, which is a lot of income for me. There is a lot of focus on donating in general, and it's not clear where the money goes beyond supporting the few people who work for the party full-time and printing newspapers. However, they also say that anything over $25 a month is fine for dues, so I'm not super worried about it and I don't feel pressured or anything, I would just appreciate more financial clarity.

My second, bigger concern is that I've tried to bring up getting involved in mutual aid a few times, and it hasn't been received very well. The chairs of the chapter basically said that it was useful for personal development, but wouldn't actually contribute to bringing down capitalism, so it wasn't worth the party's time to do. They also said that it would basically be entryism to work with apolitical mutual aid groups (???). They said that their goal was recruiting people who are already communists but aren't organized and we should be focused on that instead. I don't disagree that that's important, I just also think that doing mutual aid explicitly as a communist party would be a really good way to 1. support the community 2. get a good reputation going for the party.

Also, not a huge concern but definitely worth noting, the local chapter is almost entirely students. I'm the oldest person in the group at 29. This means that it's fairly disorganized and nobody can show up on time to anything. They are not beating the allegations.

Also also I find Alan Woods' writing kind of unbearable and wish they would find some different authors.

I would really appreciate some feedback about whether I'm wasting my time with the RCA and should just shut up and join the PSL instead, or if there's a secret third option I don't know about. Anyone is welcome to chime in on this. Thanks again for all the work you put into this explanation, I really appreciate it!!!

I think it's fair to say there is interest in an explanation of trotskyism from a marxist-leninist perspective. Information on what exactly Trotsky did and what trotskyism is nowadays is complicated to come by unless you know a trotskyist willing to be straightforward or someone involved in organizing with these types of communists. So instead of answering these asks without much prior research or preparation, I decided to wait until I was freer, without too many academic and political responsibilities. Full disclosure, the portion of this post on Trotsky himself is essentially (though not completely) a summary of Moissaye J. Olgin's Trotskysim: Counter-revolution in Disguise, which gets into the basics of trotskyism as well as Trotsky's actual position on his contemporary issues, such as the Chinese revolution, or the CPUSA which I don't get into here but I highly recommend reading. The second portion, about modern trotskyism and how it got to be present in the countries that it is, is shorter and more based on my own experiences organizing with trotskyists as well as reading what they have to say, and conversations with much more knowledgeable comrades of mine.

What is trotskyism?

Succinctly, it is the form of left opposition to marxism-leninism that has enjoyed the most spread, spearheaded by Leon Trotsky and his criticisms of the USSR.

Trotsky himself, despite what his self-aggrandizing History of the Russian Revolution leads one to believe, was never a bolshevik, much less a leninist. The second Congress of the Russian Social-Democratic Labor Party¹ (RSDLP) of 1903, which sought to establish the bases of what would become the bolshevik party and the CPSU, saw the start of the menshevik-bolshevik split, on the issue of what the party should become and how it should be organized.

The bolsheviks, already lead by Lenin, defended the principles of organization that were later systematized into democratic-centralism. These principles were the freedom of discussion until the party decided by a majority vote during a Congress, Conference or other organ for discussion, a position on any issue. After this, unity of action should follow, and the comrades who held the minority opinion, even if they still disagree, should submit to the collectively agreed-upon position, and act on that line an all party matters. This is to ensure that the party of the proletariat, representing the interests of one class, is not divided, and is able to express that single will. Otherwise, its action is crippled by unending debates kept alive by a minority. Consequently, these principles also lead to the intolerance towards fractions within the party.

Trotsky, who aligned himself with the mensheviks, opposed these principles, instead advocating for a complete liberty of individual action of comrades in the party. He called Lenin "the great disorganizer of the party" over this. This is the first great pillar of trotskyism, a rejection of democratic-centralism in favor of the creation of endless cliques and fractions within the party, which he did multiple times within the CPSU until his expulsion.

The second great pillar of the trotskyist opposition that arose before the October Revolution was of defeatism regarding the peasantry. Especially after the defeat of the 1905 revolution, Trotsky was convinced that a successful revolution in a country such as the Russian Empire, where the peasantry was a majority and usually held reactionary positions due to various economic determinations², was impossible because these reactionary elements would inevitably overthrow a worker's dictatorship. While already an excessively defeatist position among other communists, and certainly not a bolshevik position, this belief did not change whether it was 1905, 1915, or 1935. Up to the end, even once the USSR had beaten the armed intervention of 14 armies and had transformed the peasantry by eliminating the class of kulaks and collectivizing agriculture, Trotsky's opposition to socialism in one country relied on the perception of an insurmountable reactionary class constantly on the edge of an overthrow. This is what the "permanent revolution", a term that when used by trotsky has nothing to do with the same term used by Marx and Engels, actually means. A defeatism so deep, that only the practically simultaneous and global victory of the proletariat is possible, all without party unity!

This also negates other leninist positions such as the weakest chain theory, crucial to understanding imperialism, or the necessity of a communist party altogether. Since socialism in one country will inevitably fail, Trotsky told workers that an armed insurrection once the conditions was right was pointless, and that they should instead work for a "worldwide revolution", something that's in practice impossible because it would necessitate a synchronization of the conditions necessary for a revolution in every single imperialist country at once. Unequal development is an unbreakable rule of the imperialist stage of capitalism, and the notion of a worldwide revolution or even a revolution among a significant portion of imperialist countries was already refuted by Lenin in 1915.

So how did Trotsky reconcile his defeatist dogmatism with a living and thriving proof against it in the form of the USSR? As the third great pillar of trotskyism, he insisted by every possible avenue that the USSR wasn't actually socialist, the reasons for which changed constantly. Some issues were already recognized by the CPSU and worked against, and Trotsky exaggerated them. He expressed concern about the Central Committee replacing the party itself, he expressed concern about bureaucratization, the NEP and its lack of collectivization, the excessive speed of collectivization in the 30s, and other criticisms which, when taken together, show only contradiction and a single consistent position: that any attack against the USSR was legitimate.

And it's not like he was being ignored in the USSR, he simply always chose the most incendiary and anti-leninist methods for criticism. In the 13th Congress of the RCP(b) of 1924, among other things, the resolution that was approved recognized many flaws in the party coming out of the NEP, but that these issues weren't actively dangerous and could be solved: bureaucratization in some areas, excessive departmentalization, some influence of bourgeois elements. This resolution was passed unanimously, which included Trotsky. Immediately after the Congress, he published a pamphlet called The New Course, in which he lambasts this Congress and the entire party as having degenerated. In this pamphlet he also places students as the "barometer of the revolution", instead of workers themselves. His only proposal to that Congress was one to allow "freedom of groupings", meaning the freedom to form fractions. Once again he pulled the same stunt in the 15th Congress of 1926; he publicly subscribed to a resolution that explicitly banned such fractions, and directly afterwards published more pamphlets that directly opposed the resolution that he subscribed to! This is not a man who levied fair criticisms and was shut down, he was someone who held minority positions, anti-leninist ones, and refused to admit it, to the point of plotting against the USSR.

But how come Trotsky, during his better known times in exile, claimed he was the true Leninist and that he opposed the Stalinist degeneration? This is the greatest example of a tactic he used constantly. To always seem like the rational critic, and to pass his opposition as one coming from another bolshevik, he always shifted the perspective of his criticisms. In the times of Lenin, Lenin was the "great disorganizer", and the "leader of the reactionary wing of the party"³. But once Lenin died, he became the most loyal foot-soldier of Leninism, crusading against the Stalinist corruption. Then it was Stalin who became Trotsky's devil, effortlessly transposing his criticisms of Lenin to Stalin, and shifting his perspective from that of a menshevik, to that of a true "bolshevik-leninist".

This tactic was used constantly. For instance. when he was still within the ranks of the party, he completely opposed the principles of democratic-centralism, but once he was in exile and had to criticize the Communist International, his issue suddenly became only that the bolshevik form of organization was being hastily applied to different contexts. Then, he really had no issue with democratic-centralism. When he talked of the possibility of a revolution in the US, then all his worries of an insurmountable reaction dissolved, instead becoming an optimist who believed that, actually, there would be no real significant class who would oppose a revolution in the US, and that therefore the USamerican workers should carry out a revolution "without compulsion". The very same person who over the course of decades insisted on the dangers of a counter-revolution apparently believed the workers of the USA had no opposition to fear. This was, rather, simply an opposition to the Communist International's analysis of imperialism, as Trotsky placed the most revolutionary potential in the countries where capitalism was most developed, the imperial core, the very same mistake Marx and Engels committed, except only 70 years prior and with no good framework with which to analyze imperialism. If Trotsky was truly a leninist, then he utterly failed at even beginning to understand anything about the theory regarding imperialism.

I think this is a good enough place to leave Trotsky be, and talk now about trotskyism beyond Trotsky.

Trotskyism, especially in its analysis of imperialism, is very attractive to the imperial core communist. It appeals to multiple sensibilities like individualism, an aversion to revolutionary discipline and work, and impatience. By putting the emphasis away from the party of our class and onto the group of individual ideologues, each with their own cliques and mini-parties, by completely disregarding the possibility of a revolution outside the top of the imperialist pyramid, and by also disregarding the possibility of a revolution until the instance of a total global victory, it is no wonder most trotskyists nowadays are found in the imperial core. This is, with the exception of a portion of Latin-American countries, which I think deserves its own explanation.

Latin America in the 20s and 30s was a continent⁴ of very differing levels of development of capitalism and the proletariat. When many European trotskyists left to Latin America for various reasons, it's no coincidence that they ended up mostly in the urban centers of the most developed countries, such as Argentina and México, where Trotsky himself ended his emigrations after exile. It was exported to places that had a significantly developed proletariat, places which up to that point lacked a culture of multiple communist parties, like Europe had, and places with a strong unionist movement. Other countries like Colombia, Ecuador or Perú, whose worker movements were more significantly indigenist and/or decolonial, along with not meeting the other conditions like Argentina and México, were less ripe for trotskyism.

The condition for a lack of a multi-party environment was important because the trotskyist opposition to the USSR collected all the "orphaned" communists who opposed the sections of the Communist International in each of their countries, especially after the Moscow trials of the late 30s which expanded the opposition to marxism-leninism internationally, as well as with other events like the Hungarian intervention after WW2. But besides this very specific phenomenon, product of a set of very specific conditions which, outside of the imperial core, were only met in these specific countries, the basis of trotskyism as an imperial core opposition to marxism-leninism remains.

So nowadays, trotskyists are mostly located in the imperial core, with those exceptions I've explained. And this leads me to the last part of this post, which is about organizing with trotskyists as a marxist-leninist. In short, it's not impossible but also not an extraordinary situation. Organizing in the imperial core varies from country to country, that much is clear, but the fragmentation into countless groups and sects, as well as the competition with social-democrats, is broadly consistent. These conditions, again generally, mean marxist-leninist parties in the imperial core have to collaborate with a myriad of communist offshoots, anarchists, and ill-defined "leftists" to achieve a broader reach. This includes trotskyists. What makes them in particular uniquely annoying to organize with is that they continue to pretend to be leninists despite all the discrepancies, so they tend to constitute competitors in agitation and rhetoric, while their internal organization usually resembles that of an anarchist group more than anything else. From this, other symptoms like a reliance on assemblyism (especially in the students' movement) and extreme levels of voluntarism naturally follow.

The IMT (International Marxist Tendency), or whichever acronym it is that they're using now, has a relevant presence in just the US and UK with a nominal one in most other imperial core countries. In all cases they're not much more than newspaper vendors who sometimes gives talks at best, and mere reading clubs or financially-extorting sects at worst. There is another international grouping of trotskyist parties that I've come across led by the PTA (Partido del Trabajo Argentino, Argentinian Labor Party), mostly linked via their news broadcast Izquierda Diario, although from what I've heard, the PTA finances their international "children" parties too. Of course, these groups all have different names in each country which in turn tend to change every few years.

Before the split of the Second International during WWI, communists called themselves social-democrats

The mode of production of the peasantry was very individualized, since each peasant or group of peasants lived partly from the fruits of their own labor, they didn't sell it in its entirety. This stands in contrast with the proletariat's completely socialized mode of production; every worker sells the entirety of their labor-power and sustains themself by purchasing commodities with their salary. The pre-existing socialization of production in capitalism was identified by Marx and Engels already in the Manifesto as one of the reasons for the proletariat being the revolutionary class by excellence. The reactionary tendencies of the peasantry wasn't wholly determined by this, it also depended on various historical and contextual reasons, but this should be better expanded on a dedicated post to social alliances.

These are all real insults thrown at Lenin by Trotsky when he disagreed about party discipline. The "true leninist", ladies and gentlemen

Using "continent" in a very loose way here. It's not like the common definitions of continent are very determined either. But you get what I mean

[shy2-29]

loot drop or love drop? ⚡︎ l.hs

╰┈➤ pairing: lee heeseung x reader

╰┈➤ wc: 1.5k

╰┈➤ synopsis: Your boyfriend, who you had missed all day, had barely acknowledged your presence since you got home. All you had gotten was a muttered "hi baby, missed you" before he returned to his screen. Was his game seriously more important than his own girlfriend?

╰┈➤ genre: fluff, romance, gamer x girlfriend

╰┈➤ warnings: skin ship, pet names, literally it

masterlist / requests open

Arriving at your shared apartment, you couldn’t contain your excitement after a long day at work. Thoughts of Heeseung, his smile, and his warm embrace filled your mind.

You eagerly dropped your bag near the door and walked in silently, anticipating the wonderful moment of reuniting with your boyfriend. If one thing’s for sure, you missed him like crazy.

Heeseung's eyes were laser-focused on the screen, his fingers dancing across the keyboard in a blur, seemingly oblivious to your arrival.

The glow of the monitor illuminated his face, highlighting the contours of his jaw and casting a soft shadow beneath his intense gaze. It was obvious that he was immersed in the heat of the game, barely registering the world around him.

"Dude!" your boyfriend exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and wheeling his chair back from the desk. A hint of frustration tinged his voice as he spoke, "We almost died because of you!"

He let out a huff of annoyance, the veins in his forearms slightly more prominent as he clenched his fists in mid-air. His frustration was evident in his tense body language and the slight downturn of his lips.

It was clear that the game had tested his patience, as he let out a stream of hushed expletives, seemingly unaware that you were standing behind him, witnessing his moment of irritation.

You chuckled softly, amused by his dramatic reaction, and crept up behind him. With a playful tone, you wrapped your arms gently around his neck and whispered, attempting to surprise him. "Guess who?"

He startled at the sudden touch, his shoulders tensing for a brief moment before he turned his head towards you, surprise evident in his eyes. The initial shock quickly melted into a warm smile as he recognized your voice. "You scared me," he chuckled, tilting his head to nuzzle against your arm that was draped around his neck. "Hey, I missed you."

He smiles faintly as he feels your kiss on his forehead. Then, without much enthusiasm or greeting, he speaks to his mic, saying, "Oh, it's just y/n." The lack of excitement in his tone is palpable.

Your heart sank at his lukewarm response. It was as if you were an afterthought, a mere distraction from the main event of his gaming session. The way he casually dismissed your presence with a flat tone stung.

There was no warmth in his greeting, no indication of genuine happiness in seeing you. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it was just his focus on the game talking, but deep down, it still hurt.

Feeling impatient, you spent 30 minutes doing chores while waiting for your boyfriend to finish his game. You eventually poked your head into the room and asked with a hint of annoyance, "Are you done yet?"

Heeseung, still absorbed in his game, didn’t respond right away. After a few more moments, he finally glanced over at you and replied, “Almost done, just a few more minutes.” His tone was somewhat dismissive, as if your presence and patience had already been accounted for in his mental tally.

So you decided to distract yourself again by making some Galbae, aka pear juice, Heeseung’s favorite. 10 minutes went by and you practically waltz into the room, handing him a glass cup full of galbae.

Heeseung accepted the glass of galbae you had lovingly prepared for him, taking a grateful sip. "Thanks," he muttered, his attention still divided between his game and your gesture. Despite his brief moment of appreciation, his focus quickly returned to his game, as he continued his intense gaming session, seemingly undisturbed by your attempt to reclaim his attention.

Hours ticked by and Heeseung showed no signs of slowing down. He was completely engrossed in the game, his eyes glued to the screen as he engaged in battle after battle, his friends’ voices a constant backdrop to the action.

As the night wore on, you found yourself feeling increasingly neglected and frustrated, your attempts to engage with him falling on deaf ears as he remained absorbed in his digital world.

Frustration mounting, you crawled out of bed, grabbed the headphones from your boyfriend, silencing his game. "Sorry, boys, Heeseung has to go," you announced, cutting him off mid-game.

Before placing the headphones down, you caught snatches of his friends' laughter and jokes at his expense.

Heeseung’s eyes widened in disbelief as you snatched away his headphones, abruptly ending his gaming session. He tried to protest, but before he could say anything, you had already cut him off and bid farewell to his friends.

As you placed the headphones down, the sound of his friends' laughter and playful teasing filled the room, adding to his mounting embarrassment.

"What the hell, y/n," he exclaimed, frustration and annoyance etched on his face. "I was in the middle of something important."

You couldn’t help but tease him, your voice laced with a hint of playful sarcasm. "What could you be possibly doing right now that’s important than your own girlfriend?" The question hangs in the air as you wait for his response, still holding onto the headphones as you look at him.

Heeseung bristled at your sarcastic tone, obviously feeling defensive. He let out a huff of irritation, his eyes narrowed. "I was gaming with my friends," he retorted, his voice filled with annoyance. "It's important to me. We were in the middle of an intense match."

You sighed, feeling a mix of affection and frustration. He was like a little kid. "Hee... You've been playing for hours since I've been home. Do you know how much I just wanted to come home from work and spend time with you?” Your voice carried a hint of hurt and disappointment as you express your longing for his attention and company.

Heeseung was taken aback by your words, feeling a pang of guilt at the hurt in your voice. He hadn't realized how long he had been glued to his screen, completely immersing himself in his gaming world. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he immediately felt a wave of remorse wash over him.

"I... I didn’t mean to ignore you," he mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "I got carried away in the game, I guess."

He looked up at you, his gaze softened with a hint of apology. “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected. I guess I just got too caught up in the game and forgot how much time had passed.”

He took a deep breath and stood up from his chair, closing the distance between the two of you. He reached out and tentatively wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I should have been more mindful of spending time with you," he muttered, his voice filled with genuine regret. "You're way more important than any game, you know that, right?”

You melted into his embrace, feeling the sincerity in his words. It was reassuring to hear him acknowledge your importance in his life. He planted a tender kiss on the crown of your head, his grip on you tight.

After a moment, you broke the embrace and stepped back. You looked at him with slight amusement. "You know, if you had spent that time on me instead, I would’ve let you win the game," you teased, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Heiseung chuckled at your playful comment, a sheepish grin appearing on his face. He reached out and ruffled his hair, looking a bit sheepish. "Well, if I had known the prize was that good, I definitely would have chosen you over the game," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with affection.

He took a step closer to you, gently tugging on your wrist and pulling you back into his arms. "But seriously," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity, "I promise I'll spend more time with you, and less time glued to that stupid screen. I'd hate to miss out on any more moments with you."

A warm smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning into his embrace. "Apology accepted," you replied softly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "But I'll hold you to that promise of spending more time together."

You gave him a playful poke on the stomach before adding, "And no more sacrificing me for the game, okay? I'm waaay more valuable than any win or any of those things you pick up in the games."

Heeseung couldn't help but chuckle at your apparent ignorance regarding video games. "It’s called a loot drop y/n," he explained in a patronizing tone.

You rolled your eyes, playfully sticking out your tongue in response. "Yeah, yeah, loot drop, I get it," you retorted, feigning annoyance. "But come on, a bunch of digital items or me? I think it's pretty obvious which one's more valuable."

Heeseung wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you closer and nuzzling his face into your hair. "I know, I know," he chuckled, surrendering to your point. "You’re priceless, more precious than any loot drop in the world. How could I possibly choose anything over that?"

Uploading 4 fanfics in a day witn a total of over 15k words is crazy (for me) | masterlist

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Play with fire Pt 2- LN4 X Fem reader

Pairing: Lando x Y/n Fewtrell

Warnings: physical Fight

Notes: Here's the second part, it gets messy but I'm almost done with part 3, so it won't be long for it to get better. As always, feedback is really appreciated, and receiving requests.

Thanks for the love.

Part 1

_______

It was the sixth month anniversary with Lando and you had planned to spend one whole week together in Mónaco. As part of the plan, he leased a villa and invited Max, Pietra, and a couple friends to Nice for the last days of the summer break. A few days later he lied and told them he was needed back at the MTC a week early but convinced them to stay back for the remaining days, and you lied to your parents saying you were spending that week with Leah, your bff.

It was day 3 of eating junk food, watching trash TV, and having sex 24/7. You had never been more in love with the man sleeping beside you. Your head on his chest, his soft snoring so relaxing you had no idea how you would be able to fall asleep without him every night.

"Hey mate, are you here?" Your brother's voice made your heart stop. Were you dreaming? "Bob!" Yup, it was your brother.

"Lan, baby" you moved him softly enough not to scare him.

"Yaaaawww" He yawned loudly "Hi bab-"You covered his mouth. His eyes stared at you confused.

"Max is here" You whispered.

"What?"

"Lando, are you here mate? Your car is in the garage" You could see his soul leave his body.

"What is he doing here?" you asked

"No idea!"

You heard a suitcase rolling down the hallway.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" You started panicking.

"Shh, everything is going to be ok. Stay here" he kissed your lips and stood up, putting on his boxers and joggers. "Be right back" he whispered, and walked out, closing the door behind him. You stood up, put on your pajamas, and rushed to press your ear to the door.

"Hey Mate"

"Oh hey, I thought you were at the MTC"

"Oh, yeah, we finished early"

"It's Wednesday, I thought you were staying there the whole week"

"Yeah, nah, came back this morning"

"That must be a record"

"Yeah, great results"

"Sounds like it"

"What are you doing here?" Lando was trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but damn was he a bad actor.

"Oh, I messaged you yesterday, P, wasn't feeling well so we decided to return early. You didn't get it?"

"I...I don't even know where I left my phone"

"Oook" Your brother stared at Lando trying to figure out why he was behaving weirdly.

"So, I'm hungry. Do you want to go eat something? Do you want to go get some pizza?" Lando tried to get Max away from the house so you had enough time to figure out a plan. As much as he had been waiting and begging for you to come clean, this was not how he would like to do it.

"Nah, thanks. Actually, P is downstairs sleeping in the car. Plus, I'm not sure if I'm tired from the drive or if I've caught whatever she has; I feel weird, so I'm just taking a quick shower, and I'll spend the night over at her hotel in case she needs something."

"Oh, ok, yeah, that sounds good" You and Lando could finally breathe.

"Are you ok mate? You look flustered"

"Yeah, nah, I'm just tired, it's been quite a week"

"Yeah, I imagine. I'm going to take a quick shower and will be out of here so you can rest"

"Ok, fine, yes"

Your brother went to the guest room, Lando waited until Max's door was closed to go inside his.

"Fuck, that was scary" You whispered still worried Max could hear you from across the hall. "And you're such a terrible actor"

"Hey, I'm not that bad"

"Yeah, you are" You hugged him, placing your head against his chest as his hands caressed your hair. The sound of the shower calming your rushing hearts.

"I have to admit tho" He pushed you away lightly so you were facing him. "This was kind of hot"

"What?"

"Yeah, like this rush, it makes me almost not want to tell him and see how much we can keep sneaking around"

"You're sick" You stared at him, a half smile on your face.

"This is what you've done to me, you've made me a sick, obsessed, unsatiable man" He made a fist with your hair and pulled you to join your lips in a wild kiss.

"Mate, do you have-" Your brother knocked on Lando's door but opened it immediately, a beautiful habit he's had since childhood.

You all stared at each other in shock.

It was a scene straight out of a comedy or a horror movie, depending on who you asked.

You could see your bother's mouth trying to voice his thoughts, but there were too many. The moment you saw his jaw clench you knew you had to speak before Lando did. You loved the man but even with all the PR training, he was the worst at this kind of situation.

"Max, listen" You started in a low voice, taking a step toward him without letting go of Lando's hand. Your bother just raised his hand, one finger up signaling you to wait. "Max, everything's fine, ok?"

"No" He said, his voice so low it was almost scary

"Yes" You tried to remain calm, and so did Lando but the thigh grip he had on your hand told you he was as nervous as you.

"You're fucking my little sister?" He finally voiced the loudest thought in his head, his eyes piercing holes into Lando's.

Not that you were sensitive to the word fuck, but this time it made your skin crawl, being used by your brother to describe what you and Lando had felt just wrong.

"Mate, wait" Lando mimicked your calm voice.

"I'm not your mate!" Your brother raised his voice and you squeezed Lando's hand as a silent request to remain calm. "Mates-don't-fuck- their-mates-sisters" You could see his arms tense, his fingers white from the tight fists.

"We're not fucking" He answered.

"Oh no? Then what's happening here?" He walked in the room pacing around in a frenetic way.

"Both your clothes everywhere, the bed a fucking mess, the condom box on the nightstand? Tell me Lando, what is it that I'm seeing?"

"Max, listen" Max's eyes fixed on your intertwined fingers.

"You shut up, wait until Mom and Dad know about this"

"Don't talk to her like that" Lando tried to defend you but you placed your hand on his chest trying to hold him back.

"I'm not a child anymore Max, I'm a grown-up"

"Oh please, you're a freaking child, and fucking Lando proves it"

"Whether you like it or not, I'm an adult now, and I get to choose who I date, no matter what you or our parents have to say about it"

"Date? You're dating him?"

"Yes" You answered confidently.

"Listen, mate, I love her, ok?" His voice in a calm yet confident tone that made your heart rush with love.

"I'm going to kill you"

"Max" You could read in his body language he was about to lose it.

"I'm going to kill you, Lando"

"Max, wait, please" You tried to place yourself between them but before you knew it your brother was pushing Lando against one of the walls, his forearm pressing his neck as he pushed him hard, Lando tried to push Max away without hurting him.

"Max, wait, what the fuck?" You tried to get close to them.

"Y/n, no, stand back" Lando yelled at you when he saw you were getting closer.

"You're a fucking morron" Your brother kept pushing Lando against the wall.

You rushed to the nightstand and took your phone from the charger ringing Pietra.

"Hello?" The calm sleepy voice on the other side of the line was the complete opposite of the scene right in front of you. You felt bad for bringing her into this, but you needed help to get your bother to calm down, and she was your best option.

"P, you need to get up here, please"

"Y/n? Where are you?"

"Lando's apartment, please, get up here now!" You hung up hoping she was on her way.

"Mate, listen to me, I swear to God, this is not what you think" Lando tried to use his calmest voice possible, trying just to cover himself from the fists being thrown around by your brother.

"Max, stop it! You're behaving like an animal, stop!" You tried to get your brother off your boyfriend but he kept pushing you back.

You heard the door panel beep and then the door opened.

"Over here!" you yelled trying to lead her to the master bedroom, not that the sound of stuff being thrown around wasn't going to lead her there anyway,

"What's happening?" She stared in shock at the scene in front of her "Max, stop it" She tried to approach the fighting men but they pushed her back too.

"Maximilian, you have to calm down, now!" P's voice actually worked, getting your brother to stand back.

"P, this is between Lando and me"

"No, it's not!" You yelled back at him.

"You shut up! Grab your things, you're coming with me right away"

"No"

"Y/n, I'm not playing!"

"Neither am I, I'm not leaving with you, Max"

"Aaaahhh" Your brother screamed and squatted down covering his head with his hands. Pietra was about to walk over to him but you stopped her, asking her to let you go first.

"Max" You said softly walking over to him. Slowly you placed your hand over his shoulder "Max, please you have to listen to us, please"

"Screw you two" He stood up, took P's hand, and walked out of the apartment slamming the front door.

You sighted in defeat, at least he wasn't punching Lando anymore, but it was so painful to see your brother so hurt.

"Baby" You walked over to Lando who was walking back to the bed, holding his ribcage "Are you ok?"

"Yes, I've had worst on track"

"Let me see" You held his face inspecting it, he had a couple of red bruises here and there, but most of the damage had been done to his chest and shoulders. You started shaking.

"Baby" You hugged him, falling to your knees in front of him, tears finally flooding your eyes.

"Shhh it's ok, it will all be ok" He hugged you tightly against his chest, he could feel slight pain but soothing you was more important.

He pulled you up and placed you on the bed, holding your thigh against him.

"It will be ok" he said softly against your hair.

"I know" You answered back between sobs.

"Well, the cat's out of the bag" Lando tried to joke the tension away.

"You think we should've told him sooner?"

"He might have reacted the same, so I'm afraid any time would've led to the same result"

You remained on the bed, with many questions in your heads. Now that Max knew you had to tell your parents, he would probably do everything he could to have them on his side. What was going to happen to Quadrant? Not that Lando didn't trust he could convince Max this wasn't a bad thing, but fear lingered there.

You stood from the bed and started picking up the mess the fight had left.

"Baby come here-"

"Lan, this helps me, let me just... if I can't fix the situation I can at least fix this"

He stood up and helped you clean.

After what felt like an hour or two your phone dinged.

Pi 🌸 Max is calm now, he has agreed to go back up and talk with you guys, we'll be up in a second, but please no PDA for now!

"Lan, they're coming back up, let's go sit in the living room"

"So he can break more stuff?" You stared at Lando "Sorry, no more jokes"

"And no hand holding or kissing, or hugging"

"Are you serious?"

"Just until we get him to listen to everything we have to say"

"Fine"

You waited for your brother in the living room, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa.

You heard the lock panel and your heart rushed. Your brother opened the door letting Pietra in first, she walked all the way next to the sofa but your brother remained at the door.

"Ok, I'm here, talk" His voice was a version you had never heard before.

"Max, we're sorry we didn't come forward about this sooner, I'm sorry, I just, I had no idea how to tell you" You spoke first.

A sarcastic snort left his body as he crossed his arms.

"Love" Pietra stared at him.

"Fine, continue" He rolled his eyes.

If only your brother knew he was responsible for this happening.

______________________________

Part 1

If I missed someone on the tag list let me know, also let me know if you'd like to be added.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch, @f1fantasys, @formulaal

[mingi-s-dimples]

Cost of Entry - sangi *300 followers special*

andddd here it is! thank you so, so much for 300 followers! it means everything to me! I love every single one of you 🤍

pairing: mafia leaders!sangi × fem!reader

genre: 18+, mafia au, filth

summary: you just wanted a break from everything.. and you decide to sneak in the VIP section. One of the best choices in your life.. despite the dangers lurking in.

wc: 9.4k (half plot/half smut)

warnings: mafia au, possessive and controlled!san, drunk and teasy!mingi, bratty f!reader, drunken confession (mingi), teasing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol ingestion (mingi), drunk sex (mingi was wasted), lots of cum, multiple orgasms, san eats her out, mingi is loud, san is a calm controlled storm until he isn't and mingi is ravished all over, enemies to lovers slightly more like forbidden encounter, double penetration, 3some, a singular degradation *slut*, choking, head pushing, oral (f and mingi receiving), manhandling, bulge kink (the one where reader gets turned on by seeing.. mingi’s bulge), size kink, some making out, some praise, unprotected (wrap up irl!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: I feel like I improved so much since I first started writing... and it’s been a while since then 🥹 I don't care about the following whatsoever, but seeing all of you like, reblog, and appreciate my work is so fulfilling for me. School and life in general have been shit these past couple of months, starting with October, and I'm so grateful for everyone that waited for the kinktober fics 😭 I know it took me ages to write them but, hey! we're done, and I hope all my readers have had time to read everything ^^ watch out for three requests and one New Year's Eve Special (it's gonna be steamy 🤗)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and doesn't represent the reality of the members in any way.

The club was alive with an almost oppressive energy, and the air was thick with heat, sweat, and the faint sting of alcohol, mingling into something intoxicating. People moved like shadows across the dance floor, their faces blurred under flashing lights and clouds of smoke. The space was designed to disorient, to make you forget time and place.

You hadn’t planned to end up here.

Your life had been spiraling lately—work stress, personal struggles, and the kind of exhaustion that made everything feel heavier. Tonight, you’d needed a change, an escape from the suffocating routine of your life. But as you wove your way through the crowd, sober and increasingly overwhelmed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t quite fit.

And then you saw it—the VIP section.

It was set apart from the rest of the club, a raised platform encircled by a sleek black rope. The lighting was softer there, casting an ambient glow over the space. Plush leather couches and polished tables hinted at luxury, while the guests seated within exuded something else entirely—an aura of power. It wasn’t the kind of wealth that came from successful businesses or old money; this was something sharper, more dangerous.

You didn’t know the specifics, but you’d heard whispers. The people who occupied those seats weren’t just rich; they were the kind of people you wouldn't usually meet. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t get too close.

But tonight, curiosity—or maybe desperation—got the better of you.

You watched the bouncers for a moment, waiting until one of them turned to speak to someone at the entrance. Then, with your heart hammering in your chest, you ducked under the rope. It was a calculated risk, but as you stepped into the VIP section, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The music was still present, but muted, as though the space itself demanded quiet. The people here weren’t shouting over the bass like the crowd below; their conversations were low and deliberate.

You hesitated, your steps faltering as your eyes scanned the room.

That’s when you saw them.

Two men occupied the largest couch, a bottle of expensive whiskey on the table between them. They were seated with a kind of confidence that drew attention without effort, the kind of presence that made everyone else fade into the background.

The man on the left, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, exuded control. His dark hair was slicked back, and his sharp jawline caught the light as he leaned back in his seat. His gaze was steady and piercing, scanning the room like he was cataloging every threat, every movement. Something about him was almost surgical in its precision, his presence commanding without needing to speak.

The other man was a striking contrast. His posture was looser, his energy more chaotic. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a hint of tattoos beneath. He held his drink lazily, swirling the liquid as he leaned forward to say something to his companion. Where the first man was sharp and quiet, this one was wild, his energy buzzing beneath the surface like a storm waiting to break.

They were magnetic.

You didn’t know who they were, not exactly, but you didn’t need to. The air around them crackled with something electric, and your instincts screamed at you to turn back. These were not men you messed with. But before you could make your escape, their attention shifted.

The man in the suit noticed you first. His gaze snapped to you, sharp as a blade, and you froze under the weight of it. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was cold, calculated.

“Someone’s feeling brave,” he murmured, his voice smooth and quiet but carrying an edge that made your pulse race.

His companion followed his gaze, his expression twisting into something halfway between amusement and curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes raked over you. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice rough and teasing. “What’s this? Lost your way, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat before you managed to find words. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just... I needed a break.”

The suited man tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “A break,” he echoed, as though the word was unfamiliar to him.

“From what?” his companion pressed, his tone almost playful.

“I—” You hesitated, feeling their eyes on you, dissecting you. “From everything.”

The man in the suit leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his knuckles as he studied you. “Interesting choice of refuge,” he remarked, his voice soft but cutting.

His companion chuckled, low and rough, as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and poured a generous amount into an empty glass. “You know what they say: When in Rome.” He slid the glass toward you, his smirk widening. “Drink. You’ll need it.”

You stared at the glass, your mind racing.

“She doesn’t drink,” the suited man observed, his gaze never leaving you.

You met his eyes, your voice steadier than you felt. “How do you know that?”

His smirk deepened. “You’re still standing upright, and your shoes are in one piece.”

San's words lingered in the air, his sharp gaze still locked onto yours. There was a weight to his presence that made it hard to look away, as if he was silently daring you to say something—anything—that might amuse him. Mingi, on the other hand, was all energy and movement, the chaos to San’s calm. He leaned back with a smirk, his glass dangling loosely between his fingers as he looked at you like you were the night’s entertainment.

“Cat got your tongue?” Mingi teased, his deep voice carrying just enough bite to make your cheeks flush.

You squared your shoulders, willing yourself not to let their intensity overwhelm you. “I didn’t realize needing a break required permission,” you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Mingi’s grin widened, and he let out a low chuckle. “Feisty. I like her.”

San didn’t smile, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “You should choose your words carefully,” he said, his tone calm but cold. “You’re in a space where even the smallest mistake can have... consequences.”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Noted.”

Mingi set his glass down with a deliberate clink, then rose from his seat. He was tall—taller than you’d realized—and every step he took toward you felt like a test. When he reached your side, he sat down on the couch, the leather creaking softly under his weight. His broad shoulders and long legs made the space feel impossibly small, his proximity overwhelming.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Mingi asked, his voice low as he leaned closer. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another drink.

Your pulse quickened as his thigh brushed against yours, the heat of his body seeping into you. He didn’t touch you outright, but the way his arm draped over the back of the couch—his fingers just inches from your shoulder—made it clear he was testing boundaries.

San’s gaze flicked to Mingi, his expression unreadable. “You’ve had enough.”

Mingi snorted, swirling the whiskey in his glass before downing it in one gulp. “I’ll decide when I’ve had enough.” He set the glass down with more force this time.

“Mingi.” San’s voice was sharper now, carrying an authority that made the air feel heavier. “Enough.”

Mingi ignored him, his attention fully on you now. His hand brushed your shoulder, his touch deliberate as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re awfully quiet for someone bold enough to crash our table,” he murmured, his tone dark and teasing.

You shivered under his gaze, unsure whether it was fear or something else entirely.

“Mingi,” San said again, his voice colder this time. “Stop. You’re scaring her.”

But before Mingi could respond, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay.”

San’s sharp gaze snapped to you, his expression unreadable. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your cheeks warming as you whispered, “Yes.”

Mingi’s grin returned, this time more feral. He turned back to San, gesturing at you with a lazy wave of his hand. “See? She’s fine.” Then he leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief and menace as he added, “Not like she had much of a choice anyway. She’s in our territory now, and what’s in our territory...” He let the words hang in the air for a moment before finishing with a smirk, “...is ours to play with.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of their meaning pressing down on you.

San’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at Mingi. “That’s enough.”

Mingi only laughed, the sound low and dangerous, as he sat back and grabbed the bottle of whiskey again. “Relax, San. You’re always so uptight. She’s not running.”

You glanced between them, your heart racing as the tension crackled like a live wire.

Mingi’s body was a furnace beside you, radiating heat as he poured himself yet another glass of whiskey. His movements were slower now, less precise, but his grin was as sharp as ever. You could tell he was far gone—the slight slur to his words, the way his fingers occasionally fumbled for the glass—but it didn’t seem to bother him.

San, on the other hand, was the picture of control. He sipped his drink slowly, his sharp eyes flicking between you and Mingi like a predator assessing the situation.

“You’re really not going to join in?” Mingi teased, leaning back against the couch and spreading his legs a little wider. His arm stretched out behind you, his fingertips brushing your shoulder as he spoke. “You’re missing out, San. She’s... something else.”

San arched a brow, his lips quirking in a faint smirk. “Unlike you, I know how to pace myself.”

Mingi chuckled, the sound rough and low as he turned his attention back to you. “Pacing is fucking overrated.” His hand drifted lower, his fingers trailing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

The club around you seemed to fade into the background, the music a dull thrum as Mingi’s touch became more deliberate. His fingers brushed against your waist, testing, teasing. You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. And then you saw it—a noticeable bulge forming in his pants, pressing against the fabric.

Your cheeks burned, and you tried to look away, but your eyes kept flicking back to it. Mingi caught the direction of your gaze and grinned, leaning closer so his breath tickled your ear. “See something you like?”

Your hand trembled as it moved, almost of its own accord, resting lightly on his thigh. His grin faltered for a split second, surprise flickering in his eyes before it was replaced with something darker, hungrier.

San let out a low chuckle, drawing your attention back to him. “Brave,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “But you shouldn’t be here. You’ve got no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

You frowned, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing. “And why is that?”

San leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes bore into yours. “Because we’re not the kind of men you walk away from,” he said, his tone cold and deliberate. “We’re mafia leaders, sweetheart. Every choice you make with us has consequences.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you could fully process them, Mingi let out a bark of laughter. “Mafia leaders, consequences... You’re scaring her, San.” He turned to you, his hand sliding a little higher on your waist as he smirked. “Don’t listen to him. You’re already here. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

San’s gaze flicked to Mingi, his expression unreadable. “You’re not exactly helping your case, Mingi.”

Mingi ignored him, his focus entirely on you. His eyes roamed over your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts. “You know,” he said, his voice rough and slurred, “you’re driving me insane. The way you walked in here like you owned the place... That bold little attitude of yours. And don’t even get me started on this body.” His hand squeezed your waist gently, his fingers pressing into your skin. “Your waist, your thighs, those perfect—”

“Mingi,” San interrupted, his voice sharp, though there was an edge of amusement in his tone.

“What?” Mingi shot back, his grin widening as he leaned closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m just being honest. She deserves to know how fucking gorgeous she is.”

You felt your heart racing, the heat of Mingi’s words and touch sending a confusing mix of adrenaline and desire coursing through you. Your gaze darted to San, whose smirk deepened as he leaned back, watching the scene unfold like it was some sort of game.

“She doesn’t belong here,” San said after a moment, his tone soft but firm. “And if she has any sense, she’ll leave before it’s too late.”

Mingi let out another laugh, shaking his head. “Too late for what? She’s already in our territory.” His hand moved again, brushing lightly against your hip as his grin turned wicked. “And as I said.. what’s in our territory... is ours.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, his rough, drunken demeanor making the statement feel both dangerous and thrilling. San’s expression shifted slightly, his smirk fading as he studied your reaction.

“Well?” San asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Do you want to stay?”

Your hand tightened slightly on Mingi’s thigh, your body betraying you even as your mind screamed at you to be careful. You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Mingi’s grin widened, and he let out a low growl of approval. “Smart girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding to rest on your lower back. “I knew you’d be fun.”

San chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

San’s glass clinked softly as he set it down on the table, the whiskey within barely touched. His movements were deliberate, calculated, as he rose from his seat. The room seemed to shift around him, his presence commanding enough to silence even Mingi’s drunken teasing.

He stopped directly in front of you, looming but not overbearing, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. For a moment, he simply stared, his expression unreadable, the corners of his lips twitching as though he were debating whether to smirk or scowl.

Then, without warning, he reached for the whiskey bottle, filling his glass to the brim. He tilted his head back and downed the entire thing in one smooth motion, his throat working as the liquid disappeared. When he lowered the glass, his dark eyes met yours, burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

San leaned down, his face inches from yours. His hand brushed the back of the couch, caging you in without touching you. His voice was low, a near-whisper that somehow drowned out the pounding bass of the club.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Sneaking in here, testing us. But let me make one thing clear.” He paused, his lips barely brushing your skin as he spoke again, each word slow and deliberate. “You’ll regret it if you mistake this for mercy. I am not the man who lets you walk away unscathed.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, his tone dripping with something dark and forbidden. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, caught in the gravity of his presence. And then, just as suddenly as he leaned in, he straightened, his face an unreadable mask once more.

“Enough,” San said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. His gaze flicked to Mingi, who was still leaning against you, his hand idly tracing circles on your hip. “Stop.”

Mingi scowled, his drunken grin faltering for the first time. “What’s your problem, San? She’s fine.”

San’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he turned away, pulling his phone from his pocket. “She’s coming with us.”

Before you could fully process his words, San pressed the phone to his ear, speaking in clipped tones. “Bring the car around. Now.”

The command was brief but absolute, and you didn’t doubt that whoever was on the other end of the call would obey without question. San hung up and turned back to the two of you, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

“Get up,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Mingi groaned but obeyed, standing and stretching lazily before offering you a hand. You hesitated for a second, glancing at San, who watched you. Finally, you took Mingi’s hand, and he helped you to your feet, his grip lingering just a little too long.

The three of you made your way through the VIP section, San leading the way with his usual precision and control. The club seemed to part around him, the crowd instinctively moving aside as he passed. Mingi stayed close to your side, his hand brushing yours occasionally, whether by accident or design, you weren’t sure.

When you reached the exit, a sleek black car was already waiting at the curb. The chauffeur stepped out to open the door, bowing his head slightly as San climbed in first.

Mingi gestured for you to follow, his grin returning as he leaned down to whisper, “After you, princess.”

You slid into the car, the cool leather seats a sharp contrast to the heat of the club. San was already seated, his gaze fixed out the window, his profile sharp in the dim light. Mingi climbed in after you, the door closing with a soft thud as the car pulled away from the curb.

The tension in the car was palpable, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. Mingi shifted beside you, his knee brushing against yours as he leaned back, his arm draping casually over the seat behind you.

San’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection for a brief moment before he looked away again. “This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re in over your head.”

Mingi laughed, the sound rough and carefree. “Don’t scare her off, San. She’s more fun than half the people we deal with.”

San didn’t respond, his focus returning to the city lights streaming past the window. You glanced between them, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“Relax,” Mingi murmured, his hand resting lightly on your thigh. His touch was warm, almost soothing, but the glint in his eyes was anything but. “We’re just getting started.”

The car continued its smooth journey, the cityscape blurring as you wondered what exactly you had just stepped into.

In the dim, confined space of the car, you shifted slightly, catching San’s reflection in the tinted window. He sat stiffly, his gaze fixed outside, the sharp angles of his jaw tightening every few moments. You could tell he was irritated—whether it was at you, Mingi, or the entire situation, you weren’t sure.

But something about his restrained demeanor, the tension radiating off him in waves, made you bold. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from sneaking into their space, or maybe it was the effect of Mingi’s earlier touch still tingling on your skin. Either way, you couldn’t resist.

“So, San,” you began, your voice light and teasing as you crossed your legs, the movement subtle but deliberate. “Always this uptight, or is it just when women crash your little mafia clubhouse?”

Mingi barked out a laugh, his arm still stretched lazily over the back of the seat. “She’s got a mouth on her, huh? I like it.”

San turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “Careful,” he warned, his voice quiet but dangerous.

You leaned forward just a bit, your smirk growing. “Or what? You’ll lecture me again? Maybe I should take notes. You seem like the type who likes to be... in control.”

The corner of Mingi’s mouth twitched as he tried to stifle another laugh, clearly enjoying the show. San, however, didn’t react immediately, his silence only fueling your determination.

“I mean,” you continued, feigning innocence as you leaned back against the seat, “you’re all about consequences, right? But it makes me wonder...” You let your gaze trail over him, slow and deliberate. “What would it take to get you to lose that cool composure of yours?”

San’s jaw ticked, his grip tightening briefly on the edge of his seat. The way he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring just slightly, told you you’d struck a nerve. Good.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of an imposing apartment building, its sleek façade gleaming under the city lights. San stepped out first, his movements stiff and controlled, as though he were holding himself together by sheer will. You followed, with Mingi stumbling slightly as he climbed out after you, muttering something about the uneven curb.

Inside the lobby, the tension didn’t ease. The three of you moved toward the elevator, Mingi swaying slightly as he leaned against the wall while San pressed the call button. The soft ding of the elevator’s arrival broke the silence, and the doors slid open.

The ride up was quiet at first. San pressed the button for the 25th floor, the soft hum of the elevator filling the small space. Mingi leaned against the corner, his head tipped back against the wall, but his drunken grin hadn’t faded.

You stood between them, your heart pounding as you stole a glance at San. His posture was rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Then the doors closed, and something in San snapped.

In one swift motion, he turned toward you, his hand reaching up to grip your jaw—not harshly, but firmly enough to make you gasp. He tilted your head up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a fire that burned through every ounce of control he’d been holding onto.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he growled, his voice low and rough, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

His free hand ghosted over your throat, his fingers barely brushing your skin as he leaned in, his lips so close you could feel the heat of his breath.

“You wanted to piss me off?” he continued, his tone both dangerous and unbearably sensual. “Congratulations. You did.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his grip tightening slightly as he added, “But let me make one thing clear—you don’t play games with me unless you’re ready for the consequences.”

Your breath hitched, your mind spinning as his words sank in. Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding, as though he was determined to claim every ounce of control you’d tried to take from him.

His kiss was a contradiction—hot and cold, restrained and wild. His hand remained on your throat, his fingers flexing just enough to remind you of the power he held without crossing a line.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “You drive me fucking insane,” he murmured, his voice raw. “That mouth of yours, the way you look at me like you’re daring me to lose control... You have no idea what you’ve started.”

Behind you, Mingi let out a low whistle, breaking the moment. “Damn, San. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

San straightened, his gaze never leaving yours as he ignored Mingi’s comment. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before stepping back, his composure slipping back into place like a mask.

The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival at the 25th floor. San gestured for you to step out first, his expression unreadable once more.

“Let’s go,” he said, his tone clipped but softer than before.

You stepped out of the elevator, your heart still racing as you followed them down the hallway. Whatever you’d walked into tonight, you knew one thing for certain—you weren’t walking away unscathed.

San’s demeanor changed the moment the door to the penthouse swung open. The space was vast and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. Sleek black leather furniture contrasted with the warm tones of wood paneling, and a massive crystal chandelier hung above the open living area, its light casting intricate patterns on the marble floor.

But none of it mattered—because as soon as the door clicked shut, San turned to you with a look that could melt steel.

“Bedroom. Now.”

You barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not painful, as he pulled you through the space. You caught glimpses of the penthouse as he led you—an open kitchen with gleaming stainless-steel appliances, a curved staircase leading to a second level, and finally, a door at the end of a hallway.

San pushed it open, revealing a massive bedroom. The centerpiece was a king-sized bed with a dark gray headboard, framed by sleek black nightstands. The room was minimalist but luxurious, the kind of place that radiated power and control.

Before you could take it all in, San was on you. His hands gripped your waist, spinning you around and backing you toward the bed. The edge of the mattress hit the backs of your knees, and he didn’t give you time to steady yourself before his hands moved to your shoulders, pushing you down with controlled force.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he said, his voice a low growl as he loomed over you. His dark eyes burned with a mix of anger and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. “Waltzing into my world, running that mouth of yours. Do you even understand what kind of fire you’re playing with?”

You met his gaze, refusing to back down even as your pulse raced. “Maybe I like the fire,” you shot back, your voice sharper than you expected. “Maybe I want to see just how far I can push you.”

San’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the bed on either side of you. “You think this is a game?” he said, his voice cold and biting. “You think you can just walk into my territory, challenge me, and get away with it?”

Your lips curved into a smirk, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “What if I do?”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Then, Mingi’s voice broke through, lazy and amused.

“Now this,” Mingi drawled, leaning against the doorframe with his usual casual confidence, “is entertaining.”

You turned your head to look at him, and your breath caught. Mingi had stripped off his shirt, revealing a body that was all hard muscle and tattoos. His skin glistened slightly, the faint sheen catching the light as he crossed his arms over his chest.

His gaze dropped to the bulge straining against his pants, and he let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing over it lazily. “San,” he said, his voice laced with mockery, “you’re hogging all the fun.”

San didn’t look at him, his focus remaining solely on you. “She’s the one who wanted to test me,” he said, his tone dark. “And I’m going to make sure she understands exactly what that means.”

Mingi smirked, pushing off the doorframe as he sauntered into the room. “Be my guest,” he said, his fingers teasing at the waistband of his pants. “But don’t take too long. I’m not exactly a patient man.”

San finally looked at him, his expression hard. “Stay out of this,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Whatever you say, boss.” But his eyes drifted back to you, his gaze heavy and full of unspoken promise.

Your breath hitched as San’s gaze returned to you, his hand brushing against your jaw in a touch that was both possessive and almost tender.

“You wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t forget that.”

San’s hands gripped the edge of the bed with enough force to leave marks in the sheets, his eyes never leaving yours as if trying to read your every thought. The way his gaze darkened, the slightest shift in his posture, told you everything—you had pushed him to the edge, and now there was no turning back.

You could feel the heat radiating between the three of you, Mingi leaning against the doorframe with a wicked grin that only fueled the fire. He sauntered toward the bed, his presence almost magnetic. His gaze roamed over you, his eyes lingering on your every curve, drinking you in. His fingers twitched, as if testing the waters, before his hand settled on your arm, warm and possessive.

San watched every move Mingi made, his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak. He was too far gone—his control slipping, his desire too raw and evident in the air. He was trying to contain it, but the force of it all was starting to unravel him.

Without warning, Mingi’s hands moved to your shoulders, his fingers brushing over your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so fucking good,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust and amusement.

You shivered, your body reacting involuntarily to the heated touch. You tried to suppress the tremble in your voice as you met Mingi’s teasing gaze. “Is that what you want, Mingi? To watch me squirm?”

Mingi chuckled softly, low and deep, his fingers lightly tracing the neckline of your shirt. “You don’t know how much I enjoy watching you try to fight it,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes darkened further. “You’ve got a fire in you, and I can’t wait to see how far it burns.”

San’s jaw tightened, a flicker of possessiveness flashing in his eyes, but he stayed silent, watching. He wasn’t backing down—he was waiting for something, for you to push him further, maybe.

You wanted to respond, to fire back, but your thoughts scattered as Mingi's hands shifted lower, finding the hem of your shirt. His fingers tugged at the fabric, pulling it up slowly, deliberately. The cool air of the room hit your skin as your shirt was discarded to the side.

Before you could process the situation, San moved, his body shifting with an almost predatory grace. His eyes never left you as he reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a sense of urgency that surprised you. He was just as affected, just as hungry.

“You’re mine,” San growled, his voice rough, filled with something primal. He pushed you back against the bed with just enough force to make you gasp, the heat of his body pressing against yours as he loomed over you. “And I won’t let anyone forget that.”

Mingi’s voice cut through the air again, but this time there was no teasing in it, only admiration as his gaze dropped to your chest. “You didn’t tell me about these,” he murmured, his eyes flashing with something like appreciation. “Damn, you’re perfect.”

San’s eyes flicked to Mingi then, a hard, sharp glance that had the younger man holding his tongue for a second. He knew the territory; San had already marked his claim in the club, and it was clear now who had the upper hand.

“I said stop talking about her body like that,” San snapped, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful glint still in his eyes, “Alright, alright, I get it. You’ve got her.”

San’s grip on your wrist tightened, his fingers moving with the same deliberate intensity he’d shown earlier. His gaze never left you, he stood over you, fully exposed, his muscles tense and rippling as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. It wasn’t soft; it wasn’t tender. It was rough, commanding, a mark of ownership.

He pulled back for a split second, his breath hot against your cheek as he muttered, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

In that moment, you knew exactly what he meant—everything about you drove him wild. And now, there was no way out. The tension had broken, the line had been crossed. The storm had begun, and you were caught in its eye.

“Don’t you dare play games with me,” San murmured, his voice low and dangerously quiet, a thread of restraint running through it. “You’re in my world now.” His grip on your wrists tightened just enough to remind you of who was in control, his other hand moving to undo your pants with the same cold precision.

You held your breath as the fabric slid down your legs, leaving you exposed beneath the harshness of his touch. But even then, you didn’t look away. You felt the pulse of electricity between you—his power, his control, and your own challenge to it.

Mingi, still lingering by, watched with a smirk that never faltered. His hand brushed over his chest as he approached, his gaze flicking from you to San, then back to you with a teasing glint in his eye.

“You’re really not going to let me have any fun, are you?” Mingi said, his voice playful but carrying an underlying heat.

San’s response was a sharp glance that silenced Mingi for a moment. But then, with a barely-there nod, he signaled for Mingi to move closer. Mingi’s smirk grew as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a teasing whisper. “Don’t think we’re done here. You wanted to get under his skin, didn’t you? Now you’ll see what happens when you do.”

His words hung in the air as he pulled back, allowing San to take the lead once again. You barely had time to process before San’s lips were on your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he kissed and trailed his lips up your skin. His breath was hot against your flesh, and you could feel the intensity of his presence, his hunger for control, in every movement.

“You want me to stop?” San’s voice was low, almost a growl, as his lips hovered just above your skin.

It wasn’t a question you could answer easily, not with the fire coursing through your veins. Your body betrayed you, trembling with anticipation, your pulse racing with every subtle touch, every whispered command. You fought to hold onto your composure, but it was slipping, bit by bit.

Mingi, watching all of this unfold, let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by the sight of you trying to stay in control while San worked his power over you. “She’s got a fire,” Mingi muttered to himself, leaning casually against the wall.

San, hearing his words, shot a glance at Mingi, his jaw tight. “She’s in my hands now,” he said, his tone laced with something possessive. “And she’ll learn what it means to be tested.”

San’s gaze never wavered, his focus entirely on you. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with tension as his fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His voice dropped to a low rumble, the weight of his authority palpable. “Eyes on me. You don’t get to shy away now.”

Mingi moved closer, his presence as heavy as San’s, though tinged with a teasing energy that made your heart race. He settled beside you, his hand brushing against your shoulder, a touch both gentle and possessive. “You’re holding back,” Mingi murmured, his voice like a soft hum against your skin. “Why don’t you show us what you’re really capable of?”

San smirked at Mingi’s words, his expression dark with satisfaction. “She will,” he replied confidently, his hands steady as they skimmed over your thighs, his grip tightening just enough to draw your attention fully back to him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Mingi, not to be outdone, shed his remaining clothing as well, his smirk never faltering as he took his place beside you.

San chuckled, his hands returning to your hips, pulling you closer with a firm but careful tug. “She’ll take everything we give her. Won’t you?” His words were a challenge, laced with something possessive, his tone daring you to deny him.

Your breath hitched, and San leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Don’t fight it. Let me see how much you can handle.” His fingers dug into your sides slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he was in control.

Mingi’s hand trailed down your arm, his touch light but deliberate, sending a shiver through you. “I think she’s ready.”

San smirked, leaning back just enough to lock eyes with you. “Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and commanding. “She’s not done proving herself to me.”

The cool sheets beneath you were a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your skin as San positioned himself between your legs, his movements deliberate and brimming with purpose. His sharp eyes drank in every inch of you, a reverent smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough yet warm, carrying a weight of appreciation that sent a shiver through your entire body. “How can someone be this breathtaking?”

His words, so unexpectedly tender, made your breath hitch.

On your right, Mingi knelt with a smirk that was anything but soft. His dark eyes roamed over you, his expression hungry, though laced with mischief. “Breathtaking, huh?” he drawled, one hand resting on your side, his thumb brushing over your ribs. “That’s one way to put it. But I’d call her... delicious.”

His teasing tone made your cheeks burn, but before you could respond, San’s voice cut through, steady and commanding. “Careful, Mingi,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a faint edge in his tone. “This isn’t about you.”

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Relax, San. I’m just admiring your masterpiece.”

San turned his attention back to you, his expression softening as he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin gently. “Ignore him,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble meant just for you. “Right now, you gotta focus on me."

The weight of his words settled in your chest, grounding you. But then, San’s lips curved into a wicked smile, and his hands tightened on your thighs, spreading them a little wider. “Actually,” he murmured, his tone taking on a darker edge, “I have an idea.”

You blinked up at him, your body already reacting to the shift in his demeanor. “An idea?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

San’s smirk grew, his hands trailing down your thighs with deliberate slowness. “I’ll show you just how much I want you,” he said, his voice smooth yet laced with intent. “And Mingi here can... keep himself occupied.”

Mingi raised a brow, his grin turning sharper. “Occupied, huh?” he echoed, his gaze flicking between you and San. Then his attention locked onto you, his smirk softening just slightly. “You wouldn’t mind helping me out, would you?”

The intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you barely had time to process his words before San leaned down, his breath warm against your thigh. “It’s not really a question,” San murmured, his voice dripping with authority. “You’ll do exactly what I say, won’t you?”

His confidence left no room for hesitation, and your body answered before your mind could catch up, your breath hitching as you nodded. San chuckled, the sound low and rich as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Good girl, or may I say.. good slut? That's more like it." he whispered, the degrading praise sending a thrill through you

San’s hands tightened on your thighs, grounding you as he lowered himself further, his presence overwhelming and commanding all at once. “Keep your focus,” he ordered, his voice low but firm, even as his lips trailed closer to your cunt. “You don’t stop until I tell you to. Understood?”

The weight of his command left you breathless, and all you could do was nod.

The headboard was cool against your back, grounding you amidst the heat that filled the room.

“You’ll watch me, won’t you?” San murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Every little reaction you give belongs to me.”

Before you could respond, a hand brushed against your jaw, turning your attention upward. Mingi, his towering frame casting a shadow over you, stood by the side of the bed, his gaze locked onto yours with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. His smirk was a challenge, daring you to take control even as he exuded a quiet authority of his own.

“Don’t get distracted,” Mingi murmured, his voice smooth yet firm as he guided his cock closer, his confidence unwavering. He took your hand, his touch deliberate as he placed it at the base of it. “You’re going to be good for us, aren’t you?”

Your fingers hesitated for the briefest moment before wrapping around him, the weight of his command making your heart race. Slowly, you moved your hand along his cock, your palm brushing over every vein, feeling his breath hitch slightly as you teased him.

San chuckled darkly from between your thighs, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watched. “Look at you,” he muttered, his voice laced with pride. “Already falling into place like you were made for this.”

Mingi’s hand tightened on yours as he guided you further, his deep voice a steady presence above the storm San was creating. “That’s it,” he murmured, his tone equal parts encouragement and demand. “Just like that. Don’t hold back now.”

The tension in the room thickened as the sounds of your shallow breaths and soft whimpers intertwined with the low rumble of their voices. San’s grip on your thighs tightened as he leaned in. His lips finally reached the place you needed him most.

The first stroke of his tongue was unrelenting, both tender and possessive as though he wanted to draw every ounce of reaction from you. Your back arched against the headboard, a trembling whine escaping your lips, but it was quickly muffled by Mingi's cock.

He held your jaw gently, tilting your face so that his tip brushed against your parted lips. “Show me how good you can be.”

You took a shaky breath before wrapping your lips around it, your fingers curling at the base for balance as you began to move your head. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, his low groans blending with your muffled whines as San’s movements became more precise.

San’s hands slid up your thighs, grounding you, anchoring you against the overwhelming sensations. “So responsive,” he muttered, his tone dripping with satisfaction. He pressed his mouth more firmly against you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate patterns that sent waves of electricity coursing through you.

Your cries reverberated around Mingi, the vibrations making his jaw tense as his hand moved to cradle the back of your head. “That’s it,” he groaned, his deep voice resonating through you. “You sound so pretty like that.”

San chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” he mused, his voice muffled but no less commanding. “Taking everything we give her so beautifully.”

You couldn’t focus on anything but the push and pull between the two of them, the way Mingi’s deep groans matched the rhythm of San’s relentless attention. Every touch, every sound built the tension inside you higher, drawing you closer to the edge with a heady mix of roughness and sensual control.

San pulled back slightly, his lips glistening and his dark eyes sharp as they met yours. He let out a low, mocking chuckle that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your thighs never faltered, his thumbs pressing into your skin just enough to keep you firmly grounded in the moment.

“Here’s the deal,” San murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. “You don’t get to come until he does. Show me how good you are at taking care of him, and maybe I’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

Your wide, needy eyes met his, your body trembling from the intensity of his gaze and the deliberate tease of his hands on your skin. San leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he added, “Make him fall apart first, and I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Mingi groaned softly at San’s words, his hand cupping your cheek to guide your attention back to him. “You heard him,” he said, his tone rough but lined with a teasing edge. “Show me how good you can be.”

Your resolve firmed despite the heat coursing through you, and you took Mingi deeper, the sound of your efforts mixing with his low, guttural groans. Your hand stroked him in time with your movements, your tongue trailing against him in a way that had his breath hitching. His free hand gripped the edge of the headboard, his control faltering with every deliberate flick of your tongue.

San watched with dark satisfaction, his hand sliding along your thigh as a silent reminder of his presence. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice smooth but edged with hunger. “You can do better than that. Make him feel it.”

You pushed yourself further, letting your lips tighten and your tongue tease, drawing a shuddering gasp from Mingi. His head tipped back, his grip on the headboard tightening as his breaths grew uneven. The sharp inhale he took before he came was punctuated by a low, satisfied groan, his body trembling as he filled your mouth with his cum.

San’s pleased hum was the only warning you got before he shifted you slightly, his hands moving to adjust your hips as he leaned in closer. “Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with approval. “Now, let me give you what you’ve been waiting for.”

The first touch of his mouth was unrelenting, and your cry of relief was immediate. San worked with precision, his movements rough enough to leave you trembling but careful enough to draw every ounce of tension from your body. His hands held you in place, his grip firm as he pushed you closer to the edge.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as the waves of your orgasm finally crashed over you, your body arching against the headboard. You cried out, San’s name spilling from your lips as he carried you through every trembling moment, his hold never faltering.

As you came down from the high, San’s lips brushed against your thigh, his voice low and satisfied. “That’s how I want to hear you,” he said, his tone possessive but lined with pride. “Falling apart for me.”

Mingi’s deep voice rumbled from behind San, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “If San gets to have ideas, then I have one too,” he said, his tone smooth but carrying an undercurrent of mischief. He leaned back against the headboard, his broad frame radiating confidence as he continued, “What if we both take care of her?”

San froze for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing as he considered Mingi’s bold proposition. But before he could respond, you felt the weight of Mingi’s gaze on you—curious, warm, and daring. It wasn’t until he noticed the flicker of excitement in your eyes, a spark you couldn’t hide, that his lips curved into a knowing grin.

San caught that spark too. He tilted his head, his initial hesitation melting into something darker, more intentional. “Interesting,” he muttered, his fingers still trailing along your thigh. “You’re into that, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught, the tension in the room thickening as Mingi made his move. Without waiting for further confirmation, he reached out, his strong hands finding your waist as he effortlessly guided you onto his lap. The shift was seamless, his strength evident as he settled you above him, his arms caging you in with a gentle but commanding grip.

Mingi’s voice was a low murmur as he tipped your chin up to meet his gaze. “Don’t be shy now,” he said, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “We’re just getting started.”

San moved behind you, his presence grounding you as his hands found your hips, steadying you against Mingi’s chest. The duality of their touches was overwhelming—Mingi’s hold firm and encompassing, San’s deliberate and teasing.

“You’re going to be good for both of us,” San said, his breath warm against your ear. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, a slow, deliberate movement that sent chills through you. “Let him see how much you want this.”

Mingi chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you as he shifted beneath you. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice a tantalizing promise. “We’ll take care of you.”

Their combined attention was intoxicating. Mingi’s hands spanned your waist, holding you close as San’s fingertips teased along your sides. Their coordination was seamless, their shared focus on you leaving no room for doubt.

Mingi tilted your chin down toward him, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You’re ours tonight,” he murmured, his tone heavy with intent. His grip tightened slightly, his strength a silent reassurance as he added, “Let us show you how good it can be.”

Behind you, San’s hands slid along your body, his touch purposeful as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss against your neck. His lips curved into a smirk as he felt you shiver beneath him.

“Trust us,” San murmured, his voice a velvet promise, “and let go.”

Mingi’s grip on your waist tightened, his strength palpable as he held you effortlessly above him. His dark gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his expression making your breath hitch. With a slow, deliberate movement, he guided you down, your body trembling as he buried himself in you, his hips rolling upward with an undeniable authority.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. His hands splayed wide on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he set the rhythm, his dominance radiating in every calculated move. “Take all of me. You’re not going anywhere.”

Behind you, San’s restraint was hanging by a thread. His fingers dug into your shoulders, the pressure almost bruising as he steadied you between them. The sound of your breathless whimpers seemed to snap something inside him, his control shattering as he thrust forward without warning. His movements were rough, almost desperate, his hips slamming into you with unrelenting force.

“You feel too good,” San growled, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you back against him as he drove deeper, each thrust more powerful than the last. “I can’t stop. Don’t even think about asking me to.”

Mingi chuckled darkly beneath you, his hands sliding up your sides to keep you upright as your body trembled. “He’s lost it,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement and pride. His thumbs pressed into your waist, his hold steadying you as he tilted his head back to watch the way your body responded to their relentless pace. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’re ours. We’ll make sure you do.”

Your legs threatened to give out entirely, the overwhelming intensity of their combined focus leaving you barely able to hold yourself up. Mingi’s grip on your waist grew even firmer, his strength keeping you steady as he thrust upward with a controlled power that left you gasping.

San, on the other hand, was a storm. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bit down gently, marking you with a possessive edge that left no doubt about his intentions. “You’re mine,” he growled against your ear, his voice rough and unyielding. “Ours. Don’t forget it.”

The room was filled with the sound of ragged breaths, low groans, and the slap of skin as San and Mingi worked in perfect, chaotic tandem. Mingi’s hands slid up to cup your face, tilting your chin down so your eyes met his. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice a dangerous mix of gentleness and authority. “Don’t you dare look away.”

Behind you, San growled in frustration, his pace growing even faster as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back. His hands moved to your waist, gripping tightly as he took over the rhythm, each thrust forcing a breathless cry from your lips.

“You’re perfect,” San muttered, his voice strained and full of raw hunger. “Made for us. Look at how you’re falling apart. Can’t even stand, can you?”

Mingi’s laughter rumbled beneath you, his arms wrapping around your trembling form to keep you steady as San continued his relentless assault. “She’s ours now,” Mingi said, his tone possessive and dripping with satisfaction. “Completely and utterly ours.”

They moved as one, their shared goal clear: to claim every part of you, to leave no inch of you untouched by their relentless intensity. Your body trembled in their grasp, every ounce of your strength surrendered to their combined power.

“Give in to us,” San growled, his breath hot against your ear as his movements grew even more forceful. “Let us ruin you.”

And you did—completely, utterly, and without hesitation. But they didn't falter. they didn't stop.

San, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath, leaned down toward you with a simmering heat in his gaze. Without a word, his hand reached out to harshly wrap around your neck, his fingers pressing in just enough to pull you closer to him. His grip was firm, as he slowly lifted you, bringing you flush against his chest.

San’s voice was a low murmur, soft but commanding, his lips grazing your ear. "Don’t forget who’s in control."

You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, and the way he held you, just barely choking you with his gentle pressure, made your body shiver.

Mingi, still inches deep inside, watched the scene unfold with a sly grin, his hands staying steady at your waist, making sure you felt both of their presence, unyielding but tender. He moved gently beneath you, adding to the slow, simmering rhythm of the moment.

Both men fucked you relentlessly through your orgasm until they were satisfied enough.. and that meant right when they filled both your holes up with their cum, mingling with your juices. A string of curses escaped Mingi’s lips as San lifted you up and softly placed you on the bed, your legs trembling and threatening to give out at any moment. You were dizzy, overstimulation hovering over as San leaned in, softly enough to give you a forehead kiss.

“How about a warm bath?" San asked softly, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face as he looked down at you with concern. His voice had softened, but the possessiveness remained in his tone, making you feel like you were still entirely his.

Mingi, ever the playful one, leaned back with a teasing grin. "If you’re getting the bath ready, don’t forget about me. I wouldn’t mind a round two in there," he said, his tone lighthearted, making you smile despite the tension that still lingered in the air.

San chuckled, brushing his lips against your forehead before offering you a hand. "Let’s get you in the bath first. You deserve a moment to relax." His touch was gentle now, his usual intensity replaced with a soothing calm.

The two of them guided you to the warm water, their care wrapping around you like a soft blanket, the playful teasing from. You.. for sure, didn't falter from their grip unscathed.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz

[r3starttt]

STOCKINGS

PAIRING: Abby x Reader

SUMMARY: You made her a stocking

CW: tlou universe. sfw. fluff. lev included!! cs Abby is such a boy mom and ughh cute.

NOTE: For this fic Abby did not try to go and look for the fireflies again so the last fight with Ellie did not happen.

*Can you tell I love acts of service... can you tell I wrote this while listening to music for indigo...

TAGLIST: @twopeoplee @greysontheidiot @sapphic-ovaries @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @1-800-fantasy @prwttiestbunny @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @abbys-muscles @lott6i @usuck @thalchmy @lovelyy-moonlight @fakevalentine

The cold floor hit your bare feet as you tiptoed your way toward a small chair near the bed, reaching for an old hoodie to shield yourself from the chill. Abby was still asleep, her steady breathing and quiet snoring letting you know she was deeply wrapped in the comfort of her cocoon. You didn’t have much time, though—she would wake the second the bed grew too cold and her arm could no longer find you, desperately pulling you closer to warm herself.

She lay on her stomach, one arm draped across the mattress, reaching into the warmth you’d left behind. The white sheet beneath her, its soft folds matching the pine-green ones above, held her gently. Loose strands of hair from her thick braid fell against the sides of her face, barely brushing her skin with each soft exhale. Her eyebrows, usually so bold, were peacefully soft, and her lips—plump and rosy—mirrored the flush of her cheeks. You couldn’t resist leaving a soft kiss near her ear, a gentle touch before you left the room.

Each step toward the door made you regret not putting on socks last night—maybe Abby’s old slippers would do. With your steps now messy and hesitant, you made your way downstairs. The worn wood creaked slightly beneath you, the house itself groaning in the quiet of the morning.

You had eventually made yourselves comfortable in this small house nestled in the heart of the woods, large enough for the three of you—Abby, Lev, and yourself. Together, you had worked tirelessly to make it a safe and secure place, not just from the infected, but from other, more dangerous people. You had made it a home.

You ensured that everyone felt welcome, particularly Lev. You took every opportunity to talk with him, to teach him what he hadn’t yet learned, and to share the things you loved—books, music, art—while helping him discover his own interests. And with Abby, your love deepened with every day she returned from her small patrols, always bringing back something for Lev—a plushie or a trinket—and for you, perhaps a new vinyl to play. She would ask you to show her the record, and later, you would listen together, the soothing classical music filling the house while you shared a quiet dinner.

As the months passed and your future materialized in the present, you found yourself gathering small gifts. It would be Lev’s first holiday, and Abby’s too, at least with you. The first time you would all celebrate Christmas together. You wanted it to be special, a way of thanking them for everything they had done for you. All the words Lev had shared when he realized you were just as broken as he was, and how, despite it all, he allowed you into his life. And Abby—your way of giving her the love she had always shown you, in the form of the most precious gift.

You knew Abby would appreciate it—celebrating the season was something she had learned from her father. She had told you once that receiving a gift was the way she could feel loved, a reminder that she was not a monster. And you wanted to show her that—wanted to remind her that she was seen, that she was loved, and that you all had each other.

Since the weather had turned colder, you’d offered to join in the patrols, even begging Abby to let you go outside. She always insisted it was too dangerous, but you knew you could take care of yourself, and somehow, you managed to sneak out on occasion. You gathered small things—some fabric, trinkets, and a few essentials. And when Abby took Lev to care for the animals you’d gathered, or when she napped after lunch, you’d use your quiet time to craft their gifts.

It wasn’t too difficult, given that they were often busy—Abby tending to the animals or decorating the little pine tree you’d dragged home from the nearby woods, with Abby’s approval, of course. You had to be careful, though, not to trust too easily that they would be distracted. But it worked.

The sight before you made your stomach flutter, like a child eager with excitement. Three stockings hung from the mantle, each chosen with care—yours in the middle. Beneath the homemade tree, a few gifts waited for everyone—unwrapped, because there wasn’t enough paper, but neatly arranged, placed with care just as the stockings were.

The next task was to light the fire, to warm the house and prepare breakfast, just as you had for months. It was small, but it had become part of your routine—after all, lunch and dinner were a family affair, something you all shared.

Once the food was ready, you made your way upstairs. The light from the cloudy sun streamed through the windows, warming the house with its yellow hues. You returned to the bed, noting that Abby was still asleep—though not for long, it seemed, as her lips were slightly parted and her breathing had shifted into quiet mumbling. You sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand and brushing the stray hairs from her face before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Abby... Abs—baby?" you murmured, tracing soft circles on her back, the rhythm calming her as her mumbling slowed.

"Abby..."

Her eyes opened slowly, clearly disoriented by the nightmare and the sudden waking, but you were quick to soothe her. "Shh, I’m here... It’s alright. You were dreaming."

She grasped your hand, groaning quietly before turning to face you, her face flushed with the softness of sleep, her lips plump and cheeks full. The sight made you smile, warmth blooming in your chest.

"Merry Christmas," she murmured, trying to pull you back into bed.

You chuckled softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Not yet..."

She rolled her eyes, laughing softly. "Is Lev awake yet?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep as she rubbed her eyes.

"I haven’t checked, but... probably not," you hummed in response, pausing to study her, to savor this moment of quiet contentment with the woman you loved. A slow, peaceful morning like this was a dream come true for many—and here you were, living it.

"Breakfast’s ready," you added, patting her stomach lightly.

You leaned in for a kiss, despite her typical aversion to those unshowered, still-groggy moments. But you couldn’t care less—she was the woman you loved, in all her unrefined beauty, even in these fleeting moments.

"See you downstairs, alright?" you murmured, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

She nodded, but you knew her well.

"Abigail... I’m serious."

She laughed quietly, rolling over and letting her arms fall to her sides as she stretched out. You left the door open as you moved to the curtains, letting the light in while ensuring Abby wouldn’t fall asleep again. You then made your way to Lev’s room, the blue walls of his space greeting you.

He was tangled in blankets, his back to you, but you gently brushed his shoulder, calling out in a soft whisper.

"Lev... morning."

"Morning," he murmured, his eyes still closed.

You smiled, the privilege of caring for this young boy—who still had so much ahead of him—filling your heart.

"Breakfast is ready, alright? Take your time." You caressed his shoulder before stepping out of his room, hearing Abby’s groan as she dramatically climbed from the bed.

"Did you take my shoes?" she called out loudly, too much for the quiet of the morning.

"Yep! I took your slippers," you teased, and Abby laughed quietly in response. She was falling in love with you all over again.

You went downstairs, retracing your steps from earlier, and settled on the couch, waiting for them to come down. Neither of them knew about the stockings or the gifts—it was supposed to be a small, intimate gesture, a simple way of celebrating the season. Just making food together, exchanging small self-made gifts—maybe a letter.

But as much as you were excited, there was a hint of anxiety too. What if it was too much? What if they didn’t like what you had chosen?

"What is that?" Abby’s voice broke you from your thoughts, and you turned to find her standing at the foot of the stairs, still in her pajamas, holding the railing for support.

Her eyes, illuminated in the soft morning light, met yours—she looked so precious.

"Did you seriously make us a stocking?" she whispered, so amused she barely seemed to believe it. Maybe she thought she was still dreaming.

"I did," you said, standing and moving toward her.

"You told me once that you wished someone loved you enough to make you one. I do... I love you."

The words hit her, and you watched as she fought back tears, her jaw clenching, her teeth biting at her bottom lip before she looked back at you.

"I didn’t... Come here." She opened her arms, and you stepped into them, feeling the weight of the moment settle in.

She buried her face in your neck, wrapping her arms around you as all her emotions—fear, love, anxiety—washed over her.

You were real, and so was this. She had someone who listened, who remembered her words, who cared enough to create something special—something that said, "I love you."

And as much as she feared that this day might bring painful memories of her father, the love that surrounded her now was taking up more space. This was hers—this love was real, and it was for her.

You felt Lev coming downstairs, his confused expression slowly softening as understanding spread across his face. You had told him about the stockings, explained what they meant one evening when you and Abby had talked about Christmas traditions.

Lev hesitated, cradling the fabric of the stocking in his hands. He peeked inside, then looked up at you for reassurance. With a nod from you, he carefully pulled out each gift, his eyes brightening with quiet joy.

There was nothing extravagant or meaningful in the traditional sense—but the gifts held things they liked, things they could use, things they wanted. They weren’t

about purpose, but about love. They were a reminder that you saw them, that you loved them, and that they were always safe in your arms.

[theglassesgirl]

The Ithaca Saga: What IS a Monster, how it’s presented, and when fictional S.A is integral to the plot.

So -

This was originally a response to @ / anniflamma which you can still find on my page unedited. But with the new discourse surrounding the suitors, I figured I could retool it as a standalone essay to express a topic I’ve been trying to pin down for a while now; What exactly does the mean when they call a character a monster? What do they do, do the reasons matter, and how does the subject of rape affect how the fandom consider some monsters more unforgivable than others? When IS rape in fiction “necessary” and why such questions defeat the purpose of exploratory creative works.

In this post we will discuss all the major antagonists of the Epic Musical, Penelope’s agency, the label of Monster and the types of moralizing one might do when faced with uncomfortable subjects in fiction and how to prevent these feelings from blinding is about what a story is trying to say.

For those who read my original response; there’s new content to read here and posts that will be referred to, if you’d like to give it another gander!

Thank you,

Let’s begin;

I think making the threat of rape explicit was very much needed, actually.

It’s come to my attention that there are people here and on tiktok who are so uncomfortable with the subject matter in this CENTURIES old tale that they’re both refusing to accept that it plays an important part in the original poem and musical, AND are bizarrely insisting that Jorge should have magically done away with it to make more palatable.

This is beyond juvenile - it’s a clear sign of media illiteracy.

What, if I may ask, do you think it means when you say that the suitors are going to force Penelope to choose one of them to marry.

You may respond that they want to take over Ithaca. That they want to be king. But take a moment to consider what forcing a woman to marry one of them will entail. I wonder if you think that one can divorce the idea of sexual violence in this plot.

It would be…unfathomably difficult to do so. Because you CANT. There is an implicit threat of Penelope’s will breaking and having to have unwilling and reluctant sex with any one of them in the event she just gave up and picked one.

This isn’t a storyline that depicts Penelope of being willing to marry any of the suitors. She is WAITING for her husband’s return. Even if he doesn’t, she doesn’t WANT to marry someone else. Her consent is being violated by the very merit of them being in her palace, eating her food, and threatening her son.

They’re doing ALL OF THIS in order to bend her will in the HOPES of raping her as a bonus to becoming king of Ithaca.

My contention is the use of “unnecessary” when it comes to this trope in media - though themes of rape can be uncomfortable, to call them unnecessary HAVE to meet certain criteria. Which this specific instance doesn’t.

By observing various responses, it’s clear that the threat of rape went completely over many’s head in this instance of the story. So I very must appreciate Jorge making it SO clear that it’s upsetting.

This part of the odyssey, and the musical, is very much about Penelope suffering under the threat of assault for YEARS. In the same way Odysseus was (a thing I touched upon in my calypso essay, in terms of his ambiguous situation in the musical) - it’s a parallel that works as both Antinous and Calypso were introduced (regardless on your personal interpretation of what Calypso did or did not do, but that’s neither here nor there).

It has taken an emotional and psychological toll of either spouse. And the kicker is that neither of them are freed of this situation on their own - they are both rescued by outside forces. Athena/Hermes helps free Odysseus; Athena/Odysseus will help free Penelope.

The looming threat of rape is SO necessary that it helps the catharsis factor we feel toward PENELOPE’s story - it’s nothing to do w Odysseus who by now is a force of nature as big as Poseidon, his actions happen TO her, and it’s up to her to decide (per “would you love me” ) what she feels about that. She can very well reject him! She’s suffered under male violence for YEARS. Odysseus’s violence and those of the suitors toward her are basis enough for the comparison.

Do all men, including her husband, become violent? Does she want to put up with that? We know from her song snippets that she is NOT a woman that simply succumbs to the Rape Rescue trope as suggested by ignorant consumers of media - and I call it ignorance and consumerism because there’s a clear lack of engaging with the material in an intuitive way. It’s just blind consumption - as if one bites into a burger and find a pickle, which you personally don’t like, and having it removed - you can’t treat ART that way .

Penelope is a very intuitive and emotionally intelligent queen. Stop infantilizing her. Her own husband suggests that like the suitors, his actions make him just as bad as they are and presents his hope as being understanding if she rejects him on those grounds. But those ARENT her grounds. She has full autonomy and can make a distinction FOR HERSELF whether she considers her husband equal to the monsters who have harmed her.

So let’s talk about the “Monster” label as it is presented on the entire musical.

Some have erroneously suggested that Odysseus has been given an out to commit cruel and ruthless deeds with out “good justification” - he does it for his family,, after all!

Which is a misunderstanding of everything every antagonist of each saga has done.

Let’s start with the Troy Saga: Odysseus has killed a BABY. He made the choice to put his family over this child. Everything he has done and lost would be for literally NOTHING if he hadn’t, as even if he had killed the suitors and regained everything - the GODS themselves would make sure that child would come to an aged Odysseus and slaughter him, Penelope, Telemachus and his entire kingdom when he came of age.

Odysseus STARTS as a monster. We have been rooting for the man who laid Troy and its children asunder. As such, the label of a monster is NOT so much a morally subjective label - it simply a thing that IS. Or rather. It is what ALL the antagonists ARE, but it’s hardly a condemnation of any of them.

(Peep that one of the first lines Ody says refers back to in the Vengeance Saga is what he did to Troy - he STILL views his actions over there as unforgivable, so not even HE will ever see himself otherwise, the problem was that he felt so guilty over it that he became a detriment (a different kind of monster) to his friends and family when they were all guilty of the same thing and trying to get home.)

ALL of the antagonists have a “good reason” to kill ALL the soldiers (who again, have looted and slaughtered the Trojans) Odysseus and his close friends included. Whether your AGREE is almost irrelevant…because the story itself proposes that it’s irrelevant.

The next saga introduces the cyclops: his motivation is primarily that his FRIENDS the sheep have been slaughtered. You can argue in the scope of things, you can’t empathize with this but it’s his good reason. He’s the son of a god, and these sheep are all he has. His friends, who matter to him as much as Polites does to Ody, are being taken and slain, he is being drugged, attacked and maimed. VERY much was Ody goes through in the final saga. And even so.

The Cyclops is antagonistic to the party, he’s a monster who feels justified killing to avenge his killed sheep. A monster is a thing he IS.

As Poseidon’s son, he asks his father to kill the 600 men who have ransacked his home and beat on him. He doesn’t view his father as being wrong for this. In the same ways Ody and Telemachus don’t waste any time addressing the slain suitors later on. Poseidon is a monster of a god - it’s just a thing he is. Not even being stabbed 100 times is enough to repay the harm he’s done - to most everyone, not just Ody, but we are not asked to quantify that. Just live with it.

Circe has killed NUMEROUS men over the years. HER “good reason” is that something bad happened to her nymphs when she let a stranger in her islands. She doesn’t even promise that she WONT kill in the future - her song ends w the suggestion that the world may continue to need her to puppeteer! Because she does not exist to be “redeemed” - she is somewhat more reasonable and capable of empathy than even the likes Athena, who being a greater and more powerful god, does not have the one on one affection to her follows as Circe does. She’s a monster! It’s a label, a thing she IS.

So here we begin to ask; is it LOVE that gives people the capacity to do monstrous things? Because the cyclops loved his sheep friends, Poseidon loves his son, Circe loves her nymphs.

And by now you’re saying now wait a minute didn’t the Underworld Saga go over this? Why yes it did! And Odysseus decides to “become the monster” - he already IS one by the standards of the cyclops, Poseidon, Troy - they all see him as a monstrous being. But he accepts that, after being one in Troy, he held back and ruined the lives of his men, making him a monster to THEM. His “good reason” for being so!

He attempts very hard to be the General he was in Troy and prioritize them going home, sparing no sympathy towards his enemies - but in the Thunder Saga we see the gods further push him to be completely self-serving like they are. The sun gods cows are harmed, he sends Zeus in relation - his “good reason” being his friend were personally harmed.

Odysseus’s “good reason” is ultimately decided to be the same good reason he had to slaughter the Trojans - to get back home to his wife and son.

Like with the Cyclops sheep, Circe’s nymphs, The Sun gods cows, and Poseidons son, WE are shocked and made to feel some type of way about Odyseuss’s reasoning. Surely HIS personal suffering shouldn’t cost the lives of “innocent” men…but it does! It surely does.

He is a monster. It’s just a thing he IS.

Now, Odysseus spends the next seven years under the thumb of ANOTHER monster. And through calypso own reasoning, despite her tragic backstory, her “good reason” she IS a monster. She’s incapable of understanding why she wasn’t reciprocated. Incapable of empathizing with a human because as a god who has spent eternity alone, it stands to reason she, like all the other monsters mentioned before, prioritizes HER personal suffering over everyone else’s. In some versions she either kills herself or does spend the rest of eternity alone. She’s a monster. This is a thing she IS.

Now what the HELL does all this have to do with the suitors?

Odysseus started the musical a MONSTER. He’s worn different hats, but it is what he IS. It’s a label, not a moral critique.

ALL of the antagonists of every saga have a “good reason” NONE of them are ruthless for ruthlessness sake! It’s immaterial whether you agree with them or not, but to understand them for what they are.

Odysseus is the antagonist of the ithica saga, md while the suitors are the antagonist to him and his family, we see their fate form THEIR POV

The suitors could not have been depicted as “rude youthful men” like Telemachus. That Odysseus killing them should be shocking - a frightening condemnation of everything he’s done and became. But I ask once again - in what world are the suitors not implicitly set up as monsters?

Because again. They aren’t being rude for rudeness’s sake! They aren’t JUST eating Penelope’s food and sleeping in HER house. Them threatening Telemachus, as you propose, isn’t “enough” of a reason because they didn’t wake up one day beefing w this boy. Everything they do is for the express purpose of sexual violence towards the Queen of Ithaca, who upon assaulting, will make it so any one of them will be King.

You can’t separate the one from the other. You get a nonsense scenario. The whole REASON they’re there in the first place.

Even if you create a fanfic where 108 men wake up one day and raid the palace to slaughter the royal family with no intent of sexually assaulting either (because remember Telemachus is also the subject of Hold Em Down) and then fight amongst themselves to be the next king, but then isn’t that STILL a “good reason” for Odysseus to slaughter them?

Now I hear what you may be asking: but if all the monsters of the sagas, Odysseus included, have a “good reason” even though we might not agree with it, what kind of monsters does that make the suitors? Surely and clearly THEY aren’t doing what they’re doing for noble reasons.

I consider them akin to the 600 men who died under their captains command.

Because, as stated before. Odysseus views his actions in a Troy as his start of monstrosity. He did all that to finish the war and do back home. He ruined the lives of all Trojans.

So did his soldiers.

The only moment in time (even in the deleted songs) that the bulk of them repent about the war is in terms that it left them without food.

But glasses! They were just following orders!

Which is what one of the suitors suggest in song 38. Their serpents head is dead, THEY were just going with Antinous’ flow, they are innocent.

Like the 600 soldiers, the 108 suitors sacked a home that wasn’t theirs and harmed a wife and child - does them being the queen and prince pale in comparison to the hundreds of wives and children slain in Troy? Homer is a genius to ask us to see these parallels for what it is.

The suitors ARE monsters. That is simply what all 108 of them are. In the context of the story itself, their intent is to break Penelope’s will, commit martial rape, and become king of Ithaca. They aren’t there for kicks, they aren’t ignorant boys, they’re socially accepted adults abusing the hospitality rule with an express purpose.

So a GROUP of monsters are slaughtered by ANOTHER monster, and though in this instance we can argue it’s morally justifiable, it doesn’t take away from Odysseus’s fear of being rejected by his family. He has ruined the lives of the Trojans, his men, AND multiple gods! To get to this point. He IS a monster. And the story asks US, through Penelope, if he is still worth loving.

Seeing Penelope as merely his reward is so backwards and bizarre. It’s very clear that bad faith interpretations of her are based on objectifying her erroneously, when the narrative presents her as a fully developed character.

In the story both in the poem and the musical that the suitors ARE NOT her guests. She is being sequestered against her will.

In what world could the suitors be “just” murderers and not….very clearly rapists? It’s BUILT into their motivation. You would have to change the very FOUNDATION of the Ithaca plot line and Penelope herself??? To say nothing of Telemachus’s role!

What’s the proposal here? That Penelope invited these suitors? That’s she’s actively looking for a replacement husband? Okay, again, that changes literally SO MUCH of the story, but wouldn’t that put Telemachus in a position where he too has to change? Does he resent his mother for doing this? Is he helping his dad out of spite or because he wants him back? How are we meant to view Penelope in this radically new and hip Epic the Musical? Is she savvy and in her right to choose a new boo? Okay…okay, so then….you want Odysseus to be the only one unchanged and go axe crazy because….hes jealous? He kills these upstanding men….curtain call. That’s all folks!

Absurdity at its finest. You throw Penelope’s agency out the window. Her weaving and unweaving her loom is meaningless or simply doesn’t happen. Or maybe it’s that she wakes up one day and goes hey yknow what I WILL consider marrying one of these guys with no sense of dread and fear. Oh wait Oddy has killed then all! Never mind me feeling unsafe a week ago, he’s done a Bad.

Crazy.

It’s just…not going to end up making Penelope look like a well written female character if Jorge has done what you wanted! THAT would make her a mindless prop. You seem to think she is one, and that’s not the case. Historically, in fact!

She is a whole person in the poem and musical whether you understand it or not. You would have to argue so thoroughly why she sucks and let me assure you - there are entire DISSERTATIONs on why you’d be incorrect.

So, no.

No, you CANT take away the rape in Penelope’s storyline. It matters ALOT. It’s the ROOT of the matter! Could old school vegetales make something up that’s more to your sensibilities? Maybe at its peak but god, I couldn’t possibly come up with a draft that could reflect that. I won’t even try.

The rape aspect of the Ithica Saga isn’t unnecessary - it’s INTEGRAL to the plot. It can make you uncomfortable, but it’s BUILT into the royal family’s suffering whether it’s explicit or not! And it SHOULD be explicit! Because you seem to think because it usually isn’t, that the rape aspect isn’t there!

I cannot imagine coming to this kind of conclusion.

They are not random men going on a siege of the palace one day - you cannot “sanitize” the SUITORS because by the very merit of them calling each other THE SUITORS there is an implicit threat of sexual violence. Because Penelope doesn’t WANT suitors. She rejects them. They’re already violating her consent.

How the FUCK to do you censor the rape when it’s in every action they take? And I know what you’re saying: but didn’t Jorge censor the rape aspect that both Circe and Calypso commit towards him?

Further reading: suggests that ALLUDING to it is not the same as censoring, that it still FITS the PURPOSE of these characters in regards to Odysseus’s suffering under them. That after ambiguity, it is NECESSARY to make the rape aspect CLEAR in order to create both catharsis and MEANING at the end of the narrative. The THEME is still respected and present, it is not REMOVED. Please consider reading the linked follow up that answers this question.

In short.

It’s truly a matter of using one’s goddamn head when it comes to view fictional depictions of rape as “necessary” - because though some depictions can be presented BADLY, to suggest they should not EXISTS lends itself to rape culture. It silences the voices of victims. Its representation denied. Don’t talk about it, don’t even suggest it, because rape is bad.

It’s an action that happens to people. It’s a crime in civilized society. It’s a physical and psychological trauma that has always been. It happens daily, in fact. Though epic the musical is a source of entertainment for you, it doesnt exist solely for that purpose.

When Homer included it within his original oral story, he did so as a storyteller trying to get his audience to philosophize, not simply have fun.

I think we’ve come to some abysmal conclusion that men can’t write about these topics when we have historical evidence of at least one man knowing what the hell he’s talking about. And Jorge has done a phenomenal job even when he hadn’t depicted blatantly.

If you’re uncomfortable to the point of not wanting to see it at all, that is entirely on you, art and creative works allow us to explore these topics safely. Whether it’s from the POV of the assailant or one of the victims commenting on it, fiction is one of the only places we can talk about it and learn about ourselves in a way it doesn’t harm real people.

I don’t even want to BEGIN discussing all the losers who are still harassing Antinous fans or people who genuinely enjoy his song despite/BECAUSE of the subject matter. Its purpose in the story matters more than you policing how it’s presented and how it’s consumed. No amount of people enjoying themselves will take away the foundational POINT of the character and song. It’s perfect the way it is.

Like with the chaos that calypso discourse wrought, you cannot control how people treat a NOT REAL CHARACTER or the songs they sing - if it bothers you that one type of fictional villian is treated one way or another, it is on you to find likeminded people instead of going into others faces and pretending to be a self-righteous prick. You can throw whatever buzzwords you want, the CONTEXT these characters live in has nothing to do with how others want to play with them. If you don’t understand the difference between the two instances, fandom is certainly not for you and will not be changed to suit your sensibilities.

To end this post, I want to thank those who further asked me questions and bounced ideas off with me, and wow, what a phenomenal ending to a grandiose musical. I hope I can see it live, animated, streamed, developed into a game etc whatever form it takes now that the concept albums are published

Thank you all for engaging w my work💖

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Too Bad;

Pairing; fem!reader and jealous husband!Sunghoon Synopsis; Sunghoon insisted that you go out with the girls to relax, but when something happens at the bar, he can't control his jealousy and possessiveness over you. Genre; Suggestive; Basead on the lyrics "well its too bad, you're married to me..." by Deft Tones!! Warning; Intense make out; wondering fingers.......; possessive!sunghoon;

A/N: I wrote this in one go. Literally. I like it a lot, I hope you guys do it too!!! These lyrics always make me feel some type of way, so I decided to write about it ;) Reblogs and likes are always appreciated. Thank you so much!!

You didn't even want to go, but Sunghoon insisted that a night out with friends would help you relax. Like him, you are introverted and prefer avoiding noisy, crowded spaces. Still, feeling an unusual surge of extroversion, you agreed to a girl's night out with your husband's partners. Jake's wife was overjoyed, and Ni-ki's girlfriend thought it was the perfect opportunity for everyone to unwind.

But the evening turned out to be far from enjoyable.

You picked a sleek black sleeveless dress that stopped just above your thighs, its elegant cut emphasizing your figure. Your cherry-red hair was styled into soft curls, cascading effortlessly over your shoulders. For makeup, you drew a sharp black eyeliner and choose a crimson color to paint your lips, adding a touch of drama to your natural glow.

As you leaned toward the mirror to fasten your silver necklace, you noticed Sunghoon standing in the doorway. His intense brown eyes roved over you, taking in every detail of your appearance. It had been some time since he'd seen you like this; your hectic schedules had left little room for moments like these. His gaze lingered on your waist and hips, and for a brief second, he debated stopping you from leaving altogether.

"Do I look alright?" you asked softly, forcing a small smile under his piercing stare. The iconic red bottoms added to your sexiness, making you feel even more alluring.

"Alright?" Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "You look stunning, my love." His voice was deep and full of reverence as his strong arms wrapped around your waist. "And you're even wearing my favorite perfume," he murmured, his face dipping towards your exposed neck.

Tilting your head to the side, you allowed him access, feeling his nose graze your skin as he inhaled your scent. His hands tightened around your waist, and his lips brushed against your sensitive spots, sending chills through your body. The occasional press of his warm lips against your neck made your pulse race.

"Hoon..." You breathed, your voice shaky under his spell. "I don't need to go -" you started, your heart pounding as his lips traveled to your collarbones, teasing with gentle nibbles. "I could stay with you, and we could finish this.." You pleaded, barely able to resist the desire building between you.

But Sunghoon knew you too well. When overwhelmed, you often withdrew, which was precisely why he and Jake's wife had been so excited when you agreed to go out. Sensing your hesitation, he was determined not to let you back out now.

"No, princess," he whispered against your skin, his tone firm but affectionate. "You need this. Jake's wife will be disappointed if you don't show up. Don't mind me— I'm just enjoying the view."

With that, he pulled away, his lips leaving your neck as his hands released their hold on your hips. You were left breathless. He towers over you, even with your heels on. His messy black hair is pushed back, and his white sleeveless shirt highlights his defined arms, which are folded across his chest. You look up at him with pleading eyes, a tactic that usually melts him— but this time, he remains unyielding.

"Go have fun with your friends. I'll be here waiting for you to come back," Sunghoon says in a low, enticing tone as he steps out of the bedroom, turning his broad back to you. You inhale deeply, the warmth of his earlier teasing still clinging to you. Exhaling slowly, you grab your purse and head to the living room to say your goobyes.

You find him sprawled on the sofa, legs apart in his usual confident posture, his attention seemingly fixed on the TV. Though he hears your footsteps approaching, he pretends not to notice, knowing the act will frustrate you.

"I'm leaving now, hubby," you say softly, stepping in front of him and blocking his view of the screen. He smirks, arms still crossed, his playful demeanor unchanged.

You lean forward until your face is level with his. His eyes roam from your wavy hair to your crimson lips, then lower to your neckline. The way you're leaning offers an enticing glimpse of your collarbones and chest, and you catch the way he swallows hard at the sight before meeting your gaze.

Slowly, you brush a light kiss against his lips, leaving him momentarily stunned as you straighten up with a knowing smirk. Without another word, you walk toward the door, your heels clicking softly against the floor. His gaze lingers on your retreating figure, even as the door closes behind you, leaving him alone to stew in the longing you've planted.

Minutes later, you meet up with the girls. Ni-ki's girlfriend drives, with you in the passenger seat and Jake's wife in the back, casually touching up her lipstick after saying goodbye to Jake. The drive is quick, and soon, you're inside the bar. The atmosphere isn't overwhelming yet— not too many people have arrived— so you find a table near the dance floor. Before hitting the floor, you all share your first drink, the conversation and laughter flowing easily.

Everything seems to be going well. A few sips of alcohol loosen you up, and soon you're dancing with the girls under neon lights, losing yourself to the rhythm of the music. Closing your eyes, you let the moment carry you. After about an hour of dancing, though, you decide to return to the table for a quick breather.

Ni-ki's girlfriend, a little too tipsy now, happily sways on the dance floor with a group of strangers, while Jake's wife has stepped into the restroom to freshen up. For now, you're alone.

A familiar longing washes over you— the temptation to text Sunghoon and ask him to pick you up. Each time you close your eyes, you can still feel the ghost of his lips on your neck and the firm grip of his hands on your waist.

As you sip your sparkling water, a man slides into the seat beside you. He's roughly your height, dressed in all black, and reeks of alcohol. You keep your attention on Ni-ki's girlfriend, hoping he'll take the hint and leave. But luck isn't on your side tonight.

"Hey, pretty." he murmurs, his tone slurred. With a quick glance, you lift your right hand slightly, letting the neon lights catch the sparkle of your wedding ring. You hope it's enough to deter him, but he only moves closer, his hand reaching toward you.

You stand abruptly, stepping out of his reach. "Leave, or I'll call security," you warn, your voice steady despite the discomfort twisting in your stomach. To your relief, he backs off, muttering something under his breath as he walks away.

Even though he's no longer beside you, his presence lingers. Each time you try to dance or relax, you catch him watching you or attempting to position himself nearby. To make matters worse, one of his friends starts bothering Jake's wife, making the situation even more unbearable.

Feeling uneasy, you gently pull Jake's wife off the dance floor and lead her back to the table. Anxiety weighs heavily on you as the men continue hovering nearby, their persistent stares making it impossible to enjoy the night.

Despite her intoxicated state, Ni-ki's girlfriend notices your distress. From across the room, she watches you hug yourself and roll your eyes in frustration as the men refuse to leave you and Jake's wife alone. Pulling out her phone, she quickly texts Ni-ki, asking him to come and pick you all up.

You glance nervously at Jake's wife as the men continue murmuring things you can'— or won't— make out. You try to devise a plan to get rid of them, but your thoughts are interrupted by a strong, familiar grip on your waist. Confusion floods your mind until the scent of his cologne envelops you, instantly calming your racing heart.

Turning your head, you see Sunghoon. His jaw is tight, his brows furrowed, and his eyes alight with barely restrained fury. He gives you a brief glance, his expression oftening slightly when his gaze meets yours, before locking on the man in front of you. Sunghoon's frustration is palpable— did this guy not notice the ring on your finger?

The man, unfazed, smirks shamelessly. "Sorry, man, I thought she was bluffing." He says with a nervous laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender as he gets up. "I'm leaving." he adds. Sunghoon's glare doesn't bulge.

Across the room, Jake is holding his wife gently, his hands brushing over her cheek in a comforting gesture. Meanwhile, Sunghoon grips your wrist and pulls you toward the exit without uttering a word.

You already know you're in trouble. His jealousy has taken over, and though you know he isn't upset with you, his possessive meanor is impossible to ignore. Your sweet, calm husband has vanished, replaced by a side of him that both excites and frustrates you.

"Can you let go of my arm?" You complain, your irritation rising as his hold begins to sting.

Sunghoon stops outside the bar. The street is nearly silent, the night's chillwrapping round you. He turns, his intense gaze mocking on yours, his irises dark and unreadable.

"Did he touch you?" Sunghoon demands, his voice low but laced with urgency as he steps closer.

"No, I wouldn't let him," you reply firmly, stepping back to create space. But he follows, his presence overwhelming.

"I should've told you to stay home," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His words, though not directed at you, ignite your temper.

"Yeah, maybe you should've!" You snap, abruptly facing him. Your voice is loud as you glare at him, anger bubbling to the surface. "Or maybe you could be more like Jake!"

"More like Jake?" Sunghoon echoes, raising an eyebrow, his arms crossing defensively.

"Yes! Look at how he handled this!" You exclaim, your voice shaking with pent-up motion. "The first thing he did was comfort his wife— hug her, ask if she was okay. He didn't act jealous or possessive!"

Your words falter as Sunghoon's expression changes. The hardness in his face gives way onto something unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he steps closer. Instinctively, you back up until your shoulders press against a cold wall.

You stare up at him, searching for any signs of what he's feeling, but his expression remains enigmatic. His tall frame blocks the faint glow of the streetlamp, casting shadow over you.

One hand rests against the wall beside your head while the other wraps firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His fingers trace the curve of your hip, making liberate pressure, causing your skin to tingle and your breath to hitch. The intensity in his dark eyes leaves you paralyzed. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. You anticipate a sharp retort, but instead, he kisses you.

The kiss is fierce, full of urgency, and heat, his lips move against yours with such intensity that your mind spins. His hand rails up your thigh, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress. His tongue tangles with yours when you finally realize where his fingers are. Before you can react, he leans close again, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers:

"Well, it's too bad.." He pauses, his lips grazing your skin. "You're married... to me."

His lips capture yours hungrily, devouring you as his fingertips brush over your lacy underwear. You moan against his cheek, a proud smirk grows on his lips, knowing he has you exactly where he wants you.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Checking His List

Warnings: stalker behaviour and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: Your shopping trip turns hectic.

Character: Curtis Everett

Day Twenty-Eight of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - the mall is packed and we keep running into each other.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

While it’s below zero outside, inside the mall, the air is sweltering. The flurry of maddened shoppers searching for gifts churns the air with body heat and a wall of noise. You want to cover your airs and shrink down to nothing. You hate crowds but you have a list and you made a promise. 

You laid it all out meticulously. You have a strategy but you’re not sure how much that will help given the furor all around. You set off to the first store on your list. The toys will be a lovely surprise at the community lunch. You know the kids won’t be getting much at home. 

You squint at the paper. You made notes of Diana’s every specification. She’s very particular but you imagine that’s why she runs the children’s centre. 

You look up as you approach the east entrance of the department store, just in time to avoid another shopper. You stutter step and back up as you wait for the man to pass. You only realise then that he isn’t moving. He’s standing entirely still amidst the crowds, though it might only be because he saw you about to crash into him. 

“Oh, sorry,” you murmur, not sure he can hear you above the Christmas carols and rowdy shoppers. 

He doesn’t reply, doesn’t react. You hesitate and step around him, issuing another apology as your stress burns even hotter. You’re really no good with the general public, worse in peak hours, and you’ve only just gotten started. 

You don’t come here often. It takes you some time to get situated and find the right aisle. Oh, those are the art sets she wanted, and the Barbies. Hum, they don’t have many within budget. Oh, and the little cars. Those are cute. 

You push your cart, only an inch before you rear back, only then seeing the man standing further down the aisle. You’re not sure you need anything else there, still you might like to check if you can limit how many stores you need to run around to.  

The man doesn’t look at you, he doesn’t even really seem to be looking at the shelves. He’s just sort of there. Then, before you can muster an ‘excuse me’ or anything, he turns and marches off. The way he walks is stiff and straight and staunch. 

As you slowly roll forward and refocus on your list, he sticks in your head. Do you know him? There was something familiar about him? Could he be one of the parents from the children’s centre? Would he be here if he was? 

You peruse and find the selection lacking. You head for the checkout and wait patiently. The line zigzags around shelves of more merchandise, shoppers continuing their spending even as they wait to get their grand total. You peer around dully, unseeingly, until a dark spec catches your eye. 

It’s that man again. The same one from the aisle. His face is unreadable. He wears a beanie and a grey jacket that should help him blend in but for whatever reason, he sticks out. 

He’s look at you? Is he? 

You crane to see behind you. The sign calls out the next available till. It’s your turn. You peek back again but the man is gone. You’re paranoid. That's all. 

You go up and unload your cartful and unfold a reuseable bag. You grabbed only your biggest bags for today. You expect it will be an awkward journey home with all this. You pay with the company card Diana lent you and neatly fold away the receipt. 

You’re certain to leave your cart in the pen meant for them and head out the west exit. It’s closer to your next stop. The bath and body store is fragrant, the air so dense with aroma that it makes your head foggy. 

You buy the cute little bottles for kids; the bubble baths and seasonal candy cane scents. A mini scrubbie for each too. As you put it all in the small basket offered to you by an associate, you look up to the tight corner ahead of you. 

A mother and daughter browse the floral assortment of candles and behind them, a man stands, undistracted by the shelves and tables of product. He watches you. Your eyes meet and you wince. It’s him! That’s so strange.  

It’s one thing to keep running into the same person. It happens in a mall, but you haven’t seen him buy one thing. You haven’t even seen him look at a single purchase. 

You turn and curl around the other side of the table of 3 for $15 candles. The checkout line is twice as long as the previous one. As hike up the bags from the department store. Why did you, the only person without a car, offer to do this? Well, for once, you wanted to feel useful. 

You sense movement. A group of girls flutter up behind you, gabbing about if they should get coffee or just go look at shoes next as they get in line behind you. Then another shadow. Darker. Taller. 

The man passes closely and stops right by you. Your heart is racing. It’s not him, it’s the crowd, the smothering press of people looking for soaps and lotions and candle melts. 

He bends and reaches for something on the floor. He brings up the soap bottle with the reindeer antlers and holds it out. It must have slipped out. You accept it from him with a thanks. These baskets aren’t great for the smaller items. 

He’s already walking away before you can get a look at his face. His grey blue eyes are stamped in your mind but the rest of him remains obscure. You shake away the odd encounter and shuffle forward with the line. 

You tuck the smaller bag of soaps and such into one of your bigger bags and continue on once free of the shop. You don’t expect the dollar store to be an easy task, but a necessary one. You need wrap and few smaller stocking stuffers. It won’t be your last stop but it’s closeby and you don’t want to double back if you can help it. 

You pause to check your list as you sidle out of the way of the dollar store entrance. Alright, that, that, that... You lift your head and push the small cart through the first row. It’s nice to have the weight off your arms, but you’ll have to pick all that up again. And more. 

As you come to end of the first aisle, the foot of the cart rams to a halt. You squeak and look up. That man! His hands clamp onto the end of the cart and you blink. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to.” 

He just stares and looks past you. He steps around the cart and as he comes along the side, you shrink down, shying away as you expect the worst. Instead, he inserts himself between you and the cart you hear rolling down after you. He stays there, a barrier between you and the unseen shopper. That’s... strange. 

You scurry on frantically. You’re jittering from it all. The man, the hordes, the assault of lights and noise. You need to get out of her soon. 

You get as much gift wrap and bags as you need and use the self-checkout. You’re grateful for that modern convenience. Your social wick is burning short. 

You park your cart, take your bags, and go. As you emerge into the mall, a man walks full force into you, his wife narrowly missing you with her baby stroller. Neither of them apologise as you struggle not to topple. You lift the bags higher with all your strength and forge forward. 

You go to the end of the bench where a few teen boys sit with their skateboards. You turn your back to them and face the mall map. You take a deep breath and hold it in. You’re about to crack. This was a big mistake. You’re barely strong enough to go get groceries on a given week. You just wanted to help! That’s why you volunteer with the kids, even if you mostly hide in the background. 

Your eyes are glassy as you fight back tears. You release your breath slowly. It hurts. The panic attack needles hotly in your forehead and ears. 

“Scram,” the deep voice cuts through the hubbub and the snap of dry fingers adds the punctuation. 

The boys behind you quiet and you turn your head to watch over your shoulder as they grab their boards and hurry away. The man in the beanie sits, knees wide, and leans his elbows on his legs. He curls his shoulders and looks around like a guard dog. 

Your skin tingles as you sit only a few feet from him. You should go too, before you lose all your nerve. Your bags crinkle as you hook the handles around your hands. 

“You don’t gotta go,” he says. 

You wince and turn to him. He keeps his gaze aimed at the closest store. You peer around. 

“Busy,” he comments. 

“Um, yes it is,” you agree. “Thanks, er, I got more to get.” 

You gulp and turn away. Your bags hit the bench as you flee. That was weird too. Or maybe you’re just unbearably clueless. It seems like he was trying to give you space. That he chased away those boys deliberately. But why? 

Flavoured lip glosses, sparkly nail polishes, socks themed for the most popular kids’ shows... you check the marks off your list in your final haul. Just one more thing. A few of the boys like to play knights but the foam swords are all whittling away from play. 

You go down the next aisle, your cart doing little to part the sea of people. You can see what you need. The toy blades and even a few shields. You try to inch forward as an older man turns to the other shelf, but another woman fills the space before you can. 

You wheel back and wait. You just need to get in and out. The woman finally moves and as you go to roll ahead, another cart noses into yours and squeezes into the space. You sniff and pull back again. 

You stare helplessly. That wasn’t very polite but she doesn’t seem to notice. She takes out her phone and ignores you and the shelves. Is she even looking? 

“Hey,” the gritty voice chills you as a large hand rests on the front of your cart. The man in the beanie steps between you and that woman, “you should apologise.” 

“Huh? What?” She keeps her phone up but you can’t see much else. 

“You hit her with your cart. Say sorry.” 

“Who? What are you talking about?” 

“Apologise,” he peels his hand form the cart and jabs his thumb toward you without looking. 

The woman huffs then leans to see you. You give a hapless shrug. Her eyes scan up the man’s dark jacket and she shifts. 

“I-- I didn’t realise,” she clears her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

“Maybe if you cared more about what’s going on than your phone,” the man snarls, looming over her until she backs away. She turns and grabs her cart, nearly hitting another as she rushes away. 

He lets go and turns back, marching past you without a word. You can’t speak either. You’re burnt out. You’re going to get the last of it and go. 

You finally get your turn and grab a couple of swords, each with a different colour handle, and some shields. You put it in your cart and circle the perimeter of the store to avoid the claustrophobic aisles. The checkout line however cannot be avoided. 

You step into the narrow snaking lane where you are to wait your turn. As you lean on your cart, there’s a brush against your back, and another, and another. The garble of voices behind you drone with the rest of the overwhelming noises all around. You sink your head down and cover your ears. You can’t take it anymore. 

You’re jostled again as a man laughs loudly and his elbow jabs your back. You gasp and turn to see what’s going on. A black shape moves decisively from the back of the line, cutting along the edge without falter.  

The man in the beanie steps up and extends his arm between you and the man after you, the one who keeps knocking into you. He pushes him calmly away and inserts himself there, back to you as he crosses his arms and plants his feet wide. 

“Hey, dude, you’re butting--” 

“Pay attention,” the man growls. “You’re being a nuisance.” 

“Dude, I’m waiting--” 

“You’re bothering people. Too loud.” 

“Whatever. You a cop or some shit?” 

The man doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move either. Even as the line ahead of you does. You roll with it and he keeps his barrier in place. You can’t help but be thankful for the unrequested buffer. 

You pay, get your receipt, fill up your last bag, and push your cart into the corral by the door. You’re not going back through the mall.

Before you can back up, another shopper shoulders by and snatches the cart you just disposed. You stagger back and watch, dumbfounded. What is wrong with people? 

Your ears are ringing and your eyes watering, and you didn’t factor in being physically battered by a shopping trip. This time of year is horrid. It’s chaos. People are animals. Just like you always knew. 

Your arms strain as you clutch your bags and make a slow progress through the automatic doors. You just need to get to the bus. You stop just to the left of the doors and try to adjust your grasp. 

Before you can, the weight is lifted and something rough brushes around your fingers. You are too stunned to resist as the bags are unhooked from your hands. You reel around and face the thief. You’re an easy target. 

“Where’s your car?” It’s that man in his beanie, with the grey eyes and the dark stubble. 

“I-- I don’t--- Who are you?” 

“A good samaritan,” he rasps.  

“You don’t have to--” You reach for the bags and he steps out of your reach. “I don’t have a car.” 

He stares at you, “I can walk you.” 

“It’s fine, the bus stop---” you nod towards the street. 

“Bus...” he mutters. “Dangerous. With all this.” 

“It’s fine,” you insist. 

“I have a truck. I’ll drive you.” 

“You don’t-- why?” You sputter. 

He looks around. He’s quiet as his eyes scan the area. “Merry Christmas.” It’s not a very cheery tiding. 

“Oh, but--” 

“Curtis,” he says. 

“What?” 

“So we’re not strangers. I’m Curtis, and you?” 

You heave and give your name. “I really can’t let you do all that--” 

“But I’m going to,” he says and turns away. You have no choice but to follow him. 

“Wait--” 

“I don’t like crowds either,” he intones as you scurry to keep up with him. 

You want to say you don’t think anyone does but you’re still reeling, as much from the hectic experience in the mall as from his sudden act of... kindness? 

He stops behind a slate gray truckbed and slips the bags onto his wrist. He fishes in his pocket and there’s a loud click as it unlocks. He pulls open the back and loads your shopping under the heavy cover. 

“You have a lot of kids?” He wonders. 

You shake your head, “I work at the community centre. Volunteer, actually...” 

He nods and shuts the back of the truck. You wring your hands shakily and stare at the silver lock. You frown and look up at him, finding him staring at you already. 

“You don’t trust me,” he reaches into his jacket and takes out a canister. “Well, if I make a wrong move, press down.” 

He holds out the long black spray can. You shake your head. What is it? 

“Bear mace. You can keep it.” 

You furrow your brow and continue to gape at the inexplicable offer. Why does he have this? 

“Can never be too safe,” he takes your hand and places the can in it. “Make sure those toys get back safe for those kids.” 

You wrap your fingers around the metal and he lets you go. You look down at it then at him again. You’re so confused but too tired to argue. You suppose it is the season for giving, even if he doesn’t seem the festive type. 

“Anywhere else you need to go?” He asks as he takes his keys out. 

You shake your head and back away. He watches you for a moment before he moves himself. He walks up on side of the truck and you the other. The door locks thunk loudly. 

Well, whoever Curtis is, can he be any worse than the general holiday shopper? 

[iiotic]

Rhetorical Question (Il Dottore x Wife! Reader)

SUMMARY: you decided to stay in your husbands office as you didn't want to go home alone in the cold. it was already late, you didn't control your mouth and just said the first things that came to your head.

1.1k words | masterlist

─── જ ‎` ‎𓂃 TAGS: dottore x fem! wife! reader, fluff at first, angst/no comfort, immortal x mortal, let's just say that dottore didn't make you immortal in this scenario, death, mentions of Pantalone, akademiya flashbacks, mentions of kidnapping, ooc dottore? lowercase intended, not proffread, please inform me if i missed something.

NOTES: im back with writing y'all!! i dont know when i will post this yet but im so happy that im finally motivated again. this was suppose to be shorter but oh well. i also can't make summaries so forgive me.

the wind hitting the window could be heard even inside to coziness of your husband's office. the dangerous winter of sheznaya was not for the weak. you were thankful that you didn't need to work in the cold, thankful that you can stay inside on Zandik's couch under a warm blanket near the fireplace.

you sighed, snapping out of your thoughts. looking away from the window you acknowledged the closed book lying on your thighs. you forgot to mark the page again.

"what time is it?" you asked, eyeing your zandik who was apparently fighting with some paperwork, trying to get more funding from regrator.

normally he'd give the job to one of his segments, but ever since the ninth got an envelope covered in oil and other kind of sticky substances, signed webby ;3 he demanded that dottore need to write it himself.

"ten past eleven" he responded shortly after. "you know you can go home at any given moment. i could have one of my assistants escort you safely."

before you could protest he added. "as much as i appreciate your company i know that you might start talking gibberish somewhere around these hours."

"pff.. no, i will not." you murmured to yourself. you opened to the book that you were previously reading, searching for the page that you ended on. the clock hit twelve am. you soon started to get sleepy but didn't want to wake up to your husband saying "i told you to go home."

"if i were to leave you" you started but immediately cut off.

"are you planning to?" dottore eyed you from behind his desk, momentarily stopping his writing.

"no, of course not." you chuckled slightly at your husbands reaction. "it was a rhetorical question." he let out a pleased hum, signalling that you can continue your meaningless questions.

"rhetorically speaking, if i were to leave you or if i would get kidnapped, what would you do?" you laid down at the couch, not looking at dottore, however admiring the flames of the fireplace.

"dear, what kind of a question is that?"

"a rhetorical one."

he was silent or pheraps silenced. the room was silent, besides the wind hitting the window and the cozy fireplace burning. there wasn't any sound of dottore writing the letter. you could feel his eyes staring at the back of your head.

after a minute or two you started to question yourself if you should apologize. you relaxed slightly as your heard zandiks laughter echoing in the room.

"you'd never do that, i'd make sure of that." he replied shortly, already ending the conversation at that. he thought that you will stop but he was entirely wrong.

"you're right i wouldn't, BUT rhetorically speaking-" you started, but got cut off yet again. you sighed hearing dottores response.

"i do not answer dumb questions."

annoyed, you opened your book yet again, searching for the page yet again as you forgot to mark it again. you knew that arguing with zandik was pointless. if he doesn't want to say something, he won't. soon enough, your eyes felt heavy. you could feel them closing by themselfs.

later that night you woke up to a sudden weight beside you. groaning, you opened your eyes slightly to see your husband sitting on the other side of the bed.

"apologies, i didn't mean to wake you up." zandik said, slipping his shoes off and coming under covers to your now awake figure. you mumbled that it's fine, half sleeping. as soon as he fully laid down you cuddled your lover.

"i was thinking about the question you asked me earlier." you hummed in response, feeling his arm move to your hair. "if anyone or anything would take you away from me i'd go crazy." he chuckled lightly

"i'd send every single fatui to look for you. search every nation, every nook. i.. i know i don't say this often nor act like it but you mean so much to me. i don't know what i'd do without you. if you were to ever go missing i'd kill anyone just to see you again. i'd do anything just to see you again. i cannot imagine my life without you."

"oh.. my sweet zandik." you sighed, looking up at your lover "i will never leave you, i promise. im sorry if i upset you, i didn't mean to.

"you lied." dottore murmured looking at your lifeless body infront of him.

it was so terrible, so terrible. your eyes deprived from any emotions looking so lifeless, your body stabbed in various places. hair devolished, blood on your clothes. it was too late he told himself.

he crouched to your body, closing your eyes gently. why? why do you look so beautiful even though that you're no longer with him. you will always be the most beautiful creature in the whole universe for him.

later, he moved you to one of the rooms in his lab. a room that only he had access to. there you were laying in one of these gorgeous transparent coffins, one candle being the only light source in the room. you looked gorgeous, as always in your wedding dress that dottore himself changed you into.

he stood there just infront of you, fingers digging into his legs surely they started bleeding by now.

"you always made my days brighter when we were still in the akademiya, days seemed to go slower than now. at first you annoyed me terribly but i could never bring myself to tell you to leave. it soon formed into something more, at first fondness, friendship then love. i-i didn't know how to feel about this so i just distanced myself from you, but i couldn't bear it much longer as everything reminded me of you. your gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, angelic voice.. how could you leave me like this. if only you told me about thise earlier, we could find a solution together. mortality is a curse.

© 2024 iiotic. — do not steal, translate or repost any of my content onto any other platform

[gracemisconduct]

This has been a strange Christmas. The first without my dad. I've always struggled with being explicit about emotion; this is the second major grief in my life, and the first nearly killed me. This time, I'm trying to be open, less self destructive, but man, it's hard work. My mother, still here, is...someone who loves me better from afar. She also struggles to accept that this has happened to more than her. And yet, Christmas, funerals, and the time of year forces proximity, and forces everything that comes with it.

He died in increments, then all at once. I first saw him die a little ten years ago, getting a pacemaker. Then a little more two years later, when he was so breathless he couldn't walk across the small medieval town I lived in. I saw him die a little bit when he was diagnosed with cancer, and when he broke down crying at my wedding. I saw him die most and fastest this year, when he went from visiting China to not having the strength to sit up in bed by himself. And then, all at once, he died.

I never knew there was so much admin involved in death. People would ask how I was; I had no idea. I was too busy sourcing a death certificate, arranging a funeral, writing a eulogy, telling friends and family he'd died, sorting my mum's finances. Every now and again I'd burst our crying. Then I'd stop.

Through it all, two things kept me just about sane; walking, walking everywhere, and fantasy. Good fantasy, bad fantasy. Smut and angst and fandoms and AO3 and all the wonderful ridiculousness of it that teen Grace loved and 20s Grace tried to pretend she didn't. Now I'm in my 30s, no shits are given. It was a balm, a source of humour, a relief. A place of happy endings of all kinds. A lot of BG3. It even made me think about doing a little writing of my own, though we're far from there yet. Thanks, hellsite, for the wonderful wildness of this place. Thanks, makers, for putting your work out there into the world for me to get lost in and cling to like a life raft.

____________

So, who was my dad? He was the most accomplished man I ever knew; nearly 40 years curating Japanese art and metalwork at internationally renowned museums, published books, honorary positions, a photographer, a ceramicist, a singer and more. His eulogy took days to write just to remember everything he did, and we still missed things.

His curiosity for culture, his love of learning, his collecting of obscure facts and bizarre stories, was infectious. It was the golden thread of my brother and I’s upbringing, with weekends and holidays punctuated by museums, bookshops, National Trust properties, standing stones and sci-fi movies, and everything in between. It was this same passion and curiosity that meant his list of friends and admirers was longer than your arm. He was a G.I. and so am I. Yes, I stole his badge.

When we were looking for readings for his cremation, we came across this poem. It's a later addition by Tolkien, written by Bilbo as he travels to the Grey Havens, thinking about his life and what comes next. I think that dad - LOTR narrator, deliver of funny hobbit voices, old hippy - would appreciate it. I hope you do too.

Day is ended, dim my eyes,

but journey long before me lies.

Farewell, friends! I hear the call.

The ship's beside the stony wall.

Foam is white and waves are grey;

Beyond the sunset leads my way.

Foam is salt, the wind is free;

I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,

the wind is east, the moorings fret.

Shadows long before me lie,

beneath the ever-bending sky,

but islands lie behind the Sun

that I shall raise ere all is done;

lands there are to west of West,

where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,

beyond the utmost harbour-bar

I'll find the havens fair and free,

and beaches of the Starlit Sea.

Ship, my ship! I seek the West,

and fields and mountains ever blest.

Farewell to Middle-Earth at last.

I see the Star above your mast!

- J.R.R. Tolkien

notes on grief - chimamanda ngozi adichie