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occamstfs · 3 days ago

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MuskMask Up

Found footage of the missing persons Eddie Leon and Bowen Chen, last seen vlogging at a new gym with a mandatory mask policy. Well documented is what seems to happen when one forgets theirs.

Mixing it up a bit! Diary entries within a short metanarrative police investigation- Meat of the story is coworkers bulking up at an advanced rate after borrowing masks from the gym, hope you enjoy! -Occam

The following footage was found by the now missing-in-action Detective Smith during a missing persons investigation of civilians Eduardo “Eddie” Leon and Bowen Chen. If you have any information on the whereabouts of the pair or Detective Smith please call APD with information.

February 1st:

The scene opens with Eddie’s face inches away from a tripod he’s setting up. Behind him, stretching outside the entrance to a gym, is coworker Bowen Chen. Eddie smiles once he sees the camera has begun recording and backs away to start the first vlog on his journey to better health. Hopping up and waving both hands with abandon, he does just that.

“Heyyy guys! Today’s day one of hitting the gym with Bowen! Obviously he knows what he’s doing so this whole thing should be a piece of cake- I mean look at him!” He gestures to his friend mid-drink of water and Bowen quickly chokes it down before shyly responding. Face blushing pink as he’s clearly not nearly as comfortable on camera.

“Ah, uhm- Yes. Hello, audience? I’ve been ah uhm, steady? At the gym for a few years now and Eddie was wondering if I could show him the ropes. Sooo, uhm.” Eduardo was very clear that he was going to be doing a vlog about the whole thing but Bowen had no idea how much a camera would put him on edge. Seeing him flounder and hearing every word come quieter than the last Eddie quickly picks up the slack.

“So yeah! We’re going to a new gym that opened up, all their ads brag about retention rate and quick results which is what I’m all about haha!” Seeing a man in a face mask come through the automatic doors behind him Eddie claps his hands and tacks on, “OH! They also still require face masks which, I don’t mind,” he playfully grasps his friend’s jaw causing blush to return over a shy grin, “it does mean you might be seeing less of this little cutie’s face but so it goes~ When in Brome hee hee!”

Bowen’s phone goes off as a timer set to ensure the pair stretch for long enough comes to an end. He then chastises Eddie for spending so long of their prep time vlogging before crossing his arms and resetting the clock to make sure his trainee stretches. Eddie quickly turns off the vlog with a wink, “Yikes already on his bad side haha~ See y’all later!”

February 9th:

“Helloooo guys~ Took my mask off real quick to record this.” He pauses to sniff the air and almost gags as he smells the musk of the gym, usually covered by his mask. “God is this what all gyms smell like?” Looking down at his sweat stained body and glistening chest he grimaces as he guesses he’s certainly not helping. Shaking it off he returns to his vlog, “Hm. I’ll edit that out- Helloooo Guys! You would not believe how much progress I’ve made already!”

He does a small flex and it’s clear he has put on more weight than would be expected, or rather more weight in a week than should be possible. “No one tells you how much you have to eat to put on mass, guys! Or I guess- Bowen told me huh?” He giggles and then jolts upright and turns the camera to his trainer working at a machine. “Speaking of gains there Mr. Mass is himself.” Behind the lens Eddie continues, “I forgot my mask today so the sweetie let me borrow his. Hear that ladies? This hunk’s also a gentleman. Someone get a ring on that finger!”

As Eddie continues to film Bowen’s reps it’s clear that something besides the effort is causing him discomfort. In fact it almost seems like the workout isn’t bothering him at all as he rolls his eyes before bending down to put more weight on the machine. With a free hand he plugs his nose to have the slightest moment of freedom from the musky scent that must be distracting him. Then as soon as he grunts through his first rep at the new weight a figure appears behind him, wearing a mask over the whole of his head and taps on his shoulder before clearly preparing to confront him.

“Oop, oh shit-” Eddie whispers, too far from his trainer to know what exactly the little confrontation is about, but after a few gestures to his maskless face it’s pretty clear. The sound of Eddie quickly putting his mask back on can be heard behind the camera as across the gym Bowen clearly nods a few times, assumedly acquiescing, motioning to pack up and head back later. He apologies and gestures for Eddie to head to the locker room but then the sweaty masked man waves him off and pats him on the back, pulling out a mask from his sweatpants.

Bowen’s gasp is loud enough to be heard enough on camera as he backs into the machine in shock as the brute holds out a mask retrieved from his sweaty pants. He waves his hands clear as day that he’s not about to put on that must-be stained mask. Eddie quickly gets off his machine and starts to head over check in on his friend. He knows Bowen hates attention and is wont to fold at any confrontation but surely he’s not about to be pressured into putting on that dirty rag.

Keeping the camera trained on Bowen just in case, he’s too focused on the shot to really notice the fear in the man’s eyes as he stares up at the masked figure. And then, with a gulp, Bowen shakily accepts the mask, close enough to read lips one could just about make out Bowen’s whispered apology, “I’m sorry sir it won’t happen again” And then he does the unthinkable and puts on the dirty mask. Eddie reacts quietly enough only for the camera to pick up, “Jesus Christ- Bo!? What are you doing?!”

After the masked man pats Bowen on the back, harder than one surely should, and offers a rough handshake, he departs. The camera captures a few more frames as Eddie walks the final few feet over. While not covered in sweat, it’s clear that the mask on Bowen’s face is wrinkled and has a small dark patch in its corner. Either from the workout or from the anxious confrontation, the trainer is clearly breathing heavily.

With each breath his eyes begin to glisten glassy. Staring off into the middle distance he adjusts his pants and seems distracted as each heaving breath strives to be deeper than the one that came before, as each gasp of musky air tries to instill more of the essence trapped within the wretched mask. His eyes almost begin to cross in the last frame before Eddie puts his phone in his pocket, leaving the last few seconds of the recording audio only. “Uhhhhm, Hey Bowen? What the fuck was that?”

There is a few seconds pause followed by the sound of presumably Bowen swallowing saliva before he answers “Oh! Uhhh yeah? I don’t know dude?” “Dude?” “Sorry my head feels like it’s swimming, Eddie? That was so uhh, intense-” The sound of adjusting clothing again comes through, someone pulling on the elastic band of their underwear.

Realizing the whole confrontation only happened because he forgot his own mask, Eddie apologizes, “That wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t take yours. Look we can swap if you-”“NO.” Silence follows once more before Bowen continues, “No I uhm- don’t mind br- Eddie. How about we call it there and head home?” Eduardo agrees and the pair head off to the locker room. After a few steps the recording ends.

February 15th:

The image begins as usual of Eddie from afar, though the sound of weight’s clanging is far louder than usual. After a few false starts interrupted by the din of falling metal, the vlogger walks a few feet away and begins talking to the camera, “Hey everyone, quick update this time-” Flexing to himself he takes a moment to address his continued growth before in the distance he hears brash, deep laughter and what little of his face is revealed makes his worry clear as day.

“I’m still chugging along but Bowen has, well blown up? Ever since the last vlog when that asshole made him wear a dirty mask it’s almost like he’s a totally different person? Here, look-” Eddie quickly pans the camera over to a man almost unrecognizable resting on a bench. Beyond having arms as large as Bowen’s legs should be, the man’s demeanor is indeed entirely different. He flexes his arm and moans to himself as he sees a central vein pushing against the strained shirt sleeve.

“Is it steroids? Do you think? OH! He’s also started using the masks the gym provides- Are there like, inhale-y steroids?” The vlogger quickly heads to the web to research, paying no mind to what the lens catch as the camera unintentionally witnesses the massive man lumbering up from his bench, leaving an unwiped sweat stain in his wake.

Massive pecs bounce with each step and thighs strain his shorts as he makes his way over to Eddie, “YO! Edster- Come help me stretch!” Eddie flinches as he’s shouted at, groaning uncomfortably he obeys his trainer. Forgetting he was taking a vlog at all he sets his phone down. The air fills with groans, cracking bones, and almost deliberately loud grunts from Bowen.

“You know I seem to remember you wanting to not put on too much weight Bo?”

There’s a deep guffaw, “Pshyeah, but y’know, when the muscle-bug bites huhuh!” The sound of his sleeves straining from a performative flex covers up his breathy moan from hyperextension. “Woah bro, why do you look so down?”

Clearly not thinking his mood would be caught by a man whose only gear has suddenly become self-obsessed, Eddie stumbles, “Well I don’t know, I guess? I’m just worried about- You just seem a little different is all.

“Huh.” There’s a long silence interrupted only by the buzz of music and clanging weights far off. Then there’s a quick gasp as in one motion Bowen stands and hoists Eddie into the air, “woAH! Bo! Put me down!”

“Huhuh no bro I get it- You don’t know why you’re not seein’ results as good as mine I totally get it!” Eddie grunts and gags in arms that truly could snap him in half, “Ugh B- you’re so sweaty ple-ugh.” Squirming in the behemoth’s grasp his face is forced into sweaty pecs that promptly stain his mask a dark blue. “God you’re going to get your b.o. All over me dude-”

There are a few more seconds of complaint before Bowen finally drops his little buddy. Picking up his phone there’s a look of concern or questioning on his face, any number of thoughts soar through his mind, has Bowen always been that tall? Why has he grown so much? What happened to him, is it going to happen to me? And then he takes a deep breath. A sigh in relief or irritation, it’s unclear, but it doesn’t matter. The camera gets a much better glimpse this time as the gym-goer breaths in the oh-so musky, mask filtered air.

Under the mask his mouth squrims into a grimace, but already eyes begin to give way to thoughtless longing. With another breath one twitches while the other falls open wide, wanting nothing more than to mainline the scent directly into his nervous system. Pupils dilate large enough to almost hide his cacao irises before a meaty hand pats him on the back, “Earth to Eddo- Bro? You comin’ to wash up or what huhuh!” Jarred back to sentience, Eddie nods and follows him, the recording ending a few moments after.

February 22nd:

The camera alights on someone unrecognizable baring his torso for fans he doesn’t yet have, though the glazed look in his eyes is more than enough hint to prove it is the vlogger before he introduces himself. “Yoooo guys! Back at it again with Bowen, how’re we lookin?”

Eddie flexes a thick bicep and smirks under his mask, adjusting it as he laughs. It’s deeper, slower, a far cry from his usual giggle. “oh yeah, I’ve been usin’ the gyms masks just like Bowen said. And I gotta say, I think they’re the real secret of this place, I’ve just been packin’ on muscle since I started borrowing them.”

Standing to his side, Bowen makes himself known, somehow even bulkier than last time. Veins criss cross his forearms and shoulders stretch wide enough that it’s a wonder he was able to even get the suctioned compression shirt om. The thin elastic straps of his mask almost snap as he speaks up, the meek camera-shy man he once was clearly erased from his mind, “I’m saying Ed! Don’t know why you were holdin’ out on trying them after seeing how much I’ve grown!” Bowen crosses his arms and his top is stretched to his limits.

Eddie laughs before his eyes go dull as laughter leaves him with no choice but to take yet another deep breath. Lost in a thought that seems to never come, his words are barely audible enough to be caught by the camera almost mistakable for a moan, it may as well be one. He whispers “need more.” Drawn out like a death knell his vocal chords creak as they lengthen. And then, the camera captures the impossible.

It looks as if it’s edited. Arms go limp as they hang lower, bloat larger, heavier, barely staying in their sockets before his shoulders similarly bulge into thick balls of muscle. Pecs that have existed for less than a month push his sweaty tank top to its limits. The bench on which he rests creaks under his weight as thighs send tears through athletic shorts that were already too tight to wear.

Behind him, his massive trainer’s eyes widen as he pauses his workout to stare at Eddie’s growth. Hungrily watching as individual strands of muscle flex and surge. Were his own mask not already sweat-stained, the drool frothing from his mouth may be more apparent. Bowen lets his weights clatter to the floor as he staggers close and leans in close to Eddie’s neck, sniffing like a predator, releasing something in between a whimper and grown as his scarred palms clench at his prey-apparent’s biceps, still bulging larger in his hands.

Bowen’s chest, over doubled in size since he began frequenting this gym, produces a rumble low enough to barely register as words. Through his mask he teeths the man’s neck, “Think I got another idea to get some gains Eddie.” This stirs the man from his reveries though does not for minute stop his growth as he bolts to his feet, almost falling forward from the new weight on his chest. Surely he would have had the man about to work him out maintained the iron grip on his arm.

Not another word is heard from the pair as they swiftly retreat to the locker room. The tripod continues filming until Eddie’s phone dies and contains little else of note. Other gym goers wander around the background, all of them masked and many of them stare forward with the same glazed eyes as they sit at various machines, laughing to themselves, breathing heavily, and lifting more with each heaving rep. Just before his phone dies and the recording ends, the man who gave Bowen his mask collects the tripod, through his mask a smile is clear on his face.

On March fifteenth newly promoted Detective Archie Smith follows up on a lead from coworkers of the missing men that the pair had recently started hitting up the Musclerade Gym. something about vlogging. The detective didn’t care. Miraculously, almost immediately did he find a pair of men who identify as Eduardo and Bowen. The only thing is-both resolutely deny ever having worked in an office building. Beyond that, it barely takes a glance to tell that despite their names and races that they cannot be the men in question. By sheer body weight alone, it’s impossible

Sure Mr. Chen looks healthy enough in his license photo but that massive hunk that stands before him could punch straight through the Detective. With a gulp Archie finds his eyes desperately wanting to trace the powerful muscles, begging for his attention through spandex and strained nylon. He finds his attention drawn to his own crotch as he can’t help but trace the veins on ‘Eduardo’s’ flexing arms to a hairy armpit dripping with sweat. Before he’s lost to his lusts however, he comes to his senses as the acrid musk pouring from both men sears his nose.

With a grunt he shakes off the beyond unprofessional distraction and meets the eyes of both men, neither too pleased to see the officer in their space. He fakes a smile and turns to continue his investigation before being intercepted by a man who seems to be of some authority, pulling him off to the side. Only his eyes are visible which sets Archie on edge. “What seems to be the problem officer?”

He explains his case and the mystery man calls the pair over, their harsh glares soften and Eddie laughs as he’s reminded of his little vlogs. Apparently the pair are trainers at the gym which despite some strange ping at the back of his mind, ignoring something screaming from his gut, when he sees their sculpted forms, smells their noxious odors, he can’t help but believe them. The masked man even offers to give him the recorded film, that is as long as he’s okay adhering to the gym’s guidelines while he waits.

There’s a glint in the eyes of both massive men now standing behind him as they each dislodge wrinkled masks from stained pants that have clearly suffered at least one gym session. Prepared to suffer more discomfort than this to sate his curiosity he throws on one of the hopefully unused masks. It’s at this point that the case goes cold.

This recounting of events, along with a copy of Eduardo Leon’s ‘vlogs’ were found sloppily scrawled on some magazines near the shredded uniform of Officer Smith. It doesn’t seem to be his handwriting unless he were racing quite hastily against, well. I haven’t quite the idea what. I suppose it is of some note that they were next to a bloated member of the gym who didn’t have any I.D. on him. His clothes seemed to be from a lost and found as they didn’t fit quite right. We were unable to further investigate his identity, but without a doubt it simply could not be Officer Smith.

The junior officer who retrieved the evidence could scarcely spend five minutes next to the man, and given Smith’s predilections towards order and cleanliness it simply could not be him. Unfortunately the state of the gym put the officer in such unease that he did no further investigation. It’s a shame as when an investigation team was sent the following day it was as if the gym was never there. I am not one for flights of fancy, it is my belief that the whole situation was simply some drug front, perhaps steroids. At any rate should you see, or perhaps smell any of these men. I advise caution. And under no circumstances should you borrow one of their face masks, obviously.

Included above are to our best knowledge are the most recent sightings of Bowen Chen, Eduardo Leon, and finally a third depicting Eduardo alongside who we believe to be the man of interest found nearby Officer Smith’s uniform. It seems they haven’t stopped growing, that is, if this all isn’t some wild goose chase. Again, if you have information do report to APD. Though please refrain from submitting any, biological material. We have lost enough of the forensics department to this mania as is.

#male tf #mental change #musk tf #muscle tf #jockification #mental transformation #dumber #personality change #male transformation #gay transformation

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dyingswanpavlova · 1 day ago

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Happier than ever

Part 1

Pairing: Nam-gyu × Reader × The Salesman

Warnings: Drug Usage, Overdose, Death, Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Suicide, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Mentions of Rape, Domestic Violence, Domestic Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Anger Issues, Depression, Long Backstory, Minors do not interact!

Nam-gyu and you were a couple for the last eight years. But after you decide you had enough of his anger issues, you leave him and try to be happy on your own. Oh, how naïve you are.

Author's note: Okay, everyone.😩 I know you're waiting for the next part of "Your girl" and trust me, I am, too! I'm sorry that I haven't come up with it yet, but I needed to get my mind off of it for a moment, because I don't want to just write anything and publish it like that - the story means too much to me. I can't publish it unless I'm happy with it, but I promise you, I'm working on it. Until then, I started to furiously hit the key board and this happened. Whatever this is, it is Part 1 of it and I'm doing a Part 2, I just don't know when yet. I love you! 🤍 Lana

Loving Nam-gyu wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.

In fact, it was almost impossible on most days.

But there was a part of you, a thing, a quiet voice – something that needed to be reassured, that felt like maybe you were the problem.

There had been good days, hadn’t there? Your birthday and the way he woke you up with pancakes every year. Of course they turned out horrible and were barely edible. They were raw on the inside and somehow, he still managed to burn them. But he made them for you. The memory still made you smile, despite everything.

Then there was the day you had your big ballet performance. You had spent so many months rehearsing, trying to be perfect. You went all Natalie Portman on that performance. Since the moment you’d been told you got to play Odette, you were fire and flame, spending every waking moment trying to be everything you pictured in your head. It was hard, very hard even. But you had the great hope that, if maybe you did well enough, they would come.

Your family would come and watch. They’d finally show you that they did indeed love you, that you weren’t just a burden or an accident. They would come and they would be proud of you. Your father would set his work phone down, your mother her pills. They would be there. For you.

But of course, they didn’t. You should have known better. It was your own fault, hoping and praying for something that was never going to happen. You should have known.

And still, the moment the curtain lifted and you glanced along the rows and rows of people, you felt disappointed. But you didn’t feel disappointed like normal people would, no. It was you after all. You felt devastated. You felt all of your creativity leave your mind. Your body slowly forgot the choreography. Your eyes glistened with tears. And your life was over.

You had your own issues. He had his anger. You had your world endings.

That was until the door flew open after everyone was already seated, waiting for the show to begin. A few heads turned and your gaze quickly flashed towards the now open door, revealing the face of the mysterious newcomer. He was out of breath and his hair was a mess, his cheeks glowing red and the look in his eyes pleading.

It was Nam-gyu.

You had just had the greatest argument of your life so far, throwing around dishes and screaming your lungs out at each other. Not even twelve hours had passed since then, so you were more than sure that he wouldn’t come. After all, he was the least reliable person you knew, alongside your family. And that fight had been particularly bad. You actually didn’t expect to ever see him again.

But there he was, his appearance disheveled and his eyes pleading with you. Pleading with you to forgive him, pleading with you to dance.

Dance.

You remembered the way you felt. The way your disappointment suddenly turned into something different, something hopeful and warm.

Something good.

He was good.

He was yours.

And you were his.

In that moment, there was nothing else. Everything around you faded into a dark cloud and all you could focus on was him and the way he stood in the middle of the audience, staring up at you. The world was quiet and everything smelled like flowers. The perfection you were striving for was suddenly there and it had nothing to do with your performance.

It was a slow dance, slow and sensual, between your souls.

Until suddenly the music started and your body remembered the movements again.

And you were indeed perfect.

Unfortunately though it wasn’t always like that. Most of the time, he was simply complicated. When he wasn’t drugged out of his mind, he was angry. Not at all the time – but easily. All you had to do was say the wrong thing and he’d explode. And you’d explode right back, right into his face.

“I fucking hate you!”

“Shut the fuck up, you dumb slut!”

“Who are you calling a slut?! You son a bitch!”

“Say that again!”

It always ended the same way. You sobbing on the floor, him slamming the door shut and disappearing. That were the good fights.

The bad ones were different. You couldn’t count the times you had been forced to take shelter in the bathroom, quickly locking the door, too afraid to let him even close to you. Of course you knew how to fight back. You didn’t let him get away with slapping you, oh no, you kneed him right in the balls so he’d know better not to fuck with you. He’d normally collapse and the fight would be over. But sometimes, on especially bad days, he got that look on him.

It wasn’t careful or hesitant. No, it was murderous and terrifying. You always knew there was something dangerous about him. That was probably what drew you in at first. But this…It was different. When he got that look, when the drugs clouded his mind like that, you were truly afraid of what he might do. And so you locked yourself in and listened to the way he pounded against the door, ready to break it down. So far, he hadn’t. A part of him was still in there, even when got like that.

But you didn’t want to push your luck.

After eight years of up and down, back and forth and through the gates of Hell, you finally left him for good. At first he probably didn’t believe it. After all, you had pulled the leaving card a million times before. But somehow you always ended up back in his bed, with him fucking your brains out and calling it making up.

But this time, you meant it. It had been a pretty normal Tuesday. You were at work, waiting tables and cleaning up after your mindless customers. It wasn’t the best job in the world, but it paid the bills – albeit, barely.

After your father left and married a woman hardly any older than you and you found your mother on the bathroom floor, cold and stiff, her eyes wide and her chin and hair covered in foam and puke, you decided couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t be that anymore.

You moved in with Nam-gyu. It started off well at first. He was as cute as ever, when he was sober. Sure, you had fights already, but they were mostly trivial. Yelling was involved, throwing furniture around as well, but he never got violent with you so far.

He found a job, as did you and you paid your apartment together. It was tiny of course, but it was enough. You bought groceries and washed laundry. You even had some spare money to buy furniture and decorations. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. You did everything the way you always pictured it.

You had been with Nam-gyu since you turned seventeen. You met back in school and immediately fell in love with him. He had been so sweet. Acting overly confident and arrogant, of course, but it was just a front which you immediately realized. Under all that he was actually rather silly. He made you laugh without even trying. Even he seemed surprised by how good you two matched. So far he’d been going through life, acting like everyone was beneath him. But in reality, he wasn’t popular. He was a bully. He was mean, with a cruel streak. But never to you. No, when someone dared to speak up their mind against you, he was there, ready to break their jaw. You formed a friendship of sort. He was protective and extremely possessive, while you were caring. His family was a bunch of assholes, just like yours was and neither of you had any real friends.

Most of your friends were other dancers and neither of those were really sentimental. Sure, it was enough to go out for a salad sometimes, but you really weren’t one for bulimia and cigarettes. Most of them were, unfortunately.

You loved food. You loved to eat and you appreciated every bite. You’d grown up rather lonely on your own, praying every night for a sibling or a real friend. Someone you could talk to, about real problems. Your ballet friends though? Whenever they asked you how you felt, they didn’t actually want to know. They were just being polite.

Nam-gyu was just as lonely, though he wouldn’t have ever admitted it. He had friends, who were to no one’s surprise, also a bunch of assholes. Some of them were just bullies, others were straight-up rapists.

“What do you mean, you changed your mind? Are you dumb? Shut the fuck up and take it. You agreed to this!”

Nam-gyu wasn’t. It was another thing he wouldn’t have admitted to out loud, but the thought of fucking someone while they were out of it was something he wasn’t after. A thing that really turned him on was to see the pleasure on the other person’s face. The moans, the sighs. He wouldn’t get that if he just made them take it. And so he didn’t. But he tried to keep a straight face, when his friends shared their immoral stories of last weekend. He tried to laugh, when they spoke about the way the girls curled up in self-hatred after they left them there, their cum leaking out of them.

That was until one of the girls ended up killing herself.

She had been super sad and melancholic for as long anyone could remember. She was rather quiet and no-one really spoke to her. She wasn’t weird or anything, just really shy. That was enough to get bullied. She was an obvious virgin and rather closed-off. A good challenge. A great bet.

So, one of his friends placed a bet with the others. Fuck the girl.

“No way that weirdo is letting you anywhere close to her.”

And she didn’t, at first. She didn’t trust anyone around, because people normally made fun of her. But that guy, who went by Nic, was a real good actor. He didn’t walk up to her and just made advances. No, he played shy around her. Sweet. Funny. He managed to tickle a smile out of her. A laugh. And he didn’t just do it once. He did it for days. Weeks. Two months. He played her boyfriend. Her sweet, shy boyfriend. Until her front slowly crumbled and she fell in love with him. Deeply. So much that she actually decided to give Nic her first.

According to Nic it had been nothing out of the ordinary, but Nam-gyu knew it was more than that. He could read the people around him fairly well, and he could also see the way Nic’s pupils dilated, the way his heart skipped a beat, whenever his sweet, little girlfriend was around.

But his friends, his friends, they were constantly at his back.

“Did you finally fuck her?”

“Did you stretch that weird little cunt, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for that Wednesday Addams bitch.”

Nic had a reputation to uphold. And so he did what he deemed necessary. He had sex with her and then he dumped her. But not like any normal person would. No, he made fun of her in the worst ways and ended up sending her nudes to anyone who was interested.

The same nudes he had begged her to send him, to trust him, for only his eyes.

And the next day, the gruesome news were heard over speaker.

She was dead. Jumped off her apartment building, right into her death.

Nic had a mental breakdown. No-one else from his group really cared. No-one except for Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu spent the rest of the day in his car, staring down at the steering wheel and trying not to throw up.

You had heard the news of course and you were devastated. You hadn’t known the girl, but you had never been mean to her. You actually remembered a few interactions you had. You knew there had been something going on between her and Nam-gyu’s friend. But naïve, little you had had the hope that it wasn’t a trick. How stupid you had been.

You spent the rest of the day looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Right when you already thought maybe he wasn’t at school at all, you saw his car. He was inside and God, he looked horrible. With red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands, all day. You tried your best to comfort him, but it was futile. He felt guilty. Someone was dead. And maybe, just maybe, if he had intervened in time…

You tried to make him understand that it wasn’t his fault, not entirely. He never spoke to his friends again.

You’d later find out, that was the day he took his first injection. So far all he had been doing were mushrooms and weed, but Hell, who hadn’t?

You spent more and more time together, because he firmly ignored everyone who was so damn fucked in the head. He was trying to be good, he was trying so hard. Life hadn’t been easy on him, not at all, but he still tried.

A month later, you had your first kiss. Another three days later you had sex. It was your first time and he was being surprisingly gentle and considerate. You loved thinking back to it, because you didn’t regret it at all. No matter what else happened between you afterwards, you could never regret giving your virginity to him, because it meant so much to you. And it seemed to mean even more to him.

Two years later, it was safe to say you were made for each other. Even long after being out of school, you were still a couple. He still got these angry outbursts sometimes, but you tried to understand him. He had grown up, feeling unseen and unloved by anyone. As did you. You weren’t angry per say. But you got angry, when he did. You had these desperate mood swing. And whenever something didn’t go your way, you felt like the world was ending. You felt everything intensely.

Love was great. It was all-consuming. You loved him in the same way he did. You adored him. Anger was different. It felt suffocating. Sadness wasn’t sadness, but depression. And despair was enough to nearly kill you.

You tried going to university, but that didn’t work out, because your father left and so you had no chance to pay the tuition. Nam-gyu never even bothered to try, because he knew he would fail anyway, but he tried whatever he could to make your dream work. You wanted to work with animals, heal them, help them, do whatever you could to make someone’s life better. But despite all your – and his – efforts, it didn’t work out. It was simply too much. He was heartbroken when you were forced to leave school, because of your selfish prick of a father. But it was alright.

You’d find another job. You could still make it in life, even without university. Everything was good.

That was, until you couldn’t afford your dance practice any longer.

That was heartbreaking.

One day, you came home after a long day of playing cashier, only to find your mother had stolen all the money you had saved so far. She took it to buy pills or whatever else. You couldn’t even be mad at her, because she lay passed out in the doorway to her room.

You had no money. And all your dreams were dead.

By the time that happened you were far into twenty-one, so you knew that life was cruel and you turned more and more bitter.

Nam-gyu was simply angry, but there was not much he could do. His parents threw him out at nineteen, so he had been paying his own rent since then. He tried speculating with cryptocurrency, but that didn’t work out. He played it down, but you knew he lost quite the amount of his own savings.

A year later your mother died and you finally moved in together. So far you hadn’t been able to leave her on her own, but now that she was gone, you couldn’t stand to live in the same place where she had died. The cemetery of what could have been. Countless dour memories, not a single one good.

You had never had a particularly good relationship, but she was your mother nonetheless. The sight of her dead body and horrified face, it haunted you in your sleep. You spent more than one night, waking up screaming, sweating and clutching the linens. Luckily, Nam-gyu was there to catch you, before you ever managed to fall into the deep pit that was your mind.

He managed to calm you down somehow, every time. He was perfect. The perfect boyfriend.

Until he wasn’t.

You hated when he did drugs, especially so after what had happened to your mother. And so he said he wouldn’t, but it was obviously just to pacify you. You always noticed when he did it nonetheless, you knew the dazed look in his eyes, the paleness of his skin. Whenever he refused a meal, it was obvious to you. Normally, he’d choke down everything you cooked like a starved animal, but there were days when he picked at his food and that was always the first indication.

His short responses, his temper, suddenly so easily flared. It didn’t take long for your first real argument to break out. It was fine, up until the point when you saw his hand twitch. Obviously, you shot him a murderous look, daring him. If he dared to hit you, you’d break his fucking jaw.

And he refrained. For then.

Things went mostly normal, until the next fight. That time he wasn’t so gentle. Things got out of hand and he pushed you against the wall, smashing your head against it in the process. For a moment, you were simply stunned – and even he seemed to be. He stopped before he could cause any greater damage.

Things went between good and bad, it was a constant battle for dominance. One day was good, the next day horrible. You couldn’t even look at him without earning a harsh comment. You’d ignore him firmly for the rest of the day and eventually he’d come crawling back, begging you to let him back inside the bedroom. He didn’t mind the couch, he just missed you. And somehow you always forgave him, far too easily. Sometimes he did change for a while. Surprised you with flowers or his sad attempts at cooking. Every time he messed up a scrambled egg, you couldn’t help but get weak. He was so silly, it was endearing. Yet at the same time, you knew there was something dark within him. Most likely the drugs, but you could never tell for sure.

Maybe this was just who he was.

Things got better and worse again, until one night, he snapped. You had a fight about one of your co-workers, who he considered a threat. You never understood it, because to you it was so obvious that you never wanted anyone else. Despite your problems, you stayed fiercely loyal to him. You loved Nam-gyu. And a part of you still believed that in the end, things would turn out good. Maybe they would, right?

But that night was bad. He got so furious and when he yelled at you, the walls seemed to shake. You were normally so eager to fight back, so strong, but that day something was different. You were on your period and just a few hours earlier, you had met a dance friend of yours. She told you, she was sure that, if you had stayed, you’d be famous by now. But she wasn’t kind about it. She was subtly looking down at you, shaming you for the way your life had turned out. It made a tight knot form in your stomach and you felt your resolve slowly crumble. All you wanted was to cry, but even that didn’t work, because you came home to a furious Nam-gyu.

Your shoulders slumped and you refused to look at him, which only ever made him angrier.

You didn’t see the slap coming, but once it happened, you couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t forget the anger and the disappointment that welled up in you. When you looked up at him, you expected the tiniest bit of regret or guilt, but there was nothing. He was too deep in his bubble of anger and substance, to see clearly. He got more and more furious and you knew; if you didn’t hide then, he’d do something worse. It was the first night you hid yourself away in the bathroom, one of many to follow. You always told yourself it were the drugs. He was so sweet when he was sober, so gentle and loving. You kept telling yourself, things would be good one day. They would turn out well. With time and patience.

Until you snapped.

You were at work, staring off into the distance. You had been out of it all day, because you spent the previous night locked in the bathroom, until he finally passed out around four in the morning. You snuck out and made your way to your workplace, where you opened more than three hours early. You had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends, no one. Only you and your pain. All day you spent trying to cover the dark marks on your wrists, but no one seemed to care anyway. People went about their own lives and problems and you were just their co-worker, their waitress.

You stood silently, watching an elderly couple whose order you had just taken. They were so sweet, like they came right out of a movie. He held the door open for her and pulled her chair back. He caressed her cheek and she never flinched when he reached out his hand for her. They smiled at each other with such a tenderness, it brought tears to your eyes. That was the exact moment. That was the moment you realized you didn’t want to continue on living like this.

You wanted more. You deserved more.

You made your way back and gathered most of your things while he was still at work. Of course it wasn’t the most intelligent approach, but it was all you could do. You knew, the moment you sat down and tried to explain to him that you were going to leave him, he’d find a way to convince you to stay. It had been eight years, after all. Eight years on and off, eight years up and down. Drugs, violence, lies – at least he never cheated on you.

You’d keep that in tender memory of him. As well as the countless times he had comforted and fought for you. All the times he made you laugh, all the times he made you feel loved. The greatest sex you would ever have, no doubt.

But you still packed your things and left like a ghost. After eight years.

He tried to contact you of course, the moment he came home. But you took your paycheck and went to a motel. Whenever he tried to find you at work, you hid in the kitchen. Your co-workers tried to calm him down, to tell him that you didn’t work there any longer, but he saw through the lie. He got loud and furious, which you could kind of understand. You stayed in the kitchen, crying to yourself and feeling incredibly guilty, but you didn’t ever come out.

He kept coming, but it got less and less frequent. From what your co-workers told you, he seemed less and less like himself. The thought broke your heart and nearly made you go back.

You were constantly in your head, making more and more mistakes at work, until your boss’s patience finally snapped. When you messed up the third customers giant bill, he fired you. You instantly panicked, because you were sure, now you had to go back.

You even drove around in your car, trying to get a glimpse of him in the apartment. But to your horror, you didn’t see Nam-gyu in the window. It were other people, some couple actually. And when you tried to call him, the number wasn’t available. Suddenly, he was a ghost and you were knee deep in horse shit.

It didn’t take long for your money to go and so you ended up panicking. You had to leave the motel soon and if you didn’t get a job – you’d end up homeless. Which was as good as dead.

A few days later, after you realized that you seemed to have no special talents and that no one really cared to hire you, you sat at the metro station. You had only one option left or so you thought. Le girls girls girls. You were a dancer. You were graceful. You were too good for this.

But it was all you could do. After all, the girls didn’t have to indulge in any immoral transactions. They were just dancing, right? Fine, in light clothing, but still dancing. You could do that.

You were deep in thought, your eyes closed and your head leaned against the wall behind you, when you heard someone’s voice.

“Care for a game of Ddakji?”

This was when your life took a dark turn.

You eyed the handsome stranger with suspicion. It was super odd. A man going down the path of middle age, slicked-back hair, wearing a suit and a briefcase on him.

And he was asking you to play a game with him?

You frowned and glanced around.

“I don’t know what you want, but you won’t get it from me.”

He smirked and tilted his head to the side innocently.

“I don’t want anything. Just a little game. That’s all. You got something to win here. I got money.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not a fucking hooker.”

He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I told you, all I want is to play a game. Are you scared?”

That made you bristle. You knew the game and you fucking hated it. You were fairly good at playing at, but you didn’t care for this idiot’s audacity. You were about to snap at him again, when you caught sight of the money. Your eyes widened and you sank back against the wall.

“I don’t have any money.” You murmured back.

“Don’t worry. You can pay with your body.”

Your head shot up and you were ready to lunge at him, but he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I have no intention of fucking you.” He said calmly. “So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared?”

You crossed your arms and got up, giving him a dirty look.

“Get to it, son of a bitch.”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You had trouble adjusting your sight to the unnatural, neon light. The smell was odd, somewhat disinfectant. Something was really wrong.

You slowly stretched and turned your head, only to see you weren’t alone. That was enough to nearly make you shriek. You sat up quickly enough to get dizzy. Next to your own bunk was a woman who stared at you through her cat-eyes. She smirked devilishly as she lay on her side.

“Your fate is sealed. There’s no way you can dance your way out of this.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. This had to be some freakish co-incidence. You took your gaze off her, only to realize you weren’t alone. Countless people surrounded you, some of them awake, others still asleep. They all wore the same green tracksuit, just as you did.

You took a shaky breath and carefully swung your legs over the bed, heading for the ladder.

What, in God’s name, was this? And why did you agree to it?

You only remembered how ashamed you felt and how good the prospect sounded of not having to dance half-naked for strange men.

But was this really better?

You glanced around in the hope of…Of what? The situation was far too fucked up.

The fact that they got you here unconsciously, getting you dressed…

You wanted to throw up. You stumbled through the great hall, hoping to get some answers to your questions, but that hope quickly got crushed.

These were the real strange men. Dressed in pink suits, wearing masks which covered all of their faces and even their voices weren’t their own. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a fun game, you suddenly realized.

That Ddakji playing motherfucker had deceived you.

You lost the first round, which resulted in him slapping you. And that slap, which hadn’t really been a gentle one, awakened some kind of beast in you. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the memory of getting slapped and hunted down your own apartment on a regular basis. Whatever it was, you didn’t lose another round. He gave you money and money and money. But you didn’t want his fucking money. You wanted revenge.

You kept winning, because nothing else was possible. And by the end of the game, he smiled at you while he handed you the damned card.

But right before he turned crawled back into the pit of Hell where he had come from, you called out to him.

“Hey, motherfucker.”

He cocked a brow and regarded you with amusement. “Are you still mad about that tiny, little hit? Come on, you took it like a champ.”

“Then you should, too.” You slapped him with an intensity, you didn’t think you’d ever possess.

He looked at you like a statue, obviously ready to lunge at and murder you. But he hid his murderous intent behind a well-rehearsed smile.

“That one was free.” He said calmly. “And if I ever do see you again, I want a return match.”

He left and you were left with the card.

And there you were now. This wasn’t some childish game of Ddakji.

No one showed their face. You knew what that meant. Something was wrong – and you were in trouble.

You were about to leave the hall and take part in the first game, following after the others. You wouldn’t even have noticed, had you not bumped into him full-force.

When you pulled back your head, ready to apologize, you froze.

There he was. Your Nam-gyu. Staring back at you with wide eyes, behind them a mixture of something akin to surprise and fury.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

He rushed forward and grabbed your by the shoulders, backing you up against the wall. Your eyes widened and you tried to push him back, but he was driven by something far stronger than both of you.

“Nam-gyu?” You breathed out.

He frowned deeply and stared at you incredulously.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I didn’t-“

“Oh my God, I’m going to kill you.” He growled. “Where were you? What’s going on with you? Are you fucking-“

“Is there a problem here?” At first, you didn’t see the guy behind him with his ridiculous hairstyle and pouty lips. Immediately, you hated the sight of him.

“Fuck, she’s my-“

The purple-haired guy gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Whatever, man. We should get going, huh? We’ll be late for the game.”

He eyed you in an odd way, but you pushed it down and used the moment to free yourself from Nam-gyu’s grip and run out, rushing after the others and hiding in the crowd. He attempted to follow you and even called out to you, but you were already gone.

Fuck, you thought.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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acmeangel · 2 days ago

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♡ For my Valentine's Week Event! ♡ SFW ♡ Canon!Levi x Female!Reader ♡ Short one shot, fluffy ♡ Summary: You and Levi are both Scouts, and it's time for Paradis' annual Lovers' Festival! When Levi notices how you light up at the sights of the festival, how does he react?

Levi always chose you to go with him on trips into town to pick up more supplies for the barracks — you were focused, always stuck to the specific inventory needs, and he didn’t hate having your company, either.

You always appreciated the opportunity to go with him. While it wasn’t the most exciting ‘mission,’ it was still a break from the barracks for a short while, in a way that didn’t involve fighting Titans or risking your life (though you did sometimes fear for it while Levi double-checked the inventory list after you were done).

Town was typically quiet, bordering on dull and monotonous, but you didn’t mind that. The way you saw things, it was an idyllic look into how a normal, peaceful life could be — something as simple as picking out vegetables at a market stall seemed like a romanticized dream to you.

Levi would sometimes catch you from the corner of his eye, as you wistfully stared at the people in town, and he’d narrow his gaze with judgment, but wouldn’t tell you to stop. You’d still remained focused, so he saw no reason to take away this simple thing that seemingly brought you joy.

Today, however, was no ordinary day in town. Through the chaos of life with the Scouts, both of you had forgotten that it was the day of the annual Lovers’ Festival.

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose as the two of you had turned down a street and been met with streets full of couples holding hands, pink and red ribbons tied around every festival stall, children giddily sneaking pieces of chocolate, and bouquets of flowers bursting from every corner.

“Shit,” he’d muttered, “I forgot this insane thing was today.”

“Oh,” you said, your voice somewhat distant as the sights of curling rose petals, decadent sweets, and paper hearts captivated your gaze. “Yeah… so did I…”

Levi didn’t seem to notice your distraction as he began to weave through the crowded street, his brow set in a straight line and his lips pressed firmly together as he evaded the couples who were giggling while exchanging gifts and sweet words.

You, however, were in no such rush. You took your time, looking at each and every booth in the festival with wide eyes filled with curiosity and elation. You’d never say it out loud — especially not to Levi — but you’d always hoped that some day, you’d get to go to the Lovers’ Festival with someone special and be one of those couples. You knew that life in the Scouts made this a bit of a pipe dream, but you couldn’t help yourself from wanting it, anyway.

“Y/N,” Levi called out as he turned around from far ahead of you, irritation rising in his tone. “Move it, we’re on a sched-“

He cut himself off as he saw you leaning over the rows of flowers, your skin glowing as the vibrant colors of petals reflected onto you, your lips curved up into a warm smile. He saw the way your eyes lit up as you saw the couples walking by with intertwined hands.

He sighed and stood still at the end of the row of stalls, waiting for you to catch up instead of hurrying you along.

Eventually, you’d finished making your way through the street, and the two of you went on to gathering the supplies as usual, the sounds and sights of the festival left behind.

“Alright,” he'd said, after you'd finished up at the last shop of the day, glancing over the list one last time. “That’s everything.”

“Mhm…” you hummed in response.

Levi could hear the distraction oozing from your voice and he snapped his head up, expecting to see you preoccupied with something ridiculous. But when his gaze followed yours, he turned his head to see a modest vase of roses sitting on the shop counter. A small pink ribbon was wrapped around the vase, with a tag that read “Single Red Roses for Your Beloved” in swirling calligraphy.

His eyes drifted back to your profile, studying your expression — the small smile that played on your lips, the soft puff of air from your nose, the subtlest longing in your gaze.

“Tch.” He tapped his pencil against the paper. “Forgot something.”

You blinked hastily, your wandering mind brought back to reality as you turned to face him, your face heating up with embarrassment.

“I did?” Your brows turned downward, your eyes straining to try and see the paper. “What did I forget? Sorry, I’ve been…”

Your voice trailed off as Levi ignored your questioning, neatly folding and tucking the paper into his jacket and turning to head for the shop counter. You watched as Levi approached the shop owner behind the counter, pointing to the vase of roses. Your eyes widened with confusion, which morphed into actual bewilderment as the shop owner gave Levi not one, but all of the roses from the vase, wrapped together with newspaper. You heard him mumble a “shit” as he pricked himself with one of the thorns, griping under his breath.

Levi tossed a few coins down onto the counter then walked over to you, his stride as calm and purposeful as it always had been, as if he were about to hand you a folder of reports rather than a bouquet of roses.

The tension in his voice, however, betrayed a hint of actual nerves.

“Here.” He outstretched his arm, handing you the bouquet, his eyes looking everywhere but into yours. “You kept… staring at them.”

You took the bouquet into your arms, the sweet scent wafting up to your nose. You reached a hand up to gently trace your fingers along the soft, velvety petals, your eyes sparkling with wonder.

“Levi,” you began, your voice quiet and drawn out, as if trying to delicately navigate this uncharted territory. “You didn’t have to do- this is- these are beautiful…”

The tips of his ears turned bright red, his top lip scrunching upward with slight discomfort.

“You weren’t exactly being subtle, the way you were looking at everything all day,” he uttered, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Was starting to think your eyes were gonna fall out of your damn head. I don’t know. You looked… happy.”

“Thanks, Levi,” you said, your voice completely sincere as your face began turning hot once again and you couldn’t help but smile. “No one’s ever— just, thank you.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with your pleased reaction, studying the boxes of supplies for a moment before looking at you again.

“But if anyone asks, I didn’t buy those for you. I’ll deny it.” He raised a stern, serious eyebrow at you, but the softness in his eyes and the faint upturn of his lips suggested otherwise.

He paused for a beat, then added, “Those suit you. Maybe I’ll keep ‘em on the inventory list for next time.”

His lips tugged upward just a fraction of an inch more for the briefest moment, before he pushed through the shop door, back out onto the bustling festival street.

♡ Participate in my Valentine’s Week Event! Rules are here.

♡ Requested by anonymous

♡ Masterlist

#☆.acmeangel.writes #☆.levi.oneshot #☆.drabbles #levi ackerman fic #levi fic #levi ackerman fanfic #levi one shot #levi ackerman one shot #levi fluff #levi ackerman fluff #levi x you #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #☆.angel.requests #☆.valentines

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earlysunshines · 13 hours ago

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down for you

kang haerin x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you beg haerin to go to some party and 1. haerin hates parties 2. she wasn’t even invited… but if it’s you asking she’s always willing.

warnings: mentions of alcohol ; not my best work tee bee aych 💔 ; ermmm pining ; nothing else really ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread

a/n: i haven't written for her yet bc no ideas LOL I prolly won't write much for her but!! this song is soooo her and the main inspo for this so yeah lololol enjoy :-p

haerin’s building is across campus from yours—a good walk and a few flights of stairs to be exact. regardless, she’s on her way there because you forgot your laptop case.

does haerin have to be doing this? absolutely not. her building is a five minute walk from where you’ve parked, and you even told her it would be better to wait for you. still, haerin meets you halfway just so she can accompany you on the way back to your lecture room and then to your car. it’s extra cardio for haerin and more time for you, so she’s not complaining.

“you didn’t have to come all the way here ‘rin.” you giggle, grabbing not only your laptop case, but also the pencil case you managed to forget as well. “the campus is huge.”

“it’s fine.” haerin simply responds, waiting for you to zip your bag and put it back on. she smiles when you do, then follows you back to your car—a good ten minute walk away.

the rest of the way back, haerin listens to you talk about your classes with her head tilted in your direction. when you step a little too close to the edge of the sidewalk, she reaches out, fingers catching the sleeve of your sweater in a small, familiar tug as she guids you back toward the center of the path. she keeps her eyes on your most of the way back, only glancing down once in a while when you glance back at her and to avoid tripping over the crack in the path that gets at least ten students a day.

you two have had this routine since you became friends last semester: meeting up somewhere, walking back to the car together, and almost always studying or spending time together after your classes are over.

(the only time you two aren’t together is when you’re in your respective buildings, time that both of you dread—it doesn’t make any sense that the engineering and public health buildings are so distanced… they’re on the same wavelength, no?)

when you finally reach your car, you’re still mid-conversation, the rhythm is easygoing just as always. but then you say something that makes haerin falter.

“i know you’re not really a party person… but my friends invited me to one this friday and they really want to meet you.”

she pauses, fingers hovering over the passenger door handle. “me?”

“yeah, you.”

she blinks, settling herself into the seat beside you. “why… me?”

“i told them about you.” you grin as if the answer is obvious.

“actually?”

“how could i not? you’re my closest friend, haerin.” you glance over at her, smiling. “it’s just a small party thing, and i wanted you to be there.”

a lot is running through haerin’s mind. why would you mention her to your friends? is this party so important that she has to go? who are these ‘friends’? what will the party be like? haerin shivers a bit. the thought of being surrounded by new people, forced into small talk, makes her a bit uneasy. there is no way she is going to this party.

but then you lean in a little, tilting your head, eyes bright and expectant, and suddenly it’s hard to say no.

“we’ll just drop by,” you add quickly, like you can sense the hesitation in the way her jaw tightens and look averts. “just for a bit. and after, i’ll treat you to ice cream.” you promise.

she doesn’t have to go to this party, but you can’t lie that after so much time with her it’s hard when she’s not at arms length your friends have even rolled their eyes at the mere mention of her just because you always have something to say about her—whether it’s something simple or unrelated to whatever you and your friends were talking about earlier.

the amount of time you spend with haerin is enough to lead to the inevitable: growing feelings. how could you not grow fond of haerin in a way that’s more than platonic? she’s pretty, soft-spoken, and caring. she caught you by surprise that moment you bumped into her during your first day of university, and now she’s someone you can’t imagine being away from. you even call her almost every night.

plus, what you feel is the same on haerin’s end. she noticed you immediately, and the fact that you two are even this close still baffles her. she’d never admit anything, though. there is nothing other than her not-so-subtle looks and actions that could reveal what she truly feels.

she bites the inside of her cheek. haerin does not want to go. but you give her the look and she crumbles at how pretty you look. she can already picture you smiling at her over a cup of ice cream afterward, laughing about whatever might happen at the party.

haerin sighs, pretending to be reluctant when she mumbles, “i mean, i guess. if you want me there… then i’ll go.”

your sigh of relief is immediate, and before haerin can brace herself, you’re leaning over and wrapping your arms around her in a quick, excited hug. she stiffens for half a second, caught off guard, before her body relaxes against yours.

she smiles into you, taking in the scent of your signature peachy scent; haerin doesn’t need a mirror to know that her face is burning.

—

haerin is in another situation that has her face burning once more.

she’s tends to get sleepy when she’s around you, especially when you both are cozy in your bed. it didn’t take long for her to pass out on your bed once you both finished studying. usually she wakes up to either you sleeping, studying, or doomscrolling. this time it’s doomscrolling.

her little shuffle gets your attention; the pressure around your waist loosening makes you hum. you turn to see haerin blinking a few times, then rubbing her eyes.

“hey.” you giggle.

“hi.” haerin responds sleepily, letting her body go limp again as she tries to take her leg out from between both of yours—you tug her leg back, keeping it there. it’s a little intimate for ‘just friends,’ definitely. but haerin feels all warm inside and you’re, well, just you, so she doesn’t complain. you don’t seem to mind either.

“you were out for like, an hour.”

“was i?”

“mhm.” you say as you turn to face her. her eyes are a little puffy, but it’s not that noticeable, more cute than noticeable if anything. you move her hair out of her face and smile, snuggling a little closer. “you’re so pretty.”

she laughs nervously. “i just woke up.”

“yeah, and you’re pretty.”

haerin is way too sleepy to deal with this, so she instead thanks the dimmed room for concealing her blush and closes her eyes once more. her smile lingers as she moves to face the ceiling, and it deepens when she feels you scooting closer.

“what time is it?” she asks.

“five.” you mumble, yawning lightly. “party is at seven.”

oh. haerin has completely forgotten about the party after being so comfortable, and now, the sudden realization shakes her awake.

“but let’s nap a little more, i’m comfy.” you insist.

haerin is anything but sleepy right now. “are you sure we shouldn’t be getting ready? what’s the dress code? do we have to look flashy?”

“relax,” you say, draping your arm over her. “it’s just a house party. baggy jeans and a t-shirt would be more than enough if i’m going to be honest. it’s casual, nothing crazy.”

“okay…”

—

okay, maybe you shouldn’t go to that party.

haerin just walked out of your room in a simple outfit—just like you had said—but wow, she looks so good you think that maybe you should keep her here for yourself. her hair is still a little messy from her nap as well, so she’s tied it up. you always liked her with her hair up, and down… you like her with any hairstyle.

“do i look okay for the—”

“yes.” you cut off her question. “very.” you walk over, look her up and down, then snap a picture for safe keeping.

“what was that for?”

“you look really good, haerin.”

“oh.” she says flatly, feeling a lump form in her throat. “you do too.”

you both smile at each other for another moment, feeling the weight of the tension push you two down.

“let’s go?” you ask, lingering in front of her.

“yeah.”

…

there’s a strange stiffness in every part of your body as you drive to the destination. haerin is in the passenger seat on her phone looking like that, like she’s just been pulled out of a magazine. at each red light you try to steal a glimpse of her, silently in awe.

once you arrive, the party is already in full swing when you and haerin step in. the music vibrates lowly throughout the air, voices overlap in bursts of laughter, and conversation accompanies the house-type tune.

your friend haewon appears out of nowhere, beaming as she throws her arms around you in a tight hug. you laugh, hugging her back just as eagerly.

“y/n! i’m glad you could make it.” haewon beams.

“i knew you loved me.”

“okay, not too much now…” she jokes, pulling away and turning to haerin, giving her a much smaller, polite hug. haerin barely has time to react before she pulls away, grinning.

“you must be haerin?”

haerin blinks, nodding slowly. “yeah.” her voice is calm, unreadable, but you catch her ears turning pink and the way her fingers twitch slightly at her sides.

haewon gives you a knowing look before disappearing into the kitchen.

haerin exhales, subtle but sharp, and you glance over at her. she already looks a little overwhelmed, her shoulders tense, eyes scanning the room like she’s trying to find an escape route.

you nudge her shoulder before moving further inside, holding her hand as you do so. your shoulders stay close, touching, and she doesn’t pull away. instead, she stays close, like you’re the only steady thing in this chaos of the party.

“we’ll stay just for a bit,” you assure. “i just need to say hi to some people, have small talk, and before you know we’ll be at the ice cream place you like.”

she nods, her hand tightening around yours. “okay, just a bit.”

—

it has not been just a bit. it’s been nearly an hour—fourty-seven minutes to be exact.

(haerin has been checking her phone each time you run into a new person.)

she would be lying if this whole thing weren’t interesting, though the best part about meeting all these people is them mentioning how much you mention her and watching your blush grow.

“we’ll be talking about the menu at a restaurant and she’ll mention you. i remember we were getting dessert and she pointed to something going, ‘haerin loves this.’” one of your friends jokes. “you two aren’t dating, no?”

both you and haerin simultaneously freeze, with you breaking the awkwardness with a laugh. “i– no.” you push his shoulder.

“okay, but you do talk about her a lot.” another friend nudges, grinning.

you blink. “do i really?”

“yeah, so much.”

haerin shifts beside you, her usual composure slipping just slightly as she looks down. there’s a small smile on her face as she pretends to be interested in the hem of her sleeve.

the topic changes before either of you fully acknowledge it, too attentive to the tension. there’s a small warmth lingering in your chest—half embarrassment, half something else.

the rest of the night consists of haerin following you around as you bump into others, and as the night goes on the more unbearable it gets. you seem to be meeting people who aren’t your friends, maybe acquaintances? classmates? whoever they are, you seem to be completely oblivious to how often they flirt with you.

here and there they’ll lean in, laugh a little too hard at your jokes, and angle their bodies toward you like they’re waiting for a moment to catch your attention. it’s so blatantly obvious that the past three people have been trying to please you, but you don’t notice.

haerin notices. she notices everything, but she doesn’t say anything. she just keeps her expression neutral as she stays close. she takes it because she promised herself to get through this just for you, just for tonight.

but then there’s him.

some guy—intak, you think? some guy you recognize from your introduction to kinesiology class—confident from the drinks in his system, slides up next to you. his smile is a little too easy as he leans in, voice dropping to something lower, more deliberate.

“wow, you’re stealing the spotlight here, you know?”

you laugh, oblivious, waving him off. “that’s not true.”

“no, seriously. you’re gorgeous.” he gives you a smirk, winking in a way that makes your brows turn in confusion. “we have a class together—kinesiology and public health analytics—i see you and i can’t help but think you’re going to the be the reason i fail. you’re so pretty.”

“aw, that’s not true.” you chuckle nervously.

he moves his hand, not quite touching you, but close enough that haerin stiffens beside you.

and that’s when haerin decides she’s had enough.

her hand snakes around your waist, pulling you away from him and earning a confused, defeated look from the guy. you turn to her in surprise at the sudden action, and also because wow your heart is beating fast from that.

“ice cream?” she reminds you, her voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “you promised.”

you glance at her, the weight of her hand on your chest grounding you just as much as it flusters. it’s only then that you realize how long you’ve actually been at this party.

“oh—right. okay, let’s go.”

she pulls you in closer, leading you toward the door and out, her fingers warm against you.

—

“i’m sorry for keeping you cooped up there so long, i lost track of time.” you apologize, starting the engine of your car.

“it’s fine.” haerin lies, sinking in the seat and turning away from you. her words feel flat, like an automatic response rather than the truth.

anyone else would believe her, but you know her well enough to recognize the subtle signs—how she tugs at her sleeves, how her fingers tap against her knee impatiently, how she shifts just slightly as if trying to make herself smaller. you don’t push her, instead focusing on the road, letting the silence settle between you.

the drive to the ice cream shop is quiet, and when you finally park, haerin barely glances at the menu before mumbling, “strawberry is fine.”

you don’t comment on how unenthusiastic she sounds, just get the order and hand her the cup before grabbing your own little cup of mint chocolate chip. she takes it with a quiet “thanks,” and the two of you sit in your car, parked beneath a streetlight that casts a dim glow.

usually, your silences with haerin are comfortable and easy. but this one is suffocating, even the soft hum of music doesn’t ease the tension.

something unspoken lingers, and you let it continue to hang in the air for a bit, hoping she’ll say something first. she doesn’t.

with a sigh, you lower the volume of the music and glance at her.

“okay.” you say, breaking the silence. “why are you so moody? is it because of the party? if you didn’t want to go you didn’t have to. you should’ve just told me.”

haerin’s grip on her spoon tightens, her gaze fixed on the half-melted ice cream. “i’m just tired.”

you stare at her, unimpressed. “why are you lying to me?”

she exhales through her nose but doesn’t respond. shifting in your seat, you turn fully toward her, searching her face. “i know something is up. did my friends say something off? what is it? i’ve never seen you like this before.”

she stays quiet, biting down and tensing her jaw. for a moment, you wonder if she’s going to brush you off again.

haerin exhales sharply, setting her ice cream down in the cup holder before finally turning to face you. “do people always flirt with you like that?”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden question. “huh?”

she scoffs, shaking her head. “you’re so oblivious,” she mutters. “everyone at that party—everyone but your actual friends—was flirting with you, and you didn’t even notice. you barely even reacted to intak. if i hadn’t pulled you away, you probably would’ve stayed there without a clue.”

you furrow your brows, trying to recall the interactions from earlier. “i mean… i just thought they were being nice.” you say slowly.

haerin lets out a humorless laugh, like she can’t believe how clueless you are.

you tilt your head at her, watching the way she pokes at her ice cream aggressively even if it’s half soup at this point. “why is it such a big deal?”

“it’s— it’s not.” she looks away, but there’s something in her tone, something in the way her fingers tighten around the fabric of her top.

you narrow your eyes. “wait—” you lean in slightly, voice dropping. “are you jealous?” it almost sounds like you’re teasing, but the curiosity in your tone is overpowering.

haerin stiffens, the tips of her ears turning red. “no, why would i be jealous?”

that’s a lie.

your eyes widen as realization dawns, and you nudge her arm, your teasing smile growing. “you are jealous.”

she glares at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but you can see the way she swallows hard like she’s debating whether to keep denying it or not. you’ve never seen her so nervous.

you press further, pushing past the hesitation between you. “why would you even be jealous over people flirting with me?”

haerin exhales, long and slow, before finally mumbling, “because…”

“because?” you echo, urging her to continue.

“it just— i can’t, y/n. can we go home? my things are at your place and i need to get home.”

“it’s a friday.”

“y/n, please.”

you frown, deciding to stop yourself from pressing on further to keep haerin from getting overwhelmed again. you hesitate before shifting the car to ‘drive,’ catching haerin turning her body away from you completely in your peripheral.

—

it’s completely silent from there on out. whatever happened in the car was the closest thing you’ve ever gotten to a fight with her, and you don’t know how to deal with it. when you reach your place, you unlock the door and let haerin go first, not exchanging a single word.

haerin immediately grabs her bag from where she left it near your desk. she moves with purpose, like she’s trying to get out of here as soon as possible, but you can’t just let her leave like that. not when she’s in your place.

“haerin,” you call, and when she doesn’t turn, you step closer. “are you seriously jealous over people flirting with me?”

she huffs, finally looking at you. “it’s ridiculous, right?”

“yeah,” you say as you cross your arms. “you’re the most gorgeous, amazing person i know. they should’ve been flirting with you instead, i don’t know why they were doing it with me.”

haerin’s eyes widen slightly, her lips parting like she wasn’t expecting that. your assumption starts to make sense in her head: you think that she’s jealous because people were flirting with you and not her. you’re completely off, and before she can interrupt, you start again.

“i saw some people checking you out too. i overheard people saying that you’re pretty from my friends while you went to the bathroom and—” you step closer. “why would you ever be jealous over people flirting with me?”

she lets go of her bag now, jaw clenching before she finally exhales. “it’s not because they were flirting with you,” she mutters. “or because i want to be flirted with.” she shakes her head, eyes meeting yours with something raw in them. “it’s because they can say all of this while i can’t.”

your breath catches.

haerin licks her lips, voice quieter now. “i like you.” she swallows, avoiding eye contact. “i’ve been stressing about it for the past month or two. and tonight just… seeing how easily people say those things to you, knowing i’ve been thinking you’re so pretty and sweet before they even—” she exhales sharply. “i hate when people flirt with you because i like you.”

your heart stutters in your chest. the weight of her words turns a gear in your brain. everything feels real, and you suddenly feel breathless. kang haerin likes you.

“haerin,” you murmur. “i— you do?”

“i’m sorry.”

“no, no.” you stop her, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just— everytime i’d see people looking at you like… i don’t know, like they wanted you or something, i’d get this weird jealousy as well.”

“why?” haerin questions.

“haerin, i like you too.” you admit through an exasperated chuckle. “i go out of my way to spend time with you and everything because i like you. sometimes we’re laying in my bed or getting food together and i think, i just, i always wished it were something more than platonic.”

her breath catches, taken aback by the sudden confession. her eyes search yours for any sign that you’re messing with her, but all she finds is sincerity.

“you do?” she asks, barely above a whisper.

“haerin, i like you so much.”

and then she exhales, relief and something softer washing over her features. she steps over to hug you, burying her face in your neck.

“i’m— i’m sorry for being so moody.”

“it’s okay.” you laugh, hugging her tightly. “i would’ve been the same if someone were flirting with you.”

you two pull away then, hands still on each other and faces now inches apart. everything around you stops, but the beating in your heart speeds up when you’re met with her features.

on impulse, you sneak a quick kiss, pulling away immediately and feeling your cheeks burn.

haerin’s eyes widen before she giggles, moving her hands to cup your cheeks properly and kissing you sweetly. the taste of strawberry ice cream lingers on her lips, making the moment sweeter. she parts, her lips ghosting yours, and you smile.

“are we moving too fast?” you ask.

“i– i don’t know. i’ve never… i—” you cut haerin off with another kiss, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“i think this is fine. i wanted to um… do this before we left my place but…”

haerin laughs, smiling at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “well now you can… do it as much as you’d like. i like you a lot y/n.”

“i like you a lot too, haerin.”

#newjeans x reader #kpop x reader #haerin x reader #kang haerin x reader #kang haerin

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hrrtshape · 1 day ago

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things i manifested in paris !!!!!

◞ museums basically empty !!!!! like private viewings. like they cleared the louvre just for me. felt like royalty.

◞ drinking every day. obviously. no notes.

◞ dior café. 16 euros.... didn’t even flinch. didn’t even blink. felt nothing. like, yeah, charge me more. i dare you.

◞ NO LINES. literally just walking in everywhere like i was the mayor of paris or something.

◞ food ????? unreal. every bite was a religious experience. i was actually gasping.

◞ thought i lost my earring and was already mourning it…. got home….. it was under my sweater ?????? felt like i was in a time loop. literally how is that possible?/!?!?!??! it was expensive and swarovski and i swore it was lost in the streets of paris..but no. just kept manifesting that it just fell into my bag..but no..it somehow dropped from my all-around wrapped scarf under my (buttoned to the top) trench-coat.

◞ got new jewellery !!!!! like, just out of nowhere !!!!! the swarovski ariana grande set. meant to be. cosmic alignment.

◞ best margarita of my life. 7 euros. plus two free shots. bartender took one look at me and went, "this girl deserves it." and you know what ? he was right.

◞ I SHIFTED. TWICE. ON THIS TRIP. !!!!!!!! i was out here casually jumping realities between croissants. felt like the main character in an experimental film.

◞ weather ????? literally perfect every single day. like the clouds and the sun were working together just for me. rained during comfortable moments...ugh.

◞ every outfit ate. no misses. people were staring. admiring. whispering. like i was a mysterious european socialite.

◞ found the cuuuuuutest, most burberry-escue burgundy trenchcoat. no notes

◞ my hair ???? perfect. not a single bad hair day. not a single moment of struggle. just effortless beauty.

◞ got the best seat in every restaurant, every café, every bar. prime locations only. always by a window. always vibey.

◞ shopping ???? insane. walked into stores and just found the most perfect things. like they were waiting for me.

◞ make-up was on point. no brush strokes, no harsh lines, no nothing.

◞ my phone battery lasted forever. defied all logic. like my phone just decided it was on my side.

◞ got into every place i wanted to. no rejections. no complications. doors opened. things worked.

◞ my skin ????? glowing. no breakouts. no stress. just clear, angelic radiance.

◞ found money randomly. like, oh, cool, the universe is just giving me spending money now.

◞ had a night where everything felt right. the stars aligned. the city was glowing. no explanation. just pure, unadulterated magic.

◞ packed way too much but somehow my suitcase just made the weight limit. down to the gram.

◞ walked 20k steps a day but my feet ???? did not fall off. sore, but still functioning. still cute.

◞ forgot to check the weather but it just…..worked out ??? no rain when i needed sun, no heatwave when i needed a breeze.

◞ convinced myself i was getting sick at least twice, then woke up the next day perfectly fine. mind over matter.

literally a divine trip. heaven was playing favourites and i was in the list.

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nostarfights · 3 days ago

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I Wish You Would

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X blackwidow!fem!Reader

Summary: After months of falling for each other, you and Bucky are finally forced to face your feelings.

Warnings: Mentions of the reader and Bucky’s traumatizing pasts, enemies to lovers, arguing, kissing and a few uses of y/n.

Word Count: 2.3K

a/n: lol this kinda sucks but i hope y’all like it anyway :) happy thunderbolts trailer release day!

the gif below does not belong to me

Even after the Red Room destroyed every bit of your personality, you still felt that you were easy to get along with. Even after you slowly became yourself again and learned what it meant to be somewhat normal in your new position as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, repaying your debts to society, you still remained kind to those who deserved it. You got along with everyone, except for Bucky.

He always knew exactly how to push your buttons and no matter how much you pushed his buttons, the feelings you had for him never truly went away. You hated these feelings as much as you seemed to hate him, you felt weak for falling in love with him. Especially after all of your time in the Red Room where the idea that you were a weapon not a normal person who did and felt normal things was drilled into your head, along with many other things. And although you were now free, that idea that falling in love made you weak still lingered in your head.

But luckily enough for you, it was easy to avoid Bucky around the tower due to the fact that Fury had only paired the two of you up once since you became a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and later an Avenger two years ago. That exact mission being the one that sparked your feelings for Buck as well as the hatred for these feelings and yourself for feeling them.

You wished that you could stop loving Bucky and go on with your life, but it was impossible. It was as if he had dug himself into your heart and refused to leave, you could never get him off of your mind. No matter how many dates you went on in an attempt to forget him, Bucky always crawled back into your mind.

So, as a way of dealing with your feelings, you were never kind to Bucky like you were to any other member of the Avengers, arguing with him any chance you got. And deep down, you knew how immature this was but in your mind it was better to be angry at Bucky than in love with him.

Meanwhile, Bucky was going through something quite similar. Given your similar pasts, Bucky was also made to feel as if he was nothing more than a weapon and even though he had been free longer than you had, he still struggled to lead a “normal” life. Whatever that meant. And just like you, he too fell in love with you on that very first mission you went on together. So, he took every bit of anger he had in him out on you, arguing with you anytime the two of you interacted or you even glanced at him.

During his time as the Winter Soldier, Bucky had forgotten how to do a lot of things. He forgot how to love, how to be a person not a weapon, how to deal with feelings that weren’t anger or rage and how to let his guard down around people he knew he could trust. Now that Bucky was a free man and still adjusting to his freedom day by day, the realization that he had fallen in love with you terrified him.

He didn’t know how to love anymore, after all that was something he hadn’t done since before HYDRA had kidnapped him decades ago.

As much as he hated these feelings, he hated you even more for causing him to fall in love with you. He knew that he was at fault for falling in love with you but at times, he felt as if it was your fault due to the fact that aside from Steve, he felt like you were the only other person who understood what he had gone through for years. He opened himself up to you during that first mission, inevitably regretting it after he fell for you. So, as another way of dealing with his feelings, Bucky requested that both Fury and Tony never put you on another mission with him again and they agreed.

He truly could not stand to be around you as long as he was still in love with you.

Ignoring each other and arguing when you did have to interact worked well enough for both of you and was in a way making it easier to deal with the strong feelings of love you felt. That was until Tony called the two of you into his office one day to tell you that you had been assigned to go on a mission together, immediately causing both of you to start to argue.

“What?! Is no one else available for this mission? I don’t want to spend a week alone with him!” you said to Tony, already fuming over the idea of having to spend that much time alone with the man you were head over heels in love with. Tony sighed then spoke again, “No, (y/n), no one else is available. You two are just going to have to learn to get along.” he said, an annoyed look still present on his face.

“Are you sure I can’t just do this mission alone? Let’s not forget (y/n) over here “accidentally” abandoned Clint during her last mission.” Bucky argued as you frowned, reminding you of your bad habit of running off on your own during missions because of how used to working alone you had been after becoming a Widow. “No, you have to do it together and that’s final. I don’t have time for any more of your arguing.” Tony fired back, tired of you and Bucky being at each other’s throats all the time.

“Fine!” you both said in unison before promptly storming out of Tony’s office in opposite directions.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Bucky were now three days into the mission and still living in the safehouse that was in the middle of the woods. Awaiting for the man you were sent to catch to come back to this area he supposedly frequented–according to a tip you had received–before their plans to level New York with a bomb was complete.

While you were there the two of you took turns surveying the area and watching out for this guy. One of you would sleep during the night while the other kept watch and during the day whoever stayed up all night would take a nap until the early afternoon then go to their hiding place.

And unsurprisingly, you and Bucky had argued multiple times everyday since you arrived. But you had to admit, you were beginning to grow tired of the constant arguing. Maybe being in love wasn’t such a bad thing? After all, you had seen how healthy Pepper and Tony’s relationship was and the fact that their love for one another never weakened either of them. They seemed stronger with each other by their side.

As you and Bucky surveyed the area in your hiding spots up in the trees, these thoughts helped you come to terms with the fact that you were in love with Bucky and that was okay. Being in love with him was now no longer a bad thing to you and now that you felt this way after fully processing your feelings, you promised yourself that you were going to be a lot nicer to Bucky, like you should have been all along. He deserved more kindness in his life and you felt like a fool for letting your feelings and hatred for them blind you.

“Hey! Pay attention!” Bucky shouted at you through the walkie talkie attached to your belt after he had seen you lower your binoculars while you were lost in thought. “Sorry.” you quietly said back before you then raised your binoculars back up to your face, now back in the present instead of letting your mind race.

The lack of any sort of insult or argument in your response confused Bucky. The two of you had argued almost everyday for the past two years and now you suddenly weren’t? It didn’t make sense at all to Bucky. And in this moment, Bucky began to wonder if the reason for your mean behavior was the same as his.

Thoughts of the possibility of you loving him back raced through his mind. And as these thoughts went through his head, Bucky also began to wonder what he was going to do. But for the time being, he decided that the least he could do was willingly show you the kinder side of his personality like he had two years ago.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night once the sun had gone down and you were sure that there was no chance of the guy you were looking for appearing while you went back to the safe house, you both climbed down from your hiding spots in the trees and started to walk back, neither of you saying a single word the entire time.

“Hey, what’s up with you today? We haven’t argued at all.” Bucky said as he stopped you near the front door to the safehouse, making you tempted to fire back with a rude response like you usually did but you remained calm. “Nothing, I’m fine. I just don't feel like arguing with you anymore. Y’know?” you simply said while you started to walk again and entered the house. This response confused Bucky even more. Maybe you did actually love him? “Yeah, I guess.” he sheepishly replied as he followed you, the house still noticeably cold even with the heat on.

As for the rest of the night, it was your turn to eat a quick dinner, shower and go to sleep while Bucky kept watch. It took you a while to fall asleep but once you did, you were thrown into nightmare after nightmare, each one worse than the last.

But the one that your brain decided to focus on the longest reminded you of every bit of trauma you had experienced in the Red Room. In this nightmare, you were back in the Red Room and the speakers in there blared the sound of Dreykov’s voice screaming that you were a weak little girl and no one was coming to save you over and over again while you were forced to fight to the death the girls who had been in the program with you while red lights flashed, almost completely blinding you.

Meanwhile, the sound of your screams and thrashing coming from the bedroom as you went through this horrible nightmare alerted Bucky and he rushed over to you right away, turning the lights on as he entered the room. The second he reached you, he placed his hands on your shoulders as he sat next to you on the bed and shook you awake, “(Y/N)!” he shouted a few times as he continued to try to wake you up. And luckily you quickly awoke within one minute after Bucky had initially entered the room, freeing you–for now–from the trauma that has taunted you for years.

“Bucky!” you called out once you opened your eyes and saw him there, tackling him in a hug the second you were fully conscious. In this moment as you hugged a now shocked Bucky, you felt extremely glad that it was just a dream and you weren’t back there, fighting for your life. You were safe and in the arms of the man you loved.

“It’s okay, doll. You’re safe, I’m here.” he murmured into your ear as he held you close and slowly rocked you back and forth, one hand on the back of your head while his other arm was wrapped around your body.

The sound of that nickname as well as his touch ignited something in you, causing you to feel the need to tell him how you felt immediately as your cheeks blushed and goosebumps appeared on your arms.

“There’s something I need to tell you. I love you Bucky, that’s why I‘ve always been so mean to you. I was a fool and couldn’t deal with the fact that I had fallen in love with someone after being told for years that falling in love was a sign of weakness and not something meant for me. But I’ve realized that I’m not weak for loving you.” you quickly explained once you had left Bucky’s arms, not having the strength to hold back your feelings for another second.

As soon as Bucky heard these words leave your lips, a feeling of relief washed over him and he realized that he wasn’t weak either for loving you. Hearing this admission from you healed him in a way and reminded him that he wasn’t the emotionless monster HYDRA had turned him into anymore.

Not feeling the need to say another word in this moment, Bucky softly grabbed your face in both of his warm hands and passionately kissed you, hoping that this kiss conveyed to you how he felt. “We’re so stupid,” he said with a laugh once he had pulled away from your lips, your face slowly leaving his hands, “I love you too and I have since that first mission we ever went on together. I’m sorry I was so mean, I shouldn’t have taken the anger I was feeling out on you. You helped me learn how to love again, I need you to know that.” he replied, explaining himself as he looked into your eyes. “I’m sorry too, Buck.” you said before you then swiftly pulled him in for another kiss.

“Be my girl, doll, please.” Bucky begged once your lips separated moments later. “I always have been.” you whispered to him as you gazed back into his eyes, prompting both of you to tightly hug each other once more, cheeks blushing.

NAVIGATION

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berfgrimm · 2 days ago

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butterfly | choi su-bong (thanos) x reader

pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, semi-public, enemies to lovers (ish), oral, choking, spanking, heavy on the dirty talk, manhandling, overstimulation, name calling, pet names, pain kink, mentions of humiliation kink, mentions of death/violence. i’m sorry if I forgot anything.

note: hey, so this ended up being 12.5k words and i have actually gone insane from writing it. my app crashed trying to post this. please enjoy as i am exhausted.

———————

The first experience you had with Su-bong was at work. You were employed at a small dance club in Seoul called Temple, where you would bartend on weekends. It was a part-time gig to help pay the bills, and the general vibe of the club was mellow. Until the first night Su-bong showed up with his friends.

You were a fan of his music before you met him and you had a little bit of a crush on him, so you were excited to see him at your place of work. That first night, you’d intended to compliment him on his talent, however, you didn’t get the opportunity. The group of men ran you ragged, ordering drink after drink, causing chaos on the dance floor, interfering with the DJ, hitting on every girl that looked their way. When Su-bong found cause to speak to you, he wasn’t polite to you, but he wasn’t rude — something about his demeanor was off, and you attributed it to the drugs and alcohol.

After that night, Su-bong and his friends would show up at Temple most weekends, and their behavior only worsened. The group managed to get away with their antics since Su-bong was friends with the club owner; this created more problems for you. The easy nights generally ended with you having to clean up broken glass and spilled liquor. On the worst nights, you’d find yourself replacing broken furnishings or cleaning up forgotten panties. You gave your notice the night you had to clean up after Su-bong’s friend who didn’t bother to relieve himself in the bathroom.

Even though Su-bong wasn’t the worst of his group, his celebrity status made him the face of the problem in your mind. You had to leave a job you enjoyed because of a group of disrespectful grown men. You stopped listening to his music after that, and you felt your crush on him slip away, instead being replaced with resentment.

Which brings you here. At these games where your bunk is directly next to his. It’s a cruel joke. A few years have passed since your time at Temple, and you’re positive he wouldn’t remember the damage he caused. You wouldn’t dare bring it up to him, because it didn’t matter much.

The first game and vote have been completed, and everyone sits around the room, some talking, others too scared and traumatized to speak. You sit on the floor with your back against your bed, doing your best to ignore Su-bong, who stands next to his bed with his new buddies, Nam-gyu and Gyeong-su, talking louder than everyone else. You are beginning to get a headache, so you rub your head to help alleviate the tension.

“Can you please talk quieter?” you ask, trying your best to keep your voice calm, but finding it difficult given the situation. “My head is killing me.”

“I’ve got something that will help with that,” Su-bong laughs, crossing towards you as you peer up at him.

It’s the first time you’ve really gotten a good look at him since you arrived. From this angle, with him standing above you, he’s almost…intimidating? No, not that. He wasn’t scary, but the look that he gives you creates a sensation in your stomach that certainly isn’t welcome.

“Not interested,” you reply, looking back to the floor. “Please just keep the volume down. Or if you can’t help it, maybe take it somewhere else.”

“This is my bunk,” Su-bong says, sitting on his bed, crossing his arms and staring at you. The smirk is faint until he runs his tongue across his lips to wet them, which he does slowly. Your eyes lock onto the movement, and you feel trapped for a moment, your thoughts shifting, but you remind yourself to stay focused.

“And this is my bunk,” you retort, gesturing behind you, meeting his eyeline again. “I asked nicely. I figured you’d have some decency in you, buried down deep beneath all of the drugs. Guess not.” You lower your gaze to the floor again, the anger starting to snuff out the other feelings he gives you.

“You think you’re better than me.” The words sound like he’s hurt, but instead his tone is agitated. Looking into his eyes from your spot on the floor, you see an animated expression on his face. It’s intense, like he’s ready to challenge you to a fight.

“Most of us have debt because of real problems,” you say, waving your hand dismissively. “I’m not here because I made a bad investment on some fucking Monopoly money.”

“Then, why are you here?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he laughs. “You’re here, same as me. I watched you press the circle, and I can see the patch on your jacket. Drugs, crypto, medical debt: all money spends the same, and you need it too. You act like you’re above it all.”

“I'm taking it seriously,” you snap back. “Should I be more like you and treat this like it’s schoolyard fun? When we just saw all of those people get killed?”

“So some strangers died, and you’re going to walk around like you’re dead, too,” he laughs, shrugging his shoulders as he waits for you to say something in response.

“Whatever,” you sigh, turning your head away from him.

“You’re just mad because I’m right,” he laughs.

“I’m not mad,” you reply.

“But I’m right.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it takes all of your might not to say anything sarcastic to him when you look at him again. “Okay, you’re not mad,” he shrugs. “Then you’re into me.”

“Into you?” you laugh. “That’s funny.”

“I saw you staring at my mouth before,” he says. “You could tell that I know how to use it, huh, señorita?”

“Don’t call me that,” you say.

You ignore his actual question because maybe, just maybe, he’s not far off. And maybe his cockiness turns you on a little bit, but you won’t admit that out loud, not after the way he and his friends acted at Temple. That doesn’t stop your body from reacting and remembering that little crush you had on him because there’s always something about a guy with an attitude. But his arrogance can only take him so far, and right now he’s testing your patience from running his mouth like this.

Well, while you’re on the subject of his mouth, you weren’t staring…he talks a lot, and raps a little, so of course you find your focus drifting to his mouth. The lighting at the club was never good enough for you to truly see him. But now under the bright lights of this dorm, you have a clear view. His teeth are nice, his lips look soft, and his tongue…no, you can’t think like that, not in front of him.

You realize you’ve been quiet too long and when you tune in again, you see that he’s already pulled his friends back into a conversation. You let out a steady sigh of relief, glad that you didn’t get caught daydreaming about this clown in front of you. At least that’s what you hope.

You drop your head against the bed behind you, and close your eyes, trying to ignore the conversations around you. Instead, you think of how truly scared you are, deep in your chest. Of course you didn’t want to stay in a place like this, surrounded by hundreds of scumbags who are drowning in gambling debt. But maybe Su-bong was right: you need the money just as badly as they do, just for less nefarious reasons. You’re no better than the others.

The sensation of another person beside you pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present. You tilt your head in their direction, peeking from one eye to see the failed rapper looking back at you. With a groan, you close your eyes again, leaning your head back to your previous position.

“Just because our bunks are near each other doesn’t mean we’re friends,” you mutter.

“You talked to me first,” Su-bong shrugs.

“And now I regret it,” you respond.

“I get under your skin.” You can hear him laughing as he speaks, and you try to keep from proving him right. “It’s easy with you, I can tell,” he continues. “I’ve barely done anything and you already hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you reply, flatly, still not looking at him. “I don’t even know you.”

“You can get to know me,” he mutters.

“What is it?” you ask. “Do you have a humiliation kink? You like when someone talks down to you?”

“I bet you do,” he retorts, and this catches your attention. You raise your head and look at him incredulously; of course he’s fucking smirking. “I saw it before,” he pushes. “You can scowl at me all you want, but you can’t hide your eyes.”

“You’re irritating,” you groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

“So, you’re not wet right now?” he whispers.

“No, I’m not,” you reply — too quickly; he grins wider now, and you try to think of something to recover.

“Guess I’ll have to try harder then,” he smirks, squeezing your thigh and fuck, you jump at the contact.

He swoops away before you can respond, and you can immediately feel shockwaves hit your body. No one has touched you in so long, and all it took was a thigh squeeze from some idiot named after a comic book character for your body to react. You feel flush all over, lightheaded, from one fucking touch.

Now you start to feel hatred towards him. No, hatred is too strong, but it’s definitely rage because what gives him the right to have that effect on your body? Beyond the way he treated you at the club, he’s kind of a loser. He’s a washed up musician, he’s a drug addict, he’s annoying, and his debt is in the billions.

Pick a struggle, you think, as you stand from the floor, taking a few steps out into the open to get a better view of your surroundings.

You look into the crowd of other players in the center of the dorm to try to find him. When you spot him, you clench your jaw, frustrated. He talks animatedly, probably about nothing important, because he doesn’t seem to be very scholarly. He appears to ramble to anyone who will listen and some who won’t, but at least he’s excited about something. No, don’t sympathize.

Still…he looks passionate. Even if what he has to say doesn’t matter to some people, it matters to him. He cares about something. Maybe that passion spreads into other aspects of his demeanor…especially with his mouth…and his hands…

You feel the heat returning to your cheeks and you need to cool off. Your gaze drops from Su-bong, and you quickly make your way through the crowd towards the exit of the dorm. Unfortunately, in your journey, you have to pass Su-bong, who spots you coming and steps into your path.

“Was that you I saw staring at me, señorita?” To your surprise, Su-bong places his hand under your chin, tilting your head towards him.

“There are almost four hundred people here,” you say, shoving his hand away. “I wasn’t looking at you, asshole.” You hope you sound convincing, but you doubt it from the way your body has been betraying you today. Judging from Su-bong’s expression, he isn’t deterred, but his eyes scan your whole face, searching for something. Before he can speak again, however, you sidestep him and continue your trek to the bathroom.

Your hands tremble as you stand at the sink, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Why are you this rattled? He’s just some burned out musician with an attitude, and your emotions are wrecked. You have anger towards him, and annoyance, but you feel desire as well. Maybe you’re confused? After the events of the day, who would blame you for having your emotions mixed up?

You splash some water on your face and around to the back of your neck. The coolness helps you regulate your body temperature enough to make the sensations begin to subside. Still, you have a headache that you hope will be alleviated by your soon-to-be relaxed demeanor.

When you reenter the dorm, most people have broken off into smaller groups, milling around the bunks as opposed to the center of the room. Thankfully, you don’t see Su-bong just from a quick scan around the room, so you make a beeline to your bed.

“Thank God,” you mumble when you don’t see Su-bong in his bed. Rolling your shoulders, you try to rid yourself of that last bit of tension you feel, as you lay in your bed.

The thin mattress doesn’t do much to calm you, but it’s better than the hard floor that you sat on before, so you don’t complain. Closing your eyes, you begin to take slow, deep breaths, relaxing your limbs into the mattress, hoping that you can drift off to sleep.

“You never told me why you’re here.”

The sound of his voice, smug and annoying, makes you want to scream. You were so close to absolute comfort, hopeful for peaceful sleep, but now you feel the tension begin to form in your jaw again almost immediately. Reluctantly, you open your eyes, rolling your head to the side to see Su-bong sitting on his bed, staring at you expectantly.

“That’s none of your business,” you echo your exact sentiment from earlier, hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Well, what did you—?”

“What am I doing that indicates to you that I’m interested in having a conversation right now?” you interrupt, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Please, tell me, so I can stop doing it.”

“You complain a lot,” Su-bong laughs. “But you’re still desperate just like the rest of us.” He pushes every single one of your buttons, relentlessly, and you begin to wonder what it would be like to punch him in his face, but no, you can’t resort to violence.

“Jesus Christ, you don’t know when to quit.”

“You’d be surprised how long I can last,” he smirks. The charm has worn thin, and you don’t feel the sensation in your stomach like you expect; maybe the crush is gone again. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Su-bong practically giggles at his own words.

“Shut the fuck up!” you snap, your voice louder than you intended — loud enough to silence some of the other players in nearby bunks, but you’re undeterred. “You talk so fucking much,” you continue, sitting up on the edge of your bed so you can really see him. “All I’m thinking about is how I want you to leave me alone!”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he says, most of the teasing now absent from his tone, but there’s still something that you can’t place. Excitement?

“Oh, that’s right,” you say. “You get off on being talked down to. Well, get it from somewhere else. I’m not interested.”

Before he has another opportunity to speak, you lay on your bed again, with your back to him this time, and you cover your head with your pillow to block out the noise. You think you hear Su-bong say something, but you don’t acknowledge him, instead you focus on getting some much needed sleep.

———————

After successfully competing in the six legged race, you begin to think that you might not be able to handle another game. You’re only a few million away from having enough money to pay off your debt, but it weighs heavy on your conscience. The blood on the soles of your shoes makes you queasy and sad, knowing that all of the lives lost over the last two days probably thought the same thing you’re thinking right now: one more game.

Sitting on your bed, you stare down at your jacket that you have draped over your lap. You trace the circle on the blue patch, disappointed in yourself for placing everyone in danger once again. All for the sake of money.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it out safe this time, señorita.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan, rolling your eyes. You hoped that maybe he’d take up residence elsewhere, perhaps closer to his friends, but, much to your dismay, Su-bong kept his bunk next to yours. “I told you not to call me that,” you say, tossing your jacket onto the bed next to you.

“What would you like me to call you?”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk to me at all.”

“That’s not very nice,” Su-bong’s tone is playful, bordering on sing-song as though he thinks you’re friends.

“Well, I’m not a very nice person,” you reply.

“I’m starting to see that,” he answers, laying on his bed with his hands behind his head.

“I think you’re not used to people who aren’t going to put up with your shit,” you say. “You got so comfortable with being surrounded by yes-men, you forgot what it’s like to have someone genuinely dislike you.”

“I thought you didn’t know me to not like me,” he retorts, turning onto his side and propping his head on his hand. “It’s been twenty-four hours. What changed?”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

“Oh, that’s what it is!” Su-bong’s face lights up, a wide smirk spreading across his lips. “We hooked up, and I never called you back. I’m sorry, señorita. I’m sure it was the best you ever had but I’m not into relationships.”

“You think we hooked up?” you laugh.

“Well, if we haven’t before, we can try it tonight.”

“First of all, you wouldn’t even know what to do with it if I gave it to you,” you say, not missing the amusement on Su-bong’s face. “Second, I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t remember me. You were usually pretty faded by the time I’d see you.” The smirk starts to drop from Su-bong’s face and you can practically see him searching his memories for your face. “Don’t worry,” you wave your hand, giving a shrug of your shoulders. “I probably wouldn’t remember me either if I was you. All of the cleaning up I had to do after you and your friends were around, I used to think it was what I deserved: picking glass off of the floor and cleaning up piss. But now? Now, Thanos, I’m starting to think you’re right. I’m not better than you. But the good thing about that is that you’re not better than me anymore either. So, I guess I should be happy.”

Su-bong is silent for the first time since you’ve met him, and your body feels thankful. The look on his face is unreadable, and unfortunately, you worry that you took it a step too far. That is until he swings his legs off the edge of the bed so he can sit up, pointing at you with a look of realization.

“Club Temple,” he says, slowly nodding his head. “You’re that bartender.”

You’re unsure of what it is about his words that sets you off, probably the borderline dismissive way he spoke, but your fists clench and you envision yourself punching him directly in his face. Before you can act on your impulse, however, Su-bong speaks again.

“Butterfly,” he laughs.

“What?” you snap.

“I remember you,” he goes on. “I used to call you ‘butterfly’.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to catch you,” he grins, as if it’s a good joke, but you roll your eyes. Still, you feel it: the flutter in the pit of your stomach because now he looks at you with the same intention from the day before when he was standing over you. “You were quiet, but you were sexy. I wondered where you ran off to,” he says as he stands from the bed, slowly sauntering towards you, and planting himself beside you on the mattress. “I always thought we would have hit it off. The way you gave me everything I asked for, I figured you’d listen really well.” You try not to squirm from the way the fluttering begins to increase, but his voice is suddenly deeper and the way he presses against you spreads warmth through your whole body. “I didn’t realize that you had a mouth like this,” he whispers. “Though I thought of other things you could do with your mouth…”

“Alright,” you mutter, feeling yourself begin to flush, so you press your hand to his face, shoving him away as you stand from your bed. “At least I know you’re still an asshole.” You venture a few steps from the bed, avoiding eye contact with Su-bong for fear of him seeing the impact his words have on you. From the corner of your eye, you see him lying back on your bed laughing; you can’t figure out if the feeling it gives you makes you want to fight or fuck. “When I come back, I want you off of my bed,” you say, turning abruptly and storming away before you do something you regret.

The bathroom is beginning to be the safest place for you as of late, so you find yourself clutching the same sink as the day before, staring into the same mirror, on the verge of a breakdown. You wonder if punching the mirror will help alleviate this vortex of sensations in your body, but you have to keep your calm. With another game tomorrow, you can’t afford to bust your knuckles nor can you lose focus like this. A quick splash of water over your face and a couple of deep breaths will have to suffice.

You make sure to walk slowly back to the dorm, taking enough time to reset your emotions before you have to face Su-bong again. One more close call with him, and you may not be able to control yourself again.

When you get back to your bunk, Su-bong is nowhere to be seen, and you feel a pang of disappointment. You suppose you should be relieved, for your sanity and for your body, that he took your advice and made himself scarce, but with the way your body has been betraying you for the last twenty-four hours, you don’t trust your emotions right now. You hurriedly slip off your shoes and climb into your bed before your body starts making more decisions for you, and prepare for another greatly needed rest.

———————

Playing Mingle only proves to complicate things further, as far as your resolve goes. You try to find a spot on the turntable that puts you far away from Su-bong, but you quickly realize that you haven’t made any alliances during your time playing the games. All you can do is hope for the best.

The first number called out is ten, and you quickly try to locate a group that only needs one more player, but you find it more complicated than it seemed to be. You begin to panic and the numbers on the clock appear to tick faster, until you feel someone grab you by the wrist.

“This way, señorita!”

Su-bong tugs you along with him and his group, hurrying towards an open room. He shoves you inside first, where you stumble forward into the back wall of the room. When you turn around to watch the others pile into the room, Su-bong crowds you quickly, pressing his hands flat against the wall behind you to box you between his arms.

“There you go,” he smirks, pressing his body to yours. “Stay just like that.” The way he speaks, hushed so only you can hear, making his voice sound deeper than normal, you can feel it rumble through your whole body.

And you fucking whimper.

Su-bong looks more satisfied and absolutely tickled at your reaction, and with a lick of his lips, he tilts his head to catch your gaze. You set your hands on his hips, firmly shoving him away from you to be able to breathe again. You feel overheated and wet, it makes you blush in embarrassment as the other players in the room look at you suspiciously.

For the next couple of rounds, you put as much distance between yourself and Su-bong as you can. Sometimes you catch him staring at you, but you can’t let your mind wander, not when it’s quite literally life or death. One round, he tries to pull you into his group, but you snatch your hand away and dash to find a different group to align with.

When the final round begins, you’re nearer to Su-bong and his remaining friends than you wanted to be, but you can’t focus on that. Instead you start doing the math: fifty rooms, one hundred and twenty-six people…the last number has to be two. You spare a quick glance around and see who you could grab that doesn’t already have a group. There’s no way you’ll be able to be in a room alone with Su-bong, especially if he touches you again, because you’re sure you’ll break. That’s when you spot Min-su just a few feet from you.

When the turntable stops, and the number two is called, you reach for Min-su, but someone else’s hand wraps around your wrist — of course it was Su-bong. All you can do is run along with him, knowing you’ll waste valuable time if you try arguing. Instead, your heart pounds harder in your chest. Su-bong shoves you into the room and hurries in after you, slamming the door shut before turning to grin at you.

“You’ve been flying away from me all day, butterfly,” he smirks. “Guess I caught you now.” You try to feel relieved from surviving the game but with your body already in overdrive, Su-bong slowly closing in on you only makes it worse. “I heard you earlier,” he says, stalking closer towards you. “Whimpering. You finally gave yourself away.”

“I’m not gonna fuck you in this room,” you say, shakily. Su-bong licks his lips, eyeing you up like he was prepared to pounce; the sensation in your stomach begins to spread throughout the rest of your body from the way he makes no effort to hide his staring. He now stands directly in front of you, just as he was in the first room; he’s so close, you can feel his breath on your face.

You both stay silent for several moments, and all you can think about is if he would put his hands on you one more time, he’d push you past that last hurdle. But instead, the gunshots ring out on the other side of the door, startling you.

Your next move is purely automatic, so frightened by the noises, you don’t realize what you’re doing right away. You place your hands on his hips and press your face against his chest, instinctively looking for comfort from your fright. Realizing that you’re seeking solace in the arms of Thanos, you quickly begin to pull back, but he wraps his arms around you to keep you in place.

“You’re okay,” he whispers. “I have you.”

The tone of his voice is different. He actually sounds sincere. It’s a new shade for him, and the way his hand gently rubs your back doesn’t help the fiery sensation under your skin. It does, however, soothe the fear enough for you to be able to focus on him instead of the scene outside of your room.

“I can feel your heart beating,” Su-bong mutters. “Is it because you’re this close to me?” You laugh in spite of yourself, but with your face pressed into Su-bong’s jacket it sounds more giggly than you intend. “We have a few minutes…” he begins to slide his hands down your back and you gently shove him away before he can do whatever he’s planning on.

“There’s a camera right there,” you say, pointing to the wall behind you.

“I always liked an audience,” he smirks.

“Oh, yeah?” you laugh. “Not worried you’ll get stage fright like you did during that last rap battle? Or was it the drugs that time?” You worry that you may have crossed a line, but when he scoffs and crosses his arms with a grin, you know he’s prepared to snap back.

“You like watching me perform?”

“I used to,” you nod.

“We could have a performance of our own right now.”

“I doubt you’d be a good fuck,” you shrug. “It’d probably be a waste of time.”

“Is that what you think?” Su-bong asks, backing you towards the wall again. You nod your head slowly, this time not caring if he can see the way you stare at him. “That’s funny,” he nods. “Because you look like you want to kiss me right now.”

“If only to shut you up.”

Before Su-bong is able to reply, the lock disengages for your room, signifying the end of the game. You slide past Su-bong, taking your leave, not giving him the opportunity to make another innuendo. You slip into the crowd in an effort to get lost among the other players, but you can almost feel Su-bong creeping along behind you.

As you walk past one of the side corridors of the labyrinth, Su-bong finally makes his move. You feel his arm hook around your waist, hurriedly pulling you along with him into the dark space of the side corridor before you’re spotted by any guards.

“No cameras here,” Su-bong mutters, spinning you around and pinning you back against the wall. His hands land on your hips, and you take a firm grip on his biceps, both of you breathing hard in anticipation.

When he finally kisses you, there’s no more buildup, no more suspense because now you’re past all of the pretense, and you both need this. The kiss is sloppy, all tongue and teeth and soft moaning into one another’s mouths — your head reels with pleasure and excitement.

While he has you distracted with the kiss, Su-bong’s hand slips into the front of your pants, and past the waistband of your panties. You feel him just as his fingers press into your folds, swirling through your wetness.

“Fuck,” you gasp into his mouth, and break away from the kiss to look down at his hand that begins to tease you.

“Have you been like this all day?” Su-bong asks, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’ve been pretending to be so mad, running your mouth, and the whole time you’ve been soaking wet.” Your lips stay parted and you let out soft pants from the feeling of his fingers touching everything except your clit. “What turns you on the most, huh?” Su-bong continues, kissing your jaw tenderly. “To be treated like a good girl or to be treated like a slut?”

You can’t find your words to tell him that you like both because now his fingers gently brush over your clit and your moan gets caught in your throat. Su-bong chuckles, taking a step closer so he can grind himself against your hip. One of your hands finds its way to his hair, fisting enough to tug his head back away from your face.

“You’re gonna fuck me here?” You’re almost breathless as you speak, but the look in Su-bong’s eyes, arousal and excitement, drives you to keep going. “You’ve been talking about it for two days,” you continue, rolling your hips against his hand, desperate for friction. “Throw me down right here and fuck me. Show me what all of that attitude was for.”

“I guess I have my answer,” Su-bong mutters, and you set both of your hands on his shoulders now to brace yourself. “You’re begging me to fuck you on the floor of this place…I don’t think a good girl would do that.”

This time you whimper again, not because of how he touches you but from the way his voice sounds: strained but sharp. You can’t stay still, squirming against him, unable to compose yourself or even look him in the eyes. You aren’t ashamed of how you’re acting, because fuck, you really do want him, but you’re flustered.

“After the vote,” he begins, moving his head along with yours, trying to get you to look into his eyes while his fingers still tease you. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom. You can show me how much of a slut you really can be.”

You want to say something sarcastic in response because you’d prefer not to give him the upper hand, but your instincts kick in and all you can do is nod slowly. Su-bong’s fingers tease your clit again, and you whimper in response, grabbing him tighter to keep him close. When you finally make eye contact with him, of course he looks smug.

“Yeah? Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, nodding faster. Su-bong kisses you, just as sloppy as the first kiss, and slides his hand from your pants again, much to your disappointment. So you whine in protest, which seems to be your new favorite reaction to him.

“Shhh,” Su-bong hushes, breaking the kiss. “You can wait.” He slips his fingers into his mouth, cleaning the taste of you from them. “Mmm,” he hums, pulling them from his lips with a pop. “I know what I’m going to do to you first…”

“You love to fucking tease, don’t you?” you breathe, shoving him away from you.

“I guess we both do,” he retorts, adjusting his pants to try to hide that he’s obviously hard. “Pull yourself together, señorita.”

Su-bong disappears from the hallway, leaving you turned on and slightly annoyed. You take his advice and straighten your pants to look more presentable before you follow after him.

For a moment, with your emotions heightened, you find yourself worrying that if you vote out of this hell, you won’t be able to see Su-bong again. You didn’t want to vote in favor of staying just so you could get railed in a public bathroom, and with the amount of money you garnered, you’d be able to successfully pay off your debt. You press the ‘X’.

When you walk towards the red side, you catch a glimpse of Su-bong’s face, scrunched up in anger as he signals that he has his eyes on you. The gesture makes you laugh, although you know he’s serious. And as the numbers creep higher, you think that maybe you really will be going home at the end of the vote.

You didn’t expect the vote to split 50-50. The mixed emotions return to your chest, but as you start to wander back to your bunk, you spy Su-bong creeping out of the dorm, presumably on his way to the bathroom. You give him a few moments for a head start before you make your way to join him. You reach the bathroom just in time to see Su-bong ducking into the women’s room, so you sneak in immediately after him.

“I thought the women’s room would be nicer than the men’s,” Su-bong says, peering around the room, giving a peek into each of the stalls. “I’m disappointed.”

“Life would be boring without disappointment,” you shrug, watching him carefully until he finally turns to face you, a serious look on his face.

“So,” he begins, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. “You wanted to get away from me again, butterfly?” When your eyebrows furrow at his words, he taps his finger on the circle patch affixed to his jacket, then nods his head towards you. “Did you get scared thinking about being alone with me?” he smirks.

“No,” you reply, running your hand over the ‘X’ patch. “I figured if we made it out of here, you wouldn’t care that we missed our bathroom rendezvous.”

“Hmm,” Su-bong hums, breaking his gaze with you and staring to the side in thought; he appears to weigh his options for a few moments before answering. “Well, good thing we’re still here,” he says. “But if we had voted out, I’d find you so we could finish what we started.”

It’s a mix between a threat and a promise that gives you a flip in your stomach and a flush to your skin. Su-bong notices the change when he speaks, which brings a more pleased smirk to his lips. He tips his head to the side to eye you up, the wheels turning in his head with what you assume are completely devilish ideas.

“Come here,” Su-bong commands, beckoning for you with a crook of his fingers. You move closer to him, and he grabs your hips to guide you backwards to the sinks. “I want you to take your pants and panties off,” he whispers, eyes locked with yours. “And stand right here, so I can see you.”

Su-bong stops you when your back hits the wall perpendicular to the sinks, then releases his grip on you, taking a few steps back and crossing his arms. He stares at you expectantly, so you begin to do as you’re told, stepping out of your shoes first before working your clothing down your legs to pool at your feet. You also take the opportunity to remove your jacket, dropping it along with your other clothes. You keep your eyes on your task, a tinge of nerves making you too shy to look back at Su-bong just yet.

When you are naked from the waist down, you straighten your back, pressing yourself against the wall as you were instructed to do. With a slow breath out, you finally look to Su-bong, who has his gaze locked on your lower half.

“Put your leg up there,” he nods his head towards the sink nearest you, and you fucking blush thinking of being on display for him. “Do you need me to help?” he asks, his tone clearly amused as he already begins to stalk closer to you.

“Someone could walk in,” you say, finally, when he places his hands on your bare hips.

“No one cares what we’re doing in here,” he laughs. “By the end of this, you’ll never see them again. They’ll be dead or disappeared.” His hand slides down your thigh, gripping it firmly and helping you lift your leg to press your foot to the side of the sink. You lean your weight to the wall behind you, bracing yourself against the cold tile with your hand. “Besides that,” he begins, casually slipping his fingers through your wetness. “A little slut like you, I’m sure you don’t really care if anyone sees you.”

“Maybe…” you breathe, studying his face as if you want to memorize it.

“If I would have known you were like this, I would have fucked you at Temple.”

Su-bong lowers to his knees in front of you, eying you up like he’s about to have his last meal. Before he dives in, he bites along your inner thigh, each one harder than the last, making you yelp in surprise. Su-bong laughs against your skin, turning his bites into kisses now until he reaches your wetness.

The teasing starts slowly, a gentle brush around your clit with the tip of his tongue but not quite touching it yet. It’s softer than you expect from him, but with how badly you’ve been aching for him, you aren’t sure how much teasing you can take. As though he can read your mind, he starts to trace his fingertips around your entrance, getting his fingers nice and slick for what comes next.

It feels like forever before he touches your clit, and even then, the contact is so tender, it’s almost nonexistent. You whine in response, hoping he’ll take the hint, but of course he doesn’t — intentional or not, he’s driving you crazy. You thread your fingers through his short locks, trying to urge him in to put some fucking effort in, but he doesn’t allow you to move him.

“C’mon,” you whine, sounding more tantrum-like than you would have liked.

“You made me wait, now you can be patient too.”

“This is different,” you retort, breathless. “I was teasing you with words…you’ve got your mouth on my pussy…”

“Mmm,” he hums against you. “That’s a good point.”

Su-bong finally gives you what you want, licking your clit more directly, with more pressure than before, and at the same time, he slips his index and middle fingers inside of you. All you can do is moan and tip your head back against the wall, the sensation of someone touching you after so long becoming too much very quickly.

“You’re tight for a slut,” he mutters against you, his mouth sounding wet and the heat from his breath blowing against your already hot skin. “No one has touched you like this in a while, hm?”

You clench around his fingers as they pump into you, shallow thrusts as the speed of his tongue increases. A thought pops into your head that makes you grin: maybe you can bully him into going faster.

“Fuck, go faster,” you groan, grinding yourself against his face. “Unless you’re just bad at eating pussy.”

He freezes, his face still pressed to you, tongue halfway through a lick. You’d be mad that he stopped if you didn’t know what would be coming next. When he finally sits back so he can look up at you, his eyes have darkened, and he appears incensed by your words — so you decide to give him one more push.

“I knew this wasn’t going to be worth my time,” you mutter.

Su-bong unzips his jacket, pulling it off of his arms and spreading it on the floor; he removes his cross necks as well and stuffs it into his pocket. He grabs your hips, harder than you expect, and yanks you down to your knees on the floor with him. You allow him to do as he wishes with you, and you find yourself on the floor, your body resting on the clothes to put a barrier between you and the tile.

“Spread your legs,” he commands. You do as you’re told, spreading your thighs wide and giving him an eyeful of the way you’re now drenched because of him. He doesn’t speak again, but quickly drops down onto his elbows to bury his face in your wetness.

He surprises you with just how voracious he is, his mouth claiming your clit immediately, and his fingers slipping back into you. From this angle, his pace is faster and fuck, those long, slender fingers go deeper with each thrust. You moan out, pressing your hands to the ground beneath you and arching against him. You swear you can feel him laugh in response.

Su-bong’s free hand grabs the thick of your thigh, pulling your leg to hook over his shoulder so your heel presses to his back. He doesn’t let go of your thigh, but holds it harder, feeling like it’s enough pressure to leave bruises on your skin.

The way his fingers pump into you is better at this angle, digits curling up with each hard thrust. But his mouth is a revelation. He alternates between tonguing your clit and sucking, the absolute perfect back and forth to match how hard he fingers you.

“Fuck,” you moan, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging, much harder than you intend, but he growls against you. Of course he likes to get his hair pulled.

Su-bong shoves your leg off of his back, instead pinning it to the ground so he can keep you spread wide open for him. Now he increases the speed of his torture on you, sucking and thrusting so hard that it starts to hurt but fuck, it gets you that much closer to climaxing. Maybe you aren’t any better than he is if you’re getting horny from a little bit of pain. But you can’t think about that, you have to get off. All you need is to give him one more push

“At least your mouth is good for something,” you pant.

That does it. Su-bong’s pace increases and you can’t stop the moans that start to claw their way from your chest in response. He’s erratic and forceful and it’s exactly what you need to push you over the edge, tumbling towards your climax.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan, arching your back, both of your hands grasping his hair to keep him right where you need him to ride out your high. “Fuck, baby.”

Your first orgasm brought on by someone else in so long and you can feel your legs trembling from the intensity. He doesn’t stop until you release your grip on his hair and drop back onto the floor, panting and squirming.

“Mmmm,” he hums against you, finally pulling back for air and sitting back on his knees to peer down at you. “It was ‘asshole’ earlier, now it’s ‘baby’. It just took my tongue to get you to change your mind, hm?” You feel a flush hit your face at his words because you hadn’t realized you’d called him ‘baby’. He sucks the taste of you from his fingers before he scoots closer to lean over your body and rests his weight in his hands at your sides. “Is this what it’s like when you’re a good girl?” Su-bong asks, licking his lips. “I like you this way… but I think I prefer the slut.” There’s a playful glint in his eyes, but when he kisses you, it’s gentler than you expect.

“Are you getting soft on me now because I called you ‘baby’?” you joke against his lips. He rests all of his weight on one hand to use the other to take hold of your wrist and press the palm of your hand against the bulge in his pants.

“Does that feel soft to you?”

“Is this why you talk so much shit?” you ask, rubbing him over his pants. “With the attitude you have, I’d expect you were compensating, but, fuck…and you got this hard just from eating my pussy?” You swear you can see him blush, but he quickly chuckles and sits back to rest on his knees again.

“What can I say, I love a slut who’s needy,” Su-bong retorts.

You sit up so you’re closer to him, working his pants and briefs down his hips until you can free his erection, and fuck if you don’t feel your mouth water from the sight. You try to hide the look in your eyes that you’re sure gives away just how badly you want him, but Su-bong chuckles.

Before he can speak, probably to tease, you spit on his erection so you can begin to stroke him. You angle him toward your mouth so you can suck on the head of his cock, getting a taste of the precum that has already leaked out.

“How does that taste?” Su-bong asks, his hand resting at the base of your head, urging you to take more of him into your mouth. “Have you been thinking about it since you met me?”

He wasn’t wrong: you had been thinking about this moment since you arrived at the games. Sure, you’d thought about hooking up with him when you first met at the club, but a torrid, illicit bathroom hookup was not what was on your mind back then. You thought of kissing, holding hands, making love, and other sweet things that were far from your mind right now. Instead you want to know what it feels like to choke on him. And maybe you have to let yourself loosen up a bit to get it.

You pull off of him, glancing up to peer into his eyes. You motion for him to stand up, and he obliges, staring down at you while he slowly strokes himself. Sitting up on your knees in front of him, you peer up at him from under your lashes, your tongue teasing the head of his cock.

“You like to tease, don’t you?” Su-bong asks, inching his hips forward to encourage you to take him deeper.

“I just want to be a good slut for you,” you whisper, the tip of your tongue still gently toying with him.

“Oh, yeah?” Su-bong chuckles in surprise, stopping for a moment to pull in a quick breath. “Show me what you can do, then.”

You take him halfway into your mouth, bobbing your head along with the stroke of your hand. Su-bong lets out a quiet groan, his hand holding on the back of your head, showing restraint by not applying any pressure. You hollow out your cheeks, sucking harshly on him as you pick up your face but you don’t take him any deeper, not just yet.

“If I had my phone, I’d film you right now and make you famous,” Su-bong mumbles, holding his hands up in front of him as if he was a director framing a shot. “I don’t know what debt you have but I know what you could have done to pay it off.”

The implication of his words makes you moan around him, which in turn causes Su-bong to give a thrust of his hips against your face. It catches you off guard when he pushes himself deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. When you gag around him, he lets out a deep moan that you can feel vibrating through your body, landing straight between your thighs.

“Jesus,” Su-bong breathes. “Do that again.”

He sounds strained, like he’s struggling not to sound too desperate. You grab his hips with both hands so you can hold him still when you start bobbing your head over him, taking him all the way into your mouth. Su-bong rocks his hips against your movements, giving an extra nudge so he can steal a few more centimeters of space in your mouth. When he gives you a particularly hard thrust straight into your throat, he grasps the back of your head, keeping you in place. You gag on him, struggling to maintain his girth, but the feeling makes you clench around nothing, because, fuck, it feels so good.

“Damn,” Su-bong groans, releasing his grip in your head so you can back off, but you don’t.

You can feel him staring down at you still struggling to contain him in your mouth. Until you swallow around him, and he stutters out words you can’t understand. He pushes at your shoulders to signal he needs a moment, which you quickly oblige, taking in a few deep breaths.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, running a hand through his hair. “If I die in these games, at least I get to go out after some good head.” When you attempt to grasp him once again, Su-bong grabs your wrist, stopping you. You peer up at him, trying to give him a look that translates into you begging him to keep sucking his cock, but he shakes his head. “Get up here,” he rasps, pulling you to your feet by your arm.

The way he grips your arm, hard enough to hurt, makes you whine. Not in protest because you can’t handle it, but because it feels good, and you want more. Su-bong hears your moan, and stops tugging at your arm long enough for you to get your footing.

“You like that?” he asks, and you nod in response. “I should have known.” He yanks you towards the sinks, spinning you around and holding you firmly by your hips. You can feel that his grip is much harder than before, because now he’s trying to test your limits.

One of his hands lets go of your hip, and slides up your back, forcing you to bend over the sink. Your hands grasp the sides of the sink for support as you watch Su-bong’s reflection in the mirror. You get an idea that immediately puts a smirk on your face; just because you’re giving him the upper hand doesn’t mean you can’t have a little bit of fun.

You take a step back so that you’re pressed against Su-bong, and you start grinding your ass against his erection. He lets out a deep groan, lowering his gaze between your bodies so he can watch the way you rub against him. You watch him lift his shirt up his stomach so he can get a better view of what you’re doing. Seeing Su-bong like this, pupils blown, licking his lips, giving you a glimpse of his body while he grinds along with you…fuck, you could come again just from the sight.

“You want it inside of you, or would you rather keep playing with it?” he asks, his hand not holding his shirt giving you a hard slap on your backside. You lurch forward and whimper from the contact, giving him your best pleading eyes through the mirror. “Say it, señorita,” he teases, angling hisnhips so he can tease the head of his cock against your entrance.

“Fuck me,” you plead. “I need it. Please, baby. Make it hurt.”

“Jesus,” he laughs, squeezing your hip hard enough to make you arch. “I should have done this years ago.” Su-bong pushes inside of you, burying as deep as he can go. He pins you between himself and the sink, the porcelain hard against your hips. He doesn’t move immediately, but revels in the feeling of you squeezing around him. “Fuck,” he whispers, licking his lips and tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling with a groan. “You haven’t felt it like this before, have you? Are you sure you can take it? You’re shaking already.”

You hadn’t realized that you were trembling, but when he calls attention to it, your first instinct is to feel shy about it. But no, you want him to use you, to manhandle you, to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore. You’ll have to stroke his ego to get him to really give it to you the way you need it, but you’re not embarrassed of the way you’re going to act.

“Please fuck me,” you whine, swaying your hips, trying to get him to move. Su-bong stares at you in the mirror for a moment, eyes darting around your face before he grabs you by your shoulders to pull you upright with your back against his.

“Yeah?” he whispers in your ear, looking at you in the mirror. “You’re begging me? Do you need anybody or is it just me?” His hands slide up your shirt, cupping your breasts and squeezing them roughly; you see him smirk when he rubs his thumbs over your hard nipples.

“You, just you. Please!”

Su-bong growls as he bends you at your waist again, forcefully pressing you over the sink. You brace yourself on the sides, unable to lift your gaze to find him for his hand that holds you down by the back of your head. He slowly shifts his hips back, pulling all the way out until it’s just his tip inside of you, and waits for you to start squirming.

When he snaps his hips forward again, he drives you against the sink hard, the pain immediately evident in your hips. And you clench around him from the sensation. He repeats the motion again, harder, and you whine, your grip on the sink slipping.

Su-bong starts a pace. A slow and hard pace, driving you against the edge of the sink over and over until the pain starts to numb and your pussy aches from how roughly he thrusts into you. He still holds your head down, pressing it against the porcelain near the taps.

“What is it that you said before?” Su-bong begins, speaking gruff and deep as he keeps his slow pace. “That I ‘wouldn’t know what to do with it’? Do you still think that?” Your eyes water because he’s fucking mocking you. He can see and feel everything that he’s doing to you, but he needs to hear you tell him; he wants you to eat your words.

“No, my pussy’s yours,” you whine, one of your hands blindly reaching behind you to grab his forearm. ”It feels fucking great. You’re so big, no one has ever stretched me like this.”

Su-bong grabs both of your arms, bringing them behind you and holding them against your back to pin you down to the sink. You briefly wonder how many bruises you’ll end up with by the end of the night, but you don’t have much time to be distracted as he uses his grip on your arms for leverage.

He starts to thrust into you again, and fuck it feels so good to have him pounding you into the sink. You hear his breath come out in heavy huffs as he sets his pace, speeding up from what he’d previously done. You can’t help yourself, moaning in a way that you never have for anyone else before: needy and whiny.

“You love this, don’t you?” Su-bong asks, breathless, but still determined to get those sweet sounds from you.

You start to feel tension building in your stomach again, and you are desperate to get another climax, so you struggle against his grip to signify that you want him to free your wrists. He quickly obliges, instead holding you firmly by your waist with one hand, spanking you hard with the other. You moan as you brace yourself on the sink again, working against him to try to get him deeper if it’s even possible.

“Spank me again,” you beg, your voice sounding unlike your own as his hips start to thrust faster.

“Oh, are you a bad girl?” Su-bong asks, and you can actually hear him smirking.

You nod furiously, and he quickly slaps your backside again, hard enough to make it sting. Your legs tremble beneath you, and you know it won’t take much to get another orgasm. You bring one of your shaky hands from the sink to your thighs, but Su-bong catches your wrist to bring it behind your back, pinning it there.

”Uh-uh,” he chides. “This pussy belongs to me, isn’t that what you said? I’ll decide when you can come.” You moan his name in the most pathetic way you’re able to manage, and he laughs in response, landing another slap to your ass.

“Please,” you moan, dropping your head forward next to the faucet, and closing your eyes. “I’ll be good for you…I’ll come as many times as you want me to.” You aren’t even sure if you’re going to be able to keep your promise because your body is already weak, but you need it right now.

“Shit,” he moans, leaning over you to press his weight against your arm and back. “That’s so sexy…I’ll give you what you want only because you’re being such a good slut for me.”

Su-bong reaches around front of you, rubbing circles on your clit. The sensation makes your knees buckle immediately and you moan louder, swearing and muttering his name. Su-bong’s hips plow harder into you, faster still, and the speed at which he teases your clit increases along with it. It’s only another moment before you feel yourself crashing over the edge.

You’re sure someone will be able to hear you moaning Su-bong’s name, because you can almost feel the vibrations echoing off of the walls. Your body quakes with your orgasm, the sensation flowing through you all the way to your fingertips. Su-bong slows his thrusts until finally he stops, still buried deep inside of you. His hands set softly on your hips, giving you a moment’s reprieve to catch your breath.

“You good?” he asks, quietly, rubbing one of his hands over your backside.

“Mhm, keep going,” you mutter.

“Needy,” he chuckles, slowly pulling out of you with a small groan.

When Su-bong pulls you away from the sink, you feel the dull pain from how he’s handled you so far, but now, he shoves your back against the wall between two sinks. You pant softly, staring into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts, until he presses both hands against the wall on either side of your head.

When he leans in to kiss you, you expect him to be rough, but it’s surprisingly soft, and tender. While he’s distracted, you take the opportunity to wrap your fingers around his length, stroking at a steady pace. Su-bong groans into the kiss, but breaks away to press his forehead to yours, his eyes closed.

“Mmm,” he hums, rocking his hips against your hand. “I thought you wanted to be a slut. You’re playing with me like I'm your boyfriend.”

“I can’t keep my hands off of you,” you reply, stealing a kiss that makes him smirk faintly. Your free hand slides under his shirt, touching his skin softly for a moment until you dig your nails in just a little. Su-bong inhales sharply the smirk on his lips spreading wider. “You like it, anyway,” you tease.

“I’m only letting you have a break before it’s my turn again,” he responds, tipping his head back to look into your eyes. His face displays mixed emotions as he tries to keep his composure, but you can see the amusement as well — the break must be over.

Su-bong grasps your wrists, moving your hands to set on the sinks on either side of you. He keeps his eyes trained on your face as he reaches between your bodies to rub your clit. You mewl in response; you don’t want to stop because you need more, but fuck, you’re so sensitive from your romp thus far. You break eye contact with Su-bong, your head lolling forward as his slow torture of your clit spreads a shiver throughout your body.

“I thought you wanted more,” he teases, tilting his head around to try to catch your gaze. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to take it. My butterfly wants to fly away again.”

“I want you so bad it’s making me fucking angry,” you reply, when his head nudges yours to signify he wants to see your face.

“Yeah?” he laughs, grinning at you with heavy, lust filled eyes. You feel his fingers move closer to your entrance, his middle and ring fingers slipping inside of you quickly. “This is what you want? For me to make you come again? Tell me how good it is.” Su-bong starts to pump his fingers into you roughly, his hand angled so the heel of his hand rubs your clit as he goes. “Tell me” he says, his free hand grasping your throat, not yet applying pressure, but only holding you.

“It feels so fucking good,” you moan, grabbing his hand that holds your throat and urging him to tighten his grip. His eyes flash briefly with concern, but you nod your head quickly.

“Put your hands back on the sinks,” Su-bong commands, so you quickly grab the sinks again, using them for support as you feel your next orgasm beginning to build. “You can only let go if you need me to stop. Otherwise, you stay just like this. Remember, this belongs to me now. Right?”

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding furiously as you keep your eyes on his face. He studies every emotion on your face, as if he needs to commit it to memory, until he starts to finger you harder and faster.

His grip on your throat tightens and you drag in a ragged breath while you can. You close your eyes, trying to maintain your composure, but his grip tightens again. You can feel his rings pressing firmly into your skin. You use your hold on the sinks as leverage to grind against his hand, feeling yourself inching closer to release.

“Oh, god,” you gasp. “Please.”

He fingers you harder, curling them inside of you to get you right where he wants. The hand that holds your throat now cuts off your ability to breath and you feel almost euphoric at the sensation. Su-bong’s eyes never leave your face, searching for any signs from you that it’s too much. When his grip loosens briefly, you pull in a ragged breath mixed with a groan, but you’re thankful for the air. You start panting, losing any shred of inhibitions that may have been left over.

Su-bong doesn’t let up, but keeps thrusting his fingers, trying to get them deeper with each push. He still applies some pressure to your throat, not cutting off the air supply completely, but enough for you to feel his rings digging into you. The tightening in your stomach increases, fluttering out slowly into your aching limbs until finally it snaps. You let out another desperate and loud moan to reverberate off of the walls of the bathroom, repeating praises around Su-bong’s name as if it was all you knew. You use your grip on the sinks to help you grind against his hand, to wring out every second of your climax.

“You’re so sexy,” Su-bong mutters in your ear, his deep voice sending another wave of pleasure through your body. He keeps working you with his fingers until your legs start to quake and you become overstimulated, so you grab his shirt with one hand, fisting it hard.

“Please,” you gasp. Su-bong slows down until he stops again, letting out a moan in your ear, as if he’s just as intoxicated from this moment as you are.

Su-bong grasps your hips with both hands, keeping you upright as you feel your legs turning to jelly. You lazily drag your eyes to his, watching his eyebrows raise in question — he’s checking on you again. You nod, and watch the way he brings his hand back to your throat to soothingly rub the marks that his rings left. In your heightened state, your heart skips a beat because who knew he was so fucking considerate.

“How about this…” Su-bong begins, stealing a quick kiss from you before he takes a few shuffled steps backwards towards the pile of clothes.

You watch him spread the clothes more evenly before he sits on top of his jacket and shoves his pants and briefs down to his ankles now. He grasps his cock, slowly stroking his hand over it a few times while he looks at you.

“If your pussy belongs to me, you can come over here and make this yours,” he nods his head to his lap. You realize that he could ask for you to do anything in that moment, and you’d do it without question.

You make your way over to him on shaky legs, and he notices quickly — he responds by extending his hand to you, which you happily accept. You step one foot over him and lower to your knees, straddling his waist and putting just enough pressure between your overly sensitive pussy and his length. Su-bong hums in satisfaction, pressing his hands to your hips to urge you to very softly grind against him.

“I used to think about this,” you whisper, your voice soft because maybe you’re afraid to admit it after all of the annoyance he gave you. “Fucking you.”

“Was it like this?”

“No,” you shake your head, your hands taking hold of his shirt and bunching it up around his ribs. “But I like this better.”

Su-bong lifts his arms up, allowing you to pull his shirt over his head and discard it. Placing your hands to his chest, you shove him to lay on his back, and use that pressure against his chest to help you grind yourself against him a little harder.

“Are you trying to come again?” he breathes, holding your hips, to steady you. All you can do is shake your head, but still you keep grinding, dragging yourself back and forth along his cock. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he says, one hand sliding under your shirt to squeeze your breast.

You dig your nails into his stomach and the moan he lets rattle from his chest is gorgeous. He grabs your hips more firmly as if he’s torn between letting you continue and throwing you down and finishing himself off. You keep pushing him, scraping your nails along his chest until he finally cracks.

Su-bong guides your hips backwards enough for him to reach between your bodies and slide himself inside of you. You both moan together, and you drink in the way it feels to have him inside of you again, stretching you out.

“Go ahead, it’s yours,” Su-bong says, his voice strained. He takes his hands off of your hips and props them behind his head, letting you ride him as you see fit.

With your hands still on his chest, you start at a steady pace, but you know you won’t be able to take it for very long. The sound of your skin slapping together echoes through the room, mixing with your moans of his name and Su-bong’s heaving breaths. It drives you to move faster, rolling your hips so you can chase your fourth climax of the day.

Your limbs feel as though they are on fire, an ache resonating through your whole body but you couldn’t stop — you needed him. Faster and faster you move until your rhythm feels sloppy and you start to lose your steam. Su-bong, sensing this, sits up and wraps his arms around your waist holding your bodies together so he can help you move along with him.

You take the opportunity to kiss him, sloppy and wet because you couldn’t have it any other way. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging on it as you pull him even closer to you. You find yourself moaning into his mouth as you feel another climax approaching. He growls in return, breaking the kiss and focusing on getting you off.

This time, when your climax hits, Su-bong fucks you through it, your entire body feeling like it was alight. You shake and moan and beg for something but you don’t know what. Your hands grab his back, nails digging in and clawing up his back; he fucking loves it as much as he loves when you pull his hair.

“Good girl, my good girl,” Su-bong groans.

He shoves you backwards so he’s on his knees while you are now on your back, the whole time keeping his length buried inside of you. He pins your legs to the floor and begins to fuck you again, harder and relentless. You feel yourself still shaking with the remnants of your previous orgasm that now begins to fade into yet another one when his fingers make contact with your clit.

Su-bong pistons his hips harder, driving himself deeper into you than you imagined possible until finally he reaches his own climax. You hold your hands around his waist, helping him along as he keeps driving into you. He moans your name, mixed with nonsensical mutters and needy groans as he fills you up with everything he has.

When he collapses on top of you, Su-bong bites your neck hard, and you can only whine out a raspy sound that you don’t even recognize belongs to you. With his body on top of yours, you can see his back, emblazoned with a tattoo of his own name, now covered in your scratch marks. The sight sends a chill through your body: you certainly made him yours.

“Someone will be in soon, I’m sure,” you whisper after you both stay silent for several minutes trying to catch your breath. You tighten your thighs and arms around his body, trying to get one more feel of him before he moves, and you feel his lips press to your neck where he had just left a deep bite.

“Hmm, you’re right.”

Slowly, Su-bong climbs off of you, taking care to make sure he doesn’t hurt you beyond what you already did. It takes you both several minutes to clean yourselves up to appear even remotely presentable, during which you steal a few glances at him to compare the marks you left on one another.

As you zip up your jacket, the last article of clothing you need to put on, you take another look at yourself in the mirror. You notice the distinct mark on your neck from where Su-bong’s hand gripped you earlier, along with the bite mark he left. You zip your jacket the whole way to cover your neck, just as you spot Su-bong’s reflection in the mirror. He stands several feet behind you, sizing you up with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What?” you ask. He locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“If we don’t make it out of here…” he trails off, leaving an uneasy feeling in the air that crashes you both back to the reality of your situation.

“Don’t think like that,” you say, turning to face him again. “We’ll get out of here and pay off our debts, then get back to our lives. We’ll forget all about this place.” You shift your weight between your feet and immediately feel the throbbing of pain in your body; you pull in a sharp breath in response. You can still feel him all over you.

“You’re going to forget about everything, hm?” he grins in response, crossing closer to you and tugging at the collar of your jacket to see the mark he left on your neck. ”My butterfly, always trying to fly away,” he teases. You smile in response, and bite your lip to try to hide it from him before you speak.

“I’m not flying this time. I’m running.”

“You’ll slow down one day,” he laughs. “Then I’ll find you, and I’ll reclaim my property.”

“Oh, I’m your property now, am I?” you grin. Being referred to as ‘property’ isn’t something you’d normally derive pleasure from, but with Su-bong…you fucking love it.

“Mhm,” he nods, taking hold of your hips carefully, so as not to aggravate the bruises he left there. “You might think that you’ll forget everything about this place, but you won’t forget about those five orgasms I just gave you.”

“Well,” you begin, tracing one of your fingers around the circle on the blue patch that is affixed to his jacket. “You’d better think about that when you walk up to that podium tomorrow, then. Because if I make it out of here without you…I’ll have to find someone who’ll get me off six times.”

You steal another kiss from him, this one deeper and more passionate than before. When you pull back, you see the smug smirk on Su-bong’s face, and this time, you match it. You shove him away from you playfully, and leave him alone in the bathroom with his thoughts.

As you slowly walk back to the dorm, you realize you can smell Su-bong all over you, feel him and taste him, as well. Your body aches with what he did to you, and you know he’s right: you won’t be able to stop thinking about him if you get out of this place. The way his voice sounded when he promised that he would find you makes your mind race with what else the two of you could do, but for now you can only hope that tomorrow, he presses the ‘X’.

#choi seunghyun x reader #choi subong x reader #squid game imagine #x reader #thanos x reader

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goldfades · 2 days ago

Note

i love crash out series and thanks for your service queen 😭 i had an idea for like a fight and then make up between them with smut? a lil longer too if you don’t mind

hi baby! i hope you enjoy this!!

warnings: NSFW under the cut, minors pls dni! i feel like i forgot how to write smut so PLEASE give me some feedback

The door barely clicks shut before Luka exhales, sharp and frustrated. You don’t look at him.

You haven’t looked at him since dinner.

Your coat is already halfway off when he reaches for you, fingers just grazing your wrist before you pull away, stepping into the kitchen like he’s not even there. Like the whole ride home hadn’t been thick with tension, the air between you stretched thin, fraying at the edges.

Luka leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with narrowed eyes. You don’t acknowledge him.

He hates it.

Hates the way you move around the kitchen like he’s invisible. Hates the way your lips are pressed into a tight, unyielding line. Hates the silence, because god, anything is better than this. You could be yelling, cussing him out, shoving at his chest with all the fight you have in you—and he’d take it. He’d welcome it.

But this?

This cold, calculated ignoring? He feels like he’s losing his mind.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” he asks, voice clipped.

Nothing.

Luka clenches his jaw. Pushes off the counter. Takes one step closer.

“Seriously? You’re just gonna act like I’m not here?”

Silence.

You open the fridge, grab a bottle of water, twist the cap with a little more force than necessary.

He watches. Seething. His patience, already thin, finally snaps.

“Oh, my fucking god.” Luka drags a hand down his face. “Can you just say whatever you need to say? Yell at me. Call me an asshole. Something.”

You take a slow sip of water. His eye twitches.

“You’re such a brat,” he mutters under his breath.

That does it.

Your head snaps up, eyes blazing, shoulders tight with irritation. “Excuse me?”

Luka smirks. Oh, now you want to talk.

He shrugs, leaning against the counter again, arms lazily folding across his chest. “I said,” he drawls, tilting his head, “you’re a brat.”

Your nostrils flare. He bites back a grin. He knows he shouldn’t be pushing you, shouldn’t be stoking the fire—but at least now you’re giving him something.

You slam the bottle onto the counter, stepping closer. He can see the tension in your jaw, the way your fingers curl into fists at your sides.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“There she is.” Luka grins, infuriating and smug, but there’s something else beneath it—something restless. Something hungry. His voice dips lower. “I was starting to miss you.”

Your pulse jumps. But you’re still pissed. Still fuming.

And Luka?

Luka loves you like this—fierce, unrelenting, all fire and defiance. But he loves breaking you down even more.

You glare up at him, chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. Luka is standing so close now that you can feel the heat of him, the way his broad frame crowds you in, making the kitchen suddenly feel smaller.

His smirk is lazy, but his eyes—his eyes are dark. Heated. He’s enjoying this.

And that pisses you off even more.

“You are such an asshole,” you hiss, pushing at his chest.

He doesn’t budge.

“Am I?” His voice is all silk and steel, infuriatingly calm, like he’s barely restraining a laugh. “For what? Wanting you to actually talk to me instead of acting like a little kid?”

Your jaw tightens.

“You think I’m acting like a kid?”

“I think you’re acting like someone who wants me to lose my patience.” He steps even closer, and you take an automatic step back—until your spine meets the edge of the counter. Luka leans in, bracing a hand beside you. “And you know what, baby?” His voice drops, low and thick. “It’s working.”

Heat pools low in your stomach.

You hate how easily he gets to you.

How his presence, his voice, his everything makes you feel like you’re standing too close to the edge of a cliff, toes curling against the drop. But you’re still mad. And you’re not about to let him just bulldoze over that.

“You embarrassed me,” you say, voice tight.

Luka’s brows knit together. “How?”

You scoff, shoving at him again—harder this time. He lets you. “At dinner. The way you were talking over me, making fun of me in front of everybody—”

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” His voice is firmer now, the teasing edge fading.

“Yes, you were.” Your fists tighten. “You always do this. You always think it’s so funny to push my buttons, and I know you don’t mean anything by it, but sometimes—sometimes it’s not funny.”

Luka exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. He watches you for a long moment, his gaze flickering over your face. Then, finally—

“Shit,” he mutters. “I didn’t—fuck, baby, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

Your anger is still there, but it softens, just a little, at the raw sincerity in his voice. You cross your arms, looking away. “You’re an idiot.”

Luka huffs out a laugh, his hands settling at your waist. “I know.” His thumbs stroke slow, deliberate circles against your hips. “But I’m your idiot.”

You bite your lip. “That’s not a good excuse.”

He dips his head, lips brushing your ear. “No?” His voice is low, dangerously smooth. “Then let me make it up to you.”

Your breath catches. Luka presses closer, his body warm and solid against yours. His nose drags along your jaw, his lips just barely skimming your skin.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

He notices, then smirks.

“C’mon, baby.” His voice is pure sin, rough and coaxing. His hands slip lower, gripping your thighs. “Let me fix it.”

You shouldn’t give in this easily. You should stay mad. But Luka—your Luka, with his infuriating smirk and teasing touch—knows exactly how to unravel you.

And right now?

You’re about to let him.

The tension between you crackles like static in the air, thick enough to choke on. Luka's hands are still heavy on your hips, thumbs dragging slow, deliberate circles against the fabric of your dress. He’s waiting—for you to push him away, for you to tell him off, for you to fight back.

But you don’t. Instead, you stare up at him, lips parted, breath coming just a little too fast. He notices. Of course, he does.

“Say the word, baby,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “And I’ll stop.”

You don’t say it.

His smirk is slow and satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”

You should still be mad. You should still be fuming, pushing him away, making him work harder for it. But Luka knows you too well. Knows the way your pulse is racing, the way your fingers twitch at your sides like they want to grab him but your pride won’t let you. Knows exactly how to break you down.

“Luka,” you breathe, and that’s all it takes.

He moves.

His hands slide down, gripping your thighs, hoisting you up onto the counter like you weigh nothing. You gasp, fingers tangling in his hair as he steps between your legs, pressing his body against yours, trapping you in.

“You gonna let me fix it?” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your throat, sucking just hard enough to make you shiver.

You hate him for this. Hate how easily he gets under your skin, how he turns every fight into something else entirely, something heated and breathless and dangerous.

And you hate even more that you love it.

“You’re such a menace,” you whisper, nails scraping against his scalp.

He grins against your skin. “You love me.”

And god help you, you do.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, yanking his head back just enough to make him groan. His hands squeeze your thighs in response, his control slipping, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’m still mad at you,” you tell him, but your voice is shaky, betraying you.

Luka smirks, pressing his forehead against yours. “No, you’re not.”

You glare at him, opening your mouth to argue, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Instead, his lips crash against yours, and everything else melts away.

The fight, the tension, the anger—it all disappears the moment his mouth moves against yours, the kiss hot and needy and just a little desperate. His hands are everywhere—sliding up your thighs, gripping your waist, pulling you closer.

Your legs wrap around his hips, anchoring him to you, and Luka groans, deep and low in his throat. He breaks the kiss just long enough to drag his mouth along your jaw, his breath ragged.

“I hate when you ignore me,” he mutters against your skin. “Drives me fucking insane.”

You smile, tilting your head to give him better access. “I know.”

His teeth scrape against your pulse. “Brat.”

You tug at his hair, making him growl. “Cry about it.”

His laugh is dark and breathless, and before you can say another word, he’s lifting you off the counter, carrying you towards the bedroom with purpose.

“You wanna play games, baby?” he murmurs, voice thick with something dangerous. “Let’s play.”

And just like that, the fight is forgotten. Because Luka may hate when you ignore him, but he knows just how to make you beg for his attention.

Luka's steps are measured, each one echoing through the hallway as he carries you effortlessly in his arms, the sheer power of his body on display. The air around you crackles with an electric current, every brush of his fabric against yours sending jolts of desire straight to your core.

The bedroom door swings open with a soft thud behind him. Luka sets you down gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours, burning with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. He leans down, his hands planted firmly on either side of your head, caging you in with the strength of his arms.

“You sure you can handle this?” His voice is a low drawl, teasing, yet laced with an edge of seriousness. He knows your games, the push and pull of your resistance, but tonight, the unspoken challenge hangs heavy between you.

Without waiting for your response, Luka’s lips find yours again, more forceful this time. His tongue slides against your lips, demanding access, which you willingly grant. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of mint and something uniquely Luka that makes your head spin.

His hands roam downward, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up slowly, tantalizingly, until it bunches around your waist. Cool air hits your skin, causing you to gasp into his mouth, a sound that seems to drive him even further. His fingers trace up your thighs, light yet firm, mapping the skin he’s claimed so many times yet still can't get enough of.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling back just enough to speak. His gaze is fixated on your exposed skin, as if memorizing the sight before him. His fingers hook around the edge of your underwear, teasingly pulling them down as he locks eyes with you, his intentions clear as his lips curve into a smirk.

The fabric slides off with ease, leaving you bare before him. Luka’s breath hitches slightly as he takes in the sight, the raw desire in his eyes enough to make your heart race. He dips his head, pressing kisses along your inner thigh, inching closer to where you want him most—but deliberately avoiding it, driving you crazy.

You squirm beneath him, trying to guide him where you need him, but he gently pins your hips down with his strong hands. “Patience, baby,” he chides lightly, his breath hot against your skin. His refusal to satisfy your needs makes every touch feel like both a punishment and a promise.

Finally, he relents. His mouth moves directly on your pussy, his tongue masterfully invoking sensations that leaves you writhing beneath him. Each lap sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, intensified by the sheer anticipation he's built. His name falls from your lips in a helpless mantra, echoing around the room, filling it with the sound of your pleasure.

Luka's hands grip your hips tighter, a silent command to stay still under his ministrations. But it's a tall order when every flick and swirl of his tongue draws whimpers from your throat. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, his fingers join the play, sinking into you with a precision that sends another jolt of pleasure coursing through your veins.

The room is thick with the heat of your bodies, every breath, every moan mingling in the charged air. Luka’s movements grow more urgent, more focused on your clit, as he senses your climax building. His name becomes a litany, a plea, a declaration as you teeter on the edge.

With a few more skilled movements, you cum all over his tongue, waves of pleasure rolling over you in a relentless tide. Luka slows his pace, riding it out with you, his own heavy breaths a testament to his satisfaction at your unraveling.

As you float back down, he crawls up your body, his weight a welcome pressure. His lips find yours again, kissing you deeply, passionately, sharing the taste of you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers against your lips, a smile in his voice, his eyes crinkling with genuine affection.

Luka's gaze holds yours, intense and fiery, as he shifts his position. You can feel the solid weight of his bulge pressing against your thigh, a promise of what's to come. He trails one hand down the center of your body, a teasing path that makes every nerve stand on alert.

When he reaches the junction of your thighs, he pauses, his fingers playing at the entrance that beckons him. His other hand braces beside your head, his thumb caressing your cheek softly, a stark contrast to the hunger in his eyes.

Without waiting any longer, he aligns his cock at your sopping pussy. With a slow, firm push, he slides home, filling you completely in one smooth motion. You gasp at the sensation, a perfect stretch, a perfect fit, as Luka pauses for a moment, allowing you both to savor the moment and adjust.

Then, the restraint vanishes. Luka sets a pace that is both relentless and passionate. His hips snap forward with precision, each thrust driving him deeper, eliciting moans from deep within you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic beat that drives the intensity of the moment.

Luka’s face is a mask of concentration and raw pleasure as he watches the effects of his movements reflected in your expressions. His name spills from your lips in a crescendo of sound, each utterance a spur to his motions. His hands roam over your body, one settling to anchor your hip, the other reaching up to pull your leg around his waist, changing the angle of his thrusts to delve even deeper.

"You feel so fucking good," he groans, his voice rough with desire. His movements become even more targeted, designed to hit all the right spots within you. The change sends sparks of pleasure zipping through your veins, your back arching off the bed as you meet him thrust for thrust.

The intensity builds, a coiling heat in your belly that signals the rushing approach of your second climax. Luka senses it too, and his motions become even more focused, desperate, as if he’s chasing his own release that's tethered to yours.

"Cum for me, baby," he urges, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck, his breath scalding against your skin. His words, spoken in that commanding tone, pierce the fog of pleasure and tip you over the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he pushes you both past the brink.

Your climax shatters through you, waves of intense pleasure washing over you in relentless surges. Luka follows closely behind, his own release claimed in the tight clasp of your body, his name a prayer on his lips.

The room is warm, hazy in the golden light spilling through the curtains. Your skin hums, still tingling from him, from everything.

Luka collapses beside you with a heavy, satisfied groan, one arm flung over his face, the other instinctively reaching for you. His fingers find your waist, tracing absentminded circles against your damp skin. He’s still catching his breath, chest rising and falling, a lazy grin stretching across his lips.

“Jesus,” he mutters, voice hoarse, wrecked. “You’re actually tryna kill me.”

You laugh, soft and breathless, turning to face him. His cheeks are flushed, hair an absolute mess, sweat-damp curls sticking to his forehead.

“You deserved it,” you murmur, dragging a teasing finger down his chest. “Brat.”

Luka cracks an eye open, fake-offended. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You smirk, shifting closer, your lips grazing his jaw. “You love pushing my buttons.”

He sighs dramatically, rolling onto his side to look at you properly. “I don’t mean to,” he says, quieter now. His big hand finds your cheek, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “I just love messing with you.”

You arch a brow.

“Okay—” he amends quickly, lips twitching “—sometimes I go too far.”

You hum in agreement, stretching your legs against his under the sheets. “Yeah, you do.”

Luka groans, grinning as he buries his face against your shoulder. “Shit, you’re really making me work for this apology, huh?”

You bite back a smile. “You should suffer a little.”

“I’m literally dying.”

You laugh, carding your fingers through his messy curls. “You’ll live.”

Luka leans into your touch, all soft now, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, your shoulder. “I really am sorry,” he murmurs between kisses. “I never want to embarrass you, baby. Ever.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your stomach flip.

You nudge your nose against his, letting the last remnants of your irritation melt away. “I know.”

He exhales, relieved, and then—because he’s Luka—grins. “Sooo... am I officially forgiven? Or do I need to go another round to prove how sorry I am?”

You roll your eyes, smacking his arm. “Go to sleep.”

Luka laughs, grabs you, and pulls you against his chest with a satisfied sigh. “Mmm. Fine. But only ‘cause you wore me out.”

You tangle your legs with his, feeling warm, sated, and impossibly content. Luka’s arms tighten around you, and for a long moment, neither of you speak—just breathing in sync, just existing together.

Then—

“Still think you’re a brat, though,” Luka mumbles sleepily against your hair.

You pinch his side.

He yelps.

Then, he laughs.

#luka doncic #luka doncic x reader #luka dončić #luka dončić x reader

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heliosunny · 3 days ago

Note

Hi, I enjoy reading your stories! For the request, can I please have yandere Robin x reader?

MYSTERY PLANT

Yandere!Robin x Reader

You never expected much from a simple sapling. The tiny Robin Pear tree had been left abandoned near a market stall, its leaves trembling in the wind as if pleading for someone to take it home. You had always been good at nurturing fragile things, so taking it in felt natural.

Days passed, then weeks. The tree flourished under your care, its thin branches stretching toward the sun, leaves unfurling in vibrant green. Then, one evening, beneath a moonlit sky, something impossible happened.

A petal drifted down from the tree's blossoms, shimmering as it landed in your palm. A sweet voice whispered through the room.

"You’ve taken such good care of me… Now, let me return the favor."

The branches trembled, then split apart with a shudder. A gust of wind filled the room, carrying a floral scent that made your head spin. And then, from the heart of the tree, she emerged.

She was breathtaking. Ethereal liliac-silver hair cascaded down her waist, curling slightly at the ends, a halo-like ornament resting atop her head. Pale wings, resembling those of a celestial songbird. Her teal eyes, brimming with warmth, met yours, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile.

"Robin." The name left your lips instinctively, as if you'd always known her.

Her smile widened. "Yes, and you, Y/n… you are mine."

From the moment she arrived, Robin has been following you around. She hummed melodies as she watched you sleep, brushed her fingers through your hair when she thought you wouldn’t notice.

"I bloomed for you" she whispered one evening, her arms wrapping around you in an embrace "You wouldn’t abandon me, would you?"

At first, you weren’t sure how to adjust. But she made it easy. Despite her otherworldly presence, she was warm, affectionate, and endlessly kind—to everyone.

In the marketplace, she became a sensation overnight. With a gentle smile and a soothing presence, she helped merchants arrange their goods, guided lost children back to their parents, and sang in the town square, her voice drawing in crowds like a spell.

"Miss Robin, your voice is truly a gift!" one elderly woman praised.

"A gift meant to be shared" Robin replied, bowing gracefully.

And share she did. Her singing eased tensions, made quarrels dissolve into laughter, and even though she didn’t say it outright—influenced dreams. She once mentioned it casually, over breakfast, as if it wasn’t an insanely terrifying ability.

"I see glimpses of their dreams sometimes" she admitted, twirling a spoon in her tea. "A little adjustment here, a comforting presence there… it helps people wake up happier."

You nearly choked. "Wait—you’re controlling dreams?!"

Robin giggled, tilting her head. "Control? No, no, of course not. That sounds so… forceful. I simply guide."

"You have nightmares sometimes, don’t you?" she asked, voice softer. "I could make them go away."

You hesitated. The idea of her wandering into your mind while you slept should have been unsettling. But… when she smiled at you like that, when her voice curled around your ears like a lullaby, it became harder and harder to think of anything other than her.

The incident happened at the market.

A local vendor, a kind, older man who sold fresh fruit, was being harassed by a group of thugs. They knocked over crates, laughing as apples and pears rolled across the dirt.

"Pay up, old man. Don’t think we forgot your debt."

Robin was too far away, speaking with a group of women who had begged for one more song. So you did what any decent person would do.

You stepped in.

"Hey! Leave him alone!"

The leader sneered. "Oh? And what are you gonna do about it?"

You weren’t exactly intimidating, but you held your ground. "Just walk away."

For a second, it seemed like they might. Then, one of them used a knife aimed towards you. You felt blood on your arm. The fruit vendor shouted in alarm.

But then—

A melody cut through the chaos.

"Oh dear," Robin’s voice floated through the air, lilting and amused. "It seems I’ve come at the perfect time."

The thugs froze. Their eyes glazed over as the sound of her song wrapped around them like vines, twisting through their minds, rooting itself deep into their thoughts.

You watched in stunned silence as their expressions slackened. The one who had cut you dropped his knife, eyes unfocused, lips trembling like he was on the verge of tears.

Robin stepped between you and them.

"Now," she purred, tilting her head, "I could tell you to leave, but where would the fun be in that?"

The melody shifted.

The men shuddered.

Without another word, they turned and ran.

"What…?" You blinked at their retreating figures, confused. "How did you—?"

"Are you alright?" Robin cut in as she turned to you. Her gaze flickered to your injured arm, tears are about to fall from her eyes.

"That was reckless of you..." she murmured, stepping closer.

You gave a sheepish laugh, wincing as you pressed a hand to your wound. "I just… I couldn’t stand by and do nothing."

"You’re too kind for your own good."

Her other hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek in a slow motion.

"You should leave these things to me," she whispered. "I’ll always keep you safe."

You smiled at her, relieved. "Thanks, Robin. I don’t know what you did, but… I’m glad you were here."

"Of course. I’ll always be here."

By the time you returned home, the sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky in dusky purples and oranges. The weight of the day clung to your limbs, but somehow, having Robin beside you made everything feel lighter.

"You’re still bleeding, you know" she murmured, glancing at your arm as you stepped inside.

"I’ll clean it up in a bit" you reassured her.

Robin frowned, but didn’t push further. Instead, she turned toward the bathroom, stretching her arms above her head. "Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to freshen up."

You chuckled, watching as she disappeared behind the door.

The sound of water filled the quiet house as Robin bathed. You took the time to bandage your wound, then unpacked the things you had bought earlier—some vegetables, spices, and a small box of decorative hairpins. You had grabbed them on a whim, thinking they’d suit her.

By the time she emerged, steam curling from behind her, Robin looked more ethereal than ever. A towel was draped around her shoulders, her damp silver-blue hair cascading down in loose strands.

"Come here" you gestured, patting the seat in front of you.

Robin raised a brow but complied, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "What are you up to?"

"Your hair. It’s still wet." You reached for a cloth, gently running it through her locks, soaking up the moisture.

At first, she said nothing, only closed her eyes, letting you take care of her. The room was silent except for the soft sound of the towel brushing against her hair. You moved with careful fingers, untangling knots, smoothing out each strand.

"You’re so gentle" she murmured.

You huffed a laugh. "Is that surprising?"

"No. Just… nice."

When her hair was dry, you reached for the brush and slowly ran it through the silken strands, watching the way the light caught in them.

"You have really pretty hair, Robin."

Robin’s eyes fluttered open, tilting her head slightly to glance at you. "You think so?"

"Mhm." You set the brush down, reaching for the box of hairpins. "I, uh… got you these earlier. Thought they’d look nice on you."

Robin blinked in surprise as you opened the box, revealing delicate pins shaped like tiny birds and flowers. For a moment, she simply stared at them, then she let out a soft laughter.

"You’re too sweet, Y/n" she hummed, tilting her head. "Go on, then. Decorate me as you please."

You rolled your eyes at her playful tone but got to work. Carefully, you gathered sections of her hair, twisting them into an elegant half-up style, securing them with the pins. When you were done, you sat back, admiring your work.

"Beautiful."

Robin turned to you, smiling. "Why, thank you."

After taking care of her hair, you moved to the kitchen, determined to cook something nice for her. Robin sat nearby, watching with quiet amusement as you chopped ingredients and stirred the pot.

"You don’t have to do all this for me, you know" she mused, resting her chin on her palm.

"I want to," you replied simply. "You’re always helping others. Let me take care of you for once."

Dinner was warm, filling, and cozy. You ate together, sharing small stories and laughter between bites. But the real fun came afterward.

Robin had been humming absentmindedly, some melody she had sung in the market earlier, when you decided—for some reason—that you wanted to return the favor.

"I should sing for you too" you declared.

Robin perked up immediately, teal eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh? Please, go on. I’d love to hear it."

You hesitated. Bad idea.

But it was too late. Robin was already watching, waiting, anticipation clear on her face.

So, you took a deep breath and started singing.

And—it was bad.

Off-key. Wobbly. Nowhere near the enchanting, ethereal quality of Robin’s voice. But you kept going, determined.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Robin burst into laughter.

"Oh, Y/n.." she gasped between giggles, clutching her stomach. "That was… truly something."

"Hey!" You huffed, throwing a napkin at her.

She caught it easily. "Don’t pout, don’t pout. It was adorable."

Despite her teasing, Robin’s laughter was light, happy. And as embarrassing as it was, you couldn’t help but feel warmth spread through your chest at the sound.

As the night stretched on, the two of you stayed like that—talking, laughing, simply existing in each other’s presence.

Morning came. You stretched with a yawn, blinking sleepily as the scent of fresh flowers filled the air. Robin had already woken before you—unsurprising, given her boundless energy.

"Good morning, Y/n" her voice drifted in softly from the other room.

You followed the sound, finding her standing by the small greenhouse extension you had built—just a tiny, sunlit space where you kept the plants you’d been tending for years.

Robin looked ethereal, dressed in soft pastels, her hair still pinned up the way you had styled it the night before. A teacup rested in her delicate hands as she gazed at the plants.

"You take such good care of them"

You chuckled, stepping beside her. "Of course. I’ve had them for a while. Some of these I even grew from seedlings."

Robin’s teal eyes flickered toward you, a small smile gracing her lips. "I see… so they are very dear to you."

"Well, yeah." You knelt down, checking the soil of a small potted rosemary plant. "It’s rewarding, watching them grow. But I guess you’d understand that better than anyone."

Robin hummed, sipping her tea. "Yes… though, unlike them, I can love you back."

You blinked, glancing up at her.

Robin smiled, serene and elegant as always, tilting her head slightly. "Plants do not think. They do not feel. They merely exist, waiting for your touch, your care. But me…"

"I can cherish you properly."

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "They’re just plants, Robin. I don’t love them like I love people."

Robin exhaled, her smile deepening as she reached out and plucked a small petal from one of the flowers. She twirled it between her fingers, watching it spin before it fluttered to the floor.

"Good" she whispered, almost to herself.

The rest of the day passed in quiet, domestic bliss. Robin helped you prepare lunch, her hands moving with practiced grace as she plated the dishes with an elegance that made even simple meals look like fine dining. She never ate much, but she always insisted on tasting anything you made.

"If you’ve prepared it, then it must be worth savoring" she would say, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Afterward, you found yourself lying on the couch, exhausted from the morning’s errands. Robin sat beside you, fingers combing gently through your hair.

"You should rest more" she murmured, her voice a delicate melody. "It’s no wonder you sleep so deeply."

"Mhm… guess I’m just used to staying busy" you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

"Then allow me to lull you."

The familiar hum of her voice. It wrapped around you like silk, smooth and sweet, threading through your consciousness, urging you into the embrace of sleep. You barely resisted. Robin continued stroking your hair, her touch light, careful.

"That’s right," she whispered, almost inaudible. "Just stay close to me. Only me."

You didn’t hear it. You had already slipped into dreams.

That evening, as you stepped back into the greenhouse to water the plants, something felt… off.

A few of the smaller plants were gone.

Not withered. Not rotting. Simply… missing, as if they had never been there at all. The soil remained undisturbed, no signs of pests or animals. The pots that once held their stems sat empty, eerily clean.

"Robin?" you called.

She stepped in behind you, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "Yes?"

You gestured toward the empty pots. "Did you move some of the plants?"

Robin tilted her head, eyes wide with soft curiosity.

"Oh? Were they important?"

"It’s fine. Maybe I forgot I repotted them or something."

Robin smiled, reaching up to adjust one of the hairpins you had given her.

"Yes," she murmured, "perhaps that’s it."

The moment passed. The warmth returned.

And yet, as you continued through the night, laughing with her, cooking for her, letting her tease you over your terrible singing…

The missing plants lingered in the back of your mind.

Like something unseen, waiting in the dark.

That night, you saw her in your dream, you assumed it was simply coincidence.

You stood in a vast garden bathed in moonlight, flowers blooming in unfamiliar yet impossibly beautiful shapes. The air was thick with a gentle fragrance. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of a melody drifted through the stillness.

She stood under a tree heavy with pale blossoms, her hair cascading down while the same hairpins you had gifted her glinting faintly in the glow.

"Oh," she smiled softly, folding her hands in front of her. "You’re here."

Her voice was as delicate as the night breeze, carrying a warmth that made your chest feel light.

"Robin?" you asked, blinking. "Why are you…?"

"It seems your mind has called for me."

"I don’t remember—"

"It does not matter. We are here now, and that is enough, is it not?"

Something about the way she said it made you nod, despite the lingering confusion.

She reached out then, brushing her fingers along your wrist. "You are tired. Let me grant you peace, my dear."

And before you could say anything else, the world melted into warmth.

You awoke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, heart pounding faintly in your chest. The dream had been so vivid. You could still feel the cool night air, the scent of flowers, the softness of Robin’s voice lingering at the edge of your senses.

"Good morning"

Robin was there, standing by the open window, bathed in morning light. She turned to you with a soft smile, as if she had been waiting for you to wake.

"You seemed to sleep quite deeply," she mused, approaching with measured grace. "I do hope you found rest."

You sat up, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah… I had a strange dream."

Robin tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her teal eyes. "Oh? Do tell."

You hesitated. The memory of the dream was still fresh, yet the more you thought about it, the more distant it seemed—like mist slipping through your fingers.

"It was just… a garden," you muttered. "And you were there."

"How lovely," she murmured. "Perhaps your heart simply longs for me, even in sleep."

She said it so lightly, so effortlessly, that you almost didn’t catch the weight of her words.

You laughed, brushing it off. "You make it sound so dramatic."

Robin chuckled, shaking her head. "I merely speak the truth."

"Regardless," she continued, "I am pleased. You should always rest knowing I am near."

The day passed with a familiar rhythm. Robin accompanied you to the market again, her presence as radiant as ever. She spoke with people kindly, helped an elderly woman carry her wares, and even hummed a tune that made a crying child calm almost instantly.

You watched as stall owners greeted her with warmth, their expressions softening the moment she smiled. It was as if she brought ease wherever she went—like a breeze that smoothed out the rough edges of the world.

But when you glanced at her, you noticed the way her gaze lingered on you.

Not just fond. Something darker.

"Is something the matter?"

You shook your head. "No. Just… watching."

Robin’s lips curled slightly.

"Then please," she murmured, "watch only me."

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #robin x reader #robin hsr #robin honkai star rail #heliosmysplant

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