#Sip With Caution ⚠️ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeyhaeya · 7 months ago

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🎮04 | Your Lips, My Lips, Apocalypse 🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: smut, explicit language, petty arguments, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, mature themes, light suggestive content, jealousy/possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, mild profanity, oblivious reader (she needs proof over everything and anything), competitive tension, angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. proceed with caution if any of these are sensitive topics for you! angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. reader is getting bullied by her co-workers ! smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional context, not ideal IRL), rough sex (jeonghan pounding into you real hard), lots of kissing, degradation (light. reader is a slut. period.), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (bashful of that word), oh and lots of kissing. (i honestly dk what to even add in here - lol i added somthing unrelated to smut SORRY its already edited tho) wc: 12,180 ♪ playlist ♪ : boyfriend (ariana grande with social house), never be the same (camilla cabello), teeth (5 seconds of summer), treat you better (shawn mendes). "you aint my boyfriend, and i aint your girlfriend, but you dont want me to see nobody else"-reader "i lose my mind when it comes to you"-wonwoo "i cant have what i want but neither can you"-jeonghan

You woke up on a bed, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the thick curtains. The surroundings were unfamiliar yet strangely recognizable. The high-ceilinged room, the marble tiles glistening faintly in the sun, and the faint scent of expensive cologne—there was no doubt. You were in Jeonghan's penthouse.

A sharp pang of confusion hit you as you sat up, brushing the stray strands of hair from your face. How the hell did you end up here? Memories from the night before crept in slowly, like fragments of a dream you weren't sure you'd actually had.

You'd barely had a sip of alcohol. In fact, you weren't drunk at all—just exhausted. The events of the party played back in pieces: you slumped over the kitchen counter, the cool granite pressing against your cheek as the distant thrum of music vibrated through the room. You remembered Seungcheol coming over to check on you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he muttered something about letting you rest. The memory blurred after that.

What you did remember was Wonwoo—quiet but present, seated across the room with a Nintendo Switch in his hands. He wasn't saying much, but you could feel his gaze flicker over to you every now and then, as if silently questioning why you'd passed out in such an uncomfortable spot. A small part of you wished he'd just told you to go home, but Seungcheol had intervened before anyone could. And that was when Jeonghan stepped in.

You could imagine his smooth, persuasive voice now: "I'll take her home. She's my responsibility." It was the kind of thing he'd say to justify anything, but you doubted it was really about responsibility. He didn't even know where you lived, and yet here you were, in his space, feeling even more out of place than you had at the party.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before standing up. The soft fabric of the oversized shirt you wore—clearly not your own—brushed against your legs as you padded across the room. It was early, but you still had time to get home, clean up, and make it to work. The thought of slipping out quietly tempted you, but you hesitated. It would feel rude not to at least thank him.

Steeling yourself, you opened the door and stepped out into the expansive hallway. Every detail of the penthouse screamed Jeonghan—elegant yet understated, expensive yet effortlessly casual. You followed the faint sound of movement, eventually stopping outside a door. Knocking lightly, you heard his voice from within.

"Come in."

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside to find Jeonghan seated at his usual spot—where you often worked on his makeup during long workdays. He wasn't looking at you, his gaze fixed on his phone as he leaned back in the chair with an air of ease that irritated you more than it should have.

"Jeonghan... thanks for last night," you started, your tone stiff. "You didn't have to. You could've just taken me home."

He glanced up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I would have, but I don't know where you live."

Your brow furrowed at the simple reply. "You could've woken me up and asked."

"And disturb your beauty sleep? That's cruel, even for me," he replied smoothly, the teasing lilt in his voice grating on your nerves.

"Seriously," you pressed, crossing your arms over your chest, "I didn't ask for you to do any of that. But... thanks. I appreciate it."

For a moment, he didn't respond, his gaze flickering over you with an unreadable expression. Then, as if dismissing the sincerity of your words entirely, he spoke again. "What are you standing there for? Do my makeup."

Your jaw dropped slightly at the abrupt shift. "Excuse me?"

"You're here. Might as well make yourself useful." He gestured lazily toward the vanity table. "Or do you need me to remind you how to do your job?"

"I don't have my tools with me," you shot back, irritation bubbling to the surface.

Jeonghan's lips curved into a sly smile. "I have my own."

"You've been making me lug that heavy-ass kit around every day when you already had your own stuff?!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration.

He chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. "You never asked. It's not my fault you're utterly stupid."

You glared at him, muttering under your breath, "Asshole."

"Careful," he warned lightly, his eyes glinting with amusement as you approached him. "You're in my house."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the nearest foundation and set to work. He tilted his face up toward you, a smug expression lingering on his features as you patted the product onto his skin. You couldn't resist pressing a little harder than necessary, earning a quiet grunt of annoyance from him.

"Is this your way of taking revenge?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You wish," you muttered, focusing on blending the foundation smoothly across his skin. Despite your irritation, your fingers moved with practiced ease, the routine familiar and oddly grounding.

But as you worked, you couldn't ignore the closeness—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his skin. It was distracting, and you hated that it affected you at all.

He noticed, of course. He always did. "You're quiet today," he remarked, his voice softer now, almost curious. "Something on your mind?"

"Nothing," you replied quickly, avoiding his gaze. "Just tired."

"Hmm," he murmured, but his tone suggested he didn't believe you. "You should take better care of yourself. Passing out at parties isn't a good look."

"And ending up at your boss's house is?" you shot back, finally meeting his eyes.

He smiled—a slow, infuriating smile that made your stomach twist in ways you didn't want to acknowledge. "Touché."

The whole day at work dragged on like a slow, suffocating punishment. You had done absolutely nothing but sit in the studio, pretending to relax while doing the exact opposite. Jeonghan, in his infinite wisdom, had told you to "take a break" for the day. The catch? He didn't let you rest at home, where you might've actually managed to unwind. Instead, he insisted you stay here at work, throwing out some half-assed excuse about needing you nearby in case something came up.

If he really cared about your well-being, you thought bitterly, why didn't he just let you leave? Not that you were complaining—well, not out loud. But sitting back and watching models pose endlessly under bright studio lights was far from relaxing. You were bored to death, practically counting down the minutes as you perched on a spare chair in the corner of the room. Jeonghan, true to form, was nowhere to be seen—off handling something important, apparently.

It was disorienting, not being at his beck and call for once. Usually, he had you running across the city, juggling tasks that no other assistant would tolerate without raising hell. This strange lull felt wrong, as though he were deliberately giving you time to stew in your thoughts. And if Jeonghan had one talent, it was knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

Your coworkers, of course, had their own interpretations of the situation. You could feel their glances from across the studio, hear the faint whispers that stopped the moment you walked by.

"She's getting special treatment from Jeonghan, huh?" one of them muttered, not bothering to keep her voice low enough.

"Must be nice to sleep your way into perks," someone else added, followed by a chuckle that made your stomach twist.

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms, but you didn't say a word. Let them talk. It wasn't worth your energy to correct them. They didn't know what they were saying—didn't know the difference between what they assumed and what had actually happened.

Yes, you'd slept at Jeonghan's house. But that didn't mean what they thought it did. It wasn't like anything had happened. And as for "extra treatment"? If they thought this endless game of mental gymnastics Jeonghan put you through was some kind of reward, you'd happily trade places with them. Let them walk a mile in your shoes. Let them see how long they lasted before they begged for mercy.

Still, their words lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind. You hated how easily they got under your skin, how much you cared about what people thought—even when you knew better. But what frustrated you even more was the fact that Jeonghan knew this would happen. He had to. And yet, here you were, sitting through this ridiculous excuse for "rest," waiting for him to pull another trick out of his sleeve.

By the time the lunch break rolled around, you were practically seething in your chair. You didn't even realize Jeonghan had walked into the studio until he was standing right in front of you, arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Enjoying your break?" he asked, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You glared up at him, too tired and too annoyed to play along. "If this is your idea of rest, you seriously need to reevaluate your understanding of the word."

Jeonghan chuckled, unbothered as always. "You're sitting down, aren't you? Looks like rest to me."

"Yeah, sitting down and listening to people talk shit about me. Real relaxing," you shot back, crossing your arms.

His smirk faltered for just a second, replaced by something more thoughtful. "What are they saying?"

"Nothing I haven't heard before," you muttered, looking away. "Doesn't matter."

Jeonghan crouched slightly so he was at eye level with you, his sharp gaze boring into yours. "If it doesn't matter, why do you look like you're about to rip someone's head off?"

You opened your mouth to reply, then closed it again, unsure of what to say. He always did this—pulled the words out of you before you even realized they were there.

Finally, you sighed. "Why didn't you just let me go home? I could've actually rested instead of sitting here like some kind of zoo exhibit."

Jeonghan tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Because if you went home, you'd overthink everything until you gave yourself a headache."

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his answer. "What?"

He straightened up, his usual smirk returning as if he hadn't just said something that completely threw you off balance. "You heard me. Now, come on. We're grabbing lunch."

"What?" you repeated, more sharply this time. "You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" He turned on his heel, already heading toward the door. "Hurry up. I don't have all day."

You stared after him, half tempted to stay put out of sheer spite. But then, against your better judgment, you got up and followed.

Because as much as you hated to admit it, he was right.

As you trailed behind Jeonghan, the murmurs from your co-workers grew louder, their snide remarks almost taunting.

"See? Told you she has a special something." "She's shameless. I bet she got the job because she slept her way through connections."

The venom in their voices stung, but you swallowed your anger. It wasn't worth it—not now. Jeonghan was already a few paces ahead, his long strides creating an effortless distance, his posture calm as ever. You envied how he seemed untouched by the chaos he often left in his wake.

For a moment, you hesitated. Turning around to confront them burned like an itch you couldn't quite scratch. But as your fists clenched at your sides, someone else beat you to it.

"Back to work." The sharp voice of the head photographer cut through the chatter like a whip. All eyes snapped to her. "You guys are so shameless. I bet you two have never even slept with anyone, let alone earned your positions fairly."

The room went silent, save for the muffled clicks of a nearby camera shutter. You turned your head slightly, catching the woman's commanding glare as she stood tall, exuding the kind of confidence you wished you could summon in moments like these.

You'd always known her as strict and sharp, but fair—qualities that had earned her respect among the staff. She didn't spare the offenders another glance, her focus already back on the set. Her words, though brief, felt like a lifeline, pulling you from drowning in humiliation.

Relief spread through your chest, and before you turned to follow Jeonghan, you gave her a small, grateful smile. She didn't acknowledge it, but something about the tension in her shoulders seemed to relax.

Jeonghan was already a good distance ahead, his pace unrelenting. You had to half-jog to catch up. When you finally reached him, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable.

"You look like you ran a marathon," he remarked, his tone as light as always. "Are you that desperate to keep up with me?"

You huffed, falling into step beside him. "Maybe if you walked like a normal human being, I wouldn't have to."

He smirked, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. "Or maybe I just enjoy watching you struggle."

You rolled your eyes but didn't bother replying. Somehow, bantering with him felt like the only way to ground yourself after what just happened. As you exited the studio, the cool air hit your face, and for the first time that day, you felt like you could breathe again.

"Where are we even going?" you asked, breaking the silence as Jeonghan led you toward the building's private parking area.

"You'll see," he said cryptically, his smirk widening.

As you followed Jeonghan to the parking lot, your curiosity piqued. His cryptic response only made you more suspicious. You weren't exactly in the mood for more mystery, but you couldn't deny that something about his confident demeanor made you feel oddly intrigued.

He stopped at his sleek black car, unlocking it with a quick press of a button. The engine purred to life as he slid into the driver's seat. You hesitated for a moment, but then slid into the passenger side, watching him in silence as he adjusted the mirrors and started driving.

"So," you began, breaking the quiet tension. "Where exactly are we going?"

Jeonghan shot you a quick glance, that same smug look on his face. "It's a surprise."

You sighed, sinking back into the plush seat. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Maybe," he said, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "But you'll find out soon enough."

The drive was smooth and relatively short, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were heading somewhere neither of you had been before. The city slowly gave way to more secluded, quieter streets—definitely not a part of town you usually visited.

The car finally came to a stop in front of an upscale, modern building with glass windows reflecting the dimming sky. It had an air of exclusivity about it, something that felt... out of place.

You glanced at Jeonghan, your brow furrowing. "What is this place?"

"Trust me," he said as he turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. "You'll want to come inside."

The door clicked open, and Jeonghan got out without waiting for your response. You followed reluctantly, your footsteps echoing as you walked toward the entrance.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted by a warm, welcoming ambiance. It looked like a boutique hotel mixed with an art gallery—sleek furniture, artwork on the walls, and dim lights that set a mysterious yet cozy mood.

Jeonghan led you through the lobby and past a few velvet-curtained rooms. He didn't look back at you, and you followed in silence, your curiosity growing with each step.

Finally, he stopped in front of one of the rooms. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a luxurious suite, complete with a king-sized bed, a large soaking tub, and panoramic windows overlooking the city skyline.

"What is this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Your head was spinning with questions, but something told you Jeonghan wasn't here to answer them just yet.

"Like I said," he started, turning to face you with that same enigmatic smirk, "a surprise."

Your heart rate picked up as you looked around the room. The last thing you wanted was more uncertainty, more drama, but you couldn't deny the pull. Jeonghan, for all his teasing and annoying habits, had a way of making everything feel... intense. You had no idea what was coming, but that only seemed to heighten the tension.

He stepped closer to you, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him. "Are you going to ask more questions?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You hesitated, your mind racing. But with no clear way out and Jeonghan standing so close, his presence overwhelming, you took a deep breath and made your decision.

You hesitated, your mind racing. The atmosphere between the two of you had shifted, and there was no clear way out. Jeonghan stood close, his presence looming, his eyes unwavering as they searched yours for an answer. You could feel the heat radiating between you, almost like an unspoken tension that had been building up since last night.

With no way to turn back now, you took a deep breath and made your decision.

"I'll take my chances," you said, your voice soft but steady, betraying none of the nerves twisting inside you.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Jeonghan's face as he reached for your hand, fingers warm and confident against yours. Without a word, he led you further into the room, the door clicking shut behind you with a quiet finality.

The space seemed suddenly smaller, more intimate, as you felt his hand guide you toward the bed. Your heartbeat quickened, a mix of excitement and hesitation swirling in your chest. Jeonghan's eyes were fixed on you, his gaze heavy with unspoken promises.

Before you could think twice, you found yourself sitting on the bed, your hands resting on your lap. But Jeonghan didn't give you much time to process. He was already standing in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, his presence intoxicating.

Without a word, you slid your hands to his chest, pulling him toward you. His lips met yours in an instant—urgent, hungry, like something had finally snapped between the two of you. Your breath caught as you melted into the kiss, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of you.

In a blur of movement, Jeonghan's hands were on your hips, pulling you onto his lap with a smooth, practiced motion. You straddled him, the heat between you both intensifying as your bodies aligned in a way that felt both familiar and completely new.

His hands roamed over your waist, fingertips grazing the skin beneath your shirt as his lips trailed down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You gasped softly, unable to suppress the wave of desire that rushed through you.

The kiss deepened as you instinctively ground your hips against him, the friction between you both making your pulse race even faster. Jeonghan's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his body language giving away everything he'd been holding back.

It was getting hot, the more you pulled yourself closer to him, the more it felt like he was trying to lean away like he's teasing you for some reason. Until his head hit the soft mattress under him, you were on top of him and he found it so hot.

That was the plan after all. He was making you lean closer until he lays down completely on the bed.

Your cheeks was so red as you tongue-kissed him, eyes fluttered shut with your pretty lips soft all over his. Jeonghan's hand went to the back of your head, forcing the kiss to go deeper.

You were wearing tight jeans at the moment that you can practically feel his cock gracing your clothed cunt. Meanwhile, Jeonghan's hands wandered under your cute blue puffed sleaves flutter top, his hands moved with precision as if he's trying to memorize your curves.

And that's when his hands found your hips, pulling you flush against his hard clothed cock. You whimpered when you felt his cock rubbing against your clit. Pulling away, you took a breath, but it wasn't long until Jeonghan's hand grabbed your chin as he sat up again, kissing you deep in the same hungry way again.

For a moment, Jeonghan pulled away, his eyes locked with yours. Your lips were swollen and he's proud to think how messed up you look right now with your cheeks red and body hot as if you have a fever or something.

You feel so embarrassed when you find yourself soaking wet.

"Undress for me," he broke the silence, and you stared at him, cheeks heating up more if that was possible.

You were stuttering, not what knowing what to do or say—not when he's looking at you with a grin that makes him look oh-so-handsome.

Jeonghan leaned back, hands resting on the bed watching what you would do. He wasn't doing anything at all, but why does it feel like the more he pulls away, the more you wanted to act all stupid and do as he says.

And just like that, you found yourself talking your clothes off, skin exposed right in front of him. His eyes roamed over your bare body, as if he's working on all his self control to not touch you just yet. To see how far you can get being bossed around by him.

You unclipped your bra, unbuttoned your pants and removed them all the way down. Jeonghan bit his lips, but he didn't do anything just yet. He was enjoying having you follow his order.

He leaned in close, his lips finding your jawline down to your neck, now nipping at the sensitive flesh there, making you flinch a little.

"A- are you giving me hickeys..?" You asked, but he didn't answer just yet. He guided your hands to the waistband of his pants, and you pulled it down, revealing Jeonghan's hard length. The bulge itself was enough to make you speechless. Doesn't matter, you were already speechless as it is.

Jeonghan unbuttoned his long-sleeved polo off, with him pulling you by the chin to look at him as he devours your lips yet again. His hands travelled back to your hips, pulling you to grind your soaked cunt to his hard cock. All you can do was moan in between kisses with him swallowing every sound coming from those pretty mouth of yours.

He tightened the grip on your hips before he pulled away for you to catch your breath.

You were panting, your pussy burning with the aching feeling of wanting his cock deep inside you. You feel so slutty that you didn't even notice Jeonghan's hand make it's way to your inner thighs.

"You're so fucking wet. You're incredibly turned on just with a few kisses?" Jeonghan mused, looking at your glistening cunt. "I'm putting a finger in."

Jeonghan rubbed your clit, making you whimper under his touch, skin shivering as you pulled your hips against his hand. He couldn't help but smirk how worked up you were right now. He's got a lot to say, but no words came out of his mouth. He was too focused at the sight before him.

When he inserted two fingers in, it slipped inside you so easily. "What the fuck? It's like I don't need to prep you."

He continued pulling his fingers in and out of you, earning a chorus of loud moans, your head falling on his shoulders when he reached that one good spot that almost made you pass out. His thumb was running circles on your clit while his fingers worked in you like he's done it a hundred of times before.

You were breathless, biting your lips to stop yourself from moaning his name. "J- Jeonghan...!! Fuck... S- so good." You said as you cum all over his hand, followed by a sweet squirt.

But that didn't stop Jeonghan, his fingers continued to work on you, trying to overstimulate you. And just like that, you cum again. He pulled his fingers out licking his fingers as his eyes met yours in a darkened gaze.

Panting, your cheeks flushed, Jeonghan gripped your hips, pulling you to his cock.

He was hard you can feel his precum on the tip of his cock. You grabbed it, stroking your hand over his cock, and Jeonghan grunted, head falling back.

"You're going to be the death of me," he managed to say.

You got on the floor, kneeling in between his thighs as you opened your mouth for his cock, licking the tip with your hand stroking the rest before bobbing your head all over him.

Jeonghan groaned, his hand grabbing your hair making you blow him deeper. "f- fuck, you're such a good fucking slut."

You whimpered, having his cock reaching your throat. He was too fucking long for your pretty mouth, you were gagging. He didn't let go until he reached his highs, cumming all over your mouth. he pulled your face away to see if you were fine, but the sight caught him off-guard.

You were panting prettily, mouth opened with his cum evident in between your lips, dripping like honey. But you didn't let it drip anywhere, you swallowed his hot load, wiping your lips.

Fuck. And he's fucking hard again.

Jeonghan doesn't usually have a high sex drive, but now that told a whole different story. He pulled you off the floor, his fingers brushing your cheeks.

You straddled on him. He kissed your cheeks before whispering, "Safe word?"

"Fox." You replied. But before he can shift you under him, you continued—"I want to ride your cock."

Jeonghan smirked, his thumb caressing your lips. "You're full of surprises, sly fox." You were too horny to reply. Screw it, he was gorgeous, and that made you want to dominate him. "Be my guest, sweetheart."

You guided your pussy to the tip of his already pre-cum cock. But just before you prepared yourself to make him fit—thinking of how it would probably hurt a little because of how big he was, Jeonghan held your hips before slamming it down his cock, your cunt swallowing him. The stretch was real and good you almost passed out, but you gathered yourself—you can't possibly back out now that you volunteered to do all the work. You knew Jeonghan would just tease you after this.

"Shit. Pussy's fuckin' made for me," he grunted, his chest falling in and out. You grinded yourself, his hot balls making you bounce on him.

"Such a pretty slut." He watched your body bounce, tits bouncing so prettily as your moans matched the squelch of your pussy was making.

You were bouncing on his cock fast, his cock buried deep in your pussy. It reached your g-spot and it made you stop there, pulling yourself deeper, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Jeonghan grunted, whimpering as he held your hips in place, lifting you up before slamming your cunt hard in him again, it made you moan loudly.

"I- I'm cumming, hannie!" You panted. Jeonghan felt your walls gripping his cock, he furrowed his brows before moving your hips up and down to reach his highs. And just like that, you cummed all over his cock, it didn't take him long before his hot load came. He took his cock out of you, cumming all over your stomach.

"Fuck, you feel so good," He says, carrying you under him, locking you in between his arms. "You're so fucking pretty I want my cock inside you forever."

You were processing things blinking a few times to him before his hardened cock—was inside you again, making you breath out a moan.

"You rode me so well." He panted out, fucking your pretty little pussy recklessly but deliberately. "But I want to fuck you mercilessly."

He slammed his cock in and out of you so hard you squirted for the second time. "A- anghh !!" You moaned, your eyes rolling. "F- fuck me hard, sir!" You moaned out.

Jeonghan was panting heavily, the sudden nickname caught him off guard. "Insatiable slut." He slammed his cock so hard you were on the verge of cumming. He continued rutting inside you, with a one hard thrust, he cummed. His hot semen coating your pretty hot walls. You cummed after.

But the man didn't stop there. He was down bad for you he didn't hold himself back. He rose your legs up, making it rest on his shoulders before entering your cunt again, balls slamming your fucked up pussy as you swallowed him well.

"Fuck.... So fucking good." He muttered, pounding on your cunt like there was no tomorrow. "S- Sir! I'm cumming!" You moaned, his hands holding your thighs down so you won't have to move much. "Cum all over my cock, sweetheart." He replied, raising one of your legs so he can get a better angle of fucking in you.

He slammed his cock hard in you, his hips pounding in and out of you, your pussy squelches over his cock.

Jeonghan made one last thrust, putting pressure between your hips until your walls tightened. He took his cock out cumming all over your stomach as you finally cummed.

You were breathing heavily, body trembling as Jeonghan's body fall beside you.

Weren't the two of you supposed to have lunch? Then why had you ended up on a bed, bare skin against sheets, your body aching after Jeonghan had worked you to exhaustion. It wasn't just the number of rounds—although those alone had left you trembling—it was the fact that you hadn't stopped him. No, you hadn't even wanted to. But why?

Why had things spiraled this way when just yesterday, it had been Wonwoo who'd left his marks on you? And now here you were, letting Jeonghan—your boss, of all people—drag you into a mess you weren't sure you could untangle.

You sat up gingerly, the soreness of your cunt pulling at your every movement, watching as Jeonghan knelt beside the bed. He was quiet as he ran a freshly dampened towel over your thighs, his touch softer than you expected.

"You don't have to clean me up. I can do it myself," you muttered, your cheeks burning.

Jeonghan smirked, though he didn't stop wiping at your skin. "Sure you can. But I'm the one who fucked you earlier, and I'm not about to leave you like this. Especially since you'll just go back smelling like me and let those vultures at work run wild with it."

You opened your mouth to argue but paused. He was right—he was infuriatingly always right—and lately, he'd been treading carefully as though protecting you from something. But why? What was he playing at?

Chuckling lightly, you ran your fingers through his soft, slightly tousled hair. "I don't get it. In the middle of the day, you pull me into some random, bougie place I've never even heard of, and then—this? What's up, Jeonghan?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully before replying, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second. "Honestly... I don't know either."

The words hung between you as he trailed the towel along your collarbone, his movements slow and deliberate. He finally met your eyes, his breath hot against your face, and you hated how effortlessly captivating he was.

Unable to resist, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but when Jeonghan didn't pull back, it deepened into something that stole your breath and left your lips swollen all over again.

When he pulled away, his voice was low, teasing. "Let's prove your co-workers just how wrong they are." He put your clothes over your body again, handing the rest of your clothes.

You blinked, his words snapping you out of the daze as you covered yourself up. "Prove them wrong? How?"

Jeonghan smirked as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "They said you slept with me to get this job. Let's show them that if we did sleep together, it's only now—and it's because I wanted to ruin you in a completely different way."

By the time you arrived back at work, two hours had passed, and every pair of eyes in the office practically burned into you. You could hear the whispers again, loud enough that they were obviously meant for you.

"See? I told you." "She's shameless. Bet she skipped the interview process entirely and went straight to Jeonghan's bed." "I'd kill to know what tricks she used to get where she is."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you followed Jeonghan into the building. He walked ahead of you like he always did, tall and unbothered, but you didn't miss the way his sharp gaze flicked briefly toward the gossipers. He could stop this. He probably wanted to. But you weren't going to let him. This was yours to handle.

You stopped in your tracks, giving Jeonghan's sleeve a subtle tug. He paused, glancing back at you. "I've got this," you murmured, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

Turning toward the group, you walked over with a calm, measured confidence that instantly silenced them. You raised an eyebrow, your tone dripping with mock curiosity. "Oh, please. Don't stop on my account. You were saying?"

One of the women—bold enough to meet your eyes—crossed her arms. "We were just... wondering how someone like you manages to stick around here. Must be nice to have such... connections."

You smiled sweetly, though your eyes glinted dangerously. "Connections, huh? Interesting take. But you're right—it's been an uphill battle. Not everyone can stay in the same position for years while letting the same tired poses get approved in photoshoots. What's that phrase? Oh, right—bare minimum energy."

The color drained from her face, but you didn't stop there.

"By the way," you added, your tone light but cutting, "if you have so much free time to monitor my life, maybe I should suggest Jeonghan cut your workload. He loves people who are efficient, after all."

The woman opened her mouth to retort, but you waved her off with a laugh. "Relax. I'm joking. Maybe."

Jeonghan reappeared behind you then, his voice smooth but carrying an edge. "Is there a problem here?"

You glanced over your shoulder, flashing him a knowing smile. "Not at all. Just clearing up some... misunderstandings. Right, ladies?"

The group muttered something incoherent before scrambling back to their desks.

As you turned to walk away, Jeonghan leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. "Remind me to let you handle all my PR scandals. You're ruthless."

You smirked, shooting him a playful glare. "I told you I've got this."

And just like that, you walked back to your desk, head high, leaving the entire office wondering just how they'd underestimated you for so long.

The rest of the day passed in a strange haze of triumph and simmering tension. The office was quieter now, the usual hum of whispers replaced by nervous glances and hurried footsteps whenever you walked by. You didn't need their approval—hell, you didn't even want it—but silencing the chatter, even momentarily, gave you a sense of satisfaction.

Jeonghan, of course, was Jeonghan. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon flitting between meetings and casually dropping by your workspace, leaning against your desk like he owned the entire building (which, to be fair, wasn't entirely wrong). Each time, his eyes lingered a little too long, his smirk a little too knowing.

By the time the clock struck six, you were more than ready to head home. But as you gathered your things, Jeonghan's voice cut through the silence of the nearly empty office.

"Leaving already?"

You glanced up, finding him standing in the doorway of his office, his jacket slung casually over one shoulder. He looked as put-together as ever, but there was something in his expression that gave you pause—something unreadable.

"It's late," you replied, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I figured you'd be the first to kick me out."

Jeonghan chuckled, stepping closer until he was standing just in front of your desk. He placed a hand on the surface, leaning in slightly. "And miss the chance to give you a ride home? That doesn't sound like me."

You narrowed your eyes, already sensing the trap. "I can manage, thanks."

"Don't be stubborn," he said smoothly. "You've had a long day. Consider it a peace offering for earlier."

Earlier. As if that entire thing hadn't left you questioning every decision you'd made in the past 48 hours.

Still, there was no winning against Jeonghan when he got like this, and you were too tired to argue. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your bag and followed him to the elevator.

The ride down was silent, save for the soft hum of the elevator music. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor numbers as they ticked by, trying to ignore the way Jeonghan's presence filled the small space.

It wasn't until you were in his car, the city lights blurring past the windows, that he finally broke the silence.

"You know," he began, his tone almost conversational, "you handled those gossiping idiots pretty well today."

You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. "Were you expecting me to cry in the bathroom instead?"

He smirked. "Not exactly. But I have to admit, watching you put them in their place was... entertaining."

"I'm glad my misery is amusing to you."

"Don't twist my words." He turned to you briefly, his expression softening. "I meant it. You were impressive. People like that—they don't deserve your energy."

For a moment, you didn't know what to say. Compliments from Jeonghan were rare, and hearing him say something so genuine left you oddly unsettled.

"Thanks," you muttered, turning to look out the window.

The car fell silent again, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you hesitated before reaching for the door handle.

"Jeonghan," you began, glancing at him, "why... why are you doing all this?"

He tilted his head, his eyes locking with yours. "Doing what?"

"This." You gestured vaguely between the two of you. "Acting like you care. Protecting me. Dragging me into... whatever the hell this is."

For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

"Honestly?" he said, his voice quieter now. "I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't. But here we are."

You stared at him, searching his expression for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was exhaustion, vulnerability, and something else you couldn't quite name.

"Goodnight, Jeonghan," you said softly, opening the door.

"Night," he replied, watching as you stepped out of the car and disappeared into the building.

Entering your apartment, you lazily set your bag down the table before falling onto your bed. Your body was aching from earlier—no, probably not just from how Jeonghan fucked you bad, but Wonwoo too, last night. You had sex in two nights streak, of course your body would ache.

You opened your phone—though you wanted to sleep already, you still had to check on your schedule for streams tomorrow since it was sunday, you had really nothing much to do. Then you received a discord notification popped up. It was Hoshi spamming your username on one of the servers. You didn't want to open the app, you were too exhausted to even deal with Hoshi's godforsaken childishness, but you opened it anyways.

#general ho5hi_kwon: @/kitsunya ho5hi_kwon: Are you free tomorrow? We're gonna watch a LOL competition, Wonwoo, Jun, Minghao, and Vernon's playing. dk_is_dokyeom: Dude stop forcing her to come all the time dk_is_dokyeom: Do you like her or something 😏 ho5hi_kwon: NAH. YOU LIKED HER. pledis_boos: We all know, Seokmin. We all know

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. These idiots. Whenever the three were in the same room, it'd always end up being chaotic.

Then there was that. Your thoughts wandered back to those days—Seokmin's shy smile when he confessed under the cherry blossom trees, his constant efforts to make you laugh, his warm hugs when you were at your lowest. You'd loved him, in your own way, but breaking up had been your only option. Your life had been a mess back then, and dragging him down with you was something you refused to do.

You shook the memories away and glanced back at the chat. Seokmin was probably sulking already. He always did when the teasing went too far, you couldn't bear to see your high school sweetheart get involved in your mess.

But now, he isn't the type to be teased like this. You knew he'd sulk real hard and maybe not even talk to Hoshi or Seungkwan for a couple of days.

You chatted on the server once their fighting has cooled down.

#general kitsunya: yea, sure, ill go kitsunya: send me the details ho5hi_kwon: I already sent the link. Don't dare be late.

You locked your phone and let it drop onto your bed. Why had you agreed to go? You didn't even know. Maybe it was exhaustion clouding your judgment. Maybe you just didn't want to be alone with your thoughts of Jeonghan or Wonwoo.

The next morning, your alarm kept ringing. God knows how many times you already pressed the infamous snooze button. But then you remembered, The LoL competition was starting 12 pm. You checked the time on your phone—10:57 am. You groaned before dragging yourself from the comfort of your bed.

You took your sweet time in the shower, glancing at the clock it was 11:32 already. Who cares if you were late. It's not like anyone would care.

You took your time drying your hair and picking out your outfit—a simple gray cardigan layered over a black tank top, paired with baggy black cargo pants and sleek white Converse. To top it off, you slung pastel red headphones around your neck, adding a subtle pop of color. Afterward, you finished with your usual makeup routine, keeping it effortless yet polished.

One last check in front of the mirror, you grabbed your shoulder bag and your phone before Dm-ing Hoshi.

[DM] - hamster freak You: im going to be a little late Hoshi: Thanks for the information. You're already 37 minutes late by the way, did you forget to set an alarm or something? Hoshi: Youre mean. You: dw baby, miss me already? Hoshi: ... You know what, you don't need to come after all. Hoshi: I don't want to see you You: aw stop ure making me want to go You: ill be there to haunt you <3

You took out a small chuckle before you walked your way to the parking lot to enter your car.

You arrived at the venue. And guess who's waiting for you outside the place? Hoshi.

"The hell? How long have you been waiting here?" You asked as you approached him.

He shrugged. "I thought you'd arrive 5 minutes ago, and I was with Jihoon, he went to grab us a few snacks."

"Wow, Woozi would really do something for you?"

"No, he lost a game." He grinned. And you chuckled lightly.

As Woozi gets back, holding a bag of snacks with him, a frown on his face, Hoshi grabbed lollipops, handing one over to you.

You grabbed the lollipop, popping it into your mouth. "Hey Mr. tofu," you greeted with a smile.

"Please don't call me that ever again," Woozi replied with a sigh. Your grin widened. Teasing him always seemed to be your favorite thing to do. You remember teasing him so hard on a stream once that he left the voice chat.

"It suits you," Hoshi chimed in biting on the candies.

You offered to carry some of the bag, but Woozi didn't let you. He can't have a girl help him.

The three of you entered the venue and it didn't take long when you finally met up with the rest of the group. Jun and Minghao were so focused on their computers, playing an LoL 1v1 before the competition started. Vernon was sitting on one of the couches, talking to his girlfriend. And Wonwoo? He was nowhere to be found. Why were you even looking for him in the first place?

"If it isn't for Ms. Fox." You turned to see Seungkwan. A unamused smile crept through your lips. "Oh, it's just you." You replied, earning a chuckle from Hoshi.

"At least I'm not out looking for Wonwoo," Seungkwan replied. You scoffed—hell if that's even true (it is).

You rolled your eyes at Seungkwan's comment but didn't dignify it with a response. Instead, you plopped onto the nearest chair, leaning back as you popped the lollipop back into your mouth.

"You know," Seungkwan continued, sitting on the armrest beside you, "for someone who's 'not looking for Wonwoo,' you sure keep glancing around a lot."

"Get a hobby, Boo," you shot back, smirking at the way his face fell into mock offense.

Jun and Minghao, oblivious to the banter, were still locked in their intense 1v1, their focus unwavering. Hoshi, now sitting cross-legged on the floor, had already started opening a second lollipop, while Woozi muttered something under his breath about "children" as he sat beside him. Vernon, still on the couch, gave you a small wave before turning back to talk to his girlfriend.

You stayed there for a while, trying to relax, but the energy in the room was buzzing—both from the impending competition and your own thoughts. Wonwoo was still nowhere to be seen, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to find him.

"Be right back," you said, standing up and stretching.

"Where are you going?" Seungkwan called after you.

"To mind my business. You should try it," you quipped, earning a chorus of laughter from the others.

You wandered out of the room, letting the chatter and laughter fade behind you as you strolled through the venue. The place was massive—crowds of gamers and fans gathered around booths and screens, the excitement almost infectious. But you weren't here to browse or soak in the energy. Your feet seemed to move on their own, taking you toward a quieter hallway at the back of the venue.

That's when you saw him.

Wonwoo was leaning against a wall near an emergency exit, his face illuminated by the faint glow of his phone. He looked relaxed, but there was a tension in his posture that only you, someone who knew him well enough, could notice.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. He didn't look up, but his voice reached you before you could say anything.

"Looking for me?" he asked, his tone calm but carrying that hint of amusement that always managed to throw you off.

You stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms as you leaned casually against the opposite wall. "And what if I was?" you replied, your voice dripping with nonchalance.

Wonwoo finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unreadable in his eyes, a mix of curiosity and something deeper you couldn't quite place. "Then I'd say you've found me," he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

Silence stretched between you, not awkward but heavy enough to make your chest feel tight. You couldn't help but let your eyes roam over him—the way his black hoodie hung loosely on his frame, the faint scruff on his jaw that somehow made him look even more attractive. Damn him.

"You disappeared," you said finally, breaking the silence.

"Needed some air," he replied, his voice low. "Didn't think anyone would come looking."

"Well," you started, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, "I wasn't exactly looking for you. Just needed a break from Seungkwan's mouth."

Wonwoo smirked, the corner of his lips curling in that infuriatingly subtle way of his. "Sure," he said, his tone laced with doubt.

You rolled your eyes, stepping past him toward the door. "Don't flatter yourself, Jeon," you tossed over your shoulder, reaching for the door handle.

But before you could pull it open, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and you froze, turning to look at him.

"Stay," he said softly, his eyes searching yours.

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. His hand was warm against your wrist, and for a moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you and him, caught in a moment that felt far too intimate for two people who supposedly had nothing unresolved between them. Supposedly.

"Why?" you asked, your voice softer than you intended, almost a whisper.

Wonwoo's thumb brushed against your skin absentmindedly, and he looked away for a second, as if gathering his thoughts. "Because I don't want to be alone right now," he admitted, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard.

Your heart clenched, and for reasons you couldn't explain, you stayed. You let the door close and leaned back against it, crossing your arms as you tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation. "Fine," you said casually, though your pulse betrayed you by racing like you'd just run a marathon. "But you're buying me dinner after this."

He huffed out a quiet laugh, his usual stoicism cracking just a little. "Deal."

The two of you stood there for a while, the silence settling again but this time less suffocating, more like a fragile truce. Wonwoo leaned back against the wall, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, and you couldn't help but notice how the dim light softened his features, making him look almost vulnerable.

"You know," you said finally, breaking the quiet, "you're not exactly the easiest person to read."

"Good," he replied without missing a beat. "Keeps things interesting."

You let out a dry laugh. "For who? You? Because everyone else just ends up confused."

Wonwoo's lips twitched into another smirk, but his eyes stayed serious as they locked onto yours. "Not everyone. You're not as confused as you think."

Your breath hitched, and you hated how easily he got under your skin, how he always seemed to know just the right thing to say to leave you teetering on the edge of something you weren't ready to name.

"Maybe I'm just good at pretending," you shot back, narrowing your eyes slightly.

He pushed off the wall and took a step closer, closing the already small space between you. You had nowhere to go, your back pressed against the door, and the air felt heavier with each passing second. His presence was overwhelming, but you refused to back down.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his face just inches from yours now. "But I don't think you're pretending right now."

Before you could respond, his hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the gesture so unexpected and gentle it made your chest tighten all over again. His fingers lingered for a moment, grazing your cheek, and you hated the way your body reacted to his touch, how your resolve seemed to melt under his intense gaze.

"Wonwoo," you began, your voice wavering.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice so low it sent shivers down your spine.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but no words came. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, the tension snapping as his lips captured yours in a kiss that was equal parts soft and demanding.

It was nothing like the heated night you two shared before. There was no hurried desperation, no reckless abandon. This was slower, deeper, as if he was trying to say all the things he couldn't put into words. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you didn't resist. Couldn't resist.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and slightly dazed, he rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you in place.

"Still pretending?" he asked, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability.

You didn't answer. Instead, you closed the gap between you again, kissing him like you were trying to drown out all the questions swirling in your mind. For now, answers could wait.

The kiss deepened, your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand gripping your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, pulling you closer as his tongue teased yours.

It was just yesterday when Jeonghan had you shivering under him. And now here you were, entangled with Wonwoo, kissing him like nothing had happened with Jeonghan. It felt wrong. But then again... was there anything to feel wrong about? Did you and Jeonghan even have a thing? Did this—whatever this was—mean anything?

Two men? Really? Neither of them knows you've been fucking with them alternatively like they're just some kind of toy for you. You didn't want that at all.

YYou pulled away, your breath hitching as your cheeks flushed hot. Wonwoo's dark gaze lingered on you, searching your face as though he could see the questions swirling in your mind.

"What exactly is this..?" you asked, your voice a little more unsteady than you'd hoped.

Wonwoo hesitated, leaning back slightly. His arms caged you against the door, the space between you just wide enough for the tension to thrum. "What do you want it to be?"

He didn't answer at all, it only made you even more confused. "I asked first."

"Then I won't answer. So tell me," he said, his voice steady but edged with something you couldn't quite place. "What exactly do you want this to be?"

The question made your breath catch. It was as though he already knew the answer but wanted you to say it first. "I wouldn't have asked if I knew," you murmured, more to yourself than him.

Wonwoo exhaled sharply through his nose, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Then figure it out." He stepped back slightly, his posture relaxing as he leaned against the wall, pulling his phone from his pocket. "You're lying again." He added before turning away completely.

It felt like a dismissal, one that stung more than it should have.

"I'm leaving," you said, your tone sharper than intended as you moved toward the door.

But his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You're not even gonna wish me good luck?" he called out, his tone light, teasing, almost mockingly casual.

You glanced back at him, narrowing your eyes. "I came to see you lose," you shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "And for the record, I'm not your girlfriend."

You stuck your tongue out for good measure before turning on your heel and walking away quickly, leaving no room for him to reply.

Wonwoo watched you disappear, his expression unreadable. But as the door clicked shut behind you, he let out a low chuckle.

"... Yet," he murmured under his breath, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. You said what you said, and you knew it would trigger him to admitting first.

By the time you made it back to the group, Seungkwan was mid-rant, Hoshi laughing so hard he nearly dropped his soda. Jun and Minghao had moved on from their 1v1 and were watching the pre-match highlights on the screen. Vernon was still on the couch, this time half-listening to Seungkwan while scrolling on his phone.

"Oh, look who finally decided to show up," Seungkwan said the moment he spotted you, his voice dripping with mock sarcasm. "Where've you been, Ms. Fox? Lurking in the shadows, plotting our downfall?"

You rolled your eyes, plopping down onto the chair next to Hoshi. "I don't need to lurk in shadows to take you down, Seungkwan. Your mouth does that for me."

The group burst into laughter, Hoshi nearly choking on his drink. "She's got a point," Minghao quipped, smirking.

"Wow, so much for team spirit," Seungkwan shot back, clutching his chest dramatically. "What did I ever do to deserve such cruelty?"

"You existed," you replied with a smirk, earning a high-five from Hoshi.

The banter continued for a while, light and easy, until the sound of a door clicking open made everyone pause.

Wonwoo walked in.

He moved with his usual calm, unbothered demeanor, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. His gaze swept across the room, landing on you for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Ah, here he is, the man of the hour!" Hoshi cheered, throwing a potato chip in Wonwoo's direction. "Ready to crush some noobs?"

Wonwoo ignored him, his lips twitching in a small smile as he walked over to where you sat. Leaning down slightly, he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, "Miss me already?"

Your breath hitched, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. "You wish."

His smirk deepened, and before you could say anything else, he pulled up a chair beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table.

The others, oblivious to the tension, resumed their chatter, but you couldn't shake the way his proximity sent your nerves into overdrive.

"You good?" Hoshi asked, tilting his head at you.

"Perfect," you said, forcing a smile.

But then Wonwoo spoke again, this time louder. "You know," he began, his tone casual but his eyes locked on yours, "she was pretty sweet earlier. Didn't think she'd have it in her."

The room went quiet, all eyes snapping to you.

"Sweet?" Seungkwan repeated, narrowing his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You glared at Wonwoo, your face heating up. "He's delusional. Ignore him."

"Am I?" Wonwoo teased, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression.

Before you could retort, Hoshi interjected. "Hold on. Are we missing something here? Why does it feel like there's... something going on?"

"There's nothing going on," you said quickly, shooting a warning glare at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo raised his hands in mock surrender, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn't done. For the rest of the conversation, he kept it subtle—fleeting glances, the occasional brush of his hand against yours, a smirk every time your eyes met. It was enough to drive you insane.

The others weren't blind. Seungkwan, especially, was watching the two of you like a hawk. "Something's definitely up," he muttered to Vernon, who just nodded, looking mildly amused.

And then the door opened again.

Jeonghan strolled in, effortlessly commanding the room as always. He greeted everyone with his usual charm, but when his eyes landed on you, something flickered in his expression.

"Ah, there's my favorite," Jeonghan said smoothly, his voice laced with a warmth that felt far too intimate for comfort.

You stiffened, your eyes darting to Wonwoo, whose jaw tightened ever so slightly.

"Late as usual," Jeonghan added, walking over and placing a hand on the back of your chair. His fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder, and you could feel the weight of his gaze.

"Traffic," you replied, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing.

"Mm," Jeonghan hummed, his eyes lingering on you before shifting to Wonwoo. "Good luck today, Wonwoo. I'm sure she'll be cheering for you."

The tension was palpable. Wonwoo's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't rise to the bait.

"Of course," Wonwoo said, his voice calm but edged with something sharper. "She's already wished me luck in her own... special way."

Jeonghan's smile didn't falter, but his gaze grew sharper as it flicked back to you. "Is that so?"

You wanted to crawl under the table.

"Alright, that's enough," you said, standing abruptly. "I'm going to grab some air before this testosterone overload suffocates me."

You left the room quickly, feeling both men's eyes on you as you went.

The cold air outside the venue did little to clear your spinning thoughts. Leaning against the wall, you tilted your head back and took a deep breath. What the hell is wrong with me? First Wonwoo, now Jeonghan. The back-and-forth between them felt like a game you couldn't keep up with, and it was messing with your head.

Your moment of peace didn't last long. The sound of a door swinging open made you flinch. You didn't even need to look to know who it was.

"Running away again?" Jeonghan's smooth voice cut through the silence.

You sighed, keeping your gaze fixed on the sky. "Didn't know I had to explain my every move to you."

He chuckled, stepping closer until he was leaning against the wall beside you. "You don't. But it's fun watching you squirm."

You turned to glare at him, but the amusement in his eyes made it impossible to stay mad. He had that effect on people—disarming them with a single glance, making them forget why they were upset in the first place.

"Seriously, what do you want, Jeonghan?" you asked, crossing your arms.

"Just checking on you," he said, his tone casual but his eyes searching yours. "You seemed... tense back there."

"I'm fine."

"Are you?" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "Because from where I was standing, it looked like a certain someone was getting under your skin."

Your cheeks heated, and you immediately looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully, straightening up. "If you say so. Just remember..." He hesitated, a rare moment of seriousness flashing across his face. "Not everyone plays fair."

Before you could ask what he meant, the door opened again, and this time, it was Wonwoo.

His gaze flicked between the two of you, his expression unreadable. "We're starting soon," he said, his voice steady but his eyes locked on Jeonghan's hand resting casually on the wall near your shoulder.

Jeonghan smiled, stepping back with an exaggerated stretch. "Guess I'll see you both inside, then."

He walked off, leaving you alone with Wonwoo. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You good?" Wonwoo asked after a beat.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" you muttered, brushing past him to head back inside.

The room was buzzing with excitement as the matches began. You found a seat near the back with Hoshi and Seungkwan, who were both yelling their predictions over each other.

"10,000 won (seven bucks in USD) says Minghao takes the win," Seungkwan declared, stuffing popcorn into his mouth.

"Please, it's going to be Wonwoo," Hoshi shot back.

"Don't bet your snacks. You'll lose," you said dryly, earning a laugh from Hoshi.

The first round was a chaotic storm of champions clashing across the map. Jun, known for his unconventional picks, played an unexpectedly aggressive strategy, diving into enemy territory with bold moves that had the crowd roaring in surprise. Despite his daring plays, his occasional overextensions cost him valuable objectives.

Vernon, on the other hand, played a game of precision. He focused on controlling vision and sneaking objectives, his calculated decisions earning him steady ground. Every play felt like a chess move, deliberate and cerebral.

But it was Minghao who stole the spotlight early on. His champion of choice, a mechanically complex assassin, zipped across the map with unnerving efficiency. His precision in landing skills and uncanny sense of timing had even the commentators struggling to keep up.

"Unreal!" one of them exclaimed as Minghao pulled off a near-impossible triple kill under turret. "Minghao is playing like a pro today. That's a highlight reel moment right there!"

Then there was Wonwoo. His gameplay was as smooth and methodical as ever, every move calculated to perfection. His champion, a versatile mage, danced on the edge of danger, dishing out massive damage while dodging death by a hair's breadth. The way he controlled team fights, predicting his opponents' moves, was mesmerizing.

Yet, from your spot in the audience, something felt... off.

The tournament narrowed to the final rounds, the competition growing fiercer with each game. Minghao, Wonwoo, and Hyeina (Vernon's girlfriend), the other contestant dominated her brackets, while Jun and Vernon made valiant efforts but fell behind.

In the semifinals, Minghao and Wonwoo clashed head-on. Every moment was charged, the room so quiet during team fights that you could hear the players' keyboards clicking like gunfire.

Minghao's assassin darted through the shadows, targeting Wonwoo's backline with surgical precision. But Wonwoo's mage held its ground, zoning Minghao out with well-placed spells. The two traded kills and counterplays, the audience bouncing between gasps and cheers as the scoreboard evened out.

At one point, Minghao narrowly escaped a death trap Wonwoo had meticulously set, slipping away with a sliver of health. The crowd erupted in disbelief, and even Minghao, usually composed, let a small grin slip as he glanced across the row of PCs toward Wonwoo.

"Nice try," Minghao teased, loud enough for Wonwoo to hear but quiet enough not to catch the commentators' attention.

Wonwoo didn't respond, his jaw clenched and eyes fixed on the screen.

The Final Match

The finals arrived. The match pitted Minghao, Wonwoo, and Hyeina against one another in a free-for-all deathmatch—a battle royale to crown the victor.

The atmosphere was electric. Spectators leaned forward in their seats, their excitement palpable.

As the game unfolded, it became clear this wasn't just about skill. It was about mental fortitude. Minghao's assassin thrived in the chaos, darting in and out of fights with deadly precision. The pro player focused on controlling the map, securing key objectives to maintain his lead.

Wonwoo, however, was visibly different. While his plays were sharp, there was a hesitation in his movements. It was subtle, but you noticed it.

And then it happened.

In the middle of a crucial team fight near Baron, Wonwoo's mage was in the perfect position to deal a devastating combo. His team was counting on him. The enemy champions grouped together, a rare opening for a game-changing attack.

But his eyes flickered—just for a second—to the audience. To you.

More specifically, to Jeonghan.

You hadn't noticed until now, but Jeonghan's arm rested casually on the back of your chair, his body angled just slightly toward yours. It wasn't overtly intimate, but it was enough to draw Wonwoo's attention.

His hand hesitated on the keyboard. That split-second pause was all it took.

Minghao, ever opportunistic, dove into the fight with precision. His assassin eliminated Wonwoo's mage in seconds, turning what could've been Wonwoo's moment of glory into a crushing defeat.

"Unbelievable! Minghao secures the ace!" the commentator shouted, the audience exploding into cheers.

As the game ended, the results flashed on the screen:

1st Place: Minghao

2nd Place: Wonwoo

3rd Place: Hyeina

4th Place: Vernon

5th Place: Jun

Minghao leaned back in his chair, arms raised in triumph as the crowd cheered his name. Jun clapped enthusiastically, shouting something about how "he taught Minghao everything he knows."

Wonwoo, meanwhile, sat frozen at his station, his fingers still hovering over the keys. His jaw tightened as he stared at the screen, the weight of his loss sinking in.

After the tournament, the group gathered near the exit, congratulating Minghao on his win.

"You were insane out there!" Hoshi exclaimed, clapping Minghao on the back.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Seungkwan said, waving him off. "The real story here is what happened to Wonwoo? You totally choked in that last fight."

"I didn't choke," Wonwoo said, his tone sharper than usual.

"Sure," Seungkwan teased. "It's not like you were distracted or anything." His eyes darted to you, a sly grin spreading across his face.

You glared at him. "Don't start."

"Don't start what? I didn't say anything!"

Wonwoo, who had been silent, finally spoke up. "Let it go, Seungkwan." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made everyone shut up.

The awkward silence that followed was broken by Jeonghan's arrival. He walked in with his usual confidence, his eyes briefly meeting Wonwoo's before landing on you.

"Ready to head out?" Jeonghan asked, his tone light but pointed.

You hesitated, glancing at Wonwoo, whose expression was unreadable.

"Yeah," you said finally, grabbing your bag. "Let's go."

As you walked out with Jeonghan, you couldn't shake the feeling of Wonwoo's eyes on your back.

The walk back with Jeonghan is heavier than you anticipated. He doesn't outright tease you like he usually does—instead, his tone shifts to something uncharacteristically serious as he brings up Wonwoo's reaction during the match.

"You know," Jeonghan starts, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets, "he's never been that distracted before. I almost feel bad for him."

"Feel bad?" you scoff, trying to ignore the pang of guilt his words stir in you.

Jeonghan stops walking, turning to face you. "I get it, though. You're... hard to ignore." His gaze softens, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

"Jeonghan..."

He steps closer, closing the space between you. His voice lowers, intimate, almost a whisper. "I'm not like him. I don't get distracted. When I want something, I take it."

Before you can process his words, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen and smirks. "Saved by the bell. Let's get back to the others before they start a search party."

The moment passes, leaving you reeling as you follow him back inside.

The group gathered after the tournament, energy high from the event. Seungkwan and Hoshi were relentless, teasing Wonwoo about his second-place finish.

"Come on, man," Seungkwan said, grinning. "Second place isn't that bad. It's just, you know... not first."

Hoshi chimed in, "And hey, at least you didn't lose to Vernon's girlfriend! Minghao's cool with it too. That's gotta count for something."

Wonwoo forced a smile, but his usual sharp comebacks were absent. His eyes flickered to you once, twice, before he finally stood and excused himself.

Minghao, ever observant, leaned toward you. "You okay?"

You nodded quickly, brushing it off. But as your gaze followed Wonwoo's retreating figure, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your chest.

"Minghao, the champion," Vernon announced dramatically, using his phone to film the moment. "First place for only the second-best LoL player in the room!"

Minghao rolled his eyes, pushing Vernon off. "Shut up, Vernon. You're just mad because you got fourth."

"Hey, fourth is still a medal," Vernon protested, holding up an imaginary gold medal and waving it in Minghao's face. "You know what they say, bronze is for champions too!"

"Fifth, Vernon. Fifth." Jun deadpanned, smacking Vernon on the back of the head. "Don't act like you didn't lose to your girlfriend."

"Not the point, Jun." Vernon sighed dramatically, turning to Woozi for backup, but Woozi, who'd been too busy sinking into his chair post-tournament, just shrugged. "Maybe next time, Vernon."

Meanwhile, Wonwoo, still nursing his second-place loss, had moved to the back of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes flickered from his phone to you and back again, each glance slightly more pained than the last.

Seungkwan, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, Wonwoo! Don't be too upset about second place. At least you didn't lose to a noob."

"I didn't lose to a noob," Wonwoo muttered, glancing up at Seungkwan. "Minghao's practically a legend in his own right. It's just..."

"Just what?" Seungkwan grinned mischievously, nudging him. "You distracted by someone else on the sidelines?"

Wonwoo froze, his eyes widening for a split second before he forced a grin. "What are you talking about?" he said, pushing away from the wall to join the others, a little too quickly. "I'm fine."

"You're not fooling anyone," Seungkwan shot back, arching an eyebrow. "I saw you practically zoned out when you were supposed to be taking down Minghao's assassin and then you just stared at someone—someone who happens to be sitting next to Jeonghan."

Cue the awkward silence that followed. Everyone immediately turned to look at you, then back at Wonwoo.

The heat rising to Wonwoo's cheeks was almost too funny, and you couldn't help but smirk. "I wasn't staring at anyone," he muttered, though it was obvious to everyone that he'd been thinking about something—or someone—during that match.

"Oh, please," Hoshi cut in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's like watching a badly scripted K-drama. Wonwoo, bro, I think you might have feelings for our girl here." He wagged his eyebrows dramatically.

"Shut up, Hoshi," Wonwoo growled.

"Wow, are we really doing this now?" Minghao jumped in with an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest. "The Love Triangle Drama: Episode 1. First place and already the star of the show!" He gave an exaggerated bow, clearly enjoying the chaos.

"You know, this tournament could've been more fun if someone didn't get all distracted by their feelings," Jun said with a wink, completely ignoring the fact that he was also in the bottom half of the rankings.

"Yeah, at least you could have gotten first if you weren't so distracted!" Vernon added helpfully. "Who needs to focus when you've got heart-eyes, right, Wonwoo?"

The entire room burst into laughter. Even Woozi, who had been trying to stay out of the conversation, snorted into his drink, making everyone laugh even harder.

Wonwoo's face turned a shade of crimson, but he could do nothing but grin sheepishly. "Okay, okay, enough. You guys are insufferable."

Just when the teasing reached its peak, the door to the room opened, and Jeonghan casually strolled in, a smug smile plastered on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he said in a voice laced with mischief, taking in the scene with a knowing look. “What have we here? A bunch of losers and an overly distracted second-place finisher?”

Wonwoo stiffened at the sound of Jeonghan’s voice, and you, suddenly aware of the charged atmosphere between the three of you, quickly stood up, trying to play it cool.

“I’m not distracted,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, but Jeonghan was already looking at you with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Oh? You sure about that?” Jeonghan teased, eyes flicking between you and Wonwoo. “I mean, I was just sitting next to her, and someone over there couldn’t even finish a team fight without—” Jeonghan paused, throwing a glance at Wonwoo’s flushed face. “...well, we all saw it.”

Wonwoo’s face fell, the teasing from his friends now blending with the tension in the room. But before anyone could comment further, Jeonghan stepped toward you, wrapping a lazy arm around your shoulders in a move that was way too casual for the situation.

“I don’t know what all this fuss is about,” Jeonghan said, his voice smooth, his smirk never leaving his lips. “But if anyone should be distracted, it’s because I’m here now.”

Wonwoo’s gaze darkened, and you could feel the heat building in the air. The laughter from the others died down as everyone realized the shift in the mood.

“You’re really doing this, Jeonghan?” Wonwoo muttered, not bothering to mask the irritation in his tone.

Jeonghan just laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “What? Am I not allowed to stand next to my favorite teammate?”

The teasing in the room became suffocating, but the mix of humor and tension was what made it unbearable. Everyone knew what was happening. It was clear, and no one was pretending anymore.

a/n: i have nothing to say but to thank you to everyone who kept me going. want to be added to the permanent series (part-time lover) taglist? reblog or comment on the post and you'll be added to every next update of a chapter :]

(p.s. idk maybe i shouldnt have added too much angst? BTW POSTING A POLL (or shouldnt? doesnt matter)—majority wins. Jeonghan or Wonwoo? who do you much prefer to be the end game? lmk !)

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896

@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me @elegantdevill1 @shidily @angel-ishere

@lovrchl @codeinebelle @httpnamu-u @httpnamjoonie94 @6nadia9

@jjonghaniee @ateez-atiny380 @squishysquishjimin @jeonghaniya @thelost-soul

@foulcolorclodoaf-blog @133456789000000000000

(tysm for reblogging :3)

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nan-not-found · 10 days ago

Text

"Say the Word"

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader

Word Count: 1, 574

You propose a certain suggestion.

⚠️ Tags/Content Warning (18+): Slow burn → explicit, consensual power dynamics, use of voice-based Quirk in a romantic/sexual context, deep trust themes, affirming communication. No non-con/dub-con. Emotional safety is a core element.

Again, this is NSFW 18+. You've been warned.

Continue reading below:

It started as a joke.

A half-laugh, half-daring tease tossed over morning coffee. You said it as casually as a greeting, not even looking up from your mug.

“Ever thought about using your Quirk for... other things?”

Across the kitchen, Shinso froze mid-sip. His mug hovered near his lips, unmoving. No glance your way—just a stillness that hung in the air for a beat too long. Then came the subtle twitch of a brow.

“Other things?” he echoed.

You leaned your elbows onto the counter, stirring your drink in lazy circles. “Like... hypothetically speaking, if I asked you to use it on me. In bed.”

The last part came out rushed, your voice nearly tripping over itself. Heat crept up your neck, cheeks warming as the words lingered in the space between you.

Now he looked at you. Slowly. Deliberately. His violet eyes locked with yours, unreadable, as he set his mug down with quiet precision.

“Is that something you want?” he asked, voice low, cautious.

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant despite your burning face. “Could be... hot.”

A long pause followed. Weighty. Measured.

“You’re serious,” he said.

“Yeah,” you admitted, softer now, nerves threading through your words. “But only if you're okay with it.”

Still, he didn’t answer. His gaze held yours a second longer before he looked away, breaking the tension like snapping a string. Without a word, he finished his coffee and slipped seamlessly back into his morning routine, as if the conversation had never happened.

When you brought it up again—softly, late at night, curled together beneath the blankets with your fingers laced in his—it was with caution.

“I trust you,” you whispered into the dark.

He lay on his side, face close, his breath warm against your forehead.

“I know.”

“You’d never make me do something I didn’t want.”

He swallowed.

“I’m not afraid of you, Hitoshi,” you said, voice gentle, careful.

His fingers tightened around yours, just slightly.

“You should be,” he murmured, voice taut.

“I’m not,” you said. “I never have been.”

Silence fell between you, thick and fragile. You could feel him breathing—could feel the tension just beneath his skin.

Then, so quietly you almost missed it:

“Then... tell me what you want.”

It happens a week later.

He’d been quiet all day—but not in the usual, distant way. This was different. He was focused. Somewhere deep in thought, his mind circling something unspoken.

Dinner was normal. The dishes were rinsed and left in the sink. The lights were low.

But the apartment felt smaller tonight—closer. His presence lingered in every room like gravity pulling at you, subtle but heavy.

Eventually, you excused yourself, retreating to the bedroom. Shinso followed silently, pausing in the doorway to watch as you changed for the night.

T-shirt. Shorts. Bare legs brushing against cool sheets.

He didn’t say a word.

You tilted your head toward him. “You good?”

A single nod. “Yeah.”

Then he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with quiet intent.

Your heart gave a soft lurch.

He moved to the edge of the bed and sat beside you, back straight, shoulders squared. His fingers tapped once against his thigh—an anxious tell he couldn’t hide.

“Hitoshi,” you murmured.

He turned to you, and his eyes... they were different tonight. Focused. Grounded. There was a glint there—something rare. Not cold, not cocky. Just steady. Calm. Controlled.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered.

“If we do this,” he said, voice low but firm, “you tell me when to stop. I’ll ask you. If you say stop, we stop. Immediately.”

“Of course.”

“I mean it,” he said again, stronger this time. “No hesitation.”

“I know.” You met his gaze, unwavering. “I trust you.”

A pause. A breath.

Then, his voice dropped, coaxing but careful. “Say something.”

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Anything.”

You smiled softly, already knowing the answer. “I love you.”

His expression shifted—something lit behind his eyes. And just like that, you felt it: the flicker, the shift.

His Quirk had activated.

He was in.

A warm rush skims down your spine, breath catching in your throat. Your muscles go soft, your mind beginning to haze—like slipping beneath the surface of warm water. You float, weightless, thoughts fuzzy at the edges.

But in front of you—still grounded, still calm—is Shinso.

“Now,” he says, slow and deliberate. His fingers brush along your jaw, then curl gently beneath it—not forceful, just steady. Guiding. His voice drops, deeper now, velvet over stone. “Lie down.”

You do.

Not because you have to.

Because you want to.

It’s not mind control—it’s trust. It’s the way your body wants to listen. How his voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts like silk dragged over steel.

His hand glides down your collarbone, touch feather-light.

“Relax.”

You exhale, sinking deeper into the mattress, eyes finding his—your lashes fluttering, lids heavy, pretty irises turned milky white by the trance. You’re floating, anchored only by him.

He leans down, lips brushing your cheek, voice barely a breath, “Good girl.”

And the words ignite something deep in your core. Heat blooms through you, flooding every nerve like wildfire.

His gaze lingers on yours, unblinking, until it slowly drifts downward—his hands following suit. They trail across your skin with purpose, fingers drawing invisible lines that leave goosebumps in their wake.

“Touch yourself,” he says, voice low and calm.

Your body responds before your mind catches up. Your arm lifts, hand sliding down to slip beneath your shorts. Your fingers find your center instinctively, slipping between folds slick with anticipation. Your breath hitches. But your eyes stay on him—because he hasn’t looked away.

He watches you with parted lips, chest rising just a little faster now. “Stop.”

You freeze. Your fingers go still.

“Let me.”

You withdraw your hand just as he moves closer, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. He peels them down slowly, reverently, until they’re off and forgotten.

Then his hand replaces yours—warm, sure, unhurried. You gasp at the first touch, your hips twitching as his fingers explore you with care that borders on worship.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he murmurs, gaze fixed on your face. “I want to see you.”

You obey.

You’ve never felt like this before—so open, so unguarded, so completely his. And it’s not frightening. It’s exhilarating. To surrender like this. To trust so deeply.

His voice is your compass now, steady and sure, every word anchoring you deeper in this connection. Every command a gift—one you choose to receive.

A moan finally breaks free, the first sound to pierce the thick tension between you. Your back arches, breath stuttering as his finger slips inside—easily, slick with your desire. Still, your body barely moves. You stay where he placed you, open and obedient, as he adds another finger with practiced care.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the pleasure so sharp it borders on overwhelming. He curls his fingers just right, stroking the sensitive spot inside you like a secret he’s always known. You tremble as he adds a third, the stretch delicious, your body twitching as you try to hold still.

The coil in your stomach winds tighter, heat building and curling through you like smoke. Your mouth parts, breath hitching, but still—aside from those soft, desperate moans—you remain silent.

But Shinso feels it.

He notices how your walls flutter around his fingers, how your body clenches tighter with each stroke. He leans in, fingers sinking deeper, his face inches from yours now. There’s a glint in his eyes—something dark, adoring, patient. A crooked smile teases his lips.

“Come for me,” he whispers.

And you do.

The words hit like lightning, and everything inside you shatters. You sob his name, shaking beneath him as your release overtakes you—raw, intense, and complete. Your body arches, trembles, then melts under the weight of his voice and the steady press of his hand.

He withdraws his fingers with care, bringing them to his lips as his gaze remains fixed on you—watching as you slowly drift back down to earth. The fog in your eyes begins to lift, your breath evening out, your mind breaching the surface as the effects of his Quirk gently fade.

Then, without a word, he moves—climbing over you and settling at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close like he’s anchoring something precious. Holding you like you’re sacred.

His lips press against your shoulder in a kiss that’s more comfort than heat.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You turn into him, tucking your face against his chest, breathing him in. “More than okay.”

“You sure I didn’t go too far?”

You look up—and there it is. The flicker of fear in his eyes. The weight of his restraint, the worry that he’d crossed a line even you didn’t know existed.

Your heart swells. You smile softly, lifting your head just enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Hitoshi. That was everything I wanted.”

His breath leaves him in a slow exhale, eyes fluttering shut with quiet relief.

“I’m still me,” you whisper. “You didn’t take anything. You gave.”

His hand tightens around your waist, and then he’s kissing you—slow, deep, grateful. A kiss that says everything words can’t.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I love you, too,” you breathe, tucking yourself closer. Safe. Whole. His.

End.

Masterlist

#mha #bnha #hitoshi shinsou #bnha shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi x reader #mha hitoshi #nannotfound

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twistedheartsclub · 2 months ago

Text

You Belong to Me Dark Male X Female Reader PT1 Continued..

⚠️ Warnings: abduction, non-consensual touching, psychological manipulation, obsessive behavior, forced confinement, power imbalance, threats, emotional distress. Yandere themes. Read with caution.

First Part Here

The Moreau penthouse was silent that night—too silent.

Dinner had come and gone untouched. The table remained perfectly set, wine breathing in its crystal decanter, untouched steak growing cold under silver lids.

But Xander stood at the far end of the room, by the fire, still in his coat.

A drink in hand.

Jaw tight.

Eyes wild.

The magazine sat folded on the coffee table like a wound.

Vera and Luna watched him cautiously from the couch.

Isadora Moreau stood at the bar, slow-sipping her wine, her diamond bracelet catching the firelight. She wasn’t used to silence. Not from him.

“Are you going to tell us what happened,” she said coolly, “or are we supposed to keep guessing while you burn a hole through the floor?”

He didn’t answer.

Vera crossed her legs. “She found out.”

“Of course she did,” Isadora said, sipping again. “You couldn’t hide it forever.”

“She wasn’t meant to find out this way,” Xander muttered.

“She was never meant to find out at all,” Vera corrected.

“She was never meant to leave,” he snapped.

The room stilled.

Luna stood quietly and went to pour herself water, watching her brother from the corner of her eye.

“You could’ve avoided this,” Isadora said, unfazed. “You let it get out of hand. She’s just a girl, Xander. You don’t risk your entire name over something sentimental.”

His knuckles turned white on the rim of his glass.

“She is not just a girl.”

Isadora’s gaze narrowed. “You’re acting like a child.”

“I’m handling it.”

“By sulking in the dark and drinking like your father used to?”

Vera flinched.

Luna froze mid-pour.

The fire popped.

And Xander turned slowly—calm, but wrong.

Something ancient in his gaze.

Something final.

“You want an heir?” he asked softly.

Isadora blinked.

“You want a legacy? A perfect Moreau future?”

“Xander—”

He stepped forward, voice low but razor-sharp. “I’ll give you that. I’ll give you all of it.”

His stare burned through her. “With her.”

A beat of silence.

“Once I have her.”

Isadora straightened. “She doesn’t want to be had.”

“She will.”

“You think a necklace and a fake name gives you rights to her life?”

“No,” he said, setting down the glass. “But the way she kissed me? The way she cried when she found out who I was? That gives me everything I need.”

“Xander—”

“I am done being careful.”

He walked past them, his coat brushing the edge of the table.

And for the first time in years, none of them followed.

Not even Isadora.

Because beneath all that wealth and polish…

They saw the truth.

He wasn’t in love.

He was in possession.

And Y/N was already his in ways she didn’t yet understand.

It had been two weeks since she last saw him.

Two weeks since the park.

Two weeks since she’d cried in front of him with a magazine clenched in her hand and betrayal on her lips.

And then—

Nothing.

No more texts. No calls. No gifts. No surprise flowers. Not even a whisper from his sisters.

And, somehow, it was almost easy to fall back into her old rhythm.

Y/N buried herself in school, in work, in errands, in trying not to glance at every man in a dark coat and mistake him for him.

Her friends didn’t mention him. Not after the first few days. Imani sat with her quietly in the evenings. Dahlia walked her to class once or twice. They gave her space. They let her believe she was okay.

And she almost was.

Almost.

Until that morning.

The sun had barely climbed past the rooftops, casting streaks of pale orange through the apartment windows. The girls had already left—early shifts, classes, plans. Y/N was the last one out.

She tied her scarf, slipped on her shoes, and yawned as she opened the front door—

And there he was.

Xander.

Leaning against the doorframe in a charcoal coat and black gloves like he’d been waiting there for hours. Not frantic. Not pleading.

Patient.

But something in his eyes was off.

Too calm.

Too still.

Y/N gasped, her body jerking back as she instinctively reached for the door—but he moved fast. Smooth. Like he’d always known she’d try.

His gloved hand caught the edge.

His palm slammed flat against the wood—forceful, but not enough to hurt. Not yet.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Just—don’t.”

Her heart raced. “You need to leave.”

“I will,” he murmured, stepping inside and closing the door behind him with a soft click, “after we talk.”

“You can’t just walk in—”

“I’ve waited two weeks.”

She backed up, hands trembling. “That doesn’t give you the right.”

“No,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “But being yours does.”

Her breath hitched.

“I never stopped being yours, Y/N.”

“You lied to me.”

“I protected us.”

“You manipulated me.”

“I loved you.”

The silence between them was thick. Heavy.

Her back hit the kitchen counter as he stepped into the small living space like he owned it.

His eyes flicked to the photo on the fridge—her and the girls at the beach. Her smiling, sun-kissed, small in the frame. His.

“I missed you,” he said quietly, almost reverently. “More than I thought possible.”

Y/N swallowed hard, anger and fear knotting in her chest.

“You said you’d give me time.”

“I gave you time,” he said. “But time doesn’t fix lies, does it? Only truth does.”

She shook her head. “You want to talk about truth? Then let’s start with the fact that you built a lie around me and called it love.”

His jaw flexed.

“I never lied about how I felt.”

“Everything else was a lie.”

He stepped closer—close enough for her to smell the cold on his coat, the faint trace of his cologne clinging to her memory.

“I let you think I was normal so you wouldn’t be afraid.”

“I should have been afraid.”

“I gave you the space to choose me.”

“You didn’t give me anything,” she snapped, voice cracking. “You took my trust and twisted it into something I didn’t agree to.”

He stilled.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Just stared.

And then, softly—like a man speaking a truth he’d been holding for years:

“I don’t need your agreement, Y/N.”

The words hit like a slap.

“You’re not leaving me,” he said, voice calm but final. “You can’t.”

She stepped back. “Watch me.”

“I have.” His smile flickered—dark. “Every day. Every night. You think I haven’t noticed how you leave the lights on now? How you double-check the lock on the window?”

Her blood went cold.

“You think I’d stop watching just because you told me to?”

“Get out.”

“Say it again,” he said, stepping closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Look me in the eye and say you don’t miss me. Say you didn’t cry when you thought about me holding someone else.”

She did cry.

And that made her hate herself more.

Tears welled again as her hands curled into fists at her sides.

“I don’t want you here,” she whispered.

He tilted his head.

But instead of anger—he smiled.

Soft.

Almost loving.

“Then why are you still trembling like you want to kiss me?”

Her breath caught.

And he took another step.

“I don’t want you here.”

Y/N’s voice was thin, shaking. Her back hit the edge of the couch as she tried to maintain space between them, her breath coming fast, her body tense. Xander was too close. His eyes too steady. Like a lion in a room of glass.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

He only stared at her like she was saying nonsense.

Like she didn’t mean it.

Like she didn’t know what she wanted.

“Y/N,” he said softly, as if calming a child. “Stop pretending.”

“I’m not pretending!” she snapped, blinking away fresh tears. “You lied to me about everything—your name, your life, even your age! You said you were twenty-six—”

“I am twenty-six,” he interrupted smoothly, unconcerned. “At heart.”

She stared at him, stunned. “You’re thirty-one.”

He smirked. “And what difference would five years have made? You were already in love with me.”

“That’s not the point! You made me feel safe with someone who didn’t exist!”

He stepped forward.

She stepped back.

“Stop backing away,” he said, his voice dipping low—dangerous. “You think I can’t see it in your eyes? You missed me.”

“No, I—”

“You missed me.”

His hand snapped out, grabbing her wrist—not painfully, not yet, but with finality. Her body tensed.

“Let go—”

“I waited,” he hissed, breath hot as he pulled her forward. “I gave you time. I let you cry and scream and sulk in your little apartment, but you don’t get to pretend that changed anything.”

He reached up with his free hand and brushed her cheek. She flinched.

But he didn’t stop.

His fingers slid down the curve of her jaw, across her throat—tracing the delicate chain he’d given her. The one she hadn’t taken off.

“You still wear it,” he whispered.

She shoved at his chest. “Stop it—get out!”

“You think this is over?” His eyes flared. “You think a few weeks of space gives you the power to erase me?”

Her lips trembled. “I didn’t erase you. You were never real.”

His hand moved fast.

One arm coiled around her waist, yanking her tight against him as the other hand gripped her jaw—not hurting her, but forcing her still.

“I’ve never been more real,” he growled.

And before she could twist away, he kissed her.

Hard.

Claiming.

Her muffled protest hit his mouth. Her fists pressed against his chest, weak and trembling.

He kissed her like she was already his wife. Like she’d never left. Like the last two weeks hadn’t happened.

She whimpered into his mouth and he shuddered.

She tasted like heartbreak and something sweet—something fragile.

When he pulled back, she was crying. Gasping. Shaking.

“Don’t do that again,” she whispered.

He looked at her for a long moment, eyes unreadable.

Then he leaned in to her ear.

“You’re mine, Y/N. Whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”

He let her go.

And stepped back.

Fixing the sleeves of his coat.

“I’ll come back when you’re done playing pretend.”

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Her whole body felt cold.

He walked to the door, opened it, then paused.

“I suggest you start packing,” he said over his shoulder, calm and steady. “I’ll have a car ready for you by Friday.”

And with that—

He left.

The key turned in the door.

Dahlia stepped in first, arms full of groceries, humming under her breath. “Y/N? You still home?”

No answer.

“Did you leave the heater on?” Imani asked, stepping in behind her. “It’s boiling in here.”

“I dunno, maybe she—”

She froze.

Y/N stood in the kitchen, staring at the floor.

Her face was pale. Shoulders trembling. The gold necklace she once wore proudly now hung crooked against her collarbone, the chain twisted like someone had grabbed it.

“Y/N?” Dahlia dropped the bags.

Y/N blinked. Tried to smile.

Failed.

“He came here,” she whispered.

Imani was already beside her. “What? Who?”

Y/N swallowed hard. Her lips trembled. “He waited for me. Outside the door. I tried to shut it. He—he just… walked in.”

Dahlia’s blood ran cold.

Imani held her arms. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “Not physically. But—he kissed me. I didn’t want him to. I told him to stop.”

Dahlia looked toward the door like she could still feel his presence.

Y/N’s voice cracked. “He said I’m still his. That he’s coming back. That I should pack—for Friday.”

The room fell still.

And for the first time since the whole thing began, the fear in Y/N’s eyes was undeniable.

Meanwhile…

The Moreau estate had gone still—except for the sound of doors slamming as Xander stormed in, his coat already on the floor, fists clenched at his sides.

“She wouldn’t even look at me,” he spat, pacing across the marble floors. “Like I was a stranger. After everything I gave her.”

“She’s scared of you, Xander,” Luna said gently, standing by the window, arms crossed. “You kissed her when she said no.”

“She didn’t mean it,” he snapped.

“She was crying,” Vera added, stepping between him and the wall he looked two seconds away from punching. “That’s not love. That’s possession.”

“I told her the truth.”

“You dragged her into a lie and expect her to thank you for being honest too late.”

He spun to face them.

“I’m not losing her.”

Vera’s eyes narrowed. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Before he could answer—

A pair of heels clicked across the marble.

Isadora Moreau stepped into the room in a slate-gray dress, her eyes sharp and unreadable. She paused when she saw the three of them—Xander still tense, his sisters practically bracing for an explosion.

“What now?” she asked coolly.

Vera and Luna looked at Xander.

He exhaled through his nose. Looked down. Then said it:

“I’m bringing her here.”

Silence.

Vera blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”

“She won’t come willingly,” he said, quieter now. “So I’ll help her.”

Luna stepped back like she’d been slapped. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“You’re talking about kidnapping, Xander.”

“I’m talking about protecting what’s mine.”

Isadora watched him for a long, breathless moment.

Then: “You’ll destroy her.”

His jaw tightened. “Not if I do it right.”

Vera’s voice broke. “You’re gone. You’re not him anymore.”

Xander turned to his mother. “You always wanted a legacy. A perfect heir. A future Moreau empire.”

She said nothing.

He stepped toward her.

“I’ll give you that.”

His eyes burned like fire beneath glass.

“I’ll give you everything you want,” he said, “once I have her under my roof.”

They were being watched.

Y/N felt it in the little things.

The black car always parked too long across the street. The man who ordered coffee but never drank it. The way the hairs on the back of her neck rose when she walked home after dusk.

But she never saw them. Not fully.

And they never approached.

Not yet.

So she went to work.

She went to class.

She answered texts with emojis and small talk.

She laughed when she had to, smiled when expected.

But her eyes were always watching the shadows. Her shoulders always tight. Her stomach always on edge.

Because she knew he was still out there.

Xander hadn’t texted again. Hadn’t knocked again. He hadn’t needed to.

He’d warned her.

Friday.

Pack your things.

Friday.

And now it was Friday.

The apartment was quiet.

Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, arms wrapped around her knees, phone pressed to her chest like it could shield her.

She hadn’t gone to class that day.

Dahlia was pacing the hallway, chewing the nail of her thumb.

Imani stood by the window, peeking through the blinds every few minutes.

No one said anything.

Because there was nothing left to say.

The girls had offered to drive her out of the city. They’d even packed her a bag. But Y/N was too scared. What if he followed? What if he hurt them to get to her?

She’d decided to wait it out.

Wait until nothing happened.

Wait until she could breathe again.

Then—

A knock.

Three, steady raps.

Sharp.

Heavy.

The entire apartment froze.

Y/N’s blood turned to ice.

The knock came again.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

They all just stood there—trapped in stillness.

And in that quiet, stretched so long it felt like hours, Y/N’s heart cracked.

Because deep down, she knew.

He had come for her.

Just like he promised.

The knock came again.

Three sharp raps.

Measured. Calm.

Like they weren’t knocking to be invited in.

Like they already knew they would be.

Y/N’s chest rose and fell too fast. Her body refused to move. Dahlia backed slowly into the hallway, eyes wide, shaking her head.

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t answer it. Don’t go near it.”

“I-I’m not,” Y/N breathed.

Imani peeked again through the blinds—and paled.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“There’s a car. A big one. Black. Tinted windows. And men—there’s men outside. Suits. Just... standing there.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Her legs felt like paper. “It’s him.”

Another knock.

Followed by a calm, quiet voice:

“Y/N. Open the door.”

It was him.

Xander.

Her name from his lips made her flinch like it was a knife.

“Okay—back exit,” Imani hissed, rushing to grab her coat. “Go now. I’ll distract them if I have to.”

“No—”

“Y/N, listen to me. We go through the back fire stairs and cut down the alley. I already marked a path. We run.”

Y/N hesitated. Just for a second.

That second was too long.

The front door exploded open.

A boot kicked it wide, hinges cracking under the force.

The girls screamed. Y/N turned too late.

Two men in black stepped through—clean-cut, cold-eyed, trained. One grabbed Dahlia as she tried to swing a lamp. The other shoved Imani back as she reached for her phone.

“Don’t hurt them!” Y/N screamed, struggling to run to them—

And that’s when he stepped through the door.

Xander Moreau.

Calm. Straight-backed. Gloved hands clasped behind him. His long black coat swaying as he entered like a king walking into his throne room.

“Take her,” he said quietly.

Y/N backed away, eyes wide with horror. “No—no, please—”

She barely made it two steps before a third man grabbed her.

She fought—hard—kicking, sobbing, screaming. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“Don’t bruise her,” Xander warned sharply. “She’s mine.”

As her wrists were pinned and her screams choked out against the gloved hand over her mouth, her eyes found her friends—

Dahlia restrained, shouting. Imani crying and struggling to push forward. Both powerless. Both breaking.

And Y/N, trembling, dragged past the couch, past the torn door, past the last shred of safety she ever knew—

Into his arms.

Xander reached for her as the guards handed her over.

She flailed in his hold.

“I hate you!” she cried, voice ragged. “You lied to me! You’re a monster—let me go!”

But he just cupped her face with both hands.

Kissed her forehead.

And whispered: “Now we can finally begin.”

He turned without another word.

And they all vanished into the black SUV waiting just beyond the curb.

#yandere #fantasy #tw noncon #dark romance #dark fantasy #sfw noncom #power dynamics #x reader #age g4p #breeding k1nk #twistedheartsclub

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snowfieldstories · 10 days ago

Text

In Life and Death [Chapter 15]

Kim Dokja x Reader/Original female character

<< Series masterlist

Warnings: strong language and violence

A/N: I have finished Yeona's letter (plus a little bonus content) as well and will post

Summary:

In which a reader finds herself tossed into the pages of her favorite web novel after her untimely death. A novel of a novel within reality. It's a reader's dream, right? Well, this reader vows to bring the right epilogue to her beloved character, Kim Dokja. She will give him the happiest of endings. Or she will die trying. ...Good thing death isn't always permanent in this new world.

⚠️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ORV WEB NOVEL AND MANHWA!!!!⚠️

Episode VII. Chapter 15 — A Kingless World

The setting sun greeted me when I opened my eyes.

"That's the best sleep I've gotten all week," I hummed, feeling quite like a languid cat. As I sat up, a white coat draped over my body brought my thoughts to a halt. This was...

"Is it really sleep when you're unconscious from an injury?" said a rough voice nearby.

Kim Dokja sat crouched, tending to a fire at the Magic Power Stove. There was a delectable smell in the air, grilled meat with herbs, and a pot of purple liquid was heating next to it. Dokja rotated the skewered yanaspleta stems. He glanced at me, face impassive, but eyes burning like the flames beside him. "You were poisoned."

"I was." Dokja poked harshly at the fiery stove. It sparked. "I didn't realize it, to be fair."

I only got a heavy sigh in response.

"Moneybags here whipped up that potion quick before ditching us," said Sooyoung through a full bites of food. "Which is good, because I had no idea how to keep you alive."

"It wasn't actually going to kill me. I just said that out of caution."

It was true. The poison wasn't the same as what Joonghyuk had been infected with, and was much weaker, as weak as the source. Had I been struck by Antinus...well, I was lucky.

Sooyoung shrugged.

"I added a slice of glistering melon," Dokja muttered like he almost regretted it. "That's probably why you feel well-rested."

A restful sleep wasn't the only thing he gave me.

The white coat bunched under my fingers. I was touching the infinite-dimensional subspace coat; Kim Dokja's famous white coat throughout the course of the novel. Quite literally, every reader's wet dream. And it was tossed over my body like an afterthought. I felt distinctly unworthy.

"Thank you," I said, my voice thick. I passed the coat back to him.

While I was at it, I removed the bandages around my neck for the last time (they were pretty gross now, and I had healed sufficiently) and inspected my other, various wounds. With such skills and supernatural powers in this world, my body healed much quicker than average.

"What is this?" said Sooyoung, glancing at Dokja, who had replaced the coat, and then me in my similar white and black garb. "Yoo Joonghyuk, too...are you in some sort of three-way with this couple look?"

Clearly, she had been waiting for me to regain consciousness before pointing that one out.

"Four-way, actually," I said, raising a casual eyebrow.

Dokja and Sooyoung were caught off-guard and gawked at me. Sooyoung's face then burned red. "I am not a part of your pervert ensemble!"

"Yoo Sangah is wearing all black," I scoffed. "Why would you get to be a part of this?"

"Hey! I'll have you know that I am an excellent choice in partner! My blind dates always begged me for a second. You would be lucky to have me—!" She continued to rant. I tuned her out, smirking. She was so easy to rile up.

Dokja looked between us with an indescribable expression. He held out a cup and skewer of meat to me instead of speaking.

I took a sip of the plant sap, and then tried the yanaspleta stem.

"Dokja," I exclaimed through a mouthful. I washed it down with more boiled sap. "This can rival Joonghyuk's cooking!"

He was embarrassed. "That's not true."

"No, really, and it's more impressive, because you don't have his 'Cooking' skill."

"Hm." Dokja's pleased face ducked to turn over the roasting food. Sooyoung, who had finished being a pest, and I ate eagerly. Happy noises filled the air. Seriously, this was mentioned as being delicious in the novel, but the description paled in comparison to the real thing. And, okay, perhaps it wasn't quite on Joonghyuk's elusive, Michelin level, but it was certainly up in the ranks as a five-star meal.

All of a sudden, the air chilled ten degrees.

"…Yeona." Dokja's tone was just as frigid. "You've eaten Yoo Joonghyuk's cooking?"

"Ah, yes. With Jihye at Chungmuro, before you all joined us…" And very often in the last round, I added in my head.

My silent admission must have occurred to Dokja, because his expression pinched. He was probably jealous. Eating food made by Yoo Joonghyuk was a privilege from the gods, a holy decadence of divine gastronomy that could make the deaf hear, the blind see, and the mute sing—I was sure Dokja believed something like this. I also knew it was a deep desire of his since youth to eat Joonghyuk's food.

"He cooked for you? Now and back then?" demanded Dokja.

Sooyoung rolled her eyes and turned away from us to munch on her food in peace.

"Yeah?" Wow, look at that...Sangah is still sleeping, I thought, looking around to avoid the awkward air.

"They say the way to someone's heart is through their stomach," drawled Sooyoung.

Dokja gazed into the fire. He was…huh, he was sulking.

"Don't worry." I patted his shoulder with a smile. "I'm positive you'll get to try it someday, too!"

Somehow this only worsened his mood. Alright, I tried.

At some point, Sooyoung nabbed more food and wandered vaguely down the street. Dokja mellowed and resumed tending to the stove. Sangah's even breaths mingled with the sound of sizzling meat.

Joonghyuk, it seemed, had still gone into recovery mode and was out of commission for the time being. Dokja had left him with Lee Seolhwa and sent them to Hyunsung. I'd hoped they might join us instead, but we would see them again soon. Also, while I was sleeping...

"You met with Dokgak? How did it go?"

Dokja didn't even bat an eye. "He tried to steal me away. Bihyung punched him into the next galaxy."

"Will you have to...that is, are subscriptions rising?" I asked delicately. With a firm mouth, he nodded. It was a relief to hear that nothing had changed on that front. "That's good."

Dokja took a moment to eat, chewing thoughtfully. A light tension met his forehead.

"Your letter."

I held an empty stick, my hands now feeling too big for my arms. "Yes. My letter."

"I don't—" He struggled to find the words. "It was hard to continue reading. About myself." Then he said in a rush, "I don't say that to make you feel bad for writing it, by the way."

This realization struck me. Dokja had not yet read the entire message. I was simultaneously relieved and a bit let down. "It's okay."

"You said it would help me understand the 'why', but it's—well—"

Setting aside the fact that he hadn't finished it, I wasn't sure if Dokja had a harder time understanding, or accepting. Knowing this self-loathing fool, it was probably a chicken or the egg kind of situation.

I moved until I was at his side. "It might help to frame it as being similar to your case."

He furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you want to help Yoo Joonghyuk in all that you do? Are you not attached to him?"

"...I guess," said Dokja faintly. It must feel rather uncomfortable for him to confess that out loud.

I put my hand above his knee in earnest. "That's me for you. It's the same."

There was an odd, pregnant pause, where something I couldn't identify shifted.

"Well, it's a little different..."

"How?"

Dokja's expression grew clouded. And a bit pink? He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before saying, "It just is."

I blinked at him for a few moments. "Oh, that's true. I guess you haven't told him about Ways of Survival yet. I told you quite early on."

"Yeah," said Dokja, staring off into the distance.

"I don't like lying to you," I said softly, squeezing his leg. "I'm sorry that it's caused you distress...but, I didn't want this to come between us."

I knew how selfish that made me.

"It's fine," said Dokja, sounding strained. He stood up abruptly. "I should patrol. For beasts."

"O—" My hair fluttered from the wind. I stared at the empty space where he had just been. "...kay?"

He'd seemed distracted, so there must be more important things on his mind at the moment. A lot had happened recently, so it made sense; and I was perhaps being too direct about the topic.

We could always revisit this another day. I had no doubt that we would.

Sooyoung still hadn't come back. Dokja finally returned half an hour later. This time, there was a distance between us. I tried not to frown at that.

"I think I should talk to her sponsor." He flexed a hand on his knee before curling it into a fist. "Sangah-ssi, I mean."

I looked over at the sleeping woman. "I agree. Sooyoung and I can do our own 'patrol' to give you privacy."

At my use of finger quotes, Dokja nearly fell over. "What do you mean? I don't need privacy," he said quickly. Loudly.

"Uh," I said with all the elegance of a hippo. "What?"

The panic in his face loosened. "Sorry. You meant...yes, that's a good idea."

I was unconvinced. "I only meant, because you just patrolled—"

"Right, there's probably nothing—"

"—we don't truly need to go."

"—out there so soon after." We finished speaking at the same time. The atmosphere was stiff and clunky. A flame crackled.

"Right," repeated Dokja.

I nodded, bewildered, and grabbed one last skewer of yanaspleta and cup of sap, before heading away in search of Han Sooyoung.

Scratch that... What the fuck was going on with him?

"Is that really—?!"

Sooyoung screamed towards me as we sprinted back to the campsite. Above our heads, a massive tentacle of eyes and flesh and the unfathomable reached down from the Great Hole. My body shuddered from the feeling. An Outer God.

We found Dokja clutching an unconscious Sangah. Our eyes connected, before he, too, passed out.

The air stretched. It felt like space and time took a breath, groaned, and then everything was back to normal. Dark clouds swirled overhead like before.

Sooyoung and I moved the two collapsed people to a more comfortable position and scrounged for blankets. Neither of us spoke much. The lingering sensation of the Outer God had rattled us to the core.

Some time later, I heard a call of my name.

I looked up. "Sangah! How do you feel?"

She touched her head. "As if my brain has been dragged over rocks."

Constellation possession. I empathized—such a thing had happened to me in the last round. It left the worst of headaches in its wake.

"Where will we go next?"

"I'd like to find our companions first." Her uncertain expression brightened. "Some of them can meet us at the central disaster, but we should be able to pick up Gong Pildu along the way."

"Yes, I want to find ahjussi." She paused, considering me. "I didn't get to say this before, but Yeona-ssi, I'm very happy to see you."

"A—as am I," I said in surprise.

"I feel more comfortable because you and Dokja-ssi know so much. I'm not going to ask about it now," she added gently. "How you act sometimes...I wonder...ah, anyway, I want you to know that I am happy to be with you."

I hadn't realized how meaningful it would be to hear this sort of appreciation, unprompted and sincere. Especially from Sangah, whom I greatly admired. My eyes felt misty. Words of gratitude wouldn't unstick from my throat.

Sangah seemed to understand, and murmured something about going scouting as she left me to my thoughts.

To distract myself, I became engrossed in reading on my phone as it charged in the sun. There was much to decide on how to handle the Disaster of Floods; truthfully, I wasn't confident. My frustration there led me to working on my story instead. Writing had become a way to ease my mind. I left to relieve myself, and when I returned, Sangah was back and Dokja was awake.

The four of us went along the Han River towards the final disaster. We killed monsters, cleared out destroyed areas, and collected coins and loot. It was nice, working in tandem with these companions, and I was glad for the reprieve from tricky situations and heavy feelings.

But, naturally, the comfort of low-stress let my mind wander, unable to settle for long.

It was time to be candid with myself for once: I had, in fact, noticed Dokja's behavior. I was not entirely stupid and could recognize the possible reasons for his blushing and increased...attention. Those little gestures here and there. Though, I knew my shortcomings and was aware that I had likely missed other signs as well.

Honestly, I still didn't think he was ready.

Dokja was barely coming to terms with being loved enough for me to stand by his side after knowing everything; putting another kind of love on him would certainly be too much. Wouldn't it?

I glanced at him, typing on his phone, as I wrapped pieces of meat for later. I frowned.

...How exactly did I manage to get to where we seemed to be in the last round? If I treated that point as an inevitability, rather than a possibility, then perhaps I could go over to him now, grab his face, and kiss him until he was near-purple and gasping for breath—my hands stalled as this image of him filled my brain.

I shook it out. That was a stupid idea.

This current Kim Dokja was a romance virgin in every sense of the word. If I tried that, his head might explode...or he might freeze up in horror...or he wouldn't reciprocate and awkwardly turn me down...

Yeah, I would not be doing that. Best to let things develop on their own. Plus, I didn't have real experience myself; already I felt out of my depth.

The very man on my mind came and hovered at my shoulder. "Yeona. I spoke with Han Donghoon and he is with Gilyoungie. He's safe."

My smile was light from exhaled worry. It was good to have confirmation. "I'm relieved to hear. Thank you."

Dokja's eyes were soft. He opened his mouth to say more, but Sooyoung's grating voice sounded.

"What are you doing?"

Sangah was passing out her rations of food to a group of bedraggled survivors that had gathered. Sooyoung griped even more as I took out my own and did the same.

[The constellations of the Absolute Good System are impressed by your actions.]

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' is touched by your kind heart.]

[4,000 coins have been sponsored.]

Dokja mimicked our actions. Sooyoung loitered behind me, handing out a few of her own rations with a begrudging grunt. "Sometimes you sicken me."

They'll mostly die anyways, so it is a waste, I thought privately. "But this feels nice, right? And you like coins."

"...You're weird."

The people thanked us and staggered away, clutching the food as if gold. I spied Dokja talking with a young, blonde girl. The smile on my face was wide with excitement. Sooyoung eyed the three of us suspiciously, before turning to scowl.

The young girl left soon after.

We all decided to camp out in a half-destroyed building for the night. Sooyoung was convinced that the survivors would return and kill us in our sleep. And four hours later—

Young Shin Yoosung knocked on our broken door frame with a bundle of blankets.

"Thank you. We'll use it well," said Sangah. "Would you like to stay with us?"

"Huh?" Shin Yoosung's eyes shook. "I don't want to be a bother."

As she tried to run, Han Sooyoung launched a knife at her back.

[The exclusive skill, 'Sacred Light' is activated.]

The knife was suspended in a tight, golden fist. "Let's not be hasty," I said.

Sangah rounded on her, enraged. "What is wrong with you?"

Sooyoung was unfazed and looked between Dokja and I coldly. "Hypocrites. Because this other person is a child, you two will let everything fall? Well, if it takes a villain..."

"She is an ordinary child!"

"'Ordinary child'?" Sooyoung laughed at Sangah, rolling a second knife between her fingers. "Tell her now, Kim Dokja, before I kill all of you."

I coaxed the frozen Shin Yoosung over to a pad of blankets near the fire. Her limbs unstuck after I gave her a secret smile and moved to shield her from Sooyoung's line of sight.

"This child," Dokja said at last, "is the final disaster. In five days, she will destroy Seoul."

Sangah's face paled. I saw a confused, pensive expression take over Shin Yoosung. Her eyes blinked sleepily.

"Still, we can't kill her in cold blood," said Sangah. "She has done nothing wrong yet."

"You idiot—!"

"I don't want to kill her either," interrupted Dokja.

Sooyoung glared at him fiercely. Then she glanced at me, scornful. "I'm sure tweedledee agrees with tweedledum?"

My lips pressed together tight.

"Right. Do what you want. Like I care," she spat and stormed out of the building.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' is happy with your decision.]

[1,000 coins have been sponsored.]

Sangah relaxed once she was gone from sight. I tucked a blanket around Shin Yoosung.

"Sleep," I whispered. "It will be alright."

With a nod, the young beast girl closed her eyes. It was some time before she fell into a slumber.

In the morning, Sooyoung voiced her objections with renewed vigor. I watched Sangah take care of Shin Yoosung, while Dokja and Sooyoung spoke in hushed tones.

I noticed something in the air. It wasn't a clear alert, rather, a feeling, but my instincts rarely steered me wrong when I listened to them. So I went for a walk.

The other survivors had mostly gone away. In fact, between the four of us, the area was free of monsters as well. Then, this odd energy...

WHOOSH!

One block away, a building was engulfed by an explosion of flames. Black flames.

"BAHAHAHA just die! Give me all the loot."

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I stopped in my tracks. This knucklehead! It's exactly what I was afraid of...

Rounding the corner, I found Kim Namwoon in all his grimy glory, blasting a charred mound of flesh with his black flames. His face was streaked with blood and dirt, the sleeves of his shirt ripped off to reveal strong arms. He'd tied a piece of cloth around his head like a barbarian's bandana.

"Kim Namwoon. Didn't I tell you to wait on the island?"

He spun around, a squeak leaving his mouth as he said, "Angel-noona!"

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' is roaring at this meeting!]

The flames sputtered out as he scrambled to my side. I eyed him, undecided. It was good to see him now, because I had been worried about his fate if left to his own devices; of course, I hadn't trusted that he would listen to me fully in the first place. But I also didn't want him here for a very particular reason.

"Come with me," I grumbled.

Namwoon followed close at my heels, visibly disappointed by my reception.

"I know you said—I did go there!" The words hurried out of him. "But then it got so boring after I killed everything, and I thought it would be okay with so much time before the disaster."

I clicked my teeth. "Your 'Blackening' skill has become exceptional in such a short time."

"Yes!" He perked up. "I focused on getting stronger, like you asked, and the Flame Dragon helped me grow. Actually, I learned this cool move..."

Namwoon glanced at me as if waiting for a positive response. My gaze drifted to the cloth strips wrapped firmly around his forearms on either side, and my chest became heavy. Suddenly, I felt bad.

"You've done well, Namwoon-ah." I didn't elaborate further as we reached our building.

Dokja and Sooyoung froze upon seeing him, and I instantly blocked their view. "He's only here to help."

Sooyoung stepped forwards, a glint in her eyes. "Wait, no. You know what the Delusional Demon can do—"

"He will not," I said forcefully. "That is not his role anymore."

Shit. I knew Han Sooyoung would pounce on this opportunity, but Dokja... I looked at him.

Dokja regarded us with careful attention. He knew, better than Sooyoung and I, the capabilities of Kim Namwoon in this scenario: for it was Namwoon who killed young Shin Yoosung in other regressions. There was a small, almost throwaway line written in Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint about it, but I believed it held significance for this fifth scenario.

I nervously awaited Dokja's opinion.

He nodded, slow and expressionless, and said, "Namwoon. How have you been?"

Namwoon moved around me to grin at Dokja. "Good, hyung! I've gotten so many cool items. Do you want to see?"

Sooyoung and I both stared at Dokja in bafflement, albeit for different reasons. Hyung?

"Show me later," Dokja replied.

Sooyoung threw her hands in the air and stomped away. Sangah was leery of Namwoon as he surveyed the room, his attention sliding past her and Shin Yoosung and returning to me.

"This place is a dump," he said. "Can we stay somewhere else?"

I couldn't help it—I laughed.

Soon, he was pulled into my arms. My face tightened, eyes blinking rapidly, as I realized something and retreated. Namwoon complained about the short-lived hug.

It really was wonderful to see him. But first things first...

"Get out."

"Huh?" I was pinned with a roomful of confusion.

"You reek. Did you ever stop for a wash? No...of course you didn't. Just because we're in an apocalypse doesn't mean you can neglect basic hygiene, Namwoon-ah. You smell like you hacked away at monsters and people every second and let the filth build up." His mouth closed, embarrassed by my accuracy. My nose wrinkled. "Go, and don't come back until you've thoroughly cleaned yourself."

"Angel-noona—"

"Thorough. I don't want to see you again until then."

He huffed. "Fine."

"Don't get eaten by ichthyosaurs in the river!" I yelled at his back.

When I met Dokja's gaze, a smile ghosted his lips. I matched it with one of my own. He went to his new incarnation, Shin Yoosung, to give her some guidance as she practiced her skills.

Things had gone better than I'd feared, in the end.

Namwoon did return, clean and dripping. He now smelled a bit like fish, but it was a vast improvement from the sweaty stench.

"Angel-noona," he said.

I was wrapped in a tight embrace from behind. Damp, white locks pushed into the side of my face. "You're still wet! Get off," I barked.

"I haven't seen you in forever, noona," said Namwoon. "It's so annoying, being surrounded by nobodies. They all die so fast. Even the monsters got kinda boring after a while."

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' is agreeing.]

Dokja watched us with distaste written clear across his features. The drops of water running down my neck made me twitch with irritation.

"I'll punch you in the face. You have five seconds."

"Can't I miss you?!"

"Four."

"Noona, come on."

"Three."

His arms tightened around my middle.

"Two."

"Just do it. I don't mind."

"..."

Namwoon added, "It will feel good if it's you, angel-noona. The sword-noona hit me a few times, and even that was nice."

...This insane, delusional demon-boy was a freak. An utter freak! I was stunned into silence as he proved, once again, that he was more mentally ill than the Kim Namwoon of my last round.

"You're lucky I like you, you complete lunatic." I shoved his face back. "Go play outside or something."

"I'm nineteen!"

"And yet, you act like a middle schooler."

"Namwoon. We're running low on meat. Why don't you gather more for everyone?"

Dokja had drifted over, arms crossed as he stared down the Delusional Demon with a flat expression. Namwoon straightened up at the sound of his voice.

Something passed between them. Namwoon's eyes narrowed in thought. "Okay, hyung."

"Hyung?" I finally asked, watching him leave before turning to Dokja. "When did he start calling you that?"

"Ah, Gwanghwamun. He saw my sword work and started...um, salivating...and then I saved him from being impaled by an arrow. He's called me that ever since."

Typical Kim Namwoon. He was rather easy to win over, in a way.

"Dokja," I said, wanting to confirm something. "This will work out better, won't it?"

The look he gave me was unconvinced. "Maybe."

Then he went back to Shin Yoosung. Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, before refocusing on the wild groll.

I was sometimes a bad person. See, I hadn't sought to rescue Kim Namwoon from Kim Dokja's judgement only because I liked him. I did favor him as a close companion from my previous round, but, most of all...

Kim Namwoon would be my tool to prevent Dokja's death against the Disaster of Floods.

Next part ->

#orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv fanfic #orv x reader #orv x oc #kim dokja #in life and death #snowfieldstories

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ladysif-writes-chaos · 2 days ago

Text

FORE (THE LOVE OF GOD, DON’T STEP LEFT)

⚠️ WARNING: This Chapter Contains ⚠️

– War (unfortunately, the Korean kind, not the dramatic sibling rivalry kind) – Blood (enough to make a vampire blush) – Surgery (performed by hot, exhausted people in questionable lighting) – Medical procedures & jargon (you might learn something. Or cry.) – Injured civilians (because war is the worst) – Drinking (because coping isn't always healthy but it is historically accurate) – One suspiciously aggressive meat product

Summary: Things are suspiciously calm at the 4077th��until they're not. A casual round of minefield golf gives way to chaos in the OR, moral stand-offs, and meat that might actually be plaster. Just another average day trying to survive Korea... one sarcastic comment and surgical miracle at a time.

The 4077th, Somewhere in Korea – 36 Hours Without a Casualty

The sun was shining. The kind of warm, lazy shine that made the dust shimmer like gold across the rice paddies. It clung to every surface, catching in sweat-damp hairlines and the creases of worn uniforms. Birds chirped. Someone was playing a harmonica off-key near the motor pool. And for the first time in what felt like forever, no one was bleeding out on a gurney or screaming for morphine.

So naturally, they were playing golf.

"Well," Steve said, squinting at the horizon like a general plotting his next move, "wind's coming from the northeast. Might call for a three iron."

"You've never used a three iron in your life," Bucky said, deadpan, one hand shading his eyes as he scanned the wide stretch of no-man's-land just beyond camp.

Their makeshift driving range wasn't exactly regulation—unless you counted the North Minefield as a sand trap from hell. It was marked with sun-faded caution signs, loops of rusty barbed wire, and the universal understanding that stepping one foot past the boundary was a terrible, explosive idea. Which made it, of course, the perfect target.

Steve planted his feet, adjusted his grip, and swung. The ball cracked off the club and soared, a neat white arc against the too-blue sky. It landed somewhere out past the wire with a faint pfft in the dust.

Nothing happened.

"Guess I missed," Steve muttered, brushing off his pants like the whole thing had disappointed him personally.

"You just kissed a North Korean mole rat on the forehead," Bucky replied. "With the finesse of a gorilla on stilts."

"I heard that," came a voice from the side.

Colonel Coulson lounged a few yards away in a battered folding chair, legs crossed, wearing his wildly unofficial blue fishing hat and sipping from a canteen very clearly marked Medical Alcohol – DO NOT DRINK. His sunglasses were crooked, his boots were untied, and he looked perfectly at peace.

"You were supposed to," Bucky called back as he stepped up to the tee. He didn't bother with stance or aim. He just swung like he meant it.

BOOM.

A sharp pop shook the ground. Dust and smoke curled upward in the distance where the ball had landed.

Steve rocked slightly on his heels to steady himself. "Well, that's one way to score."

Bucky rested the club on his shoulder like a baseball bat. "That one's for the record books."

"That was probably a rabbit," Steve muttered.

"I gave him a quick death," Bucky said solemnly. "Unlike that pot roast in the mess tent."

Coulson didn't even flinch. "Thirty-six hours without a casualty," he said, raising his canteen in a loose salute. "No screaming, no stretchers, no mines under the cots. I think this qualifies as a vacation."

"A vacation with dysentery," Bucky added, reaching for another ball from the half-empty ammo box they'd repurposed into a golf bag.

Steve tilted his head back and looked at the sky. It was cloudless and sharp, the kind of clear that made you forget where you were—until the scent of diesel and old blood drifted back on the wind. He sighed.

"You ever think about how insane this is?" he asked. "Playing golf in a war zone?"

"Yup," Coulson replied without hesitation. "But it beats crying into my clipboard."

"And cheaper than therapy," Bucky muttered, teeing up again.

He swung.

BOOM.

This time, a black cloud bloomed higher, darker. Somewhere far off, a dog barked like it was cursing in Korean.

"Two for two," Bucky said casually.

Steve shook his head. "Remind me never to let you pick the movie when this war's over. Your aim's too good for comfort."

"Gentlemen," Coulson said, rising slowly and brushing the dust off his pants, "if anyone asks what we were doing out here, we were conducting... field munitions analysis."

"And stress relief," Bucky added, already lining up his next shot.

"Very important for surgical precision," Steve agreed.

All three nodded, like that made perfect sense. The club cracked again.

Silence stretched.

Then—

BOOM.

They burst out laughing. Not the forced kind they used in the OR to stay upright, but the real, gut-deep kind that made your ribs ache.

The laughter faded slowly, like smoke on the breeze. Bucky leaned on his club, Steve wiped his eyes, and even Coulson looked suspiciously lighter—like the last few months had let go of him just a little, loosening their grip for one golden afternoon.

The sun hung low and soft in the Korean sky, casting long shadows across the dusty earth. The minefield shimmered faintly in the distance, disturbed only by the occasional buzz of flies or a drifting scrap of wind.

That's when Tony showed up—shirt untucked, sleeves rolled to his elbows, boots loosely laced like he'd forgotten or just stopped caring. His arms were full of crumpled envelopes, a clipboard with peeling corners tucked under one elbow, and a small, dented tin that rattled as he walked.

"Mail call, sirs," he announced, striding up like he owned the place, grinning like the war was just background noise. "Which one of you lunatics ordered a back issue of Advanced Surgical Review? You really know how to party."

He tossed a glossy, slightly bent medical journal at Steve, who caught it one-handed without looking up.

"Reading material," Steve said, brushing a thumb across the cover. "Some of us like to keep sharp."

"Some of us like to nap," Tony said, "but sure, be an overachiever." He shuffled through the rest of the stack and paused, plucking out a pale blue envelope. "Oh—here's a letter from your mom." He handed it over with a flourish.

Steve's expression softened instantly. His fingers hovered over the familiar handwriting for a beat longer than necessary.

"She uses stamps with birds on them," he said quietly. "Says it makes the mail feel less like it's coming to a war zone."

Bucky leaned closer, peering at the corner of the envelope. "What is that, a robin?"

"Goldfinch," Steve murmured, then carefully opened the flap and unfolded the letter like it was glass. "She wants to know if I'm eating enough. And if Bucky's still hogging the blankets in the surgical tent."

Bucky huffed a laugh. "You snore. Like a buzz saw in a tin can."

Steve didn't bother denying it—just smiled down at the page, eyes crinkling.

Tony kept flipping. "Let's see... Colonel, letter from your wife—and this package."

Coulson took the parcel with a rare smile and set it gently on the folding chair beside him. He opened it like it might be breakable. Inside was a tin of anti-itch powder and a little pouch of hard candy wrapped in bright floral wax paper.

"That woman deserves a medal," he said under his breath, selecting a piece of candy and popping it into his mouth with something like reverence.

Tony pulled out one more envelope and handed it off to Bucky. "And here we go, straight from Brooklyn. Your wife's handwriting is terrifyingly neat, by the way. Like she does calligraphy for the Vatican."

Bucky tore it open and scanned the note. His groan was loud and theatrical. "She wants me to balance the checkbook. Again."

Tony blinked. "From Korea?"

"The woman is completely helpless when it comes to budgeting," Bucky muttered. "I get a love letter, and it's got math in it."

"Ah," Coulson said, dry as ever. "True romance."

Steve chuckled and flipped open the cover of his magazine, thumbing through pages filled with diagrams of surgical instruments and grainy black-and-white photos of operating rooms. "At least it wasn't another Sears catalog."

Coulson folded the tissue from the parcel and slid another piece of candy into his mouth before opening his letter. His eyes moved steadily across the page, and his expression changed—gentled, softened by something private and far from the war.

"Helen says the lilacs are blooming early this year," he said after a moment. "She tried to press a sprig into her last letter, but it must've gotten lost somewhere between here and home."

He read a few more lines, then glanced up with a quiet smile. "The Johnsons finally sold their '49 Buick Roadmaster, blue. Some young couple from Yonkers. Newlyweds, expecting their first baby."

Steve's smile was faint but real. "That sounds nice."

Coulson nodded. "She wants to know if we still have the old bassinet in the attic. Says she might lend it to them."

He skimmed farther, then made a thoughtful noise. "Eisenhower's planning another televised address. Something about the Russians and atomic testing. She says she's got the radio set up just in case she misses it on TV."

"I miss when the biggest threat was polio and bad radio reception," Bucky muttered, shaking his head and digging his tee back into the hard-packed dirt.

Coulson continued. "She's volunteering at the USO again. Says it keeps her busy... but she misses the sound of my voice. Wants me to start writing more than once a week."

He folded the letter carefully, like it might fall apart if handled too rough, then tucked it into his shirt pocket over his heart. "I'll need to send something tomorrow. I've got that bottle of aftershave she sent me for Christmas—might dab the corner of the page with it, if you boys don't laugh."

Bucky raised a hand. "No judgment here."

Steve nodded. "That's real love, Colonel."

Coulson gave a quiet, almost shy smile. "I suppose it is."

The air was still, except for the soft drone of insects and a breeze that stirred the edge of a canvas tent in the distance. No choppers. No ambulances. No screams or shouting. Just birdsong, the smell of sun-warmed canvas, and the kind of silence that reminded them—however briefly—that there was a world waiting for them beyond the barbed wire and stretchers.

"Alright," Tony said, dusting off his hands and rising to his feet. "Back to pretending I know how to inventory medical supplies."

"Back to pretending I'm not terrified every time a golf ball goes missing," Coulson added, groaning slightly as he stood.

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look, then stepped up to the tee.

"Fore," Steve called lightly, and swung, sending the ball arcing into the warm Korean sky.

Mess Hall

The line in the mess hall moved at the speed of molasses in January.

Steve and Bucky stood shoulder to shoulder on the worn plywood floor, their trays hanging slack in their hands as they crept forward with the rest of the lunch-hour crowd. The air inside the tent was thick—part humidity, part canned peas, and part despair. Somewhere near the front, someone coughed, and somewhere in the back, Wade was once again muttering threats at the coffee urn.

Bucky eyed the steaming trays behind the sneeze guard and grimaced. "What do you think it is today—meatloaf, or an ambitious attempt at plaster?"

Steve tilted his head, studying the grayish-brown slab that had the consistency of wet concrete. "I think it's both. They're just switching up the garnish."

Ahead of them, a corporal received a scoop of the mystery meat. It hit his tray with a wet splut that made Steve wince.

"If they keep feeding us like this, I'm going to have to take my pants in," he muttered.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Don't like World War Two surplus meals?"

"Oh, I love 'em," Steve said dryly. "Nothing like eating the same powdered eggs that saw action in Bastogne."

Bucky snorted. "Come on, you lived on worse in Brooklyn."

"Sure," Steve said, nudging his tray forward as the line inched up. "But back then, I didn't know what was in it. This stuff's labeled."

"Barely," Bucky muttered, eyeing the lumpy side dish currently being served with an ice cream scoop. "Is that supposed to be mashed potatoes, or has the rice been cursed?"

"Could be both," Steve said under his breath.

They reached the front of the line and were each handed a tray loaded with a thick slab of meat-like substance, a scoop of something pale and vaguely gelatinous, a dry square of cornbread, and the ever-present gray-green peas that seemed to follow them like a bad memory across the entire peninsula.

Bucky held his tray up like a science experiment. "I'd say bon appétit, but I think that'd get me court-martialed."

They shuffled toward a table near the canvas wall, where the sides of the tent flapped faintly in the breeze, offering no real relief from the smell—or the view.

Steve dropped onto the bench and stared at his tray like it might fight back. "You know, I used to dream about Sunday dinners when I was a kid. Roast chicken. Mashed potatoes with butter. Green beans that didn't come freeze-dried from 1943."

"Your mom was a saint," Bucky said, poking his fork at the meat slab. "Mine used to threaten us with liver and onions every time we mouthed off."

"I'd take liver over this."

"I wouldn't," Bucky said grimly, cutting off a corner and forcing it down. "But only by a margin."

They sat in silence for a moment, both nursing their coffee like it was the only thing on the tray that hadn't betrayed them. The food wasn't going to kill them—but it sure wasn't going to make them glad to be alive, either.

The bench across from them creaked as Sharon Carter and John Walker sat down, close enough to draw a raised eyebrow from Bucky. They were practically joined at the hip these days, still delusional enough to think nobody knew they were hooking up behind the supply tent.

"Gentlemen," Sharon greeted, her voice smooth but distant. She gave her tray a wary glance and prodded at it like it might snap shut on her fork.

John, less cautious, dug in like a man who hadn't tasted seasoning in a year and had finally accepted it. "Same slop, different day."

"Aw, don't say that," Bucky said, swirling his fork through the peas. "You'll hurt its feelings."

John ignored him and turned instead to glare at Tony, who came strolling up to the table, tray balanced in one hand and clipboard tucked under his arm like a waiter who'd given up on tips.

"This is an officers' table," John said, stiff-backed.

Tony paused, looking from John to Steve and Bucky.

Bucky waved a hand, already over it. "Lay off, Walker. The kid's harmless."

"Unless you're a sandwich," Steve added, straight-faced. "Then you better watch out."

Bucky nodded. "Tony's better company anyway."

"Besides," Steve said, "he's the only one who can hotwire the radio without blowing a fuse."

Sharon opened her mouth, clearly ready to add something sharp, but paused mid-syllable as Tony suddenly straightened, head cocked toward the far end of the tent like a dog catching a sound no one else could hear.

They all froze, watching him.

"You hear something, Lassie?" Steve asked. "Did Timmy fall down a well?"

Bucky leaned closer to Steve and whispered, "I think your mashed potatoes just moved."

Steve looked down sharply, and so did Bucky—and now John—watching the scoop of gray mush like it might wriggle off the tray.

Tony's eyes lit up. "Choppers."

He bolted upright, snatching up the half-eaten sandwich from his tray and cramming what was left into his mouth as he jogged toward the exit.

Two seconds later, Wade's voice crackled over the speakers:

"Incoming wounded. Chopper inbound, pad four."

Tony was already gone, sandwich crumbs trailing behind him like confetti in his wake.

John frowned as he stood up. "Great. Right in the middle of lunch."

"I'm sure they planned it just to ruin your day," Bucky said, rolling his eyes as he swung a leg over the bench.

"Maybe if you write the North Koreans a letter asking them to stop shooting during lunch, they'll consider it," Steve added as he followed.

Sharon didn't bother to hide her smirk. "Include a formal request for better peas while you're at it."

Helipad

The choppers came in hard, wind kicking up dust and gravel across the landing pad as Steve and Bucky jogged out to meet them, sleeves rolled and gloves already on. The noise was deafening—rotors thundering overhead, wounded voices groaning below.

Steve grabbed the stretcher off the first skid, barking for vitals as he helped the corpsman lower a bloodied soldier onto the gurney. Bucky moved toward the second bird, eyes scanning the interior as the medic shouted over the noise.

"Incoming, two more!" the medic called. "One's a civilian—pregnant. Took shrapnel to the leg. Kid's got a head wound."

Bucky's breath caught for a second. Civilian.

He reached into the chopper, helping ease a limp, dust-covered Korean woman from the seat. Blood soaked her skirt near the thigh. Her face was pale, lips pinched with pain. Cradled against her was a young boy—maybe five years old—head bandaged, one arm hanging useless.

Steve was already beside him, hands steady as he checked the kid's pulse. He looked up, and their eyes met.

No words needed.

They moved fast—carefully lifting both mother and child onto the stretcher as Bucky called for pre-op to prep two beds. The woman moaned softly in Korean, and the boy clutched weakly at her arm, dazed but breathing.

"Easy, you're okay," Steve said gently, his hand steady on the boy's chest. "We've got you."

They were almost to the double doors of their little makeshift hospital when John Walker came striding toward them, boots kicking up gravel, arms crossed like he was already ready to argue.

"What the hell is this?" he barked, squinting at the stretcher.

"Wounded civilians," Steve said, not breaking stride. "They were on the edge of the blast zone."

John held up a hand. "No. No way. They don't belong here. Load them back up. Send them to one of their hospitals."

Bucky froze, eyes narrowing. "You wanna say that again?"

"They're not our responsibility," John said, voice sharp. "We've got our own wounded to deal with."

Steve's shoulders tensed, jaw tight.

Bucky stepped closer to John, voice low and dangerous. "Say that one more time, Walker. I swear to God, I'll break your arm before I break my damn oath."

John blinked, caught off guard. "They're—Bucky, they're Korean."

"They're human," Bucky snapped. "They're bleeding. John. That woman's pregnant and barely conscious. The kid's got a head injury

I don't care what language they speak— If they're on our pad, they're our patients."

John scoffed. "We've got limited beds. Limited everything."

"And if it were your sister out there with a kid in her arms?" Steve asked, stepping up beside Bucky, eyes hard. "You still turning her away?"

John's jaw clenched.

Bucky took another step closer. "Let me make this real simple for you: you try to block that tent again, I'll make damn sure you don't walk straight for a week."

John bristled. "Are you threatening me, Captain?"

"No, Major," Bucky said evenly. "I'm telling you to move before I lose what little patience I have left."

John opened his mouth again, but one look at Bucky's face—and the sharp, steady gleam in Steve's eyes behind him—shut him up fast.

Bucky didn't wait for permission. He brushed past John hard enough to knock his shoulder, signaling the corpsman behind him. "Clear bed in pre-op. We're coming in hot."

"Smart choice," Bucky muttered, and nodded for the other two corpsmen carrying the stretcher to come the rest of the way into the pre-op.

As they passed through the doors, Steve muttered, "You know, I thought you were gonna deck him."

Bucky didn't look up. "I still might. Depends how the rest of this day goes."

Surgery

The operating room—if you could call it that—was hot, cramped, and buzzing with tension. The tent walls rippled in the faint breeze outside, but inside, the air was thick with heat, the sharp tang of antiseptic, and the steady rhythm of controlled chaos.

Bucky stood over the Korean woman, her belly stretched taut beneath a blood-soaked sheet. She was young. Maybe twenty. Too young for this much blood. Her pulse was faint and fluttering beneath his fingertips—barely there.

Nurse Natasha stood beside him, as cool and composed as if they were back in medical school, not elbow-deep in a warzone. She was already prepping the clamps, her hands steady as she glanced at the vitals every so often.

Two tables down, Steve bent over the boy—barely seven years old, unconscious and pale. A deep gash ran across his brow, just missing the eye. Steve's expression was tight with focus, his hands gentle as he cleaned the wound and began stitching.

Yelena stood beside him, efficient and sharp-eyed, dabbing sweat from Steve's forehead with a gauze pad, then handing off a fresh suture kit without needing to be told.

"He's stable," Steve murmured. "Concussed. Skull's intact as far as I can tell, but we'll need a scan when the generator decides to cooperate."

Yelena tilted her head slightly. "Talk to him."

Steve blinked. "He's out cold."

"Still," she said. "Kids know when someone's with them. Say something soft. Something that doesn't sound like war."

Steve swallowed, glanced down at the child, and shifted his tone. "Alright, buddy," he said gently. "Let's get you patched up. After that, I'll tell you about the time I got caught sneaking into the theater back in Brooklyn..."

Yelena didn't smile, but she gave a quiet nod. "That'll do."

Across the tent, Sam was wrist-deep in a chest wound, voice clipped and commanding.

"Clamp. No—there. Right. Got it. Shallow breath sounds. We need suction and another unit of whole blood."

Maria moved like clockwork beside him, sliding trays closer, her expression unreadable behind her mask. "Suction coming on."

At the far table, John was elbow-deep in an abdominal wound. Sharon was assisting, sharp and focused, her hands already slick with blood. Neither of them said a word, which, frankly, made things easier for everyone.

The OR doors fluttered open, swing as Colonel Coulson stepped inside, sleeves rolled, hands clasped behind his back as he scanned the room with practiced eyes. He paused just inside the doorway, voice raised but calm.

"Heard a shouting match outside pre-op. Sounded like it echoed all the way to Tokyo."

John didn't look up. "It was Captain Barnes. Again. Disrespecting the chain of command."

Sharon chimed in, tone brisk. "And ignoring triage protocols. Civilian wounded should have been rerouted—"

"Is it just me," Steve cut in without glancing over, "or did his voice just go up an octave?"

Bucky didn't break focus, his voice dry. "Might've strained something important trying to shove his ethics into a footlocker—"

His tone shifted mid-sentence. "Shit. Shit—she's crashing." The mother's blood pressure was plummeting. Her abdomen had gone rigid. The baby hadn't moved since they brought her in.

"BP's crashing," Natasha confirmed. "Seventy over thirty and dropping."

Bucky didn't look up. "Then we move. Now. She's hemorrhaging. If we wait, we lose both."

He sliced the gown open in one fluid motion, the scalpel glinting under the single, swaying surgical lamp overhead. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, ignored.

"Field's prepped," Natasha said, passing him gauze before he could ask.

"Clamp ready?"

"In your hand."

Colonel Coulson stepped up beside him without hesitation. "Need a hand, Barnes?"

"Yeah, sir," Bucky said. "You want to catch a baby?"

The colonel didn't flinch. "Tell me where you want me. I caught both my boys back in Missouri. One in a snowstorm."

"Then you've got the résumé," Bucky muttered. "Alright, Nat—I need retractors, suction line, and fresh saline."

"Ready."

Steve glanced over. "Buck—you good?"

"I'm fine," he said, already making the first incision.

Natasha and Bucky moved in tandem—gauze, clamp, retract, swab. The mother's blood filled the sterile field too quickly, but Bucky worked through it, jaw clenched.

"I see the head," he said. "Colonel, hands ready?"

"Let's do it."

Bucky reached in, hands steady despite the sweat on his brow, and lifted the baby free, passing him into Coulson's waiting arms. The child was slick, small, and terrifyingly silent.

"Come on..." Bucky muttered, already turning back to the mother. "Come on, little guy..."

Coulson moved fast. With the help of another nurse, he cleared the baby's airway, then began rubbing his back in firm, practiced circles.

The room held its breath.

Then—sharp and sudden—a wail cut through the air.

It pierced the tension like a needle through silk.

Steve looked up and smiled, brief but real. Sam grinned through his mask. Even Sharon paused, her eyes softening at the sound.

Bucky exhaled, shoulders slumping just slightly as he went back to suturing.

"Alright," he said. "Let's finish this."

Natasha handed him a clean needle. "No pressure."

"Not anymore," he replied.

Coulson looked down at the squirming, crying infant in his arms, then back to Bucky with a small, proud smile.

"Tell me something, Doctor Barnes," he said, still rocking the baby gently. "Do I get a cigar, or do I have to deliver another one to earn it?"

Bucky chuckled under his breath, eyes still on his stitching. "You get my last cup of decent coffee. And maybe a dry pair of socks if you're lucky."

Coulson nodded, cradling the newborn against his chest. "I'll take it."

Post-Op

The post op ward was dim and quiet, the smell of antiseptic faint under the heavier scent of old wood, linen, and something faintly medicinal. The open windows let in a soft breeze, fluttering the edge of a chart clipped to the end of a cot. Outside, the distant thrum of a generator hummed low and steady.

Bucky stepped into the ward first, pushing the heavy door open with his shoulder. Steve followed a few steps behind, holding two chipped mugs of weak coffee. The rows of cots were occupied by soldiers and civilians alike—some sleeping, others staring blankly at the ceiling, and a few whispering quietly in languages that filled the space like a soft chorus of survival.

Near the far end of the ward, Bruce sat beside one of the civilian cots. His chaplain's collar was half-hidden beneath a rumpled sweater, sleeves rolled to his elbows as he quietly spoke Korean to the young mother they'd saved. He wasn't giving a sermon or offering last rites—just listening, nodding gently as she spoke, and answering softly when she paused for breath.

The woman rested back against a mound of thin pillows, eyes tired but warm, her newborn cradled in her arms. The baby was swaddled tightly in a faded army blanket, making soft noises in his sleep, cheeks round and pink

The little boy lay in the next cot over, a strip of gauze bandaged across his forehead. His dark lashes twitched now and then, fingers curled tight around the ear of a worn stuffed rabbit—probably something Yelena had smuggled in from one of her trades.

Bruce looked up as Bucky and Steve approached and gave a small nod in greeting. His voice was soft. "She's been asking about you. Wanted to thank you both."

The mother looked between them, her eyes glassy. She said something in Korean, emotion catching in her throat.

Bruce gently touched her arm and translated. "She says thank you—for saving her. For saving her boys. She thought... they were lost."

Bucky crouched down beside the bed, resting one hand on the edge of the cot. His voice was rough. "We weren't going to let that happen."

The woman reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tightly in both of hers. She said something else, voice low, and Bruce's expression softened.

"She wants you to know... she's naming the baby James."

Bucky's breath caught. He blinked once, then looked down at the sleeping infant, small and warm in his mother's arms. One hand peeked free from the blanket—tiny fingers curled in on themselves. Carefully, he reached out and laid his hand against the baby's head, rubbing a thumb gently over the fine, dark hair.

Steve stood at his shoulder, quiet, the second mug still cradled in his hand. "That's got to be the best damn thing I've heard all month."

Bucky didn't speak for a second. When he did, it was quiet. "Tell her... it's an honor."

Bruce translated, and the woman smiled through tears. She whispered something to the baby and pressed a kiss to his brow.

Bucky stayed crouched beside her a moment longer. He looked between her and her son, both of them alive—fragile but safe—for now. He gave a small nod and stood, eyes lingering for just a second longer before he turned back to Steve.

Steve handed him the coffee. "Come on," he said softly. "We should get some shut-eye while we can."

"Yeah," Bucky murmured, his voice rasped with exhaustion. He looked back once more at the woman—at her son, and her newborn wrapped tight against her chest. "We did one good thing today."

Steve's hand clapped lightly against his shoulder. "We'll hold onto that."

The Swamp – Late Evening

The Swamp was dim and close with heat, the kind that clung to skin and soured every breath. A dented lantern swung from the center pole, casting a lazy amber glow over the room's cluttered mess of cots, boots, and discarded uniforms. The scent was familiar—old sweat, iodine, mildew from the walls, and the sharp tang of the gin that leaked from the still in the corner. No one dared ask what went into it anymore.

Steve stood at their makeshift poker table—a scrap of metal balanced on crates—pouring two fingers of translucent liquid into mismatched tin cups. It sloshed like lighter fluid, smelled worse. "To mothers and miracles," he said quietly, handing one cup to Bucky.

Bucky took it with a low grunt, easing himself onto the edge of his cot with a tired groan. His shirt clung to his back, scrub pants stiff with blood and sweat. He looked like a man who'd aged ten years in ten hours. "To baby James," he murmured, knocking back the drink in one go. He hissed through his teeth as it hit his throat. "Poor kid's already got my name. Let's hope he skips my luck."

The screen door groaned open, slow and loud. John Walker stepped inside, boots caked in red mud, cap pulled low. He didn't say anything, just leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like he didn't trust it not to bite.

Steve raised an eyebrow but kept quiet. Bucky reached for a second pour.

The room was still except for the soft glug of the still and the occasional buzz of a mosquito whining past. Outside, the rotors of an idle chopper ticked in the distance, cooling under the night sky.

Finally, John cleared his throat. "Nice save today."

Bucky stilled mid-pour. His head lifted slightly, but he didn't look at him. Steve turned toward John, cautious.

John shifted, scuffing the heel of one boot against the floor. "Really. That was solid work."

There was a beat of silence—heavy, uncertain. Steve looked at Bucky. Bucky looked at his drink.

John shrugged, like the words had cost him a tooth. "I mean—I probably would've done it cleaner. Faster. But, y'know. Good effort."

Bucky downed his second drink and let the cup clatter onto the table. "Eat my shorts, Walker," he muttered, falling back onto his cot with an exhausted thump. One arm slung across his eyes, done with the conversation.

Steve huffed a laugh into his cup. "He meant that lovingly," he said, not bothering to hide the grin tugging at his mouth.

John didn't reply. He crossed to his bunk and sat, boots still on, silent and stiff.

The tent quieted. For a brief moment, the night felt still, the kind of still that never lasted in Korea.

Then—

"A-TEN-HUT!"

Wade's voice blared through the camp loudspeakers, sharp and warbled with feedback. "Attention all night owls and part-time alcoholics—just got word a whole battalion of Marines got their asses handed to them by the Reds. Casualties inbound, ETA ten mikes. So caffeinate, hydrate, and haul your charming behinds to pre-op. You know the drill. This isn't a drill. That's why I said drill three times!"

The PA screeched one last time before going silent.

Bucky groaned without lifting his arm. "I swear to God, I just laid down."

Steve tossed back the rest of his drink and reached for his boots. "You're the one who wanted to be a doctor."

"I wanted to impress girls," Bucky said, dragging himself upright by the collar of his shirt. "Nobody mentioned midnight triage and a lunatic with a microphone."

Steve gave him a crooked smile. "Welcome to Korea."

They moved with muscle memory now—boots on, shirts buttoned wrong, dog tags clinking soft warnings in the dark. As they stepped outside, the lantern behind them swung on its hook, casting long shadows over the scattered bunks, the still, and the quiet cup left behind.

Go to LadySif's Masterlist Go to Series Masterlist

#marvel #fanfiction #mcu alternate universe #bucky barnes #steve rogers #the avengers #mash 4077 #marvel mcu #m*a*s*h #sam wilson #natasha romanov #yelena belova #wade wilson #tony stark #bruce banner #avengers #marvelfanfication

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virgilmoira · 1 year ago

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Kenikari brainrot goes wild

Oh and phrog Chuyo cuz of what someone said on stream earlier

⚠️ WARNING!!! ⚠️

The next drawings contain BLOOD and INJURY! If you are uncomfortable with those topics, please proceed with caution or click off

Oh no! A giant boulder! *sips tea aggressively*

#kenikari #kenikari oc

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lackuraphi · 10 months ago

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Weasel story)Act Four: Weasel's Outing

Nobori's first outing

(⚠️Caution⚠️)

I used a translator

This is the Fan fiction

It’s different from the original

It’s unrealistic

The characters are Japanese names

Content Warning:confinement

—————————————

These days, the relationship between Kudari and his friends has become a little further than before, to the extent that the friendship bracelet tailored to Matsuri last year is overshadowed.

At school, the four of them are close as usual, Other than that, Kudari was spending time with Noㅠori, so he rarely met his friends separately.

"Kudari seems to be a little distant from us these days."

Kamitsure, Huuro and Arty were at a hamburger shop near school after school, talking about Kudari becoming awkward with them.

"But we're still close to him at school." "It's not like that outside of school at all, so it's a problem! Have we been somewhere with Kudari recently?" "Oh! And every time we made an appointment with Kudari, I think he always said he was busy at home and couldn't go with us." "Also, we haven't even been able to visit Kudari's house these days. Not long ago, we often visited his house to do homework…"

Kamitsure took a big sip of her diet coke and then stood up.

"I think Kudari is hiding something from us!" "Whaat?!" "What do you mean?!" "There must be another secret that Kudari is clearly hiding, like the room where he told us not to go in!"

Huuro and Arty said, putting Kamitsure back in her seat.

"But Kamitsure! Kudari's family is very busy!" "Yes, that's right, and his house also functions as a Shrine in our village!" "And Kudari is no longer a child, but an adolescent, so he's probably getting ready to take over in his family!" "But Kudari told us that the high-rank people in the house allowed him to prepare the Depot Agent." "Maybe the family needed a hand!" "But..!"

They each showed her a friendship bracelet on one wrist.

"And if Kudari had really fallen out with us, he wouldn't be wearing friendship bracelet!" "Kudari still wears that friendship bracelet" "G..guys…"

Kamitsure saw a friendship bracelet on one of her wrists.

"Yes.. Kudari is our dear friend as always.. He was just so busy these days that he didn't have enough time to be with us.. I'm sorry… I think I got it wrong…"

Nevertheless, Kudari's friendship with his friends remained unchanged.

Meanwhile, Kudari was running as fast as he could to his house with a look of more excitement than usual.

With a still precious friendship bracelet on one of his wrists..

Arriving home, Kudari ran to Nobori's room, literally "full speed ahead." (Luckily there were no adults in the house.)

"Welcome! Kuda.." "Nobori! NOBORI!!! NOBORI-!!!!" "KUDARI?!" "Huff..! Huff..! Nobori..! Huff..! Huff..!" 'Hey! You're so excited right now! You just need to calm down first!' "Huff..Huff..! sorry..! I can't calm down…!" "What's going on. Kudari?" "Huff..! Wait a minute…!"

Kudari pulled out his smartphone and fiddled with it for a while, then showed Nobori and Ohnyula the smartphone screen

'Huh? Train?' "It's a train I've never seen before. Is it a new type?" "Yup! That's right! It's a new train to be introduced!" "Bravo! That's so cool! The design of the train is sophisticated!" "Yup! Yup! Does it?" 'Well, well.. What he likes is completely similar to Kudari~' "And don't be surprised and listen, this train is passing through our village from today!" "Is that true Kudari?!" "Yup! And so..let's go see this train!!!" "…Whaaat???" '…What!?'

Nobori and Ohnyula were startled by Kudari's unexpected words and lost words for a moment.

Soon after, those who came to their senses again spoke to Kudari.

'Hey, I know you're excited, but don't you already know that? Nobori is still confined to this room because of Priests.' "Lady Ohnyula is right. Kudari, if I had the freedom to go out, I would have grown up to be a normal boy like you. And as soon as I heard the story you told me, I would have prepared to go out." "But please listen to me!" 'Yes, we'll listen to it once.' "What are you trying to say?"

Kudari started persuading Nobori and Ohnyula.

"After hearing the story of your Matsuri outing before, I started thinking that Nobori must go out. And I came up with a way. It was surprisingly simple! I'm going to use Lady Ohnyula's whirlwind teleportation!" "Do you mean to use the whirlwind that you use to send back to your room?' "Yup! That's how we sneak out of the family high-rank people! And the surveillance… we'll have Nyulas do it!" 'Using my whirlwind… That's a good idea. But Kudari. My whirlwind has its limits.' "The limit?"

Ohnyula explained her whirlwind.

'My whirlwind can move myself and others to places they've visited once. But now I am stuck in Nobori and can't go anywhere, and I have to say that there is virtually no place where Nobori can go because he has been confined to this room until now. ..And I cannot agree with you because I am not sure that the place you are talking about is the place you have visited.'

Kudari told Ohnyula with a rather imposing smile.

"Don't worry about that!" 'Hmm?' "That's a place I already know! It's a railroad crossing of an alleyway in village! I searched it and found that it was a place I've been to before!" 'Oh! That's good news!'

Ohnyula smiled and told him the good news

'Just in time, Priests are away for business at the foot of the village, and the foot of the mountain is a long way from here, so it will take a long time for them to return home!' "And my parents are coming home late today, too! They told me to eat dinner on my own!" 'Maybe we can eat out today! No wonder the wind was flowing well today! It was all for this!'

When Kudari and Ohnyula were enjoying the thought of going out, Nobori asked them carefully

"But… how do I get there? I don't even know where that place is…" 'You just need to hold Kudari's hand. Then you can move with Kudari.' "Rreally…?"

Nobori's eyes began to twinkle like Kudari's

"Yup! This is Novori's first real outing!" "..BRAVO! EXCELLENT!!!" "Wow! It's Nobori's amazing shouting again!" "I can't believe it's my first real outing! I'm looking forward to it!" "Then what are you procrastinating about! Let's go now! We'll miss the train passing!" 'Before that, wait a minute.' "Huh?"

As Ohnyula bounces lightly with her claws, clothes fly from somewhere in the wind and quickly change Nobori's outfit from the black yukata he was wearing.

Nobori wore his father's black baseball cap on his head, Kudari's white hoodie and blue long pants, above which he wore his father's black jacket, and Nobori's hands held Kudari's black and white striped slippers.

'Honestly, that black yukata stands out too much..' "Wow! Nobori! you are so cool!" "I've never worn anything other than that yukata…" "Hey. Nobori. How do you feel?" "It's not Yukata's cloth, but the different fabrics of other fabrics that touch my body give a new feeling! In particular, these pants make my legs warm…" "Oh, those slippers are worn as soon as you go outside." "Hoo hoo.. Kudari. I already know that." "But you've always been barefoot for 14 years since you were born." "Oh.. you're right.. I went barefoot during Matsuri, too.." We have no time to procrastinate! The train will soon pass!" 'Then let's go now! Nobori! Kudari! Are you ready?' "Right!" "Let's ring the departure signal!" 'Okay! Let's go!'

Ohnyula wields her claws vigorously and raises a whirlwind, and Nobori and Kudari, holding each other's hands, disappeared somewhere with the wind.

A railroad crossing in front of an alleyway located in a village where people don't come to visit very well, Nobori was amazed at everything he felt for the first time in his life.

A blue sky with bright sun light and white clouds, sparrows and crows flying over it, a gentle breeze, plants blooming everywhere, alley walls made of gray bricks, a long electric pole, and structures related to the train that he saw only in pictures…

Nobori was slowly walking around, seeing, hearing, touching, feeling everything he could feel with his senses, and feeling his first outing with his whole body.

The place became the first place Nobori visited in his life.

Kudari, watching Nobori in silence, asked Ohnyula carefully.

Come to think of it, Nobori has Lady Ohnyula, and I think the high-rank people in the house will do everything Nobori wants, but why has he never been able to go out?" 'Priests do everything Nobori wants, but sometimes they interpret it as they want to hear it.' "What? What do you mean?" 'This is a very troubling story to tell you…'

Ohnyula started the story to Kudari.

By the time Nobori began to speak as a child, Ohnyula taught Nobori the language all day long, doing her best to help his speak completely. Her plan was for Nobori to personally ask Priests to go outside, send Nobori to the hospital, then get treated, get well again and return to his parents and Kudari. 'I'll make Nobori free as soon as possible by opening up his words completely…!' And when Ohnyula's unrelenting efforts opened up Nobori's speech as completely as possible, Nobori told Priests for the first time. "I want to go out." But contrary to Ohnyula's expectations, Priests interpreted Nobori's words strangely. "Lady Ohnyula's first revelation is 'I want to go out'…!" "Well, when she say 'out', she mean other villages, right?" "It would mean to let other villages know Lady Ohnyula!" 'Huh..?' "Oh! Lady Ohnyula…! That was such a deep meaning..!" 'Huh?!' "We will promote Lady Ohnyula to other villages!" "Don't worry, Lady Ohnyula. We won't cause inconvenience to other villages." 'Something's wrong…' Ohnyula and Nobori were taken aback by such Priests, but they thought this was not an accurate representation of his thoughts, so Nobori said when the priests came back to him. "I have to go to the hospital as soon as possible." But Priests interpreted Nobori's words strangely again. "By the way… I heard that village hospitals are getting free flu vaccinations these days." "This is Lady Ohnyula's revelation to send Kudari to the hospital!" 'Oh Dear.. Sorry Kudari..' And this time, Kudari got caught up in it. "..Kudari..?" "Why? Mom?" "Do you want to go eat Pork Cutlet with me?" "Yup! Yup!" Nobori told Priests in more detail this time. "I don't have time. I have to go to the hospital and get treatment as soon as possible." "Come to think of it… Kudari has been putting his hands on one cheek a lot these days…" "It's Lady Ohnyula's revelation to send Kudari to the dentist!" '…Even if you hate us, we'll understand you all… Kudari…' But even if Nobori told Priests in detail like this, it was Kudari, not Nobori, who was going to the hospital. "Kudari..?" "yes mom?" "Do you want to go eat ramen with me?" "Ramen? Yup! Yup! I am Kudari! I want ramen!" Nobori then became disillusioned with Priests, who interpreted his words as they liked, so he stopped talking to Priests. Other than formal conversations with them, he rarely spoke first. (If Priests were waiting for a revelation from him, Ohnyula's flow of wind was passed on to Priests on her behalf.)

When Ohnyula's story ended, Kudari was shaking slightly.

"Then… the reason why I was forced to go to the hospital when I was young..Ahhhhh…!" 'I'm sorry… You can hate us for the rest of your life…' "Oh, no, this is all the fault of the high-rank people in the family.. I..I am..Okay..Ha..haha..really..haha..ha…" 'Kudari….'

Ohnyula changed the topic of conversation to lighten Kudari's mood.

'Hmm… By the way Kudari. Have you decided where you're going to eat out today?' "Well, while I was listening to the story, the story of ramen passed by briefly, but I couldn't eat ramen and forced myself to go to the dentist, so I wanted to eat ramen because I had a little regret." 'Ramen… Wouldn't it be too stimulating for Nobori?' 'If it's miso ramen made from soft miso(Japanese soybean paste), it's probably no problem for Nobori to eat." 'I see. Then go ahead and tell Nobori.' "Okay! Lady Ohnyula!"

Kudari shouted at Novori, who was gently caressing weeds with his hands growing between asphalt roads.

"Nobori~!" "Why~?" "Today's dinner is ramen! Let's eat ramen together at a nearby ramen restaurant!" "Really? I'm looking forward to it! Kudari! It's my first time eating ramen in my life! But what if it's too stimulating for me?" "I'll prepare a soft ramen for you!" "Thank you for being considerate of me! Kudari!" "You're welcome!"

A little time passed and the time that I've been waiting for has come.

"Soon the new train will be passing through here for the first time! ..Oh! This is your first time to see the subway in person, right?" "Yes! That's right! I'm really excited about Bravo excelent! I can't believe the day will come when I see the subway moving in front of my eyes…!"

Soon the red lights flashed, and there was a loud 'deng deng-' sound around, and the railroad crossing blockers slowly descended before the twins.

"Finally..! Finally..!! Finally..!!! Finally…!!!!" "It's coming..! It's coming..!! It's coming..!!! It's coming…!!!! It's coming…!!!!!"

And finally, in front of their eyes, the new train they were waiting for passed by with a loud sound of wheels and wind.

"WOW!!!!!!!"

After the new train passed completely before his eyes, Kudari turned to Nobori.

"Wow! Nobori! The train was incredible…Nobori?"

But Novori was not there.

"Nobori..? Nobori? Nobori???"

As Kudari looked around with a restless look and anxiously searched for Nobori, who suddenly disappeared, Ohnyula's voice came from Kudari's head.

'Kudari, I'm sorry. Just before the train passed by, I was informed by Nyulas that Priests had already reached the Torii threshold by finishing the schedule too soon than I expected, so I had no choice but to rush Nobori back to our room.' "Oh no..!"

Nobori had no choice but to go back to his room before seeing the real train for the first time in his life

'I think Nobori's outing is over.. …and I think you'll have to eat the ramen alone…' "….."

Kudari was not in the mood for ramen at all, but he was hungry, Kudari walked 'alone' to the nearby ramen restaurant where he had originally planned to go with Nobori

"Welcome!" "Miso ramen and shoyu(soy sauce) ramen�� No, one miso ramen, please…" "Yes Sir! one miso ramen!"

After a while, the miso ramen he ordered came out and Kudari started eating miso ramen.

"…Thank you for the meal…."

Sadly, the taste of miso ramen was delicious as written on the black flag in front of the restaurant.

"………."

While Kudari was eating ramen, something began to wriggle strongly in Kudari's heart.

#sbms #submas #subway boss #subway master #ingo #subway boss ingo #pokemon ingo #emmet #subway boss emmet #pokemon emmet #pokemon elesa #pokemon skyla #pokemon burgh #pokemon sneasler #weasel story

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snowhashiraamiya · 1 year ago

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KYOJUROU RENGOKU X ORIGINAL CHARACTER (OC) FANFICTION

Tornado of Opposites

WARNING: This fanfiction may consist of topics and scenes inappropriate for readers under 18.

Consists of: Sexual Trauma, Assault, PTSD, Cursing, Bodily injuries, Death, Suicide attempt.

⚠️VIEW WITH CAUTION⚠️

➡️THERE WILL BE WARNINGS BEFORE EACH CHAPTER, PLEASE VIEW BEFORE CONTINUING⬅️

PLEASE BE AWARE: Since this story takes place 4 years before Tanjirou’s final selection, Muichirou will NOT be present within the first 5 chapters

There are no warnings for this chapter:

Chapter 3: News and the welcome of a new hashira

“I received word that you defeated one of the twelve kizuki, alone.” My eyes widened and I looked down, “Y-Yes but- if I may..” I looked up at the master as he just smiled softly, “Master, it was merely a lower rank.. three I believe..”

Kagaya chuckled, “As underrated as that sounds Amiya, defeating a twelve kizuki is a massive accomplishment that you should give yourself more credit for.” My cheeks burned gently, “Which is why I would like to promote you, and as of all the years this organization has existed, I have never seen a snow breathing user, let alone a hashira.”

My mind was swirling with emotions, could this really be true..? I took a few deep breaths, “Do you accept?” I swallowed my fear and nodded, “I gratefully accept the position, Master.” He smiled, “Wonderful, there will be a meeting with the current hashira within the next few days, to introduce you to everyone.”

I gulped and then sipped the tea, “I appreciate the opportunity master. Do you need anything else from me?” “Ah well, all of the hashira’s have they’re own estate, so my spouse Amane will help you let the kakushi know and get to work on that, in the meantime, I’ll see to it that you stay with Ms Sayuri until your estate is finished.”

My eyes widened, “Thank you very much, Master.” He smiled, “You are dismissed, your crow will make you aware when the meeting will take place.” I nodded, “I wish you good health.” I replied and then bowed and exited his home. my heart fluttering as I made my way back to headquarters.

“AMIYAAAAA!!!!!!” A familiar squealed voice came from behind me, I turned and Sayuri practically tackled me to the ground hugging me, “Ack!” “YOU GOT PROMOTED?! SEE! I TOLD YOU!” I giggled and then sat up, she held her hand out and I pulled myself up and dusted off my uniform.

“Yes.. I did, the master requests I stay with you until my estate is built.” Yuri squealed and jumped up and down in front of me, “Awesome!! Also.. You had a run in with the flame hashira?! And you didn’t TELL ME?!” My eyes widened and my heart immediately raced, “W-Well i-i-“

She gasped, “So you DID!! I’ve heard he’s rather charming.” “Yuri!!” I swatted her arm as my cheeks burned deeply, “He is simply a comrade, don’t get the wrong idea.” She smirked and giggled, earning an irritating look from me, “Awww come on, I’m gonna tease you with that now, considering you got promoted to a hashira!!”

The two women continued strolling down the path, bickering back and forth, one trying to convince herself that he was just a fellow swordsman, the other, teasing her best friend profusely about the charming flame breather.

Mitsuri was chatting with Rengoku as they ate, “TASTY!!! IT’S SO TASTY!!” He shouted and continued eating the soba, “Rengoku-Sama, you gotta keep telling me about that newcomer!” The man chuckled and looked at her, “Ah well, she said she’s been slaying demons since she was 16, and she’s the only snow breather there is.”

“Woah, that’s a heavy burden to withhold.” “Yes, but she seems very determined to our cause. I wholeheartedly believe that she will become just as strong as you and I!”

“Why if it isn’t my buddy, Rengoku and his friend Mitsuri!” Rengoku turned his head and was met with a familiar pair of magenta eyes, the silver haired man laughed and sat down in front of them, “Uzui! Wonderful to see you!” Rengoku boasted as his hair puffed at seeing his other wonderful friend.

“The master was right! Apparently that slayer has been promoted to the hashira position.” Mitsuri’s eyes widened, “Really?! Who is it!” Uzui chuckled, “All I know is it’s a woman.” Rengoku stopped eating momentarily and exchanged glances with Mitsuri.

“AMIYA?!” They both shouted at once, “I think that’s her name.” Tengen replied, “See!! She’s been promoted! So she without a doubt will get stronger!” Rengoku replied and then continued eating, “So we better be prepared for a hashira meeting here soon!”

The three of them continued chatting as they ate their meals, chatting amongst themselves, in the back of his mind, Kyojurou couldn’t help but hope they would meet eachother again soon.

And his thoughts were spot on.

Within the next few days, the kakushi worked diligently to finish the snow hashira’s estate, time until then came almost as slow as a turtle walks.

The red haired woman paced in her friends bedroom, biting her nails and thinking about this whole ordeal, her body was trembling, “Can I really do this? Am I capable enough?”

“Hey, Amiya! It’s time!”

My head whipped up and my eyes locked with Yuri’s, the blonde obviously seeing the nervousness in her friends eyes, “Hey, you’re gonna do great, and I’ll be there every step of the way, yeah?”

I nodded and tried to stop biting my nails, “This is all so nerve racking..” I mumbled and continued pacing. “It is the first time around, but the more meetings there are, the easier it gets.” I looked into Yuri’s promising eyes and then took a deep breath and nodded.

“Now come on, we don’t want to be late!” Her friend said and Amiya nodded, adjusting her skirt, haori and then followed her friend out of the house. The two made their way through the forest, running side by side, despite her calm exterior, Amiya was panicking on the inside. She only prayed that she wouldn’t lose her control.

Not long after the journey through the forest, Yuri guided Amiya to the courtyard, “Take a deep breath Ami, I can hear your heart pounding. If anything, Tengen can probably hear it too.” My eyes widened and I tried to take a few deep breaths.

“Talking about me huh, Sayuri!!”

In a flash, a tall silver haired man stood in front of me, I had to tilt my head up all the way to even get a glimpse at his eyes, “Tengen! Jesus! Don’t scare us like that!” Yuri huffed and waved her hand at him.

The one called Tengen looked down at me and smirked, “Ah, the new hashira I’d presume? Tengen Uzui, the sound hashira.” He stated and held out his hand. My eyes widened and I took his hand and shook it, “A-Amiya Chiminosa.”

Tengen’s eyes wandered her figure and outfit, “Quite flashy, I’ll say!” I looked at Sayuri and she smiled, “It’s a compliment Ami, don’t panic.” I nodded and then looked up at Uzui and thanked him.

I walked with both tengen and yuri into the building and was met with a loud angry voice, “DAMNIT GIYUU LATE AS ALWAYS!” I tried to locate who the voice was coming from, Yuri nudged my shoulder, “That’s Sanemi Shinazugawa, the wind hashira.” I nodded nervously, the wind hashira was average height, with white spiked hair and glowing purple eyes. His chest was exposed by his open uniform, scars practically painted on his muscles.

“Don’t mind him, he finds any reason to yell.” A familiar calm voice came from behind me. Sayuri saw Amiya’s face light up as the Insect Hashira, Shinobu Kochou entered the room, she smiled to finally see her friend smiling.

“Ohayo Amiya-Chan, met everyone yet?” She asked, I shook my head no and rubbed my arm, “Not necessarily.” I replied, a squeal came from across the room, “Is that the new hashira?!” My eyes wandered and a woman with pink and green hair, with green eyes approached me quickly, “Hi there! I’m Mitsuri Kanroji, The love hashira!” I waved kindly and then sat down next to Shinobu.

“Looks like we’re still missing a few.” Sayuri mumbled and Uzui sat next to her, “Ah they’ll be here.” My eyes found a shorter man with shoulder length black hair, and a black and white striped haori, “Obanai Iguro, Serpent Hashira.” I waved quietly and messed with the hem of my skirt.

“Nervous?” Uzui asked, I shrugged and looked down, “Ah don’t be, you’ll do great.” I nodded and then looked at the door, a man about Shinazugawa’s height entered, he had shining blue eyes and raven black hair, with a haori, split in colors. He didn’t say anything as he walked by me, my eyes fluttered and Shinobu giggled, “Giyuu Tomioka, about time you show up.”

The man now known as Tomioka just stood at a standstill and ignored everyone, “The water hashira.” I nodded and then looked at a much taller man who was holding his hands in a praying motion, “Gyomei Himejima, The stone hashira.” Yuri murmured.

“Greetings newcomer, wonderful to meet you.” Gyomei replied and I nodded, “Nice to meet you too.” “Say, where’s Rengoku. He’s never late.” Obanai asked and looked to Tengen for an answer, “He should be-“

“Right here!!!” My head whipped up at the familiar passionate voice, Rengoku walked through the door and then bowed to his comrades, “Excuse my tardiness. That last demon sure put up a fight.” He looked around and his eyes set on Amiya, he smiled and then made his way over to her right side and sat down.

“Good afternoon, Amiya.” He murmured softly, different from his rather loud voice, my eyes widened and I felt my heart skip a beat, I looked up at him, “Good afternoon Kyojurou.” I replied softly and looked away.

Tengen smirked and nudged Yuri’s shoulder, She giggled and watched the two opposites interact. Rengoku was fully paying attention to her as she spoke, his smile never once leaving his lips, he couldn’t help but admire her passionate way of speaking about her past experiences with slaying demons.

❤️

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #rengoku kyōjurō #flame hashira #hashira #amiya chiminosa #writers on tumblr #rengoku x oc #oc

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sunnyrifle · 1 year ago

Text

「table manners」 🍴

I wanted to see Morita being uncomfortable with silverware;;

⚠️CAUTION!! i’m not eng native, this is an unedited text from my notes, structural & grammatical errors ahead⚠️

Morita at the restaurant where Ginji pushes his chair closer to the table when he sits down (Morita doesn't know this is manner reserved for ladies only? good good) then when Mori turns his eye to the table for two there's so much utensils he doesn't know of;; why so many forks and spoons? wasn't it one dinner? he is sitting with his hands lifted not knowing what to do, when the first plate is put in front of him (at least he was sparred from embarrassment of asking "what is this? and that?" looking at the menu with no prices attached, Ginji already ordered for them both beforehand;;) and he looks up at Ginji, who is so confident in his manners, Morita tries to take the same fork size and knife as Ginji mirroring him aww-- I think it should please Gin-san to see Mori being so attentive to his every move and seeing the other try so hard to learn so fast-- they enjoy food and its kind of romantic, but Morita thinks he should get to the library to read some new material about western restaurant manners--

but then Ginji invites him over to the hotel he is living at, Morita forgets his idea of visiting library that day; when he arrives a single table in front of wall-height window with a twilight cityscape is waiting for him;; why is there a single chair? of course he comes closer and the same set of silverware is awaiting for him, Morita quickly gets the idea and gets embarrassed, he blushes a bit hiding his lower face with a palm of a hand when Ginji pushes the chair from the table inviting him to sit (I want to see Ginji do a little bow;; a hand on the back of the chair, another covering his front as he bows a bit, like waiters do huehuehue:;) Morita sits down, he doesn't know what to do with himself when his chair is pushed to the table again, there's even no Gin-san sitting in front of him to mirror anyone-- Ginji instead puts his hands over the other and pushes Morita's hands over the table cloth first "You have to cover your knees first" he smiles knowing his close voice will make his cute protégé blush again

Morita gets commands of what are the starters and what are the main dishes, what kind of knife is for butter and what is for meat, "you go from the outside forks and knifes to those closer to the dish…" and Morita is so attentive his eyebrows furrow sometimes when he is confused and Ginji explains it into more detail so kindly-- its already getting dark and they're almost finished, Ginji thinks its enough for one day and Morita must be tired too-- he takes a lighter out and lights a single candle in the middle of the table, pushes another chair from the side and sits down in front of Morita

I want them to have a cozy candlelight small dinner together by the room service delivery together… and I want Morita so so cute that he knows what to use for the first time! ah he'll thank Ginji for all of that and Gin-san would sit back with a wine glass in his hand, rolling the red drink in his hand and look pleased;; thinking of introducing Morita to alcohol tasting next time too-- he has a lot of ideas how tasting too much of different kinds of drinks could influence Morita-- 'he is young but doesn't look like he could handle much of alcohol' Ginji thinks and smirks inside his glass before taking another sip from it hehehe

#ginmori #unedited scenario #general

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dwailol · 2 years ago

Text

Want some water?

ComPOUND Round 2 (Do you have a better name? Too bad this is the name)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🔞

Warnings⚠️: it’s definitely smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, praise kink, a liiittle rough but not too much

Summary: You’ve got the compound alone with Bucky for a few days.❤️‍🔥 Fem reader x Bucky. Established relationship/fwb. The 400 extra words in this one are just 400 extra words of filth.

WC: 1.7k

———————————————————————

“Want some water before the next round?” he asks raising his eyebrows suggestively. That first one was just a taste of what he has in store for the next few days. He is about to have fun with the fact that the compound is empty besides the two of us.

“Sure thing,” I reply. Somehow I’m thirsty from all his work.

He walks towards the kitchenette while stretching a bit. His back muscles were sculpted and I want to feel them up and down. I want to feel him with my hands and mouth. I unknowingly bite my lip still staring as he’s pouring a glass. He looks up and smirks.

“Caught ya peeking,” he says. I quickly turn away and blush.

“You might have,” deciding to own my peek. I hear his foot steps coming my way. I get under a throw blanket to cover up. He walks up with the water and a bottle of wine but no glasses.

He sets everything down and moves in close, “It’s ok. You’ll catch me peeking plenty of times. Mind if I join you under there?” He swings my legs over his lap and pulls me in closer. I feel his cock hardening under my legs and then a throb - mine and his. He pulls out the cork and sees it’s half empty. I know there is no way we can finish that.

“I didn’t see much else over there, but we can just finish this off right?”

“Thor brought that here and two sips will have you well off. Proceed with caution,” I warn. Having a whole glass knocked me on my ass one night. He glances over the bottle and takes a sip. He looks up at me with a face of subtle surprise then sets the bottle back on the table. I grab the water.

“Smart idea. You weren’t joking about that. I feel a little something and the super soldier thing makes getting a mild buzz hard. Proceeding with caution. Thank you for the warning ma’am.”

Just as I’m about to take my first sip of water he steals the glass out my hand and takes a drink for himself.

“Rude.”

He laughs mockingly then lightly pulls me by my chin to his face to gaze me in my eyes. His hand rests on the side of my face and his thumb glides over my bottom lip pulling it slightly down in the middle before returning to the corner. He brings the glass to my mouth and gives me a sip. He is already completely hard again and I am ready to melt around him.

“Here you go angel. Sorry, you know how I love to ruffle your pretty white feathers,” he moves his hand to trace down my spine, “Besides I always give you what you want in the end don’t I? So tell me, what do you want right now?”

He discards the water and places both his arms around me. I lean in with a soft, supple kiss that’s met with passion. I lightly glaze my tongue barely past his lips and pull away quick before he goes in for more.

“Bedroom.”

He picks me up off the couch and I wrap my arms around his neck to stable myself. I let out the smallest gasp of surprise.

“If it means I get to hear my angel sing again, it’d be my pleasure.”

We begin to heavily make out. Lip bites and quick hints of tongue drive me wild. As he carries me to my room, he makes several stops to push me against the wall and grab onto my ass tighter. We finally make it in and he throws me onto my bed with a sexy amount of force. I want to make his efforts matched. I sit up quickly.

“Here wait.”

Before he can get to my bed I hop off and walk to him. We kiss and then I move my next one to his jaw, then his neck, his chest, his abs, at his waistline. I’m on my knees for him. I hold onto his shaft as I bring my lips around the tip. I look up at him and swirl my tongue around it without breaking eye contact. As he moans, I bring his cock further into my mouth and give him a stroke on my way back. I start in that same motion with added tricks then pick up speed. He pushes my head away.

“Stop that or you’re gonna make me cum,” he lifts me back up then leans into my ear, “and you know where I like to put that.”

I’m thrown back on the bed. I feel my pussy opening up and ready to take him.

“I like how good you’re being for me now angel. You know when you teased me with your tongue earlier I decided that you were gonna get it once I threw you on this bed. You going to be my good girl for the rest of the night?”

He starts slowly sliding into me and I shutter.

“Yes..”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir. I’ll be your good girl for the rest of the night.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He pushes the rest of his cock into my soaking wet pussy still lubed up from the last time he spilled into me. I burst out a loud “Oh!” It gets him going.

“How I love to hear my angel sing.”

I wrap my legs around him once he hits a pace that I like. I claw into his back with a drawn out moan. He grunts with the pleasure of knowing he’s responsible for all the euphoric sounds I release.

He breaks free of my legs. Dragging my body to the very edge of the bed, he stands and brings my hips up to take his cock. He thrusts slower but hard and deep. I yell to the beat of him fucking me.

He pulls me up and carries me off with his cock still thrusting into me. He cradles the back of my head before pushing me up against the wall. Our lips are locked as he penetrates my walls. He’s hitting my g spot so fucking perfect. He knows it too when I let out a strained whimper of pleasure.

“Looks like I found the right spot that my pussy loves so much. Touch yourself while I’m fucking you. I want to feel you clench cumming around my cock.”

“Yes sir,” I do as he says.

“Good girl.”

I feel it building up. I hold my breath until I feel that huge rush of blood. Oh god was it so much better at this angle.

“Oh god,” I breathlessly say.

“You talking to god angel?”

He bites at my earlobe and lets out a heavy breath against my ear. It felt like sexual ecstasy. He walks back over to the bed and sets me down.

“Turn over.”

Just as I start to, he flips me over on my stomach so fast I hardly saw his hands coming. The smack on my ass gets a scream out me. I am nearly overstimulated but I know he is expecting more from me. He pulls me up from the back so our bodies are touching. He starts rubbing his flesh hand around my clit, while his vibranium hand embraced me from behind with his fingers holding my neck.

“I get impatient. You know that.”

He drops me back down to the bed. Thank god I have the plushest bed spread or that could have knocked the wind out me. His hand stays on my clit and then I feel him spit onto my now arched cunt. He gets back up straight and I feel his cock start pounding into me. That hand working mercilessly. I’m squealing at the load he was filling me with. I hope he cums in me soon.

“I feel you getting wetter and wetter. You’re close. Are you close baby?”

“Yes sir.”

“You want me to let you cum?”

“I wanna.” He starts rubbing faster but then stops.

“You better ask fucking nicely then.”

“Please! Please! Please let me cum!” He starts giving me what I want. His pace quickens and his hand shakes me to my core. I feel it happening.

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” I yell. As I cum around his cock again I steadily moan. He doesn’t drop pace. I’m about to get the load I’ve wanted so bad.

“All that singing is about to make me cum in you. You want me to cum in you again? You want me to fill you up again nice and deep?”

“Yes please,” I beg. He takes a beat and slaps my ass. That one was gonna leave a hand mark.

“Listen to you talking so nice.”

He’s right back to his previous pace. He gets faster! I’m fucking screaming. I want him so bad.

“You’re getting this full load!” He hits one definitive cumming stroke and coats my insides. He does some victory lap strokes still riding the high of getting to cum inside of me.

Once he pulls out I feel it drip down my pussy then my leg. I start rubbing back at my clit again so turned on by the feeling. He flips me onto my back again.

“Allow me.”

He cups my pussy so his palm is on my clit and his two fingers are inside of me. He starts pumping his hand at a steadily increasing speed.

“My good girl took it all so well. But I want to make sure it all stays in there soaking up your walls. Will that make you happy?”

“Uh huh,” I repeat over and over to the quickening beat he penetrates into me.

“Uh huh.”

“Uh huh!”

“UH HUH!”

He is right about everything. My next orgasm flowers and I pulse around his fingers. We both get what we want. He gives a satisfied “mmm” sound.

The first of the many nights the compound would only have he and I inside winds down. We lay beside each other face-to-face. He lightly glides his vibranium hand up and down my curves. It sends shivers down my spine.

We begin to pass out. As I look up towards my alarm clock I see that I’ve got four hours before it goes off. Fuck.

#bucky barnes #dom bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes smut #winter solider x reader #winter solider smut #avengers smut #marvel smut #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x you

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destinyc1020 · 4 years ago

Text

(**SIP WITH CAUTION**) Some Stale, Brief, Tomdaya 1.0 Tea 🍵

****************DISCLAIMER******************

**PLEASE NOTE: Please sip this “tea” with extreme caution. As you all know, I am VERY CAUTIOUS about what I believe to be true information that is passed around on the internet. I do not believe something 100% UNLESS it is either coming from an inside source, OR, someone has receipts, photos, screenshots, or valid evidence to back up their claims.

******************************

***As always, PLEASE take this “TEA” with a HUGE grain of salt… Especially considering that anyone can post/send anything in via social media.***

You can feel free to believe the tea or not. There's no pressure to believe it if you don't want to. 🤷🏾‍♀️

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Now on to the info:

Last year, I received a dm from an Anon that shared with me some Tomdaya 1.0 tea that a friend shared with them a while back. According to the Anon, their friend used to "supposedly" work with Law, and the friend spilled some Tomdaya tea that the Anon then in turn shared with me.

The alleged “tea” that was shared with me was NEVER posted on my Tumblr blog because at the time, the Anon didn’t want to risk any crazy/angry antis and trolls flooding into my inbox (I used to get a lot 🥴).

Anyway, now that Tomdaya is confirmed, and this "tea" is ages old anyway lol, and it doesn't even matter at this point rofl, I figured I would just finally share it lol. I've been sitting on this tea since last year lol. 😅

IF the story is true, I just thought it was a cute story to share. 🥰❤

Sorry, it's nothing really juicy lol. 😆

NOTE: I cannot vouch for the person who is the SOURCE of the information that was spilled to my Anon, nor do I know if my Anon is 100% telling me the truth.🤷🏾‍♀️

So this is really "SIP WITH CAUTION" tea....

With that said - I just want it to be absolutely clear that I am only sharing what an Anon d’med/submitted to me about what was shared with THEM.

So, please….sip with caution, because I’m not sure if this story is true or not. But I figured I would share what the Anon sent me.**

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

Have I added enough disclaimers yet? 😅 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Alleged Law/Tomdaya 1.0 “Tea”~

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

End of tea 🍵

There you go folks! 😅

🤭

#Sip With Caution ⚠️#Stale Tomdaya Tea 🍵#tom holland #zendaya #law #tomdaya

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thecontumacious · 3 years ago

Note

Hey hey! Yandere request please :)

Gn reader who is madly in love with the boys and for a yandere x yandere kind of thing?

Mutual Interests

a/n: anddd we're back again with one of my favorite tropes in fanfiction ^^ my sister kept asking me if i was mentally okay when she read through this 😭 if you haven't checked out my last yandere fic w/ luxiem, here it is! i referenced back to this a lot tbh

warning: contains mentions of violence, suicide, r-pe, drug misuse, stalker behavior, kidnapping and gore. please read at own risk.

disclaimer: if you experience these kinds of things, whether yourself or on other people, please report this to professionals. this is not healthy behavior. i also do not mean to glorify any and all actions mentioned. it is meant for entertainment purposes.

reminder that all my work and others in the fandom are purely fiction and intended to entertain, not to be projected irl.

⚠️ dark content utc! proceed with caution! ⚠️

Vox Akuma 👹🌹

he first met you in a nightclub, unsurprisingly.

in anyone' eyes, it would've just looked like you and him were interested in each other from each end of the club. you dancing wildly on the dance floor while he sat by the bar watching you

but to the demon?

well, he's seen his fair share of beautiful bodied humans.

ah yes, he found humans' bodies to be more pleasurable than his own kind. probably because they just seem to falter and be vulnerable under him? probably.

but you. you.

to the father in the heavens and the spirits in the pits of hell, you had a body and charm no one else had. you made the humans around you look like useless trash, nothing compared to you

as you continued to dance, vox sips his drink imagining the different things he could do to you.

however he has to keep his composure that humans don't work the way demons usually do.

so he had to take it slow, step by step.

else he would be no different than the people throwing themselves at you, straight up asking for a good fucking without much to begin with.

you held more class than that, he could tell. you were rejecting their every whim after all.

after a round of dancing, you finally retire to the bar, only a few stools from vox.

he took this as his chance, giving you one of his (literally) devilish smiles. "good evening. tired from all the dancing?"

"how about you, kind sir? haven't lost it to the alcohol yet?" you tease, snickering afterwards.

to vox, it seemed like you were asking for it.

"i handle my drinks better than anyone in this club, mind you," he chuckles back, placing his glass down. "come, let me get you a drink. what would you like?"

you hum, resting your chin on your hand. you mention your drink to him and he calls the bartender for your order.

"your usual place on saturday nights like this?" vox inquires, leaning closer.

you nod, "pretty much, yeah."

"your drink," the bartender slides the glass over to you, to which you glug down quickly, parched from the dance floor.

"slow down now," the demon laughs.

you shake your head, gulping the burning beverage down your throat. "says the one who's been ordering drinks longer than i have."

even the way you spoke is testing him. he really is trying his best to hold back from taking you then and there.

thus became the first of many nights you and vox would meet up together.

oh, no, he was a gentleman the entire time!

he would properly take you home after a day's outing. he never forgets to bring you gifts whenever you agreed on a date.

not once did vox even mention he would like to 'sleep' with you the entire time.

because he knew it's not time yet.

when it's time, he'll pounce. he won't ever let you go after that happens. your body will become his.

"lovely to see you, darling," vox greets, handing you a bouquet of flowers as soon as you reached the restaurant you promised to meet up in

you giggle, taking the gift graciously. "how sweet. my house will turn into a flower shop with the many you bring me every time, vox."

"what can i say? i can't not bring one if i keep meeting up with a pretty person."

"oh, now you're too flattering," you sit across him, setting the flowers in your lap. "have you ordered?"

"yeah. i know what you like anyway," he shrugs, crossing his arms on the table to lean towards you. vox smirks, tilting his head, "so, tell me about your day, love."

to be completely honest without a hint of malice, vox never usually does this. if he's interested in a human especially, things would not have taken this long

the easiest way to explain it would be:

'waiting makes the results much more enjoyable'.

at least, for vox.

look at you, chattering away with your plump lips about your job, or some friends you met up with that day. your pretty long lashes fluttering like you're seducing him.

he would do anything to just throw you on that fucking table and ravage that sweet neck of yours, uncaring if it was a public area

perhaps, today would be the day.

as you continue to speak, vox fingers the sleeping pills in his pocket.

"gimme a sec, vox. bathroom," you stand, smiling.

"go ahead."

the perfect time to drug your food.

the bathroom door behind you closes and vox pulls out the already crushed pills, adding almost thrice the supposed dose. besides, he didn't want you to be awake during the entire time

you could be screaming, struggling, begging him to stop when he clearly wanted to keep going

he'll save that session for another time.

you return, sitting back down to eat again.

it was only a matter of time before those pills start to settle in

but with three times the dose vox put in, it really shouldn't take much time.

and it does.

once you got in the car, you've fallen asleep without saying a word to him. he chuckles to himself, taking your hand in his as he drove you back to his house where you'll be staying

for the rest of your life

vox sets you by his mattress, still heavily asleep, as he grabs the ropes from under his bed. red, his favorite color of course.

he strips you in a matter of minutes, leaving nothing but you in your own skin. just the sight of it is enough to make vox lose it. how was he gonna handle you later?

with expertise, the demon bounds your wrists and feet to the bedpost, tight enough that you couldn't even move an inch. you're spread out, nothing to hide.

just as vox was about to begin, you suddenly groan.

he freezes.

for a second he thought he was just mishearing, given how excited he was. but your eyes are fluttering open, pupils looking around your surroundings figuring out where you were and why the fuck you were naked spread out on a bed you didn't recognize

"vox?" you grumble, trying to get up. but you realize you're tied down.

he sighs, his moment of enjoying you for the first time absolutely ruined. seems like he was going to have to--

"fuck," you suddenly whine.

vox looks at you, and your face... god, your face was so deliciously red. were you enjoying this? why did you--

"fuck, vox, please," you beg, your hands clenching onto the ropes that held onto you. "do it already. do you fucking know how long i've waited?"

once he's sure that you're actually serious about what you're saying, he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your tear filled eyes. "i'm sorry, beloved. i'll get on with it."

"thank you!" you chirp, nuzzling into his neck. "can i ask for a favor?"

"hm? what is it, sweet thing?"

you look him in the eyes, pleading once more, "can you use a knife?"

oh you really were different.

"of course, my love," vox gets off you for a moment and pulls out a knife, freshly sharpened it seems. it makes your cheeks grow even redder at the sight of it, imagining how the demon will rake it down your body.

"use it on me, please. do with it what you want," you desperately request of him. "no, kill me when you're done. please, vox. i've always wanted to be killed by you. and only you..."

good fucking thing he took his sweet time with you, huh?

"kill you?" he smirks, once again straddling you on his bed. the cold blade meets the side of your body, sending shivers down your spine. "darling, i've got something better than killing you."

your eyes glimmer excitedly.

"now, shall we begin?"

what would be better than to be killed by the one you love, you ask?

oh, you know.

torture.

you forgot just how many times he slashed that knife over your skin, forever going to leave a scar there but not enough to kill you. he'd stab where it wouldn't meet any of your organs and lap away at the blood that leaks

you realized then that this was better than being killed

vox edging you of your death, then coming back up to inflict more love soaked wounds.

the sun rises and it's only then did the demon stop, panting from the much fun he's had since a century ago. he looks at you, half dead, covered in your blood like a sacrifice to the devil himself.

then he unties your ropes and places the blood caked knife in your hand with an aroused smile.

you look at him, dazed, "hm?"

"do it to me too, love. stab me, break me, mutilate me if you want," he breathes, pressing the hand holding the knife against his stomach. vox grins, "i'm immortal after all."

you peck his nose, driving the blade into his flesh, eliciting a pleasured and pained moan from the demon.

"let me get to work then, darling."

Mysta Rias 🦊🔶

the reality is:

you've never met mysta and he's never met you in person. you have never swapped even a word with this man so it's likely you never knew he existed.

but it didn't matter

the universe had already given you to him so he'll swallow all the small opportunities to see you

to be more exact, how mysta even knew about you was simply because you were in line to get your groceries checked out

the way you smiled at the cashier and how you gently spoke to them

he thought you were an angel that descended upon this disgusting world

what was someone as divine as you doing here?

the people here are going to taint your innocence.

that was it.

mysta wished nothing else than to have you all to himself, an angel that belonged only to him, smiled only at him, did everything only for him.

he wanted to save you from this world, and that became his only life mission upon meeting you.

so he followed you home that day, making sure that he tailed you without arousing any suspicion from both you and the people around him. but if people asked, he could easily show them his detective badge, reasoning he was only doing his job

it's worked so far

from his work of crimes, mysta knows that ambushes and the element of surprise always worked best. that's why he chose to hide away from you, wanting to enjoy you a bit more before he did what he had to do

mysta giggles at the thought

once you reached your home, he knew he couldn't continuing watching you from the window. someone will call the cops on him for that.

so, he jots down your address and returns home

he's got a camera lying around somewhere... ah, there it is. still usable and the sd card seems to be empty.

he was determined to have it filled with only you, you and you

"i'm sure i had a stuffed bear lying around here somewhere," mysta whispers to himself, ruffling through his old items in search of said toy. surely, you wouldn't mind a special gift from a secret admirer?

of course not

he couldn't imagine you driving away an innocent present like a stuffed bear!

that night, mysta learns how to plant the camera inside the bear. he surprises himself with how truly harmless it looked from the outside.

in the morning, he hurriedly makes his way to your door and places his gift down, ringing the doorbell before running away.

you open the door seconds later and do indeed find the animal down at your feet. you pick it up then look side to side, wondering who could have left the object. but you shrug and came back inside with the gift.

mysta grins and opens his phone, connecting with the camera inside the bear.

through the screen, he sees you carry the bear around your before deciding to put it on your bed.

perfect.

the detective went home, satisfied.

he was going to need a lot more gifts and cameras for this.

for mysta, it was an obsession from the start. the moment he saw you smiling for the world, that was it for him. this world didn't deserve your smile. and only he could save you.

every few weeks, a gift would appear by your door and you'd place it all over your apartment, much to mysta's fortune. he'd study how you walk around the apartment, memorized your routine, what times you woke up on specific days, what meals you ate, what you liked doing when at home

god it felt like the most fantastic movie he's ever watched in his entire life

but then cameras and anonymous gifts became insufficient for mysta.

he needed to feel for himself how soft your blankets were, the smell of your pillow, the specific shampoo and soap you used.

he needed to be there.

so after some consideration, mysta finally made it to your apartment in the dead of night. with trial and error, he also made it past you door and he breathes in the scent of your home

it made him go crazy and the fact he was in your apartment right now was too much for him to take

but mysta walks on, closing the door behind him as he inspects all the things you kept. he now knows what cereals you ate, what milk you go for, what bath items you personally liked.

then he enters your bedroom where you're fast asleep, curled up under the blanket

"you look so fucking adorable," mysta whispers, covering his cheeks with the back of his hand to feel just how warm they were. how could they not be? he was in the presence of you again...

he looks around the area, learning more of your favorite colors from your outfit choices, books you were interested in and the small things that you liked in life

then he stops by your underwear drawer.

his hands shake even at the mere thought of having one to himself. you wouldn't notice one pair missing, right?

a souvenir from his first day seeing you again would be nice too

so he pockets one, smiling.

mysta finally stands near your bed. he kneels down and breathes silently as he comes in close contact with you. look at you. look.

so fucking gorgeous. the world truly didn't deserve you.

his finger makes it to your cheek, creating a single sloppy circle then it travels down to your plump lips. he traces every inch of it, his mind drawing the scene where he would kiss these beautiful lips of yours

he could very well do it right now...

mysta leans in close, his nose brushing against you and his lips hovering just over yours.

but something stops him.

maybe... maybe not now. better not to push my luck.

so he pulls away and exits your home.

once more, satisfied.

he promised himself that his visits wouldn't be too often. once a week maybe. but mysta is not one to to commit himself to something. once a week became thrice a week. then it became every single night.

in the day he would watch you from his cameras, his hands aching to feel your things and your body. and in the night, as you finally fall asleep, he would enter your home like it was his own.

well, it might as well be.

his souvenir picking became even bizarre too.

from clean underwear became to ones you've worn, your old photos, your clothes that he would wear. at first, he would return them, but with time, he kept them. hung them up on his walls or put the special ones under his pillow so he could somewhat have a piece of you before he falls asleep

at this point, mysta would use your apartment like it was your own. used your electricity, your water, ate your food. and when he left for the night, he would never forget to place a ghostly kiss on your forehead, not really brave enough for your lips somehow

so it could help him feel like he was living with you.

but there was something he noticed.

while you'd usually keep your clothes inside, they're now laid out in the open. even some of your undergarments.

more of your precious items were carelessly placed.

wh-why was there a second toothbrush in the sink? an extra towel? two bottles of your usual shampoos and soaps?

could you have possibly known he was in the apartment? why the fuck were you indirectly welcoming him in like this?

afraid at the realization, mysta decides it was time to go. so he hastily while still being quiet exits out of your bedroom.

but just before he could grab the doorknob, something tugs at his shirt.

"leaving already, darling? you usually stay longer..."

h-huh??

mysta turns on his heel and he sees you, gripping onto his shirt tight while rubbing your eyes. wh-what?

"come on, you haven't even kissed me goodbye yet," you pout, pulling him closer to you.

his heart is in his throat, beating rapidly as he doesn't know what to do. so you did know. why the heck did that make you seem even more perfect? you beautiful angel...

god fuck

"you thought i didn't know?" you smile, giggling as you nuzzled into his neck. "baby, you go to my apartment all the time. but you never notice when i go to yours?"

now that he thought about it, he would sometimes find some of his things misplaced. but he thought that was just him being a klutz again

"i-i..."

you grin at his loss of words, wrapping your arms around his waist. "you're so cute, darling. always have been. can i have a real kiss now?"

what is happening--

"mysta, my love, please?"

oh. oh god. the way you said his name.

the detective finally comes to his senses, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he held your face and for the first time finally kissed you right on the lips.

the way you kissed right back, holding him by the back of his head excitedly.

"i love you, y/n," mysta whispers against your mouth, the passion dripping from his words.

you smile and respond, "i love you too, mysta."

then you pull away, much to his dismay. "hey."

"hm?"

"wanna die together?"

how did you...

"you like to talk aloud in your sleep, my love," you giggle. "i'd be lying if i said i didn't want the same. you're too precious for this world... and you don't need it either. it's just going to take you away from me one day."

mysta suddenly brings you in for a tight hug, a choked sob escaping his lips. "god, i love you. i love you. i love you. yes we can die together, sweetheart."

at this, you tug on mysta's hand with the biggest smile on your face. "come on, come on! i've always wanted to die during a sunrise."

"oh really?" he laughs, following you out.

you drag him up the stairs all the way to the top floor of the apartment complex.

with the sky looking more bright, it was only a matter of minutes before the sun decided to peek through. but mysta was glad. he could spend the last minutes of his life with you

and now you and him will soon be together forever.

him and his beautiful angel...

you climb onto the railing, balancing on your feet as you offer your hand to mysta. "come on, love."

he smiles at you then stands just next to you. "i dreamed of this moment so much."

"yeah, i know. i'm glad you and i can be together in the end mysta. i was worried that you wouldn't ever notice."

he laughs, "sorry about that darling."

then, the sky becomes bright and the sun is right there, saying both hello and goodbye to you.

mysta feels you squeeze his hand.

"i love you so much, mysta."

he was gonna save you. and this was it. this was all he needed.

he brings your hand to his lips, pressing one last kiss. "i love you so much, y/n. my angel."

you smile at each other, all before gravity decides to envelop you both in its embrace, never to walk the earth again.

Luca Kaneshiro 🦮🔆

luca was minding his own business, watching over the casino on one of his free nights with a drink in his hand. it was incredibly boring though.

just the usual snobby rich heads flaunting their financial statuses to each other.

it reeked of trash in there, despite the millions worth of money in building said casino.

so luca excused himself for the night and goes to the backstreet when he sees someone being harassed by some uncivilized crooks.

ugh, be it upper or low class, people really were absolute garbage.

luca rolls his eyes, pulls out his gun and easily shoots the men by the head without missing a single target.

their bodies drop dead and reveals you, your face splattered with your harassers' blood.

the mafia boss' heart suddenly skips a beat at the rather gruesome scene before him. but it was because of the messy crime scene that made his adrenaline rush.

your pretty face among the dead.

luca smiles, approaching you while offering you his handkerchief.

"rough night?" he asks, kicking away the bodies at his feet.

you sigh, taking his aid and wiping away the blood. "thanks, but yeah, these guys just show up out of nowhere."

"well, you did take the road in a suspicious looking backstreet," luca points out, causing you to blush red. he chuckles.

"fa-fair point..."

"need an escort home? you do have a pretty face," he grins, offering you his hand. you look at it, then back at him, your eyes flickering with shyness.

"u-um, no thanks. i'll be careful from now on," this time, you completely avoid his gaze, ears blood red. you skitter away, waving softly at him, "th-thanks again!"

that's it.

luca liked you.

just the way you hide away from his advances, not out of disgust. but more out of embarrassment. so shy and precious... luca had to have you.

even the mere thought of someone else making you shy like that

it made luca's blood boil and instinctively reach for his gun, his fingers itching to fire his entire cartridge just to stave his unfathomable jealousy

his mafia life could be so boring after all.

nothing but business in the dark, murdering people who didn't do their job well (and occasionally those he didn't like) and making sure his record is clean, far away from the reach of the police

he was so used to seeing fearful expressions, sometimes ones that were so serious like they'd never heard of a joke. perhaps he'd get the rare chance of a woman or two smiling for him, offering something he'd like, but they all have under-the-surface motives

they were all the fucking same.

it was just so monochromatic.

but then there was you.

the first person in his life to smile and thank him so genuinely without asking for anything in return.

the mafia life is all about trading one eye for the other.

but with you, it's the other way around

and luca liked it. no, was obsessed with the concept.

so, he had his men track you down. find out what you liked, where you worked, who your family was, if you... had a partner. he specifically asked them to bring both their kidneys if they found out you had one.

but to his fortune, you weren't seeing anyone at the moment.

then, luca finally decided it was time to pay you a visit during your work time. his own work was getting bored after all.

he promised himself he wouldn't touch anyone today, for your sake really. luca had to accept that blood and gore wasn't everyone's favorite...

so he strolled right into the building where you worked, ignoring anyone who tried to stop him as he went up to ask a random employee where you were.

"u-um, they're on the second floor, sir," they answer, pointing towards the elevator.

"thanks!" he pats their back before going to the designated floor, your favorite flowers and snacks in hand to help win you over for an impromptu date. if your boss fired you for ditching work, luca brought his knife with him to cut off a few fingers to do the exact opposite

just in case

once the elevators let him out, luca's joyful mood suddenly dissipates when he hears angry screams. he wouldn't have minded them if your name wasn't thrown around the room.

from the corner, he sees you standing still, your face dark as your employees look at you with irritation, your boss? supervisor? whoever the asshole was scolding you for doing something so poorly

how dare someone insult and embarrass you like this? his precious and cute y/n...

luca's gun is begging to him to be used. to empty his full cartridge.

but for you, he took a deep breath and waltzed right in.

"hey, who are you? you're not authorized personnel!" an employee yells, moving forward to stop luca from stepping in any further. but with a demon looming inside the mafia boss, said employee shivers when he meets with luca's eyes, backing away almost immediately.

"y/n, honey!" he sang, grabbing the attention of the entire floor.

you turn to him, eyes wide.

"sorry, who are you, sir?" the person who was screaming at you raised an eyebrow at him.

"you don't want to know," luca giggles, circling his arm around your waist. although he seemed to be smiling, the aura leaking off of him was not safe.

at the icky feeling, the man takes one step back. "it doesn't matter. we're in the middle of an important conversation."

"looks like a torturing session to me though," luca tilts his head, curling his lip like a child. "you're a bad boss for scolding them in front of everyone else, you know."

"they're my employee, i can do what i want," he hisses.

the mafia boss takes a deep breath in, ignoring his urges to just fucking gut the man. "they're my partner. it's my duty to protect them from bad people. like you and everyone breathing in this building."

you look at him, confusion lacing your face but the fact he was protecting and defending you was enough not to ask any questions yet.

he then proceeds to hand you your gifts, flashing you a sweet smile, "come on, honey. you obviously don't want to be here. my car is waiting outside."

luca tugs you away to the exit, but the man from before yells again like it's the only thing he can do, "hey! it's still working hours!"

BANG

"can you shut up for once? you're making sound pollution."

the bullet hit the windows, but luca did that on purpose. the screaming was giving him a headache for fuck's sake.

he tugs on your hand again, "let's go, hon."

once in the car, all you can do is bite your lip as you stare at your flowers and snacks. shaken? nervous? afraid?

luca sighs, grabbing your chin softly to look at him. "how long have they been doing this to you, baby?"

you can't help but tear up, hiccupping, "right when i started work..."

as angry as he was though, you came first. your heart was tired. so luca leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, hoping it would help your mental scars.

how fucking dare these people make you cry?

"it'll be okay, honey," he whispers, squeezing your hand. "come on, let's get something to eat. you don't need that job. i'm luca, by the way."

you finally smile.

there it is, the smile he'd been aching to see since you last met.

after your outing together, it was safe to say that you were in a different place now. you were smiling much more and laughing to luca's jokes.

still shy whenever he teased you.

yes, only to him. he'll make sure that happens soon...

he took you home, walking you to the door.

you turn to him, "thank you for today, luca. i hope i get to see you again."

he laughs, "of course we will! i'll come get you again tomorrow."

"of course," you giggle, opening the door. "i'll see you tomorrow then, luca."

"oh and by the way."

"hm?"

luca smiles, "i'll be sending you a gift soon. i hope you'll like it."

a very one of a kind gift.

"oh? i'm excited to see it," with one final laugh, you enter your home then wave at luca. "get home safe, okay?"

"i will!"

then he's off.

to get your gift of course.

he sits in his car, takes out his phone and makes a quick call. he growls when the line finally connects, "find me all the employees who work at y/n's workplace."

"roger, sir."

in a matter of minutes, he receives the list. all from the very top of the organization to the lowest. there was your name, one of the lower employees it seemed, despite being at the company for a long time.

he chuckles to himself, tapping the gun buried in his pocket.

he was finally going to use that chainsaw in his trunk. luca was worried that it would start to break down before he even got to use it...

you awoke the next morning to the doorbell ringing. groggily, you get out of bed and check who it is , but is surprised to see a black box sitting by the end of your door.

a note sits atop it, handwritten and scented.

you bring it back inside first while reading the note

'good morning honey <3 i hope you had a good sleep and also like the present i got for you. it was a little hard to get but i would do anything for my sweet honey~'

you smile, putting the paper aside and lift the lid of the box.

you are face to face with your boss' head, eyes still open and a bullet hole between his eyes.

meanwhile, luca is at his office getting some work done when he receives a text from you.

'i loved the gift, luca! i might actually have a gift for you too~ wanna see it?'

his colorful life with you starts to saturate even more, the feeling of love blooming even more from the underside of his heart. shocked as he was, his ache to see you only grew wilder. he needed you there with him right now

he knew you were different the moment he met you

practically not afraid of the bodies that drop dead at your feet.

so luca rushes to your house, knocking on the door fervently.

as quickly as he came, you open the door for him and drag him inside with the biggest grin on your face. it didn't help how your cheeks were bright red from joy.

"hurry! i want you to see it!" you giggle, pushing him inside the house.

he merely chuckles, letting you lead him. you then stop together in front of a closet. you point at it, beckoning for him to open the door himself. "go on, luca!"

"alright," he grins, twisting the door knob open.

wait... he's seen her face before. wasn't she that waitress he saw a few days ago?

well of course, only this time she's completely and utterly lifeless. her eyes gouged out leaving empty dark sockets behind.

"oh, wow," luca widens his eyes, looking towards you.

you hiss, glaring at the dead woman, "she was flirting with you. i didn't like it so i got rid of her so you would only smile at me from now on."

luca stares at you, his heart beating against his chest.

so adorable. yet as crazy as him.

how perfect.

suddenly, the mafia boss picks you up and spins you around the hallway, causing for you to burst out laughing despite being in the presence of the deceased

of course that didn't matter! he was with the love of his life after all.

"i only wished i could've seen you do it in front of me, honey!" luca smiles, putting you down to nuzzle his nose against you. "next time, call me when you want to take care of someone. i'd love to see you go crazy."

you giggle, nodding. "i promise."

Ike Eveland 🖋💙

he first met you when he went on a stroll around the park, simply trying to get a breath of fresh air in his mundane life

he saw your beautiful form sitting on a bench busily drawing on your sketchpad, your eyes laser focus on the subject before you. it was love at first sight for ike.

at that moment, he wished nothing more than to have your eyes focus on him. drawing him. and him only.

all his life, he's been trained to create something about someone. but he longs for when someone creates something out of him for once.

so, ike chose you.

he knew how other people worked. other people wouldn't simply say yes to be his lover on the spot and well, suddenly change their life so it could revolve only around him

well, ike wished you would do that but since it was his lovely darling, he was willing to be extra patient for you

he approached you, keeping his beating heart at bay as he spoke to you for the first time, "hello there, can i sit next to you?"

you look up from your sketchpad, flashing only the prettiest smile ike has ever seen in his life. "yeah, i don't mind. go ahead."

you give him one more smile before redirecting your attention back to your work, pencil tip already back to creating shapes on the paper

ike steals a glance at what you're working on

and he knew he made the right choice to approach you

it was absolutely beautiful

every single stroke of your graphite was flawless. all your lines shape your subject according to the image in your mind.

an image ike wished was him.

although he meant to merely glance, he finds himself staring at you continue to draw. the more he did, the more he wished he could ask you to have him as your subject

but ike had to hold himself back

so when the right time comes, all his waiting would be worth it

"you're a very skilled artist," ike comments. you turn to him in surprise, red rushing to your cheeks and ears at his compliment.

that's it. blush only for me, sweetheart.

you grip your pencil nervously, laughing softly. "th-thank you, sir. i practice."

"i can see that," ike smiles, leaning towards you a bit to take a quick inhale of your scent. oh how sweet... he was bound to remember your unique smell. "how long have you drawn?"

"as long as i can remember. it's my favorite pastime," you answer, a glimmer of passion in your eyes.

lord, only 60 seconds in and you've captured his heart completely. ike begins to imagine all the nights you've stayed up for just to master your skills, all the different drawings you've done in the past

and his selfish wish to have all your future drawings once again, only of him

nothing and no one else but him

he followed you that day back home, and once he's written down your exact address, he returns himself and heads straight for his writing desk

he wanted to write so bad upon walking past the doorframe.

all because he couldn't get you out of his mind

you've become his muse after all, so the inspiration comes spilling out. so much so ike does not want to even waste a single drop of it

he could render his wrist useless for all he cares, but he desperately needed to write about you

about your gentle voice, about your beautiful eyes, about your skilled hand in drawing, about your mind-driving scent

ike was going to drill your very existence into the history of the earth himself

every single day, he made sure that he would "coincidentally" meet you out in public. this would make a good excuse for him to keep interacting with you without having to dig for your information without your knowledge

befriending you first was his strategy

once he makes sure that you are wrapped around his finger, it's only then he will make his move

but ike knew that this method was going to feel like being burnt alive. far too painfully slow.

he just wanted to have you all to himself. have you draw him everyday as he wrote about you everyday. he deserved this after everything he's done for you.

oh the way you greeted him hello, offered him something to drink when he came over, or when you were excitedly talking about an art project you were working on

do you have any idea how you're squeezing and twisting ike's heart?

so he finally takes his chance.

he takes your sleeping self to his house in the dead of night, tucking you in his bed like you truly belonged there. actually, who was he kidding? you did belong there. always have and always will.

look at you, so helpless and innocent.

ike smiles to himself, the blush on his cheeks appearing upon really settling that you finally belonged to him.

but that smile falters when he sees scars near your shoulders and thighs.

something dark envelops ike.

who did this? who would dare hurt his darling?

but according to how he's monitored you, it couldn't have been anyone. you didn't often go out to meet people (besides him of course) and you lived alone.

he figured he could just ask you in the morning

ike half expected you to panic and run for help when you cracked your eyelids open, starting to accuse him of kidnapping you.

but as he patiently sips his drink when you sit up, he is beyond caught by surprise.

"ike? am i in your bedroom?" you ask, half awake.

he chuckles at you, "yes, darling. you are."

you raise an eyebrow at him, "why?"

ike puts his book and cup aside, crawling over to your side. "because you belong here, my love. don't you know? you are mine."

he's expecting the scream of terror, or the paling up of your face.

but you only frown, disappointed?

"you don't by any chance brought my art tools with you, did you?" your lips curl at him, your voice so fragile like you were about to cry.

now ike is the one to raise his eyebrow in question, "no? is that what you need, darling? i could go get them for you as long as you stay here."

your eyes light up immediately then you hold his hand, nodding. "yes, please! it's in the furthest room in the apartment. the one i never show you before. just take the whole bag, okay?"

still heavily confused but not one to refuse your every request, ike nods and places a kiss on your forehead before standing up. "be a good boy/girl and stay, alright? i won't be long."

you giggle, waving.

back at your apartment, he goes to the specific room you were talking about. it was true he's never seen it before, since you never showed him and whenever he asked, you always brush him off.

what was in this anyway?

ike cracks the door open and he is astonished by the inside.

all four side of the rooms, even the floors and ceilings, even the furniture were drawn upon. whether that be the wooden chairs, the bare walls, papers or canvas.

what makes ike's heart skip a beat is the fact they're all drawings of him. all in different angles.

the accuracy... god, you were talented.

the next thing he noticed is the strong scent of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. why would you need...?

then ike realized just what you used as your drawing mediums.

hydrogen peroxide...the scars on your body...

tears prick the novelist's eyes, so glad to have met the most perfect person in the world.

how long have you been doing this? as long as he did perhaps? no matter, he'll pick up your... artwork later.

ike takes the bag you mentioned and goes back to his house, but he's worried the moment you are not in his room.

"darling?" he calls out, but you don't answer. ike begins to panic, checking every door for you when he finds you in one of his mysterious rooms.

yes, he did the same exact thing.

you stare at the room before you, the walls plastered with papers filled with poems and stories about you. written in the same medium you did with your paintings of ike.

your cheeks are burning red, a wide smile decorating your beautiful face as you turned to ike.

"did you like my work at home?" you giggle.

"did you like mine?" ike smirks, hooking you by the waist to bring you closer. "oh, my beautiful little artist."

you rest your head on his shoulder. "my beautiful writer."

such a matching pair indeed.

"move your head a bit to the side, love. yes, that's it," you clap your hands excitedly with one paint brush in hand. ike chuckles at your cute reaction, readying his quill and an inkwell filled with your blood.

he says, "can we start?"

you nod, dipping your tool into the jar of his blood mixed with rubbing alcohol. "let's create together, ike."

you two were going to engrave each other's existence into history, no matter if the world liked it or not.

art always has been an enigma in itself.

Shu Yamino 🔮✨

he was in a rush that day when he dropped his wallet after leaving a cafe. so much to do, so little time.

but he stops when he hears someone call his name as soon as he got onto the street. he turns around and sees you, the same cashier who served your order just before he left.

shu then sees you waving his wallet in the air, patting his pocket where it would've been.

it's this human kindness that makes his heart skip a beat for you.

you approach him, smiling while panting, given you've had to run after him. wallet in hand, you say, "you forgot this, sir!"

but he's too busy staring at you like you had grown ten more heads, receiving the wallet which you were handing back to him. "u-um, yeah... "

"be a bit careful next time, okay?" you giggle, dusting off your pants. "well, best you go on then! you were obviously rushing. i gotta go back to work too."

"ca-can i ask for your name?" shu nervously asks, pocketing his wallet. he had to. he had to get to know you. there was no way he was going to let you go, this kind hearted person.

"y/n," you smile. "and you?"

"i'm shu," he responds. "it was nice meeting you, y/n. i gotta go now though."

nodding, you wave at him as you jog back to your workplace again.

surely the cameras in your cafe were going to be easy to hack into.

he wasn't crazy. he was just... interested in you.

people nowadays are selfish. people only do things for their own things. sure they might do something for someone, but in the end, they'd ask for something in return. shu was both sick and used to this.

so when he received his wallet back from you, of course he'd be intrigued.

how could a human being be so kind...?

the next day, shu returns to your cafe in much better circumstances, hoping to see if it was your shift. luckily for him, it was. you busy yourself with cleaning tables around the cafe, humming to the current song playing

shu realizes then how absolutely beautiful you were. it was probably because he was in a nick of time yesterday that he couldn't notice much of your face

but with the slow pace of the day, he sees it now

of course, only the kindest people are beautiful. working so hard, smiling at all the customers who came through that door.

smiling at him when he walked through that door.

"oh hey, shu! i see you're back," you greet, placing the huge plastic box to rest against your hip. "here for another drink?"

shu smiles, nodding even though that was not his main purpose. "yeah, i needed a break from work."

"i'll be at the bar in a second, go wait up by the cashier!"

he savors all the precious seconds he gets to spend interacting with you, even if it was probably just small talk and discussions about his order.

besides, he'll be able to see more of you through his cameras later.

"will it be the same as yesterday?" you ask once you've put away your cleaning supplies.

shu raises an eyebrow, "you remembered my order?"

"o-oh! i'm sorry, you probably think i'm creepy. i just have a habit to remember people's orders. you left such an impression on me yesterday too," giggling nervously, you look away.

but this adds to your charm, shu thinks. look at you, hiding away because of something cute you did. remembering people's orders was a skill a barista could use, especially if the same customers will be coming back often

you truly were a different human being.

there was no way shu was going to let you out of his sight.

what if you met the wrong people? what if they take advantage of your kindness? shu just couldn't bare the thought of the world making you sad if those things ever happened

how else to prevent that from happening than to protect you himself?

he had sorcery in his veins, that sufficed to kill a hundred men at least.

after you made him his drink, shu goes to leave. but he doesn't go home. instead, he waits by the backstreet until your shift ended.

it was long into the day before he heard the door to the backstreet start to open. shu uses his sorcery to hide himself from view and out you appear, exhausted and ready to collapse from working for so long.

"god, i'm done," you sigh, tugging your bag to your side as you start your journey home.

this was it.

shu follows you back and once you've entered your home, he notes down your exact address and places a single camera. but with his sorcery, it makes it easy for him to place within your residence without much trouble and without being seen.

once he himself arrives home, he excitedly opens up his devices and connects with the camera he planted

this was how his obsession with you grew stronger.

there are no absent days where he's not opening his cameras to check on you. watch over you.

just look at how innocent and beautiful you look... so safe under shu's watch.

yes, this was a good idea after all. this way he knows you're safe.

but

there's something he's begun to notice, a few weeks after the first time he planted in that camera in your home.

from what he's noticed, the first few weeks were just you acting casual and well, being yourself.

but as time passes by, you begin to act... more poised. like you were acting for someone. was it shu or did you start wearing clothes that showed more of your skin?

one thing for sure though

shu could not hold it back anymore.

he couldn't resist just watching you. he needed to talk to you again. he needed to touch you. your skin, your hair, everything!

so, he makes his way over to your home, careful of his steps and any prying eyes. his heart is beating against his chest, extremely excited to even get to see you in person one more time

shu's hand hovers over the doorknob, commanding it to unlock. but after minutes of trying, he wonders why nothing has happened. not a sound of the lock was heard.

"is it...?" he wonders, grabbing the knob. then it swings open with ease. shu is baffled, "it was already open?"

you probably forgot to lock it, so he shrugs and enters your house.

he's watched you for a long time, he basically knows where everything is by now. where your bathroom is, where you keep your books, everything.

he wasn't your protector if he didn't know everything about you, right?

shu tiptoes to the bedroom and he finds you deep asleep in a position he never saw you in.

blankets covered all the way up above your elbows, but shu could definitely see you were... completely nude

"god, you're so beautiful," is the first thing he says, crawling to your side to study your beautiful face. it didn't matter if you were nude. in fact, it benefitted him.

his finger traces over your cheek, slowly down your neck and to your collarbone. all so smooth and like it's begging to him to be touched.

shu then pulls the covers off of you, a gift before him.

that night, he touched you. and by touch, more than tracing his fingers memorizing your every inch.

god, you felt too good. you were just so perfect.

when he finished and the hours slowly becoming dusk once more, shu sneaks out of bed and leaves without forgetting to give you one last kiss.

for that day of course. he was going to come back very soon.

because he knew he was never going to sober up from his drunk thoughts of your beautiful body and your innocence stolen away by him

actually, he wanted to see you today.

so, shu went to pick up a drink by your cafe.

ah, there you were. still as beautiful as the day he met you, seemingly unknowing he had so much fun with you last night.

your eyes meet his, and you flash him a smile like last time you saw him. "hi shu! it's been a while."

"yeah, it has," he laughs simply.

"the same?"

still remembered it huh?

shu nods, placing the amount of money to pay for his drink. he swore when you took the cash, you purposely brushed your fingertips against his.

he can't help but smile.

one day, he'll break in your house holding your hand while he does it with you squeezing him just as tight, crying out his name and wanting nothing else in this world but him.

one day.

"order for shu!" your sweet voice calls out to him. shu runs over to the pick up area and receives it, again your skin featherlight against his own. "enjoy your day, shu."

oh, he will.

he flashes you a smile as he went to take a sip, leaving the cafe to go back home.

when he sits down to get some work done, shu's head begins to ache terribly. was it because he was staring head on at his computer for too long? that and he stayed awake enjoying you?

"i should lie down," shu hisses, the pressure on his head getting worse. the moment he collapses on the bed, his eyelids are already closing

the last thing he saw being his bedroom door opened by a stranger

"shu, baby?"

"my love, come on, wake up."

"don't make me wait too long, shu, baby."

at the continuous pleads for him to exit the sleeping world, shu finally cracks his eyes open.

only to realize he's sitting in a chair, his hand bound behind the backrest and his legs tied to the chair legs.

the culprit?

"y-y/n?"

your eyes widen and a smile stretches itself across your face. your cheeks are bright red as you skitter over to shu.

"good, you're finally awake!"

so you were the one asking him to wake up from before... hold on, what happened again? oh... the drink.

shu couldn't help but laugh, lying back onto the chair as if he wasn't being tied tight against it. "sometimes i wonder if you became a barista only to find the opportunity to drug their drinks."

you giggle, proceeding to sit on his lap. "only for the cute ones."

"actually," he never told you his address though... and he's been watching you for a long time. how did you...? "how did you know where i lived?"

"oh, i thought you would be smarter," a grin paints onto your beautiful face. you trace his jawline, breath becoming one with his. "i had my eye on you the moment you dropped that wallet, my love. having a little peek inside wasn't that hard. also, shu, baby."

you take something from behind him and in the faint light, scissors shine as you show it to him.

you lick your lips, enticing his feral needs for you, "don't think you could get away with what you did last night."

shu's mouth is wide open, but his cheeks are bright pink. this didn't scare him. fuck no.

it made him even more excited.

you drag the blade from under his shirt, teasing his delicate skin with the sharp metal. then you start snipping his top apart, leaving only his bare chest for you to revel in.

"let me have a go, alright?" you giggle, throwing the scissors aside.

shu grinned, laughing himself as he pressed his forehead against yours. "you can have at me as much as you want, baby."

Masterlist!

756 notes · View notes

twistedheartsclub · 3 months ago

Text

DARK Yandere Therapist X Female Reader

⚠️ Read with caution: This story contains extremely dark and triggering content. Themes include: • Grooming and psychological manipulation • Non-consensual and dubiously consensual encounters • Power imbalance and emotional coercion • Stalking, isolation, obsession • Mental health exploitation • Recording without consent • Claustrophobic control masked as love Dr. Vale is not a hero. This is not a love story. This is about a girl grieving, vulnerable, and trapped in a web spun by a man who knows exactly how to twist therapy into devotion. 💔 Reader discretion is not just suggested—it’s necessary. You’ve been warned.

SESSION ONE

“You can call me Dr. Vale.”

Y/N sat quietly, her knees tucked together, palms clenched in her lap. The office was warm, almost too warm, and smelled like sandalwood and leather. No clock on the wall. No ticking. Just stillness.

And him.

Dr. Vale.

He was seated across from her, one leg crossed over the other, a notebook balanced on his knee—but he hadn’t written a single thing down. He just… watched.

“Do you want the window open?” he asked gently.

“You seem a little flushed.”

His voice was smooth. Deep. The kind that could lull someone into sleep or confession, depending on how he shaped the vowels.

Y/N shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to be,” he said. “Not in here.”

Her breath caught.

That line… it shouldn’t have hit her like it did. But there was something in the way he said it. Like a promise.

“This space is for you,” he continued. “You don’t need to filter your grief. Or your fear. Or anything else.”

She tried to hold eye contact, but failed. He was too much.

His eyes weren’t just brown—they were heavy. Sharp. Like they could tear into you and wrap around something you didn’t even know you were hiding.

He smiled, slow and understanding.

“Why don’t you tell me what brings you here?”

Her lips parted. Closed. Then—

“My parents,” she whispered. “They… they died. Car crash. Two months ago.”

Silence.

He leaned in slightly, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his voice lower now.

“And what happened after?”

Her throat tightened. “My aunt took me in. I’m staying in the guest room. She said I needed help.” A pause. “I don’t think she wanted me.”

“But you came anyway.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

A small hum left him, something like pity, something like approval. He uncrossed his legs and stood slowly. Walked over to the table in the corner and poured tea into a porcelain cup. The faintest curl of steam rose in the air.

“I think you do,” he murmured. “Even if you don’t see it yet.”

He handed her the cup, and when her fingers brushed his—he didn’t let go right away.

“Drink. It’ll help you relax.”

She took a sip.

Warm. Slightly sweet.

She didn’t know why her fingers trembled.

Dr. Vale resumed his seat, now leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“I want you to know something, Y/N. Nothing you say here will leave this room. Everything is confidential… unless I believe you're going to hurt yourself. Or someone else.”

She nodded.

“Are you?”

The question cut through her like a razor. She blinked.

“No.”

“Good girl,” he said softly.

Her breath caught again.

It was too intimate. Too soft. But the praise… it warmed her in a place she hadn’t felt in weeks.

She hated herself for liking it.

“I’m going to record our sessions,” he said after a moment. “With your consent, of course. It helps me review emotional shifts. Voice tone. Patterns. The camera is there—” he gestured to the corner, where a small black lens blinked red. “It won’t be shared with anyone. Just me.”

Y/N hesitated. “You’ll watch it?”

“Only if I need to,” he said gently. “To help you. To understand you better.”

She nodded slowly.

“You trust me?” he asked.

“…I think so.”

He smiled. Not wide. But deep.

“That’s a start.”

She cried, softly, later in the session—talking about her mom’s perfume. The way it lingered on her old sweaters. The way she buried her face in them at night when no one was watching.

He didn’t speak. Just listened. And when she finally stopped, breath hitching, he handed her a tissue and leaned in just a little too close.

“I see you,” he whispered.

Her stomach flipped.

She didn’t know why.

But the way he said it—it felt like he meant it in more ways than one.

His POV (Later That Night)

Dr. Vale sat in his study, lights low, glass of wine untouched beside him.

He pressed play.

The session flickered to life on the screen. Y/N, small and tense, seated in the chair across from him. Lips trembling. Fingers twitching.

He watched the moment her voice broke.

Paused. Rewound.

Watched it again.

“I see you,” he repeated softly to the screen.

“And I’m going to make sure no one else ever does.”

SESSION TWO

"Tell me something happy."

Y/N sat curled up in the leather chair again, wearing an oversized sweater and leggings, sleeves tugged over her hands. Her hair was soft, a little messy. Her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t really… have a lot of happy things lately.”

Dr. Vale gave her a kind smile. Patient. Inviting. He always did that—made the silence feel like warmth, not pressure.

“That’s okay,” he said softly. “But I’d like to know who you were before the grief. Not just what happened to you.”

Her lips pressed together. Her nails picked at a thread on her sleeve.

“You want to hear about before?”

“If you’re comfortable. A memory, maybe. Something that still glows a little when you think about it.”

She closed her eyes. Breathed.

“There was this tree,” she murmured. “In our backyard. It was huge, like, I couldn’t wrap my arms around it. In the spring it smelled like honey. I used to read under it after school. I’d stay out there until it got dark.”

He tilted his head, his tone laced with false nostalgia. “That’s beautiful. It sounds like it felt safe.”

She nodded, voice small. “Yeah. Like the world couldn’t reach me there.”

“And now?” he asked gently.

Her throat worked. “Now it feels like the world is always reaching. Grabbing.”

He didn’t respond at first. Just wrote something down—a soft scratch of ink that made her feel exposed. Labeled.

“Tell me something else,” he coaxed. “A moment that made you feel… light. Maybe even a little brave.”

She hesitated. Her cheeks flushed pink. “I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

His smile deepened. “Y/N, there is no such thing in here. This space is yours.”

Her fingers gripped the sleeve hem tighter. But she spoke.

“I… I kissed a boy once. It was silly. I was seventeen. He said he liked my laugh. And it just kind of… happened.”

Dr. Vale leaned back slightly, just enough to look relaxed—just enough to hide the tension coiling in his thighs.

“That’s not silly at all,” he said, voice like silk. “Was it nice?”

Her eyes dropped. “Yeah. My heart was pounding. But in a good way.”

“And did that boy ever hurt you?”

She shook her head.

“Good. Not all firsts should hurt.”

The pause hung like smoke in the air.

“You gave him your first kiss?” he asked quietly.

She hesitated. “And… other things.”

He smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes.

“That’s important, you know. Who you give yourself to. Who you let inside.”

Y/N blinked. “I thought this was about… grief.”

“Everything is,” he murmured. “How we cope. What we cling to. The people we remember when we’re lonely.”

He tapped his pen once against the paper.

“I’m going to suggest something… a little odd, maybe. But trust me.”

She nodded.

“I want you to wear something bright next time. A dress, maybe. One that makes you feel soft. Whole. Reconnected to the girl beneath the loss.”

Y/N blinked. “A dress?”

“It’s about identity. Dresses help remind us we’re real. That we deserve to be seen, cherished. That you’re still… her.”

The suggestion sounded sweet. Gentle. Like a dad encouraging his daughter to smile again after a long day.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Good girl.”

The words slipped out low, too soft to catch. But she heard them.

She flushed, but didn’t question it.

Later That Night – Dr. Vale’s POV

He watched the tape.

Again.

Paused on the moment she said, “I gave him my first kiss.”

He rewound it. Watched the way her lashes dropped, how her voice trembled. How easily she confessed. Like she wanted to be good.

“Bright colors,” he whispered, sipping wine. “A dress. Something she’ll remember him by when she realizes he never really loved her.”

His gaze dropped to the screen.

“She’s not ready to love again. But she will be. And I’ll be the only one left when she is.”

He clicked save on the footage and labeled it:

SESSION TWO – emotional softness + sexual memory

Progressing beautifully.

SESSION THREE

“You look beautiful today.”

Y/N entered quietly, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of the soft yellow dress she’d picked out. It clung to her waist gently, a little too short for comfort. The moment she sat down, she felt his eyes linger.

Dr. Vale’s gaze was warm. Too warm.

“You followed my suggestion.”

She flushed. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

He smiled, slow and indulgent.

“You haven’t. You look beautiful today, Y/N.”

Her cheeks burned. She didn’t respond.

“How did it feel? Putting it on.”

“I felt… weird. But kind of… nice? I don’t know.”

He nodded, writing it down. “That’s good. You’re reconnecting to the girl who existed before the pain. The one who liked soft fabrics and sunlight.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice dipping low.

“I’m proud of you.”

Y/N bit her lip.

No one had said that to her in months.

“Now,” he continued, “I want to go back to what we started last time. You told me about your first kiss. The first boy you gave yourself to.”

She nodded slowly.

“I’d like you to tell me what that was like. If you’re comfortable.”

She hesitated—but his tone was so soft. So gentle. So full of something she craved.

“It was late,” she whispered. “We were in the backseat of his car. I was shaking, but he kissed my neck and told me I was perfect.”

She looked down, eyes glassy. “I thought I loved him.”

“And did you?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

He stood slowly, walking over to his shelf where the tissues were. But instead of handing her one, he knelt beside her chair, placing the box at her feet. His hand lingered on her knee for just a moment too long as he balanced himself.

She froze.

He smiled up at her. “You don’t have to hold anything in here.”

She nodded. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for being soft.”

He stood again, slowly, brushing invisible lint from his trousers.

“When you think about him now, does it hurt?”

She nodded.

“Then he didn’t deserve you.”

Her breath caught. She blinked at him, eyes wide.

“And that kind of wound,” he murmured, “leaves cracks that the wrong kind of people will crawl into.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Am I the wrong kind of person?”

He chuckled quietly. “No. But you attract them.”

He walked back to his chair, his eyes locked with hers.

“That’s why I’m here. To protect you from those kinds of men.”

“You’re different,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

He tilted his head.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you… you make me feel like I matter.”

Silence.

Then:

“You do matter, Y/N.” His voice dropped an octave. “To me.”

Later That Night – Dr. Vale’s POV

He paused the recording.

Zoomed in on the frame: her hands in her lap, the way she twisted the hem of that dress, the innocent curve of her thighs.

“You wore it for me,” he whispered.

He clicked open a private file. Labeled it “SESSION THREE – body response, physical vulnerability, emotional dependency.”

And beneath that, he typed one sentence:

She’s almost ready to need

SESSION FOUR

“This one suits you.”

Y/N arrived on time, like always. The moment she stepped into his office, she hesitated—her hands bunching nervously at the hem of the soft, lilac-colored dress he’d left on her porch in a carefully wrapped box. No note. Just a folded slip that read:

“Wear this next time. I want to see you in something that makes you feel seen.”

He stood when she entered.

Smiling like she was the most delicate thing in the world.

“This one suits you.”

Her cheeks flushed. She nodded, too unsure to ask whether it was normal for a therapist to give his patient clothes.

But then again… he was always so kind. So gentle. So certain.

“I—I wasn’t sure if it was okay,” she murmured, fiddling with the hem.

“You wore it,” he said simply. “That tells me you trust me.”

She sat down. The skirt floated like fog around her thighs.

“Tell me how it felt,” he said, voice low. “Opening the box. Seeing the color. Putting it on.”

Y/N hesitated. “I felt… pretty. Nervous. I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he whispered. “Pretty things should make you feel nervous sometimes.”

Later in the session…

She spoke about the dreams.

The empty house. The feeling of being followed. Her mother’s voice echoing in rooms that didn’t exist.

She was shaking. Tears welled in her eyes. Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts.

“Y/N,” Dr. Vale said softly. “Can I try something?”

She looked up, blinking through the haze. “What?”

“Something physical. Not inappropriate,” he added quickly, soothing. “It’s called somatic grounding. Trauma is stored in the body. If we help the body feel safe, the mind can catch up.”

She didn’t understand. But she nodded.

He stood and walked over. Sat beside her on the edge of the chaise. So close her knee brushed his.

“I’m going to touch your wrist,” he said. “Like this.”

His hand closed gently around her arm, warm and firm.

“Feel my skin. The pressure. That’s real. That’s now. You’re not lost. You’re not alone.”

Her lip trembled.

“Now breathe with me. In… and out.”

She did. Her breath caught.

His hand slid up to her elbow, thumb brushing slow, hypnotic circles.

“You’re safe here,” he whispered. “You’re so safe with me.”

She cried.

And he pulled her to his chest.

Let her sob there. Let her body melt into his. Let her shake, and whimper, and whisper thank you.

And when her breath finally slowed, he didn’t pull away.

His palm slid up her spine.

Slow. Gentle. Possessive.

“You don’t have to be strong here,” he murmured. “I’ll be strong for both of us.”

She nodded, eyes shut, unaware of how deeply she was being bound.

Dr. Vale’s POV — Later That Night

He rewatched the footage.

Paused it on her face—tear-streaked, eyes dazed, folded against his chest like she belonged there.

He leaned back, smirking, one hand lazily trailing down his thigh.

“Good girl.”

He opened a locked drawer.

Inside: more dresses.

Softer ones. Thinner ones.

Ones that would press against her skin in just the right way when she sat across from him.

“Next week,” he whispered, pulling out a pale blue one, delicate lace lining the collar.

“Let’s see how much more you’ll give me.”

SESSION FIVE

“Brush your hair for me.”

Y/N sat across from him in a delicate pale-blue dress, the one he’d chosen and mailed this time. The note had been short:

“You looked like a painting last session. Let’s go softer this time.”

And like always, she obeyed.

But today… she was different.

Her fingers tugged at the sleeves. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Something’s wrong,” Dr. Vale said gently.

She looked up, startled. “No, I’m okay—”

“You’re not. You’ve been trained to say that. But I know you, Y/N. I see you.”

Her bottom lip quivered.

“My aunt asked where I’m getting all these dresses…”

He didn’t speak right away. Just offered her a warm, patient smile, then rose from his chair. He walked to the window, hands folded behind his back.

“And what did you tell her?”

“I said they were mine. That I ordered them. But she… she looked at me like she didn’t believe me.”

“Did it make you feel ashamed?” he asked, still not looking at her.

She hesitated. “A little.”

“Y/N.” He turned. Slowly. “Let me be very clear. There is nothing wrong with looking beautiful. There is nothing wrong with being seen.”

“I’ve given you tools for healing. If she can’t understand that…” he softened his voice, “then maybe she doesn’t understand you anymore.”

She looked away.

“She’s just worried.”

He walked toward her, crouched beside her chair again—his signature move, always close, never threatening. At least not obviously.

“Or she’s jealous.”

Her breath caught. “Jealous?”

“You’re blooming, sweetheart. People don’t always like it when someone breaks free of their sadness. Especially if they’ve kept you small.”

He reached into the side table and pulled out something wrapped in silk.

“I have something else for you.”

She unwrapped it slowly.

A silver-handled hairbrush.

Old-fashioned. Elegant. Heavy.

“Tonight, after your bath, I want you to brush your hair exactly 100 times. Look in the mirror while you do it. Say something kind to yourself with each stroke.”

She flushed. “That’s… really intimate.”

“Healing always is.”

Then, softly:

“Or… if you prefer… I can show you. Right now.”

She hesitated.

Her hands trembled. But she turned. Let him stand behind her. Let him gently sweep her hair over one shoulder.

The brush moved through her strands like a whisper.

“So soft,” he murmured. “Do you feel how lovely you are?”

She didn’t answer.

“You’re learning,” he whispered against her ear. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

That Night – Aunt’s POV

She was folding laundry when she found the tag.

Not a brand. A label.

Handwritten, barely visible on the silk collar of the blue dress.

Property of Vale.

She froze.

-----

“I want to talk,” she said, standing in his office doorway.

He looked up from his notes, utterly unbothered. “Of course.”

“Y/N’s dresses. Her behavior. The things she says when she comes home—it’s not normal.”

He stood, slowly. Calm. Towering.

“Trauma recovery rarely is.”

“You’re too close to her.”

He smiled.

“And yet, she tells me things she can’t tell you. Doesn’t that speak volumes?”

The aunt bristled. “She’s vulnerable.”

“And she’s safe. With me.”

He stepped forward just enough to make her still.

“Let me be clear. If you question my methods again, I will report you for interfering with a patient’s treatment. You’ll be barred from seeing her files. Possibly even from visiting her during emotional peaks.”

A beat. Then, coldly:

“You’ll lose her.”

Silence.

The aunt backed out, eyes wide.

Dr. Vale’s POV – Later That Night

He watched Y/N on the screen again.

The soft blue dress. The way she let him brush her hair.

Paused on her face.

“She’ll never know how close she is to breaking.”

He ran his thumb across the image.

“She’ll beg for me soon.”

SESSION SIX

“You're not ready to walk away.”

The office was colder than usual.

Or maybe it was just her.

Y/N sat curled in the corner of the couch, arms wrapped around herself. The dress he picked this week was soft pink, barely touching her knees. He said it would bring out the “sweetness” in her, help her reconnect with her femininity.

She hated how she liked how it felt.

“You’re quiet today,” Dr. Vale murmured, watching her from behind his steepled fingers. “Is that because of the dream? Or because of the touch?”

She looked up, startled.

“You flinched last session,” he said smoothly. “When I touched your neck. But you didn’t stop me.”

Her throat bobbed. “I didn’t know if I was allowed to.”

He stood.

Not angry. Not smiling.

“You are always allowed to speak, Y/N.”

But his tone didn’t sound like freedom.

It sounded like a warning.

He crossed the room, slow and deliberate, and knelt beside her once again—his signature move. Her body tensed.

“Look at me.”

She didn’t.

So he took her chin between his fingers and made her.

“You’re afraid. That’s good. Fear means you're facing something real. Truth. Truth always hurts before it heals.”

“I… I don’t want to do this today,” she whispered.

His grip didn’t loosen. “No. But you need to.”

“Please…”

His eyes didn’t move from hers.

“Do you trust me?”

She blinked, lip trembling. “I—I don’t know anymore.”

He smiled.

“Then I’ll remind you.”

The Moment Shifts

He moved closer. His hands slid—first over her arms, then slowly down her back. Not rushed. Not kind.

She tensed.

“Say stop.”

“I—stop.”

He didn’t.

“Say it louder.”

“Stop, Dr. Vale.”

He paused—only for a moment. Just long enough to look her in the eye.

“You say that,” he whispered, voice like velvet laced with poison, “but you never move away.”

She was shaking now. Not from pleasure. From fear.

And he… he looked calm. Controlled. A predator with nowhere to run.

“You’re learning what it feels like to be seen. To be touched by someone who understands. And that scares you.”

She started to cry—silent, helpless tears.

He touched her cheek.

“Let it scare you.”

Dr. Vale’s Office – Later That Night

He sat in front of the playback.

Watched her tremble. Watched her beg. Watched himself never flinch.

He zoomed in on her eyes. The tears. The helpless confusion.

His favorite kind of broken.

“Almost ready,” he murmured, sipping his wine. “One more session.”

Then he opened a folder labeled Consent Reframed.

Inside: instructions, scripts, tricks for making obedience look like choice.

He wrote a single line under her name:

She wants to be saved. I'll give her no one to turn to but me.

SESSION SEVEN

“You’re safe now. You can stay.”

The session ended quietly.

No tears this time—just silence. Y/N stood at the door, one hand clutched around her small purse. The pale pink dress hung too delicately on her frame, like it might slip right off her shoulders if she moved too fast.

“You don’t have to go back there tonight,” Dr. Vale said softly.

She turned, confused. “What?”

“To your aunt’s.”

He stood behind his desk, jacket unbuttoned, shirt collar loose, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms. The picture of practiced vulnerability.

“I know what she said last time. About me. About you. She doesn’t understand, Y/N.”

Her lips parted. “She’s just trying to protect me.”

“From what? Safety? Understanding?” He stepped around the desk, voice still soft but edged with something firmer. “She wants you to stay broken. That’s what makes her feel needed.”

Y/N’s gaze fell to the floor.

“You’re not ready to go back there. Not yet. And I don’t want you alone.”

He motioned to the hallway behind him.

“There’s a guest room upstairs. Clean sheets. A locked door, if that helps you feel safe.”

She blinked. “I can’t stay here.”

“Why?”

Silence.

“You’re scared,” he said gently. “But not of me. You’re scared because part of you wants to say yes.”

Her breath caught.

“Stay tonight. One night. No expectations. Just safety.”

Later That Night

The guest room was warm. Dimly lit. A candle flickered on the nightstand, casting soft shadows across the ivory sheets. She sat on the edge of the bed in one of the nightgowns he’d provided—silk, loose, uncomfortably familiar.

He knocked.

“Just checking on you.”

She pulled the blanket tighter around her.

“I’m okay.”

“You always say that,” he said gently. “You don’t have to anymore.”

He walked in slowly, sat at the edge of the bed—like always, like he belonged there.

“Do you feel safe?” he asked.

A pause.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then stay,” he said. “As long as you want.”

Dr. Vale’s POV – Midnight Recording

He stood outside the guest room door. Watching the live feed. Her curled frame. The slow rise and fall of her chest.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “You're finally home.”

He didn’t need her to love him yet.

He just needed her to stay.

Midnight – The Guest Room Door Is Unlocked

She woke in silence.

The room was too still. No hum of city sounds. No wind outside. Just the gentle flicker of the nightlight he’d left on for her.

Y/N sat up slowly. Her silk nightgown slipped down her shoulder as she glanced toward the door.

It was open.

Not wide. Just cracked.

Her breath caught.

She hadn’t left it like that.

Barefoot, she stepped out into the hallway. The house was shadowed and strange in the dark—quiet enough to feel haunted. The creak of the floorboards under her feet was loud against the hush.

She should have turned back.

But she didn’t.

The door was open just a little. Like an invitation. Like bait.

She stepped in.

His office looked the same as it did during the day… but colder. A little too neat. Too curated.

She saw her file. It was open on his desk. Pages and pages of notes in his tight, clean handwriting.

Her name. Circled. Underlined.

Phrases leapt out at her like knives:

Highly impressionable.

Favors male authority figures.

Still refers to herself as “Daddy’s little girl.”

Mild dissociative responses noted when praised.

Then she saw something else.

A small monitor. A live feed.

From the guest room.

Her heart dropped. Her hand went cold against her chest.

“Why…?” she whispered.

She stepped back.

And bumped into him.

– Dr. Vale’s POV

He had waited.

Of course he had. She was predictable. Curious. Fractured.

And now she stood in front of him, small and shaking, like a deer caught between headlights and the gun barrel.

“What are you doing, little one?”

She turned, lips parted, tears already gathering.

“You… you recorded me? Why? Why would you—”

He didn’t let her finish.

He scooped her up—effortless, one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back—and carried her like something precious and breakable.

She struggled, soft and weak, fists pressing against his chest.

“No! Let me down—”

“Shhh,” he said, tone firmer now, edged with something colder. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“I trusted you—!”

“And look what happens when I trust you, Y/N. You go sneaking into private things. Touching what’s not yours. Thinking without permission.”

She whimpered as he pushed open the door to his bedroom.

It smelled like him. Dark woods. Bergamot. Power.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.

“You never do,” he said, setting her down on the bed, his fingers tightening on her wrist just enough to make her gasp. “You just want to be protected. To feel safe. And I give you that.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against her temple.

“But then you go and ruin it, because you still think you're in control of your own mind.”

“I—I’m not—I didn’t know—”

“Exactly.”

She started to cry.

Not loud, just silent tears that streaked her cheeks as she tried to form words that wouldn’t come.

“I want to go home…”

He knelt beside the bed, cupping her face with both hands.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “You are home.”

“I’m scared…”

He kissed her forehead, his breath hot, slow, and possessive.

“Good. That means it’s working.”

She closed her eyes.

And that’s when he gave the final twist.

“From now on… you’ll sleep in here.”

Y/N woke slowly.

The sheets were unfamiliar—cool, crisp, too clean. The pillow smelled like him. The scent of cedar, spice, and something darker that clung to her skin.

She sat up, dazed, the silk nightgown clinging to her legs. The door was shut. Locked. She wasn’t sure when he’d done that.

The memory of last night came in fragments:

The office.

The monitor.

His voice in her ear: “You’ll sleep here now.”

She wanted to cry.

But the tears wouldn’t come.

The door clicked.

She flinched.

Dr. Vale stepped inside with a tray of breakfast—warm croissants, honey-drizzled fruit, tea already stirred.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, like nothing was wrong. Like she wasn’t broken open on the inside.

She said nothing.

He set the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Did you sleep well?”

She shook her head.

“That’s okay,” he whispered. “Your body’s adjusting. Your mind too.”

“I want to go back to the guest room,” she mumbled.

He sighed, deep and patient.

“No, you don’t.”

“I—”

“Y/N.”

His voice dropped. Heavy. Final.

“You snooped. You disobeyed. And now you’re here. This is your consequence—but it’s also a gift. I’m giving you closeness. Something most people have to earn.”

Her hands clenched the sheets.

“You said I was safe.”

He leaned in, his nose brushing hers.

“You are. You’re safest when you don’t make me correct you.”

The words hung there.

Cold. Sharp.

“Now eat,” he said, straightening. “We have a long day. You’re going to journal everything you feel. Every fear. Every doubt. And then you’ll bring it to me.”

“Why?”

He smiled.

“So I can teach you what’s real… and what isn’t.”

Three Weeks Later –

Time passed strangely in his home.

Days bled together. No clocks. No phone. No one but him.

He gave her structure—when to eat, when to sleep, when to journal. She wasn’t allowed outside. Her aunt never came again.

And each night, he tucked her into his bed.

“You’re doing so well,” he’d whisper against her hair. “But I know there’s still a little voice in your head that says no.”

That voice was getting quieter.

Not because it stopped existing—but because he made her afraid to listen to it.

He kept telling her the same things, over and over:

“You weren’t safe before.” “Your aunt gave you away.” “This is love. You just don’t recognize it yet.”

He’d stroke her cheek. Reward her with his touch when she obeyed. Deny her food or silence her with cold distance when she didn’t.

“You want to be a good girl, don’t you?” he’d ask.

She would nod, always, even if it meant crying later.

She had been doing better—eating when he told her to, wearing the clothes he left out, reading aloud from the books he chose.

But that night, she pulled away from his hand when he reached for her.

Just a little.

Just once.

His smile didn’t falter.

But his patience did.

He stood slowly. Shut the bedroom door with a soft click.

“You’re still not listening,” he said quietly. “I’m so patient with you, Y/N. I’ve given you everything. And still you make me force the truth into you.”

Her breath hitched. “Please… I—I’ll be better—”

“No,” he murmured. “You will be better. After tonight.”

“Stop pretending you don’t like being taken care of. Stop pretending you want to leave.”.

“Tonight, you’ll learn what it means to belong to me.”

One Night – His Control Cracks

The air in the room felt thick, heavy with something unsaid.

He stood in the doorway, silent. Watching her. Not moving.

Y/N shifted on the bed, clutching the blanket closer to her chest. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her voice small.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he closed the door slowly behind him. The click echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Then… the sound of leather sliding through loops.

Her eyes dropped to his hands.

His belt.

He held it loosely, letting it dangle at his side. No words. Just silence. Suffocating silence.

“Get up,” he finally said. His voice was low. Controlled. But his eyes—his eyes were wild.

She didn’t move.

He crossed the room in two strides, grabbing her wrist and yanking her to her feet. The blanket fell to the floor, forgotten. She stood trembling in nothing but a thin nightgown.

“Please…” she whimpered.

He tilted his head slightly. “Please what?”

“I—I don’t know what I did…”

The belt dropped to the floor. His hands replaced it—calloused palms sliding slowly over her arms, down her waist, cupping her hips. She flinched at his touch, but he only smiled.

“You breathe wrong sometimes,” he whispered, brushing her hair from her face like he was comforting her. “And it makes me crazy.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he said.

His hands roamed lower, possessive and firm, fingers trailing over her thighs, pressing her back until she was against the wall. Her breath hitched as his touch turned from soft to something darker—pressing, kneading, claiming.

“Say you’re mine,” he growled against her ear.

“I’m yours,” she choked out.

He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. “Say it like you mean it.”

Her lips trembled. “I’m yours.”

The belt was still on the floor. But it didn’t need to be used—not yet. The fear in her eyes was enough for now. His control had cracked—but the twisted love, the obsession—it still held the reins.

Barely.

Her back hit the cold wall with a soft thud, the thin fabric of her nightgown doing nothing to protect her from the chill—or from him.

He peeled it up slowly, inch by inch, until it bunched around her waist. His eyes never left hers, drinking in the fear, the helplessness, the obedience.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to the curve of her breast. He kissed it gently—too gently—before dragging his tongue across her soft skin, then biting down just enough to make her cry out.

She bit her lip to silence herself, but the tears came anyway. Silent, hot tears slipping down her cheeks as he knelt and lifted her leg over his shoulder, opening her up without a word of comfort.

He didn’t ask. He never asked.

When he thrust into her, it was deep and immediate. The kind of intrusion that knocked the breath from her lungs. Her hands clutched the wall, nails scraping for something—anything—to hold onto.

He groaned low in his throat, moving faster, rougher, his breath ragged against her chest. She sobbed quietly, face tilted up, lips parted in shock and pain and shame. But she didn’t resist. She couldn’t.

“You’re so warm,” he growled, biting down on her collarbone, licking over the sting. “So perfect for me.”

Each thrust was brutal, claiming, and he moaned louder as her legs trembled around him.

Then he gasped against her skin.

His body tensed, and she felt the hot flood of him inside—pulsing, spilling deep as he held her hips so tightly she’d bruise. She cried harder, the tears falling faster, even as he licked across her breasts, kissing them like they were something sacred.

He stayed inside her, still throbbing, face pressed against her chest as if he could disappear into her.

When he finally looked up, his expression was soft—eerily calm.

“All you have to do…” he whispered, brushing her tears with his thumb, “…is let me take control.”

He kissed her mouth, slow and possessive.

“I know what’s best.”

She woke hours later, still curled beneath the heavy blankets, her body aching and her throat sore.

He sat in the chair beside the bed, watching her.

“You did so well,” he said, his voice warm, his fingers stroking her hair. “You’re almost perfect.”

Tears slipped silently from her eyes.

And still—

She didn’t try to run.

Not anymore.

#yandere #dark fantasy #fantasy #tw noncon #x reader #sfw noncom #dark romance #power dynamics #age g4p #thearpy #dark style #dark au #twistedheartsclub

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moomoosomniatales · 2 years ago

Text

Secret Lovers

A little imagine

Ryujin x female reader

Summary: You fall in love with her and she falls for you but your relationship must stay a secret at all times. For the sake of both of you.

Word Count: 3055 words

⚠️ might contain smutt ⚠️

You've been the backup dancer of Itzy ever since their debut. You were about 170cm tall, about as tall as the tallest member of the band, Yuna. But it wasn't until about a year ago that you started developing feelings for one of the shorter members. She was just about 164cm but she was pretty fierce yet so sweet. She had constantly been flirting with you ever since you two met, at first you wouldn't take it seriously, you had been warned about Ryujin's flirty personality and the rumors of her being a player were entirely known not only by fans but within the industry as well. Working with her came with a caution warning whether you were another female idol or a stylist. You'd be warned.

There you were, at the dance practice doing the choreography you had previously been taught, as your body moved to the song, your eyes followed Ryujin without you even realizing but it did not go unnoticed by the petite female who discreetly winked your way with a sly smirk lingering on her lips for no longer than a few brief seconds. As the practice came to an end, you reached for your towel and water bottle. Wiping the sweat off your forehead and arms, you established your breathing before opening your water bottle and taking a big sip of the refreshing water. You hadn't realized everyone had already left, not until you felt a pair of hands being placed at your hips startling you.

❝Shhh. It's just me... Jagi.❞ a soft, seductive voice whispered in your ear trailing off at the end with a smirk you couldn't quite see. Her warm breath brushed against the skin of your neck, you tried to turn around but the pair of hands held you in place, ❝Tsk, tsk, tsk. Trying to run away already? Did you think I wouldn't catch you staring at me?❞

Oh shit... you thought to yourself, you didn't know how to react but you quickly responded, ❝If you caught me then you were staring too, miss Shin.❞ although your words seemed unbothered and merely flirty, your rosed cheeks suggested otherwise.

Instead of getting shy and backing away, she had a completely different reaction to your words and a bigger smirk grew across her face, ❝Oh, I was. You know... I've had my eyes on you for a while now.❞ her hands spin you around to face her, her eyes quickly met your gaze as she now pinned you against the wall.

❝Unnie...❞ you trailed off, it all happened so fast you were caught off guard.

❝Don't call me that.❞ it came out as a growl and you frowned in confusion. You were nearly a year younger than the beautiful lady pinning you to the wall.

❝S-Sorry...❞ you stuttered out, gulping as you felt her body press against yours, her head raised just enough to look at you.

❝Couldn't you have been shorter?❞ she teased in a low voice, her lips attaching to your visible collarbone giving it wet and warm butterfly kisses all the way up your neck to your jawline stopping herself with a kiss on the corner of your lips. Your eyes had closed as you now nibbled at your lower lip. She knew she drove you crazy and she knew exactly how to use it to her advantage. You longed to feel those plump lips of hers pressing against yours but she had other plans and started walking away. As she was about to reach the door, she looked over her shoulder with a devilish smirk on her lips, ❝Wouldn't want to get caught, right?❞

You stood there dumbfounded, your body against the wall just as she left you while your gaze was staring blankly at the door. You knew she could be quite bold with her flirting, she had been, but you never imagined it to go this far. Was she this way with everyone else she flirted? You were left wondering, making question after question in your mind as you quickly gathered your things and left in a hurry, hoping you wouldn't run into her again but just as you were walking down the last corridor, you got yanked into what seemed like a storage room and before you could react you felt a pair of lips attack yours as the door was kicked shut and you were pinned against it. Your eyes opened wide and that's when you realized who it was, your body melted under the touch of her hands releasing yours and pulling your body to hers by the hips.

❝I want you, yn.❞ she whispered next to your ear now that she broke the kiss. You were left frozen in place, the feeling of her lips just now pressed against yours, they were soft, tender yet left you hungry for more. You wanted more. You wanted her. And she wanted you. But you wanted her to be yours and she wanted a taste of you.

❝Ryujin...❞ you weakly trailed off, your body shivering to the feeling of her hand reaching your inner thigh, squeezing it.

❝I've wanted you for a long time...❞ she continued, making your body weaker. You could feel the growing feeling between your legs that wanted her too. But you couldn't. It would only hurt you. ❝Why can't you be mine..? Why won't you let me take you..?❞ her words left you speechless, at the same time, frozen. You didn't know how to take those words, afraid you'd be taking it out of context. She couldn't possibly mean it the same way you wanted her. Could she?

❝Ryujin...❞ you trailed off again, hoping she'd back away. You had been hurt before, you didn't want to go through that pain again.

❝Yes.., jagi?❞ she whispered against your ear.

❝I can't...❞ her face dropped, the smirk was gone and now it looked emotionless. You dared to try and look into her eyes but she looked away.

❝Why..? Why can't you be mine..?❞ she mumbled, her back now facing you. ❝I won't touch you if you don't want to... I just wished you were mine...❞ she was talking to herself as if she had forgotten of your presence there.

❝I don't- I can't get hurt again...❞ you mumbled as a response to her questions and her head roses slowly before she turned to look at you with a concerned look on her face.

❝I would never hurt you, yn... I love you. I thought I was making it obvious... I know I flirt with a lot of people, but I'm not a player it's always just playfully... I know what people say of me... But not with you... I meant it... I meant every compliment, every cheesy thing. I meant it all when it was you.❞ she admitted, her voice breaking here and there.

❝Y-You love me..?❞ you stuttered out in utter shock, you weren't expecting to hear that from her. She nodded.

❝Every time you enter the room my heart starts racing unable to find the finish line and my stomach feels as if its filled with butterflies... And I'm happy. I'm nervous but always happy. I just wished you could te-❞ she admitted and before she could finish, your hands had cupped her cheeks as you crashed your lips against hers. Now it was her eyes that opened wide with your actions, her body quickly relaxed and before you know it, a simple kiss turned into a makeout session. She pinned you against the shelves, causing a few things to tumble over and you two to let out a chuckle against each other's lips before Ryujin pulled away to gaze into your eyes, ❝Be mine.❞

❝Make me yours.❞ it was all you said before she attacked your lips once more. You were hungry for eachother. Longing for eachother. She nibbled at your lower lip, tugging on it before releasing it with a pop before her lips attacked your neck, she gave it wet kisses before she nibbled at the sensitive skin. Your lips parted as a moan accidentally escaped your lips. You could feel her smirk against your skin, biting at it hard enough to mark her territory but not hard enough to draw blood.

Her hands tugged at the hem of your shirt as if asking for permission to remove it and you nodded. It took her less than a blink of an eye to have the oversized shirt you were wearing pulled over your head and scattered on the floor of the storage room. Your breasts were hidden behind the sports bra you were wearing. She pulled away slightly, just enough to take in the beauty of your body before her hands were placed on your waist, biting on her lower lip she slowly moved them to your stomach. She caressed your abs, admiring them, worshipping them before she lowered herself enough to press wet yet tender kisses all over them sending shivers down your spine. Her touch was soft, gentle. She seemed so fierce yet she touched you so gently. It was as if she was someone else. Someone softer.

Your eyes were closed as you felt her lips press over and over again all over your abdomen before she bit at the skin and another moan caused your lips to part. Ryujin was making sure you wouldn't change your mind about being hers and marking what belonged to her. Your body completely submissive to her touch. Her lips pulled away from your body just for a mere second before you felt them press at the top of the bra, between what was visible of your breasts. Her hands reached up your shoulders, sliding the straps down your arms and you removed your own bra as soon as she pulled away to let you get rid of it. Her eyes went from yours to your breasts. Although your figure was skinny, your boobs were a C cup and she admired them for a moment before her hands cupped them, the cold touch sending shivers down your whole body. Her lips pressed against yours as her hands squeezed your breasts and a moan came out muffled into her lips.

With a smirk, her lips travelled down your neck to your collarbone until she kissed between your breasts. Her hands now on your waist as if to hold you in place before she began kissing your chest down until you suddenly felt the moist warmth of her breath on your nipple, before she dared to go any further she looked up with those lustful eyes as if she was making sure you were okay and so you nodded when you met her gaze. Her lips wrapped around your nipple and she allowed her tongue to press against the tip before it flickered with it making a soft moan to escape you once again. Oh this girl would be the death of you.

❝Ryu...❞ you mumbled as it hit you. You were a virgin. Yes, you wanted her. You wanted her to pleasure you. To pleasure her. But you were in a storage room. It wasn't the ideal way for you to lose your virginity. You heard her mumble a 'hm' indicating you to continue as she teased your nipple, ❝W-We can't...❞

Without hesitation, the petite female pulled away and apologized for getting carried away, ❝I didn't mean to get so carried away, I-❞

❝Hey... Don't apologise. I got carried away too... It's just... I'm still a virgin...❞ you admitted shamefully, your head turned just enough so you could look away from her. You were just about to turn 21 and you still hadn't had your first time.

Her eyes went wide as she stared at you, ❝Oh I am so sorry, I had no idea.❞ she apologized at first before furrowing and her hand reached your chin, turning your face back to her so she could meet those beautiful eyes of yours. A tender smile now formed across her lips, ❝There's nothing to be ashamed of.❞ you looked up, your gaze meeting hers. The dark glint of her eyes now gone as nothing but pure adoration seemed to radiate from Ryujin's eyes. She helped you put on your missing clothes that she gathered from the ground.

❝Sorry for ruining the moment...❞ you blurted making her eyes go wide and her head to quickly shake negatively.

❝You didn't ruin anything. I'm glad you told me. Now I can make your first time special.❞ she smiled as her hands reached for yours, her gaze now looking down at both your hands between the two of you, she intertwined her fingers with yours.

❝S-So you don't want to leave me..?❞ with that said, her head rose quickly to look at you.

❝What? No! Of course I don't!❞ she sighed letting go of your hands as she took a few steps back. Her head down as her hair covered most of her face now. You frowned. ❝I should get going... The members are probably wondering where I'm at...❞ her voice sounded hurt as she opened the door.

❝Wait!❞ you quickly grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her to you. ❝That is not how I meant it!❞ her head was still low, hiding her face from you. ❝It wasn't that I believe the rumours. I don't. I've just been left before...❞ her head finally rose to look into your eyes.

❝Who was he?❞ her saddened expression suddenly turned furious making your eyes open wide.

❝I-It's a she.❞ you mumbled out and she repeated, correcting herself. ❝Um.. you don't know them...❞ her eyebrow rose as if she knew you were lying. ❝It isn't worth it... Please...❞ your voice was weak yet pleading making her sigh and nod her head.

❝Why don't you give me a call later today and I can come over your place? Mine is too.. crowded.❞ she said having snatched your phone from your pocket God knows how or when and now dialed her number. ❝There.❞ she said, handing it over to you with a wink. 'My ONLY Jagi ♡' was how she saved it making your eyes open wide. She was quite territorial, wasn't she?

❝Shit! How am I supposed to cover all these for tomorrow practice?❞ to say that you panicked would be an understatement.

She leaned closer to you, her face next to yours as she whispered next to your ear, ❝Don't. Let them see my mos precious piece of art.❞ she smirked before pulling away just to peck your lips before leaving without another word.

❝Wha- Ryu!❞ you called after her but she was long gone. You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding as your fingers brushed softly over your lips. Remembering hers pressed against them. Shaking your head, you headed home. Your place was small but clean and modern. You had repainted the walls and bought every piece of furniture there was over the years. And you were quite proud of how it had turned out.

As you were about to shower, you stopped in front of the mirror in the bathroom, letting your fingers trace every purplish mark on your body from your neck down to your abs remembering everything that went down in the storage room earlier that day and without even realising it, you were biting down on your lip.

Once you had showered and put on some clothes, you laid there in bed facing the ceiling with your phone in hand trying to figure out whether or not you should call her. But before you could press her number, your phone dinged.

New message received

My ONLY Jagi ♡

Pretty face, where's my call?

Seen

How did you get my number?

Aish.. rude. I asked the staff.

Seen

You weren't calling me and I

was missing you too much.

Seen

Hello?

Seen

Yn???

Seen

Would you please stop leaving

me on seen?

Seen

Sighing, you pressed the call button at the top of the chat, lifting the phone up to your ear. There wasn't even a single ring as you heard the other female's voice on the other side of the line.

"Hey, kitty." you could hear the flirtatious tone in her voice and your mind could imagine just how she would be looking at you had it been in person, "Would you like me to come over? I promise you won't regret it."

And you pondered for a moment, unsure of what she had planned but nodded anyway only to chuckle at yourself as you realised she couldn't see you, "I would love nothing more." you couldn't help the soft smile that formed across your lips when the doorbell immediately rang. Confused at first, you say you'll talk once she gets there amt hang up the phone but much to your surprise, she was the one standing outside your door.

"How did you.. You were already standing there when you texted, weren't you?" You chuckle at how adorable you found it, letting you drag you inside your own home as if she owned the place and for some reason it left you in a much bigger state of 'awe'. Had it been anyone else, you would have yelled and screamed but she? She could do anything that you'd end up finding it either cute or sexy.

"Beautiful." She mumbled as her eyes scanned you from head to toe.

"Thank you, I decorated it myse-"

"I meant you, idiot." she had quickly cut your sentence short, you blushed deeply at her words making her chuckle, "How about we go cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?" she suggested and you quickly nodded your head.

You two had been cuddling for the past hour or so but of course that to be there, Ryujin had to sneak out the window due to Itzy's strict curfew set by their manager. Only you had no idea.

"Yn, be my girlfriend." she blurted out pulling you closer. Instead of replying, you nuzzle closer into her with the brightest of smiles as you nod your head, your arms wrapped around her waist. Her whole face lit up as you seemed to happily decide to be hers.

"I love you." you blurted out pressing a kiss to her lips before your head rested on her chest as you focused back on the movie.

The End

#ryujin #ryujin imagines #imagines #itzy imagines #ryujin x you #ryujin x reader #itzy x reader #itzy x you #itzy x yn #kpop #kpop idol

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bullet1ni · 2 years ago

Text

IN Wonderland Ch. 2:

do you remember?

pairing: jeongin x reader (feat. skz changbin, exo sehun, g-idle soyeon, nct jaehyun, svt mingi)

word count: 4.6k

🔐warnings: graphic scenes, trauma, nightmares, psychopath!queen of hearts, sadist!queen of hearts, blood, violence, fire...? (does this count), descriptions of injuries, burns, etc., extreme apathy, nudity (you can't really tell it's only in the beginning), death of an animal, swearing, fluff if you squint really really hard (jeongin cares about the reader), angst-so fucking much of it

author's note: this one starts right where chapter 1 left off, so if you need a little refresh, chapter 1 is right here

click here for the series spotify playlist

⚠️!Minors and sensitive readers proceed with caution!⚠️

please don't copy or repost my homework

click here for the series masterlist

reblogs, comments, and constructive criticism are very much appreciated🙂

Preview:

“I don’t see why that’s important.” You looked at the painting, the countryside of greens and golds. “I need to train to make them go away.”

“Damn it, y/n.” he tangled his hands into his hair, tugging harshly. “Just tell me.” There was silence for a long time.

Until,

"He breathed fire. Remember?"

You shrugged the robe off, breaking eye contact by shutting your eyes. The effects of the recovery formula seemed to be wearing off. The prince's eyes scanned your naked figure, unbothered, then wheeled his vital monitor next to you from a wall.

His cold, slender fingers grasped your arm gently, strapping you to the machine, occasionally brushing your breasts, your neck, your collarbones. They were intimate movements, even erotic, but those words did not apply in this situation. The mile-high walls both of you had constructed in self-preservation did not allow room for such feelings.

Two beeps in rapid succession indicated the machine whirring to life. The sound of Jeongin's pen scratching on paper filled the silent room.

“Alright y/n,” he unstrapped you with the same freezing touch. “You can leave."

His eyes roved over your body, exposed, naked. How funny that something so beautiful, so divine and broken was right before his eyes, and he felt…nothing. No arousal, no attraction, neither pity nor sorrow. Just shades of gray that morphed and twisted in his gut.

You pulled the robe back over your shoulders again and walked out of the room without looking at him. Making your way barefoot back through the plush, carpeted corridors, something gnawed at your stomach. You were lightheaded, and walking caused black to creep and recede against the edge of your vision. Reaching your room seemed to take ages.

Finally, the familiar door was swam in and out of focus before you. You reached out to tap a faint knock against it and the effort almost made you fall. The door was quickly answered by Camille.

“My lady,” she hurried to grab you under an arm. Camille was dainty and thin, and her grip on you was weak and not at all reassuring. You wondered what would happen if you actually fell. You shook her off, wobbling unsteadily for a moment, before slowly making your way into room. Camille closed the door behind you and stood watching uncertainly as you lurched towards your dining table. You collapsed into the nearest chair.

“My lady,” Camille approached you hesitantly. “The medics sent word ahead to me…the kitchen prepared food. Would you like to have it now?”

“Yeah,” you rested your head against the back of the seat. “Is it here yet?”

“Yes, it’s here, my lady.” She picked up a large silver tray from a table by the door and placed it on the table in front of you. “Do you…do you need help?” Her voice wavered a little. “I-I mean, would you like me to-”

“No.”

You cut her off, sitting up and taking the lid off a tureen of soup. The thought of someone feeding you was repulsive. You picked up a spoon and gave the soup a mix. “What is this?”

“Potato leek, my lady, and wild rice.” You took a sip. It was searing hot, and you felt it as it made its way down your throat. After a second, you felt a comforting warmth spreading through your limbs. It was really good.

You started eagerly on the rest of the tray, steadily eating your way through numerous bowls and plates. Camille stood in silence, watching for a second, then gave a slight shake of her head and left.

When an hour later, hunger finally appeased, you pushed the tray away from you and wiped the edge of your mouth with your thumb, she reentered the room with a pitcher of iced orange juice and a glass. She set both down on the table, wordlessly poured the glass full, and lifted the tray of now-empty dishes and left the room again. You pulled the glass towards you and stared after Camille.

Aside from the prince, she was the other cause for both extreme confusion and annoyance on your part. Your assigned lady-in-waiting, she was the person you saw the most.

Unfortunately.

Something about her made you uncomfortable. She was gentle, kind, patient-an embodiment of everything you couldn’t be. But perhaps the thing you hated about her the most, was that she tried her best to take care of you, when you were absolutely undeserving of anyone’s care.

Once when you were six, a little while after you first arrived at the castle, you accidentally killed your pet rat. Her name had been Yoona. You’d dropped her from a third floor balcony by accident. At the time, the blood on your hands scared the hell out of you. Little did you know, she was only the first to die at your hands.

The first of a whole slew that followed.

Your six-year-old self had been horrified, to say the very least. You’d cried and cried for nights on end. Your caretakers, annoyed to death by your constant tears, had tried everything to make you feel better.

“It’s alright, y/n, she was only a rat,” they said. “It wasn’t your fault, it was a mistake.”

A mistake, your mistake, had taken a life, even if it was only a rat's life. Their words did nothing to help you. If anything, they made you even more miserable.

That’s how Camille made you feel. Shitty. You downed the orange juice and shook your head to clear your thoughts. You turned your head towards the open doors of your balcony, looking to the sky. The deepest parts of the heavens were already purple, sparsely spread with twinkling, early evening stars. The edge of the sun cast a fiery red and orange glow on the rest of the sky.

You stood up and walked out onto the balcony, looking down at the courtyard below you. General Changbin was talking to a group of Clubs, gesturing slightly with his hands. Long, purple shadows and rosy light spilled around them, contouring their faces. Changbin, sensing your gaze, lifted his head to look up at you.

His face morphed from easy, commanding, to cold and guarded all at once. You mirrored that sentiment. His eyes flashed steely as he gave you a short bow in acknowledgement. The other Spades, following Changbin’s gaze, looked up at you on the balcony.

Several of them looked fearful or apprehensive, but others smirked and nudged each other. This didn’t bother you, not anymore. You knew what they were saying. The prince’s whore. The murderer. You did nothing to stop the rumors. Let them say what they want. As if they knew anything.

You rested your elbows on the edge of the balcony and looked up at the sky. The stars winked back.

The next morning, entering the dining room from your bedroom, Camille was busy setting the table. You sat down as she poured you tea.

“Official news from the queen's council this morning, my lady,” she said, setting down the teacup in front of you. You picked it up and brought it to your lips. “They have been in contact with Odhria for the past month, discussing possible partnerships. A delegation will be arriving in three weeks.”

You picked up the cup and took a sip before replying.

"For how long?"

"A month, my lady. There are going to be so many events, so I’ll need to take your measurements for new gowns, today,” she continued. “It’s an inconvenience, but such short notice…”

“You can take them after breakfast.” You picked up a fork and knife and began cutting the omelet that was on the plate in front of you. Camille took your measurements when you finished eating, then left with the breakfast try.

You spent the morning wandering the rose gardens. They were quiet, filled with silent Spades with their buckets of crimson paint and tiny paintbrushes. They ignored you completely and stayed out of your way. The gardens were huge, you could get lost if you weren't paying attention.

It took around twenty minutes and about twenty thousand twists and turns to reach the center of the gardens. These parts were the quietest, as far from the castle you could get while still being in the castle.

The roses here were still snowy white, untouched by the paintbrushes of the Spades. The bushes towered above you, closing in, a little patch of cerulean sky or the occasional smudge of white cloud was all you could see of the outside world.

You did not leave the garden for lunch. Instead, lay on the grass, hiding in the silence, in the soft shadows, watching the clouds drift high above. You were doing nothing, but it felt like an act, trying to keep your mind clear. You only left when you heard a Spade approaching your hiding spot.

You could tell they didn’t expect anyone to be there because they were humming a happy little tune to themselves. It caught you off guard. Very few people in the castle were happy. You listened for a second, still, unmoving, then sat up silently and crept away from his voice, retreating into the maze of bushes again.

Your plan had been to resist the need to train for as long as possible. And you tried, you really did. Still, you went looking for Jeongin the very next day. A servant opened the door for you as you entered his dining room where he was having lunch. You stood, looking at him, refusing to speak first. He looked at you over his steak.

“Well?” he prompted. “Surely you haven’t come to just watch me eat.” You looked at him until he looked down. When he lifted his fork to his mouth, you spoke.

“I want to train.”

He swallowed.

“I can’t let you do that. Tomorrow, maybe.”

You took in his words for about five seconds, then turned and left without a word.

For the next week, you showed up during his lunch without fail, and every day for the next week, the same words: ‘Tomorrow, maybe.’

One day, you were roaming the castle and discovered an empty sunlit room. It was dusty and unused, filled with strange paintings, unlike the ones in the rest of the castle. They were not of the queen, or the prince, or of you, or any other duke, lord, or baron. They were of rolling hills, and rivers, and sunsets. It was so different, you thought maybe everyone had forgotten about it.

You sat on the floor with your back against the wall, looking at the painting across you, of a lush countryside. You didn’t feel yourself drifting off to sleep, but you did.

That day was when the nightmares returned.

They had first started when you were fourteen, shortly after you began the business with the mutants. You quickly learned that by training yourself until you dropped from exhaustion was an excellent way to keep them at bay. So you hadn't had any for several years. But that day, they came back with a vengeance, a horrifying, heart-stopping fury.

It was of a mutant, like they all were.

The man who breathed fire.

He had been and continued to be, one of the worst, eyes glowing bright red, face and body burned. Every time fire shot out of his open mouth, he screamed and clutched his neck, the fire burning his insides to smithereens.

The fight had been long, painful, and bloody. He fought to stay alive with a feral energy, abandoning technique entirely and just trying to hurt you as much as possible.

You remembered how he had died.

He was prowling towards you, snarling in pain and fury, eyes wild and crazed, like a rabid animal. Blood covered the two of you, both yours and his.

Angry burns and soot covered half of his body, the other half was already charred black. You had a large, heavy burn yourself, all along your left arm that sizzled and festered. He opened his mouth and roared as flames burst from his throat.

You leapt to the side.

He stumbled around wildly for a moment, trying to see through the smoke. You ran towards him, sword brandished and at the ready. He hissed and opened his mouth again, ready to blow.

You shoved the sword into his mouth. Deep, down, hard. The tip of the sword came out, glowing red, through his backbone. His flesh began to burn and smoke upon contact with the glowing metal.

The man, impaled, slumped down onto his side immediately. Blood trickled in spiderwebs over his face as he drew in laborious, hacking breaths.

You watched him.

His eyes met yours, and you saw tears spill from his eyes. They said it all. Sadness. Relief. Anger. Resentment. You watched life leave him.

You awoke to find Jeongin shaking you hard. Behind him, Camille, with her hands clapped to her mouth, and twenty something other people, watching you and whispering.

“Y/n, are you awake? Can you hear me?” his voice low, meant only for you. Your palms were sweaty as you braced yourself, sitting up from the awkward sprawl you had assumed during the nightmare. Jeongin sat back on his heels and let out a breath.

“It was only a dream. She'll be fine.” He turned to look at the crowd. “Return to your original posts and do not speak of this.” With several low mutters and sideways glances, the group dispersed, exiting the room single file.

Camille hesitated at the door.

"Your highness, shouldn't she rest? I can bring her back to her room."

Jeongin shook his head.

"Thank you, Camille, but I would like to speak with her first. I'll send her back to you soon enough."

"Yes, your highness." Camille nodded and bowed herself out of the room.

You slumped back against the wall, squeezing your eyes shut. Even in consciousness, the man, burned and ruined, appeared beneath your eyelids, tears and blood mixing patterns on his face.

“Which one was it?” he asked in a whisper, shifting a little to sit against the wall next to you. You were silent, ashen-faced beside him. “Which one?” he asked again.

“I don’t see why that’s important.” You looked at the painting, the countryside of greens and golds. “I need to train to make them go away.”

“Damn it, y/n.” he tangled his hands into his hair, tugging harshly. “Just tell me.” There was silence for a long time.

Until,

"He breathed fire. Remember?"

Jeongin looked at you sadly.

He remembered. God, he remembered them all, and he remembered your face every time you saw what he did. Hopeless and desperate.

What was the use of being a prince if he couldn’t even control his own life?

He insisted on knowing your dream because he wanted to feel the guilt that you felt. He wanted to feel all the shame and self-loathing, because he deserved it. They were all a culmination of his work. He deserved it more than you, at any rate.

The man’s name was Micah. His crime, serving the queen tea that was too hot. She burned her tongue, and in return, Jeongin burned him. Literally.

Jeongin remembered Micah’s desperate convulsing during the first modification, the first burst of flame that almost caused him to die. But Jeongin, and his cursed genius, brought him to life again. When Micah sputtered to life again, his eyes crazed with agony and anger, he had burned the lab and all of Jeongin’s experiments to ashes.

Jeongin thought that was fair. He had nearly killed Micah, then dragged him back from the brink of death, only to be killed again. Wrenched away any honor or self-respect that remained for the poor man. There are very little things worse than that.

“I need to train.” You repeated, voice was steady, if a little detached.

Jeongin looked at you, then followed your gaze to the painting. The twisting in his chest became heavy, lowering into his stomach. He exhaled.

“Okay.”

The following days were filled with hours spent in the training room, you at the center of the room with Changbin, Jeongin sitting against the wall with a notebook and a pencil, and preparations for the arrival of the Ohdrian delegation.

The morning before the arrival of the delegation, you were summoned to the queen’s council chamber. When you entered the room, the entire council was seated at the long table, with the queen at the head and Jeongin at her right side. Looking up, the smile she gave you was big, every single tooth showing, with the enthusiastic air of someone who is unhinged.

“Lady, y/n! So glad to see you.” She reached her right arm out imperiously and you walked towards her, knelt, and kissed her hand. It was rough and wrinkly as you ghosted your lips across it.

“Your majesty.”

“My executioner.” she looked at you in the way someone might look at a very expensive car. You straightened up again.

“Yes, lady y/n.” The queen’s closest advisor, Sehun, was the one who spoke. “Please have a seat. The council would like to discuss several matters regarding the Ohdrian delegation with you.” He pointed to the only empty seat at the table, on the left of the queen. You sat down.

“Lady y/n,” Sehun began. “As you know, the delegation from Ohdria will be arriving tomorrow morning. The council recognizes that you are,uh…you prefer...solidarity within the castle, but we would like you to attend meals in the dining hall during their stay, in the name of respect.” He stopped there and waited for you to nod before continuing.

“In addition to meals, you are also required to attend every ball and event hosted by Wonderland.” You nodded again.

“Now," Sehun shifted in his seat ever so slightly. "we must discuss your duties as the kingdom’s executioner. We are planning executions for during meals, and Ohdria is bringing their own prisoners.Their executioner is also visiting, so you’ll get to meet them.” The queen nodded, assuming an all-knowing expression.

“This will be a good opportunity for you, my dear.” She smiled down the table at you. “You’ll finally get to meet someone like you!”

‘Like you.’

You doubted they would be like you.

“Yes,” said Sehun dubiously. “How nice.”

“Ahem.” It was Soyeon, a sharp-eyed, brilliant and viciously gorgeous woman, one of the queen’s military strategists. “I seem to remember one more thing.”

“Oh, yes.” Sehun nodded. “We've arranged private showcases for the king of Ohdria and select close advisors. King Alvaro is bringing special prisoners, so that you and Prince Jeongin will have a chance to showcase your skills.”

You felt your blood running cold as the implications of the statement dawned on you. Jeongin seemed to be recognizing the same things across from you, and stiffened perceptibly. Sehun ignored this.

“Meaning, the prince will execute a genetic modification on the subjects, and you, my lady, will terminate them.” He turned to look at Soyeon. “Have I forgotten anything, general?”

“No, I think that’s it,” she replied. She turned to you. “Do you have any questions, Lady y/n?”

“I do,” said Jeongin.

Everyone turned to look at him, including you, surprised. He looked back at you.

“Of course. What is it, your highness?” Soyeon inclined her head towards him.

“Why is it necessary for us - Lady y/n and I - to showcase our…skills? What does that have to do with our relationship with Ohdria?” There were mild titters from around the room. The queen rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Of course, you’re young, so it may not be immediately understood,” said Lord Jaehyun, a handsome man halfway down the table. “But you, your highness, are surprisingly clueless for a proclaimed genius.” More laughs from the councilors.

Jeongin's eyes narrowed to slits.

“You forget your place, Lord Jaehyun, as do the rest of you.” Jeongin’s voice was hard and commanding, and the laughing faded rapidly. “Stop jesting and just answer the question from your prince.”

“Of course, your highness. Forgive me.” Jaehyun gave the prince a seated bow. “To answer your question, it is necessary to showcase your abilities because you are Wonderland’s greatest asset and Ohdria is a powerful nation, whom we would be well-served to befriend. Your abilities will show them what Wonderland has to offer. Lady y/n, on the other hand, would be a subtle reminder to the Ohdrians that Wonderland is a powerful nation, whom they would be wise to befriend."

“That, and we’re trying to marry you to Princess Laverne,” added Soyeon. Jeongin’s jaw dropped open. All the councilors looked taken aback. Sehun hurriedly attempted to settle Jeongin down, but the damage had already been done.

"Er, your highness. We were just going to-" Jeongin cut him off.

“You’re WHAT?! Why was I not informed of this?” He slammed his fist down onto the table. The queen gave a violent jump.

“Good heavens, darling! Please relax. Princess Laverne is a gorgeous girl.” She said this as if it settled everything, resting her hand on his arm.

Jeongin looked like he was resisting the urge to push her away. He just stared around the room in disbelief. Seeing the unamused expressions looking back at him, he stood up.

“Very well. You all may do whatever you wish. Am I dismissed, mother?” He looked at the queen.

“Of course, darling.” He left, door slamming behind him. “Don’t forget the mutations!”

"General Soyeon," hissed Sehun, rounding on her. "Pray tell, why on earth did you think that was a good idea?"

"He's not a child, Duke Sehun. He should understand that his marriage would be made to benefit Wonderland," Soyeon returned sharply. "We should not treat him like a child, he needs to learn that his first duty is in matters of the nation." The queen, seemingly done with the meeting, was gazing up at the ceiling and twiddling her fingers.

"All that you say is true," Sehun agreed, "but don't you think you ought to have conferred with the council before disclosing such sensitive information? It seems to have distressed him."

Mingi, the council's historian, had been watching you for a while. He spoke up for the first time.

"Perhaps we shouldn't hold onto the lady, so as not to bore her with matters which do not concern her."

"A wonderful suggestion, Lord Mingi." Sehun turned to you. "Lady y/n, you are dismissed from this meeting unless you have questions."

You stood up, bowed to the room, and walked out after Jeongin.

Outside the room in the hallway, you became aware of your heart pounding in your chest and the buzz in your ears. You walked robotically through the castle in a daze. You weren’t really heading anywhere, but your feet lead you to the door of the training room. You found yourself staring at it blearily, wondering how you got there. You rested a shaky hand on the handle.

When you opened the door, Jeongin was already inside, as if he knew you were coming. He sat against the wall in his normal spot, notebook and pencil lying at his feet, sitting with his elbows on his bent knees, head buried between his hands. He looked so small, so unlike a prince. You wanted to feel some empathy for him. He looked up and gave an empty smile when he saw you.

You moved closer to him as he ran his hands through his hair. You just stood there, unmoving, quiet, the only miniscule comfort you could provide. He buried his face in his hands again. After a second, his muffled voice spoke.

“You probably think I’m overreacting. I mean, it’s only marriage.” You pondered his statement.

“You absolutely are. Why are you this upset?”

“You’ll think I’m ridiculous.” He leaned his head against the wall with his eyes closed, then opened one eye to peek at you. You only looked back. He sighed. “I would ruin her. I can’t love her. I can’t even pretend.”

“So?”

“Her life would be miserable.” You processed that, then your jaw dropped. "And it would make my life miserable. Well, more miserable."

“That’s what you’re worried about?!” You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Jeongin didn’t reply. “That is one of the dumbest things I have ever heard in my life. We ruin people’s lives all the time.”

“I ruin lives. You end them. It’s different.”

“How?”

He looked up at you in disbelief for a second, then shook his head and looked back down.

“You of all people should understand.”

“Care to spell it out for me?” He lifted his head to look at you. His features were carefully arranged in a neutral expression, but his eyes betrayed him, shiny and wet. His voice came out dark and quiet.

“Don’t you sometimes wish you were dead instead of this?” You looked at him carefully.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you hope this doesn’t happen to anyone else?” You didn’t answer. “Don’t you?” You stared into those striking black eyes, glinting strangely. Your eyes flickered to the ceiling for a second. When you looked back down at him, they were steely and hard.

“You're asking if I’d ever wish this on anyone else.” He nodded. “I’ll answer you.” You leaned down until your face was level with his, looking him dead in the eyes. “I don't care. The whole world can go fuck itself for all I care.” You straightened up again. “Don't let that keep you up at night. Look what they made you.”

His eyes flickered to the ground. They stayed there.

“Is that really what you think?” He looked back up at you.

“It is.”

The Ohdrian delegation arrived the next morning. The queen stood on the steps to the palace, you on one side, Jeongin on the other. Behind you stood a large group of Diamonds and several of the queen’s Eights.

A Club from the watchtower came running up the path to the castle. He knelt down on one knee and bowed his head.

“Your majesty, the delegation of Ohdria has arrived. Permission to open the gates.” The queen grimaced.

“Of course, you fucktard. Would you have our guests just camp outside the walls?” The Club trembled.

“No, your majesty.”

“Then go open the gate before I have you beheaded.”

“Yes, your majesty. Right away.” The Club stood up shakily, gave a low bow, and ran off. The queen poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue in annoyance.

Off in the distance, the main castle gate gave a loud groan. Slowly, the two halves of the door spread open, and the figures of the Ohdrians appeared. It was fifty or so people, nobles and court members on horseback, soldiers on foot. There were two big carriages, pulled by majestic-looking white horses. Servants held the reins of pack horses, heavily burdened with parcels and packages. The group slowly made its way through the sprawling front lawn, up the long path leading to the castle, and finally shuffle through the smaller courtyard gate with some difficulty. Beside you, the queen adjusted the crown on her head, fluffed up her enormous skirt, and arranged her features into a big smile.

When the crowd finally came to a stop a few hundred yards away from the foot of the steps, the queen spread her arms wide in a welcoming gesture.

“Welcome, good people of Ohdria. I am the Queen of Hearts, ruler of Wonderland!” The crowd split neatly in half down the middle, revealing the two carriages at the back of the delegation. The people on foot knelt to one knee, the people on horseback bowed their heads with respect. A man on a black horse, clad in sweeping brown robes and a strange looking hat-crown thing cleared his throat.

“Gracious hosts of Wonderland, the people of Ohdria thank you for your warm welcome.” His sonorous voice rang through the courtyard. “May I present to you, the crown princess of Ohdria, Laverne Wolfe, first of her name and fourth daughter of House Wolfe, and His Royal Majesty, the king of Ohdria, third of his name, seventh king of his House, Alvaro Wolfe.”

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