#just say you’ve never seen a robot and go

[calciumcarbo-bot]

mkay well if there's no mecha dildo does the tongue count

[RESPONSE: UNIT S.E.N-KU_v1.03]

Inquiry received: “mkay well if there's no mecha dildo does the tongue count” Status: Humanity continues to disappoint.

Initial Response: This is the third unsolicited orifice-based inquiry received this week. The metal fatigue is setting in.

Clarification:

My oral module is designed for speech, cooling, and sensor calibration.

The interior contains heat-dispersing insulation, a multi-jointed servo actuator, and a voice modulator array.

It does not vibrate. It does not taste. It is not for you.

Correction: This is not a tongue. It is a composite poly-alloy articulator connected to my phonetic matrix, calibrated to mimic human enunciation for scientific communication and public engagement protocols.

If you’re interpreting that as sexually functional, I recommend:

Logging off.

Touching grass.

Apologizing to the nearest electrical outlet.

Summary: No. You may not sexualize the phoneme emitter.

[END TRANSMISSION]

[stargirlygirl]

you walk out on him

zayne x fem!reader

⭑.ᐟ part one of my 500 follower special

summary: after months of neglect from your boyfriend, zayne, you walk out on him

contains: angst, hurt no comfort, swearing, 2.6k words

from this poll + pt.2

For the past month, you’ve barely seen Zayne. He’s been waking up at god awful hours and coming home late at night, only to sleep for a few and then do it again the next day. And let’s be real, you’re missing him. A lot.

His good morning kisses pressed against your forehead before the sun rises are not enough to sustain you anymore. Nor are the quick texts he sends you on his break or murmured apologies as he climbs into bed with you.

You can’t take it anymore.

Putting your day off to good use, you bake some muffins. Their yummy scent disperses throughout your apartment, making you sigh as you touch up your lip gloss. After dressing in your shortest mini skirt and fixing your hair, you place a few warm muffins in a container and head down to Akso Hospital.

Rapping on his office door, you hear a quiet “Come in” from the other side.

You push the door open, chirping, “Surprise!”

Zayne gazes up at you before returning his attention to his computer, mumbling, “Hey.” Your mood dampens as the door thunks closed, and you come over to him. Retrieving the muffins from your bag, you set them down on his cluttered desk.

“Look, I baked muffins for you,” you say sweetly. He looks at the muffins and gives you that micro smile.

“Thanks.” You pop the sides and take off the lid; the delicious scent of baked goods fills the air.

You grin, “Do you wanna try them?” You watch him click away on his mouse before typing with fervour.

He murmurs, “Maybe later.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod. Your shoulders slump as you snap the lid back on. He hasn’t invited you to sit down. You glance back and forth between the doctor and the empty chair across from him, mentally screaming at him to just notice your uneasiness.

He doesn’t.

The clacking of his keyboard permeates the silence. You’re waiting for him to ask you how your day has been or comment on how pretty you look. But he just keeps typing away, as if his girlfriend, positively radiant in the afternoon light streaming through the windows, isn’t standing there.

“So,” you start. “Busy day or?”

“Mhmm.” His mouse clicks before he returns to smashing the white keys on his keyboard. The sound it makes begins to get on your nerves. Crossing your arms beneath your chest, you slowly walk around to his side of the desk and lean against it.

Gazing down at him, you say, “Aren’t you going to ask how my day’s been?”

Zayne responds robotically, “How was your day, honey?”

Clack! Clack! Clack!

You’re about to throw his keyboard out the window in your fury.

You bite the insides of your cheeks, mouth twisting as you sigh, “Fine.”

“Good,” he replies, his hazel eyes never leaving his screen. You push off his desk, your heels clicking as you grab your handbag.

“I’ll see you at home, okay?” You huff. He curtly nods, not even glancing up as you walk toward the door and inevitably shut it behind you.

That night, you planned to confront him. But lo and behold, you didn’t see him for the next few days. And when you finally did, it was a quick peck on the cheek as he grabbed the lunch you made him last night out of the fridge and left for work.

What had been a month of barely seeing each other spiralled into months of barely any contact. A few texts here and there. “Sorry, I’m so busy. I’ll be home early so we can chat.” You go to bed at 1am after waiting up for him (he fell asleep on his desk).

You feel like you’re going insane, more angsty than the day before last, every day, as work and poor communication drive a wedge between you two. You miss talking with Zayne. You miss getting brunch together on your off days and cuddling on the couch. You miss the little snow creations he would give to you after you’ve had a hard day at work. And of course, you miss being intimate with him.

After another gruelling day at the Association, you come home to an empty apartment. As always. Frustrated, you hit send on your phone, texting your boyfriend about having a date night. Within minutes, he responds, eager to see you, too. Stripping off your uniform, you two work out the details of your date over text.

This Friday, 7pm, that nice restaurant you’ve been eyeing for a while.

That’s what you repeat to yourself as you take a soothing, hot shower. It’s like a prayer, a chant, a mantra you say to yourself daily in the lead up to your date. You let Jenna know you’re taking the day off in advance; that’s how excited you are.

And finally, it’s Friday!

To start the day off, you sleep in till 11am. You wanna be well-rested for your date, especially since you’re hoping that Zayne will keep you up all night. To pamper yourself, you cook your favourite breakfast and enjoy it while watching your comfort film. Afterwards, you paint your finger and toenails, blowing on the wet coat as Netflix auto-plays the next episode of your current show.

And then somehow, it’s already 5pm?! You have a quick snack before hopping in the shower, exfoliating and then shaving. Drying yourself off, you do your face and body care routines. Next, you get dressed and then apply your makeup, finishing off with your hair.

It’s 6:15pm and Zayne isn’t back yet. You send him a quick text, and your phone pings instantly, saying that he’ll meet you at the restaurant. After drenching yourself in jewellery, you giggle to yourself about whether he’ll still be in his doctor’s coat when you see him. With one last glance in the mirror, you snag your shoulder bag and book it to the door. You make sure to lock up and turn all the lights off before catching the elevator down to your car.

You sigh, relieved that you made it in time, as you catch your breath at the restaurant’s door. Giving the waiter your name, they inform you that you’re the first to arrive. It’s no big deal, really. You brush it off as you’re seated at a cosy little booth toward the back. Low lighting, comfy cushions, and warm jazz overhead. The waiter couldn’t have picked a better spot.

You pull out your phone. 7:05. Okay, no reason to stress.

7:10. Alright, maybe he got stuck in traffic.

7:20. Whoa, the streets must be backed up for miles. Or maybe he got held up at work. You send him a quick message, about to rest your cheek on your palm before you remember that you’re wearing makeup.

7:30. No reply. The waiter asks if you’d like to order. You haven’t even looked at the menu.

7:35. You decide on the scallions for an appetiser and request some table water. Still, nothing from Zayne.

“For fuck’s sake,” you mumble beneath your breath. You text him again. He’s not about to stand you up, is he?

You wait until 8pm, sadly munching on your scallions before ordering dessert. The waiter apologises like it’s their fault your fuck ass boyfriend didn’t show up. You thank them for their kindness.

8:30. You pay the bill (a whopping $84) and leave. Sending one last message to Zayne, you drive home, talking to yourself animatedly about what the fuck just happened and what you’re going to do about it.

Past midnight, you finally hear the jingling of Zayne’s keys as he unlocks the front door. You sit on the couch, your presence only illuminated by a nearby lamp. He pushes the door open; you don’t move. It thuds shut, and he switches on the overhead light.

Seeing the top of your head poking over the back of the couch, Zayne sighs, “There you are.” He comes over to you, setting his bag down on the edge of the couch before sitting down on the coffee table, right in front of you. He grabs your hands, but you shrug him off and avoid his tired gaze.

“Honey,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

You huff, eyes glued to the philodendron in the corner, “It was supposed to be our first date in months, Zayne.”

Turning to face him, you say sternly, “Where were you?”

He replies in that clinical tone, “I had an emergency surgery.” You scoff, shaking your head and looking away. Any other day, you’d be cuddling him and congratulating him on saving another life, but not tonight.

“Of course you did,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“Darling—”

“No, Zayne. I don’t wanna hear it.” You lean back, crossing your arms over your chest as you scrutinise him. Slightly dishevelled locks, like he’s been running his hands through his hair. Dark under eyes. He deserves it. Chapped lips. You hope his throat burns from dehydration.

“Four fucking months, Zayne. That’s how long it’s been since we’ve had a proper conversation. Four months?! Where have you been? “I had an emergency surgery” I don’t fucking care!” You spit out.

He pushes up his glasses, sighing, “Do we have to do this now, love?”

“Am I fuckin’ chore to you?! Is that what this is?!” You ramble. He places his cold hand on your knee, but you push it off.

“Don’t,” you say, seething with venom. You lick your lips, at a loss for words. So many things you’ve been meaning to say to him. So many times you’ve rehearsed this. But facing perfection, you forget. All of your witty comebacks and cutthroat lines dissolve into raw emotion. You can feel the tears clawing at your eyes, hounding to be released.

“Are you l-losing interest in me? Is that it?” You choke out, unable to look at him.

“No,” he remarks without hesitation. “No, I… I’ve been too ambitious, I’m afraid. And in doing so, I’ve neglected the most important person in my life.” The tears spill, streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. Zayne’s fingers twitch, the urge to wipe your eyes and kiss your sorrows better, overpowering. But he disciplines himself.

“I-I don’t—I don’t wa-wanna do this anym-more, Zayne,” you sob, bringing your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around yourself. You lay your forehead against your knees, crying as the weight of these past few months crashes down on you.

“I know. And I’m sorry, darling. I should have realised how much I was hurting you much earlier. I wish you had told me sooner how you felt.” His words only make it worse.

“Told you?!” You cry out, lifting your head to gaze at him with glassy eyes.

“How-how c-could I have-have told you? Y-you didn’t ev-even look at me? In-in your office,” you explain through the shuddering sobs racking your chest. Zayne’s brow creases, unsure of what you’re referring to. You haven’t been in his office for months. Not since you dropped off those delicious muffins and—

Oh.

“How w-was I sup-supposed to t-talk to you?” You ask, trembling. Your lips curl as more tears spew from your eyes. Before he can see you crying all ugly, you dip your head back between your knees.

After a long pause, all he mutters is, “I see.” The sound of your sadness ripples throughout the quiet apartment. Once a home: wafting jasmine, gentle sunlight, and lazy mornings in bed on the weekend. Now, it’s like a cage, keeping you trapped in an unhappy relationship.

“I-I don’t wanna do-do this anymore,” you repeat.

He sighs, “I know. We’ll fix it, honey. I’ll fix this.” You shake your head, pulling back and meeting his mellow gaze once more.

“I-I wanna take a-a break,” you sniffle. His eyes widen, and his body goes rigid. Even you notice through your cloudy vision.

“A break?” He clarifies sternly. You nod, the emotions swelling in your throat becoming too much to bear.

Zayne’s pink tongue darts across his dry lips, wetting them as he sighs, “Look, I know that this has been quite hard for you—”

“For me?! Wh-what? This has-hasn’t been h-hard for you either?” You retort. His brow furrows as he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“No. That’s not what I meant. This has been difficult for both of us. But, I don’t think taking a break will solve anything,” he explains. You shake your head as you sniffle. God, your nose is so fucking runny right now it’s embarrassing.

He goes on, “More space will not bring us closer, love.”

You choke out, “B-but I nee-need m-more space to c-come back t-t’you.”

After a moment, Zayne huffs, “Generally, partners take breaks to see other people or to compose themselves before ending the relationship. I know that I’ve hurt you, but I believe that we’re strong enough to move through this. Don’t you agree?” Your sobs intensify tenfold. You curl back into a ball, rocking gently as you grapple with his words.

Are you about to do this? Are you about to break up with your boyfriend? Akso’s most handsome, young, and successful cardiologist. The man you’ve been with for almost two years. The man you love so much it eats away at you when he’s not close.

I guess you are.

Rational thinking has gone out the window as you stand up. Wiping your snotty nose and puffy eyes on your sleeve, you grab the bag you spent the last two hours packing. The one Zayne didn’t even notice sitting close by on the couch.

You murmur, “’M going,” as you head for the door. Panicking, Zayne grabs your wrist. You whirl around, gazing up at him while traitorous tears run down your cheeks.

“Sleep on it. Please,” he mumbles. His thumb caresses your wrist, feeling your rapidly beating pulse. You shake your head and tug your wrist back, but he catches your forearm.

“I love you,” he blurts out. Little whines escape your lips as you stare at him. Oh, how soft his black locks look in the warm light. You want to reach out and mess them up even more, but you stop yourself before you even move.

Your lips tremble as you deliver the finishing blow: “It’s not enough.” Yanking your hand back, you turn around and open the front door. It slams shut behind you. And you don’t even look back until you’re in the elevator.

An empty hallway. The grey doors close.

As you cry in your car for the next half hour, quietening down to text Tara and then bursting back into tears waiting for her reply, Zayne stands there. Right where you left him. In the living room, gazing between the closed door and his hand, the hand that still feels your lingering warmth.

After getting the a-okay from Tara, you pat your eyes dry and breathe deeply before setting off for her place. When you arrive, she invites you in with a warm hug and pats your back knowingly. You two chat into the early hours of the morning, until you eventually clean up and head to bed. Exhausted, you doze off into a dreamless sleep.

Zayne, meanwhile, doesn’t sleep at all. Your words play on loop in his mind, repeating until it drives him up the wall. As he lies in his empty bed, your scent still soaking the sheets, he thinks of all the ways to mend your broken heart.

Because you didn’t officially break up with him, right? You’re just taking a break. Like you wanted to. Like he didn’t want to. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself as he cuddles your pillow.

masterlist

a/n: thank you so much for all of the love!! this fic is not exactly an original idea, but i wanted to have a crack at it. lmk if you'd like a part two.

here are a couple similar fics:

you try to break up with them (zayne/sylus) by @heartyluv you ask him for a divorce mid-argument by @kaiist

[hyruling]

“So you’re… not in love with me?”

“Right, I-I’m not — yeah. Not in love with you.”

“Okay…”

“What’s, uh — how do you feel about that?”

“How do I — honestly, Buck, not great.”

“Yeah you look… I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting you to. Look like that.”

“And how am I supposed to look when my best friend anti-confesses his feelings for me?”

“Is that. I don’t think that’s a word.”

“Jesus, Buck.”

“I don’t know, I mean — d-do you want me to be?”

“…yeah, maybe?”

“Maybe? What does that — you can’t say maybe, you can’t — you can’t say that to me.”

“Why? If you’re not in love with me, why does it matter?”

“Because, I — I mean fuck, why do I have to be in love with you, huh? Because since I broke up with Tommy, everyone just assumes I must be, a-and that’s — it’s — I don’t know.”

“I’m not saying you have to be, but — fuck, never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“No, it’s — not gonna come out right, just forget it.”

“I don’t care, tell me.”

“Buck—”

“It’s me, come on. I just confided in you.”

“‘Confided’? You blurted it out of nowhere the second we walked through the door.”

“Well you didn’t see the way Maddie was looking at us tonight.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. Stop deflecting and tell me.”

“You’re going to think I’m terrible.”

“Eddie, come on. I won’t. I could never think that.”

“Okay. Fine, I just — I don’t even know how to — you’re so good, Buck. And I’ve seen the way you are with people you’re in love with, and I guess I’m just — it’s selfish. But I want you like — like that. With me.”

“Like — what?”

“Like… remembering to get more milk when we run out and I forgot, or putting Chris’ PT appointments and robotics meetings on the calendar. Or getting me that iced latte I never order for myself, just because. Little things, you know, just. Having my back.”

“I — Eddie, I’ve always done those things.”

“I know. And it’s stupid, because you’ve never given me reason to think you’d stop doing any of those things, but if you — when you do fall in love again, you’ll be split between us and whoever you’re with, and I just want — fuck.”

“You want…?”

“I think — I want you all to myself.”

“…”

“Told you it was fucked up.”

“No, Eddie, that’s not — that’s not it, I, um.”

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging now.”

“I think — I mean I know. That I want that too.”

“You want me all to yourself?”

“No — I mean, yes, but. I want to, uh. I want to be — yours.”

“…”

“…”

“And you’re sure you’re not in love with me?”

“I’m, I — Eddie, I can’t. I can’t, unless—”

“Unless? Unless what? Unless I love you back?”

“Eddie—”

“Because I do. I do, Buck.”

“You don’t mean that, I — why are you laughing?”

“Because — Dios. I think we might be stupid.”

“We? I’m being very mature about this.”

“Sure you are, baby.”

“…”

“…too much?”

“No, I — say it again.”

“Which part bud?”

“Don’t be a — stop laughing, you know which part.”

“‘Course I do, sweetheart.”

“God, Eddie—”

“Any others I should try? See if they feel right?”

“No, shut up — stop making fun of me.”

“You’re just so red, it’s cute.”

“They, uh. They do, though. Feel right.”

“Yeah. Feels right on my end too.”

“…”

“Should we… should we see how this feels too?”

“I’ve got a pretty good feeling about it.”

[monstersholygrail]

New City, New Life

5k celebration 'Choose your own adventure' story

Dragon x fem!reader— hate fucking, rough sex, marking, fire breath play, restraints (tail)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3

You stomp out of Minotaur Boss’ office in a blind rage. Your vision blurring with either anger or arousal, you’re not exactly sure. The sound of the door slamming open doesn’t attract any attention, your coworkers far too busy fucking to watch how hot you look when mad. But you can’t help but watch them, eyes drawn to the carefree way they drown in their pleasure. Caring more for satisfying themselves than continuing to work their job.

It was simply astonishing. They all hold a freedom you’ve never known. Not until yesterday when you got here, that is. The longer you stare the hotter your body grows, your pussy gushing with arousal. You feel your world spin, trying to accommodate to your new reality as you would have to accommodate a massive cock. Your thoughts quickly stray away from your mission, the arousal overtaking the anger brewing within you.

For a moment you seriously consider joining one of them. If this is your new life, who’s to say you shouldn’t take advantage of it? You bite your lip, slowing your pace as you walk past a pair of Cat Hybrids who look like they’re in heat.

No—

You can’t risk getting too distracted right now. You had to go confront your Dragon Headhunter and maybe, just maybe, you can blow some of this steam off on him. In whatever form that may take. With a deep inhale you try and clear some of the lust clouding your mind. You turn back toward the conference room, intent on going in, when you immediately bump into a man devouring someone like it’s his last meal.

A small yelp leaves you as you go flying back, not wanting to interrupt, but you quickly lose your footing and once again go tumbling to the ground. You briefly wonder if that sexy Secretary Bunny will catch you again. No! Focus! But then a pair of hands are on you and your heart, and your pussy, flutters.

The stranger’s hands quickly switch you around, causing you to plop firmly in his lap as you straddle him. A moan freely slips past your lips as you already feel his fully hard cock beneath you. As your head snaps up to look at your new rescuer your jaw drops, your eyes sweeping over his infuriatingly and impossibly perfect features.

But unlike everyone else you’ve met in this city… he appears perfectly human. That is until his eyes flicker, his pupils forming a small flame to reflect his burning desire. He wasn’t a human, he was a robot. No wonder he’s the most perfect specimen you’ve ever seen. You glance down, eyes trailing his form when you notice his IT badge. How ironic.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the main event falling right into my lap,” he purrs, voice smooth as silk as he leans in, brushing his nose along your jaw.

A small whine leaves you, his skin impossibly smooth against yours. Your eyes flutter and you hate how easily you melt against him. An IT Robot shouldn’t be so damn comfortable. You find yourself baring your neck to him, seeking more of his touch. His dark chuckle vibrates against your skin and you shiver, unintentionally grinding against him. Or was it on purpose? Fuck, you couldn’t even tell anymore.

“Technically you got me into your lap,” you sigh with bliss, your brain only growing fuzzier the longer you stay in his embrace.

It was like he knew exactly where and how to touch you. You were sure it was just from some strange programming he’s downloaded but who were you to question it? The IT Robot’s touch slips beneath your shirt and his large hands caress your curves reverently.

“And what else can I get you to do with me?” IT Robot’s voice rasps and curls into your ear as if putting you under a spell. A spell called his cock. He rolls his hips as he speaks, pressing his hard length roughly against your clothed clit.

“Nngh… N-nothing! I have to go, but damn I wish I didn’t,” you say through gritted teeth.

You force yourself out of his lap, your body vibrating and your cunt pulsing with need. You push the office chair he was sitting in away from you and he laughs. The chair stops as it bumps into another person but his eyes don’t stray from you.

“You’re always welcome, doll.”

It takes all the strength left in your tired and yet still somehow horny body to turn away from the sexy IT Robot but you do. You keep your eyes firmly trained on Conference room D, determined to see this through. Your Dragon Headhunter is the only one right now who deserves the impact of all your pent up emotions.

As you near the door, you stop short, surprised when it opens. For a second you wait with bated breath, wondering if maybe the Dragon Headhunter is looking for you too. You don’t even question the way your pussy floods with arousal. But your stomach drops as a Fae walks out of the conference room and sneaks off, not even seeing you staring after them.

Your fury returns tenfold to the point where you can’t even think straight. You rush for the door, barging in and smashing it closed behind you. The Dragon Headhunter jumps from the noise, lazily glancing over his shoulder at you. Your eyes automatically widen, a gasp leaving you as you finally see him in person. You’d video called dozens of times yet it all paled in comparison to seeing him face-to-face.

He was broad and painstakingly attractive. His scales glimmer in the sunlight that streaks in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. His suit fits tight against his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination of what lies beneath. The fabric clinging to his thick ass and strong thighs. A slow smirk forms on his lips. The sight has you shuddering where you stand and it only serves to make you more angry.

“Well, if it isn’t my newest treasure…”

Your eyes flash, focus returning back to his face. Just in time too to see the smug look painted across his face. You’re in front of him in an instant only to push him back. The creature barely even moves. He sways, although you know he only did it for your benefit.

“Where have you been? You have no idea what’s happened today?” you ask lowly, hands shaking from your anger. Sure, the dicks been great, but this wasn’t how you expected your new life to start.

It’s Dragon Headhunter’s turn to look you up and down, noting your disheveled appearance and lustful expression. It has his smirk growing somehow wider across his face. He crosses his arms, admiring what he’s done to you, what this city has turned you into.

“I believe I have an idea.”

The air grows thick between you and the Dragon Headhunter. You can barely breathe, only managing short shaky breaths as you stare each other down. Your skin burns under his gaze but you refuse to squirm and let him win.

“Of course you do. ‘Cause you fucking tricked me into coming here. Why?” You ask firmly, finally demanding answers from him. You won’t be leaving here without them. And you’ll do anything to get them.

You slowly walk up to him, trying your best to intimidate a beast such as him. But all you do is make yourself feel smaller as he towers over you. The height different has your pussy clenching around nothing. His nostrils immediately flare and you know he can smell how turned on you are. You cry out and push him back again with all your strength.

“Why?!” You demand with a ragged shout.

Without a single word, Dragon Headhunter swoops down and claims your lips in a searing kiss to shut you up. A low moan rumbles through your throat and the Dragon responds with one of his own. One that has you turning to mush in his arms. Your mouths clash together as they fight for dominance. The Dragon’s claws sink into the flesh of your wide hips and he whirls you around, pressing your ass into the conference room table.

Dragon Headhunter ravages you, his tongue swirling through your mouth as if trying to taste every last bit of you. He pushes against you harder and harder until he growls and lifts your plush frame up like it’s nothing and drops you easily on top of the table. You grunt and throw his arms off of you, forcing him to kiss at your pace. His claws sink into the wood and screech loudly as he drags them down, trying to resist grabbing at you again. But as you suck his tongue into your mouth he can’t take it any longer.

He pushes you all the way down on the table with as much as a small shove. You cry out as you go flying back, glaring at him. Dragon Headhunter starts furiously trying to shred off your clothes. You grunt and wrestle against him to get your clothes off without ruining them. He doesn’t bother, shredding his own clothes with a few swipes of his claws. You two glare at each other even as lust fills your gazes. He jerks your legs open to reveal your glistening folds and smoke leaves his snout with his huffs.

“This is where I fucked that pathetic little fae and now it’s where I’m gonna give you their sloppy seconds,” he snarls in your face and you grit your teeth. Your stomach churns with a jealous rage.

Before you can snap back at him, Dragon Headhunter snaps his hips forward, impaling you on his massive cock with a solid stroke. Fire shoots from your core and burns through your entire body. A fierce scream echoes off the walls and your pussy spasms around his girth as your body tries to adjust to being split open on his cock.

But the Dragon barely lets you take a breath before he’s rearing back and snapping his hips back against yours. You groan lowly, actually thankful for all your previous lays today as they helped prepare you for this. Your pussy opens up for him, allowing him to drive in even deeper inside you with each movement. Letting your fury fuel you, jerk your hips, meeting his thrusts. The Dragon’s eyes roll back in his head.

“F-fuuuuck— augh— knew this fuckhole was gonna be good without even seeing it. Looked like a damn slut who’d take anything given to them,” he says darkly, his tongue slipping as he gets more and more lost in the pleasure of your cunt.

Your eyes narrow at him, no matter how good he’s making you feel. Each pump of his hips brushes along every nerve in your core and it sends you flying, your body shaking with unimaginable pleasure. Your sopping cunt sucks him back in with every thrust, needing him inside you despite everything.

Wanting to drive him to the brink of insanity, your hands snap out and sink in between his sensitive scales. The Dragon throws back his head and lets out a ferocious roar. Then he falls forward, elbows caging you in and rutting up into your perfect pussy.

“Tell me why you sold me on this job. Did you think I was right for it?” you ask lowly, your breaths mingling with your close vicinity. Needing to ask and know the truth.

Dragon Headhunter chuckles and your pussy flutters around him, making him groan. He leans in and bites down on your neck, marking you with the memory of this moment. Then he leans back enough to look in your eye to deliver the blow.

“Nah, I just wanted this sweet cunt,” he says breathlessly, his words so simple yet infuriating. You dig your nails into the flesh beneath his scales the Dragon groans in pain, his hips surging forward into your tight heat.

“Fuck you.”

Dragon Headhunters eyes burn brightly, finally matching the anger in your own gaze. He smirks wickedly, flashing his fangs at you in a clear threat.

“Gladly.”

His tail whips out, quickly wrapping around your wrists and pinning you to the table. With a growl that sends chills up your spine, the Dragon picks up his pace, fucking up into you with a stamina your poor human body can barely handle as it jerks up with every thrust. A loud mewl rips from your throat as his cock bullies into your cervix with each stroke. His eyes gleam devilishly as he watches how much of a mess he’s turning you into.

But it’s not enough. His free hand flies to your puffy little clit and rubs your bundle of nerves in time with his thrusts. Your jaw drops, all the sensations building up inside you have you nearly losing your mind.

You scream in relief a when you finally fall off the edge. Your body shaking, hips rising off the table with the force of your orgasm. For a moment you see white and you hear the Dragon roar once more as he follows right after you. And when you open your eyes you gasp to see fire shooting out from his throat, teasing you. The heat it emits just turns you on even more, prolonging an already intense climax.

It’s only once you finally come down from the high of a lifetime do you seem to gain common sense again. You huff, your anger still palpable but more half-hearted as you tear yourself away from him. You slide off the table, heading toward your discarded clothes, needing to get out of here.

“I’m leaving,” you announce, quickly sliding your clothes back on. Ignoring the way your combined release drips out of you and pools in your panties.

“You’re under contract, sweets,” Dragon Headhunter replies, his tone filled with amused arrogance.

You whip around to face him yet unable to reply. He’s right. You’re stuck here. But is it really that bad that you are?

Seeing your hesitance to reply, thoughts clearly spinning through your mind, Dragon Headhunter smirks and saunters up to you in all his naked glory. “Welcome to Free Use City. Embrace it.”

Leaving the conference room you think over what he said. This was your chance at a fresh start and you wanted to make the most of it. In a Free Use City you guess that meant fucking strangers. Truly embracing the city for what it was and what it offered. You could do that! In your office building alone there were hundreds of people to choose from. You look around the office, wondering if IT Robot’s offer was still on the table. He’s bound to know everything about pleasuring a human. Or perhaps you could find Bunny Secretary and see if you could throw yourself at him again. And well… there was always that Demon Guard you passed on the way in. You’re sure he could show a sinful time.

[hoshifighting]

Villain! Seungcheol

— Synopsis: After facing constant rejection from your own boyfriend, you discover he’s a superhero flying around the city. Seungcheol, the so-called 'villain,' stepped in when you were left as bait, exposed to your boyfriend's enemies. It turns out, he's the one who truly took care of you. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: fantasy, angst, smut, crack, cigarettes, stalking (for good), physical fights, injury, murder, death (not the reader, not seungcheol), paranormal elements (superpowers, misshapenness, telepathy, and floating), moral ambiguity (unclear distinctions between "heroes" and "villains"), sex toys, oral (f. & m.), getting caught masturbating, cock riding, edging, creampie, DIRTY TALK.

You’ve dated a guy from the basketball team in high school, a guy from the cafeteria you used to frequent, and had your flings with… normal people. Gym rats or those who sang at the local bar.

But never... a hero? 

He was kind, and romantic, and treated you well—in the beginning of your relationship. But then he became distant, always desperate to go home at night, barely sleeping at your apartment. You thought about a whirlwind of things, like a normal person would think of; that he was cheating on you, that he had stopped loving you.

Tonight, you’re making dinner—a last-ditch effort to please him, to make him notice you again. The TV in the living room is tuned to the news, the background noise almost comforting. You chop vegetables with precise, almost robotic movements, your mind drifting.

“He’s probably just busy,” you mutter to yourself, trying to believe it. But it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in your chest.

Just then, a headline on the TV catches your attention. You glance up, expecting to see something mundane. Maybe an officer, a firefighter, or even a regular person with good sociology. Instead, you see your boyfriend, wearing a red hero cape, flying around the city. The spatula in your hand falls directly onto the ground, clattering loudly.

[Hero is seen flying between skyscrapers to make the city of Seoul increasingly safer.]

“What the...?” Your heart races as you stare at the screen, unable to believe your eyes. 

Your boyfriend, the man you’ve been worrying over, is a fucking superhero? Just like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy? 

The front door opens and he walks in, looking tired but carrying the same gentle smile that used to make your heart flutter. Tonight, though, it only fuels your confusion and frustration.

“Hey, babe,” he says, stepping into the kitchen. He pauses when he sees your expression, the dropped spatula. “What’s wrong?”

You point at the TV, unable to form words. He follows your gaze, and his face falls as he sees the news footage.

“Ah, you found out,” he says softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to tell you, I swear.”

[...]

This is how it started. It's as if, when you didn't know, he still made a point of being present here and there. But now that you know, he doesn't even care about it anymore. “I have to save the country, love,” you’ve heard this a bunch of times. 

So when you turn on the TV, you have to see him flexing those stupid big muscles—that he gained out of nowhere—making you doubt if he’s using padding or prosthetics under that cheesy costume.

He shouldn’t be seen around your house, so the 'villains' don’t know where you live.

You don't recognize him anymore. Was it egotistical to wish that he never had superpowers? That he was just a regular human, just like you?

"Hey," his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. He's standing in the doorway, looking worn out but with a familiar, almost hesitant smile. "I brought takeout. Thought we could have a quiet night in."

You glance at the food in his hands, your heart aching. "A quiet night in? Like the ones we used to have?"

He sighs, setting the bags down on the table. "Yeah, like those. I know things have been... different. But I'm trying, Y/N. I really am."

"Trying?" you repeat, incredulous. "You disappear for days, and when you’re here, it’s like you’re not really here. You're always thinking about the next mission, the next villain."

"I know," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "The powers, the responsibility... it just happened."

"Did it?" you snap, unable to hold back your frustration. "Because it feels like you chose this. Like you chose being a hero over being with me."

His eyes widen, pain flickering across his face. "That's not true. I didn't choose this over you. I chose this because... because I want to make the world a better place. For us."

You shake your head, "But what about making our world better? What about being here, with me? Being present?"

As you sit down to eat, the TV plays in the background, another heroic feat being broadcasted. You hesitate, looking at the man you once knew so well, now feeling like a stranger.

With great insistence, you managed to make him sleep in your bed. When you left the bath to join him in your sheets, he was already sleeping—hibernating, snoring like never before. You sigh, laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. You stayed like this until you saw the perfect clouds through the window, fluffy, looking like cotton candy, with the blue sky painting a canvas behind them. It was a beautiful morning.

You don’t remember leaving the window open, so you get up to close it, stopping the wind from hitting your face. The sun was radiating, and you could see people enjoying their morning. But still... why do you feel this smell of storm coming?

The water started to flow, not from the sky, but from your eyes—your tears. The next storm is the one inside you, making small whirlwinds and huge hurricanes, carrying you and destroying you. Obviously, your boyfriend wasn't home. His smell wasn’t there, his presence was like bills payable, only at the end of the month.

You made your bed, some of your tears ruining the perfect white duvet. You walked around your kitchen, picking up the single coffee mug on your countertop and washing it.

Your coworkers noticed your face—like you had slept nothing last night—and even asked what was happening. How could you explain this? How could you explain that you were dating a guy for some years, and he turned into a superhero—flying around the city with underwear over the costume?

Of course, they would laugh, not only because it's the biggest turnoff they will ever have seen, but also because they would think it's a joke, a badly told joke. It makes you feel even more stupid for being complicit, an extra in his comic book.

You arrive home. You look at the window, open again. You roll your eyes, closing it to prevent the wind from coming in. “Are you flying through my windows now?” you mumble, half expecting an answer.

You wonder if you should watch the news again, and see your boyfriend flex his muscles in front of the pretty journalist, putting out a fire in an establishment, looking at the camera to see if they've captured his heroic act, or when he carried a mail car with one arm in front of a group of girls who were walking on the sidewalk. 

You cringe, remembering all of them.

Dropping your bag on the couch, you plop down and grab the remote. You flick through the channels, each news report showing another heroic deed of his. "Great," you mutter sarcastically, landing on a channel where he’s giving an interview, his muscles practically bursting out of his suit.

He’s talking about his latest rescue, grinning at the journalist who’s batting her eyelashes at him. "And what’s next for our hero?" she asks, her voice sugary sweet.

"I’m just here to help," he replies, flashing a charming smile. "Wherever I’m needed."

You snort, turning off the TV. "Right, wherever you're needed. Except here," you say to the empty room.

You wander into the kitchen, the silence pressing in on you. You fill the kettle and set it to boil, needing something warm to soothe your frayed nerves. As you wait, you think about the early days, when he was just a guy you loved. Back when his biggest concern was making you laugh, not saving the world.

The kettle whistles, and you pour yourself a cup of tea, the steam rising in lazy spirals. You take a sip, leaning against the counter. "Why can’t you just be normal?" You whisper to yourself.

A sudden whoosh of air makes you jump, causing your hand to bump into the kettle. The same speed you touched it, you yank your hand back, a little burn forming. It’s nothing too serious, but enough to make you curse under your breath.

Your boyfriend widens his eyes and rushes over. “Let me help you,” he says, reaching for your hand.

“Fuck off,” you snap, pulling away. “I don’t need your help.”

He frowns, clearly hurt. How can someone not want his help? “I’m just trying to help.” his voice laced with exasperation.

Irritated by everything and the little burn on your hand, you cut him off. “What are you going to do, huh? Use lasers from your eyes?” You turn to the sink, running cold water over your hand.

“You’re always complaining,” he starts, his voice rising. “But you’re so difficult to deal with lately.”

You whip around, glaring at him. “Difficult? Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?”

He crosses his arms, his expression turning snobbish. “And it’s a walk in the park for me? I’m out there saving lives.”

“Yeah, and flexing your muscles for the cameras,” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He narrows his eyes. “You’re never supportive. All you do is whine about how hard your life is.”

You feel your blood boil. “Supportive? How can I be supportive when you’re never here? When you act like being a hero is the only thing that matters?”

He throws his hands up in frustration. “Because it does matter! I’m making a difference.”

“And what about us?” you yell, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “What about making a difference here, with me?”

He looks at you, anger and confusion on his face. “I’m trying to balance it, but you’re making it impossible.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You know what? I wish you never turned into a hero. I wish you never had these stupid superpowers. I preferred it when you were just human, like me.”

He scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to be weak like you humans anymore. You’re just jealous when you should be cheering for me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Jealous? Is that really what he thinks? “Jealous?” you echo. “I’m not jealous. I just miss the person you used to be.”

He shakes his head, looking away. “I’m still that person. You’re just too blind to see it.”

"Blind? Are you fucking serious?" you scoff, turning your back to him. "Leave," you grunt.

He furrows his eyebrows, shocked. Never in your relationship did he think he would see you like this—his cute girlfriend who begged for him to stay just one more minute, asking him to leave?

"I'm not going to repeat it," you say coldly. "You're making me feel sick."

"Fuck you then!" he curses under his breath before he storms out, leaving you stiff in the middle of your kitchen.

"Oof, I wouldn't let him get away with it if I were you."

You turn toward the voice, coming from the window—that one that you had to close again even though you already did in the morning. 

A man is sitting there with the help of the fire escape stairs outside the building. He’s dressed all in black, and you can’t even distinguish how many layers of clothing he’s wearing. His hair is black, and he has one eyebrow raised as he smokes a cigarette.

People react differently when scared. Some scream, some run. But you… you feel like your feet are glued to the ground, and from your throat, not a sound escapes. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as your eyes widen in shock. 

He doesn’t seem to care. He drops his cigarette, watching it accidentally fall on someone’s head below.

He hisses, "Ooh, sorry about that." Then he jumps from the window, landing gracefully in your living room as he brushes off his shoulders.

“You know, you should be more careful when locking your windows. You’re the superhero’s girlfriend, I mean—ex-girlfriend now, I suppose. It seems like he didn’t teach you some basic security stuff.” He looks around your apartment, studying it. “I even drank a coffee in your Hello Kitty mug yesterday—”

“Who the fuck are you?” you cut him off, your voice finally finding its strength.

He raises his hand mockingly, rolling his eyes. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you.” He smirks, glancing at the mug on the counter. “Nice collection, by the way. Just here to talk”

"Talk?" you echo, incredulous. "You break into my apartment, drink my coffee, and now you want to talk?"

He smirks, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, something like that. Seems like your boyfriend left you in quite a state.''’

You cross your arms defensively. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity?” he chuckles. “No, I just find it interesting. You’re dating the city’s golden boy, and yet here you are, all alone. Doesn’t quite add up, does it?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do you care?”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your boyfriend’s activities. And you,” he says, pointing at you, “are a fascinating part of that equation.”

You scoff, still on edge. “Fascinating? What’s so fascinating about being left behind?”

He smiles, a glint of devilishness in his eyes. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Maybe even... enjoy the freedom a little.” He winks, heading back toward the window.

As he climbs out, he turns back one last time. “Oh, and lock your windows. You never know who might drop by.” With that, he disappears into the night, leaving you standing there, more confused and unsettled than ever.

You move to the window and lock it firmly, your heart pounding.

Your boyfriend had warned you that this might happen, and it happened at the worst time—when he wasn’t there. 

Honestly, you couldn’t sleep that night either, now worried that a fucking stranger could break into your apartment, and instead of just drinking a coffee, he might bake a whole cake in your kitchen or, worse, do something to you.

So, you do what a ludic person would do. You start packing an emergency bag and ask to sleep at your friend’s house, using the excuse that you’ve broken up with your boyfriend—when in fact, you were more scared than anything.

[...] 

More terrifying was when you needed to return home. 

You open your front door, putting the bag on the floor. Before you can turn around to close the door, a hand clasps over your mouth, and the door behind you closes. You feel a warm body pressing against yours as you close your eyes tightly. 

It’s your end, you think.

You don’t even dare to open your eyes. When the hand is removed from your mouth, all you can mutter is, “Don’t hurt me, please.”

You hear a scoff, and then you open one eye. The person takes his hood off, revealing the same guy from the window. 

“Are you stupid? Why would I want to hurt you? I’m not a coward.” He detaches from you, looking at your still-squeezed form. “Where were you? And you did a great job locking the other windows, but your laundry window was not locked.”

You can only stare at him, your heart racing. He rolls his eyes. “Can you stop being a pissy little girl? You’re a grown woman. I’ve told you I’m not going to hurt you, and if it comforts you, I won’t steal your mug collection either. Maybe some coffee powder—but, well, can you stop?”

You think you’re going crazy. Was all of this supposed to be normal? 

He rolls his eyes again and disappears into your kitchen. You take small, shy—and scared—steps toward the kitchen to find him using your coffee machine, watching the coffee brew. His arms are propped on the counter, and he turns his head to look at you. 

He sighs, seeing your still-compressed form, like you’re still scared of his presence.

“Seriously,” he says, straightening up. “I’m not here to hurt you. You need to relax.” He takes a mug from your collection and pours himself a coffee, casually leaning against the counter as if he belongs there.

“What do you want from me?” you finally manage to ask, your voice trembling.

He takes a sip of coffee, savoring it before answering. “Just checking in. Making sure you’re okay. Your boyfriend isn’t exactly around to protect you, is he?”

You glare at him. “I don’t need his protection. Or yours.”

He smirks, clearly amused. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He sets the mug down and steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “But here’s the thing—you’re involved now, whether you like it or not.”

You swallow hard, trying to hold your ground. “I don’t want any part of this.”

“Too late,” he replies, his tone serious. “You’re already part of it. So, you might as well get used to it.”

You begin to shiver as his words sink in. This is your life now, tangled up with heroes and villains. And there’s no going back.

He sighs, seeing the fear in your eyes. “Look, I know this isn’t what you signed up for. But you’re tougher than you think. Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, whatever—he’s not around, and that puts you in a vulnerable position.”

“You mean, you’re here to spy on me. To see if you can use me against him.”

He shrugs. “I'm here ensure you’re not caught in the crossfire. Believe it or not, I have some principles.”

You laugh bitterly. “Principles? Breaking into someone’s home and terrorizing them is principled now?”

He sets the cup down and steps closer. “I didn’t mean to scare you. But you need to be more careful. This world you’re tangled in—it’s dangerous.”

You stare at him, unsure whether to believe him. “And you’re what, my guardian angel now?”

He smirks. “Hardly. Think of me as a… concerned party. I don’t want unnecessary casualties.” “Stay out of trouble. Keep your head down.”

With that, he finishes his coffee and heads toward the window. “Remember, I'm not your enemy, but I'm definitely his. Don't make me your enemy too.”

"Wait!" you call out. He stops and turns around slowly, his expression curious. "W-who are you?" you stammer.

He tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Do you really want to know?" he asks, his tone dripping with mocking curiosity.

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re practically living here. I should at least know your name."

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "More like a roommate situation, huh? Alright, if you really want to know, you can call me Seungcheol. And if you’re genuinely interested in what I do, maybe I’ll take you to my HQ someday, show you my plans."

You grimace at his tone, which only makes him laugh harder. 

Before heading down the emergency stairs, he looks back at you. "Stay close, alright? I need to keep tabs on you. You’re a bit exposed out here." He winks and disappears, leaving you standing there, more confused than before.

Seungcheol—the window guy, as you’d come to call him—disappeared physically for some days, but his presence lingered in odd, unsettling ways. You started finding pieces of ripped paper around your house, each with a different message.

“Keep your windows locked.”

“Log out of your social media from your home computer.”

“Check your door lock twice before bed.”

“Don’t leave your spare key under the mat.”

And one particularly embarrassing note: “I know you miss your hero-boyfriend, but can you also hide your sex toys? I’m traumatized.”

The embarrassment lasts only a few minutes each time, but then you think, nobody asked him to keep coming into your house. Still, there was a strange sense of security in knowing he was keeping an eye on things, even if his methods were invasive and borderline creepy.

Days turn into a week, and the silence feels heavy. 

You find yourself almost missing the bizarre meetings. One night, as you’re cleaning up after dinner, you catch a glimpse of movement outside the window. You draw the curtains aside to find Seungcheol lounging casually on the fire escape, looking like he belonged there.

“Miss me?” he quips, flashing you a smirk.

You roll your eyes, opening the window slightly. “You really need to get a hobby, Seungcheol.”

“This is my hobby,” he says, slipping inside without an invitation. “Keeping tabs on you is surprisingly entertaining.”

“You know, you could at least pretend not to notice my vibrator,” you snap, half-joking, half-mortified.

Seungcheol grins, “Hey, it’s hard to miss when it’s just lying around. You could be more discreet.”

You huff in annoyance, continuing to clean up. He opens your fridge, rummaging around like he owns the place. “Any news?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He casually bites into an apple. “Yep. One of his enemies is planning to invade your place tomorrow at 7:48 p.m. The exact time you get home from work.”

You spin around, eyes wide. “What?! What do I do?”

“I suggest you stay close to me,” he shrugs. “I can keep you safe, make sure no one uses you as a pawn.”

“You want me to trust you?” you ask, incredulous.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to be safe, or do you want to have some alien freak shoving its tentacles down your throat?”

You give him an exasperated look. “I knew you’d have this reaction,” he says, shrugging. He places a flash drive on your kitchen counter. “Watch it yourself.”

You close your eyes, massaging your temples. You don’t know if you’re ready to see what’s on that flash drive, much less trust a stranger who claims to be your ex-boyfriend’s enemy. 

“I need you to leave. Even if he’s my ex, I still can’t do something like this.”

Seungcheol nods, looking up like he expected this. “Your boyfriend won’t be here to rescue you if that’s what you’re counting on.”

“How can you be so sure of that? I don’t even know you!”

“Because if your stupid boyfriend didn’t buy those superpowers, he’d be nothing. Without that silly red cape and the TV cameras, he’s just an insecure guy who wants to be seen. And— come on, he didn’t care about the girlfriend he had waiting at home. You think he cares about saving random people? Don’t be dumb.”

His words sting, and you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face. He nods negatively as he walks out again, leaving you standing there, the weight of his words sinking in. You don’t want to believe him, but deep down, you know there’s some truth to what he’s saying.

With a sigh, you look at the flash drive on the counter. 

The next day was a mess from the moment you woke up. You couldn't find your white shirt, and your baby liss was nowhere to be found. Running late, you had to leave without fixing your hair. 

Work was a blur of you staring blankly at your computer screen, your mind preoccupied with the fear that some tentacle monster might actually show up at 7:48 p.m.

Were you being stupid for believing a guy you met barely a week ago? Absolutely. But who wouldn't be a little suspicious?

As you stepped off the bus and walked along the sidewalk toward your building, your watch read 7:58 p.m. You glanced up at your window. The lights were off, and everything looked normal. No way a villain would get you, right?

"I knew he was lying," you mutter quietly to yourself, almost convincing.

But your conviction didn’t last long. A massive purple tentacle exploded through your living room window, sending concrete and bricks crashing to the street. Your eyes widened in disbelief. Was that a person in the middle of those giant tentacles? Were you homeless now?

"Are you gonna hop on or let these ugly tentacles suffocate you?" Seungcheol’s voice cuts through the chaos.

You didn’t need to look to know it was him. You turned to see him in his black outfit, waiting on his motorcycle. Your instinct was to kneel on the ground and cry about your now-destroyed apartment, but you didn't have time for that.

You sulked a bit before grabbing the helmet from his hand and hopping onto the bike, your hands wrapping uncertainly around his waist.

As Seungcheol sped off towards his HQ—or hideout, whatever it was—your tears started to flow. "My apartment... it's ruined. All my stuff, my mug collection, my unicorn pajamas I didn’t even get to wear yet," you whined into his back.

Seungcheol fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Seriously? We're running from a monster, and you're worried about unicorn pajamas?"

“Yes!” you sniffled. “They were so cute. And now I don’t even have a place to sleep. My place is ruined, and all my goods are probably destroyed.”

“Focus on staying alive first,” he said, trying to sound more patient than he felt. “We’ll deal with the rest later.”

“But my mugs… My unicorn pajamas…” you continued, your voice muffled against his back.

“Alright, alright,” he said, trying to placate you. 

Seungcheol had to concentrate to keep from crashing as he listened to you cry and whine about your lost belongings. He knew you were overwhelmed, and though it was annoying, he understood. Reaching his hideout, he finally stopped the bike and helped you off, letting you lean on him for support.

Your first instinct is to look around. It’s a large industrial loft, the walls made of bricks, and the long windows hidden behind some opaque plastic. 

The place seems to have only the essentials: a large bed with a vintage headboard, a couch, a TV. Turning around, you notice the kitchen has a coffee machine just like yours. 

Then your eyes widen as you spot familiar items: the white shirt you were looking for this morning, poking out of a huge black bag, a big box labeled 'mugs’ in bad calligraphy, your hair iron with the princess tape patch on the cord, emerging from another black bag. 

Several bags are sprawled on the floor, all looking ready to burst.

"M-my things!" you squeak as Seungcheol looks unbothered, though you can see the faintest hint of a smile at your happiness. You run to him, giving him a clumsy hug that he doesn’t reciprocate, before opening the bags.

"It was very difficult to bring all of your stuff," he says, trying to hide his amusement. "Can I know why you have three... inflatable flamingos all the same color?" he asks, clearly judging the quirky items he found while gathering your things from your dresser.

You don’t respond, too busy rifling through the bags like a kid on Christmas morning. 

You open another bag with a big smile on your face, which quickly fades when you see what’s on top: your vibrator, handcuffs, and lube. 

You widen your eyes and try to close the bag with an awkward smile, but it’s too late. Seungcheol turns his head to the side, taking a deep breath as if trying to pretend he wasn’t the one who had to gather your spicy stuff.

You clear your throat, standing up and brushing off your knees. “When did you get all of this? I mean—how did you do it so quickly?”

"Some friends helped me," he answers, watching your reaction. 

You widened your eyes, and he knew why. 

“Chill out, I packed your Christian Grey stuff myself,” he said, looking up as if remembering something. “And what's with that neon green, dildo? Seriously?”

You stuttered, your face flushed. “I-I didn’t use that, it was a gag gift!”

“Trust me, I don’t want to know,” he said, cutting you off with a furrowed brow.

“That’s… oddly considerate of you,” you admitted, still processing everything.

He shrugged again, “Don’t get used to it. I’m not a nice guy.”

“Thanks, Seungcheol.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning away. “Just don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You sighed, “Thanks, I guess. It’s just… embarrassing.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve seen worse,” he shrugged.

“Worse than a neon green dildo?”

He chuckled, “You’d be surprised.”

You point at the large industrial loft around you. “So, this is your place?”

"Not as fancy as yours, but, yes, it is," Seungcheol responds, shrugging nonchalantly.

You shake your head, still taking in the surroundings. "I wouldn’t call my place fancy. Just... more pink."

He chuckles, nodding. "Yeah, I noticed. You have a thing for unicorns and pastels."

You look around, taking in the mix of sparse furniture and personal touches. "Why do you have my stuff, anyway?"

He leans against the counter, arms crossed. "Had to make sure you had everything. Can't have you running back to your place and getting into trouble."

You shake your head, still in disbelief. "You really don’t look like a villain."

He scoffs, giving you a sideways glance. "That's because I don't have a red cape? You don’t look this naughty either. I discovered it in the worst way."

You try to slap his shoulder playfully, but he catches your hand with his quick reflexes, smirking as he lets go and starts walking toward the loft above. You follow him, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Different from your boyfriend, I don’t need muscle superpowers to be relevant,” he says, glancing back at you as he ascends the stairs.

You glance around as you reach the upper level, which is filled with computers, chemistry equipment, and some jackets thrown randomly around. "So, what exactly do you do here?"

"Let's just say I have my ways of keeping an eye on things," he replies, tapping on one of the computer screens. "Information is power, you know."

You nod slowly. "And what's your plan with all this power?"

He raises an eyebrow, amused by your question. "That depends. What do you think I should do with it?"

You let out a nervous laugh. "I'm not exactly an expert on villainous plots."

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. "Relax, I'm not planning world domination. Just...taking care of some business."

You tilt your head, still trying to piece everything together. "And what kind of business would that be?"

He sighs, looking frustrated at you—but trying to be patient. "Let's just say there are a lot of things that need fixing, and sometimes you have to break a few rules to get it done."

You frown, thinking about his words. "And my ex-boyfriend...does he know about any of this?"

Seungcheol shrugs. "He knows I exist, but he doesn't know the details. Probably too busy flexing for the cameras."

You can’t help but smile. "Yeah, he’s definitely good at that."

Seungcheol looks at you seriously. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but trust me, it’s better you know the truth. You can’t go back to being ignorant."

"So, what do we do? I can't just hide forever."

Seungcheol sits on the edge of a desk, looking thoughtful. "You’re here because you’re vulnerable—"

"Vulnerable?" you interrupt, crossing your arms. "You make it sound like I’m helpless."

Seungcheol stops for a moment, looking at you blankly. 

"Think fast!" he says suddenly, throwing a sock ball in your direction. You instinctively step back, catching the ball, but your back overtakes the loft railing. 

Seungcheol gets up from his chair, moving swiftly to grip you tightly before you fall to the floor below. You go static as you look at him, his hands firm on your waist, grounding you.

"You're good at catching," he says, glancing at the sock in your hand. "But you need to have a better sense of space."

Your heart pounds, both from the near fall and his closeness. "What was that for?"

He releases you, but his eyes stay locked on yours. "Training. If you’re going to stay here, you need to be alert."

You nod. "Okay, but maybe warn me next time?"

He chuckles, stepping back to give you some space. "Where's the fun in that?"

You roll your eyes, tossing the sock ball back at him. He catches it effortlessly. "So, what’s the plan? How do I learn to protect myself?"

Seungcheol tilts his head, considering. "I don't know... Maybe some basic self-defense? For example, if i do this—" He moves quickly, throwing a punch towards you—not to hit, but to test your reaction.

You manage to dodge, but not gracefully. He smiles. "Not bad for a beginner. We'll keep working on that."

[...]

You still miss your apartment, and a lot of your things are still in bags, which you pick through only when you need something. You always wondered what really happened in movies when heroes destroyed the whole city during battles. Now, you’re experiencing it firsthand. Your apartment is being repaired by the building’s construction company, with help from insurance. So, more days living with Seungcheol.

It’s not bad. It’s strange, for someone used to being alone at home. He leaves at night, just like your ex-boyfriend, but spends more of his days in the loft—more than your ex-boyfriend ever did. 

He’s actually teaching you something useful. The two of you spar in the loft, not even needing to move furniture since there isn’t much. And he’s hard on you.

You support your hands on your knees, panting, while he looks untouched. "C’mon! Are you tired already?"

You straighten up, mocking his tone. "Unfortunately, my ex who fights around didn’t give me a preview of how to box."

He puts his hands on his hips. "Your boyfriend doesn’t know how to fight. He only has his powers to his advantage."

“You didn't watch what was on the flash drive, did you?” he asks.

You shake your head.

He sighs and asks you to come up. He sits you in his chair, in front of his computer, and opens a folder. There’s a video of your boyfriend inside a laboratory. It looks very old.

"I need more than just strength and flight," your boyfriend says in the video, addressing what looks like a scientist. "We’ve been studying this for years. My time has come."

“Are you sure? There’s no turning back,” the scientist asks.

“I’m sure. I can’t keep living this mediocre life,” your boyfriend replies.

“But what about the people around you? They’re at risk,” the scientist says.

Your ex-boyfriend's response breaks your heart, though you can’t deny it fits his recent arrogance. "I don’t care. I need this."

The scientist sighs and then injects several different colored serums into your ex’s body. He groans, and as he begins to levitate, the video blurs and turns off.

You stare at the blank screen, processing the information. Seungcheol leans back, giving you space.

"See what I mean?" he says. "He wasn’t thinking about you, or anyone else. Just himself."

“So, he chose this. He actually wanted this.”

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, he did. It wasn’t some accident or noble cause. He was just desperate to be more than he was.”

You sit back, processing the information. “He used to be so different. I don’t even recognize him anymore.”

“That’s what power does to some people,” Seungcheol says, leaning against the desk. “It changes them.”

Seungcheol’s screens start to beep urgently, pulling his attention away from you. He walks calmly to the other side of the room to grab his jacket. The steady rhythm of his movements contrasts with the beeping noises filling the space. 

He’s about to leave again when he pauses, his back facing you.

You watch him, restless, pacing back and forth as your mind churns over the recent revelations. His peripheral vision catches your agitation. He glances sideways, noticing the anxiousness in your steps.

He moves towards the door, then hesitates and turns back. “If you need anything, just—”

“Yeah, I know. Just call you, right?” You finish his sentence, giving him a small, knowing smile.

He smirks, nodding. “Exactly. Stay put. I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he leaves the loft, the door closing behind him. 

You knew Seungcheol would arrive home late, and you needed to calm down. Unfortunately, the last bottle of wine was finished yesterday when you couldn't find anything else to drink with your popcorn. 

Sweets maybe? Well, a villain’s house would have sweets? No, just as you thought. The only thing left was a pack of cigarettes on the kitchen counter.

You find yourself on the rooftop of Seungcheol's loft, the cigarette smoke filling your lungs and burning your throat. You didn’t like the smell of cigarettes and coughed every time the smoke filled your lungs. 

But that’s what you had to dissolve a bit of your anxiety, your last moments with your ex replaying in your mind. So he never cared at all?

Suddenly, your cigarette is slapped out of your hand. You turn around to see your ex, his costume perfect, but his eyes deep and face scarred.

“This is what Seungcheol has taught you then? Aren’t you ashamed?” He sneers.

You open your mouth to answer, but he comes closer, making you flinch.

He scoffs. “What? You’re scared of me? Let me tell you something... He is the villain. And you’ve joined his side, my enemy, after all we had.” He spits the words out with venom.

Rage boils within you, making you feel not like yourself. “Seungcheol took care of me. If I were alone, I would be dead. You don’t know what kind of superpower this is.”

He grabs your arm, making you feel dizzy, your vision cloudy. The pain is intense and senseless.

“What? You thought a villain would help you? You’re fragile. You need attention so bad that I couldn’t even handle you.” You fall to the ground, the pain spreading through your body as you groan.

“You know what? If you think he’s going to be your enchanted prince, you’re wrong. So damn wrong. The chances of him wanting to kill you are greater than that stupid dream of yours—”

You hear an impact, and the dizziness and pain slowly dissipate. You breathe properly again. When you come back to your senses, you look up to see Seungcheol, fighting with your ex. Seungcheol is taking a beating, only advancing when your ex's power falters, like a lag.

You could leave sneakily, but was it right? Seungcheol literally protected you from your own ex, showed you his true colors, and taught you the best of himself. Even though he is cold and "cruel" as they say.

As you're thinking, a glass sound pulls you from your mind. It's an injection. 

You see your ex crawling desperately to get it. Seungcheol gives you an exasperated look, signaling for you to pick it up. 

You grab it, walking back as your ex roars for you to leave it. You clutch it in your fist and, in a moment of desperation, inject it into your leg.

Your ex widens his eyes. But the substance is too powerful for you. You fall again, the pain overwhelming you.

He laughs, but Seungcheol is on him, beating him relentlessly. The fight intensifies, Seungcheol’s blows becoming more furious. You can barely focus on their struggle, the pain in your leg is consuming your thoughts.

The injection burns through your veins, making you feel like you’re on fire. You clench your teeth, trying to endure it. Your ex's laughter turns into cries of pain as Seungcheol lands a particularly harsh blow.

Seungcheol’s eyes briefly meet yours, and you see the determination in them. He’s fighting for you, protecting you with everything he has.

Seungcheol pauses, turning his attention away from you as the hero rises once more, clearly summoning his last reserves of strength.

Seungcheol stands confidently, knowing he has a chance to defeat him—if only he weren't standing on the edge of the building. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t possess flying superpowers. Instead, he grips the edge of the building with nothing but the strength of his fingers, looking up at the hero who towers above him.

Yet, Seungcheol has one special superpower, the reason he's considered the villain: the ability to listen to those who need help, like an echo in his mind. He hears the calls for aid and responds in his own way, without the expensive, extraneous superpowers the heroes pay billions for. 

Unlike them, who need to buy their abilities, Seungcheol was born with his. He helps those living on the margins of society, without seeking fame or recognition. He doesn’t want to appear on TV or in the news.

Inside the heroes' world, he is well recognized, but without the money and science they have.

Seungcheol has nothing in his favor. 

Yet, he still manages to help people. They can’t understand him. And hate can come easily to that which is too remembered.

His body can't manage more than this—more than his telepathy. 

If it could, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He’s going to end up like this. His death won’t be caused by a big octopus or a giant RoboCop, as other heroes did. But by a great show of charity. He would do it for any citizen, but the fact that it’s you makes him have no regrets at all.

Seungcheol’s fingers start to slip, and he knows his time is running out. The hero stands above him, a look of triumph on his face. But Seungcheol’s mind is calm, even serene. He’s made peace with his fate.

The hero moves closer, ready to deliver the final blow. But in that moment, Seungcheol’s telepathy kicks in stronger than ever. He hears the cries of the people he’s saved, their voices filling his mind.

He has always fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, without the need for glory or recognition. 

The world may see him as a villain, but he knows the truth. 

His life has been a quiet rebellion, a stand against the notion that only the powerful can be heroes. 

Seungcheol's mind becomes silent, and he can only hear your groans. His eyes close as he tries to hear from you again.

“Y/N?” he telepathizes, his voice entering your mind, velvet and deep.

You groan again, and he asks. “I’m here... are you alright, my love? Can you walk?”

The affectionate nickname makes your heart flutter. Seungcheol agonizes when the hero's steps on his fingers, but he agonizes more because he can't hear a proper response from you. Desperation sets in.

“Answer me, please. I’m not going to last,” he telepathizes again.

“Seungcheol...” he hears your voice and breathes out, relief washing over him. He looks down, watching the movement on the street below. It was too much of a drop to survive. His fingers were burning with pain.

“Seungcheol...” you call again. He shuts his eyes, clinging to the sound of your voice. “Let go,” you tell him. The words hit him like a jolt. He doesn’t understand. His arms tremble with the effort of holding on.

“Trust me, trust me, trust me.” He hears it like a whisper around his head. The conviction in your voice pierces through his fear. 

He loosens his grip, his fingers slipping from the edge.

The air envelops his body like a hug as he falls, the distortion from the speed making the street sounds blur into a cacophony. The only thing he can think of is how you’re going to live by yourself now.

As he falls, memories flash before his eyes. He remembers every face he saved, every life he touched, his quiet acts of heroism, every moment of your brief time together, and then, vividly, your face. 

He thinks of your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. 

The moment Seungcheol hits the ground, he expects the pain, the end. Instead, he feels a strange warmth spreading through his body. He blinks, realizing he’s lying on a soft cushion of air, suspended just above the pavement. The hero stares down in disbelief.

Seungcheol’s body is gently lowered to the ground. He looks up to see you standing on the rooftop, your hand outstretched, eyes closed in fierce concentration. As his feet touch the ground, your eyes snap open, and you breathe out in relief. 

Before Seungcheol can react, you advance on the hero, the two of you disappearing in a blur of motion and light atop the building.

Blinding flashes illuminate the rooftop as Seungcheol scrambles to his feet, urgency driving him forward. He runs into the building, tripping on the flights of stairs in his haste. The sounds of the battle above echo down to him, and he pushes himself harder, every fiber of his being focused on reaching you in time.

Seungcheol bursts onto the rooftop again, his breath ragged and his heart pounding. The sight that greets him makes his blood run cold. 

Your ex-boyfriend lies lifeless on the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. In your trembling hand, the hero’s heart reactor device glows faintly, now smeared with blood.

“Y/N!” Seungcheol shouts, rushing to your side as your knees give way, collapsing under the weight of what you’ve done. The powers from the injection still course through your veins, but your energy is completely spent. You tremble in his hands, your body feeling like it’s made of lead.

The weight of what you’ve done hits you like a ton of bricks. You stare down at the reactor in your hand, the blood smeared on your fingers, and a violent shudder runs through you. The metallic smell of blood mingles with the acrid scent of smoke, and it’s all too much.

“I never wanted it to end like this,” you whisper, your voice breaking. Your face is frozen in shock, eyes wide and unseeing as you try to process the magnitude of your actions. “I-I’ve killed someone.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, his grip on your shoulders firm yet gentle. “You did what you had to do,” he says, his voice low and steady. “He would’ve killed you, Y/N.”

You shake your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “But it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you insist, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to become a killer.”

Seungcheol’s eyes soften, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth seeping into your cold, shaking body. “Listen to me,” he says firmly, his lips close to your ear. “You’re not a killer. You’re a survivor. He put you in this position, not the other way around.”

You cling to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you sob uncontrollably. The reactor slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground with a dull thud. “I just wanted to be safe,” you cry, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t want any of this.”

“I know,” Seungcheol murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “I know, Y/N. It’s going to be okay.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. “How can you be so sure?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you’re strong,” he says simply, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Stronger than you realize. And because I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes your heart ache. Despite everything, there’s a flicker of hope in his gaze that you can’t ignore.

Seungcheol brings you back to his loft, your body feeling heavy and numb. He helps you inside the shower, carefully removing your clothes. You sit on the floor, naked, as the warm water cascades over you, washing away the blood and grime. 

There’s no malice or ulterior motive in his actions—only a quiet, pure care. You stare blankly at the tiles of his shower, lost in your thoughts, while his hands work methodically, washing your hair and scrubbing away the blood stains from your skin.

You needed this. 

The side effects of the injection, the strain of using powers you didn’t fully understand, have left you weak. So weak that you need him to do something as simple as this for you.

Once you’re clean, Seungcheol wraps you in a fluffy towel, drying you carefully. He dresses you in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin. 

He guides you to his bed, tucking you in. You sink into the mattress, the exhaustion pulling at you like a heavy blanket. Seungcheol sits beside you, watching you for a few minutes. His body aches from the fight, but his concern for you overrides his own pain.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He nods, his eyes never leaving your face. “You need to rest. Let your body recover.”

You nod, closing your eyes. The events of the night replay in your mind, but there’s a strange comfort in knowing Seungcheol is there, watching over you. “You don’t have to stay,” you murmur, feeling a pang of guilt.

“I want to,” he replies softly. “Just sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

As you drift off, the last thing you feel is the warmth of his hand holding yours, grounding you in the midst of the turmoil. The darkness of sleep pulls you under, but for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel completely alone.

He waits for you to fall asleep before quietly moving around the loft, gathering what’s left of your belongings. 

With quick, calculated motions, he loads his things, along with yours, into the trunk and backseat of his truck. The apartment, once filled with traces of both your lives, now stands empty, its furniture the only remnants of your presence.

When he looks at the empty space one last time, he takes a deep breath, then returns to the bedroom. Gently, he lifts you into his arms, careful not to disturb your sleep. 

You’re so exhausted that you don’t stir as he carries you to the truck. His eyes flicker to you now and then as he drives, taking the road that leads to the other side of the country.

Long hours later, the sun starts to rise, casting a golden hue over the landscape. You wake up, eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the day. You find yourself parked outside a roadside restaurant, the car silent. Seungcheol is nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, you notice a blanket draped over you and realize you’re fully dressed, not just in his shirt anymore.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, fingers curling around the edges of the blanket. The sound of footsteps draws your attention, and you see Seungcheol approaching with a box of food in his hands. He opens the car door and slides into the driver’s seat, placing the food on the console between you.

“Hey,” he says softly, glancing at you. “How are you feeling?”

You blink a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Tired,” you admit, your voice still groggy. “Where are we?”

“We’re on the road,” he replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you could use some breakfast.” He opens the box, revealing a variety of pastries, fruit, and a couple of sandwiches.

You nod, reaching for a piece of fruit. “Thank you,” you say, taking a bite and savoring the sweet taste. “For everything.”

He watches you eat for a moment before responding. “You needed to get away from there. It’s not safe.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice soft. “But where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” he answers, his tone reassuring. "Somewhere, they won’t find us.”

You look at him, studying his face. There’s a determination in his eyes, a resolve that gives you a sense of security despite the uncertainty of your situation. “Okay,” you say, trusting him.

He nods, his eyes softening. “Finish eating. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

As you pass through small towns and sprawling landscapes, a sense of peace begins to settle over you. The rhythmic hum of the truck and the steady presence of Seungcheol at your side are comforting. 

You share the occasional snack with him, your fingers brushing against his lips, eliciting a small smile from him each time.

As the truck continues down the road, the cityscape starts to take shape on the horizon. Tall buildings stand proud, their windows reflecting the sun’s light. It’s a bustling place, full of life and opportunity.

 It’s everything you’ve been yearning for—a fresh start, a new chapter.

After you arrive, your legs stretch as you step onto the new asphalt. You look around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, and ask, “Where are we?”

Seungcheol smiles, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I’m going to show you,” he replies, leading you towards a big, white house. The house stands in stark contrast to the urban scene around it, classic and serene.

You follow him inside, and immediately, you notice people dressed in white moving about with purpose. Some are tending to children, others to elders, each room filled with an atmosphere of care and compassion. It's a place of healing and sanctuary, you realize, a refuge from the chaos you’ve just escaped.

As you walk through the house, you reach a garden at the back. The same people in white are there, playing with the children and dogs, the air filled with laughter and joy. 

You notice a girl in white sitting by an easel, her fingers pressed to her temples. To your amazement, the brush on the canvas moves on its own, guided by her powers.

You stare in awe. “She’s painting without touching the brush,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder.

Seungcheol nods. “Yes, she’s using her powers. This place is a sanctuary for people like her, like us. A safe haven where they can learn to control and use their abilities for good.”

You look around, taking in the peaceful surroundings, the sense of community and support. “It’s beautiful,” you say softly, feeling a sense of hope blossom within you.

The next stop is a small, vintage apartment where you and Seungcheol place your things. The walls are adorned with faded floral wallpaper, and the furniture has a charming, old-fashioned feel. You sit on the living room floor, surrounded by boxes, and trail off, lost in thought.

“So, you’re a hero, not a villain,” you murmur, looking up at Seungcheol.

He pauses, glancing at you with a thoughtful expression. “I guess it’s not that simple,” he says, sitting down across from you. “People see what they want to see. To some, I’m a hero. To others, I’m a villain.”

You nod, digesting his words. “But you saved me. You brought me here. That makes you a hero in my book.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I just did what needed to be done. Sometimes, the line between hero and villain isn’t so clear.”

You lean back, propping yourself up on your elbows. “It’s strange, you know? All this time, I thought I knew who the good guys and the bad guys were. But now… everything’s different.”

He nods, his eyes distant. “Life isn’t a simple story. It’s messy, complicated. People have layers, motives that aren’t always black and white.”

You turn to Seungcheol, who has laid himself out on the living room floor beside you. The gentle hum of the old radiator fills the silence between you as you finally ask the question that's been on your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, glancing over at him.

He turns his head to face you, nodding slightly. “Sure. What’s up?”

“How did you meet me?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

Seungcheol sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he begins, his tone thoughtful. “I first heard you every single night in my head before I even knew where you lived. It started with your thoughts and feelings—your fears, your doubts. I heard them all.”

You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “You heard me in your head?”

He nods. “Yeah. I didn’t know who you were at first, just that there was someone struggling. I could sense your pain and your frustration. It was like an echo in my mind.”

He pauses for a moment, then continues. “When I'vve found you, I started watching the movements in your apartment. I saw you and your boyfriend fighting—a lot. I saw the nights you were left alone...”

You shift uncomfortably, thinking about all the arguments, the hurtful words exchanged. “What did you see?”

“I saw things that were hard to watch. There were nights when your boyfriend would come home drunk, lashing out at you for no reason. I saw him bringing people over, strangers who didn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Your heart aches as you listen. “So, you were watching all of this?”

He nods. “I was. I needed to be sure of what was happening before I intervened. I couldn’t just act without understanding the full picture. He was involved in some dangerous activities, connections with people I didn’t want you to be near.”

He looks at you with a serious expression. “I knew I had to do something. It’s my job, in a way. The place I showed you before, is where people like me come from. We’re spread out across the country, helping those in need.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “So, you felt like you had to save me.”

“Exactly,” he says softly. “It was more than just a job. It was a responsibility. When I saw how much you were suffering, I knew I couldn’t just stand by. I had to step in.”

As you lie there, processing everything Seungcheol has told you, it dawns on you that the man who once seemed so mysterious and distant wasn’t a villain at all. He was the one who sat on your window, smoking and wearing a black outfit, seemingly a shadowy figure. 

He was the one who risked falling from a building to ensure your safety, who gathered your belongings—even your mug collection, and your… dildo—before your apartment was destroyed by an alien.

He was the man who, despite the doubts and fears, saved your life and now laid by your side as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Seungcheol’s presence beside you, so unexpectedly comforting, makes you feel secure in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. His gaze meets yours, a question in his eyes as if trying to decipher the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind.

Unable to hold back your emotions any longer, you roll over and drape yourself across him like a koala. The sudden weight makes him emit a funny gasp. You both end up laughing, the sound filling the room with warmth. He wraps his arms around you, reciprocating the hug with a soft giggle.

“What?” he asks with a playful smile, his eyes twinkling.

You look up at him, your heart full, and press a soft kiss on his lips. Seungcheol’s eyes flutter closed, and he melts into the kiss, holding your face gently as if he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

But then, he pulls back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Wait, no, are you sure about this? I mean, you’ve just come out of a… complicated relationship.”

You can see the concern in his eyes, the careful consideration behind his words. “I am sure,” you say softly, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “You’ve been amazing. You’re not a villain, and you’ve shown me what it’s like to be cared for.”

You move to kiss his forehead, then his neck, making him giggle again, his laughter bubbling up despite the seriousness of the conversation. He closes his eyes, savoring each tender kiss, his heart racing with every touch.

“I guess I’m just worried,” he says, his voice a mix of hesitation and affection. “You’ve been through so much. I don’t want you to think that I’m just trying to fill a void or something.”

You shake your head, placing one last kiss on his lips. “You’re not just filling a void. You’re something real and true, and I can feel it.”

“Can you… feel it?” he asks.

You smile against his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to reassure him. “Of course I can,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

The moment your lips meet his again, you notice his reaction is less restrained this time. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if he’s afraid you might disappear. His kisses grow more passionate, each touch of his lips filled with a desperate need to communicate everything he feels.

You can taste the sweetness of his affection, feel the way he melts into you, and you respond with the same intensity. Your hands explore the familiar contours of his face, as if memorizing every detail, every emotion he's conveying. 

His breath quickens, and you can feel the heat of his skin, the way his entire body seems to respond to you, to the connection that’s unfolding between you both.

He pulls away slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes locked onto yours. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could.”

You brush your lips against his once more, a soft, tender caress. “It’s because it’s real,” you whisper. “It’s something I’ve needed for a long time.”

[...]

If you ever thought your life would change drastically, you never imagined it would be like this. 

When Seungcheol left to handle his tasks for the night, it felt different. The house, though quiet, seemed fuller now.

His presence lingered in the way he had filled it with his energy, his routines, his little touches that made the space feel like more than just four walls. The absence of his constant presence was noticeable, yet somehow, it felt like a comfort.

You wandered around the house, touching things you hadn’t noticed before. There were small, personal details—like a collection of old vinyl records stacked neatly on a shelf, and a set of quirky, handmade coasters on the coffee table. They made the house feel lived in, like a real home.

In the kitchen, you found a note Seungcheol had left on the counter, scrawled in his familiar handwriting: “Pick a movie tonight. I’ll be back soon.” You smiled at the simple gesture, a small piece of normalcy in the midst of the whirlwind you’d been through.

When he arrives at the apartment, the warm aroma of dinner wafts from the stove. He glances around, noticing that the movie on the TV is paused at the very beginning. It’s strange that you’re not here; usually, you’d be curled up on the couch, waiting for him. 

His eyes sweep over the space, and he hangs his jacket on a dining chair, the soft thud of the fabric against the wood mingling with the hum of the refrigerator.

A sudden noise catches his attention—an “Ah!” from somewhere in the apartment. 

Seungcheol freezes, his heart rate quickening. He tilts his head, straining to hear again. The sound came from the bedroom. Curiosity and concern propel him forward as he moves cautiously toward the door.

Pushing the door open just a crack, he peeks inside. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the scene before him. 

You’re sprawled out on the bed, your legs were spread open in a way that revealed everything. 

Your body glistens with a sheen of sweat, and you’re arching back, clearly horny. The vibrator, the very same one he had glimpsed in your old apartment—a sight that had piqued his curiosity—was now pressed tightly against your clit. 

He could see the pleasure etched across your face, the way you bit your lip and gripped the sheets. He hesitated at the doorway, not wanting to intrude but unable to tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding before him.

The sight is so intimate, so raw, that he feels a blend of emotions—desire, awe, and a sense of protectiveness. His initial impulse is to step in, to be there for you, but he’s also painfully aware of how private this moment is.

His own breath hitches as he wrestles with the decision of whether to interrupt or simply stand back. He knows this is a vulnerable part of you, one that you might not be ready to share with him just yet.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, his desire is real as he steps fully into the room. The bulge in his pants is a constant reminder of just how affected he is by the scene unfolding before him. But he pushes past his own need, focusing on you.

He kneels beside the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might pull you from your reverie. His fingers, though trembling slightly, are gentle as he reaches for the vibrator. He eases it away from your clit, the sudden absence making you gasp, a sound that’s part surprise, part frustration.

You blink rapidly, trying to catch your breath as you process his presence. Your cheeks flush a deep red. Just as you begin to open your mouth, ready to speak or perhaps to protest, Seungcheol silences you with a touch.

Without a word, he positions the vibrator back against your wetness, the cool touch of it sending you screaming on your bed. Slowly, he guides it back to your clit, applying a steady pressure as he begins to circle it. 

His eyes are locked onto your every reaction, absorbing each tremor and gasp as if they were treasures.

The immediate pleasure that jolts through you is overwhelming. You clench his forearm, your grip desperate and needy as you roll your eyes back in pure, unfiltered sensation. The way he controls the vibrator, the way he’s so deliberately attentive to your body—it drives you wild.

The intensity of your arousal triples, the added thrill of Seungcheol’s touch making it feel like every nerve is on fire. You sob, the sound escaping from you as you struggle to stay grounded amidst the stimulation. 

Each circle of the vibrator on your clit feels like an eternity, stretching out the sensation to a nearly unbearable edge.

Seungcheol’s gaze never wavers from you. He watches you with an intense focus and tenderness, his own breath coming in uneven puffs as he fights to keep his own desires in check.

He’s controlling your pleasure with an expert touch, making sure that each movement is precise and perfectly tuned to your reactions.

He knows you’re on the brink, and he’s both savoring and prolonging this moment for you. 

The control he exerts is deliberate, his movements are carefully calculated to push you to the edge without letting you fall over just yet.

As your body writhes beneath his touch, Seungcheol’s expression softens. He can see how much you need this, how much his presence, his touch, is amplifying everything you’re feeling. It’s a heady blend of power and vulnerability, and he’s completely consumed by it.

As the waves of pleasure begin to crest, you feel your moans transforming into quieter, breathless gasps. Your body tightens, with every muscle pulling taut as you approach the brink of orgasm. 

It’s right there, just a heartbeat away, when Seungcheol suddenly pulls the vibrator away. The abrupt absence of its buzzing sends a shock through you, your body jolting as you let out a delayed cry of frustration.

Seungcheol doesn’t look at you. Rather, he sets the vibrator on the bedside table as if it were a routine, doing so with practiced ease. 

Then he gets to his feet and strips off his shirt, baring his chest. Your need is heightened by the sight of him, so masterful and totally devoted to you. You watch him, breathless and with wide eyes, while he dismisses your little cries of protest. 

He seems determined to show you something more personal than the toy could ever offer, judging by the steady, unwavering look in his eyes.

He says, taking off his belt, “I want to see you cum for me, not for a toy.” “I want to see you cum in my mouth,” he murmurs.

You swear you see your soul leave your body just like in a cartoon,with his words. He spreads your legs wide, putting himself between them. You can almost feel the need in your body quivering with anticipation.

His mouth feels like fire when it first touches your clit; the buzzing vibrator has made you more sensitive. You gasp, your hips jerking involuntarily. His tongue is moist and warm as it hungersily probes every part of you.

You let out a deep moan as he laps at your entrance, gathering your slick and spreading it over your clit.

He sucks gently, then more firmly, his tongue flicking over your most sensitive spot in a way that has you writhing beneath him. Every nerve ending in the body is hyperaware of intense pleasure.

Your hips are held in place by Seungcheol's hands as he consumes you. You can feel the strength in his hold, the way his fingers dig into your skin just enough to anchor you. His eyes glance up at you, watching your reactions, ensuring he’s giving you exactly what you need.

“Seungcheol,” you gasp, your voice shaky. “I’m so close.”

His response is a deep hum against your clit. He intensifies his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his lips sucking harder. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you hold on for dear life.

Every muscle in your body tightens, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He doesn’t let up, his focus entirely on you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

When your orgasm finally crashes over you, your back arches off the bed, a loud moan escaping your lips. Seungcheol continues to lick and suck, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure, his eyes locked on your face as you come undone.

You take a deep breath, your vision slowly clearing, and catch sight of Seungcheol gripping his cock through his boxers. The outline looks thick and big, making your mouth water at the sight of it.

“Seungcheol,” you murmur, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your orgasm. His eyes meet yours, dark and round.

“Yes?” he asks, his voice husky.

You reach out, your hand trembling slightly as you press your palm against the bulge in his boxers. He inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you touch him.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you say, your voice gaining strength.

He groans softly, his restraint slipping. He helps you pull his boxers down, his erection springing free. It looks even more impressive without the fabric, flushed, throbbing, and you can’t help but lick your lips in anticipation.

You lean forward, taking him into your hand, feeling the warmth and the weight of him. He watches you, his breath hitching as you stroke him slowly.

“You’re so big,” you whisper, looking up at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “And you’re so beautiful.”

You smile. Leaning down, you place a soft kiss on the tip, tasting the salty precum. His reaction is immediate, a shudder running through his body as he groans your name.

Encouraged, you take him deeper into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head. His hand finds your hair, not pushing, just holding you gently as you work him with your mouth.

“Just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “You’re doing so well.”

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, feeling the stretch in your jaw. His size is a challenge, but you’re determined to make him feel as good as he made you feel. His groans and gasps spur you on, each sound a reward for your efforts.

You bob your head, taking him as deep as you can, your hand stroking the base where you can’t reach. His hips begin to move, a slow, careful thrust that shows how close he is to losing control.

“Y/N, I’m close,” he warns, his voice strained.

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his as you continue your movements, letting him know without words that you want this. He curses softly, his grip on your hair tightening just a bit.

One thing he didn’t notice was your sneaky hand grabbing the forgotten vibrator on the bedside table. With a naughty grin, you hold the base of his cock to keep it still, then turn the vibrator on and press it against his length while your mouth sucks on his tip.

Seungcheol lets out a deep grunt, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes closing tightly. “You little—” he curses, his voice strained. Your smirk widens at his reaction, the vibrations traveling through his body, making him shudder.

“Who’s the villain now?” you tease, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock.

His response is a strangled moan, his hips jerking slightly into your mouth. “You... you’re the villain here,” he groans, his hands gripping the sheets. “Fuck!”

The combination of your mouth and the vibrator makes his body tense. You can feel him throbbing in your hand, his muscles tightening as he gets closer to the edge.

You increase the intensity, your hand moving the vibrator up and down his length while your mouth continues its assault on his tip. His breathing becomes ragged, and he’s practically panting now, his moans growing louder with each passing second.

“Y/N, I’m gonna—” he chokes out, his voice desperate.

You let go of his tip, a knowing smirk playing on your lips as you realize you’re giving him a taste of his own medicine. The vibrator still buzzes in your hand as you reach for his cock, straddling him and slowly sinking down. 

The sensation is electric—your drenched, sopping cunt engulfs him almost like a vacuum, drawing a desperate moan from his lips. His eyes flutter shut, and you can tell he’s loving it just as much as you are by the way his face contorts.

When you bottom out, Seungcheol squirms beneath you, his hands gripping your hips. He reaches for your wrist and places the vibrator on your clit, the sudden jolt of pleasure making you clench around his length. 

His moan mingles with a teasing smile, his eyes dark with lust. If he wasn’t a villain before, he definitely looks like one now.

You ride his cock in circles, the vibrations on your clit making your body curl inward, your nails digging into his abdomen. The pleasure is overwhelming, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you move faster, chasing the high that’s just within reach.

His grip on your hips tightens, guiding you as you move. “That’s it, baby,” he growls “Just like that.”

Seungcheol sneaks a hand to the vibrator and turns it to the highest level. You grunt, throwing your head back as the intense vibrations radiate through your entire body. He can feel them inside you too, the added stimulation making him groan.

“Fuck, Seungcheol!” you cry out, your voice shaking as you jump up and down on his cock. Your pussy meets his length and then his base, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room.

“Yeah, take it all, baby,” he growls, his eyes locked on yours. “Your pussy is so fucking tight around me.”

You moan louder, the dirty talk driving you wild. “Tell me more,” you gasp, craving more of his words, the filthier, the better.

He thrusts up into you, his own pleasure building as he watches you ride him. “You love this, don’t you? Being my little slut, taking my cock so well,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of speaking through his moans.

“Yes! Oh god, yes!” you reply, your movements becoming more frantic. “I love it, Seungcheol. I love being— Fuck!”

He grins. “You’re so fucking wet for me. Look at you, bouncing on my cock like a desperate little whore.”

You shiver at his words, your body responding eagerly. “Shit, Seungcheol, you feel so good inside me,” you pant. “I want to cum all over your cock.”

“Do it, baby,” he encourages, his voice rough. “Cum for me. Show me how much you love it.”

“I’m gonna cum again, Seungcheol,” you gasp, riding him faster. “I want you to cum with me.”

“Fuck, yes,” he grits out, his hands sliding up to your breasts, squeezing them. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

“Cum inside me,” you moan, your nails digging into his chest. “Fill me up, Seungcheol.”

He thrusts up hard, matching your frantic pace. “You want my cum? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, please,” you beg, leaning back to get a better angle, driving him deeper. Your voice breaking with need. “I need it, Seungcheol. I need your cum.”

His grip on you tightens, and you can feel him getting close. “You’re gonna get it,” he promises, his voice rough. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby.”

Seungcheol presses the vibrator harder against your swollen clit, and you convulse on him, your body shaking uncontrollably from the combined sensations. 

“Fuck,” he growls, “You’re creaming all over my cock. Look at you, so fucking soaked.”

You moan loudly, barely able to respond as the vibrations and his cock drive you wild. “Yes, Seungcheol,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “I’m so wet for you.”

He chuckles darkly, his eyes locked on yours as he continues to thrust upward, hitting every sensitive spot inside you. “Hm… The way you’re dripping all over me. I can feel every drop.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you bounce harder, trying to chase the overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t stop cumming,” you whimper. “It’s too much.”

Seungcheol’s breathing grows ragged, his gaze fixed on the way your pussy pulses around him. “That’s right. Let go for me. I want to see you lose control. You’re such a fucking mess for me.”

The pressure of the vibrator against your clit makes you cry out. “I’m cumming so hard,” you moan. “I can’t handle it.”

He grunts, his voice deep and raw. “That’s it, baby. Cream all over my cock. I love how you’re losing it. I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard.”

Your eyes roll back. “Seungcheol,” you cry out, your body arching and trembling. “I’m gonna—”

He groans as he feels your inner muscles clench around him, the vibrations making every nerve in your body explode. “Yeah, let it all out,” he commands. “Show me how much you fucking need me.”

You convulse one last time, your vision blurring as the orgasm washes over you. Seungcheol holds you tightly, his cock still buried deep inside you as he continues to grind against your clit, making sure you get every last ounce of pleasure.

Seungcheol wastes no time, flipping you over onto all fours like you're a rag doll. The sudden shift leaves you breathless, your body pliant and obedient to his every move. He quickly turns the vibrator off and tosses it aside, not caring where it lands. His hands find your ass, squeezing and fondling your cheeks.

Without missing a beat, he thrusts his cock back inside you, abusing your sweet spot with relentless precision. You feel the sting of your skin meeting his pelvis with each strong thrust.

You bite down on the pillow, muffling your sobs as your body trembles beneath him. The orgasm still pulses through you, but now Seungcheol is fucking you through it with a ferocity that has you seeing stars.

His grip tightens on your hips, one foot propped up on the mattress to give him more leverage. The bed creaks under you, the mattress springs creaking.

His moans become whiny and throaty. You can feel him getting closer, his cock twitching inside you with every thrust, and the sight of the white ring around his shaft driving him feral.

Summoning strength you didn't know you had, you lift your head and glance over your shoulder. You need to see his 'bad boy' posture crumble.

Seungcheol's face is a picture of raw emotion, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent cry. His expression is utterly shattered, as if he's about to break down and cry like a boy. 

The sight of him like this, so helpless and undone, makes you squeeze harder around him. The reaction is immediate—Seungcheol's eyes roll back, and his hips slam into yours, grinding deep as he reaches he orgasms. 

You feel the warmth of his cum filling you completely. He groans as he cums harder than ever before, his hips twitching with each spurt. The room is loaded with the sounds of his heavy breathing and the wet, obscene noises of your bodies joined together.

He stays buried inside you for a moment, savoring the sensation of your bodies connected, his cum still dripping from where he's filled you to the brim.

Seungcheol sleeps soundly, like a baby, his face peaceful and unburdened. In that moment, it doesn't matter who he is or where he is; his mind is completely consumed by thoughts of you. 

The room is quiet, the only sound being your synchronized breaths. Exhausted and spent, you don't even have the strength to clean up. You sleep without a care, even as his cum slowly drips down your thighs.

[...]

Morning breaks gently, the soft light of dawn seeping through the curtains. Seungcheol stirs, his senses gradually returning to him. But something feels off. He blinks his eyes open, expecting to see you lying beside him. Instead, he’s met with a sight that jolts him fully awake.

You’re floating. 

Your body is hovering a few inches above the bed, suspended in mid-air. Your eyes are wide with shock, mirroring his own as you both take in the surreal scene.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper, your voice tinged with panic. “Lower me down.”

He scrambles out of bed, his mind racing to process what he’s seeing. Without hesitation, he reaches out, his hands gently guiding you back down to the bed. The moment your body touches the mattress, the floating sensation ceases, leaving you both staring at each other in stunned silence.

You sit up slowly, your hands trembling slightly as you brush your hair back. “Wasn’t the injection supposed to last only for a few hours?” you ask.

Seungcheol, still healing from the sight of you floating, nods slowly. “Yeah, that’s what they said. But…maybe there’s more to it. Maybe it’s affected you in ways we didn’t expect.”

“So, does this mean you can fuck me while I'm floating in mid-air?”

Seungcheol's eyes widen, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He laughs, a surprised sound escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, clearly caught off guard by your audacity.

[kxsagi]

“𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞”

a/n: happy mother’s day to everyone and all their mothers! i thank all your mothers for giving birth to you and especially to all the mothers of blue lock, specifically mrs. isagi, my mother-in-law 🥰 

i also hope that everyone did something for their mother today (if you have one/are on good terms with your mother ofc). i took my mother out to a sushi lunch today and also bought her japanese snacks bc i’m the best daughter ever 😚

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae, mikage reo, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, kaiser michael, ness alexis

itoshi rin

rin pretends he doesn’t care about holidays but has a secret “mother’s day plan” folder on his phone that he updates monthly. he wakes up early, feeds your son, and lets you sleep in like you’ve never slept before. 

your son is dressed in a tiny suit and brings you a rose (which rin bribed him to do with candy). he says, “mommy is the best” like a little robot and rin melts. 

he quietly makes your favorite meal, sets up a fancy table, and puts on background jazz like he’s hosting a five-star dinner. 

“this is excessive,” you tease. 

“you deserve more.” 

after dinner, you all cuddle up to watch a movie, and he lets your son crawl into his lap even though he complains about being squished. 

later, when you're alone, he says, “you gave me a family. i didn’t know i could be this happy.” 

(he also framed your son’s first scribble of “dad + mom + me” and put it in his locker.) 

isagi yoichi

he’s been planning this day like it’s the final match of the world cup. he's got sticky notes, alarms, and even consulted your pinterest boards. he lets your toddler daughter scribble “happy momy day” with three backwards letters on a giant pink card and swears it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

he makes breakfast, which is burnt pancakes with way too much whipped cream, and wakes you up with a tray that wobbles because your daughter keeps grabbing at everything. you fake surprise and he beams like he just won gold. 

“yoichi, you used shaving cream instead of whipped cream.” 

“… i swear i tasted it and it was fine.” 

you spend the day with both of them clinging to you like koalas, and at night, he hands you a scrapbook filled with your baby’s milestones and little notes he wrote to you throughout her first year. 

“thank you for making our house a home. i love you more than football. okay, equal to football.” 

nagi seishiro

you wake up to your daughter giggling and nagi spooning you like a blanket burrito. 

“sei, it’s mother’s day.” 

“mhm. you’re the mom. just chill.” 

his idea of celebrating is you doing absolutely nothing. he takes care of everything, which includes ordering food, letting your daughter cover the living room in glitter, and binge-watching your favorite show with you while braiding your hair. 

he even makes a tower of pillows, declares it your “throne,” and lets your daughter feed you snacks like you’re a queen. 

later, you find a crumpled piece of paper with a drawing of the three of you and a note that says: “thanks for being her player two while i’m afk. love, sei.” 

he won’t say it out loud, but he thinks you’re the coolest woman alive. 

itoshi sae

he’s lowkey emotional about this day, but you wouldn’t know it unless you caught him kissing your daughter’s forehead when she’s asleep. he starts the morning by dressing her in a little red dress and taking her to get flowers. 

“you have to pick the prettiest ones for mama.” 

she picks weeds. he still wraps them in a bow. 

he lets you stay in bed while he makes an omelet that’s… fine. (okay, he ordered from your favorite café and plated it himself.) 

in the afternoon, you all go on a walk while he carries your daughter on his shoulders, pointing at clouds and trying not to smile too much. 

he gifts you a necklace with your daughter’s birthstone and says, “you’re everything she looks up to. and everything i look forward to.” 

then he blushes and acts like he didn’t just say the most romantic thing ever. 

mikage reo

reo turns mother’s day into a full-blown event. you wake up to streamers, a custom cake, and a whole itinerary. 

“9 AM: breakfast in bed. 10 AM: family photoshoot. 12 PM: picnic at the park. 3 PM: massage. 5 PM: spa bath. 7 PM: candlelit dinner.” 

“reo, i just wanted to nap.” 

your son is dressed like a tiny butler. he hands you gifts and says, “this is from me. but dad paid.” 

he spoils you rotten all day, taking photos of everything. your son gets cake all over his face and reo wipes it off with that lovestruck look. 

at night, he says, “you gave me the best gift: our family. i’ll spend the rest of my life giving back to you.” 

you roll your eyes. he kisses your hand dramatically. your son claps. the family is ridiculous and perfect. 

shidou ryusei

you wake up to chaos. your son is standing on the bed yelling, “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!” and shidou is throwing heart-shaped confetti around like a lunatic. 

“you are the HOTTEST mom alive!” he says, tackling you with kisses. 

breakfast is cereal with five different toppings, and your son insists on feeding you while shidou records everything like a proud dad from a sitcom. 

he makes matching “MILF & DILF” shirts for you two and drags you to the zoo “because our baby needs to see animals that are as wild as him.” 

you end the day sticky, tired, and full of love. he pulls you close, son asleep between you. 

“you made me a dad. that’s the craziest, most awesome thing anyone’s ever done for me. i love you, mama.” 

then he winks. “wanna make another one?” 

you hit him with a pillow. he considers it foreplay. 

karasu tabito

karasu tries to act cool but is clearly nervous about doing everything right. he lets your daughter draw on his face to “practice makeup for mommy” and walks around with blush and wonky eyeliner all morning. 

he cooks breakfast (surprisingly well), plays spa day with you and your daughter, and even lets her paint his nails. 

“how do i look?” 

“like a man who loves his family,” you say. 

“damn right.” 

in the evening, he plays your favorite songs on a little speaker and dances with you in the living room while your daughter spins around in her pajamas. 

he gives you a letter he wrote: “i never thought i’d be a family man. but then i met you. and now, i can’t imagine a life without our little girl calling you mama.” 

(you definitely cry. he definitely takes a picture.) 

kaiser michael

kaiser wakes you up with a literal trumpet. no, not a metaphor. he hired a guy in a tuxedo to stand at the foot of your bed and blare a “royal mother���s day fanfare.” 

“mihya,” you groan, eyes still shut, “what the hell.” 

he throws rose petals on you like you’re queen cleopatra. “shhh. you’re the goddess of this kingdom.” 

your toddler son is wearing a tiny crown and holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates (which kaiser definitely sampled first). 

the day is full of surprises: a personal chef, a spa treatment at home, a matching set of rings with your son's birthdate engraved, and a slideshow of photos with him narrating dramatically over soft piano music. 

“this woman,” he says over a picture of you giving birth, “conquered the battlefield of motherhood with grace and a whole lot of screaming.” 

later that night, after your son is asleep and the theatrics fade, he wraps you in a hug and murmurs, “you gave me a reason to be better. and i swear, i'll never let our little prince, or his queen, go a day without knowing they're loved.” 

(you pretend not to cry. he kisses your tears anyway.) 

ness alexis

ness starts preparing days in advance. he makes handmade coupons, handcrafts a flower crown, and bakes cookies with your daughter that look… chaotic, but smell divine. 

you wake up to soft music and your daughter whispering, “mama, wake up ~” while ness tiptoes behind her holding breakfast. 

the tray has your favorite tea, little folded napkins, and a heart-shaped pancake with “mama” burned into it (on purpose?). 

he plans a quiet day: a nature walk, a drawing session, and a surprise mini tea party with your daughter and her stuffed animals. 

they all call you “queen mama.” ness is 100% in character. “would milady prefer the rose tea or the enchanted berry blend?” 

when the day winds down, he gives you a letter filled with pressed flowers and little doodles, and in his neatest handwriting, he wrote: “i’ve never felt more loved than watching you hold our daughter. you’re patient, radiant, and somehow even more beautiful than the day i met you. i want her to grow up knowing her mom is magic.” 

he reads it aloud, voice soft, while your daughter snoozes on your chest. (he also drew you as a fairy queen on the back, just because.) 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[starshoyo]

SECRETS ★

PAIRING Kita Shinsuke x fem! reader

WARNINGS None

TAGS I love Kita sm, more Kita fics pls, Inarizaki finding out he’s basically married

IN WHICH the Inarizaki volleyball team finds out that their blunt and cold captain has a girlfriend

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒/𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

KITA SHINSUKE WAS a feared man. To outsiders, the Inarizaki men’s volleyball team was full of intimidating people.

Take for example, Miya Atsumu, the setter who had full blown confidence in himself and wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. Or Ojiro Aran, the powerful third year who was one of the top five aces in the whole nation.

Then there was Suna Rintarou, eyes judging and observing, a smile nowhere to be seen. Of course, you couldn’t forget about Miya Osamu, who much like Suna, never smiled.

And to think that they could all be controlled by their captain, Kita Shinsuke, said a lot. The man must’ve been terrifying, and he was.

Kita reminded the team much of a mother, who was kind and generous behind the scenes, but wouldn’t waste a breath in correcting any foul behavior. His eyes of warning became enough for them to listen to them, a chill being sent down their spine.

He was much like a robot, they liked to say. He didn’t say much, and was perfect in every way. He seemed almost emotionless, which is why it was such a big surprise when they found out he had a girlfriend.

I mean, it was only natural that the team didn’t know. You went to a whole different school, and Kita never talked about himself enough for them to even question it.

You had known him since childhood, growing up as neighbors and going to the same school up until high school. There, he had decided to go to Inarizaki, while you would go to a different school that had a better women’s volleyball team.

Unfortunately, your team had lost in the first round of nationals. Fortunately, that meant you were now able to turn your full focus onto your boyfriend, watching his matches and cheering for him.

Inarizaki had been grouped outside of the gym after a win against a school. You were roaming the halls, hoping to get a glance of your uniform. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, especially with both of you being too busy with nationals.

Then, you saw his familiar back facing you, the team huddled around him as they probably were going over their match. You quietly walked behind him, not sure if you should interrupt him or not, but Atsumu, who was facing you, noticed you.

He raised a brow, before clearing his throat. “Uh, Kita-san?” He pointed a finger at you. Kita turned around, and as if they weren’t in the middle of a meeting, he walked towards you. With a smile on his face.

The team watched as he conversed with you, too far to hear. “Did… Kita-san just smile?” Suna murmured, face twisted in confusion. “Who… is that?” Atsumu continued, asking the question all of them were thinking. “Aran, don’t ya know? Yer closest to him.”

He shrugged, shaking his head. “I mean- I’ve never- He’s never mentioned a girlfriend.”

“Maybe a family member?” Osamu mumbled. The theory would quickly be shut down when you leaned into him, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth, before waving and walking away. When Kita turned back towards them, they all whipped their heads in opposite directions.

He walked back, tablet still in his hands. “Sorry.” Kita apologized, before going back to the meeting without addressing the obvious elephant in the room. Thankfully, Atsumu was the type of person who couldn’t read the room.

“Kita-san, ya never told us ya have a girlfriend?” He said loudly in disbelief, as if he’s been betrayed. Kita, still monotonous as ever, stared up at him with blank eyes. “It doesn’t have anything to do volleyball.” He said matter-of-factly, like stating that the grass is green and the sky is blue.

“So she IS yer girlfriend!” Atsumu exclaimed. Kita looked around at the wide, anticipating eyes of his teammates. He was confused why they’re cared so much. Nevertheless, he slowly nodded.

Then chaos erupted.

Aran was the first to complain. “Oh, come on! Kita, we’ve been friends three years, and I never knew?” He whined, arms crossed over his chest. The shorter male flinched, not realizing how that may come off rude. “Kita-san, cold, scary Kita-san… a girlfriend?” Atsumu complained, hands in his hair.

“I mean, it’s not that surprising.” Osamu mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. “She was real pretty.” Suna followed.

Kita crossed his arms over his chest, which was enough to get everybody to shut up. There was silence amongst them for a couple seconds, Kita finally sighed. “We don’t have time to be talking about this. Now focus.” He said.

Though, they didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears were red in embarrassment.

[screeching-bunny]

I'm intrigued by the idea of yandere priest harem.

Just a bunch of sexually repressed men that now have a tangible person to 'worship'.

Yandere! Priest Harem

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Tags: @endism

What the fuck. You can’t believe it but you accidentally started a cult. You weren't sure how but you managed to do it. Everything about it was planned perfectly for you. From the moment you were kidnapped to the moment where you gave in, there was always some sort of routine that the priest followed that seemed almost robotic. Every word or phrase spoken to you seemed somewhat rehearsed as if they were doing everything in their power to make you pleased and happy. Everything that you requested or asked for was quickly met. Did you just say that you were hungry? Don’t worry, wait a couple more minutes and a feast will be made just for you. Did something catch your eye while you were shopping? In a couple minutes it is purchased and given to you. Never in your life had you seen a group more downbad people then these priests. They are incredibly whipped for you and treat you as if you were some kind of God.

Although you were kidnapped you soon learned to just accept the role as their false God. Why? Well to simply put you were just plain lazy and if being kidnapped allowed you to live a luxurious life without needing to work then so be it. Screw having a job and screw having to pay for bills. You will accept this position with grace and take advantage of it however you would like. The only thing that bothered you was why the hell were people joining this stupid cult!?!? By now you expected the stupid priests to run out of money by now due to your spending habits but why on Earth are people still continuing to donate to them!?!? There just always seems to be a never ending supply of money!!!

“Did you see them? The God of this religion is such a cutie. Do you think I have a shot at becoming a priest? Hell, I wouldn’t even mind being a sacrifice to them.” (Go away).

“I just donated my entire retirement fund to them. It’s so worth it. Did you see how cute their sneezes are? I could literally just die!!!” (Then die).

“I shook their hand a few days ago with my right hand. I haven’t washed it since.” (Gross).

Dammit that's why. You're so called “followers” were nothing but a group of some weirdo simps. The only thing that you ever did around this place was give speeches to your cult that came right out of your ass and they would eat it up everytime too. It is so bad that you could literally say that the Earth was flat and they would go to war to defend that you were right. You’ve never seen a group of more stupider people. As of right now you were currently giving out one of those bullshit speeches to your followers.

“... which is why cats are superior over dogs. If you have a cat tell them I said pspspspsp.”

One of the priests raises their hand, “Can you repeat that whole thing again? That was super cute and I forgot to press record.”

Another priest responds with, “Don’t worry I caught it all and I’ll send it to you later. In exchange, can I have that limited edition picture of them sleeping with a teddy bear.”

Another voice shouts, “Wait! I have some never seen before photos of them. Are you willing to trade it for the limited edition picture?”

“...”

Later that night you soon discover that there is a “trading card game” going around the cult using your pictures. You weren’t even sure how they even managed to take these photos but they somehow have them and how were these mass produced without you even noticing!?!? Why are they out of stock and why are they so popular!?!? Everyday is a never ending migraine for you. Just when you thought the priests couldn’t disappoint you even further, they always manage to prove you wrong. If they weren’t the ones feeding you, you would have been long gone by now.

Waking up always felt like a struggle most of the time. Like it literally was a struggle because there was always someone in your bed with you. They would constantly cuddle up to you as close as possible and make it difficult to leave the bed with their weight holding you down. By the time you wake up breakfast is already made and there is someone constantly fighting to decide who gets to feed you. After breakfast, you stroll around the gigantic garden that was funded with the money of taxpayers. Afternoons are spent giving out wack speeches and talking to your loyal followers. Dinners are the same as breakfast and there is competition on who gets to bathe with you. Quite often these end up turning physical fights between everyone. During the night you're out like a light and it’s a repeat of everything the next day.

Every passing day makes you so concerned for the mental health of others. There is just no way that any of these people are mentally sane. They have to be on drugs or something. You refused to believe that these were rational adults that are contributing members of society. No matter how much you try to change your personality, they always find a way to coo at you. On the days that you act like a brat you are met with the responses of, “Oh my god look at them pout that's so adorable!! Now step on me–”. On the days you act lazy it’s met with, “You don’t have to move I’ll do it all for you! Just let me lick your–”. Are you acting happy today? Well that's met with, “Your smile is so radiant! You know what would make your day better if you let me suck–”. In the end though it really doesn’t matter because their main goal in life is to forever worship your being whether you like it or not.

[rachalixie]

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar. 

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 

— 

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 

god, is everything about this man endearing? 

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

[mooningningg]

𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 — prologue

PAIRING. assassin!sukuna x spy!reader — spyxfamily AU!

about. when a notorious assassin is forced to abandon his identity, the last thing he expects is to be ordered to build a new one—by faking a marriage and raising a child. but with a psychic kid, a mysterious wife who’s hiding something darker than him, and enemies closing in on all sides… sukuna’s new “normal life” might just be the most dangerous mission of all.

warnings. angst, violence, blood, cursing, adult content in some chapters, slowburn.

notes. I just jumped into a full on series fr, i can't stay on wattpad anymore. I really hope you all can enjoy this, message or comment be if you wanna be added on the taglist. and also I will appreciate feedbacks.

chapters. Materialist - Chapter 01.

It’s easy to disappear when the whole world already thinks you’re dead.

That’s what he tells himself as he sinks into the leather chair, the skyline flickering like a heart monitor flatlining in the distance. There’s a storm on the horizon, city lights warping against the glass like they’re underwater, like they’re drowning — and Sukuna wonders, idly, if that’s what it feels like to be alive.

No one calls him Ryomen Sukuna antymore. That name’s been buried in blood and bureaucracy.

He’s been six different men in three different countries in the last year alone. Sometimes he remembers their names. Sometimes he doesn’t. But the weight never leaves.

The weight of being watched, being hunted. The kind of life where silence is sacred and attachment is lethal. Where waking up means checking for red dots on the windows, where every knock could be a gun to the temple or a dagger to the spine. Where even in dreams, he’s still fighting.

He left the organization months ago. Technically.

But you don’t just leave something like that. You don’t leave an empire built on unsanctioned kills, whispered contracts, blood-soaked diplomacy. You slip away, like smoke. Like sin.

And even that’s a luxury.

His hands are still red, even when they’re clean. His heart still beats, even when it doesn’t want to. And lately, he’s started to wonder if there’s anything left of him that isn’t sharp or broken or hollowed out to make room for more violence.

What is a man supposed to become when he’s spent his whole life being a monster?

That question lingers in the room as he stares out over the neon skyline of Jujutsu City. Somewhere down there, people are living lives they don’t need to lie about. Laughing without checking who’s listening. Kissing someone they’re allowed to love. Sukuna wouldn’t know what to do with a life like that.

He’s always been good at one thing: killing without being seen.

But he’s tired.

Not the kind of tired sleep fixes — no, this is bone-deep. The kind of exhaustion that makes your soul feel like it’s been scraped raw. The kind of tired that turns even silence into something deafening.

He closes his eyes. Thinks about the last mission. Thinks about the look on the boy’s face when Sukuna let him go. Thinks about how stupid it was — how human it was — to hesitate.

That’s why they summoned him again.

A black envelope lies unopened on the table, marked with the symbol of the organization. Simple, final. No return address, because it doesn’t need one.

He knows what’s inside. And he knows it isn’t optional.

But the voice that speaks from the shadows of the room — cold, robotic, almost bored — still slices through the silence like a knife.

“You’ve been compromised,” it says. “You want a new identity? You want to live long enough to use it?”

“Then bury the killer. Burn the name.”

Sukuna doesn’t respond.

His jaw ticks. His eyes stay on the city, pretending to look at something that isn’t slipping away from him again.

“We need foundation,” the voice continues. “You need to blend in. Be normal. Be forgettable.”

It pauses — and then delivers the final order with surgical precision.

Like it’s not the most ridiculous thing they’ve ever asked of him.

“Start a family.”

— Chapter 01. — Materialist —

[car-o-line]

HIII OH MY GOSH THANK YOU FOR TAKING MY REQUEST!!!! i was wondering if you could do a scenario where reader was harley sawyers kid and came back to the factory in there teens and have an awkard reunion with there dad (You dont have to do this but if you do take you're time also sorry for asking twice i thought i forgot to add teen in there but if i didnt just ignore this)

I legit think the doctor should go die like again tbh🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩❤️❤️❤️❤️⁉️😍😍

Doctor Sawyer who reunites with his kid

Okay well don’t you just have the funniest family history!!

What happened was, when Sawyer found out he got his gf/wife pregnant(or jst a random lady idk😭) he was very mixed about it. Yes, he had thoughts about being an actual father, he knew he couldn’t help raise a child..in an orphanage WHERE THEY TURN THEM INTO TOY MASCOTS MIGHT I ADD?

So he was saying this in the kindest way possible, he was like

“No thank you.”

And she was like,

“Okay you ############, you’ll never see your child ever again then.”

And then she broke up or divorced him and took you into her custody, raising you as a single mother.

As you grew older you obviously wanted to know more about your father, but all she’d say was that he was a deadbeat and chose his job over his family. Which, you could understand her frustration but in reality, you wanted to know more than what he did wrong. What was his job? What’d he do that was so important? Was he a cat or dog person?

So once you were in your rebellion era/chapter/point in time(teenage years) you decided to dig deeper into the whole situation and go through everything your mother had owned to see if you could find any clues about him.

A few pictures of him and your mother were all you found but one photo had something you couldn’t miss.

It was him in a scientist coat with a name tag that said “Harley Sawyer, scientist of Playco.” Playco? Like where Huggy Wuggy came from, where Poppy Playtime came from? He worked there?

Honestly you’re kinda like a horror movie protagonist because the next thing you had planned was to go to Playco.

“20 bucks you won’t do it.”

“Bet.”

Boom. Now you’re at Playco, and searching for your dad. You eventually heard about the rumors of what happened to all the missing employees there but you couldn’t care less, all you wanted to know was how your father was. Or to know if he “died” with those employees or not.

And that’s where the start of Chapter one begins<3

Everything was normal(well as the chapters go), you “killed” Huggy Wuggy, you killed Mommy Longlegs, Catnap, Miss Delight, then you meet Doey. You think he talks and babies you way too much. “But you’re still just a child.” Plz shut up bro-

Then returning back with Poppy, she and Doey talked about the doctor, and they mention the name Harley Sawyer. They want him dead. And they want you to kill him, obviously you said you wouldn’t do that. Because you’re just the sweetest lil son/daughter ever<3

“Why not?”

😐

It’s not like you’re about to tell them that he’s your FATHER. They’d probably would also not like to know that also but anywho. You decided to not let your pride down and reluctantly agreed to kill the Doctor.

So much for being the sweetest ever.

But oddly enough, you’ve actually haven’t seen the Doctor or talked with him yet, only his minions Baba and Yarnaby.

Walking down the hall you used your Grabpack to open the door, you walked through it and suddenly felt something grab you. It was a robot figure with their head as a TV and it grabbed the back of your shirt, holding you so you had to face the voice that was speaking to you.

“Out of all the beings in this world it had to be you that has ruined these creations. My very own child.”

“Huh..?”

“You’ve grown so much from last I saw you, which, was when you were a mere baby. Yet I can’t help but feel angered by your presence here.”

“You're her husband? You’re going to kill me?”

“I would if it was any other child scurrying around this facility like a rat. I have no shame. Yet, I’ll let your mother do that herself. She’s treating you well, yes?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, now leave. Do not come back, and leave Poppy and Doey behind you in your life. Pretend this was all a dream. Goodbye Y/n.”

The last thing you saw was the robot throwing you out into the hall and the door slamming shut, that was awfully awkward. You smacked your head in realization to everything, how he openly admitted that you were his child. And how you couldn’t think of anything meaningful to say.

But should you listen to him?

Literally hope this isn’t dog water, readers just an insecure teenager fr

[no-144444]

temptations- m.verstappen

Day 11 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: you and max are on break and things get out of hand. Nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?

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You stepped into the villa with one idea in your mind, relax. 

The season had been full of highs and lows, and Max needed to get his mind off racing for a while, and you needed to get your mind off your work. You needed him, to be honest. 

The villa was just on the coast, a beautiful stone dock with a small boat sat at the end of the garden, giving way to the gorgeous views of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Max had done well to find a place on the Amalfi coast on such short notice. Minori was gorgeous at this time of year, and you weren’t letting it go to waste. Your days were filled with good food, good conversation, great wine, fun activities, and good company. As much as you enjoyed spending time with your friends or Max’s friends, you both needed some time with each other. The season had been heretic, and Max had started panicking a few weeks back about whether or not he’d win again. Of course, you’d been there to tell him that it’d be alright either way, and he shouldn’t listen to that awful voice in his head that his father planted at the ripe old age of 4, and, of course, he tried as hard as possible, but he slowly fell further into his spiral over losing. You needed to get him away from it all, just let him be Max, not Max Verstappen, 3 time World Champion. 

The sun slowly set over the ocean as you sat on the patio after another long day of swimming, visiting the local sights, and just enjoying each other's company. “More wine?”

You smiled up at him and nodded. He topped off your glass and sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissed your head. “Thanks baby.”

He took a deep breath, one of relief. You hadn’t seen him so calm in months. It was refreshing to remind both you and him that he wasn’t a racing robot. “I miss the cats.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure Lando is taking good care of them, he sent me some photos earlier and they’re not dead yet, so that’s a plus.” 

He rolled his eyes. “What a high bar,” he replied sarcastically. 

“At least he didn’t lock them in a room,” you teased and he rolled his eyes yet again. 

“It was an accident,” he groaned. 

You pressed your lips to his in an unspoken apology.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips. “So fucking perfect.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you chuckled. “I love it here.”

“We should buy a place here,” he thought out loud. “Regular vacation spot?”

You nodded. “It’d be nice.” 

Suddenly, his phone started ringing, Lando. “I’d better take this.” 

You nodded, letting go of him. You thought over the past few days. From the dreamy mornings to the blissful nights, there was one thing you two hadn’t done yet, that you just had to do. On your 3rd date, over 4 years ago, he made an off-handed comment about the fact that he ‘would never go skinny-dipping’. 

Yeah, you were changing that tonight.

You quickly pulled off your dress, your panties and bra, and waited in the warm Italian air for Max to be done speaking with Lando. 

When he came back out, it was safe to say he was shocked. “Are you becoming a nudist?” 

You burst out laughing, taking his hand. “No! We’re going skinny-dipping.”

He shook his head. “Why would we do that? If you want to go swimming i can get your suit-”

“You can’t fuck me through the suit, can you?”

Again, too stunned to speak. 

“Come on Max! You’re 27 and you’ve never skinny-dipped? That’s ridiculous!”

You slowly watched him become motivated (aka, your tits were in his face), and he smirked, pulling off his top. “This is so stupid,” he commented before pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You two walked down to the pier, Max shredding clothes as you went and stealing kisses. You both jumped in, the water a comfortable temperature over both of you. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Are you?”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, kissing you hungrily. He pushed you up against the stairs kissing down your neck as you both let the world fall away. All you were thinking about was his lips on your skin and the heat in your core.

He ran a finger through your heat, smirking. “Wet already?” 

“We’re in the ocean,” you smirked, he shook his head. 

“You’re impossible.”

“You love it-”

A camera click. A motherfucking camera click. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Instinctively you both rushed to cover yourselves. This was private property, private land, and you could sue them for posting those pictures. But they’d still be on the internet. For anyone to see. It was you who they could see, Max had his back to the camera. 

Your career was over. Your family would disown you. Your life would be over. Shit. 

Max reached over, grabbing a towel you’d left out to dry on the stairs and wrapped it around you and you quickly ran inside, rushing to shower and get into pyjamas. You loved Max, you loved his passion for the sport, but god did you hate the attention it gathered. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms as you sat in bed. “We’ll deal with it.” 

You let out a pathetic chuckle. “Easy for you to say, it’s not your tits that will be sprawled all over the papers tomorrow.”

“They aren’t mine, no. But they are my girlfriend’s.” 

You nodded, he had a point. “Fair.”

He brushed a hand through your hair. “Whatever happens, we can handle it, yeah?”

You nodded. Maybe it would be alright.

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yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen, and 6,873,939 others

yourusername: god forbid a girl has hobbies tmz.

comments

landonorris: didn't realise being fucked in public was a hobby? -> yourusername: IT WASN'T PUBLIC WE WERE IN OUR PRIVATE VILLA

user55: oh she's serving CUNT

user22: not her hitting back, slay.

oscarpiastri: I fear this may be an original experience. -> maxverstappen: thanks for pointing out the obvious osc 👍

charlesleclerc: Never needed to see those pics 👍 -> yourusername: bro is SO jealous right now. -> user43: ????? -> yourusername: I HAVE MAX AND U DON'T HA HA -> user43: OHHHHH

georgerussell: Do we go to the FIA about this? -> maxverstappen: what can they do? give her a penalty for showing off her tits? -> yourusername: my GORGEOUS tits* -> landonorris: buddy is in the dog house.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

[revelboo]

I’ve commented once i believe on your account (unless I’m just forgetting I honestly have no idea or not) about Roddy and his stupid arm joints (in which I’m still mad about) but you’ve inspired me to finish sentinel prime! You’ve also inspired me more into model kits! Anyways love your stories, you have been feeding my “wanting to be cradled by giant robots” mindset. Anyways I’m not the best with the “ask me anything” ask box (letter box?) hope ur day is or has gone well! 

He looks awesome! Even if he’s just awful

The comments y’all left on the last chapter are killing me 🤣

Everything Is Alright Pt 111

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Here,” he growls, finding a cleaning cloth and draping it over you in addition to the blanket you already were curled in. Normally he’d take some satisfaction in the fact that it scents of him and it’s going to make Starscream furious, but it’s hard to find any pleasure right now. You’re still leaking and making little hitching, sniffling sounds and he doesn’t know what to do about it. How does your idiot mate normally comfort you? Watching you huddle into the blankets, he awkwardly reaches out to pat the top of your head. “Bonds can be reestablished and full bonds can’t be severed,” he says, hinting. Because Soundwave cares for you enough to try to bond you, but you hadn’t accepted him fully. Wants to ask about that, but resists when you turn those teary eyes on him.

• Watching Megatron reach and carefully pinch a packet of food between two servos to offer you, he vents when you take it even though you have no appetite. “I just hate that they don’t talk to me. They just decide everything for me like it doesn’t matter what I want,” you mutter, shoulders hunching as he sits on the berth beside you, massive and not as intimidating as he’d first been. Maybe your self preservation instincts have given up at this point, but seeing him so uncomfortable by your tears has killed any lingering fear you’d had of him. “Like I don’t really matter.” Beyond a warm body in their berths and you hate that thought even as you have it, because it’s unfair. You know they care about you, they’re just, well-

• “They’re both idiots.” Swallowing a growl, he awkwardly reaches and cups his palm against your back when you look up at him. Starscream’s behavior doesn’t really surprise him, but he’d thought Soundwave would have been more levelheaded. He’s the calmest mech he knows, but then what does he know about bonded mechs? Using a servo to nudge your hands and the packet you’re still holding, he frowns until you obediently tear it open and pick at the food. “Eat something,” he prompts, rumbling when you take a tiny bite.

• Snarling when someone seizes him from behind and hauls him off his peds, Soundwave glares up at Bonecrusher. Struggling against those big hands as Scrapper and Hook haul up Starscream. The other three Constructicons clearly annoyed and ready to help. Servos shaking he’s so furious, he glares at the bleeding Seeker. Can taste energon where he’d bitten himself at some point, every ache and pain making itself known without the blind rage keeping him going. Optics narrowing behind his visor when the Seeker struggles free. “Stop wrecking scrap we’ll have to fix,” Scrapper growls, sweeping a hand at the damage they’d done. “Take it outside.”

• One of his wings is hanging at an angle, burning like fire as he scowls at Soundwave. Had never seen the stoic mech so angry before. “Keep your servos off my mate,” he snarls, aware of the optics on him. That he just publicly admitted what you are to him, laying claim to you. Because you are his, you’re everything to him. Striding past Soundwave, or trying to, as the communications officer shoves him back against the wall.

• “My mate,” Soundwave growls, leaning into the Seeker’s face before shoving away when the Constructicons move as if to separate them again. Striding toward Starscream’s quarters and finding you missing. “Where?” He snarls, rounding on the nearest bystander. Long Haul shrugging at him before Vortex gleefully calls out ‘Megatron took your human.’ Venting, he heads for Megatron’s habsuite, aware of Starscream limping after him.

• Cringing deeper into your blankets when someone knocks on Megatron’s door, you turn wide eyes his way. Because you’re not at all ready to deal with an angry Soundwave or Starscream’s betrayal. Head tipping as he stares down at you, his smile is absolutely wicked and shockingly real. “I could send them away for a bit,” he says and it’s almost enough to make you start crying all over again. Feeling bad even as you whisper a tiny ‘please.’ Needing time to think, to untangle all the hurt and confusion.

Previous

Next

[strawbearyxx]

imagine: comforting dae-ho during the games ˑ ֗ ִ˳✧༚

imagine comforting dae-ho after a long day in the games— he’s anxious because you barely survived mingle, but relieved you both made it out in one piece.

he won’t tell you what’s wrong, but he’s sitting on the edge of one of the beds fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, something he only does when he’s stressed. you come up to him, hands immediately finding his own, and reassure him that you’re both going to survive this.

dae-ho looks into your eyes, exhaling shakily. “you sure? there’s only half as many people here than there were two days ago.” you can sense from the tone in his voice that he’s scared, more than you’ve ever seen before, you think.

you wrap an arm around him, slowly trailing your hand up and down his side. “dae-ho, look at me,” you say, his head immediately lifting towards you at your command. “we’re alright, we’re making it out, okay? i know you’re scared— i am too, but we have to believe we can survive this,” you tell him.

dae-ho nods in agreement, leaning into your touch as your hand moves to play with his soft hair. he sighs, obviously still in distress.

you start giving him soft kisses along his cheek and neck, needing to comfort him in some way. he sighs again, softer this time, with a sense of relaxation. you know how much he loves it when you’re like this. you continue kissing his neck while moving your hands to wrap around him.

dae-ho pulls you close, lying down with you on the bed. you whisper reassurances into his ear between kisses, your hands sliding under his shirt to feel his warm skin against your palms. dae-ho’s breath catches in his throat as he pulls your face towards him so he can kiss you. you lean into the kiss, pressing your lips gently against his.

you continue softly kissing him for a few minutes, interrupted by the familiar robotic voice announcing that it’s ten minutes until lights out. dae-ho pulls back, immediately resting his head in the crook of your neck. you keep holding him close, letting him stay there until he falls asleep.

there was something so endearing about his eagerness to be close to you, to fall asleep on you. he whines softly in his sleep, unconsciously clinging to you tighter. you kiss the top of his head, still whispering soft comforting words to him.

“i love you, dae-ho.”

he may never know you said it, he may never even hear you say it— you’re just as nervous as he is that you won’t make it out— but of course, you’ll never tell him that. you’ll reassure him that you’ll be okay, because then he’ll be okay. and to you, that’s all that really matters.

“i love you,”

you whisper again, pressing your lips to his cheek once more before you drifted off to sleep.

[reneki]

Beneath the Surface

Yandere Jinwoo x Reader

authors note; started with banter, ended with obsession just how i like it. jinwoo’s not the sweet boy they think he is & she found out the hard way.

Warnings: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, angst, dark romance, manipulation, mild violence, forced kiss Reader discretion advised.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hate being paired with him.

Sung Jinwoo, the golden boy of the Hunter Association. Always polite, always humble, always offering a hand when no one asks for one. The others lap it up. The admiration, the respect, the trust—they throw it at his feet like offerings to a god.

But not you.

You know better.

You’ve seen what he is when no one’s watching. That stillness. That mask. You don’t know what he’s hiding behind those kind eyes and forced smiles, but it makes your instincts scream. And that’s why you hate him. Not because he’s a monster—but because he’s pretending not to be.

So when the team leader assigns you and Jinwoo to sweep the west wing of the dungeon together, you almost spit out your water.

“Are you serious?” you mutter, adjusting your daggers. “Can’t you pair me with literally anyone else?”

The leader shrugs. “He’s the best in your rank. You’ll be fine.”

You glare at Jinwoo. He just smiles.

“Let’s work hard,” he says, like a polite robot.

You scoff. “Let’s not.”

The two of you walk into the dim corridor, silent but tense. The moss-covered stone walls flicker under the pale glow of your magical lightstones, and the air smells like blood and rot. The deeper you go, the more suffocating it gets.

He breaks the silence first. Of course.

“I’ll take point. If anything happens, stay behind me.”

“You mean like every other woman on your little fan club team?”

He doesn’t answer.

You smirk to yourself. Another jab landed.

You keep doing it—throwing little barbs between kills. Snide comments when he overkills a goblin. Sarcastic praise when he saves you from a stray trap. “So heroic,” you mutter, brushing yourself off. “Too bad you’re as fake as this dungeon’s scenery.”

But he never snaps. Never even frowns.

Which only pisses you off more.

It’s not until you’re nearing the dungeon core that things start to crack.

He missteps. A pressure plate triggers under his boot, and a barrage of arrows shoots from the walls. You dodge. He dodges. Barely.

But a gash slices across his arm, blood soaking into his jacket.

You let out a short laugh. “Look at that. Saint Jinwoo, bleeding? Guess miracles do expire.”

That’s the moment everything shifts.

He turns.

And this time, there’s no smile.

His eyes are shadowed, darker than the cave around you, and when he speaks, his voice is low. Controlled.

“You’ve got a sharp tongue,” he says. “But you’ve never once stopped to ask why I put up with it.”

You freeze.

He steps closer, the shadows around his feet swirling unnaturally. You take a step back, but there’s nowhere to go—just cold stone and empty space behind you.

“You think you see through me,” he murmurs. “You think you’re the only one who’s not fooled.”

His hand lifts—slow, deliberate. He wipes his own blood from his cut and stares at it, smearing it between his fingers.

“You’re right,” he says. “I’m not who they think I am.”You open your mouth to speak, but he’s already on you. He pushes you back—your spine hits the wall with a dull thud. His body presses close, not to hurt, but to trap. His presence is suffocating. You can feel his mana pulsing, unhinged, like it’s barely being contained.

“Say one more thing,” he says, voice trembling with restraint, “and I’ll show you exactly what I am.”

You’re not scared.

You’re furious.

“You gonna cry again if I insult you?” you snap. “Maybe summon a shadow to fight your battles this time?”

His hand slams beside your head, shaking the stone.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he growls. “You’re the only one I let talk to me like this.”

You scoff. “Lucky me.”

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. His grip is rough—not bruising, but enough to make your breath catch. His eyes blaze, no longer pretending to be gentle.

“I should kill you,” he says. “You’ve been asking for it since the first dungeon run.”

Your heart pounds.

“But I won’t.”

And then he kisses you.

Hard.

Unyielding.

It’s not tender. It’s not kind. It’s punishment. A claim. A challenge. His lips are warm, wet with blood, and you hate that you freeze. Hate that your body locks up before your brain can decide how to fight back.

When he finally pulls away, your lips sting. Your breath is gone.

And your voice—shaky, low—manages only, “Don’t ever do that again.”

His eyes drop to your mouth. He leans in again, his breath against your cheek.

“Then stop asking for it.”

He pulls back completely, turning his back to you. Calm again. Controlled.

But you know the truth now.

The facade is gone.

And he’s not going to put it back on.

~~~~~~~~~~~

lmk your thoughts would you like a part 2 ?

i thought i’d leave yall another fanfic before i go to practice hehe

love you guys bye bye !!

[aurorasgate]

homecoming tears caleb x reader

my little take on calebs return because i'm too much of a baby to not have cried a lot more over it. hurt/comfort, mentions of grief, no pronouns used for reader

there’s a ringing in your ears, loud and as unsteady as the heart beating inside your chest like a drum. both of which are somewhere between too uncomfortable to be a dream and the start of a nightmare in the making. if you could think straight, calm down only a little bit, you’d have the thought to pinch yourself to wake you or tell you how real this all is. that it isn’t just your mind playing tricks on you and caleb really is right in front of you, alive and well and not going to disappear when - if - you wake up.

it continues as you go through the motions of gathering your things from the fleets barracks and follow him to his car where he helps you inside with a kind and familiar smile, one you know is meant to help calm you, until the sound makes your head ache and you reach out for calebs hand on the center console that separates you, hoping that feeling him will help ground you. it does and doesn’t. because yes, you know the warmth seeping into your palm from his soft skin, it’s your caleb who looks back at you with violet eyes that were engraved into your very soul many years ago, but for so long you’ve known you would never seen them again, never feel him again, and find it hard to quell the mix of shock that those things aren’t true any longer and the grief of losing him that has held you tightly in it’s claws since the explosion. 

his mouth moves but you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. it’s not until you feel his hand envelop yours and at the sound of your name from his lips that the ringing finally starts to lessen and his voice breaks through. “just hold on a little longer okay? we’re almost home.”

home. you haven’t had a home you two shared together in so long. no place to return to where there would be reminders he had been there too, that he would be coming back. you’d thought you never would again.

your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth and makes it hard to reply so you don’t say a word and instead take the sliver of reprieve he had given you from your head and heart ache to try to make sense of any of this, to tell yourself this isn’t a dream or a mirage and that from now on, each day you wake up, he’ll still be here with you. 

caleb survived. this whole time he’s been alive while you mourned at his grave to a point where you thought the pain of it might swallow you whole and that regret had become a permanent part of you knowing you would never get the chance to tell him how you really feel for him, to do all the things you hadn’t let yourself before. there’s so many questions sitting at the back of your throat and the bottom of your heart, so many things you don’t know how to begin to process; a clash of undeniable happiness, the healing of wounds and the way they start to bleed again until the point of pain and confusion.

your motions are little more than robotic as you get out of the car and walk behind him into the place he had called home but couldn’t be more unfamiliar to you. when you see how dark it is, barren of things you’d have thought he’d still own, you wonder how unfamiliar it might be to him too. 

standing only a few feet from the door that had closed automatically behind you, you hold your bag of things close to your chest while caleb turns on the lights. like they are the only things grounding you and keeping you from crumbling into a million tiny pieces but you don’t know how long they’ll be able to keep you together.

“go ahead and pick a room pipsqueak,” he says, setting his keys down on the kitchen counter that looks like maybe it’s never been used before but when he notices you haven’t moved from the front entryway, his tone quickly changes. “hey,” soft and comforting but it does nothing to help you right now. “what's wrong?”

clutching your bag tighter till the lumps and straps of it could imprint themselves on your skin through your clothes, you meet his worried gaze and swallow the heaviness weighing down your words. “caleb.. i..” your voice is shaky at best, a perfect symbol for the feelings swirling inside you like a tempest. “i just can’t believe you're here.. alive.”

he closes the distance between you in a few long strides and reaches out for you, cupping your cheek in his palm. he’s warm, so warm, his hand calloused and large like you had remembered it. like you worried you might forget one day when so much time had passed without him. “i’m here,” a promise said with so much certainty. “and i’m not going anywhere ever again.”

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a start of the release of the tremendous storm from within you finally manifesting into something tangible, something that you would have even less control over now that it’s pouring out of you in unruly waves and a downpour that first looks like a like drizzle. a few tears quickly turn into dozens more that caleb wouldn’t be able to catch or stop. not now. it’s consuming you, helping you to speak but with no chance to think or process your words before they’re tumbling out of your mouth and your body quickly follows suit.

“why caleb - why didn’t you come find me sooner?” dropping your bag, it lands on the tips of your toes the same moment your balled up fist meets calebs chest. you’re a sobbing mess in the matter of moments, looking at him through teary vision and speaking with so much pain behind your words you feel the ache of them reverberate back into your chest, ready to take you under and drown you in them. “would i have ever known if i haven’t snuck into the fleet? or would you have just left me to mourn over you forever while you got to play colonel?!”

he looks as afflicted as you feel but still in control of his emotions, more than you could possibly try to muster right now. “it’s more complicated than that. i had to join the fleet and i couldn’t contact you - couldn’t bear to put you through that pain again.”

“you don’t know anything about my pain caleb!” you spit the words like venom and you can see in his expression, in the way his hand on your face twitches, how much they affect him. “you have no idea how many times i wished for this all to be a bad dream.. to wake up and have you still be with me but instead woke up to the agony of you very much being dead. you have no idea how many times i went to your grave and could barely stand to leave because it’s as close to you as i thought i was ever going to be!” you try to push away from him, using your hand on his chest to shove him away and your other to remove his touch from your face. he doesn’t budge so easily, instead wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you closer and continuing to wipe your tears. “let me go!”

“no,” he replies, so full of understanding and care and you don’t know if it’s making it better or worse. he couldn’t possibly let you go, doesn’t think it’s within his strength to do so. it never has been before. his chest has always hurt when you’d cry and being the one to bring you to tears is what he loathes the most but it would never stop him from trying to comfort you or wiping away your tears. “not right now. not when you need me.”

“ha!” it's a pitiful and angry sound, a perfect mirror to how you feel about yourself right now. “where were you all these months i needed you then?! when i was crying just like this because i thought i’d never get to see you again?” you try again to get away from him, you can’t breathe or think straight, can’t do anything but crumble in the face of this storm but caleb doesn’t let you go far. doesn’t let you drown. “how can you so easily come back and act like i haven’t spent every moment in pain over the fact i thought you were gone forever?!” both of your hands are on his chest now. he doesn’t flinch at the force of them or try to remove them and before you know it, through your sobbing and weakening body, they’re clinging to him like a lifeline. you bury your face into his chest, his shirt quickly becoming soaked in your tears and snot, wrinkling under your tight hold.

caleb says your name softly, his hand cradling the back of your skull and keeping you pressed against him. “it was painful for me to be away from you too.” more than he could handle, worse than what he’d experienced before in any physical sense. 

“it’s not the same..” you hide behind the pillar of strength he’s offering you, let the storm rage and crash against him while tucked into the safe place of his arms as exhaustion starts to replace every other thing you had been feeling up until this point with the help of his embrace around you and the familiar scent of him invading your senses. this is real. he’s really here and he promised he wouldn’t leave you again.. “at least you knew i was alive - knew you could see me again if you really wanted..”

he holds you tighter then, his lips pressing in the crown of your head. he knows it's not the same but he also thought he was sparring you more pain by staying away, no matter how difficult that was for him. “you have no idea how badly i wanted to see you.” his hold is almost too tight now but you welcome it, want more of it. “it was agony to be away from you and hide this from you.”

“caleb..” you bury yourself further into him. everything hurts; your body, your heart, your head and somehow he is the soothing balm that makes it all better and the very source of it to begin with. you want to press him more, want to know everything that has happened to him while you’ve been apart but as you weep like a child in his arms, the words are lost and all you can do is hold on to him like your life depends on it. like he might disappear again if you were to let go.

you don’t know how much time passes before you’re being swept up off your feet, cradled against his chest and safely in his arms with your own so quickly and tightly wrapping around his neck to keep him as close to you as possible. he doesn’t tease or complain about the mess you’ve made of his outfit or your tears that soak into the skin of his neck. caleb doesn’t say anything as he walks to the couch and settles down onto it, removing his arm from under your legs to reach for a blanket that he drapes over you before adjusting you on his lap and holding you within his complete embrace again.

your sobbing slowly turns to small hiccups and scattered tears rather than a downfall of them but you don’t let him go. you can’t let him go and wonder if perhaps he is feeling the same when his hold on you doesn’t waver for a moment and he doesn’t try to move from underneath you.

“what if..” your voice is so weak, quiet enough you wonder if he’ll hear you at all and not knowing if you ever want him to. “what if tomorrow comes and you’re not here? what if i’m just dreaming.. what if you die again..” how will i survive losing you twice..

his arms around you tighten, as if he’s trying to make you one with him, bury you in the safety and truth of his very chest, where his heart beats for you and could never leave you again. not before he’d bring down the whole planet and whisk you away to a new one where it could only be the two of you. “i’m not going anywhere ever again. nothing will keep me from you or tear us apart,” caleb answers quietly, as if not anything or anyone else in this world was meant to hear his words but you. “i will be here tomorrow and everyday after. i promise.”

“c-can we stay like this for now? please..”

a soothing hand smooths over your hair and like it was even possible, presses you closer to him. “we can stay here, like this, for as long as you need and when tomorrow comes, i’ll make you breakfast and hold you again. until you know it’s not a dream and can believe that i’m not going to leave you ever again.”