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crushmeeren · 7 months ago

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ᝰ FIRST TIME FUCKING YOU WITHOUT A CONDOM .ᐟ

⋆ ft. itachi, neji, kakashi, sasuke ⋆

master list link

ᯓ★ dividers created by me.

༝ ᭝ ༝ itachi ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Itachi is not someone who’d be reckless with this decision.

Sure, his cheeks would turn scarlet when you ask. His head would whip to the side so fast his neck would be in danger of snapping, drawing one leg up as his entire body shifts towards you on the couch. He would slip two fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tug, desperate for a cool breeze to tame the suffocating heat now creeping down his throat, flushing his chest.

His gaze would flicker across your face, hand resting on your thigh, squeezing once. He’d ask, “You — are you sure? You don’t want me to wear a condom anymore?” His voice would crack on the word condom and his blush would darken. Itachi would take a second to clear his throat, glaring at you without any real heat when you couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sure, Itachi.” You’d readjust your position, mirroring his, and look up at him through your lashes. “I just, I need to feel you. All of you,” you’d admit, playing with his fingers before lacing them together. The sweet heat building in your belly would remind you of the way it feels to drink a cup of hot chocolate.

Itachi’s lips would part, and you’d be certain you caught his dick jerking in his sweats. He’d make you wait until you’re on some other form of birth control. No surprise babies in this house.

Itachi would hold his breath when he pushed his latex free cock into you for the first time. His eyes would squeeze shut, a shaky exhale of your name spilling from his lips as he bottomed out and fucking came. You’d be able to feel the harsh twitching of his dick as he made you look nothing short of a cream filled donut. He’d be so embarrassed, ready to apologize, but he’d stop short at the fucked out look on your face.

The added slick sensation would turn you on like no other, cheeks hot to the touch as you begged him to keep going. He’d stay as hard as a rock, rolling you both until you’re perched in his lap. He’d draw his knees up, tangle his fingers with yours, and encourage you to “Ride me, sweetheart. C’mon, take what you need. I’ll let you use me until your pretty little pussy is sore.”

Itachi doesn’t have to tell you twice.

༝ ᭝ ༝ neji ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Neji loves having sex with you, but he’d be a bit paranoid.

Neji’s uptight. From the outside, you’d never be able to tell how pussy drunk he gets. He’s a whiny, breathy mess any time his cock’s inside you.

However, he’d also be hyper aware he could get you pregnant if he’s not careful. He wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of having a baby with you, but he wouldn’t be ready for quite some time. He’d wear a condom, no matter how bad he wants your pussy to squeeze him raw. You’d have multiple conversations about it, convincing him to try just putting the tip in.

He’d be….hooked, to say the least. It’d be by sheer force of will that he doesn’t shove his entire cock in your pussy that first time. But, it’d also be the very next time Neji swears “just the tip”, when things spiral.

The warm ache in Neji’s belly would overshadow his concerns. He’d end up knocking your thighs further apart with his knees, bending forward and planting his elbows on either side of your head, leaving just a few centimeters between you. He’d whine, “Baby, I can’t handle this temptation any longer. Please, can I feel your pussy?”

“Fuck, put it in Neji. As long as you pull out it’ll be fine, I promise.” You’d lift your hips to take more of him before he could regret it, and Neji would oblige. Your pussy would hug his cock better than in his dreams, and Neji’s low, broken moan would light your blood on fire.

Neji would straighten up to sit on his knees, grip one of your ankles and haul your leg over his shoulder, allowing the other leg to hang loosely at his hip. He’d bend you in half to deepen the angle, hands resting by your shoulders. Just to tease you both, he’d pull out halfway and push back in at an agonizing pace.

Neji would fuck you within an inch of your life, long hair becoming a curtain that cuts you off from the world. Your nails would scratch angry pink lines down his chest, and his cock would start to throb as he toed the line of release. You’d smack his chest, reminding him with a desperate plea, “Don’t cum inside me! Neji, Neji, baby — you gotta pull out!”

He’d slip his cock free at the last second, letting your body flop to the bed as he stroked his cock. With three quick pumps he’d cum all over your belly.

Safe to say, this would be Neji’s new favorite way to have sex.

༝ ᭝ ༝ sasuke ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Unlike his brother, Sasuke is impulsive.

He couldn’t deny the thought would cross his mind every now and then, playing with the idea of fucking you raw and seeing his sticky, white cum cover his cock and spill from your pussy.

Usually when he got the urge he’d jerk himself off. Cool fingers would wrap around his warm cock, shivers running down his spine as he stroked himself slowly. He’d cum in a heartbeat.

It would dull the ache of his desire for a while. Hell, he definitely wouldn’t want to have a baby any time in the near future. But soon enough it’d start to eat at him again. His stomach would clench tight every time you’d have sex, nasty dreams forcing him to wake up hard. That’s why, when you beg him to take the condom off, it’s take zero effort to convince him.

Your face would be buried in your pillow, ass in the air, and one hand would fist the sheets. The other would twist behind to smack against Sasuke’s lean lower belly, pushing at him to wait. He’d be too focused, hands pressing your lower back into a harsh arch, sweat trailing down his temple, over his jaw, dripping onto your back.

“Sasuke,” you’d moan, asking for his attention. “Wait, Sasuke — ah fuck!” You’d dig your nails into his belly until he sucked in a sharp breath. “Take the condom off, please!”

His hips would still, pressed flush to your ass. “What?” He’d ask, already be pulling out. “You want me to fuck you raw?” He’d tease. “So spoiled, princess.”

You’d roll onto your back, cheeks heated, chest heaving. “Just fucking take it off,” you’d demand, reaching to grasp the slippery latex and slide it free. Sasuke would smirk, eyes glued to his dick as it bobs once the condom pops off.

Sasuke’s jaw would go slack once you stroked his cock, the skin soft and slick from leftover lube. He’d fucking whimper, a noise he’d never made before, when he pushes all the way in. Sasuke’s thoughts wouldn’t be coherent after that. He’d put your knees to your ears and fuck you until he’s cum twice and you’re squirting onto his pelvis.

He would panic the next day, going dizzy with relief when you inform him you started getting birth control shots.

༝ ᭝ ༝ kakashi ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Kakashi would be asking you if he could hit it raw.

For your entire relationship, Kakashi would have it known that he’s got a fantasy about giving you a “cream pie”, for lack of a better word. He’d never push you to do something you’re uncomfortable with, no, he’d be more than happy to even role play the act.

There’s no denying that Kakashi would truly want to get you pregnant. He’d love to see your belly round with his baby, but he’d be patient and wait for you to give him the go ahead. However, Kakashi has a loud mouth, and he’d voice his desires at least every other time you have sex.

In the end, the idea would get in your head and become more than appealing to you. When you gave in, it’d be when Kakashi least expected it. It’d be a night when his back is propped up by a couple pillows near your headboard, calloused hands gripping your ass and guiding the slow roll of your hips. Kakashi would be drooling about how well you ride his cock.

Your hands would brace themselves on his pecs, nails digging into his skin, and Kakashi wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. No surprise there. “Babygirl,” he’d moan, eyes rolling towards the ceiling when your pussy clenches tight. “Look so pretty when you ride me, m’gonna cum so hard. You’ll let me knock you up, yeah? Wanna see you swollen with my baby so bad.”

You’d slap your hand over his mouth to stop the stream of filthy words, cheeks blistering. “Kakashi,” you’d say through your teeth, voice pitching higher. “Take off the condom.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows would shoot to his hairline, jaw dropping open as the words he’d been waiting forever to hear sunk in. There’s no way in hell you’d have to repeat yourself. He’d shove you off his lap and onto your back, settling between your spread thighs as he all but ripped off the condom. He’d stroke his cock a couple times before readjusting his weight, taking his time to slide his bare cock back inside you.

Kakashi would whine in back of his throat, pushing your thighs apart until your muscles started to protest. “Kakashi!” You’d gasp, pushing up to your elbows, fisting the sheets as he railed the shit out of you.

“Sorry, can’t — fuck, can’t help myself,” he’d pant, not sounding sorry at all. You’d catch a glimpse of Kakashi’s sharingan whirling and then he’d be cumming before you realized he’s close.

He wouldn’t stop with one round. He’d wring pleasure out of you until your legs turned to jelly. He’d cum again after that, making such a mess that you’d both end up in the shower.

#kakashi x reader #itachi x reader #neji hyuga x reader #sasuke x reader #kakashi smut #itachi uchiha smut #neji x reader #sasuke smut #itachi smut #kakashi hatake x reader #itachi uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader #kakashi hatake smut #sasuke uchiha smut #neji hyuga #naruto x reader #naruto smut

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moonstruckme · 2 months ago

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hi!! can u write a fic with poly maurauders x shy reader where she looses like her comfort stuffed animal and freaks out? thanks!

Thanks for requesting @whotfisgiana <3

poly!marauders x shy!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You don’t think your bedroom has ever been so messy. Pillows on the floor, sheets and comforter all askew, most everything you own moved this way or that so you could see around or behind or underneath it. You’re halfway to a panic when a knock sounds on your door.

You ignore it. It’s likely a postman leaving a package or someone who will leave a flyer taped to the door, and you have more pressing concerns to deal with. But the knock comes again, louder this time.

You push out a sigh as you stand from where you’d been peering under your bed, trying to shake some of your unease out of your fingertips as you go to answer it. On the other side you find your roguishly handsome boyfriend, looking expectant.

“Hey, beautiful,” says Sirius, grinning as he leans in. He takes your waist in hand, and you kiss him back somewhat slowly, caught offguard by his easy affection at the best of times but even more so when you weren’t anticipating it.

“Hey,” you echo as he pulls back.

“You look surprised to see me,” he observes. “Did you not remember our date?”

You blink. Oh. Oh. God, you’re the worst. You’re supposed to be going to see a film with your boyfriends at noon—but in your frenzy, you’d completely forgotten. Is it really that late already?

“It’s alright.” Sirius seems to sense your nerves, giving you a kind squeeze. “We’ve got time, lovely, James is picking up Remus from across town and I told them we’d take the bus, is that alright? Do you need to do anything before we go?”

Your first thought is that you can’t go—but that’s not very fair, is it? You had plans, you can’t just abandon your boyfriends because something else has come up. Something completely non-urgent, too. It will still be just as lost whether you’re at the cinema or not. You can keep looking when you get home.

“Yeah,” you say, stepping back from the door. Sirius comes in, and you shut it behind him. “Sorry, I’m still in my pajamas. I can change fast.”

“Don’t hurry,” he says easily. “You know how James drives. We’ll beat them there no matter what.”

“Thanks.” You hurry into your room, Sirius trailing casually behind. “Sorry, just a second.”

He tsks, teasing. “Stop that.”

“Sorry,” you say instinctively, then feel your face heat when he shoots you a mock stern look. You grab some clothes and go into your bathroom, shutting the door to change.

“Whoa,” says Sirius as he enters your room. “What happened in here?”

You forcibly stifle another apology, laughing at yourself. “I know, it’s so bad.”

“Are you redecorating or something?”

“No, just looking for something.”

You step out of the bathroom in jeans and a jumper, and Sirius grins at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re ready for him this time. When he steps forward, you let him put his hands on your face and kiss him back sweetly.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“You seem upset. What is it?”

“I’m not upset.” You want for it to be true. You wish this wasn’t something that rattled you so badly.

“Liar.” Sirius says it in the same way he calls James pest, with a fond bent to his voice. He puts a couple of inches between you, keeping your face in his hands as he traps you beneath his stare. “What is it?”

Your shoulders climb up towards your ears. “I’m okay,” you say meekly. Sirius only looks at you, as if to say go on. “I just can’t find my rabbit.”

His brow furrows. “Your rabbit.”

“My stuffed rabbit,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Sirius glances to your bed, the covers half torn off from where you’ve disheveled them in your search and now trailing onto the floor. He lets his grip slip down your arms. “How did I not know about this? Seems rather important to you.”

“I don’t need to sleep with him every night or anything,” you say, embarrassed. “I’ve just always had him, so he’s sort of…sentimental. Anyway, it’s fine. I’ll find it later.”

“I’m not going to drag you to the cinema when you’re upset about your rabbit,” Sirius says, like the mere idea is offensive.

“You’re not dragging me,” you argue feebly, “and I’m not upset.”

“I’m not escorting you while you’re worried, then.” He rolls his eyes, taking out his phone.

“Sirius,” you plead, but he only shushes you.

“Hi,” he says a moment later. “Hey, has James gotten to you yet?”

Remus’ voice, too quiet to make out, crackles through the line.

Sirius hums. “Well, I’m impressed by him. Actually, though, we may have a change of plans.”

You cover your face with your hands, mortified. Sirius puts an arm around you, rubbing your shoulder like there, there.

“It seems our girl has misplaced her stuffed rabbit.”

You’re close enough now to hear James say, genuine alarm in his tone, “Moo Moo?”

There’s a pause, and you peek through your fingers to find Sirius looking at you. You nod in confirmation.

“It’s called Moo Moo?” he asks.

You hum quietly.

“Why would you name your rabbit after a sound a cow makes?”

“I don’t know,” you say sheepishly. “I was a baby.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, kissing you on your head. “You’re fucking precious, do you know that?”

It’s decided quickly after that. James and Remus change course, heading for your apartment while you and Sirius recommence the search. None of them will hear your protests, least of all Sirius, who threatens to decommission you from the rescue party if you continue to spend your energy arguing rather than looking.

With two of you, you clear the bedroom quickly, moving into the formerly unconsidered parts of your home. Sirius asks you questions like a police interrogator: Where did you last see him? How big is he? How many nights has it been since you’re sure you slept with him? Did he go on holiday with you last weekend?

Your laundry bin is upturned, couch cushions removed, mementos you’ve not seen for years discovered and then quickly lost again in the rubble.

When your boyfriends arrive, Remus takes one look at you and shepherds you away while James joins the search. He makes you tea and gives you enough of his soft, compassionate looks to melt you down to the bone.

“I didn’t mean to make us all miss the film,” you tell him, steam warming your chin as you sit on the kitchen counter. “I was going to go, but Sirius…”

You realize you sound like you’re tattling and stop. Remus only smiles at you indulgently, his brown eyes flickering with humor.

“We didn’t think it was you who made that call,” he says. “But, sweetheart, no one is upset that we’re here. We wouldn’t want you to have to sit through a film while you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.” Your voice has the quiet weariness of a broken record.

Remus studies you. You sip your tea to avoid it, trying not to squirm under his gaze. “You seem like you might be upset,” he says, an almost missable hint of teasing in his tone.

“It’s stupid,” you admit. “I know he has to be here somewhere, there’s no point in worrying.”

“I’m sure he is.” Remus rubs your leg, soothing. “You’re right, lovely, he’s probably just somewhere we haven’t—”

“Found him!” James cries.

You gasp, and Remus grins at your reaction.

“Where?” Sirius bounds in from the sitting room.

James comes from the opposite direction, holding your rabbit above his head like a trophy. He passes it to you with a flourish as you hop down from the counter. “Angel, your Moo Moo.”

“So this is Moo Moo,” Sirius says, grinning.

You feel suddenly defensive, bringing the grayed, ratty plushie close to your chest. “Yes.”

“I love him.”

“I think he’s handsome,” says Remus, also looking at him interestedly.

“Caused a lot of trouble today, though,” Sirius tuts, “hasn’t he?”

“Where’d you find him?” you ask James, eager to be out of the spotlight.

“He was wedged between your mattress and the wall.” Your boyfriend pouts. “Poor thing.”

You frown. “I looked there.”

“He was sort of in the corner.” James shrugs. “Rather easy to miss, I’m sure Sirius checked there too.”

“Well, thank you,” you say shyly. Still holding the toy to your chest. “I might not have looked there again on my own.”

“Seems a good thing we came over, hm?” Remus asks complacently.

Your face heats. “Yeah.”

“One more time, sweetness?” Sirius cocks his ear. “Not sure I heard you there.”

“Yes,” you say again, fighting a smile. “Thank you for coming.”

He grins at you, wrestling you into his side. “I don’t ever want to hear you arguing one of my ideas again.”

“That seems a bit premature—” James starts to say.

“Nope! Never again.”

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mercvry-glow · 2 months ago

Text

Stubborn love

parings. jack abbot x reader

summary. you take your son to pitt-fest, expecting to have a day filled with love and quality time. little do you know the universe has other plans for you instead.

warnings. gun violence, mass shooting, pitt-fest, hospital setting, reader and her son get shot, reader and jack are parents of a twelve year old boy, implied age gap (jack late 40s, reader mid/late 30s), medical inaccuracies, established relationship, hurt/comfort, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. I just keep outdoing myself guys, idk what to do with all this power I have. I'm trying a new thing out when it comes to scene switches so hopefully this isn't choppy and I hope you love this as much as I do! This was a request for the very special @pear-1206! as always I hope you enjoy and any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 7,200+

It was supposed to be a fun day for you and Owen—a little mother/son bonding time while Jack finally got some much-needed rest after a long string of night shifts. The plan was simple: spend the day at the festival, just you and your boy, then meet up with Jack later for a nice dinner.

You and Jack had talked it over, and now that Owen was twelve, you both agreed it was fine for him to go. Especially since you’d heard Robby and Jake would be there—it felt safe. Familiar.

“You brushed your teeth, right, baby?” you called from the kitchen, glancing toward the living room where Owen sat, controller in hand, eyes locked on the TV.

“Yeah, Mom!” he shouted back, not even turning around. He was clearly deep into whatever video game world he’d dropped into, and since he wasn’t in school today you allowed it.

You shook your head with a small smile, humming along to whatever song the Alexa was streaming. Duke, your rambunctious Boxer puppy—and one of Owen’s birthday gifts from last year—was currently attacking the already-worn kitchen rug like it had personally offended him. You nudged him with your foot as you rinsed a coffee mug.

“Leave it, bubba,” you muttered playfully. Duke gave a happy little bark and pounced again.

Just then, you heard the soft click of the front door, followed by the unmistakable sound of boots being kicked off and dropped in the entryway. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was Jack.

“Hey,” came his gravelly voice, low and tired, but warm. You turned to see him standing in the doorway, running a hand through his messy, silver curls, still in his black scrubs. His badge clipped to his pants and his stethoscope hung loose around his neck.

“And the graveyard king returns,” you said, drying your hands on a towel. “How bad?”

He groaned, stepping into the kitchen and leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Three codes. One stabbing… Had a vet come in,’” He said softly. “Didn’t make it.”

You sighed softly, wrapping your arms around his waist as he melted into you for just a moment. “I’m sorry baby, how about you go shower? We’ll be out of your hair soon, and you can get some much needed sleep.”

Jack leaned down again, this time kissing the side of your neck before pulling back. “You sure you don’t want to join me? I’m pretty sure the kid is glued to the TV.”

“Nope,” you said, gently pushing him toward the stairs. “You need sleep, and Owen has been dying to leave early and he definetly doesn’t get that from me.”

“Speaking of,” Jack called over his shoulder as he walked away, “Owen! Brush your teeth!”

“I did!” came the indignant reply, followed by the telltale sound of the controller hitting the floor as Owen finally got up.

Jack glanced back at you with a tired smirk. “Just making sure.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the dishes, smiling to yourself as Jack stalked off to go see his son.

It was shaping up to be a good day.

You had no idea how fast everything would change.

When you had officially gotten to Pitt-Fest a few hours later the air was warm, with a gentle spring breeze brushing your skin as you and Owen made your way from the parked car toward the heart of the festival. The streets were already buzzing with music, food truck smells, and early crowds. You smiled to yourself—this was going to be a good day.

Owen was practically skipping beside you, eyes wide as he took everything in. “Mom, look! They’ve already got the funnel cake truck open! Please, please can we get one now?”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Owen, it’s barely even lunchtime. Don’t you want to save that for later?”

He gave you that crooked, charming grin—so much like Jack’s—and you sighed with a smile. “Alright. One. And we’re splitting it.”

Within minutes, you were both sharing a messy, powdered sugar-coated funnel cake, your fingers sticky as you wandered past booths and rides. It felt good to unplug, to just be with your son. The chaos of life, Jack’s odd shifts, and your own never-ending schedule faded into the background.

“Hey—Jake!” Owen suddenly shouted, tugging your hand as he spotted someone up ahead. “C’mon, Mom!”

You glanced up, surprised to see Jake—The son of one of Robby’s exs, and a boy you had watched grow up—waving from a grassy patch near the basketball shoot-out game. For a moment, your eyes scanned the area, expecting to see Michael with him, like he said he’d be. Instead, you were greeted with the sight of someone else entirely: a nice looking young woman in a cropped denim jacket and oversized sunglasses, sipping something pink out of a mason jar.

Jake ran up to Owen, already mid-hug and mid-laugh, the two boys catching up like no time had passed.

“Hey Mrs. A!” Jake said brightly, a little too loud over the music. “Didn’t know you guys were coming!”

You blinked, confused, a light smile on your face as you gave the young man a hug. “I thought Robby was bringing you?”

“Oh—no,” he said, waving a hand. “He’s working today, I guess. We didn’t want the passes to go to waste, so he just said I could bring someone.”

“Jeez, he didn’t mention that when we talked yesterday.” you put a hand on your hip, thinking of all the ways you could scold the older man—maybe have Jack do it for you, he was “scarier” anyway.

Still, everyone looked happy. Owen clearly had his attention on the two older kids, laughing and as he tried to convince both Jake and Leah to come with him to the makeshift basketball court.

So you stayed chill.

“Well, I’m glad you guys are having fun,” you said, easing into a comfortable flow of watching Owen and chatting with Jake and Leah. “Well that’s too bad he couldn’t come, Owen was looking forward to seeing Mikey.”

“Totally, but you know how it is with him.” Jake said, glancing down at his phone before wandering off a few feet to take a picture of Owen and Leah playing.

You exhaled slowly, watching Owen light up when he made a shot, Jake clapping and ruffling his hair as his girlfriend cheered.

It wasn’t quite what you’d planned—but as long as Owen was smiling, you could roll with it. “Do you guys need any more money?”

Jake wandered over again, glancing up from his phone as he slipped it into his pocket. “Nah, we’re good. I’ve got some cash and Leah’s got that apple pay.” He grinned, nudging her playfully. “She’ll sell her soul for a blue slushie.”

Leah rolled her eyes but smiled. “Facts, but we’re all good for now, promise Mrs. A.”

You nodded, still watching Owen line up another shot with intense focus, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth like he always did when he was concentrating. You’d seen that same expression on Jack’s face a hundred times.

“He’s getting good,” Jake said with a little pride in his voice. “Kid’s got an arm.”

“He’s been practicing,” you said with a smile. “Jack set up one of those hoops in the driveway. He won’t admit it, but they have this little competition going.”

You laughed softly, relaxing just a little as the chatter and music of the festival surrounded you. The scent of popcorn and cotton candy floated on the breeze. For a moment, it felt simple again. Safe. Happy.

“I’m glad you guys came,” you added, genuine this time. “Owen would’ve been bummed if he hadn’t seen you guys.”

“Anytime,” Jake said. “Seriously. He’s like my little brother.”

Leah smiled, looping her arm through Jake’s. “He’s really the cutest.”

You watched as Owen ran off again, clutching a neon green basketball he’d just won, Jake breaking away from you and Leah to jog after him with mock dramatics.

“Dude, wait up! You're not even giving me a chance to shoot!”

Leah laughed and gave you a quick smile. “We talked about going over to bumper cars, would it be cool if we took Owen?”

You hesitated just a beat, glancing toward the vendor booths where more families were starting to trickle in. But Jake was a good kid. He always had been. And even if Leah was still new to you, she seemed to genuinely care about Owen’s safety.

You gave a small nod. “Just stay close, okay? And if you guys need anything at all—call me. I’ll be right here,”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said with a salute, already herding Owen and Jake in the other direction.

As soon as they disappeared into the crowd, you sank back down onto a nearby bench and pulled out your phone.

Two texts from Jack:

Tryin for another hour of sleep.

Love you.

And a photo from earlier that morning in the living room—Owen holding Duke and grinning like a maniac.

You smiled, heart tugging, and quickly switched out and tapped on Robby’s contact. It only rang twice before he picked up.

“What’s up,?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you ‘what’s up’ me, Michael”

A pause. “Uh oh. What’d I do?”

“You bailed, Robby,” you said, but your voice was more amused than angry. “I told Owen you were coming. I told him he’d see his Unlce Mikey. You could’ve given me a heads up that Jake was showing up with his girlfriend instead.”

“Okay, first of all,” Robby said, unapologetic and teasingly, “I did mention I was thinking of coming in this week.”

“Yeah, but I assumed you wouldn’t, like you always do.”

He sighed. “I know, I know. I was gonna come for a few hours, but then the damn place turned into a warzone. Got six traumas in two hours and some poor intern—don’t even ask.”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “Ugh, you men and your ER.”

“Right?” he said brightly. “Anyway, Jake really wanted to go, and he asked if he could bring Leah. I figured he’d be safer with you somewhere nearby.”

You narrowed your eyes, even though he couldn’t see you. “You pawned him off on me.”

“Nooo,” he said, clearly grinning. “I strategically aligned him with a responsible adult.”

“I’m not his mommy, Michael.”

“You might as well be his aunt, considering how much that kid loves you and Jack.”

You shook your head, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “You owe me.”

“Fine, fine,” he said with exaggerated suffering. “Family dinner’s on me next week, and I’ll buy Owen whatever overpriced plush nightmare he begs you for today. Deal?”

“Deal,” you said. “But I’m serious, next time give me a little warning before I walk into the teenage boyfriend-girlfriend babysitting arrangement.”

“Noted,” he said. “I gotta go—sounds like someone just puked on my staff, again.”

You snorted. “Good luck with that.”

He hung up, and you slid your phone into your pocket, glancing off in the direction Owen, Jake and Leah had gone. You could hear laughing—real laughing and it felt good.

You stood, brushing your hands on your jeans deciding it was time to go find the kids. You followed the path toward the bumper cars, weaving through groups of kids in matching school T-shirts and moms balancing drinks and phones. The sun was climbing higher now, casting a golden glaze over the whole venue, and the noise level had kicked up—music from the small stage nearby, the low grind of ride mechanics, children shouting and laughing, a vendor calling out about fresh churros.

It should’ve felt cheerful. Safe.

But there was a pulse in your chest that hadn’t been there earlier. Not panic. Not dread. Just… something. Like when a summer sky shifts ever so slightly and you know a storm’s coming, even if no one else has noticed yet.

You shook it off.

The bumper cars were up ahead, and you spotted Owen immediately—slightly crooked in the seat, steering like a maniac, laughter spilling out of him. Jake was driving the opposite direction, aiming like he was on a mission, while Leah leaned over the edge of the railing with her phone, filming it all and giggling.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and waved when Owen spotted you.

“Mom! Did you see that one? I spun Jake out!”

You grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “I saw, Baby!”

Leah smiled and came over to stand beside you. “He’s really good behind the wheel.”

“Just like his dad,” you said with a soft laugh, eyes still locked on the ride.

But then something flickered at the edge of your awareness—a man a few yards back, pacing near the ticket booth. Alone. Hood up despite the warmer weather. Not totally weird, but it pinged something instinctual.

You looked away, telling yourself not to start imagining things.

You were in mom mode.

You were overthinking.

Still, your gaze kept drifting back. The guy had stopped pacing now and was just standing there, hands shoved deep in his sweatshirt pockets.

You reached for your phone again, just a quick glance. Nothing more from Jack.

Beside you, Leah nudged your arm. “You okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, just… watching.”

“Totally get that. I get nervous watching people get on roller coasters. Like I know they’re strapped in, but what if—”

She cut herself off and shook her head. “Sorry. That probably didn’t help.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “I just… like to keep an eye on things.”

The ride ended, and Owen came barreling out of the gate, freckled cheeks flushed. “Can we do the tilt-a-whirl next?”

“Let me guess,” you said, ruffling his hair. “Jake and Leah want to do it?”

“Uh-huh!” he laughed.

“Alrighty, but I’m gonna join you this time. I can’t let you three have all the fun, right?” You squeezed Owen’s shoulder gently.

You glanced back in that direction they had walked and spotted them about twenty feet ahead, Jake with his arm draped lazily over Leah’s shoulder, the two of them laughing about something on her phone.

As you took Owen’s hand in yours, you looked back toward the ticket booth.

The man was gone.

You scanned the area, telling yourself it was nothing. Maybe he left. Maybe he was just waiting for someone. Maybe he was never looking at anyone in particular.

But your skin was prickling now.

The crowd was growing thicker. The music seemed louder, a little too chaotic. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay grounded.

No sirens. No screams. No reason to panic.

But still—you reached into your bag and made sure your phone and wallet were exactly where you left them.

A bit later, You were leaned against the wooden railing near the edge of the food truck circle, letting the scent of fried dough and grilled sausage fill your nose while you scrolled through the pictures in your phone.

Owen’s smile was huge in every shot—hoisting the giant stuffed dinosaur he had choosen over his head, standing triumphantly on a painted podium outside a carnival game, laughing mid-spin in a blur of motion next to Jake and Leah.

Your heart squeezed, warmth blooming beneath your ribs. It hadn’t been the day you’d expected, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe this was even better.

You chose your favorite one—Jake had crouched behind Owen with a goofy flex, and Leah was pretending to kiss Owen’s cheek while he squirmed away, red-faced and thrilled—and attached it to a new message.

We’re having the best time. Gonna let them do one or two more rides, before we head to the restaurant ❤️

You hit send, then slid your phone back into your bag and looked up—just in time to see Owen dart off toward Jake and Leah, who were lining up for the swings just outside of the food trucks.

You followed slowly, keeping them in sight but giving them space. The wind picked up slightly, carrying voices, music, and the metallic squeak of carnival rides. You rubbed your arms—goosebumps, despite the warm day.

Something felt off again.

You couldn’t place it. Not yet.

It wasn’t a sound or a flash—just that shift in the air, like the pressure had changed, like someone had cracked a door you hadn’t noticed before.

Then came the first pop.

You paused.

One loud crack, sharp and clean, like someone popping a balloon too close to your ear. Heads turned. A few kids were startled.

Another pop. Then two more.

Your eyes narrowed. Not fireworks. Not part of the festival.

The music from the central stage screeched to a halt.

Then the screams started. One. Then several. People began moving—first walking quickly, then running.

Gunshots.

Your throat closed around your breath. You turned wildly—where were they? Where was Owen?

“Baby?!” you shouted, pushing forward, weaving between bodies, looking everywhere. “Owen!”

Then—blessedly—you saw him. Near the swings, crouched low behind a bench, Jake in front of him like a human shield, Leah’s arm around both of them.

You sprinted. Didn’t think. Just moved.

When Owen spotted you, his face crumpled. “Mom!”

You dropped to your knees, pulled him into you with a force that knocked the air out of both your lungs.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, kissing his temple. “Don’t let go of my hand.”

Jake’s voice was shaking. “We need to get out of here.”

You nodded fast. “This way!”

And as the shots rang out again—closer, louder—you ran.

You didn’t look back.

You clutched Owen to your side, your arm curled tight around his head, forcing him to duck as you moved. Jake was behind you, shouting something to Leah—but the noise was too loud. Screams. Sirens now, maybe? No—just more shots, ricocheting in the air like firecrackers set loose in hell.

People were stampeding. You could barely think, barely see. Your only goal was to get to the back of the lot—to the edge near the petting zoo where the fence dipped and the parking field beyond opened up.

You turned a sharp corner, skidding in the dirt. “Almost there,” you panted. “Just hold on—”

A deafening crack shattered the words in your throat. You didn’t have time to scream.

Leah gasped behind you—then collapsed, dropping like a ragdoll with cut strings. You barely saw her hit the pavement, but Jake screamed.

“Leah!”

You turned just in time to see blood—too much—pooling around her chest. Her hand twitched, trying to reach for Jake.

“No, no, no,” he was shouting, dropping to his knees, trying to cover the wound, but it was—It was her chest.

She was probably already gone.

You wanted to go to them. You tried. But then Owen let out a shriek—piercing and ragged—and your body jerked like you’d been electrocuted.

You looked down.

Blood. Owen’s blood.

“Baby—”

His leg gave out and he crumpled. You dropped with him, hands flying to his side where the crimson stain was already spreading through his little T-shirt. Not the leg. Higher. Too high.

“No, no, no—look at me, look at me,” you begged, pressing your hands to the wound. “Stay with me, I’ve got you, it’s okay—”

Another shot. You flinched violently, instinctively curling over him as a sharp, white-hot pain tore through your side. It took your breath. Took your words. You tried to move and screamed instead.

Jake’s voice broke through—panicked, breathless. “Go! Take him—GO! I’ve got Leah—he’s still shooting—GO!”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. But you pulled Owen’s body into your arms anyway, teeth gritted against the blinding pain, and ran.

You didn’t see where Jake went. You didn’t know where the gunman was. You only knew you had to move.

People ran in every direction—ducking, diving, falling. You stumbled into someone, nearly lost your grip on Owen, then shoved forward again. The access road was ahead. So close.

Owen was crying weakly, clutching your shirt.

“Stay with me,” you rasped, your vision blurring. “We’re almost there. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

And then—

A fence. An open gap. You fell through it. Literally fell—knees buckling, your body slamming into the grass, but you kept him with you.

Dirt. Blood. Sirens now, real ones, screaming somewhere far too far away.

Owen wasn’t screaming anymore.

He was too quiet.

And Jack still didn’t know.

And you couldn’t feel your legs. Couldn’t feel much of anything but the sticky warmth of Owen’s blood on your hands, your shirt, your arms.

Your side throbbed violently, each breath more shallow than the last, but you didn’t let go of him—not even for a second. You cradled his face, kept pressing your trembling fingers to the side of his neck, checking—still there. Weak. Faint. But there.

“Owen, baby,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Come on. Open your eyes for me.”

His lashes fluttered. A faint sound, maybe a whimper, left his lips.

You dragged yourself upright, blinking through sweat and tears. The access road stretched out behind the fence, gravel and dust dancing in the air from the chaos erupting just beyond it. You could still hear screams. Distant shouts. Faint sirens that weren’t close enough.

Not fast enough.

“Stay awake,” you begged, your forehead pressing to his. “You can’t go to sleep, okay? You keep your eyes on me. Dad’s waiting for us. You’re gonna tell him about the dinosaur, remember?”

Owen whimpered again, a soft, slurred, “It hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know. But we’re gonna fix it. I promise—just—just keep talking to me, okay? Tell me your favorite ride. The best one today.”

His lips moved, barely audible. “The swings.”

You nodded, choking out a broken laugh. “Yeah? You were so cool. I saw you.”

A car engine revved.

You blinked.

A dark SUV skidded into view down the gravel path, braking hard just a few feet from you. The passenger door flew open.

Two strangers—one man, one woman—rushed out, eyes wide at the sight of you on the ground, covered in blood.

“Oh my god, Travis—” the woman gasped. “He’s a kid—he’s just a kid!”

“Help us,” you rasped, trying to lift Owen toward them. “Please—we need help..”

“We got you—we got you, hang on,” the man, Travis, said, already crouching to help lift Owen gently from your arms while the woman scrambled for the first aid kit in the back seat.

“No ambulances are getting through,” she muttered, already pressing gauze to Owen’s wound. “Too many people. We’ll get there faster.”

You tried to push yourself up, but your body screamed. Your side. Your leg. It was all catching up to you now.

“I can’t—” you whispered, dizzy. “I have to go with him—I can’t let him go alone—please.”

The woman looked up, eyes soft and certain. “You’re coming. I promise.”

Together, they got you both into the back of the SUV—Owen laid gently across your lap, your hand never leaving his.

The car peeled out, gravel flying behind it.

You looked down at your son. His hazel eyes were barely open, face paling. “Hey,” you whispered. “Stay with me. Almost there. You’re so brave, baby”

The gauze soaked through. Blood was on your arms, your stomach, your thighs—his blood—and the sticky warmth of it made you tremble.

His breath hitched. Too shallow. Too fast.

"You're okay, baby," you murmured, voice thick, trying to stay calm as your own side throbbed with a pain so sharp you could hardly breathe. “You're gonna be okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Owen whimpered faintly, the sound barely there. You ran your fingers through his curls, kissed his forehead, even though your vision was dimming at the edges.

“You're doing so good,” you whispered, your forehead resting against his. “You’re the bravest kid I know. Just stay with me a little longer, okay?”

The woman in the front passenger seat turned back to check on you. Her hands were still red from pressing on Owen's wound before the drive. “We’re almost there,”

“PTMC?” you croaked, not even caring how broken your voice sounded.

She nodded. "Yeah. That’s where we’re going."

You exhaled, one tiny shred of relief carving through the pain. Jack has to be there. Robby’s there.

If anyone could save him—it was them.

You gripped Owen tighter, your injured side screaming in protest. You didn’t care. You’d hold him together if you had to.

“I’m sorry,” the woman, who you still didn’t know the name of, said quietly, her eyes flicking to yours. “About the girl—your friend. The one who got hit before you ran. We saw her.”

You swallowed hard. Leah’s face flashed in your mind. Jake’s scream. The sound of her body hitting the ground.

“She was only seventeen,” you rasped, barely above a whisper.

No one said anything for a moment. The only sound was the roar of the engine and the panicked rise of sirens all around the city.

You felt the car lurch forward again as the driver turned onto the highway. You leaned back just a little, blinking up at the ceiling as your arms trembled beneath Owen’s weight.

"You're almost there," you whispered again, not sure who you were saying it for—Owen, or yourself.

And just like that—over the next rise—the skyline broke open.

PTMC loomed in the distance, lit up like a beacon. Like hope.

You closed your eyes for half a second, just to breathe, and then nothing.

The SUV barreled into the PTMC ambulance bay, tires screeching against the pavement. Dr. John Shen was already there, clipboard abandoned, gloves snapped on ready to assess the new victims. The back door of the SUV flew open before the car had even stopped moving.

A man leapt out, shouting, “Two gunshot victims—one kid, one adult!”

Shen was moving before the words finished. He ducked his head in, already scanning.

A boy—maybe eleven or twelve—was sprawled across a woman’s lap, his small frame slick with blood. His face was gray, eyes barely open, breath shallow. The woman underneath him was slumped, her arm still draped protectively around him. Blood covered her side and leg, a wound visible just below her ribs.

“Red tag!” Shen barked, pointing to the boy. “GSW to the abdomen—fading fast. Let’s move!”

Nurses swooped in. One of them reached to lift the boy, but Shen stopped them.

“Neck check first—don’t move him if there’s spine trauma!”

“Clear,” another nurse confirmed. “He’s bleeding bad—BP’s crashing.”

“Start a line in the bay. Tell everyone we’re coming in hot!”

Shen leaned in as the boy was gently transferred to a gurney. The boy groaned, a high, weak sound—and Shen breathed a sigh of relief. Still responsive. Barely.

Then he turned to you.

You were unconscious now, skin dull and damp. Pulse fluttered beneath his fingers—weak but steady. He checked your airway. No sign of obstruction, but there was clearly pain before you went under. Shen noticed the streaks of red down your arms—defensive wounds.

Clearly you protected him.

“Pink tag,” Shen said quickly. “Delayed but stable for now. Get her to Zone C—secondary triage. Start fluids and monitor LOC.”

One of the ER nurses glanced, “She doesn’t have an ID yet—came in under civilian transport.”

Shen nodded. “She’s the kid’s mother. Keep them in proximity—she’ll want eyes on him as soon as she’s conscious.”

He turned back to the gurney now flying down the hallway.

“Who’s taking him?” he asked.

A voice answered just ahead: “Me.”

Robby was already pulling on gloves as he met the team halfway to the trauma bay. His face went sharp the second he saw the boy, expression turning from clinical to personal in a flash.

“That’s Owen,” he said, voice low. “That’s Jack’s kid, is his mom with him?”

Shen’s eyes didn’t widen, but something about him froze for half a beat.“We’re rolling her in next, you’d better work fast,” he said, already moving to the next case rolling in.

Robby swallowed hard, glancing toward the second gurney now being wheeled away. His stomach twisted.

Robby shoved the bay doors open with his shoulder just as the gurney was wheeled in. Owen was barely conscious, his head lolled to the side, skin pallid and clammy. The heart monitor was already hooked up and showed a weak but present rhythm.

"Vitals?" Robby asked sharply, already snapping on a gown and grabbing the ultrasound probe.

"BP is 78 over 44 and falling. He's tachy—160s. Resps shallow, sat's at 90 on non-rebreather. GSW to lower left quadrant, exit wound in the back. Looks like bowel involvement, maybe nicked the iliac."

Robby exhaled tightly.

Stay focused.

Just stay focused.

"Owen?" he called gently, kneeling beside the bed as they worked. "Hey, bud. It’s Mikey. I’m right here with you, okay?"

Owen’s eyelids fluttered. His lips moved like he wanted to speak, but only a soft noise came out. Robby gripped his hand.

"You don't have to talk. Just stay awake for me. You’re doing so good."

"Two large bores in," one of the nurses confirmed. “Hanging fluids now.”

“Get type and cross, send for four units of O-neg and get trauma surgery on standby,” Robby ordered. “I want FAST up now—we’re wasting time.”

Robby moved quickly, scanning the belly.

“Free fluid,” he muttered. “Left side. That’s blood. We’ve got internal bleeding—he’s not waiting.”

“He needs the OR now,” one of the trauma residents said.

“No,” Robby snapped. “Not until he’s stable enough to make it there. Get Jack. Tell him—tell him it’s Owen.”

Everyone paused for just half a second.

“Do not stop working,” Robby barked, pushing the urgency into motion again.

He leaned over Owen, brushing damp curls away from his forehead. "You're strong, kiddo. You got that from both your parents. You're gonna pull through this, but you gotta stay with me, okay? Just a little longer."

Another nurse leaned in with a pressure dressing. Robby applied it himself, firm and fast. The bleeding had slowed a little, but it was coming from deeper in the gut. He knew what this looked like. And he knew it could turn fast.

The OR doors were already being prepped upstairs for him.

Robby’s hands didn’t shake—but his jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. He couldn’t let his mind drift, to what he saw when they pulled Owen out of that SUV. He didn’t know how bad your injuries were. He didn’t know if you were even awake yet.

But right now?

He had one job.

And that was to keep Owen alive.

The ER was fucking chaos. Codes left and right, everything in a constant movement, and the relentless hum of machines from all over. Jack was no stranger to this—he was in the pink zone, handling the more critical victims of the shooting. But despite his calm, practiced demeanor, his mind was anything but at ease.

He had been pulled in for the shooting response, already working through the wreckage, when he heard the news. You and Owen had been caught in the crossfire, though hopefully safe.

His stomach dropped at the thought.

Keep it together. They’ll be fine, he told himself.

But nothing about today felt fine.

His gloves were soaked in blood as he continued to check vitals, giving orders, and directing the chaos around him. His pulse was still high, but it wasn’t just from the workload—it was the fear gnawing at the back of his mind.

Where were you?

"Dr. Abbot, you’ve got a new Jane Doe over here," a nurse called out, snapping him from his thoughts.

He turned quickly, heart skipping in his chest. “What’s her status?”

"She’s stable, for now. GSW to the abdomen. Blood loss is moderate, went clean through. Civillians brought her in from the scene."

Without waiting, Jack followed the nurse toward the trauma bay. His mind raced, jumping to every conclusion.

Could it be you?

When they arrived at the bed he saw you —his wife, unconscious, blood staining your clothes and skin. Quiet and umoving, but the machines around you were steady.

His breath hitched.

“Get a line in, start fluids,” Jack barked, moving swiftly into action. His hands trembled as he checked your vitals, his mind moving a mile a minute.

Breathing was shallow, but there was still a pulse. The blood was too much. Too much to be a coincidence.

A nurse rushed past, checking on the other patients in the area, but Jack couldn’t tear his eyes from your figure. He reached out, brushing his fingers gently over your arm. It was warm, but the color drained from his face as he saw the blood pooling on the sheets.

“Vitals?” Jack demanded.

“Stable for now. She’s unconscious, but her body’s holding up,” the nurse answered quickly.

“Stay with her,” Jack ordered, his voice low and tight with barely-contained panic. “I need to know the moment her condition changes.”

He pulled back, trying to get his bearings, but the weight of the situation was suffocating. He couldn’t focus on anything else but you and he still had a job to do.

As he moved to step away, another nurse caught his attention, speaking in quick bursts. “Dr. Abbot, we’ve got another one going up to surgery—this one’s a kid, Dr. Robby said he came in with this Jane Doe.”

The word kid stopped Jack in his tracks.

His heart leaped in his chest, and his pulse roared in his ears. He took off without thinking, his legs moving as fast as they could.

Owen.

He rounded the corner to another trauma bay, hoping, praying it wasn’t too late. The sight of the gurney brought him to a halt.

They were already wheeling Owen inside, the boy unconscious, his body pale and covered in blood. A small part of Jack’s mind screamed to reach out, to grab him, but the doctors and nurses were already in motion, preparing to take him up to surgery.

He stepped forward, but Robby was already there, directing the team.

“Owen’s been hit pretty bad,” Robby said, his voice tight with concern. “We’ve got him stable for now, but it’s touch and go and we need to get him upstairs, Brother.”

Jack didn’t even get a chance to ask more. He could only stand there for a moment, his mind spinning, before he was called back to the pink zone.

His wife—his wife was still lying unconscious just down the hall. Owen was going into surgery, fighting for his life. And he was supposed to be the one in control. But right now, he was helpless, and he had to keep working. “Fuck this…”

“I know- I know this is horrible timing, but we still have people to help… They’re in good hands, you know that.” Robby placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, hoping it gave him some sembelence of comfort.

“If something happens to either of them…”

“I know…”

The world felt hazy, like you were waking from a dream—or maybe a nightmare. Your body ached, and your head throbbed with the sharp sting of exhaustion. You blinked your eyes open slowly, the sterile white lights above you blinding at first. The beeping of a nearby monitor and the faint scent of antiseptic filled your senses, grounding you back into reality.

You tried to move, but your limbs felt heavy, as if they didn’t belong to you. Then you remembered—the shooting. The panic surged back in waves. The flashes of gunfire, Owen, Jake, Leah…

“Owen..?” Your voice cracked, barely a whisper as you turned your head toward the sound of the soft shuffle of footsteps.

Jack was sitting next to you, his hand wrapped around yours. His face was drawn, hazel eyes dark with exhaustion but filled with an intense, unwavering focus. He hadn’t left your side.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, leaning forward. His voice was rough, as if he’d been speaking to you in his sleep. “Hey, you’re awake. Thank God.”

You blinked, trying to focus, trying to piece everything together. “Owen... where is he?” Your voice shook, panic still clawing at your chest.

“He’s upstairs,” Jack said, brushing your hair back from your face gently. “He’s in recovery, he’s going to be okay.”

You exhaled shakily, trying to absorb his words.

Owen’s okay.

He was alive.

You felt a strange weight lift from your chest at the thought, but it didn’t stop the rush of emotions from flooding through you.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “How... how bad was it?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, the corner of his lip pulling into a tight, controlled line. “You’re both lucky,” he said, squeezing your hand, his voice quiet. “You both took a bullet, but it’s not as bad as it could’ve been. Just some stitches, a lot of blood loss. You’re going to be fine. You’re tough.”

You closed your eyes, relief and exhaustion mixing together. Your body felt weak, but hearing Jack’s voice, feeling his presence, calmed the swirling storm in your chest.

“I don’t remember... I don’t remember much after we uh- we got in the car.” you said, frowning. The last clear memory you had was trying to get Owen to safety.

Then... everything blurred together.

“Hey,” Jack’s voice softened as he leaned closer, his thumb brushing over your knuckles gently. “You did everything you could. You kept him awake. You got him here.” He paused, his voice breaking just slightly. “You saved him.”

You blinked, the words sinking in. You had kept him conscious. You had gotten him to PTMC. It was all coming back in pieces. You wanted to apologize for not being able to do more, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing.

“Are Leah and Jake okay?” you asked after a moment, though you already feared the answer.

Jack’s expression darkened, and his grip on your hand tightened slightly. “Leah didn’t make it,” he said quietly, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “Jake is with his mom now though,”

You felt your heart ache at the thought. Leah had been so full of life, so young. And now, she was gone.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t help it.

Jack was quiet for a moment, rubbing gently over your hand in comforting circles, offering his own type of peace. “I know. I know, baby,” he said softly. “But we’re here. We’re here, and we’re gonna make it through.”

The words didn’t erase the grief, but they gave you a small thread of hope to cling to.

You turned your head, your eyes searching for Jack’s, and found them filled with that same unwavering strength that had always been there. The strength you needed.

“How’s he doing?” you asked softly, still wanting to know about Owen, even as your body begged for rest.

“He’s alright” Jack repeated, nodding slowly. “They’re keeping an eye on him, but the doctors are sure he’s going to pull through. Kids are strong, and he’s just like his mom.”

You smiled weakly, your heart swelling with love for your son and husband. For a moment, the exhaustion and the fear melted away, and all you could focus on was the fact that you had made it—together.

“You need to rest,” Jack said gently, his voice low as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll see if we can move you up to his room too…”

You nodded, your eyelids heavy. You let the warmth of Jack’s presence settle over you, a comfort you hadn’t realized you’d been craving so desperately.

“Love you,” you murmured, barely conscious as sleep began to pull you under.

“I love you, too,” Jack whispered back, his voice soft but steady.

And with that, you finally let yourself drift off, knowing Owen was safe and that they would be there when you woke up again.

Sometime later the hum of monitors and soft beeping were steady and low, like the pulse of the room itself. You sat upright in the wheelchair Jack had brought you in, a hospital blanket draped over your lap, your fingers laced with his. Just sitting here beside Owen was enough to crack you wide open inside—every breath a small miracle.

Owen was awake.

Groggy and a little pale, his eyelids fluttered half-shut as he blinked up at the ceiling, shifting weakly against his pillow. His little hand rested beside him, wrapped in a peds-sized blood pressure cuff, wires trailing from his chest to the monitor, a nasal cannula nestled beneath his nose.

Your heart squeezed at the sight of him. He looked so small. So young. But he was awake—and alive.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, brushing your fingers gently over the back of his hand.

His eyes fluttered open a bit more at your voice, and he turned his head slowly toward you. “Mom?”

You choked on the word before it could leave your throat. You smiled instead, nodding quickly, leaning as close as your body would allow. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Owen blinked slowly, his eyes finding Jack beside you. “Dad’s here, too?”

Jack stood from where he’d been crouched at your side, wiping at his eyes quickly as he walked over to the other side of the bed. “Hey, buddy,” he said, voice rough as he leaned down and kissed the top of Owen’s head. “Of course I’m here,”

Owen gave the smallest smile, tired and lopsided. “You came.”

Jack huffed a short, shaky breath and laughed gently through it. “Of course I came, I work here, dork.”

You looked between the two of them, your eyes misting over again. You reached out and touched Owen’s arm gently, your hand trembling with relief. “You scared me,” you said quietly. “You really scared me.”

“Scared me too,” Owen mumbled, his voice raspy. “But… I think I’m okay.”

“You are,” Jack said, looking at you. “The surgery went well. Robby’s keeping a close eye on you too.”

You nodded, your body still aching, your side wrapped and sore, but none of that mattered now.

Owen blinked slowly, brows furrowing as memories tried to catch up with him. “Where’s Jake? And Leah?”

You and Jack exchanged a glance—one of those heavy, silent ones you’d both learned to read over the years.

“Jake’s okay,” Jack said gently, sitting back down beside the bed, resting his hand on Owen’s foot through the blanket. “He’s gonna be just fine.”

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat. “Leah…” You paused, blinking hard. “Leah didn’t make it, sweetheart.”

Owen stared at you, his lip trembling just slightly before he turned his face toward the ceiling again, eyes glistening. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you.

You reached for his hand again, and he held onto you tighter this time.

Jack stayed sitting next to you while on the bed, his hands settling on your shoulders as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You closed your eyes and let it settle in—the three of you in this small space, this quiet moment of stillness after the storm.

“We’re okay,” Jack murmured against your skin. “We’re okay now.”

You nodded, eyes fixed on your son, who was already starting to drift off again under the pain meds. The road ahead would be long—grief, recovery, healing—but right here, right now, you had each other.

mercvry-glow 2025

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sunseed-fandump · 4 months ago

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The Witch must have been crazy to have made such a Bad Batch of cookies...

(Sorry it's not any of my other AU content, but this was an idea I just really wanted to get out of my head.)

More Info under the cut!

The kids are EEEEEVIL!!!!

Wizard is in his Azure Flame costume from ovenbreak. Strawberry is Wild Strawberry from Twizzly Gummy’s Crew. Gingerbrave is emo a zombie, kinda.

In this timeline, Wizard’s need for power in order to survive quickly turned into a lust for it. He craves it, and is under the thrall of the Azure Flame Staff which whispers to him. He is convinced that only the strong will survive, and those without power are worthless. He is terrified of being powerless as a result. He remembers what it’s like to be helpless, and never wants to feel that way again. His prickly and reclusive attitude is a result of trying not to get attached (because attachments are a weakness) yet he can’t help but have a small fondness for Gingerbrave and Strawberry, as they’re one of the few cookies who understand what it’s like to hit rock bottom.

Strawberry was deeply traumatized when she saw her witch eat a cookie before her eyes. When she tried to warn others of what she had seen, she was dismissed. When the Jellywalker Apocalypse began, she was once again at a major disadvantage. Too quiet, too soft, too shy. Eventually she found herself on Twizzly Gummy Cookie’s crew, and they rescued her from her original timeline but were a pretty bad influence. She learned to be ruthless, because that's what was needed to survive an apocalypse and run from the time police. This version of her isn’t afraid of speaking her mind and being heard. Twizzly’s gang fell apart due to the TBD, and she felt abandoned as a result. After being spat out into a random timeline she decided to lay low and eventually met Wizard and Gingerbrave. She’s stuck with them ever since and silently appreciates their loyalty.

This timeline’s Gingerbrave didn’t survive his escape from the oven. The Witch caught him just as he had busted open the doors and she smashed him to pieces. However, with a few icing stitches and a bit of dark magic, he was brought back to life and swore vengeance on all witches. Not too long after escaping his Witch, he recruited Wizard and Strawberry to his cause to “fix” what he perceives to be a rotten world. He does truly care for his comrades and considers them his dearest friends, as they were the first to not mistake him for a mindless undead or recoil at his habit of falling apart. He’s retained a decent sense of humor, and is still a bit ignorant when it comes to the world due to being freshly baked, however he’s a lot more closed off when it comes to strangers and not quick to think that everyone has his best interest in mind like his Canon counterpart.

The trio have looked out for one another for a while, at first things were a bit rocky between them, a loose allyship to pursue a common goal; but it’s grown into a deep loyalty towards each other.

If Wizard Cookie is separated from the Azure Flame Staff for too long he starts to experience severe withdrawal symptoms. His fear of being powerless, alongside the Staff’s thrall over him, will cause him to act desperately and get it back by any means necessary.

Wild Strawberry Cookie has seen a lot in other timelines, and as a result recognizes quite a few faces that she otherwise wouldn’t have met. She also has a stash of Time Jumpers, which allows her to dominate a battlefield as she utilizes its abilities to fast-forward and rewind herself.

Gingerbrave frequently has to redo his stitches, as they have a habit of breaking or wearing down due to the icing’s low quality. The worst ones are around his neck, which will cause his head to go flying off and getting lost. Despite the major drawbacks this causes, he can also use it to his advantage, as his individual parts are still autonomous from one another. He can also swap parts out for new ones, meaning if he loses an arm, he can take one from a fallen enemy cookie or cake monster and use that instead. He has a supply of different parts that he swaps out depending on the mission. However, he feels most comfortable with his original pieces.

While it isn’t official, Gingerbrave is considered the leader, as he keeps the group focused on their goal: to steal the Soul Jam and use them to destroy the Witches and their influence.

They actually don’t like Dark Enchantress Cookie and don’t plan to join the Cookies of Darkness. While they both have similar plans of stealing the Soul Jam and wanting to reform the world, Dark Enchantress wants to make a world that is under her control, while Gingerbrave wants to create a world of absolute free will and lawlessness.

Basically, the kids are anarchists who view Dark Enchantress and the Ancient Heroes as Tyrants.

Idk if i'll do more with this concept, but I thought it would be fun/funny considering Strawberry and Wizard both already have "evil" designs.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #my art #gingerbrave #strawberry cookie #wizard cookie #crk au #bad batch

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hollandsangel · 1 year ago

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move over | m. sturniolo

okAY here we go this is my first sturniolo fic please be nice to me i am afraid

ps if you’d like to be tagged in any (possible) future fics comment 🍜

summary: matt needs a bigger bed

wc: 1k

warnings: matt x fem!reader, cursing, nightmares? no description really, just funny and fluffy 🫡 all the triplets are in it but reader is dating matt!

..does anyone remember that one video where matt said chris never sleeps in his own bed? well…

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

you feel yourself slipping back into consciousness, and you can tell from the soft, pale blue light of matt’s bedroom that it’s morning. matt’s fast asleep behind you, resting on his stomach with you tucked up into his side, his right arm slung over your waist. you’re already upset that you have to pee, the idea of crawling out of the sleep-warm bed and leaving your boyfriend’s cozy embrace is not an appealing one, but the nagging in your bladder won’t go away.

with a sleepy sigh you stretch your arm out just enough to the tap the screen of your phone, the numbers 8:23 glaring back you. you still don’t have to be up for another hour and a half, which you think is an acceptable amount of time left to lay in matt’s arms and snooze a bit more, even if you don’t really need anymore sleep.

it’s a bit tricky to clamber out of bed without waking the sleeping boy next to you. trying to keep from dragging the duvet with you when you slide out. you tuck matt back in properly before you wander off to his bathroom. softly, you click the door shut, and it, along with your sleep-hazy mind, muffles any sounds coming from outside the bathroom.

for once, chris slept in his own bed, knowing you’d be sleeping over and nick was editing the video meant to go up later this afternoon early into the morning. it’s too early for him to be waking up on his own but something stirs him into wakefulness, his heart beating a little faster than it should be.

matt had woken up for a mere second when you slipped out of bed and hasn’t fallen back into the depth of his sleep, waiting for you to come back. he’s just barley alert enough to hear shuffling from down the hall, getting louder until the person responsible is standing at the crack in the door.

“matt?” chris whispers, peeking into the bedroom.

matt groans and rolls over just until he can see his brother over his shoulder, “what, chris?”

“i had a fucked up dream, dude,” chris says, padding further into the room, “where’s y/n?”

matt turns a little closer to his brother, facing him now, “bathroom,” he mumbles, “what was it about?”

chris is still standing in the middle of the room, phone held loosely in his hand, “you got into a fuckin’ car accident, a really bad one” he admits, feeling a bit foolish and juvenile for running to his brother after a bad dream, “can i sleep in here?”

matt’s face softens and he rubs his eye, “yeah, ‘course.” he says, watching chris slowly walk towards the bed, “that’s her side,” he says though when chris tries to lay where you had been.

chris fakes a scowl and matt makes a face back, sleep still tugging at his mind. the two of them lay back down, back to back, tugging the covers over their shoulders.

you finish washing your hands and shut off the bathroom light. rubbing at your eyes, you make your way back to matt’s room, looking forward to sleeping a bit longer. upon wandering in you’re met with more than one body under the blankets, making you stop in your tracks.

“chris?” you wonder outloud, stopped in the door way.

matt answers before his brother can, “he had a bad dream,” he explains to you, face smushed into the pillow, leaving the words all muffled and extra groggy.

“sure,” you say, as if chris sleeping in matt’s bed doesn’t surprise you (it doesn’t). dragging your feet over to your side of the bed to matt, where he’s taking up a bit too much room. “move over,” you tell him when he peels the blankets back for you. he shuffles back with a little too much effort and you climb back into bed.

once you’re settled matt scoots a little bit closer to you to make more room for the three people now in his queen sized bed, but also because he never passes up an excuse to hold you a little tighter.

you doze in and out, matt’s soft breath against your neck keeping you a little bit dazed but not quite enough to lull you back to sleep fully. it must be nearing 10 am now, more bright sun spilling in from the cracks in the curtains above the bed. you think chris is awake too, hearing breathy little chuckles every now and then. you reach for your phone, deciding on a mindless scroll through instagram.

after a few minutes it sounds like nick has also woken up, his footsteps audible in the bedroom above. you hear him coming down the stairs, and you think he stops in the kitchen until his voice fills the quiet halls.

“chris?” he asks, standing in his brother’s empty bedroom, confused as to why he’s not in bed.

“in here,” chris speaks up, waiting for nick to press the door open.

he does, standing at arms length with a skeptical look on his face, almost afraid of what he might find. “um…hello, what are you doing in here?” nick asks, finally crossing the threshold.

“he had a bad dream,” matt says into your shoulder, startling you. you didn’t know he was awake.

“i had a bad dwream,” chris says in that stupid pouty voice that drives all of you insane, no doubt looking at nick with puppy dog eyes.

“oh…kay,” nick says and you laugh at the suspicion still evident in his tone.

“did you see the tik tok i sent you?” chris is laughing but stops abruptly when matt kicks him in the calf, which makes you giggle into your boyfriend’s arm.

“yeah, but i’m a bit more preoccupied with the absurdity of the three of you in matt’s bed right now,” nick says in his distinct deadpan drawl, which only makes you smile more.

“c’mon nick you might as well join us,” you say, earning a loud, over exaggerated groan from matt, his arms tightening around your waist.

you think nick must oblige because he doesn’t say anything for a second, coming closer to the bed.

“move over, dummy fuck,” he says to chris, who laughs out loud and scoots closer to matt.

“i hate them,” matt whispers in your ear.

tags! @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo drabble #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x you

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juliettejwnewinesa · 27 days ago

Note

BAKU VER OF 💦 "you came on my lap?" PLSPLSPLSPLSPLS

You came on my lap?

hyuntak version su-ho version sieun version seongjae version yeongbin version wooyoung version beomseok version

pairing: humin x fem!reader tags: suggestive content, clothed grinding, accidental orgasm, teasing, dom!humin undertones, lap sitting, kissing, tension, soft smut, aftermath, implied smut continuation word count: ~1.2k ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t supposed to go this far.

You were just messing around, lounging sideways across Humin’s lap while he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone. His hand was resting on your thigh, barely paying you any mind—and that was the problem.

You were wearing nothing under his oversized t-shirt but panties, and he was in loose joggers. It should’ve been nothing. Should’ve stayed playful.

But he wasn’t paying attention, and you were in the mood to change that.

You shifted in his lap slowly, like it was innocent. Adjusting your position. Resettling.

Except… you did it again. This time pressing down.

Humin didn’t look up.

“You’re ignoring me,” you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you turned toward him. “Rude.”

“I’m not ignoring you,” he replied, still looking at his screen, but his voice had changed—lower, rougher. “You’re just being annoying.”

You rolled your hips deliberately once more, slow and heavy against the growing outline beneath his sweats. “Still annoying?”

His hand tightened around your thigh. The phone disappeared somewhere behind him.

He looked at you finally—eyes low-lidded, mouth slightly parted, like he was already imagining how this would end.

“You trying to get me hard or something?”

You smiled sweetly. “Are you saying I’m succeeding?”

His gaze dropped to where your hips were pressing down into his lap. The tension in his jaw said enough.

You kissed him before he could say anything else. Lazy. Testing. Like you were still pretending this wasn’t what you wanted.

But Humin didn’t play half-games.

He kissed you back hard, tongue pushing past your lips, hand sliding up your back to hold you down firmly against him. The pressure made you shiver, the way his cock pressed thick against you through both layers of fabric—hot and heavy.

You grinded on him again. And again. The slow friction of cotton against cotton sent a pulse of heat straight through your gut.

"You're so warm," you whispered, dazed, already feeling the ache build between your thighs.

He smirked. "You started this. Don’t act shy now."

You weren’t shy. You were desperate.

Every roll of your hips made it worse—more sensitive, more raw. Your panties were soaked through, dragging against the soft cotton of his joggers, and the contact was maddening.

"Keep going, baby," he muttered, hand splayed over your lower back now. "If you wanna get yourself off on my lap so bad, I won’t stop you."

You whimpered, pace stuttering for just a second. His voice in your ear made your stomach twist.

“You like that?” he murmured. “Grinding like a little slut, soaking through your panties just from a kiss?”

Your thighs clenched. Your nails dug into his shoulders.

You didn’t mean to fall apart so fast—but your body wasn’t listening. The heat coiled tighter. Every little thrust against him made your clit throb, your breath catch.

“I—Humin—”

He felt it the moment you snapped.

You gasped—high-pitched and quiet, body shivering as you came right there in his lap, your thighs trembling, cunt pulsing helplessly through the cotton of your ruined panties. You buried your face in his neck, fingers clinging to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you together.

He was so still beneath you—until a slow, knowing chuckle rumbled through his chest.

“…You came?”

You didn’t answer.

“Baby,” he said, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “did you just cum on me without even getting undressed?”

You groaned and tried to hide again. His hand gripped your waist, holding you there.

“Oh my god, you did.” He laughed softly, dark and absolutely delighted. “That’s crazy. You were trying to tease me, but you’re the one who couldn’t take it.”

You huffed. “Shut up.”

But Humin leaned in close, teeth grazing your jaw. “Nah. I like knowing I can make you cum like that.”

You shivered again.

And just when you thought it was over—when your body was still wrung out and trembling in his lap—he shifted underneath you, cock still hard and twitching.

“Now sit still,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous. “Because I’m not letting you get up until I’ve ruined you for real.”

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blondieeu · 1 year ago

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early bird. katsuki b.

katsuki knew you better than you knew yourself. he knew your preferences, style, personality, even memorized your social security number since you always forgot it. he’d lived with you for damn near 5 years now.

“katsuki”

so when you wake him up in the late hours of the night, all needy and pent up he shouldn’t be surprised, he doesn’t even bother getting angry at you because you always tended to get needy in the night.

you shook him softly, his back turned to you as you tried to wake him. his body rising and falling with quiet snores that became irregular when you shook him.

“katsuki?”

“mm”

“katsuki!”

“what’s wrong”

he didn’t even bother opening his eyes, still laying there like a rock as he waiting for a response from you.

“can we fuck? please katsuki”

the male sighed and lazily grabbed his phone from the nightstand, squinting hard just to see the time. 2:06AM.

“you can’t sleep?”

the silence in the air already told him the answer, katsuki didn’t bother to keep questioning you as he began to shuffle out of his boxers.

“take your panties off.”

he muttered, helping you on your back and pulling the green underwear off your ankles, not without noticing the wet part on the middle of them and giving you a ‘you needed me that bad?’ look. he put your hand around his cock gesturing for you too put it in since he was too tired to find the hole.

bakugou moaned as he settled himself into your sopping cunny, strong hands almost making dents in the headboard as he rocked his hips into yours and watching your slick create thin strings between you and him.

your legs were loose around his waist, toes curling everytime he let himself go deep with your hands touching at his chest and stomach.

“shit.. pussy make me wan’ give you a fuckin’ baby.”

he grunted the words out with a small shake in his voice, like he was trying to hold back a couple moans. he tiredly let his head fall in between his strong, well built arms that held the headboard as he looked down at your face, eyes teary and mouth half opened while you clenched around his cock.

katsuki sat up from his position with hard-to-silence heaves to pull the black wife beater he had on over his head and throw it somewhere across the room as his body temperature started to rise.

he secured his position by grabbing onto your sides so he could fuck you harder. needy moans filled the warm room along with the quiet sound of skin connecting. you could’ve sworn that you went mute every couple of minutes from the surges of pleasure he was feeding into your cunny. wait could you hear how wet you were?

your long time boyfriend gave a lazy smile as he leaned down to make out with you as an attempt to get you quiet so you could her your cunny talk to him as well. quiet squelching could be heard if you really did listen in detail.

“hear her singin’ ? s’ all you—…shit girl..gets this bad at night?”

your pretty eyes were rolling as you tried your best to nod, barely even hearing him while you were concentrated on not cumming too fast and trying not to squirt since you knew you forgot towels. still, loud pornographic moans bounced off of your bedroom walls.

“y..es..kat-suki..”

“alright. ima take care of it baby”

a/n: i refuse to write a whole smutshot!!!!!

aizawa ver

blondieeu xx

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pseudowho · 11 months ago

Text

18+, MDNI

You always knew Kento had sensitive hands...so while he's drunk and needy, you give him the touch he's craving.

Warnings: Finger sucking, gagging, fingering, handjobs, desperate!Nanami, sloppydrunk!Nanami, cumplay, pre-established relationship/consent

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If six large whiskeys hadn't washed the dirt of the day from Kento's soul, you doubted you'd be able to do much good. That didn't mean you couldn't try.

You smelled him as soon as you entered the living room; not a bad smell, but undeniably the smell of life, earthy and masculine in a way that stirred something nameless, older than the stars, within you. His cologne and the faint deodorised tang of sweat, cut with bitter spirit fumes, led you by the nose to the sofa.

Kento slumped, manspread and sloppy, his head tipped back and woozy. He felt, rather than heard you approach, and his head rolled forwards, a marionette. Liquor glazed his eyes, and a crooked smile slurred across his lips, sliding away as soon as it started.

"Love of my life." Kento rumbled, gravelly with inebriation. You sat beside him, sideways as you faced him, hip flaring a fertile hill beneath the hem of just-his-shirt. Kento's eyes caressed you, long and lascivious. The alcohol made him shameless in a way that leaked, toxic, through the crevices of your defence. You shivered, clamping your thighs together to ease the sudden needy throb.

"Rough day?" You whispered, your fingers moving over to stroke the loosened tails of his tie. Kento groaned, husky, as if it was his skin you stroked. He took another long gulp of whiskey with a hiss. As your fingers plaited with his around his glass, trying gently to remove it, Kento shot you an eerily flat look, scoffing as he resisted and whiskey slopped over his fingers.

"You could say that...look what you made me do." Kento toned, low and slow, and shifted his glass to the other hand. He raised his liquor-glossed hand, wobbling eyes mathematical in how they traced the amber drips, trailing down long fingers towards his wristwatch.

Kento tsked, his usually warm face twisted into a sneer, the alcohol amplifying the spite he'd carried home. "Expensive whiskey, that. I think you owe me, you menace--"

With little thought, you leaned forwards, taking his forefinger into your mouth, licking the whiskey off before it could reach his wristwatch. A strangled noise of bliss left Kento's throat, gasping for a second as your tongue stroked over the pad of his finger. His cock swelled fast, thin-blooded and quickened.

"...sta-stop...ungh, don't. Don't."

Your eyes flicked up to his, devious now.

"...don't?" You mimicked, ready to obey.

Kento's teeth gritted, something deep rumbling in his chest. A barely perceptible shake of the head, blushing faintly at your wicked smile.

You grasped his hand up to your face, brushing your lips over his fingertips, sighing over them. Your breath alone was enough of a caress. Hypersensitive already, and only lubricated by his drink, Kento's breaths grew deep and ragged, his thighs spreading further to accommodate his rapidly thickening length. His other hand, loose around his crystal tumbler of whiskey, draped over the back of the sofa.

Kento watched, hungry and fascinated, squirming with overstimulation as you took his fingertips into your mouth, one at a time, suckling, licking, flicking your tongue over their calloused pads. Kento rested his whiskey over the tenting in his beige slacks, his ring and little finger stretching out to graze over his aching bulge until he shivered.

"...that's it...good girl..." Kento slurred, lubricated with abandon, teeth bared and predatory. "More tongue...more...there we go...hnnn..."

Kento's head rolled back, loose, sighing with spread legs as if it were his cock in your mouth. Gently, insistently, he pressed his first two fingers into your mouth until they touched your throat. Kento looked up at the sound of your wet gag, continuing to thrust his fingers over your tongue, watching as the spit gathered on his knuckles and the tears gathered in your eyes.

"...so good for me...sweetheart...look so pretty..." Kento mumbled, fascinated as he pressed the pad of his thumb down on your tongue, examining your mouth with a thick swallow.

A gasp shuddered out of him as you clamped his thumb between your teeth, kneeling to straddle him. You raised the hem of his borrowed shirt, just enough for him to see that you were bare beneath it.

Kento slopped the rest of the whiskey back with a rusty groan, abandoning the glass so he could dig his fingertips into the fat of your hips, growling as he gave it a shake and barely restrained appreciative slap, just to see it jiggle. His crooked smile returned at your sweet laughter around his thumb.

Returning your sucking attentions to his fingertips, without breaking eye contact, you spread Kento's legs again, reaching in and gripping his erection to release it. Kento hissed, cursing to feel it slap against the neat patch of honey blond hair beneath his navel.

"...sh--shit...lover, I...I can't...no fit state..."

"Then just...take."

"...excuse me?"

"Just take. Just for today, let me..." You sucked his fingertips again, enough to free a desperate, wanton moan from Kento's bobbing throat, "...let me, play with you, instead."

Bleary and drunk, Kento had no interest in refusing such a generous offer, and his moan only dragged longer to feel you suckle his fingers again, your other hand grasping his cock in one long, heavy stroke from ball to tip.

Gasping like a fish out of water, Kento moaned jagged, stilted little moans. You felt yourself throb, edged by watching Kento writhe beneath your strokes. Not wet enough, you removed his fingers from your mouth with one wet pop, for long enough to drop a glob of spit onto his cock head, stroking it over his length, rolling his sensitive tip in your palm until Kento cried out in bliss.

As he thrust his fingers into your mouth, watching you straddle him, jerking him off with genuine enjoyment, Kento felt himself come undone with shocking speed. Reaching down to hook his balls out too, he fondled them in one broad hand for just a few seconds, before dipping his fingers to the honeypot between your legs. The crooked smile grew again to feel you squirm, his fingers teasing at your entrance.

"...thassit...so good t'me...so good...fuck-- be inside...please...good girl..."

Kento was a lecherous drunk, if only with you, and you gasped to feel one thick finger thrust inside you. You squirmed downwards, riding his fingers until he was knuckle deep. Kento had enough tension in his body to keep his fingers stiff enough for you to grind him inside you. Mirroring himself, his other fingers thrust into your mouth, over your wet little tongue, to your gagging throat, and back again.

Only the liquor stripped away the shame he would otherwise have felt at approaching his orgasm so quickly. As your hand sped up with wet little plap plap plaps, so did his, and you felt your wrist ache and your cunt ache and your throat ache with the burn of pleasuring him. It was worth it, to watch him sloppy and groaning beneath you.

You felt a rush, riding his fingers inside you, and the ball of his palm against your clit, unable to wait any longer to feel his cock twitch and pulse in your hand. You didn't need to cum, to feel the deep aching satisfaction of making Kento break.

You wouldn't have to wait; Kento's thighs clenched, and he cursed, gasping with ecstasy.

"--f-fuck...fuuckk I'm...I'm...g'nna cum...haaaaahfuckyesgoodgirl, good giiirrlll--"

Kento bucked into your fist as glugs of cum spurted into your hand, not quite as warm as your own arousal seeping onto his fingers. Kento groaned, long and ragged, with each contraction of his cock, each gradually weakening spurt of milky thick seed onto his belly. Kento shivered with bliss, edging on hyperstimulation as you milked the last drops of cum from him.

Kento panted, rough and devastatingly sleepy as he came down from his high. He groaned, another spurt dripping weakly onto his belly as his fingers slipped out of you, and you wiped off his cum between your folds. He knew, with a possessive rush, that you just liked having it there. He blushed faintly, suddenly himself again, the stress of the day melting off him.

"Shit, I'm...I'm sorry, darling, I...I did nothing for you..."

You pressed a long, silencing kiss to his lips, nuzzling your nose against his with a whisper.

"You'll get me back...I know you will."

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cheralith · 6 months ago

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childhood bestfriend!kaiser who accidentally finds out who you gave your first kiss to after being under the impression you still had it.

sure, you both were reaching an age where most people had already kissed another, been bedded, under-age drank, but kaiser never took you as the type to be so… promiscuous (“your dad was okay with it?” he had asked. “why the hell would i tell my dad about that.” your eye roll had never been louder.)

it was apparently some classmate you had dated briefly back in early high school, a time where you had both were barely able to see each other since kaiser spent some time in jail after being framed and after being bailed out by his manager, spent the majority of his time in his team’s training clubhouse. it didn’t help that it was quite a few towns away from your own, so communication grew weary between you and him during that time.

so when you and him finally reconnected and began to settle down with each other once again at an older age, where you and him were blooming into college, he’s amazed to see how much you had grown during the past few years, how your featured had matured into themselves so elegantly that sometimes, when you weren’t looking, he’d examine each bit of your features to get a proper look.

it was a little difficult attempting to gain a proper stance from him, since all the training at bastard mündchen had clearly done a work on him both good and bad, but when kaiser felt himself relaxing more and more with each frequented interaction with you—he’s brought back to when you were both children and didn’t know any better of the world around you.

so imagine his shock when you accidentally let it slip out that your first kiss went rather wrong as you and him are watching some sort of foreign sports movie where the main character’s long-time love interest finally kisses him.

“god i remember my first kiss,” you say casually, making kaiser snap his neck towards you so fast.

first kiss? you had your first kiss already? before he did???

sure, kaiser had a good amount of fans that flocked to him every chance they got and perhaps he’s done a little bit of entertaining to them, but even so—he still hasn’t necessarily had such a moment shared with another. he never felt like he needed to focus on it… never felt like it was some deed worth prioritizing becoming the best striker… until now.

“huh?” kaiser shuffles in his place and furrows his brows tightly, a vein barely visible from his forehead. “whaddya mean first kiss? with who? when?”

the questions shoot out all at once, you can’t help but laugh at kaiser’s (supposed) curiosity. you suppose the suspense of knowing what happened to that runt he met at eight years old has experienced since his arrest.

“oh, it was just a classmate from one of my sophomore classes,” you wave a hand, as if it was completely nothing to hold much regard to.

kaiser twitched, his eyes flickering towards your ripened lips. “and you gave him your first kiss?”

“probably my last too,” you sigh out wearily, “haven’t really had much people interested in me since then.”

he fell silent, going to scan your face again once more as you fixated your gaze to the tv, circling in on your lips again that give a soft pout. he twitched.

“he got too excited and ended up moreso clashing his mouth on mine—we ended up clacking teeth pretty hard,” you snort out as you stare in quiet amazement at how tender and soft the tv’s couple’s kisses were. “it ended up hurting too much to try and continue.”

you bite your lip, concentrated. “i dunno, i just wish it was more slowly, more… in-the-moment.”

kaiser twitched once more. noticing your wistful gaze at the movie playing in front of you and him. he flickers his eyes toward the intimate scene that you seem so focused on. he pays attention to how the lips of the two characters flow in a certain rhythm and how they meld into each other. they seem loose, relaxed, and that lack of tension made the kiss seem much more romantic.

he thinks back to some of how his teammates greet their girlfriends with kisses, or how he’ll just see a random couple locking lips with each other in the bars his team and him tended to as a celebration of a victorious game. kaiser had never felt a compulsion to experience such a thing, but there’s a strange magnetic feeling he’s getting that tugs him closer to you that is very much not his own rationale’s doing.

he says it with too much confidence. he says it like he’s done it numerous times before, like he’s a master at it, despite never even paying such avid attention to another’s lips until now. so kaiser doesn’t know why, but he suddenly blurts out,

“then let me show you a proper kiss.”

#i want to say he has some sort of unique corruption kink of sorts 🙂↕️#god hes such a good character for this trope #merely since i want to dissect how he’d behave since hes not your typical shojo nonchalant cool guy mc #i cant get rid of him chldhd bestfriend kaiser has infected me #blue lock #bllk #michael kaiser #kaiser #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock fluff #kaiser fluff #blue lock x reader #mini series ; cbf!kaiser

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inkieun · 1 month ago

Text

Pretty Little Thing — Geum Seong-Je x F!Reader (hyun-tak's sister)

His smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—slow, crooked. The kind that said he wasn’t seeing a person. Just… something he could get his hands on. “Well, well,” he said, voice smooth like oil over something sharp. “Didn’t know you came with accessories, Hyun-Tak.”

tw: mean!seongje, dark!seongje, noncon, hairpulling, degradation, exhibitionism, someone getting hit with a belt and lots of dirty talk and blood mentioned as well

wc: 4.6k words

This was requested, and I loved every second of bringing it to life. Keep the requests coming!!

“Hey. You heard anything from Baku?”

Sieun’s voice cut through the air like a dull blade. He didn’t look at Hyun-Tak when he asked. Just stared out at the road, where the light was dying slow against the concrete. The orange glow of early evening stretched long across the ground.

Hyun-Tak exhaled. “No. I haven’t.”

That silence after — fuck, it was loud. It wasn’t the kind you filled with small talk or jokes. It was the kind that dragged its nails down your back, whispering he should’ve called by now.

They stood in a loose circle near the edge of the station. Just the three of them. Waiting. Not for some unspoken tension or invisible weight hanging in the air — just for Hyun-Tak’s sister. The one who always showed up late, always with a smile, always ready to stir the stillness like it bored her. They waited because she made them wait.

The crowd moved past them in a quiet blur — office workers heading home, a girl with a rolling suitcase bumping over the pavement, an old man tossing crumbs to pigeons on the curb.

They hadn’t heard from Baku in days.

No messages. No sarcastic memes. Not even the usual late-night rants about bad customers and fried chicken grease.

Not since the incident.

A group of teenagers had come into Baku’s dad’s fried chicken shop. They were loud, joking around, flashing fake IDs to buy alcohol. They looked old enough. Baku’s dad didn’t question it. It was a busy Friday night. Orders were piling up. He was tired, distracted. So he sold them the drinks. That should’ve been the end of it. Then someone snitched. And most people had a good guess who it was. The boys who bought the alcohol weren’t just random teenagers—they were part of The Union, a gang known around town for stirring up shit and getting away with it. The police showed up a hours later. Started asking questions. Things escalated fast. Baku’s dad lost his temper—tried to go after one of the boys. No one was hurt, but it was enough. Enough for the cops to arrest him.

The whole thing felt too perfect. Like a setup.

And all signs pointed to Seong-Je.

He’s been trying to get Baku to join the gang for months. Dropping hints. Making quiet threats. Letting him know that saying no wasn’t something The Union took lightly.

But Baku had said no anyway. And he’d meant it.

So when the police suddenly showed up and everything came crashing down, it didn’t feel like bad luck.

It felt like revenge.

Hyun-Tak shifted his weight, hands in his jacket pockets, jaw clenched. “I’m worried about him,” he muttered, eyes fixed on nothing. “Tomorrow after school… maybe we should check in.”

The moment held — just long enough to ache.

And then—

“BOO!”

The scream ripped through the air, shooting straight up Hyun-Tak’s spine. All three of them jolted as if a gun had gone off right next to them.

“What the actual fuck?” he snapped, whipping around.

I laughed—loud and sharp. Maybe a little cruel. “You should’ve seen your faces,” I said, still catching my breath. “Absolutely priceless.”

Jun-tae cracked this little smile, all quiet and reluctant. sieun? same neutral face, like always. unreadable. but i caught that twitch in his jaw — he was trying not to laugh. i saw it.

“this guy…” i thought, watching him from the corner of my eye. the way he stood — slouched a little, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket, like he’d been carrying a weight around all day and was too tired to hide it anymore.

Hyun-Tak shoved a hand through his hair, scowling. “Why the hell would you do that? I nearly had a heart attack!”

“Because it’s fun,” I shrugged, already turning on my heel. “Let’s go. Before Mom starts blowing up our phones.”

I didn’t wait for them to follow. The sky was shifting now — soft pink bleeding into indigo, the clouds stretched thin like bruises across the horizon. Streetlights flickered but didn’t fully turn on, like the city was stuck between inhale and exhale.

Their footsteps trailed behind me.

Three shadows walking quiet through golden light and the ghosts of words we hadn’t said yet.

The laughter hadn’t even faded when we heard it—a sharp whistle, quick footsteps, something off behind us. Then—“Shit,” Hyun-Tak muttered. “Don’t look back. Just walk.”

I looked back. Of course I did. And there they were.

Ten of them at first, cutting through the crowd with that slow, deliberate kind of walk that said they didn’t need to run to catch you.

The Union. Not all of them. But enough.

“Why now?” Jun-tae whispered, voice barely holding together. “We didn’t even do anything—”

“They don’t need a reason,” Sieun said quietly. “They just need a mood.”

That was when we broke into a run. We didn’t scream or shout or call for help. We just moved, fast and quiet, like instinct had finally taken over.

People didn’t stop us. City noise swallowed everything. We weaved through people, past honking cars and blinking crosswalks.

Hyun-Tak shouted over his shoulder, “Cut through here!” and then we were off the main road, darting into the side alley we thought we knew. We’d taken this shortcut a hundred times. But this time, it didn’t feel familiar. This time, it felt like we were walking into a trap. We didn’t stop until the alley swallowed us. Breathless. Hearts pounding.

And then—footsteps behind us, slower now, confident—and when we turned, they were already there; ten shrinking to seven, blocking the exit, blocking the light.

Seong-Je stepped forward from the center like he’d been waiting for this moment since forever. His jacket was clean, his smile cleaner. But his eyes? Dead cold.

“Well,” he said, voice low and almost amused. “Look who ran straight into our arms.”

Jun-tae tensed. Sieun didn’t move. Hyun-Tak dropped his backpack slowly, like preparing for something he didn’t want to do. Me? I couldn’t stop staring at Seong-Je.

Seong-Je took another, hands in his pockets like this was just another night, like we were just another problem he could stretch into something fun.

His gaze flicked over us one by one—Jun-tae, Sieun, Hyun-Tak—and then landed on me and stayed. Something in the air shifted. His smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—slow, crooked. The kind that said he wasn’t seeing a person. Just… something he could get his hands on.

“Well, well,” he said, voice smooth like oil over something sharp. “Didn’t know you came with accessories, Hyun-Tak.”

No one moved.

“I mean—” he looked me over like I was a new toy, “You always this quiet, sweetheart? Or just shy around guys like me?” My heart was hammering, but I didn’t flinch. I wasn’t going to give him that. Still, I felt Hyun-Tak shift beside me. He knew. I knew. We all knew what this was. “She doesn’t talk to rats,” Hyun-Tak snapped. Seong-Je ignored him. “Pretty thing,” he murmured. “Bet you’d look real cute scared. Wonder what you sound like when you cry.”

My stomach turned. I tasted metal. Hyun-Tak moved. Fast. I barely caught the blur of him lunging before one of Seong-Je’s guys slammed him into the wall with enough force to shake the ground. Jun-tae shouted. Sieun looked ready to swing. And I—I couldn’t breathe because I was scared. He looked at me like I was a prize. A thing.

But Seong-Je just raised a hand, like he was done playing. Like none of this had been real to him.

“No fun if she’s not screaming,” he said with a shrug, turning his back. “Don’t worry, Hyun-Tak. We’ll talk again soon.” He looked at me one last time. Slow. He didn’t walk away. Seong-Je turned back around, that same sick grin tugging at his mouth. “You know,” he said, voice too casual, “we could make this interesting.”

I froze.

His eyes found Hyun-Tak’s. “Let’s settle this old-school. Just you and me.” Hyun-Tak didn’t say anything. Just stared him down, chest heaving from the adrenaline. “If I win…” Seong-Je dragged the words out like he was tasting them, “I get a little time alone with your sister.” My blood turned to ice. “The fuck you just say?” Hyun-Tak growled.

Seong-Je shrugged. “Just a taste. I won’t even leave a mark.”

Jun-tae swore under his breath. Sieun’s fists were already clenched. Hyun-Tak was already stepping forward. “No deal,” he said, voice like gravel. “But I’m still gonna knock your fucking teeth out.” Seong-Je’s smirk widened. “That’s the spirit.” And then it started.

It wasn’t a street fight. It was vicious. Fast. Brutal. Seong-Je was all precision and spite—every punch a punishment, every hit like he was trying to prove something.

Hyun-Tak landed a few, sure. But the Union boys flanked close—laughing, taunting. One of them tripped him. Another grabbed his hoodie long enough to slow him down.

Seong-Je didn’t fight fair. He never did.

A punch to the stomach. A knee to the ribs.

Then an elbow that cracked across Hyun-Tak’s jaw and dropped him to the ground like a shot deer.

“Stay down,” Seong-Je hissed, standing over him. “Or I’ll go ahead and collect my prize.”

And that—That was it. I stepped forward. Jun-tae grabbed my arm. “Don’t,” he whispered.

I shook him off. Seong-Je turned to me, smug and stupid. I spat. Right at his feet. “Touch me,” I said, voice steady. “And you’ll wake up choking on your own dick.”

Something in his smirk faltered. I dropped beside Hyun-Tak, hands shaking, barely aware of the blood on his face or the way his breath rasped in and out. I just needed to make sure he was still breathing.

“Hey,” I whispered, my voice tight. “Stay with me, okay?” But then—Something yanked me back. Hard. The strap of my bag wrenched against my shoulder and I lost balance, falling backward with a sharp gasp. My palms scraped the pavement as I hit the ground.

I barely had time to turn before I saw him. Seong-Je. Towering over me like a shadow pulled loose from the wall. His hand still clenched around my bag. His eyes locked on mine.

And the way he was looking at me—Like I was something small. Something his. He leaned in, letting go of my bag strap, his fingers sliding up to grip my chin instead—firm, possessive. His smile was slow, deliberate. “Wow,” he murmured, voice like velvet. “You look so pretty beneath me.” My stomach twisted. I froze. My throat clenched tight as my mind screamed move, fight, run—but my body refused.

I wanted to scream. To shove him away. To do something. But my limbs felt heavy. Useless. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out the world, drowning out me. And in that moment, I felt small. Powerless. And he was so close.

I hated the fear crawling up my spine, hated how real it felt. Tears stung my eyes as Seong-Je's brutal grip tightened on my chin, forcing me to meet his cold, manic stare. The sickening grin twisting his handsome features sent icy tendrils of pure terror snaking through my veins. I was trapped, helpless, as he dragged me up to my knees, my body betraying me by refusing to fight back.

"Fuck, look at you," Seong-Je purred, voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Such a pretty little thing, all scared and trembling. It's fucking beautiful." He turned to the others, barking orders. "Dong-Ha, Seong-Mok, get the cameras rolling. I want every fucking second of this recorded." Without hesitation, Seong-Mok pulled out his phone, already flipping it to video mode and started recording.

Seeing the phone pointed straight at me made something in my chest collapse. Cold panic surged through me. My breath hitched. I turned my face slightly, instinctively trying to hide, even though I knew there was nowhere to go. The light from the screen glared like a spotlight, unblinking and cruel. And then Seong-Je laughed.

“Aww,” he said, voice dripping with mock pity. “Getting all shy now that the camera’s rolling?” He leaned in close again, his breath brushing my ear. “What’s wrong? You were making such pretty noises a second ago. Don’t tell me you’re camera-shy.” His words hit like acid—slow-burning and meant to leave scars. I clenched my teeth, blinking fast, my hands fists at my sides. Shame and fear tangled in my chest until I didn’t know which would break me first.

My heart jackhammered against my ribs, blood roaring in my ears. Panic clawed at my throat, choking me, as I watched Jun-tae struggle against the union thugs holding him back. No one could save me. No one was coming.

Seong-Je’s fingers clamped around my cheeks, digging in hard enough to bruise as he wrenched my face side to side—examining me like I was nothing more than meat. His eyes glinted with something unhinged, something wrong. That same look villains wore in horror films, right before they stopped pretending to be human. “Stop fucking around,” he growled, voice rough and full of heat. Spit hit my skin as he yanked my jaw back, grip punishing. “Be a good little slut and hold still.” The words struck like a slap—sharp, humiliating, meant to shatter. I squeezed my eyes shut, a broken whimper slipping from my throat before I could stop it. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing my cheek, thick with heat and cruelty.

“You like this,” he hissed. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”

I didn’t answer.

He stared at me for a moment, breath ragged, chest rising like he was barely keeping himself contained.

And then—he let go.

His hand dropped from my face fast and rough, like even touching me disgusted him now.

My jaw throbbed. My pulse raced.

And all I could do was sit there, shaking, heart slamming against my ribs. God, please make it stop. Please, someone help me.

There was no help coming. Only the echo of cruel laughter bouncing off brick and the sharp bite of cold air against my skin.

He stood in front of me, eyes locked on mine—glinting with something violent. Something wrong. But it wasn’t just the danger that made my breath hitch. It was the way he looked at me.

He licked his lips, head tilted, gaze sliding down my body like he was cataloging every breath I took. “You look real pretty like this,” he murmured. “Scared.”

He reached for his belt. Slowly. Deliberately.

The leather whispered through the loops, one soft, ominous pull at a time. The sound was almost too loud in the quiet. Like a countdown.

I watched, heart pounding wildly, as he rolled the belt between his fingertips, the black leather glinting darkly in the harsh sunlight. His eyes never left mine, boring into me with a predatory intensity that made my blood run cold.

He folded the belt in half, the two ends dangling menacingly as he took a step closer, backing me up against the rough brick wall. The heat of the sun, the unyielding cold of the bricks, and the sheer, icy menace radiating from Seong-Je created a terrifying juxtaposition of sensations.

"Such a pretty little thing," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "So soft and helpless. I can't wait to mark up this delicate skin." He reached out, trailing the folded edge of the belt lightly down my cheek, the leather cool and smooth against the feverish heat of my skin.

I flinched, a choked whimper catching in my throat, but I remained frozen, paralyzed by the dark promise in his eyes and the cold, unyielding pressure of the belt. The world seemed to slow, every movement deliberate and laden with threat.

Seong-Je's hand slid lower, the belt dragging across the racing pulse in my neck, making me shudder. The air between us was thick with anticipation, the heavy silence broken only by the distant, muffled sounds of the city that seemed a world away.

He paused, belt poised just above my collarbone, his gaze locked with mine. In that moment, I saw the monster lurking beneath the handsome exterior, the cruel sadist who would take twisted pleasure in my pain and degradation.

Then, with a sinister smile, he raised the belt, and everything changed. The first crack of leather against skin shattered the tense silence, and my screams echoed off the alleyway walls as my nightmare truly began.

The belt came down hard across my breasts my shirt doing noting to protect me from the sharp sting of the leather biting into my soft flesh. I cried out, arching away from the brutal impact, but there was no escape from Seong-Je's relentless assault. He followed me, crowding into my space, pinning me against the rough brick wall with his body as he raised the belt again.

"Fuck, listen to those pretty screams," he growled, dark eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. "I knew you'd have a nice set of lungs on you." I looked up at him, terrified, breath catching in my throat. I could hear Hyun-Tak beside us, shouting—his voice raw, panicked, and cracking under the weight of it all.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, leave her alone! She didn’t do anything! I’m the one you want—take it out on me, not her, please—”

The sound of him begging shattered something in me.

“I’m the one you want,” he repeated, choked and broken now. “She’s my sister. Please, Seong-Je, I’m begging you!”

Seong-Je turned his head slowly, his jaw tight with something colder than rage.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped. The words hit like a gunshot, slicing through Hyun-Tak’s pleas like a knife. The look he shot Hyun-Tak could’ve killed. Cold. Merciless. Like a loaded gun aimed straight at his soul, then his attention was back on me, his fingers brushing my face with mock-gentleness that made my skin crawl.

“He’s so fucking annoying,” Seong-Je muttered with a smirk, like Hyun-Tak’s begging was nothing more than background noise. “Now… where was I?” Hyun-Tak’s voice cracked again in the background—still begging, still dragging himself forward on trembling limbs—until Dong-Ha stepped in and slammed a boot into his side, knocking the breath out of him with a brutal thud.

Seong-Je tugged my shirt open with slow, deliberate hands, exposing the bruises and welts blooming across my skin—his marks.

“Look at you,” Seong-Je murmured, voice low and dangerous, like velvet soaked in sin. “Marked up so fucking pretty.”

The leather strap in his grip dragged across my chest, cold and smooth, tracing the line of one welt like a signature.

“I knew you’d have perfect tits,” he said, almost reverent. “Can’t wait to feel them in my hands—see how they respond when I take my time.”

He dropped the belt, the sound of it hitting the ground a dark promise. His hands replaced it immediately, gripping my breasts hard enough to bruise, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He squeezed and kneaded, his touch rough and demanding, bordering on painful.

I whimpered, trying to pull away, but he pulled me up fast from my knee, his hips pinning mine to the wall. I could feel his dick pressing against me through his pants, grinding against my stomach. Revulsion churned in my gut, but I was trapped, helpless to stop his exploration.

"Such a fucking tease," Seong-Je snarled, twisting my nipples hard. "Flashing your tits, flaunting this sexy little body. You knew what you were doing, didn't you?"

“Seong-Mok!” Seong-Je barked, voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Get over here.” Seong-Mok shoved Jun-Tae to the ground without hesitation, knowing he was too shaken to fight back.

“I want this on camera,” Seong-Je said, eyes never leaving me. “Every fucking second.”

Fear gripped me as Seong-Je fumbled with his pants, freeing his cock. Before I could react, he grabbed my thigh, hiking my leg up to wrap around his hip. I was forced to balance on one foot, the position leaving me vulnerable and exposed.

"Fuck, look at you," Seong-Je growled, rubbing the swollen head of his cock along my clothed slit, teasing, tormenting. "Such a pretty little thing, all scared and shaking. You want this, don't you? Want me to fill this tight pussy with my cock?"

I shook my head frantically, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "No, please don't-"

"Shut up," he snapped, hand fisting in my hair, wrenching my head back. "Don't fucking lie to me. I can feel how wet you are."

He punctuated his words by shoving my panties aside and driving forward, splitting me open on his thick shaft. I screamed, the sudden intrusion burning, stretching me past the point of comfort. He was so big, so hard, filling me completely.

"Fuck, so goddamn tight," Seong-Je grunted, starting to move. He set a brutal pace, pounding into me, the obscene slap of skin on skin echoing in the alleyway. "Gonna ruin this pussy, make it mine, right baby."

I tried to turn my face away from his intense stare, overwhelmed, degraded, but he grabbed my chin, forcing me to hold eye contact. His thumb pressed hard against my bottom lip, pushing into my mouth.

"Look at me when I fuck you, baby," he demanded, voice rough and ragged. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you come."

I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut, but he just swore

"No, no, no. Look. At. Me," Seong-Je snarled each word, punctuating them with sharp thrusts that punished my cervix. His fingers dug into the flesh of my thigh hard enough to leave bruises, holding me in place as he railed into me.

Even with Seong-Je towering over me, every breath shallow and sharp, I could still hear Hyun-Tak—his voice breaking with panic.

“Please,” he begged, again and again. “Please, stop it!”

The sound of his voice tore straight through me.

It was desperate like something had cracked wide open inside him and all that was left was fear.

But Seong-Je didn’t even glance back.

“Shut the fuck up,” he yelled back still looking at me with that nasty smile on his face. But Hyun-Tak didn’t stop. He was still trying to crawl toward me, coughing, one hand dragging along the concrete as Dong-Ha moved to block him again. Behind him, Jun-Tae pushed himself up from the ground, shaking. “You’re sick,” he spat, voice cracking. “You’re fucking sick, Seong-Je—” He didn’t get to finish. Seong-Mok backhanded him hard enough to knock him into the wall, where he slid down, dazed but still conscious. And then Sieun. Still standing. Still silent. But his hands were clenched into fists so tight they were bleeding at the knuckles. His eyes locked on Seong-Je like he was memorizing every inch of him—planning something, but he couldn’t move.

"Fucking hell, you're gripping me so nicely," he groaned, hips slapping lewdly against mine. "Such a perfect little cock sleeve."

His other hand slid up my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He wrapped his fingers around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my heart stutter. I gasped for air, dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the brutal pace of his fucking.

"Please," I choked out, voice raspy and weak. "It hurts... you're hurting me..."

"Hurts so good though, doesn't it?" he purred darkly, thumb pressing into my windpipe. "I can feel how much you love it. Your greedy little pussy is sucking me in, begging for more."

Seong-Je leaned in close, breath hot and ragged against my ear. "I'm going to fuck this pussy until it's molded to the shape of my cock," he promised viciously. "Until you forget your own name and only remember mine. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

His words sent a chill down my spine, a terrifying mix of fear and a perverse, unwanted thrill. I knew he meant every dark, depraved promise. He was going to break me and remake me into his twisted plaything, filming every brutal second of my defilement. The camera lenses felt like a thousand accusing eyes, immortalizing my shame.

Seong-Je's hips stuttered, his cock swelling impossibly thicker inside me. I knew he was close, knew what was coming. With a guttural growl, he pulled out abruptly, leaving me feeling hollow and violated.

"On your knees, babe," he barked, shoving me down hard onto the filthy alleyway. My knees scraped against the rough concrete, but I had no time to register the pain before Seong-Je grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. "Open up," he demanded, stroking his thick, angry red cock. "I want to see my cum dripping down your pretty face."

I whimpered, trying to turn away, but his grip was unforgiving. The first hot spurt of his release splattered across my cheek. I choked on a sob as he painted my face with his seed, each pulse of his cock leaving me more degraded than the last.

"Fuck, look at that," Seong-Je groaned, his other hand guiding Seong-Mok's camera to capture every humiliating detail. "Such a perfect little cum dumpster. You love this, don't you? Love being my personal slut?"

I shook my head frantically, but the words died in my throat as another stream of cum hit my parted lips. The bitter taste filled my mouth, making me gag.

Seong-Je finally released his grip on my hair, tucking himself back into his pants with practiced ease. He straightened his clothes, fixing the disheveled appearance, while I remained on my knees, his cum dripping down my chin and onto my heaving chest.

He turned to Hyun-Tak, his earlier frenzied state replaced by a cold, calculated demeanor. "Tell Baku," Seong-Je said, voice smooth and menacing, "that if he doesn't agree to join the union, this will be a daily occurrence. I'll make sure of it."

His eyes glinted with a cruel, twisted promise. "And if that's not enough motivation..." He paused, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "I could always make your sister my new plaything. Let the union boys have a go at her too. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Hyun-Tak froze. The blood drained from his face, horror blooming wide in his eyes. Seong-Je turned away like he hadn’t just shattered the ground beneath us. “Let’s go,” he muttered to the union guys. And just like that, they disappeared into the alley’s shadows, taking their laughter and threats with them.

For a second, no one moved. The silence was deafening.

Then Hyun-Tak stumbled forward, faster than I could react, falling to his knees in front of me. His hands trembled as he reached for me—fixing my shirt, gently pulling the torn fabric over my chest, his eyes flicking up to mine with a thousand things he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so—are you okay? Are you hurt?” I shook my head, but the words were stuck in my throat.

Jun-Tae hovered behind him, scraped up and stunned, eyes wide like he couldn’t process what just happened. Sieun stood a few steps back, fists still clenched, breathing uneven. His gaze was locked on where Seong-Je had disappeared. Focused. Like something in him had just shifted. None of us spoke. Because there was nothing left to say.

fin

#geum seongje x reader #geum seong je x reader #geum seongje #geum seong je #wolf keum x reader #wolf keum #keum seongje #weak hero class one #weak hero class two #weak hero class #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class 2 #lee jun young #kdrama #tw.noncon #yandere #dark content #dark!seongje

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