#his purpose might not be to stop the pain but rather to just be there with me to help me bear it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pirateprincessblog · 7 months

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Killer Eyes

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: when a lowly prisoner's eyes meet the ones of a kind young woman, his heart fills with a will to live again

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: song mingi x fem!reader, ft jeong yunho (not a love interest)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.4k

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, angst, prisoner!mingi, prisondoctor!reader, prison theme

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: masturbation, body worshipping, praising, size kink, possessive kink, marking, v-card loss, fingering, squirting, creampie

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: self h*rming, attempted s*icide, bullying, violence, swearing, r*pe mentions, unprotected sex

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: oh how i love angst and cliffhangers. also, the reader is not actually pictured as someone tiny or small, it's just the way mingi views her because of her kind nature.

check out sequel HERE

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

it wasn't fair how slow the sun and the moon chased each other. how slow the shadows of the cold metal bars moved on the dusty floor. perhaps it was on purpose. perhaps it was their way of making fun of him. as if they knew just how long he was going to be a cuffed man, and they decided to make it just a little longer.

song mingi sat on his bed. the mattress was heavy from dust, dead skin cells and sweat. it smelled horrible, and whenever mingi would get the privilege of taking a shower, he would rather sleep on the floor, so he can feel cleaner. the floor was swept regularly, yet the smelly old mattress stayed the same.

mingi stared at a can of coke a fellow prisoner had smuggled him. it was empty, the sweet burning of the beverage running down his throat and getting rid of the summer heat for a while. now, his attention was on the cap. he has removed it, the small item ripping a part of the can and leaving it very sharp and dangerous. he played with it, spinning it between his fingers. little by little, he worked up the courage.

he brought the cap to his wrist, the metal cutting in like a knife in soft butter. he yanks it, ripping his skin apart and dripping red liquid down his hand and into his palm. he shook, watching the beads stain the floor. another one, then another one. tears roll down his cheeks, mixing with sweat and dust.

"fuck!" he yells, standing up and banging his head on the wall.

nobody understood. nobody knew what he knew. everybody held him accountable, but nobody knew why he did what he did. as if it was easy to have his hands stained with someone's blood, to have his sister stare at him with horror, to have his body dragged over the floor all the way to the police car, tears and blood dripping down his face. none of it was easy, but if he found himself in that situation again, he would do the same. it was the only way to save her.

loud thuds echoed in the room, startling the man and making him crawl to the corner. he sat, knees firmly pressed against his chest, and body shaking as he sobbed. the knocking on the door doesn't stop, and neither does the blood pooling on the ground.

"do i really need to come in today? you didn't have enough yesterday?"

at the mention of yesterday, mingi clenched his back. the cuts and bruises are still open, untreated, and probably infected. he spent the night pressed against the cold wall, in hopes to help relieve the pain.

the thumping stops, and mingi hears rattling, multiple keys turning, then finally, a familiar creak of the door opening. freshly polished black boots step into the dusty room. mingi has nightmares about those very same boots.

"stand up."

the man on the floor stills, sobs stopping for a moment. he comes to a realisation. yesterday's torture was going to happen again. and today, it might be the end of him.

"what are you, fucking deaf? stand up!" his voice roars, bouncing off the walls and travelling to mingi's already sensitive ears.

he sits still, vision blurry with upcoming tears. the boots take a few steps towards the man, stopping right before him. the guard sighs, then turns around. just when mingi wanted to sigh in relief, the boots are headed his way again, this time one of them aimed for his face. the pointy part of it hits mingi in the jaw, throwing his head against the wall.

"fucking rapist, murderer, manipulator, playing victim games with me?!" with each word, the guard proceeded to kick, punch and slap the man, taking great satisfaction in seeing blood drip down his face.

he pulls his hair, dragging his body across the dusty floor, until he is near the bed. the guard positions the man on his knees, back turned towards him, and head buried in the mattress.

"stop, stop!" mingi begs, gripping at the bed sheets stained with fresh blood and tears.

the fabric is ripped from mingi's body, exposing his massacred body to the one that massacred it. a finger trails down his spine, then suddenly, goes a different path. a deep scream leaves mingi's throat, his nails and teeth ripping the sheets apart, as the guard's finger dips into his wound, picking at it.

"stop, stop, stop!" he groans, mouth foaming from anger and pain.

"excuse me, what is going on here?"

a gasp, a cracking sound, and a scream later, mingi finally gets a second of peace. his teeth let go of the sheets, face relaxing into the somewhat soft surface.

"oh, doctor, please. don't you worry about it."

"that man needs help!"

"this man has his assigned doctor. besides, a newbie like you cannot handle a psychopath like him. you're better off with thieves."

"help"

his voice comes out raspy, tired and painful. he hoped that the person at the door would show mercy, and do as little as distract the guard for a while.

"i'm calling help, mr barnes."

"you do that and i'll smash your head right between this iron door and this stone wall."

mingi's vision is dark, his body collapsing from weakness. he lets go of the sheets, falling on his back and taking in his surroundings one more time. when his eyes land on the figure whose voice he heard today for the first time in his life, he is glad that you're the last thing he sees.

you're furious. you can't believe what this place has allowed to happen. judging by all of those wounds, this isn't the first time. and something tells you it won't be the last one either.

you are told to not sympathize with prisoners, they'll use you as a way out of this place. but how can you not sympathize, seeing the poor man covered in blood and scars, suffering new ones right in front of you? has anyone cleaned those wounds? washed up the blood from his body? assured him that it won't happen again? then did something to make it not happen again?

"i want a patient change."

"prisoner change, you mean?" the supervisor doesn't lift his eyes from the scattered papers on his desk.

"he's a human before everything, sir."

the man throws the pile of papers on his desk, letting out an exhausted huff. you're amazing at what you do, that he knows. but he also knows just how stubborn you are. and he has no patience to compete with you today.

"him being a human doesn't excuse the reasons why he's here, no?"

"i'm just a doctor–"

"–s assistant, yes." he finishes, giving you a tight smile. he stands up, his hands finding comfort in the pockets of the perfectly ironed suit pants. he stops right before you, looking at you as if you're not close to evaporating from anger right there in front of him. "mind your business, love. otherwise, you'll become a marionette in the hands of those criminals. inhumans."

"i am but just a doc–" you try again. a finger finds its way on your lips, catching you off guard and shutting you down.

"then act like it."

he turns on his heel, and in a short moment, he is back in his seat.

"jeong yunho!" your voice betrays you, and you immediately cover your mouth.

at the mention of his full name, he drops the papers once again. the chair falls back when he stands up again, this time marching towards you with a look that you know means trouble. he has you pressed against the wall, body hovering just a little above the ground. he is shaking, the angry veins on his neck popping and warning you to be quiet.

"sister dear, please, follow my instructions so you don't get yourself killed." he says through his teeth. you cough, your hands desperately trying to move his from your neck. "i don't want you to get involved with that part of this building. understood?"

you struggle to answer, so you opt for head nodding. his grip gets stronger, and you gasp, head falling back in hopes to get some sweet oxygen.

"understood?!"

"yes, yes–"

your body hits the floor, and stays there as you try to breathe normally. you're all red and sweaty, hair sticking to your face and your throat feeling as if you fell on needles with it.

"you," you breathe out, glaring at him from the floor," you absolute asshole."

"no matter the blood relation, i am still your supervisor. you take orders from me, and me only. you don't do reckless things, like playing an empath and falling right into the killers hands."

"i just want to help him heal physically. that's all."

"no need. he deserves everything he gets." he is firm with his decision, truly believing that a prison is a place of suffering, not healing and learning of a better life. "if i hear about you stepping foot into the H section, i will personally chain you up right next to him and make you watch."

"you're–" you start, tears spilling down your cheeks from defeat.

"a monster, yeah. very original. talk to me when you come up with a better one." he finishes for you, then sits at his desk again.

you stand still, hoping he might somehow change his mind. but how hopeful can you be, when he just choked you seconds ago? he looks up at you, making you twitch at the sudden eye-contact.

"dismissed."

days pass awfully slow, with you spending them in your office, buried in papers. you are holding a file. one that you borrowed from jeong yunho himself. the printer finally made a sound, letting you know that it is still alive and capable of the task you gave it.

a few duplicates land on your desk, and you swallow. the soft brown eyes look at you from a small picture, and it takes you back to the day you found him gripping the sheets and screaming in pain. your chest feels tight, and you feel the tears gather in your eyes again.

what could he have possibly done to end up in the H section? isolated from everyone except two guards, his doctor, and yunho. no proper food, no normal conversations, no clean water. just four stone cold walls, a dusty floor, and a probably bedbug infested mattress.

you return the file, making sure to position it right as you found it. you return to your desk, and breathe out. in the mugshot you have printed out, a bigger format than in the file, he has dried blood on his face, lots of bruises, and a cut on his lip and cheekbone.

your fingers brush over his lips, admiring the shape and volume. if only you could brush an alcohol dipped cotton ball over it, to clean his cut and feel him under your fingertips. the people of this building intrigue you. especially those who have done heavy crimes and believe they did the right thing. they have their own twisted belief of what's morally wrong and what is not. but this person is something that is reaching deep parts of your brain. it might be that you're only feeling sorry for the way he is treated, but either way, you want to know more.

your eyes look into his. a deep brown, anger evident in his gaze. in that moment, he also believed he did the right thing. maybe he believed now too, that's why he is being punished the way he is. this man might just be the most gorgeous one in this building, but if the guards and yunho keep it up this way, his pretty face will soon be butchered. you let out a huff, then proceed onto the next paper.

PRISONER INFO

name: mingi song

record id: ##############

nationality: korean

gender: male

citizen: yes

eye colour: brown

hair colour: brown

dob: 09081999

age: 24

height: 183 cm

weight: 75 kg

ARREST & SENTENCING INFO

date: 25122022

charge: kidnapping, assault, voluntary manslaughter, domestic violence

summary: song mingi breaks into the song residence on christmas day, assaulting the partner of his sibling, in the process hurting the sibling and his mother. proceeds to lock himself in a house, threatening to commit suicide and dragging the victim with him. upon hearing the gunshot, the forces run in to find the victim laying with a hole in his chest, and song mingi with a gun in his hand. later on, the mother admits to domestic abuse going on at home, coming from song mingi himself.

you cannot believe your eyes. something smells funny in that paragraph, and you think you have just found yourself a new hobby.

the phone rings, startling you and making you drop the papers into a drawer. you clear your throat, then glance at the clock. it's been two hours since you started your mission, and during that time, you've done a lot of worrying and thinking. lots of it. so much, that you think they'll see the files through the phone. that's why you lock the drawer, before you swallow and pick it up.

"jeong office."

"i'll need you to cover for me today."

"doctor?"

"just do the hospital visits; draw some random check marks, and tell them to rest. do not interact with them more than necessary. i have someone else that needs taken care of."

it's like an early birthday present. to cover her means getting her chip. and to get her chip, means entering the H section. you are smiling, your gaze fixed on the locked drawer.

"hey." her voice is firm. she knows you're up to no good. "no funny business. i very much hate cleaning your messes."

"i grew out of it." you assure, opening the drawer and getting the picture out. you look at his eyes one more time. "nothing funny this time, promise."

"they aren't your level patients, but they're all cuffed, so no worries, doc." the kind guard assures, before opening the door for you.

you are in one of your usual institution uniforms, not the actual doctors one. if anything, your brother had a fashion sense. he demanded colour, and each outfit had to be approved by him before anyone could wear it. your heels click over the freshly mopped marble floor, the hot pink matching with the blouse and the lipstick. your white pants already had a small chocolate stain, which you so cleverly covered up with the silk bow from your new promotion bag. your freedom with outfits makes you feel powerful. as if you're working for a fashion or marketing company, not your brother's prison.

you hold the files tight in your hand, scanning the room in front of you. beds are lined up on each side, every single person cuffed to it. they are all in critical condition; from heart and lung diseases, to broken ribs and sewn faces.

"good morning." you try with a smile, and immediately regret.

they are all loud, trying to stand up and reach out towards you. you're lucky they're in bad shape and have elijah next to you, otherwise, you'd be dead meat by now.

"sit on my face, doc. guaranteed i'll feel better."

"no, sit on mine!"

"i'd rather her sit between my legs."

"i'd rather sit between her legs! ha!"

you're feeling dizzy and sick. they're not like your thieves and fighters from A section. these are real criminals. those who have killed, and will kill again if given the chance. you look back at the doors, making sure the guard is still there. the kind man nods towards you, as a way of assuring you that he will protect you if anything happens.

you do exactly as you were told; draw random check marks, tell them they'll get well soon, and move on. you try to ignore the awful sexual comments directed at you, but each one makes your stomach twist, and you can't wait to get out of here. you are ready to do so, when the guard comes to you.

"come here." he guides you to a door at the end of the room, entering first.

"what is it, elijah?"

the big man turns on the light, and carefully lets you in. your breath stops at the sight.

"he usually gets a detailed checkup, his state isn't the best. i went into his room at least five times today, he hasn't moved an inch. i know, i know, he's dangerous. just... i want to know he's okay."

and with that, he closes the door, leaving you alone in the room with one bed. a man lays there, a man whose face is now familiar in your eyes.

"song mingi." you whisper to yourself.

he is breathing through a mask, thin tubes connecting him to multiple devices. you sit in the chair next to his bed, and pull out a fresh white paper. the clock is ticking loudly on the wall, making it hard for you to focus on not doing anything stupid. he's there, completely exposed and vulnerable to you. and so fucking beautiful. even with the ugly mask on.

"i'm here to do a quick checkup on you instead of dr rachel maslow. i won't stay long, i know i'm disturbing you."

he doesn't move an inch. you gulp, then glance at the tubes connected to his arm. stupidly, you reach out to take his arm in your lap. you notice cuts, old and fresh ones. untreated. your thumb grazes over one, making him jolt and grab your wrist.

"fuck!" you jump, but his grip is strong, and holds your body in place.

you try to squeeze out, nails subconsciously digging into his wounds, trying to defend yourself, but only making it worse.

"let go of me," you beg, "you're hurting me!"

you gasp when he pulls you hard, your body falling over his. you're face to face with him, eyes looking deep into yours.

"imagine how it hurts me."

you gulp. you let go of his arm, hand slowly creeping into your pocket. he doesn't release your wrist, grip so strong it makes your skin lose colour.

"can you make my pain stop, doctor?"

"i'll do my best if you let go, mr song."

"the source of my pain, doctor. please."

your hand stops in your pocket. the injection is in your hand, ready to be used. and he seems clueless, or he knows, he is just used to it.

"you want me to find a way to stop the guard?"

"guard, doctor maslow, jeong yunho, everyone."

you stare in silence, words ringing inside your head. tears have become a regular visitor since you've started working for your brother, but it's always uncomfortable when they announce their arrival. your voice is stuck in your throat, and seeing the man so vulnerable at your fingertips, makes you want to take him into your arms and assure him that you'll protect him. the sun rays fall on him, brown eyes turning into gold pools of honey. he stares at you, eyelids half closed, and grip falling loose. you drop the injection in your pocket, body inching closer to him. an invisible force pulls you, but to tell the truth, you don't fight it. you help it, hand reaching to move the hair out of his eyes.

he exhales, eyes falling shut. you carefully monitor his body language, suddenly aware that you are in the presence of a prisoner after all. you almost choke on your spit, when you see a tear escape his closed eye and roll down his cheek.

"mr song?"

"god, that's the first time i didn't get hit for speaking."

he laughs, tears creating streams down his colorless skin. tears of joy, you guess. he is now staring at the white ceiling, laughing like crazy, an occasional sniff interrupting him. his eyes lock with yours, causing you to twitch at the sudden emotion change. his lip twitches, tears of sadness replacing the ones of joy. your heart breaks at his state, but there's only so much you can do right now, and that is to sit and listen to his side of the story. the justice is in yunho's hands. in wrong hands. maybe better. if it were in yours, you'd set everyone free.

"i forgot what it feels like to be a human. it's been years."

"i'm sorry." you say, aware that yunho has forbidden you to use those words with prisoners.

at this point, you are doing everything that he has forbidden you. talking to patients that do not belong to you, entering places you're not supposed to, physical contact with someone from a restricted section, stealing his files, and whatnot. mingi has taken comfort in keeping your wrist secure in his hand, and is breathing normally again.

"i'm not asking to get out of here. all i ask is to be treated like a human. why is a child molester better treated than someone who just wanted to protect his family?"

"because the world is a rotten place, mr song."

"mingi," he exhales.

"i'm not supposed to-"

"please."

you gulp. one of the rules is also to not get comfortable around them and have them call you by your first name, or call them by their first name. but how can you decline such a polite request?

"okay, mingi."

his name rolls off your tongue like it was made up to fit you. his lips twitch in a weak smile, and his grip on your wrist loosens.

"is there... a chance that i could have you as my doctor?" he asks.

"i don't think so. dr maslow is quite persistent when it comes to, well-"

"dangerous criminals, yeah. i figured."

he exhales, defeated. you want it, you really do. but going against your colleague means going against yunho too, and you do not have the energy for that. not yet.

"but i will do my best to somehow ease the situation for you. maybe move you to another cell?"

"i think the bed bugs will evolve into a new type of dinosaur before i get a new cell. i am fine with it, really. i don't need anything materialistic. only a meal and proper healthcare. that's all i ask."

your heart feels heavy. it really is cruel how child molesters and cold blooded serial killers and rapists are treated better. the place is a sinking hole, and you alone cannot change anything. it is only a matter of time when someone dies from all this cruelty going on. knowing your brother, he could easily cover it up. now that you think about it, it could've already happened, and you know nothing about it. that's how immoral this place is.

"i will do my best to provide that." you assure him, then try freeing your hand from his.

he tenses up, immediately grabbing you back and opening his eyes to look at you, pure fear transforming his face.

"mingi, you will have to let me go."

"just a bit more, please."

"i'm sorry, i can't. if i'm not back in the office in the next fifteen minutes, this might be the last time you see me. just let me do a quick check-up and then you can continue your rest."

the man immediately lets go of your hand, laying still in the bed. you take the time to check his tubes, and write up a quick description of the state he is in.

"lift your shirt up for me, please?"

he does it, wincing in pain as he moves his arms. sore muscles, you conclude. no visible bruises or cuts other than the cuts below his elbow. your eyes scan his torso, and you sigh with disappointment when you examine it closely. he is poorly wrapped up in bandages, blood seeping through it and onto the shirt and thin blanket he was covered with.

you stand up, rolling his shirt up further. his body emits warmth and caresses your fingers as you work on him, making you slightly flushed. even though his state is awful, you cannot help your own feelings. he is a gorgeous man, with the warmest eyes you've ever seen in your life. and right now, you are about to touch his bare skin. it is only normal for the swarm of butterflies to act this way in your stomach.

you start unwrapping his bandage, and he hisses under your touch.

"you'll have to sit up for me. can you do that?"

"i think so." he says, voice raspy from pain.

he sits up, and holds his shirt up so you can work easier on him.

"good job," you say, smiling at him as encouragement.

he smiles back, his eyes forming crescent moons. he almost doesn't feel the pain anymore, his whole focus shifting on the way your hair falls over your eyes as you remove the stained bandages. he can almost feel your kindness wrap him in a big warm hug, and he wishes the feeling stays there forever.

"you're pretty." he blurts out.

"huh?" you say, not sure if you heard him right.

"nothing." he says, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"i thought you said something about me being ugly?" you poke, a playful smile on your lips.

"no, no! you're very pretty, that's what i said." he repeats himself, cheeks so warm he looks feverish.

"thank you, mingi. you're very sweet."

you finally take a good look at his wound. two open lines decorate his torso, remains of dried blood splattered around them.

"oh, god. what is this?"

"that would be a belt." he says, as if it the most normal thing in the world.

"a belt?!"

"a high quality one, too. managed to break my skin. it doesn't do that usually."

"usually," you repeat, scoffing in disbelief.

you are utterly disgusted by everyone at this point. the guards, the doctor, other prisoners, your brother. you are sick and tired. no man deserves this.

"and what about this? does this hurt-?"

"ow!" he jumps in the bed, body running away from your touch.

your fingers retread from his body. the area on his rib cage is slightly deformed and bruised, and judging by the intense reaction made from a light touch, it could mean a broken bone.

"i'll write you down for an x-ray, okay? this doesn't look good."

"x-ray? what could it be?"

"probably a fractured bone. i'll get you fixed, don't worry."

he seems very nervous, eyes big with concern and curiosity as he tries to read what you are scribbling down on your notes. you check the time, and when you realize that you have stayed here longer than you should've, you hurriedly stand up, collecting your things.

"so, uh..." he trails, hands still holding his shirt.

"oh, god, i'm so sorry. right."

your fingers tremble as you search the room for new bandages and wiping alcohol. you are very late, and considering that both yunho and rachel know where you've gone, they could barge here any second now. and mingi will be at fault again. there is no time for you to be as gentle as you wanted to be with him. your heart feels heavy each time you swipe the cotton on his skin and you hear him hiss and flex under your touch. you are nearly done, all that's left is to put fresh bandages on him and check his tubes before taking a few more notes and leaving.

"are you eating properly?"

he chuckles, but not the funny chuckle. the tired, sarcastic chuckle.

"sorry. i forgot that your section is..."

"a shithole, yeah. i eat four to five spoons of lentils, and two cups of water a day. three if i've been good. which is confusing, i always try to be good. he just-" mingi stops, biting his lip.

he has said too much already. he doesn't want to bother you. after all, you are here just to do your own job. not save him.

"just what?" you ask, curiosity overshadowing the fear from your brother.

"nothing."

"you can tell me." you push.

the man stays silent, eyes fixed on the ceiling. he isn't showing any intention of answering your question, or speaking further. he has exposed himself too much, and now you can sense him pulling his walls up.

"mingi..." you start, trying to tell him that you understand and won't push him harder. but he doesn't let you finish.

"i said nothing! get out!" he yells, making you jump from the chair.

his eyes are wide, bloodshot. they are glossy, and you realize that he wants you out of the room before he breaks down. he doesn't want to cry in front of you again.

"i'll be back for that x-ray. i'll also try to get you proper food so you can heal."

you see remorse on his face, but he doesn't say anything. he is overwhelmed with emotions. he feels sadness, anger, and sudden comfort coming from a new person. it is a rollercoaster of emotions, and he doesn't know how to navigate it. it is best to leave him be before he explodes.

"take care." you give him a smile, and finally leave for your office.

a week later, song mingi exits the x-ray room. he is disappointed, his eyes not able to find your face behind the glass among the doctors. maybe you were there, but hid from him. after all, he did yell at you last time he saw you. he couldn't help it. he was scared of anyone and anything at this point, no matter how tough he tried to act. song mingi is just a flower who has surrounded himself with a walnut shell.

the man furrows his eyebrows, seeing that the guards are guiding him to a lower level of the building. then, when he musters up enough courage to ask where they're taking him, the words stop in his throat as his eyes fall on your figure. he smiles, so wide that his cheeks hurt. you smile back, and as you approach him, he is reminded just how beautiful you are.

"good morning, mingi."

he hated his name. it was screamed and drenched in pain and sorrow many times before he ended up here. you saying it, it felt like the name was just given to him. like he had no awful history behind it.

"answer when someone talks to you." the guard hits the back of his head, and the smile disappears off his lips.

"good morn–"

slap.

mingi looks up, terrified. he looks over at the guard who hit him, only to find him holding his cheek and looking down at your shoes.

"do not, ever, and I mean ever, do that again. did I make myself clear?"

the guard nods, gaze still fixed down.

"did I make myself clear?!"

"yes, yes! perfectly clear."

mingi is mesmerized by your sudden surge of confidence. he saw you as an innocent young woman, gentle and quiet. this, however, didn't shut down the growing interest he has for you. in fact, his heart beat just a bit faster when his eyes met yours. the transition from tough to soft gaze when you finally looked at him had him blushing hard.

"you feeling alright?" you tilt your head slightly, trying to properly look at him.

his head still hangs a little low, too afraid to cross a boundary with his staring and overly friendly smiles. he nods, then slightly bows his head as a thank you.

"that's good to hear. I managed to get you a better cell for your recovery. if you continue being a good boy, they'll let you stay."

you say it playfully, but mingi is ashamed by the twitch in his pants once the words leave your mouth.

a good boy.

he'll be the goodest boy ever for you. just to see you proud of him. after all, it is your work reflecting on him. he will help you leave a good impression in this hellhole. and, if he's lucky, he'll keep you as his doctor.

"right, then. I'll come and visit soon, I hope. take care. and take your medications!"

he nods again, suddenly unable to speak. he wanted to say so much. he wanted to drop on his knees and thank you. he wanted to feel your hands on his face again. but he soon realises just how unprofessional that is. he would rather only secretly glance at your figure one more time, before the guards drag him to his new home.

he is thrown on the floor, the humiliated guard landing kicks all over his freshly bandaged torso. blood seeps through them again, staining the new prisoner uniform you have gotten him.

"piece of shit, that's what you are. no fucking dinner for you, you pig."

but mingi did not care. he stayed on the floor, not bothering to check out the new cell he was given. he only stared as the heavy doors shut, listening to multiple locks turning, before he smiled to himself like a crazy man.

you looked stunning in your blouse. purple is your colour, he concludes.

in the morning, mingi finds himself laying on a soft surface. he opens one of his eyes, the light too strong for him to handle. he sits up, rubbing his eyes, before feeling discomfort in his lower body. he looks down, and soon enough discovers why it feels that way. his crotch is a sticky mess, and it feels hot.

he wonders how that happened. he fell asleep from exhaustion and pain last night, on the floor. he knows he didn't jerk off. and he knows for sure he didn't willingly climb on the bed. now, he either came in his sleep on the floor and humiliated himself when someone transferred him, or he came peacefully in the bed after the transfer. either way, his brain works hard to figure out the reason of the relief.

he barely manages to glance around the room, taking in all the sunlight, before the doors open. then, as soon as you walk in, he is reminded how the mess spawned in his underwear and all over his pants.

your sighs against his ear, your skin under his fingertips, your warm walls swallowing his hard cock. that's why he didn't hear the three knocks for breakfast in the morning. and that's why he didn't feel the transfer to the bed. all because he was having wettest dreams about you.

his jaw is slightly hanging, seeing you approach him so cheerfully. you are wearing a dress, past the knees length, with long flowy sleeves. he spends a few seconds memorizing every curve of your body, so he can inappropriately think about you after you leave. you are lovely, kindness embodied, and as pretty as the first cherry blossom in spring. mingi wishes he could keep you in his cell, just so that he can look at you and feel safe.

he lowers his gaze, scared that you might see in his eyes exactly what he is thinking about. but you grab a chair, and sit in front of him. your finger find a spot under his chin, gently guiding him so that he can look at you.

"you're not supposed to-" the guard steps forward, in case mingi tries something.

"shut the hell up."

the man on the bed had to fight the urge to laugh in the guard's face. he loves your fierce side. as long as he doesn't get on it, it's hot. way too soon, your hand leaves mingi's face. you flip through your notebook, scribbling something down.

"that lip cut looks new." you comment.

"uh, yes." he confirms, scratching his neck.

"cole?"

"yes, doctor?" the short male answers.

"you don't happen to know where mr song got that cut, do you?"

"no, doctor." the guard lies easily to your face.

"okay."

mingi doesn't say anything, in fear of you more than the man behind you. but you only give him a sweet smile, before writing into your notebook again. the pen glides so smoothly on the paper, and maybe he was just smitten, but mingi swore that he never saw such pretty handwriting.

"here's your medication."

you hold out a singular blue pill, waiting for him to take it. he does, unsurely popping it into his mouth, and then takes the water bottle that stood untouched on his nightstand. your intense gaze makes him accidentally spill it all over his t-shirt, and before he can start apologizing, you take the bottle and close it for him.

"good job. you'll heal in no time." you encourage, then hand him a towel.

"thank you." he finally says something without mumbling or stuttering.

"no, no. thank you, for being cooperative and not giving me headaches. like some people." you look over at the moody guard.

the young prisoner smiles, knowing that it will probably earn him a kick or two as soon as you leave. you stand up, closing your notebook.

"get him new pants." you casually comment, and mingi immediately feels his ears heat up from embarrasment.

"i'm so sorry-" he apologizes, again and again, until your hand finds its place on his to stop them from flapping around while explaining.

"stop apologizing for everything. and i better see you in the canteen for lunch soon. got it?" you playfully demand.

"canteen?"

"yes. i worked something out and got you access to the canteen. you can't heal from lentils only."

and with another smile, you are gone.

canteen. he hasn't seen that place for years now. he barely remembers the taste of real meat and potatoes. but he vividly remembers the cold silver tables and stools. the very tables where he got thrown on and beat lots of times, by both guards and prisoners. all because he didn't want to share his bread or give away the little earning of the day he had made. eventually, they stopped letting him into the canteen, simply because his presence alone would cause chaos. he was everybody's punching bag, and as much as he cried of hunger at nights, he would rather stay in the safety of the four walls. well, partial safety. one bully is still better than twenty.

the next few weeks, you visit him often. to give him the blue pill, hype him up, and treat to his wounds. he has healed nicely, and you are proud of him. he is mostly silent, except when he thanks you or apologizes to you. he still doesn't have enough courage to leave the cell to get himself food, so he settles for lentils for two more weeks. until you've had enough, and scold him.

"your progress is going awfully slow, and you're making it harder for me. please go eat something."

"okay," he finally agrees.

he doesn't get to know about you much. you are there only for a few minutes a day, but even that is better than nothing. he gets to stare at you as you write into your notebook, and each night when his hand travels down his pants, his image of you is more and more vivid.

with new fresh pants and a t-shirt, song mingi finally walks up to the canteen doors. he sees so many people, ones he has known, and ones he will get to know. the loneliness is slowly vanishing, but the anxiety is just announcing its arrival. mingi is swallowed by fear. he doesn't want to let you down, but what will he do if someone decides to test him? will he have enough self control?

"you're not getting married, you're just getting food. get in." he is pushed through the doors.

the smell of fried chicken and soup fills his nostrils, and his stomach grumbles in anticipation. his legs carry him to the waiting line, hands already grabbing an empty tray. he blends in so easily, like he was here every day. he announces his order to the kind lady that has always liked him and given him the best piece of meat, feeling fully confident in himself. the lady smiles widely at him, and mingi is happy knowing that he has two people caring about him.

he takes a seat in the empty corner by himself, eyeing the warm soup. finally, he dives in. the liquid drips down his chin as he eats like a starved man, the chicken flavour melting on his tongue. he is lost in the joy of eating, he almost doesn't notice a hand grabbing the chocolate muffin off his tray. but he does, dropping the spoon in the already empty bowl.

"well, well. lookie here."

three men surround his table, each sending him smirks and glares. mingi isn't scared of them anymore. he won't give them a reason to be a threat. for you.

"oh, sorry, were you gonna eat that?" the bald one speaks with a stuffed mouth. chocolate bits fall on the table, making mingi grimace in disgust.

"no, you can have it." he simply says, then moves on to his fried chicken.

"oh?" the men look at each other, surprised by how calm he is. three years ago he would've gone feral on all of them, giving the whole canteen a reason to start a chaos. all for a piece of pork.

"did you want my juice too?" the young man holds the little box of apple juice out for one of them to take.

they're all puzzled. just what was happening in section H that made mingi calm down like this? or was this his new strategy? what exactly was in that apple juice?

"cut the shit, asshole. let's relive some memories, shall we?" the taller one grabs mingi by his collar, dragging him up so that he stands.

"i'd rather not. not in the mood. another day maybe?"

"oh, another day? so you're back for a longer period, huh?"

"hope so." he genuinely says, looking around the place.

"aren't you a dove. almost makes me feel sorry for what i'm about to do to that pretty face."

the third man suddenly starts tapping their shoulders, looking behind at the doors opening. mingi is dropped on his stool, all forgotten. the three men don't move away from his table yet, but their attention remains on the people that have just walked in. and when mingi finally sees it too, his mind and heart have a very difficult time.

jeong yunho, dr rachel maslow, and you, walking peacefully to the end of the line, each grabbing a tray.

"i thought they had their own fancy ass canteen?"

"they do. i don't know what the fuck kinda experiment this is, but i'm not liking it."

"i don't know about you, but i'm liking the view of the chick."

"you think if we kill that asshole that we can escape? i mean, he's right there."

"nah, he's invincible. remember that guy who tried to stab him with scissors? the bastard survived even that. i heard he keeps the scissors framed in his office."

mingi eavesdrops further, in hopes of getting information he can forward to you. but his ears pick up something that itched a certain part of his brain. a click, which set his old self free.

"maybe see how useful his sissy is and serve him her head when we're done with her?"

"i'd rather her give me a head."

"i heard she's a virgin."

"aw, i get to be her first and last!"

mingi sees red. his hand grips the empty soup bowl, and his teeth are biting the insides of his cheeks. he looks at you as you get your own food, walking with such elegance that every woman on the planet should envy you. and then, he sees you naked, scared, in the hands of these awful men. he sees your big, scared eyes looking up at him and silently begging for help, while the laughter of the three men rings in his ears.

one thought leads to another, and mingi does exactly what earned him the section H. he loses himself to his overthinking and rage. his hand smashes the bowl on the head of the bald man, his other hand soon grabbing his throat.

"i'll keep her safe," the young prisoner mutters, looking into the man's eyes as he fails to beg for mercy.

mingi's fingers dig into his neck, as if trying to rip his throat out. he feels punches on his shoulders and back, and when the man in his hands finally collapses, he turns around. he lands a punch into one's nose, sending him back a few steps. he turns towards the third one, the one who made a comment about being your first and last.

"i'll keep her safe," he repeats, this time louder. he marches at the man, biting into his throat and ripping out a chunk of meat. red liquid drips down mingi's chin, but he isn't bothered. his fingers dig into the scrunched body, holding it in place so that it doesn't run from the death grip that is song mingi.

"what the fuck?!"

"oh my god!"

"who let him in here?"

"run!"

"get dr rachel!"

his ears are ringing, and his vision blurs. but he still doesn't stop, not until life fades from the men's eyes and they lay on the floor, painting the floor red. he isn't sure how long he stays there kicking their bodies, smashing their limbs and ribs, until a pair of hands grab him by his shoulders.

he kneels down by force, the brand new uniform drenched in the blood he spilled. your face appears in his frame, and he sees that you are kneeling, just like him. you are speaking, but he doesn't hear a thing. only the distant echo of their laugh, and your silent pleas for help. he looks down on the floor, and feels terrible guilt when he sees that your dress is slowly turning red.

"safe..." he whispers.

jeong yunho holds the man in place, while dr rachel fidgets with something in her hands. you send him a confused look, not knowing what the word safe means in this situation. you want to help him, you truly do. but he makes it very difficult.

"i'll keep you safe," he says again, more to himself than you.

"safe from what, mingi?"

"i'll keep you safe."

his body loses strength under yunho, dr rachel already pulling an empty injection from his arm. he is dizzy, but his eyes don't leave yours. he uses his last ounces of strength to smile at you, before collapsing.

"see what he's capable of? you still want to go play good doctor with him?"

dr rachel scoffs, throwing the injection in the trash bin. yunho doesn't speak. he walks around his desk, hands behind his back. he is probably thinking of ways to punish you. but you couldn't care less about what happens to you. you need to know that mingi is alright before everything. then, you need to know what caused the outburst.

"this isn't a fanfiction, you can't change him. he's locked in section H for a reason, and you stay away from those sections for a reason. i do not want you near him again."

"that isn't your call to make." you spit at her, then look over at yunho with anticipation.

"mr jeong?" she searches for support.

but he remains silent.

"so what? you granted him access to the canteen, then brought me there just so i could witness him going feral? you planned it all?"

"shut up."

"you sent those men at him, didn't you? you wanted to create a problem..."

"shut up."

"...so that mingi acts up. and when he does, rachel will prove that i am not capable..."

"shut up."

"...of taking care of such high level criminals, and you'll go back to your bullying ways again uninterrupted. is that what-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

yunho throws the lamp from his desk right at the wall beside your head.

"fuck!" he kicks the little coffee table in front of his desk, flipping it and spilling the cold coffees all over the carpet. "fuck, fuck, fuck!"

tears stream down your face from fear. each time you see him recently, he has less control. it isn't your brother anymore. it's just mr jeong.

"i will say this one more time, and if you bring me into a situation where i have to repeat myself, i swear to god, i will fry his brains in front of you. you'll see him on that electric chair every time you close your eyes, and you'll hear his screams every time you go to sleep at night. i will make the experience so traumatic and gruesome for you that you will need not two, not three, but ten fucking psychiatrists to heal you! you will stay the fuck away from him, stay the fuck away from my files, my prisoners, my business, and my way of doing things! if i see you, no, if i even hear possible rumors that might not even be true, that you stepped foot - not in the cell, but in the section - i will personally serve you his long suffering and death. and i'll enjoy every second of it. have i made myself clear?"

your jaw hangs low, blood running cold in your veins. pure venom drips from yunho's lips, and it makes your stomach sick. you feel like throwing up. he turns around at your lack of response, marching over to you. you run, squealing. hiding behind the armchair, you shield yourself from the person that possessed your brother.

you nod frantically, trying to swallow the lump of pure fear in your throat.

"i don't want to see your face anymore for today. or tomorrow. get lost."

and you obey, running past him and into the hallway. you struggle to catch your breath as you reach your office, and once you're safe behind the locked doors, you finally let it out. you sob, whimper, fingers reaching into the drawer to pull out his picture. the kind brown eyes look at you from the paper, and it only makes your chest hurt from the upcoming sobs.

"i'm sorry," you say, as if he can hear you.

days turn into weeks, and you are scared to even look at the sign that says section H. dr rachel has her eye on you, and you don't dare disobey. you work with a lifeless expression, mind and heart drained of the will to live. guilt is eating you inside out, and it's killing you that you can't ask anyone about mingi's wellbeing.

you haven't seen yunho since that day. and you don't think you have the strength to. you hate him. you hate what he's done with this place. you hate that a place of rehabilitation has turned into one of torture. and you hate that he's corrupted all the other workers. is it the pay? is it their equally fucked up morals? how can all of them be alright with it?

"doctor?"

you turn around, expecting to be given more news about ill prisoners. the flu is spreading like crazy the past two days. but when you see elijah approaching you, your heart flutters. he is usually unreachable, always roaming the forbidden section.

"how is he?" you ask before thinking.

elijah looks around for you, and when he makes sure that he coast is clear, he lowers his voice.

"not bad, but not good. he is holding on."

"how are his injuries? anything new?"

"barnes is beating the life out of him for every little thing he does. so he decided to go on a strike and just sit in the corner all day and all night. he doesn't eat, barely sleeps, and started harming himself worse than before. he wants to die, doctor."

you feel your heart dropping low in your chest, and it hurts. you wanted to help him, and look what you did.

"don't blame yourself. he did it to himself." as if he knew what you were thinking, elijah interrupts.

"he was talking about... safety? do you have any idea what that might've been?"

"keep you safe, that's what he keeps repeating. apparently, he heard a few guys talk bad about you, planning to do something to you, and he lost it."

"i need to see him."

"no."

"make it happen, please. please, elijah."

"all three of us will lose our heads, doctor."

you feel your cheeks become wet, your vision getting blurry. putting your palms together, you beg. "please. for just a second. and then i'll never ask for him again. never think of him."

elijah exhales. "fine."

at exactly two o'clock in the morning on a sunday, you walk barefoot down the hallways, like a ghost who haunts a castle. successfully avoiding guards, you slip into the H section, scanning elijah's code on the hallway doors and letting yourself in. the heavy door waits for you at the end of the hall, mysterious and inviting. mr barnes is not in his usual position, meaning elijah has found a way to distract him. you had exactly fifteen minutes, and five have already passed.

hurriedly, you scan the code again, then as quiet as possible turn all the locks. your breath stops once you get in, the smell of sweat and blood hitting your nostrils. then, you see him. curled up on the floor, holding his head, knees to his chest. sobbing, fingers pulling his hair, and shivering.

you feel the dusty floor under your bare feet, and wonder if the room ever gets swept. it looks the same as when you first found him. slowly approaching, you try not to startle him. he doesn't know that you are coming, and one wrong move could send you flying into the wall. you saw what he was capable of, like dr rachel said. but you also know he doesn't do it for no reason. treat him like a human, and he will do the same.

"mingi," you call in a whisper.

his sobs quiet down, and shivering stops. he sits up, back still turned towards you. the hallway light poorly illuminates it, open wounds on his skin making your heart sink.

"you shouldn't be here," he says, voice raspy.

"sorry, i- i had to. i had to make sure you're okay."

"well, i'm not."

you don't know how to respond. you can see that he is not, you just don't know how to help. there is no time. so you settle for a simple shoulder touch, which he doesn't reject.

"i know. i'm sorry." silence swallows the room. mingi doesn't move. he doesn't remove your hand from his shoulder either. with a gulp, you continue. "can i see you? please?"

when he doesn't budge, your other hand finds its way on one of his wounds. immediately, you realize your mistake. the man stands up before you get the chance to properly feel his rough skin under your fingertips, grabbing you by your neck and slamming you against the wall. your toes barely touch the ground, and for a split second, you are back in the room with yunho doing the same thing to you. only this time, the man in front of you has a full right to do so. you violated his privacy, and he reacted.

"i'm sorry," you choke out.

you sound pathetic to yourself. apologizing three times under five minutes, and still breaking boundaries.

"i don't want... i don't want to hurt you." his grip softens, and he slowly lets your feet touch the ground. "i want to keep you. i want to- i need to have you."

his voice fades as his gaze falls on your lips. you are unsure what he means, considering that he is still holding your throat, but his gaze is locked on your lips. he gulps, then looks into your eyes intensely, making you subconsciously clench your thighs. you feel a rush in your lower stomach, one that you're not sure you've ever felt.

"can i? please?"

"i'm not sure what you mean, mingi." your voice is a whisper, afraid that if you speak louder you'll spook him away.

"i just- let me put it this way. i want to thank you."

"for what? i've done nothing but cause you trouble."

"i've caused it myself. i did it to myself. you only helped me. you healed me, treated me with kindness, and i'd like to repay."

a sudden creak from the hallway makes both of you jump, and you run into the corner behind the door. mingi follows, putting his hands on the wall beside your head and shielding you with his body. footsteps approach, and almost get to the unlocked but closed doors, then stop.

"barnes! care for a drink?"

"i'm doing checkups. besides, with you, elijah? no thanks."

"come on. now that we work in the same section, how about we bury the axe? besides, i did the checkups already. it was my turn anyway. we should be good for half an hour."

"you paying?"

"sure am."

"then what the fuck we waiting for?"

the footsteps slowly drift away. and you thank elijah for his quick thinking and buying you time. your attention is on mingi again, whose eyes are still fixed on your lips.

"my savior," he says, hand gently cupping your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek.

"you're exaggerating. i barely did anything to help you. i got you into bigger troubles than you started with and-"

mingi doesn't hesitate anymore. he leans in, still tilting your jaw so that you're almost at his level, and softly presses his lips into yours. you stand there, wide eyed, still processing what's happening. it isn't until mingi presses his body against you, trapping you between one cold wall and one warm one that you finally relax in his arms. you're not sure what to do, or what to feel. you're being kissed and held by a prisoner, and not just any prisoner. the prisoner that is considered one of the most dangerous ones in the whole building. and you're enjoying it. why else would your stomach feel like hot magma waiting to burst.

sensing your frozen state, mingi pulls away. his other hand rests on your waist, fingers subconsciously drawing patterns over your blouse. "let me thank you, doctor. please."

"i'm not sure i'm familiar with this type of thanking," you admit, your cheeks heating up.

his eyes change, from soft to hard, and you're not sure what to feel. yet again.

"so it's true."

"what is?"

"you're a virgin."

"well... yeah, i mean. yes. does it matter?"

"then, the gratitude i had in mind falls off."

oh. oh.

"you should go back before they return. or before i lose my mind."

"no, wait! we have a little less than thirty minutes, i didn't go through all this trouble just to go back."

the young man lays down in bed, hissing a little when his back makes contact with it, then folds his arms over his chest in protest.

"don't be a brat. i came to see you."

"and you did. i'm fine. now go."

"why are you like this suddenly?" your eyes start burning, tears gathering in the corners and blurring your vision. there's a lump in your throat, and no matter how hard you try, it's hard to swallow it. "you're mean to me, when you yourself said that all i've done is help you. make up your mind, do you hate me, or do you like me? do you want me close, or not? do you-"

"what i want is out of line and question. so the next thing i want is naturally for you to leave." he looks at you, almost glaring, before adding, "please."

"don't make this difficult. tell me, and i promise, i'll leave you alone. you'll never hear from me again."

he lays in silence, eyes closed. as if that will make you leave. instead, it brings out the stubbornness and braveness in you, overshadowing your fears. you know what he wants. you are a virgin, but not stupid. if you weren't sure, the obvious bulge in his pants makes it clear. without much thinking, your fingers start unbuttoning the purple blouse, revealing the black bra underneath. you don't take it off, instead leaving it to hang off your shoulders.

mingi's eyes open when he senses the mattress dipping, then a warm body hovering over him. he feels your warm crotch on his naked torso, your skirt hiked up and your bra exposed.

"i can't."

"why not?"

"i'll hurt you. and i already did that tonight, and i won't do it again."

"maybe i want to be hurt."

"you don't mean that. trust me, you don't mean that."

your hands take his cold ones, guiding them so that they rest on your waist. your body shivers at the cold touch, but you don't remove them. instead, you guide them higher up, until his big hand covers your breast. he gulps under you, afraid to move.

"i'd break you."

you lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss. this time, you are more confident, and allow yourself to swipe your tongue across his plump lips. he responds, biting softly into your bottom lip and tugging it, gently sucking on it and licking it. you shiver in his hands, from pleasure more than from the cold. you finally pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips in a way so erotic that you haven't seen it in movies even.

"please do." you finally respond, a whisper into his mouth.

"and if you regret it?"

"i'll get over it."

with a swift move, mingi's hand yanks your bra down, freeing your breasts and attaching his lips to your tense nipples. you sigh, fingers reaching for his hair and pushing his head into you. his rough tongue swipes over the sensitive bud, lips sucking, while his finger spins the other one. you shake under his touch, never having been touched this way before except by yourself. it feels more intense when it is someone else, and you are dying for more.

"more, please," you beg, pulling at his hair.

"i'll give you anything you want. just ask, doctor. say it, and i'll give it to you."

"touch me more. i need more."

the dark haired man grabs your waist, and like a doll, easily lays you down on the bed and hovers above you. his strength fascinates you, and turns you on even more. you have the urge to feel his every inch under your fingers, but you aren't sure how he will take it. so you settle for placing your hands on his firm chest, just to see his reaction.

he doesn't say or do anything about it. instead, he plants kisses between your breasts, down your stomach, to the waistband of your skirt.

"should i take it off?"

"no." he says firmly. "keep it all on. bright colours look beautiful on you."

"but won't it be difficult?"

"let me do the worrying. you just relax."

with a glint in his eyes, he disappears under your skirt, and you almost yelp when his cold fingers touch your thighs. you try closing them, but his strong grip keeps them apart.

"stay still for me, princess."

a new flood of arousal washes your panties, the new nickname almost making your back arch from the hard mattress. his fingers move your panties aside, and without any warning, his lips press against your folds, leaving a kiss to test the grounds. you gasp at the newfound pleasure, and then moan when his wet muscle swipes across your clit.

"i'll make you feel so good, i promise. i'll repay you. i'll show you how good i can make you feel. just stick around me, please. i'll let you use me for your own pleasure any time you want. do anything you want to me, or order me to do anything you want to you. just stay with me. please."

"i will, i promise, i do." you're lost in the feeling of pure ecstasy, his plush lips sucking and kissing your clit as his finger tests your hole. you clench at the strange feeling, pleasure now being replaced with discomfort. "mingi-"

"trust me. relax." he peeks over the skirt, lips glistening with your arousal.

and you do, at least try to. his lips return to abusing your swollen clit, tugging it and circling it with his tongue, distracting you from his finger. when he decides that you are wet enough, he slides it in, slowly. he tests the waters, and when he sees that you're not clenching, he goes deeper. he moves in and out, knowing that you don't feel anything just yet, but preparing you for the second one.

he watches as your chest rises and falls heavily, soft sighs and moans leaving your pretty parted lips, and your hair already sticking to your face. he is satisfied with himself, finally living out his fantasy of making you feel good as a thank you. he inserts a second finger, easily gliding it along your walls. he curves them slightly upwards, brushing against the spongy part of you, and when you slightly jump and reach for his hair, he smiles to himself. jackpot.

"does it hurt, doctor?"

"it's a bit unpleasant." you admit.

"it'll be better, i promise. i'm just preparing you so that it hurts less later."

his fingers continue pumping inside you, with each entrance gently grazing your soft spot until you get used to it. when your whines turn into moans, mingi finally gives it his all. his thumb rubs your clit, while his two fingers continue with a faster pace. his lips find yours once again, tongue rubbing yours and letting you taste yourself from him. your brain feels fuzzy, and your stomach warm.

"stop, stop." you try pushing his hand away.

"why?"

"i'm close." you whine, trying to push the feeling away. it feels too soon.

"don't worry. i can do wonders in fifteen minutes."

his pumps become stronger and faster, and you helplessly grip at his biceps, nails digging into his already poor tormented skin. but he doesn't complain. he is too lost in the way you look, pure bliss on your face from his touch.

"that's a good girl," he mumbles when a long moan escapes your throat, your body collapsing under him with pure pleasure. "ride it out, come on."

your hips grind on his hand, which continues abusing your overstimulated pussy. you try to move away, but mingi grips your wrists and pins them above your head, then proceeds to finger you faster.

"please-" you're not sure what you're begging for; him to stop or to give you more.

tears stream down your face, pain and pleasure mixing inside of you and creating a roller coaster of emotions. your body twitches, another orgasm washing you over. the room is filled with squelching noises, and when you gather an ounce of strength to pick your head up and look down, you are shocked to see liquid spraying out of you and all over mingi's arm and bed. the man removes his fingers from you, wasting no time and popping them in his mouth. you watch as his tongue swirls around them, his gaze pure lust as he watches your body recover.

"forgive me."

"for wha- oh." your panties are ripped apart, pieces of fabric hanging loosely from your thighs.

"you're so pretty," he kisses you, "so beautiful," your neck, "so pure," your collarbone, "so kind," your stomach, "and so perfectly made for me."

his hands pick you up from the bed, then gently lay you across the dusty old desk near the little window with your back turned towards him. your upper body shivers when it makes contact with the cold wood, and legs almost tremble. you grip the edges of the desk, not questioning his methods. you can barely stand, but your desire to feel him, all of him, gives you energy.

"you're so small underneath me," his hand flips your skirt over, fingers caressing your buttcheeks and thighs while his other hand works on his boxers. "you fit in my hands just perfect."

you can only hum, too lost in the euphoria. his hand spreads your legs apart, and carefully pulls your hair back so that it doesn't fall in your face. you feel a warm muscle circle your hole, which clenches around nothing.

"i'm gonna claim you, doctor. you'll be mine, full of me. i'll mark you up, let everyone know that you belong to me, and i belong to you."

then, he slides in, making you grip the desk and almost bite into it. it hurts like hell, his thick cock splitting you apart. you almost growl in pain, but mingi puts his hand over your mouth just in time. you bite into it, finding comfort in hurting him while he hurts you. but it doesn't last long, because mingi knows what he's doing. he gently pulls out, then slides back in, and so a few times until your hips willingly push back in search for his cock. you are stuffed, and feel him in your stomach. his hands hold your hips in place, while his lips kiss along your spine and shoulders. every now and then, he bites and sucks, marking you just like he promised.

"you'll be mine, and mine only. won't you? tell me you will, please. have mercy on me."

"yes, yes, i will." you groan, focusing on chasing the pleasure.

"can i stuff you full of my cum?"

"you can, please."

"are you on any pills?"

"no, oh fuck- no, i'm not. just- just fuck me, please. i don't care."

mingi is taken aback by your request. but who is he to disobey you? he finds himself roughly pounding into you, completely ignoring your painful whines. he raises one of your legs on the table, and finally reaches the angle he needed. you bite into his hand again, hiding moans. he would love to hear you, more than anything, but with elijah and barnes right around the corner, it's impossible. another time. if mingi is lucky, he'll get to see and hear it.

"pretty," thrust, "so pretty," thrust, "i'm obsessed with you."

"you look beautiful stuffed with my cock."

"your cunt is the prettiest one i've ever seen."

"i want to see your cumming face every day, forever."

"i want you all to myself."

he chants against your ear, warm chest pressing against your back as he reaches deep inside of you, his pace slowing.

"i want to feel your walls swallow me every single day."

"your cunt was shaped for me."

"i'll have you squirting all over my tongue."

"nobody can touch you except me. not even you."

"and nobody will touch me, except you."

"please, doctor, make me the happiest prisoner in this shithole."

he halts his movements to catch a breath. but you, so desperate for him, move your hips and fuck yourself on him. it gives him a new surge of energy, and mingi can't help but bruise your skin with his grip as his skin slaps against yours, cock kissing your cervix and driving you insane.

"cream all over my cock, princess. please."

he doesn't have to say it twice. the third orgasm has your vision blurry, and you mouth almost drooling. you fuck yourself dumb on his cock, riding out your orgasm and feeling warm liquid spilling inside of you. he grunts behind you, helping both of you get the final touches of pleasure out before pulling out. his cum drips from your hole, down your thigh, and mingi fights the urge to stuff you full of himself one more time. it's enough for one night, he concludes.

"see? and five minutes to spare." he jokingly whispers, planting a kiss on your shoulder where a purple bite sized bruise is being formed. "let me help you get dressed."

you stand up straight, and allow him to take care of you. he delicately buttons your blouse up, fixing your collar, then reaches for his half soaked bed sheet so he can dry your skirt. you watch him as he tries his best to put you together, thinking if this was your best or worst decision of your life.

"wow. just what the fuck did i say? i find you, i kill him."

your legs feel cold, like they were sliced. your eyes widen, and mingi stills on his knees under you. you can only put your hands on his head and bring him close to you for a hug in hopes of protecting him somehow. a few seconds feel like hours to you, holding his body close to you and feeling his hands hug your legs shakily, before he is mercilessly torn away and dragged down the hallway, by none other than elijah and barnes.

jeong yunho stays at the door, a smirk expanding on his lips. he knew. from the moment you met mingi, yunho knew this moment would come. he just needed a puppet to arrange his sentence.

my saviour, the young prisoner said.

yet he didn't know that you would be his death. served as kindness on a platter, only to turn out the biggest bullet of them all.

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 2 months

Note

OKAY I HAVE ONE MORE!! I just read the post you did where s/o got injured after getting in a fight, and I'd love to know how Jamil, Trey, Ruggie, Jade, and Deuce would react if their s/o tried to hide the fact they got hurt? Either because they didn't want to be a bother or because they knew the guys were busy and didn't want to add to their plate. Even going as far as avoiding them for a day or two while trying to (badly) nurse their wounds.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce can’t be entirely mad at you since that would be the same thing he would do. He wouldn’t want you to worry about him either, but now he sees how that can actually hurt more. You had never given him a reason to be dishonest before and he hoped you saw from his calm reaction that you didn’t have to fear confiding in him, either. He was here to be your support if you didn’t want his protection, he just needed you to at least let him in on what was happening. He’d stop anything to take care of you and he makes that clear, wearing an intense expression as he made you promise to tell him if you were hurt like this again.

Jade Leech:

Jade could always smell blood in the water. While he allowed you to foolishly believe you were hiding your wounds from him, he was aware from the beginning that you were injured. If you were trying to hide it from him than he wasn’t going to point it out until he saw how far you were willing to go to keep your secret. It’s almost amusing that you’d rather be in pain rather than tell him you’re hurt but once your pain is too great to hide, he smoothly let you know he had a few nursing skills as he and Floyd used to play rough as children. He doesn’t ask how you got the wounds (he already knows) nor does he point out that he knew you hid it from him, simply smiling at you and knowing he had you sweating it out on whether you were going to confess or not.

Jamil Viper:

It feels a little like betrayal to Jamil. While he didn’t want the stress of having to care for your wounds thrust upon him (even if he’d do so anyway), he didn’t like that you apparently didn’t trust him enough to tell him. Had he done something to deserve you purposely keeping secrets from him? Your relationship had been tumultuous at first but he had thought you found a comfortable middle ground, where you were both content even if there was still more to learn about each other. He helped clean you up as he can’t help but call you out when you’re clearly in pain, scowling the entire time as he couldn’t bite back his anger at you hiding away your injuries from him. He was clearly hurt and told you to just tell him next time to save him the anxiety of thinking he did something wrong, as he could at least escort you to the nurse.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie sighed, wondering how you always managed to attract trouble to you.He doesn’t seem to take your you hiding your injury from him personally, saying he might’ve done the same as some things are just too mortifying to admit to. He grinned as he said he appreciated you not getting him into trouble with you, as he certainly got into more than enough with Leona and the others in Savanaclaw. Still, if you were hurt and needed someone to lean on you should come to him, as a wounded animal separated from the pack would get killed.

Trey Clover:

Trey sighed, knowing it was partially his own fault as he piled his worries onto you without thinking of how you might view that. He dealt with the trouble he was handed because he knew how to, and while it was too much from time to time, you were hardly the cause of most of his troubles. He didn’t want you to hide something like an injury from him just because he seemed busy, even if he couldn’t help directly, he would have been able to get you the suitable treatment and check in on you later. You’re scolded directly and it leaves you worried he might be mad at you forever, since it was so rare to see him annoyed like this. Those thoughts end when you wake up the next morning with fresh baked goods and a note saying to text him when you finally awoke so he could check in on you.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Ruggie Bucchi #Trey Clover #Deuce Spade #Jade Leech #Jamil Viper #Ruggie Bucchi x Reader #Trey Clover x Reader #Deuce Spade x Reader #Jade Leech x Reader #Jamil Viper x Reader

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euthymiya · 4 months

Text

friendly reminder ft. scar

you might have helped your boyfriend escape his jail cell, but that still doesn’t mean you’re done being mad at him for flirting with another girl

contents: fem reader ; spoilers for main quest—mentions of rover and scar interactions, mentions of reader helping scar escape jail ; established relationship ; reader is part of the fractsidus ; reader and scar are both low key toxic in a way that almost balances each other out to be healthy LOL. they are in love, just in crazy ways ; reader is not rover. in fact, she’s rather jealous of rover and scar loves it ; hand jobs—his cock zipper LIVES ; cum eating ; reader sits on scar’s lap ; not proof read pretend there are no mistakes if you stumble across one

“you’re awfully affectionate today,” scar chuckles, relishing in the trail of your lips along his face. they map out the marks that permanently reside along his skin, trekking the familiar path from one to another as you meet each destination. “i take it that means i’ve been missed?”

“hardly,” you grumble. but your actions say otherwise as your lips find his neck, kissing along the path to his pulse point, biting down and making him shiver happily at the pain.

“oh, i’m sure that’s true,” he snorts, humming happily at the way your teeth graze his skin.

it’s sure to leave a mark—and it’s on purpose. you’re lips aren’t there to reward him, or to shower him in your usual fondness. this time, it’s a reminder. it’s to make sure he knows you’re the one—the only one who can touch him like this.

“i think you should be more affectionate,” you glower, lips pulling away from him to form a sweet, precious little pout. it warms his heart, enough that he doesn’t miss the press of them against his skin as much as he normally would now that he gets to see that perfect little curl of your mouth. “i rescued you out of prison, you know.”

scar is never shy with his affection—but that doesn’t always mean he’s generous with it. sometimes, he withholds. just to be teasing, just to make you ache for it, just to be a bit cruel. it’s never enough to go too far, but it’s just enough to let him have his fun.

you don’t usually mind it. not until he seems to be generous with someone else.

“well now,” he drawls his words, almost like he’s playing a sick, twisted game. you think he is, watching him narrow his eyes in amusement as he leans closer, hovering his lips just above yours as he says, “rescue is a bit of a strong word, don’t you think? of course, i’d be fine escaping on my own, but needing a little aid here and there holds no shame, hm?”

you pull back as he leans even closer, not letting him feel the satisfaction of your lips against his own, glaring at him as you huff. you’re thoroughly unimpressed, and you want it known. (of course, all things considered, it’s a rather soft glare—as aggravating as scar can be, he’s easier to love than he is to be infuriated with. you know he knows it too, if the smug tug of his lips speaks for anything. still, you’re not pleased, and you think he should be made abundantly aware regardless).

“i could’ve left you in there,” you purse your lips, “stuck in that cell with hardly enough food and water because of that girl you’re so interested in.”

“oh?” he quirks a brow with a gleam in his eyes—so excited, so enthused by the prospect of your bitterness as you sulk, “is that jealousy i see on that beautiful face? oh my, we can’t have that, can we, my dear?”

“oh, am i your dear? i distinctly remember you calling her that too,” you huff, pulling back from him as you cross your arms.

he stops you, arms wrapping around your back and pulling him up his lap to press against his chest, closer and closer and even closer, until his mouth is back to being millimeters away from yours, hot breath fanning over you and sending goosebumps along your skin. he’s evil, too—traces the raised bumps with a delicate finger along your arm, chuckling at the way you shiver slightly.

“oh, this simply won’t do,” he pouts theatrically, “i didn’t think you’d take that so personally, sweetheart. you understand, don’t you? i was just trying to earn her trust.”

“hmph,” you turn away from him, looking off to the side stubbornly as you add, “i didn’t realize you’d have to have a happy little date, as i recall it, in order to earn trust. is her trust really all you want?”

“why, of course,” he gasps, hands cupping your face to bring your gaze back on him, his palms squeezing your cheeks together as your lips slightly pucker from the action, “how could i ever have it in me to want someone else when i have such a precious sight right before me? hm?”

that’s the thing about scar. so nice when he wants to be, so good with words, so easy to drip saccharine promises from his tongue like honey—sweet enough to mask the lethal taste of venom. one drop is all it takes to kill you. one drop is all it takes to weaken you to be his prey.

but you like it. you like this sick, twisted little game he plays. you like him when he makes you want him so bad, you long for a girl you’ve never even met to drop dead for ever getting fractionally close to him—even if it was all under a facade.

scar is never shy about his affections, but he makes you work for them. makes you earn them as he dangles them over your head. but you’re just as stubborn as he is cruel, never scared to make him earn your affections just as much as he makes you earn his.

you hum in thought, hand trailing down to his crotch as you trace along the zipper over his cock. he’s already semi-hard, much to your satisfaction. he doesn’t have the shame to seem embarrassed by it, either—grinning wider as he stares into you with a darkened glint in his eyes.

“i should’ve left you in that jail cell,” you mutter.

he pouts, so theatric as he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. “don’t break my heart. i thought about you every second i was stuck in there, you know? it hurts my feelings when you say such cruel things.”

“oh does it?” you ask flatly, tracing the outline of his hardening erection through his pants. he hums and nods, letting out a soft, breathy moan as your palm at his clothed cock. “tell me something. would you kill her for me?”

“how extreme. that would be quite a shame,” he laughs, “she could be so useful, you know?”

you press the heel of your palm harder into him, earning a grunt as his hands grip your waist tightly with closed eyes. “would you?” you insist.

he opens his eyes to meet yours, dark with lust, sparkling with unyielding affection as he breathes, “of course. but you know that already, don’t you?”

you do. scar would kill anything—anyone. you like that. cherish it, even. blood would spill and life would drain before your love could die, and you like it that way. marvel in it. how satisfying it is, to have a man like him under your thumb, so intent to cross his already nonexistent lines just for you.

“good,” you finally smile, rewarding him with a proper kiss. he smiles himself against your mouth, letting you swallow his moans as your hand undoes the zipper over his crotch, pulling his hard, flushed cock free from its confinements as you slowly smear the precum along the swollen tip with your thumb.

he groans, biting your lip before he murmurs, “i missed this too in that cold little jail cell of mine. i missed how warm you always feel around me.”

your hand wraps around the thick girth, pumping the hot, velvety flesh as it twitches slightly in your hand. the filthy, squelching sound of your wet strokes mix with his low moans, a satisfying sound to your ears as you watch his face slack with pleasure, mouth parting to make the noises he knows inflate your ego.

scar is shameless enough to be loud, at least. it works both to your advantage and disadvantage at times. it’s certainly something you appreciate when you hear the proof of his pleasure, right there as the sounds bleed into you against your ear with hot breaths. but sometimes, when he takes you in not so hidden places, so risky and so dangerous of being caught, you appreciate his shamelessness a little less.

he’s never bothered by it, though. you think he’d love it, even, if anyone were to witness him fuck into you—so utterly careless of anything else other than having you as his.

his. because you do love being his, as difficult and infuriating as it might be.

“fuck, you always feel so good too,” he continues. he’s always so talkative, even when he’s dangerously at risk of cutting himself off with breathy, labored groans. you lean in, kissing along the scar of his left cheek as he whispers, “you feel that, don’t you? how hard i am just for you. what is there to be jealous of, sweetheart?”

“you should only be having dates with me,” you squeeze his cock tighter as you huff the words, stroking along his length quicker, earning a choked sound from him as he digs his fingers into your hips harder—it’s almost bruising. “the only one you should be calling my dear is me.”

“oh but you’re just so cute when you’re mad,” he pants through his laughs, closing his eyes and letting his forehead fall to your shoulder, humming before he bites into you as he muffles his sounds, “i can’t help myself. it’s nothing personal, okay? just a little good fun, that’s all.”

“i hate you,” you say petulantly.

you don’t. that’s why your other hand cards through his sweaty locks as his orgasm approaches quicker and quicker, the thick, pulsing cock in your hand twitching in your hold as he gasps, “oh now you’re really hurting my feelings. how can you say something so, so harsh?”

“i hate her too,” you say darkly.

he cums at that. like witnessing your jealousy gets him off, like hearing the pure hatred in your voice excites him until thick, hot ropes of cum release from his swollen tip, coating your hand as you stroke him through his high. he groans, a labored call of your name falling from his lips as he bucks into your fist.

you like the sound of your name on his lips. he sounds so good like that, strained from his own pleasure, so sickeningly smitten as he utters the syllables of your name like it’s his favorite word.

he says it so pretty. so sweetly. so affectionately.

one thing’s for certain—you know he’s never, ever said her name like this.

“look at you,” he coos once he’s done spilling into your hand, catching his breath as his head pulls way from your shoulder. your good hand is still in his hair, pulling it slightly to angle it up to meet your face as he grins and teases, “aren’t you lovely? rewarding me even when you’re mad at me.”

you bring your cum coated fingers to your lips, licking a stripe of his release off your hand before you reply, “just reminding you that no one could make you feel like this.”

“oh, sweetheart,” he tugs you closer, brushing your crotch against his still hardened cock as you gasp, “i could never, ever forget. don’t you worry, my dear.”

a) rover is cool and all but scar seems like he wants her so bad and it simultaneously is kind of hot but also kind of infuriating like you’re mine sir

b) a reader who’s low key crazy like him is the kind of trope i need. someone who will stab him and then kiss him, you feel me?

c) i need his cock zipper back i’m very mad they got rid of it. and i also need to see his cock too. i am, of course, disappointed as neither have happened so. :(

#writing tag #scar x reader #scar x you #scar smut #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves smut #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #wuwa smut

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mikaela-the-slut-expert · 8 months

Note

hello hello!! i was rereading the sunshine p2 headcanons, and i read a part that said “it’s not even the worst he’s done, you’re just that type of person in bed.” and it made me wonder… so what’s the worst san lang and xie lian has done to m!reader?? and what triggered them to be so horny towards reader? something reader said or wore? or was the two talking amongst eachother and had ideas?

i hope you’re taking care! i remember once you said you’re in school, so i hope that’s going well too!!💗

☀️anon

Sunshine headcanons 3

Hua Cheng x M!reader x Xie Lian

Thank you for waiting so long💕

I'm continuing off the sunshine reader headcanons for this

If the gif isn't Tgcf ignore it because the Internet sucks ass I'll fix it later

I did this at school 😊

I'm putting it in headcanons since there's multiple questions but just tell me if this isn't what you meant

Made up scenarios

There might be slight misinformation remember when Hua Cheng had the weird rut thing? Yeah I'm using that, but my details might all be messed up.

Ignore grammar mistakes

Maybe OOC

If you do not like these things do not read this.

NSFW, slapping, spanking, bondage, overstimulation, edging, choking ahead!!!

Sunshine headcanons part two

Sunshine part four

____________________________________

Xie Lian and San Lang have done plenty of things to you!

Of course you've enjoyed it

San Lang likes to bully you so of course the things he's done have been more rough.

San Lang likes to edge you, or overstimulate you. It just depends on his mood

He'll do it for hours too.

Each time he makes sure you're crying and babbling. If you're not then San Lang doesn't think his job is done.

San Lang's favorite things is to fuck you dumb

Whether it be in bed, or over a calligraphy table, or in the gambling den, even over an alter!

His goal is to make your vocal chords raw and your legs shake.

San Lang makes sure by the end of the night that your poor cock can't cum anymore and you're all emptied out

So after a long time of making you wait, or pushing you over the edge many times you obviously start to squirm.

It's a natural body reaction that San Lang enjoys to see but he doesn't appreciate when your hands reach him and attempt to pause his ministrations.

(Obviously he would stop if you said your safe word or seriously wanted to stop)

Which leads to something else he enjoys.

Bondage!

San Lang loves, loves, loves to tie you up in pretty red ropes so that you can't escape him

It just does something to him, to see you tied up like that.

Like if you wanted to you seriously could break out of them but you enjoy being good for him and being pretty for him too.

San Lang won't get physically rough with you, he isn't one to hit you or spank you.

He likes to watch though

Xie Lian is mostly the gentle one, you both are gentle.

That doesn't mean he can't be rough though

If you're in the mood to get physically aggressively that's Xie Lian's domain.

While San Lang would rather not put you in serious pain, Xie Lian knows you want it and it's in a safe space.

He wouldn't ever purposely hurt you either, this is only in the bedroom.

So Xie Lian surprisingly enough is the one who will slap you if you get too mouthy, or spanks you if he thinks you deserve such a punishment

Your guy's sex life didn't always look like this.

It used to always be vanilla and gentle. Which of course you all enjoyed but everyone was hiding deeper desires

It started more with Xie Lian and San Lang talking

You aren't assertive at all so of course you didn't make a peep about your own feelings

Xie Lian and San Lang had just been making ideas of their own, they aren't dumb

They just decided to keep it to themself for now until there was an opportunity to discuss a more complex bedroom life

Their plan of smoothly introducing you to this failed very quickly when Hua Cheng went through one his strange rut things again

Xie Lian doesn't know why but he had been planning on taking care of it himself.

He's dealt with it before and he's sure Hua Cheng doesn't want you to see him like this

Especially when Hua Cheng rarely remembers what happens

Well that didn't go as planned either, when you accidentally enticed Hua Cheng

Honestly it's all your fault (jk)

Xie Lian had left for a literal 30 seconds before he could hear thumps in the room.

It was an accident on your part, you had come home with a new outfit you wanted to show your lovers

Some pretty robes you got from the ghosts

You were very pretty but the robes were obviously meant for more vulgar work. Not that your oblivious self knew.

So when you decided to show Hua Cheng how you looked, his rut-adled brain jumped on you immediately, pushing you into the bed and ripping the many layers off

Which was unusual for Hua Cheng, who was usually patient and waited for you to carefully disrobe.

So when Xie Lian went to go check what was going on it was already too late🤷

Hua Cheng already had you pinned under him and your poor, ripped up robes were now just scattered cloth on the floor.

So that's how your bedroom life changed.

After that night of aggressive, and endless sex you decided you white enjoyed it

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng enjoyed it too

🦊🪷

"A-Lang, A-Lian, I'm home!" You call, walking into Paradise Manor. However your lovers don't answer, do you decide to just go to the bedroom. Unknowingly for you, you've just passed Xie Lian in the kitchen, and your lover can't warn you about San Lang. Woops. Your first mistake of the night.

You continue on to the bedroom. You had been out most of the day. Xie Lian and San Lang ushered you out of the house, so you decided to hang out with your ghost friends. The women were absolutely adored with you and wanted to dress you up. The women's work was to try and attract the attention of men to have sex but you were friends with them anyways!

They're quite chaotic and fun to be around. They dressed you up in some of their robes. You know how you looked. Enticing, pretty, sexy, etc. The point was you wanted your lovers to see you. Why wouldn't you show them? You're dressed up so pretty for someone's attention so of course you want your lovers to be the ones to give you such attention. Your second mistake of the night.

When you open the bedroom door, you find only Hua Cheng in the room. You don't remember seeing Xie Lian anywhere else in the manor so maybe he went out? "A-Lang what are you doing all alone in the bedroom?" You hum.

Your voice immediately drags Hua Cheng's attention. His head snaps in your direction and then you see his eyes roaming over your form. He never replied and he only looks at you like prey. You should've run them but that was your third mistake. You just watched your lover stalk closer to you and stay where you are instead.

If Hua Cheng is a fox, and Xie Lian is a ferret, you're definitely a rabbit. You just freeze in place, staring at him. Hua Cheng lightly runs a hand over your cheek and he just looks at you for a few seconds. The silence is broken when he's suddenly grabbing you by the elbow and showing you down in the bed. He doesn't even say anything just low grunts and growl like sounds come up from his throat.

You yelp in surprise. Hua Cheng has never done this. He's always careful and even hesitant to touch you but something has changed. Before you can ask what's happening or try to move out of under him, Hua Cheng rips your robes. "S-san Lang, wait just a minute?!" You shriek and blush. You try pushing back, and attempt to sit up but Hua Cheng shoves you on your back and forces you under him.

Xie Lian finally decides to see what's going on and quickly finds the two of you. He blinks in shock. He never saw you come in. Also your situation right now is shocking as well. Xie Lian is quick to move Hua Cheng back and off of you, using rouye to keep him in place. Xie Lian at first though you might've been scared. After all you've never seen Hua Cheng like this but you're actually, shamefully hard.

You're blushing and shut your legs, trying to hide but you can't when Xie Lian has already seen. You don't know why you're turned on. This should be scary and frightening but that's the opposite of what you're feeling right now. The way Hua Cheng harshly forced you under him, as if he was going to devour you right then and there? The way he ripped your robes without care, because he's too impatient and wants to fuck you now?

You quite enjoyed that.

"A-n, are you alright?" Xie Lian smiles at you and walks closer to run a hand over your hair. You can only bid slowly. You're still staring at Hua Cheng who struggles a bit in Rouye's hold.

The perfect time has presented itself so why not take it by the hand? Xie Lian tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, and he leans down, pressing his lips near your ear. "Baobei, do you like this? Do you like how San Lang treats you?"

You blush and gulp nervously. You turn your head trying to move your sensitive ear away from Xie Lian's lips. His breath tickles your ear and his voice just makes you ache more. "U-uhm"

Xie Lian tried out something for himself and he grips your hair, forcing your head to stay where it is. When you moan, Xie Lian stops feeling bad about it. "Do you A-n?"

"I-I like it" you gaze at bed, too aroused to meet any of your lovers gazes. Xie Lian smiles at your answer, and sits next to you on the bed. "Would you like to help San Lang this time around?" Xie Lian looks at Hua Cheng, who's staring at both of you with a predatory gaze.

Xie Lian's hand rubs over your thigh, "Let's try it then." He releases Rouye and lets the bandage wrap back around his wrist. Hua Cheng is immediately up and moving, getting on the bed and dragging you into a rough kiss. It's different and you like it. Hua Cheng explores your mouth with his tongue, and he nips your lips until the bleed a little.

Xie Lian doesn't mind watching, he likes seeing Hua Cheng enjoying you. He leans back against the headboard while Hua Cheng decides just kissing you is getting boring. His hands find your hips and he pulls you into his lap, spreading your legs around him so you can't hide your pretty cock away from him.

Hua Cheng attacks your neck next. Biting, and sucking roughly on your skin. Hua Cheng gets more handy though and one his hands dig into the plump flesh of your ass. Another hand starts rubbing your dick. You thought it was Hua Cheng but it's Xie Lian. You can only cling to your lover and moan. "San Lang face him this way" Xie Lian switches up the position.

You're still on Hua Cheng's lap but your back is to his chest, and now Xie Lian is in front of you instead. You cling to your lover's arms trying not to tip over, but Hua Cheng pulls your knees up to your chest instead, spreading you apart again. "You're pretty flexible A-n" Xie Lian laughs softly.

You flush at his words but a moan leaves your mouth when Xie Lian starts prodding oil covered fingers into your hole. "San Lang really wants to bully you Baobei but I'll make sure you don't get hurt" Xie Lian is only teasing you though, and you really want to cum by now. You whine impatiently, as Xie Lian purposely avoids your prostate.

Your prayers are answered though and his fingers leave you empty, the emptiness is soon replaced by something much bigger though. Hua Cheng keeps your legs hiked up and he bullies his cock inside you. A cry tumbles from your lips when Hua Cheng pushes your hips down, forcing you to take all of him.

He doesn't wait for your comfort like he usually does and goes straight to thrusting his dick into. He acts like he's been starved for years! "Ah~ A-Lang please, p-please!" You don't really know what exactly you're begging him for. Whether it's to slow down or for him to keep going but he successfully wrings an orgasm out of you, and it splatters across your tummy.

You've never had the chance to have more than one orgasm in a night but that's going to change today because Hua Cheng is moving again and he's shoving your face in the pillows. Hua Cheng prefers this, he can fuck you better when your on your hands and knees, and perking your ass in the air. His cock bullies deeper into you and his hips slap hard against your ass.

Xie Lian is thoroughly enjoying himself. Your eyes rolled back and your cries muffled by the pillows. He has a better idea though. "A-n can I borrow your pretty lips?"

You only babble an incoherent sentence at him, a mumbled "yesh~" and something else. Xie Lian really only cares for the consent though. He disrobes, enough to where he can let his cock escape its confinements. Then he fists his fingers into your hair and forces you to look up at him. Xie Lian was going to try and guide you through it slowly but you immediately nuzzle up to his dick and start licking his head.

Xie Lian moans and grips tighter when you take his cock down your throat and gag. Hua Cheng's fucking only makes you take both of their cocks deeper and soon tears are running down your face and another orgasm shakes you to your core. Xie Lian takes the initiative to face fuck you. Both of them make sure your holes are never empty for too long.

"A-n you're doing s-so well" Xie Lian purrs out, he stutters from your lips around his dick though. Not that you would notice you're too busy drooling and babbling. They aren't invisible to the pleasure they're receiving from you either and it's not long until they're both cumming in you at the same time. Hua Cheng's and Xie Lian's cum both feel warm in your belly. You can feel Hua Cheng's cum drips down the back of your thighs.

They pull out of you but Hua Cheng doesn't let you go. He keeps his arms wrapped around you and tucks his face into your neck. You breathe heavily and Xie Lian wipes the drool from your chin. You sigh leaning back on Hua Cheng's chest, resting. Hua Cheng chuckles in your ear and for the first time in the night speaks for the first time. "You don't think we're done do you?"

Of course you aren't. 💕

____________________________________

I hope you like 😭🙏

#tgcf #tgcf headcanon #hualian #hualian x reader #tgcf x male reader #hua cheng x reader #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf hualian #tgcf xie lian #xie lian x reader #mxtx tgcf

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calp0sa · 1 month

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what do you like and dislike about airy?

CRAZY MESSY INFODUMP INCOMING OH LORD

well there’s nothing i truly dislike about airy, because everything about him just makes him who he is. i just wish we got more insight to him as an Actual person rather than his host facade, even though that was sort of the point of one 17-18, i feel like the fact that he’s pretty much a regular ass dude went over most people’s heads (Not mine though because im really smart and could beat albert einstein in a rap battle) i know the mystique is the most prominently interesting aspect of the whole show… but yknowwww it’d be nice to know a little more about him personally considering how we now know he’s far from a one-dimensional character and shouldn’t be taken at face value (i am side eyeing a huge chunk of the one fandom as i say this) now okay if i were to talk about everything i like about airy we’d be here til the next solar eclipse but i’ll try to jot down everything i can. airy, to me, is the most fascinating object show character there is. i swear every time i observe something about him it’s like i’m opening a matryoshka doll as i dissect his character further and further… every rewatch of one i notice something, whether it be minuscule or glaring, there’s always something for me to brutally analyze. see, and here’s where i contradict myself, because while it’s frustrating not having much official trivia on him, i actually quite love how mysterious he is. i love how he seems like he knows a lot more than he lets on. i love how his caginess only sparks more questions. and i love how FESTERED he is. how you can tell there was so much that led up to him being so numb and stagnant… it does nothing but pique my interest. and i love how this festered-ness parallels with the contestants. i can’t help but feel as if the true extent of airy’s suffering was reflected through those on the plane, how the contestants went through so many fluctuant stages of sadness, denial, hopelessness, anger… all in the midst of isolation akin to airy’s forest. it makes me wonder if ONE served as catharsis to airy. not just a purpose or a distraction, but something to spark resonance within a desolate soul. speaking of distraction, it’s really interesting to me how reliant airy is on escapism, and this is most evident in how he literally takes on such a gilded and contrived host persona to the point where it’s difficult for the viewer to discern who he is OUTSIDE of “airy”. big fan of how the show basically tricks us into thinking he’s this ruthless malevolent all powerful entity until it takes us by surprise and reveals that he’s Just Some Guy, and it could’ve been anyone in his place. but this isn’t to defend him… no… airy was definitely a selfish and inconsiderate asshole (sorry yall) he just isn’t as awful as everyone makes him out to be. airy is not evil, nor is he good, he just kind of sucks LOL. and i love him for that honestly! the thing about this is he should’ve stopped and asked himself “what am i going to gain from this” yet he was so absorbed in trying to hoist himself out of that inevitable pit of dread that he did not care if he destroyed everything else in the process (Might i add that this is a huge parallel to liam’s impulsive vengefulness… i swear i could go on and on about how those two are brothers from another mother) another interesting thing about the hosting stage of airy is the chance that he probably did feel some sort of regret. especially after the shock of breaking his face, being confronted by harsh genuine emotions after such a long time… an iota of the pain and fear he assumed was long gone… as well as the crushing reminder that he basically threw himself and all his senses away just for a stupid game. What a loser amirite. even if he had some semblance of a wish to end ONE, he knew he couldn’t. i’d imagine he told himself mockingly “yeaaaa you basically dug yourself into this, you’re not backing out any time soon” (even though he could’ve easily backed out he was just a loser ass COWARD!)

i didn’t know the paragraphs had character limits! interesting. anyway i can’t help but wonder if airy made that effort to take care of liam in an attempt to break the cycle, the cycle of destroying everything else, including your very self, for the purpose of One thing. maybe airy thinks violence and spite is just a huge waste of time yes of course, but i think he understood liam to some extent (remember what i said about resonance 😁😁😁) i just love how everything about airy is so subtle, yet so major, so jarring and confusing yet when you piece it all together it makes such a scary amount of sense. i love making sense of how nonsensical he is. (of course i do. i am possibly the biggest fan of nonsense there is) now i will add a funny little thing i like about him. i like how he’s all impatient and snarky. and i know you’re probably thinking “franklin how in the abraham lincoln’s bootycheek do you think he’s snarky” Listen, it’s really funny once you actually notice it. there were so many instances where he sounded exasperated with the contestants. my personal favorite being

“yes, as long as you are here, you can’t die”

>”WE CANT DIE?”

“Yes… that’s… what i just said 😐”

he has this barely noticeable “oh my god can you let me do what i need to do” attitude and it’s SO funny. i like to imagine he rolled his eyes a lot while he was hosting. its really funny to imagine. and its also funny to imagine him smiling like an idiot like he did hosting in one 17. that scene was really cute it makes me want to run into ongoing traffic and get continuously ran over by 12 different semi-trucks. if you ignore how miserable the contestants were (sorry contestants) it’s actually really endearing how excited and eager airy was when he got ideas for challenges. i bet he felt so proud of himself it’s honestly kind of sad. he’s sad. what the hell. he really thought he was the SHIT when he said “riches… immortality… whatever your heart desires 😌” Oh my god he’s so pathetic don’t even get me started MY ONLINE CLASSES ARE STARTING I GOTS TO GO BUT ANYWAY FEEL FREE TO ASK FOR AN ANALYSIS ABOUT LITERALLY ANYTHING AIRY RELATED I HAVE MORE THAN A HUNDRED BIBLES’ WORTH OF SHIT TO SAY ABOUT HIM BYEBYE THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS

#frank answers a thing #airy hfjone #hfjone #man i am so cringe but so very free

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gravidwithlore · 26 days

Text

Did anybody say preg drive? This here is Kaz, created just for this drive, but more about him below! Help me fill this demonic twink up with lots and lots of demon babies by either donating to my Ko-fi or by reblogging. And every like and reblog helps unlock more milestones for Kazimir!

$5 (even added up across multiple smaller donations) or 10 reblogs= 1 demon baby

1 like or 1 reblog= 1 point on the milestone bar

Likes and reblogs across any post related to this preg drive will count towards the milestone bar/baby count! Now, without further ado, ✨️him✨️

The air of despair and hopelessness lay heavy over the wagon of rebellion prisoners. The King was not kind to those who defied his will, his orders, his right to rule. And everyone in the cart, prisoners and guards alike, knew it.

Levi did not know why his leaders had told him to get captured on purpose. To let himself be led in chains, dragged to a prison the king had built specially for torturing and extracting information from those who opposed him. He couldn't help but wonder why he was sent to spend the rest of his likely short life beaten and broken, when surely Levi would be more of use on the battlefield?

A rough bump sent half the prisoners in the cart practically flying, breaking him out of his thoughts, their chains rattling as they tried to steady themselves. Amidst the brief moment of chaos, Levi spotted a bit of shadow above him, moving in a strange and unnatural manner. It formed the shape of something that looked human, effortlessly crawling down the canvas siding covering the wagon like a lizard, then gaining shape and substance as it approached the center of the floor.

“Kaz?” Levi whispered in disbelief.

A sharp toothed smile of pure delight and recognition answered him, as the shadow became a demon in the shape of a human. Clothed in the same dingy prisoners uniform as everyone else, chains around their wrists looped themselves into one of the many iron hooks lining the floor and walls. Kazimir, the succubus, his eyes pure red and glowing lightly for a moment, winked at him as he kneeled on the floor innocently, but oh so suggestively.

“Quiet in there! You good for nothing’s stop your rattlin’!” One of the guards' lanterns shone into the back of the cart, and Kaz’s eyes became more human as he looked, wide-eyed and deer-like, over his shoulder at the guard. Assured the prisoners were scared into submission enough, the guard moved away, back into their rank and file.

“You didn't think you’d get to shut this place down all by yourself, now did you handsome?” Kaz smirked and whispered so quietly only Levi could hear. Despite everything, Levi couldn't help but smirk back at the demon. Maybe things didn't look so hopeless after all.

____________________

Smack!

The guards palm swatted his ass so hard, Kaz was sure the whole prison could hear it, as they leered at him while the prisoners were disembarking from the cart. Damn, it felt good, but it wouldn't help the mission to ‘play his cards’ so to speak, so soon. So he bit down on his lip and tried his best to turn his surprised moan into a muffled shout of surprised pain. It was important to set a perfect balance, pathetic enough to ensure the guards wanted to fuck him, but not pathetic enough that they'd rather beat the shit out of him instead.

They carted Levi off to isolation, or maybe interrogation, immediately, not yet willing to let a high-ranking member of the rebellion mingle with the rest of the common rabble. Kaz was a little sad to see the human go. As far as humans went, Levi was one of the more bearable ones to be around. He might even go as far as to say he enjoyed working with him, when the opportunity presented itself at least. Oh well, they would see each other again. They were both here for the same goal, after all.

It barely took a day before one of the guards roughly bent them over and took them from behind. Kaz pretended to struggle. At first. But he was only a succubus after all, and a succubus who'd just stopped taking his suppressants and birth control at that. The guard came into him twice before pulling up his pants and leaving the broom closet he'd pulled them into. Kaz stayed there and basked in the warm glowing feeling in his core, fingering the guards cum back into his eager cunt. Devils below, he'd missed this.

There we go, the first 2 demon babies on the house! Want to fill Kaz up even more? Reblog, like, and if you have $ to spare, consider donating to my Ko-fi! Every $5 (or 10 reblogs) adds a baby to that fertile fertile womb of his, and that's across donations, so if you only have $1 to spare, that's okay! You're still doing your part to help this slutty demon rebel complete his mission to take down the tyrant king!

#ill probably check everything once a week #each new update will have art and writing #i already have some rough drafts and sketches in preparation so im very excited #nsft #mpreg kink #my art #my ramblings #mpreg art #mpreg belly #nbpreg #mpreg #preg drive #preg drive: Kazimir #if this one goes well i might do a few more too!

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ronearoundblindly · 6 months

Note

Kissing, lighting and sleepy sex for Hideout Steve and Reader?

I am not prepared. My feels...they shall be too deep and endless. I shall try anyway.

From this dirty ask game for this AU series where Nomad Steve lets motel-employee!Reader soothe his touch-starved body. Lawd, halp me, this is about to get crunk in a tooth-rotting, put-some-pillows-beneath-you you're-gonna-faint type o' way. [y'all can't tell I drank during the eclipse today, right? I'm subtle? Cool.] MINORS DNI.

K - Kissing

ACK My heart! Or rather, there is something deeply adoring for Steve when you kiss his chest, over his heart. It makes him feel just that much more like a person who lives in this world, who belongs in this world, who will return one day to this world...

His hands are also a big one--no, not just actually big hands, but important to show love to because he uses them for such violence. Each kiss is like a little touch of forgiveness for what he's done or had to do with those hands. He appreciates the trust it takes, too, to kiss his palms, when he could easily stop you breathing (sorry, that sounds dark, but Nomad was in a dark place, okay, bad things occur to him now).

Steve loves to kiss your stomach, and it might be somewhat taboo to say, but he has a touch of that crawl-back-home-for-safety comfort thing going on when he presses close and holds your center to him. It's not a mommy kink or roleplay, per se; he relishes the connectedness of being one and curling up against you is the only non-sexual way he knows how to achieve that--like in Chapter 3 when he falls asleep in that position.

As far as leaving marks though? Steve can emphatically say 'hell no,' not on purpose. Pain is a bit, meh, weird for him because he heals so quickly. He might not even notice if you did bite or bruise him. He certainly wouldn't see it in the morning. He does not in any way associate marks with love or affection since he only ever saw them on himself after fights or on women (including his Ma) after being abused.

That is not love to Steve.

It's control, it's dominance, it's inequality, and he fucking hates it.

L - Lighting

Steve entirely defers to you on whether there are actual lights on or off. He likes to use his senses to explore and enjoy you, so without light is fine. He's just here for you.

Steve does, however,--no spoilers for Chapter 5--like ambiance such as candles or something dim and colorful. He thinks you'd look unbelievably perfect beside a sparkling Christmas Tree. He hopes to celebrate (all holidays and birthdays and everything) openly with you some day. The sooner the better.

(Except, no audience for him making love to you under those twinkling lights, please. He's staunchly opposed to that sort of thing.)

S - Sleepy Sex

So, again, no spoilers for Chapter 5, but once Steve gets comfortable with oral sex he is comfortable with oral sex, if you catch my drift.

If he wakes up first, he's on you in some way, arms and legs draped over you, kissing any place he can get to, man-handling you just enough to start something he 100% will finish. He's just...uh god, so attentive.

With the super senses and being a fugitive though, it's not often that you can wake up before him, truly, which limits or completely removes the ability to surprise him with a blowjob, but he will dreamily let you roam wherever your mouth and hands take you. As long as there's lots of contact. As much as possible really. Like lay your arms across his thighs and abs while playing with him. Maybe put your body over one of his legs and ride his foot if you need to. He must feel attached in some way. Cold, distant, or separated does not do it for him.

Here's my absolute, I-will-die, favorite thing about Hideout Steve though: when he's tired/fatigued/worn out/sleepy, he gets louder.

Much. Much. Louder, babes.

No cursing, mostly, but all the moans and groans and whining are totally dialed up. And I don't know about y'all, but I can't really think of anything fucking sexier than Nomad Steve screaming that he's gonna come.

🥵

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Here lies Ro in a puddle. She made up a man she wants and will never have.

[Main Masterlist; Hideout Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #hideout series #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #dirty asks #ask game

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starlightsreigns · 3 months

Text

Never Ending | d. priest

summary: love is a never-ending cycle of happiness and heartbreak. Kennedy is no newcomer to this, but there's something so different about him and how much she cares. it's strange, but strange can be good.

warnings: brief mention of abuse, but other than that it's fluff!

word count: 3.1k (sorry but not really)

author's note: part two of my anti one-shots. part one is here! this might be my fav by far so thank you for voting for this one to be posted next! excuse the errors, and the lowercase is on purpose, sorry. wattpad kid here.

“why do it have to feel so strange to be in love again.”

kennedy stretches out her body, reaching for her toes. she glares over at dakota and liv who haven’t started their stretches yet. early morning workouts meant the world to her, that and the fact that they had a long day that ended with a live show - they need to get started now rather than later.

“you ready, kenny?" samatha plopped down besides her. “i have stuff I need to do.”

a smile breaks out on kennedy’s face, “i love you, yes, cause those two are having the time of their lives.”

she wasn’t actually upset with her friends. the last few months felt like hell on earth. the move to monday nights became a little harder than she thought it would be, kennedy loves her girls but spends most of her time alone to deal with her own shit. after the break up with her long term-2 years of wasted time-made her cry everyday for the last year-traumatized her beyond repair- boyfriend, peace and quiet was needed. she didn’t want to rehash the breakup, so no one knew they’d broken up months ago. it still felt so fresh, and after being moved away from smackdown, away from that routine, it just messed her up.

kennedy needs that routine to keep her mind off of that man who destroyed everything she really loved about herself. she felt like a stranger in her body and at work. so much so, that she was worried that people were staring to notice the facade she was playing up, like now:

“are you okay?” samantha askes as she spots kennedy. “you’ve been… quieter as of late, and i didn’t want to pry but you’ve been like that for a while.”

what do you say to that? these women are her friends. they know her better than anyone else and she’s been lying about her happiness for so long that kennedy didn’t even know how she really felt. it was numb and cold.

“i’m okay, sam, just tired and getting used to being on this new schedule.”

not that she’d say it, but samatha doesn't mention kennedy’s boyfriend because she knew something was up. she refuses to be the one to bring that up. before she could call bullshit and before kennedy could conjure up another lie, dakota and liv joined them. it felt like a weight off kennedy’s shoulder, being able to fall into the background again. the illusion of being part of conversations is all she’s had now.

“ghost in the mirror, i knew your face once but now it’s unclear..”

the group was biostorious as they spoke over one another. kennedy laughs softly trying to catch what the conversation was about. anecdotes get lost one after another as each person throws one into the circle. it was a jungle of conversation before the show could start for the night. kennedy rests an elbow on her crossed leg then places her chin on it, giving full attention to a story carlito is sharing.

moments like this mean everything to her - because the pain subsides. there's no attention on her, but she feels included in something so bright and loving and playful. kennedy feels less lost, less confused, less dark and gloomy.

carlito breaks his story with a cheer, and he points towards the entrance of catering. everyone turns to see what he’s hollering about. kennedy smiles as she sees damian walk in with dominik. damian chuckles at everyone’s playful cheering, going around to greet them. he bumps shoulders with carlito then gives him a hug.

“what we doin’?” damian looks around the group. his eyes stop on kennedy who’s already lost in thought, her eyes sad like he’s noticed for the past couple of months.

as someone else takes the reigns of the conversation once more, damian slyly takes the seat beside kennedy as karrion was on the other side of her. he lightly bumps her shoulder with his, smiling when her eyes met his. kennedy gives him a bright grin that doesn’t meet her eyes. damian leans into her and wraps his arm around her shoulder in a friendly manner.

“you doin’ okay, kenna?”

a horrible nickname. but she saw it endearing. no one else calls her that.

he’s a sweetheart. he’s always been like that and kennedy didn’t mind his kindness. she needs as much as she can take before becoming needy. damian didn’t push her like most people did when they saw her shift in demeanor. it’s as if he knew just how much space to give her whilst always being there.

kennedy nods, “very well.” she lies.

“i can’t feel my body now, i separate from here and now…”

most times, kennedy finds herself sitting alone. it’s all by choice. the silence helps her collect her thoughts and organize them.

backstage was a constant buzz, but she found a way to tune it out. traveling with wrestlers meant constant noise, the noise that she used to contribute to with her loud laughs, but now she was a constant blank stare.

she found solace in empty locker rooms, catering when the show started, her hotel rooms, bathrooms, the airport during early morning flights or redeyes, her headphones, and long car rides. anything to escape the questions that have begun to bombard her. the prying into her emotional state, her smiles and lack thereof, her weight loss. kennedy didn’t know how to hide it anymore.

it was was like she was a passenger in her own life. she wasn’t in the front seat, she was in a minivan, watching her life pass on by from the third row. she was crying out to be let back into the front seat, but a ringing silence is what she was met with. sometimes the buzzing was soothing, but now it became enraging.

kennedy sits in the empty hotel gym, staring into the mirrors. it was three in the morning, but sleep evades her like everything else in her life. a workout is the last thing she wants, so she slings her bag over her shoulder and leaves the room behind. there’s an eerie and comforting silence in the lobby but, it cracks with the sound of a group of people entering through the entrance. she recognizes the voices from a mile away and when a chorus of hellos comes her way, she musters up a smile and a wave in their direction as they head towards the elevators.

“kenna,” damian branches off from the group who pile into the elevator. “long night?”

“not as long as yours.” kennedy laughs softly and to damian. “fun night, mr.champion?”

damian shrugs but the smile on his face betrays him, “you should’ve came with.”

kennedy waves him off, “no no, but i’m so happy for you.”

damian takes a moment to study kennedy’s face. he motions towards the seats in the lobby. there was a brief moment where kennedy wanted to form an excuse to disappear up to her room, but more silence felt like it could kill her today. so she follows him and they sit across from each other. they don’t talk for a moment. they simply stare at each other for a while. this should make her uncomfortable, but there's a softness in damian’s eyes that makes her trust him, that makes her unafraid to be here. finally, a smile breaks out onto her face, the first genuine smile damian has seen in the last six months.

“ah, hermosa, there’s a real smile.” damian cheers quietly, leaning in. “tell me something.” he implores.

“like what?” her voice a whisper.

damian smiles, “anything you want.”

for that she was thankful, and from that day forward, that’s what he’d do. his mission became to get a genuine smile out of her and get one random tidbit of information. it didn’t matter what she said. damian would take that random thing as the most important information kennedy could give.

sometimes, she wouldn’t even have anything to say. he didn’t care. damian would sit there in that silence with her.

“you know aaron judge has the 11th most home runs in yankees history?” he said one night when she had nothing to say. it made her smile. so he went on to give her aaron judge’s entire career highlights. just so she couldn’t have to talk. he did that a lot. kennedy knew more about yankees baseball than she’d ever think she would in her lifetime.

that was his thing - sit and wait, no matter how long. if she had nothing, he’d fill that deafening silence for her. sometimes, he’d be prepared with a deck of cards for them to play a random game of spades, or bullshit, or simply stack the cards over and over again until kennedy was ready to call it a night - no matter how long that took.

that broke the ice. and kennedy was thankful for that.

“a lost connection, come back to me, so i can feel alive again.”

kennedy felt better, not great, but she was slowly feeling like a human again. eight months and counting, and she’s finally opening herself up again, but some days are tougher than others. it was a work in progress.

as the show wraps for the night, kennedy ties her hair into a low bun, lost in her own train of thought as the women pack up for the night. with her headphones on, she turns to look for the face of the one person she was driving to the next city with - it was rare that she drives with someone nowadays, but the silence was no longer comforting to her and she agreed to ride with kayden but now she was nowhere to be found.

a text comes through as she searches.

damian priest: i’m your ride tonight.

kennedy’s smile is mixed with confusion as if he was there.

kennedy: what did you do with kayden, priest?

damian priest: can’t tell you. i’ll be in the parking lot.

it was weird how excited kennedy was for this four-hour drive. this was usually the part of the day she was dreading, especially when riding with someone, but there was comfortability that they have with each other that eases all her anxiety. it was comforting being in his presence and damian would reciprocate that, but he was too afraid of scaring her off by saying anything like that to her.

kennedy spots him right away. he leans against the car, hands in his pockets, scooping out the parking lot. when he sees her, he smiles like this is what he has been waiting for all day. everything about this was calming and kennedy gratefully took the passenger seat as he loaded her bags in and took the driver's seat. soon enough, they were on their way.

the ride was quiet for a while. after seven hours of constant noise, they ride in comfortable silence.

“you’ve never asked,” kennedy finally breaks the silence. when damian sends her a questioning look, she clears her throat. “you’re the only person who never asked me what happened.”

damian nods in understanding, “if you wanted to tell me, kennedy, you would, but i’m okay just being here for you without having to know.”

that makes kennedy stop for a moment. she studies the side of damian’s face as he drives. for the first time, she realizes the feelings that fill her stomach every time they’re together. it makes her take a deep breath and allow herself to finally say the things she never imagined saying out loud to anyone.

“he cheated on me,” she whispers, blinking away the tears. “he took the ring back, and when i confronted him about it, he… he beat me until i couldn’t breathe.” kennedy finishes, both afraid to look away from him and for him to respond.

damian glances at her in shock. he doesn’t say anything briefly as he focuses on the road. then, he pulls over to the shoulder of the highway while kennedy looks in confusion. when he puts the car in park, she turns to him, worried that she’s made him uncomfortable. but he only grabs her hand.

“one, thank you for telling me, kenna, you can trust me.” damian brushes a finger over her hands. “and if you tell me where he lives i’ll kill him.”

this was the most free she’s felt in almost a year. kennedy closes her eyes with a smile, shaking her head. damian pulls her into a hug and rubs a hand on her back.

he whispers into her ear, "I'm always gonna be here for you, my love."

'my love' echoes in kennedy's ear like a foreign word.

“as a soul and body try to mend…”

“why is this your favorite music video?” damian laughs while he looks down at kennedy who rests her back on his shoulder.

kennedy exaggerates a sigh, “listen, everyone would say that thriller or smooth criminal or something like that is the best video but there’s something so special and captivating about the simplicity of beat it.” she turns to look at him. “like, i’m not bashing those videos cause they’re amazing, but beat it has something special and the fact that he had to pay it all himself because his record label didn’t believe in it.”

damian listens to the passion in her voice as she defends the music video. he can’t himself but smile as she rambles on. when kennedy finally realizes he’s staring at her, she stops abruptly and sinks into the couch in slight embarrassment.

“sorry, this is so dumb.” she laughs, biting her bottom lip.

“nah, c’mon, tell me your second favorite MJ song.” damian begs.

she thinks for a moment, “it’s a tie between who is it and human nature.”

kennedy watches as damian thinks. she knows he’s trying to figure out a song to say that’ll impress her. when he says dirty diana, she raises an eyebrow and waits for him to explain that choice. it intrigues her because it reminisces beat it in the way the guitar plays.

“i can’t explain it,” damian chuckles.

a year since her breakup has come and gone.

kennedy doesn’t know how she got here or how she's overcome it. a year and two months feels like six years when she’s with damian. so much so that she missed the year mark because they spent the day at the beach, soaking in the sun and as much ice cream as their bodies could handle. now, she can see that he did that on purpose. she’s thankful for that too.

that pain feels nonexistent now. it’s replaced with something that scares her to death.

“it’s pulling me apart this time, everything is never ending…”

it has to change. kennedy can’t go another day living in this uncertainty, in this paralyzing state of wonder where she theorizes how she can ruin this relationship. it’s not fair to her and this is not fair to him. the days aren't cloudy anymore, but she misses her constant sunshine in the form of the 6’5 Puerto Rican.

the fear of something new drew her away. first, it was less time together backstage, then she started riding with other people, which led to ignoring calls and texts. kennedy didn’t know how to deal with this, and bless his heart, damian didn’t push her. he knew better than to hover, even when all he wants is to talk to her. he knew she had to figure it out. damian didn’t worry about her, because her smile never fades now, even if they aren’t directed at him.

kennedy sits with kayden as they watch a TikTok they want to recreate. she groans at the sheer amount of work they have to do to accomplish it while kayden beams with excitement. kayden glances up for a moment then looks over at kennedy.

“there’s damian, you not gonna say hi?” she peers up. “you guys were inseparable, and now…” kayden waits.

“i plan on talking to him later, he’s busy, i don’t need to interrupt him.” kennedy semi lies.

a three-hour show feels like six when someone is anxious and unfortunately, kennedy feels like a personification of anxiety. it was only intensified by the cup of iced coffee that dangles in her grasp as she walks down the hallway. how much more of this confusion can she take? as if the universe chooses to answer the question, damian exits a room and walks in her direction.

kennedy is still so lost in her thoughts, that she doesn’t see him from down the hallway. when they pass each other, damian stops and watches her for a moment, then shakes his head not wanting to do this anymore.

“kenna,” he calls out. kennedy turns to meet his eyes in light shock. “can we talk, please?”

he holds a hand out for her that she reluctantly takes. damian leads them to an empty office. kennedy sits on the cold fold-out chair that makes her shiver. she crosses her leg trying to calm herself while damian pulls a chair up in front of her and sits.

it’s quiet. they stare into each other's eyes as they usually do, but it's not the same now. this is more intense and is filled with something new. she leans back into her chair and bounces her leg slowly not wanting to be the first one to break. damian gives her the faintest smile and she cracks - kennedy smiles back at him with a small huff.

his smile disarms her.

damian pumps his fist in victory then leans in to take her hand, “what’s happenin’ with us?” he squeezes her hand to comfort her. “i thought everything was getting better and we were close - i’m thinkin’ you need a little space but now you avoiding me and i don’t know what to do.”

“it’s not you, damian, and im so sorry you feel like that. it’s all just complicated and confusing.” kennedy sighs, focused on their hands. “im so lost.”

his hands are warm. damian scoots his chair closer and waits for her to meet his eyes again.

“i’m never gonna force you to do anything, kennedy, you know that.” damian soothes. “i’m in love with you, and im willing to wait, as long as you’re willing just be here with me.”

those words make kennedy’s heart race. she looks into his eyes knowing that he’s telling the truth. their hands are still intertwined in their silence. kennedy raises her thumb and squashes his which starts a thumb war - the smile on her face radiates in the room, intensifying the feelings in his chest. they play the game until he wins the last round.

“i win, what do you say?” he grins then kisses her hand.

kennedy gets up carefully and moves onto his lap. damian wraps an arm around her waist, waiting to hear what she’s about to say. she keeps one of their hands intertwined and rests the other around his neck.

“i’m literally so fucking petrified, but i really like you, im willing to just be here with you.” kennedy speaks softly. “because i love you too and i don’t know how to deal with that.”

“let me deal with it for the both of us,” damian presses his forehead against hers. “i’ll hold everything for you, kennedy.”

“why do it have to feel so strange to be in love again.”

-------

ahhh, hope you enjoyed this one :) one of my favs

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #damian priest #wwe fic #wwe imagine #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #damian priest fanfic #damian priest imagine #damian priest x oc #damian priest x reader

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thriftedtchotchkes · 8 months

Text

solo round

pairing: josh futturman x f!reader

summary: josh is sick of meaningless charging, but instead of asking out the pretty, new game store cashier, he decides to take matters into his own hands. again.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, set post-dick swap, m!masturbation, size kink, fantasizing, sexual frustration, unprotected piv, excessive lube

word count: 1.5k

(for our tiny fandom <3 and @tinycozycomfort)

Seriously, are they doing this shit on purpose? This is the third time today he's overheard them going at it, and Josh swears they're getting louder every time.

He gets that things are stressful right now—he's stressed as fuck, too—but if he has to listen to Tiger and Wolf charging up one more time, he thinks he's going to scream. It's bad enough that they're staying in the room next to his, but they also have no concept of privacy. Or shame. Half the time, they start up right in front of him.

They genuinely just don't give a shit. And the last time he yelled at them to keep it down, he got teased mercilessly for days. Sounds like someone needs to get laid, they'd said. Or you can join us as long as you keep your rathole to yourself.

Assholes. He'd rather die of blue balls than fuck either of them at this point. But they're not wrong. It's been a long time since he was with anyone, way longer than he'll ever admit, and he's starting to lose it. He's also pretty sure he's getting carpal tunnel in his right wrist, and his dick feels like it might actually fall off if he jerks off again.

It only makes things worse anyway because all he can think about is you. The new girl who just started working at the game store—totally unattainable and way out of his league. Still doesn't stop him from imagining how nice your boobs would feel in his hands or how wet and tight you'd feel around him, moaning his name loud enough to drown out his shitty teammates—

Fuck it. If his dick falls off, maybe he'll get lucky and that'll solve his problem. He yanks his jeans down to his ankles before he can talk himself out of it, and his toes practically curl the second his fingers wrap around his dick.

The first stroke almost hurts, but he's so desperate for relief, he ignores it. Instead, he plays out his favorite scenario in his head, the one where you're riding him on the same gaming chair he's sitting in.

His hands are on your waist, guiding you up and down his cock while your tits bounce in his face, and they're as perfect in his mind as they are in real life. He leans forward to latch onto a nipple and teases it between his teeth until he can feel you clenching around him.

Fuck, that's good. You're so fucking wet, and...and his hand is way too dry for this right now. He lets out a frustrated sigh before getting up and waddling over to his bedside table, rifling through the drawers for the ancient bottle of lube he knows is hiding in there somewhere.

He'll take literally anything, honestly—those random packets he got from work that are technically for the possums, that weird scented lotion his mom gave him—but then his fingers close around the sticky container he's looking for, and he's back in his chair so fast, he's surprised he doesn't tip it over. Hastily, he squeezes way too much lube into his palm and starts pumping himself again.

Now, where was he? Oh right—you're so fucking wet. He's sliding in and out of you easily, even though you're so tight, it almost feels like you're strangling him. Especially with his new dick.

At first, he was worried it might be too big, but you're a fucking champ. You take it slow, guiding him to play with your pussy until you're less tense, and now he's buried to the hilt and fighting not to buck too hard.

He can see how much he's stretching you out and feels a little bad that you're still struggling to adjust—and that he's having trouble focusing on anything else but the way he looks inside you. But as you purposely clench around him, he realizes you like the pain. A lot.

God, you're hot.

And he's starting to sweat big time. His shirt clings to him uncomfortably in about six different places, but he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to block it out with dirtier thoughts of you. Just a little bit more—he'll be close soon, he knows it.

Tightening his grip, he lengthens his strokes to match what he imagines your pussy would feel like in this moment and pretends it's you clenching around him and not just his aching right hand.

That you're swiveling your hips to meet his thrusts, teasingly biting your lip when he takes that as the go-ahead to move a little faster. Fuck, he wants to kiss you so badly. And now is probably his only chance, real or imaginary.

He lurches forward and immediately sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, swallowing every moan he fucks out of you. His hands roam every inch of bare skin he can reach, squeezing your tits together so he can thumb over your hardened nipples and feel your plush skin spilling between his fingers.

The longer he caresses and grabs and tugs, the louder you get, and he's loving every second of it. Finally, it's his turn to bother everyone else in the house—except he doesn't realize that outside of his head, he's already bothering everyone, a whimpering mess all alone in his bedroom.

But he's too focused on his impending release to notice. You're gripping him so tight and starting to grind into his pelvis, chasing your own high, and he can feel you fluttering dangerously around him. He wants you to cum before he does, but god, he's so deep and so fucking close, it's making him dizzy.

Back in the real world, he focuses closer to the base, making a huge mess of lube and precum on his lap as he tries to stave off his orgasm and drive you closer to yours.

He wraps his arms around your middle and starts to piston into you, and when you gasp out his name, he knows he found the spot he was looking for. Losing his grip on reality entirely, he coaxes you through it out loud like you're actually there, riding him like your life depends on it.

"You're doing so good, almost there," he says encouragingly, gazing up at you in awe and disbelief. You're so pretty like this, and the way you moan his name every time he rams into that spot—he needs you to say it louder.

"That's it, baby. Say my name, let me hear it."

And you're so good, you do exactly what he tells you to. He shifts his hands down to your ass to hold you in place so he can grind directly into where you want him. He's so fucking deep, he's positive he has to be in your stomach. And just the thought of it makes his balls draw up so tight, he sees stars.

"Shit, I'm not gonna last much longer."

Cum, Joshy. Your walls spasm around him violently, and that's all it takes to finally tip him over the edge.

"Jesus fucking christ—oh my god. Fully charged in 3...2...," he barely finishes the countdown before he's cumming hard into his fist—no, filling you up and letting you milk him for all he's worth.

He vaguely feels the splatter staining his t-shirt, and a few spurts are so strong, they reach up to his chin. He gasps his way through it, bucking so hard that the wheels on his chair unlock and it rolls backward until it slams into his bed.

Abruptly, Josh is thrown back into the present. And that really sucks.

What the actual fuck just happened? Obviously, he remembers—he was there—but seriously. What the fuck. His hand is covered in cum, his jeans are covered in cum, his shirt is...god, it's on his face, too. He even did the fucking countdown.

Alright, fine. Maybe they're right. Maybe he does need to get a girlfriend. He's tenser than he was when he started, so clearly this isn't working.

And as much as he could probably use it, he still refuses to fuck Tiger or Wolf. The sex is good, sure, but it's not worth his pride. Plus, they were mean to him and he's still not over it.

They're also not you.

He sighs heavily and sinks into his chair, resisting the urge to scrub at his cheek in frustration and smear even more cum on his face. Tomorrow, he resolves. Tomorrow, he's walking into the game store and asking you out.

So, he does. And you say yes.

thanks for reading!

header by @saradika-graphics

#josh futturman x reader #josh futturman x you #josh futturman #future man fanfic #future man fanfiction #future man imagine #future man #josh futturman smut #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson

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knightyoomyoui · 10 months

Text

Momo x M Reader - "Crazy Stupid Love"

So this is one of my requests and probably the LONGEST one I had to grant because I just realized today that one of my readers made this request since November 2022, so I just want to say my huge apologies to you Dumbledore_1 for taking me too long to finally make this piece. This one-shot is a sequel to my Set 4 Momo x M Reader work titled "Somebody That I Used To Know" so if yall haven't read that one, better do so because you might not understand a little on what this story is about to tell and to give you guys a background from what happened to Momo and the reader's past, although I tackled the main point of this story clearly though. Lastly, I labeled this as only for male reader to feature because the first one also features only male reader, so it might be a weird for the female ones to read this. However, it's still up for my female readers there if you want to imagine yourself as a guy or for others to take place rather for this to aid your curiosities. Here's my Ko-fi account where you can drop your donations or ask for a commission. You can check it out on my Tumblr profile too! Buy knightyoomyoui a Coffee. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page. Enjoy reading and have a happy Christmas season, everyone!

YN was shaken as the barrage of stomps and steps coming from the other passengers effectively woke him up. The bus had stopped moving, and he peeked from the window with squinted eyes. There he saw a very familiar view.

A smile crept up on his face, and he followed through the remaining people exiting the vehicle. Stepping out, he grabbed his bag and luggage before the bus left them there at the stop point.

YN started to walk while wandering his eyes around at the surroundings. It never changed, he thought. This is still one of the places where he could get use some time off away from every troubles he's having from the city.

And that being said, YN came here for one specific purpose. He wanted to stay in his province of Daegu for quite some time to help himself allow to recover from his heartbreak and improve his well-being for the better.

He has been disturbed day and night by what Momo revealed to him since their last talk, which was one month ago. It led him to the point where he needed to be delving deeply into reflection about the painful revelation she had brought to light. The next important person in his life to whom he has been closest, Dahyun, became aware of her cousin YN's odd conduct. She made one quick suggestion that she knew would assist her cousin, who is in a mess, knowing that he had recently ended a difficult and unpleasant relationship with Momo. She is a little upset at what her cousin did to her friend, but she still needs to show compassion and kindness for him because he is a loved one. She had always despised those who were internally disturbed by shattered hearts. She is thus making every effort to support Momo and YN during these challenging times. Aside from the fact that he genuinely misses their province, YN paid attention to what Dahyun advised her to do. He packed his belongings and traveled for hours to go to Daegu. His grandfather and other Dahyun's side relatives welcomed him when he got there. They greeted him with open arms upon his return, which undoubtedly helped YN feel at home. Then, after spending months there, he bought a house for himself, which his family allowed him to live in alone. During the months he had to stay apart from everything, he had the opportunity to experience living alone in the heart of such a vibrant and serene environment. even though at first he found it tough because he knew that being left alone is one of his worst fears.

Even so, he still tried to endure all the pain as he knew that he needed this for the sake of taking a rest for himself after what he'd gone through. There's been a saying that you will never heal from the pain if you never consider to give yourself a break.

Those created the thoughts that were unable for him to dodge all the memories that ties him back to his ex-girlfriend Momo. Because of her, it finally had him to slowly reprocess and understood everything wrong that thay had gone through in their relationship.

He had it discover pieces by pieces and he got some help coming from one of his interactions with some of the locals around his place, as he turned himself to be a volunteer to their town as a way to give himself things to distract him and make his time more valuable and less boring.

He walked back and got one for himself to begin eating with the locals, joining the elders, after serving some food to some of the kids seated at the table.

A notification beeped into his phone, causing it to open. He saw it for a second and turned it off, right before one of the elders asked him something.

"Who is that girl?"

He paused on directing his spoonful of food on his mouth as he heard the elder's question. He looked at him who has this curious look presented on him.

You opened the phone again and showed the rest your wallpaper that got seen, your own picture of Momo on the screen.

"Was that your partner?" His grandpa asked, tempting him to a frown on his lips.

He hesitated to answer for a while as he stared at Momo through the phone. Gulping his throat, he cleared his voice before speaking out his answer.

"She was mine."

All of them became quiet and his grandpa felt the sullen mood of his grandson. "Son, the world hasn't been very kind to both of you, hasn't it?"

He shook his head, denying the assumption. "I'm starting to think that it's not like that. It was only her, and i'm her world who didn't treated her well."

One of ahjumma (female elder) furrowed her eyebrows at his claim. "Did you do something wrong on her?"

"I did, ahjumma." He nodded his head, tightlipped at how guilty he was. "I broke her heart. I didn't mean to but I had to. I haven't got to explain it further."

"Was it that huge of an effect on her?" the first harabeoji (male elder) who asked him about Momo took the turn. He sipped on the soup and kept your head lowered.

"She erased my existence on her life, like she never met me." He smiled bitterly. His heart starts to get heavy, emotions were slowly rising up in his chest. "I guess she brought back the favor because I tried to get rid of her, to push her aside, to make her feel unwanted."

He received a slap on the shoulder by his own grandpa, earning a yelp of pain from him. "And how could you do that?! That's a wonderful girl you just had and you wasted it."

"Believe me, YN you've done a terrible mistake of inflicting heartbreak on that poor woman. Take me and your grandma as example. Even if we had many faults and fights in our relationship until she passed away, I never forgot her and I know so as she wherever she is right now.

And how did we do that? By making up to each other. Acknowledge what wrongful acts you have done. And I'm telling you, son; if you really loved that woman you won't let her be like that to you. Be sorry for everything that you did, understand?"

He nodded at his mixture of scolding and advice. "B-but, I'm afraid I might lure her away."

"She may not forget, but she may forgive you if you convincingly say everything from your heart."

The elders gasped and awwed when they saw a teardrop flowed out from his eye, he was so invested at the rant spoke by his grandpa that he didn't even noticed that his guilt urged his emotions to break loose.

"What's her name, son?"

"Hirai Momo." He noticed the slight amazement in his face. "She's Japanese."

"She's pretty, you got a foreign lover who surely looked up at you all the time not until you showed her the opposite." He expressed his dismay. "But I still feel sorry for you, son. Like what you said earlier, it seems like you got lost on the consequences of the stakes that was put upon you on your relationship with her."

"Do you still love her?"

He kept everything of his grandfather's advice in mind during the days that went by, including the last question that was posed to him and for which he is still unsure of the answer. He decided to give it some time for clarity even if there were some residual sentiments. He asked his cousin Dahyun, who is getting ready for their group schedule, a startling question during one of their video chats, even though Dahyun knew she would have it coming.

"Uhm... Dubu, is she there?"

"Who?"

"Momo."

"Yeah, but she went with Nayeon unnie on the cafeteria, why?"

"H- How is she doing, Dahyun-ah?" He questioned with a sorrowful tone.

Dahyun paused for a moment and just watched her cousin's misery displayed on the screen. She knew that until now he haven't gotten over her, but she didn't expected that he would spoke it out and make it known.

She knew YN to be very secretive of how he actually feels that's why she thought he would just rather do it through action, like what he did to Momo when he was loving her smoothly until the confusions took part.

But Dahyun isn't satisfied yet for that. She know that the two still haven't been getting along fine together and she hoped it'll come someday, and she believes that the only thing needed for that to happen is for her cousin to bravely show up and tell it all by himself to the woman he hurted the most.

"She's doing well, oppa. She's still laughing along with us... well we're trying to make her happy these days."

You nodded, relieved that Momo isn't suffering as much as you do today.

"But I don't know if it just because of us, because uhm... actually oppa- should I say it first to you?"

Dahyun's cautiousness grew an alarming tenseful feeling on him that is making him uncomfortable.

"Go ahead, i'll be fine." He said. Dahyun hoped the same. "Okay. Don't tell me you didn't let me be." Dahyun warned him one more time. "There's a guy who's courting Momo-unnie currently and based from how unnie is receiving his efforts, I think it's winning."

He heard enough and he became silent for a while. He knew it would be painful but he just let it sink in. He's the one who caused all of this to happen. It was all just a pure karma in return for him.

"Is that so?" He reacted bland. "That's great. I-I'm happy for the both of them in case... yeah." He smiled forcefully.

Dahyun clicked her tongue and sighed. "Oppa, you're hurting."

"As I should be."

The next days, his phase was on recollecting their memories together, in which he reminisce whenever he encounters something that Momo used to love before; he used to be in that place to witness it with his very own eyes.

Everywhere he goes, there's always one reason for him to remember her.

The kids he always entertain and taking care of. Momo loved children.

"Someday, if we will be lucky enough to get married. I want us to build a family with two kids! I hope we can have both a son and a daughter..."

The pig feet which was one of their foods for dinner. That is Momo's absolute favorite food she would be willing to die for.

"You should cook more jokbal, YN! This is so delicious!"

Their pictures together on his gallery that is almost full of her beautiful face. He opened one of the videos there which contains one of the clips they recorded during their anniversary.

He smiled as Momo kissed him on the lips and nuzzled her head on her neck. The next thing was soft and low, but her voice was always catchy for him to be able to hear it clearly.

This has to be the most anticipating turned devastating words you will ever remember from what she said.

Not only because this was like an oath for the goal to the next path he wanted to reach with her, but also because this will now end up instead in his imagination to haunt him with his guilt and definitely hers to occur with her desires.

"To more anniversaries and hopefully, a wedding in the future with you, YN. I love you."

Lastly are the peaches in the farm where he helps some of the farmers there to harvest and the dogs from the neighborhood who randomly visits his house were the ones to sum up everything that ties him back to her.

And in his last days in the Daegu province, he has finally see and understand everything clearly.

Before he rode the bus, he looked back at his grandpa who guided him to the bus stop.

"Remember the question you asked me about, grandpa. If I still do... love her?"

"Have you found the answer?"

"I do." He smiled. "And I promise you that I will try to make her hear my apology to her once I return to Seoul."

"Great for you, then. I wish you good luck, son."

They hugged together before they parted ways, with YN focused on his way back to the destination where his objective lies ahead.

A month after his departure from the province, he is back at Seoul where he is now currently looking for a place to work with these days.

Dahyun notified him one day that they'll be celebrating Jihyo's successful solo debut and she wants to bring him there because the girls misses him.

Hesitant at first that he knew that out of nine of them, Momo is the only one who doesn't want to see her, but he instead accepted for the sake of seeing his friends and to celebrate her special day when Dahyun assured him that Momo isn't like that to him anymore.

YN and Dahyun arrived at the restaurant together. The girls saw them from the table and they all cheered, except for Momo who is sitting there in silent and avoiding his sight. He noticed it and felt a bit unease as he entertains the rest.

And there, the two ex-couple finally saw each other again after quite a long time. Awkward at first, they still managed to greet each other when YN tried to test his courage for his plan tonight. Thankfully, Momo greeted him back shyly.

They ordered, congratulated Jihyo again for her success, talked a lot about how they've been doing, and ate their respective delicious foods to savor the precious time they're having together as a group.

As they went to enjoy the night by doing some videoke and chugging beers, YN noticed that Momo went outside to freshen up.

"Dahyun." He called the woman sitting beside her, munching some pizza. "It's time. I'll be right back." He said as they gazed at Momo's back facing them through her stance at the railings of the balcony.

"Be careful, okay? Make it sentimental and don't force if she can't have it all too well."

"Got it."

Dahyun patted him on the back before he stood up and carefully opened the sliding doors. He silently stepped towards Momo's figure, breathing becoming heavy, heartbeat rising rapidly.

He let out one last sigh before he began to confront the woman he wanted to meet and talk after months of waiting, recovering, and changing.

"Momo?"

She heard that familiar voice, she remembered what she told him almost a year ago, prompting her to try not to slip off on her character.

"Now you're just somebody that I used to know, YN."

Turning her body around, she finally has come to face to face with the man she tries to completely forget in her heart and mind.

"Yes?" She responded. It was cold and plain, and YN understand what he's putting himself into. He just had to let it go and proceed with his main intention for her.

"I know you don't want having me near you, but c-can I please just... please have a short moment with you?" He said. "It won't last long, I promise but if you don't want me... then, it's fine but I really wanted to say something very quick to you."

Momo was startled when YN called for him. From the way he acted, Momo is quite intrigued that this version of YN infront of her is now more cautious, kind and soft to her. This is almost like... a different person from the one he used to know-and endure- before.

Momo would be deceiving herself and she knows how awful it is to feel regretful to herself if she lets that, if she doesn't admit to herself that it actually made her convince and push her wants to atleast see or know something of himself in personal.

"Don't waste any more time. Go on." She granted him his request. Crossing her arms, she leaned on the railings and watched this poor, broken, and lonely man she used to hate seeing being like this.

"T-Thank you." He bowed a little and straightened his posture, breathing deeply before he proceed to let out everything he's been keeping to his chest. "I know I shouldn't be in here because I know you're still mad at me. I almost didn't attend but for the girls-"

"For the record, I'm not mad at you anymore." Momo seriously said. "I set it all aside, because like I said... I don't want nothing to do with you. You're a nobody to me now, but I'm just letting you for once as long as you prove what brought youself here with me and dare to come close with me after how we ended things together."

"I know about that, and that's why I'm just here to say one thing that I've never ever said to you.

I'm sorry."

Momo's eyes shut, biting her lip with her fist clenching after hearing that. "I'm sorry for everything. All I did was very wrong of me and I don't want you to force you to believe me but... I didn't intended to do that on you.

"I did love you from the first time I laid my eyes on you, to the time you gave back the same feelings as mine for you, and the beginning of our relationship together. I know I have been gotten cold to you as time passes but I want to clarify things that... it wasn't your fault at all, Momo. It was me."

Momo glared at him with a teary eyes. She hated it, but she had to recall all of the times she had to wonder every night why does this keep on happening and what did she do wrong that made him treat him with lack of affection. She wanted answers for a long time and gladly, the time has come for her to hear it straight away from the man responsible of putting her like that.

"I always wanted to be like you, on what you're doing for me and it's true. But I always look at myself lowly, thinking if what I'm doing rather wasn't enough for you." His voice began to crack, as his eyes became to get watery also from the immense emotions affecting him. "And instead of improving or sharing my worries to you, I chose rather to set you free from me. I did that, thinking it was for mercy but instead it looked like I wanted you to suffer more and it was so... so wrong for me to do so. I became so lost for that."

"I still love you up to this day, Momo." With that, both synchronizably cried from that words that they used to say to each other as a vow but now, it turns out to be a forbidden phrase for them to exchange anymore. "It's not that I didn't trust you it's just that... I was scared."

"My plead for you not to leave was true, I truly can't bear letting you go. But now, I think I believe that probably I deserve to be alone and unworthy of somebody's love to hold onto because what I did, I am willing to sacrifice my feelings for you, Momo."

"It hurts me so bad but I have to let you go now." He escaped a rough exhale before continuing. "I'm not going to plead for you to come back and ruin the happiness your getting with somebody else now. Again, I'm truly sorry again for rushing in our relationship, acting immature on times you needed my comfort and making you bring all the burden you never deserved to have to."

YN began to drop on his knees and positioned himself to kneel in front of Momo who was shocked at his action.

"YN! W-what are you doing, get up from there!" She dashed through him and lifted his body and in YN's disbelief, he made Momo envelope him into a longing and comforting embrace that belongs to one of the lovely things he wasted from an gracious woman like her.

They both sobbed in their own heartache and sympathized with their own struggles.

"I hate you for what you did to me YN but why!" Momo cried out. "Why did you kept it to yourself, huh?! Why did you let yourself struggling on your own?"

"You promised me that you'll try to be honest, but you didn't, and that made me think that being done with your fake love, I rather be going. You could've shared it all to me directly, I'm your girlfriend for god's sake, I could've helped you because I loved you!"

"I'm sorry.. I'm s-so sorry..."

Momo whined and screamed in a mixture of frustration, agony and disappointment for what their relationship had become and the complete clear revelations of how she got ended up suffocating and unpleased in his company.

"Get up." She helped him stand back to his wobbling weak legs again. "Finally you were now able to reflect yourself and tell to me that one words I just wanted to hear from you. I just wanted you to be accountable and say sorry to me.", Momo said, clarifying the last words she told to him back then.

"But now that you did and I've heard and seen enough your sincerity..." She grasped him in the shoulders and stared at him with a broken smile. "I forgive you, YN."

He nodded and cried again, finally getting the remorse and acceptance that he's been yearning and searching for months after realizing what he's done. "Thank you. I'm sorry again, Momo."

"That'll be your last, it's fine now." Momo warned him as he fixed his messy hair and wiped away his tears.

"I just have one more question to ask."

"What is it?"

"Have I... been a nice girlfriend to you?"

He stared at Momo's awaiting, curious and softened face. A teardrop flowed for one final time, to drain out every bit of pain he consumed.

He grabbed the back of her neck and gently pulled her close to land a tender kiss on her forehead. "You did more than enough for me, Momo. You're a great woman that I wasted the unconditional love you've been giving by being ungrateful and selfish, and I will forever bring that regret with me."

Momo timidly smiled for him and stepped away from his contact. Wanting to end this emotional moment between each other to avoid ruining the fun night, she came up something to talk with. "I know you have quite shared this with the girls earlier but I just wanted to know myself, how have you been doing these days?"

"I'm good, I'm still on my road to improve myself. I couldn't stand to let others see and continue to be the same guy that you used to encounter." He finally flashed the first bright smile for Momo away from their problems. Momo was proud and touched for his efforts and dedication that she implemented on him. "And you?"

"I'm happy. Even happier now that we've settled things peacefully."

"I've heard from Dahyun that there's this guy who's been seeing you these days, huh. How is he doing for you?"

Momo was taken back that he had to learn about that and mention it. "H-He's fine, but I want to make it clear to him that I don't want to be in a relationship yet." she shyly said.

"How about you? Will you be okay? Are you... gonna look for somebody to have an interest with?" Momo wondered.

"No, I don't think I will." He stated. "I'm not scared, I just want to be careful. I think it's better for me not to engage in this romance thing anymore, you know? I have learnt from my mistakes now." She understood and didn't spoke any further despite still having this pint of pity for the fallen man.

"And... why should I look for other, when you're still the one I choose?"

Momo stared at him, she blushed and uncontrollably smiled in an embarassed way after hearing that glimpse of the charming YN that never disappeared from him.

She spreaded her arms wholesomely and looked at her with a smile.

"I know I've said that I wanted to disregard your existence but... I didn't want to be cruel now that I've heard your side and I'm sorry for that because I have to admit...

Although you broke my heart, I still couldn't deny the truth that you're one of the most important person I've met and the first man who helped me explore how love could led us into elsewhere.

You still made me happy, YN. I can't just have it easy to throw you out of my life so... should we be friends again?"

He listened to her patiently and it was overwhelming in the end. "I don't deserve this at all, but I'm highly grateful to take it, Momo. Let's start fresh again." He shook his head and smiled.

You accepted her hug one more time and both took time to indulge how great it must felt've again to their part that they don't have to try pretend, carry a hatred, and keep their unspoken troubles for theirselves.

They are now freed from their own personal chaos and has now created a clean slate of their closeness and connection to each other.

They returned back together where they are approached by the girls who've been watching their melancholic yet heartfelt moment they shared in which they paused their fun to express their happiness for their friends on burying the hatchet between each other.

Both learning that they are currently happy with their own lives and has finally washed away their conflict, they realized that somehow helped each other to realize that maybe having a crazy stupid love with somebody was never really required to be happy and contented in life.

#twice #twice momo #momo #hirai momo #twice momo x m reader #twice momo x male reader #twice x m reader #twice x male reader #twice au #twice fanfic #twice one shot #kpop au #kpop fanfic #kpop oneshots

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lucszli · 2 months

Text

Having a Dottore segment fall for you.

(parts 1-3 on my acc!)

Zandik had noticed Prime acting.. rather strange. The fact that he was even letting him do as he pleased, it was already weird in itself.

He was glad, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was definitely wrong.

———————

• For a while after the previous incidents, you two continued on as usual.

• It was nice, being able to spend time with eachother like that and not having to worry too much.

• But that definitely didn't get rid of the lingering feeling that something might go wrong eventually, from the both of you.

• Zandik stayed cautious, scared that you might end up getting hurt because of him.

• And you, kept on reassuring him that everything will be fine and you won't get hurt. (Maybe you say those things to reassure yourself, as well.)

• Whenever Zandik went back to the lab, he would just keep to himself and practically nobody spoke to him or payed him any attention. He'd just do whatever was asked of him quietly and that was about it.

• When he was tinkering on a small machine in a more isolated spot, he felt himself jolt in surprise when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

(side note: I apologize)

“You are still going out with that.. kid, right?” Zandik turned quickly, to see Prime looking down on him. “Honestly, I thought this was just some sort of phase. An act of rebellion, perhaps.” Prime started pacing around, using exaggerated hand gestures. He stopped, and turned his gaze back on Zandik who was frozen in his seat. “So, tell me, why are you still doing this? What are you trying to get out of this, hm?”

Zandik set down what he was working on atop of a near table, and stood up so he could see eye to eye better. (even if he was noticably shorter,) “I thought you knew..? It's because I love them.” even if he was nervous, he said that with full certainty. He flinched a bit when Prime suddenly started chuckling to himself, which turned into laughter.

“Love... You were actually serious?” a step closer, “Do you seriously think that someone like us has the capacity for that?” another step, “Or are you forgetting what you were made for? What your purpose is?”

Zandik closed his eyes instinctively when Prime suddenly grabbed onto his face, trying to hold back any sounds of pain when nails were digging into his cheeks. He held his breath, and since his eyes were closed, he couldn't see Prime's eyes surveying his expression and face.

Prime dropped the hand. “Stop wasting your time. If you don't get rid of them, I'll have to.. take matters into my own hands.”

Zandik's eyes immediately widened upon hearing those words. Take matters into his own hands? What does that mean? His mind went through the worst case scenarios, and he felt his blood run cold just thinking about it. “Wait!– Please, don't..! I'll stop meeting up with them, I'll pretend they never existed, just don't.. don't hurt them, please.” He pleaded, voice desperate. The last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt because of him.

Prime sighed in disappointment. “Do you think that is enough? As long as they're around, who knows what could happen?” he started walking around the lab, seemingly searching for something. When he found what he was looking for, he took it in his hand and walked back to Zandik.

Shoving the item in his hands, he continued. “Get rid of them.” he said coldly. Zandik stared at what was put in his hands. “A knife? What.. What am I supposed to do with this?”

Prime cocked his head to the side, as if that was his way of saying, isn't it self explanatory?

Zandik dropped the knife, and it thud loudly on the lab's floors, echoing throughout the place. "No... No, no no no, No!” his voice was getting shakier by each word, and he was frantically shaking his head. Putting his head in his hands, he started to speak before thinking, saying whatever he could. “I can't- I can't hurt them, I won't. They don't deserve this, please, please! They're not a bad person..!-”

What Zandik didn't expect when he said that was Prime suddenly hugging him. Everyone knows that Prime isn't exactly.. affectionate, but here he was, hugging him like he was his precious child, as if he was comforting his son after a heartbreak or something along those lines. Zandik froze up, not wanting to move as prime soothingly ran his hand through his hair. “Oh you poor, poor thing.. You really believe that they love you. It is rather sad.” He cooed, not letting go. “I thought you would be smart enough to figure it out by now, but alas.. it seems like they got into your head already.”

Zandik stood in silence for a few moments. “What.. are you talking about..?” he hesitantly asked, his voice small. “I've had some people observe you two from time to time. Some of them being the older, more experienced segments.. Each report that came back to me, it just.. it hurt my very heart to see you being manipulated like that.”

“I let you do as you please in hopes that you would figure it out on your own. You poor thing.. I should've done something sooner.. I'm so sorry, I can't believe I allowed you to get hurt like this.” Zandik has never heard Prime sound so emotional before. This was the first time, and he sounded really convincing. But still, he didn't want to believe things so easily. “.. [Name] isn't a bad person.. They're not, I know them, I've gotten to know them, and they really love me–” His sentence was cut off by Prime shushing him in a comforting tone. “Shhh, shh.. I get it. They are aware that you've never been loved like that before, correct? I can't believe they would take advantage of it.”

“I.. I also had a lover once, and I thought they loved me, as you did yours. But they ended up abandoning me, calling me unlovable.” Zandik swore that he heard Prime's voice cracking at the last word. “You, are just like me. I can't stand seeing you get manipulated like this. So, before they hurt you, you should protect yourself. I'm only asking this of you to protect you.” Prime let go of the hug, only to.. lovingly hold his face..?

This was all too much, and Zandik was starting to get affected by it all. Prime opening up to him felt so real, and the look on his face right now.. It was like he was a caring father. “.. But, [Name].. said they love me for who I am.”

Prime caught on the unsure tone in his voice. “Yes.. I get told that as well. It is quite sad, how someone can say they love you and turn around to stab you in the back.” he had a sad, melancholic look on his face with each word he spoke. “But me, I created you. You are much like a son to me. I love you, so I'm doing this for your own good. You understand, right?”

Prime caressed his cheek, wiping the tear that escaped Zandik's eye away. He weakly nodded. It all started to make sense to him now. Of course, Prime would know better.. He was just too blind to see the truth that was infront of him. Prime smiled at that nod. “Good, good.. so, I trust that you'll make the right decision?” He bended down to grab the knife that was dropped previously, and placed it in Zandik's hands once more.

“..Yes. I understand.”

———————

Zandik stood by the tree you two usually meet at. The knife was hidden away in one of his pockets. His face was serious, looking down at the floor. He was thinking about all the time you two had spent together, and he had to hold back the tears forming in his eyes. How was he so stupid to think that someone could actually love him?

“Zandik!”

His head shot up, seeing you walk over while waving enthusiastically. You had your usual smile plastered on your face. He bit his lip, starting to feel nervous. You quickly caught on to this. “Zandik? Is something wrong?”

All the emotion he was holding back came rushing out of him in that moment. If you really didn't love him, why did you have to pretend? If you didn't love him, why? Why do you always smile at him, why were you always worried about him?

Why? Why, why why, why?

Why does it hurt so much..?–

Zandik was caught up in his own thoughts. It was all a blur, and he could barely register what was happening anymore. It was so foggy, all of it. And him having you pinned down on the ground, knife barely hovering over you, he didn't mean that. He swears to himself, he didn't do that, so why were you in that situation now..

His thoughts were all getting too loud.

“Ugh- Shut up! Shut up, shut up shut up..! It's all so annoying, just stop!” Zandik used his free hand to grip onto his hair, not even noticing the tears streaming down his face. You were currently pinned down, obviously confused as to what was happening. Your heart was racing. You didn't know what to do, but you did know that Zandik wasn't okay. Your zandik wasn't okay.

You shakingly moved your hand up, holding his face, and wiping his tears. “Zandik.. It's okay.” You comforted him, and your voice was barely above a whisper. If it were from fear or something else, you didn't know.

Perhaps that was the wrong move, because that caused Zandik to spiral even more. “Stop, stop pretending like you care about me!”

......

Blood.

It was mixing in with the snow beneath you two.

The whiteness of the snow was getting tainted with dark red.

What happened..? Why? Why was blood spreading?

Zandik snapped back to his senses, realizing the reality of the situation. He acted without thinking.

His hand was gripping the base of the knife. The knife that he had stabbed into you.

Without thinking, he quickly pulled it out, and pressed a hand against the stab wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “No, no, no, I didn't do this, i- I just.. Shit! [Name], please, I didn't want this, I didn't! I just wanted to be loved–” He choked out a sob, his vision blurring from all the tears. “I just wanted to believe that you love me! Why..” As the blood was gushing out, he pressed his hand down harder and flinched hard when you winced in pain.

He looked up at your face. The face that he loved so much, and he realized what he had done.

No.. but, it was for the better, right..? You were lying to him, right? Right?

“Zandik.. I.. I don't really understand.. anything right now..” Your voice was weak and horse, and you had to cough multiple times, practically coughing up blood. “but I.. I really do.. love you..” You weakly grabbed onto the hand that was pressing down on you, softly holding his hand in yours. You mustered up a smile despite the excruciating pain. “I.. love you, for.. who you are..”

“..what?”

When the hand atop of Zandik's grew limp, and he saw your eyes dull right there infront of him, it was like time had stopped.

When he looked into your eyes losing it's shine, all the memories came flashing back into his head. All of it.. From the first time you met, to when you explained what love was to him, your first kiss, all those hours spent together..

All of it.. wasn't fake. They were genuine, they were real.

Oh.

What consisted next, was him screaming your name until his throat couldn't take it anymore. Hugging your body against his, even if your blood was getting on his clothes, he didn't care. Zandik had never sobbed before. Not like this. Apologies were given to you, so many of them, but no amount of I'm sorry's could bring you back to him.

And in that moment, Zandik understood why he hated himself so much in the first place.

He knew he was worse than a defect.

And he knew that nothing in his life made sense anymore.

He carried your body, and layed it down against the tree. He tried his absolute best to clean you up, so that it would look like you were just asleep. Peacefully at rest.

He sat down next to you, kissing the top of your head. “[Name].. I love you too. I'm sorry.” he could barely get the words out from how overused his throat was.

He took one final look at you before glancing down at the knife in his hands. The knife he used to take your precious life away.

“Let's meet again in our next life.”

——————

Prime, going over to check on the segment he manipulated last night: Let's go see if he killed that distraction! ^_^ Oh what the fuck

Authors note:

So.... I'm sorry. Please don't attack me for this!!!! This was my plan since the start. Also, apologies for the late update! Life has been kinda hectic lately, but I finally found time to upload the last part! T_T

Honestly, I feel kinda bad for ending it like this... I am so sorry everyone.. Even though I was the one that wrote this all, I'm still rather sad.

Everything prime said to Zandik, it was all practically a lie to manipulate him so that he'd kill you with no protests. Seems like it backfired? 😓

Maybe if I feel nice, I can write an alternative ending? (if u guys are interested, just lmk!)

Thank you so much for all the support throughout this short series. All your comments mean the world to me! 💕

Thank you for reading until the end.

#genshin impact #dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x y/n #dottore x you #dottore/reader #genshin impact fatui #genshin impact x reader #zandik #zandik x reader

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if-lost-please-return-to-maliksi · 10 months

Text

IVORY GRANITE

Disclaimer: I do not own Maliksi, or Makisig (the Tamawo bros). Full Credit goes to HC - @ask-emilz-de-philz. Please check out their blog for amazing art and the wonderful world of Planet Puto.. All involved characters are adults. This might or might not be a self insert, please don't come for me. TW: Suggestive, Slight NSFW

Unlike the other binibinis that arrived, Maliksi tolerated your presence. Not that he sees you as someone special amongst the women who are there to be a potential surrogate for their kind, but rather your calm and composed attitude is refreshing to see. You did not mindlessly fawn over his brother, Makisig or any other Tamawo like a half-wit human who's a slave to their worldly desires. You just kept patient and let Makisig tend to the other ladies first- you are not in a rush afterall since time flows differently in Biringan City. You spent your first week roaming around, exploring, relaxing, and to Maliksi's amuzement- just enjoying being there. "Hey, not gonna throw a tantrum like the other gal earlier? My Kuya's comforting his... 5th binibini for today." Maliksi asked nonchalantly, a lollipop stuffed in his cheek as he plays video games in the living room, sulking since his older brother is too busy giving attention to the ladies instead of spending time with him. "Nope, I've been fully informed of everyone's set up here, thanks for asking though." You softly chuckled before taking note of how bored and irritated Maliksi looks. "Need a player 2?" He reluctantly throws one controller at you, which you were able to catch. "Tch. Make sure you don't suck or I'm taking that back." That single interaction was the start of an unlikely acquaintanceship between the two. Maliksi never liked humans, but this one- this small, soft, and friendly human is kinda tolerable to be around with, not that he will admit it. You were always easy to talk to, you were always soft and kind to him, despite him being not so friendly most of the time. You were able to sense if he's been having an extra difficult day, not getting angry when he's too snarky and sharp with his words. Of course those words don't just go unnoticed, it's still annoying to be honest. That is why he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide open the first time he heard you talk back to his sarcasm and rude remarks. "Say that again." Maliksi gritted his teeth. He was having a bad day after some binibini started acting up that his Kuya Makisig needed to cancel their video game night for the third time this week. He knows he's being rude to you but he's too prideful to take it back. "I said, you're a jerk for being all snarky and mean to me when I didn't do anything wrong to you!" You slightly raise your voice, brows furrowed in annoyance. You could've stopped there, but you were just mad at how unfair he is, using you as someone he can just talk down to whenever he's having a bad day. "This is why the other ladies mess with you purposely every chance they get! Your Kuya must've been tired of hearing them rant about your trashy attitude all day long. Maybe I should-" "Should what? Do the same as the others? Act like a goddamn brat?" Maliksi scoffed. "My Kuya doesn't do anything about brats...but I do." Maliksi coldly said, looking at you dead in the eye.

"Do what? Think I'm scared of you, Maliksi? I think you're all bark and no bite! Just a little spoiled brother waiting for his kuya to give him love and attention -" Before you knew it, Maliksi was already dragging you into his own room, bending you over his lap before lifting the hem of your dress up, slapping one of his hands on your behind, staining your skin red with his handprint.

"Count." Maliksi said in a cold tone.You let out a soft yelp as his palms made contact with your backside once again.

"M- Maliksi." You softly whined, biting your lips from the slight pain. "Oh, not too happy to be disciplined, huh? I said f*cking count, brat!" he said as he gave you another slap. "Three.." You softly said, tears slowly forming in your eyes and you're not sure if it's from the sting from where his palms made contact on your behind, or from the humiliation of being disciplined like this. "I can't hear you, missy." "Four.." "Five.." He didn't stop until you were sobbing, saying your apologies for yelling at him in between sniffles.

"How many was that, Y/n?" He softly said, his tone gentle as he rubs his hand soothingly on your red stained skin. "T..Ten."

"That's right. Have you learned your lesson? You're not gonna give me attitude now, yes?" You slowly nodded.. "That's my y/n. Now be a good girl and let my fingers and tongue apologize for being rude to you earlier."

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crumblinggothicarchitecture · 5 months

Note

I read your fake smart-girl coded Taylor Swift post. Ended up on my feed because it was tagged philosophy. It was long enough that I caught a few words and actually read it. Honestly thought it was satire until I read your answers to other people.

I do not care about TS. But I do care about philosophy. You have a degree in it ? Funny, I have one too. You've read Aristotle ? I did too. But did you read though ? Did you really get into philosophy, and heard what the people you, I'm sure, can quote really well, actually said ? Because what it looks like, is that you got a degree in philosophy, but did not get philosophy at all. What makes me say that ? Your attitude, and that paragraph :

"Also, for the record, I don't think Taylor Swift knows anything of substance about Aristotle. I, on the other hand, took a three-hour long oral exam over Aristotle's life work while out-of-my-mind-high on Dayquil and pain meds after a surgery. I got an "A", and, somehow, I lived through that, I doubt the validity of Swift's claims to know anything at all about philosophy. Especially, considering how all her songs are about as deep as a puddle. "

Sounds like you're here to show off, and to make yourself look like something, without having a clue what it means to have the inclination of a philosopher. Or you know what it means, and you've lost it somewhere along the way.

If you've studied philosophy, and actually took time to read and understand the words of philosophers, you know not one of them would condone your attitude, the way you use their names, the way you're making your arguments. Having an A for an exam on Aristotle does not guarantee that you'll be able to make good arguments for the rest of your life. Nor does it guarantee that you understand his work, or are good at philosophy. It just means that, at one point, on a very specific part of Aristotle's work, you had enough knowledge to be rewarded with a good mark. It stops there. It does not mean anything else. Even if it was for your master's thesis. Sure, you know more than TS about philosophy and she fakes knowledge in her songd, but is showing off your grade and putting yourself as the center point of your argumentation the best way to convey that message ? No. You're trying to put her down by putting yourself above others. To anyone with a sense of philosophy, it just looks like you're a student who never understood the works he/she read, and focused on grades and others' approbation instead.

You care about your degree ? Re-read the books and make use of your ability to understand them. Not as a way to show off, but as a way to lean into the attitude a philosopher might have.

You write posts using philosophy ? Make it palatable to others, and show its uses. Be humble. Same thing for literature. The people whose books you read, they want knowledge to be spread. Studying philosophy should have, at the very least, helped you see that. The degree you got is here to push you to continue doing what all previous philosophers and writers did before you got to read them. Otherwise, your degree serves no purpose, other than satisfying your ego. At least, that's how it looks in that post.

Anyway, it'd just be nicer if you used your degree to show the benefits of philosophy, rather than to stroke your ego. Think about Socrates for a while. He asks questions, he makes simple arguments, he rarely talks about himself, he wants others to learn. That's the idea. Not showing off. Not being an ass to a girl you've never met. But being open for discussion, and make sound arguments, for others as well as yourself. What was the point of you fixating on the misuse of 'soliloquy' ? What did it bring to others ? And your anger towards TS, why ? Why write a whole post about it, shove it in her fans' face, what's the point ? Did anyone get anything positive from that ? And why bring your degrees and grades into the mix ? Anyone can make an informed and sound argument, even without a degree. What did it give you to say all those things ?

Fyi, I was taught philosophy in France. I know people in America and the likes get taught philosophy differently than how its done here. Wouldn't be surprised if there was a cultural difference in the way we understand the discipline. I've got a master's degree in the subject, and six years of study under my belt, if that matters to you. Was top of my class also. And I've lived with a philosophy teacher for eight years, too. In case you try saying I have no place speaking about philosophy the way I do.

There is barely anyone who gives a damn about philosophy. You're one of the few who cared about it enoigh to study it. Make good use of your degree, and don't be an ass to others.

Let me give you a piece of my mind, because, honestly, my dear friend, what are you doing?

Is this some kind of moral flex in which you prove to be the better person because you’ve never implied that there’s no way a certain person knows anything about Aristotle? You want to seem like the better person, because I took one single cheap-shot at Taylor Swift’s intelligence amid a full literary explanation as to why she is using a specific term wrong? Are you joking? You want to call into question my entire education? Because I said Taylor Swift is not as “deep-thinking” as she claims? Okay, yeah... you’re right I guess that makes my entire education invalid. My bad. I’ll go rip up my degrees.

First of all, let’s address your arrogance. You write, “Sounds like you are trying to show off, and to make yourself look like something, without having a clue what to means to have an inclination as a philosopher” (para.4) in response to me saying Taylor Swift probably doesn’t know anything about Aristotle. Yeah, obviously that line is a quick jab at Taylor Swift. So, what? Am I writing an essay? No. Am I writing a journal article? No. Am I writing to a conference committee with a submission of my finest work? NOpe. I’m saying that I would bet money that I know more about Aristotle while suffering the effects of surgery-induced delirium. It’s not that deep. It’s not meant to be a deep, philosophical take on the nature of Taylor Swift’s work. I’m throwing a metaphorical tomato at her, while yelling “boooo.” So, what? You say, “Play nice.” No. Taylor Swift is not my student, nor my friend. I, thus, have no obligation to try to teach, guide, or help Taylor Swift understand anything. I’m not her philosophy teacher, and, you know what, I don’t think she cares about philosophy at all. You know why she name-dropped Aristotle? It rhymes with “full-throttle” and “Grand Theft Auto” (Swift “So High School”). I’m laughing at her so-called poetical lyricism. In the same breath, I’m judging her for relegating Aristotle to a cheap throw-away line in a dumb pop-song in which she sings about how her football boyfriend makes her feel like she’s 16 again. It’s so mind-numbing.

I’m sad. It’s not anger that compels me, but sadness and disappointment. I’ve been a fan for nearly 15 years and my original post came from lamentations about outgrowing an artist I once respected. Granted, I might have been angry while writing that post (sue me about it).

I do respect Taylor Swift’s work enough to criticize it, however, do not twist my words to mean that as an attack on her personally. I do not wish harm to other human beings, yet it is worth noting that I talk in many other posts about my disgust towards her immoral actions. Even still, most of my posts about Taylor Swift are linguistic or literary criticisms meant to help me process this absolute let-down of an album. I’m also just practicing my literary criticism abilities (I start Grad School in like 2 months, so I’m trying to keep my skills sharp). It’s all low-stakes. And, you’re mad at me? You think I’m being mean? Why? You think that I’m “being an ass to a girl [I’ve] never met”? (para. 8). Taylor Swift is not a girl, first of all, she is older than me and I’m a grown woman. She is way richer, and way more powerful too. What is your point?

Let’s talk about the next line in question: “What is the point of you fixating on the misuse of ‘soliloquy’? What did it bring to others?” I’m fixating on the term soliloquy because Taylor Swift has been using this faux literary/ dark academia aesthetic to sell her records for years now. She’s wears “my coat” (if you catch my meaning). She’s using my real-life study as a way to sell shoddy, sloppy records. I’m going to call that out. Despite her using all the aesthetics of academia, she’s not intelligent enough to even just use the term soliloquy correctly. I noticed it right away, and so did many others. If she can’t even get small details correct about literature, why should I believe that she even knows anything about literature at all? It destroys her creditability. I’ve taught students the term ‘soliloquy” as high school kids. It’s not too much to ask for the biggest pop star in the world, and someone who claims the title of “good” writer, to teach herself what a soliloquy actually is before using it in a song just because it sounds similar to “sanctimonious.” If it’s wrong, she’s just wrong. She could have hired an editor. Now, I won’t go into the context of the line here, too much, but the whole line is her calling her audience a bunch of sanctimonious morons who are talking to themselves. (Is Taylor Swift playing nice enough for you? I wonder....)

Let’s move on.

Now, let’s talk about your concept of “inclination of a philosopher.”

You are correct in saying that often teaching Philosophy varies remarkably from country to country. I was weaned on the analytic philosophy, whereas I believe the French are more continental. (Correct me if I am wrong.) So, the effect of this is that I am obviously quite blunt and fond of Aristotelian logic. Who doesn’t love a good syllogism? A funky little linguistic proof? Yes? Still, I must remind you that I wasn’t really making an argumentative point about actual philosophy in relation to Taylor Swift.

To the crux of the issue, however, I must say that I was actually showing the inclination of philosophy by correcting the intrinsic flaws of the songs I disliked so much. What is philosophy if not the spirit of seeking truth and wisdom? Critique and analyzing poetical works often tie directly into the philosophical field of aesthetics wherein the goal is true, fruitful, understanding on how literary devices and aesthetic representation actually function. If anything is also in effort of seeking truth, surely, you see that critique and correction is? And asking for better workmanship? I was only mad, because mining Taylor Swift work for aesthetic meaning is like searching for Gold in a parking lot. : (

Next point: “to anyone with a sense of philosophy, it just looks like you’re a student who never understood the works they read, and focused on grades and others’ approbation instead.”

First of all, this is rude. You don’t know me. You read my honest, brief anger, that I managed to condense into a couple lines in one single tumblr post, and that gives you the audacity to say I’m a bad student who sought grades above all else? Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................. Okay, tell me why I spent hours in study rooms and sent countless emails begging for guidance through things I didn’t understand. Tell me why, I’ve stood in front of people and blatantly admitted that I did not understand the readings. Learning takes time, and there is no shame in taking your time. Grades are just letters. What matters is how the strength of what you learn impacts how you act in life. I’ve learned my lessons with all the ferocity of a child falling down a hill and running back up it again. I know my own intentions, and you don’t. I mentioned my "A" in the post really just to lend credibility, through professorial authority (lol), to the fact that I think Taylor Swift is fake smart.

Next: SocRaTeS? You're Joking! What is he doing here?

In an eternal quest for my own understanding, I often returned to Socrates. Did you not see my profile picture? Socrates is my homeboy. If ever I get to choose how to die, I will die like Socrates. Willingly, and with a full-bodied credulity of my own philosophical stances.

You say, “Think about Socrates for a while. He asks questions, he makes simple arguments.” First, he does not make simple arguments. Is it not a syllogism? He writes full dialectical structures. This is some of the most complex stuff I have ever read. Let’s talk about why: Over the centuries, we’ve come to call it the Socratic method. This method includes discursive questions meant to make people question not only others on their reality but to question the most internal mechanisms of the mind. It asks them to think about why we believe or hold the beliefs that we do. He, famously, likens it to a child's development in the womb. The questions are meant as an external way to engage with mechanistic development of thought itself- thus we untangle the dangerous thread of rhetoric internal to our own rational minds. It’s a type of meta-analysis of the self-more than it a simple game of question and answer. Like children from the womb, according to Socrates, we must develop our rational minds too. And, above all else, the Socratic method seeks truth.

Socrates would approve of my literary criticism of Taylor Swift, because I am using it to seek a higher truth. And, in some way, I am inversely questioning my own reasons for seeking what I do. I enjoy poems for a reason. I like to ask myself why I like what I do, and what meaning it brings through my unique perspective. (Applied to others as well, I love to hear from others). I critique Taylor Swift not because I hate her, but because I want to engage with the aesthetic qualities of the material world that elevate my ability to empathize, to think, to engage, to feel the world around me. I love art. I love reading, I want people to write with intelligence. You know then, the soul-crushing feeling of realizing an artist is actually bad. She rhymed Aristotle with Grand Thef Auto... Socrates himself would shudder. Socrates would also recognize that aesthetic quality ought to undergo critique and beauty interrelates to moral value. He was of the belief, and I dare say I believe it too, that beauty, aesthetic beauty, can be likened to moral value through the identification of ways in which it reveals the truth of our very souls. To him engaging with aesthetics is one way in which to reach out and connect the metaphysical to the material, in such awe-inspiring ways.

Ever been moved to tears by a painting? I have, but the question is WHY? That is why I critique literature, poetry, art... music. Whatever I can get my hands on really. I really want to find out, WHY? why was I crying in the Art Gallery, right next to the ice cream shop and everything.

You are perhaps right that I could make more of an effort to explain my points, and also the "moral of the story" or what I hope other people will take away from what I wrote. I’m only ever critical of something if I care enough to either love it or wish it was better so that I could love it. To be honest, I didn't think anyone would read my silly vent post about Taylor Swift, but here we are. I could do better. I usually save my real efforts for my published work, though.

And you, my dearest colleague, are apparently spineless. If your conviction on philosophy is that we must all be kind and precious to each other for fear of causing offense, then I think your career will sink like a rock. Socrates was mean as hell, though not spiteful or malicious. He was mean in the sense of asking people to take a good, long hard look in the mirror. I would ask Taylor Swift to look in the mirror too, but she has a whole song about how she’s not going to do that (Anti-Hero). As you see, I hope that I am not spiteful either. But I do want people to be better and make better art. Socrates would say the same. I say what I say and I mean it. Because I am desperate for something true and beautiful and real. There is no one on earth above reproach. There is no school of philosophy which suggests passivity is tantamount to intelligence. I will not be passive.

You say: “Make it palatable to others. Be humble”

How’s this for palatable: No <3. Why diminish myself? Why should I obfuscate and dance around my own hard-won intellectual skill? Why should I dumb it down? It is not egotistical of me to use my own skillset. Does a doctor not save lives? Do they apologize for using their skills? Does a mechanic not do the same? Does the poet not also do the same? What of the critic?

I can be humble, though. Humility is being self-aware enough to recognize that some might have a skillset more advanced than your own. I seek guidance and consistently challenge myself in academic endeavors. I can recognize the authority others have just as well as I can recognize my own authority. I will not, however, shrink down because you think I’m being too know-it-all-y.

Humility does not require that I speak only when choking back apologies for the audacity I have to speak. I am not sorry. I spent the last 6 years of my life working on two degrees while working 3 jobs. It was hard. I’m proud of myself. If someone feels upset that I speak about the field of study I have fought to participate in, well, I genuinely don’t know what to tell them. Intellect is not a threat (to most). I would say, “if you have a question, ask it.” I actually am very friendly despite my sharp tongue. I am a teacher to my bones <3 and I love my job.

Anyway, if I missed any of your points, misrepresented them, or offended you greatly- my inbox is always open. And I love a good, well-structured argument. However, next time can we talk about actual philosophy instead of you just attacking my character, thanks. <3 Obviously, I took offense. I think you meant to offend me though, for whatever reason. Really, I did go back and crack open a few books to write this, double check some things, so thank you.

Did you get your graduate degree in America? Would love to know. I am planning on getting another Master’s after I am done with this first one. I want to study aesthetics ( LOL).

Ps. Why can’t people show off? I love when people have a talent that they aren’t afraid to share.

#philosophy #anti taylor swift #ex swiftie #english literature #literary criticism #socrates #philosopher in training- dont worry about it #english lit student #academia #aesthetics #literary aesthetics

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