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unstable-samurai · 1 year ago

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Breathing This Calm Night - smut

Yunjin x Male Reader

ONE-SHOT

Tags: fluff, oral sex, one-shot, tightjob, penetration, k-idol, famous girl, secret relationship

A/n: This is my first request. Thanks @dav1233555 for the plot suggestion 🫡

The two of you were anxiously dragging yourself towards the end of the day. Slowly the hours passed, seeming to last longer than they should, while a hurried and hard routine was followed, with no time to even exchange a few messages.

But you were finally free, at least for now, from the mess that is a magazine of international relevance.

I'm arriving

You read the message and smiled at the phone screen. It wasn't crowded at the restaurant you chose to have dinner at. You reflected for a moment, and thought there was a bit of madness in what you two were doing, but it was indisputable that it was genuine and pure.

Truth be told, this whole thing was real. And thinking that this could be a bit crazy (in other people's eyes, to be more precise) only made your panoramic view of society more bitter.

After all, what was so great about being a foreigner and dating a K-idol? Well, you weren't the guy who was going to change the view of an entire society, so worrying about it was useless.

At least there was some security that this relationship would not be leaked to the media. Well, you were in fact part of the fucking media. There was support from the magazine you worked for (not that you were the owner or anything), and at least no one on your team would poke your eye out. Some other editors you trust already knew about your relationship. It was one of the countless advantages of being in a high position in the company and having a strong influence on what happened inside. I mean, someone from the magazine could try to fuck with you, snakes exist everywhere, doing this in an attempt to self-promote or even abandon ship, handing over the leak of your relationship to another magazine or tabloid (in the headline the motherfuckers would find a way to use the word "affair", just because your previous relationship ended a month before you met Yunjin). But you would discover the funny guy so easily that there wouldn't even be any fun in solving the mystery. All it took was a single call to your father, simply the greatest editor-in-chief who worked at the magazine's headquarters. Already retired, but still exercising great decision-making power thanks to his long years of contributions to the magazine. Your old man was seen almost as a royal advisor or a wise monk where directors, managers and editors from various sectors of the magazine went to ask for advice and help. You were relatively shielded from leaks.

You noticed her approaching. Well disguised, with glasses, hair tied back and comfortable clothes. She looked like just another ordinary girl. You couldn't help but notice the NY Knicks sweatshirt you had given her as a gift, it was both of your favorite team.

She greeted you with a discreet hug. You still hadn't gotten used to the fact that you couldn't give a peck in public que in South Korea. In your perception, it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Hi, baby! How are you?" she asked you as she sat down at the table.

"Better now, honey. What about you?"

"The same!"

"Was the day as hard as always?" you asked.

"Yeah, definitely!" she replied. Yunjin seemed eager for this question. She continued: “In the morning I had rap class. By the way, I think I'm getting better. Oh, and in the afternoon I recorded my lines, like, over and over again. The music producer has a very specific vision of what he wants for this track. He apologized and admitted that it might take some time to achieve the desired result.”

"Well, I trust your talent. Remember that you and your group are dealing with a delicate concept. I have seen up close the production of albums that address intimate themes, it is always a challenge, but also a true work and certainly a amazing gift for the fans. You girls are going to do great."

Yunjin laughed, a little shyly.

"It feels like I'm talking to a music critic instead of my boyfriend."

"Well, you're actually talking to a music critic. Oh, by the way, I remembered that I won't be writing the article about Le Sserafim's new album like I said before."

Her expression was one of surprise. Yunjin asked:

"Is it because of me?”

"Yes." you answered honestly. “Well, look, love, I'm prioritizing our relationship and thinking about the future. If this is for real, eventually the press will hear about us together, and a review from me about my girlfriend's music group obviously it would make my opinion seem partial and biased. It's just to avoid future problems."

"Okay" She looked upset. "But I'll still want to know your opinion when you hear the album."

"I'm really looking forward to hearing it." You smiled, making her feel better. "I left the review about the new album for a good friend of mine to write. I really respect her opinion."

"Well, i think we're in good hands. But let's stop talking about work for a bit!"

The waiter seemed to have heard Yunjin's speech as he appeared to save them right after she finished saying that. Yunjin had great taste in food, that's why she always chose the order for the two of you, you weren't the "culinary trailblazer" type; a few months in South Korea and you only knew five typical dishes (always returning to the arms of the big fast-food chains).

"Oh, I almost forgot to give you this!" You handed her a gift. "It had been on my lap for so long that I had forgotten I had brought it with me."

"Oh, baby! You didn't have to do that!"

She started to unwrap it.

"Hope you like."

You waited for her reaction. Yunjin smiled and made a cute little noise when she saw that it was a book (although she already knew from the shape of the gift wrap).

"You know I love reading! Thank you so much."

"It's The Alchemist. I know you love fantasy and this silly self-help thing. This book is a mix of both."

You saw her eyes light up.

"You're perfect. I love how well you know me. And self-help isn't silly, it's very good for evolving as a human being." she scolded you.

You shrugged.

"It's not the kind of thing I'd like to put on my bookshelf. But to each their own.”

She laughed.

"I'm still going to make you read one of these."

"Well, I've already read The Alchemist. If for me it's average, for you it will be a masterpiece."

★

It was around 10pm when the two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Dinner was very good, especially dessert (that bingsu thing was really delicious), and by that night there was no more energy for more fun, it was preferable to have a good night's sleep so that the next day you could do something together. Even so, Yunjin hummed excitedly in the car on the way home. You appreciated all that joy.

You took off your shoes while Yunjin took off her NY Knicks sweatshirt, leaving only a tight tank top on her body. You noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra by the way her breasts showed through the fabric of her tank top. You slowly approached her and grabbed her from behind, kissing her repeatedly. Yunjin wrapped her hands around your neck as she giggled at the series of kisses.

“Will you be my teddy bear tonight?” she asked sweetly. “I need your affection so much, baby.”

“Whatever you need, sweetie.” You said as you kissed her on the neck.

Things were heating up. Your hands slid down Yunjin's soft belly, heavy sighs escaped her mouth unconsciously.

“Look, we still need to shower.” she said.

"No problem." you answered.

“You're putting me in the mood. I'm warning you that if you keep touching me like this, you're going to have to go all the way to finish what you started.”

“And since when has this been a problem for me?” you asked as you led her to the couch.

You took off your shirt and belt from your pants. Yunjin took off her jeans, leaving only her tank top and adorable pink panties. Your hand slid down Yunjin's left thigh while you kissed her right thigh. That was more than enough to give her goosebumps. She had her legs wide open, waiting, almost begging, for you to touch that place. Instead of doing it right away, you decided to play with her a little, kissing and biting her inner thigh while using one of your hands to lightly massage her pussy through her panties. Your lips slid to Yunjin's crotch, where you licked the entire area, she reveled in the act, trying hard not to close her legs with the spasms she was having. It didn't take long for a wet stain to darken the pink of the panties. When you finally removed Yunjin's panties, you saw how wet she was. So horny that she couldn't wait for you, fingering her pussy slowly, opening it with her fingers so you could see how drooling she was; a successful action of provoking you. Then you realized how hard your cock was, pulsing in your pants, painfully tight, which made you hornier.

Without wasting any more time, you dived between Yunjin's legs, eager to taste her (that flavor that was becoming increasingly familiar and addictive… Part of your life. Yeah, we could put it that way), your tongue delighting in the taste and the cozy warmth of the inside of her pussy, while Yunjin moaned softly, digging her nails into the sofa cushions.

“I love it when you suck me like that, baby. You make me feel so good!” she moaned.

At one point she asked to stop because her lust was unbearable and that way he would have an orgasm in a short time.

“I want to feel your cock inside me now.” she said. You had just taken off your underwear when she added, “Wait, what if we fuck in the bathroom. Let’s save time, what do you think?”

Your response was to lift her off the couch and take her to the bathroom. You turned on the light with your elbow and, before you could think of anything, she said:

“Fuck me like this! Your cock goes deep into my pussy when you fuck me in the air.”

You kissed her intensely while you tried to fit your dick into her pussy. The feeling of your cock sliding inside Yunjin was wonderful. Upon realizing that your cock was well placed inside her, you grabbed Yunjin's thighs tightly and began to thrust into her energetically while she held onto you, moaning compulsively.

And Yunjin was right, your dick went deep in that position. You could feel her deep inside, the entire length of your cock was being used, and she loved it. When she announced her orgasm, you wanted to make sure it was intense and pleasurable, the way it made her roll her eyes, so you lifted her a little higher, grabbing her ass, while Yunjin wrapped her legs inside your arms, making her practically hang from you and her pussy is completely inside your dick.

“Oh God, Baby! I’m cumming!”

She trembled holding onto you, while you practically rubbed her pussy on your dick, always rotating it close to your body. It was just a shame that you couldn't enjoy her eyes rolling back at the moment of orgasm, you simply loved seeing her go crazy with pleasure, but there was also a certain contentment in just knowing that it happened.

You sat Yunjin down on the sink and there you started fucking her again, looking deeply into her eyes. At one point she looked at you with so much passion, so much desire that there was a sudden growing desire to fill her pussy with your load of cum.

“Hang me, love.” she asked affectionately.

Her hand wrapped around just over half of her neck, serving as support to fuck her even harder. Sweat running down both bodies, your gaze was lost between the mirror's reflection, her eyes, her tits and her expressions of pleasure. With the sensations highlighted, you realized how much you loved Yunjin and how much this feeling contributed to eminent pleasure during sex.

Holy shit! You were almost there.

You thought about how much you wanted to go deep into this, literally to the end, but you were without a condom and suddenly stopping the act to go get a condom at the end of the championship was a bit... discouraging.

But you have an idea.

“Stand up, sweetie” you said. “Let’s try something new.”

Yunjin got out of the sink, looking at you excitedly.

“Get in the shower stall with me.” you asked, opening the door.

"What do you want to do?"

“It’s nothing out of this world, but it occurred to me that you’ve never given me a tightjob, I think it’s time we tried it.”

She had some assumptions about what this position was, but you helped her anyway. Yunjin was a rather tall girl, so there were no problems for your dick to fit between her thighs, the result was perfect, nothing uncomfortable. You thought about turning on the shower to lube up a little, but her pussy was so wet and the continuous sweat running down between her thighs was already more than great. You grabbed Yunjin's waist tightly and she crossed her legs a little, squeezing your dick.

You began to thrust into her, your cock sliding back and forth as you dragged Yunjin's labia. So you discovered in the best way that this was very pleasurable for both of you. The internal heat started inside you again and gradually you lost yourself in that exciting sensation. As you approached the final explosion, you bestially grabbed Yunjin in every way possible, sliding your sweat-damp hands down her belly, squeezing her breasts and slapping her ass. You lost yourself in the voluptuousness that was Yunjin's body and- Fuck! She loved it. She loved being your instrument of pleasure, knowing that the person she loved so much reached maddening peaks of passion, desire and lust for her. A juice of feelings for an insatiable thirst.

“Oh baby! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-”

Without any warning, Yunjin began to move her hips in a rhythm that immediately took you to the precipice of pleasure. The soft, hot, wet, suffocating skin of her thighs dancing over your cock. This was too much for you. When you came, you hugged Yunjin tightly, holding her as if your life depended on it, giving in to inconstant and uncontrollable moans close to her ear. The frantic thrusts lost their rhythm, going deeper and slower through Yunjin's thighs. She held your arms affectionately, waiting for your breathing to become less labored before kissing you.

"I love you." You said to her.

The phrase was so loaded with something that covered your feelings at that moment, and you wished she was the woman of your life and would never leave your side.

"I love you too!" said Yunjin when she found a way out of your tongue. “Baby, you don’t know how much.”

“This took longer than expected. Let’s take our shower.”

“Yep! Let's go."

You turned on the shower. The hot running water was invigorating, even more so being next to Yunjin, you didn't know that sharing certain intimacies was so special until you finally did it with her. you soaped Yunjin's entire body, she helped you wash your back and you shampooed her hair, gently massaging her scalp; it was cute how it relaxed her, she seemed so surrendered to you in that moment, and just a few months ago you were sitting across from her and the other Le Sserafim girls, asking incisive questions about the creative process of their latest album. That's where it all started, after all. And who could say where it would end?

“Hey, baby, let me shampoo your hair now.” Yunjin said with a cutie smile.

Nobody, you thought. Nobody could say.

A/n: sorry for any grammatical errors 😅

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burningembers91 · 5 months ago

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Performance of a Lifetime - Choi Su-Bong (Thanos) x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Not Who I Want to Be

The Beauty of Vulnerability

Fuscia Pink Kisses

Synopsis: On the night of a huge performance, a figure from Choi Su-Bong’s past returns, threatening to unravel everything he’d fought so hard to achieve.

A/N: oh man, I am putting our boy through hell. But I swear, it’ll all end happily for him and the Reader.

The sun was streaming through the windows of the apartment, bathing the cream walls in a golden hue. The floor to ceilings windows offered a panoramic view of the city, with views of the River Han clearly visible from the master bedroom and living room. Choi Su-Bong turned you, his stomach tied in nervous knots.

“What do you think?” He asked, taking your hand in his as he tried to gauge your reaction. “Do you like it?” He’d spent weeks trying to find the perfect place, an apartment where he could start afresh. It was so important that you liked the place as much as he did; he wanted this to be your home too, a sanctuary for the both of you.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled, admiring way the sun glistened on the gently flowing river. You were so high up, the people on the ground looked like ants, scurrying along the pavement as they headed about their day. The apartment was huge, complete with 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a home cinema and a large kitchen. “It’s quite big, isn’t it?” You mused, wondering why he’d chosen such a huge place for just him.

“I thought maybe you could use one of the rooms,” Su-Bong smiled. “Maybe as a yoga room, or a library; whatever you want. I want this to be your home too.”

It had been 3 months since he’d told you his real name, 3 months since he bared his soul to you in a way he never had before. Life was starting to look up, and he desperately wanted to begin this new chapter with you.

“Do you mean that? Really?”

You took another look around, viewing the apartment again with different eyes. This would be your home too, the living room alone bigger than your current apartment. There was space for you to grow together, and Su-Bong had purposely picked out a place with multiple bedrooms. He hoped one day the apartment would be home to the family you made, tiny little feet pattering along the hardwood floors, maybe a pet dog who curled up on the sofa between you in the evenings.

“What do you say, Senorita?” He whispered, snaking his arms around your waist as he pulled you into his body, both of you watching the world go by down below you.

“Yes,” you smiled, reaching your hand up to touch the faded pink tips of his hair. “I’d like that very much.”

The papers were signed, and later that day you recieved the keys to your new place. Su-Bong wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this luck, but life had taken such a huge turn since meeting you. He’d been signed to a new label, one who appreciated his new style of music. They took him seriously, really listening to his ideas and questions. He was slowly gaining a new legion of fans, ones who appreciated the softer, more mature genre of music he now made. You stood by him every step of the way, your unwavering belief in him still taking him by surprise. He’d started therapy, hoping to get to the underlying causes of his drug and alcohol issues. Some days were still tough, but he had so much to live for now; he’d be a fool to throw it away.

Su-Bong had been invited to attend an awards ceremony that night, to perform for a live crowd of 20,000, plus the audience watching from home. It would be his first concert performing sober, and as he got dressed, he struggled to zip up his jeans, his hands shaking.

“You look handsome,” you smiled, watching him from your position in the doorway. You could see he was struggling, could see that tonight was more than just a performance for him. It was the official launch of his rebrand, the first time he would be signing, not as Thanos, but as Choi Su-Bong, the man you’d fallen in love with. “Let me help you.” You helped him with his shirt, fixing his hair for him as he smiled down at you. His hands still shook, but you kept him anchored. He didn’t know what he’d do without you. You looked beautiful in that same pink dress you’d worn on your birthday, the one that brought him to his knees every time you put it on.

The venue was already swarming by the time you arrived. Cameras flashed, people screamed his name, and you held tightly onto his hand as your battled you way through the throng of paparazzi and fans. Su-Bong’s mouth was impossibly dry, his ears ringing with the screams, his eyes blinded by the flashes from the cameras. How the hell had he managed to do this before? He’d never been fazed by crowds, had relished in the chaos that came with them. The drugs had been his crutch, elevating him to a place where he didn’t feel fear and anxiety. But tonight, tonight he was terrified, the bile rising in his throat as he was shown to his dressing room. You didn’t let go of his hand as you walked, sensing his discomfort.

He wasn’t the only performer there tonight, and backstage was just as chaotic as outside. He recognised a lot of the other guests; he’d gotten high with a quite a few of them. Through the crowd, he spotted another familiar face. Someone who had clung to him for 3 years straight, always pushing a camera in his face to get a selfie to upload, always hanging around in the hopes of finding drugs and fame. Su-Bong realised with a mixture of guilt and shame that he’d never learned that man’s name, had never bothered to find out anything about him. He was clinging to another rapper now, some other poor soul whose life was dictated by a false persona. He felt the panic begin to rise, felt a tightening in his chest. Oh god, was he having a heart attack? Were all his years of substance abuse finally catching up to him? He gripped your hand tighter, clutching his chest with his free hand. You were less than 10 feet from his dressing room, he just had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

You knew something was wrong, had instantly seen the colour drain from his face. He was sweating, his skin looking almost wax-like.

“Su-Bong? What is it? What’s wrong?” You sat him down in a chair, grabbing a bottle of water and urging him to take a sip.

The room was spinning, the panic rising inside of him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus on anything properly.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” you spoke softly. “I need you to take a sip of water and then I need you to focus on my face. Can you do that?”

Su-Bong forced himself to take a drink, to focus on your eyes, so filled with concerned.

“Take a deep breath for me,” you instructed, “and then let’s find ten things in this room that you can see.”

He forced himself to play along with what was clearly a distraction technique. He picked out a chair, a sofa, a pack of cookies among other things. He felt his heart rate slowly decrease, felt the rising sense of panic gradually ebb away. He’d never had a panic attack, had never felt so helpless and terrified in his life. It was like a really bad trip, a waking nightmare.

“Will you be ok?” you asked, as the two of you sat on the sofa, Su-Bong’s head on your chest. “If you don’t want to do this, we can go home.”

He almost said yes, almost retreated back to the safety of home, away from the cameras and the screaming fans. But he couldn’t do that. If he ran away, he’d be letting so many people down; he’d be letting himself down.

“No, I’m ok,” he assured you. “It was just, a lot of these people are from my past and it just got on top of me. I’m good though, I promise.”

He wasn’t sure how he made it out onto that stage, but somehow he did. He could see the bright pink of your dress in his peripheral vision as he sang, could see you standing backstage, mouthing along to words you knew just as well as he did. Everyone in the crowd was screaming his name, singing along to the words with you. He didn’t know why he’d been so scared, this was the greatest performance of his life.

He spun you around backstage after his set was done, smothering you in kisses as he held you close.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered to you. He’d been invited to the after party, but for once, Su-Bong wasn’t interested in partying. He wanted to unpack his furniture in his new place with you, wanted to climb into bed and hold you close. You were laughing as you made your way back to the dressing room, still on cloud 9 from the performance.

He stopped just short of the room, spying a figure standing outside the door. He hadn’t seen the man standing before him for almost 10 years, not since the night he left. He was older now, his face sagging and eyes jaundiced from years of alcohol abuse. The man in front of him, who had pushed young Su-Bong into a life of substance abuse in a desperate attempt to numb his pain, smiled at him as he approached.

“Son,” his dad smiled, holding out his arms to him. You stopped short, looking up at Su-Bong, your eyes wide.

“Dad,” was all he could say, his voice strangled and hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you son,” his dad said, head hanging in shame, although he wasn’t sure this man had ever felt shame in his life. “I need your help.”

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game x you #squid game season 2 #thanos squid game #squid game thanos #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong

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vestaignis · 7 months ago

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Снежный Бермамыт.

Плато Бермамыт – удивительно красивое место, одна из лучших панорамных площадок Карачаево-Черкесии. Расположено на северном склоне Большого Кавказа, в 30 километрах к юго-западу от Кисловодска. С плато Бермамыт открывается ��еликолепный вид на величественный седой Эльбрус. В этом месте земля кажется слившейся с небом, где горные вершины играют роль стражей времени, а воздух пронизан свежестью и чистотой. На высшей точке Бермамыта, открывается захватывающая панорама Главного Кавказского хребта. Название «Бермамыт» в переводе с местных наречий означает «искривленное колено», что вполне отражает характеристики этого места.Рельеф Бермамыта имеет вид вытянутых гряд с несимметричными склонами, вершинная поверхность которых состоит из верхнеюрских известняков. Основная часть плато - Большой Бермамыт - достигает высоты 2591 метр. От нее отходит южный Скалистый выступ - Малый Бермамыт высотой до 2643 метра.

Большой Бермамыт считается местом с аномально высоким выходом положительной энергии, в связи с этим здесь проводят различные ритуалы, а все благодаря необычному рельефу. В результате воздействия природных явлений, несколько скал превратились в подобие человеческих фигур. Коренные жители дали этому чуду название – Монахи. Это плато– одно из немногих мест в России, где можно наблюдать уникальное явление – «Брокенские призраки».

Snowy Bermamyt.

The Bermamyt Plateau is an amazingly beautiful place, one of the best panoramic platforms in Karachay-Cherkessia. It is located on the northern slope of the Greater Caucasus, 30 kilometers southwest of Kislovodsk. The Bermamyt Plateau offers a magnificent view of the majestic gray Elbrus. In this place, the earth seems to merge with the sky, where mountain peaks play the role of guardians of time, and the air is permeated with freshness and purity. At the highest point of Bermamyt, a breathtaking panorama of the Main Caucasian Ridge opens up. The name "Bermamyt" in translation from local dialects means "crooked knee", which fully reflects the characteristics of this place. The relief of Bermamyt has the form of elongated ridges with asymmetrical slopes, the apical surface of which consists of Upper Jurassic limestones. The main part of the plateau - Bolshoy Bermamyt - reaches a height of 2591 meters. From it extends the southern rocky ledge - Maly Bermamyt, up to 2643 meters high.

Bolshoy Bermamyt is considered a place with an abnormally high output of positive energy, in connection with which various rituals are held here, and all thanks to the unusual relief. As a result of the influence of natural phenomena, several rocks turned into a semblance of human figures. The indigenous people gave this miracle the name - Monks. This plateau is one of the few places in Russia where you can observe a unique phenomenon – the “Brocken Ghosts”.

Источник:/begin-journey.ru/plato-bermamyt.html, //ybis.ru/vremena-goda/plato-bermamyt-zimoy, //pikabu.ru/story/plato_bermamyit_ 4624889, /www.drive2.ru/b /532277703248 708903/, /bolshayastrana. com/dostoprimechatelnosti/karachaevo-cherkesiya/plato-bermamyt-491, /experience.tripster.ru/experience/26282/.

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delirious-donna · 1 year ago

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The Mistakes We Make [Part Eight]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Kento has come to some startling conclusions and works to put his decisions into practice. Finding the apartment empty whilst a storm rages outside tests his restraint to the limit. It'll be fine, right?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: angst, emotionally charged argument, take the title as it's own warning cause I don't want to spoil everything

Part Seven | Series Masterlist | Part Nine

The following morning was overcast. Heavy grey rain clouds dominated the sky, threatening to burst at a moment’s notice. A breezy wind blew through the city, buffeting off the panoramic windows and carrying debris from the streets so far below up to whip against the glass. Despite the gloomy conditions, your mood was surprisingly bright and dare you say, positive.

Sipping your coffee, the miserable weather was the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, your head was full of possibilities and thoughts of the immediate future. The second you woke up to find yourself tucked up in bed, still fully dressed but snuggled beneath the duvet, you knew exactly how you must have ended up here. Kento carried you to bed.

Kento Nanami put you to bed with care. He didn’t leave you to sleep in an awkward position out on the couch, no. That man—that annoyingly endearing man—had lifted you carefully enough not to even disturb your slumber and carried you to bed. Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t do that, it wouldn’t make any sense.

He likes you. You like him. It was obvious, and if the realistic snapshots of your dreams held any authenticity, maybe he had kissed your head and murmured soft sentiments to you. That part was wishful thinking but not outside the realms of plausibility given how real the dream-like moments felt when you examined them closely.

It made you smile into your mug, lost in thoughts of what to say or do when Kento finally appeared from his room. You glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and frowned. It was later than you expected and there was still no sign of the man that was always up bright and early. Maybe he had decided to sleep in for once, and of course, he would pick the day that you wanted to see him most to indulge in more hours of sleep.

By noon you were worried. The apartment had long fallen silent, the music you had played earlier turned off so you could try to listen for signs of life from your host. There were none to speak of. Closer and closer you crept to his closed door until your ear was pressed against the solid oak. You couldn’t hear any movement, no rustling of sheets or footsteps to suggest he was getting dressed. No sounds of faint snoring or the distant noise of a running shower.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You knocked once, quietly.

There was no answer. So, you knocked again, this time far louder and you followed it up by calling out loudly. “Kento, are you in there? Is…” you searched for the right words. “Is everything alright? I’m starting to worry.”

Again, there was no reply. This was getting ridiculous, and your annoyance at not knowing what was going on got the better of you. The door opened whilst you kept your eyes firmly fixed on the floor just in case you were about to walk in on him half-dressed or worse… naked. However, the bedroom was empty.

The bed was neatly made, nothing appeared out of place from the time when you had last nosed about in here. It felt like forever ago but in reality, it wasn’t that long. You stuck your head around the corner, glancing into the walk-in closet and finding it equally empty. The bathroom was next, and once again you knocked before entering to find it empty and like it hadn’t been used in at least a few hours.

Had he left before you even woke up? It was the only thing you could think of since a thorough search of the entire apartment turned up no missing blond man. You weren’t sure why it bothered you as much as it did. He was a grown-up, he could come and go as he pleased. Yet, you expected that he might have left a note or something to let you know where he was and when he would be back, or was that assuming too much?

In the end, you did your best not to let it sour your mood. Kento was a free man, perhaps he had errands to run, and he would be right back with groceries in hand, you simply didn’t know. You had your own agenda today, and one you were excited to get to. It had been on your mind for several days now, knowing that your time here with Kento was ending, you wanted to buy him a gift to show your gratitude for his allowing you to stay here when he didn’t have to.

A few ideas were running through your mind as to what would be most appreciated, and the sooner you hit the stores, the sooner you hoped to come to a final decision. You wanted it to be special, something that he wouldn’t think to buy for himself. Were you putting a lot of stock in this gift? Maybe… but it was how you showed your lo—appreciation. Love was too strong a sentiment, or so you tried to reason.

You hastily scrawled a note and left it on the kitchen island. The front door locked behind you, whilst the elevator took you down to the lobby for the battle against the elements to commence.

Gone out. Be back later! Hope you’re having a good day. X

Everything was silent when he returned home. Kento wasn’t sure what he expected, and what he would prefer, but somehow it wasn’t as relieving as he expected, to walk into a noiseless space. How quickly his appreciations had changed.

He saw the note almost immediately, not bothering to pick it up since the thought made his stomach clench with anxiety. His finger did somehow find its way to touching the small flourish of a kiss, and he scowled upon realisation. He hadn’t spent the day clearing his head and mentally running through every outcome he could foresee just to return straight back to square one. His mind was made up. Giving up everything he had built for himself was pure insanity. End of discussion.

A powerful gust of wind pounded against the windows, drawing his attention to the weather conditions he had driven through, and his frown deepened. Kento stepped towards the glass, eyes scanning the barely visible streets below and the tiny moving umbrellas which appeared like dancing circles as people navigated around each other.

Did you have an umbrella with you?

Were you out in the elements or tucked up somewhere safe and cozy like a small café?

What was so important that you had ventured out on such a horrible day in the first place?

It didn’t matter. It was none of his business, and he should stop thinking about it.

Picking up a random book from his overstuffed shelves fit to bursting with books he wanted to read but had never had the time for, he didn’t even glance at the title before he was settling himself in the farthest part of the couch. Sure, it was the seat that let him both keep an eye on the front door and allow him a view of the worsening weather, but he refused to acknowledge that fact.

Three hours passed and Kento could recall exactly nothing of the pages he’d dutifully turned in his book. He read the lines of text but none of them stuck no matter how many times he repeated the action. Frustration burned hotter the longer he tried until he threw it down on the arm of the couch and turned worried eyes towards the now storm raging outside. Where the hell were you?

It had never dawned on him to exchange numbers with you, there hadn’t seemed to be a point since you were occupying the same space, but now he saw the idiocy of such a small oversight. He was halfway towards his phone on the kitchen island to call Karin and have her send through your contact info when the door suddenly burst open.

A small puddle surrounded your feet, every inch of you soaked right through and shivering. Your hair was plastered across your face, obscuring your eyes which didn’t help you wrestle with the half-folded-down umbrella in your hand. Several of the metal spindles were broken or sticking up at odd angles from the winds and Kento reached for you before you even realised he was there.

“Shit! You’re soaking wet. Where the hell have you been?” Kento thundered, his tone refusing to diffuse even when you squeaked in alarm and almost stumbled backwards.

His hand wrapped around your elbow was the only thing keeping you on your feet. The umbrella was wrenched from your grasp, a startled yelp only further fuelling the snarled expression you could make out between the messy strands of your hair. You could feel the fury ripple outward from his body and into your own. What the fuck...?

Kento disappeared. One moment you were being firmly pulled into the living area by his strong hands and the next he had let you go and rounded the corner, out of sight. Shaking from the cold that continued to penetrate your clothes, the chill all the worse now you weren’t running on the adrenaline of battling for your life on the streets far below, you were bamboozled by his demeanour. The warmth of the apartment was apparent, but until you could strip off every layer of sodden clothing and soak your bones in a warm shower or bath, your teeth would chatter, and your limbs would shudder.

Suddenly, you remembered to check the package, which was tucked securely inside your bag, grateful for your forethought to wrap the box in several plastic bags before placing it inside. It was unscathed and you exhaled a sigh of relief. The gift was far from inexpensive, something you would never have bought yourself and yet, you happily dropped a not insufficient amount of money on the man who returned to you with a large fluffy white towel in hand and a scowl etched across his face.

He took the bag from your grasp before you could protest, setting it on the kitchen stool and leaning back against the counter with his arms folded. With your hair now a little less wet and back into some semblance of submission, you could see how terse his expression was and it caused you to frown in reaction. What was the problem?

“Thanks. I’m definitely going to need a hot shower after the day I’ve had,” you conceded with a chuckle. It was your attempt at an olive branch, hoping that he would drop the bad attitude he was wearing like a cloak.

Kento scowled harder. “Why were you out in a storm in the first place?” He was trying to calm the ire that was eating him alive, unsure where the heart of his anger truly came from, or at least, not willing to admit its source.

“Shopping.”

“Shopping,” he parroted back. “You risked your life to go shopping? Are you that stupid?”

You recoiled. The words landed directly against your chest. An anger of your own beginning to bubble like water brought to a rapid boil. It was funny how fast you forgot about the steady drip of water creating a large pool around your feet, nor did you feel the cold as acutely.

“Excuse me?”

Kento pushed off from where he was leaning, gesticulating towards the evident storm raging outside. Sheets of heavy rain blown by the howling wind lashed the glass as if to prove his point and you seethed at him, hands curling in and out fists by your sides.

“You heard me. What could be so important that you would risk your life in conditions like these?”

You stalked closer, fury pounding in your veins enough to make your blood sing with molten heat. “You were out in it too!” You yelled, barely drawing breath between words. “Unless you’ve got some hidden room in this apartment that I’m not aware of. At least I had the decency to leave a note.”

He scoffed, turning from you to increase the distance between you both but you weren’t done.

“You could have been laying sprawled out, in need of help for all I knew! I was worried that—”

“That is different,” he countered whilst a broad hand ran roughly through his hair. The usually neatly parted blond hair was ruffled as if he had already worked his fingers through it whilst you were out. “I was safely in a car, not traipsing around the fucking city with only an umbrella for protection.”

This man. This perfectly outrageous, infuriating man. Oh, he was doing his damnedest to push every one of your buttons. You weren’t some stupid little girl that needed protecting or coddling.

“And what does it matter to you? You’re not my fucking brother, Kento! At the end of the day, we’re nothing to each other!”

Shit, that hurt. The regret was immediate; tears burning behind your eyes, threatening to blur your vision and you’d be damned if you were going to let him see them fall. Withdraw. You needed space, to pull back from this stupid, meaningless argument. Except it wasn’t meaningless.

You made to move past his hulking frame that filled the way to the hall and the solace of your room, but two strong hands shot out to prevent you from running. His grip shook, fingers curled around your shoulders as he pulled you to him. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. Kento looked downright furious; his lips curled back from his teeth with a snarl and his eyes snapped fire. The raging inferno of a wildfire—uncontrolled and dangerous—shone in those intelligent brown depths.

“Oh no, you don’t get to walk away, not now. Do you honestly think a brother would be this worried… shit… that they would get this angry about you being in danger? I don’t think so. You’re an intelligent woman, you know this kind of reaction is reserved for something far more intimate than that.”

His words stole the remaining air from your lungs, you were held in a vacuum with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Your eyes bounced between his, certain you hadn’t just heard what he said. It had to be all in your head, your traitorous brain implanting false declarations, but… no. He did say that. He had worried about your safety, and not because of some arbitrary sense of obligation. This man who you wanted to yell at some more. This man who you wanted to do nothing more than shut up with a kiss.

“Wh—”

The world stopped turning. Everything felt frozen in place as your lips found his and the relief was immediate. The starchy material of his shirt felt alien against your fingers, not that you were even sure when they had fisted into it in the first place. Kento crushed you to his chest, forcing you to step onto your tiptoes to continue the assault. His hands found your waist at the same time you curled an arm around his neck. The taste of coffee erupted on your tongue, bitter but sweetened by warm honey notes that felt indulgent.

This moment felt forever in the making, all the missed opportunities and miscommunications seeming inconsequential now that you had him where you wanted him. You could drown in this man. The flames of your anger continued to flicker in the periphery; he wouldn’t get off this easily, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about his earlier hurled words when his tongue was pushing past the seam of your lips. He was a combination of sweet and salty, leading the dance with a gentle dominance that suited him perfectly. Kento’s hands were careful, considered in how he held you, whilst he let his tongue curl over your teeth and stroke over your own. You were kindling in his hands, soaked to the bone yet you felt not an inch of the cold penetrating your skin. Kento would set you ablaze and you’d let him.

Your eyes hooded then finally closed, the shock of how you had both lunged in the same breath was long over and now you were simply a mass of sensations, lost to your desires and happily so. Your fingers inched towards the rough undercut at his nape only to be ripped away, shattering the cocoon of warmth in an instant. It felt like a punch to the gut, gasping like a fish out of water and you blinked in alarm.

You could only watch whilst Kento shook his head in resignation, his face lowered so as not to look you in the eye and the scratchy feeling in your throat returned tenfold. The hands that only seconds ago tenderly explored your waist now imprisoned your wrists, preventing you from touching him any longer.

“I can’t… we can’t do this,” he said whilst the bottom of your stomach fell out. How dare he pull you into that claim without your consent.

“No! You mean you can’t do this. I want this, I want you, Kento. You’re the one pushing me away, holding me at arm’s length,” you half screamed back. The tears were falling fast, hot splashes against your cheeks and you hated yourself for it.

“It won’t work. I—I’ve spent hours trying to figure out how I could make it work and I can’t.”

Goddamn him. Didn’t he realise that it wasn’t a puzzle to solve, it wasn’t a project to manage? It should be a venture started together; he should be able to lean on you as much as you could depend on him. He was a fucking coward. The seams of your heart were being ripped open and he spoke words of reason, of logic, like those were the only things to consider. Couldn’t he see how much he was hurting you?

“Coward.”

He didn’t try to stop you when you pulled free, turning on your heel to snatch up a plastic-wrapped lump from your bag. You shoved it into his chest with force, resulting in a grunt of surprise at your unexpected strength.

Kento could barely look as you barged past him to run down the hall. The door of your room slammed shut with an air of finality that churned his stomach into a mass of thorn-tipped vines. He despised the hurt that was etched across your face, the tears streaking your cheeks and the complete betrayal dulling your usually sparkling eyes. You were right; he was a coward.

How long he stood there, staring down an empty hallway whilst the rain lashed and the winds howled, he didn’t know. Eventually, he glanced at the package in his hands and curiosity got the better of him. He pulled out a gift-wrapped box from the layers of plastic bags protecting it from the elements, a golden bow adorned it, and he smiled despite the pain. With careful fingers, the bow pulled loose, and the paper unwrapped to reveal an expensive camera.

Kento scrubbed a palm down his face, eyes slowly shuttering at the gift he would have never considered for himself, but which was perfect. He hadn’t given you nearly enough credit, you were so wonderfully compassionate and understanding, and he had fucked everything up. He knew in his rational mind that it shouldn’t work, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t, not if you worked at it and were both willing to compromise.

Should he…

You needed time after what he had done. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you if he knocked on your door right now, and honestly, he wasn’t sure he had the words to make this right. Things would look better in the morning, he had to hope that there were enough remnants of what had been there before to repair the damage. Kento touched his fingertips to his lips, he could still feel yours against him and what he wouldn’t give for one more taste. One more smile. One more playful tease at his expense. One more secret glance that tightened his chest.

“Fucking coward.”

The storm had passed by the next morning, leaving behind a beautiful cloudless sky and the dawn chorus of chirping birds. Kento woke with a start and immediately winced at the streams of sunlight filling his bedroom. He sat up with a grimace, holding his pounding head in his hands and looking down to find himself still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. A crystal-cut tumbler half-filled with amber liquor sat on his nightstand and he recalled having drunk several very full glasses to find the embrace of sleep. It had refused to come to him without the alcohol numbing his emotions and he was only glad he hadn’t done something stupid in his drunken stupor like trying to speak to you. That wouldn’t have gone over well, that much he knew.

Speaking of you, he recounted hearing sniffling noises during the darkest part of the night, but he couldn’t tell if they were yours or if his conscience was torturing him. He wouldn’t put it past him, the midnight hours had been spent berating his stupidity and warring with the voice in the back of his head that continued to chirp that this was for the best.

After he straightened himself out, washing his face and changing into a clean outfit, he went in search of coffee and hoped to find you in the kitchen with your morning cup. Instead, what he found was an apartment that was eerily quiet, even more so than when he returned home yesterday. Each footstep filled him with rising dread, the icy prickle of unease at his neck and no amount of scratching would relieve it.

The whisky bottle from last night was exactly where he left it. The coffee machine was cold and unused. The camera you had gifted him lay on the couch with the golden ribbon rumpled on the floor beneath. Kento swallowed; unwilling to believe what he knew in his heart to be true. Instead of facing reality, he began his morning ritual of preparing coffee until he pulled down two mugs instead of one.

His hand shook around the grey mug you had favoured since you burst into his world in a whirlwind of laughter and joy. The smell of French roast turned his stomach and he launched himself down the hall to confirm his suspicions. There was no answer to his insistent knocks at your door, each one another nail in his coffin until he was completely trapped.

The room—your room—stood silent and empty.

Every trace that you had ever been here was gone, that was except for your scent which lingered in the air, thick with melancholy. Kento sat on the corner of your bed, his head cradled in his hands at the gravity of what he had done. Not only had he acted cowardly, but he had also caused you to run from him and that was a sucker punch to the gut.

“You’re a fool, Nanami. A coward and a fool…”

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento angst #jjk angst

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callmemonster68 · 4 months ago

Text

tears of a pretty boy | p.sh - sunghoon

Sunghoon: No... no... ( he shook his head, the submission clear in every word ) You can do whatever you want with me. I am your toy... only yours...

Challenge: Tied secret-moonstruck & callmemonster68

paring: sub!sunghoon x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

wc: 5,640

warnings: nsfw content, crying, bloond/injuries, unprotected sex, swearing, rough sex, bruises, handcuffs, chains, sadomasochism , masochism

In the center of a colossal room, enveloped in an almost palpable silence, stands a peculiar structure: a perfectly square glass room. Its translucent walls reflect the soft lights coming from high, cold chandeliers, creating a play of glimmers that is almost hypnotizing. Inside, a minimalist and unsettling environment: a single chair is positioned exactly in the center, with a simple mattress spread on the floor beside it, and a small table next to the chair, as if waiting for some undefined purpose.

Outside, the larger room is arranged like a modern amphitheater, with several chairs meticulously organized around the glass structure. They offer a panoramic view of whatever happens inside, transforming the space into a stage where voyeurism and curiosity coexist. The environment seems to carry an invisible tension, as if the very air were waiting to be filled by some imminent and extraordinary event.

The contrast between the isolation of the glass room and the proximity of the audience creates an atmosphere of expectation — a combination of vulnerability and exposure that seems almost ritualistic.

When all the chairs around the glass room were occupied and the murmur of the audience turned into a tense silence, Y/N and Sunghoon entered the room. Their footsteps echoed in the spacious environment, creating an almost theatrical contrast with the muffled sound of their breaths. They crossed the main room with the confidence of protagonists in a well-rehearsed play, until they reached the glass structure. As soon as they entered, the tension in the air seemed almost palpable.

Sunghoon was completely naked, his skin softly reflecting the still-lit lights, like a pure canvas waiting for something. Y/N, on the other hand, exuded an aura of power and mystery, wrapped in delicate and provocative black lingerie, with lace that suggested more than it revealed. The combination between the two was breathtaking, almost as if the entire room held its breath in unison.

So, the lights went out.

In the absolute darkness, time seemed suspended. Only the low murmurs and the heavy breathing of some audience members filled the void. Seconds later, the lights returned, this time with a warmer and more intimate tone, bathing the glass room in a golden light.

There was Sunghoon.

Completely naked, but now tied up. His impeccable body was wrapped in red silk ropes that seemed hand-painted against his fair skin. The bindings were not simple; they were an intricate work of art, perfectly positioned lines creating geometric patterns that outlined and highlighted every curve, every muscle, with almost cruel precision. The broad chest was adorned with lines that descended to his slender waist, where the delicately tightened knots appeared both firm and sensual. The ropes followed down his strong thighs, embracing them as if they were made for him, exposing him in a way that transformed him into an irresistible sight.

His arms were raised, held above his head and firmly tied to a ring in the ceiling. Each knot had been made with care and precision, not just to restrain, but to highlight the perfection of his form. He was a celestial vision — the epitome of surrender. His tousled hair fell charmingly over his forehead, while the sheen of sweat began to appear on his flawless skin. The movement of his chest, rising and falling in a steady rhythm, revealed a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

Next to him, Y/N exuded absolute control. Her gaze swept over Sunghoon's body as if she were the artist herself evaluating her masterpiece. For her, it was not just a spectacle for others, but a moment of mastery and connection between them. The audience, hypnotized, did not dare even to blink, fearing they might miss any detail of the scene.

And so, the show began.

Y/N watched him, each of his movements amplifying the power she felt in that moment. He was there, handsome, devoted, waiting for her orders. That's how she liked it. That's how it should be.

Y/N: You look divine like this. (she said, breaking the silence, her voice low and laden with authority)

He tried to respond, but the gag strapped to his mouth muffled any words. Only a hoarse moan escaped, laden with need. Y/N raised an eyebrow, a satisfied smile curving their lips.

Y/N: Ah, so obedient... (She walked around him, the heels clicking on the wooden floor, each step meticulously calculated to heighten the suspense) But so... desperate.

With a firm gesture, she slid the tips of her fingers over his shoulder, slowly descending to his chest, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. He was perfect — too perfect to be in her hands. And that was exactly what excited her: he, the most beautiful man she had ever seen, begging for her.

Y/N: Do you know what I love most about nights like this? ( she asked, leaning in to whisper in his ear ) Making handsome boys like you cry.

A shiver ran through his body, and she smiled, satisfied. Taking the thin leather whip that rested on the table, she slid the tip across his torso, teasing his skin before delivering a light strike to the side of his thigh. The sound cut through the silence, followed by a muffled groan.

Y/N: You liked that, didn't you? (she took a step back, assessing his reaction)

He fought against the ropes, but not to escape — it was the opposite. He wanted more.

Y/N: I'm going to ask only once, (she said, holding his chin and tilting his face up) Who do you belong to?

He groaned against the gag, his eyes desperate. Y/N pulled the cloth from his mouth, allowing him to breathe but maintaining control. He took a deep breath, his voice hoarse and full of need.

Sunghoon: I am yours... only yours, (he murmured, with a broken voice) Please, ma'am... touch me. Touch me there... I need you.

Her smile widened, satisfied. He was broken — exactly as she wanted.

Y/N: Ah, my angel, (she teased, sliding her hand slowly down his waist, but stopping before reaching the place he begged for) Do you think you can tell me what to do?

Sunghoon: No... no... ( he shook his head, the submission clear in every word ) You can do whatever you want with me. I am your toy... only yours...

Y/N leaned in close, their lips almost touching his.

Y/N: You beg so well, did you know? I think I'm going to reward you... But only because I want to, not because you deserve it.

She finally gave in, her hand sliding to where he begged for attention. She touched his cock, initially the touch was delicate, soon becoming something rougher, gripping tightly. With one hand, she pumped his cock mercilessly, while the other hand stimulated his balls, squeezing them tightly. The muffled cry of pleasure that escaped him was enough to make her smile even more. His body trembled, the ropes tightening as he writhed, but she didn't stop. She knew exactly how to control each movement, each reaction of his.

When he finally reached climax, his body completely surrendered and panting, she released the ropes that bound his arms, letting him fall to his knees in front of her. He looked at her, exhausted, his eyes still shining with desire.

Sunghoon: You ruined me... (he murmured, his voice trembling) But I want more. I want you... always.

Y/N leaned in, holding his face gently, but firmly enough to show that she was still in control.

Y/N: You're asking for the impossible, my angel. Do you want me to be only yours?

He nodded quickly, the words coming out in a desperate whisper.

Sunghoon: Yes... be mine, please. I'll do whatever you want... Just be mine.

Y/N laughed softly, running their fingers through his hair.

Y/N: Let's see, my angel. If you keep behaving so well, maybe I'll consider your case.

Sunghoon was still on his knees, panting, his skin shining with the effort and pleasure she had inflicted. But his eyes remained fixed on Y/N, as if she were the only thing that existed in the world. He adored her in silence, his lips slightly parted in a mute plea.

Y/N, in turn, picked up a crystal glass that was on the small table next to the chair and took a small sip of the amber liquid inside it, her gaze never leaving his. She seemed completely in control, unattainable, while he fell apart before her.

Y/N: (with a calm voice, but full of authority) Do you know what I love most about you, Sunghoon? Your ability to give yourself completely. It's rare to find someone like that... so perfect, so moldable.

She placed the glass back on the table, her heels echoing through the room as she approached him. He lifted his head in an instinctive gesture, seeking any crumb of attention she was willing to offer.

Y/N: But I'm not done with you yet. (his fingers slid down his chin, forcing him to look directly into his eyes) You still haven't proven that you deserve what you're asking for.

Sunghoon: (with a hoarse voice, almost a moan) I will do anything... anything you want.

Y/N smiled, satisfied with the response. She gently pulled him by the chin, forcing him to stand up. He stood up, still vulnerable, with the marks of the ropes decorating his skin like a living work of art.

She walked to the chair in the center of the glass room and sat down, crossing her legs slowly while her eyes assessed Sunghoon from head to toe.

Y/N: On your knees. Here.

Without hesitation, he obeyed, crawling to her and kneeling between her legs. He was surrendered, completely at her mercy, but Y/N still wanted more. She wanted him to prove, in front of everyone, that he belonged to her.

Y/N: Now... show the audience who you are. Show them how much you belong to me.

The words were a command, a promise, and he knew in that moment that he would do exactly what she asked. Slowly, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the delicate skin of her leg, as his devotion to her overflowed in every gesture.

The audience, until then silent, let out a low murmur, as if they were witnessing something forbidden, something so intimate that it was impossible to look away. Y/N merely observed, absolute control reflected in their eyes, while Sunghoon moved with a mixture of desire and reverence.

Y/N's eyes were fixed on Sunghoon, their expression a mix of pleasure and absolute control. He was climbing slowly, making his devotion clear in every gesture, in every touch of his lips. His tongue traced delicate patterns on her skin, climbing up her legs until it reached her knees, where he paused to place long kisses, as if he wanted to memorize every detail.

When he reached her thighs, the rhythm of his breathing became heavier. He alternated between kisses and small bites, the perfect mix of adoration and raw desire. Each touch seemed to beg for more, but Sunghoon was careful, controlled, as if he wanted to prolong the moment as much as possible.

And then he stopped.

His face was now before her intimacy, covered only by the thin layer of black lingerie that was already visibly damp. He lifted his eyes, meeting hers with a gaze that overflowed with need and surrender. His lips were slightly parted, and his warm breath made the fabric move gently, like an unintentional provocation.

Y/N's eyes sparkled, satisfied. She leaned slightly, holding his face with a gentle firmness.

Y/N: (with a provocative smile) Look at me, Sunghoon. You know what to do.

He nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. Then, with the tip of his tongue, he traced a path along the fine fabric, savoring each second as if it were a privilege. He moved with precision, his face pressing against the lingerie in a way that drew a soft sigh from her.

The audience was in a trance, unable to take their eyes off the scene. It was like watching a ritual, a dance where each movement had a purpose, each gesture an intention.

Y/N leaned back in the chair, a satisfied smile curving their lips.

Y/N: Good boy. (she murmured, running her fingers through his hair) Keep it up, and who knows... maybe I'll let you get closer than you want.

Sunghoon remained there, kneeling, his eyes fixed on the black lingerie that covered Y/N's intimacy. Each of his movements was a demonstration of absolute devotion, but he knew he could do more. He wanted to please her, he wanted to see her react, he wanted to give her everything.

With care, his hands moved up her legs, the tips of his fingers brushing her skin in a caress that seemed almost like a plea. He hesitated for a moment, raising his gaze to Y/N as if asking for permission.

Y/N: (with a soft and provocative smile) Do you want to undress me, my angel?

He nodded quickly, his voice coming out hoarse with desire:

Sunghoon: Please... let me touch you.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, satisfied with his submission. She leaned slightly forward, resting her arms on the chair, and whispered:

Y/N: Go ahead, then. Show me how much you want me.

With trembling but careful hands, Sunghoon began to slide his fingers over the fabric of the lingerie, exploring the fine texture as he moved up to her shoulders. He found the delicate straps and pulled them slowly, as if each revealed centimeter were an experience to be savored.

The fabric descended slowly, exposing Y/N's shoulders and collarbone, and the audience, still in almost absolute silence, held their breath. Her skin, illuminated by the golden light filling the glass room, seemed to glow. Sunghoon could barely contain the admiration in his gaze.

When the lingerie slipped completely, leaving Y/N's body fully exposed, he paused for a moment. His eyes scanned every detail, as if he were contemplating a masterpiece.

Y/N: (in an authoritative yet sweet tone) Sunghoon, don't just stand there looking. Show me what you're capable of.

Those words were all he needed to hear. He leaned forward, his lips finding the curve of her neck as his hands explored her body with a mixture of adoration and desire. He kissed, licked, and gently nibbled, slowly descending down her body. Each touch, each movement felt like a dance, meticulously rehearsed to please her.

When his lips reached the curve of her breasts, he stopped, looking up as if asking for permission again.

Y/N: (smirking) You know what to do, my angel. Don't let me down.

He didn't need any more encouragement. His mouth captured one of her nipples gently, his tongue working to provoke reactions he knew she wanted to feel. His other hand caressed the other breast, alternating between gentle touches and firm pressure, as he dedicated himself entirely to pleasing her.

The audience watched in silent ecstasy, completely hypnotized by the intense and raw connection between the two. Y/N, for their part, allowed themselves to relax, closing their eyes for a brief moment and letting out a satisfied sigh.

Y/N: You are learning quickly, my angel...

But she knew she could still demand more. After all, he was there to serve her, and she wasn't in a hurry.

Sunghoon's movements were guided by an intense desire, but also by a devoted obedience. He knew that every action of his had to be perfect to satisfy Y/N. After spending enough time worshipping her breasts, he began to descend down her body, distributing kisses and gentle bites along her abdomen.

Y/N watched him from above, her eyes half-closed, evaluating every gesture. She knew he was doing exactly what she wanted, but that didn't mean she couldn't provoke him even more.

Y/N: (in a calm tone, but laden with authority) Don't be shy, my angel. Go deeper. I want to see how much you are really willing to give yourself.

Sunghoon looked up, meeting her eyes. He knew exactly what she wanted, but he wanted to make sure he was pleasing her in the process. Slowly, he slid his hands to her hips, holding her firmly before leaning his face even lower.

His lips finally reached the intimacy of Y/N. He hesitated for a moment, not out of lack of desire, but because he wanted to savor that moment. So, without further ado, he began to kiss her right there, first gently, then with more intensity, as if he wanted to devour every reaction of hers.

Y/N let out a deep sigh, leaning her head back and gripping the arms of the chair. A satisfied smile curved her lips as she felt Sunghoon's tongue exploring every inch of her, alternating between gentle and bold movements.

Y/N: (slightly arching) That's... just like that, my angel. Show the audience how dedicated you are.

The sound of Y/N's heavy breathing mingled with the murmurs of the audience, who remained completely hypnotized by the scene. Sunghoon intensified his movements, his tongue exploring every part of her with mastery, while his firm hands held her hips in place.

Y/N, feeling completely in control, looked down, meeting his gaze. The eye contact was enough to make him work even harder. She knew how much he wanted to please her, and she was willing to reward him... eventually.

Y/N: (in a teasing tone) You're doing well, my angel, but I want to hear you beg again.

He turned his face away for a moment, his lips glistening with her moisture. His breath was heavy, and he could barely form words.

Sunghoon: (breathless) Please... ma'am, let me continue. I want to give you everything... I want to see you lose control because of me.

Y/N smiled, satisfied with his submission. She slid her fingers through Sunghoon's tousled hair, holding it firmly before gently pulling him back, leaving him vulnerable and exposed once again.

Y/N: You're trying hard... but I want more. I want to see you completely broken by me.

She pushed him lightly, indicating that he should lie on the floor. Without hesitation, Sunghoon obeyed, positioning himself on his back on the mattress. His body was tense, but the expression in his eyes was one of pure submission.

Y/N slowly rose from the chair, walking towards him with calculated steps, the heels echoing on the glass. She stopped beside him, looking at the perfect body stretched out before her.

Y/N: Now... it's my turn to play.

She knelt over him, positioning herself under his cock. Without haste, she began to move, her nails lightly scratching his chest, provoking shivers as she explored every line and curve of his body.

Y/N: (with a mischievous smile) Tell me, my angel... what would you do to please me even more?

Sunghoon: (whispering, with eyes shining with desire) Everything, ma'am. Anything you want... I am yours.

The audience watched in reverent silence, almost as if they were witnessing a divine spectacle.

Y/N leaned in to kiss him, their lips touching his with firmness and authority. The kiss was not just a demonstration of desire, but of control — a reminder that, in that moment, he was completely hers.

Y/N: (whispering against his lips)So, show me.

Y/N looked at him with a mischievous smile as Sunghoon's body trembled with anticipation beneath hers. He was such a perfect sight: lying there, vulnerable, completely surrendered to her control. But Y/N wanted more. She wanted to push him beyond any limit, to test how far he was willing to go to please her.

Y/N: (in a low and authoritative tone) You said you would do anything for me, didn't you, my angel?

Sunghoon: (breathless, with his eyes fixed on her) Yes, ma'am. Anything...

Without warning, Y/N moved their hand to his neck, initially wrapping it gently before squeezing firmly. The gesture made his body arch slightly under hers, a low moan escaping from his breathless lips. She leaned over him, her lips almost touching his, while her hand remained firm on his neck.

Y/N: (whispering) I want you to feel every part of me, Sunghoon. I want you to know that your breath, your surrender, your pleasure... everything depends on me.

He tried to respond, but the grip on his neck turned his words into a hoarse groan. His eyes were glazed, not out of fear, but pure submission. He loved it — the feeling of being completely under her control.

Y/N maintained the pressure on his neck while their other hand traveled down his chest, their nails scratching his skin with enough force to leave red marks. Sunghoon gasped, his chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm, while his body reacted to the pleasure mixed with pain.

Y/N: (laughing softly) So beautiful when you're on the brink of despair…

Without warning, she raised her free hand and delivered a firm slap to his face. The sound echoed through the glass room, causing some low murmurs to emerge from the audience, completely fascinated. His face turned with the impact, but he did not protest. On the contrary, the moan that escaped his lips indicated how much he had enjoyed it.

Y/N: (raising an eyebrow) Did you like that, my angel?

Sunghoon: (breathless) Yes, ma'am... Please... more…

Y/N smiled dangerously. She loved seeing how he melted under her touch, how he begged for more, even knowing that she could be even more cruel.

She delivered another slap, this time on the other cheek, the intensity slightly greater. His face flushed instantly, and his eyes were even brighter with desire. Y/N continued, alternating between teasing slaps and firmer ones, each strike followed by Sunghoon's moans, who seemed to sink even deeper into his devotion.

Y/N: (teasing) You like this, don't you? Of being my little toy.

Sunghoon: (with a trembling voice) Yes... I am yours, ma'am… do whatever you want with me...

She tightened her grip on his neck again, leaning in to kiss his jaw, nibbling on his skin with a mix of provocation and control. Sunghoon's breath became even heavier, his moans interrupted by the lack of air, as the pleasure intensified.

Y/N: (in a serious tone) I want the audience to see how perfect you are for me. I want them to know that you are mine — that every part of you belongs to me.

She released his neck for a moment, allowing him to take a deep breath, only to then deliver a firm slap to his chest. Sunghoon arched his back, a deep moan escaping his throat.

Y/N: (smirking mischievously) Keep begging, my angel. I want to hear how much you desire me.

Sunghoon: (completely devoted) Ma'am… I need you... please, touch me... use me... do whatever you want with me. I just want to please you...

Y/N leaned over him, holding his face between her hands again, her eyes piercing his.

Y/N: You look so handsome when you beg like that... (she paused, sliding her fingers across his face) Keep it up, and maybe I'll reward you. But remember, my angel: your only function here is to satisfy me.

She held him firmly, keeping him trapped between pain and pleasure, knowing that he didn't want to be anywhere else. The audience was completely immersed, barely breathing as they watched the scene so intimate and charged with tension.

Y/N knew that Sunghoon was on the verge of losing control, but she was nowhere near done. For her, the true pleasure lay in pushing him beyond his limits, shaping him into her perfect submissive in front of everyone.

When she realized he was ready to release his load, she stood up. Y/N walked around him, the heels of her shoes echoing against the glass of the room. Sunghoon knelt again, trembling with anticipation. Each of her movements seemed calculated, designed to torture his mind and body. She stopped behind him, her fingers sliding down his neck, firmly gripping his hair.

Y/N: (in a low voice filled with authority) You're still hiding something from me, Sunghoon. You still haven't fully surrendered.

He shook his head desperately, the words coming out like a moan:

Sunghoon: No, ma'am... I am yours. I am here just for you…

Y/N pulled his hair hard, tilting his head back. He gasped, but did not complain, only offering his exposed throat to her, a silent act of submission.

Y/N: (laughing softly) Ah, you talk so well... but will your body keep up with what your mouth promises?

She let go of his hair, pushing him to the ground with a firm gesture. He fell on his back, looking at her with eyes full of adoration and anxiety. Y/N leaned over him, sitting firmly on his chest, her nails tracing a path as they slid over his exposed arms, leaving small scratches.

Y/N: I want to hear you scream, my angel. I want everyone here to know who owns your pleasure.

Sunghoon gasped, his body tense beneath hers. She began to slide her nails across his abdomen, each scratch more intense than the last, leaving red trails on his pale skin. He bit his lip to avoid a scream, but that only irritated her.

Y/N: (with a cruel smile) Ah, you think you can hold it? Let's fix that now.

She raised her hand and delivered another slap, this time right in the center of his abdomen. The impact made his body arch, a hoarse groan escaping his lips. Y/N let out a low laugh, appreciating the sound.

Y/N: (taunting) Is that all? Aren't you going to give me more?

Without waiting for a response, she slid down, gripping his thighs tightly and leaving marked bites on the sensitive flesh. Sunghoon screamed this time, his head throwing back as she marked every piece of him she desired.

Y/N climbed up again, pressing his neck with both hands. She didn't squeeze immediately; first, she made a point of observing his face, to see the exact moment when complete submission took over. When his eyes locked onto hers, filled with desire and obedience, she began to squeeze.

Sunghoon: (gasping) Ma'am... I...

She didn't let him finish.

Y/N: Silence. Only breathe when I allow it.

She squeezed and released in a meticulously calculated rhythm, controlling each of his sighs. Sunghoon's body trembled beneath her, but he didn't try to escape. On the contrary, he seemed to surrender even more, his bound hands unable to touch her, which only heightened his frustration and desire.

Y/N: (with a voice full of authority) You are mine, Sunghoon. You have no control. You have no choices. Every breath, every moan, every piece of you... belongs to me.

She suddenly released his neck, allowing him to take a deep breath, only to then deliver a hard slap to his face. The sound echoed in the room, and his body trembled with the impact.

Sunghoon: (whispering) Thank you, ma'am... more, please...

Y/N leaned in, gripping his chin tightly, their lips dangerously close to his.

Y/N: (in a low and threatening tone) You don't give me orders, understood? I decide when, where, and how you will be used.

He nodded frantically, his breath uneven. Y/N smiled, satisfied with his complete surrender.

Y/N: (with a mischievous smile) Good boy. Now... let's see how much more you can endure.

She went down again, this time biting harder, her nails digging into his skin as she pushed him to the limit. Sunghoon could no longer hold back the moans and screams, his body reacting to every touch and blow from her.

The audience watched, caught in a trance, unable to look away. The glass room had become a sanctuary of submission and control, and Y/N was the deity in absolute command.

Y/N stood up slowly, leaving Sunghoon lying on the floor, exhausted and still trembling under her gaze. With a satisfied smile, she walked over to the small table next to the chair. Her hands glided over various items laid out there, all previously chosen for the spectacle of that night. Her fingers finally stopped at a shiny metal plug with a black stone at the base, elegant and intimidating. She raised the object, displaying it to the audience before turning her attention back to Sunghoon.

Y/N: (with a voice full of authority) You want this, don't you? Do you want to feel how completely I control you?

Sunghoon swallowed hard, his breath quickening. He knew he had no choice, but still, his body longed for everything she gave him.

Sunghoon: Yes... ma'am. Please...

Y/N raised an eyebrow, walking back to him with the plug firmly in hand.

Y/N: Great. Of four. Now.

He obeyed immediately, positioning himself on his knees and hands, his body completely exposed and vulnerable to her and the watchful gaze of the audience. Y/N knelt behind him, running a firm hand over his waist, their touch simultaneously comforting and dominating.

Y/N: (whispering near his ear) So obedient... but I still want to see you beg.

With a small bottle of lubricant in hand, she applied a generous amount to the plug and slid her fingers over its entrance, teasingly. Sunghoon gasped, his hands trembling against the floor as his head hung forward.

Y/N: Come on, my angel. Ask. Show everyone how much you need me.

Sunghoon: Ma'am, please... please, take me. Do whatever you want with me... I am yours... only yours.

Satisfied, Y/N began to press the plug slowly, observing every reaction of his body. The audience held their breath as the object was finally inserted, the black stone shining under the soft light of the room. The low sound of approval that escaped from Sunghoon only intensified the control that Y/N felt.

Y/N: (stroking your back) Perfect. Now you are complete... my masterpiece.

She stood up again, looking down at him, completely dominated and adorned like a gift. With a satisfied smile, she pulled him by the hair, forcing him to lift his face to look at her.

Y/N: (firmly) Now, my angel, you are going to kneel here, in front of the audience, and show everyone what it means to belong to me.

Sunghoon obeyed, kneeling again, his breath ragged, his body still trembling, but the devotion in his eyes unwavering. Y/N walked around, stopping behind him. She slid the tip of a thin whip along his back, as if tracing every line of his skin, before delivering a firm strike. He groaned loudly, the sound echoing through the room.

Y/N: (whispering to him) Every mark I leave on you is a reminder... that you are mine.

Y/N: (getting even closer, with a low and controlled voice) It's time to prove your devotion, my angel. Show me how much you are mine.

She held him by the neck, tilting him back once again. The touch of her fingers was firm, authoritative, but also full of an intimacy that spoke beyond words. Sunghoon's body trembled with anticipation, but also with a deep desire to please her. He knew he was on the edge, but Y/N still had absolute control.

Y/N slid their hands over his body one last time, each movement calculated to amplify the already unbearable tension that burned between them. The audience held their breath, completely engrossed in the impending climax.

Y/N: (whispering with a smile of pure satisfaction) This... now, let go, my angel. Show me everything.

Sunghoon's body arched almost violently, every muscle contracted in an uncontrollable ecstasy. His breath came in ragged gasps, transforming into a deep, hoarse moan that reverberated throughout the room. The moment was intense, visceral, as if time had stopped to witness the connection between them.

Y/N watched him with a triumphant smile, her eyes shining with a mix of pleasure and power. When Sunghoon finally fell to his knees, exhausted and trembling, she approached, holding his face between her hands once again, this time with a tenderness that contrasted with her earlier authority.

Y/N: (whispering softly) You did well, my angel... so perfect.

Sunghoon raised his eyes to her, tears shining on his face as he struggled to catch his breath.

Sunghoon: (with a choked voice) Thank you... ma'am. Thank you for everything..

Y/N: (smiling gently, wiping a tear from his face) You gave me your all today, and that's exactly what I expected. You are my greatest gift.

He began to cry more intensely, a mix of relief, gratitude, and emotion taking over him. Y/N pulled him closer, holding him firmly in a rare gesture of comfort.

Y/N: (softly, almost like a secret) Remember, Sunghoon, you are mine... and I take care of what is mine.

She slid her hand along his jaw, holding him firmly while making him look directly into her eyes.

Y/N: This will never be enough. I will always demand more from you... because you are mine, and I will shape you exactly as I want.

She kissed him gently on the forehead before standing up, leaving him kneeling in the center of the room. The audience erupted in applause, still overwhelmed by the intensity of the performance, as Y/N walked with grace and confidence out of the room, like a queen leaving her throne...

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

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loulou-land · 3 months ago

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Beautiful Views and Chaos Gremlins

(I can’t remember who posted it but I saw a post this morning joking about Oliver being the one who told Lou to post that story and well it wouldn’t leave my head. So here’s something short and silly.)

Lou squints at the photos he’s just taken, his sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose. It’s not every day he gets to film on the rooftop of a high-rise, with a helipad and a panoramic view of the city stretched out before him. He swipes through the shots, debating which one is worth keeping, when he hears footsteps behind him.

He doesn’t think much of it—until he feels warmth at his back and the sharp press of a chin digging into his shoulder.

“You should post one,” Oliver says, his voice low and gravelly, the accent curling pleasantly in Lou’s ear.

Lou hums, more distracted by Oliver’s close presence than his words. “Wait—what?” He asks, incredulous, when the words finally sink in.

Oliver tilts his head toward the phone in Lou’s hand. “The view. You should post a pic of it. It’s a good one.”

Lou turns slightly, studying him. Oliver’s face is unreadable. His brows are furrowed, lips pressed together just short of a pout. Anyone else would think he’s pissed off, but Lou knows better by now. Knows the amused glint in those blue eyes.

“Are you serious?” Lou asks, raising an eyebrow.

Oliver shrugs, like it’s nothing. Like his suggestion isn’t going to create nothing short of a frenzy through social media.

And people think he’s the chaotic one.

Shaking his head, Lou goes to his instagram stories and uploads the photo, adding some tags. He holds his phone for Oliver to see, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Dork,” Oliver snorts fondly. “Yeah. That works.”

Lou posts it and slides his phone back into his pocket.

“Well, let me know how that goes,” Oliver says, squeezing his shoulder before stepping away toward their next scene as though he hadn’t just instigated the whole thing. “You know I’m staying away from all that stuff.”

Lou groans. “Oh, you ass.”

“You like my ass,” Oliver throws over his shoulder, sounding way too pleased with himself.

Lou doesn’t reply. Because he does like his ass. And Oliver is well aware of that by now.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Ahh, looks like it’s started, he thinks as he feels the onslaught of notifications. He’ll check it later, sift through the positive ones, and give Oliver the highlights over dinner.

For now, they have a romantic kissing scene to film.

And if they fumble it a few times just to draw it out—well. That’s between them.

#louliver #living rent free in my head #lou ferrigno jr #oliver stark #rpf #my writing

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pretzel-box · 10 months ago

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PROLOGUE: WELCOME TO URBANSHADE

Word count: 3,3k

Tags: GN!reader, Graphic mention of surgery and experiments on a human body

Summary: You get hired by Urbanshade, thanks to your father, but every start has its obstacles. And some obstacles might feel deeper than they should be.

The time on the wall clock showed it was just a few minutes past noon. Warm sunlight gently crept into the waiting room through the tall panoramic windows of the building. A quick glance to the side, catching a glimpse of the clock, was enough to tell you that it would still be a few moments before it was time to move from the comfort of the leather chair you were currently sitting on. Your freshly disinfected hands clung nervously to your phone as you swiftly scrolled through the list of contacts you had saved over time. You were so focused that it startled you slightly when another caller ID popped up on the bright screen, displaying the picture of your father's face.

This particular man had called you a lot lately, sticking his nose into your business after you dared to ask him for a tiny favor, hoping he would help since you are his beloved only child. But one thing you didn't expect from him at that specific moment was that he would take the opportunity to call you, considering that he was somewhere on the ocean.

He works as a high-class businessman, primarily sponsoring a company called Urbanshade. You didn't know much about them, but your dad mentioned something about how they specialize in underwater mining with some high-tech inventions. This explained his temporary stay on one of Urbanshade's ships, where they were testing and showcasing another new underwater mining robot of some sort, called Trenchbleeder. Your dad had funded the whole project over the past few months, so he was more than excited to see how his money was being put to good use.

"Did they call you yet?" Despite the slight static, the seagulls, and the waves in the background, you could make out the strict tone in his voice. Of course, he was curious. You had asked your dad if he knew someone who would hire you, his child. And naturally, the first thing he applied you for was a position at one of Urbanshade's research facilities. They weren't really looking for new employees in the first place, but your dad was very close to the higher-ups, so he bought the job for you. The fact that he paid the company to hire you made your stomach twist in discomfort, but it was too late to turn back and say no. "I risked a lot by doing that for you."

He referred to the payment he had made on your behalf, and you could feel the pressure he had placed on your shoulders.

You nodded, even though your dad couldn't see it over the phone. "I'm at their building, sitting in the waiting room. We're signing the contract today." You tried to sound confident, but you knew your dad could see right through your facade. "They should be calling me into the office soon."

Your name was called loudly through the room before your dad could reply, and he would probably have given you another warning not to mess it up for his reputation's sake. "Sorry, Dad, it's time."

You ended the call with a swift push of the red button, putting your phone on mute so nothing would distract you during the meeting with one of the higher-ups at Urbanshade. The lady at the reception told you where to go, and another employee guided you to a glass room, where a middle-aged man in an expensive-looking suit was seated. His arms were crossed, and the way he scanned your application papers made your stomach turn.

The man must have noticed your little stare from the other side of the glass wall because he looked up from the file, and it wasn't hard to miss the coy smile on his lips. The previous expression on his face was quickly replaced with a more welcoming one. "Ah, we finally meet. Your father has already told me a good deal about you."

"I am grateful for the opportunity to work for your company, Mr. Wiltshire." First impressions count, especially at a company like Urbanshade. So you took the opportunity to present yourself in the best possible light, even if it meant pretending to be something you're not—in this case, motivated and interested. Your hand almost raised itself to offer a polite and respectful handshake.

"I assure you, we are the ones who are honored to welcome you to our team. Welcome to Urbanshade."

A few months passed after Urbanshade recruited you, and it didn't take long for you to get the hang of all the small details involved in your job at the luxurious office—details like how the overpriced coffee machine worked, how to sort the endless stacks of paper files, and even how to avoid getting on your new boss's bad side. At this point, you'd even admit it feels like being a well-paid version of an intern since your higher-ups only trusted you with minor tasks so far.

Despite the simplicity and comfort of the tasks, you volunteered more than once for harder assignments, showing your most motivated side in the hope of getting a little more action in your otherwise boring life. But every single time, Mr. Wiltshire blocked you off with a polite smile and a shake of his head. "You're not ready yet."

It was frustrating; you felt there was more behind it than just a lack of skills, but you couldn't force your way into the deeper levels of the job without risking ruining it all for yourself.

A high-pitched female voice suddenly pulled you out of your regular daydreams, making you aware that you were indeed not alone at the moment. "Ah, look who's here!" Your black-haired co-worker beamed at you with the fakest smile you had ever seen, making you raise your eyebrow slightly. The action didn't go unnoticed by her, and you could feel her sharp acrylic nails digging uncomfortably into your left shoulder. "Be a sweetheart," she started again, leaning in from behind and speaking directly into your ear, "and take care of my files too, alright?" She no longer tried to hide her snarky tone and instead showed you her true nasty attitude. "We don't want Mr. Wiltshire to see how much you slack off at work, right, hon?" The pain slowly disappeared as she lifted her hand from your shoulder, wiping it off on her expensive business blazer. A glance over your shoulder to meet her gaze was enough.

Her smug smile hit a nerve deep inside you, but you swallowed your newfound anger like the smarter person and just nodded without a word. In the end, it wasn't worth the drama, and maybe you could use the opportunity to score some extra credit points with your boss if he saw you doing some well-executed extra work.

The fake woman left the moment you tried to open your mouth to give her a straightforward answer, leaving you behind like some worthless object in the middle of the office. By this point, it wasn't really offensive to you since you strongly disliked that woman for her weird attitude toward you, and every second without her was surely a good second. After watching her leave and get into the elevator at the end of the hall, you turned around too and slowly made your way to the coffee machine in the plain break room, pouring yourself a nice cup of dark liquid into your favorite mug. You would surely need it if you had to put in some extra hours to get the work done. With newfound motivation, you left the room and headed to your co-worker's personal office.

It was a neat space inside a glass room, furnished with minimalist-style furniture and a nice office chair made of quality leather. Some of the woman's personal items were scattered across the mahogany table, and your lips curled up as you felt the smooth surface of the table, thinking you could earn one of those fancy offices yourself if you worked hard enough.

Then you saw the stack of brown files on the table. It was in an unacceptable, messy state, with paper corners sticking out from all sides and some mysterious stains on the front covers. Yet, the weirdly pleasant smell of cigarettes and old paper hit your nose, filling you with a strange, comforting feeling all over again. Your eyes also didn't fail to notice the bright yellow note on the stack, with a hastily written message in black ink:

"Please sort by Thursday night. Return Z-13 file to higher-up when done."

Reading it gave you a sudden boost of excitement, seeing that there must be an interesting file usually in the hands of higher-ranked people. You didn't question it but rather saw it as an opportunity to dive deeper into the business that Urbanshade conducts, sensing a way to escape the boring intern tasks and join them on the front lines, maybe even leading a mining operation in the exciting underwater world.

Your hands took the small note from the files, discarding it without a care into the bin, assuming your co-worker was aware of it since she knew about the work the files required. It was another simple job of sorting papers and making sure everything was in its place before returning them to the basement archives below the building.

The warm, rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee replaced the smell in the small office as you took a careful sip from your favorite mug. The dark liquid was the only thing keeping you grounded amidst the tension of the day. Your fingers traced the rim of the warm cup absentmindedly as you scanned the chaotic stack of files on the mahogany desk.

Determined to make a good impression by sorting through the files with precision, you placed your mug at the edge of the desk, within easy reach. You started to carefully separate the documents, making piles according to their categories, when your mind began to wander.

You reached for another file, but just as you were about to grab it, your elbow knocked against your mug. Time seemed to slow as you watched in horror as the mug tipped over, spilling hot coffee across the desk. The dark liquid cascaded like a wave, soaking the neatly sorted papers in seconds.

"No, no, no!" you gasped, frantically grabbing at the files, trying to salvage what you could. But it was too late—the coffee had already seeped into most of the pages, leaving large brown stains that spread and blurred the ink in matter of seconds. The once crisp documents were now soggy and wrinkled, some of the text smearing into an illegible mess.

Your heart pounded as you stared at the ruined files. A wave of panic surged through you. These weren’t just any papers; they were official documents, meant to be returned to the higher-ups. And that one file—about something called Z-13—it was supposed to go directly to someone important. You remembered the note and its simple instructions, now crumpled in the waste bin, and felt a sinking dread.

Grabbing a handful of napkins from the small break room drawer, you desperately tried to blot the coffee from the papers, but the evidence of your mistake would be painfully clear, no matter how hard you tried to save the files. The edges of some files were curling up, the ink bleeding out, and some of the pages were beyond saving. The more you wiped, the worse it seemed to get.

You slumped into the leather chair, your hands trembling as you stared at the coffee-stained disaster in front of you. What would Mr. Wiltshire say? Worse, what would your father think if he found out? The pressure to prove yourself, to show that you were capable of handling the job, suddenly felt crushing.

With a deep breath, you tried to calm your racing thoughts. There had to be a way to fix this. Maybe you could reprint the damaged documents, or perhaps there were backups somewhere in the archives. You needed a plan, and fast. But first, you had to get rid of the evidence of your mistake—before anyone saw the mess you had made.

Forcing yourself to think clearly, you carefully gathered the soaked files, praying that you could come up with a solution before anyone found out about the spill. And then you saw it, the important file with big red letters on the cover, slightly drenched in warm coffee. The damage seemed to be at a visible minimum, making you slightly relax despite all the panic in your body.

Your finger traced over the paper cover before picking the file up from the messy table. It was slightly heavy, and as you felt the weight of the file in your hands, a ripple of curiosity surged through you. You hesitated for a moment, wondering what kind of secrets might be concealed within these pages. But the urge to know won out, and you carefully opened the front cover, revealing a neatly typed summary that seemed to offer a glimpse into the contents of the file.

The first thing that caught your eye was a series of police reports, meticulously detailed and organized, each one stamped with the official seal of Urbanshade. They were followed by a set of photographs, their glossy surfaces reflecting the dim light of the room. The first image you saw was a clear mugshot of a young man. His face was striking, not in the sense of beauty, but in the way it conveyed a deep weariness, as if the weight of the world had been pressing down on him for far too long. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and they censored his eyes, leaving them to your imagination.

His expression was a frown in each of the photos, a look of quiet defiance mixed with something else—something that sent a strange sensation through your chest. It wasn’t pity, exactly, but a deep unease that you couldn’t quite place. There was a coldness in his expression, yet also a flicker of something more, something human and raw, buried beneath the layers of exhaustion and anger.

You turned the page, your fingers brushing over the edges of the police reports that followed. The papers were old, some of them yellowing with age, but the text was still clear. Your eyes skimmed the lines, taking in the grim details of a murder case that had been closed years ago. The words felt heavy, each sentence a stark reminder of the horror that had unfolded.

The reports detailed a series of brutal killings—nine victims in total. The descriptions were uncensored, each one more gruesome than the last. As you read, a chill ran down your spine. The level of violence, the cold, methodical nature of the crimes, it all painted a picture of someone deeply disturbed, someone with a darkness that ran far deeper than you could have imagined.

And there, at the center of it all, was the young man from the photos. His name was typed in bold letters at the top of the report: Sebastian Solace. The name seemed almost ironic—“Solace” suggesting peace or comfort, while the man it belonged to was associated with such unspeakable acts.

You stared at the name for a long moment, trying to reconcile the tired, defiant face in the photos with the monstrous deeds described in the reports. The file mentioned psychological evaluations, interviews, and even some speculation about his motives, but none of it seemed to add up. There was a note in the margin, scrawled in a hurried hand, suggesting that the case was far from closed, despite what the official records stated.

A photo paperclipped to the back of the file caught your attention—a grainy image of a dark, empty room. The caption underneath simply read, „Day of Execution“ The picture showed the electric chair that they used in Solace his execution, but any sign of his presence was missing in it.

Then you turned the pages and the police reports changed into a large series of lab reports, endless lists of medication and a collection of pictures that left you in a nauseous state.

You read and read for what felt like hours, your eyes moving mechanically over the pages as the horrors of Sebastian Solace's life unfolded before you. Each detail seemed more grotesque than the last, painting a picture of a man who had been systematically stripped of his humanity. It wasn’t just the surgeries—those brutal, invasive operations where limbs were removed and reattached like parts of a machine. It was the utter disregard for the person he once was, the complete and total annihilation of his identity, his very soul.

The deeper you delved into the file, the more your hands began to tremble. You could feel your stomach churning as you flipped through page after page of graphic images and cold, clinical reports. The pictures were the worst—high-resolution photographs of Sebastian’s disfigured body, his skin pale and sickly under the harsh fluorescent lights of a laboratory. There were stitches crisscrossing his limbs, metal tools embedded in his flesh like cruel mockeries of life-saving instruments. His eyes—those once defiant, tired eyes—were vacant now, lifeless, as though the man he had once been was already dead.

Your breath hitched as you turned to a page detailing an experiment labeled "Procedure 17-C." The accompanying photograph showed a close-up of Sebastian's chest, where wires and tubes had been inserted into his heart, his blood replaced with a thick, unnatural fluid. The caption beneath it coldly described the experiment’s purpose—to test the viability of synthetic blood in deep-sea environments. The thought of what he had endured, of how much pain and suffering had been inflicted upon him in the name of science, made your vision blur with tears.

You forced yourself to continue reading, even as nausea clawed at your throat. The reports became increasingly more deranged, describing how Sebastian’s body had been treated like a puzzle, dismantled and reassembled in ways that defied all logic and ethics. The word "specimen" appeared frequently, a stark reminder that to his captors, Sebastian was nothing more than a test subject, an object to be used and discarded.

It was around page 35 that you couldn’t take it anymore. You shoved the file aside and staggered to the bin next to you, emptying the contents of your stomach. The bile burned your throat, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish in your heart. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to steady your breathing, but the images lingered in your mind, imprinted there like a brand.

Sebastian Solace—the name now felt like a curse, a grim reminder of the horrors that could befall anyone who crossed paths with Urbanshade. And the Hadal Blackside... it was no longer just a place. It was a living nightmare, a twisted abyss where humanity was stripped away,

The weight of the file in your hands felt unbearable as you reluctantly picked it up again, your fingers trembling as you closed the cover. The secrets contained within were like a lead weight on your soul, pressing down on you with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. When you finally set the file back on the table, it was as though you were laying down a burden too great for any one person to bear.

But even as you tried to distance yourself from what you had just read, the haunted eyes of Sebastian Solace refused to leave you. They stayed with you, those hollow, lifeless eyes, staring back at you from the depths of your memory. They were a reminder that in the Hadal Blackside, there were things far more terrifying than the dark waters and the lurking creatures within. There might were men—once human, now monsters—who had been twisted by the same forces that now ensnared you.

You were tangled in their web now, caught in a nightmare from which there was no waking. And as you sat there, in the dim light of that office room, you realized that the true horror wasn’t what had been done to Sebastian. It was the knowledge that, in time, the same fate could await you, if someone found out what you saw.

#sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace #sebastian solace fanfiction #AsAboveSoBelow #sebastian solace fanfic #sebastian solace x gender neutral reader

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novlr · 2 years ago

Note

What are some good ways to write about winter?

Winter. is a season of stark contrasts and sensory experiences. It provides the perfect canvas to paint vivid scenes that range from cosy romances to horror-filled stormy nights.

When writing about winter, it’s essential to capture the essence of its chill and the way it can transform the world. Here are some quick tips!

Sights

A blanket of pristine snow covering the landscape

Bare tree branches coated with frost

Delicate snowflakes drifting from the grey sky

Icicles hanging like crystal daggers from rooftops

Colourful clothes stark against the white of snow

Sunlight reflecting off the snow, creating a blinding glare

Animal tracks stamped into the powder

Frozen lakes and puddles

Man-made objects like snowmen and snow angels

Lights shining against dark backdrops

Sounds

Snow muffling and dampening the usual noises

Boots crunching on the frozen ground

People laughing and shouting as they play

Wind howling through barren branches

Ice cracking underfoot or on distant lakes

The silence of a snow-covered world

Shovels scraping against sidewalks

Snowballs hitting their targets with soft thuds

Branches creaking, laden with snow

The rustle of animals keeping warm in burrows

Smells

The fresh, clean scent of snow in the air

Wood smoke curling from chimneys

The earthy aroma of damp wool from coats and gloves

The sharp tang of frost and cold metal

Hot chocolate and marshmallows

Pine needles and the subtle scent of evergreen

Baking spices from holiday treats

The slight ozone smell before a snowstorm

Wet dog from snowball fights with furry friends

Leather and polish from well-worn boots

Activities

Building snow forts and castles

Ice skating on a frozen pond or rink

Snowshoeing through a silent forest

Curling up by the fire with a good book

Skiing and snowboarding down powdery slopes

Brisk walks to enjoy the winter air

Hiking up snowy mountains for panoramic views

Having snowball fights with friends or family

Feeding birds or wildlife braving the cold

Decorating the home with festive lights and ornaments

Character body language

Shivering and huddling for warmth

Rubbing hands together or blowing on them for heat

Shoulders hunched against the biting wind

Slipping and steadying oneself on icy patches

Squinting against the bright snow glare

Snuggling into oversized coats and scarves

Stamping feet to restore circulation

Clapping hands to keep the cold at bay

Arms wrapped around the torso for warmth

Quick, brisk movements to minimise exposure to the cold

Positive descriptions

The serene beauty of a snow-covered meadow at dawn

The invigorating feeling of cold air filling your lungs

The cosiness of a warm blanket on a frosty night

The joy of catching snowflakes on your tongue

The camaraderie of coming together to shovel snow

The nostalgia of winter holidays and traditions

The satisfaction of making the perfect snowball

The wonder of ice patterns on windows

The laughter and excitement of a snow day

The glistening of a frosted evergreen in the sun

Negative descriptions

The biting sting of the wind against exposed skin

The numbness of fingers and toes in the cold

The dreariness of shortened, grey days

The inconvenience of navigating slushy streets

The isolation of a blizzard keeping everyone indoors

The discomfort of wet socks and snow in your boots

The hazard of black ice on sidewalks and roads

The burden of heavy layers and winter gear

The dull ache of a cold that lingers

The gloom that can accompany the lack of sunlight

Helpful adjectives

Biting, chilly, frosty, glacial, icy

Crisp, brisk, sharp, piercing, raw

Fluffy, powdery, crunchy, slick, slippery

Dreary, overcast, bleak, sombre, grey

Cosy, snug, warm, toasty, plush

Twinkling, sparkling, shimmering, glistening

Silent, muffled, still, hushed, quiet

Fresh, clean, invigorating, brisk, bracing

Nostalgic, traditional, joyous, festive, celebratory

Isolating, inconvenient, burdensome, hazardous, gloomy

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 years ago

Text

Don't Stop (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Smut. You and Morpheus are in the exploratory stages of your relationship. Morpheus asks to worship you, and all is going well. At least, that is, until you start to wake up...

Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut. Porn with plot. Kissing. Oral sex (AFAB receiving). Slight dominant Morpheus.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: So I watched Sweetbitter. With my partner. Maybe not the best idea because suppressing the squeaks of excitement whenever Tom came on screen was tough and not always 100% effective! The hyper fixation is still going strong... Hope you enjoy this one. All my love, Saskia xxx

Sandman Masterlist

-------------------------------------------------

It is only when the violent spinning not only stops but holds for several minutes after, does Morpheus make steps in allowing his guard to drop.

He straightens elegantly out of his crouching position, withdrawing his hands from the scree smattered earth. He looks to his left, to Lucienne, who is warily regarding the ground and sky, wondering if they might start to rapidly switch places again.

She meets Morpheus' gaze and adjusts her round-framed spectacles with a steady hand.

"I might be speaking too soon, sir, but I truly think it is over now."

Morpheus takes one last steely appraisal of the horizon, almost daring it to misbehave.

He nods once. "I believe you are correct, Lucienne."

"Will you be requiring anything else from me, my lord?"

"Not at present."

"Very well," Lucienne replies with a warm smile. "I will return to the palace now."

She does a little incline of the head in deference and goes to start the winding walk back towards the glowing lights of the Dreaming's seat of power.

Morpheus calls to his friend.

"I thank you for your persistence in supporting me to resolve these issues. I suggest you take some extra hours to rest."

"I suggest you do the same, sir."

Though her reply is innocuous, the knowing gleam in Lucienne's brown eyes hints at an alternative interpretation, one that Morpheus cannot help but notice.

It was becoming generally well known that he was in the early stages of courtship with a dreamer, you, and there was no doubt that Lucienne was aware of how far the relationship with you had recently gone.

He raises an eyebrow in response, earning a grin from Lucienne and then he watches her walk away.

Once alone, Morpheus allows his eyes to flutter closed as he sifts through the myriad of dormant minds and tunes into the space occupied by yours. He takes a reading of your emotions, thankful to find that you are contented and have not been rendered feeling neglected by his absence.

There's a faint undercurrent lingering below the surface level of your emotions that he is also able to lock on to given the familiarity that you share.

Desire.

They are present, filling you with neediness and longing.

A longing to be touched, to be touched by him.

Morpheus is with you in seconds, appearing in the doorway of the room you have chosen to conceal yourself in.

You are curled up in a large armchair by a panoramic window that frames the mountainous vista beyond. The torches that mark equidistant points along the bridge leading to the palace project a soft gleaming warmth over your skin. You are gazing softly at the landscape, the fingertips of one hand combing through your hair, the others trailing up and down your inner thigh.

Such an innocent yet provocative display. It makes Morpheus' voice drop to an even deeper and more sultry register than usual as he calls to you.

You are out of the chair instantly, meeting him at the threshold of the room. Your heart pumps out an allegro drum beat, the sound of the blood rushing in your ears like a waterfall.

You are pulled into a searing kiss, arms encircle your waist to ensure you are flush against his hips and chest. It is a relief that he is holding you in such a way for your knees are threatening to give out within seconds.

The power he has, in his body, his actions, through his words, in a metaphysical sense; you are helpless against them all.

When Morpheus pulls away from the kiss, you follow him on instinct, aching for more. He smiles faintly at your eagerness but maintains the gap in order to explain his length of absence.

"I must apologise, Y/N. The issue was a little more complex than Lucienne and I had anticipated."

He's looking down with a tint of shame in his aquamarine eyes.

You slide your hands up his forearms, gripping tightly and angling your head so you can capture his gaze.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. Your work and the safety of your dreamers take priority."

He simply nods. Your unwavering understanding is always on the side of overwhelming for him.

You register this in his stance.

"You feel a little tense. I can help with that if you want. Like I did last night?"

You move a hand up to stroke the hair on the back of his head. It is a form of touch that never fails to release tension.

Morpheus indulges in your attentions for a bit, leaning into you and sighing deeply, before staring at you directly with sudden seriousness.

"I cannot deny that what you did for me yesterday was beyond exquisite," He leans in to speak by your ear. "But it is my turn to worship you."

"Oh," you swallow down your surprise. "Okay."

Morpheus wastes no time in guiding you back towards the armchair and sits you on the very edge of the seat pad.

He carefully removes his long sweeping coat and then drops to his knees before you.

His rosy lips are parted, eyes dark pools, both standing out against his beautifully pale skin.

"Where can I touch you?" He asks urgently.

"Everywhere," you reply as the flutterings in your stomach warble your voice.

He begins by trailing his hands up your legs. The patterns he draws are intricate and intoxicating.

"May I have the honour of tasting you?"

"Yes," you consent, breathless already.

You remove your trousers and underwear in the same movement and allow Morpheus to adjust your position.

The image of him looking up at you with lust and intent as he parts your legs is immediately imprinted deep within your memories.

He trails innocent kisses up your left calf to your knee. A long-fingered hand is hooked under it and once Morpheus slips your leg over his shoulder, he continues his path along your inner thigh.

Wisps of his midnight hair tickle your skin and make you squirm in the most delicious way. You whimper when you feel his cool breath hit your pulsing core.

Morpheus speaks your name reverently, a taster of what was about to come.

He leans in the last few inches and kisses your vulva. You melt with an ecstasy-filled exhale. His tongue gently licks at your labia, encouraging them to part and expose your clit. He laps at you with precise strokes before sealing his mouth over the nub.

It's like a direct current has been shot into your body; you jolt into him, moaning his name with abandon.

He hums against you, lips curling into a naughty smirk. You are completely at his mercy and he knows it all too well.

He manipulates your clit between his plush lips and the pleasure reaches a higher ground.

"Whatever you do, please don't stop," you beg.

Morpheus obeys, slowly increasing and decreasing the pressure of his suckling until you are almost unable to think clearly anymore.

Then, suddenly, you are distracted by a strange feeling radiating through your body. You recognise it with immediacy. It's like you are being dragged upwards by a marionette string. You are waking up.

You stiffen, falling silent, hoping above all hope that if you stay still, you can stave off the pull back to consciousness.

Morpheus, noticing your change in demeanour, stops his attentions and pulls away.

He speaks your name in a caring tone, "Are you alright?"

You grab the arm rests in a further attempt to keep yourself in the Dreaming. The sensation isn't letting up.

You respond with haste, "I think I'm waking up. I don't think I can stop it."

Waking had been the cause of cutting short your time with Morpheus many times before. It was to be expected; you were a human being with things like sunlight and birdsong and routines to contend with. The worst had been mid-way through a conversation, one that you were able to pick up again the next time you passed the Dreaming threshold.

Right here while Morpheus was working on you so perfectly, however left you with one thought: Why did it have to be now?

Your surroundings flicker and all sound becomes warped. The support of Morpheus' body and the chair vanish.

"I'm sorry." They are the last words you speak before you disappear.

You come to in the semi-darkness of your bedroom. Your chest is heaving and wetness has spilled onto your pyjamas from the dream of Morpheus lavishing your aroused core.

Your phone is blasting out a morning alarm, its shrillness the clear root of you disappearing on him.

It turns out though, initially unknown to you, that Morpheus was having none of this separation business. That is until you notice him sitting between your splayed legs.

"Morpheus?! What are you -"

"You asked me not to stop, my dearest dreamer," he interrupts, pouring every ounce of seductive energy into the words as he can muster.

Morpheus' eyes bore into yours as he climbs up to fully straddle your body. He reaches over you to turn off the alarm with a precise tap on the screen of your phone. He takes a deep breath.

"Much better," he purrs. The pitch of his voice is pleasure enough on its own, even without the fact that his hips are subtly grinding against yours.

"Now, would you like to resume with what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted by that repugnant tone?"

You nod.

"Verbal consent, please."

It's suddenly so hard to speak now he is in your bedroom, your domain. You hope that a clear display will be an acceptable alternative. You reach your hands down to rid yourself of your pyjamas only to have each wrist pinned either side of your head.

You gasp.

"I need to hear you say it out loud, Y/N."

Another wave of hot, stifling arousal is released between your legs. You shiver in reaction to it, to his dominance.

Your mouth is open but no coherent words leave it, just the starts of failed sentences. Morpheus comes to your aid:

"Will you allow me to taste you here, in the waking world, just as I did in my own realm?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Morpheus. Please. Put your mouth on me."

He hums his approval before lowering your shorts and beginning to feast on you once more.

---------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @herfantasyworldd @shadowqueen1318

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wackyharpy · 1 year ago

Text

Solicitude

Eric (Divergent) x Fem! Reader

Summary: Eric takes care of his girlfriend after the hard day.

To find more stories — masterlist

A/N: English isn't my native language. I'm obsessed with this man, oh gods! Needed to write something like this. I'd be very happy for your comments and reblogs. Enjoy :)

Warnings ⚠️

NSFW 18+, fingering, p in v sex, she/her pronouns.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

She enters their shared apartment late in the evening locking the door. Muscles all over the body ache after hard trainings with the squad she's part of. Their commander always keeps them fit.

She finished her initiation taking the third place on the rankings board. Such success for a girl, who was one of the two among other male initiates, ended up with her becoming a part of the squad of the special purpose for secret missions.

Since the day their commander chose her, he has never regretted. It was a right decision. She is smart and witty — former Erudite — calm and placid — a perfect person not to blab plans and inside scoop.

Additionally, she's the youngest leader's girlfriend.

To start relationships with Eric wasn't an easy decision, but two years have already passed and they're still together. Unexpectedly, Eric has turned out to be a simple person to live with. Yes, the character he has, sometimes drives her crazy, although it's not the problem that can't be solved. He's dominant, intimidating and frightening, as he was the first time she met him during the initiation.

Nevertheless, she's discovered much more other facets of his personality. He's not just that cruel leader everybody is used to seeing him. Eric can cook — the first thing that surprised her a lot. He's a good listener and adviser. He motivates her to work and to become a better version of herself — she appreciates time they spend together in the gym where he shares his knowledge of how to obtain skillfulness in fighting, shooting, plotting plans and strategies.

They've learned how to be a leader and a subordinate, a mentor and a student outside the walls of their apartment. But here, they're only Eric and her. Just a boyfriend and his girlfriend.

She walks deeper in the room greeting Eric who is finishing dinner in the kitchen area. Dim lights of lanterns illuminate the space along with the moon whose rays permeate into through the panoramic windows — their apartment is situated on the upper floors of Dauntless compartment.

She rubs red weary eyes with her calloused palms, and sits at the table in the dining area. Exhales heavily. Eric places a plate with baked salmon and veggies in front of her. He constantly pays attention to her diet for her to have energy and be healthy.

"Thanks," she smiles warmly.

Being a leader, he's never provided her with advantages that may assist her easily gain a position in Dauntless. Some people may consider, she got her place in the squad because of Eric, though that's not true. Her efforts are the reason she's there. The only benefits she has is access to products of high-quality, good clothes, domicile and protection.

She eats every now and then looking at sharp features of Eric's face, at his perfect nose and slightly plump lips, at his cheekbones which she adores to contour with the finger. Her eyes go down viewing vividly black tattoos on the neck. She feels how something is tugging in the lower abdomen.

"Eat your meal. Stop gazing at me," she hears his voice's deep timbre. Abruptly, her cheeks turn pink and she chuckles. She sees how a perfect line of Eric's lips twitches in a smirk.

"Salmon is really good," she praises dinner.

"Mhm... received two fresh fish this morning."

***

They finish dinner and clean the table, then do the washing-up together. Eric hides two plates in the shelf above the faucet and turns to her immediately embracing her little petite figure with his strong arms.

"Tired?" The serene tone of his voice soothes her.

She cuddles closer to his chest smelling a pleasant male scent, and just nods. She feels a soft kiss on her forehead, and then Eric rises her from the ground taking to the bathroom.

After brushing their teeth — they've got used to do all this plain routine together, the couple gets ready to take the shower. Eric turns on water and begins to undress her. She yawns finally feeling how much her muscles are strained, in need of rest. Hooded eyes watch how Eric attentively takes off all of her clothes, then undresses himself.

He's not a type of guy to say "love you" and other sweet nothings about his feelings, but she doesn't need that. She's got used to his own tongue of showing love and affection.

Before stepping into the shower cabin, Eric checks the temperature of water, only then leads her inside along with him. She closes her eyes relaxing under warm streams realizing how much her body's got exhausted. Eric massages her shoulders gently once in a while placing kisses on them, her neck, or back. He helps to soothe knots in her strained muscles. She sighs contendetly leaning back on his powerful chest. She feels that Eric is smiling, feels his tender touching on her hips and stomach. She enjoys such moments when he takes a lead, dominates but gently, and looks after her. At times like this, she feels safe and peaceful.

After the shower, he dries her wrapping in the soft towel. Eric takes her face and kisses her affectionately and possessively.

"Fancy sex?" His look is demanding and piercing.

She bites her lower lip that doesn't escape Eric's attention.

She nods, also adding:

"But I'm too tired to be active in bed."

He is silent for several seconds, just rubs her cheeks with the thumbs. Then responds:

"I'll take care of you."

With these words, he leads her to their bed that stands opposite the floor-to-ceiling windows. She sinks in the black linen that smells of them. After coming into contact with the duvet, her head and eyelids suddenly feel heavy. Drowsiness washes over her, foggy curtain falls onto her eyes.

Eric lies beside her and she immediately snuggles her nose into his bicep closing her eyes, giving her whole body to him. He unwraps the towel revealing her steamed, after the shower, body.

His calloused hand creases her breasts, plays with her already hard nipples and then goes down reaching her labia. Eric rubs them leisurely watching her reactions. She's a bit sleepy, though still reacts to his movements gasping quietly. He finds her pulsating clit giving it proper attention until her pussy is wet enough to insert two fingers inside. Her moist insides welcome them and he starts gentle but steady movements back and forth. She breathes out, moans a little, and Eric looms his head over brushing his lips against hers.

"Like it?"

"Mhm," she cuddles closer, still keeping her eyes closed.

"Open your legs wider," he commands whispering.

She obediently does as he orders. His thrusts become faster. She feels hotness rushing to her core, something tugs, then her walls clench, and she releases sticky juices orgasming. She exhales heavily feeling pleasant relief.

Eric takes out his fingers spreading clammy liquid of her pussy all over her entrance and inner labia. He pumps his already hard dick for some time and settles himself comfortably between her lean legs. He rubs pinkish head of the cock against her drenched folds, then starts intruding with his member inside.

Eric bites his lower lip feeling how her enjoyable tightness wraps his member. They both gasp. He looms over her hiding her safely from the world conquering all her senses with only his presence.

"Eric..." sweet moan of hers.

His thrusts are slow and gentle — he's not planning to make rough sex tonight. He wants her to enjoy herself, relax, and ultimately sleep peacefully.

#eric coulter #eric divergent #eric x reader #divergent movie #divergent fanfiction #divergent fandom #divergent #jai courtney #jai courtney fanfiction #jai courtney imagines

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bcacstuff · 5 months ago

Text

Over the Amphu, Into the Khumbu (P1)

Part 3 of Jake Norton's blog

There’s a character to the alpine world that is perhaps indescribable, a tenor to the air and sky and wind and light that permeates everything in such a way that it defies words, defies any attempt at pinning it down in mere words. It is a feeling, an immutable presence enveloping everyone and everything, pressing down upon not in a negative, but in a profoundly positive way, a way that reminds without any pretense subtlety that we humans are but tiny specks, simple visitors to this wild realm, creatures of such little consequence to the magnificence and omnipotence of the surrounding vastness that we might as well not even be there.

Sam Heughan and Jhanak Karki trek through the Upper Hunku Valley near Seto Pokhari.

And yet there we were, awestruck.

Leaving the windswept hamlet of Kongme Dingma, our team entered into that world immediately. A short climb from the valley brought brought us to panoramic views of the high peaks: Chamlang (the ever present), Kali Himal (AKA Chota Ri), Baruntse, and far in the distance, the imposing South Faces of Lhotse and Nuptse with Everest peeking out just above. Stunning.

From here upward, the Upper Hunku Valley is reminiscent of Khumbu - broad valleys and rushing water flanked on all sides by impossibly high, jagged massifs - but with one huge difference: no people. Up here, unlike Khumbu, there are no villages, no lodges, no trekkers or helicopters, no cell service. In the high Hunku it was as it had been for days before: just us.

Jhanak, Aashish, and Sam play some intense Rummy 500 trailside.

Chamlang and camp, Upper Hunku Valley, Nepal.

Seto Pokhari catches the reflection of Lhotse, Nuptse, and Peak 6764.

Hem Rai enjoys the views in the Upper Hunku.

Seto Pokhari and the peaks of the Upper Hunku Valley.

Paanch Pokhari luminous in the Upper Hunku.

We had three days in the upper valley, following a faint-but-solid trail that meandered along the turquoise Hunku; its glacial waters - beginning in the lakes of Seto and Paanch Pokhari - carry fine sediments ground out of the high peaks, sediments so tiny (just a few microns in diameter) they remain suspended in the water, absorbing most blue light and reflecting back the natural green of the water (with some blue) - plus the natural sunlight - creating an otherworldly vividness in this stark world.

With each step upward, altitude records continued to be set for Sam and Jhanak, and new view emerged for us all. Here a peek of Makalu, there a new aspect of Kangtega, Peak 41, Chamlang, or any of the countless unnamed jags of the valley. The toils of altitude, the panting lungs and burning legs, all dissipate under the spell of the high country.

Eventually we made it to our final camp, a beautiful scree shoulder above the upper Paanch Pokhari (paanch means five, and pokhari means pond or small lake) and just below Kami Himal/Chota Ri and the Amphu Laptsa. The December cold set upon us quickly, so we made it a brief evening with heartfelt goodbyes to most of our team: going over the pass would only be Sam, Jhanak, Tshering, Harka, and I along with three porters, Manbir Rai, Hem Rai, and Septa Rai, while the rest would trek together back to Chheskam.

Peak 6764 rises high above the Hunku.

Kali Himal (Chota Ri) stands guard over high camp and Sam's tent in the Hunku

The team at dawn: Jhanak Karki, Sam Heughan, Tshering Dorje Sherpa, and Harka Kulung Rai.

Sam Heughan moving up high on the south side of the Amphu Laptsa.

Panorama from midway up the Amphu Laptsa, looking south down the Hunku Valley.

The wild summit of Peak 41 rises into the blue sky.

Sam Heughan making his way up the Amphu Laptsa at about 18,900 feet.

A short night with a full moon found us awake at 5:30 AM ready to begin the climb. It’s not a long one up to the Amphu Laptsa - an ascent of just 1,200 feet - but that is compounded by the altitude plus a technical descent and long walk on the other side making for a solid day. And, a primary rule of the mountains is to always leave a window of daylight just in case: hence, an early start.

From camp, the route up the Amphu is interesting, but never desperate or dangerous. Steep slabs offer significant exposure, but are well-protected by via ferrata-style fixed lines added in recent years. After about 1.5 hours, we crested the prayer-flag crowned top and allowed ourselves time to savor the hard-earned view. From the Amphu, the landscape seems of a dream, and unreal mosaic of spires and walls, glaciers and lakes, blue skies and solitude forever. As I always do, I placed a few kathas at the highest point, offerings of blessings and remembrance for my family, my friends, for humanity, for our world, uttered a silent prayer to any divine presence nearby, and returned to our group a couple dozen feet below.

It was then that a problem arose. I’d like to say it was someone else’s, but ultimately as leader the bock stops with me, so it was mine, and I own it. During trip planning, I had insisted that all members planning to cross the Amphu - and especially any porters - must have traction devices (crampons or microspikes) at minimum. While mountain-hardy and well-heeled, our porters Manbir, Hem, and Septa are still of course human, prone to error and missteps. And, on the descent from the Amphu, an error or misstep will quite quickly lead to a cartwheeling 1,200 foot fall to the valley below. In short, death.

Sam Heughan atop the Amphu Laptsa, pointing to Everest in the distance.

360-degree panorama from the top of the Amphu Laptsa.

Footprints lead down into the abyss, looking east from the top of the Amphu Laptsa.

A katha I placed on top of the Amphu Laptsa.

Steep slopes on the north side of the Amphu Laptsa.

Jhanak Karki (left) and Sam Heughan (right) high on the Amphu Laptsa Pass in Nepal. Lhotse and Everest are the primary peaks in the background.

Obviously not a possibility I was willing to even entertain, so I was more than surprised to look down and see them beginning to descend fixed lines without any traction, only Chinese sneakers on polished snow and ice. Yikes.

After letting my stomach stop flip-flopping for a moment, I quickly put on my crampons and rushed down to our porters, our friends, and began making the situation right. There was no way to magically make traction devices appear, so I did what was my only option: made them drop their loads - I’d shuttle the gear to safety - and help them descend safely, chopping out steps where needed, having them stand on my boots when necessary, and hold on to both me and the fixed ropes for safety. It was a long and tedious process taking the better part of 1.5 hours (along with lowering the loads down a particularly steep section with help from Tshering and Harka), but eventually we got it done.

Sam Heughan silhouetted against the South Face of Lhotse (and Imjatse barely discernable in the foreground).

As another twist, in my haste to ensure the porters were safe, I had left Sam and Jhanak atop the pass with no more than a Schwarzenegger-esque “I’ll be back” to keep them safely in place. Fortunately, I know both of them well enough to know they’d be fine: the top of the pass is safe, the skies were clear, and both are level-headed people. Sure enough, when I got back up, they were concerned, but no worse for wear. We began the descent, with both Sam and Jhanak making it look like second nature, clipping fixed lines, rappelling steep slopes, and using crampons and technical equipment without issue.

Sam celebrating in the valley above Chukhung.

Amphulaptsa Tsho below the north face of Ama Dablam.

Tawoche and Cholatse in fdaing light above the village of Chukhung.

Twilight on the high peaks.

With a sigh of relief, we reached the valley floor - all eight of us - a couple hours later, all in one piece. The hazard was behind, the stress abated, and all we had left was a 6-mile stroll through mesmerizing country to the village of Chukhung and our first roof and bed in 10 days. This last bit was uneventful-but-sublime, softening light warming the massif of the Lhotse-Nuptse wall as we strolled, alone, down valley.

We’d now shifted gears in a big way, we’d left the solitude and remoteness of the Hunku for the relative modernity and front-country-ness of the Khumbu. I won’t say it was bad - I’ve made many a trip up the Khumbu since my first in 1993, and it’s always wonderful, always showing its charms. But, after being utterly immersed in a landscape for some time with no distractions, nothing but us and the mountains, sky, and wind, it was more than a bit jarring for us all to reenter the world once again, phones pinging and helis overhead.

Harka rests at a chorten near Dingboche.

Pack horses rest at memorial chortens for fallen climbers at Memorial Hill above Tukhla.

Our gang!

See part 2 here

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