#And now he has nitties | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crystallinestars · 5 months

Text

How They React to Your Death

My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.

This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.

Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.

Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.

Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.

Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism

🎧 Alhaitham

Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.

Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.

When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.

At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.

What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.

No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.

During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.

Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.

What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.

🐋 Childe

You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.

The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.

He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.

Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.

Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.

Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.

Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.

🔍 Heizou

Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.

To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?

The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.

His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.

After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.

Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.

The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.

Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.

🍷 Kaveh

Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.

A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.

Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.

The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.

Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.

Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.

It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.

Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.

Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.

🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.

Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.

Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.

You were dead.

Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.

Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.

He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.

Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.

Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.

⚖️ Neuvillette

You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.

When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.

It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.

When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.

That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.

Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.

Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.

However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.

Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.

🍃 Venti

Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.

Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.

Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.

Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.

Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.

Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.

In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.

Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.

During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.

Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.

☂️ Wanderer

You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.

Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”

He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.

Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.

He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.

He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?

You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.

Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.

It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.

Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.

Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.

Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.

🐺 Wriothesley

You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.

Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.

When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.

There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou shikanoin x reader #kaveh x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x reader #venti x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wriothesley x reader #For some reason Lyney's part is the longest

3K notes · View notes

starryluminary · 8 months

Text

♪ Last Man in the World ♪

The Band CAMINO

╾━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╼

◃◃ II ▹▹

Now we’re really getting into canon divergence. The nitty gritty, if you will. This episodes pretty much the same; Noah calls Alejandro an eel and gets called out for it, Courtney and Gwen find Duncan and he joins Team Chris, you know how it goes. What changes is that Team Chris ends up winning the challenge (like they should of in the first place but I digress) and get Duncan as their prize. I’m gonna say Gwen lets it slip that she has feelings for Duncan and Courtney gets incredibly upset, getting Sierra and Heather to vote for Gwen. Cody’s all out of sorts after Noah was at risk of being kicked off, though he wont say that out loud. He doesn’t have to, anyway. Tyler also gains a massive weight on his shoulders but it’s fine he’ll be fine

2K notes · View notes

arachine · 8 months

Note

*slides a big fat twenty your way* uh how about a part two of that non traditional family dynamics with gojo

dinner and a disaster . . .

synopsis :: when your oldest daughter is at that age where boys are starting to become the focal point of her universe, you bring out the big guns — which in this case, unfortunately happens to be her father (who is not exactly the best when it comes to disciplining his little girls).

or, in other words, you and gojo play good cop bad cop.

genre :: fluff

contents :: co-parent!gojo, mentions of alcohol, heavy dialogue, time skip (the girls are 14 and 12 respectively), gojo is in distress !!!!

note :: link to part 1 + link to part 3

it's 10 pm when you text gojo about the latest happenings going on in your household.

it's also 10:01 pm when you answer his incoming face time call.

he's wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, laying down on his bed with a pillow under his chin and a hand propped up to support his head—he's comfortable, to say the least, and 100% tuned in to hear about whatever it is that you just texted him.

"is this what you've been doing all day?" you query with a laugh. there's a brief look of confusion etched onto his face before he picks up on what you were implying. rolling his eyes, he scoffs.

"it was my day off," he pouts, "can't a man relax in his fuzzy blanket?"

you squint teasingly at the screen, then nod slowly before mouthing an 'uh-huh'.

"i didn't call you to get berated about my choice of blanket!"

"okay, okay! i'm sorry," you grab a napkin from your nightstand, waving it like a white flag of surrender. "such a baby..."

"says the one who could never take...you know what, i won't finish that."

"smart man," you smile. "i want to be mad at you sometimes but it's almost kinda impressive how easily you can change the atmosphere...i mean, wow! it's record-breaking, truly."

"ha...ha. alright. i overstepped my bounds, i get it. can we just...can we just get back to our daughter? i'm starting to regret calling you on my day off—which, by the way, was going so great."

"great, love that we're on the same page," you give him a thumbs up through the screen. before you can get into the nitty-gritty of the situation, you take a brief pause to prepare yourself for the dramatics about to ensue—because if you know anything about gojo satoru, you know he's definitely one for the dramatics.

"when i tell you this...i want you to stay calm, keep a level head, and most importantly, i want you not to scream," you say, opening your mouth again to emphasize the last part, "and it's important that you especially won't scream, okay?"

gojo mulls it over before committing, "i don't know...it depends on what you're gonna tell m-"

"just—just promise, gojo," you interrupt, clearly agitated.

"alright, i promise."

"okay, so there's a boy..."

you're mid-sentence when gojo's eye starts to twitch.

"and she's expressed to me that she wants to go on a date with him." when you finish, you're half expecting him to yell, and half expecting him to end the call. but he doesn't.

in fact, he's so still, you're almost convinced he's frozen, but then he begins to smile. slow at first, and then all at once. it's creepy, you think, something straight out of a horror film.

"i know this was a lot of information to process, are you...okay?"

"pfttt, what? of course, why wouldn't i be?"

"well, you look scary. maybe i shouldn't have told yo-"

"SHE WANTS TO WHAT?"

and there it is. gojo satoru, king of dramatics.

"my little girl, my baby, my princess. she's only 10!-"

"she's 14."

"same thing, how could you let this happen?!"

"what happened to not yelling?! you promised!"

"oh be serious, i made a vow to you 14 years ago and look where we are now," he whisper-yells, trying (and failing) to contain his voice.

"dammit, you're right...well, at least we're on the same page! we both don't want this date to happen." when you take another glance at the screen, gojo's no longer laying down on his bed, but up and pacing around his room like a mad man.

you watch him for awhile, and when he doesn't seem to be coming back any time you soon, you call his name, "satoru."

"what?!" he turns to the phone. glaring at him, you wait for him to check his tone. "sorry, what?"

"i was thinking tomorrow you could come over for dinner? it'd give us a chance to talk to her about it...so that it's not just me telling her no."

"so, what i'm hearing is that you want her to hate me too?"

"no, i'm saying i want us to be a team. so, can you come over tomorrow? can you do that?" you ask, raising a brow.

"yeah, i'll be there."

at the same time the oven alarm goes off, gojo arrives. you can see his car pull into the drive way from where you are in the kitchen, and you mentally curse yourself for not getting ready sooner.

"fuck, uh okay," you throw your oven mitts, "hon, can you get the door for your dad? i need to go upstairs and get changed."

the youngest gets up from her place on the couch, "sure, wait...dad's staying for dinner? what's the occasion?"

you're halfway up the stairs before you stop, "enough questions, please. just open the door, thank youuuu."

ambling from the living room to the foyer, she opens the front door. gojo smiles, and immediately lifts her up into a bone-crushing hug that only a dad could give.

"hey bug, missed you," he squeezes her, much to her behest.

"ugh, dadddd, put me down," she drawls, pawing at his chest. gojo frowns and puts her down, putting a hand over his heart as if he were shot.

"you used to love that, you know."

"yeah, when i was like five."

"are you not?" he teases, but she's not amused. he nudges her arm annoyingly until she begins to smile. "there we go, punk. now can i have a real hug? you're hurting my feelings."

like a true pre-teen, she rolls her eyes and reluctantly trudges over to him, then opens her arms up for a hug. at this stage, you've noticed that hugs are okay, but only when it's on their own terms—and you especially can't initiate them when their friends are around (you learned that the hard way).

when they pull away, gojo takes his shoes off and wanders through the house. "where's the other brat at?"

"upstairs."

gojo nods, "uh-huh...where's your mom at?"

"right here." gojo hears you before he sees you, and then he lifts his head up to see you at the top of the stairs standing behind the banister. before you make your way downstairs, you waltz over to your daughter's room and knock on the door.

"hey, dinner's ready. come on downstairs. somebody's here to see you." as you begin turning around, the door flies open and out comes your moody teenage daughter.

"who is it?" she queries, following behind you like a duckling.

from where he stands at the bottom of the staircase, gojo raises a hand and waves.

"hey, scrub."

"dad? what are you doing here?" your oldest questions, but still goes in for a hug.

"your mom invited me over for dinner, that cool with you?"

she nods, then turns to her sister. they exchange a knowing look that, if translated, would be: something's definitely up. they wait for you and gojo to head to the kitchen before having a quick debrief.

"you definitely did something," the youngest side eyes.

"wha-why would you think i did something? you're the one failing a class," she rebuttals.

"ok well...this isn't about me! they only get together when one of us does something. don't you see? they're teaming up...this is an intervention."

the oldest pinches the space between her brows, "i can see why you're failing english now, because the way you just jumped to conclusions like that is actually insane."

dinner goes by without a hitch. for majority of it, you spend the time talking about work, school (which seems like a sensitive subject because the youngest wouldn't look either of you in the eye), and the plot of this hbo show with adult kids who're trying to take over their father's company.

gojo brings it up, of course, and jokingly says that the show was written with him in mind. he asks the girls if they'll fight over who'll inherit the company when he dies, and it turns into a i'm the better daughter debate.

when it gets a little too rowdy, you have to remind them that this is all hypothetical and that their father is a menace who likes to cause chaos whenever possible. gojo pouts and says you're no fun, but quickly fixes his face when he sees your pointed glare.

"come help me with the dishes," you say, and then disappear into the kitchen.

the two of you fall back into old habits. you wash the dishes, he dries and sets them on the rack. it feels like it did in the beginning, only this time, he'll be leaving when the two of you set out to do what you originally intended.

"dinner was nice," he says after about 10 minutes of comfortable silence. he doesn't look up, doesn't even make a joke about your cooking (which, you were totally expecting him to do). instead, he just continues drying the plate you handed to him.

"you know, you're welcomed to come again. you don't always have to be away in that apartment all by yourself," you start, choosing your words carefully, gently. "the girls like eating with their dad."

"i like eating with them too. i guess i'll start coming by more often then."

you almost miss it but there's a smile on his face, and it's genuine. instead of pointing it out, you savor the moment.

your reasoning for his coming here was to talk to your daughter, but it was also to get him out of the apartment. see, you were sneaky like him too, and what he didn't know wouldn't kill him. to you, this was just hitting two birds with one stone.

when you finish up, the two of you discuss the plan over for what seems like the 100th time.

"so, we're gonna go in there and be cool about it, okay? we won't hound her. we're just gonna tell her like it is, and then let her down gently. got it?"

"got it."

"after you," gojo extends his arm.

"wha-ugh, fine."

as you lead the way, gojo has to keep a hand on your back to keep you from turning back around. so far, you've attempted to retreat five times—you're two feet away from the kitchen entrance.

"will you just go?" there's irritation laced in his tone.

"okay, just stop pushing me."

"no promises, keep walking."

you sigh, but heed his request. with a hand still on your back, he guides you all the way to the living room. the girls are watching tv but quickly avert their focus when they notice you standing next to the couch with a freakish smile plastered on your face. gojo whispers in your ear to be cool and you immediately gather your wits.

"mom...your face...dad what's wrong with her face she's scaring me," the youngest pauses the tv.

"sweetie, will you go upstairs for a minute? your dad and i have to talk to your sister."

seeming to be catching on, she gets up from the couch and says a 'told you' to her sister before running upstairs. you and gojo share a look.

"what's up?" she asks, still weirded out.

"you see, well...we've been talking and..." you start, "your father has something he wants to tell you!"

gojo snaps his head towards you, gasping in the same motion. "hey, what the hell happened to being cool?"

"no promises, remember?"

"oh, you litt-"

"dad."

"sorry, uh, shit. i wasn't prepared for this. this wasn't the plan," he begins, "so, i heard there's a boy...and...you're at that age where boys are cute..."

she looks at the two of you in abhor and groans. gojo pauses briefly, but you encourage him to continue.

"and i've come to understand that you're interested in one and want to go on a date?"

"yeah."

"oh...okay well, i—we just don't think that's a good idea. you're 14, in school, and honey, you're so young...you have your whole life to be interested in boys."

"wait, what do you mean 'we'?"

"your mom and i talked about it and-"

"mom said she was fine with it."

gojo smiles in shock and then blinks, once, twice, three times.

"we'll be back," he announces, pulling you by the arm to the kitchen.

when you get to the kitchen, he releases your arm and pinches the skin between his brows. it takes all of about five seconds before he erupts.

"'we're a team, satoru', 'we're in this together', bullshit! you wanted me to be the bad cop, didn't you?"

"not initial-"

"didn't you!"

"okay, sorry! i may have...gave in when she asked, but i figured you'd be able to tell her no!"

"why would you think that!? she's my little girl!"

"she's my little girl too!"

gojo walks over to the cabinet and pulls out a glass. "i can't right now, i need a drink. what do you have?"

opening another cabinet, you pull out a bottle of pink whitney. gojo sucks his teeth. it was such a girl drink, but it was all you had so beggars couldn't be choosers. shrugging, he raises his glass for you to pour the drink into.

grabbing another glass, you sit down and join him.

"we've been had, huh?"

"how is that?"

"because we both can't say no to her."

gojo raises his glass to his lips and swallows it all down in a few gulps.

your daughter goes on a date the following week, and gojo starts looking into trackers.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #:: — LEXI WRITES !

2K notes · View notes

inklore · 10 months

Text

put on a show

premise: you like people watching you turn into a pitiful mess of need and desire, and hobie likes being the cause and effect of it.

pairing: hobie brown x (f)reader

word count: 2.3k

contents: established relationship, they’re both camstars, badly written british talk probably, unprotected p in v, coming inside, dirty talk, light choking, hobie has tongue and nipple rings because i said so, oh and tattoos, praise.

note: finally putting this out into the world instead of in my head, enjoy, eat it up, and thank my bby sil for sending in this request that made my brain short circuit.

You had seen Hobie first.

Or rather, that’s the story he insists be told when your friends ask how you two met.

That it was you who was bored after your own stream one night and scrolled through the lives and found him. Stumbled upon him by luck, and your tongue heavy and dry in your mouth when you saw his tattooed chest, body leaning back against a deep purple sofa. The sheer-ish look of the velvet made his body look ethereal with him perched on it—knees spread as his fist lazily stroked himself.

As if it were nothing. As if the piercings on his face and nipples, his thick hair, and the black studded collar around his neck didn’t make him look like a fallen angel. Like the users commenting on how hot he looked or how beautiful his cock was, it meant nothing over the comments of people cracking jokes with him and making the corner of his lips pull up in a smirk as he held a teasing conversation with them.

A conversation you would have with a friend. Fully clothed. Maybe around a slice of pizza.

Not completely nude with your hand around your cock.

And maybe that’s when you first fell in love with him.

When you stayed for his quick quips and banter with his fans rather than watching him get off.

Of course, until you actually watched him get off.

Watched the way his bottom lip hung open, brows furrowed, heels digging into the cushions of the couch as his hips bucked up into his fist. As his breath and words became heavier, more incoherent, and harder to understand with his accent, the closer he got. The harder he fucked up into his hand.

The noise he made when he came, spurts of his come decorating his tattooed skin, was all you needed to see to know Hobie had pushed his way to the top of your—possible—favorite things to get off to list; your fingers typing out the only word you could think of into the chat: beautiful.

“Looks like we've gotta celebrity in the room with us.” He smirked while reading your username. Thanking his tippers before giving everyone a salute and signing off.

His words indicated that Hobie had seen you first.

That the story you tell is missing the prelude of it where Hobie tells them how he’d watched your streams before you’d ever watched his. Something he keeps between the two of you when he’s between your legs murmuring against your thighs about how he loved watching the men in your chat section be at your mercy from even a flash of your pretty pussy.

And while you remember vividly the first time your eyes set on Hobie, it’s harder for you to fully comprehend how the two of you got here.

Together.

Streaming together.

A couple.

Who fucks for all to see on the internet.

Strangers begging Hobie to leave his teeth marks in the globes of your ass, and within those same seconds, others are begging you to edge him with your mouth until he’s a swearing, groaning mess.

You’d never tell your friends the nitty gritty details of it all. A simple “yeah, I found his stream first and the rest is history” is better than “yeah, I found his stream first and now he fucks me into the mattress of our shared bed and turns my ass towards the camera to show everyone his come dripping from my pussy”.

So you keep it simple if anyone asks.

And give the rest away to strangers.

To people who want both you and Hobie equally.

Who send in tip after tip that one would think is the reason the two of you do this. Why you keep coming back and giving them what they want.

You’d asked Hobie once why he likes to stream, among his other decently paid jobs—modeling, gigs with his band—that he could be doing steadily rather than this. He had told you that some scout manager for some big modeling agency tried to sign him after a show he did. Talked a big game about money and getting him in the clothes of real designers, the ones that mattered, only to end the conversation by saying how ‘his body, his rules’ only worked when you were with an agency that mattered.

So Hobie, being Hobie, proved him wrong.

Stuck it to every fake body positive agency out there by putting himself—his full self—on display on the internet, only for sales of the upcoming designers he was modeling for to be trending worldwide before the clock struck midnight.

It made your reason for streaming a little less proactive.

“You like it when people watch you make a total mess out of ya self don’t you, love?” He asks, his accent thick and deeper when you have his cock in your mouth like this. With your back splayed across the bed, your head hangs from the edge as Hobie uses your throat. As his hips create a pattern of thrusting slowly, then hard. The slow strokes move the underside of his dick against your tongue in a languid way that makes you moan around him as you savor its weight. The hard strokes burn your throat and make tears stream down into your hairline as spit and precome mix at the sides of your mouth and chin.

All you can do is nod around him. Eyes blurry and doe like as you look up at him from upside down. See the lopsided grin he’s giving you. See his stomach muscles tighten and move each time he hits deeper in your throat than the last, your throat constricting around him, unwilling to take him any further until he repeats the stroke and it grows accustomed to him being there, welcoming him with a whimper and your hips canting down against the bedspread.

And he was right.

You loved people watching you look totally consumed. Fucked out and raw with pleasure and need.

It was your favorite part of it all—before Hobie.

Watching the chat come alive with praises and degradations, from how you fucked yourself into exhaustion and delirium with a vibrator or the slow grind you would do against your pillow that always turned you into a whimpering mess.

You wanted people to see you in that weakened state. To be in awe of how badly you wanted to come or be fucked.

And Hobie loved watching you almost as much as he loved being the one to make you enter that state of delirium with just a swipe of his thumb across your bottom lip or a bite of your nipples. He loved doing the little things that would work you up to the point of your pretty eyes begging him for more—to be rougher, to go faster.

It’s why the two of you made the perfect team.

The perfect show.

He loved someone who was addicted to what he had to give, and you loved everyone watching you take whatever he was willing to give you.

And you both loved how heady the sight of each other's pleasure made you. How good Hobie looked with his head back between his shoulders, a hard swallow making his throat bob, groans slipping from his wet lips as you sucked on the tip of his cock as he pulled it out of your throat. Your tongue laced with the taste of his precome.

Hobie's eyes light up as he runs his thumb along your wet bottom lip, leaving a trail of your mixed saliva down your chin and up to your neck, where his fingers splay across the column of it. His rings warm against your heated skin. The involuntary intake of breath your lungs make when he adds the slightest bit of pressure makes his cock twitch.

Makes him want to fuck your throat with his hands right here so he can feel himself, feel how you fight back your body's survival need to struggle with something being that deep past your tongue. How you ignore it and do the opposite by moaning around him.

You look messy, dazed, and all his.

As much as he craves to paint your tongue with his come tonight, with one sidelong glance at the screen, he can see that your fans want to see his come somewhere else. Somewhere that’s already wet and making you squirm when he reaches over your body and cups your pussy against his palm.

Two fingers slip past your lips, making you mewl and squirm as your thighs clamp around his wrist. Your clit swollen and sensitive from his earlier abuse of it; his mouth attached to your pussy, the metal in his mouth aids in the friction of your hips to get him to where you were greedy to have him, and the metal nicking your clit in just the right way to make your back bow.

“Should we show’em how soaked this pretty pussy is?” He hums against your chest as his pierced tongue runs along the mounds of your boobs before rolling against a nipple. Your body contorting against him; a whine the only answer you can give. Hobie grins against your skin, “thought so.”

The embarrassment someone might feel to be now on their knees, chest to the bed, ass in the air, and Hobie’s fingers running through their wetness, has long since left your body. Embarrassment didn’t belong in this line of work or in your relationship with him. The two of you were like open books read and reread, pages torn out and dogged eared. He knew your dark parts just as well as you knew his light parts.

So with the squelch of his fingers fucking into you, your entire bottom half facing the camera and giving everyone the perfect view and show of your arousal, of just how wet you had gotten from Hobie down your throat, makes you moan into the bed. Makes you beg him to fuck you.

“Has she earned it, do ya think? Should we fuck this desperate pussy?” Hobie laughs at something, something you can’t see or even be jealous of not seeing because you’re too busy pushing back on his fingers. Too busy looking just as desperate as he describes. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” You feel his lips press against one of your cheeks before his teeth bite into the muscle, making you squeal.

And with one quick movement, you're pulled in the other direction, your ass flush against his pelvis as he thrusts into you.

The noise you make sounds more like a wounded animal meeting its end than something graphically sexy. But you know they’re eating it up. That Hobie loves it. If the way he starts out at a hardened pace is any indication of the matter. His fingers and rings dig into your hips as he fucks you; he doesn’t even have to pull your hips to him because your body is doing the work for him. Pushing back on him. Meeting him halfway and making his cock drive harder and deeper into your pussy.

“Sounds so fuckin pretty, doesn’she?” Hobie leans over your ass and presses a few kisses to your spine before reaching up to grip your shoulder. One of his legs bent up at the knee, giving him more leverage as he pounds into you. “She feels fuckin’ amazing, mates.” He groans, “god. The way she grips my cock like her pussy is tryna pull me in further, and further,” his thrusts accentuate his words as his hips snap harder and at a new angle now. Making you sob into the bed. Your fingers are messing up the fabric of Hobie’s comforter. “Such a greedy pussy.” An airy laugh falls against your skin as his mouth bites at your shoulder.

Making your stomach flutter and your body hang at that precipice.

It only takes a few more strokes and his thumb against your clit and you’re coming. Crying out as your body finally crashes down from that pleasurable high. That need finally being sedated and brought to a place of calming satisfaction. Like a wound being licked clean. Taken care of by the one thing, the one person, who could make the ache bearable.

“Good girl,” Hobie grunts into your ear. “S’fuckin good,” he says in that deep octave that makes your body swoon. Makes those sparks of arousal hang on longer and longer as he continues to fuck you. As his hips snap and fingers pull you back onto his cock until he’s coming undone. Until curses are mixed with your name and he’s praising you and your pretty pussy for taking him.

And when he turns you around again, your ass back in view of your fans—the people you’re sure are going crazy in the chat right now. Their praises, their jealousy, and their tips all ping ponging through the chat.

God she’s such a good little slut isn’t she

Fuck you filled her up nice

Make her choke on it next time

$100 pounds if you eat it out of her mate

Ya’ll are amazing!

Your body shudders when you feel Hobie’s fingers run through your sensitive lips, the squelch of his pointer and index pushing into you—the smallest hisses breathed out from your lungs from the sting of your swollen hole—gathering the remnants of his come on his fingers.

“Look at the camera, love.” Hobie says softly, soothes a hand at the back of your neck to give your head a more comfortable position as you move yourself, but keep your ass in the air. He doesn’t even have to tell you to open your mouth for him; no need for silent orders. You just do it. Happily. His fingers press down onto your tongue as you wrap your lips around them and suck off his come.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown smut #hobie brown one shot #hobie brown fic #hobie brown x y/n #atsv x reader #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown #atsv smut #atsv fic

1K notes · View notes

braimin · 1 month

Note

This is super random but one of my favorite things in fics is when Zeff like hates Zoro. Like obviously he doesn’t actually hate him and as long and Sanjis happy he’s happy and he knows Zoro makes him happy, but I still think the idea of him like constantly staring daggers Into Zoro is so funny.

Also another one of my favorites is Usopp walking in at the worst time for them, like Usopp has seen some horrors, I know he is so traumatized and it kills me every time.

Anyway this is just me yapping cuz I don’t have anyone to tell this to sorry😭

Darling, the whole reason I started posting on here in the first place is because I have no friends who will listen to me yap, so no need to apologize for being a fellow yapper. ✨

Zeff has mad beef with Zoro, not just because he's dating his son, but also because he's so reckless. And when Zoro gets hurt is makes Sanji upset. Zoro cannot be allowed to live if he makes Zeff's son upset. But him dying would make Sanji cry so Zeff just has to settle for quietly fuming and being an asshole when his boy isn't looking.

When Zeff first moved to the All Blue to be with Sanji, Zoro got to see how much of a daddy's boy he is. Like they yell and argue and even have physical fights in the kitchen all the time, but also when they cook together Sanji hangs off him like a child, he's always one step behind him and following him everywhere. Sanji could ask the old man to do anything and he'd do it. He's woken Zeff up at three am before and asked him to make soup because he didn't feel good and Zeff immediately was down in the kitchen making it. Zoro wants to tease him about it, but when he brings it up Zeff will loom over him with a knife and be like 'And what about it, scrub.'

Zoro learns very quickly where Sanji gets his pettiness from because Zeff will disagree with anything Zoro says on principle alone, it does not matter what he's saying. He purposely only speaks french to Sanji for a really long time because he thinks Zoro doesn't deserve to know what they're talking about. He refused to cook any japanese dishes for him for a while too, just to be a dick. Zoro has lived with Sanji for a long time so he's used to the petty behavior. Eventually Zeff chills out and they bond over nagging Sanji into taking breaks and taking care of himself. And they start having drinks and fishing nights every week so they can shit talk about the annoying things Sanji has done lately. Sanji just has to deal with it because they're getting along, and he doesn't wanna ruin that.

Usopp having to live through The Horrors of being Sanji's bestie is a tragedy. Like he's one of the ones that spends the most time at Sanji's side during the day. (Because Luffy isn't allowed in the kitchen when he's not eating, Robin and Chopper spend a lot of time in the library studying, and everyone else prefers to be out on deck doing their own things.) Sometimes he'll come to sit in the kitchen and find Zoro and Sanji making out, or hear Zoro try to coerce the cook into a storage closet. He's had to witness them be so gross together.

But the true Horrors aren't always the shit he has to see, no, it's also the shit he has to hear Sanji talk about. Because that jerk has no filter and no shame. So they'll be sitting in silence for a while and then the cook will turn to him and give him the most unhinged, and vulgar description of what him and his boyfriend got up to the night before; and then ends it with 'So yeah, now my leg hurts, maybe I sprained something?'. Usopp has tried to tell him to stop, that he does not want to hear the nitty gritty of how these freaks get down, but Sanji just ignores him and keeps going. Sometimes he'll look to Usopp and be like 'Ya'know, lately I've been wanting to try-' and then break down one of his depraved fantasies about the swordsman, and Usopp wishes Chopper could do something to make him forget the last eight minutes of his life.

He tells Usopp everything, not just the sexual shit, he tells him about all the 'cute' things Zoro has said, shows him the little trinkets and gifts the man has brought him, he talks about what his future plans are with his pet moss. And Usopp is happy for his friends, yeah, but he's also a lonely guy with no girlfriend, so these bastards can go to hell with all their cutesy romance bullshit.

#zosan #one piece #sanji #zoro #Usopp #red leg zeff #every now and then Zoro has to stop himself from fist fighting an old man #Usopp thinks he deserves financial compensation for the emotional trauma they have given him.#Sanji is just happy to be here

216 notes · View notes

primofate · 8 months

Text

10 minute quick writes

(also known as I don't have a lot of time these days but I still have a lot of Genshin thoughts)

Warning: angst, you die

He left for some sort of assignment. A task. Just something quick. Maybe a week or two, not really that long in terms of assignments. You were still lively and had a lot of plans with him when he returned.

But when he returned...You were gone. There was already a gravestone with your name on it. Only your friend was left to explain to him what happened.

"...and it happened so fast, we couldn't even get a letter out to you in time, (his name). I'm sorry. I really am,"

Albedo, Baizhu:

in denial. In so much denial that he doesn't even believe it. You're not dead. You're just waiting for him to REVIVE you, and believe it cause he'll spend the rest of his life looking for that solution.

Bringing you back to life is an obsession now.

"Y/N will wake up in time...You'll see,"

Alhaitham, Diluc, Dainsleif:

doesn't even know what to do.

Has so much anger in himself that he wasn't with you when it all went down. You were here suffering while he was out there on an assignment for someone else. What happened to his promise of always being there when you needed him most? He felt like a joke. A failure.

Everything is meaningless now.

Suffers in silence. As if he wasn't already so closed in before.

Scaramouche, Xiao

seething with rage. not at you. not at himself. but towards your poor friend who is now being held by heir collar.

"Stop fucking around and tell Y/N to come meet me at the usual,"

Your friend tries to explain, but to no avail.

When you don't show up that day and the next, the next and the next...he finally got it.

He wasn't going to see you again.

Gets angry at the world.

Kaveh, Itto, Lyney

Thinks it's a legitimate joke at first.

"Ahaha, good one. No really, I need to talk to Y/N,"

Your friend sees that the conversation is going nowhere so instead opts to lead him to your grave.

Stunned. how could this happen? You were fine. You were well and alive and cheerful when he left and now...he couldn't even see your face. That was it? That's all? Not even a goodybe from you?

"That's not fair, Y/N..." appears to resent you, but in reality just resent the circumstances in which it happens. Feels left behind, and is heartbroken for ages.

Neuvillette, Zhongli, Ayato

"What do you mean?" is his first question. Doesn't quite understand how this could have happened. He made sure you were safe and well when he left. Asks for all the details, the nitty gritty, looking for clues on how this could have went down.

Obsesses over the details of your death for months. Who does he have to punish? Was it avoidable? Was there something he could have done to prevent it? Why? Why when he was away?

Cries behind closed doors, never in public but will visit your grave in an ungodly hour and shed a few tears alone and to whisper:

"Darling, I don't think this pain of missing you will ever go away,"

#genshin angst #neuvillette angst #lyney angst #diluc angst #ayato angst #alhaitham angst #zhongli angst #scaramouche angst #kaveh angst

760 notes · View notes

writersblg · 7 months

Text

how the cod characters would react to their partner being a true crime junkie

The sun was starting to set when your partner came back from training. They closed the door behind them and made their way to the living room where you were already wrapped up in a blanket. The music suggested you were watching a normal mystery show but the wholesome scenario your partner thought they found themselves in quickly crumbled as the presenter said “after taking off the skin and hanging it to dry she chopped up the body”

Simon

Unfortunately, doesn’t enjoy it as much as you do. For obvious reasons.

He’d give you the nastiest side eye and will just retreat to another room to solve a crossword or something.

Finds these shows incredibly disrespectful and really doesn’t get why you’d watch this.

ALTHOUGH he knows you’ll cuddle up beside him in the night and hide behind his big muscles (I’m deceased) so that’s kinda cute but that only adds to him not knowing why you’d watch true crime in the first place.

Soap

Watches everything with you

Will be mad if you do it on your own even if he’s on a mission

Enjoys the stories of female killers the most (if it’s out of revenge he’d cheer for them)

CONTRA he’d talk all the time about the nitty gritty of murders (basically plays the UNO reverse to Keegan; you’ll be afraid of him)

Gaz

It took a lot of time or convincing to make this happen but he now watches these shows with you.

Rarely talks; “hope they rot in hell” is all you’d get out of him.

Holds you very nicely though and gets up during commercials to get you two snacks <3.

Tells you about the super weird things that happened in his hometown when he was a kid and expects you to be normal about it.

Price

Falls asleep during the first 10 minutes

There’s nothing he hasn’t seen and no matter how brutal these attacks on the shows were he finds them tame

He won’t spoil your watching experience though and lets you lean on him if you’re getting tired

He won’t do true crime marathons with you but might compromise on watching 6h of government conspiracies or something instead

Alex

The most interesting part to him is the reasoning for the killers and silently does psycho analysis’ of them

If he has heard about the case before he’d add some information the presenter hasn’t talked about

You two just vibe

He lays on you and occasionally raises his head at particularly interesting scenes

Very much a true crime enthusiast himself

Also very much no expression on his face as they describe the attacks

Farah

SIDE EYE

Watches with you but the way she judges you for watching this is crazy

Blames it on your culture

Farah: “I can fix them”

Valeria

Sometimes laughs out of nowhere when she’s watching with you 😭 (would honestly destroy my psyche)

Loves to hear when the police messed up so badly they could’ve prevented more deaths but failed to do so

Watches the most gruesome way to attack someone and goes like “Haha I did this once.”

Gives you self defense tips according to the cases

Alejandro

Gets so invested in it

Gives you all the crime statistics if the case happened in Mexico

Randomly dropped that he knew the killer personally more than once

Happily talks about it at work the next day

Rudy

Sometimes curses in Spanish because he gets too worked up over this

Cannot watch unsolved cases; will think about it all night

Looks the cases up on the internet while the show is still on

Just deepens his perspective of there being more bad people than good people in this world

Keegan

He’s actually scared of you if you watch this without any reactions

Reminds me of that one AITA story

Accidentally told his friends he’s scared of you (but with heart eyes)

He’d watch it with you but mostly watches your reaction from a safe distance (the other end of the couch)

If you chop something in the kitchen later he’d gently take the knife from you and do it himself; you think he’s being funny but it’s just self preservation

Will still cuddle with you <3 later that night

636 notes · View notes

thefiery-phoenix · 1 month

Note

yandere dg hcs if u havent yet?? ty❤️

YANDERE JAMES LEE (DG) HEADCANONS

He's an unpredictable ticking time bomb to say the least. It doesn't matter if he's James Lee or DG, they're STILL the same person. As soon as his eyes land on you, that's when your entire life belongs to him now. He's borderline possessive, obsessive, manipulative and not above gaslighting you emotionally to make you stay with him. There are 2 instances when you could have met him, as James Lee or as DG but it doesn't make the situation any better since they're both the same obsessive psychotic person when it comes to you

If you met him as James Lee, it would probably be when you'd be in school with him or something. You were the sort of person who'd never get involved in fights and always kept yourself under the radar. Your only concern was to just pass the freaking math test this week with a decent score. While you were returning home from school, you spotted James hitting a few people like they were nothing and you glared at him disapprovingly. He spotted you glaring at him and he was amused by your pouty glare. "Aww...don't worry princess, you don't need to worry about bad men anymore" he said in a slightly patronizing condescending tone with a smirk on his face. You just grumbled under your breath and walked away as his eyes never left your figure till you vanished from his sight. He couldn't help but softly chuckle to himself, you were quite intriguing

He'd spend time getting to know more about you which will also involve smacking people around to give him the information he needs regarding you. He won't even be discreet about following you or stalking you at this point, he just has this arrogant cocky grin on his face and thinks he's protecting you and comes up with a number of reasons on why you need him to be around you. He despises it when you pay attention to other people though, they're just mere pests in his eyes. Why would you waste your time with them? Why would you waste your time with those silly little annoying pests you call your friends? You're clearly a naive one if you think they don't have ulterior motives towards you, he's certain they have ulterior motives towards you

Or you could either meet him when he's DG. You could be an assistant of his or a dancer, catching his attention as DG would he slightly more difficult compared to him as James Lee because he's so used to people throwing themselves at him and he just doesn't even bother to react to them anymore. Miraculously if you do end up catching his attention at some point, within the next 10 minutes he'll have every single nitty gritty detail about you one way or another and reads about you like you're some kind of fascinating specimen in his free time

As time progresses by, he'll start growing more possessive and obsessive towards you. It'll get even worse if you're going out with him and in a relationship with him. He'll want to know about every single thing going on in your life and who you're with and what sort of pest he'll have to get rid of to ensure you're his. I wouldn't put it past him to not resorting to installing cameras in your house either because he really would do something like that. What? It's just to ensure your safety, that's all. You'll always have someone stalking you from behind the shadows and you'll never have your moment of privacy again. Say goodbye to your much cherished privacy since it'll go out the window and down the drain and he's the reason for it

He likes you for being yourself. He's met plenty of superficial people and people who's personality changes even faster than the colors of a chameleon but your presence is like a breath of fresh air compared to the usual people he interacts with. You could be plain and simple and he'd still love you. In his own twisted manic way. He's drawn to your humble down to earth nature. He loves it when he gifts you something and you start blushing and turn flustered, he's now made it his personal mission in life to see you get flustered more often since he finds you rather adorable and endearing when you do that. Your cheeks puff out slightly whenever you're feeling embarrassed about something so he'll teasingly caress your cheek with his hand to watch you squirm even more. Your reactions are too cute and entertaining for him. Sadistic MF

He loves to spoil you. Whatever you want, just say the word and you'll have it in the blink of an eye with a shiny packaging wrap around it just for you. However a while later his behavior will start getting much worse. He'll slowly start distancing you from your friends since he wants your attention to be only on him. There's a reason he's called one of the 10 geniuses you know. He'll do it in a calculating manner you won't know and realize he's isolating you from people before it's too late. He won't even deny it when you confront him about it, the way he sees it is he's just doing this for your own good. He's fought against gang members and yakuza leaders and whatnot, there's a reason he's one of the feared skilled fighters around. He doesn't want you going through the same thing as him so just be a good little spouse for him and accept his love for you. Will take you out on bike rides on his bike as well. He loves it when you hold him and rest your head on his shoulder. Night bike rides with him are quite romantic, he'll take you out to a place where the stars are visible and he'll hold you in his arms and you both will enjoy the peace and serenity of the night atmosphere, looking at the stars

Oh,you'll report him to the authorities? Darling, you're just making him laugh with your naivety at this point. He has the power and authority to buy the entire police department or whoever he wants. He's an IDOL admired by the people. When the faith in him is strong, no one can bring him down. It's not like someone would even believe you anyway and even if you do find the one sane enough person to believe you, DG will get rid of them quickly. Don't bother trying to escape from him either, he has all the resources and power to locate you and trace your location in mere seconds. You'll be dragged back to 'your home' and he'll just scold you like you're a child. And all escape routes for you will be destroyed, you'll lose your internet privilege for a month and the security system will be more improved and he'll change the locks too. Look, he might be a ruthless fighter but that doesn't mean he's a monster at heart. He genuinely does love you and care for you, he doesn't want to hurt you. He'd never get physical or raise his voice at you even when he's mad

Will control everything you do. Whatever do you need a job for? It's strenuous to work these days, he doesn't want you getting tired and gaining the attention of some random undeserving scumbag who doesn't have the right to look at you. He's more than enough to provide for the two of you. Let him just spoil you and take care of you

Don't even get me started on what he does to people who hurt you. Now it depends on the sort of person who's hurt you. If it's just some random jealous fangirl or fanboy, he'll use his popularity to his advantage and that person's account will get suspended and they'll have an fanbase hurling curses towards them. Fanbases can be quite scary at times. If it's some gang member or some jerk of a gang leader he will not go easy on them. He'll ensure they live, sure but live a painful torturous life. He'll either make them blind in one eye or both, or cut one of their fingers off or something for daring to hurt you. He'll finish the job quickly and he'll do it by himself. If it's Charles Choi trying to hunt you down for some reason....well, it's been long enough since that old man's been in a position of power and he'll bring him down. It's best if you don't ask where the blood is from

He likes holding you in his arms and having you on his lap. It doesn't matter what you say, you're sitting on his lap one way or another. He'll give you soft kisses on your lips every now and then and loves it when you do basic chores around the house even though you don't need to since there are people to take care of that for him. He likes seeing you in that cute little apron of yours, cooking something or doing laundry or whatever. He'll envelope you in a hug from the back and press soft kisses to your neck as his arms will be wrapped around your waist tightly so you won't be able to escape from his grasp

Overall, he's a good guy with a psychotic hidden personality inside. Just don't leave him and things will be all right

167 notes · View notes

sixeyescurseuser · 2 months

Text

Imagine teachers Goge. First years Yuji and Nobara have just enrolled and they only know Gojo as “Gojo-sensei.”

Then they meet Geto-sensei who is in charge of the second years but handles a lot of the first years’ classroom lessons.

Geto-sensei keeps referring to a “Satoru” as if Nobara and Yuuji should know who that is?? 🤔

“I know this is a lot of information to memorize, but trust me that diligent studying with methods that work for you will help you tremendously on your exams,” Geto explains. “Not all of us can learn all of this from a young age like Satoru. Lord knows he’s also been gifted photographic memory.”

Megumi sighs dramatically.

Nobara is focused on her phone and Yuji is nodding like he actually understands these "Satoru" references.

It’s partially Gojo’s fault because he just introduced himself as “Gojo-sensei” and partially Geto’s fault because he assumed the new students knew Satoru was their Gojo-sensei…😭

One time, Geto’s phone rings and he quietly answers it: “What is it, Satoru?”

Oh, context clues! Yuji and Nobara at least know their Geto-sensei seems to be close to this Satoru.

Are they…??

Is Geto-sensei in a relationship?

Nobara brings it up to Gojo on one of their missions.

“Gojo-sensei, is Geto-sensei in a relationship?” She asks.

Gojo visibly glitches, choking on a piece of daifuku. Nobara and Yuji give him puppy eyes, pleading for an answer, while Megumi has gone MIA.

Gojo: “What makes you ask that?”

Nobara: “Believe it or not, Geto-sensei is quite a catch! He’s very well-spoken and polite. Super knowledgeable, handsome, and also a special grade! Who wouldn’t jump at a chance for a piece of that?”

Megumi: “Hold on-“

Gojo: “Interesting observations-“

Yuji jumps in: “Yeah yeah! But we also think he’s taken! Erm, well, he always mentions a ‘Satoru.’ Maybe that’s the name of his girlfriend?”

Megumi, under his breath: “A guy’s name?”

Gojo lasts about five seconds before he bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

Gojo: “How scandalous of Geto-sensei! Oh ho, a girlfriend indeed…You know, with news as groundbreaking as this, I believe you should ask him yourself. Get the nitty gritty details and all that.”

Yuji and Nobara: 🫡🫡

The next class period, before Geto can even rattle off the introduction to their lesson, Nobara’s hand shoots up into the air.

“Geto-sensei, I have an extremely dire question that cannot wait!”

Clearly taken aback, Geto holds his spot in their textbook with his finger on the page.

“Yes, Kugisaki?”

“Do you have a girlfriend? And if yes, is it this Satoru person you keep mentioning?” Nobara asks.

“I- excuse my language, but what the hell?” Geto blurts out, snapping the textbook shut. “Are you serious?”

Nobara snaps out a “How dare you think I’m never serious!” while Yuji comes in as back up.

“As serious as Fushiguro takes his academics, Geto-sensei! We recognize that you are a very attractive and capable adult, and hypothesized that the ‘Satoru’ you keep bringing up must be your girlfriend.”

Nobara nods along.

Megumi is trying to melt into the ground.

“We don’t mean to offend you, sensei. Just an honest question,” Yuji finishes. He then stands up and bows 90° for damage control.

Geto: “Okay guys, I hate to disappoint but I’m not answering this right now. Moving on to our lesson, which is what we’re all here for…”

After class, Yuji and Nobara are a bit bummed because they did exactly what Gojo-sensei suggested and they were left with nothing. No confirmation or denial. No answer at all.

Megumi has gone back to his room, leaving the other two first years to their own shenanigans.

Having had enough of classroom thinking for awhile, Yuji and Nobara decide to get some last-minute training in.

Except by the time they get to the training fields, they see two people already sparring like their lives depended on it - causing quite a ruckus.

It’s Gojo-sensei and Geto-sensei!

They’re so busy fighting that they don’t notice Nobara and Yuji, who quickly hide behind a tree.

Geto-sensei is yelling at Gojo-sensei too, something about putting dumb ideas into their students heads? And spreading false rumors ?

Finally, Geto-sensei manages to pin Gojo-sensei down in their hand-to-hand combat.

Geto sits on top of Gojo’s abdomen, restraining Gojo’s wrists to the ground. It’s here he leans down to boldly slip off Gojo’s blindfold, revealing bright blue crystalline eyes.

“You owe me, Satoru. Dinner’s on you tonight.”

Gojo just laughs, loud and happy, and says: “Fine. Whatever my dear Suguru wishes.”

He wiggles one of his hands free to tug Geto down by the nape, and their lips press together in a passionate kiss.

***

TBC

w/ @no-one-says-hi

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu fluff #satosugu headcanon #jjk headcanon #satosugu fanfic #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #megumi fushiguro

323 notes · View notes

puppetmaster13u · 4 months

Note

Oh my god

it never even occurred to me that the League would have to deal with Broody!Batman holy shit-

I can 100 percent see the league being absolutely baffled by Batman’s behavior- I feel like some would be aware of the A/B/O traits, but not all.

Just imagine when Batman eventually decides they’re his Work Pack:tm: and starts to treat them as such.

He’s suddenly all touchy and tries to flaunt his role as Lead Pack Omega much to their confusion.

And for the ones with super senses? I feel like they wouldn’t get the nitty gritty details of scenting (Though beast boy most definitely does)

Clark would be so stressed out over that. What’s wrong with his best friend?? Why did Bruce suddenly going from smelling like nothing to smelling like sweet earth??? (The answer is Scent Blockers, Bruce just decided to stop wearing them so he could mark them as pack.)

Also them dealing with Batman immediately post taking in Dick??? Oh god they’d be so concerned because why is Bruce suddenly so flighty?? Why did he go from doing everything to the letter to I Need To Get Out Now??

And you know Bruce doesn't think to explain. Like everyone in Gotham knows about dynamics, it's Gotham after all. He even forgot to mention it to Dick when he first came to the manor, and he saw him literally every day.

And it's not like he didn't care about them before, but it was silent, more distant care. Adding an extra kitchen when Flash complains about his high metabolism, adding more stuff to the gym when someone mentions it, but never letting anyone know he was the one to do so.

He still does these things of course, but will also just drop gifts into their arms and laps. Gifts covered in his scent seeing as he's not around them as often as say, his Wayne Enterprises pack. Which he also doesn't see often but is probably helped by the fact of him not being the only one with a dynamic.

Gosh Bruce is definitely fighting with himself because he wants to share his pup with his pack(s) but he also wants to of course keep him safe. Meaning he has to keep him hidden and all that and there's also the issue of Dick not understanding the whole broodiness at first too.

And you know he's going to not vocalize any of this. And the broodiness definitely gets worse for a bit until the miscommunication between him and Dick gets fixed lol.

Love the idea of Clark just, forgetting the fact he's a journalist and can find this information if he researched Gotham lmao. He's smart until he's in the middle of worrying about one of his friends and the freak out takes over.

Definitely not helped by the fact that the rest of the league also freaking out and wondering wtf is wrong lol.

#ask answered #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #batman #dc #dcu #justice league #batdad #Clark: Is he sick? Hurt? DYING?!#Bruce: Hn... P A C K #Do you think his broodiness gets worse each time he gets another child lol #Like he just has to introduce his kids to their new sibling so get in the ever expanding nest #gosh imagine if bruce ever went into heat on a JL meeting and just #will not let them leave the Watchtower or ship or whatever unless he can figure out a way to bring them to his nest in Gotham lol #oh my god imagine when the JL members ever introduce their sidekicks/kids

329 notes · View notes

sissy-tyler · 10 months

Text

Today was the day; Sissy Graduation! Today was the day when dozens of wayward men officially completed their sissy-training and graduated as full-blown sissy, baby girls. Sissy Jacquelyn, formerly Jack, was one of this class’ hardest men to break, but once broke she became not only a model student and graduated top of her class, she also became one of the proudest sissies you’d ever meet.

As all the sissies scurried around the meeting area excited to finally get reintroduced to their former wives, now mommies, Jacquelyn spotted her mommy and hurriedly waddled over to her. Her mommy, Stella, gasped, taken aback by just what they had turned her former husband into, and she was overjoyed by it.

Stella embraced the little sissy in a loving hug as Jacquelyn made the cutest whimpering sounds she’d ever heard. Never did she think her husband would be excited to see her, let alone so excited that he’d start making whimpering sounds. She took a step back to analyze her sissy; pigtails, dress, tights, and all. She loved how cute, innocent, and pathetic Jack looked, and she intended on keeping him this way.

Stella heard footsteps behind her and before she could look back there was a quick, loud snap that immediately made Sissy Jacquelyn stand at attention. Stella, with her mouth agape, identified that it was one of the sissy school’s mistresses. Stella was dumbfounded; Jack was always hotheaded and didn’t take orders well, yet with the snap of her fingers this mistress had gotten him to stand at attention.

Stella took a breathe in order to ask the mistress how she was able to keep such control over Jack, but before she could get the words out the mistress spoke, “Sissy Jaquelyn,” her voice was stern, “You know what to tell your mommy.”

Jacquelyn swayed her hips back and forth as her dress danced, she looked embarrassed and sad, but finally said, “Mommy, I sowwy fow da way I tweated you when I was a man. It was such a good idea fow you to send me to da sissy schoow whewre I been wearning how to be a weawwy good girl. I pwomise I do better as your sissy!”

Stella was dumbfounded and didn’t know how to reply, so all that squeaked out was, “It…it’s okay baby girl,” followed by an awkward pause.

The mistress took this moment of silence to answer many of Stella’s questions about Jacquelyn, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Stella, sissy Jacquelyn has talked about you so much. Now, I’m sure you’re quite shocked to see Jack in this state, but I guarantee it will make more sense over time. I can’t get into the nitty-gritty details of how we made her like this, but let’s just say it was a lot of hypnosis and some drug therapy. All you need to know right now is that Jack has been turned into the beautiful, baby girl you paid us to make him into.”

“D-does he like being this way?” Stella asked.

Without missing a beat the mistress pulled out her phone and it looked like she was getting ready to take a picture. Before Stella could ask what she was doing the mistress looked at Jacquelyn and said, “Sissy, pull up your dress for mommy and the camera. We all want to see what a pretty, diapered princess you are!”

Without hesitation Jacquelyn shouted, “I wuv being a diapewed pwincess!”

The subdued sissy clumsily grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up, putting her diaper on display for everyone. Stella, still in disbelief, reached out to feel the diaper. “Say cheese!” The mistress said.

“TEEESE!” Shouted Jacquelyn in reply.

Find more, exclusive captions at my Patreon!

#diaper captions #humiliated sissy #humiliation sissy #sissybaby #ab/dl mommy #diaper bulge #mommysprincess #submisive sissy #diaper sissy #diapercuck #mommys little girl #mommy k!nk #hypnosis

620 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 11 months

Note

One of my biggest annoyances is leftists and communists beinging up Biden’s tweets during the 2020 campaign of things he said he would do, and being like “see?? he didn’t deliver on anything and this is why you shouldn’t vote for the Dems again” Like, for all the understanding they seem to have of communist or marxist or whatever theory, the idea that the President is not a king and can’t do whatever he wants without Congress’s approval is lost on them?? He still believes in those things but if Congress won’t pass the legislation what is he supposed to do? EOs won’t solve all our problems.

Yeah. Not even to mention, the claim that "Biden hasn't done/delivered anything!!!" is a big fat lie, as people keep pointing out the things he has done, with a razor-thin House majority (until 2022) and two "Democratic" senators who torpedoed everything and one of whom has now literally left the party (Manchin and Sinema). So while Online Leftists obviously don't understand the difference between "achieving all of his campaign goals" and "achieving some," for the last frikkin time, Biden has done a lot of good things in very bad circumstances!!!!!! Using "he didn't do everything!!!!" as an excuse to not vote and so enable the open and unrepentant fascists is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard!!!!

Like. Take the debt deal. As in other things, Biden clearly learned from Obama's mistake (which was believing that the Republicans would ever negotiate in good faith about anything, and/or would reciprocate in kind if Biden made concessions). McCarthy whined for WEEKS that Biden wasn't listening and wasn't talking to him and wasn't entertaining his ridiculous proposals (22% cuts in ALL discretionary/non-military spending, including Social Security, Medicare, etc etc, while preserving the giant Trump tax cuts for the rich.) No matter that a full one-quarter of the national debt ($7.8 trillion of $31 trillion) was racked up under Trump and the debt ceiling involves paying bills that have already been spent. No sir, those Damn Free-Spending Democrats wanted to use your money on icky things like ~social welfare!! It was mean and it was hypocritical and it was blindingly obvious, and Biden just completely ignored it. He didn't try to negotiate in good faith with that, because there was no way it would work. He just let them whine.

Then, when it came down to it, Biden went in and got a deal that preserves pretty much all of the Democrats' major legislative priorities and expansions from the last two years. The only real change is raising the work requirement age for childless adults on SNAP food assistance from 49 to 54, but this has also been accompanied by a corresponding expansion of the definition "homeless" to make more people eligible, some for the first time ever. There's not going to be any major new spending for the next two years, but that wasn't happening anyway since the GOP controls the House and wouldn't agree to anything Biden put in the budget (and plus, none of the money that has already been allocated through the American Rescue Plan and other federal assistance is getting taken away). But more importantly, it raises the debt ceiling for the next TWO years and it won't come up again until after 2024. That is HUGE: the GOP really, REALLY wanted to hold the economy hostage again prior to the next presidential election. But Biden basically went in and told McCarthy to stfu and got what he wanted. Qevin was even forced, after months of "Sleepy Joe" GOP propaganda, to call Biden "very smart and very tough" in the negotiations. Soooo.

Anyway, this is what I mean: this isn't as sexy and/or as utterly fucking useless as spouting lukewarm rebaked "Marxist" propaganda on the Twittermachine about how Biden hasn't done anything, but it's the actual nitty-gritty work of government and flat-out beating the Republicans. They got absolutely shit-all that they wanted, because Biden didn't fall for their same old, same old dirty tricks and disingenuous squealing. He went in, got the job done, and will get way less credit for it than he deserves, from anyone. Dunno about you, but I like that guy. I plan to vote for him again.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

603 notes · View notes

leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 months

Text

SKZ DRABBLE-Minho

Part II of Mafia!Minho

Tags: Lee Minho, Minho, Lee Know, Mafia!Minho, skz, stray kids, stay, skz x you, skz x reader, mafia au, femreader, y/n, skz fluff, skz angst, skz smut

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Light Smut

Warnings: Mafia shit-guns, shady dealings, etc., blood, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth.

"This one can be yours. If you want it."

Your eyes flash to Minho in surprise, and he chuckles at the look of shock on your face, stepping up behind where you sit to press the loaded handgun into your slack palm.

He leans over, and you catch a whiff of his cologne-heady and familiar.

"You've been antsy. Bored." He murmurs in your ear, his voice low, as the men keeping watch in every corner of the room silently look onward, not moving a muscle, hands on their guns.

The guy in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, groans.

"You're not meant to be a housewife, darling. It doesn't suit you."

Minho reaches up to push a lock of hair behind your ear, and you shiver, your fingers closing around the cool barrel of the gun.

Something inside you feels strange about the fact that he'd paid enough attention to you to notice how you were feeling before you'd even put a finger on it yourself.

But it's not bad strange.

"Because you may be my wife," Minho continues in a murmur, releasing the gun fully into your hold now. "But you were your father's daughter first."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and steps back.

Without having to think it through, you rise from your chair, level the gun at the man sitting dazed in the center of the room, and pull the trigger.

********************************************************************************

You step around a puddle of something on the floor, it's dark enough to be blood, or it's simply from the heavy rain last night, and continue down the hallway of the shipping warehouse.

It's easy to be quiet, your worn, bloodied converse padding noiselessly down the corridor in search of your target.

You knew some Bosses that insisted their wives wear their heels to 'business meetings' but Minho had never placed that expectation on you, and you'd always felt more comfortable donning tennis shoes when it was time to get nitty gritty.

The blood washed out a whole lot easier from the canvas of Converse than it did the suede of Christian Louboutin's.

Plus, most of the lowlifes you dealt with didn't deserve to have your favorite pair of heels be their last view of the world.

Those were for Minho anyway.

You step around another suspicious puddle of unknown origin, and see the door you're looking for at the end of the hall, fast approaching.

"God, he's going to kill me for letting you do this."

You glance over your shoulder at Felix with a raise of your brow, pausing outside the door, one hand already on the knob.

You give him the start of a smile and a shrug. "He doesn't know."

Felix's eyes go slightly wide, panic writing itself across his expression as he continues to stare at you. "Wait, he doesn't know you're here, doing this in his absence, or he doesn't know that you're pregnant?"

You shrug nonchalantly, reaching for the gun you keep tucked in your waistband. "Both."

Felix stares some more, and you heave a sigh, rolling your eyes, as you reach to push open the door, for real this time.

"I haven't found a good time to tell him, okay? I wanted it to be a surprise. It has to be perfect."

"Oh god."

"Now-" You turn back tot he situation at hand, alert and ready, ignoring Felix's disapproving looks in your direction. "Let's meet our mole, shall we?"

Felix mutters something under his breath that sounds awfully like a curse, but you ignore him, shoving open the door as you draw and ready your gun simultaneously.

Inside, tied to a chair in the middle of the room and waiting for you, just like Chan said he'd be, is the man you've been looking for.

You give him a relaxed smile as you enter, Felix on your heels, but instead of directing your attention to him, you glance behind him to the man leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"You didn't rough him up too much before I got here, did you, Binnie?" You ask conversationally, as you make a circle around the man tied to the chair, inspecting his injuries.

Changbin grins at you, but doesn't move from his current spot on the wall. "Nah, I saved most of the fun for you. Just made him squeal a couple times like the pig bastard he is."

The man shifts and glares at Changbin, but you settle in front of him, crouched down to look up into his bruised and battered face with that same easy smile on your face.

You play with your gun as you stare at him silently for a few seconds, and he starts to squirm under your gaze.

Finally, you glance down at the weapon in your hand, and say casually, "He took it easy on you, Mr. Kang." You flick your gaze back up to his face, taking in the bruising around his eye, the split lip. "I won't be so considerate."

The man sneers at you, bloody spittle dripping from his lips, his gaze flashing to flick between Changbin and Felix, now leaning against the wall next to one another.

"Where'd you find the bitch? A street corner?" He flashes his angry, dark gaze back to you and leans forward as much as his bonds will allow, hatred dripping through his words. "Or did Boss Lee pussy out and send a woman to take care of his business?"

You see Changbin make a movement from the corner of your eye, but you hold out a hand, gaze never leaving the man before you, and he settles back into position, watching the interaction sharply.

You stand up, sighing, tsking slightly as you rise to full height in front of him.

"Honestly, I expected more out of you, Mr. Kang. Everything I've heard pointed to you being a man of greatness, someone capable of backstabbing the biggest mob boss and getting away with it, but this-" You wave your gun in his general direction with clear disappointment and dismissal. "This is just a tiny gnat spouting big words in hope of saving himself from the spider's web he's found himself irreversibly trapped in."

The man growls and thrashes against his bonds, and without warning, you press the gun into the underside of his jaw, and he winces, ceasing his movement almost immediately.

You lean over and get in his face, letting a smile slip once more across your lips at the sudden dark fear you read in his eyes.

He's finally putting it together.

"And just so we're clear-" You murmur, pressing the gun harder into the underside of his throat as you click the hammer back into place and he flinches. "-if you haven't already figured it out, Mr. Kang, I'm the fucking spider."

And you pull the trigger.

********************************************************************************

"Are you disappointed?" You ask in a whisper, as Minho holds the baby at the end of your bed, the doctor and nurses still hurrying around, cleaning up the room.

Minho's head snaps up, his gaze leaving the baby's face, and there's open confusion on his features as he stares at you.

"Why would I be disappointed?"

You shrug one shoulder, feeling stupid for having brought it up in the first place, but needing to know.

"My father never wanted a girl-"

Minho cradles the baby closer in his arms and steps up, settling beside you on the bed as he leans over and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

The baby makes a little noise of discontent at the movement, and settles back to sleep in her father's arms.

His expression is so serious it takes your breath away.

"Princess." He holds your gaze, and the warmth you see in his eyes has your aching body and mind feeling a hundred times lighter. "I am not your father. And if he was ever disappointed with you, then he's truly more of a monster than I thought. Because how could he, or I, be disappointed in something so-"

He glances down at the baby, a fond look settling over his rugged features, and reaches up an inked finger to stroke across her dark duck fuzz.

"-so incredibly beautiful and perfect?"

You let out the breath you've been holding and lean over to peer down at the baby as Minho continues to run his hand over her hair.

It's the first time since she was born that you've been able to get a good look at her, no machines plugged to you, no doctor or nurses trying to clean you up.

Minho's right.

She's beautiful.

You reach out carefully to touch the tiny, pink scrunch of her nose, and her eyes screw up, her lips pursing at the light contact.

She looks like Minho. But she also looks like you.

You glance up to see Minho watching you, and the corner of his lips lift into the hint of a smile, before he leans forward and kisses you gently.

"You did amazing, princess." He murmurs against your mouth, and all the hard work of the previous hours suddenly feels worth it at his genuine praise. "She's the perfect mixture of the two of us, and the best gift I've ever been willingly given. I'll spend our entire lives trying to repay you for bringing her into them."

And you know he means it.

********************************************************************************

"Mommy, do you think SuSu ever gets lonely?" Yeong-Ja asks, coming to sit beside you in the shade of the garden, making you look up from your book.

You consider for a moment, watching the dog in question roll around in the perfectly manicured grass with his toy bone held between his teeth.

"Hmm. I don't know." You finally muse back to your daughter, glancing over to her before you lean over and straighten the red bow at the end of her dark braid. "He has you, right? And he gets to go on trips with daddy sometimes and has a big important job of protecting us and our house. Do you think he even has time to be lonely with all that going on?"

Your daughter looks deeply thoughtful, and you bite back a smile as she turns to you seriously after a moment.

"I dunno. But maybe he'd like another puppy to play with?"

You laugh at her hopeful tone, glancing once more to the doberman, who has gotten up from his play to take a watchful patrol of the large garden, ears up and alert, strides purposeful.

"I'm sure he would. And I'm sure you would too." You lean over to tickle her sides briefly, making her squirm away as she laughs and shrieks. "But getting daddy on board with that plan will take more than a little bit convincing."

Yeong-Ja looks determined. "I'll ask him when he gets back."

You grin, leaning back on your hands as you lay your book to the side, and there is silence for a few moments, before you ask the little girl beside you, "Do you get lonely, baby?"

Yeong-Ja considers for a moment and then shrugs, playing with some grass between her fingers, still painted a bright purple from when Minho had done them for her before he left on his trip.

"Sometimes." She admits, glancing over at Suwon, who has resumed play with his ball.

She looks up at you then, her eyes large, dark and curious. "Do you get lonely when daddy's away, mommy?"

You feel a pang, and remind yourself Minho will be back tonight.

Gathering a smile once more, you lean over and press a kiss to her red, chubby cheek.

"Sometimes. But I have you. And Suwon. And daddy will be home before we know it."

********************************************************************************

"He's hopeless." Minho sighs in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he's getting a headache, another torn up dress shoe at his feet. "That fucking dog is a menace."

You laugh, pushing up from the bed to wrap your arms around his waist from behind as you nuzzle into his shoulder, breathing him in, relaxing into the way his back rises and falls against your chest.

"He's still learning. He's barely out of the puppy stage. Give him some time. Chan promises once he's done with training he'll be the best damn guard dog this side of the Han."

Minho sighs again, and glances over his shoulder at you, slight amusement warming his dark eyes.

"Are those his words or yours?"

You shrug a shoulder and bury your grin in between his shoulder blades. "Both."

"Well-" Minho gripes, kicking the ruined shoe away, before he turns and gathers you into his arms, putting a finger beneath your chin as he leans over to press a kiss to your lips. "-he has to live long enough to receive Chan's training. And with the way he's destroying my Prada collection-"

You laugh, leaning up on your toes to kiss him once more, cutting him off.

"Your daughter loves him. So you can't kill him."

"I'll get her another dog." Minho grumbles halfheartedly beneath his breath. "I can buy her every fucking dog in Seoul if she wants, she's one for fucks sake, she won't know the difference."

You shake your head, grinning, and pull from Minho's grasp.

"You may head one of the biggest crime organizations in this city, Boss Lee, but I know you and I know your secret, and faced with your daughter's tears or the loss of your entire closet of dress shoes, you'd choose the latter."

Minho sighs with heavy resignation and stares up at the ceiling.

His headache looks like it's coming back.

"Fuck. You're right."

You laugh and he gives you a halfhearted glare. "I'm always right. And life will be easier for you as soon as you accept it."

********************************************************************************

The moment Minho enters your bedroom, Suwon is dropping into a happy puddle at his feet, tongue out and lolling, rolling directly onto his back as he stares up at Minho with bright eyes full of excitement and hope.

Minho rolls his eyes, but leans down to give the dog a few belly scratches regardless, before he nudges him out of the way with the toe of his dress show.

"Okay, okay, mutt. That's enough. Get the fuck out."

Suwon obediently rises to his feet at your husband's gruffly affectionate dismissal, and trots out the open door, probably off to settle down for the night in Yeong-Ja's bed.

You glance up from where you're currently sat at the bathroom vanity, wiping down your face, as Minho leans against the doorway.

"How'd it go?" You ask curiously, tossing aside the rag you were using, as you reach for your moisturizer.

Minho nods, following your movements with an unreadable expression. "About as well as could be expected considering the little hang ups we've been experiencing lately."

You tilt your head, studying him in the mirror, the tired clench of his jaw, the circles staring to bruise beneath his eyes, the normally pristine suit rumpled from the plane.

Minho sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, and holds your gaze through the mirror.

"I heard you went on a little unsanctioned outing while I was away, princess."

You freeze, because you've never been good at hiding anything from Minho, and swear loudly beneath your breath.

"Fuck. I'm going to kill Felix."

Minho looks amused now, arching a brow at you as he steps into the bathroom to stand behind you, hands going down on your shoulders.

"Felix didn't narc."

His words catch you off guard. "What, but then-"

Minho leans down to meet your gaze in the mirror, his lips pulling up into the start of a smirk as he inclines his head.

You follow his pointed gaze and catch a glimpse of the bloodstained converse peeking out from beneath the hem of the bed skirt.

Fuck.

Minho snakes a hand around the front of your throat, his large palm warm against your skin, and you swallow as you feel his fingers put pressure there, soft enough to be affectionate, but firm enough to tilt your gaze back and up to his where he stands behind you.

"So now it's my turn to ask you, darling-" He murmurs, voice low and intense, leaning in to your space once more, his warm exhales dancing across your skin and making you shiver.

He meets your eyes in the mirror.

"-How'd it go?"

You swallow again, hard, heart pounding in your chest, and let your gaze slip down to his hand still around your throat, the ink of his tattoos dark against his tan skin, the gold of his rings glinting in the light from the lamp.

Warmth pools between your thighs the longer you stare.

Minho is still waiting for your answer, so you lick your lips and redirect your gaze to his once more, molten and dangerous in the reflection of the mirror.

"I handled it." You say quietly, voice firm and resolute. "With a bullet between the bastard's eyes."

Something flickers hotly across Minho's gaze at your blunt statement and then he chuckles, coarse and raw.

"That's my girl." He murmurs against your ear, and the praise has you squirming in your seat as heat gathers instantly in your core.

"Minho-" You whine out, and he flicks his gaze to yours in the mirror.

"Something you want to ask me, princess?" He asks innocently, as if he hasn't just incited all of this with a single look and a few uttered words.

"Is there something you want me to ask you, Boss Lee?" You quip back instantly, and Minho chuckles again, that throaty sound that makes you want to lead him into the bedroom and to the bed immediately.

"Ah, see, princess-" Minho murmurs, leaning in close as he takes your chin in his fingers roughly, wrenching your gaze back to his once more. "-that's what I like about you. Always willing to push back and match me step for step."

There's fire in his eyes, and it lets you know you're playing a dangerous game.

Your favorite kind.

Minho's dark eyes flash as he forces you to watch your silhouettes in the mirror, his fingers sliding down your throat and to the closure of your top, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your breaths.

"Now. Be a good girl and take this off. And when you're finished, you can get my gun."

********************************************************************************

"It's not your fault."

You don't even raise your eyes to look at Minho, standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

You clench your knees tighter to your chest and stare at the way the water is swirling around your naked body and down the drain at your feet.

It's not even pink tinged anymore.

"It is though." Your voice is hoarse from screaming and crying, and it's barely more than a whisper when you finally respond. "Just none of you will say it. Not to me. But I know you're saying it to each other when I'm not there, when I leave the room."

Minho sighs, and moves further into the steamy bathroom, leaning against the counter as he crosses his arms over his chest, watching you cautiously, expression unreadable.

You avoid his gaze, because he's got his emotions in control now, but you know that if you look at him, your mind will only replay the pain, the worry, the loss you'd seen in his eyes before.

And that will kill you.

Because you're the cause of it.

"Princess."

You curl tighter into a ball on the ridiculously large shower floor.

Minho crouches down in the corner of your vision, and his dark eyes flash sharply.

"(Y/N). Look at me."

He rarely uses your given name, and you flick your eyes miserably to meet his.

He sighs again, and his expression softens slightly.

"It is not your fault." He repeats, slowly and surely, and you know it should make you feel better, but it only makes you angry.

"It's not my fault?" You spit back, and to his credit, Minho remains steady, unmoving, in the face of your sudden fury. "It's my body that keeps losing them. I'm the one who can't seem to hold on. I'm the one who ruins our chances of ever meeting our babies before they're gone forever. I'm the one who's broken, who can't even give you what you want and it's not my fucking fault?"

You don't even realize you're crying until Minho slides into the shower beside you and gathers you into his arms.

You don't even have the strength to protest as he holds you and you sob into his chest, his dress shirt quickly growing heavy and drenched beneath your hands.

Finally, when you can catch your breath, Minho reaches up to wipe away the last of the tears from your eyes, stroking a soothing finger across your cheekbone before he says gently, softly, "You have absolutely given me everything I've ever wanted, princess. That little girl down the hall? She's my whole world. And you?"

He runs a thumb across your lips as you sniffle, fighting the tears once more.

"You will never understand what you've done for me. But I will never, ever need anything else in my life as long as I have you by my side."

********************************************************************************

"Is it someone's birthday?" Minho asks wryly when he comes downstairs and finds you and Yeong-Ja gathered in the kitchen, waiting for him.

"No, daddy." Yeong-Ja giggles, running to him as he swings her easily up into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of her dark hair. "You're so silly."

Minho tickles her a little, grinning down at her in his arms. "I don't know. It could be Uncle Felix's or Uncle Jisung's and I just forgot."

"That's why we have a calendar." You tease back, as Minho carries your daughter over to the table and sets her down on the counter, caging her in with the safety of his arms so she doesn't fall.

He gives you a wink. "You know, I never look at that thing, princess."

You mimic a sigh, but you're biting back a grin. "I know."

"Daddy, daddy, look!" Yeong-Ja, tired of being ignored, points out the cake sitting in the middle of the table, swinging her legs as she motions excitedly. "We made you a cake!"

Minho eyes the confection with open amusement and then glances between you and your daughter. "I see that. The question is why?"

Yeong-Ja squirms out of Minho's arms and jumps down from the counter with the help of her father's hand, running over to where Suwon lies beneath the large dining table.

She drags the sleepy dog out so Minho can see him and gestures to the red bowtie tied neatly around the black dogs throat, just beneath the large leather collar he wears.

"Look, SuSu got dressed up too!"

Minho crouches down, fingering the satin bow tie as the dog gives his hand a few lazy licks.

"Ah. And he looks very dapper." Minho replies seriously, before he reaches out and tweaks Yeong-Ja's nose, making her giggle. "But not as pretty as you."

"Yeong-Ja." You say, and your daughter glances up at you curiously, Minho following her gaze as you step out from behind the counter. You arch a brow at her and try to give her a pointed look. "Why don't you tell daddy why we made him a cake?"

"Oh!" Her eyes light up and she claps her hands, running back over to the counter and climbing up on one of the dozens of stools to pull the cake closer for Minho to see. "We have a surprise for you, daddy!"

Minho stands, brushing dog hair off his pants, and comes to stand beside you, his arm snaking around your waist as he watches Yeong-Ja.

"Did you really make that cake, or did you bribe cook to do it?" He murmurs to you beneath his breath as Yeong-Ja continues to chatter on excitedly.

You swat his chest lightly and try to muster up an offended look. "I'm actually hurt you would ask that."

He chuckles, shrugging a shoulder. "Just curious, princess, that's all."

"All right." Minho tugs you back against him, both arms going around your waist, his chin resting on your head as he looks to your daughter and the cake once more. "What's the surprise, baby girl?"

Yeong-Ja looks to you for confirmation, suddenly serious, and you nod slightly, telling her to go ahead.

Sudden butterflies swarm in your stomach.

Yeong-Ja, taking her job incredibly seriously, climbs down once more from her perch and makes her way across the kitchen, returning momentarily with the little gift bag the two of you had prepared earlier and hidden from Minho's view behind the cover of the counter.

Minho glances down at you curiously as she approaches, but you don't look up at him, worried the sudden wobble of your lip or the sheen of your eyes will give you away.

Your daughter presses the gift into Minho's waiting hands.

Minho stares at it for a moment, and you can see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

"Open it, daddy." Yeong-Ja finally says impatiently, stomping her foot, and Minho chuckles, breaking the tension.

"Okay, okay. Patience, baby girl."

He tugs the first ribbon off the bag, and you feel your entire body suddenly tense with nervous energy.

Shoving aside the tissue paper, he reaches in blind, giving Yeong-Ja a secret little smile and a wink as he does so, and when he pulls his hand back out, he uncurls his fingers to reveal what was inside.

Nestled in his large, ink covered palm is a tiny stuffed replica of a Doberman, one that looks awfully like a certain dog currently sleeping a few feet away under the dining room table.

Minho stares at the stuffed animal for a few beats, and then he glances up at you, confusion clear in his dark eyes.

"Please, for the love of god, don't tell me we're getting another puppy."

You laugh, but the sound is watery as you shake your head and open your mouth to respond, but Yeong-Ja beats you to the punch.

"No, daddy, silly!" She points at the toy held in his hand, eyes bright, expression beaming. "That's a toy for the baby!"

Without seeming to be able to stop himself, Minho murmurs out with clear relief beneath his breath, "Oh thank fuck."

You laugh again, and he looks to you for confirmation as Yeong-Ja steals the toy from his grasp, moving to show it to a very unimpressed Suwon who she has just woken from his nap.

You nod at the look on his face, the hesitance held in his eyes, and something changes at your silent acknowledgement, his expression growing incredibly soft and intense all at the same time.

He stands up and is to you in two strides, tugging you into his arms even as the tears run silently down your cheeks.

He buries his face in your hair and breathes you in for a few seconds, before he pulls back, reaching up to swipe away your tears as he asks quietly, voice hoarse, "Another murder baby?"

You laugh through the tears and lean up to kiss him, tasting the happiness on his lips as you confirm back breathlessly, "Another murder baby."

196 notes · View notes

xerotiny99 · 26 days

Text

House of Cards // Our Precious #5

House of Cards (Our Precious series 5)

M.list ┃ Previous ┃ Next

Pairing: Ot8 (except for Mingi) x Reader (a little freaky Wooyoung at the beginning and a little angsty Yunho towards the end.)

Warnings: no smut, a bit of comedic relief from all the previous smut, detailed descriptions of kinks and other sexual interactions.

Note:this is only a filler chapter with nitty gritty explanations and details of what's to come in this series. If you're uncomfortable with any part of this chapter, then please do not read! Not proofread.

Gist: now that you have agreed to their proposal, Hongjoong sits you down along with the others and explains you the rules of the house. Everyone has different tendencies, different preferences, and unconventional kinks. Only, would you be enough to satisfy them all?

Word Count: 7,184

The warmth of the lazy sunshine creeps up your face, creating a stark contrast beneath your eyelids, in a way to wake you up. Remaining slumber in your head forces you to squint your eyes even harder, absolutely resenting the thought of getting out of bed, or in your case, your futon. The mattress which sinks to your weight, however a little rigid, is still comfortable enough to lull you back into sleep. You could presumably put yourself back to the daze of your dreams and live them for a few more hours, a thought only tempting you to groan and whine. Sunday mornings at dorms, for you, were the best days considering how you would wake up in the late afternoon and munch on random things you found in your mini fridge.

Sadly, things have changed. Situations have been flipped over; just as like the burnt pancake you made yesterday morning, finding one side perfectly fine but the other coated in coal of the pan. It is what your life is, currently. And speaking of which, you had no jolly expectations to continue your dreams when your gut already knows someone or the other is waiting on the other side of the door to jump on you. The muffled sounds, precisely of uncertain whispers, have already put you on a look out for any prospect annoyance you might encounter.

And to your unbridled and dismayed surprise, the door creaks open inside to be followed by thundering footsteps of two individuals.

"Rise and shine, Angel!!" you could never not be used to Wooyoung's pitched voice when he yells or screams.

"Wake up sleepy head." Someone grumbles, sounding closer to you than Wooyoung.

You open your eyes a little and narrow them in the direction of the havocking sounds of the two. Seemingly, San stood by the foot of your futon while Wooyoung rummaged through your closet; he flings a few clothes on his shoulder, before closing the doors shut.

"Get out!"

Groaning, you grab onto the pillow under your head and toss it, aiming for Wooyoung's head. In all honesty, the pillow lands sharp against his face. San, who had just witnessed minor violence playing out between you two, takes a step back and rolls his eyes. Wooyoung, on the other hand, holds the pillow as it falls in his hands and hops onto the tenuous futon. The mattress dips to his weight, sinking you further down.

"Oh, that's fucking rude, Angel," he sings along, closely to your ear. "Just wake up already."

"Five more minutes. Please," you whine, dragging your words in an attempt to sound more desperate.

You're closing your eyes, pulling the sheets over to cover your head—already in the process of going back to sleep when Wooyoung's warmth spreads on your shoulders. He flips you over on the mattress, laying you on your back while he straddles your waist. If his irking voice hadn't woken you up enough, then this certainly had. Gazing up at Wooyoung with your half-lidded eyes, you wonder how close you two had gotten too—as compared to the others. There was no doubt you would get along with everyone else as well, but for now you could only rely on few people.

"What, no!" Wooyoung muses, "your five minutes will turn into an hour, I know it so."

"Oh, come on. Please." You grumble, swatting one of your hands in the hair, blindly, to get hit him. Of course, you don't even touch him. "I and Jongho were up all night."

"What were you doin'?" San pipes in from the back, "okay, I certainly did not think Jongho could go all night."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," you shot back at him.

"Is that so," Wooyoung adds, "what were you two really doing then?"

"Ugh," you groan, "curiosity kills the cat, Woo. But if you're so desperate..."

At this point, all your remaining sleep had been drained out of you. Again, you wouldn't really think of sleeping when Wooyoung's crotch was directly grinding on your lower abdomen, tingling your stomach with a different urge. He's leaning down over, close to your face with his lips curled in a smirk; warm touches ghost along the length of your arms as he traces his hands to intertwine with yours. Tight grip holds your fingers in a grasp and without any hesitation, he pins your arms over your head.

"I'm desperate for many things, Angel," he whispers to your face, lips hovering over yours in an attempt to bite them. "You shouldn't concern yourself with that. The more you tease the fire, the more likely you are to get yourself burned. Isn't it? Do you want to get burned, doll?"

You smirk, scoffing, "then maybe in our next lesson we should learn about not teasing the fire too much, hmm?"

"Oh, you'll be learning a lot of things in our next lesson," he grumbles, rolling his hips into yours to have you feel his limp cock, gradually starting to harden in his shorts.

Your cheeks heat up, flustered thinking about his said notions; it had been a few days since you asked him for his help with cooking lessons. The unlikely thought of you not being able to cook was delirious to Wooyoung the most out of all—so he suggested to teach you, take daily lessons and explain the very basic techniques you required in the kitchen. Regardless of how well the lessons were given, you couldn't deny the sexual tension between you two, which happened to grow day after day with your uncertain sexual innuendos and flirtatious attitude towards him.

Wooyoung doesn't stop after seeing you flustered or crooning your head to hide your reddened cheeks in the sheets under you, he purposely starts grinding his hips against your pelvis to get the much-needed friction. You groan out softly, lips trembling when you catch him smirking down at you with the most lustful expression on his face; his lips curl further into his cheek, hands trapping yours against the mattress overhead, and his cock sliding up and down your clothed cunt. You could feel him straining in his shorts, turning hard with every mere thrust he made.

"Wooyoung, stop..." your voice falters to a whisper, eyes closing shut and back arching to buck your hips into his a little more. "Please."

The desperation in your voice is a turn on to him. "You're jerking your hips to mine, doll. Are you sure you want me to stop?"

"Yes," you lie.

Of course you wanted more. But given San was standing still in the room, with his gaze directed towards you, observing every inch of your body getting aroused, was a bit more humiliating than admitting you'd want Wooyoung to continue.

"Sorry to interrupt your little endeavour of getting off, Woo, but we were supposed to get her out of the bed, not fuck her in the bed." San grumbles, folding his arms over his chest, annoyance creeping up his chest. "You don't want to go against Hongjoong's word, do you?"

"Are you trying to scare me off with that?" Wooyoung scoffs, ceasing the rhythm of his hips before sitting himself straighter on your waist. He glances back over his shoulder, "so pathetic, Sannie."

San rolls his eyes as a response and puts his hands up in surrender. "Do what you want to, I'm leaving. And you better get her out of that bed before anyone else comes in to do the task you were given."

"Roger that," he salutes San with two fingers and watches him walk out the room; you do too, bemusedly mulling over his words, you find him out with the door closing with a bang.

As soon as the very last echoes of door closing reverberate in the air, Wooyoung holds both of your hands in one and slides the other down to your face. First, he cups your face, then he traces his rugged fingers along your lips, he traces them further down your chin, your neck and halts when he caresses your collarbones. Right above where the neckline of your oversized shirt starts, his forefinger grazes your skin, in a way to press into it before going down in between the valley of your chest.

"No bra?" he muses, tugging on one of your tits. He clicks his tongue then, not stopping with his intentions, "do you know how much attention you'd get downstairs if you come like this? I don't mind, perse. But consider their hawk-like eyes strained on your chest."

"Wooyoung, come on. You can't really be this horny so early in the morning." You groan again, in despair of how wet your cunt was from his actions.

"Morning is the best time to fuck," he grunts, "and afternoon too, well can't go wrong with an evening quickie—but nights are better and more ideal, don't you think?"

"You want to fuck all day?" you whimper, feeling his hand now completely palm your tit to grope it tight.

"Can you keep up with that?" he retorts, chuckling thereafter, "none of the women I've slept with in the past have been able to keep up with me."

"You're a freak that's why," you throw your head back, murmuring.

Wooyoung's hand had encompassed its warmth on your tit, squeezing it tighter before pinching on your hardened nipple. "No doubt. I am a freak; I take my pride in it. You are yet to see just how freaky I can get."

He lets go of your hand and instead uses both of them to lift your shirt up till your neck, letting it pool on your collarbones. In a haste you bring your hands to keep the shirt in place while you suckle in a deep breath, anticipating what he'd do next. Wooyoung was an attractive man, absolutely breathtaking with his ebony hair half dyed in blond, which he apparently called it 'Oreo hair', the straighter lips he'd use to tease the hell out of you, and the seemingly two-toned eyes which change their character as desired.

"I can be freakier," you pout, bucking your hips into his, your soaked cunt rubbing against his rigid cock.

"Hmm, really?" he mocks you, leaning in to press a kiss under your jaw. "I'd love to see that happen."

You bring your hands to his shoulders and then slide them up to grasp onto his neck, fingers intertwining with the hair strands which rest firmly on the nape. His lips travel further down, sloppily tracing and pressing to the centre of your collarbones before dropping to your chest. Kissing your sternum with wet and soft lips, running his tongue along the way, he keeps his hands fixed to your waist. The exhilaration of him moving his hands even below, perhaps to feel how wet you were through your panties, forces you to moan.

"Moaning already? I've barely done anything, Angel." He adds, "I wonder what a mess you'd be when I'd be railing the fuck out of you."

"Stop it..." you mewl, raising yourself slightly up to brush your lips against his. "Or else we might not get out of this bed at all."

"Bed? I'm not interested in fucking you on this easily breakable futon," he smirks, diving into a short-lived kiss again.

Heaving out a playful sigh, he pulls your shirt down and covers you whole; crawling back out of the bed, he holds your clothes, the ones which he had flung over his shoulder before and prompts you towards the bathroom door. For some reason, you couldn't turn away from the little tent in his shorts, how his cock was straining in all its glory through it.

"Get freshened up, we need you downstairs."

"We?" you repeat to yourself in a little moment of confusion.

"Yeah, us." He chortles, "now, get out of bed before I drag you out of there."

Hopping out of the bed was a little tedious as you didn't want to bid farewell to the warmth and the prospect sleep, you'd be getting if you tried to rest your eyes for mere minutes. Regardless, you jump on your feet, neaten up the futon and the sheets before stumbling your way to Wooyoung. He hands you your clothes which did not consist of any underwear, but rather only a pair of shorts and a comfy looking top. Your brows scrunch together in bewilderment as you stare at him.

"No underwear," he smugly spells out, licking his lower lip. "Gotta get used to it, somehow. I'll be waiting for you downstairs then."

You watch him, wide mouthed, exiting the room; well, he did offer your butt a nice searing spank before leaving, which would tell why you had your jaw hanging low rather than pressing your lips together to contain your sensuality. Without wasting any time, you get inside the bathroom and initiate with your morning routine.

Standing in your room while you get settled into the clothes Wooyoung had picked out for you, you contemplate a little before flicking your wet towel on the drying stand near the window and going bits of your skincare. Once you know you smelled good, had your hair flowing down on your shoulder, and your lips moisturised properly, you head out. Climbing down the stairs, you were starting to get uncomfortable with how the clothes were sticking to your body; how the shorts were snug on your cunt to show off your folds, and how the top was too sheer to reveal the alluring shade of your areolae and pebbled nipples.

Jerk. He picked out these for a purpose.

And you were just understanding his sly underlying intentions when seven pairs of eyes were casted on you, studying you, reading every movement of yours with a hunger in them. Their loud and somewhat murmured chatters quiet down the moment you walk in. The living room was occupied by four people at the most; Yunho, Yeosang, Hongjoong and Wooyoung were seated in the living room, with Wooyoung perched on the floor by the foot of the couch. You find San and Jongho sitting on the dining table, stuffing their mouths with breakfast while Seonghwa was humming tunes in the kitchen, probably cooking breakfast. Hongjoong's arms were draped over Wooyoung's shoulders, his painted fingernails skimming over the straps of his tank top as he whispered something in tongues to him. Yunho and Yeosang were distanced, with Yeosang sitting on the chair instead, having his laptop propped on his lap. He usually doesn't really bother with you, but right now his eyes were glued to you. As a matter of fact, everyone was—and yet you did not feel too uncomfortable under their gazes, considering they were strangers and strangely infatuated with you.

The apparent men were in your direct view, their eyes never leaving your moving figure as you prance toward them. Hongjoong's lips curl in a ribald smile, prompting you with his head to sit in the empty space on the other side of the coffee table. Begrudgingly, you do as told, sitting down on the other side of the table, crossing your legs to sit in more likely asian manner—it made you feel small compared to them sitting on an elevated platform. They towered over you, making you submit without any hesitation; as for Wooyoung, he passed on a suggestive wink to you. You didn't bother glancing over at Yunho, you were still queasy about the whole 'fest-night' ordeal with him. Besides, for the past few days, you had been making it known to him, avoiding him whenever you could. He wasn't a dense clod to not understand your trickeries, he grew aware of your tactic every time you tried to make it seem like you didn't want to be alone with him. For instance, last Thursday, when one by one, everyone was leaving the living room while playing, or considerably finding the board game you picked out, mundane, you didn't want to be stuck with him who apparently had no problem 'playing' the game with you. Of course, your jealous-ass made an impulse decision, you put the game aside and called it a night.

Hongjoong clears his throat to bring your attention to him, relaxing back into the couch and then his words flow out, deep and coarse.

"First and foremost, we don't like tardy people in this house."

Ouch. It was a personal attack. You swallow thickly, perceiving the note of seriousness to his words and voice, discerning how authoritative it seemed to you as compared to others.

"I slept in for two hours more, is it that bad?" you pout, whining softly as your brows crease together.

Hongjoong finds it absolutely adorable, how you were acting cheerfully childish. He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head before licking his lips. "Darling, I am only stating the ground rules. Of course, you can sleep in. I have no issues you with spending most your time in bed."

"What ground rules?" you question, catching up on those first and later onto the sexual innuendo he had alluded to.

"Some basics about how we all live here," Yunho shrugs. "Something you should know too, now that you're living with us."

You don't look his way, even if you did have the urge to—heck, this was hard, you would have to sort this out soon or else you'd be kissing him goodbye. Nodding silently, you fixate your gaze on Hongjoong, who runs his hand through his faded blue hair (now also showing his black roots) and stifles a scoff. It wasn't that no one was aware of you avoiding Yunho, they found it quite odd and interesting. Hongjoong too, factly as because he is least interested in the house drama, found you and Yunho's affinity get obsolete.

Hongjoong continues, "as per my understanding, you have agreed to our proposition, and it seems you are a little uncertain about our preferences and so-called kinks."

"It's better to have a starter guide." Wooyoung smiles, slyly enunciating his words, "to get you accustomed to our likes, dislikes and unconventional tastes. And for us to know your limits and how much we can push you."

"Besides, I believe it's better if we inform you beforehand and then see if you'll be still willing to be our partner." Seonghwa speaks up, walking in from the kitchen with a blue ceramic plate in his hand. He puts the plate down in front of you, wafts of sweet aroma buzzing your nose, waffles with maple syrup. "Eat up, cooked these for you, specially." He leans over and kisses your forehead, smiling in his cheeks as he walks to the couch.

Seonghwa sits on the other side of Hongjoong, making him the take the centre space; San and Jongho, who were still in the dining lounge, now stride in and make themselves comfortable on the ground. San scoots close to Wooyoung while Jongho is pushed up against the couch and Yunho's leg. Your eyes run across all of them, all of the seven men interested in having you as their little plaything. They were all freshly showered, having clean looks to them, dressed casually in sweatshirts and sweatpants or shorts, exception Seonghwa; Wooyoung having been dressed in a tank top and grey shorts, San with his fluffy yellow hoodie and black shorts, Jongho fully covered in a brown turtleneck cardigan and joggers, Yunho wearing a grey sweatshirt and grey joggers, Yeosang flaunting his obsession with black by wearing a black tank top and layering with a black jacket—of course with black sweatpants, and Hongjoong adorning a black half-sleeved shirt and pastel blue shorts. In contrast to them, Seonghwa wore a royal blue dress shirt and black trousers, as if he was ready to be elsewhere than here.

You offer them a timid nod before grabbing the fork and cutting through the three stacks of waffles; upon putting it in your mouth, the buttery taste melts in your mouth and sweet of the maple syrup overcomes all. This delightful breakfast was going to be accompanied by their talks on sex and kinks, how ironically hellfire was that going to be for you.

"I'll state some common rules before all of us, individually, talks about our kinks and preferences," Hongjoong begins, "first of all, under all circumstances, must you voice your discomfort and distress regarding any activity you might or may be engaging yourself in. We like to keep it consensual and more importantly, it's all in vain if you aren't deriving any pleasure from it."

Hongjoong's eyes are fixated on you, drinking your body whole as you eat your breakfast, incredibly slow to let it prolong its taste in your mouth. He adds further on, "second thing, as much as we are rough and untamed in bed, we're as much caring—so aftercare will be sought to and you will be taken care of after every session with whoever. Third, if it makes you comfortable, we might ask you to not wear any underwear for specific and allotted time of the day—only if you're comfortable with it."

Him emphasising little details in his words makes you melt; you were already aware how caring they are, obviously from the past few endeavours with Yunho, Seonghwa and Jongho. There was no doubt you'd ever feel uncomfortable around them, not when you're as equally freaky as them.

Hongjoong glances over at Seonghwa for a beat before turning back to you, "fourth, none of us are diagnosed with any STD's, you can see our test results for yourself if you want to—" he pushes a set of papers towards, which were kept on the coffee table for a long time— "fifth, a little crucial detail about us. We do not prefer using condoms most of the time. So, we'd very much appreciate you being on the pill and abiding by it."

He offers you a tight lipped smile, stretching wide as he turns to Seonghwa. The said man takes it as a cue and clears his throat before proceeding.

"Hey Angel," he greets you softly, eyes crinkling by the corners as he studies you for a second before continuing, "I'm assuming you like what I've cooked for you?"

You nod, sliding the fork out of your mouth, "it tastes great."

"Aw thank you," he chimes, "glad to see you enjoying it. Now, to give you a little perspective about me, I'm a soft dom. I like praising and loving my partner—don't like to force them, or to be too rough with them. If I may, I'm very much into the "dom daddy little girl" dynamic. You'll be pampered thoroughly by me and I'll also be looking after you, whatever you need—love to spoil my little girl."

You grow flustered by him and his definitions, stringing you along to your la la land once you've found yourself fantasising. Licking the fork, quite in a teasing manner with your tongue twisting and twirling around the tines to clean the syrup off, you keep your eyes on Seonghwa. He crosses his legs over and then places his hands on one knee; tilting his head to a side, an endearing curve sculpts his lips.

He chuckles, "you seem to enjoy your breakfast a little too much, don't you, sweetheart?"

You couldn't describe what exactly you felt, but the tingles running adrift in your cunt causes your slick to seep out and drench your shorts. You want to squeeze your thighs together, want to feel the bit of friction that could appease the building tension. Though, is this how it was going to go between you? Them, talking about their kinks and likes, while you listen to them, fantasise and picture everything vividly in your mind. It better not be like that.

Nodding, you mewl, "it tastes too good not to."

"Always eager," Yunho pipes in, "always desperate and hungry."

The innocent ruse to ignore that man for as long as you could, falls to shambles when you hear his conceited voice. His attempt at tipping you off to his husky and heavy tone was far too successful in torturing you. There could be times when you ached to talk to him, hear his voice but considering your heart's wishes, you were determined to give him hell. At least you thought you were.

"Yunho, don't tease her." Hongjoong clicks his tongue, warning him. "Who wants to go next?"

"Let me," Yeosang speaks up, keeping his laptop on the coffee table and picking up a folder instead. "I don't talk a lot, you've noticed it."

He scoots to the edge of the chair, sliding the folder towards you. "So, I'll keep it short and simple. What you have in front of you, is a contract. A master-slave contract, if you will. Read through it, carefully and thoroughly. Ask me if you fall short on understanding something. When done, sign it and hand it back to me." Eloquently, letting his words flow, he offers you a smile and continues, "oh, and the terms are non-negotiable, so do think hard and well before signing it."

You nod, gulping down the piece of waffle stuck in your throat.

"Aw, Sangie, you scared her. Look, she's got Bambi eyes." Wooyoung comments, giving his words a nice swirl of satire. "Her legs are trembling too, like it did when Bambi tried to learn how to walk."

"Shut up, Wooyoung," San grumbles from beside him and the latter immediately mimics zipping his lips. San strains his eyes on you; he licks his lips, and lets the tip of his tongue stick out on his lower lip. "I—I don't have any serious kinks, but—but, I'm into—I like both, dominating and being dominated. I'm, as what they call, a switch."

"Oh," your lips round themselves. You're almost done with your breakfast, having licked the plate clean, not even a smudge of syrup remains. "That's intriguing."

"Perhaps," San continues, "I somewhat lean more towards being submissive." He fidgets with his fingers, "I'd let you take the charge whenever you'd want to, I wouldn't mind."

You nod in understanding, hesitating however, "but, I never really adapted myself to take charge..."

Jongho chimes in, "so? it's not a big deal. You'll learn along the way, it'll be a part of your experience."

"Jongho's right," Hongjoong reassures you with a dainty smile, "once you're stuck with any of the guys who are submissive, you'll find your way. It would come to you naturally."

"Okay," you trail off, meeting eyes with San again who has a dimpled smile on his face, "it'll be fine, sunshine. You already have an elaborate imagination."

"Vile too," Yunho remarks, "I bet she's thinking about you, Woo. Look at her squeezing her thighs."

"I was wondering the same—" Wooyoung huffs out a breath once he crawls over San and makes it you on his all fours. Prancing like a predator stalking its prey. "What has gotten you so...worked up, doll?" he licks his lips, sliding his body behind you.

"Nothing..." you murmur.

Without any warning, his arms snake around your waist, one propping itself slightly above and one below. He toys with the hem of your shirt, and buries his head in the crook of your neck, suckling to create purple bruises against your skin. You moan softly, rapturing to his touches and how wet you were starting to get. There was no doubt you were dripping through your shorts, not particularly when Wooyoung's other hand slips past the waistband of your shorts and his fingers rub along your folds.

"Woo..." you whimper, closing your eyes and throwing your head behind on his shoulder, your neck arches and so does your back, urging to get something more out of his fingers.

"I told you she's desperate," you hear Yunho make a comment, receiving sounds of agreement and laughter.

"I think we should let her know that Wooyoung is a freak, seemingly a wild card." Jongho utters, and you catch him shaking his head through your lidded eyes.

"She already knows that, baby bear," Wooyoung chuckles, sinking his teeth in your flesh and biting it hard. "But I'll elaborate," he presses his lips to your neck, "I like being rough, domineering. I don't like to force submission on to my partners however, but I also don't like bratty behaviour in bed. So, you better be a good girl for me, Angel or else I'll have to be a mean little fox to you." He sings so smugly, "since I have a reputation of being a little freaky, you might see me indulging in some unconventional stuff, but that doesn't mean you have to force yourself to do it with me because I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Engaging you in a talk, Wooyoung's hand slides under your top and traces along your skin to grope your tits. His hand is full of your luscious flesh, fingers rolling and abusing your nipple as he does.

"Okay," you whisper between your breaths, wanting this placid paced torture to end for your own good.

Listening to his dark chuckle resonate deep in your ear, your heart palpates harder at the anticipation; he doesn't exceed his desires, keeping his actions teasingly slow to push you past your threshold for pain and pleasure. Unfortunately, with how mellow paced his ministrations were, your pleasure was construing itself on the border of pain and suffering. Wooyoung's lips ghost over your abused soft spot, skimming them across your neck to whisper a dainty string of words in your ear.

"You've drenched your shorts, doll." he adds softly then, "unfortunate for us, we have so many spectators who are waiting to gawk at how desperately you'd beg for my cock." Sniffing at your skin, he nudges the tip of his nose along the back of your ear, his breath wispy and uncontrolled, "they are eager to drool on your bare body, to rub themselves off watching your tiny cunt get destroyed by me."

Wooyoung pulls his hand out from between your thighs, feeling a sudden sense of emptiness. His cock had been straining against your back all this time, poking and stabbing, showing you how stiff he was from then. In a darker sense of your mind, you wouldn't protest against any of his said notions; if he wants to fuck you on the table, in front of everyone, then he can rightfully so, and it'd be consensual too.

You're about to voice your thoughts when Yunho's words boom from a distance, "Wooyoung. I think we all agreed to keep our dicks in our pants for the day."

"That's right," Hongjoong adds, "Wooyoung, get back to your place."

He was so commanding, so fucking attractive to you.

Wooyoung sulks a little, his lips coming together to a pout when his warmth starts dissipating from behind you. He crawls back to his place, right under Hongjoong who doesn't really spare him much of his attention. San glares at the latter, it lasts for a mere second but it was enough for him to pipe down. Keeping one of his hand on Wooyoung's thigh, San offers you a lopsided smile. You are dragged down from the high you once attended to, your clothes now straightened out and your attention focused on Hongjoong.

He clears his throat, turning his head towards Jongho. The chestnut haired man has big set of doe eyes fixated on you, the brown in them warming your insides—he too then clears his throat and tugs at the collar of his cardigan. He's nervous it seems, and the way he makes you notice it, is too adorable to admire him. Jongho's ears turn a soft shade of cherry red, his cheeks flaming hot while he stares at you with words on the tip of his tongue. It gives you the most basic impression of him; he was a switch—the kind of guy who would flip from his domineering personality to a submissive toy in few seconds. And why was that turning you on?

Jongho mumbles, "I think you already know everything about me."

You compose yourself and sit straighter with the coffee table, placing your hands in front. "I've experienced a few things with you."

"That's enough," he smirks, "you'll understand as we go along."

"That leaves me then, I suppose," Hongjoong manages to chime in, tilting his head to a side and possessing an eerie smile. "Considering, Yunho has nothing to say or add."

"I absolutely do not," Yunho says with an undeniably teasing smirk, "that is, I simply do not find it plausible to let her know about my preferences. She's not ready yet."

He folds his arms over his chest and you glare at him, menacingly holding his eyes to the point of no retaliation. To your surprise, he scoffs and looks away, not shortly after you are turning to fix your attention on Hongjoong.

"Who's to know," he shrugs and smiles wider, his canines showing on his lower lip. "As for me, I'd like you to tread carefully before you dive head first into my preferences. I'm not the kind of man to trust so easy. I like to take my time with my partners, make sure they are willing and compliant. Most importantly, if they're comfortable. Or not. I won't be rushing our meets, they'll happen as I wish to, when I feel like you're ready for me." He takes a deep breath and his lips get to a straight line. "Do we understand that?"

You nod without speaking anything. "Good girl," you receive a praise from him, making your toes curl. "Since we're all done here, I think you should excuse me and Angel to discuss some other things. In private."

Instead of protesting, you selflessly watch all others leave the living room; Yeosang is the first to get out, without saying anything or acknowledging your presence, San and Wooyoung are in tow, both whispering in tongues. Seonghwa collects Jongho before leaving while Yunho offers you a subtle roll of his eyes as he walks past you. It was now only you and Hongjoong in the room, somewhat suffocating but the look in his eye was far more elusive than it normally would be. You and Hongjoong have no issues getting along, that is if you two really ever had an interaction with each other. As the time stands still, you and him hadn't had the proper interaction yet; you hadn't had proper interaction with San and Yeosang either, and Mingi is out of the question since he has his own reasons.

Hongjoong lets you stare at him for as long as you needed to. Relaxing himself against the back of the couch, he spreads his legs wider and runs his hand through his hair, disheveling it in the process. He doesn't want to utter unless you want him to, so reading your slavish movements, he keeps himself steady and composed.

"What do you want to talk to me about? In private, of it all." You heave a sigh and lick your lips, "is it something personal?"

"No Angel," he grins, amused and bewildered, "what I want to talk to you about is rather very much impersonal."

"Is it?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing exactly.

He nods, "I am not much of a fool to not notice the hostility between you and Yunho. You seem to avoid him, he seems to not find it...charming." Pausing, he steers his ambiguous eyes from you, giving you the chance to breathe before continuing, "I've seen him troubled, as much as it might not concern you, he's beyond dismayed in figuring out why you are dodging him. Yunho has his way of thinking, doing, perceiving—he's one of my oldest friends and I believe it's admirable that he finds you so lovingly endearing."

You're about to reply when he gets up from the couch, huffing a grunt out. "Look, Angel. Whatever the reason it is for you to avoid him, sort it out." He steps a little closer to you, "agreed we all said we want our relationship with you to be exclusively and sexually beneficial, but it doesn't necessarily mean we wouldn't crave intimacy or connection with you."

He leans over, fingers brushing with your chin to raise your head at him, while he adorns the most beautiful smile on his face ever. "You've spend a night with our baby bear. Nothing got lost in translation then I suppose. However, I hope you understand it well; we too covet for connection, the raw intimacy between you and our lives. Everyone has their own pace of warming up to you, it'll take time. Surely. But that doesn't mean you decide to push us away."

He caresses your chin ever so lightly, leaning over after to press a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Talk it out with Yunho."

Having no words to voice out, you only nod and smile reassuringly at him. Seconds bound you two together for a little while before he strides out of the living room, leaving you stranded with a havoc rapturing your mind. You had questions. Seemingly a lot. A lot considering how there were a few folders strewn on the table, one of them belonging to Yeosang who has asked you to read through the contract and sign it accordingly. You heave out a sigh, much lethargic one.

This arrangement was going to leave you in shambles. It was set in stone.

Evening dawns over, while you're in your room, reading a book—a book you chose halfway through reading Yeosang's contract. You wouldn't say you were uncomfortable, but maybe you were taken off guard to the norms started in it. The norms you'd have to agree to once you sign the contract. Grown out from the information dump you had been provided today in the morning, you decide to take some time out and make sure your sanity remains intact.

You're about to turn to the next page, when you unseemingly find your thirsty; to quench your thirst, you needed water. And how the fate works against your favour in making you hate it even more. The water bottle, near your futon, is empty, not entirely, there are very few drops at the at least. Those aren't enough to quench your thirst. You would have to unwillingly drag yourself out of the futon and walk downstairs and get you a new water bottle from the refrigerator.

How infuriating.

However, you needed it. Soon, you're sprinting down to the kitchen to get yourself a water bottle. Touché. There's an unsettling type of silence in the apartment, prolonging till you hear a door creak open and close loudly after. The sun drowns out the orange hues in the sky, replacing them with purples of the night and intentional reds of the sunset; softer golden hues caress your skin as you walk to the balcony adjoining the living room, tempted to wander in the transitional sky. Subdued to a scenic view of the city and the sky, you fail to grasp on someone lurking behind you...which is until that someone slips his arms around your waist. He pulls you back into his chest, purposely letting you collide. The familiar scent of musk and vanilla doesn't keep the identity of the man in shadows, you knew who it was, raising your heartbeat past the limit.

"Tell me, princess. Why are you avoiding me?" He mutters along your neck, having buried his head in the crook to tease and nick at your skin with to his teeth. "Have I done something to you? Where did I go wrong...?"

The utter confusion and despair in his voice is too much for your heart to bear, you couldn't let him stay in a state where he torments himself to know the reasoning behind your behaviour. You take a deep breath, running your hands along his to intertwine them, fingers lacing tight. Titling your head to the side, you find yourself absolutely awestruck at how beautiful he was, how gracefully had the sun lit up his hazel-ish doe eyes, how the rays were tempted to kiss his pale skin and bring out the glow in him. You couldn't come up with words to describe his beauty to even yourself, let alone to others.

"I—I saw you that day," you begin, slowly turning back to watch the sunset instead. Your words were stuck in your throat, constricting the walls till you were unable to breathe. "The day I was at the fest with Jongho—you weren't alone..."

"Is that all?" he grunts softly, kissing the spot right below your earlobe, his arms tightening. "You saw me with whom—a girl, a brunette? I was with Mingi then, wasn't I? I—" he pauses, flipping you over so that you were facing him and that was the last thing you wanted to happen. Meeting eyes with him, speaking about your misunderstandings and feelings, it was the last thing you wanted with him. "—I was with a woman, I won't deny or run away from the truth. Agreed it would paint something completely different in your head, but it doesn't necessarily have to translate to your worst of thoughts, does it?"

He takes a step forward.

And you stumble back.

His arms are around your waist again.

And you let him.

"I have nothing to do with that woman, princess."

He takes another step forward.

And you stumble. Again.

"We're only classmates. She's the one who wants to go out with me, she's—she had been conveying her interest in me...through many things. I had to turn her down, princess."

Another long stride from him, and you're pressed up against the glass doors leading to the balcony. He traps you in between his hands, placing them on either side of your face. Distance between you two keeps dithering till his lips are ghosting over yours, till his breath fans your cheeks and beats them up in a humbling fluster. You instinctively bring your hands to his shoulders and grip them, wanting to hold onto them for your life because you think you'd perish if you stared into his foreboding eyes any longer. They sought forgiveness for you, forgiveness for the misunderstanding you had been subjected to.

Yunho clears his throat, and whispers gently, "there's no reason for me to bring you pain. I've gotten..." he presses his lips against yours, "I've gotten so used to you—your little things. I would never want to betray you."

You wanted to choke. Seriously. Figuratively. Because you had no words to set things straight between you two; and how could you? How could you just appease the misunderstanding between you two after you had been a bitch to him? Not perse. But avoiding him was the worst decision and it was showing.

"You, avoiding me for the past week was a nightmare in itself," he mumbles, kissing the tip of your nose, "I like you, Angel. And I want to take things slow between us. For us—for us to bond properly. There's something more between us..."

"Something more than just physical intimacy."

M.list ┃ Previous ┃ Next

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #atz #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez ot8

90 notes · View notes