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throwaway-yandere · 9 months

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What HaPpEneD aT 10:10? (Yandere!"Gepard Landau"/Reader)

Scriptwriter's Note: I implore you to remember what happened at 10:10. And once you do, come talk to three of my associates. For now, let her help you recall what's going on in the present time. You can remember the time, but we need you to remember the murder weapon, who killed who, and the motive.

Synopsis: Trapped in Serval Landau’s basement for so long, you made a deal with the Sampo to escape confinement. As it turns out, your timing is never impeccable. Aka: a Belobog "murder" mystery. (A/n: ansy here, have fun trying to guess what happened! But please. PLEASE do not read this if you're sensitive to the topics below ⬇)

CW: Yandere and horror themes, "most unreliable narrator AND reader ever" - sam, violence, amputation, mentions of domestic (physical) abuse. His smile is stiff as a board. There’s a portal at the end of the story, your choices matter (there are 2 possible endings). Welcome to the Back Alley.

A murder was announced to occur on Saturday, October 2, at the Golden Theater’s back alley, around 10:10 AM.

It was an unidentified note. Short and crudely pasted cutouts from old magazines were its contents. Many believe the Astral Express put it together as a twisted joke. It’s no coincidence that the clocks' little hands near the theater were also forever stuck at 10:10. No one took it seriously. Additionally, a nearby bookshop used this opportunity to "hype" its mystery books by joining the bandwagon. While the Silvermane Guards officially took the "threat" as if it didn't exist, others transformed it into an event by creating crime scene props with March 7th and Stelle serving as the main judges.

Who'd even investigate such a note when the Golden Theater doesn’t have a back alley?

By 5:00 AM, that silly note was not at the forefront of the Silvermane Guards' minds.

It was you.

Sampo shakily exhaled a quick "heya, friend," as his legs continued to speed past the Silvermane Guards, who were all very much ready to fire. The merchanr was forced to inhale sharply and slightly elevate his voice as he worriedly fixed his attention on his 'package.'

"Y-You're good, aren't you?"

Inside the shopping cart (who knows where he got that) he had been pushing was a wanted person. A bit feverish, you nodded without much commitment. Even the slightest movements relieved the dubious merchant as he picked up the pace, avoiding the stray "warning" shots that were fired near.

Today, you didn't awaken in the house where you were held captive. There were no mechanical noises or loud drilling. However, your morning did begin with your flesh awkwardly molding against the metal grid patterns of the shopping cart. There was no complaining when you realized it was your old friend Sampo who had carried and set you down. You didn't even consider asking this man where he was taking you.

Days earlier, he had paid you a covert visit and explained his strategy. So you concluded that he was the one who made the "false" murder announcement public. He also implied that little Hook made the note. Your gut tells you that even while it makes sense to assume that she is the author of that absurd announcement, it doesn't seem to be the truth. But at that point, your fears of being tubed with immoral equipment vanished and you felt gratitude rather than alarm. Not that you'd ever figure out that I made it, anyways.

"S-Sampo…" You groaned, not moving from your position as your friend fished out his homemade bombs from his pocket. "W-Where are you taking me…?"

Anywhere is better than her basement.

"To Nat, of course!" You needn't tilt your head to know that he was smiling wide. "Is there any other doctor more reliable than Miss Natasha?"

You'd insensitively joke about Vache Harrower, but your strength betrays you. Not like he'd give you a chance to drop some smart-alecks when he timed his bombs right.

Just a few short seconds after, your best friend rolled his smoke bombs on the floor and made a larger dash. You heard a tremendous boom from the back, and a silent malicious voice in your skull hoped for injuries.

They worked with her.

Jolting you up, Sampo made one swift left turn and another to the right, making sure that the last remaining guards that trailed you both were lost in the haze. He didn't stop running, but you can tell he's getting tired. Sampo is a merchant, not the sister of the ex-Captain of the Silvermane Guards.

Your nose scrunched.

Serval Landau… that paranoid woman and lousier liar…

The oldest Landau used to be your best friend along with Pela. She had treated you as though you were Gepard's twin at times, much to your discomfort. Even her parents referred to you as their kin.

Since you had no one to care for you as a child, the Landaus happily raised you. Had you not rejected their offers for adoption, your life certainly wouldn't be where it is now.

Back "home", Serval would make suggestions that you were more of a Landau than she’d ever be. In turn, you’d cock your head and look unamused. Then act more like one, you’d reply. Yet these forceful encouragements do not reach her.

Even when you beg her to let you out of the house, she won’t let you.

We’ve been over this before, she’d reply. I can’t let you out on your own. You’re missing your right leg, what if that man finds you?

You’ve never understood that logic. Who was she referring to, your old boss?

Her brother died a year ago.

You once liked him. You'd even go out of your way to say he was worthy of anyone's trust.

Was. That was before you knew that deep in the recesses of his mind that loyalty was the beginning and end of Captain Gepard Landau's character. Uniting men under his leadership, he sought only the best for his beloved Belobog.

Your mind drives memories of Gepard away and you can no longer remember what transpired to cause this. After all, you undoubtedly considered Serval and Lynx to be sisters, but you never thought of him as a brother. You can't exactly pinpoint why you treated him like that since the very beginning.

Based on your shattered memories, you were stripped away of your position as his aide. Serval claimed it was because you didn't harbor traits of self-preservation. She made a show of how unreliable you were on the field, that you were hysterical and a "liability." Their relentless critique went on for half an hour until the higher-ups had given in to her demands.

Worse, they permitted her to surveil your movements 24/7. Using your amputated leg as an excuse, she effectively put you on house arrest– not your home, but hers. She's not an effective caretaker either, despite her attempts. Serval's use of transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation is far more brutal than what a normal practitioner would do, but no one can hear your complaints except for Molly. Her tests are never comfortable. And you loathe this.

She acted like your loss of a leg turned you into damaged goods that only the siblings can see value in. That her giving you a prosthetic was a sign of love rather than a shackle.

They said you were “hysterical”, and that you should be forgiven for whatever sin you’ve committed.

Insulting.

Insulting. Insulting. Insulting.

"H-How closer are we to the underground?" You gripped the cart, your heart racing at the speed.

Sampo coughed after accidentally inhaling his smoke.

“S-Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t change the direction of the cart–”

“What?!”

“The cart won’t turn!!!” Sampo screamed.

With each passing second, the gap between the cart and the theater narrowed. Your heart raced as this was your first experience of real danger after being sheltered for a year or so. Even though you were aware that Sampo had no control over the impending crash, you still glanced at him expectantly.

He smiled, drop-dead nervous and boyishly sheepish.

"Give me two minutes!!!"

"Give me two minutes, Captain!!! We still need a few more."

You beamed, holding your axe to chop wood for your comrades in the Outlying Snow Plains.

At first, you weren't trusted with heavy weapons. Luckily, being "weak" is a curable ailment for everyone. And the cure is called hard work and extreme effort. That, and an axe.

You were the very definition of a model soldier and he found himself incredibly lucky to finally see you join the Silvermane Guards. You had an excellent posture; you were a sharpshooter and a wonderful axeman– even your breathing looks rehearsed.

And for a damn good reason.

When the Height's economy sneezes, the underground catches a cold.

Unfortunately, that means children as young as you were had to bear the flames.

The Landau parents had taken a shine to you after taking you as a servant from the orphanage. Your captain's father adored you, even though his never-smiling voice had not once indicated his affection. Captain Gepard bears resemblances from his old man in appearance but not his military demeanor; you were the one to hold that torch.

It was through Mr. Landau you learned how much metrics and timings make a difference between an animal and a human being. You grew from someone who skitters away dynamically like a gas particle to a person grounded with instructions on how each step in a stride must be measured to perfection. Growing up with the Landaus was by no means a happy life, but it made you more keen on what constitutes "proper living."

To you, being hit by vases and chairs for failing to fold Mr. Landau's clothes in exactly the way he wants them to be was preferable to dying in the streets with your grandmother with nothing to fill your stomach other than the restaurant trash cans nearby. And you were certain you brought more pride and joy to Mr. and Mrs. Landau than you had to your parents who had abandoned you since birth.

People see Mr. Landau when they look at you and not Gepard.

But that's only because they have never seen the way you behave when it's only you and the Landau siblings are together.

“Working hard, I see,” Gerard said in a light joking manner.

You scratched your neck, embarrassed.

“Nah, I’m actually very lazy.”

“Don’t be so self-effacing,” Gepard smiled kindly. “I don’t miss anything. I’ve heard that you’ve made your rounds and even took on some of Pela’s duties while she’s on leave.”

“Eh, we both know I wouldn’t have done it without Pela begging me to do it for her Tales of– nevermind, Captain.”

Gepard had always viewed your abilities with the greatest reverence and approval. Serval was always quick to emphasize how her "favorite non-blood related sibling" is an "uninhibited performer" before everyone else, so Gepard thought this true in every aspect. You must think of this as writing a song to keep your mind sharp. You lose any sense of reservation once in “the zone”, and if Serval fell for the way your brows furrowed when penning down tunes and lyrics, Gepard faltered when he saw the glint in your eye as you pieced all the information needed to catch Sampo Koski’s whereabouts after your promotion.

He had never told you this, but Gepard always felt weird sensations pooling in his chest whenever he saw you hyper-focused on something.

Or someone.

“Do you think I can catch him, Geppie?”

Gepard ruffled your hair and your face brightened up.

"Never falter, (Y/n),” he said firmly. “For I wholeheartedly believe in your strengths. Catching Sampo Koski will be a walk in the park for someone like you."

To think that your first caught infamous criminal is your last true friend… Destiny surely toys with those who say “That’ll never happen.” It's always a fun phenomenon to write a script about.

“Walk in a park”? Try “crash in a theater”.

“SAMPO!!!”

You yelped, clawing his shirt and yanking his upper body like a wild animal. His heels screeched as the cart faced the direction of the Golden Theater.

And what nestled near the Golden Theater was its Back Alley, a place that exists on the border between reality and myth. Whispers among children weave tales that those who enter the depths are trapped in a journey of confronting their unresolved trauma and guilt. It is believed that the alley acts as another dimension where the lost must face their inner demons before emerging back into the real world, scarred forever by the distorted horrors they have confronted.

And for the first time in your life, you saw it.

You saw a fence that was never there before.

Your heart dropped.

“SAMPO!!!”

He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact alongside you.

Sampo Koski lived by a particular quote: "True happiness always entails the manifestation of the dignity of mankind,”

And only a few knew that it's only 1/3 of the full quote. The next part includes: “and true guilt is the catalyst for self-reflection and the pursuit of redemption–"

Flickering street lights and unmoving 10:10 clocks cast eerie shadows of dawn. It’s said that the people who traverse its trails encounter manifestations of their inner turmoil, a reflection of their deepest regrets. Some emerge transformed, carrying newfound clarity, while others head on a downward spiral.

He wondered which one you would be.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

Sampo smirked…

And let go of the cart.

“But the Back Alley is waiting for you.”

His hands, calloused but clean, tenderly held yours. You felt ice even without a metal ring wrapped around his finger. At that thought, you blinked.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You don't have a ring on you," you said with an unreadable expression. "Will we ever have a chance at getting married?"

You thought it was funny; he didn't.

We.

What did you mean by “we”?

Him and you?

Or you and someone else?

Surely you and him, right?

But is that really an idea that he needs to know?

The Supreme Guardian was right.

Doubt breeds arrogance.

“W-Well–” Gepard’s breath hitched, awkwardly fumbling his cuffs. “I don’t know about that.”

You muttered. “So the future's uncertain.”

“Of course.”

“Hmm.”

He gulped, realizing that you were mad at his response.

But he can’t let any of this continue any longer.

“(Y/n), I have something I’d like to tell you…”

“Nghh….”

You heard the shopping cart roll towards a wall– must be the same one you crashed onto. As you caught a glimpse of your surroundings, you were astounded to see how foggy it was. The wall-mounted advertisement for a love-matching service is hardly visible. It was impossible to see past the surrounding streetlight, even with "un-smoke bombed" eyes.

Doesn’t look like you’re in the administrative district.

You cannot see a single familiar building from this fog.

No heaters in sight and your breath practically singed your throat. The fog prickled your skin, but for reasons unknown, you did not shudder as a feverish man would’ve. Strangely enough, you felt fine.

You tried squinting at the road again.

Your heart dropped.

... There was no road.

You can't tell if it's the snow and the fog– but there's no pavement towards the exit in sight. It's as if wherever you stood floated. It was a literal dead end. As you peaked into the cliff, you did not see the bottom.

There was nothing there.

Even if you tried jumping, you weren't sure if there would be anything to fall on.

Capable arms wrapped themselves around your form. They were far stronger than your eyelids, which would barely open. Semi-automatically, your hand reached for this person’s shoulder, attempting to reposition yourself from their hold. You can barely make out their face, but their hair was slightly darker. This stranger lacked the envy-inspiring golden allure that the Landaus have.

Not processing that information fast enough, you spoke.

“S-Sampo, wh-what happened–”

You went pale.

No.

You pushed this "man" aside and dropped to the ground, barely maintaining balance on your one remaining leg. The man has now grown to be a towering figure over you, his star-bright eyes peering at you, paranoid. The air felt heavy, laden with a palpable sense of the unknown. Only the sound of your lonesome "real" foot scurrying away broke the silence.

“A-Are you alright?! W-What’s wrong....? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The man sauntered closer. His light but lifeless eyes locked onto yours, piercing through your soul. He had dirty blonde hair and he wore a sweater similar to the one that you never got to give to your best friend's younger brother, but–

“G-Gepard…?!?!”

The man tilted his head.

You squinted, hoping to find solace in a detail you might’ve missed or so.

Finally, your shoulders slackened, exhaling a large white cloud.

“No… You’re… not.”

He sent you a fleeting look of pity before making an awkward joke.

“Do I look similar to a past lover?”

His smile is stiff as a board.

“No— my— my deceased… boss…” You spoke bitterly.

This person, who looked eerily similar to the dead Gepard Landau, stared with red-rimmed eyes. Did he cry earlier? With nothing else to focus on except for the thick fog, you remain frozen in place.

“This is…”

Terrifying, you wanted to say but that would be offensive.

“Impressive…” You gawked, slowly forgetting the vulnerable position you left yourself in. Sharply, you drew a breath. “You look like you could be a Landau.”

Your hand reached to touch his cheek, and the stranger leaned into your touch. Far too engrossed by this encounter, you did not care for his slightly hollow eyes and more than elated expression. It was the bigger picture that you saw.

It was the near-perfect image of the deceased Gepard Landau.

His skin was pinkish and his heart raced.

“Your hand is warm…” He commented softly, face red.

“Your face, your voice— it’s just your hair and your sense of fashion that’s different, and—”

“My name is Gerard,” his smile remains stiff as a board, but there's a touch of friendliness to it. “I don’t believe I appear anywhere near ghostlike.”

You’re inclined to believe that he’s lying.

No one can look THIS similar to Gepard.

And that name as well.

You don’t know what to think.

As you were about to retract your hand, he held it back in place, guiding it closer to his lips. He breathed in. His breath marked the fog. “Gerard” inched closer, stepping his foot near your prosthetic right leg. With little distance between you two, your temperature has progressively grown hotter. It’s uncomfortable watching you both like this. I should’ve closed my eyes.

“See?” He mumbled.

“Can you sense how warm I am?”

“So you’re not Gepard… Or a ghost, I guess.”

You laughed to yourself. You’re not sure about your statement, either.

But while this man may appear friendly, his eyes were a haunting reminder that some things can never truly be left behind.

“As I have stated before, my name is Gerard.”

Even his name sounds like his.

“I-I’m sorry, I was dazed,” You pinched your temple. Without his warmth, the cold bit your cheeks which made you turn around. “T-Thank you for carrying me out of that shopping cart, Gep– Gerard.”

You looked around again. Nothing to see but fog. Far from surprising.

“Gerard, where are we?”

The dirty blonde man laughed.

“The Theater’s Back Alley.”

“The Back Alley?” You scoffed quietly, contemplating on how Gepard insisted to you before that it never existed– and now his promiscuous doppelganger is arguing otherwise. “There aren’t any back alleys around the theater.”

This place doesn’t look like an alley.

It’s far too large for it to fit the description. This must be an abandoned town. Unbeknownst to both of you, way before your time, this place was called Chernobog.

“Yes there is,” Gerard hummed. “It’s where we are now.”

“Then can you carry– lead me back to the main district?” You decided to humor him. “I’m not supposed to be wherever this place is.”

“I wouldn’t allow it.”

“Why not?”

Gerard grinned. His radiant smile baffled you as his demeanor changed from slightly teasing to tender from just the crinkles of his eyes.

“Because I love you, of course. I can't just let you leave.”

You froze.

Why? Why does he speak as if it ever so slightly comes from the diaphragm as he did?

Why does his voice sound so much like Gepard’s?

You thought it was wrong.

Gepard would never say those words.

Not to you. Never.

As Gerard’s casual confession hung amidst the fog, a peculiar heaviness settled on your heart. It wasn't the words themselves that caused this unease but rather the haunting resemblance his voice had to Gepard’s. His voice was rich with authenticity, free of malice, and his confession was short but somehow sweet.

But you didn’t want to hear that from him.

You averted your gaze. A flood of memories had suddenly surfaced at that precise moment, including the hearty sound of Gepard's laughter. It appeared as though the dead had come back to play a cruel game. Unable to bear his comfortable “joke”, you recoiled and feigned deafness, face veiled behind an indifferent mask. Perhaps the Aeon of Preservation may have advocated for this. In a sense, perhaps denial meant safety. Silently, you begged for your thoughts to stop, for the resemblance to dissipate, and for the ache of grief to be buried again.

“Back on the topic at hand, if you wish to exit the Back Alley: I don’t wish to help you,” he smiled.

His smile is always stiff as a board.

“Why not stay here? Are you not a wanted person?”

You glared.

“How did you know that?”

“Murder, right?” Gerard drawled, his eyes softening in what you call disgusting pity. “Someone important. Someone that made you stuck here.”

“Stop making accusations,” you spat, offended by his left-field slander.

“I’m not,” Gerard said. “I know who you killed. How about you? Do you remember who it was?”

Silence.

“But that doesn’t matter now,” he announced firmly. “Why don’t you come with me? Let me shield you from the monsters.”

You froze.

“Mon… sters?”

“Yes, monsters.”

Unexpectedly, a far-off wail of sirens and static radio pierced the air, disorienting. There was nothing to be seen when you lifted your chin to strain your ears in search of the source. Gerard's urgent voice broke through your daze.

"Run."

With a swift and practiced motion, he swept you off your feet, cradling you in his arms back to the position you woke up in. He knew your current prosthetics were not meant for running. A prosthetic limb is like a new fingerprint and Serval would never make your new identity one similar to escapists. At the moment, you had a prosthetic leg for everyday use, and not blades for running.

As Gerard hurriedly carried you through the dense fog, you felt no sense of security as you had before. Something lurked just beyond your line of sight. In an act of spur-of-the-moment bravery, you stole a glance over Gerard's shoulder, and thus, you were paralyzed.

What emerged from the depths of the fog were grotesque “figures”.

Their bodies were mutilated, with their arms hanging loosely at their sides. They reared their heads, twisting and contorting. It was humanoid in stature, blanched and nearly armless. If it were not for some tissues, you were certain they wouldn’t have arms to begin with. Their flesh seemed boiled together like patchworks of human remains. They started to inch closer, their movements disjointed.

Fear coursed through your veins as you realized their intentions were set upon you and Gerard. But his voice cut through, his words not faltering.

"Hold on tight," he said steadily.

“Whatever you do, don’t let them get to you, (Y/n),” Gerard whispered.

“Please, do it for me.”

For the duration of “dawn”, Gerard carried you to safe locations. You have not met a single human person throughout the day. This was a concerning observation after knowing how large the “alley” was. He knew the area like the back of his hand and successfully guided you to hospitals (which, unfortunately, had more of those monsters from before) to patch some minor wounds from Sampo's “shopping cart trip” mishaps.

Before you could walk to the hospital bed, he grabbed your wrist in a tight hold.

“Shhh…” Gerard tugged your arm. “You don’t need to walk. Please, permit me to carry you.”

Despite your whispered protests, he rarely let you move around. Which made sense since your staggering did alert them of your location.

But you don’t like the way he touches you.

Those Gepard-like eyes lingered on you as if he were trying to memorize every inch of your skin. His actions were marked by an unwavering vigilance, always on guard for the slightest sign of danger even when you encouraged him to relax a bit. It was as if he was driven by an unspoken longing or unresolved past experiences. And you've only just met.

This time he made sure to turn off his radio. Suspiciously enough, "Gerard" carried a Silvermane Guard issued radio but it only seemed to make sounds whenever danger lurks by.

You tried not to think about that. Save for the dusty bed and wispy drapes, the posters strewn across the hospital walls caught your attention. The wall didn't have anything else notable other than those prints. They must be the same ones you saw on the streets, yellowed with age. The prints ranged from love hotlines, anger management tips, and a wanted poster.

Your poster.

Unlike the previous ones, this one was preserved thoughtfully, plastered right at the center amongst all the prints. Intriguingly, floral stickers were peppered around your images. Not the childish ones you'd buy for a cheap price, but more refined illustrations. You're not too versed in the language of flowers, but they did look like blue roses and marigolds. If only you could recall what Gepard said about what those flowers meant...

For now, you hazarded an astute guess as to why it was cleaner than the rest, staring unamused at Gerard. He sheepishly smiled, face flushed as he tried not to notice your glare. Gerard seemed proud of his handiwork.

It was nearly cute.

If it weren't for the fact you seriously don't know who he is.

“Gepard—”

“Gerard,” he corrected you in a commanding yet soft tone, ironically similar to your old Captain.

“You don’t have to patch my wounds.”

“Just let me,” he pressed on, wrapping your scrapped arm with gauze. “This was part of my combat lifesaver course.”

You shifted from the bed.

“You’re a soldier?”

…

He didn’t answer.

You tilted your head.

“Are you sure you’re not a Landau–”

“Affirmative.”

He could’ve twisted the gauze tight enough to make you wince in pain, but he delicately wrapped it and added immense pressure not to your wounds, but in his gaze.

“I am not your “Geppie” and I am not your old employer.”

With a voice that commands resolute clarity from you, you doubt he’s telling the truth.

You paused.

“How?”

“How what?” He muttered.

“How did you know that nickname?”

You gulped.

“How much do you know about me?”

You were on high alert the moment he called you by your name when those monsters chased earlier– you have never introduced yourself. Couple that with the fact that he was to accuse you of murder, you didn’t know what he thought of you.

This time, he didn’t smile.

“Enough to know that I love you.”

“You say that like it makes any sense!” You snapped.

“I know everything because you wanted me to love you, and I do love you too. I am not a shield for the people like him. I don't have the burden to protect anyone else, doesn’t that make me a better man for you now? There's no need to make sure the Silvermane Guards are always at the ready. I don't have to worry about pride- about being a Landau.”

He delicately reached out, guiding your hand to rest against his cheek. His softened features conveyed a love for your "warmth", but the pool in your stomach made this experience unbearable.

“My life is reserved for only you. That is my oath.”

You ripped your arm away from him with disgusted eyes.

“Just tell me the truth already!!!”

He looked down, frowning.

“You don’t need the truth...”

Gerard's eyes glistened with a bittersweet melancholy as he watched you, a faint smile tugging his lips. He had a look that says he knew all too well that you are unaware of the depths he was willing to go to protect you. The dirty blonde man reached out, his hand instinctively yearning to rest upon your shoulder, but he withdrew it quickly, his fingers curling inward.

“That’s why you’re here. In this foggy back alley.”

He scooted beside you. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to comfort you enough, you knew he spoke the truth when his voice cracked in a small whisper of: "I’m with you."

Gerard grabbed your hand again and softly kissed your fingertips.

No one could miss his sharp gaze. The man has deluded himself that you were his to protect at all costs. A nature that stemmed from a deep-seated desire to control something that he couldn't acceptably justify. A pure obsession that defied reason at its finest.

You know that look all too well.

But you can’t put a finger as to where you’ve seen it. What a shame.

You looked at your hands.

... Strange.

Since when were you wearing a golden ring?

Your eyes intuitively gazed at Gerard's hands.

All of the sudden, your throat dried.

You're both wearing wedding rings.

“You don’t have to be alone again,” he mumbled. “We can live here. You could plant and look after flowers with me– though I’ve never been good at it. It’d be a quiet life, just as you’ve always wanted.”

“If that’s what you’re offering then you’re no different than Serval,” you laughed to yourself.

His eyes darkened.

Before you could comment on it, he cut you off with another considerate smile.

“You must be hungry. There’s a cafeteria downstairs, I’ll procure some rye bread.”

“(Y/n), babe, where are you?”

You looked up. An alarmed woman’s voice called out.

“... Serval?”

No reply.

The voice seemed to be coming from the door.

“Serval, are you there?”

“(Y/n), i-it’s okay! C-Calm down, calm down,” the voice continued. “Things just happen. I’ll help you okay? Shhh, d-don’t cry, don’t cry, I'm here…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I won’t let it happen. They don’t even have to know you were here. P-Pass the mop now, shhh…”

It made a sound far too damaged to be called a soothing chuckle.

“What are you on about?–”

The broken voice began to sing, sounding as though she had been clinging onto a husk of someone who’s been too far gone.

“C-Calm your nerves, my p-precious friend,

For "tomorrow"'s problems will never end.

In this short song, I s-softly sing,

You're cherished, my dear, in e-everything.”

You reached for the bed railing and supported yourself upright. Prepping your leg for a short walk, you placed your foot down–

THUD.

The door swung open, making you jump slightly.

Gerard came back, his breath nearly stripped away as he sauntered over. His only saving grace was his stamina, but otherwise fear would've dragged him down. There was not a single piece of bread in his hand. I’m glad he came, you would’ve been out of the alley immediately otherwise. And that's not good for us.

The voice was gone.

The sounds from afar now ring more of an animal than a human.

"(Y-Y/n)," he called out. "We need to leave."

You tilted your head, about to question what was wrong but you were cut off by his abrupt scream.

"NOW!!!"

He took you by the waist, carrying you in a way there was regard for your amputation but fast enough to make you feel unease. You gasped as Gerard's hold on you tightened, sprinting out of the "safe location."

"W-What's going on–"

"They're close," he whispered. "They're coming. It knows we’re here."

With one free hand, he pushed down passing cabinets as he bolted. Nothing was on his mind other than to flee with you. You didn't dare look at what was behind. You didn't want to face the truth.

"Gerar–"

Despite your desire not to see these creatures, a lone monster stands at the end of the hall.

It loomed before you, a grotesque fusion of flesh intricately molded together like human flesh sewn tight to a Silvermane Guard uniform, its form twisted and contorted while multiple unnerving eyes peered from its misshapen visage. Although it may have eyes more than you have fingers, you have a sneaking suspicion that they are completely inoperative. Its skin bore an unsettling array of intricate carvings, etched like cryptic scars across its entire body.

Something about its appearance resonated with you.

It slugged closer, staring. As to “where”, you can't tell. Each inch of its body had slits for eyes enough to instill paranoia. At least one pair must've been staring at you. Yet, most of it was on him.

Gerard.

"Tch..." His eyebrows furrowed, troubled.

He ran towards the end of the hall and miraculously swerved to avoid its axe. His pace quickened.

"(Y/n), whatever you do, don't think about why these creatures exist. Even when I'm gone."

“What do you mean?”

“Just don’t. That’s an order.” He said, sounding more of a plea than a warning.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as you struggled to keep up with Gerard's swift pace.

As he ran, questions burned in your mind, desperate for answers. His words echoed in your head, but your curiosity had implicit demand for a shred of understanding. You couldn't help but glance back, catching a glimpse of the creature still in pursuit. It persisted in its relentless pursuit of you, unwavering in its resolve.

"F-Faster!" you gasped between labored breaths. “It’s closing in on us!”

Gerard's expression remained stoic, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

He ran towards a door and pushed it open with a kick. You both stumbled through the threshold, entering what appeared to be the cafeteria, but the sterile scent mingling with the food made that guess somewhat unconvincing.

Gerard quickly assessed the room, searching for any signs of danger. The sound of distant alarms and muffled screams echoed through the corridors.

“Just what the hell is that?!” The words escaped you unintentionally in a mortified whisper.

Gerard cupped your mouth.

You both forgot to close the door.

What a horrible mistake.

The unsettling monster began its search. It emanated shrill sounds that pierced through your ears, making you almost move to cover them. The cries reached a hauntingly high-pitched cry that echoed like metal against metal. The mournful wails never resembled wolfish growls but rather heartbroken cries. Its speech resembles the guttural syllables "I" and "U" in an auditory expression of grief.

It turned around, but it also had eyes on its back.

Cowering in terror, you huddled close to Gerard behind the counter of the desolate cafeteria, seeking refuge from the approaching monster.

As the creature drew nearer, its grotesque eyes fixated on you and Gerard, its elongated limbs reaching out with chilling anticipation. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you heard Gerard’s breath hitch as you both clung to the faint hope of survival.

But to your horror, as the monster approached head-on.

Its rotting flesh bypassed you, swerving past your trembling form, and seized Gerard instead.

“(Y/N)!!! RUN!!”

Gerard pointed at the nearby mop.

He wants you to leave him.

A gasp of terror escaped your lips as you watched in disbelief.

His blue eyes widened, mirroring your panic but worse, as the monster's grasp tightened around him. Gerard yelped, his voice trembling as his fear of death loomed. Its grip was not merciful.

It smacked Gerard against a desk.

Again.

And again.

Blood streamed in his scalp.

The monster took his arm.

And ripped it apart.

And soon.

Nothing.

Thud.

You went as silent as the corpse as you watched it extinguish his life in a quiet finality.

Tears streamed down your face, unable to look away. Maybe it's a trick of the mind, but you were starting to feel a pain from where your leg was removed. Your brain was still convinced that you still had it- and that it is in danger. You feel as if your ankle was angled downwards, hiding from the monster. Such sensations made your skin crawl, especially considering the circumstances. It was not the best time to experience phantom limb pain.

The monster briefly met your gaze as if to mock your survival. It limped away, leaving behind you with nothing but a corpse.

Hours felt like mere minutes before you were snapped out of your prolonged emptiness. Gerard remains on the floor, dead-eyed and bloody. Thankfully, your current PLP was manageable at best but the throbbing sensation distracted you for a while. Your mind was blocking out the blood on his face. It did not process how mutilated it had become, nor did it care to acknowledge his arm that lay on the checkered floor.

His cheeks looked warm, alive.

You fixed his hair.

“Gep– Gerard…”

…

You need to leave.

YOU NEED TO LEAVE.

Since that incident, you've been by yourself in the Back Alley, even though you sense that there may be other lost "people" like you nearby, you chose to act alone despite this.

There's no need for another Gerard.

You followed the walls every time you had the nerve to step outside, cursing Serval occasionally for failing to provide you with a prosthetic running leg. That, and her garbage methods she calls "physical therapy."

You have overstayed your welcome despite not knowing how long you have been in this dense fog. Oddly, you've never experienced hunger in your time here. You are unable to move around freely, and worse, you are unable to scream for help, unless you want the people who are still present in the dense fog to find you.

You don’t have time to grieve for a man you barely knew.

You sighted a police station. Much like every building in this surprisingly large “alley”, it had been abandoned. It looked like the one you worked for, down to the paint job and the door frame. Funnily enough, the door was open, and thus, it was temporarily yours.

What greeted you first upon entering was a creature similar to the monsters you’ve crawled away from– but it did not move.

The still creature lay on the floor, staring at its hand. Its bottom half was similar to a mermaid's. You did not see two legs. When you approached, there was no reaction. You can only presume it was dead. Or that it never had a life to begin with.

You heard radio static as soon as you tried approaching it. But you don't recall ever having a radio in your possession.

“You poor thing…” You found yourself uncharacteristically sympathizing with a monster. The fatigue was eminent in your voice. “What happened?”

You're so stupid. Don't you think that "corpse" looks familiar?

You looked at its other hand and saw it holding an axe.

You took it.

As you brandished the weapon, its Silvermane engravings became more apparent. This was a soldier’s model, one you used back when you were an intelligence officer. Perhaps it will come in handy later.

“I’ve never heard of this station before, then again, I doubt many knew there’s a back alley in the first place,” you scoffed. “But, hmm…”

You turned your head to face the monster once more. You don’t know why you feel oddly calm facing the monster this boldly. With the axe acting as your new makeshift cane, you pushed it down. Nothing happened.

You got back up and took a look around.

For a police station, there were tons of love-related posters hanging around with half of them viciously vandalized. Some of them made you laugh as you read them. The handwriting seemed to belong to someone, but you can't recall whose.

LOVE ISN’T REAL.

I DON’T NEED A MATCH. I JUST WANT ██████.

“Pathetic,” your emotional equivalent of a snort was a slight huff. “And you’re all supposed to be Silvermane Guards? Guess this place was deserted for a reason.”

You hate how you sounded exactly like Mr. Landau just now. Out of all the children in the Landau household, you had it the worst with Md. Landau. Hearing yourself mutter something he would say... you're not sure how you feel about that.

Scoffing, you walked past the corpse and onto the break room.

Missing just a few posters in your way.

IF I CAN’T HAVE ███,

THEN I’LL JUST REMOVE ███ LIMBS.

Hours passed. You haven’t found the exit.

You heard Serval’s voice again. She was apologizing to you. Then, silence.

Nothing happened on what you presumed to be the “next day.” You cried to yourself until you saw the same monster who killed Gerard. It was ready to give chase until suddenly, it stopped when you were incredibly focused on escaping.

You tried thinking about why it did what it did. But it left more questions than answers.

Tore down a couple of posters. They were starting to get to you.

You think there is no exit. You made a quick mention about how Gerard probably knew where it is to yourself, but the same monster must've heard you. You felt eyes watching you and it made it's appearance by narrow alleys. You bolted.

You found another human. But he was long dead. You wondered if he was the same person children loved to talk about. The anxious man who lingered at the gates of the Back Alley. If I remember correctly, Stelle encountered this man before. Wonder what she thought of him at the time.

You heard the radio static again when you approached him. You decided to ignore him for now.

You mopped the man's dried blood. Who knew the mop Gerard pointed at in his last moments had it's use.

He looked stiff as a board. He was reeking, but at least he had a smile on his face.

You obtained a key after cleaning up the puddle.

“Was there ever an exit?”

Nothing happened in this timeframe. But you think you have an idea as to why these creatures exist.

Specifically, why they exist because of you.

How long have you been here? Sorry, I wasn’t keeping track.

You also weren't sure how long you'd been searching the town. Quite frankly, I was getting bored of watching. You tried to play this off like a maze game, constantly following the walls to your right as though it would magically lead you to the exit. Did you know that Lady Luck is not particularly lenient when bestowing favors? Your life here is slowly becoming more stale and your constantly improving ability to strategize your routes to avoid monsters has been making your adventure more of a chore to follow.

It's admirable that you were so tenacious in clinging to life in such a dangerous environment with a single leg, but it was extremely frustrating that you couldn't see this alley for what it was.

As if to cure such boredom, you entered another abandoned building. Turns out, the key you pried off a dead man's corpse fits perfectly. It was a psychiatric clinic owned by one Dr. Kauffman, a licensed therapist who received teachings from Dr. Kang Tu via the Astral Express. I never cared about those people. They're just cashing in on the occult, the easily "hooked", and the disturbed. You harbor at least 2/3 of those qualities. Congrats.

The walls are more notably filled with the same set of posters you've seen scattered around time. This time, you weren't feral enough to tear the posters down. However, you didn't grasp the meaning behind them either. You refused to look deeper, even when you don't recall what would stare back at you.

Mindlessly, you staggered inside a room. There were no professionals inside as far as you could tell without any of the lights on, just a cold sofa. You walked slowly and sat down.

As soon as you comfortably secured a position to take a rest, you realized you weren't alone.

Star-bright eyes followed your movements as soon as you entered the room.

“Gepard?”

You blinked.

“Oh. Gerard, it’s you. I thought you were–” You paused as Gerard shook his head, eyebrows furrowed with a smile that repressed his frustration. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, I’m… confused. How are you alive?” You asked. “Your arm– it’s back. What’s going on?”

Desensitized, you no longer knew what to think.

You're being strangely calm, don't you think?

But one thing was for certain: this “man” is not supposed to be standing.

Gerard pursed his lips.

“Anyway?” He mimicked you bitterly.

“What do you mean “ANYWAY”?!?”

You flinched as he took steps forward.

“You didn’t even care about me, didn’t you?!? It’s Gepard this, Gepard that– Gepard is DEAD!!!”

Gerard screamed at your face, gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Why… Why is it always him first? When I am everything he couldn't be?”

Gerard chuckled lowly.

“I-I was so afraid. I was so afraid that I won’t be able to see you again– that I’d disappoint you– but no, it’s always Gepard first. Why can’t you be obsessed with me in the way you were so– so…”

He cried. Hot tears ran down his cheeks as his shoulders deflated. Gerard cast his gaze to the ground while his hands reached to wipe his sorrows off his face.

“I would die for you. Why can’t you do the same?”

You tilted your head.

“Strange, now that I think about it–” you said nonchalantly.

“Didn’t I watch you die?”

Silence.

You should comfort him.

“Gepard,” you started.

Wrong name.

“No, it’s Gepard.”

Wrong name.

“It’s not the wrong name. I know what I’m saying.”

Wrong name.

I continued to correct you.

“It’s not–” You took a shaky breath. “It’s not the wrong name, you fucking idiot.”

He remains still, quiet.

Almost frozen.

Stiff as a board.

You laughed.

“I get it now. Haha. I get it now.”

You look down, staring at the human corpse. Human corpse? No. That’s not a human. A human cannot die twice.

You get it now.

You’re in the Back Alley.

There are always eyes that watch the Back Alley.

You look above, particularly to no one, but you believed the scriptwriter must be listening.

“He’s listening, isn't He?”

Yes. He is.

It's time for us to talk.

The clock struck 10:10.

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allfryam · 5 months

Text

sub shop final part

The holiday season came to a close and the second semester was quickly approaching. Zach moved back into his dorm and prepared for his new classes. He got his job back at the original sub shop and he had ordered an XXL shirt that he was now wearing comfortably. He was determined to lose all of the extra weight he gained during Christmas break, and he got back in the gym. His tight gym clothes didn’t even cover his belly anymore, and his shorts were straining against his growing ass.

after only about 15 minutes of working out, Zach couldn’t stop himself from driving to McDonald’s and getting a large Big Mac meal. He was officially addicted to food and he hated it. How could he ever lose weight if he couldn’t stop himself from eating? Going to work later that night, Zach ordered his footlong Italian sub with everything on it, and he quickly scarfed it down. About an hour later, his manager asked him if he wanted a mess up sub that they were going to throw away. Zach hated to waste food, and it looked really good. He accepted the offer and tore through the second footlong. Zach left work stuffed, but he still had to attend a frat party that evening. There, he chugged beer like it was water, and gobbled up slice after slice of greasy pizza. When he eventually got back to his dorm, he took off his tight shirt and laid on his bed. He rubbed his stuffed belly and moaned a bit. His roommate Thomas took note of this and thought it was equally hilarious and sexy.

Thomas invited Zach out to dinner at his favorite restaurant and Zach thought it sounded great. He almost never got to hang out with his roommate, so this would be nice to catch up. At the restaurant, Thomas ordered a burger with some fries, and a coke. Zach ordered some fish, a personal pizza, some sliders, nachos, Mac and cheese, a buffalo chicken wrap, and a large cheesesteak. He washed it down with three large chocolate shakes, and a doctor pepper. Thomas was astonished. So was the waiter. When the food eventually arrived, Zach dug in. He gorged on the plates one by one, his shirt growing tighter with each bite. Thomas just munched on his burger and watched in amazement as he tried to cover up his boner. Zach finished before Thomas and leaned back in his chair. His shirt rode up to reveal his distended gut that had taken over his lap. As Zach rubbed his gut, he had a bit of a revelation. This belly wasn’t so bad. If he was able to pack away all that food with ease, why put that talent to waste.

a few months later, the semester was finally coming to a close. Thomas and Zach had been dating for three months now, and things were going great. Thomas loved to feed Zach and watch him grow, and Zach loved to eat. Thomas would make it an effort to get Zach full, but it always seemed like he could eat forever. Multiple doctors feared for Zach’s health but he was done caring. All he wanted to do was eat. The last time he had weighed himself, he was 328 pounds. That was almost a month ago however. He might be close to 350 now.

this has been my favorite story so far, as I took a lot of it from real life events. Let me know if I should ever revisit this story or updates if Zach in real life gets bigger.

#fat #fat belly #fatty #gaining fat #chubby #fat gut #fatty piggy #gaining #gaining weight #getting bigger #sexy belly #food #fatboy #fat piggy #college weight gain #cute belly #fraternity weight gain

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untaemedqueen · 11 months

Text

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 9.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Warnings For This Chapter: Making Out, Pet Names, Praise, Jeongguk Has A Tongue Ring, Daddy Kink, Cunnilingus, Big Dick!Jeongguk, Begging, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Cream Pie

By the time you got home from the long night of social interactions with people who count money like sheep, it was just simply too dark to drive further from your mansion to take Jeongguk back home to his apartment.

It's not that you couldn't drive but then the rainstorm began and it wouldn't be safe with the slippery roads.

So now as it strikes one in the morning Jeon Jeongguk is paralyzed with fear to even be in your mansion at such a late hour.

"So where am I even supposed to sleep?" he inquires softly.

He sounds almost like a lost, scared child looking for his parents.

And you would feel bad for him if it wasn't hilarious and he wasn't almost thirty years old.

"Well none of the guest rooms have furniture so either on the couch that's harder than a rock or in my bed. Your choice, really," you reply, pulling your gloves slowly off your arms.

He opens his mouth to respond before tilting his head to look at the artistic couch down below the banister of the second floor, his eyebrows notch and he groans long and low at the prospect.

"I can't sleep in your bed! I'd be violating your privacy!" he guffaws, shaking his head sternly as if to wipe away any bad thoughts.

"Guk, the bed is from wall to wall. You don't have to sleep on top of me. You'll fall asleep and won't even remember a thing," you promise, unzipping the back of your dress and stepping into your closet.

"But…But… Why don't you have any furniture in your rooms anyway?!"

He sounds nervous and anxious, a sign that just screams to you that he might actually enjoy it if he just allows himself to.

When his eyes rake over the smooth skin of your back, the wildest of thoughts flit through his brain and he really loses all sense of self then.

"Because I don't want people staying over… duh," you chirp, stripping out of your dress.

"But I'm an exception?! You have no backbone!" Jeongguk scoffs, folding his arms childishly.

When he notices that he can catch the reflection of you getting naked in one of the glass doors that house your couture gowns, he wrestles with himself for a moment before turning to face the large fish tank at the end of the long hall.

"You sound embarrassed," you tease, grabbing your nightgown.

When you slip it over your head, your eye catches your shortest nightgown and you freeze.

You haven't had fun in a long time, probably longer than what most doctors would consider to be normal. So maybe tonight, just tonight, you'll have some fun.

"I'm not embarrassed! I could sleep next to you just fine! I just-just… It's not right! It'd be taking advantage!"

"It's not taking advantage," you counter, stepping outside of your closet, "and if you feel that way then you could sleep on the floor."

"I'm not gonna sleep on the floor! It's marbl-"

Jeongguk stops mid-sentence to choke on his own spit as you step in front of him. Your nightgown is incredibly short, the rich lace hem landing right below the curve of your ass. As for your breasts, well, he's lucky your nipples are covered.

With his eyes widening to the size of saucers, he opts to staring up at the ceiling.

"I think you're a baby," you tease, heading off towards your bedroom.

With every step you take, his eyes seem to become grounded more and more until they're watching your hips sway with criminal intent towards the room that has brought this panic on to begin with.

"Change," he begs, his voice sounding weak.

If his body did what it wanted without the help of his brain, he'd be crashing to his knees and crawling toward you begging to let him have any inch of you that you'd offer him.

"No, you're a baby," you giggle, entering your room.

"But-"

"Guk, it's just sleep. It's almost two in the morning. I'm exhausted. You can either sleep with me or on the floor, it's up to you but I'm laying down now."

The handsome escort makes his second fatal mistake by watching you crawl into bed. Your breasts sway and you look at him with these doe-like eyes that make his legs go weak.

Luckily, he's holding himself upright as he leans against the doorjamb.

"I'm not staring at you all night as you loom over me in the distance like some kind of fever dream monster or something," you sigh, laying down on your side and putting your arm beneath your pillow for comfort.

"God!" the handsome man complains, walking over to the bed beside you.

He begins to strip off his clothes, revealing more and more of his golden toned skin that sings with black and grey ink.

He's staring at you hoping you don't stare at him but you do. Your eyes are becoming less and less dead by the second, every time a new ab is revealed your head is even lifting up off of the pillow.

"I thought you were tired?" Guk chuckles.

Now it's your turn to get defensive.

"I am! I'm not looking at you!" you retort, turning away from him with pinched eyebrows.

Now he's got his confidence back.

When you're flustered it's easier for him to play around, he's not used to being flustered himself.

"Come on, baby," he purrs playfully, crawling into bed behind you and pressing his bare chest to your back, "kiss me."

"God! Go sleep on the floor!" you hiss, squeezing your eyes shut and shimmying down the bed away from him.

His chuckle is deep and delighted, almost carefree to the point of dangerousness.

"That…" he begins, wrapping his arm around your stomach and pressing his lips to your ear, "would be uncomfortable. You were right, it's just sleep. I can stay the night in bed with you."

His cologne is still pleasant and it tickles your senses to have him so close.

Guk's arm is warm and comforting around you, not so much claustrophobic as you would have assumed.

The air is turning into something tumultuous, something powerful and Earth shatteringly dangerous.

You're getting turned on.

You can feel every inch of his hard muscled chest and stomach digging into your scantily clad back and the escort is doing nothing to stop it.

"I'm not paying you for this," you remind him, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it to your front for comfort.

"You're not paying me at all, Y/N," he counters, closing his eyes, "If you want me to stop, just say so. I respect that no means no."

But you don't utter a word.

Jeongguk shifts closer, allowing you to feel the effect you have on him.

The globes of your ass are supple against his hips and you can feel his erection digging into you for relief.

Your lips open in surprise but you only squeeze your eyes tighter.

"You don't fuck clients," you whisper, gripping the pillow against your chest harder.

"No," he agrees, drifting his lips over the shell of your ear slowly, "you're not paying me, you're not my client, baby."

Jeongguk fucking wants this. He's throwing caution to the wind, he might be making a hell of a mistake but he'll take that on the chin too.

He knows you both have a connection, he knows he's into you and he thinks you're pretty into him too.

"Do you not want me to touch you, Wednesday?" he asks seriously, sitting up on his elbow.

"No," you answer immediately.

"Okay," he breathes, pulling away from you.

You shimmy your way farther across the bed before the encroaching loneliness begins to eat at you again.

When Guk is around you, you don't have time to feel it.

So all you do is pout.

You're confused! You don't know what to do! You want to be happy and live in lalaland but can you really indulge in that?!

"Yes," you say in the silent bedroom.

The escort is on you in a matter of moments, pressing his full lips to yours in a searingly hot kiss.

Your hands tangle into his black locks and you tug softly. He hums against you greedily, the sound sending tingles through your limbs at a satisfying pace.

"C'mere, c'mere," he hisses, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up into his lap.

He feels like a drug addict, he's strung out on you and he needs more to function

Your legs wrap around his waist and when you whimper against his lips, his eyes roll back.

"Is this expensive?" he inquires, wrapping his fingers in the spaghetti straps of your nightgown.

"Yes," you answer, pulling away from him.

"Oh, good," he breathes, tugging roughly and feeling the fabric turn to strings before him.

He lays you down softly, watching how your hair billows out around you in tendrils on your pillow. Guk stays nestled between your thighs, running a free hand over your skin.

"You're so smooth and soft," he groans, pulling the useless fabric away from your body to see all of you.

At this moment, you want to cover up and hide. You want to push him off and just curl into the fetal position.

He can see that. He can see the sudden fright in his eyes and his heart hurts at the sight.

"I'm right here, just focus on me," he whispers, pulling at your hands until he lays them flat against his chest.

Your nails dig into his skin softly and the hiss he gives, the way his hips rut to yours on instinct has you distracted all over again.

Finally, he lets his eyes travel down your body.

"God, you're perfect," he mumbles, cupping your breasts.

"Guk, I-I don't know. I'm not… I don't…" you whisper, looking up at him.

When his mocha irises meet yours, they soften. "We can stop, do you want to stop, baby?"

He goes to retract his hands but the prospect of not having him might eat you alive more than if you do.

"I don't know," you answer honestly.

"That's not an answer," he chuckles, leaning down and kissing you softly.

His tongue fights for dominance with yours and it wins so easily that you can feel the ice cold walls around your heart melt within seconds.

You don't want to stop.

But you're scared.

So you're truthful with him and you voice it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Wednesday. I'm not Jasper. I'm here with you, I'm not leaving," he promises.

He's so confident and so heartfelt with his words that you just let yourself be.

You don't want to be this person anymore.

You aren't this person with Jeongguk and you really like that.

He makes you forget heartache and pain, he makes you forget anger and emptiness.

"Do you want this?" he asks, brushing some stray hairs from your face.

"Yes," you nod, giving a shaky breath.

His smile is wide and beaming and he caresses your cheek with the softest touch.

"Good girl," he praises softly, going back to his earlier route.

The praise has your mind spinning, like you're on some kind of serotonin drug.

His hands cup your breasts and he can only compliment them as his lips trail down your neck. "You've got a gorgeous body, Wednesday."

His thumbs flick at your hardening nipples and your back arches with a whimper that sounds so odd tumbling from your lips.

"That's it, gorgeous," Guk hisses, wrapping his perfect lips around your pert nipple.

He hasn't touched a woman in ages either, he himself hasn't been touched in what feels like years.

The escort wants this so badly, he can't even remind himself to pace himself, he just needs you, he just wants you so badly that it feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

"Say my name," he whispers, moving to your unattended breast and flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

The action sends shivers up your spine and you cry out softly for more.

"Jeongguk!"

His eyes flutter closed at the sincerity of the word and he's all but ready to just give his whole self to you.

He could fall in love with you right now if he's not careful.

One hand continues to play with your breast, pinching and plucking at you until you're short of breath while the other rips your satin underwear away from your core with ease.

"Oh my God," you gasp, putting your head back and squeezing your eyes shut.

The escort kisses down your stomach until his arms are wrapping around your thighs to cage you into a device of his making.

He licks his lips, ogling how much arousal has made you a sodden mess before him and he wants to scream to Heavens to thank them for this opportunity.

"You okay?" Guk inquires sweetly, kissing from your knee to your inner thigh.

"Y-Yeah," you breathe, lifting up on your elbows.

"Good," he hisses, licking a flat stripe up your folding.

Your hands grip at the sheets, mouth dropping open at how warm and wet his mouth is.

"Tongue ring or no tongue ring?" he asks, letting his tongue hang past his lips.

"J-... I-... What?!" you whine, bunching your hands up in his hair.

His smirk is devilish and he chuckles deeply. "Tongue ring it is."

He begins to devour you, suckling and licking at your slit like a man possessed and you crash back down to the bed with moans ripping from your throat.

"Oh fuck! Guk!" you cry out, tugging roughly in his hair.

"Call me daddy," he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your swollen nub.

You're so blissed out that you can't even process his words but you still do as told. "Daddy! Oh my God!"

"Good girl," Guk breathes, inching two fingers towards your entrance.

Your lungs heave with heavy breaths and you watch with rapid fascination as he inches his fingers inside of you.

"You're fucking tight," Jeongguk groans heartily, attaching his lips back to your clit.

He fucks his fingers into you quickly, subsiding the burn of the stretch immediately.

Your legs tingle with pleasure and your toes curl, your mind is jumbled up and all you can feel is this deep ache within your stomach getting bigger and bigger.

When you had sex before, Jasper never looked up at you. He never even went down on you usually but Jeongguk is so present with you.

He stares up at you like he wants to see your pleasure, he wants to treasure this moment. He adores how you writhe and moan for him, he wants you to give everything over to him.

There's adoration in his eyes and you've never seen that before so it pushes you towards the precipice even faster.

He fucks his fingers into you dilligently, groaning at your taste and how loud your moans are that echo off the mansion walls.

"Give it to me, baby," he seethes through his teeth, "I can feel your pussy begging for it."

The handsome man between your legs curls his fingers quickly to the soft patch of muscles inside of you and you yelp softly at the overwhelming feeling.

It's like he already knows how to coax what he wants from you.

"Cum for me and I'll give you my cock," he promises.

It's strange how even in the throes of pleasure you can still find the sassiness you've become so used to peeking out of you. "Wh-Who said I want it?"

Guk chuckles against you, the ragged, hot breath making your back bow. "This pretty pussy says, now cum for me."

He curls his fingers faster until the ache in your stomach bursts and your thighs lock around his shoulders.

Your orgasm is filled with loud moans and white eyelids, your body quivers and racks and Jeongguk sits up to watch it all.

Fuck, you're gorgeous.

Why don't you understand this?

How is he going to make you understand?

Pulling his cock out of his briefs, he strokes it leisurely, waiting for you to come back down to Earth with him.

When your ears stop ringing, you blink once or twice only to be met with the beautiful sight before you.

His cock is long, longer than you expected and so thick that it makes your breath catch. The mushroom tip is red with need and the precum that weeps from his slit is so enticing that your legs open up for him without a second thought.

"Do you want to?" he inquires, leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss is slow and passionate, and he lets go of his cock to hold your face between his hands.

You nod against his lips and he can only smirk.

"Fuck me," you beg, dragging your fingers over his arms.

"Yes ma'am," he whispers, leaning up on his elbow.

You don't know this but he's not going to fuck you. He's going to make love to you but he won't tell you that because it would probably scare the hell out of you.

He positions himself at your entrance, staring deeply into your eyes.

This feels almost too emotional for you but you can't seem to tear your eyes away from his for even a second.

Guk enters you slowly, groaning at the tightness before kissing you languidly to distract you from the stretch.

"Oh my God!" you groan against his lips.

"I'm sorry, is it too big?" he asks with a knowing smile.

"No!" you hiss, letting your eyes flutter shut.

"Oh, no? It's not the biggest cock you've taken in this tight little pussy?" he teases, pulling out and thrusting roughly into you.

Your moan is so loud it could constitute for a scream and you grab for anything to steady yourself.

He gives you his hands, intertwining them and holding them over your head.

"You're so beautiful, Wednesday," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Daddy!" you whine, squeezing his hands.

"I got you, baby. I'm not going anywhere. I promise," Jeongguk avows, thrusting into you harder.

His promise is heartfelt and sincere and that radiates deep inside of you.

Every thrust has meaning and an intention to solidify that.

"God, this pussy feels so fucking good. You're so fucking wet!"

"All for you," you breathe.

You're sincere too.

And he knows it.

"Fuck," he curses, picking up the pace.

Your breasts jiggle with his movements and your mind is muddling again all on its own.

He lets one hand go to slide it down your stomach until it nestles against your throbbing bud and he rubs smooth, fast circles.

"Daddy! Fuck! Yes!"

"Yeah? You like that? You want more, baby? You want to cum for me again?"

You nod incessantly, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Then cum," he coos softly, burying his face in your neck.

Your perfume wraps him in this loving shroud where nothing could ever bother him. You keep him peaceful in this moment.

"I feel it, baby, give it to me. Your pussy is milking my cock so nicely," he groans muffled into your skin.

"G-Guk!" you cry out, squeezing his one hand tighter.

The way you call his name, the anxiousness behind it has him lifting his head.

"I'm right here, Y/N," he whispers, kissing you and coaxing the orgasm from you peacefully.

You whine loudly against his lips, letting go of everything.

The escort groans loudly at how your pussy clenches around him, practically begging him for his seed so he can only comply.

"Oh fuck! I'm cumming! I'm cumming, baby girl!"

His thrusts become shorter and harder until he spills his seed inside of you with shaky breath.

"Baby," he moans loudly, wrapping his arms around you.

Both of your hearts are beating so fast that it feels like they might just give up out of nowhere without warning.

He pulls out of you slowly, laying down by your side and he doesn't even give you a chance to pull away. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair as he closes his eyes.

There's comfortable silence for a while, it's so comfortable that you haven't even had a chance to begin to worry yet.

"I want you to meet my dog," he mumbles sleepily, kissing your shoulder.

"Your dog?" you inquire with a tired giggle.

"He's the only other one that means more to me in this universe than anything."

"The only other one?" you breathe curiously.

He smirks tiredly, closing his eyes.

"Yeah. You heard me, Wednesday."

<----- Last Chapter Next Chapter ----->

#at your service #ays #chapter 9 #chap 9 #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts fic #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jeongguk fic

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princeloww · 7 months

Text

Stuff We Know About Campbell Bain (From Both the Show and the Play)

Since the play has some things that clash/contradict with the show, things I've taken from the SHOW will be marked (S) and the PLAY (P).

- (P) Campbell comes from a small place (Hector calls it "dead wee") called Invergellen, which is in the middle of nowhere. There are not a lot of job options, but there does seem to be some kind of tourism industry - the only job options Campbell can list are "sheep", "fish" and "tourists".

- (P) Campbell's dad lies about where Campbell is, telling people that he's off doing a youth volunteer placement in Africa. He even makes Campbell lie to his friends about it, too. Campbell says it's because he doesn't want anybody in Invergellen finding out. He also says his dad is reluctant to visit too often, out of fear that people will grow suspicious of his trips to Glasgow.

- (P) Campbell has siblings: an older brother and an older sister. His brother owns his own building company, and his sister works in Forestry - possibly for the government? Regardless, Campbell views his siblings as very successful and compares himself to them. He also believes that his dad compares him to them, and calls himself a "loser" who's "never gonnae amount to anything".

- (S) Despite having many past jobs and dreams he was seemingly dead set on achieving, Campbell states that he's never been good at anything other than the radio. He includes flirting with/getting girls in the things he's bad at. He also only learnt guitar to impress said girls, but must have failed pretty miserably based on his comment.

- (S) Before Campbell came to St. Judes, things must have been hard at home/school. Campbell's dad says that his mother is so worked up about the whole thing that she's had to take medicine, and (P) Campbell says that his dad says he "doesn't want to put (Campbell's aunt) through what (Campbell) put (Campbell's dad) through".

- (P) Campbell is excited when his dad is coming, and he is disappointed with him constantly letting him down/not showing up. I believe that Campbell's parents do love him and do TRY to understand him, but simply don't, and end up thinking/acting selfishly instead. They want to help but do not understand their son, and therefore do not give him the support he needs. Whatever Campbell "put them through" was likely due to them not understanding him or knowing how to react to his condition, or the education system and teachers also struggling to understand and accommodate for his needs.

I assume worry was also a big part of what he "put them through", but the line about Campbell's auntie still rubs me the wrong way.

- (S/P) Campbell's dad believes the radio is just another one of Campbell's "loony ideas" and thinks he is manic. Campbell (P) seems disappointed by this, and says he thought he'd be proud of him. Which is just kind of heartbreaking.

- (P) Campbell has to be wrestled by Stuart as he screams at his dad, the doctor and then eventually Stuart, too, to "fuck off". Which is very sad but also kind of funny because Stuart deserves that. This is after he finds out he has to go back to Invergellen (before he then fakes the manic episode).

- (P) Campbell believed he was the greatest comedian in Britain at one point and even went to the BBC in Glasgow to tell them. They were less eager to give him a chance and ended up calling the police on him. He says it's "kind of how" he "ended up" in St. Judes, which adds a bit of an extra layer onto (S) the police being called on him, Fergus and Rosalie when they snuck out.

There's probably, definitely more that I've forgotten to mention, but there's what I've got. There's obviously also the big difference between the show and the play with Perth/Invergellen, which makes some things canon only in the play and others only canon in the show. I'm totally choosing to take Campbell's siblings from the play and accept them as canon all around though,,, and the extra family details we get too.

OK thats all, stay proud loonies

(Sources - Takin' Over the Asylum (TV), Takin' Over the Asylum (official stage play script book))

#takin over the asylum #takin' over the asylum #taking over the asylum #campbell bain #campbell bain takin over the asylum #david tennant #i love campbell bain #TOTA #TOTA stage play #TOTA script book #was this an excuse to just talk about campbell #yes it was #im not ashamed #im a loony for god's sake

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Text

Convenience Store

Yandere Goddess x G.N Reader

Genre/Tags: Comedic Horror, Yandere| Mentions of blood and death

Word count: 1k

She's late again.

This is the sixth time in a row that your coworker has shown up late for work. You both work in a crappy convenience store in the middle of nowhere, where you and her are the only employees; aside from constantly changing your manager whom you never hear from unless they're screaming into the telephone.

Ding - Ding

The sliding doors' sensor alerts you to a new arrival with a friendly jingle. You know it could only be one person - since you never actually got any customers. The woman pulls off her coat and baseball cap with the line of "People fear me, Fish want me" crudely drawn on with a marker, and sits both on the floor by the coat rack. She coincidentally happens to be wearing a shirt with the same line and poor penmanship.

She strolls over to the frozen drink machine; creating a concoction of each flavor - and a bottle of an energy supplement. She, at least, makes her way to the counter; finishing the drink in a few gulps. She grins at you, eyes hidden behind red riffs of hair.

"Heya, Y/n. How's my favorite cashier?"

"Hey, Salem."

She scoffs at the nickname. "I told you that's not my name. You know what it is."

You really didn't. She never told you what it was or wore her badge. You started calling her that due to the brand of cigarettes she smoked, and created quite the tab on. You didn't care much either way, especially since you had plans after work.

"Can you hurry up and clock in? I'll be late to my appointment so they can take off this cast."

A day before your first shift, you got into an accident that broke your right arm. They still made you come in the next day, bit Salem was nice enough to draw a skull as well as write her phone number on it. Over the phone your doctor informed you that today was the day. You hope you'll be able to find the hospital in time.

Salem wiping a blood stain off the counter before she leabs against it. "Yeah, it's about that time. I made sure to give the guy who did it an extra swing before I threw him in the woodchipper."

"Thanks?"

She sighs. "I'm gonna miss all this?"

"Are you quiting or something?"

"No, but you are in a way. You're finally waking up."

"What are you talking about?"

Salem pulls out a lighter, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from behind you. "There's something I gotta tell you, Y/n."

"Okay?"

"You're dead."

"...o...kay"

"You were sacrificed by a cult to awake a being of unspeakable power. One they believed could gift them that same power, but it doesn't want that. It just wants to destroy. Been doing that for quite some time now."

"Alright."

"I'm that being, Y/n. I've kept you in this limbo for what feels like months, but has only been 48 hours. It took me a while to figure out how put you back together. It was like working with wet play-doh that kept falling apart and had bones."

"I sorta figured that out by now."

"Right. What you probably haven't figured out is that I'm in love with you. I've done this little song and dance before, but there's something about you that I can shake from my mind. I'm not even technically that God. I'm one of its meals that took over after it was killed. That's how its immortally works. Pretty vicious cycle."

Salem lights her cigarette, taking a long drag as she pats you on the back. "I'm only telling you this as a caution for what you're about to see. It ain't pretty, and I'm not either - but I don't have any plans of letting you go. I've decided to turn a new leaf. Peace and love, and all that. Less someone tries to take ya from me again.. See you in a few, Y/n."

She finally clocks in. You head to the store's exit, a white light beyond its reach. You had questions, but they would have to be left to another time as your body moves on its own. The door chimes once more as you take your final exit.

You wake on the floor of a large cabin; a foul stench in the area and piles of bodies around you. An outstretched arm lies in front of you - and nothing more. A familiar jacket is thrown over your body; your own clothes sticky and cold from the puddles of blood around you - one centering from right beneath you. You slowly sit up, remembering what happened before you died.

You were on your way home from work and had to take a side road due to construction. While making your way, a truck plowed into your car; knocking you out cold. You woke back up right before they slit your throat.

A frightened scream draws your attention to the front of the room; the alter where your life was stolen. A cult member is held in the large fist of a near indescribable figure. Its head scraps the ceiling; back turned so all you can see is the tail coat of its attire and the edge of the mask that hides its upper face. The pinkish tendrils that flow from its head weave together in what you could best describe as a lion's mane. It pulls back the mask that covers its face, a multitude of black tongues sweeping across the cult member's face before separate pairs of jaws are clamp around their body. It drops what's left of the corpse like a discarded rag; turning its head upon you.

It steps forward, a mist enveloping its body as it moves. As the fog shrinks and clears, you're left staring at your old coworker who greets you with a wide grin - fixing her cap on her head as she holds out her arms.

"Welcome back, baby! Gathered a welcoming party just for ya!"

Salem walks over, taking her jacket from your lap and putting it on before offering you her hand.

"Hope you don't forget everything I told you. Let's go get something to eat, I'm starving."

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere blurb #yandere x reader #yandere teratophilia #female yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere god #yandere monster #tw yandere #yandere writing #yandere drabble

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clovrtree · 3 months

Text

Peter had never felt more angry at a wizard before in his life until this moment. Certainly a strange thing to think about as he walked tiredly through dark and dreary streets, but nonetheless, it was how he felt.

Doctor Strange- “Call me Stephen.”- had sent Peter Parker to an entirely new universe. At least, that’s what he believed had happened. There wasn’t necessarily an exact answer as to how he ended up here, only a who that was responsible for it. And right now Peter was very angry at that who.

Memories of Titan were shoved to the forefront of his mind, a planet scorched by the sun and catastrophically destroyed by war. It’s destruction was a product of the very war that Peter had been fighting before he-

His footsteps faltered as he remembered his death.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good–” Peter said with a shake in his breath as a sudden fuzziness started crawling up his limbs. His spider-sense was going haywire, overwhelming his senses and leaving the boy a stuttering mess. “I-I don’t- I don’t know what’s happening–” he said frantically as he stumbled to his mentor.

Tony Stark swallowed hard. His face displayed anguish that Peter didn’t want to see. “...you’re alright.” He said all too steadily, like a father comforting a child. When Peter got close enough, he clung to the man, feeling his feet get swept from underneath him in the wind. Tears pricked at the teen’s eyes, grip tight on Tony’s jacket.

“I-I don’t wanna go-” he said through tears, nose becoming congested from the surge of raw fear running through him. His spine tingled, and over Tony’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of his own fingers turning into ash. “I don’t wanna go-” he repeated in a plea. “Please, sir, I don’t wanna go-”

Tony kneeled down, setting Peter on the ground. His hands never left the teen, and the teen never let him go. Peter swallowed roughly, forcing tears back as he looked up at Titan’s yellow sky. It wasn’t the blue one that he so desperately needed to see, the familiar sky of Earth.

He was far from Earth now, and he would never be going back.

Peter turned his gaze back to Tony, looking the man in the eyes and forcing his mouth to work once more. He needed to say something to Tony, tell him anything- he couldn’t let himself die like this in Tony’s arms.

“I’m sorry.”

Not without an apology delivered on the brink of death.

Everything after that was white hot, and he couldn’t recall a single second of his time after turning into ash. All he knew was that he watched Tony become a blur, and then a second later, he was gasping for air and clawing his way onto a rocky New England shore.

The puddle below his heavy foot splashed and soaked the ends of the ratty jeans he had fished out of a dumpster upon arrival. They were far too big for him and sat loose on his hips, but he preferred them instead of walking around in his Iron Spider suit, which still clung to his damp skin underneath his makeshift clothes.

He felt miserable, and if he was soaking wet for much longer, then he would surely be sick. Of course that wouldn’t be a big deal, considering his healing factor. It was still uncomfortable as hell, and he especially didn’t want to be sick in a strange city like this one.

The Gotham Gazette drew his attention, the soaking wet newspaper discarded on the ground up ahead. He hesitantly reached down, picking it up and holding back a wince at the feeling of the damp paper.

Most of the smaller words in the articles were already soaked and smudged away in the rain, but the title and a few headings still boldly displayed themselves. Fourth Arkham Break-Out of the Year. Wayne Enterprises Donates 1.7 Billion to Homeless Shelters Benefiting Crime Alley. Red Hood Busts Human Trafficking Ring in the Harbor.

This city, supposedly called Gotham, sounded rough. The Asylum was experiencing break-outs like a prison, there were known human trafficking rings… at least Wayne Enterprises seemed to be doing something to help the homelessness rates of the city. That was something that Peter had noticed as soon as he made it to the main city from the harbor- the amount of homeless citizens was vastly concerning.

A bit more smudged reading told Peter that it was April third of 2016- a whole two years before Thanos. Before Peter would die. The mere thought of his death once more sent an uncomfortable shiver up his spine, and he was now hyper aware of how dreadful this situation was.

Even worse, he was in New Jersey. Peter had never heard of Gotham, New Jersey, which felt extremely odd. A city with this much crime would surely gather the attention of the Avengers, or some other hero who could help.

Maybe that’s who Red Hood is, Peter thought, dropping the newspaper into a nearby trashcan and continuing his aimless walk. Part of him hoped so, since the person seemed to be doing good work for the city.

The smell of cigarette smoke assaulted Peter’s nose as he passed an alleyway, and he scrunched his face in discomfort. A quick glance that direction showed a group of men wearing stained and torn clothing sitting around a dying out trash fire. His heart gave a pained beat in his chest. Even a second around that small fire would likely warm his senses enough to find a safe place to spend the rest of the night.

Unfortunately for Peter’s senses, his mind was much more rational. These men didn’t know him, and they were much older than him. They likely weren’t keen on sharing, and since they were smoking, Peter didn’t want to sit near that smell for so long.

So he continued.

The teen wasn’t sure exactly how long that he walked, but the moon had shifted quite a lot from its initial position earlier in the night. He caught a glimpse of it through the dreary clouds every so often, rain pelting his face.

“Karen, what kind of info can you pick up?” he mumbled under his breath, and in response, he felt nanobots brushing around his ear until they had made a small bud for him to listen to.

“Hi, Peter. Currently I’m unable to grab any information from the internet, as none of my sources seem to have updated to our current geological location.”

Peter frowned at her response, sticking his hands into the pockets of the stained gray zip-up hoodie he had grabbed when he got the jeans. “That doesn’t make any sense, what’s your database looking like?”

“Looks like it usually does, Peter. However, nothing from my internal storages is aligning with any metadata that I’m receiving from this environment.”

“So.. nothing on Gotham, New Jersey?”

“No, sorry, Peter.”

Peter huffed through his nose, hearing the A.I. go silent in his ear. To anyone who looked close enough, it just seemed like he had one generic-brand earbud. Upon closer inspection, though, anyone could see the small trail of metal going down into his hoodie.

“Run a diagnostic, see what all is online. I’ll try to find you something with internet to connect to.”

The lack of response told the teen that she had started on the diagnostics, so he grew quiet too. He would rather people not think he’s insane for mumbling to himself under his breath.

Eventually, Peter looked up from the sidewalk and paused, a wave of discomfort washing over him. To his right was Gotham Public Library. All of the lights were off inside, but the outdoor ones illuminated a large clock-face reading 3:47.

To his left, a cemetery with tall black metal fences was emitting an eerie fog across the entire half of the street. It went down for at least another block. Just looking at the place of rest made a tingle rush up his spine and to his neck, buzzing there.

Breaking and entering was definitely a crime. Always had been, always would be, even in this city that isn't supposed to exist. Still, Peter was cold and tired, and he just needed to close his eyes for a little bit. If he would be breaking into anywhere, it would be somewhere with the word “Public” plastered above the front door.

Like the Gotham Public Library, how perfect. He skipped up the steps two at a time, standing underneath the large stone awning for a second to enjoy the feeling of no rain! It was great, but now he needed a way inside.

On the front of the building, all of the doors and windows were locked tight, and Peter frowned. Of course a city with this much crime would be under lock and key. He would need a different entrance.

As quietly and inconspicuously as possible, Peter Parker rounded the building twice, looking at windows and potential entrances. Eventually, on his second lap, he spotted a slightly opened window through the heavy rain. Parker luck be damned, he was about to be somewhere warm.

Scaling the wall was effortless with his spider abilities, and fitting through the small window was easy as pie. The boots of his Iron Spider suit landed on a tiled floor of a women's restroom (he only knew that due to the lack of a urinal). A quick glance around the space told him that the lights were motion activated, so he bit the bullet and went to the door. The blinding overhead light activated and he winced, giving himself a small glance in the mirror as he passed.

He had to backtrack his steps, eyes widening when he really took stock of himself. His skin was sheened with sweat and rain, and little cuts and bruises littered his cheeks and forehead. Unzipping the gray hoodie showed the damaged Iron Spider suit, and he frowned at the large gash across his side. It had broken skin, but stopped bleeding a while ago. He hoped it wouldn’t get infected, because even with his healing factor, those were still uncomfortable.

The worst part of his appearance was his hair. The semi-curly brown locks seemed to have gotten.. Longer? Usually he kept his hair cut clean at his ears, but now strands were wisping along the back of his neck. Strangely enough, a large strand on his hairline, right by his temple, was a chalky white color. Reaching up and feeling it revealed nothing, because it felt fine.

This only opened even more questions for the teen, who sighed tiredly through his nose. He just wanted to lay down somewhere. He would assess his situation more in the morning, when the sun was up.

Right now, nothing would make sense due to his exhaustion and temperature. Any thoughts of Doctor Strange, Titan, or Thanos just made him uncomfortable and made no sense. So he dropped it- for now.

Exiting the bathroom quietly, he glanced around. Peter was on the second floor of three it seemed. Nearby, two elevator shafts stuck awkwardly out of the wall. Across the floor, a big staircase would take him either down or up. In the middle of the floor was a big hole that looked out into the bottom floor, and when Peter looked up, he was greeted by a large glass dome.

On a sunny day, this building would be beautiful. He could already imagine it bustling with life. Assuming there was a college nearby, he could see different students sitting at the various tables, couches, and beanbags doing work or reading books of all sorts. This building just felt good, and was such a stark contrast from both the cemetery across the street and the city itself.

A quick surveillance walk around the second floor revealed that there were cameras, but none were active. There were no more motion activated lights either, meaning that Peter was free to roam without drawing any attention from the outside.

“Alright, Karen, let’s hook you up to a computer.” Peter said softly, metal boots padding against the carpeted floor as he walked to a large set of computers across multiple desks. He slid into a chair and typed in the guest login information that was written on a sticky note attached to the monitor.

Using his right hand, he loaded up Google. With his left, he reached down to the actual computer itself, feeling around on the front of the box until he found a USB port. Seconds later, the nanobots on his hands shifted and changed until one finger of the suit was plugged into the computer.

“Diagnostics are complete, would you like to hear them?”

“Mhm.” Peter hummed, typing with one hand and searching up a few key words. Avengers, Tony Stark, Spiderman, Captain America, Iron Man, and Wakanda all resulted in nothing useful. His brows pinched together in concern. None of this stuff seemed to even exist.

“Overall status is 42%. Your web shooters are at a combined capacity of 68%. Your suit sustained severe damage to the primary left side, but there is considerable damage located all over. The suggested course of action is to make repairs as soon as conveniently possible before joining another fight.”

“Thanks, Karen.” he sighed, not happy about the information. It wasn’t all bad, he had much more web fluid than he had originally anticipated. The damage wouldn’t be easy to fix without either a lab, or Tony. Both would be wonderful right about now. “You connected to the internet yet?”

“Yes, are you ready to hear my findings?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Peter Parker was in Gotham, New Jersey. It was the crime capital of the entire world. Despite its high crime rates, it was being watched over by a group of vigilantes, led by one called Batman. The others, with various bat and bird themed names, all worked as a single unit to keep this single city safe. They rarely ever branched out.

The Avengers did not exist. The closest thing was another group of heroes known as the Justice League, which was formed by Batman and two others: Wonder Woman and Superman. They were a heavy mix of people with powers, called Metas, and people without powers, like Batman.

Thanos did not exist. There was never an attack from him or his forces. Instead, there were other contacts with different races and species of aliens from all across the universe. Some of them were members of the Justice League now.

Spiderman did not exist. It didn’t take much to hack into public records, and there was never a Peter Benjamin Parker born in Queens. No one was ever bitten by a radioactive spider, and no one ever became Spiderman.

“Peter?”

He could hear her voice in his ear, but nothing was registering. The pure lack of anything familiar made a dreadful discomfort climb up his back, and his vision got a bit fuzzy.

“Peter, I’m picking up an increased heart rate as well as sporadic brain activity. Would you like for me to alert someone for medical aid?”

“No..” he mumbled. “....people here can’t.. They can’t know I’m not from….” he trailed off, leaning back in his chair and staring at the blurry white computer monitor.

“That you’re from a different universe?”

“..yeah, that.”

Peter’s stay in the library concluded with him taking a short nap in a soft green beanbag, and the lights flickering to life at seven a.m. He shot up from his light sleep, stumbling quickly to his feet. A worker was here, likely to get ready to open for the day. He needed to leave.

His dart across the second floor was silent thanks to his spider enhancements and the Iron Spider suit, and he climbed out the bathroom window without looking back. Maybe next time, he could sleep longer and do less research on his problems.

Looking around, things started to make more sense. This was a different universe. Sure it looked enough like his own, but there were small differences. Logos for big brands were slightly altered, celebrities looked different and some didn’t even exist. Catchy songs had different melodies, lyrics, artists, or even genres here. Why did Taylor Swift write “Bring Me to Life”? Evanescence had perfected that song!

Things slowly started to click into place as the sun rose over Gotham’s Atlantic horizon. He was in a different universe, and he needed a way to deal with all of this.

Peter had the itching feeling that going home was no longer an option. Even if it was, he wouldn’t know how, and there was no guarantee what would be waiting for him on the other side. The Guardians of the Galaxy all turned to ash seconds before Peter did- who's to say the same didn’t happen to his loved ones? To May? Ned? MJ?

The teen wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he directed his path towards the more.. Higher-class side of Gotham. He wanted to get out of the crime-ridden areas as soon as possible. The quicker he found somewhere to get help without exposing his cross dimensional identity the better.

After sneaking onto three public buses, jumping a subway gate, and offering his seat on the train to a pregnant woman, he stepped out into the lighter side of the city. Entering a place that he noted on a brochure map as Bristol, he looked around curiously at the cityscape before him.

Here the sidewalks were new, the traffic lights worked, and there was greenery lining every corner. Fancy and expensive cars that reminded Peter of The Great Gatsby carted up and down the roads. Teens in navy blue school uniforms walked in the same direction, likely towards a school.

Getting enrolled in a school sounded fantastic right about now, because it would mean easy access to both information and a chemistry lab. Unfortunately, it was hard to get enrolled anywhere when you had no documents like Peter.

Instead, he turned towards the neighborhoods. One of these rich families had to have something good in their garbage. Some thrown out devices, good clothes, maybe even food that the picky kids were too biased to eat.

Honestly, Peter would take anything at this point. He just needed resources, even if it came from a rich man’s dumpster. As they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and in this scenario, Peter was dumpster diving from modern Kings.

The first few houses that he passed had long winding driveways, and sleek, modern buildings. They were boxy and dark, with too many windows. He could have sworn that he saw a pool in more than a few backyards through the slatted gates. Only one place caught his eye.

A large brooding manor sat on top of a slight hill, with a driveway comparable to a hiking trail. Its gates, while well kept, were obviously old. Likely the first gates and fences to be put on the property. Thanks to Karen connecting to the internet last night, Peter could ask her a few questions now.

“Who lives here?” Peter asked, standing in front of the gate and mentally debating how much energy it would take to scale it without triggering the multiple sensors he had already spotted.

“You are looking at Wayne Manor, home of Bruce Wayne and some of his children.”

“Only some?” Peter asked casually, grabbing a hold of the bars and starting to climb upwards. Sure, he was in broad daylight, but all the teens were at school by now, and any adults were either at work or still in bed, truly living luxurious lives.

“Yes, currently his sons Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas-Wayne, and Timothy Drake-Wayne live here. His other children include Richard Grayson-Wayne, Jason Todd-Wayne, and his two daughters, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown.”

The amount of last names gave Peter a pretty clear image of what kind of guy Bruce Wayne was: and that was a playboy. He had lots of kids, only a few lived at home, and almost all of them had two last names. If the manor wasn’t so Victorian looking, Peter might have even dared to compare Bruce to Tony.

“Anything else I need to know about this place?”

“Bruce Wayne is the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, having taken over the company after his parents both died when he was young. He seems to have a tendency to take in orphans, as well as making hefty donations to public works projects. As for the Wayne Property, both the house and the fence are original. I am however picking up some sort of underground space, but there appears to be something blocking my signal.”

Peter landed on the other side of the fence, flat-footed boots crunching on the gravel. “Something blocking your signal?” he asked, starting his trek up the driveway. Learning this history was cool and all, but he was more interested in both the trash and that underground room? Space? Either way, he wanted to know what it was.

“Yes, I can’t get a layout schematic of the room. However, I did get one of the rest of the house. The first-floor study has a secret staircase going down into the hidden room.”

“Cool, I’ll keep that in mind if they ever invite me in for tea.” The teen joked sarcastically, picking up a jog to reach the house.

He avoided the front door, porch, and steps with a ten-foot radius, instead going to either side to check for trash cans. Upon finding none, he frowned. They were likely kept in the back, so he continued his search. The cameras and sensors definitely went noticed, but he paid them no mind. The Waynes would just see a homeless man dumpster diving, no big deal. He was sure it happened all the time in Gotham.

Success shone on Peter in the form of two industrial-sized green dumpsters, one of which had the top open. Peter sighed quietly in relief, approaching them and first, checking for any internal sensors. Upon finding one, Peter climbed in as silently as possible.

This was not his first time going dumpster diving, and he was sure it wouldn’t be his last, either. After the Battle of New York, Peter, May, and Ben had been temporarily homeless. This meant lots of dumpsters, shelters, and stretched thin dollars.

This also meant that Peter knew what to look for while diving for trash. Most businesses tended to use a strategy called “souping” to prevent dumpster divers, which was the process of individually opening and/or destroying any products so that no one would deem them valuable. Most private homes however did not do this.

A throat being cleared pulled Peter from his search, and he yelped in surprise, quickly standing up straight and looking towards the house. His tingle should have alerted him if anyone was around! Why did it not go off??

The man looking at Peter was a well kept older gentleman wearing an ensemble expected of a butler. The black suit and slacks were pressed to perfection, and even his white cuffs and undershirt lacked any sort of stain or evidence of wear. His hair was thin, balding, and a sterling gray. It used to be black. His mustache was perfect.

“...oh my, I hadn’t realized that you were a child.” The man’s posture and expression softened the moment that he took full stock of Peter. The teen frowned- okay he was small but he wasn’t that small.

“I’m sixteen, sir.” he mumbled, and Karen sparked quietly to life in his ear.

“Alfred Pennyworth. Former soldier during World War Two, and current butler for the household.”

Peter really would have enjoyed knowing that this man existed about ten minutes ago, so that he could have avoided the one man who probably knew everything about the property. Glancing down to the butler’s hands, he realized that he was carrying trash bags. That’s why the dumpster had been empty.

“I-I’m also sorry- uh I didn’t- look I can go-” Peter stumbled over his words and his feet, climbing out of the dumpster. His ribs stung when he arched his side, and he winced in discomfort.

“My boy, you are quite alright.” Pennyworth said quickly and calmly, setting down the two white garbage bags. “Are you injured?”

“I-It’s not a big deal, It’ll heal. I’m sorry about your– Mr. Wayne’s– uh- dumpster.” Peter said, feeling like a kicked puppy.

Alfred Pennyworth frowned, taking a few small steps towards Peter. Was he afraid that he would bolt? He really wanted to run, but he also really wanted to explain his way out of the situation. Maybe the butler wouldn’t call the cops if Peter explained.

“I’m not worried about the dumpster, dear boy, I’m worried about you. You are caked with bruises and blood.” he opened his stance a little, a move that showed comfort. He was trying to make Peter more comfortable. “May I know your name?”

Peter swallowed, licking his dry lips. He really wanted to ask Karen what the best course of action was here, but if he spoke out loud, he would seem insane. So he stayed quiet, hands curling up in his jacket pockets.

“Alfred Pennyworth has a record of being both trustworthy and reliable.”

It was like she read his mind. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and spoke. “...Peter.”

Alfred smiled gently, extending a white gloved hand to the boy. “Peter, my name is Alfred Pennyworth, but please, just call me Alfred.”

Peter reached out and took his hand in a timid shake, closing the distance between them. His hand was so dirty he almost felt bad about potentially soiling the glove, but then he realized that Alfred probably had a dozen more pairs somewhere in the Manor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

The butler chuckled, grip both firm and comforting. Karen was right, this man seemed very trustworthy. Something about Peter told him that Alfred was his best source of help at the moment. It was probably why his tingle didn’t activate when the man stepped outside.

“Peter, might I interest you in a glass of tea? It won’t take long, and I’d like to check on any injuries you may have.” he offered carefully, slowly releasing the teen’s hand.

Peter chewed the inside of his mouth, glancing to the side of Alfred where the path wrapped back around to the front of the Manor. He could still run if he really wanted to.

But he trusted Karen, and Karen seemed to trust Alfred. Her judgment had never been wrong before.

“...tea sounds nice.”

#batman #spiderman #dc multiverse #marvel multiverse #marvel x dc #peter parker is trying his best #alfred pennyworth is the best #they will be happy #and then sad and angry #and then happy once more

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wonlouvre · 2 years

Text

four: awakening

pairing: doctor!mingyu x potter!female reader

genre: fluff, angst, mature 18+

word count: 3.6k+

WARNINGS: age gap (mingyu is 34 while oc is 27), mentions of food & eating, smut (nothing descriptive though), marriage and meeting the parents kind of talk (let me know what i missed please!)

💌: finally, part four. i sincerely apologize for the long wait. a lot has happened over the months that passed, but we are finally here. thank you for patiently waiting. please be mindful that their relationship has taken a leap on this part. i will probably write one more part, then an epilogue. we’re nearing the end :( please enjoy this part and tell me what you think about it! <3

—

You keep thinking about it. The last conversation you had with Mingyu, that is. You know he means well and he’s nothing but a sweetheart about it. He’s not necessarily putting any pressure on your shoulders to give him an answer immediately. But, in the past five months you have known your boyfriend, you know he’s going to want to move forward. Level up. And that’s a really good thing. In fact, you want the same thing. It’s just… you’re not yet ready.

“What were you going to tell me again?” Seokmin asks, mindlessly flipping through the binder of artists that’s going to participate in one of his upcoming exhibits.

You swallow the lump at the back of your throat and slowly release a breath. Your eyes look up from the floor and your lips finally answer, “Mingyu wants to introduce me to his parents.”

Seokmin’s hands pauses and by the way his lips purses, you know you got him thinking as well. He closes the thick binder, propping his elbows on top as he clasps his hands together.

“He did?” He asks, needing some confirmation as if it would do any help.

Well, Mingyu did not exactly say so, but it was along the lines of, “He said, “My mom would love you.””

“Oh,” Seokmin utters, cheeks blowing like a puffer fish as he nods. “Is there something wrong about that?”

You bite your lip and sigh, defeated. “Nothing at all.”

“But, there’s something to be afraid of, I guess?”

Bingo.

“Y/N,” your friend calls for you and you’re quite aware of what he’s about to say next. “Introducing you to his parents doesn’t immediately translate to getting married in an instant.”

You frustratingly nod. You don’t disagree with him. But, what if you want to marry Mingyu? Isn’t introducing yourself to the rest of his family part of that? And now that your boyfriend seems to be giving you the signs that he wants what you want, why are you afraid? Why are you suddenly stuck and reluctant to move forward just like he does?

You hear Seokmin finally stand from his desk and make a beeline to where you’re sitting. He exhales a breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re grateful for him trying to help you in the kindest way possible because he knows what you’ve been through. But at the same time, you’re dreading his next words because no matter how harsh nor kind it will sound, he’s always right.

“Talk to Mingyu,” he says, his tone final.

Your heart beats a hundred times faster at what he just said.

Seokmin nods firmly as he sees the conflict in your eyes. The conflict in your eyes screaming about the hows and whats. The conflict in your eyes that’s fearing for the worst of them all. The conflict in your eyes that’s begging to not go through the same heartbreak all over again. The conflict in your eyes that’s protecting Mingyu’s heart.

Talk to Mingyu.

—

Mingyu is simply the happiest man to be with you. Scratch that, he’s simply the happiest man to have met you. Maybe it’s what every person would say if they finally meet the one that they’re more than content with. Or maybe, it’s just him. He really doesn’t know.

That being said, he also just wants things to be simple with you. He trusts that you’re committed to the relationship you have with him. After all, you were the one brave enough to ask him to be his boyfriend. That’s why he’s also brave enough to mention, little by little, his intentions on introducing you to his family that he believes without a doubt would love you.

It started when he went to your shop after his shift to pick you up. It became a routine for him whenever his schedule is free and even though you have insisted that you could manage to go home by yourself, the stubborn yet caring person in him disagreed.

You were doing some last minute cleaning as he waited for you to finish. He obediently sat at the counter and just watched you fondly, eyes following your every single move. It wasn’t a moment of realization. It was a gradual thought that smoothly slid inside not only in his head, but in his heart as well.

Mingyu wants to marry you.

“My mom would love you.”

He said it, convinced that it’s the best way to start the conversation. To take the first step. Interrupting your quiet hums and busy hands. He said it and you stood up straight, eyes confusedly blinking, lips awkwardly smiling.

And, he’s regretting it now because your reaction seems indifferent.

“You two,” Seokmin grimaces as he sees his friend upon his entrance to the quiet coffee shop. “What am I? A friend that’s stuck between a couple that can’t seem to figure their shit out.”

“Hey!” Mingyu whisper shouts. “Who said we can’t figure our shit out?”

Seokmin rolls his eyes and sits on the vacant chair on the other side of the table. He doesn’t go to hospital coffee shops often, not that he has reasons to thankfully. But he must say, it’s fairly cozy. None of that though, he’s here to visit and help his friend who looks like he hasn’t showered or slept for two days.

“You know what,” Seokmin says, “You’re the one who looks like shit.”

Mingyu almost decks his friend.

“Alright, alright, geez.” Seokmin raises his hand, finally ready to take his friend’s dilemma seriously.

“Has Y/N spoken to you yet?” Mingyu asks.

“She has and I won’t tell you anything about it.”

Mingyu groans, but he understands. It’s not like you’re not talking to him. In fact, nothing has really drastically changed in your relationship. You’re not saying anything about it, but he just knows that he put you in an uncomfortable position and he wants to fix it.

“Don’t worry about it Mingyu,” Seokmin assures him. “Y/N will talk to you about it sooner than you think.”

Mingyu nods, understanding what he’s trying to say. “I just can’t lose her ‘Min.”

“I know and trust me, she doesn’t wanna lose you too.”

Mingyu badly needs to talk to you.

—

Mingyu finds you sitting in front of your pottery wheel and he’s going to sound annoying, but you honestly take his breath away. Looking so gorgeous in his eyes despite the sweat trickling down your forehead and hair loosely tied to not get in the way. And when you pause what you’re doing to check who has arrived, he swears he could rip his heart out just to give it to you because of how bright your eyes shine upon seeing him. He’s smiling as he drapes his coat on the counter before rolling his sleeves up.

Meanwhile, your clay stained hands hang in the air as you wait for him to come closer. He does immediately, though and that makes you smile just like him. You stand on your tippy toes to give his lips a sweet peck, a welcome of some sort.

It’s only a brief yet sweet gesture and Mingyu already feels like he can take on the world.

“I could kiss you longer, but I’m in the middle of something,” you joke, making your boyfriend giggle. His nose nudges against yours, his lips giving yours another smooch.

You sit back down in front of the wheel without noticing your boyfriend already rolling his sleeves further up to his forearms, getting ready to join you even without the invitation. As you continue what you’re doing, Mingyu is already taking the small stool behind you to sit on.

“Maybe you should go first–” Your sentence goes unfinished, gasping in surprise at the sudden warmth engulfing your whole body. Mingyu’s lean arms wrap themselves around your waist while his thighs, which are as lean as his arms, settle on each side of yours.

“Hmm?” He nonchalantly hums, nuzzling his nose on the crook of your neck. “You were saying?”

Your hands remain frozen as your heart pumps blood so fast, you’re sure your face is not the only part of your body that’s warm.

“Babe?”

You’re not that strong, you realize.

You take a deep breath and press on the wheel again, acting like you weren’t just about to melt into a puddle. “I was saying, maybe you should go home first. It might take a long time to finish this vase.”

Mingyu audibly whines, you can feel his lips against your skin. “I want to stay with you.”

“What’s gotten you so clingy today?” You tease, leaning slightly back to him, your back meeting his chest.

“Nothing. Just really want to spend time with you,” he replies, bashful yet honest.

You have thought about it. The last conversation you had with Mingyu about meeting his parents. Again, he didn’t exactly say he wanted to introduce you to them. But, you’re more than aware of how your boyfriend became extra careful around you as if he committed a grave crime after that and you want to ease his mind from worries because he doesn’t deserve to feel insecure about anything at all.

You have thought about it and, “Then, be useful and help me out with this vase.”

“What?” Mingyu asks, tone so lost and confused.

Your smile is small and nervous as you continue talking.

“What design do you think your mother would prefer? Flowers? Animals?”

Mingyu’s arms tenses, but doesn’t let go of you. When he doesn’t answer, he hears you continue still.

“How about colors? White would be good, right? Or would a pop of color be better?”

“Y/N,” Mingyu calls for your attention, voice suddenly stern.

“Hmm?” Now it’s your turn to hum, bravely tilting your head to the left to meet his eyes. “What do you think?”

Mingyu knows you’re not one to play around his feelings, you having a hatred against such. But, he can’t help but wonder if you’re being serious with him right now because he swears he could go down on one knee and ask your hand for marriage with what you have been saying.

“Are you saying you want to meet my mom?” Mingyu finally asks, his eyes lovingly gazing on yours. “How about my dad?”

You pause to think, biting your lip along the process. “I could ask Seokmin to find me a painting. You’ve mentioned your dad has a small collection, right?”

Mingyu smiles and leans closer to kiss your lips, but pulls away all too quickly. “I need an answer, babe.”

You smile back and kiss his lips as well. “I’d love to meet your parents, Mingyu.”

“Okay.” Mingyu nods once before kissing you again and this time, he takes it slow.

He’s aware your neck is craned uncomfortably that’s why he carefully maneuvers your body to face his properly. Although you're still sitting on your stool, his arm is now cradling your back while his free hand caresses your cheek as he kisses you deeply.

“Mingyu.” You try to pull away, but he’s relentless. “Let me wash up so we could go.”

Again, he’s relentless. Kissing and kissing you, rendering you breathless. You let him be, wrapping your arms around his neck but at the same time making sure you don’t let your hands wander anywhere else on his skin.

Your kisses become fervent under the dim light of the store and it doesn’t fail to cross your mind what if someone suddenly enters. Your store is yet to be closed after all. But, Mingyu’s teeth nipping on your bottom lip hypnotizes you, eliciting a whimper from you.

Mingyu is no different, groaning at your moans and whines. It’s impossible for his body to not overheat, like it’s about to burst into flames.

“Mingyu,” you call again, leaning back.

Your boyfriend whines and dives once again. But you move further back. That doesn’t stop him though, trailing kisses from your cheeks to your jawline down to your neck instead. It’s not helping that you can’t touch your boyfriend because of the drying clay on your hands.

“Okay. I really need to wash up now.”

Mingyu pouts, but stops nonetheless. “Fine. But, be quick.”

You kiss the mole on his nose and nod. “Promise.”

—

The first time you stepped foot inside Mingyu’s apartment, you immediately told him that his taste is sexy. You actually blurted it out, but you needed to keep your dignity intact so you’re going to lie that you described it in a sophisticated manner. But, back to his apartment. He just chuckled embarrassingly at your words, touring you around and telling you the how abouts.

This time around, nothing is different. You have been to his apartment countless times before, but rarely stayed over. It’s still sexy. He’s still sexy. You can’t help but ogle at him as he places your takeout dinner on the dining table and removes his coat to drape on the chair.

It’s pretty late in the night and you hate yourself for having an impression that you will sleep over. It’s not that you don’t want to sleep with him. Mingyu’s mattress is the best mattress you have ever slept on. It didn’t take you a while to fall into deep slumber the first time you laid on it. Plus, it’s no secret your boyfriend’s arms are the warmest blanket.

It’s just that there’s something in you, something searingly hot and tense, that makes you believe you’ll do more than sleep tonight.

“Babe?” Mingyu calls for you and you're snapped out of your trance. “Are you okay?”

You blink away your thoughts and nod. “Yeah. Just… I’m going to wash my hands first then I’ll join you.”

Mingyu smiles, proud that you already know the drill. If he knew what you’re going through at the moment, you think you’ll combust. But, if you only knew what he's going through, it would be a whole different story.

You’re not the only one with the heart racing and whole body heating up. Mingyu thinks he’s about to lose his mind over the events that occurred at your store earlier. He knows he’s exaggerating when all you said was you wanted to meet his parents. Well, you kissed so that’s an added factor. But, the two of you always kiss! What’s so special about tonight that’s making him all anxious yet excited at the same time?

You return not more than five minutes later and you find Mingyu opening a bottle of wine. He even looks good by just doing such a simple act with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a few buttons of his loose. You’re most definitely gone.

You pinch your hip to wake yourself up. Now is really not the time to be hot and bothered.

“Wine together with tteokbokki and fried chicken?” You ask, finally taking a seat. “Interesting.”

Your boyfriend playfully shrugs his shoulders, pouring you a glass before planting a kiss on the crown of your head. He takes the chair beside you, hands busy opening the containers one by one.

Dinner is served and the two of you become preoccupied on making sure both of you are eating enough, mindlessly putting food on each other’s plates as you chat. Finally, the tension, although still lingering, relaxes a little.

“Hey.” Mingyu tugs at your chair, pulling you closer to his side. “About our conversation earlier. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to. I can wait, I promise.”

Your lips grow into a smile and you’re suddenly feeling warm all over again. You place your glass back on the table before gently holding his cheeks with your hands, chin tilting up to press a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips.

“It’s nothing like that,” you assure him, thumb rubbing soft circles on his cheekbone. “It’s not like I’m introducing myself to them tomorrow. I just wanted you to know that I’m more than happy to meet them someday or… I don’t know. Soon?”

“Okay,” that’s all Mingyu says with an enthralled smile before leaning closer to your face, lips sealing yours with his. Your eyes close in bliss, basking in the feeling you’re sure only Mingyu can ever make you feel. You have figured it out, it’s just that you don’t want to go ahead of yourself.

You’re hoping Mingyu is feeling it too.

You return Mingyu’s kisses softly, but your boyfriend is eager. His kisses grow passionate, almost knocking your chair down with his body wishing to be closer and closer. You gasp, hands pushing at his firm chest to pull away. He’s as surprised as you are, you can’t help but giggle.

“There’s sauce all over your lips,” you point out, wiping his lips with your thumb.

What he does next is beyond your imagination.

Mingyu holds your wrist, preventing you from having your hand back. You look at him confusedly. But when you catch the different glint of his eyes, you’re hypnotized. Once he senses you relax, he kisses your thumb. You swallow the lump at the back of your throat. You’re afraid you just liked what he did.

Mingyu doesn’t engulf your thumb with his mouth, but his kisses, at least thrice, drops a heated sensation down to your body.

“Stay over tonight?”

It scares you how quickly you say yes.

–

Mingyu makes you feel small from time to time. You don’t mean this in a bad way, you promise. It’s just that, sometimes, when he gives you all of his attention, you grow bashful. It makes you wonder about what’s so special that he sees in you that he never fails to maintain eye contact, regardless of what you’re doing.

And tonight, right at this moment, he’s making you feel small over again with added warmth. You swear, your heart has never beat so fast. You keep on swallowing the invisible lump at the back of your throat as you try your best to scoot up on his bed. You're sure your palms are already sweating and it’s not helping that you’re still looking up to Mingyu’s eyes as he joins you.

Mingyu’s huge hand smooths over from your knee to your thigh, making your breath hitch. He gives you a small smile, kissing your cheek lovingly.

“We can just go to sleep. I don’t mind,” he says and that catches you in a state of panic.

“No,” you immediately say. I want this.

Your boyfriend tried to hold it, but you can see the smirk forming on his lips. “Will you tell me what you want then?”

“I–...” You barely utter, word failing to come out of your mouth. You bite your bottom lip and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. When you open them again, you see the patience evident on Mingyu’s face and that’s more than enough to give you the courage to say what you want.

“Can you… can you take this off?” You whisper, toying with the collar of his long sleeves. “Please?”

Mingyu chuckles and you almost call him out on it, but he beats your open mouth from saying anything further by kissing you.

You and Mingyu have had your fair share of intimate moments over the course of your relationship. Hot make out sessions that last who knows how long. Soft touches that are not slow to turn into something heavy, leaving the two of you a hot mess. They are all deeds not out of the ordinary for the two of you.

Sex, however, is something that the two of you almost touched on. If it wasn’t for Mingyu’s emergency calls or Seokmin cockblocking the two of you, you two would have been far off right now.

But, that’s the thing. You are here right now on Mingyu’s bed. Mingyu is also here with you right now, lean and strong arms holding his upper body up to not crush yours as he continues kissing you passionately.

You didn’t even notice his long sleeves getting discarded, left to be on the floor.

You’re panting when Mingyu pulls away briefly to make you sit up. Embarrassingly enough, your mouth waters at the sight of his toned chest and abdomen, your fingers tracing over them.

Mingyu smiles, holding your cheeks to gently make you look at him and answer his question. “Can I take this off?”

He’s referring to your blouse and well, if he’s already without a top on, you might as well take yours off. After all, you do want this.

You nod and that has Mingyu shaking his head. Your eyebrows furrow, knowing what he wants.

“Take them off, please.”

“Good girl,” Mingyu praises, hands quick to their job. Your pupils blow instantly and before you could react, he’s kissing you again.

The long night continues without knowing the passing time. It wasn’t your concern if you have to wake up early tomorrow nor was it your boyfriend’s, lips making sure covering every inch of your body with his kisses (of course, with love bites here and there).

You’re no different anyway. Stopping him from taking your pants off and pleading him if you could make him feel good before he takes care of you. Who is Mingyu to deny you?

Mingyu was a panting mess after you made him cum, but that didn’t stop him from pulling you up and smashing his lips against yours. From then on, he took matters into his own hands, leading you to pleasure that has you writhing all through the night.

—

tags:

@jackiejackkk @lovelywoo @hoe4wonwoo @boogyuu @kukiyu @lottogyu @multi-101 @tinastine @shujiloey @sweet-shiner @studywithtuna @shaffystyle @angelarin @unhaengiichi @gabii04 @lumierelavie @thecutiepieme @nochujimbles @malix28 @happy-wonho @mariellechrysanthemum @fancypoisonapple @roh-ji @seokgyustudios @drama-1998-girl @kpopssuregi @kpop-stuff-only @laconic-abditory @justasoftstan @boowanie @october-rain-love @d-noona @gaebestie @limkiwi @versacewoo @grannysdirtbag @sadcrescentmoon @cutieedeer @viv-i-a-n @walkedinafragileline @aceloveslove @maknaecooky97 @glazedpopcorn @rawrmameh @bythe8 @ohchangyu @tinastine @loeywoo @strikingbluexyz @cloudysannie @graykageyama @skywoozi @sokooks @1uv1ygyu @kyeomsgcf @jeonjona @mbbmonsta @scoupsnotscoops @ihatethisblog1 @taestrwbrry @moonlightgodes @wooedbywonu @mingyvie @wonwoosecretcat @l3liy @perplexinggg @swinterr @habitsofheaven @jaehyuns-peaches @tsukiiism @feliceline @justadreamingirl28 @rocketqueenbabyy @sailorjoonies @yunohyun @yzekim @shush15 @sweetheartcsc

@kimnorang @soonchanshua @sunnosmoon @hvcdrms @jungkookislegal @sashamifasolla @flwrsol @justnatys @needmoresleep @vixxieroxx @fairydosii @gyuromiis @simplymeer @gyusi @naegasuhosh @notsushitrashbutwonutrash @bluemoontel @lalalaylaylay @caiihyu @xmisskwonsoonyoung @ourstarrywonder @jenodaze @dowoonwoodealer @everyw0nu @lucidhao @maltagoyaluvr @happyriel @gointothesky @miuangl @vasayyy @smilejimvn @chanpvlento @ayaxsstuff @flowerofanhours @doublejeon @lovelybluemoonlight @artsenthusastk77 @distinguishedpeanutspy @inyourdreamsmaybe @mememuri @wonufication @gojosd @dktwin @mswenjun @min9yuldaengie @amariroses @synqras @this-cool-chick @everhyuck @zootopiasthings @urfavmommy @sunflwrhyuk @bokutosabyowll @degreenandfangirling @danielcastellon @biancaness @kyunlov @blueevelvt @briarrrose28 @dumbmidnightthoughts @yukkaa @r3zgirl @juye6n @pastel-andme

please do tell me if you’re not listed here! (some urls don’t get tagged and i really don’t know why :( sorry!)

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