#being a real person would require him to face his past and present | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yancherrysoda · 9 months

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Ephemeral Emancipation

This takes place one year after the events of Wind God. I had planned to write about what happens a month later and then six months later, but I'm currently out of ideas for those parts.

I'm not sure if sharing this was a good idea, considering that there are two more parts that come before it that I haven't written yet. This might confuse the readers. However, I really enjoyed writing it since I have an inclination towards violent scenes, and since I won't be writing anything very soon, I decided to post it anyway.

Warnings: decapitation, slashes being inflicted on a person

Word count: 5.246

''I would like to leave this place.''

Venti almost choked on the apple he was munching on. "Huh?"

You shifted from one foot to another as you nervously fiddled with the bottom hem of your shorts and repeated yourself, "I want to go out."

He set the half-eaten apple down on the table and leaned back in his chair, studying your face. The wind stirred his dark locks as he pondered your words. "You know I can't let you leave, right?"

You sighed, knowing this conversation won’t be an easy one. "I know, but I just... I miss the outside world so much. The endless blue skies, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the sound of birds chirping, and the fresh air."

Venti raised an eyebrow and asked, "How is the air outside any different from the air in here?"

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express how you felt. "It's not just about the air; it's about freedom, you know, the thing that you're supposed to represent." You crossed your arms over your chest. "It's about living, rather than just existing."

He brought his fingers up to his chin, contemplating your words. ''I tried my best to make you feel happy in here,'' he said. ''Wasn't that enough?''

As you thought back on the various moments you two had spent together, memories flooded your mind, including the times you had danced under the stars or sat on the swing while he tried to teach you how to play the lyre.

"You don't get it," you said, stepping forward and looking into his eyes. "Maybe this may be enough for you since you don't have the same perception of time as I do—being immortal and all that—but for me, it feels like I'm stuck in a never-ending loop."

You knew that discussing this topic with Venti required a different approach if you wanted to get through to him.

Your thoughts returned to the countless hours you'd spent poring over the books in Lisa's library; pages of Old Mondstadt unfurled like scrolls in front of your eyes, as if presenting you with a plan.

''You know, I've been curious about your past,'' you began, trying to pique Venti's interest. ''I've read stories about Old Mondstadt, but I always wondered what the experience of the people that lived there was like.''

That was true. Being from Mondstadt, you were curious about your city's history and how it evolved over time, but you never knew that the way you would get to briefly experience it was thanks to the situation you found yourself in about a year ago.

Venti's eyes narrowed slightly, the wind rustling his viridian attire. "How come you're suddenly interested in that? You could have asked me about my past a long time ago."

''But a long time ago you wouldn't have let me out!''

''What makes you think I would now?''

You crossed your arms behind your back and looked to the side. "Because I behaved well and followed your rules. I've proven that I can be trusted, didn't I?" you looked back at him. "I thought maybe you could walk me around while you explain its history to me. It would be a nice chance for me to learn more about you and experience the real world once again at the same time."

He sat up straight in his chair, considering your request. "Well, I suppose that could be arranged," he responded. "But only if you promise not to do anything stupid like last time. I'll be keeping a close eye on you."

You nodded eagerly.

He approached you and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer to him as a golden mist enveloped you both. You now found yourself standing on a cobblestone path surrounded by stone arches. You inhaled deeply, taking in the crisp, fresh air.

''Is the air different?'' he laughed.

''It's fresher,'' you said simply.

''Oh, come on.''

You looked around. "Well then, tell me something about this place. Since you've been here during its downfall centuries ago, I expect a tour in great detail."

He crossed his arms and looked down at the cobblestones beneath his feet, then at you. "This area was ruled by Decarabian, the God of Storms, who thought he protected the city and its people from the harsh winds that would sweep through," he began. "Back then, the entire Mondstadt region was known for being covered in snow and ice, which made it a difficult place to live in. Decarabian used his powers to form a wind barrier around Old Mondstadt, shielding it from the elements and creating what he thought was a haven for its inhabitants.'' He paused for a moment. ''However, as time passed, people began to realize that they were living in a false sense of security. The wind barrier became a prison, trapping them within its walls and preventing any contact with anything that was on the other side of it," he continued as you both walked along the path.

You hopped onto a fallen pillar, trying to balance yourself. "Reminds me of a certain someone."

Venti chuckled and looked up at you. "Unlike Decarabian, I don't create barriers to, quote on quote, protect people."

"But you decided to kidnap a person and strip them of freedom," you interjected, raising an eyebrow at him.

He sighed, "Do you want to listen to what I have to say or should we go back?"

"Fine, fine," you said, hopping off the pillar and gesturing for him to continue.

As you continued walking through the ancient streets of Old Mondstadt, Venti pointed out various landmarks and shared stories of the city's past. He also mentioned the grand tower that is still standing at the heart of the city, where Decarabian would reside.

You listened intently as he spoke, genuinely captivated by the tales of old.

He explained that after centuries of ruling, Decarabian’s people began to question his authority and the validity of his so-called protection. They desired freedom and the ability to explore beyond the confines of the city. Their discontent eventually grew into a rebellion led by a group of individuals who sought to end his reign and free the city from his control—Venti among them.

''Everyone fought against his oppressive rule, even his partner. The rebellion was successful, and Decarabian was overthrown, giving the people of Old Mondstadt the freedom they had longed for,'' he spoke.

"He had a partner?" You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "Did he kidnap her too?"

''...No, and yes, Decarabian had a partner—a mortal who had been by his side through his reign—and who then saw the injustice he had inflicted upon their people. She couldn't bear to stand by his side any longer, and so she joined the rebellion.''

You drew circles on the dirt with your foot, pondering Venti's words, "And how did you become the Anemo Archon?"

''The individuals who led the rebellion were his partner, Amos, a young boy, and me." Venti's gaze turned sorrowful. ''They both perished, leaving me and Andrius—who also fought against Decarabian and who is now one of the Four Winds—as candidates for the position of the new Anemo Archon,'' he paused. ''Andrius was chosen, but he declined the offer, feeling that he was not suited for such a role. He believed that he was unworthy of this position due to his perceived lack of love for humanity that an Archon ought to have, and so the responsibility fell upon me. I accepted the role, not because I believed myself to be the most qualified,'' he said, lifting up a finger. ''But because I believed in freedom and the goodness of humanity, and once I became the Anemo Archon, I vowed to never repeat Decarabian's mistakes and to protect my people. I reshaped the terrain and changed Mondstadt's climate to its current state and then moved everyone to what is now the current City of Freedom,'' he concluded.

You exhaled heavily as the weight of Venti's words settled in your chest. ''What a journey that must have been.''

"What a journey indeed," he replied, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "I'm glad you didn't get to experience such an event."

Both of you came to a halt, taking in the view of the abandoned city.

''You said you took the form of a human, what did you look like before?''

''Ah, before I took the form of a human, I was just a tiny being who lived in the wind. I had no physical form but rather existed as a manifestation of the wind itself,'' he explained with a smile.

"So now you're, what, human-shaped air?" you asked, trying to wrap your head around the concept.

Venti laughed at your question. "That's an interesting way of describing it! I suppose you could say that.''

You simply nodded and resumed your walking.

You spotted a small opening in the rockface—a split in the wall just wide enough to squeeze through it—from which you could see the light shining out. A flicker of doubt crossed your mind, but you needed to take the chance, so you grabbed his hand and started walking towards it, leaving him no time for reaction.

"I don't think we should go there," he voiced, but you kept dragging him.

"It's alright; I promised I wouldn't do anything stupid, didn't I?"

"Is this your idea of not stupid?"

‘’Just for a while, there’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, you're still keeping an eye on me.’’

As you made your way through the narrow opening, the sharp edges scraped against your skin, causing slight discomfort. Venti followed closely behind, his grip on your hand tight.

Finally, you emerged from the darkness and onto a long and wide road amidst tall boulders. The sky overhead was clear blue with puffy white clouds, and the sound of wind around you was but a low hum. The birds soared over the trees and chirped out a song, unlike the melancholic silence of the abandoned city you had just left behind.

You let go of his hand and walked ahead, taking in the beauty of the surroundings. The vibrant swaying grass danced in harmony with the gentle breeze, and although it was pretty similar to what you had in the Serenitea Pot, it somehow felt different.

"Hold on, you're walking too fast!" Venti called out and hurried to catch up to you.

You didn't listen to him; instead, you kept powering forward until you were met with a small beach overlooking a lake that shimmered under the golden rays of the sun. The water stretched out before you like a sparkling mirror, reflecting the hues of the sky and creating a captivating scene.

A gust of wind gently pushed you back onto Venti's chest, causing you to stumble slightly. He grabbed your chin and lifted it up to make you look at him. "I told you not to run off like that."

"Couldn't help it," you shrugged. "What did you expect? I haven't been here in so long."

His hand squeezed your cheeks. "I get it, but please try to stay by my side."

You huffed in annoyance, letting out a loud and long sigh. "Right, I'm supposed to behave, I totally forgot about that."

"Y/N, I'm serious." He was afraid that the two of you would run into someone familiar and that you would take that as an opportunity to run away, so he tried to be cautious.

You wiggled free from his grasp and made your way towards the lake, taking a few steps closer to the water's edge. "You know I most likely won't get to experience being here again, right? You've been very adamant about keeping me confined in that realm, let me at least enjoy this."

He joined you by the shore. "I didn't say you couldn't enjoy this. I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

You snorted, "Safe from who? I don't see anybody else around here other than you."

Looking around, you noticed a wooden boat tethered to a nearby rock and ran up to it, excitedly tugging on the rope to set it free. Venti trailed close behind, a worried expression on his face. "What are you doing?"

You threw the rope to the side and turned to face him. "I want to go on a boat ride, we don't have that luxury in the realm. We won't go far, just a short trip around the lake. Does that sound good, or are you going to baby me again?"

You both then pushed the boat into the water. He reached out to take your hand in his, helping you lift one leg over the side of the boat and then the other. As you settled into the boat, you saw Venti take his place beside you, a small smile playing on his lips.

The boat gently rocked as it sailed across the still surface of the lake, and the sound of the water lapping against the hull gave you a sense of peace that you hadn't felt in a long time.

You felt a sense of liberation wash over you as the boat moved further away from the shore. The wind tossed through your hair, and the warm sun kissed your skin. You closed your eyes and let out a contented sigh, savoring every moment of this brief taste of freedom.

You leaned over the side of the boat and ran your fingers through the cold water. The fish swam lazily beneath the surface, their scales glistening in the sunlight and creating a vibrant display of colors.

Venti watched you with admiration in his eyes. He understood the significance of this moment for you, and despite his reservations, he was captivated by your joy and the way it lit up your face.

The boat continued to drift along the lake, taking you deeper into its embrace. The surrounding landscape was a picturesque panorama of meadows adorned with wildflowers and half-cut mountains in the distance.

Taking a glance at Venti, you saw him look in another direction with a mix of emotions on his face, one of which was predominantly sadness. He wished he could give you more of these moments where you could truly be free, but he also didn't want to risk losing you.

You dipped your hand into the water again and splashed a handful of droplets onto Venti's face, breaking him out of his pensive state.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be, huh?" he teased, wiping the water off his face with his sleeve.

"Well, I couldn't resist," you replied, splashing some more water in his direction.

"If you're going to play dirty, then I guess I'll have to retaliate," he said, reaching over to splash water back at you.

The boat rocked with your antics, as you two engaged in a water fight, and the tension and sadness that had been lingering in the air vanished, replaced by pure joy and laughter.

You both eventually calmed down, catching your breath and letting the laughter subside. The boat continued its journey across the lake until it arrived on the other side of the shore. You two stepped off drenched but with smiles on your faces.

As you walked on the sand, you talked about everything and nothing at the same time. The conversation flowed effortlessly, as if the water had washed away all the barriers that had been holding you back. While you were talking, you saw a Sunsettia tree a few steps away, its vivid orange fruits hanging from the branches like jewelry. You walked towards it, plucked two of them, and handed one to Venti.

"Here," you said, offering him the Sunsettia fruit.

He took it with a grateful smile. "Thank you. This has been fun, I'm glad I agreed to bring you here."

You smiled back at him. Perhaps thanks to this little adventure, he will let you out more often.

You leaned back against the tree trunk. The soothing rustle of the leaves above provided a calming soundtrack to your conversation.

As the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden glow across the landscape, you felt a gloved hand cover your mouth and push you onto the ground. Looking up, you saw a person wearing a coat and whose face was covered by a mask. You struggled against their grip, but their strength overpowered yours. Panic welled up inside you, and you desperately searched for Venti, only to see that he was apprehended by another masked figure.

The clapping of hands and a voice that sounded like a snake, hissing and ready to strike at any moment, resonated across the air from behind him. ''Well, well, well, what do we have here? A little romantic date interrupted by some unwanted guests?''

You both were lifted from the ground and forced to sit on your knees, hands bound behind your backs. The playful atmosphere had vanished, replaced by a tense and dangerous situation.

Your heart thumped in your chest, and your throat tightened with fear as you looked over your shoulder to see four people standing behind you. You exchanged a quick glance at Venti, who silently tried to reassure you that you would find a way out of this together.

As the voice taunted and threatened, you turned to see a blonde woman in a revealing dress, a cloak draped over her shoulders, and some kind of crown perched on her head.

She approached Venti from behind and grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head back. "You thought you could avoid me, bard?" she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "No more slipping away, you little rat."

Venti let out a laugh. "What more, O highness, dost thou crave from me? Yet more songs, perchance, to set your spirit free?" he joked.

The woman's grip tightened on Venti's hair, her nails digging into his scalp. "Quit it with the rhymes," she hissed, and her eyes were like flames, scorching everything they touched. "I assure you; this is far from a laughing matter. I already took your Gnosis; maybe I can take something more from you." She let go of his hair and turned to face you.

It looked like Venti had encountered this woman before, and she had some deep-seated vendetta against him.

The masked man who was holding you in place pulled out a dagger and pressed it against your throat, causing you to take a sharp intake of breath. The cold metal glinted ominously in the dying light of the sun, casting a shadow across your face.

Venti shifted uneasily in front of you, his eyes locked on the dagger that threatened your life. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

''Isn't this the mortal you hold so dear? The one you spent countless days serenading with your songs and that you now hold behind lock and key? How selfish of a God of Freedom,'' the woman mocked, ''I must say, I've never seen such devotion from a God before. It's truly touching,'' she gestured towards the person behind you. "But you're no better than your predecessor.''

Venti's body tightened at the sight of the dagger pressing deeper against your skin. He clenched his fists and said, ''I fucking swear, if you do something to her, you will regret it. I spared you many times before, but my patience is wearing thin. I won't hesitate to kill you and your stupid fatui puppets." His voice trembled with a mix of anger and desperation.

The woman laughed coldly, her eyes narrowing with amusement. "Oh, how bold of you to threaten me, Barbatos. But I think you underestimate the lengths I'm willing to go to get what I want."

As he locked eyes with the woman, his demeanor darkened and his speech took on a more serious tone. "Did you forget who you're dealing with, Rosalyne?"

Her eyes widened at the mention of her name, and she slapped him, the sound echoing throughout the tense atmosphere. Venti's head snapped to the side, but he didn't flinch; his defiance only seemed to fuel her anger.

''Is this how you always greet people? By slapping their faces?'' he laughed sarcastically. "You should be more careful with your actions and words, they leave traces.''

She leaned closer to him. "You don't get to mock me, Barbatos. You see, I would like to know what you would do if I were to end your mortal's life right in front of you. Would you still have the audacity to talk to me like that?''

The fatui behind you retracted the blade from your throat only to twist it around his hand and try to stab you, but you never felt it pierce your skin.

At that, a powerful surge of wind swept through the air, and you heard heavy weights fall to the ground. You looked up to your sides just to see a gruesome scene; the heads of the fatui rolling across the ground and leaving a trail of blood in their wake, their lifeless eyes staring back at you. In horror, you quickly closed your eyes and tried to fight the nauseous feeling in your stomach.

Venti stood tall in the midst of the chaos, as the wind whipped around him, carrying the scent of blood.

''I warned you, didn't I? I warned what would happen if you dared to harm her.'' He spoke with a chilling conviction that sent shivers down your spine.

Rosalyne took a few steps back and attempted to channel her elemental powers through her catalyst in a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation. Venti raised his hand, and a whirlwind formed around him before she could utter a single incantation. The wind blew her off her feet, causing her to collide with a nearby wall. As she collided with the hard surface, she let out a strangled cry of pain, and her body crumbled to the ground.

He stood over her, ''I don't think you're familiar with the expression fuck around and find out, are you?''

She attempted to stand, but her body trembled from pain. "I'm from Mondstadt, you wouldn't harm someone from your nation,'' she panted. "Try to kill me, and I'll make sure your precious little—''

Slashes began to appear on her body as if carved by an unseen force, causing her to scream in agony. Venti's wind continued to slice through her with precision, each cut calculated, inflicting pain but avoiding any fatal blows.

As the wind howled around them and the air was thick with tension, carrying the echoes of Rosalyne's screams, his eyes bore into her writhing form. His once playful and carefree demeanor had morphed into something dark and unyielding.

With one last slash, his wind finally ceased, leaving her broken and bloodied on the ground. Her body twitched and convulsed with each ragged breath she took. "Do me a favor and die here, Rosalyne," he said with a frosty tone, his words lacking any warmth or emotion.

As you stared in disbelief, he turned around and began walking towards you. His steps were heavy, each one echoing in the silence until he came to a halt in front of you. His eyes, now devoid of their usual gleam, were hauntingly intense. He knelt down and gently stroked some of your blood-stained hair; it was gentle, contrasting with the brutality he had displayed moments before.

''We're going home,'' he said, and grabbed you by the wrist to pull you up from the ground. The golden mist from before swirled around you both once more, taking you back to the realm.

You now stood at the entryway of the house. Your heart still pounded from the horrifying events that happened during the evening.

Venti looked you up and down. "Take your clothes off and go bathe. There's blood on you,'' he commanded.

You didn't move, your voice shaky as you spoke, "What did you do?"

His eyes met yours. "What did you want me to do?"

''You murdered those people!''

"Would you have rather died?" he yelled. "I protected you!"

''Yes! ...no, I don't know! You're not supposed to protect me by killing other people!'' You managed to say through labored breaths, ''There must have been another way to handle the situation, we could have found a peaceful resolution, or we could have tried to escape...''

As he listened to your words, his gaze hardened, and his jaw clenched tightly. ''Peaceful resolution? With someone like her?''

"I don't know what you did to her to make her hate you so much, but resorting to violence is not an answer!"

''Enough!'' he snapped, ''You will not be leaving again.''

"Venti," his name escaped your lips.

He shivered. This was the first time you pronounced his name since he brought you here. He wanted you to call his name for so long, but not like this.

You lowered your voice, making it gentle and soothing to try and reach him in his hardened state. "Was a single life above those people?"

''Your life is above those people. You don't realize just how important you're to me, Y/N." He tried to come closer to you, but you stepped back.

You didn't want to continue this conversation anymore. It was futile to reason with him.

This whole situation was giving you a horrible night. Every time you were close to falling asleep, you'd toss and turn in bed, replaying the events of the evening in your mind. The images of heads rolling on the floor and that woman's horrifying scream as Venti slashed through her kept flashing before your eyes.

You tensed up as you heard the door creak open, your heart racing once more. You watched Venti stumble into your room as he clumsily made his way over to you. He sat on the bed and leaned in close, his lips almost brushing yours and his breath heavy with the scent of dandelion wine.

You backed down, causing him to fall on you and rest his cheek on your collarbone as he sighed heavily. You nudged him to sit up straight, but he groaned and buried his face deeper into your collarbone, both arms tightly wrapped around you, refusing to let go.

"Y/N..." he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. His shirt was rumpled and unbuttoned, exposing a teal tattoo on his chest. This was the first time you saw his bare skin in such an intimate way and you couldn't help but trace your fingers over the design, admiring the details and the way it seemed to glow under your touch.

While you lay there, fascinated by the intricate tattoo, you felt Venti slowly lift his head from your collarbone and leave a trail of soft kisses down your neck. The feeling of his lips against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks.

"Hey," you said, placing your fisted hand on his chest and lightly pushing him away. "You should go to bed. You're drunk."

Venti looked up at you, his usually vibrant eyes now hazy and clouded with the effects of alcohol. He let out a small chuckle. "I'm in bed."

''Not in yours...''

He hugged you tighter, ''What does it matter?''

You sighed, trying to come up with an excuse, ''It matters because this bed is not big enough for the both of us.'' That was a lie; the bed was large enough for two people, but you felt uneasy about this situation and wanted to create some distance between yourself and Venti.

He resumed giving you neck kisses as one of his hands made its way underneath your shirt, caressing your bare back. ''I love you, haah... I love you a lot,'' he breathed out. ''Give in to me already.''

"Venti, this is getting out of control." You tried to push him away harder, but his other arm wrapped around your waist and held you firmly in place. "You need to get back to your room."

You attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, but his strength was surprisingly strong for someone who seemed to be so intoxicated. The two of you lay there in a tangled mess of limbs.

You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. You couldn't help but think about the complicated relationship you shared with him. He kidnapped you and forced you to stay by his side, yet he never treated you badly; in fact, he had shown you nothing but kindness and affection.

A soft snore escaped his lips, and you turned your head to see him knocked out. You scanned his features, taking in the relaxed expression on his face and the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

You woke up the next morning to soft rays of sunshine filtering through the curtains. As you stretched and yawned, you realized that you were no longer tangled with Venti. You turned your head and saw him still peacefully asleep beside you; his messy hair was spread across the pillow, and he was now covered in a blanket, hiding the teal tattoo that had captivated you the night before. You carefully removed your side of the blanket and tried to slip out of bed, but as you did, Venti stirred and his eyes fluttered open. He groaned and rubbed them, looking at you with confusion.

"What am I doing here?" he mumbled, his voice rough and low.

"You came home drunk last night and made your way into my bed," you replied, trying to hide the lingering warmth on your cheeks.

As he propped himself up on his elbows, his expression changed from confusion to realization. He took in the familiar surroundings of your bedroom as he looked around. He then glanced down and saw that his shirt was still on, albeit slightly wrinkled and unbuttoned halfway, causing it to fall loosely off his shoulders.

''Nothing happened,'' you quickly added, hoping he wouldn't misinterpret the situation.

He watched you walk up to the dresser, grab a brush, and run it through your hair while you tried not to look at him. He leaned back against the pillow, one arm behind his head as his hand absentmindedly ran through his messy hair.

''Venti,'' you turned to him, ''The state you were in last night was because of—''

''The fatui,'' he interrupted. ''I made you uncomfortable. I made you fear me,'' he said, looking up at the ceiling. ''I don't want you to see me as a monster, Y/N.''

You didn't say anything, instead, you kept brushing your hair.

''I'm sorry. I can't make it up to you with words alone, but," he paused for a second, "I don't want to lose you. I sacrificed so much in my life. I said goodbye to so many people." His voice faded away, losing its strength and volume. "If I had someone to pray to, I would ask them to let me keep at least one person by my side, just one is enough."

He got out of bed and walked over to you, taking your hands in his and looking you in the eyes. He brought them up to his lips and gently kissed your fingers. "You're everything I have."

#yandere #venti x reader #venti x y/n #yandere venti #lord barbatos #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #la signora #fatui

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blueteller · 1 year

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I really love your theories so I have a question for you, what do you the sealed tests were ?

Reading it, I felt like they had way to much informations and stuff happening in it to not be a real world somewhere and then Raon kinda said he sorta remember Dodam so it can't really be another earth because I feel like Raon would not be feeling Dodam either so maybe another timeline ?

Do you think they'll come back at some point ?

That's an excellent question! I've given it a lot of thought, myself.

Personally, I think the twist is that instead of all tests being illusions, each one worked on completely different mechanics: it was to fool the people undertaking the tests to make them stuck for as long as possible, if not indefinitely, and absorb their despair at being trapped.

The first test was an extra one: unofficially called "test of despair", courtesy of Clopeh.

This test was an "illusion of conditionally alternative reality". The world itself was fake, however, the God of Despair had limited influence over it, due to it being heavily based on the TCF reality. I imagine the God of Despair used up a lot of his power for that one.

That reality was altered in two key ways: one, Cale Henituse did not exist. As in, he wasn’t a member of the Henituse family and was never born there. Two, the White Star was replaced by an avatar of the God of Despair, who made himself look like Cale Henituse. It was to trick Cale's group into fighting an "evil Cale", then display the footage in the real world and present it as "Cale's group betraying him". This scheme ultimately failed, because of the God of Death's cintamani. I am not sure what the passing requirement actually was in that test – because the Sealed God himself destroyed that test before it was finished. He probably figured he had a better chance of tricking Cale into using Embrace on him and using it to control him, somehow. Another scheme failed because of the God of Death – who had Cale use his Divine Item to seal him.

The rest of the tests followed the "standard format" of the Sealed God's temple: sadness, sloth, failure, indignity, and wrath.

The test of sadness was based on a person's memory. That was all there was to it. No alternations, no changes. Pretty simple. To pass it, you needed to "accept your sadness" – the same way Cale had to "accept the despair yet to come" in his test back on Earth 2.

The next test was a lot trickier. It was still based on memory, but it had specific properties: indulgence and numbness. It made the person gradually forget that they're in a test at all. It might seem simple on the surface, but in my opinion, it was the most dangerous test of all. Because once you forget you're in danger at all, how can you defend yourself? Luckily, it seems all of Cale's friends managed to pass that one somehow, even thought the passing requirement was never quite made clear to me. I suppose you just needed to "let go of indulgence" and move forward to face the difficulties of the real life.

The test of failure is where things get interesting. It was intended as an "impossible task" kind of test. As Choi Han's case with Harris Village had shown, it was a test where you experienced a failure of your past in a continuous loop. Try as hard as you can to correct your failure, it was an illusion where reality was actively against you. Choi Han should have no problem returning to Harris Village on time, knowing there was an attack coming. And yet the test made him fail over and over. Choi Han was implied to eventually out-stubborn the test, which is truly impressive, as Clopeh believed such a thing was not possible, and the solution was to "accept failure" in order to proceed.

The test of indignity is the strangest of them all; because all signs show that it was the only one where an Actual Alternate Reality was involved.

From what we know about Single-Lifers, such as Choi Han, they’re the only ones who are able to travel between dimensions in their own bodies without issues – of course in Part Two (slight spoiler alert!) we are introduced to Cale's mirror, another Divine Item from the God of Death. However, even with the mirror or the Hunters, they're all required to pay a price for such travel. Even during their travel to the murim world, Cale and his group needed to change appearance in order to "fit in".

That's because regular people are not meant to dimension-travel. Such things seem to be usually only for Gods, Wanderers or other divine beings. For Variables, such as transmigrators, it's necessary to change bodies to "native" ones when they change dimensions.

It is no coincidence that while Choi Han just got dropped into the TCF universe out of nowhere, Cale's soul was placed in the body of a local. That's because he couldn't be simply transported in his own Korean body. Notice how in each test, except the indignity one, Cale and the others were in their own bodies. Only in this one they were all temporarily transmigrated into someone else – although with how 20-year-old Kim Rok Soo was still inside Cale during the Sealed God's test, it's clear that the God of Despair doesn't switch souls, but temporarily places a second soul in another person's body.

That's why I'm 100% sure the indignity test was the only one with a real other universe involved. There were also differences Cale noticed, such as the absence of the Super Rock in the villa. It wasn't an illusion world based on his memories. It was a different world entirely. But it was still similar enough for the Sealed God to choose it his test target, as the same thing happened with Earth 2.

And finally, we got the last test: wrath.

While the extra test was an illusion of an alternate reality, sadness was a memory, sloth was a mind-numbing trap, the failure was a time loop, and indignity was another world… wrath is the only one which is 100% fiction.

It is a world crafted by a sneaky temple AI for one purpose only: to piss you off.

The thing is, if Cale hadn't thought that nonsense of how "kids complaining about food" et cetera are things that "make him angry", his test would probably be a little different. Because, let's be clear here: if the White Star truly had won over Cale, he would never let him live peacefully with the kids. Especially not comfortably enough for them to complain about such mundane thing as food.

The temple took Cale's absurd suggestions and meshed them all with the vision of what truly pissed Cale off: the White Star winning and doing whatever the hell he wanted. If the White Star had won, he wouldn't leave a single one of Cale's allies alive. …Especially not Raon, whom that bastard threatened to cut his heart out of and feed it to Cale.

The point is: logically, the wrath test made no sense. There wasn't any internal consistency to it – even illusion!Eruhaben himself pointed out it did not make any sense. Clopeh's version of the wrath test was seeing Cale and his group in jail and awaiting a trial, as if that would ever happen! If Cale got caught, they would have tortured and killed him, not involving any legal procedures. What would even be the point?

From my observation, the only way to pass this test is to cool off – so unless you're able to defeat whatever it is that "makes you angry", you'd be stuck. Which, honestly, doesn't seem like a very effective trap to me… but I suppose making someone pissed off enough makes them reckless (as seen by Cale bleeding and all over the place and beating up the White Star with a rock like there's no tomorrow…), which is quite dangerous in itself. And if a person manages to pass all the previous tests without issues, it would make sense that anger could be their final weakness.

To answer your final question - do I think Dodam!verse will come back at some point?

Yes. Absolutely.

So yeah - that's my take on the Sealed God's temple tests. I hope you enjoyed it!

#tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of the count’s family #tcf meta #tcf theory #analysis #sealed god's temple #sealed god's tests #despair test #sadness test #sloth test #failure test #indignity test #wrath test #q&a #replies

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percywinchester27 · 2 years

Text

The new Mrs. Winchester (11)

Word count: 5.1K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Mentions of abuse and PTSD, fluff ;)

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: I’m so sorry that this took so long, but I hope you like the chapter. I know I do :)

Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23 love ya!

The new Mrs. Winchester masterlist

Sam’s head, for all practical purposes, was killing him. It had started with a pinch at the corner of his eyes and slowly expanded from there until his entire head felt like it was being trampled upon by a hoard of elephants.

That’s what I get for staying up three nights in a row.

Smartly, he’d decided to not drive, choosing to slump in the backseat instead. A week and a half– that’s how long the trip had taken this time. That’s how long he’d been away from home… from her.

Sam shook his head, dispelling the thought. He’d already done enough damage on that eve in the shed. He had seen it in her eyes that she knew now. He’d slipped and she knew exactly how he felt about her. Sam wasn’t an actor by any means, but he’d prided himself on putting up a perfectly impervious passive face. He’d gotten through evenings after evenings of seeing her beautifully clad in dresses, trudged through her soft smiles and the way she pulled her hair up during their breakfasts. Sam had even valiantly laced up her dress that one time, though he was sure, he’d almost expired from the effort of keeping his expression together then.

Living so close to her felt like an ever-present fire inside of him, which waxed and waned depending on her proximity, and Sam was left to deal with the havoc it wrecked on his mind. As if she were the moon and he a tide that simply had to bend to her will. Which, if he stopped to consider, was a real shame because being in her presence was the only time Sam had truly felt like himself in over two years. He yearned to be with her for that peace as if his brain was a taut membrane which only ever relaxed when she was near.

Sam hadn’t seen her since that evening after he’d left her soaking wet in the foyer. He could not bring himself to. The following day, he’d packed up and left for Chicago. Unlike the other trips, he hadn’t texted to wish her good night, and neither had she. Sam hadn’t slept either. Earlier, it used to be difficult to fall asleep, but now, it had become damn near impossible. No matter where he was, he’d constantly be aware of every sound, before sporadically realising that he wasn’t in his room, and Y/N wasn’t on the other side, knocking on their wall.

The car pushed past the first gate of his driveway and Sam briefly considered getting down and walking back to the house as he always did to clear his head. But what if he ran into Y/N again? No, he dreaded meeting her now, as much as he desperately yearned to see her face. What must she think of him? He’d promised her safety and he himself had slipped.

Hoping to quietly sneak up to his room and bury his head under the pillow until the headache subsided, Sam got out of the car. He hushed the staff milling around before they could announce his presence and made his way up the stairs, praying that Martha had already prepared something, though it was quite early for dinner.

In front of the door, he stopped. His bedroom was locked from the outside, with a white power dusted over the wood.

The hell?

He called out to the staff, abandoning all his caution. Abigail, the one close to Y/N, strode up to him.

“Why is my room locked?” He asked point-blank.

“Miss asked them to lock it up,” said Abigail, staring unflinchingly at Sam.

Miss and not Mrs. Winchester.

Sam knew the staff didn’t particularly like him and he couldn’t blame them, really. He’d been dry and detached for all of their time here, even curt at times, but the sheer dislike in Abigail’s eyes went beyond any of that. It surprised Sam that she didn’t even try to hide it. Today, the dislike bordered on disgust… hatred.

“Y/N didn’t mention anything about my room,” he said, despite the hostility emanating from the girl before him.

“I wouldn’t know,” said Abigail. “You’ll have to ask her.”

“Where is she?”

“Downstairs, in the gallery, overseeing the restoration.”

Sam didn’t want to make a return trip to the ground floor any more than he wanted to face Y/N, especially when taking each step felt like a new blow to his head. But standing by his closed door wouldn’t accomplish anything. He nodded at Abigail, who jerked up her chin, and resigned himself to his fate.

He heard the loud grunts before he rounded into the gallery. Then, Sam’s jaw hit the floor. Huge drapes covered the left side of the room from top to bottom, and most of the exhibit stands had been piled up in the corner, also covered in drapes. The ceiling that used to be blue with etchings and mouldings had been dismantled entirely to reveal huge interlocking stone and wood arches, creating a magnificent vista. In fact, massive wooden beams lay stacked on the floor where two men sat polishing them. Several other men, mounted on tall ladders, painted the plastered walls an off-white.

Y/N stood next to a burly man in overalls, gesturing with her hands. She wore a simple white t-shirt and camo pants, and Sam was left staring at her. The man shook his head at her and Y/N’s hand dropped, before she shrugged, and the worker doubled over laughing. So did the painters in hearing distance. Y/N shrugged once more.

One of the men saw Sam at the door and signalling to the one next to him, straightened up. The man in overalls caught the hint and sobered up quickly, resuming his earlier, gruff demeanour. Y/N, seeing the change, turned around almost reluctantly and Sam’s breath caught in his throat. Would she be upset? Angry?

Y/N’s wandering eyes landed on him and her lips stretched into a breathtaking smile… one that she only reserved for him. Sam let out the breath he’d been holding all at once. Y/N waved at him enthusiastically to come over, so Sam did. Who was he to deny her what she wanted?

“What do you think?” She asked, excited, pointing at the shade of white on the wall. “I think it goes very well with the wood, don’t you? I called Castiel and he had the jewellery moved to the bank vault while the restoration was in progress. The paintings have been wrapped and stored in the adjoining room. I’m thinking I want to change the flooring entirely. We have the costs for it covered in our quantity–” she explained quickly– “So, we won’t go overboard with the estimate. Be honest, you like how all of this is turning out, don’t you?”

The room looked exquisite, even in the incomplete state, but he would have said yes just to see the smile on her face.

She clapped her hands at his nod, satisfied.

“We’ve opened a few more rooms on the first floor and the third,” she told him, moving away from the men. “How was the trip?”

“Boring. Long.” Sam was being honest. He’d counted days.

A piece of scaffolding fell down while it was being dismantled and Sam flinched, clutching his head as the pain flared up.

A hand touched his biceps and Sam flinched again but for vastly different reasons.

“Are you okay?” Y/N didn’t remove her hand, stepping closer and Sam was acutely aware of her lavender scent.

“It’s just a headache,” he said, leaning into her despite himself. “It’ll pass.”

“The hell it will.” She took his hand and practically dragged him out of the gallery. “You need sleep. This is what you get for staying up for nights at a stretch.”

Sam stared after her, dumbfounded. How on earth did she know?

“You need to lie down on a bed and not get up before morning. When was the last time you slept an entire night, Sam?”

He didn’t reply, and Y/N nodded grimly. “That’s what I thought.”

Sam waited for them to reach his door to broach the subject of it being locked, but rather, to his immense surprise, and wild panic, she led him straight through hers.

“Sit,” she ordered. Sam plopped down on the sofa. He watched her disappear into the vestibule and come out holding a plastic box. She pulled out a strip of tablets, popped out one and handed it to him, followed by a glass of water.

“Eat,” she said. Sam did, without any protest.

“I’m going to ask Martha to send some soup for you, and then you’re going straight to bed,” she followed in the same bossy tone. “And I’ll not hear a word against it.”

“But–”

“Shhh.”

“I–”

“You’ll do as I say if you know what’s good for you.” She bore down on Sam in such an intimate fashion that he couldn’t help but bite into his lip to keep a smile at bay. “I'll go down to the kitchen and get you that soup and you’ll do your best to relax. Abby usually lays out the towels inside; you must want to freshen up.” She didn’t give him a chance to reply before hurrying out, leaving Sam to stare at the dark patterns on the wood.

He found himself in the familiar yet unfamiliar territory of Y/N’s sitting room. Sam had always found the old English style of the house charming if there ever was anything to be liked about the house. He’d picked out the colours for this room, wishing with all his heart that they might make Y/N feel at home, comfortable. He’d picked out the drapes, the carpet and even the bed– the best he could find. And yet, sitting here, without her in the vestibule, made him rather uncomfortable and Sam couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. He wasn’t invading her space. She had dragged him here for heaven’s sake, but the room felt bigger because of her absence.

Maybe Sam should try to break open the door to his room, but he’d promised that he’d stay. Not knowing what else to do, Sam decided to go looking for the towels. The idea of stepping inside the bedroom felt like sneaking into a forbidden place.

“I’ve come here before,” Sam muttered. The walls, understandably, offered no comments. Parting the curtains of the vestibule, Sam gazed about him and the royal blue on grey colour scheme, again picked out by him. Y/N hadn’t changed much about the room. With a prickle in his heart, Sam realised that she hadn’t brought much with her in the first place to bring about any significant change, nor had she bought anything new since.

He found the towels quickly enough once inside the bathroom and then he was hit once more with the fragrance… honey and lilac– her perfume, but not quite. Something about the fragrance seemed too sweet, too sterile, and Sam realised that it smelled different off of her, enticing and warm. The kind that made him lose his head a little.

“Jesus.” Sam rolled his head at his own idiocy and then slumped against the cold tiled wall. This was getting entirely out of hand.

Sam dropped his tie and lost his shirt pretty quickly along with the shoes. But he was too hesitant to undress completely in her bathroom, so that left him standing barefoot in his undershirt and trousers. Since a shower was out of the question, he washed his face in the sink, twice, and then headed back outside.

The room, too, smelled like her.

Sam stood there, staring at the well-made four-poster bed and the navy-blue blankets, not knowing what to do.

The ring of his phone, sounding shriller than usual, had him jumping up, then slapping his hand to his forehead as the ache spread. He patted the pocket of his trousers to find the phone and answered the call.

“Sam,” Cas’s curt voice spoke first and without preamble. “I looked into what we had discussed and I… I found something?”

Sam glanced sharply at the door to check if Y/N was back, then hurried onto the room’s balcony.

“What?”

“Her last name’s Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” said Cas in a rushed voice.

“How the hell did you find out?” Sam asked despite himself. One of the rules of the ‘purchase’ had been that Sam would never know anything about Y/N beyond her first name and age. That would be all. Not that Sam hadn’t tried to find her on the internet afterwards, sifting through hundreds of her name and not finding even a speck on her. Sam knew that the organisation was powerful. Powerful enough to kidnap a person and not have law enforcement look into any of it. But powerful enough to make even the last shreds of someone’s identity disappear from the public eye?

“Nevermind that,” Cas replied tersely. “But I cross-checked. She used to be an architecture student at USC. No records of course. All deleted. Everyone from her batch has since graduated so it was hard to find anyone at all, but I dug around deeper. The story is that she quit college of her own free will and moved to Europe.”

“Bullshit,” Sam spat, shaking.

“I know it’s bullshit,” Cas said patiently as if placating a ten-year-old. “But it’s a start. It helped that she let it slip how she used to study architecture.”

“What else did you find out?”

“Her father died in combat in Iraq when she was seventeen. Her aunt brought her up somewhere down south. I think she’s dead, too.”

Most of that Sam already knew, he noted with some satisfaction. Y/N had trusted him with that information all by herself. But he found himself grappling for more. “What about the mother?”

“No clue. She’s never been in the picture from what I could gather. Either dead or deadbeat.”

So she’d grown up without a steady home, too. “Well, shit.”

“Sam.” Cas’s voice held a weary warning. “Be careful. You might think you know what you’re dealing with, but these people… they have their claws in deep. Not a whisper of her disappearance, or even her existence, as if she’s a ghost story. I’ll stick with you… despite our differences, I’ll ride it out with you, but it won’t be enough.”

A chill went down Sam’s spine at the raw warning, but it didn’t dislodge the anger that simmered under his skin.

“Thanks, Cas. I owe you one,” he said, finally.

“Just… just don’t get yourself killed over this,” Cas sighed. “There’s been enough death here, already.”

“Sam?” The soft, unsure voice from behind, had Sam whirling around on the balcony and clutching the phone to his side after hastily ending the call.

“Here,” he answered, then yanked the door of the balcony. Hard. Too hard, in fact. The door banged on the opposite wall loudly, and glass from the panes shattered, splintering to his feet.

“Shit.” he side-stepped. “I’m sorry.”

The look of concern on her face melted into amusement. “Why are you sorry?”

“It’s your room.”

“But you’ll be the one paying for it,” she pointed out. “Break as many windows as you want.”

He snorted out a laugh, unable to help it.

“Be careful,” she warned, offering her hand. “Sharp things in the heel can be vicious.”

Sam grasped her fingers, and let her help him over the glass and back into the room.

Once she’d ascertained that he was safely away from the glass, Y/N put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I told you to rest. What the hell were you doing on the balcony?”

And Sam couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help imagining a little Y/N having to manage things all by herself when her father wasn’t home.

“You’re staring.” She patted her cheek in bemusement and Sam felt this warmth flow through him. “Something on my face?”

“It’s nothing,” he said and crouched down to clean the glass, but also to look away from her. Failing poker faces aside, he’d shown too much of his feelings already. The last thing he wanted was for her to catch on to just how deep they ran.

One by one he gathered the big pieces, rankling his brain to come up with one normal thing to say. One. But when Sam looked up, he found her smiling down at him indulgently.

“You’re staring,” he smirked, throwing her words back at her. “Something on my face?”

“I expected you to call someone to clean it up.” She shook her head. “But, of course, you wouldn’t.”

Sam found himself blushing at the look in her eyes. No, it was better to concentrate on the glass pieces. At least while he was being an utter and total idiot.

Martha had sent over two bowls of onion soup and some freshly baked bread that triggered a ravenous hunger in Sam. He wanted to be well-mannered in the presence of company, but he was sure he had devoured the food like an ancient caveman. Y/N pushed her bowl forward. “Eat.”

Before he could protest, she added, “I’ve realised I’m not much of an onion soup fan. It’s been over a month and I’m still surprised that I get to actually choose what I do or don’t want to eat. It’s awesome.” She grinned.

Sam dropped his spoon. The soup suddenly started crawling back up his throat. Sam knew that they were slowly inching past the tentative camaraderie into a real, true friendship. That his wildest imaginings were actually coming true. But he should have realised that the closer they got, the more he would know about her past.

He wanted to know about her past. That had been the whole point!

So, why did it feel like the air was being physically ripped out from his lungs? Like an invisible hand was choking him each time she so much as mentioned her past. She must’ve been through horrifying, heinous things, and Sam was so weak, that he couldn’t even bear to listen to them. Then there was the matter of how casually she said it all, in passing, a matter of fact.

But he needed to do better than this… than choke up and go mum each time. He had to do better.

*****

You knew you might be overcompensating, maybe even to the extent of babying him, but God, it felt wonderful to see his face again, hear his voice. After the last time, and everything that had happened in the shed, you’d been terrified that Sam might pull back from you, go back to being reserved. But here he was sitting on your sofa, looking paler by the second.

“I think you really should rest,” you announced, getting to your feet.

“About that,” said Sam, “Why is my room locked?”

You bit your lip. “Umm mould.”

“Mould?” The sardonic raise of an eyebrow undermined your confidence to lie effectively, but you still mustered a tilt of your chin.

“Yes, Sam, mould. The contractor tried to figure out where all the mould had spread from the basement. Turns out the entire section of the mansion from down there to your room is infested by, at least, some amount of mould.”

He frowned. “Then what about yours?”

“I’m lucky,” you chimed in. “It isn’t much, but I thought it’s better to have the section of wallpaper replaced in your bedroom.”

“What about my things?”

Sam didn’t exactly seem suspicious of your outright lies, but he was clearly wary. He didn’t want anyone sneaking into his space, which was weird because once the contractor gave you an inventory, you realised there was absolutely nothing personal in his room, apart from heaps and heaps of books. Everything else had been clinical and necessary– clothes and stationery. The weirdest of all things must be that his bathroom had been devoid of all toiletries, which led you to believe that he must carry them all on his trips, instead of having a separate set for trips like a normal person. Sam’s bedroom was no different for him than any other hotel room he might have resided in on the hundred trips.

His real bedroom was in the outhouse.

“Sam, I didn’t mean to pry,” you mumbled, a nasty feeling blossomed in your gut. You might have started out with the objective to repay him for all his kindness, but in the end, you had breached his privacy.

He brushed it off with a wave of his fingers. “It’s alright, but my clothes–”

“–I put them in my wardrobe for the time being. I swear I didn’t touch your things, and neither did I clear them. The usual cleaning crew handled all of it, but I didn’t want to keep it out so I put it in mine and–”

“Y/N.” He covered your hand with his, and though the warm skin felt instantly comforting, you jerked from the unexpected rush in your body. “Didn’t we decide to not step on eggshells around each other? Well, not so much in words, but I think we agreed on something like that, didn’t we?”

You stared fixedly at his hand on yours, once more finding that tiny crease where his pulse bet visibly. “I don’t understand what’s okay and what’s not okay with you.”

He paused, and you could hear his steady breath.

“Is this okay?” He asked, brushing your fingers lightly with the hand resting over them.

You nodded. “But that’s really the problem. I don’t seem to mind anything you do.” Maybe you shouldn’t have admitted it out loud. After all, you knew the reason, but Sam didn’t. Was he also remembering the moment in the shed when your heart had stopped beating for a second?

“Okay, I have a solution, then,” Sam suggested. “We both use our respective brains to figure out how friendship works and then follow our gut. No awkward silences, no asking for permissions and absolutely no formality. We’ll figure it out as we go, yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“And if we– if I ever… you’ll tell me. You will tell me.” He offered his other hand. “We have a deal?”

You shook it firmly, a smile on your face. Sam’s hands felt all too familiar now.

“I’m going to find my clothes and go sleep in the library, yeah?” He said softly, letting go of the handshake.

“Nonsense. You can’t sleep there.”

“Where else then?” Sam scoffed. “I’m not sharing Jack’s room. He snores and I’d like to actually sleep. Thank you very much.”

“You can sleep here,” you said too soon. The thought had obviously crossed your mind the moment you had decided to take up Sam’s room– that he could board with you. And as much as the idea of sharing a room with him scared you, the pit in your stomach was a concentrated dose of excitement.

“Here?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with my room,” you said, voice an octave higher, as you showed off the place. “Beautiful curtains, fluffy carpet, pretty balcony— aahhh!”

Looking down, a blooming stain of crimson met your eyes, on the very same carpet you had been just selling to Sam. You hopped back on one foot, taking the support of the wall behind to look at your feet. A stray piece of glass, one that Sam had missed, was lodged in the heel of your foot, and blood dripped down in a steady stream from it.

“Shit.”

The piece was embedded grotesquely, but you knew the best thing would be to pull it out now rather than wait. It was going to hurt either way. As you reached for it, firm arms wound their way under your knees and behind your back. The next second, you found yourself cradled in Sam’s arms, so close to him that you forgot to draw in air. He only wore a single layer of his undershirt and the heat of his body had your blood singing in your veins. His face was inches away, and you could see his tawny-blue eyes so much better. He was beautiful! His fingers at your arms and knees weren’t hesitant in any way. No eggshells.

Too soon, Sam had seated you on the edge of your bed. He reached into the pocket of his pants, retrieved a pristine white handkerchief and held it below your heel.

“It’s okay… I can get it,” you started but the words faded into silence, as feather-light, his fingers brushed the glass. The piece was thin and long and had lodged itself deep inside. Wouldn’t be the first time and you were ashamed to admit that the feeling of it being driven into your heel had brought with it a savage familiarity… a horrifying relief. You forcefully wrenched your mind away from that thought.

“It’s broken inside. Fuck!” He cursed.

The first time you’d ever heard Sam Winchester swear was over glass in your foot. He left your side only for a moment and returned with the first aid box. From inside, he pulled out an unused syringe needle, tearing the pack with his teeth.

“This will hurt,” he said quietly and wielding the needle like a pen, started picking at the braised skin around the glass. You winced when he dug in too deep, but Sam never faltered, never fumbled. With his brow furrowed and eyes focussed on the task at hand, you couldn’t help but marvel at the man, at Eros. The emotion rising within you in tidal waves threatened to drag you under, stung at the corner of your eyes and yet, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

At long last, the glass pieces tinkered to the ground, bloody and broken. Sam didn’t look up. He reached out for the antiseptic, methodically cleaned the wound, and then bandaged it with precision and care. Of course, you fell a little more in love with him.

When he looked up, Sam’s eyes were resigned. “I’m sorry. Should’ve cleaned up that glass better.”

Placing a hand on his shoulders, you smiled. “You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Now go get changed, so you can finally sleep off that headache.”

Sam dutifully went through the motions of retrieving his clothes and then taking a shower. You couldn’t deal with the sound of the shower’s running water without feeling hot in the face, so you excused yourself to the balcony. The warm twilight had transformed into a chilly evening.

Sam looked alert when he stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a full-sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants. With damp hair and a shiny nose, he looked soft, somehow. You gobbled the rest of your dinner in relative silence, peeking at Sam at every given opportunity, wondering if it would be too soon to bring up the sleeping arrangements again. Your feelings aside, there really was no other comfortable room in the mansion. Most of it was still very much uninhabitable.

Once the bowls had been removed, Sam stretched out on the sofa he’d been occupying, shimming to get comfortable.

“You can’t sleep here!”

He sprang up. “But I thought you said–”

“No. I meant you can’t sleep on the sofa.” The broken window had turned the seating area into a chilly room. With his headache, Sam would most definitely catch a cold if he spent extended time lounging here. “Get inside before you freeze your toes off.”

Sam looked perplexed.

“Don’t worry, unlike Jack, I don’t snore.” Getting to your feet, you started limping in the direction of the bedroom vestibule when Sam’s hand reached out to support you by the elbows.

“The carpet sure looks more comfortable than the sofa,” he said and you sensed a smile in his voice. He was humouring you but not unwillingly. Your bones felt light.

“Wait.” His words finally registered. “You’re not sleeping on the floor. You’re sleeping on the bed.”

Sam dropped his hands from your elbow all at once.

“I am sleeping on the floor,” you added pointedly.

“Oh, hell no!” He protested. “What kind of a man do you think I am?”

“A man with a headache. You’re unwell. Get your ass up on the bed.”

The two of you had reached the bed in question. With its deep blue curtains and cream covers, the very non-threatening bed looked all too inviting.

“Y/N,” said Sam, “I’m not sleeping on the bed if you’re going to sleep on the floor.” He was offended, you realised… incensed even, the gentleman that he was; but you weren’t giving up. After locking him out of his room, you weren’t about to sleep on the four-poster like a princess, while he slept down.

In the end, you both got your way but also didn’t. The bed lay empty and while Sam stretched out on the soft rug on one side of it, you lay down on the other. Unable to stop your giggles at the absurdity of the situation, you turned on your side to face Sam. You found him grinning at you from across the bed. The ornate legs of the bed framed his body perfectly, as he too lay on his side facing you.

“You’re impossible!” You muttered.

“You’re the one to speak,” he shot back.

Tempting as it was to keep staring at his face, you forced yourself to close your eyes, counting breaths in order to fall asleep. Sleep wouldn’t come. How could it? When Sam lay mere feet away. You spent the time trying to convert poetry in your head.

“Y/N?” He whispered, long after you thought he must’ve fallen asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Who did that to you?” He hesitated, voice falling down further. “Your heels… who did that to you?”

Of course, Sam had seen the marks from when hot pins had been inserted up your heels to discipline you. He’d seen them and recognised them for what they must be. And it wasn’t letting him sleep.

“Michael.” Though only a whisper, your contempt for the single word made it sound like a malevolent hiss.

“Does… does it still hurt?”

“No.” Not physically anyway. But the aching familiarity, and obvious instinct of obedience from when the glass had pierced your heel, led you to believe the pins had done more damage to your mind than your feet.

“Y/N?”

His voice sounded so strangled that you had to look at him.

“Hmm?”

And you wouldn’t ever forget the look of cold hatred in his eyes as he said, “I’ll rip him apart limb to limb before he ever touches you again.”

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

A/N 2: How did you like my take on the ‘there was only one bed’ trope? I mean both of them are stubborn enough to pull that off. How did you like the chapter?

I’ll try to do better with the posting from now on!

Please do let me know if you liked this part. Reblogs and comments are what keep me going!

If you want to be tagged, you can send me an ask or you can add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

TNWM taglist:

@cosicas-cuquis @daughterleftbehind @maliburenee @spn730015 @aeo10fan @stoneyggirl2 @houseforwhores @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @linki-locks11 @cookiechipdough @impalaimagining @gabavaldman @multifandom-slxt @chalicia @mrswhozeewhatsis @likhelbentin @vividreader @mackiemcb @qveenmikaelson @lightchesters @deanwanddamons @bluedragonflylady @daddys-littlewhitegirl @mlovesstories @sams-bubblegum-bitch @chinosherlock @hoboal87 @sandlee44 @mariaenchanted @little-x-wolf @theanniewisegirl @supraveng @i-is-for-inspiring @fandom-princess-forevermore @sammedeansandwhich @trexrambling @wittysunflower @strawberryycows @joseyrw @agenthellcat @lacilou @giggles1026 @aloneatpeace @perpetuallyoverwhelmed @borhapparker @wafflezo @sammysgirl @goodbyemilkyway @winnifredburkleismyhero @impalaspixie @edwardsfangirl1712

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester #sam love club #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester x you #sam x you #sam x y/n #sam winchester x y/n #reader x sam winchester #Ana writes Sam #anawrites #anawritesspn #Ana writes tnmw #tnmw11 #q

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lgcxnoeul · 21 days

Text

NEWKIDSNEWDREAMS ⋮ PROFILE

It still didn’t feel real that he had been chosen to be part of a debut lineup. He had conflicting feelings about the announcement, but nonetheless, there was a level of excitement bubbling inside of him. He wanted to block out the rest and focus solely on living in the moment, especially when the chosen trainees were expected to shoot content. It shouldn’t be too difficult to showcase a genuine representation of himself.

“Between dancing, singing, rapping, producing and lyrics writing, which skill do you want to be recognized for?”

“None.” He blurts out, interlocking his fingers over his knee. He tilts his head, glancing at nothing in particular over the camera. “I’m not trying to be difficult… Why should I pick one over the other?” He straightens his posture, corner of his lips lifting upwards into a smirk. “I like to think of myself as a blank canvas. I’m still a work in progress. I don’t want to box myself into someone that colors within the lines. I suppose that I could draw over the first reiteration and the next—“ He pauses, realizing that he was rambling instead of answering the question. “I’ve never aspired to be someone that was good at one skill. If I could do it all—No, if I want to do it all, I will and you can hold me accountable. I’ve grown a lot since I first became a trainee. I’d like to think my skills are on par with each other and the rest are a work in progress. I don’t like to see myself as only a dancer, or only a rapper. For now, I have to accept that those would be the labels given to me as a rookie artist, but in the future, I’m confident I will stand in front of you as a multifaceted artist.”

“Which role would you ideally like to have in the final lineup?”

“I don’t want to limit myself. Are roles necessary?” He questions with a soft laugh, making direct eye contact with the camera. “I should be bold, right? I don’t think anyone expects anything different from me. I want to have the center position.” He proclaims with a firm nod, smile lingering on his lips. “Typically, the role goes to a vocalist, but I’ve never limited myself to what’s the norm. I want to shake the industry, not participate in the game everyone else plays.” He unlocks his fingers, lifting his arms in a shrugging motion. “For the past two years, I’ve actively been seizing all the opportunities that have been presented to the trainees as opposed to being satisfied with sitting on the sidelines. I’ve proven to not only be a dependable performer on and off stage, but I will never be satisfied by my performance. I have always strived to be better than my last performance.” He bites on the inside of his cheek, exhaling softly soon after to continue answering the question. “It’s not a position of vanity for me. It’s a delicate balance of displaying consistency, grasping the concept of the song, and still prioritizing teamwork. At the end of the day, we’re still a team and no position is more important than the other, but I’d like if it all my hard work would amount to something, y’know?” Before the next question is presented, he interjects: “I would like to throw my bid for leader too.” He blurts out, stifling a laugh. “I have not always been a rule follower. I tend to bend them if there is any leeway, but isn’t that the fault of the rule maker rather than the rule breaker?” Was he making any sense? He could see the amusement in the staff member’s face. “I have matured a lot since I joined as a trainee. I know when to listen and when to speak up. I believe a group with powerful personalities requires a type of leader that isn’t passive in nature, but rather someone that can adapt, deliver results, and be willing to think of the overall harmony of the team.”

“On which other youtube show would you like to appear?”

“All of them?” He responds, adjusting his posture and beaming a smile at the camera. “I’ve been a host of two shows so far. It’s not easy…” It wasn’t a brag. He still felt like he was lacking as a host. He had avoided looking at the comments for a reason. For him, he was willing to learn by doing and observing, which he felt like it was a more valuable way of learning. “I’m really interested to see how other shows work behind the scenes and each host is so unique...” He trails off for a moment, resting his hand on his thigh. “There is a lot to learn! That’s how I see it. I believe it’ll be fun to showcase our group dynamic around someone else and of course, see the members personality shine too. If I had to list the shows, I would say that I would love to be on Idol Human Theater, K-Star Next Door, Workman, MMTG, and Halmyungsoo.”

“What’s your ideal concept?”

“My ideal concept would entail music that has a strong DNA of all of our members. Ideally, I would love for each member to shape the music we perform whether that is through producing, composing, or choreographing. Although, I know that not everyone is interested in contributing that way, but if we’re able to have a say that would be ideal for me. I think that’s the distinction between an artist and an idol.” He wasn’t mincing his words. Perhaps, he should have been more careful, knowing his words could be twisted into a different meaning, but he wanted to be honest. He didn’t want to be a performer that only performed other people’s music or vision, which he would still respect if any else felt fulfilled by it. “I want our music to connect with the audience, and for us to leave a lasting impression. I find all of the current members to be quite charming, full of wit, and some are more chaotic than others, but I think our synergy will be really fun and our music should showcase that too. I want to prove that our group can do it all… Maybe, I’m being too ambitious, but I believe in the members that we can strive to be a group that is more than capable of forging our own path. I want us to be bold.”

“Is there a concept that wouldn’t suit you?”

“I’d like to think of myself as versatile. I don’t think there is a concept that I wouldn’t be able to present, but in terms of enjoying it…” He softly laughs, slightly shaking his head while figuring out how to be careful with the rest of his response. “It would have to cute and fresh, right? I don’t think anyone wants to see me doing aegyo. I feel like if we had to a concept like that it would have to be quirky, or the cuter members would have to be at the front. That’s me being a team player!”

“As an idol, what do you want to achieve?”

“World domination?” He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Instead of thinking like an idol, I want to see it from a perspective of someone whose first love is music. Awards and nominations are important… I’ll be grateful and honored to receive them, but I don’t want that to be the measurement of our success. I want to always feel proud by the end of every day, which might be difficult to do.” Lately, he had been feeling like he was running of time, chasing after an impossible dream. He was a bit closer than he was last year, but why did the starting line seemed so far away? “I don’t want to ever fall out of love with music. I want to connect with our fans whether we have a million or one. If I’m allowed to dream, I want to have a defining song in my career, but I think that will be far in the future. If you still want a direct answer, I want a stadium tour and I want to become a full member of KOMCA.”

“Is there anything you would like your group to be known for?”

“I meant it when I said I want us to be bold— with our music and the way we carry ourselves. I want us to always be unapologetically ourselves on stage and off stage.” He adjusts his posture, sitting up straighter with a smile brightening his features. “I want everyone to expect the unexpected from us. I would love for all our members to be able to branch out and promote our group with our heads held high. Technically, I think it would be fun to be seen as a self-produce group known for our variety skills and shocking stage presence, and high-intensity choreography. ‘Everything but the kitchen sink’ kind of deal?” He releases a soft laugh, playing with the sleeve of his sweater. “I believe we will succeed in fulfilling our dreams. I hope that you can follow along and enjoy the bumpy ride along the way.”

#lgc:nknd

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mrowmrowmrow9 · 1 year

Text

This was supposed to be a lil post-canon fluff thingy, but it got forgotten due to not having a real plot. Chances of being finished: low.

The title was gonna be “smiling as the world falls apart”, so here ya go!

***

Mon-El wasn’t much of an early riser on Daxam. Most mornings he’d wake up past noon, shoo yesterday’s one-night-stand from his bed, then laze around until Mother dragged him to lunch with her and Father. The days back then seemed to blur into one another, a haze of drugs and sex and that ever-present feeling of helplessness he could never manage to chase away. Earth was different, of course, in many ways, but thankfully his job didn’t require early mornings and so the pattern continued.

That changed, as most things did, in the 31st century. If anyone asked, he would say it was his job. The leader of the Legion had to always be on alert, checking in on the city, and tackling paperwork from previous days when he was too busy. He was just doing his duty.

He would’ve been lying.

The reason he got up so early was that if he lingered, even for a second, after the alarm went off, he would look over at the empty side of the bed, her side, and he’d never get up again.

It’s been a while since those days, but Mon-El forgets sometimes. Forgets about the day Kara stepped through the portal with a gold ring on her finger and a smile on her face and all he could do was kiss her.

Now, when he forgets and throws back the covers without a glance to the other side, she’s there to stop him. A tug on his shirt, or an arm draped over his midriff, and a half-coherent mumble of stay that never fails to melt his heart. That, and remind him that things are different now. The other side of the bed is no longer empty, but occupied by a sleeping Kryptonian who is definitely not a morning person.

Now, he has Kara.

She wraps her arms around his torso, burying her face in the crook of his neck with a contented sigh as she immediately falls back asleep. Mon-El chuckles a little, effectively trapped in place by his lover, and returns the embrace, fingers running soothingly up and down her spine.

He’d be embarrassed to admit it, but he secretly loves the way she is when she’s sleepy, all snuggly and clingy with no thought of the responsibilities that loom over her waking life.

And he loves getting to return the affection, because once they’re up it’s off to the Legion headquarters (often even on weekends) and from there, their work personas take over. Kara’s never been that comfortable with PDA anyway, but for Mon-El, a Daxamite, it leaves him longing for her touch at the end of the day. He savors mornings like these, where they can be as affectionate as they want without a care in the world.

This morning, like most mornings, there is no confusion, no rush to get out of bed as quickly as possible. Why would he, with the sight that greets him upon waking?

The curtains to the wall-to-wall window next to the bed are always open from dawn to dusk, so sunlight streams through and washes the room and her in soft golden light, just like in Kara’s old apartment. Sometimes Mon-El swears he can almost see her absorbing the sunlight, as if someone’s turned the vibrancy up. Her cheeks look pinker, her hair looks like molten gold, and if she’s awake…then those eyes glow like the comets they are.

He wonders if he looks like that to her, too.

#supergirl #karamel #fanfiction #my writing #karamel fanfic #Len’s unfinished crap

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papermatisse · 1 year

Text

sandbox || J.CM (XII)

♘ pairing: gamer!changmin x f!gamer!reader

♘ genre: semi-smau, fluff, crack

♘ word count: 2.2k

♘ warnings: none

series masterlist | main masterlist

prev | next

"I need rice."

"Where are the steaks?"

"I tossed you one earlier!"

"Well, now I need another one!"

"There's no steak orders!"

"Then get me chicken!"

"The chicken is right next to you!"

"I need rice."

Chanhee screamed as the rice he had forgotten about burst into flames before his eyes. Once the fire had begun, so did the pandemonium among the three of them—as if it hadn't already been hectic enough for them. Scrambling around in a panicked fiasco, (y/n) snagged the fire extinguisher and rushed to the scene, Kevin gathered whatever materials he could to get out any last order they could possibly appease, and Chanhee ran about, still screaming in either frustration or panic, or perhaps both.

The timer dinged, and a collected sigh sounded out from the three exhausted chefs who sunk into their seats, defeated after such an abysmal service. Yet they still somehow managed to get the three stars they had strived for.

"Wasn't worth it," Kevin huffed, exiting to return to the main map.

"I lost more than I gained with that level," Chanhee added, downing the water bottle beside him and wiping off sweat as if he had completed a marathon.

"I'm actually quitting if we get another tortilla level, I can't do this again," (y/n) groaned, taking a moment to check her separate monitor where both the chat of their stream resided, though also where the other's first Raft stream played. It was on mute, so as to not disturb her current activities, though it was comforting nevertheless—to merely glance over and see her other friends enjoying themselves together.

As Kevin and Chanhee went through the dialogue of the game, discussing what was to be done with the Unbread wreaking havoc on the kingdom, (y/n) checked up on the boys.

She was watching Jinyoung's stream, and from what she could see, they had not improved much at all in the past hour. Still standing on a makeshift platform of weakened wooden slabs, most of their surface area taken up by chests of useless garbage. While muted, she could tell they were arguing with one another. Jinyoung himself was seated at the sidelines, mouth occasionally moving, but for the most part merely fishing for more material. When he'd glance over, she could see the boys' characters all gathered together facing one another. The argument seemed to be settled when Juyeon shoved Sunwoo off the raft, and they all unanimously began paddling away as quickly as possible.

With a hum of laughter, her eyes shifted to Changmin's avatar. Once again, much like when they first started playing together during Gang Beasts, he had taken time for his character, now with a shark head from when he presumably killed that shark tormenting the lot.

She hadn't forgotten Jinyoung's words, both in regards to her feelings towards Changmin, but also his feelings towards her. She attempted that essay he had assigned her, begrudgingly clicking onto Changmin's archived streams once more to analyze his behavior towards her versus others, though she couldn't help believing her initial stance on the matter.

It just seemed more reasonable to label it as him being kind to a new person as opposed to his familiar group of rowdy boys that requires some form of ruthlessness to survive. The discovery left her more disconcerted, to say the least, now the thought of her crush being unreciprocated plaguing her mind.

She wanted to avoid him. It was easier to write off his actions as being mere human kindness, but it was also easier to merely steer clear of him, thereby ignoring her very real and very present emotions. Feelings were a complicated matter she wanted nothing to do with, especially with a technical coworker. It'd just make everybody uncomfortable, knowing she had grown to like him, and when Changmin rejects her, it would grow awkward amongst the two groups.

But even if she ignored the soft thrum in her heart whenever she was with him, she couldn't deny the fond smile that would sprout on her face from looking at his streams.

She had to conceal her amused giggle as she saw Sunwoo come back with a vengeance, shoving Changmin off the raft next. But the moment Changmin climbed back up, Sunwoo was fleeing, voluntarily running off the raft to avoid Changmin's wrath.

With a grin on her face and a newfound surge of motivation, she turned back to her game, though that energy depleted almost immediately when she saw the next level, sighing tiredly when she saw clouds surrounding the level's entry.

"Okay, here's the game plan," Chanhee began, drawing his co-chefs closer to their monitors as if in a virtual huddle. "Fuck teamwork. Every man for themselves. We each do our own recipes, got it?"

"Yes." Some would say her response was too quick, but it had become clear that they were not good working together. They'd be helping each other more if they just kept to themselves the entire game.

And it somehow magically worked on their first try, each of them keeping to their own dishes as they cranked out orders to the point that they near doubled the required points for three stars.

"They've somehow managed to make a multiplayer game single player," Kevin read one of the comments aloud, earning laughs from the other two who were celebrating their victory. "I feel like we need to play another game to showcase our cooperation skills."

"We don't have any of that," Chanhee stated. "Well, you and I don't. (y/n) is good with co-op, that's why the guys wanted her on their raft."

"(y/n), you should've chosen the raft. This is hell."

"And you think the raft isn't?" Kevin burst into laughter at (y/n)'s words, Chanhee typing as Kevin was preoccupied.

"Let's see what hell on earth really means." As he said this, he began streaming the Raft game on his cam, moving it to take up his screen momentarily.

"I think we're going in circles," Juyeon noted, his character looking around at the vast expanse of ocean surrounding them.

"No we're not, I'm an expert navigator," Byounggon defended himself, continuing to row away without any care to Juyeon's words.

"Then I think we u-turned at some point because we passed by that island already." To their right, a large island obscured by fog rose above the horizon.

"Ah! The shark's back!" Sunwoo hollered, character narrowly leaping onto the raft just as the shark had lunged for him.

"We really need a grill, we have so much shark meat," Jinyoung whined, rifling through one of their chests for inventory.

"Okay yes, that's the same island we went to before, I think I turned us around at some point," Byounggon admitted, already beginning to rotate the small yet terribly bulky raft.

"Who forgot to refill the water?" Changmin's voice was full of disdain, practically dripping with venom as his character glowered at the others, the spear in his hand suddenly extremely imposing, enough to initiate the blame game between them all, pointing fingers and accusing each other to avoid Changmin's fury.

"Wait," Juyeon interrupted the bunch, halting everyone's movements. "My stream is saying that Chanhee is watching us."

It grew quiet for a moment in both streams. (y/n) glanced over at Kevin, his hand covering his mouth, as if attempting to silence his breathing.

The thing that broke their standstill was the familiar chime of someone joining their voice channel on discord, causing the three to all scream in a panic, Chanhee exiting their Raft stream to hide the evidence from the intruder.

"What's going on here? What are you guys up to?" Sunwoo casually asked, the smirk on his face audible through his tone.

"We're cooking!" Kevin explained, clicking onto the next level without consulting anyone, causing Chanhee to screech in protest.

"Your co-chef was on break!" He screamed, snatching up his controller and rushing forth into the level with them.

"Okay, well, you guys can manage the kitchen on your own, right? You'll be fine with me stealing (y/n) for a moment?"

(y/n) blinked at this, pausing her chopping to stare confoundedly at the voice channel upon the man's suggestion, as if staring directly at him.

"Yeah, we can deal with the dinner rush," Kevin agreed, causing (y/n) to turn around and look at his facecam instead with perhaps even more astonishment. And Chanhee had literally nothing else to say, aside from telling Kevin to get out of his way.

And so she was being escorted to the other voice channel alongside Sunwoo, popping in moments later once she had dismissed herself from her fellow chefs.

"(y/n)!" Byounggon exclaimed enthusiastically, prompting the others to follow suit.

"Hello," she greeted them softly, taken aback at the warm welcome. "What's up?"

"We're dying," Jinyoung stated simply. Juyeon quickly jumped in to salvage their reputation, dismissing Jinyoung's words almost instantaneously.

"We're not dying yet," he started. "We are struggling. There's a difference."

"Be more specific, please," (y/n) spoke, biting back her laughter at the sight of the crumbling crew before her.

"Well for starters, they have left me for dead like five times already," Sunwoo snapped.

"Byounggon has been taking us in circles," Juyeon added.

"Jinyoung keeps picking up garbage we don't need at the moment instead of wood which we desperately need," Byounggon joined.

"Sunwoo keeps trying to take revenge for us trying to kill him," Jinyoung's voice now chimed in.

"So you admit you were trying to kill me!"

"Well, yeah, I thought that was a given."

More arguing commenced, everyone shouting over the other in protest. Though as they all fought, (y/n) saw her phone light up with a notification. A text from Changmin.

"A+." The argument came to a halt at Jinyoung's sudden proclamation, a confused silence settling over the group.

"Either way," Juyeon continued, seemingly used to Jinyoung's nonsense at this point and choosing to ignore him. "You're all praying on my downfall, admit it."

"Jokes on you, I'm not religious," Byounggon snapped back, bringing yet another round of silence.

"That's not what praying—Okay, well." Juyeon sighed to himself, relenting at the moment and allowing Sunwoo an opportunity to jump in.

"We'd be doing great if I wasn't constantly in danger of dying by my own teammates."

"We'd be better if you didn't suck ass at this game," Jinyoung muttered, though before Sunwoo could begin arguing with him, Changmin's voice suddenly appeared.

"(y/n), please play with us." His voice was soft, as it always was whenever his words were directed to her.

Suddenly that damned essay of hers came to mind. That essay along with the hours of research she'd sunk into such a minuscule project. Hours of watching Changmin's old streams, laughing at his silly antics, marveling at his gaming expertise, finding herself sinking back into that pitiful state of hers where she'd fall asleep to his voice.

It was an activity that wasn't meant to be completed. Something she knew Jinyoung was merely joking about. But she wrote that essay anyways. And she knew why.

It was a way to convince herself of the falsity of it all. A way to write off his charming mannerisms and unending niceties as something else. As something not correlated to her own budding emotions for him. Because Jinyoung had a point. Changmin was kind. Especially so when she was involved. He was patient and attentive, never showed any form of anger towards her, even in the joking sense. There were his friends, and then there was (y/n). He made her feel like she was her own category to him. Not in an alienating manner, but instead in a reversed sort of respect. A special treatment for this specific person in his life.

And it was growing harder and harder to deny all of these excuses compiling in her fearful mind. Though perhaps she should finally just let go. Embrace her emotions. Neither push for nor neglect the budding emotions stirring in her, or him for that matter. Just see where life takes her.

"Okay," she quietly voiced out, tone displaying her hesitancy in the matter. Clearing her throat, she continued on. "I'll join in the next session."

Silence settled over the group of boys for a second, and she grew worried momentarily that this was not their intention in bringing her here and showing their disorder. Though before she could take back her words, a sudden cacophony of noise sounded through her headphones, all the boys cheering simultaneously at the news.

The dissonance grated on her ears, but she couldn't help but laugh at their ruckus. All of the hostility they once shared with one another now dissipated into nothing, each of them forgetting why they hated the other as they celebrated her arrival.

Returning to Chanhee and Kevin had been less ceremonious.

"You're abandoning us for them?" Chanhee asked, clear disgust laced in his voice. Glancing at his face cam proved her assumption correct that he had a repulsed scowl on his face.

"You can't call it abandoning if we're literally finishing this game tonight," she defended, getting back into the swing of things naturally.

"Uhh, what about Overcooked 1?" Kevin asked, as if it were the most obvious chain of events to play the second game and then the first.

"I didn't sign up for that, I signed up for Overcooked 2."

"Fine, understandable," he grumbled, continuing to cook as orders piled up.

All the while, (y/n) was silently glad she had her camera off, because otherwise everybody would see the permanent smile fixed on her face ever since she accepted the Raft invite.

taglist: @byuntrash101 @valewoos @yogurteume @archival-hogwash @kyufessions @tranquilpetrichor

(a/n): sorry for the delayed chapter! I got distracted w other things lol (finishing that 30k hoshi fic). but I'm back!

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first-impressions-gaming · 8 months

Text

Psychonauts 2

Developed by Double Fine

Published by Xbox Game Studios

Release Date 2021

Tested on Xbox Series X

MSRP 59,99 USD

youtube

A rare occasion it is to encounter an unchained game these days. Do developers follow trends and stick to what “works”? Well, in an era of rise and fall of live service games that hook you with constant updates and multiplayer gimmicks and you desire to be “in the loop” in the gaming. Once in a while unique games steal the spotlight, it’s Psychonauts 2 this time, a game that succeeded the first entry in the franchise after 16 years! Psychonauts 2 is raw, it is lively, it is extremely alluring, charming, mindblowing and deserves all the praise I am gonna lay here.

Not gonna lie here, I did not play the original game but I saw that Psychonauts 2 presents you a short summary what happens in the previous game, therefore you are not stepping in this game blindly, at least you have the basic knowledge who’s who and why we are here, this game is the direct sequel to the first one, you are directly continuing the original story, therefore getting to know the gang and events play a crucial role, otherwise you will be like “wait, why was this man abducted and why did we rescue him?”.

Let’s get to it: we, Raz (short for Razputin), are a psychonaut, a.k.a fortune teller. Who’s a psychonaut, what do they do? They travel into people’s minds and unearth the hidden doors that open to undiscovered parts of their brain. We investigate kidnapping of Truman, the doctor and head of our group. It turns our Loboto did kidnap Dr. Truman, but we are positive he’s not acting alone, there must be somebody directing and using him as a tool. As a strategic plan, the company we work for ‘chooses’ Loboto as the employee of the year as a farce and they say this certificate has to be signed by the person who hired him, the team plans to tail Loboto and find out the one behind the kidnapping. This way, we would not reveal ourselves to Loboto and will face the mastermind behind all this. Loboto isn’t aware that we know what he’s been carrying out.

Psychonauts 2 excels at being satirical and critical at common things that do happen in real life, and they’re so commonplace that you kind of ignore or mark as ‘usual’ automatically. For example, the satire and criticism against corporate management and hidden toxicity is well represented and portrayed. When Raz is recruited as an intern at Psychonauts HQ, called The Motherlobe, we ask directions for the intern program summer and one of the characters is being unhelpful and says “are we hiring kinder-gardeners now?”

Raz is called to the director’s room, Agent Forsyhthe, and guess what, he’s assigned to the mailroom, the most basic, boring task which doesn’t require any skill or special ability. Raz raises, at least he attempts to in his capacity, his doubt about this assignment thinking he could be a bigger help in other departments but the director doesn’t give a second thought and emphasize her decisions are not to be questioned. As Raz, we just accomplished a big step in solving the identity of Loboto’s boss in first main quest, as an intern you are pushed around, nobody sees or tries to see your potential.

You can watch this scene below:

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Ask anybody who played Psychonauts 2 what the storytelling is like and what sort of vibes it gives off, all of them will give answers that describe the storytelling surreal and full of clever metaphors and meticulous sarcasms.

I really wouldn’t like to spoil the second mission for you, therefore I’ll give you a quick rundown what I mean by the previous paragraph. In the second quest, we dive into the director’s mind, and as a person’s brain there’s a lot to unpack, the first detail is ‘gambling’ for Agent Forsythe, clearly she had a bit of experience when it comes to gambling in her past, but it does not stop there, her brain, as any person’s brain pretty much, is a place where elements constantly run amok. “Gambling” is portrayed in multiple dreamlike environments, such as casino, maternity ward, cardiology department in a hospital. You may ask “okay, casino is related to gambling by nature, but what about the other two though?” That’s where the ingenuity plays a significant role. In “Maternity”, there’s a wealthy couple who keeps playing a rigged lottery, the prize for the lottery is a baby. They just mindlessly keep on playing and betting money, but alas, they would not win a baby for a thousand years. That’s where we as a psychonaut fix the rigged game, and to the surprise of the person in charge of lottery, the couple wins a baby. In another location, “Cardiology,” this is where you find characters who bet money on heart signals of a patient during an operation open to audience. From this sentence alone, I admit it sounds so eerie, weird and illusory. This betting is also rigged, not a shocker. You’re there also to fix this rigged system and you let one of the signals to win which always loses and never wins. You bet your money on that heart signal and you beat the system pretty much. It is not enough to put on a psychedelic scene on display, let it be a movie, TV series, or a game. You are also required to make it receivable by the audience. A player shouldn’t be asking “what is this scene’s purpose in this game? Why is this part of a game, and what’s this connection to the game in general sense?”, and in that moment you are living it, you’re inside this trance-like environment and you are uplifted by it. It is exquisite, lively and totally blows your socks off.

SPOILER AHEAD: you can take a look at the moment when the couple wins the baby in the lottery, the indirect full-on criticism on society’s long-established toxic pre-judgments backed up by pre-determined parental standards mixed with unrealistic cultural anticipations are portrayed well and thrown at the player cleverly, such as “Oh, look at our little jackpot! When does it start fulfilling all of our unachieved ambitions?”

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Thanks to our ability, Raz is able to move and travel among a person’s thoughts, and you can make connections between them, for example when we jump into Agent Forsythe’s mind without her knowing, we try to change her mind without her realizing, we explore what’s on her mind, we attempt to change her decision on not sending interns, including Raz, on a mission. We jump back and forth and we find the right path, we connect two thoughts, Raz falls on short on the subject that, the human mind is battleground, it is dynamic in a never-ending cycle, ideas, anxieties, positive and negative factors clashing all the time. When we just think that “okay we changed her mind, we found the right thoughts and everything looks set, we should be on track”, that’s the moment when we are overwhelmed by thoughts that were not present before.

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Enemy variety plays an important role as well, centering enemy types of mental health is a successful representation in my book, you’ll be fighting with Censor, Regret, Doubt, Bad Idea, Panic etc. These elements blend within in-game as well, where you can see “sto” is crossed over of “storage”, “break room” is adjusted as “break down”.

One of our skills is called “Clairvoyance” which enables Raz to see the world from another person’s point of view, this skill portrays the game’s overarching statement as a matter of fact, in a very minute way. You use this skill on a person, I am using it on Agent Forsythte in this clip, and what sees Raz as is a chicklet just hatching the egg. This portrayal differs depending on a character’s approach to us, it can be hostile, friendly, neutral, or whether a character is inflicted by some sort of drug or possessed.

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I do wish to touch open game mechanics a little bit, even though they are not the focus in the game. In the menu you will be seeing your profile, assigned department, collectibles in your inventory, resources that you collect and spend to unlock abilities.

Your skills you can upgrade with level-up point, I recommend you upgrade your skills across the board, and not upgrade one or two of them over and over again because you will definitely need all your skills based on environment and mission.

Pins are unlocked via collected resources which do not have any essential effect on gameplay or skills, cosmetic-only.

You can take a look at the menu clip below:

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Lastly, the developers, Double Fine, released a 36-video documentary on creation and development of Psychonauts series, it is a must-watch docuseries for the fans.

#games #gaming #game review #xbox #playstation #nintendo #psychonauts #psychohanuts2 #Youtube

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tommyxgrace-always · 2 years

Note

how do you think grace would have reacted to duke?

Hello friend,

My sincere apologies for picking up this ask so late. I am bad with Asks and have piled up quite a few. I see this one has stayed in the queue for longest, I hope you find the response satisfactory.

If Grace was still around, here’s what I think it would be…

Tommy and Grace would have been married 11 yrs by the time they find out Duke exists. The love and bond they shared would have only grown stronger and more solid as the years passed while they raise their children. 2 or probably 3. (I like to think 3- a blond girl and another boy after Charlie).

Tommy’s business side will be mostly similar to what we see in the series, a wealthy politician with legitimate businesses. Of course he will have some proportion of “dark” side because lets be honest, its Tommy, it won’t be realistic to completely get out and Grace would have made her peace with that because she understands as long as it is to an acceptable degree. His family life would be completely different than the series. To start with he would be staying home enjoying domestic life with a wife and children for whom he is emotionally present because he is genuinely a content person with Grace around (instead of always being away and disconnected like in s6)

I wanted to establish his state of mind and family dynamic with Grace before I can fairly answer the question.

So when Duke shows up, Tommy would sit Grace down in private and tell her the news and how he found out before they head out to tell the rest of the family in the family meeting.

After initial surprise, I think her spy instincts would kick in and she would ask Tommy how authentic that claim is, if he confirms that it is true she would accept this fact. She is practical and knows its Tommy’s past, something unexpected for him too.

I do not see any conflict or argument or sadness or resentment because Grace is secure in who she is and her marriage with Tommy, the confidence in the core bond they share. So there wont be any petty reactions or jealousy or cribbing. She would be curious to see and know more about Duke but she wouldn’t create any drama in the Garrison or make faces like lizzie does. To give context, in s6, we see lizzie cribbing and being petty about duke during family meeting which makes sense for her because she lost her daughter who was the only emotional connection she had with Tommy, she was unhappy in the marriage because he never treated her like a real partner so her reaction came from a place of insecurity and sadness. Tommy never really belonged to her and now there is another son he brought who will as good as replace her daughter. Nothing is in her favour as always!!

Coming back to Grace, I think the only thing she would want assurance of is this boy should not be a threat to her children’s safety and inheritance which ofcourse would be on Tommy’s mind too. She trusts Tommy to make the right decisions and keep her in loop where required because its about the children and she is very much capable of protecting them as he is.

Lastly, I don’t think either Tommy or Grace would even think about bringing Duke to Arrow house.. just like we saw in s6, he will be made to work in his organisation but he still stays on his own (he seems like an adult anyway) and will have to earn his place in the family and business.

#tommy x grace #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #grace burgess #grace shelby #cillian murphy #tommy shelby #tommy x grace forever #annabelle wallis #tommy and grace

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braemjeorn · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER I [masterlist]

pairing: bang chan x ofc

genre: general audience (I would say fluff but... there's nothing toothrotting here), regency period drama(?)

wordcount: 4.3k

summary: son mari, at twenty-three, has a flippant understanding that entering a household as a governess is a stroll in the parks—like the mile she does everyday. (or a SKZ TheSoundofMusic!AU but push it back to the 1820s)

warnings: regency era setting; countryside; age changes; condescending remarks; jyp artists in odd occupations?; tricks and teas; very dark drawing-rooms

it's on ao3 if you prefer that format!

⚠️ All characters that shares the name of real life person in this story are represented in a fictional manner for entertainment purpose, and not to be alluded with real life.

TAGLIST: @spookykryptoniteperson

“Mari,” called the schoolmistress from the door as Mari returned to the cottage. Her eyes were relieved in finding the young teacher, and there was a letter in her hand.

“Mrs Ahn,” Mari said.

“Are you all right dear?”

Mari nodded. Though she felt little pleasure at present, it is still in a great balance to her disappointment. Her walk had provided her with little entertainment. She might be blamed for keeping her regular track, and to walk in a hurry. She had hoped there might have been interesting or novel occurrences to amuse her for the day. Yet nothing irregular happened — she encountered only a farmer on his cart, heading towards his fields. Only the winds appeased her: it never lacks to soothe her, especially on warm summer days. It was some disappointment, but little to provoke her day into vexation.

Mrs Ahn held her shoulder and ushered her into the cottage. “Come, I have some news to tell you.”

The little cottage on the hill was the schoolmistress’ house. A little before it was the school building: a large hall separated into three rooms, with doors facing the open valley. Behind both, the hills rose even higher, towards the north where evergreens thrive.

It had been Mari’s home for the past thirteen years — one of the few girls admitted to the school's accommodation. She was familiar with its stone walls, and the warm tint of the furniture under the late sun. Ahn Inha was setting tea as Mari unwrapped her hat and shawl; Junhee was outside, tending to her flowers. Inha called her inside, then turned back to the kitchen for some iced red beans. Mrs Ahn sat on the couch, and gave Mari the opened letter in her hand, taking the pot to pour the tea.

“A commodore asks for our help—he’s a retired navy officer, and requires a governess for his sons. His house is but 20 miles from here.”

The letter — almost too formal in Mari’s opinion — spoke in detail of the children (five boys aged from five to nine). Along with the expected subjects to be instructed, the offered payment and provisions, and the length of stay required, there is a notice for further instructions once the teacher arrives at the house.

“To think that he knew us from Mr Park of all people — how many new acquaintances his wife gave him! Why is he not advertising for a governess instead?” Mari asked.

“He wrote it being rather urgent, did he not?—Commodore Bang is his name, yes. I suppose he needs one experienced and capable of handling a great number of children. Immediately at that.”

“The weeks of waiting are too much to spare for him?"

“How many children again?” Inha asked, setting the refreshments on the table.

“He mentioned five boys,” Mari said, handing her the letter. “Dear me, imagine all the scruples…”

“The offer is beguiling. A more generous sum than you would find in advertisements,” Inha said, having read the letter through. “Will you go then, Mari?” she asked, with more genuine curiosity than Mari expected. “You are the more adept teacher, and idle summer has no charm on you.”

“If Mrs Ahn can spare me for such a long time. I will be gone for nine months,” Mari considered.

“Mari won’t return until next spring, at the least,” Mrs Ahn said.

“He’s allowing negotiation for the wage,” Inha said, pointing back to the lower part of the letter. "Surely that’s a reasonable compensation.”

Mari laughed, “Or to lure me into acceptance without second thoughts. But consider—” she continued after a sip of tea. “If I were to leave for nine months, and say we name the wage for 60 won instead—you can take 20 to hire one of the older girls to stay with you in autumn. They might learn to be the new teachers like you've always wanted. Even if I leave for a greater part of winter it would not be too much of a burden to you—or the school’s benefactors.”

“If you are certain, Mari—those boys will not remove themselves from your hands by sunset. There’s five of them, and boys of great masters and landlords will be different from the town boys here. And I do not know what kind of family this man has. He is affluent, certainly, we know little of his character—is he of good breeding?”

“Might not we inquire of that to Mr Park?”

“Perhaps we might—but after that? You will be entering their house—and when you are a governess, you are neither family nor servant. I fear such alienation will take a toll on your person.”

“Surely I will still have some reprieve between my days. At the end of the year, I will come home and you can see if it has done me any harm,” Mari persuaded, her voice light with humour. “And it is not like I am inexperienced in what is demanded of me—I know I can teach, I can have faith in my years of experience.”

“You are very interested in going.”

“I would not lie—the offer of a good wage and the excitement of a new place is alluring,” Mari confessed under the weight of those sharp, wise eyes. “Inha made a compelling statement: it is an advantageous prospect. It would serve me from vacancy and distress, and I do have the aptitude for it—I am a schoolteacher. And about refined companies, you have prepared us to act properly wherever it is...”

Mrs Ahn did not make a response, but it is better to let her think it over; a reminder for Mari to do the same, while an approval might be achieved.

“You think over it through until morning,” Mrs Ahn settled in the end, “I’m sure I can dispatch a note to settle some agreement with the Commodore soon enough for his liking.”

The conversation shifted to different matters. Yet when the sun rose anew Mari’s opinion and wishes remained unchanged, perhaps much more assured after a sedate contemplation in the morning. They made a call to the vicar and his wife, to gain some intelligence about the naval commodore. Mr Park assured them that he is a gentleman of genuine good breeding, and not the least inclined to any sort of folly.

“On the contrary, I remember him as being an overtly modest, pleasant young man. Though my friend Mr Kang did warn me in his letter of this offer to you: at present his young master might have a cold disposition about him,” Mr Park said. “His wife had passed away some years ago; it has affected him greatly, even if the mourning term had long passed. He is not much of a warm, amiable society, so to say—but, in others, he is an honourable gentleman.”

But of prompt nature, Mari assumed. They had sent the reply the next morning, and the confirmation letter arrived in the evening by express, with no qualms about the requested wage. She was pacckinhlg a single bag, when after an observant pause by the door, Inha joined her in the work.

She was the Ahn’s only child: a pretty sort of girl, with soft features resembling a bunny and lively speech that befits her among people. As girls, they were not intimate friends, but years of living together have driven them into some degree of civil companionship and respect.

“A new place would be good for you to clear your mind,” Inha said. “You never went with us when we visited P— during the summer or Christmas.”

“You were visiting family in P—, and I’ve settled to keep the house since your Mother had been so kind to take me in ever since my aunt’s death. Yet, this is not a holiday—I’ll be employed as much as when I was Mrs Kim’s companion.”

“And isn’t it grand to travel while you work,” Inha mused. She fussed over the dust over Mari’s chest at the end of her bed, before sitting down over the quilted bed cover.

“At least this time I will not be reduced to a mere background company and ladylike conversations,” Mari sighed. “With some boys, I may have some excuse for lively exercises and excitement. Perhaps I will regret my words later on when they’ll never leave me for my own time.”

“You must send us letters, and tell us what being a governess is like,” Inha said. “Mother would not tell of her experiences by claiming the differences of time. But Junhee might consider such occupation as well later, or any of the older girls. And of the sailor!”

“I’m sure he’s as ordinary as any other gentleman!” Mari laughed. “By the accounts of his letters and lands—and Mr Park’s intelligence of his character. Sailor indeed, Ahn Inha! He has become our benefactor!”

“I did not mean it to be condescending! But a naval man—it’s such an alien term in our little town, you must admit—we only ever did see walking soldiers instead of swimming ones.”

The words made Mari snort, and she fell upon her bed to laugh alongside Inha. “Swimming soldiers indeed! Ahn Inha, do watch your tongue!”

“I fear that it is I who will be an alien among them,” she said once they’ve calmed themselves from the giggling fits. “I suppose that is what Mrs Ahn fears: I will have to preserve if they are a lofty company who have little regard to those they pay for services, if they could barely spare some respect.”

“But you are determined.”

“Indeed. Surely it would not be so wrong of me to try something new?”

“Which is why you must take care,” Inha said.

“I’m well-practised in such matters.”

“I believe you shall do well,” Inha said after a pause. “I will think it very silly if anyone should dislike you. Even to those high and mighty lords whose haughtiness you scorn. For you are kind and endearing, which makes your sudden tempers frightening.”

“I should dislike it very much to fail,” Mari confessed.

“Nay, you won’t,” Inha assured her. “You have a habit of excelling far too well in anything you do.”

With such faith and good wishes, hugs and kisses full of blessings, Mari departed in the late morning. A carriage had been arranged to take her from the hamlet downhill, then to the east, where the great house resided. The day was warm, and the road long—the view outside the coach window soon grew unfamiliar. Such objects and landmarks she never even knew existed beyond her little town revealed themselves before her.

Yet even between Mari’s curiosity and excitement in seeing new places, she knew it was a change too swiftly done. Far too soon than any sensible consideration Mr Ahn would have given—he would have detained Mari longer in the cottage. But he had passed, and Mari was too eager of the prospect, assured and (too) confident in her experiences. There was little that could dissuade her from leaving.

Mari reached the town of D— late after dinner. The carriage stopped at the inn, and she realized little of her weary legs until she was able to settle on stable ground. The instruction was for her to wait, but it was late, and she wondered if anyone would be willing to fetch her at such hours. But soon someone did ask for her in the inn: a gentleman of a kindly and affable face. He introduced himself as Kang Younghyun, the steward of the Bang household.

“You are the governess Mr Park Sungjin recommended?”

“Yes,” Mari nodded. He called in footmen for Mari’s things and explained that they would accompany Mari into the house. She wondered aloud why a servant of such import would deign to fetch her in such a fine carriage. The steward only laughed.

“Miss Son, they’d bring you in a wagon otherwise, and our housekeeper would not hear of it.”

They drove for some quarter of an hour, the village houses exchanged for hills and woodlands. High they climbed the hills and then descended back into fields circled by forests. Mari registered how they were turning to the right, passing through tall black gates. They’ve entered the vast estate grounds, surrounded by shadows of trees and bushes. Their path circled, then they came to a stop before a looming building—the house, with only a few of its tall windows showing light. Mr Kang helped her down at the front door, telling her to follow the maid, waiting with a candle in her hand. They passed through the front gallery, up through a great set of marble stairs in the centre of the house, and from there to the right, into a grand room with a long table and rows of chairs, where at the head sat a woman.

“The new governess, ma’am,” the maid announced. “Mr Kang has taken her things.”

“Thank you, Yeojin.” The woman stood up, closing the large book she had been writing on. Her hair is copper under the sole-lit chandelier, covered with a lace cap. Her clothes are dark, without any decorative trimming to them. She smiled at meeting Mari’s eyes—refrained, either weary from the day or a contained disposition.

“Come closer, dear, that I may see you better. Yeojin, help her with the robe and bonnet. What is your name again?”

“Son Mari,” Mari said, pulling the ribbons of her hat after loosening her robe.

“Miss Son Mari, then. I hope the journey has been well.” She paused, for at that moment Mari’s hair was revealed, those cropped brown tresses. The length was at a point where she couldn't do anything significant to style it, and obvious to other people that it had been shorn instead of tucked hair. The younger maid let out a small noise behind her, but the housekeeper remained quiet. Her pause was enough to show her surprise and wonder, and she lifted a candle to observe it better.

“How becoming —your lovely eyes balanced the charm. Well, then,” the housekeeper turned away, ushering Mari with her through another door. “It is but eight o’clock, the boys will be able to see you. I’m Minatozaki Sana, the housekeeper. Minatozaki-san would do,” the older woman said as they passed through another hall. “How old are you, my dear?”

“I am not yet twenty-three.”

“Goodness! how young you are.”

“I assure you, I have the experience. Jang Haesoo-ssi must have written about it.”

“Perhaps it is I who did not recall her mentioning your age.” Minatozaki-san mused. “Either way, you must be famished. Did you stop during your travels?”

“I had some bread for dinner—it is not very far between here and the school.”

“The Commodore was much relieved at receiving your immediate response,” the housekeeper intoned. “It is rather hurried, but truly we are grateful. —(Think none of it. I am happy to have the occupation.) Of course. But indeed, he will have many expectations upon you, as a schoolteacher in this post—which we have never employed, but more suitable to our situation. —To think we had to go through so many people to consider this possibility! He went away on a call this afternoon—you might see him tomorrow altogether—before he’ll leave again in two days.”

The housekeeper opened a door at the end of another hallway. The fireplace was lit low, yet the drawing-room was brighter with the number of candles in the room. Their heavy curtains were crimson against the pale walls, the furniture of sturdy, pale wood. The floors were carpeted; at one corner was a grand pianoforte, and paintings hung upon the wall. Circling the fireplace was three long couches, a great upholstered chair, and two ottomans. Boys gathered there, some on the chairs, and some on the floor. Their chatters lowered into a hush as the two women entered. They looked warily at Mari and Minatozaki-san’s approach, slowly rising to a stand one by one.

“Boys. Your new governess is here,” Minatozaki-san announced. The ensemble starred, but some inclined their heads to acknowledge her.

“How do you do?” Mari asked.

“Let her sit, here,” the housekeeper ushered her to sit near the fire, then went away for tea, unheeding Mari’s wishes to not make much trouble upon her account.

“Nonsense, you’ve been through a long journey,” the housekeeper brushed off. The boys settled themselves on the couch. Mari soon noticed there were more than five. Seven, the other two being around ten years of age at least. A long-haired boy jumped up to the housekeeper’s side. Minatozaki-san handed the boy the saucer, and he returned to deliver the tea for Mari.

“Thank you. Oh!”

Mari jerked at receiving her tea. The content had rippled, and a dark marble orb bobbed to the surface, turning and revealing a real-like painting of an eye. It glinted in the fire, and Mari held the cup away from her while quiet snickers and giggles erupted.

“Oh dear…” she muttered.

“Bang Hyunjin! what have I told you about those tricks?” Minatozaki-san called out. “You know what apology to say for that, young man—and bring that cup back here; you shall make a new one for her.”

Hyunjin had been smiling politely the entire while, an air of complete innocence even as Mari turned to him with disbelief. He made no apology, but took her cup again, and prepared a new one under the housekeeper’s scolding. He whined as his hair was ruffled, and carried the new cup back to Mari. She stirred it first, at peace in finding only tea resisted her spoon.

“Thank you. Hyunjin.”

The boy tilted his head, and said “Weren’t you scared?”

“I’m not sure,” Mari replied truthfully. “I was surprised. It might haunt my dreams with discomfort.”

He sniffed with a scrunch of his nose, unimpressed, “That was the desired effect.”

“You could have hurt someone severely, boy,” Minatozaki-san reprimanded.

“It would always be seen before anyone could sip it,” Hyunjin insisted. He sat on the couch next to her, across from his other brothers. Their glee had dissipated, and they returned to observing Mari, altogether shy and wary. One of them leaned forward—he was younger than Hyunjin, with soft hair and eyes.

“Your hair is short,” he stated after Mari acknowledged him.

“Yes, it is,” Mari nodded.

“But you’re not a man?”

“Seungmin-ah,” scolded a brother. But the younger one heeded him not—in truth, his statement was more confused than accusing Mari.

“No,” Mari shook her head with a smile. “I’m a lady, even for my hair. Seung-min? Is that your name?”

He nodded slowly, still fixing his gaze upon her, “Bang Seungmin.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“As I am.”

The door opened again before more can be said, strong and decided steps entering the room. The boys immediately stood upright—Mari turned her head, and hesitantly followed, as silence descended further in the room.

“I see you’ve met the boys,” spoke the figure; light but manly and clear in its firmness. Mari couldn’t see the newcomer well in the shadows, but there was no question of his identity. He walked behind the chairs and approached closer to the fire before her. The light revealed dark curls falling over his broad forehead, the tall nose; he did not tower over her, but his stance was imposing. Mari saw the firm lines of his mouth and recalled the vicar’s remark about his character when she saw the grimness peering at her. She lowered her head, and made a curtsy, while Minatozaki-san made the introductions.

“This is Son Mari, the teacher you called for. Miss Son, this is Commodore Bang Chan, master of Barlnshore.”

“Commodore Bang would do,” the man said, and they shook hands. Mari’s gaze trailed when they did, and pausing at a sight behind his head; for behind the Commodore, a picture hung upon the wall across them. She realised it as a portrait of himself, his pale face striking over his dark uniform and the low-lit room.

“Ostentatious, don’t you think?” Commodore Bang asked, regarding her as if to challenge her opinion. Mari could not agree with his statement, for the portrait looks mild in its colours.

“Merely the size, sir,” she replied quietly. One of the boys huffed; the Commodore turned to his brood.

“Have they introduced themselves?”

Seungmin shook his head, looking at the others pointedly as one of his older brothers nudged him. Commodore Bang stood beside her, gesturing his hand from one boy to the next.

“Minho, my eldest (the tallest, who inclined his head). Then Changbin (a black-haired boy who stood at one end of the couch), Hyunjin (who smiled), and the twins: Jisung, and Yongbok (they looked at her, standing side by side). Seungmin has spoken with you, I saw. And… Jeongin?”

His tone lilted with some askance. The boys shifted aside to reveal the youngest, clutching a doll in serene sleep in the corner of the couch.

“There. My youngest.” The grand clock’s bells tolled right after his words.

“It’s bedtime. You’ll hear more of them tomorrow,” the Commodore said. The boys began to shuffle away, bidding their goodnights quietly. There were yawns and murmurs, but little protests. Minho picked Jeongin up, and so the seven of them vacated the room.

Commodore Bang seated himself with a deep sigh in the grand chair, then gestured for Mari to return to her seat.

“Miss Son is it, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are a teacher; so the lady has written.” Minatozaki-san approached and gave him tea, and sat with her working basket on the couch. “Mrs Ahn, was it not? She has asserted your instructive capacity in the classroom. I put faith in her judgement, but we shall see how well you’ll do here to make my own opinions of it. There was a particular remark that interested me—the respect evident in Mr Park’s words of the institution—do clarify it for me, it is not part of the church?”

“It is not, sir.”

“Indeed? Who owns it?”

“The institution is Ahn Joonhyuk’s School. He was Mrs Ahn's—Ms Jang Haesoo that is— he is her late husband.”

“He relegated the administration to her?”

“Any other would have been disagreeable to him—she is most capable for the position.”

“They both established the school?”

“Nay, Mr Ahn’s father took in students when he was vicar. His son would not continue the religious career, but an educated man of the same interest. He expanded it into a proper school for the village’s children, or from surrounding countries. The gentries and landowners of the town invested their money and stood as councils, to ensure the welfare and quality of the school. Though there was never a doubt to it under Mrs Ahn’s watch—we have been doing well.”

“And how long have you been teaching there?”

“Nearly five years.”

“And before that? How are you qualified?”

“I was a student there. My aunt sent me there; she paid for my education until she passed away when I was sixteen. But I was allowed to stay and complete my study in two years. Teaching there was to repay my gratitude for the generosity, and to earn for myself.”

“You are orphaned then?”

Mari nodded, "Yes."

The Commodore hummed. “I might have guessed. There are only two reasons any young woman would come into such a situation: for herself or her family.”

Mari could not help but bristle at the thoughtless remark, and barely managed to make a polite counter. “You must not dismiss us with such littleness.”

Commodore Bang turned his gaze away from the fire—her words had roused him, “But it wasn’t a dismissal—is it not true?”

“You must allow me to defend women in a similar position as mine against such trivialization,” Mari spoke measuredly. “We only sought to be independent by which ways are possible, in our restrained situation as women. When we have no family, no money and barely any persuasive beauty or charm—we can only rely on our heads for our preservation. You, sir, appeared to value our efforts insignificant.”

Mari was quite prepared for him to oppose her censure, to find the words an insult. But Commodore Bang remained still; he made no reply. His eyes took her in—with a look she might have vainly described as ‘wonder’. He turned to Minatozaki-san, who had paused her knitting in watching their exchange. A look was shared; she was in better humour than he was, tilting her head as if to say, “Well, that’s all there is to it.” She resumed her work, and Commodore Bang returned to Mari.

“How much did they pay for your work?”

“50 won per annum,” Mari replied

“How many boys have you taught with that salary?” Commodore Bang asked. “What is the most number in a room?”

“Sixteen boys,” Mari recollected. “Aged from nine to twelve.”

The man huffed a laugh, bland mirth that graced his face in a mere flash before his eyes returned austere.

“You are the sixteenth governess I’ve employed to rear my boys. The sixth… or the seventh governess, declared that a room of them five compares to a room of twenty schoolboys. That was six months ago. Right before she retires from her post.”

“Children require patience. And an equal amount of sense, if we are to practise sensible child rearing,” Mari replied. The Commodore made no reply—he eyed her one way, another with a tilt of his head. Mari smiled, wider than the usual polite one—more to counter her nerves than amusement. It soon lowered as she came to observe him in return.

Even being close to the fire provided little warmth to his face; Mari reckoned his dark garbs and the shadows merely emphasised it. Or it is his countenance: the set of his brows and mouth, and the sombre eyes. He had spoken to her with great interest, but she could not claim that he was pleased.

“The schoolroom must’ve been your playground,” Commodore Bang said, easing deeper into his chair. “I hope you’ll be pleased with the one I’ve prepared, Miss Son.”

what do you think? :D

I hope you've enjoyed it. please forgive any inacurraries or mistakes, I just want to throw it out for people to review and be done with😭 but FINALLY

if you have thoughts or comments to share, or wished to be tagged in the next work, send me an ask! i'll see you soon♡(like next week, I'll try!)

-braem.

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sourkive · 7 months

Text

010 : JAW OF THE BEAST.

Starring: Kang Minwoo.

Featuring: Jung Myeongjae.

Summary: Minwoo sells his soul.

Word Count: 2k.

CW: Sponsorship, trauma response.

In almost 24 years, Minwoo had done a lot of things that required a lot of bravery.

At nine years old, he stood in front of a huge audience at a national competition and danced solo. When he didn’t win, he plastered a huge smile on his face and clapped loudest for the winner. At thirteen, he’d obscured the view of the drama his parents were watching and declared himself gay with no room for doubt and such a sense of conviction that he hadn’t even considered the rejection that may, but fortunately didn’t, follow. At sixteen, he had sex with a boy for the first time, and hadn’t so much as imagined the possibility he might not be very good at it regardless of his lack of experience.

At eighteen, he made the decision to enter the industry even though his father had warned him it would be the hardest and most exhausting thing he’d ever do, and would only get easier if he stopped. At nineteen, he sat atop a car in a gross old parking lot as the sun set, and asked Tachikawa Tetsuo if he could kiss him. At twenty-three, he presented himself to the world in split-dyed hair and his dad’s old jacket and demanded they remember who he was.

Minwoo had done a lot of brave things. He was a brave person.

Right now, he’s not being brave. He's hyperventilating in a bathroom stall, in one of the classiest restaurants he’d ever stepped foot in. He'd never felt underdressed in a suit before, but that was only about six percent of the greater issue. The greater issue was that he thought he could make this easy for himself- thought that the several shots of vodka he’d downed would have given him enough courage to face anything. He thought that he could look this man in the eye and make a demand, feel anything other than an almost crippling fear, as if he hadn’t spent the past four months of his life haunted by him, seeing him even in the man he loves.

It's not easy. In fact, it feels impossible. But Minwoo is here because it’s what he needs to do for his family. And so it’s with that in mind that he takes a deep breath and unlocks the bathroom stall. He takes a look in the mirror, adjusts his bangs, and steps back out into the restaurant, where the monster under his bed awaits.

“I was beginning to think you’d run away from me.” Says Jung Myeongjae.

For a moment, as he looks at him, the entire restaurant freezes. It’s as if the lights have cut out, spotlight on Myeongjae, Minwoo firmly in the dark where nobody can see and anything can get him. He feels his heart begin to palpitate, his palms sweat, and he hates himself for how afraid he is. He shouldn’t be. Myeongjae is an old man. He'd cut and paste at his face enough to de-age him a little, but Minwoo knows him to be somewhere in his sixties. At the end of the day, he’s just a sad old man who nobody loves, who’d lived a life in the closet and lost all chance at a genuine shot at this, at real, meaningful love or intimacy, and so now he lords his power over money-hungry record labels and gets them to send boys in their early twenties like tribute to a fearsome ancient god. Minwoo shouldn’t be scared of someone like that.

Except for the fact that Inkigayo is in Myeongjae’s network’s back pocket. One false step and Minwoo could literally lose his job. He approaches the table slow, pulls his chair out softly and sits on it with a hesitance. He thinks Myeongjae must know that he’s afraid. He regards him with a blank expression, though, betraying no emotion to Minwoo. Minwoo doesn’t know if he’s happy to be here with him or if it’s a nuisance. Seungsoo had asked a thousand questions when Minwoo asked him to find Jung Myeongjae’s phone number. It makes sense that Seobin had hid it from him; arranged for a different manager to take Minwoo to the hotel that night. Seungsoo would have probably beaten Seobin to death if he knew.

“Sorry.” Minwoo says, picking his fork up primly and rolling it around the pasta dish he’d ordered. He has no idea what he’s eating, but he doesn’t actually have much of an appetite anyway. He would have had this meeting anywhere; the restaurant was Myeongjae’s idea. Truthfully, Minwoo isn’t comfortable with him buying him a meal. He doesn’t want to owe him any more than he has to.

“That's okay.” Myeongjae says, simply, cutting into his steak. Red juices flow from the meat, and though Minwoo knows enough about food, having grown up in a restaurant, to know that it’s not really blood, it still churns his stomach. He takes a bite, and he chews wetly in a way that makes Minwoo itch. After he swallows, he says, factually, “Seobin doesn’t know you’re here.”

“No.” Minwoo confirms. “I asked my manager to find your number for me.”

“I see.” Myeongjae says. “I was very surprised to hear from you. I thought you might be trying to blackmail me.”

Minwoo looks up at him, meets his eyes and finds that Myeongjae is searching him, as if he’s looking for guilt in him. There's a lot of that, but Minwoo’s superpower is to glass his eyes over and lock everybody out. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of blackmail. He was too smart. Men like Jung Myeongjae couldn’t be defeated. There was no attack. To get what you wanted, you had to barter.

“You like me, right?” Minwoo asks. He says it seriously, but Myeongjae fixes him with an amused look that makes him feel juvenile.

Myeongjae raises his wine glass to his lips, smirking over its rim. After a sip of it, he says; “I think you’re gorgeous. And I haven't forgotten how good you feel, either.”

The words feel like a punch in the gut. Minwoo takes a gulp of his own wine, nodding, trying his best to breeze past it. He tries to ignore how Myeongjae had felt; sharp and selfish and wrong. “Right,” he says, taking particular interest in the pattern on the table cloth. “Right, well, I was wondering-”

“You’re offering yourself to me.” Myeongjae says. The phrasing makes Minwoo want to deny, vehemently so, but he supposes that that’s exactly what he’s doing. He inhales sharply through his teeth, head dropping, gaze falling to his lap. “How much do you want?”

It's as if the oxygen has become solid and it’s crushing Minwoo down, pushing him into the ground and suffocating. He'd never felt like this before. He wonders if this is how Harin feels when he has one of his moments and, if it is, then how he even bears to face the world. Minwoo has no room for pride, though, not anymore. Though it chips away at his ego, and he feels the first ever threat to his masculinity in his life, he says; “I need five hundred thousand won.”

There’s a pause. Minwoo doesn’t know why, but he can’t bring himself to look at Myeongjae. the silence ticks over, and he passes it by picking at his nails and trying to mentally will his hands to stop shaking.

“Minwoo.” Myeongjae says. Minwoo hates that. His name sounds wrong in Myeongjae’s voice. “You realise that that isn’t even a dent in what I paid your label, don’t you?”

The words prickle. He sucks in another breath, drawing his shoulders in on himself. He can’t think about that. He can’t think about Seobin collecting money from Minwoo’s body, while Minwoo’s family struggle to make ends meet. While he prepares to put himself through this all again just so he can help them.

“That's all I need.” Minwoo says. The money isn’t even for him. It's so he can pay for Minhyung's Japan trip. For his entire life, Minwoo had had all the help he needed to get the career he wanted. It wasn’t fair that Minhyung wasn’t going to get the same. A tour of some Japanese animation studios and contemporary art galleries wasn’t much, but at least it was something. At least he’d be contributing.

“I have no issue paying you more.”

“No.” Minwoo says, quickly. He doesn’t want to take more than he needs. He doesn’t want to gain anything from this. Nothing he spent the money on would bring him any joy. He would just always know. He'd know how he got it and it would destroy everything.

“I'm not really in a position where I can just take you home.” Myeongjae says. Minwoo forces himself not to wonder what that means. He doesn’t want to know. “I'm taking a trip to Jeju next month. Just me. How about this; I give you the money right now, and you accompany me?”

“A trip?” Minwoo asks. He looks up at Myeongjae, finally, and the fear must waver in his voice because Myeongjae fixes him with a complicated expression.

“It's two days. After that, I won't hold it over you. I won't contact you, I won't ask for anything more from you.”

Minwoo scratches his cheek. He can’t imagine being alone with Myeongjae for two days. Certainly not so far from Seoul. A thousand things could go wrong. Myeongjae could murder him and throw him into the ocean, just to knock the tip off of the iceberg. Minwoo doesn’t even know if he’s trying to be hyperbolic or not when he thinks that. He has no idea what Myeongjae is capable of. But coercing record labels into pimping out their artists didn’t exactly promise a strong moral code.

The idea is terrifying. Terrifying and he’d be so stupid to go along with it. It’s not as if being around Myeongjae has eased any of his anxieties. His heart still feels like it’s beating out of time, his palms are still sweating, his mouth is dry and even the thought of taking a bite of his fancy pasta dish churns his stomach. Every single instinct in his body is screaming danger, it’s telling him to run as fast as he can and never look back. He knows he shouldn’t say yes to this. He knows he can’t. But if he doesn’t, then he’s back to square one, and it’s likely that Minhyung will go without in turn. He can’t put himself before his brother again. That had been Minhyung's entire life. And that isn’t fair.

Minwoo gives his answer.

Minwoo stands in the alleyway outside the restaurant. Myeongjae is long gone, whisked away by a driver as soon as they’d finished their meal. Minwoo had refused a ride, making up a lie about Seungsoo insisting he be the one to drive him home. In reality, Seungsoo had sounded annoyed when Minwoo called him. He does feel a little bad; Sour Candy had definitely made a bad habit out of using him as their personal taxi service. But Minwoo didn’t want to endure another second with Myeongjae. On his way out, he’d placed his hand on Minwoo’s shoulder in a parting sort of way, and his skin still feels like it’s burning. He just wants to shower.

Truthfully, he has no idea how he’s supposed to stomach two days with Myeongjae. He’d already been transferred the money, and there’s a voice in his head telling him to just block his number and cut off contact, but Sour Candy promote their music on his station. It's then when he understands, with a horrible sinking feeling, that there will never be any true escape from this. Even if Myeongjae is true to his world and lets Minwoo move on as soon as the trip is over, he’s always going to know. Once a week, every promotional cycle, he’s going to stand in the monster’s den and use its stage to beg for love and validation from a crowd who would want him dead if they knew what he did.

As he waits for Seungsoo’s car, hidden away from the street, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and sends a text to Minhyung.

‘I got the money for your trip.’

He’ll be brave. For his family, he’ll be brave.

He has to be.

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merakiui · 2 years

Note

Oooh, Android! Zhongli. I don't know why, but I imagined him as being a Top Secret prototype: the first Android ever made. He was first designed to be a killing machine for a war, and after it ended with a gratifying margin of success. After Zhongli grows out of his purpose, he would be given to some high ranking military or personality since he is still a national secret.

Years goes by, and before the person dies, they deactivate Zhongli and store him some discrete part of their state, only to be rediscovered several years later by a descendant of the military/personality. Believing in that Zhongli was but just a common android, they decide to sell him since he looks like quite an old model and they already own a couple of androids, so there's no need for them to have a old looking one. Maybe like that, some company will modernise him a little so he can be put in good use once again.

(They are a little disappointed tho; their ancestors' diary spoke of a war machine, capable of decimating enemies in matter of seconds, and that said machinery was still in their possession. It would have fetched quite the big sum!)

Reader just happens to find Zhongli in a second hand store; tucked in a corner almost hidden to sight with some articles of clothing hanging from the top of his pod, covering half of his face. If it weren't for his eye catching clothes, reader would have passes over him and selected the more recent models the store had to offer. They ripped the cloth off, and seeing the soft yet hard expression this android had made the reader decided that he was the one. The cashier act a little surprise that hey even had such thing in their store, but nonetheless rings the reader up and they are on their merry way back to their home, just thinking about all the things they can do together now with their new companion!

Only... there is a problem.

It's well late in the morning, they have to work at 8, and for some reason, they can't boot their new Android. It's not like they don't know, there are millions of videos of How to Do It, but the problem is the android itself. The common circle on the right side of the android's temple is not even there, nor reader know what model is so they can say It in case this is a model that boots like that. After inspecting the machine, they find a piece of yellowed paper in the breast pocket of the android's garments.

They unfold it and, carefully, in case they misspell something, read out loud:

"Zhongli"

Reader read the name a couple of times, after nothing audibly happened. They sigh and throw the slip of paper on the table and looks up, just to be met with the same stoic face but now adorned with two topaz eyes, observing and awaiting.

With each passing day, the reader could see why such a beautiful model ended in a Second Hand Store. It's almost like He isn't an android, he doesn't perform the usual activities they are programmed for, and it just dawns on the reader that they never asked the cashier of the purpose Zhongli was made for. Maybe he was made for educational motives, as his ancient looks match the amount of knowledge that pours past his lips. Even if you just point at a common object, Zhongli has at least three pages of information about said thing and that's just the Introduction.

(He was required to know everything about the world, and that includes other international secrets and suppressed information)

Contrary to the normal android, Zhongli has the ability to learn (he needs to learn enemies' patterns, base layout, etc) and take decisions of his own, but will go with the human's choice if presented/ordered. He already behaves like a person, if it weren't for his rather cold takes and actions

The real human/yandere awakening for him will be one day when a thief get inside the reader's home. The intruder won't even make it pass the first room before they find themselves in the strongest hold around their throat, glowing cold yellow eyes watching as they struggle to get a bit of air inside their lungs, blindly throwing punches until they grow weak and finally the limbs fall limp, the rest of their body still. If he wouldn't have been there to protect you, what could have happened to you? You are so fragile... He needs to protect you of those bigger than you, the smiles and laughs he have grow to adore.

From that day on, Zhongli did a turn from his usually neutral face to soft and gentle smiles, the corner of his eyes crinckling at some joke you were gesturing very animated, more laughs than words rushing out of your lips. He always did his best to offer you objects or activities that relaxes you after a long day of work, trying to destroy in a way he wasn't built and programmed for, that tiredness that drowns your normal happy self. He tries so hard for you, that when he manages to find your boss information using the Military's servers, he waits for the perfect time, using an excuse he have been arranging for months so he can deal with the source of all your problems for good. No one knows what happened to them, they just disappeared one day as a body was never found.

This is so perfect!!!

#chit chat #genshin android au #yes yes!!!! i’m in love with this concept #it works so well #thank you for blessing me with this anon!

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Note

Hi i just read your work and it is amazing!!!! Buuut, if its possible can you make a part 2 of Scraps? Like, the first one was so good... it kinda needs a sequel😂😂 if thats possible

Had to think about what I would write for a little bit, but I think I've got it.

Scraps (Part 2): Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Kakucho Hitto, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Manjiro Sano, Hajime Kokonoi, and Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.9k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

A pussy clenching, breath hitching, thighs squeezing mess.

That's what you're reduced to as you're in class, the soundless, dual vibrator/clit sucking device hidden neatly in your underwear.

Ever since you'd been introduced to the Alpha boys, they'd made you their personal plaything. And you didn't really mind; it was something to do when things got boring around the sorority house. But sometimes... they'd take their experiments out of your scope of knowledge.

This was one of them.

You were given the toy and told that if you could hold off on cumming for twelve hours, you'd be rewarded with whatever you wanted. But you couldn't take it out, you couldn't tell anyone - oh, and you didn't know who had the remote to it. The device is only controlled by a discreet, white remote, and any one of the seven men could have it, changing the speed or the pattern of vibrations of the device. Right now, it's on a pulsing cycle, making you squirm slightly in your seat as the professor lectures about art history.

You're sitting in the very back of the lecture hall where no one would sit if they wanted to pass the class. But you're content with today being an off-day. You need to survive this challenge, first.

You can't help but think of the various dicks that would be yours for the choosing once you finish today's challenge. But it's only ten o'clock.

Ten more hours.

Around twelve, you're trying your best to keep yourself calm, sitting on the edge of your seat while you attempt a test. The speed changes from pulsing to a dull vibration, giving you a brief break from the jolts of pleasure that go straight to your clit.

"Ms. Y/n, can you come up to my desk, please? Bring your test." You look up at your professor, who is cooking her finger at you. For a moment, you wonder if she's caught on to your little predicament, but when you approach her desk, she takes your test and crumples it up before throwing it in the trash, much to your surprise. "I forgot to tell you that you have an A in the class, so you don't need to take this test." You sigh in relief, just as the vibration changes to a more intense sensation. You tense up, clenching your legs before thanking your professor and leaving the classroom quickly.

You can't take much more of this.

Around three pm, you're laying in the sorority house, face down in a pillow as you moan, the feeling of an orgasm building on top of the other six or seven ruined orgasms from earlier. But you stuff this one down with the others, tears decorating your pillowcase as you sob in frustration.

Five more hours.

_____________________________________________________________

At six o'clock, you're at your breaking point.

Dinner is at seven, but you can't even focus on anything except the buzzing between your legs. You're hazy, staring at yourself in the mirror and blinking slowly. There had been no relief, no naps, no rest from the torment, but the pink device inside of you persisted, making you want to cum over and over again. All you can do is think about algebra or something disappointing to prevent yourself from cumming all over the device and losing the challenge.

Suddenly, your phone begins to chime, and you raise it to your face, seeing "Alpha House" on the screen.

"Hello?" you breathe into the receiver, and you hear a chuckle on the other end.

"Are you okay, princess?" It's Mikey. The vibrator begins to pulse again, and you bite your lip.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Come by the house at seven-thirty. The boys are excited to see you." Mikey hangs up the phone and you stifle a loud moan, trying to keep yourself together before you meet the boys.

One hour left.

At seven-thirty, you're standing at the door of the house, and the vibrator is going crazy. You almost didn't make it across the campus without your legs going weak, but you prop yourself up against the door with a hand, quivering at you wait for the boys to answer the door.

"Little sister..." Ran answers the door, his violet eyes observing your quaking figure. "You made it." You try to step through the door, but Ran catches you in his arms, stooping to pick you up. He holds you against his chest, cooing into your ear about how you're such a good girl, and how they're going to take good care of you before the night is over. You're deposited in the den, where the other guys are, and Ran parts your legs with tender fingers, revealing the device nestled inside of your panties.

"All day, huh?" Sanzu wonders, sitting across from you on the couch and stroking your thigh. "You're such a good girl for us. Kakucho, Rindou, and Kokonoi didn't think you would make it."

"We placed bets," Rindou explains, forking his cash over to his brother with a small sigh. "But you proved me wrong." Mikey appears, his black eyes roaming over all of those present in the room before sliding and focusing on your half-dazed self on the couch, legs spread and shaking.

"Ready to guess who had the remote today?" You nod, breath quivering as you look around the room at the men. Your first bet would be on Sanzu, but you figure guessing him would be too obvious. Your second guess would be Rindou, but he also seemed like the most obvious. So you're left with Kakucho, Kokonoi, Mikey, Takeomi, and Ran. "You get three guesses."

Three guesses. Five men.

"M-Mikey?" Various members of the frat shake their heads. Of course, Mikey wouldn't, he just comes up with the ideas. Takeomi seems almost too bored with you, so he's off the list, too. Two guesses and four men. A twenty-five percent chance of getting it right.

"Kakucho?" He shakes his head, leaning on the back of a chair and blinking slowly.

"One more guess."

Kokonoi or Ran. Fifty-percent chance of getting it right. Kokonoi had a class with you today, but you didn't see him move his hands around as you watched from the back of the class at all. But the sensation also didn't change during the class. You have to take a chance, though.

"Ran." The violet-eyed man smiles, then produces the white remote from his pants.

"Smart girl."

"But how--"

"On Wednesdays, my work-study has me all over campus. Every time I saw you or walked by the sorority house, I'd change the vibration." Sanzu chuckles then looks at his watch.

"It's time, ain't it?" Mikey pulls your underwear off, leaving the lacy thing on the floor before looking at the device, then back at you.

"You earned yourself some extra credit," he begins. "Are you ready for us, pretty girl?"

"Yes," you keen, jerking your hips up. "Yes, I am."

"Good." Mikey slides the vibrator out of you and puts it up to your lips so you can taste yourself. You suck the device slowly, fingers coming down to caress your swollen clit as you suck your juices off of it.

After this, he stands you up and bends you over the back of the couch, feeling a large, warm pair of hands on your hips. "I'm not going last this time," Takeomi mutters, pants down around his ankles. "Been waiting for this all day." You're more than prepared to take his length, your pussy squelching and sucking his cock into you. "Fuck, yeah..." The slapping sounds of your backside against Takeomi's hips begin, and you moan, feeling the relief of a cock filling you up.

The other six just watch, some with their dicks out, others palming themselves over their pants. Mikey, as usual, is standing at the back of the room, watching the scene before him with crossed arms. This is his foreplay.

He enjoys watching and listening to you squeal more than anything. He enjoys having control over six men who will bend you over and use you as a willing cum dump if necessary, like a breeder who requires his bulls to try their luck with you, the lone heifer.

And it's pleasurable enough for you to keep coming back for more.

"Why don't we record this one?" Sanzu wonders and Takeomi laughs.

"You're gonna have to ask little sister, here. She might not--"

"That-that's fine," you pant.

"Just a little POV thing," Ran adds, pulling out his phone. "Make it real nice, Takeomi." You look back and watch the man inside of you point the phone at the space between your hips, watching his cock go in and out of you with a smile on his face.

"Look at that pussy... she's creaming all over my cock..."

And each frat brother waits his turn to cum in you, with Ran's being the most you've ever felt inside of you at one time, and Sanzu's being the roughest. Kokonoi is taking his turn when you feel cum sliding down your leg, and when he's done, cum drains out of you in a small flood. Your fingers, which have been running over your clit and bringing you close to climaxing, are covered in it, and you want so desperately to stick them inside of yourself and then suck them dry.

Kakucho takes his time bringing you pleasure, tweaking your nipples, and running his tongue down your back and up again. You suppose someone else is filming you two, because both of his hands are on your body as he pumps you full of cum, ghosting his fingers over the slight bulge from his long cock.

Rindou is last, and you watch Mikey pull out his own cock, stroking it while Rin slams his hips into you, making you moan louder than you thought possible. He grips your neck from behind, choking you lightly as you let drool run past your lips and onto the couch. You hear Ran complimenting his brother on his fucking, and your raise on your tiptoes, praying his dick would stop slamming into your cervix.

"Take it," Rin whispers in your ear. "You can take it, sweet girl." You choke out a cry, then grip the couch for all it's worth as Rindou lets himself go. When he pulls out, Mikey stands, his eyes focused on your face as he walks around the couch, taking the phone from Ran and pointing it at your filled and abused pussy.

"Push it all out for me, sweetheart." You obey, feeling the cum leak out of you rapidly before Mikey stands, swiping his cockhead over your pussy lips. "You haven't cum yet?" You shake your head, breathing heavily. "Go ahead and cum on my dick." Mikey enters you and fiddles with your swollen clit, bringing you back to the edge and not relenting. You get no warning prior to the orgasm crashing over you; the feeling of release almost taking you out.

"Oh my fucking god," you cry out, and Mikey pistons his hips a little faster as you clench around him.

"That's a good pussy," he grunts, left hand gripping your hip while he cums inside of you, growling low in his throat. When he's done, he backs away, watching you push out his cum, too. "Now I want you to get on the floor and lick it up," he orders you. "Lick all of our cum up."

You get on your knees and lick the puddle off the polished wooden floor, each man watching you with slack jaws. When you're done, you show Mikey your tongue. He approaches you, grabs your throat, and spits in it, closing your mouth as you swallow that, too.

"Such a good little slut, aren't you?"

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #hajime kokonoi x reader #kakucho hitto x reader #manjiro sano x reader #takeomi akashi x reader

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 2)

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, puking, concussions, mentions of injuries/bullying, homophobia

Word count: 5,138

After school, you were sitting on the couch as you furiously typed on your keyboard at an extremely fast pace. You were on a roll with these essays, they were probably going to be finished by the time you had to go back to the school to get on the bus with the team. You figured that you could even finish Annie’s essay and get started on Sammy’s US history presentation on the sociopolitical climate of the United States in the mid twentieth century to today. However, instead of covering a variety of topics like the rubric requested you to do, you were only going to talk about the significant events that happened to the LGBT+ community starting with Stonewall and going to Obergefell v. Hodges. You were also going to go in depth about how even if there are more opportunities available and more laws set in place to protect for LGBT+ people in the present then there were in past, members of the LGBT+ community still suffer heavy discrimination in the workplace and in the public. With receipts of course, the assignment required a minimum of three pictures per slide, and the group chat was a perfect source.

After that was done, you would email Sammy’s teacher (you had her last year for US history and you knew that she had a son in the grade below you currently transitioning from female to male) that you were the one that did her project and send screenshots of Sammy calling you slurs. Luckily for you, you had receipts of her being transphobic in the past that you could also send. Everything was effortlessly falling into place for you today.

As you were typing, the front door swung open and two overly excited fifth graders ran into the house and up the stairs. A tired Schlatt followed them. “I will never know how the hell Phil keeps up with them.”

“I dunno, maybe because he’s already raised three kids before.”

You watched as your uncle jumped and whipped his head over towards you, his hand clutching his chest. He lightly glared at you, “christ kid don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You smirked at him before turning back to your laptop to continue typing the essay. You were almost done with the conclusion paragraph on Annie’s essay and you wanted to get to Sammy’s presentation as fast as possible. As you were typing, you felt a warm air fan across your neck and your uncle’s voice right next to your ear, “whatcha typin?”

You lept off the couch and almost fell into the coffee table before steadying yourself and deadpanning at Schlatt. “I was typing an essay before you interrupted me.”

He snorted, “it looked like you were on a roll, just thought I’d see what my beloved niece was writing. Can I read it?”

Your eyes lit up as an excited grin split your cheeks, “yeah, but lemme catch you up real quick. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie got mad at me a few days ago and wanted me to do some homework for them as a sort of payment. But after they pulled that little stunt in the lunchroom yesterday, they decided to be little bitches to me and call me slurs. So naturally, I decided to change the essay prompt into an in depth analysis about discrimination LGBT people face from their peers on the daily. My english teacher’s really against homophobia and the project’s worth twenty five percent of our overall grade, so it’s perfect.”

While you were rambling on and on about your detailed plot for revenge, Schlatt couldn’t help but be proud of the person you’d become. A major part of him was impressed that you came up with a detailed plan so quickly, that meant that his cunning nature was rubbing off on you and that made him ecstatic. Sure you mentioning not being straight was new to him, but he was prepared to accept you for whatever you identified as. He didn’t care how people identified, he just cared if they were good people. And his niece was one of the best kids he knew. He’d let your slip up slide for now until you felt comfortable enough to properly come out to him.

“That an amazing plan, fuckin brilliant. Though, you could do more.”

That piqued your interest, “I’m listening.”

“Do you have any blackmail?”

Your eyes glinted with sudden understanding, “why yes I do, uncle dearest. I just so happen to have thousands of texts from them talking shit about each other and basically the entire school. And them being incredibly racist. They would be destroyed if that came out.”

“Two things. One, never call me that again. Two, perfect. Keep it as leverage if they try to do something. You don’t pull out all the good cards in the first round, you wait for the right moment to strike so you can win. You need to constantly defend yourself against other players and anticipate their every move. If you leak everything right now, you won’t have anything to use against them if they have something up their sleeve you didn’t know about. Patience is key in things like this.”

You absorbed every single word that came out of his mouth like it was the holy gospel. Although he was your uncle and you loved him with all your heart, but he was a sly bastard when he wanted to be. He knew his way around fighting and manipulating people just right, so you were incredibly happy that you were on his good side and he absolutely adored you. Though questionable and morally gray, he was giving you advice because he cared about you and you’d be an idiot to not heed his advice.

“That’s genius, Uncle Schlatt. What would I do without you?”

“You’d get along just fine without me, you would’ve gotten there eventually. You’re smart. I’m just givin you a little push in the right direction.”

“I honestly would’ve never thought about waiting, I was so dead set on getting revenge that I would’ve just leaked everything all at once. I want them to feel how I felt when they were around me. I-” you paused. Would this make you the same as them? You’d be screwing up all their grades, Adrian’s job, and Sammy’s athletic career. You came to the chilling realization that you’d be the same as them. You’d be as manipulative as they were. “...Uncle Schlatt, would that make me the same as them?”

“Fuck no! You’re always gonna be better than them no matter what. When they’re at their best, you’re always gonna be a whole lot better than them. They deserve what’s happening to them, it sounds like they put you through so much shit the past few years. I actually think you could do a whole lot worse to them if you’re willing to put more work in, but it’s your plan and if you think that what you’re doing is too much,” he darkly chuckled, “you wouldn’t like my idea.”

“You’re right, they deserve everything I have planned for them. God, I don’t know what I was thinking, ‘would that make me the same as them,’” you mocked what you said earlier, “what a load of shit. Anyways, thanks Uncle Schlatt. I’m gonna get back to writing this. They’re due tomorrow and I wanna finish as much as I can before I have to go.”

“Alright, whaddya want for dinner? Phil’s gonna be like thirty minutes late from work so I’m cookin tonight.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no. That man can barley cook boxed mac n cheese, let alone anything else. He’d burn down the house if you left him alone in the kitchen with the stove. “On second thought, why don’t I help you with dinner? We can make some chicken alfredo.”

“Awe, you’d rather hang out with me than finish your homework? Ya really do love me. C’mon let’s start.”

The process of making dinner was… interesting. Multiple times, Schlatt almost spilled boiling water on himself and he even managed to burn the pasta while it was in the water. How he even managed to do that you’d never find out, you had your back turned cutting up vegetables and herbs at the time. That was when you subtly started to take over in the kitchen, giving him smaller tasks while you handled everything else. You felt bad for Tubbo, his father can’t cook for shit.

By time you finished, about an hour passed and Philza had come home and changed out of his work clothes. The two adults sat at the table discussing something that you didn’t pay attention to while your brothers and cousin were in the living room waiting for you to finish dinner. Finally, you set the table and it was time to eat.

Because you couldn’t have many fatty foods before any matches or practices, you had made a separate plate for yourself that only had plain pasta, chicken, and broccoli. You were surprised with how well it turned out, you were following an iffy recipe you found on the first link Google brought up.

After dinner, you went upstairs to put your uniform on and pack a little bag full of things you might need: a small blanket, some snacks, a water bottle, and a portable charger. Oh, and fuzzy socks and a pair of crocs. You could never go wrong with fuzzy socks and crocs. Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you pulled out your phone.

Hales : )

(Y/n), I’m omw to your house

Gonna give you a ride to the school

(Y/n)

Hales you don’t have to give me a ride, I can drive

Hales : )

Don’t care

Omw, be there in like 7 mins

You swiped out of yours and her conversation and opened up the family group chat

(Y/n)

I don’t need a ride to the school, Haley’s giving me one

She’s gonna give me a ride home too

Dadza

Alright, thank her for me

Tell her I said good luck too!

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

Dadza

(Y/n), do everything he wouldn’t do

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck you I’m a good influence

Dadza

You’re really not

Wilby

^^^^

Technology Sword

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck all of you

You heard Haley’s car pull into the driveway and dashed out of your room with your bag. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, a hand stopped you.

“Coat.”

You grumbled as you reached past Philza to grab your coat. After you slipped it on, you were pulled into a hug. “You’re gonna do great out there. I know you’re gonna win this, we’ll be watching in the stands.”

“Damn right she’s gonna do good, she’s my niece after all.”

Schlatt pulled you away from your father’s hug and tried to ruffle your hair before you swatted away his hand, “don’t. You have no idea how long it took me to get a perfect ponytail. I have an ungodly amount of hairspray and bobby pins in my hair right now.”

“Fine. You’re gonna kick their asses tonight.”

Tommy and Tubbo pushed past Schlatt and both tackled you into a hug making you stumble slightly back.

“Kick their asses good (y/n)!” Tommy cheered, making you crack up before one stern glance from Philza completely stopped you. “Tommy, don’t say that. (Y/n), not funny.”

“Alright, Haley’s waiting for me. I gotta go, love you guys!” As you turned to walk through the door, you could hear your family following you and shouting “good luck”. You felt heat creep up on your cheeks as Haley rolled down her window and wove at your family with the biggest grin on her face.

“Thank you! We’re gonna take home the gold for sure!”

You hopped in her car as she rolled up the window and chuckled. “I love your family, they’re always so full of energy. It’s refreshing to see compared to how boring my family is.”

You glanced at your entire family gathered on the front porch. Tommy and Tubbo were practically vibrating with excitement, Wilbur and Techno calmly smiled and wove at you, Philza was grinning widely at you as you saw his mouth forming words that you couldn’t hear or read, and Schlatt was grinning cheekily at you. You raised your hand to wave at them as they vanished from view when Haley pulled out of your driveway. You smiled softly, “I love em too.”

The car ride was relatively quick with the same soft indie pop music floating from the speakers and an easy going conversation with Haley about the match tonight. You both thought that you could beat the other team if everyone focused 100% and played exactly like you guys did in practices. If everyone did that, you would be unstoppable.

Luckily for you and Haley, you were the first ones in line to board the bus so you two got the back seat with Zara and Jazzy sitting across from you guys. The hour long bus ride passed quickly and lively with you four passing around your phone and playing some mad libs, you were sure that by the end of the last game you four were laughing and crying. Sometime in the middle of the trip, you noticed that Haley would start to lean on your shoulder and continuously glance at you as she laughed. You desperately wanted to believe that it was because she liked you, but she was straight and she was your best friend. She was probably trying to make sure you were having a good time.

When the team had gotten to the opposing school and left the locker room to stretch in the gym, you could hear your family start to scream your and Haley’s names from the front row next to you, Tommy and Tubbo being the loudest amongst them with Philza trying to get them to quiet down so you could focus. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled at them and Haley wove enthusiastically back at them. Zara was laughing at you two. Stretching went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were on the court facing the opposing team.

The first match was won by the opposing team by five points. The second match stretched on and on until it was won by your team narrowly by two points. The team was going to have to shape up in the third match if you guys wanted a chance at winning, the opposing team was good. Before the third match started, Coach Williams called for a time out so you guys could talk about strategy. Before Haley could go back onto the court, you pulled her aside.

“Hales, we need to do what we practiced. The other team won’t be expecting it at all, I’ve been setting you up this entire game. They’re never going to expect you setting me up for a spike.”

“When are we going to do it though? We need a better plan.”

“I’m sure the opportunity will come and both of us will recognize it. We just can’t do it too early in the game though, that’ll ruin their surprise.”

“(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“When do I not Hales? We gotta get gold this year.”

The third round went by with both teams constantly swapping places until you both were tied fifteen to fifteen. You saw the ball flying towards Haley, giving her the perfect opportunity to set you up for a spike. “HALEY NOW!”

You watched as her face hardened in determination as she pretended like she was going to spike it by jumping high in the air and stretching her arms back, making the opposing front row players all gather in front of her. Much to their surprise, she launched it towards you as you leaped up and went for the kill. The stinging of the ball hit by your wrist and the smack sound the ball made when it slammed onto the open gym floor was something you’d never forget as the crowd around you went wild over the unexpected play. You could hear the high pitched screaming of Tommy and Tubbo over everybody else. Glancing at them over your shoulder, you saw them jumping up and down on the gym floor and looking at you with awe filled eyes and gaping mouths. The rest of your family looked at you with similar expressions, their cheers echoing in your mind. Winking at them, you turned back to your team and went straight to Haley. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, you pulled her into a quick hug, yelling over the raving of the crowd. “HALEY WE NAILED THAT!”

“HOLY SHIT I DID NOT THINK THAT WAS ACTUALLY GONNA WORK!”

“You have such little faith in your setter! You wound me Hales.”

“Well, I would have more faith in you if you weren’t chaotic on the court, sweetheart.”

You felt yourself surge in happiness at the nickname, but you couldn’t afford to focus too much on it. Your team only needed one more point to win best in the state and go to nationals. It would be the first time in your team’s history if you reached national level, and you’d be damned if you were the one to screw it up for them.

The last rotation went on for a while, each team fighting tooth and nail for the state championship title with clashing determination. You tried your best to block every hit and try to set Haley up for a spike, and you were successful for the most part, only missing a few blocks. You saw the setter adjacent to you set the spiker up for a spike and jumped up in time to try to block it, your arms stretched upwards and your palms out. Only, the ball didn’t hit your hands. It collided painfully with your nose, ricocheted off your face with a thwack and sailed over to the other side of the court. Your head whipped back as your body followed suit and flew backwards onto the floor. Without giving you any time to react, your head bounced back and cracked against the polished hardwood floor of the gym. Everything went black.

“...(y……”

“..(y/n)......”

“(Y/n).”

You faintly heard someone calling someone’s name over the continuous ringing noise. Was it your name? It felt right, so it had to be your name. You peeled your eyes open to see a blurry figure hovering over you. It was swirled with tans, browns, and backs. After a while of the figure repeating your name, it slowly became more recognizable, albeit appearing twice in your vision. It took you a while to figure out who this was before your muddled brain recognized Haley.

“Hales! There’s two o’ya. Twice as beautiful babe…” You slurred out as you attempted to smile at her.

“Oh thank god, PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR SHE HIT HER HEAD!” Her usually angelic voice gritted against your brain like sandpaper making you cringe as pain exploded in your head.

“God babe you’re so loud, why’s so bright? I-wha's goin on?” You blearily tried to move your head to look around only to be stopped by a pair of large hands on each side of your head gently holding it in place. You moved your laggy eyes around to look at the figure. He was a blonde man with blue eyes and a hint of stubble on his chin. His eyebrows were knitted together and he looked… he looked… your brain worked to figure out why he looked how he looked. Who was he?

“Please don’t move hun.” His muffled voice was baritone. You squinted at him trying to figure out who this man was.

“Who th f-fuck… why?”

“I’m your dad hun. Do-do you not recognize me?” You made a noise in the back of your throat as your stuffy brain finally put a name to the face.

“Dad- wha’s goin on? I’on feel so good…”

“Shh, I know, I know. Just stop moving and talking. Everything’s fine. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Mmk… Dad, where are we? I’ont know- you’re so quiet.”

“Stop moving so much. You’re on the floor in a gym. You just won your team the state championship. Now stop talking please.”

Huh. So that’s why everybody seemed to appear from above you. You strained your eyes to look around you, but you could only see your dad’s face hovering above you. “Shit I- who’s aroun’ me? Where’s Hales?”

“I’m right here sweetheart. I got the doctor, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad’s face moved away from your vision so fast that it made your head spin and your stomach twist. Another face appeared above you that you once again didn’t recognize.

“I’m Doctor Martin, can you tell me your first and last name?”

“Uh, (y/n) Minecraft?”

“Good, what month are we in right now?”

“Nov-November?”

“Close, it’s late October. Can you tell me who this,” he pointed to your dad, “is?”

“S’my dad Phillip.”

“That’s your dad Philza.”

The questioning stopped as he suddenly shined a blinding light into your sensitive eyes. You hissed as you tried to move your head away from the offending light only to be held in place by your dad’s hands. Your head spun as you moved too quickly and a wave of nausea hit you, making you groan and move your arm to cover your eyes. Your hand was stopped by something warm and soft wrapping around it and holding it tightly. Everything was so overwhelmingly and painfully bright and loud. You wanted to make it stop.

“Mr. Minecraft, your daughter appears to have a concussion. I don’t have the tools on hand to determine the severity of it, but it’s worrying that her pupils are asymmetrical, she’s delirious, and has slight memory loss. I understand you live about an hour away from here, and it’s alright for you to take her to a hospital closer to your house. Make sure you keep her alert.”

Your delirious mind only registered about half of what came out of the doctor’s mouth. You mumbled gibberish as you once again opened your eyes to look around. You were only briefly able to crane your neck to the left. Several figures large and small were standing behind your dad. Your family, your mind supplemented. Slowly, your mind was starting to recognize your surroundings even if there was currently double of everything and everything was blurry.

“I’m going to help you stand up. Do ya think you can do that?”

“Yeah Dad.” You lifted your upper body off from the ground with a gentle hand on your back helping you sit up. Fighting the wave of nausea that slapped you in the face, you reached up to rub at your eyes. A hand once again stopped you. You peeked your eyelids open and lightly glared at whomever stopped you. “Hales you’re lucky you’re so cute I woulda slapped you. I like holdin but you’re bein annoying. Stop.” You attempted to make your voice sound firm, but the words that came out of your mouth were slightly slurred.

She was silent as she helped her dad haul you to your feet. Once on your feet, you saw the room spin and felt yourself start to sway slightly. An arm wrapped itself around your shoulders and pulled you close to them so that your weight was supported. They were a little taller than you were making it easy to lean on them.

“...Can you walk?” A deep, monotone voice rumbled the chest of the person you were leaning against.

“Mhm. ‘M not weak.” Though your limbs felt like they were made of molasses, you placed one foot in front of the other slowly. The person moved alongside you, “you’re doing so good, keep going.” That sparked familiarity in you as you stopped in your tracks and tried to look up at the person you were leaning against making the person tighten their arm around your shoulders when you almost fell over.

“Tech?”

“Yeah, it’s Technoblade. Just focus on walking. You’re almost out of the gym.”

When you realized that you were out of the gym, you sighed in relief. It was so much quieter and darker. Though it was still relatively bright, it was better than the gym.

“S’better.”

“When we get her to the car we can give her some sunglasses or something if it’s still too bright for her.”

“Wilbs-”

“Focus on walking.”

You huffed in irritation, “don’ tell me what to do bitch.”

You felt Techno’s body jolt slightly as he chuckled, making your head throb at the sudden movement. “Just walk.”

When you walked outside, you shivered as you felt the cool air nip at your exposed skin. Right, you were in your volleyball uniform. “I’ll go pull the car around, you guys stay with her.”

You saw a tall brunet start to walk away from you. Uncle Splat? Uncle Schmat? Whatever his name was, you were sure he was your uncle. You tried to snuggle closer to Techno, craving warmth but never being satisfied. Where was your uncle?

After a while, you saw a car moving towards you and blinding light pointed right at you making you cringe away and groan. Techno started to slowly walk towards the car. “C’mon (y/n), you’re almost there. When you’re in the car you can relax.”

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno, you’re in the back row. Schlatt can drive and Wil, you’re taking the passenger seat. I’ll stay with her in the middle row so she can have some room to lay down.” Tommy and Tubbo were with you? Why weren’t they talking, they usually were very vocal.

“Tom, Tubbs didja like the game?”

They didn’t say anything as they climbed into the car. Did they not hear you?

“They’re just… tired (y/n).” Your dad’s voice reassured you as he took Techno’s place holding you up.

“I wanna nap. ‘M so tired.”

“You can’t sleep yet. We gotta get you to a doctor first.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Let’s get you in the car hun.”

As he helped you climb into the car, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over you making you lose your balance and almost faceplant into the cloth seats. You felt yourself being gently, yet urgently taken out of the car and led to grass as you felt your esophagus shorten. Something burning made its way up your throat and spewed into the grass. You felt someone rubbing your back as you puked up your dinner.

When you were done, you reached up with a shaking hand to wipe your mouth. “You feelin better? Think you can get back into the car or do you need to sit down for a bit?”

“Car.”

After some difficulty, you were successfully in the middle row of the car laying down with your head on Philza’s lap. Soon enough, your shoes were taken off and a blanket was draped over you.

“(Y/n), what do you remember?”

You scrunched up your face as you squinted at Philza’s face. “I remember playing volleyball with Hales. She’s so pretty, she’s straight though. I remember the other team hitting the ball, me jumping, then nothin. Wha’ happened?”

You watched as Philza winced, “well, you got everything right so far. You got hit in the face with the ball so you fell and hit your head on the floor. You were passed out for a minute before you woke up. It was a pretty nasty fall, we’re going to the hospital now. How’re ya feelin?”

“Head hurts, ‘m seein two of everything, an I can’t think.”

“Do you know what a concussion is?” You nodded in his lap slightly, “you probably have one.”

After a while of talking, you were slowly starting to come to your senses and your speech was clearing up, but your head was still too stuffy to think about what you were saying before you said it. You didn’t have a filter.

“Do you wanna tell us about your week so far? Do you remember most of it?”

“Mhm, it was shit. On Monday I had a panic attack and Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were being bitches to me all day. They fucked up my back. On Tuesday, they got mad at me for ditching them and they had me do their homework, had another panic attack, and Haley told me that someone took pictures of our boobs ‘n stuff and they were gonna leak it to the school if Haley didn’t stop hanging out with me. Haley and I almost kissed, but she’s straight. Pulled an all nighter and Wednesday I accidentally came out to Tech and Wil and had another panic attack. Annie, Adrian, and Sammy took more pictures of me through my window, Annie outed me to the entire school and slapped me. Another panic attack, skipped the last two classes and felt like shit the entire practice. Today Adrian and Sammy told me to kill myself and I had another panic attack. ’S about it.”

As you were going through your week, the hand that was previously gently stroking your hair had frozen as the car was enveloped in a tense silence. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were passed out in the back seat so they didn’t hear how bad your week was. Everyone awake knew that you had a few bad days this week, but they didn’t know the full extent of it. You watched as Philza’s expression had turned downright murderous, but you didn’t really care. You were busy talking about your week.

For the rest of the car ride, Philza asked you simple questions like what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, basically your favorite everything. Eventually, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot and Philza helped you get out of the car. “Schlatt, can you take the boys home so they can get some rest? I’ll stay with her.”

“Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t cause too much trouble (y/n), we all know you can raise hell.” He watched you for a reaction, but when you didn’t react, he coughed. “Well, I’ll see ya later kid. Good luck.”

The car drove off leaving you and Philza at the front of the emergency room building. “It’s gonna be a long night (y/n).”

“I gotta finish Annie’s essay and Sammy’s presentation though.”

“No you don’t, I’ll email your teachers.”

You two checked in with the front desk before moving to sit on the uncomfortable chairs. It was going to be a long night. You were so tired.

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@jabby16

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@immadatmostthings @thaticecreambish @hee-hee-haw @dearnataliealoveletter @wasteofspacze @dcml04 @bbigbbrainn @dirtydiavolo @vanhakirja @rinzyx05 @misselsbells06 @ialexabsuniverse @im-a-depressed-gay @energy-drinkk @mothra-main @i-need-hugs @dragons-lurk-here @katj733 @m4r-s @vievi @dykeragee @waterstrawberry @aplaintart @kakamiissad @myunfinishedsymphony @nagitokinnieissad @autumnpleaves @justanothergirlwithdemons @zachariethememerie @moon-asia @m0on-blue @strawberrysodababy @akikko-yataro @haikkeiji @shiningsunrises @cinnamonmochi @queen-turtle-boiii @imanewsoul @sparkling-gayyyy @angelicaschuyler-church @vixenfoxpup @ella-ivanov @shio-yuki @mosstea-png @ijustshatbricks @sugarandspicebutnonice @coolayee @haikkeiji @sadassflatass

@a-simp-for-block-people @goldenstarofthunderclan @laura--444 @sylumarts @faceache111 @auroraskyfall @kusuinko @http-issaclahey @angelic-scent @multifandomgirl94 @mirios-sunflower @lifestylesleep @altwitchtrash @queenbouncingjelly @eieminia @livie-bug82108 @cheybaee @demure--daisy @midnight-storm @moonbaejpeg @kiinokochii @miavfx @vilbur-s00t @coreybyrg @comfytastic @kodababygirl-blog @artisticfandomtrash @yourlmanburg @indigopocky @futuitsursum @luluwinchester @hello-there556 @kike-jii @kalipto

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kaeyasaki · 3 years

Text

— ❝ HOUSE RULES ❞

miya atsumu x f!reader

after coming back home from an overseas trip, atsumu comes back home to discover that his pretty little wife seems to have let a few certain rules slip, it’s a good thing he’s more than happy to help her revise them. — wc; 4K

thank you so so much @tsumue for beta reading, you helped so much fr hottie <3

dt; @7tsumurai i told you i’d get out a fic im happy with for you when i had more time and here it is, i love you so very much and thank you for everything you’ve done for me, you’re a real life saver and i wouldn’t want anyone other than you as my hot milf mommy <3

warnings; nsfw, unprotected sex, dumbification, rough sex, degradation, slapping, misogynistic behaviour + overstimulation bye i really said i didn’t have it in me

slotting his house key into the lock, atsumu had a content smile gracing his face as the next scene he assumed to be ahead of him was already playing out in his head.

you in a pretty dress he had so graciously bought and maybe even one of those cute frilly aprons he’d insisted upon gifting you. you would drop your cooking utensil immediately upon his arrival and rush over to him to take care of his jacket and bags while chanting about how desperately you missed your dear husband while he was away. atsumu would then shower you with the attention you had been missing out on and he’d have his darling little wife sit on his lap mindlessly chattering about how much she needed him.

atsumu was sure this was what was going to play out before him as soon as he opened the door.

so why the fuck had he opened the door to see otherwise?

his eyes twitched with irritation slightly at the sight of you in sweats on the couch lazily scrolling through your phone, but he refused to throw a fit immediately. he was kind enough to allow you the chance to explain yourself, afterall, he was adamant he was a good husband to you. the best husband to you.

“baby.” his voice rang clearly through the room as your head perked up at the sound of his voice. immediately you smiled upon seeing him as you hopped off the couch and dropped your phone to wander over to him. while you offered atsumu a warm smile, it didn’t seem to be reciprocated as a small but familiar glint in his eye told you enough to know something was off.

“i missed you.” you tried to shake that look from him as you wrapped your arms around his slim torso and inhaled the scent you’d found yourself missing over the week. “yeah?” he questioned as you looked up to meet his still piercing eyes. “of course.” you sighed before burying your face back into his chest for a moment.

for just a second, atsumu forgot why he was even mad. did he even have a right to be mad? he had a nice house, a job he loved and most importantly, the most perfect little wife. but then it all came back to him and the irritation stayed present as he stared down at you wrapped around his body.

the perfect little wife should have her husband’s dinner cooking and ready to be served upon his arrival. the perfect little wife should be dressed appropriately according to her husband's personal preferences which in atsumu’s case, were the dainty little outfits he was constantly having you try on and strut around the house in. the perfect little wife should respond appropriately whilst talking to her husband which for atsumu meant he’d prefer you at least pretend to be a little more mindlessly excited about seeing him again.

maybe you weren’t his perfect little wife anymore, but he could only blame himself. you were just too stupid to think for yourself, how could atsumu blame you for forgetting the rules he has in place if he hadn’t been around to remind you of them this past week? no matter, he’d just have to remind you as many times as it took to get these demands through to that pretty head of yours.

“i think someone’s forgotten a few things since i left.” atsumu stated flatly as you pulled away from him, eyes desperately looking up at him pleading to know where you had fucked up.

“i have?” you questioned, hands tugging at the hem of his jacket a little. you looked down refusing to continue looking at the disappointed expression of the man you loved the most knowing you had caused him to be upset.

atsumu smiled slightly as you slowly began to fall back into your submissive ways as he brought his hand down to hook his fingers under your chin forcing you to look up at him. his eyes were a little softer than before as thoughts of your kind and wonderful husband flooded your senses once more. you felt so terrible upsetting him as soon as he had come home. this was the man who insisted upon giving you anything and everything you ever asked for on a silver platter. he spoiled you to no ends and always pampered you to the point where it was clear you were his brat.

desperately wanting to make up for your out of line behaviour, you pulled the jacket off of atsumu and took his bags from his hand as he hummed in approval. the slightest grain of praise sent your head into turmoil as only thoughts of atsumu were permitted to dance around in there. smiling at him, you turned towards the direction of your bedroom before you were stopped by atsumu’s voice.

“and when you come back, i want to see ya dressed how you know yer meant to be.” you gave him a quick nod as you hurried to your shared bedroom to drop his things and throw on an outfit you knew would be approving of him.

carefully scanning through your choice, you finally decided on wearing a cute little cami mini dress atsumu had bought you a few months back. the soft material stopped at your mid thigh as the short spaghetti straps held the dress up your body as the material tugged around you in all the right places. determined to show atsumu you were extra sorry, you grabbed a delicate apron he had bought you a few weeks beforehand and it was one you were yet to wear. the dainty frills and clean material were tied around your waist as you stared at your reflection back in the mirror.

you had missed atsumu, really, but you had missed this routine more and you were grateful your husband was kind enough to keep you in check whenever you slipped up rather than blow up over it.

you really were a lucky wife.

satisfied with your appearance, you pattered down the stairs to find atsumu leaning against the kitchen counter scanning over the meal you had been cooking prior to his return left cold on the stove. noticing your presence, atsumu smiled at your outfit as he open his arms for you to fall into. “at least you got one thing right.” he sighed as you nodded noting he was referring to the meal you had been preparing just thirty minutes before he had stepped through the door.

pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, atsumu pulled away before tapping your inner thigh making you jolt slightly. “well, get to it, i’ve had a long journey and i’m starvin’.” he sighed, smile still slightly evident on his face.

you nodded and stood over the stove before turning it on. the cooking process was simple, it was practically just a matter of heating the food up as atsumu never required you to do any actual heavy cooking. he’d never dare have you do anything that could potentially callous or wear down your soft hands that he loved having you run all over his body. he only ever put you to a little more work when it came to taking care of certain things. housework and cooking were mundane things he liked to let you get off with lightly. preserving your energy to have you selfishly take care of his personal needs.

two minutes went by before you felt a looming presence behind you. instinctively, you stepped back slightly allowed atsumu to wrap his arms around your waist and press his body up against yours from behind. thumbs traced small circles over the sides of your waist as you tried to keep your focus on the food on the stove careful not to burn it. not that atsumu would particularly care if you did, ordering in was always an option, but he’d always let you have a try and providing for him beforehand.

your head was going light as your husband's hot breath fanned right against your ear as you struggled to keep your focus on the stove. “i’m disappointed.” atsumu sighed lowly sending shivers through your body as he leaned in closer. “i thought i’d taught ya well enough to be able to remember how things work around here.”

your heart tugged at the degrading tone he was using whether it was intentional or not before atsumu continued. “it’s a shame really, i could’ve rewarded ya for being away from me for so long, but now it looks like i’m gonna have to use that time to remind you of a few lessons.” you nodded curtly at the light scolding as your husband's hand dipped between your inner thigh grazing over the pretty panties you found to be increasingly annoying.

thumb tracing the hem of the material, he continued to sigh and mutter small disapprovals of your previous behaviour, but none of the derogatory terms educating nor belittling you, but rather exciting you instead.

you could only hum and nod in agreement at atsumu’s words as the more you gave in, the more he did too. with each acceptance of scolding, your husband would reward you by pressing his fingers a little harsher through your already soaking panties.

“stupid girl,” he muttered up against your ear as your breathing grew slightly ragged. “i thought i taught ya to know better by now.”

his words only worked you up more as he buried his head into the crook of your neck, allowing his teeth to nip at your hot skin. now focusing his attention on your neck, atsumu sucked harshly making sure to leave bruises littered across where he had access to making sure to rebrand you as his own. “tsumu…” you whined as his fingers continued dragging along the soft silk material. “just take them off already.” you whimpered before your husband bit a little harsher causing you to yelp.

“first i come home to ya looking less than presentable and now yer telling me what to do?” your heart hammered at his dark tone as he pulled away momentarily. “baby,” he shook his head. “how could ya give me instructions when ya can’t even follow simple ones yerself.” he sighed as you whispered a quick apology.

his hand pulled away from between your thighs to instead grip the sides of your hips. rough hands running up and down your sides under the pretty dress you’d chosen for him. “let me show ya why i’m in charge around here yeah?” his hips were pressed up behind yours forcing you to feel how pent up he was too. “please.” you whimpered mindlessly grinding against the growing tent in his sweats.

atsumu chuckled before nipping the shell of your ear halting your instinctive movements. “good girl for asking me so nicely.”

with atsumu assaulting your neck once more and further adding to the sensation by pressing up against your clothed clit, all thoughts that weren’t regarding miya atsumu had disintegrated and now your only motive was to make your loving husband proud and take what he was willing to give you.

slowly, your movements grew to become more frantic as his hands stayed firm on your hips as he steadied himself behind you. “oh angel, ya really missed me huh?” he teased while slowing you to rut against him, clothes separating the two of you much to your frustration. you chanted small “uh huh”s as atsumu smiled upon your mindless behaviour. “it’s okay baby, let yer man take care of ya, i’ll make sure ya never forget these little rules again.” you mewled out his name which only delighted him further.

you were just too easy.

“so independent,” he whispered, fingers finally hooking under the hem of the silky undergarments before slowly pulling them down to pool at your ankles below. “it’s my fault, yer too stupid to be left alone for more than a few days right?” you nodded completely missing whatever you were agreeing to as atsumu continued to trace dreadfully slow patterns under your dress.

“it’s okay baby, i know you didn’t mean to make me angry did ya? it’s not yer fault ya can’t think for yerself.” atsumu continued to degrade you to nothing more than a brainless doll as you gave in to his desires completely all while trying to give the heating food on the stove even the slightest grain of attention you could.

fingers pressing onto your aching clit, your husband began to draw rough patterns onto the sensitive area, making sure to get a good feel of just how aroused he made you feel. humming in approval at the short breathy moans that left your throat, atsumu continued to tease you as you melted back into his chest keeping you in place against him and the stove.

“that’s it, good girl.” he praised the moment your legs parted a little wider for him to access. “feel good?” he asked despite the fact he already knew what your answer was. “yes atsumu, feels so good.” you blabbered as he selfishly stole all your focus onto him.

pushing his middle finger inside of you, atsumu’s eyes lit up at the feeling of how tight and wet you were around his finger. while your behavior wasn’t always perfect, your pussy was. he’d always tell you how you were made for him, your mind, body and soul all rightfully his as you always gave into him, atsumu’s grin widened when he felt you clench around his digits, your body already well accustomed to him. just how he’d trained it to be.

it wasn’t long before your husband was kind enough to give you his index finger, thumb ghosting over your clit after every few movements. relishing in the pretty sounds he was drawing out of you, atsumu picked up the pace knowing fully well you were practically teetering on the edge by now. your stuttered breathing, whimpers and pleading of his name were enough of a giveaway to know you were desperate for release, but the setter wasn’t about to give in.

while he had forgiven you a while ago, atsumu had decided that perhaps a little more punishment would really help you remember not to let him come home to anything less than what he expects again as he pulled his fingers out of you immediately after feeling you tense up.

“atsu- why?” you sobbed out frustrated and upset that he’d taken your high away from you. you were the most worked up you’d ever felt at this point and atsumu knew that too hence why he decided that now was the time to have a little bit of fun on his side with you. “i’m still mad ya know.” he cooed mockingly from behind you. “or did ya forget?”

“no, no, i didn’t i’m sorry.” you cried out, tears trickling out your eyes as atsumu stared up at your reflection against the glass panels up against the stove. part of him wished he waited, just to get you in a position where you were facing him, but for now he’d make do as his dick throbbed at the sight of your reflection. upset and ashamed, you stared back into your own reflection meeting your husband's wicked gaze.

“of course ya are.” atsumu hummed, hands temporarily pulling away from you to reach down to his own sweats. “and yer gonna show me how sorry ya are, right?”. pulling down both his sweats and boxers in one go, your breath hitch despite the fact you weren’t facing the terrifying thing. you didn’t need to be looking at it to know what it was capable of. atsumu’s cock was nothing new to you, but everytime you were met with it, atsumu proved himself to be just as relentless as the first time you’d experienced it.

both long and girthy, you were certain miya atsumu was the biggest you’d ever seen and taken, with thick veins running up and down the shaft adding further to the arousal he caused you.

“tsumu…” you breathed out as he pressed the swollen head in line with your entrance. “i’ve already gotten ya ready, don’t be greedy.” he scolded before you could even speak. despite his harsh words though, atsumu was still considerate enough to try and take some of the focus away from any potential pain with his fingers as he let his hand dip back down between your thighs fingers circling your clit gathering any slick he could before smothering it over your pretty pussy which at this point was clenching around nothing much to your demise.

rubbing the head up and down your clit to make access a little easier on the both of you, atsumu pushed into you stretching out your walls as you chanted his name like a mantra. his fingers were a lot different from his cock, as tears were dripping down your face in a mixture of both pleasure and pain all while he allowed you a moment to adjust to the dramatic size difference you had just gotten used to.

lifting the hem of your dress up, atsumu’s mood was left content at seeing your tight pussy struggle to take him all in. he was a proud man, proud of you and proud of his capability to get you like this.

pulling his hand away from your clit now that he’d pushed inside of you, the setter took both his hands to firmly grip on your hips as he began to start thrusting at a slow but steady pace to get you going.

while you thought atsumu was mad at you, he missed you more than anything and while he’d love to pull you away from the hot stove and fuck you over the clean marble counter, he was determined to enjoy the feeling of slowing making you his all over again for now. he’d have all the time in the world to roughly punish you should he ever choose to, but in this moment, he was content with what he was giving you and he was certain his pretty little wife had learnt her lesson.

finally getting you accustomed to the size of him, your cries turned into soft moans as the tip of his cock hit against your cervix sending your head to go blank and your actions to become completely instinctive. the only thing bringing you out of this mindless trance is the feeling of a hard slap to your ass as your head jolts up and you cry out.

“so, are ya really sorry for upsettin’ me?” atsumu challenges, speed continually picking up as your head scrambles to string together some form of answer. you know better than to keep him waiting as you open your mouth to speak, but before you can even try to get any words out, another slap lands just as harshly as the last, the pain mixing in with the pleasure throwing your make do answer out the window as you struggle to reply properly.

“yes tsumu, so sorry- never again.” you weep as the dried tears are replaced with a fresh wave dripping down your face much to atsumu’s satisfaction. “never what again?” he pries further all while slamming his dick in and out of your dripping cunt. “never - shit- never break your rules again.” you plead doing your best to show him just how sorry you really were.

sinking into you completely, atsumu really starts fucking you with the head of his cock hitting your cerfix repeatedly, the smacking of his balls slapping up against your ass mixed with the sound of your dripping hole being used as if it were a fleshlight echo through the room for you to hear.

“tsumu, ‘m sorry, m’ sorry, so- please!” you sob reaching the edge of your high once more feeling desperate for allowance from him this time. “not yet.” he hisses out as his thrust shows no relentlessness. all while you’re trying to hold yourself together, you feel the heat of the stove bring you back to some sort of sense as you make quick work of turning the gas completely off paying no mind to what the state of the food was inside of the pan.

“look up.” he demands, one hand straying from your hips to hook onto your jaw as he forces you to face the glass reflection of yourself being fucked stupid by him. “stupid slut.” he spits out pistoning his cock in and out of you at an unbearable pace. “my stupid slut.” he hisses slamming in and out of you forcing cries and wails out of your throat.

“not a slut.” you whimper out now refusing to take his degrading any longer. “‘m your wife tsumu, your good wife.” you insist, desperate for any form of praise from him. your husband sneers as he holds your jaw in place forcing you to stare at your fucked out expression.

“i don’t want a good wife, i want a perfect wife, ya got that?” he demands squeezing your hip as his own hips move faster than before. tears still streaming down your face from the immense pleasure and frustrations, you nod before mindlessly blabbering out your pleads.

“your perfect wife yeah, wanna be your perfect wife all yours.” you beg hurriedly in fear of him depriving you of your second orgasm of the night.

he liked the sound of that. knowing he had you completely and utterly wrapped around his finger pleased him. your words only affirming this satisfaction as you gave yourself into him completely allowing him the rights of making you his and his alone. it’s like he always told you; you were made for him.

“go on then,” he grunts. “cum for me, pretty girl. now.”

he doesn't have to tell you twice as his hard thrusts pay no mercy to your cute little pussy, you can only think about cumming around him at this very second. the tight coil in your stomach finally allowed to break, your walls spasm around his cock as he continues to pound inside of you all while youre granted the pleasure of finally releasing. the feeling making you see stars, atsumu continues to use your hole as he pleases his only motive now chasing after his own high.

tightening his grip on your hips, he pressed his lips up close to your ear, once again nipping lightly at the shell. “gonna be my perfect wife yeah? yer taking it all for me got it?” he growls as you nod quickly, head still spinning.

“yeah, yeah tsumu, your perfect wife, all yours.” you beg, the overstimulation preventing you from thinking straight.

“that's right, mine, mine, mine.” he finishes forcing his load into your tight hole, his hot cum filling your womb completely. the feeling of him inside of you causes your tongue to drop out as both tears and spit dribble down your face as he continues to ram in and out of you through his orgasm.

finishing, atsumu grunts and pulls out of you, eyes bright seeing your abused hole leak out with his cum. seeing you completely fucked out by him was one of his favourite sights and he was certain he’d never get enough of it.

regardless of his rules and words, atsumu adored you no matter what. but to see you completely ruined by him and him alone, it only made him fall harder knowing you were willing to always take whatever he desired to give you. it made him proud to know he’d cuffed someone so willing for him.

as you catch your breath, atsumu looks over your shoulder that the burnt food you had yet to notice. meeting his gaze, you look down at the contents in the pan and internally cuss yourself out at the mistake. so sure you were getting another scolding, you jolt at the feeling of atsumu’s hand resting on your shoulder.

“yer too cute for cooking anyway.” he mutters allowing you to breathe out relieved. stepping away from you and pulling up his boxers and sweats, atsumu allows himself one more glance at the sight of his cum dribbling down your thighs from behind. smiling to himself, he nods over at the direction of the house phone before heading towards the couch.

“show me you’ve learnt ya lesson and ring up for dinner yeah? maybe then i’ll give ya the reward i was talking about earlier.”

he smiles at the sight of you nodding, your wobbly legs making their way over to the landline to ring up for whatever takeaway came to mind, your husbands load still dripping between your thighs.

miya atsumu was adamant he was a lucky man. he had a nice house, a job he loved and now he was now certain he had the most perfect little wife.

#i’m at work rn but hopefully this posts :0 #this is so gross wow i’m sorry </3 #housewife agenda going strong </3 #miya atsumu #atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #tw degradation #tw slapping #tw overstimulation #tw dumbification #tw unprotected sex #tw misogyny

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