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yuki4amano · 14 days

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Timeless love. Chapter 5. Veiled Fears.

Izuku finds himself back home after his usual escape from Eraserhead, he collapses onto his bed with a heavy sigh, his muscles still tense from the adrenaline-fueled encounter. Glancing at the room clock before drifting off to sleep, he notices the time showing 11 o'clock. The room is bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows across the familiar surroundings.

Hours pass in restless slumber, and as Izuku dreams, the clock continues its inexorable march forward. In the darkness, the hand of the clock moves silently from 11 to 1 o'clock, marking the passage of time in the quiet solitude of Izuku's room.

In the blink of an eye, Izuku finds himself in a desolate landscape, surrounded by damaged and broken buildings. Horror grips his heart as he takes in the devastation around him, a sense of deja vu washing over him like a tidal wave. He knows this place, he's been here before.

Voices echo in the distance, drawing his attention. His senses are on high alert, Izuku turns to face the source of the sound, his stomach twisting with unease.

Before he can fully comprehend what's happening, a familiar voice cuts through the air, sending a chill down Izuku's spine. It's Present Mic, but something is different about him. He looks older, wearier, his eyes carrying a weight of experiences beyond his years.

In that moment of realization, Izuku's mind races with memories of the timeline before he traveled back in time. Present Mic was a hero in that timeline, a beacon of hope and inspiration to all who knew him.

In that moment of realization, Izuku's mind races with memories of the timeline before he traveled back in time. Present Mic was a hero in that timeline, fighting to protect the innocent against the tyranny of villains.

As the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, Izuku feels a sense of dread wash over him. He knows what's coming next. With a heavy heart, Izuku braces himself for the inevitable, knowing that he can't change the past, only bear witness to its echoes in the present.

Power Loader, Tamaki Amajiki, and Mirio Togata were also present there when Present Mic announces his decision to join the villain's side, after losing his faith in heroism. izuku stands there like a statue as he sees the past replay right in front of him once again.

As Present Mic makes his fateful announcement, the atmosphere is heavy with tension, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Power Loader, Tamaki Amajiki, and Mirio Togata stand alongside Izuku, their expressions mirroring his own shock and disbelief.

Izuku stands frozen, rooted to the spot as he witnesses the past replaying before his eyes. The sight of Present Mic, once a symbol of heroism and hope, now standing on the brink of darkness, fills him with a sense of profound sadness and despair.

Power Loader's stoic demeanor cracks, his usually impassive expression betraying a flicker of uncertainty. Tamaki Amajiki's usually reserved nature is replaced by a look of disbelief, his eyes wide with shock. And Mirio Togata, normally brimming with confidence and optimism, stands speechless, his face a mask of disbelief.

As Present Mic's words sink in, a sense of helplessness washes over Izuku. He knows that he's powerless to change the course of events, that the past is set in stone. All he can do is bear witness to the tragedy unfolding before him, a silent observer in a world torn apart by betrayal and disillusionment.

As the group stands there in stunned silence, their senses assaulted by Present Mic's shocking declaration, a sudden disturbance shatters the eerie calm. Without warning, a Nomu materializes out of thin air, its grotesque form looming menacingly between them.

Covered in blood and bearing the grisly remains of a deformed body, the Nomu's appearance sends a wave of horror rippling through the group. Izuku feels a cold chill run down his spine as he beholds the macabre sight, his heart pounding in his chest.

Inasa Yoarashi's lifeless form hangs limply from the Nomu's jaws, his once vibrant spirit snuffed out in an instant. The sight is too much to bear, and Izuku's instinct is to turn away, to shield himself from the horror unfolding before him. But he finds himself unable to tear his gaze away, transfixed by the gruesome scene unfolding before him.

The stench of blood fills the air, thick and suffocating, as the Nomu stands silently amidst the wreckage. Its empty eyes seem to bore into Izuku's soul, sending a shiver down his spine.

The air grows thick with tension as the group stands frozen in shock, their minds struggling to process the magnitude of the horror before them. Time seems to stand still as they grapple with the reality of what they've just witnessed, the weight of it pressing down on them like a suffocating blanket.

Izuku's hands tremble at his sides as he fights to maintain his composure, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Fear grips him like a vice, threatening to overwhelm him with its suffocating embrace.

As the nightmarish scene unfolds before him, Izuku stands frozen in terror, his eyes locked on the grotesque sight of the Nomu carrying Inasa's lifeless form. The air grows heavy with dread as the monstrous creature spits out the mangled body, its twisted features contorted into a grotesque mockery of humanity.

Izuku's mind reels with disbelief and horror, his thoughts racing as he struggles to comprehend the surreal nightmare playing out before him. Every fiber of his being screams at him to turn away, to flee from the nightmarish apparition before him, but his body remains rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear.

In the distance, he can hear the voices of Power Loader, Tamaki Amajiki, and Mirio Togata, their cries of shock and dismay echoing through the desolate landscape. But their words seem distant and muffled, drowned out by the pounding of Izuku's own heartbeat in his ears.

As the Nomu lurches forward, its empty eyes fixated on Izuku with a predatory gleam, a primal instinct kicks in, flooding Izuku's veins with adrenaline. With a surge of desperate determination, he wrenches himself from his paralysis, his muscles tensing as he prepares to confront the looming threat.

But before he can make a move, the world around him shimmers and fades, the nightmare melting away like a mirage in the desert. With a gasp of relief, Izuku finds himself back in the familiar confines of his bedroom, the soft glow of dawn filtering in through the curtains.

For a moment, he remains motionless, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he struggles to shake off the lingering effects of the nightmare. Slowly, the rational part of his mind begins to assert itself, reminding him that what he had witnessed was just a haunting nightmare, a chilling reminder of his past.

With a shaky exhale, Izuku pushes himself upright, his trembling hands reaching for his phone to silence the blaring alarm. As the shrill ringing fades into silence, he takes a moment to collect himself, his pulse gradually returning to normal as the remnants of the nightmare drift away like mist in the morning sun.

Though shaken by the intensity of his dream, Izuku knows that he cannot afford to dwell on it. With a determined resolve, he pushes aside the lingering unease and sets his sights on the day ahead. His life itself is a nightmare on its own, he muses grimly, but he refuses to let it consume him. Whatever challenges may come, he will face them head-on, drawing strength from the knowledge that he has seen far worse nightmares than the one that haunted him in his sleep.

As the warm water cascades over him, Izuku lets out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension of the nightmare slowly dissipate. With each drop that splashes against his skin, he washes away the remnants of fear and uncertainty, replacing them with a renewed sense of determination.

In the kitchen, the comforting aroma of breakfast wafts through the air, a stark contrast to the lingering remnants of his nightmare. Inko Midoriya moves about with practiced ease, the sound of sizzling filling the room as she prepares their morning meal.

For Izuku, the familiar routine is a welcome respite from the chaos of his thoughts. As he finishes his shower and steps out into the warmth of the kitchen, he feels a sense of calm settle over him, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the storm of his reality.

"Morning, Mom," Izuku greets her, offering a small smile as he takes a seat at the table.

"Good morning, Izuku," Inko replies, returning his smile with one of her own. "Sleep well?"

Izuku hesitates for a moment, the memory of his nightmare still fresh in his mind. But he shakes it off with a dismissive wave, not wanting to worry Inko about his troubles.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assures her, plastering on a reassuring smile. "Just had a weird dream, that's all."

Inko nods understandingly, though Izuku can see the concern in her eyes. She's always been able to see through his facade, even when he tries to hide his worries from her.

"Well, breakfast is almost ready," she says, her voice gentle. "Eat up before it gets cold."

Izuku nods gratefully, digging into his meal with a renewed appetite. With each bite, he pushes aside the lingering remnants of his nightmare, focusing instead on the warmth of Inko's cooking and the comforting routine of their morning ritual.

As Izuku finished his meal, he said goodbye to his mom and headed to the train station.

After bidding his mom farewell, Izuku headed to the train station. The platform was bustling with the usual rush of commuters, and the train itself was crammed with people, typical for this time of day. Izuku deftly navigated through the crowd, finding a spot near the window where he could observe the ongoing battle between pro heroes and a villain. He retrieved his trusty analysis notebook and diligently noted down details about the heroes' quirks, fighting styles, and any tactical errors. His lips remained sealed around his pen, a familiar habit to keep his thoughts from spilling out in muttered commentary, a habit honed through past experiences and trials.

As his stop approached, Izuku gathered his belongings and prepared to disembark. The walk to school was a peaceful respite from the chaos of the city, a moment of tranquility in his day. However, the calm was short-lived as he caught sight of a swarm of reporters blocking the entrance to U.A. High School. With a resigned sigh, he debated whether to find an alternate route.

Just as he was lost in thought, a familiar voice pierced through his reverie. It was Yuki Amano, her expression twisted with panic as she surveyed the throng of press ahead. Izuku's attention snapped back to the present as he approached her.

"Oh my me, can you believe these onions blocking the way again?" Yuki muttered to herself, her tone dripping with annoyance. "For the sake of time, may the mosquitoes keep you company at night, you bunch of disruptors!" she muttered under her breath, her words laced with exasperation.

Izuku's attention was drawn to Yuki's colorful expressions. "Don't worry, Yuki. I'll lead you through a different path. We'll avoid the press altogether," he reassured her, his voice calm and steady.

Yuki's expression softened with relief. "Thank you, Midoriya. I don't know what I would do without you."

With a reassuring smile, Izuku gestured for her to follow. "Come on, let's go this way," he said, leading her toward the peaceful solitude of the forested area bordering the U.A.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, Izuku couldn't help but notice Yuki's subtle signs of distress. While he found the journey through the woods full of excitement and adventure, Yuki seemed to be silently freaking out about every rustle in the bushes, every unfamiliar insect buzzing by, and every suspicious-looking plant they passed.

Izuku couldn't suppress a chuckle as he observed Yuki's attempts to maintain a brave facade, her body language betraying her true feelings of unease. It was one of the things he loved about her—the way she pretended to be brave even when she was clearly out of her comfort zone. Despite her fears, she refused to let them show, her stubborn determination to appear fearless evident in every tense movement and forced smile.

"Hey, Yuki, are you okay?" Izuku asked, unable to contain his amusement at her exaggerated attempts to act nonchalant.

Yuki shot him a quick glance, her facade slipping for just a moment before she quickly regained her composure. "Of course, I'm okay, Midoriya," she replied, her voice a touch too cheerful as she brushed off his concern. "Just enjoying the scenic route, you know?"

Izuku couldn't help but smile at her response, admiring her resilience even in the face of her fears. "Well, if you ever need a break from the 'scenic route,' just let me know," he said with a playful grin. "I'm here to protect you from any bugs, poisonous plants, or venomous creatures that dare to cross our path."

Yuki chuckled nervously, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Thanks, Midoriya. I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine," she insisted, her voice tinged with stubbornness.

As they finally reached the campus, Izuku and Yuki parted ways with their own parting phrases, each heading to their respective classes.

"See you when we meet again, Midoriya," Yuki said with a small smile, her eyes reflecting a hint of gratitude for their shared adventure through the forest.

"Take care, Yuki," Izuku replied warmly, his voice filled with genuine affection. "Until next time."

With a final wave, they went their separate ways, Yuki making her way to class 1-C and Izuku to class 1-A.

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ivnvnva · 21 days

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My wife

#sander sides #deceit sanders #ts deceit #janussanders #goth janus #Transfem janus #she/her janus #we need more fem janus #Like guys

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i-smell-sarcasm · 10 months

Video

youtube

turning Deceit into the fem-fatale he deserves to be - ANIMATIC | Sander Sides

Hello! I'm back from the void I sort of rushed this video bc I've been focusing on my last year at uni hehe I know I keep saying it, but I do have some bigger projects planned so I hope you'll enjoy them once I get some time to actually work on it haha, will try to update you guys more in the future I do miss doing some sanders sides content, especially with the hiatus we've got going on I might try and do something with the whole gang or something for Role Slaying with Roman at some point (once I get around to watching it), but we'll see

Sound is from Eartha Kitt as The Catwoman, fantastic woman, fantastic voice Deceit's design was done by @abd-illustrates, amazing artist, if somehow you don't know him, please go check out his art, you can thank me later And obviously, Deceit's character is from Sander Sides, a webseries on YouTube made by @thatsthat24! It's amazing, it's wholesome and absolutely hilarious, here's the link to Thomas' videos

#sander sides #ss deceit #deceit #ss janus #janus #cat woman #i can't believe I didn't think of making the title 'turning janus into the fem-fatale he deserves to be'#tbh idk what was going on in my head #i just forgor

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pleasedonthurtcjstar · 2 years

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Moceit moodboard + Yellow and gray-ish/dusty blue lesbian vibes

Fem!sides bc that’s the vibes I was feeling Monday morning

Instagram

#fem!sides #Moceit #moodboard #pleasedonthurtcjstar works #sanders sides #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #fem!patton #fem!janus #fem sides #female Patton sanders #female Janus sanders #female Patton #female Janus

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pattons-potato1 · 2 years

Photo

The Things We Used To Share (on Wattpad)

https://www.wattpad.com/story/229092825-the-things-we-used-to-share?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=pattons_potato&wp_originator=aVj9HKGYgancxi6Zky3xEHg4BZrsFo3AESDj8hmyb5rBjkJ1hCjqXgBG1QdVt%2B31W9bwFroYpSbPjNsnThclL5kFa3K61j9IAGQdFULjuIOOQHS5coEs1JpJFcH8i%2BL%2B

Logan had feelings, always has. They play a big role in him like they do all of the other sides, so why doesn't he show them as much? Why are emotions the bane of his existence? Is it because that was the way that it was supposed to be for a logical trait like himself? Or was it something else?

{Cover art is mine, characters belong to Thomas Sanders, the plot and story is original (as far as I am aware)}

#angst #deceit #fem #janus #loceit #logan #logic #wattpad #lgbtq #lgbt #logan sanders #logic sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan angst

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mostly-imagines · 27 days

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Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??

meet the family

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason has a girlfriend???

warnings: none

The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.

Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.

It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.

“There’s a girl here!”

Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.

Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.

Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”

“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

Cassandra nods fervently.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”

Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”

“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.

Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”

“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.

“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.

Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.

Knock knock knock knock knock…

Knock knock.

It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.

Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What’cha doing?”

He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.

“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”

“No.”

Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”

Jason shuts the door.

A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.

“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.

“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.

And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.

Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.

“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”

Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”

He stares at her.

“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.

“Stephanie.”

“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”

“Bye.” He closes the door.

He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.

Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.

Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.

Jason shuts the door in his face.

Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.

It’s Cass.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.

Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”

She smiles and turns back down the hall.

Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.

“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.

“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”

He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”

“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”

“I’m starting to regret it now.”

“Come on. Please?” You plead.

He picks his head up to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.

“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.

He sighs.

Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.

You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.

“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”

“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”

Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.

You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.

Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.

Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”

“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.

There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.

“Hold on—”

“—my god, she’s so pretty!”

“Oh wow—”

“Wait, what?”

”—You’re real?”

“—didn’t place that bet.”

Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’m—”

But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.

“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.

“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.

Cass waves and signs something to you.

“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.

Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.

Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”

Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”

Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”

“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.

You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.

Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”

“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.

“No wait!”

You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.

You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”

Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”

You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”

He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.

You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”

“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”

He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.

He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.

The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.

You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.

“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.

You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.

He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.

As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.

“Bruce.”

Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.

“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”

Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.

Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.

Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.

“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.

He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”

Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.

“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.

You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”

He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.

“Jason.”

Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.

“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.

“Yes.”

He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”

Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”

Bruce nods. “Good.”

He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.

Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.

He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…

Oh god, you went back to the living room.

As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.

“—long have you been together, anyways?”

“Well—”

Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”

“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.

Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”

Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”

A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.

“What?”

#hey alia #jason todd loves his gf #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd imagine #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #batfam x you #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction #batfam fanfic #batfam x reader #batfam dynamics

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coryosbaby · 2 months

Note

I am BEGGING you to write about hannigram x innocent fem reader. mayyyybee featuring age gap and breeding? :) she just asks them "what does break my belt mean?" and oh..

Caretaker… Hannigram x fem! Reader

Synopsis: it’s up to Will and Hannibal to take care of you, however that may be.

Content warning . 18+, MDNI age gap (reader is in her early 20s), spanking/usage of belts, punishments, dumbification, threesome, cum play, daddy kink . hard dom! Hannibal, soft dom! Will

Author’s Note: I didn’t know how to go about this (my brain isn’t braining rn) so I did smth similar :) this is literally pure filth like Im ovulating sorry

‧₊˚ 🩰 ⋅* ‧₊

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

Will’s voice is soft as he gently rubs your sock clad feet, watching the small wince that you make when he grazes over a bruised toe. You adjust yourself on your bed, bottom becoming numb from how long you’ve been sitting. You slide the sleeves of your dress back up on your shoulders— they have a hard time staying up, and it’s something that annoys you incredibly.

“He’s right,” Hannibal chimes from the cushioned seat in the corner of the room. He closes the book in his hand and sets it on the desk beside him. It’s funny, how different these two men look in your pink, frilly room. “You’re working yourself too hard, little one.”

You frown, feeling the bed dip as Hannibal joins you and Will’s side.

“But ballet is important to me.”

“So is your health,” Will replies, and notices the way you seem to fidget in your dress. “Is your dress bothering you, baby?”

You nod, heat creeping up your neck when Will lifts the hem of it over your head. Now clad in your bra and cotton panties, you feel open and exposed. But since it’s Hannibal and Will, you feel safer than you’ve ever been.

“Come here,” Will says, and you crawl over to the place in between his spread thighs as he leans against your headboard. Hannibal follows in quiet suit, moving to Will’s side and holding your hand in his much larger one. Will’s hands play with your hair as you think back to something you’d been wanting to ask the two for a while.

“Can one of you use your belt on me?”

The soft scrape against your scalp stops at the question.

“What?”

“I mean,” you mumble, cheeks flaring. “I was watching a video.. ‘n.. the guy, he—“

“You’ve been watching naughty videos?” Hannibal inquires. You shake your head, wide doe eyes flashing.

“No!” You reply, too quickly. “No, of course not.”

“Hmm,” the man shifts, gripping the soft skin of your jaw gently with his hand. Looking into your eyes, he can see the deceit in them. “You have, haven’t you? You know what we say about those videos, darling. They’re bad for you,” he looks back to the other man in the room. “Maybe we will have to spank her after all. Don’t you think, Will?”

“Play nice, Hannibal,” Will warns, though his mouth pulls into a small, amused smirk. “She’s sensitive. Probably doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.”

“I do.” you whine, pawing at the sleeve of Hannibal’s suit. He chuckles, thumb rubbing gently over your wrist.

“Come here then, little one,” Hannibal coos. “Over my knee.”

Your eyes widen, pouty lips dropping open in awe.

“Now?” You squeak.

Will rolls his eyes, patting you softly on the arm.

“You heard him, Bunny. Go on.”

Getting on your hands and knees, panty clad ass now revealing the puff ball bunny tail on the back of the fabric, the two of them think you’re the cutest little thing they’ve ever seen. You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone, and watch as Will hands over his belt to Hannibal. It’s your favorite one, plain black but with a belt buckle that has your initials imprinted. Will wears it often— he’s not one to have flashy accessories, but since it was a gift from you he cherishes it dearly.

Since Will is on Hannibal’s left side, you decide to position yourself with your face directed towards him. This leads to your arms and face being smooshed against Will’s thighs, and he gently rubs your head with his hands. Hannibal hums when your ass lifts up for him, bunny tail flickering as you move your hips to get his attention.

“We should keep these on, don’t you think?” He says, fingers grazing over the bunny tail. “Too precious to pull them down, lover.”

You nod shyly, letting out a puff of air when Will’s fingers begin fumbling with the hooks on your bra. He advises you to slide the straps off your shoulders when he undoes them, and you awkwardly shuffle them off. Will’s hands move around your back to grope one of your breasts. The feeling of cold leather against your backside makes you whimper, and Hannibal positions his hand on the bottom of your thigh.

“Move your hands behind your back,” Hannibal demands. “You aren’t in any position of control. If you want to stop, you know the rules.”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, almost immediately. You move your arms back to link them together, Will’s hands gripping the both of yours tightly to make sure you don’t move.

“Good girl,” and then, “You’re going to count each one I give you. We will stop at ten since this is your first time.”

You nod, as much as you can with your face buried in Will’s lap. You can feel the hardness in his pants, right up against your cheek, and your mouth waters.

There’s a comforting rub against your left cheek before Hannibal brings the belt down. It isn’t too bad, a slight sting that makes you jump.

“One.” You say, quietly. Your ass lifts up for more.

“Good,” Hannibal praises, soothing the skin once more. “Are you going to watch those videos again?”

You stay silent, contemplating but also being quiet on purpose. You can’t deny that Hannibal getting angry with you makes your panties drenched.

At this, Hannibal slams the belt down onto you once again. A warning. You cry out this time, feeling a burning sensation along your skin.

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he says sternly. “And don’t make me have to break my belt on you, little one.”

“What does that mean?” you whine, ditzy little head genuinely confused by such a simple term. You inhale the scent of Will’s pants, and from above you, the brunette’s hands gently soothe your back.

“Told you, Hanni,” he singsongs. “Doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.”

“Ignoring your interruption,” Hannibal says, annoyed (but not really). He directs his attention back to you. “Tell me, little one. Yes or no?”

You bite your lower lip, cheeks flaring as your arousal increases.

“Yes.”

Hannibal scoffs.

“You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”

The belt comes down on you again. You jump, tears beginning to pool along your waterline.

“What was that?” Hannibal demands harshly. “Was that a yes that I heard?”

“No!” You say. “No, daddy, I’ll never ever watch those videos again! I promise, promise…”

You thrash against the pain, and Hannibal’s palms rub the sore skin.

“Alright,” he replies. “but I’m adding five more. Naughty girls who don’t listen get punished.”

“Hannibal,” Will warns. “She’s fragile.”

“She’s a brat, is what she is, Will. Stop defending her,” Hannibal’s hands wrap around your hair, pulling your teary eyed face up and craning your neck. “Now count. Starting from three.”

The belt comes down again, and your hands ache, along with your bottom.

“T-Three.” You say. The belt comes down on you again, and again. You count to five.

“You really need to be harder on her,” Hannibal says to Will, who’s subtly grinding against your face as he watches you writhe below him. “She needs to learn that her actions have consequences.”

“I know,” Will sighs, then gently taps the tip of your nose, and smiles softly. “But look at how precious she is.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, bringing out the sixth then seventh hit. You can already feel the blooming of bruises by the time you hit number ten, and your aching pussy grinds down into Hannibal’s thigh. He seems to allow this, and by the twelfth hit, he’s teasing you about it.

“Is this arousing you, lover?” He asks, amused. “You only have three more to go. You better enjoy it.”

“Mm, she is,” Will cuts in, reaching down between your legs to feel your soaked panties. “Little pussy is so wet,” and then, “You ruined your panties, pup.”

Mewling, you allow another smack to come down onto your ass.

“T-Thirteen,” you whimper out. “Could.. could you buy me some new panties, Will?”

Another smack. Another number. Will tilts his head, staring at your panty clad ass.

“Mm,” he replies. “I don’t know, Hannibal. What do you think?” His fingers grasp the puff ball tail and tug it up. This makes your panties ride up in between your folds, and you gasp, humiliated. “I think baby blue would really suit her.”

“That, or lilac,” the eldest man replies. “We’ll get you a new set, little one. But only because it benefits us as much as it benefits you.”

You smile, giddy with excitement to take another shopping trip. Hannibal rubs your ass again, and Will kisses you on the head.

“One more for us, alright?”

You nod, perky ass throbbing with heat. Hannibal slams the belt down, and this time you let out a sob. It was the harshest hit, one sure to leave a welt or two. Hannibal coos when he sees your look of pain, throwing the belt to the side and gently massaging you.

“Shhh. It’s alright. Come here, darling.”

You maneuver your body to slide in between Hannibal’s legs, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap around your smaller form, and he kisses your hair, allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder. You let out a few more stray tears while he and Will both soothe the ache on your bottom.

“You know we only do this because we have to.” Hannibal murmurs.

“I know, daddy.”

“Actions have consequences, and you asked for this sort of punishment. So we decided to give it to you,” he explains, and pulls away to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod, a small smile grazing your lips.

“I did. I enjoyed it a lot.”

“Good,” he replies. “And since you’ve taken your punishment so well, I’m giving you the opportunity to ask for something. Whatever you want, you can have it.”

Your eyes brighten.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You lick your lips, contemplating your options with excitement.

“Hmm,” you say, and then finally come to your decision. You look over to your second boyfriend, who seems to be watching you with an almost love struck gaze. “I want Will… want his mouth. Please?”

Will licks his lips at the statement. Oral is one of his favorite things to give.

“Very well,” Hannibal says, then gestures for Will. “She can lay in between my legs. You lay between hers.”

Will nods, and you happily turn around and begin sliding off your panties. Spreading your legs, you look up at Will with doe eyes as he approaches you. His lips touch yours, sliding easily against the expanse of your mouth. When he pulls away, the scent of your arousal overtakes his senses. He groans, moving down in between your legs.

Hannibal’s big arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you still. Will flawlessly licks a stripe up your slit, making you whimper and hold onto Hannibal for dear life as he begins to eat you like a man starved. His mouth works wonders against your tiny hole and aching clit as he groans into your cunt, drinking your sweet juices like it’s nectar of the Gods.

“How does she taste?” Hannibal asks, even though he already knows the answer. He loves to go down on you just as much as the other man.

Will pulls away, chin dripping and hair disheveled.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he gasps out, nosing at your folds. His thumbs spread them apart, exposing your hole that’s coated in creamy slick. “Cutest fuckin’ cunt I’ve ever seen.”

You clench, letting him see the opening and closing of your hole. You want him to stick his tongue back inside.

You don’t have to wait long for that, because a mere second later Hannibal’s big hand splays across the back of Will’s head and pushes him back down. Will lets out a moan at this, allowing Hannibal to guide his head up and down and every which way that brings you closer and closer to your peak. Hannibal smirks, watching the way you writhe under his tongue and watch Will with hungry, lidded eyes.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” He says, and you can feel his hardness pressing against your back.

Drool seeps down your chin as you nod.

“Mhm..” you whine out. Your hands go to the boy’s hair, and he whimpers when you tug on the strands.

“He likes when you do that,” Hannibal observes, his tone low. He kisses the shell of your ear. “Do it again.”

You comply, watching the way Will’s hips grind down into the mattress when it happens and the way Hannibal lets out a heavy breath. Will’s mouth works harder, bringing your clit in between his lips and lightly sucking. You gasp out his name, hips moving against him in tandem.

“Will, Daddy.. ‘m so close..”

“Close, yes?” Hannibal taunts, and his grip around your throat tightens. His biceps practically squeeze your neck as you near closer and closer to your high, your throat gasping for breath. When your orgasm overtakes you, Hannibal loosens his grip, but not quite. You let out a raw, pleasure filled moan when you cum, Will working you through until the point of overstimulation, your legs shaking and your sock clad feet pushing on his shoulders. He chuckles when he pulls away, a pleased grin forming as he wipes his slick coated mouth on the back of his wrist. And boy, is it a sight. He licks up the remaining remnants of your arousal with his tongue, hands splaying on either side of you and Hannibal’s legs so he can move up and kiss you filthily on the mouth. Hannibal is next, a tender peck that makes the cock against your lower back twitch. It has him licking his lips when Will pulls away, his lashes fluttering as he sighs in content. He presses a kiss to your mouth, too, and relaxes even further.

It’s only a mere moment of rest before you can feel that familiar throb again, and the sight of your two boys bulging through their pants makes you drool. You spread your legs, overstimulated pussy on full display.

Will, who had been laying at the foot of the bed in front of the both of you, watches with hunger. You lean away from Hannibal, instead turning yourself on your knees and presenting yourself to Will, who’s already positioning himself behind you eagerly. Hannibal, the most patient out of all three of you, no doubt, finally takes his aching cock out of his pants and wraps a hand around himself at the scene. You hear the rustling of Will’s fly being undone, then his length is pressed against your ass and wet, oh so wet, even when he slides it in between your folds and sheathes himself inside your little hole with one swift movement. Your mouth drops open at the sensation of being filled, your hands finding purchase on Hannibal’s thick thighs in front of you. His cock is hitting his stomach, red and leaking drops of precum down the tip, and you watch as Hannibal rubs it up and down with his hand. You look up at him pleadingly as Will begins to pound you into the mattress.

“You want daddy’s cock in your mouth, is that it?” Hannibal teases, and you nod. He sighs, directing the tip of his cock towards you. “Open wide, sweet girl.”

You happily obey, tongue lolling out to lick at his tip, his stringy precum sticking to your bottom lip and the head of his cock, tasting absolutely divine. Will’s hands roam over your ass as his cock bullies your gummy walls.

“Mm, Hanni got you good, didn’t he, baby?” He says, examining the marks. “Gonna have to put some lotion on that later.”

The use of the nickname in Will’s mouth is a mockery of your own. You nod, however, pouting.

“Mhm. But Daddy knows what’s best for me.”

“That’s right,” Hannibal grunts out, when you take him fully down your throat. “Dumb little girls like you can’t think for themselves. That’s why you need Will and I to take care of you,” and then, “God, darling, your mouth is just perfect.”

You hum, choking on him. Will’s fingers bruise your hips now, his balls slapping against your ass with every harsh thrust. Your pussy quakes around him, clamping down on his length. His breath is warm against your ear as he pushes in and out of you.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby..” as he watches your ass bounce back against him.

“Look at that tight little pussy, practically choking my dick.” as he spreads your cheeks apart, watching the way you take him.

“Hannibal’s cock tastes good, doesn’t it?” As you come up for air and gasp, drool soaking your neck and chin.

You can feel when he gets close by the way his hips stutter, and with a lewd whine hes babbling endlessly.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says. “Gonna cum in this slut pussy— god, squeeze me just like that.”

“Please,” you whimper endlessly, and you can hear Hannibal let out a breathy chuckle.

“She wants it. She wants you to cum in her cunt,” his voice drops an octave as he watches the boy. “Come on. I need something to lubricate her more once I get my turn, don’t I?”

“Oh—“

Will’s eyes roll back, his body tensing up as he finally releases inside her. She clenches down on him, milking him for all he’s worth as he shoots rope after rope deep inside her gaping pussy. Hannibal’s fingers nestle into the boy’s hair as he rides out his orgasm, gently twirling the soft locks in between his fingers. You watch with your mouth turned into an o, burying yourself deeper against Hannibal’s chest in retaliation.

“There you go,” Hannibal coos when Will sighs against your chest, spent. “Good boy.”

“Tease,” Will mumbles back to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. His eyes look up at you and he smiles. “Are you okay?”

You giggle, nodding your head.

“More than okay.”

He looks down at the mess between your thighs as he pulls out, grunting. A trail of his spend pools out of you and onto the sheets.

His fingers begin to move up to your drenched clit— you need release to, after all, and Will is never a selfish lover—but before he can, Hannibal’s hand grabs his wrist.

“No,” he utters. “Let me, once I’m inside her.”

“Like I said,” Will grumbles, moving out from between your legs to settle back against the headboard. “Tease.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, guiding you to turn around and face him. You bite your lower lip at the feeling of Will’s cum trailing down your thighs. Hannibal undoes his belt, pulling down his zipper so his pants are open and his briefs are exposed.

“Take me out, darling.”

She reaches into the waistband of his underwear, pulling his length out and giving it a few languid strokes. Will watches, his spent cock twitching against his stomach. He ignores it, instead deciding to move to your side and press a kiss to your heated cheek. His hand provides a comforting pressure to the back of your head as he settles it in your hair. Hannibal tilts his head, grabbing the back of your thighs and pulling you into his lap.

“Put my cock inside you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Be a good girl.”

Your lashes flutter at the vulgar term spilling from the usually polite man’s lips. Will’s hands scrape against your scalp and your brain is fuzzy with how good it all feels. Grabbing Hannibal’s length in your hand, you position your dripping cunt over the tip of his cock.

Sinking down makes your brows furrow. Hannibal isn’t as big as Will, but that isn’t saying much. The man still has a considerable size, and his girth stretches your gummy walls exceptionally. You whimper, settling down to the very base of his cock. Hannibal’s head tilts back and hits the headboard, his eyes squeezing shut to get used to the sensation of you wrapped around him. His big hands splay across your hips and Will nuzzles your throat affectionately.

“Daddy.” you whine, your little pussy beginning to rock onto Hannibal.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me, please?”

He smiles, pulling you further against him so he can brace his feet underneath you. His cock gives a few shallow thrusts, getting used to your heat, before moving into more dangerous territory. It isn’t long before he’s jackhammering into you, your head tilted back by Will’s big hands. He demands you open your mouth, and you do. A glob of spit lands on your tongue, which you swallow greedily. Hannibal groans as he watches the scene.

“Filthy little things,” he mutters, pulling you into a kiss. You both share Will’s saliva on your intertwining tongues.

Your thighs shake as Hannibal’s cock and balls leak with Will’s cum. The sound is utterly sinful— the gushing sounds of his cock pummeling your filled pussy, his balls slapping against your ass, the sobs tearing through your throat. Tears stream down your cheeks and you’re sobbing.

Hannibal’s fingers reach down to your clit, deftly rubbing against the swollen nub exactly the way you like. It isn’t long before you reach your peak, your pussy clenching down as a string of filthy words makes its way out of your throat, burying your face in Hannibal’s white button down and staining it with salty tears. Will is an absolute sweetheart, guiding your hips with his hands to help you, cooing little sweet sayings in your ear. He cakes your throat in pretty red marks.

Hannibal draws closer to his orgasm, small grunts and heavy breaths spilling out of his mouth. It isn’t long before he empties inside you, filling you up with a second load of sticky, white cum. He pulls your limp body off of his length, your pussy making a gushing sound as both of your boyfriend’s dribble out of you. The two men sigh when they see it, their cocks both twitching at the sight.

But all three of you have had enough for the day— or at least for the next few hours. Hannibal disappears out of the room for a moment to bring back a glass of water and lotion. He holds the water to your lips and sweetly coos, “you’ve been such an obedient girl. Drink, okay?”

You do, of course. You drink the whole damn glass.

After going into the bathroom to pee and wipe your cum covered thighs, Hannibal lotions your sore bottom with gentle hands. After this you finally crawl back into bed, moving onto your stomach and hugging your pillow tightly. Will chuckles.

“You don’t want a bubble bath?” He asks, because that’s usually what you request. But you just shake your head, your eyes fluttering shut. Not asleep, but almost. Will nods his head. “Later then, sweet girl.”

The boy crawls to your side, wrapping his big arm around you and pulling you to his side. Hannibal soon joins, his tie loosened and jacket off, pants unbuttoned. It’s rare to see him in such a messy state, relaxed. Only you and Will can help him unwind like this.

He lays on his back, and you lay your head on his chest, inhaling his strong, expensive cologne. Beside you, you can smell the aftershave that Will wears— Hannibal teases him about it, but you’re quite fond of it. It smells like home.

They smell like home.

You smile sleepily, watching with barely open eyes as Hannibal and Will’s hands connect over you. As you fall into a peaceful sleep, the two men on either side of you stay wide awake.

After a moment, Will chuckles.

“So I’m assuming we’ll be using my belt more often?”

“Guaranteed,” hannibal confirms, watching you drool onto his shirt in your sleep. He never mentions it to you because he doesn’t want you to be embarrassed. “Perhaps we can use it on you next time, Will”

The younger man scoffs, his cheeks flaring as he buries his face into your hair.

“Shut up, Hanni.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

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chaldeanu · 2 days

Text

lovers ノ aventurine . boothill . sunday

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 1.3k ノ fem reader — weirdly poetic thirsts with hcs imbued in prose ノ it’s more suggestive rather than explicit . i was just vibing with their personalities idk ノ briefly mentioned rough treatment ノ secret affair . implied situationship ノ petnames — little doll . baby

aventurine ノ

if you know him by his alias “aventurine”, he’s most likely not showing his true self to you. no, not by chance — he knows well this isn’t something you would overlook. he is hesitant to be sincere around you, as if only your presence alone could compel him to abandon his deceit and masks altogether…

maybe, just maybe, there’s a possibility that he will reveal his secrets between heated kisses and desperate squeezes your sides, almost melting into his desire, and his purple gaze is filled with an insatiable fire. but when everything’s all done, you wonder if he can still remember the thing you two share behind the door.

with laughs and playful rolls of his eyes, he tells you that it’s a non-committal relationship, satiating your pouts with expensive gifts and golden compliments. and yet, and yet, when he’s away from you for too long, he dives back into your embrace like a famished man, just to lap on your lips for hours after, in those nightly escapades full of pleasure, lust, and saccharine promises.

“will you love me? will you stay with me?”

“please, stop lying. i want you close. always.” when he hears how your breath catches, when your knees grow weak and wobbly, and when the tiny pants fill the air between you two, he never lets go, making sure you feel how his fingers dig into your hips, pressing his palms to the warm flesh beneath, creating marks of red and purple that disappear when morning comes.

seemingly lost in thought until a certain sound snaps him out of his stupor. he realises that you’re crying, holding his face with shaky hands, but there’s also a gentle smile gracing your features. his body stiffens, chest tightening so suddenly that it seems suffocating, just by seeing you cry and ask for him.

but there is nothing you can say, even if you want to pour your heart and soul into him. if he could only do the same in exchange…

his laugh rings, coming straight from his stomach and ending deep, rich, and hoarse in his throat. his hand snakes up to ruffle your hair gently as his lips kiss your forehead in a brief peck before falling down to plant another one on your jaw, then another, another, until he reaches the tip of your nose, where he lingers longer than before, covering you in even more butterfly nibbles.

“is this the gift you want the most? to know my name?”

boothill ノ

with a pearlescent smirk of spikes like death itself, he smiles upon you. he greets you in his arms, his shirt barely shielding you from the hard surface of the metal plates. the cyborg presses himself against you, trapping you within his embrace, until you push your bare front against his chest — warming the artificial body and breathing in his scent as you look up at him.

when he notices you whimper his name so sweetly, he can’t help but bring up his right hand and hook his fingers beneath your chin to guide your eyes to his own. has he forgotten how soft love can be, not burning like regret and hunger for revenge.

“hey,” he hums in that low, raspy tone, which sends shivers running across your back. “baby, does it feel good?” he whispers into your ear, letting you hear each syllable forming on the tip of his tongue. “do you think you’ll be able to handle all of it?” he adds, emphasising the last two words as he runs one of his fingers down until it taps your entrance, slipping into you again just to tease you, to see how you squirm within his grip and react to every brush of his lips against your neck.

he uses his free hand to pull your leg up, circling your thigh around his waist for good measure, imagining how it must feel when such a soft creature drapes over his synthetic form.

the way your knees clench against his torso makes his systems overheat, he believes, but perhaps it’s just because of the excitement flowing through his, what he still likes to call, veins, and the rush of heat shooting right between his legs, where he wishes he still could sense the thrill of getting aroused for real.

even if the man who is now nipping at your sensitive spot isn’t quite human, he doesn’t seem to be any different to you — his frame quivering from anticipation and something much, much deeper than that, something primal. fake blood pumping mad, sparks going along the wires from the mental exertion, and it seems like his lips melt into yours, just as wet and hot as the slick dripping from your folds and slathering his fingers.

he shifts to press your asscheeks flush to his groin, moving slowly, smoothly as his mouth lingers over your collarbone, savouring each gasp and shivering whine you offer him. he murmurs praises right into your skin.

“just like that, baby. i don’t remember when i was this happy… so keep showing me those expressions of yours.”

sunday ノ

he is careful not to mark you, because hickeys would immediately give the affair between you two away. the ones right under the edge of your clothes are quite inconspicuous, so unless someone pays special attention, they will remain undiscovered. you’re not allowed to tell anyone — this love is even sweeter when engulfed in mystery. he keeps things discreet for your sake and his own, knowing that a scandal would damage both of your reputations irreparably.

if you want to indulge the young leader of the oak family by playing the innocent, cute type, do so in moderation. this isn’t because he gets off on purity fetishes — quite the opposite. becoming more frustrated than anything, because your image goes against the reality he sees and the desires you stir within his soul.

when it comes time for him to act, he shows no grace to such an imaginary concept. whether you’re begging him for relief or whimpering beneath him helplessly, he finds joy in denying you just to make you writhe in sweet agony.

it’s not unheard of for sunday to hurt you during the shared nights, but he prefers to be gentle most of the time. still, if you ever tempt him into treating you rough, you’ve opened yourself up to being left unable to walk without feeling sore.

“my little doll, you asked for it yourself. don’t whine now that you can’t take any more of it…” he coos with a click of his tongue at the view before him — legs parted and his thumb flicking against your clit just right next to his cock parting your incandescent folds.

the very tip of his shaft remains lodged inside while his hips grind hard into yours, ensuring that he feels every wet stroke and inch of heat clenching around him as you struggle to contain it all. one hand grabs onto your waist, digging nails in enough that they leave impressions, while the other arm secures itself under your shoulders as he lies atop your chest and takes what he wants from you.

even in this position, sunday makes sure his lips never part from yours. he could easily place them anywhere else to get off — his neck is flushed a pretty pink with your desperate marks all over it, your nipples erect and sore from him rolling them between his fingers — but your mouth is all he desires. every thrust inside you brings the two of you closer until the kaleidoscopic ecstasy intertwines your bodies in perfect harmony.

#writing ノ #boothill x reader #boothill smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #star rail x reader #star rail smut #honkai star rail x you #star rail x you #hsr x you #fem reader #sunday x reader #sunday smut #hsr x reader #hsr smut #sunday x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine smut

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delulujuls · 4 months

Text

his eyes | mv33

hi! you asked about part two for the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess so i delivered (its still hot, fresh from the oven). i'm not sure if i like it but don't worry, for sure i will write something about the mad dutch duo in the future. but now enjoy this one!

summary: eyes can say a lot so where it comes to reveal feelings there is no place to hide

warnings: none, mentions of car accident

pairing: fem!redbulldriver x max verstappen

Max's eyes were beautiful.

They were always beautiful when they had small wrinkles around them caused by smiling. Always then, they were the color of a cloudless sky on a warm july morning. They were beautiful even when there was a storm raging inside. They were dark and agitated then, but still beautiful. But they were beautiful in a terrifying way, because at that moment there was no trace of a smile on Max's face, and the only warmth was the rage burning in his veins.

Y/N could have sworn she had never met another pair of eyes like Max's, so whenever she could, she allowed herself to drown in them. Even during arguments, when they were shouting and calling each other names, his eyes were beautiful. However, they lost all their beauty when they were struck by fear.

When Max was scared, his eyes faded. The july sky was covered with clouds and the turbulent sea was shrouded in fog. Y/N stopped noticing the fear in Max's eyes when he managed to break free from his toxic father and their karting years ended, replaced by Formula 1.

However, on that day when she woke up in the ambulance, the first thing she encountered was the cloudy sky in his eyes. Max wasn't scared; he was terrified to the core. When, after a few seconds, his brain acknowledged that his friend was alive, he sighed with relief. The sky began to clear.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see those deceitful eyes of yours."

Verstappen smiled, squeezing his friend's hand.

"What happened?"

She asked with difficulty. Her throat hurt terribly; the hot smoke and fumes had taken their toll.

"You had an accident and lost consciousness. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"Accident is an understatement," a paramedic interjected, removing her drip from the hanger "You did a Grosjean from Bahrain 2020."

Y/N blinked several times and it took her a moment to connect the dots. Judging by the man's comparison, her accident must have been truly unpleasant.

"How's the car?"

"Just needs a wipe."

She rolled her eyes at her friend's words, and a moment later, she coughed. Quickly, she put her oxygen mask back on.

"Don't worry about the car," Max said, still holding her hand. "The most important thing is that you're back with us."

"At what cost? At least, being unconscious spared me from looking at you."

She replied sarcastically, pulling the mask slightly away from her face. Max chuckled quietly at her words, relieved that she still had the strength to joke after everything. She returned his smile. She still didn't fully grasp what had happened or what she had been involved in, but the feeling inside her body told her it must have looked bad. The last time she saw fear in Max's eyes was years ago.

But something had changed after that. Since her accident, she noticed that Max's eyes looked at her differently. In a way she had never seen before, a way she couldn't compare to anything else. They looked at her with unimaginable gentleness and tenderness. They looked at her with love.

"You're damn stubborn, you know that?"

Max said when barely two weeks after the accident Y/N, using crutches, appeared in his garage. He didn't say it maliciously; he was just genuinely worried. He put down his water bottle and approached his friend, gently hugging her and pulling up a chair for her.

"I'm glad to see you too."

She replied, leaning her crutches against the chair and sitting on the workbench.

Max sighed and shook his head. Since the accident, Y/N had been a constant source of concern for him.

"What?" she asked, glancing at him, "I'm not getting into the car, don't worry."

"You should be resting."

"I am resting, see?" Y/N pointed to her makeshift seat, "More comfortable than a bed."

Max was about to reply, but he was called to take his place in the car. Friends exchanged glances one last time and as he left the garage, Y/N hopped off the bench and approached Christian's workstation, taking a seat next to him. He smiled at her and handed her headphones.

"Good to see you, Y/N."

"Some would prefer me not to be here."

She replied, glancing at the monitor. Christian smiled at the thought of Max, who was very concerned about his friend.

"He was really worried about you, like we all were."

"I guess I'm just not used to Verstappen seeing more than the tip of his own nose."

The man laughed at her words. She was absolutely right; Max's reputation could be unpredictable. However, lately, his behavior had changed noticeably, evident to everyone in the paddock.

When the training session ended, friends returned to the hotel. Max kept pace with Y/N, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Moving on crutches wasn't problematic for her, though.

"Don't look at me like I'm an eighty-year-old grandma."

She said, seeing his gaze as they reached her room and she plopped onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not looking at you like that. We both know that you are slower than this only in a car."

Y/N grabbed a pillow and threw it at him and he laughed, effortlessly catching it. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, but Y/N lowered her gaze when she noticed his eyes doing it again. Looking at her in that way.

"Christian said you were worried" the girl said, after a moment gathering enough courage to look at him again, "Really?"

"I thought I was pulling a corpse out of that wreck. Of course I was worried."

She lowered her gaze again, focusing on her hands. Max squeezed the pillow in his hands and sat next to her.

"Thank you."

She said softly. Even though she had thanked him earlier, she knew that no amount of gratitude would match the level of his deed. She turned her head towards him and their gazes met again. He smiled.

"I knew you'd do the same. You've always got my back, no matter how angry you are with me."

Y/N snorted and nodded. Max was absolutely right. Although some time had passed since the accident, they hadn't had a chance to talk about it. Not about the accident itself, but about what changed between them. Because something definitely had changed.

"Can I ask you something?"

She spoke up, glancing at him. He nodded.

"Did what happened change anything between us?"

"What do you mean?"

Max tensed a bit. Although he didn't move an inch, after so many years spent together, you could pick up every detail.

"You're behaving differently toward me."

She explained. He looked at her attentively.

"You're more affectionate. I've never felt something like that from you before."

Max lowered his head and interlaced his fingers. He wasn't sure how to put into words what had been swirling in his head for some time and growing stronger with each passing day. So, he decided to go for honesty.

"When I was pulling you out of the car, I had no idea if you were alive. Riding in the ambulance, I wondered if I would ever be able to talk to you again and apologize for that senseless argument."

He took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands.

"When you woke up and looked at me, I thought I'd cry with happiness. That's when I realized how much you mean to me and how important you are."

Y/N stayed silent, trying to absorb all the words he had spoken. She could feel the emotions quickening her pulse, so she decided to lighten the mood a bit and probe whether they were on the same page.

"If you had kissed me, I probably would have woken up faster."

Max felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water on him. He blinked several times and looked at his friend. She just smiled slightly.

"Kissed?"

She nodded.

For a moment, Max struggled to open his mouth to say something, but to no avail. He was in too much shock.

"Are you setting me up now?"

"I'm not setting you up, Max."

"Yes, like if I had kissed you back then, you would have woken up faster. But only to punch me in the face."

She laughed and fell back on the pillows, pretending to be dead.

"You have to check it yourself."

Max wondered for a moment if she was joking, but he didn't have time for further contemplation. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her. He leaned on his elbow next to her head and looked at her face. Her gaze and a faint smile indicated that it wasn't just a silly joke.

Without hesitation, Max lightly touched her cheek and kissed her. She smiled and hugged him around the neck, returning the kiss.

When they separated for a moment to catch their breath, the eyes of the two met again and Y/N once again allowed herself to drown in the boundless blue of his eyes. The turbulent sea was calm and the july, sunny sky was cloudless. Everything was fine.

Everything was just how it supposed to be.

#f1 imagines #f1 one shot #f1 #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #mv33 #mv1

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d-c-it · 8 months

Text

Some fem! Roceit for the soul

#sanders sides #deceit sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #fem roman #Fem janus #human au #implied roceit #romantic roceit #Fem roceit

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yuki4amano · 26 days

Text

Timeless love. Chapter 4: Shadows of Deceit

Izuku stood before Yuki, his mind raced with doubts and uncertainties. Why had he given her that note? What had possessed him to ask her to meet him after school? And what on earth was he going to say to her now?

He berated himself for his impulsive actions, wishing he could turn back time and undo the mess he had created. But it was too late for regrets now. His only option was to directly confront the consequences of his decisions.

Yuki's presence before him only intensified his internal turmoil. She looked nervous, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route. He could sense her apprehension mirroring his own.

"Hey, Midoriya," she managed to say, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "You wanted to talk?"

Izuku nodded, his expression carefully neutral. "Yeah. There's something I need to tell you."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. Instead of confessing his feelings, however, he found himself veering off course, fabricating a lie on the spot.

"I… I wanted to ask for your help," he began, his words stumbling over each other in his haste. "I want to befriend Shinso, but I'm not sure how to approach him. I thought maybe you could give me some advice?"

It was a feeble excuse, he knew, but it was the best he could come up with on such short notice. He hoped Yuki wouldn't see through his deception, and realize the true reason behind his request.

To his relief, Yuki released a sigh of relief, her tense shoulders relaxing slightly. "Oh, um, sure," she replied, her voice softening with a hint of uncertainty. "I'm not good at these kinds of things, but I'll do my best to help you."

Izuku nodded, a sense of relief flooding through him. His plan seemed to be working, at least for now. He would use Shinso as his excuse to get closer to Yuki, to bridge the gap between them and hopefully earn her trust.

While leaving the classroom together, Izuku was plagued by the unshakeable sensation of guilt gnawing at his conscience. He knew he was deceiving Yuki, manipulating her for his own selfish reasons. But he told himself it was necessary, that it was the only way he could protect her from the truth of his feelings.

Deep down, however, he couldn't help but wonder if he was doing the right thing. Would his lies only serve to push Yuki further away, to erode whatever fragile connection they had begun to build? Or would they pave the way for something more, something real and genuine?

As they walked side by side down the empty hallway, Izuku knew one thing for certain: his path was fraught with uncertainty, his heart torn between love and deception. But he was determined to see it through, to navigate the twists and turns of fate until he reached the truth, whatever it may be.

Before parting ways, Izuku took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He turned to Yuki, his expression carefully neutral, hiding the turmoil of emotions raging within him.

"Um, Yuki," he began, his voice slightly hesitant. "I was thinking, since we're going to be spending more time together and Shinso is someone I've been wanting to get to know better, it might be helpful if we could stay in touch. You know, in case we need to coordinate or anything."

Yuki's brow furrowed in confusion, but she nodded slowly, sensing the sincerity in Izuku's words. "Sure, that makes sense," she replied, reaching into her pocket to retrieve her phone.

Izuku's heart pounded in his chest as he watched her, his nerves on edge as he waited for her response. With a small smile, Yuki handed him her phone, already opened to the contacts page.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Izuku entered his phone number into Yuki's device, his fingers moving with practiced precision despite the trembling in his hands. He couldn't help but feel a rush of anticipation as he completed the task, knowing that this simple exchange held the potential to change everything.

Once he was finished, Izuku handed Yuki back her phone, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. "There you go," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Now we can stay in touch." Yuki nodded in acknowledgment.

As they parted ways, Izuku couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that lingered in the air. But deep down, he knew that this was just the beginning of a journey that would take them both to places they never imagined. And with Yuki's phone number safely stored in his device, he felt a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty of the path ahead.

As midnight descended upon the city, Izuku transformed into his alter ego, the vigilante known as Phoenix. With purposeful strides, he navigated the shadowed streets, his senses alert for any signs of trouble.

As he patrolled, he encountered various crimes in progress—robberies, assaults, and acts of vandalism. With swift and decisive action, he intervened, using his quirk and combat skills to subdue the perpetrators and protect the innocent.

As Izuku continued his patrol through the city streets, his senses alert and his mind focused, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him since his encounter with Yuki earlier that day. The weight of their impending conversation hung heavy on his shoulders, but for now, duty called, and he pushed aside his personal concerns to focus on the task at hand.

Midnight cast long shadows across the deserted streets, broken only by the dim glow of streetlights and the occasional flicker of neon signs. With each step, Izuku felt the weight of responsibility settle upon him, a constant reminder of the role he had chosen to play in the city's never-ending battle against crime.

As he rounded a corner, his keen eyes caught sight of a familiar figure engaged in a fierce battle with another masked individual. Instinctively, Izuku moved closer, his footsteps silent as he approached the scene.

It was Earsearhead, his class teacher, engaged in a fierce battle with Nocturne, the alter ego of his friend Shinso Hitoshi. A surge of adrenaline coursed through Izuku's veins as he watched the clash unfold, his mind racing to make sense of the situation.

Instantly recognizing the danger of the situation, Izuku moved closer, his footsteps silent as he approached the scene.

Nocturne fought valiantly against Eraserhead, but Izuku knew that his friend lacked the experience to match their teacher's skill. With a heavy heart, Izuku understood that Nocturne stood little chance of winning this encounter alone.

Determined to assist his friend without escalating the conflict, Izuku intervened, not to engage Eraserhead in combat, but to create an opportunity for Nocturne to escape. His movements were calculated and precise as he positioned himself strategically, his focus solely on ensuring his friend's safety.

As the battle raged on, Izuku waited for the opportune moment to act. When the chance presented itself, he sprang into action, using his agility and Quirk to distract Eraserhead and create an opening for Nocturne to slip away.

With a swift nod of acknowledgment, Nocturne seized the opportunity and made his escape, disappearing into the shadows as Izuku held Eraserhead's attention.

Alone now with their teacher, Izuku knew that direct confrontation was not the answer. Instead, he focused on evasion and evasion alone, using his agility and Quirk to stay one step ahead of Eraserhead's attacks.

Despite the tension in the air, Izuku remained calm and composed, his mind racing as he searched for a way to de-escalate the situation. He knew that victory was not their goal tonight; survival was.

As Nocturne vanished into the darkness, Izuku's senses heightened, his focus solely on evading Eraserhead's attempts to capture him. With each calculated movement, he dodged and weaved, his agility and reflexes pushed to their limits as he maneuvered through the narrow alleyway.

Eraserhead's binding cloth snapped through the air, narrowly missing Izuku with each swift motion. With precision born of desperation, Izuku danced around the makeshift weapon, his movements fluid and deliberate as he bought precious seconds, waiting for the opportune moment to make his escape.

With each passing moment, Izuku's heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the situation bearing down on him with unrelenting force. But he refused to succumb to fear, drawing upon his resolve and determination to see him through the ordeal.

As Eraserhead pressed his attack, Izuku seized a fleeting opening, a split-second window of opportunity. With a burst of speed, he darted past his opponent, his senses on high alert as he scanned the surroundings for any sign of Nocturne.

Spotting his friend disappearing into the distance, Izuku knew that now was his chance. With a silent vow etched in his heart, he propelled himself into the air, his Quirk propelling him upwards with incredible force.

As he soared through the night sky, the wind whipping past him, Izuku's thoughts raced with a mix of relief and determination. With Nocturne safely out of harm's way, he knew that his mission was a success, his actions ensuring the safety of his friend.

And so, with the city sprawled out beneath him and the stars twinkling overhead, Izuku disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind only the echo of his footsteps fading into the darkness. As he melted into the shadows, he knew that this encounter with Eraserhead was just one of many in the ongoing dance between hero and vigilante.

For Izuku, evading Eraserhead had become almost routine, a nightly ritual that tested his skills and resolve. With each escape, he honed his abilities, learning from his mistakes and adapting to the ever-present threat of capture.

As he moved through the city streets, Izuku's thoughts turned to the events that had led him to this point. The war against All For One, the loss of his beloved, and his journey back in time—all had shaped him into the vigilante known as Phoenix.

But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remained constant: his unwavering determination to protect the innocent and oppose those who sought to do harm. It was a mission that drove him forward, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

As he navigated the labyrinthine alleyways and dimly lit streets, Izuku remained ever vigilant, his senses attuned to the slightest hint of danger. Though the night held many dangers, he refused to falter, drawing strength from his resolve to make a difference in a world plagued by darkness.

With each step forward, Izuku braced himself for the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that the road to redemption would be long and fraught with obstacles. But he was willing to face whatever trials awaited him.

And so, with a silent vow etched in his heart, Izuku pressed on into the night, his path illuminated by the flickering glow of streetlights and the burning flame of hope that blazed within him. For in the darkness, he found purpose, and in the shadows, he found strength. And with every beat of his heart, he vowed to continue fighting, no matter the cost.

As Eraserhead watched Phoenix vanish into the night, a weary sigh escaped his lips. This was not the first time their paths had crossed, nor would it likely be the last. The vigilante's presence in the city had become an all too familiar occurrence, one that Eraserhead had grown accustomed to over time.

Though tempted to give chase, Eraserhead knew better than to pursue Phoenix further. Their encounters often ended in a stalemate, with the elusive vigilante slipping away before Eraserhead could apprehend him. It was a frustrating reality, but one that Eraserhead had learned to accept.

With a resigned shake of his head, Eraserhead turned his attention back to his patrol. There were still criminals to apprehend, citizens to protect, and a city to safeguard. Phoenix may have eluded him once again, but Eraserhead remained steadfast in his duty as a pro hero.

As he continued on his patrol, Eraserhead remained vigilant, ever watchful for any signs of trouble. Though Phoenix may have evaded capture for now, Eraserhead knew that their paths would inevitably cross again. And when they did, he would be ready.

For now, however, there were more pressing matters at hand. With a firm resolve, Eraserhead pressed on into the night, determined to uphold the peace and maintain order in a city teetering on the brink of chaos.

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fisheshavegill · 3 months

Text

--- Crazy Rich Asians.

「 ✦ CRA ✦ 」

sunghoon fanfic! fem reader!

" its not my job to make you feel like a man, i can't make you something you're not "

word count : 2.1k

no proof read

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

The Park Family was widely known for their lavish lifestyle, grandeur mansions, and a fleet of luxury cars that would make anyone envious. They were considered to be one of the most prestigious families in the entire country. However, despite their perfect appearance, some rumors were circulating about their family that were quite controversial. Despite the neatly ironed curtains and immaculate gardens that surrounded their mansions, there were whispers of deceit, betrayal, and scandal that lurked behind their opulent lifestyle. What was going on behind closed doors was anyone's guess, but it was clear that there was more to the Park Family than met the eye.

CURRENT TIME

Screaming and then proceeded to throw a flower vase.

After a few moments of throwing various items on the floor in a fit of frustration, you began to feel winded and paused to catch your breath.

You stood there, panting heavily, noticing movement out of the corner of your eye and turned to see two of the maids peering at you through the small gap in the partially closed door.

Their eyes widened in surprise as you locked gazes with them.

The fear in their faces as they realized they had been caught spying on you. Without a word, they quickly turned and scurried away, leaving you alone in the now-quiet room.

As they stormed out of the room, you slammed the door shut with a loud bang. The only witnesses to this scene were the maids, who stood their peering to you earlier, unsure of what to do or say.

The maids were now busy working downstairs, cleaning and cooking the kitchen for their owner’s lunch. As they worked, they engaged in a conversation about their owner’s wife, Mrs. Park. One of the maids curiously asked, "What's been happening with Mrs. Park lately?" The other maid, who was chopping some fresh carrots, replied, "I heard a rumor that she saw a leaked photo of Mr. Park sleeping with another woman while he was on a business trip."

The head maid overheard their conversation while she was inspecting the house and immediately intervened. She scolded the maids and reminded them of their duties. She warned them that their laziness and idle talk could cost them their jobs. She was a strict disciplinarian and expected her staff to uphold the highest standards of professionalism.

The two maids quickly returned to their duties, one mopping the kitchen floor while the other continued to chop the vegetables. The head maid kept a watchful eye on her staff, ensuring that they performed their duties to the best of their abilities.

The head maid, is an elderly woman who has been with the Park family for decades. She started working for them when Mr. Park Sunghoon was just a baby and has since then become a trusted and loyal member of the family. With her extensive experience, she has become an invaluable asset to the household, where she oversees the smooth running of the daily activities.

However, due to some reason, Mr. Park Sunghoon had requested that the head maid be transferred to his house. It is not clear what prompted this request, but it is believed that he wanted her to oversee the daily running of his house and his ‘wife’. Despite the move, the head maid continues to be a highly respected and valued member of the Park family.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUNGHOON’S POV

Seated at a long glass table with his employees, he listened as they discussed their company's upcoming plans. However, he couldn't help feeling bored as the conversation revolved around collaborating with other brands, something he strongly despises.

His tired eyes drifted towards the window where he gazed at the bustling streets and towering buildings of the city. He let out a deep, tired sigh, feeling drained by the conversation with a disinterested expression on his face, he picked up his glass of champagne and slowly made his way towards the door, that signaled the employees that he expects the team to revisit the plan and make necessary revisions as quickly as possible.

The way he closes the door conveyed a strong sense of disappointment, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that he was not satisfied with the outcome of the meeting.

As Sunghoon walks swiftly, his secretary rushes to catch up with him, panting slightly. The secretary takes a deep breath "Mr. Park, I'm sorry to inform you that your head maid has called multiple times during the meeting."

Sunghoon stops walking abruptly, his eyes widening in surprise and frustration. He turns to his secretary, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I thought it wasn't urgent." The secretary stammers

Sunghoon shakes his head in disbelief and reaches out his hand, , "Give me my phone." The secretary quickly retrieves it from her pocket and hands it over to Sunghoon.

It was a rare occurrence to witness the head maid calling. However, whenever she did, it was an indication that something serious was happening in the house. He hurriedly started walking back to his office, all the while trying to reach the head maid on the phone. Despite his attempts, the head maid remained unresponsive.

As he sinks into his black leather desk chair, his frustration mounts with each unsuccessful redial of the head maid's number. Despite his efforts, the call won't connect. Under his breath, he mutters a string of expletives, his irritation palpable.

As Mr. Park was sitting in his office, his secretary was quietly shuffling papers in the corner. Suddenly, he looked up at her "Please reschedule everything today and move it by tomorrow." He then finished the last sip of his champagne and left the office.

As he stepped out of the building, he squinted his eyes for a few seconds before noticing his car had arrived. He walked towards the service driver, who was already standing next to the vehicle. While thanking the driver for delivering his car. He firmly stated that he would be driving, eager to take control of the vehicle himself. The driver handed over the keys, and he quickly got into the car, buckling up his seatbelt and starting the engine.

As he drove down the winding road towards his mansion, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that he was finally back home. With one hand on the steering wheel, he frantically dialed the number of the head maid, hoping to catch up on whats happening. The other hand nervously tapped against the car's leather interior.

The drive wasn't long, but it felt like an eternity to him. Finally, he arrived at his exquisite mansion, which stood tall and proud amidst the lush greenery of the surrounding garden. He parked his car near the entrance and stepped out, taking in the fresh scent of the blooming flowers and the cool breeze that rustled through the trees.

As he approached the front door, he couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia for the last time he had been here. It had been weeks since he had set foot in his own home. The scent of the house felt so surreal for him because he hadn't come home yet ever since he went on a business trip.

As he made his way towards the colossal doors, he couldn't help but observe the gloomy atmosphere of the house. The emptiness of the space was palpable and the silence was deafening. However, amidst the eerie stillness, he suddenly heard the distinct sound of keys clacking and female whispers that seemed to be discussing how they were going to open the door.

The head maid was nowhere to be found. But just in the right time he saw her walking down the stairs towards him.

“Long time no see, Sunghoon,” the head maid said with a deep bow.

“Why weren’t you picking up the phone?” Sunghoon asked, raising his eyebrows in frustration.

“My apologies, I must have left it somewhere,” the head maid replied, looking around nervously.

“So, what brings me here then?” Sunghoon asked, trying to control his temper.

“Your wife,” the head maid replied, her voice hushed.

Sunghoon's face contorted with anger. "What happened to her?" he demanded to know.

“She has locked herself in the bedroom since lunchtime and she hasn’t been eating for the past few days,” the head maid explained, her tone concerned.

“I suppose that you have the keys to it,” Sunghoon said, trying to remain calm.

“I don't. She must have kept it in her hands,” the head maid replied with a shrug, sensing Sunghoon's frustration.

Sunghoon deeply sighed in frustration and put his palm to his forehead. He went upstairs and moved out the two maids who had been trying to find the right keys for hours. He knew that his wife was going through a tough time, but his impatience was getting the best of him. He deeply sighed before knocking on the door.

“Love, it’s me, Sunghoon. Open the door, please. I’m begging you,” he pleaded as he knocked on the door repeatedly.

He waited for a response but still heard nothing. So he repetitively knocked on the door and kept calling his wife on the phone with his other hand.

Sunghoon in question was known for his exceedingly brief fuse, a characteristic that had been observed by the household staff to be progressively deteriorating. It was evident that his temper was getting worse as he grows up, as all the housemaids could sense Sunghoon's fury even from a distance when his wife wasn’t replying. The tense atmosphere in the household was palpable, and it seemed that everyone was walking on eggshells, afraid to set him off.

Without any hesitation, Sunghoon mustered all his strength and threw his shoulder into the locked door.

But no matter how hard he pushed, it just wouldn't budge. Frustrated, he stepped back to assess the situation. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to take a different approach. He used all his leg strength to deliver multiple kicks.

The door creaked and groaned under the force, but it soon gave way.

Despite the loud noise, no one came to stop him. After all, it was his house and he had every right to do as he pleased.

As he opened the door to the room, he was taken aback by the sight that greeted him.

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the spacious room as he looked down to see pieces of glass scattered all over the polished marble floor.

He couldn't help but wonder what had happened in the room. As he inspected the whole room, he noticed that you were nowhere to be seen. However, the sound of running water caught his attention, and he realized that you must be in the bathroom.

He quickly made his way towards the bathroom, pushing aside broken glass that crunched beneath his feet. The maids followed him cautiously. Reaching the bathroom door, he found it closed. Without wasting any time, he knocked gently on the door, hoping you would answer. As he waited for a response, he let out a sigh, still trying to piece together what had happened.

As he stood outside the bathroom door, "Love, it's me, Sunghoon." He waited for an answer but didn't get any response. After 5 seconds of silence, he opened the door. There, he found you sitting on the bathroom floor, with the shower head pouring cold water over you. The maids, including the head maid, who were present in the room, were in shock at the sight of you.

Without wasting any time, Sunghoon sprang into action and swiftly turned off the running water. He carefully checked your pulse to see if there were any signs of life.

Upon discovering that you were still alive. In a calm and steady voice, he informed the maid that you had fainted but were still breathing. "Please call emergency services right away," he said, gesturing towards the door. The maid nodded and immediately left to make the call. Sunghoon remained by your side, , as he waited for the help to arrive.

Sunghoon lifted you up in his arms and carried you to the other room. As he walked through the space, his attention was drawn to the state of the room you shared together. He couldn't help but notice the mess that you accumulated, with clothes, books, and other items scattered all over the place.

...... TO BE CONTINUED .....

this was all written for three hours so yk i was kinda rushing AHHAHAHHA

++ made a few edits because i reread this story and the ending kinda made me feel ehhhh

Continuation - C.R.A II

#enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enha sunghoon #fanfic #fantasy

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spacexseven · 1 year

Note

Fyodor would be a family man that’s good at hiding his true intentions from his family such as the decay of angels and rats house along with his s/o just nurturing their son and having a peaceful side along with Nikolai being a family friend who would entertain Fyodors son. One happy family

anon i could kiss you senseless rn...literally one of the best things i've ever had the honor of seeing in my inbox. this idea has ruined me i swear it's Perfect

fem reader, reader is married to fyodor and has a son w him

cw: yandere character, deceit, manipulation, mentioned murder

fyodor dostoevsky makes for a wonderful husband—loving, ordinary, almost suspiciously so, but you married him knowing that he was an ordinary man. you loved him knowing that he was an ordinary man.

an ordinary man with some extremely unsettling secrets, none that you knew about.

the fyodor dostoevsky you knew and loved was the man who kissed the palm of your hand, and if he was feeling particularly affectionate, your forehead, every morning before he left for work, with a half-smile on his lips and a fond gleam in his eyes. you weren't quite sure what he did, except that he worked for a company of some kind, but you didn't like the way his face hardened when you probed, so you left it at that. it didn't matter what he did, anyway, so long as he came back to greet you every night, safe and unharmed.

the man you married was the one who'd come home to greet you with a tired nod and a warm embrace, entertaining your son's excited rambling over dinner. he held you close when he read before sleeping, stroking your hair with a light touch. as far as you were concerned, he was an amazing husband and lover.

though he was not necessarily a good person otherwise.

you were so easily blinded by the tender warmth he showed his family, that you hardly cared for his uncharacteristic slip-ups. like when he scowls, ever so slightly, when the news broadcasts some detective agency receiving an award, or when a ghost of a smile lingers as you wonder out loud how a casino could be floating in the sky.

you never once questioned the times he came home in an entirely different coat from when he went out, or when he was away for days on end, not calling you or leaving you a single message. was it because you trusted him wholeheartedly, or because you were afraid of what the truth really was?

but even if you had your own suspicions, it would have never even come close to what fyodor was really doing. how were you to know that the same lips that whispered sweet songs of praise to you with a coquettish smile were the same ones that uttered a death sentence to his countless victims? and how were you to know that the steady hands that caressed your body so intimately had also touched numerous corpses? the husband that spoiled you on anniversaries and birthdays could not be the same man that was actively planning to cover the world with the blood of sinners.

for the most part, you liked nikolai too. he was a little odd, considering his getup and his tendency to seemingly pop out of nowhere, but he was good friends with your husband—dos, as he called fyodor—and your son loved playing with him. he didn't tell you what he did, either, though he let it slip that he worked very closely with your husband. he refused to explain fyodor's unexplained disappearances, though he would often stop by to show your son a new magic trick when fyodor was gone for a little too long, just to reassure you a little.

nothing really gave it away; not the amused expression when you told him to stay safe on his way, nor his eccentric coworkers. you were just happy that your husband always came home to you, and never failed to remind you that he loved you. there were, perhaps, more things that should have worried you. the way fyodor insisted that you keep your social circle small, or the frustrated look in his eyes that was beginning to appear more and more often. even the peculiar things he was beginning to tell you.

you're lying in fyodor's lap, mind drifting between sleep and consciousness as he looks at you with an unreadable expression. then, perhaps noticing that you weren't completely asleep, a little smile appears on his face. "tell me," his voice is soft, but every word feels strangely heavy, "will you ever leave me?" you frown slightly, and he chuckles. "even if i did something you don't agree with?" you shake your head, "what's this about?" his smile widens, and he gently pinches your cheek. the look in his eyes is unnaturally cold. "it doesn't matter. either way...you don't have anyone else to turn to."

and you could have continued the way life was, with your mostly ordinary husband and your wonderful family. at least, until he turns up at your door after an especially long period of disappearance. you would be thrilled, normally, but you're much too shocked at the sight of your husband in what looks like a prison uniform to feel any relief.

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pinchofhoney · 7 months

Note

Hi, could you write something for Coryo x reader were the reader is close if not equally as evil in the end. How would that relationship work? idk just a thought I had use it if you wish

crack in the mirror

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: i think none

summary: Many cling to the belief of their own goodness, until they meet someone who's just like them.

a/n: hii, thank you so much for your request!! i hope you'll enjoy what i've written for you!<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

How did it all begin?

With the 10th Hunger Games, where your academic excellence earned you the role of mentor to one of the tributes.

It was a time of innocence and youthful ambition, back when your paths met within the shadowy corridors of the Capitol's Academy. You and Coriolanus were close friends, unstained by the cruelty that life had in store for you and you pretty often looked back on those days, memories of laughter, shared dreams, and an unwavering friendship etched in your mind.

The two of you were bound by a shared ambition, shining among the brightest stars, each destined for greatness in the eyes of those who believed in you. The world was your playground, and you were determined to conquer it. Little did you know how that fateful year, with its trials and tribulations, would set the course of your life on a much darker path.

As the mentor to Treech from District 7, you hadn't yet embraced the darkness that would soon consume you. Back then, you were as eager as your colleagues, hoping to prove your worth, do your best, and guide your tribute to victory. It was pretty cruel twist of fate that Lucy Gray Baird, with her haunting charm and cunning nature, would change the course of everything.

In the heart of those unforgettable 10th Hunger Games, within the unforgiving arena, your dreams and aspirations slowly began to twist and corrode. Ambition transformed into ruthless manipulation, friendship into subtle deception, and innocence into a devouring thirst for power. The venomous snake mutt that took Treech's life before your very eyes became a symbol of the ruthless transformation that was gradually overtaking you.

That year marked the beginning of your involvement in the Games and the emergence of a darkness that would one day reflect the very core of President Snow himself. The metropolis watched, captivated by the spectacle of the tributes battling for their lives, while behind the scenes, a bitter change took root.

As you stood alongside the other students in the viewing room, preoccupied with the tributes, a chill ran down your spine. You didn't yet grasped the feeling, but something fundamental had shifted within you. You couldn't shake the realization that in the Capitol, victory meant survival, and survival allowed for anything. Lucy Gray's actions, no matter how brutal, were merely a reflection of the society to which you belonged.

Coriolanus tried to hold onto the purity of your friendship, to keep the darkness at bay, but you were the values he progressively ignored. Ambition has a way of distorting even the best intentions, and the path you had chosen was covered in shadows and secrecy.

As the Games progressed, the transformation hastened. The bonds you had formed with others became instruments of manipulation, and you enjoyed your newfound ability to bend their will to your desires.

The suffering of each tribute, each extinguished life, stoked the icy flames of ambition within you. You clutched to the logic that to climb up the Capitol's hierarchy, you had to be willing to destroy all who stood in the way. Your heart grew cold, your smile more deceitful, and your soul darkened, much like the future President of Panem that Coriolanus didn't yet realize he would become.

The Games ended with Treech taking the third place, a result you considered an absolute failure. It served as the catalyst for your final descent into the abyss. You had only tasted a little bit of success, and you hungered for more. The purity of your friendship with Coriolanus had been definitely tarnished, and the darkness that enveloped you continued.

The 10th Hunger Games and the Gamemakers marked not just the beginning of a change within you, but also foreshadowed the dark days to come.

You and Coriolanus would be leaders of a world where cruelty and manipulation held authority.

You had come a long way since those innocent days at the Academy, where laughter and shared dreams were the currency of friendship. As the Head Gamemaker, you wielded power over life and death, orchestrating the annual Hunger Games spectacle that captivated the Capitol.

Your importance in the Capitol was undeniable, but the bonds of friendship that once connected you to young Snow had weakened, stretched to their limits, and threatened to break. Since your graduation from the Academy, the warmth of your interactions had been replaced by a chilling formality. The echoes of your former closeness had grown faint, drowned out by the sounds of the ruthless Games you helped design.

Coriolanus, still crawling in his presidency, remained in your life as a hint of your teenage years and shared mentorship past. He was both intrigued and disturbed by the ideas you injected into the Games each year, but he never consciously acknowledged the rot that had taken root within him as well.

As the Head Gamemaker, you reveled in the dark art of power, where tributes became pawns and suffering was blend into the very fabric of the arena. Your ambitions had propelled you to the highest echelons of Capitol society, but the biggest cost had been the destruction of the humanity that once defined you.

Determined, you made your way to the meeting room, eager to introduce Coriolanus to your plan for the 23rd Hunger Games.

He was already there, wearing an expression that mixed curiosity with apprehension. You greeted him with a cool nod, fully aware of how your interactions had grown more formal over the years.

“Coryo,” you began, saying the familiar diminutive you'd used back at the Academy. The warmth of that old friendship may have cooled, but the nickname had grown in you, a habit you couldn't shake when you were alone with him. “I've prepared something truly phenomenal for this year's Games. Something that will cause goosebumps on the skin of every viewer, let alone the tributes in the arena,” you said, locking your gaze with your old friend with a mysterious smirk on your lips.

In response, Coriolanus leaned in with growing curiosity. “Please, continue,” he urged, which only caused a wider smile on your face.

You gestured toward a holographic projection on the wall, revealing a sinister, genetically created creature. Its elongated limbs, razor-sharp claws, and grotesque, misshapen features created a nightmarish creation.

“This,” you declared, “is the Umbra Noctis. It's a creature designed to terrify and torture the tributes in ways they could never have imagined. With its ability to blend into the shadows, it will stalk them relentlessly, striking fear into their hearts.”

Coriolanus observed the creature, a mixture of fascination and consternation in his eyes, narrowing the gap between you. “But how does it differ from the mutts we've used before?”

You leaned in, your voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “It carries a venom that induces hallucinations, distorting reality for its victims. The terror it inflicts will be as much psychological as it is physical.”

As you detailed your plan, the room seemed to grow colder, and the weight of your shared darkness pressed on Coriolanus. You described the various mutants and horrors destined for the arena, all designed to heighten the tributes' fear and despair.

“I want the 23rd Hunger Games to be remembered as the most nightmarish ever,” you declared. “A spectacle that reveals the true depths of human darkness, concealed behind the Capitol's glittering facade.”

As the weight of your words settled in the room, Coriolanus’ initial curiosity gave way to a growing skepticism. He couldn't help but question the depths of darkness you were willing to immerse.

“Isn't this,” Coriolanus began, his voice cautious, “perhaps too much, even for the Hunger Games? We want to entertain, to captivate the audience, not to... terrify to the point of despair.”

You turned to him, your gaze firm, and for a moment, the professional mask slipped, revealing the abyss beneath. “Coryo, don't you see? The Capitol's fascination with the Games is not just about entertainment. It's about the harsh reality that we, as a society, have become as ruthless and depraved as the Games themselves. We are a reflection of the horrors we create.”

Coriolanus eyed you, his features a blend of recognition and disquiet. Your words had hit the spot, reminding him that he, too, played a role in Panem's transformation as its president.

You continued, your voice now nearly a whisper, “The darkness, Coryo, is not just within the arena but within us. The Games merely show what has always been there. It's a reflection of who we've become, and it's time we faced that truth.”

For a brief moment, Coriolanus seemed to confront his own rottenness, an unsettling truth that had long been concealed in the shadows of his conscience and the room fell silent.

With measured steps, you circled around Coriolanus, stopping in front of him. You met his calm gaze, finding in it the shadow of chaos, reflecting his soul.

Your eyes wandered over his attire, and with a calculated, gentle touch, you adjusted the rose on his chest before gracing him with a faint smile.

“Look at you,” you began, taking a step back, creating a clear distance between you. “Remember when you used to fear Dr. Gaul? And now, what have you become?” your next question followed swiftly, with no pause for his response.

“You're the man who sends innocent kids to their deaths every year, a cruel reminder to the districts of who hold the power, who is in control. And I? I'm just one of the instruments in your hands.”

Your words hung in the air, and as Coriolanus opened his mouth to respond, you silenced him with an unspoken urgency. “You might tell yourself that you can sleep soundly, shifting the responsibility onto me and my team, washing your hands clean of the blood. But deep down, you know it's a lie, don't you?”

Coriolanus met your gaze, a blend of defiance and self-denial in his eyes. He had always been skilled at pushing the truth aside, shielding himself from the reality he had become.

“You're mistaken,” he finally said, his voice tensed. “I have a duty to maintain order, to ensure the Capitol's dominance. The Games are a means to an end, a necessary evil.”

Your expression remained unwavering as you countered, “But do you truly believe that, Coryo? Do you truly believe it's as simple as maintaining order? The depths of cruelty we've reached, the horrors we've unleashed, they go beyond mere necessity.”

He opened his mouth to respond, to argue his case further, but a hint of doubt flickered in his eyes, betraying the internal struggle within. The truth you had spoken, the darkness he had tried to repress, clawed at the edges of his conscience.

“That's what I thought,” you said with a note of satisfaction in your eyes, and resumed presenting your plan as if nothing had happened, not paying attention to Coriolanus' confusion. However, the shift in the room's atmosphere was palpable, and the unspoken tension lingered.

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bitchlessdino · 5 months

Note

Sexy DK request time: He's tied to the bed and you do a strip show for him, he can't touch you, can only see your sexy af self, you can take this anywhere you like- Sam @dkakapizzaboy

Pairing: husband of mistress seokmin x fem married!reader Genre: angst, smut, slight fluff Word count:7.7k tags: insecure seokmin, mutual infidelity, unprotective sex, sub!seokmin, dom!reader, strip teases, male bondage, mention of fem oral, blow jobs, "ma'am" svt member!husband, let me know if I’m missing any! Summary: With the mutual understanding being cheated on, Seokmin finds solace in you, the beautiful stranger with ties to man that ruined his marriaged, Fortunately, light peeks out of the most inconvenient of circumstance. author note: still on hiatus but finally got this ok. sorry for teh wait sam my arch nemesis, thank you my darling wife @wongyuseokie for beta reading 💗

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic @seokgyuu

Unknown number: hi. you may not know me but my wife knows your husband and I think they’re having an affair.

You've stared at the message for hours on end and just about lost your mind with every letter of every word. You could practically recite it without a beat, the sound of glass shattering in the distance every time you’re met at the end.

You didn’t believe it at first—part of the reason being you don’t want to—but it would logically explain his recent changes. The late nights. The woman’s perfume. The infrequent time at home.

You feel numb.

Buried in a weighted blanket of deceit and betrayal, you wallow in the depths of your sheets until the words seep into the deepest dark abyss of your chest, squeezing your heart until it feels like it pops. A few more notifications followed the initial, going off at a nervous pace. The sender's agitation is abundantly clear.

You think to ignore it. You think to forget whatever you read and go about your married life as normal, but it gnaws at you. A violating parasite crawls around the wrinkles of your brain, biting, chewing, and consuming your perturbed consciousness. It leaks out of you in tears, sorrow, and a pervasive bodily ache.

Eventually, your hand finds your phone thrown to the ground and claims it in your vice grip before reading the incoming messages.

Unknown number: I read her messages

Unknown number: it’s been months it looks like

Unknown number: me and her have been married for less than a year

Unknown number: I won’t be too affected by this

Unknown number: I think

Unknown number: but are you ok?

No. No, you weren’t.

Unknown number: if it’s ok, I’d like you to meet with me.

Unknown number: see the proof in person.

You know you'd be stupid to meet with a stranger you connected with through the phone. He could be a liar, murderer, stalker—you have no idea. However, if he's telling the honest truth, he'd be the only person right now who would understand your excruciating pain more than anyone else. He'd serve as proof that the life-sucking sensation coursing through your body is a sad reality, and facing that terrifies you.

However, reality manifests as a beautiful man. A beautiful man with a heart-shattering expression that makes you want to pick him up in the palms of your hands to tend to his invisible wounds.

You're perplexed. You weren’t sure if there was love that existed for you, but for him, love should’ve been guaranteed. He looks as if he deserves every star dedicated to him for every second he breathes. Every tear he shed. Every word he spoke. In another world, he’s someone’s muse, not someone’s victim of infidelity. Surely. Surely this was all some misunderstanding.

“Did you want that decaf?”

Your eyes flutter in his direction, registering the spoken words on his tongue. Sputter on your lips, you work the softness of your jaw in a gentle nod and swallow the words hitch down your throat. He splays a warm, but small smile, and gets up to head in the direction of the counter. His long, broad stature leans against the edge. His chest bellowing out of his diaphragm and out his lips, he softly mutters the drink orders to the cafe attendant.

Your eyes bat gently, observing him in slow motion, a coiling sensation in your gut. You exhale out of your nose in retreat, averting your gaze to your lap, jolting yourself out of the sudden fixation. You know you shouldn’t have been doing that. You have better self-control than that. Now was not the time for that.

His footsteps retreat toward you, and he settles your drink by your side of the table. Your eyes flit up at him, gaze descending as he modestly takes a seat across from you. His wide-toothed grin is polite but noticeably strained. "Thank you for meeting with me." His hands fiddle in his lap, visibly as disoriented as you are.

“I’m glad you texted me,” You respond cordially, “Those pictures were a hard pill to swallow…but I’m glad I saw them.”

He dryly chuckles, a solemn look of anguish etched on his face. "Yeah, I felt the same way."

Accepting the drink, you bring it against your lips. Despite being decaf, it proves as bitter as regular—an unexpected comfort, considering the usual presence of excess cream and sugar have felt overwhelming lately. The bitterness numbs your tongue, and you sense it traveling in a lump down your throat as you swallow.

"Sorry." His apology shakes you into clarity, his eyes quivering as they settle on you. "I'd seen photos of you—finding your husband, of course, because I didn't—um, okay. It's just strange to see you in front of me. Makes everything more..."

“Real,” You say, completing his sentence. “Yeah.”

His adam’s apple shifts in a nervous gulp. “How long were you together?”

“Five years. If you counted the last four,” you answer with a lingering chuckle. “I had an idea that’s what he was doing, but ideas are harmless until you’re true.”

“That’s—wow—impressive.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Don’t. Considering the circumstances, it’s nothing to be proud about. If I had known earlier I would’ve shoved those papers in his face a long time ago.”

“But you’re so…strong. How do you get like that? After five years?”

You shrug, shrinking under his charged gaze, glistening in a sheen of genuine admiration. “Practice. If you stayed a little longer, you’d learn it too.”

“I don’t think I could’ve survived that.”

“Well, you contacted the spouse of the man sleeping with your wife. That’s pretty fucking strong.”

He’s bashful again, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your eyes. All he can do is nod in response, not used to attention so warm and encouraging. So unlike Ami.

He discovers that you are far less deserving of betrayal than he had imagined. Your eloquent and poised conversations impress him, and the admirable lightness in your solemn tone adds to your appeal. From the moment he became aware of your existence, he felt compelled to meet you. While he initially rationalized it as a civic duty, there's an underlying motive that continues to fester in selfish desire, even when the topic of divorce is raised.

“Can we do this again?” he suggests timidly, hopeful you’ll agree. "Until the papers are final, at least. It’s kind of freeing talking about this with someone in the same shoes.”

Your lips softly curl up at the ends. “I’d like that.”

There's a substantial list of tasks to tackle before everything is finalized. You imagine how grueling it’d be to navigate through this by yourself and appreciate you weren’t alone on this. Recognizing that he's undergoing the same steps in grieving his failed union, it feels almost instinctive to join forces. Partners in divorce, each navigating the end of each of their own unhappy marriages.

“Sorry, I just had to get something.”

You had come remarkably close, and the opportunity to accompany him home practically fell into your lap. Stepping into his space for the first time, you were immediately captivated by the photos adorning the walls, each one capturing her in a stunning, large white gown. In the enlarged picture on the wall, she radiates happiness, her joy undoubtedly amplified by standing next to Seokmin, who stands tall and sharp, his pride and happiness evident. As your eyes take in the scene, you find yourself amazed by the sheer elegance and warmth emanating from the photograph. A couple epitomizing love. So why—

“Found it,” he says, his fingers clutching the file between them. His gaze lands on your location, and as he registers the reason for your silence, he adds with a chuckle, “Oh, yeah. Ha-ha. That was really expensive.”

He approaches you with deliberate steps, both of you studying the wedding portrait together. "A thousand pictures, three hours editing, five hours of sifting through them, and a couple of grand later, this turned out to be the best one," he remarks. There's a hint of wry humor in his voice as he adds, "She jokes that it was the best thing to come out of this marriage. Now, I'm starting to wonder if it was a joke at all."

“Well, it’s so fucking amazing work. You look incredible.”

He acknowledges your sincerity. Naturally. It's a meticulously composed photo with thousand-dollar lighting, and makeup seamlessly blended into both of their skin. It was crafted to be admired, despite the evident imperfections concealed beneath the surface. Nonetheless, Seokmin's cheeks color at your commentary, a warmth palpable to the touch. "Thank you. Um, shall we?"

As you invest more time with him, the lingering question persists. Seokmin embodies perfection in every conceivable aspect, surpassing the qualities your husband ever possessed. The puzzle remains: Why? Why would his wife betray someone so genuinely kind and undeserving of such disloyalty? The enigma of her actions deepens with each passing moment spent in Seokmin's company.

Had you been in her shoes, you would grant him whatever he desires. The lengths you'd take to show your deep appreciation for him would extend endlessly, reaching far and lasting indefinitely. With complete faith, there wasn’t one damn rotten bone in his body, and he’s proven time and time he’s a sweetheart in and out. And although you were the one you were lucky enough to take his wife’s place, the least you could do is show him the courtesy of a friend. A friend who is cultivating feelings that start to transcend the simplicity of amicability.

“You know I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a home-cooked meal like this.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t feed my award-winning dish to just anyone.”

“It’s delicious. Like every bite filled with a mother’s hug. The best thing I ever put in my mouth.”

The way he says that tightens you in knots as you scrape off the remaining bit of your meal into the trash, letting the hot water from your faucet run down your plate. “A-an honor.”

You hear the scratch of his chair dragging on the floor as his padded feet approach you. “Let me help you with that.”

“You don’t need to—“

“You made dinner, let me in your humble abode, the least I can do as a guest.”

As your eyes follow the sequence of events, his long limbs gracefully extend over, prompting you to delicately set aside the dish with a self-assured smile. "You've done plenty. Let the host handle things."

He chuckles in disbelief. “Come on.”

“Stop it.” You giggle, splashing water at him.

He scoffs, splashing back. “You stop. Come on.”

“Seokmin!”

In a playful exchange, you engage in a subtle power struggle while fighting over the task. As he attempts to take control, you defy his dominance, completing the task before he can assert authority. Tension mounts as you press him against the counter, feeling the taut surface of his abdomen beneath your palm. A breathless moment ensues, and you slowly withdraw, leaving the air thick with anticipation.

You don’t notice the expression on Seokmin’s face when you unintentionally feel him up. The patter in his chest when it stroked down as you let go. The twitch in his pants when he notices your eyes are still glued to his body. He wishes he’d stop you from resisting, let you have him where you wanted. Move your body against him.

But you're married, just like him. Albeit unhappily, but he must've confused trauma bonding for affection, lust, and longing. He wasn't actually falling for you; he's just lonely. Needy. Horny.

Seokmin just needs a good wank. A proper one with mood music and the lotion that smells like lavender or roses. All the romantic shit because that’s the type of guy he was. A romantic.

The challenge is doing it without your face popping in his head.

For the longest time, he’d only thought of his wife. Although met through an arrangement via each other's parents, he thought he could love her, live with kids of their own, and live a happy life. For a moment he thought it was possible.

And then it came sex. Again and again, it would fail. And the smaller, the smaller he’d become. Like a shitty moldy piece of gum on the back of her shoe. Fuck it if she made him feel smaller than he should’ve. He knows he doesn't deserve it, and maybe it’s why your presence is so comforting.

A breath of fresh air. A change of pace.

The attempt at forgetting your face with his hand around his cock becomes a failed one, spreading his failure all over his abdomen as he slumps in his chair. his nipples stand erect in the cool draft.

He feels the need to see you again, a necessary step in clearing his conscience.

“Seokmin!”

“Hey! Ready for apartment shopping?”

“You bet. I just have one more thing to get in my bedroom. My wallet, it’s somewhere in there. Would you mind helping?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Uh…”

Entering the house, he allows the door to gently close, his footsteps echoing softly behind you. Observing the calm chaos of the room, he notices you tending to one side of your bedroom, and he contemplates, “In a drawer maybe?”

“Maybe? Just anywhere but—Wait, not there!”

He heeds your warning a second too late, pulling open a drawer revealing an array of toys too numerous to count—silicone, glass, plastic, and leather alike. The drawer houses an endless collection of items, all meticulously encased as if stored for display. One in particular catches his eye—a beautiful set of restraints that appear velvety soft to the touch. "Holy—"

Swiftly, you close the drawer, shielding its contents from prying eyes, and gently push him aside. “Hey! Don’t judge. He’s always been one buy these things, not like anything’s wrong with them. They were fun, at first at least.”

“I’m not judging, but backtrack. Ropes?”

Hesitancy singes the tip of your tongue. “He said silk ties slip off too easy to escape out of.” Your hand rests on your other wrist, reliving the memory somewhat fondly until it sinks down in your gut. “Rope leaves burns to remember how they felt. Like I said, they were fun. Until it became only what he wanted. Because it has always been what he wanted, and when I wouldn’t give it to him anymore, well…we all know how he handled that.”

“...Yeah I do.”

For the first time, a glimpse of sadness graces your expression in Seokmin’s presence, as if your relationship bears an unspoken sorrow. The furrow of your brows accentuates the subtle sighs and mild frown that follow. He yearns to soothe those features, wishing to impart a gentle reassurance, to convey it wasn't your fault if that was a concern. However, silence prevails as he observes you swiftly refocus on finding your missing item.

“Come on. Let’s keep looking.”

Complying with your request, Seokmin sifts through your belongings, eventually retrieving the misplaced wallet from beneath the bed. Announcing his discovery, you release a breath of relief and claim it back at your fingertips. He prizes the brief smile on your face before proceeding with the rest of today's plans.

The search for fortitude after it was all over went as well as expected, with most encounters with potential sellers assuming that you were looking for places with Seokmin, not just with Seokmin as each other's company. After the fifth apartment for sale, correcting them becomes less of an effort, and you find yourself momentarily forgetting that all of this is for your own distant, separate futures.

You arrive home, starved and parched from your scheming and Seokmin, ever the gentleman, playfully suggests that he takes charge of the evening’s dinner. You, as usual, politely resist, already taking the initiative a step before he could, following his lighthearted protests. Eventually, you compromise, allowing him the duty of gathering produce from the fridge and placing them on the kitchen island.

The absence of your spouse during these dinners has become a common occurrence, allowing his presence replaced by a string of repetitive excuses that you could only assume were to cover up his ongoing affair. It’d still leave a resonating ache in the pit of your stomach, but you’d be lying if you said the sensation hadn’t dulled since meeting Seokmin.

“If you don’t mind me asking, you said it hurt.”

“What did?”

"The ropes—if that's okay to ask! I—" His cheek flushes into a furious red, and bashfully, the surface of his palm covers the lower half of his face. Chuckling anxiously to himself, a glimpse of regret becomes evident on his face. "You know what? Never mind."

“No, what? You can ask, it's ok.”

“It’s just. I’m just a little curious.”

“Yes?”

“Being tied down for you was…arousing?”

You softly giggle, “For a bit it did. That’s when I still had a bit of input.”

“When did that stop?”

“Maybe when he got frustrated. I became less willing to do it. I wanted to try other things and he wouldn’t budge either.”

“...Like what?”

“He was always the one in control,” You shrug, “Wanted to try it out for once. He felt insulted.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know right.” You shake your head. “He was different since. And so was sex. The little we had anyway.”

“...Ami said I was a pussy.”

You pause in your movement, turning your head towards him, observing as his head drops past his shoulders.

“She said I wasn’t a real man. ‘Out of all the men I was arranged to marry, why was it the most pathetic one?’”

You meet eyes, recognizing quiet sorrow in them. “That’s not true.”

“It is. I could be stronger, I could be manlier.”

“You’re very manly, Seokmin,” you reassure.

“Really?”

“Of course you are.”

“...Even if I wondering what it’s like to have those ropes to tie me down? Am I still manly then?”

A surprised and nervous tone colors your words as you feel a response catch in your throat. "Are you serious?"

“Gravely,” he says without thinking. "But, you know, it's just a random thought—"

“Would you like to experience it for yourself?”

“Are you serious?”

“Gravely,” you imitate, grinning.

He gives a tentative nod, the blush now unhidden by his hands. "Okay."

Guiding him back to your bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp casts a warm ambiance. You open the drawer he inadvertently discovered earlier today, its contents revealing an array of intriguing items. With deliberate care, you extract the rope from its designated spot, feeling its smooth texture under your fingertips. The room holds a hushed anticipation as you methodically untangle the rope, each loop a dance of shadows and highlights. You observe Seokmin's gaze, noting the subtle shifts in his expression as he follows the intricate journey of each strand unfurling in the dim light.

A subtle fire charges the air, palpable in the way his breath catches and his eyes widen. There's a flicker of uncertainty in his expression, a nervous anticipation that surfaces as he watches the rope unfold. The gravity of the situation settles in, and you can sense his apprehension growing with each meticulous loop you release. It's as if the sight of the rope carries an unspoken weight, stirring a mixture of curiosity and anxiety in him.

“You look nervous.”

He takes a pronounced swallow, hand coming around his other wrist. “You’ve never done this before, right?”

“I've seen it enough times to mimic it.” You walk towards him cautiously, the subtle rustle of the rope in your hands. "Do you trust me?"

Hesitantly, he nods.

Obediently, he pins his wrists to one another, your fingertips coming around to loop around either one. As you secure the knot, you notice the subtle tension in his shoulders, curiosity playing across his features. The room is filled with a quiet intensity, broken only by the hushed sound of your movements.

"How’s that feel?" You ask, adjusting the knot.

"Kind of tight?"

"Oh, sorry–"

"No, don’t be. It’s interesting," He replies, fingers exploring the texture of the material.

"Interesting, like it feels good?"

"I think so, but…"

"But?"

He hesitated, her gaze shifting toward the window. "How different is it tied to something? Like a bed frame?"

“Pretty different. You have a bit of control with just your wrists tied. When it’s against something…like a bed frame…there’s none of it. You’re kind of helpless.”

“Helpless,” he echoes breathlessly.

“Is that something you want to try too?”

Silently, he nods, his eyes flickering with anticipation. As you start to untangle the ropes, you internally count your breaths, and then lead him to the bed. Your knee sinks into the soft cushion of the mattress, sensing Seokmin's deliberate movement as he gradually takes over the center. His eyes, wide and lucid, silently observe your actions. A concentrated, half-lidded scrutiny follows as you maneuver between his legs, your heart pounding in your chest. With determination, you reach for one wrist, swiftly pinning it to one corner.

As the rope winds its way around his wrist, a subtle shiver courses through him, betraying the nerves that have taken residence beneath his skin. His hands, once steady, now exhibit a discernible tremor, a physical manifestation of the anxious anticipation that tightens every muscle. Then it comes to his second wrist. Each loop seems to tighten the grip of uncertainty, and you can almost hear the accelerated beat of his heart as the binding becomes more tangible. The quiet room amplifies the rustle of the rope, echoing the unease that dances in his eyes, creating a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

His eyes flutter at the pace of his heart, swallowing tension built in his throat, and a shallow breath escapes him. You limply part from your work, reluctant to meet his eyes, as yours bat erratically. Your lips part to speak, but all that escapes is a breathless awe, hardly forming an unsteady “T-there.”

You find yourself unable to avert your gaze, observing as he grapples with the situation. The sight of his struggle seems to compound his embarrassment, evident in his feeble attempts to break free—though it becomes apparent that success is an elusive feat, even with earnest effort.

The memory of your first time is what initially pops into your mind. You remember how anxious you felt–feeling your heart race even between your legs as if it were possible–yet elated to do something so different, and then the pleasure. The sensation of feeling everything at once. Sweat pilled on your skin humiliatingly, only your cries used to fight back. You haven’t thought positively about that experience until now, seeing it reflected onto Seokmin.

“They are really hard to get out of actually,” he chuckles defeatedly, but not so much so that doesn’t find himself enjoying the circumstance.

A nervous hum leaves your nose as you exhale, clenching the arousal between your legs cautiously. “Good now you know. So I guess—”

“I’m really helpless like this…can’t even get out of these on my own.” You perceive the audible constriction in his throat, a subtle indication that becomes evident as he articulates his words. Although unsteady, he isn’t scared. Something else flickers in his vision. Something that almost scares you.

Ultimately, you quietly acknowledge him with a mumble, reaching over to one side to undo your knots, but he stops you with a single word. With your hands trembling, your focus intensifies on the intricate task of trying to loosen the binds that restrain him. Your gaze remains fixed on the knots, avoiding direct eye contact, as the palpable tension in the room mirrors the shackles you’ve put yourselves in: his being physical, while yours are mental.

“Yeah,” you breathe out.

“You look at me differently now don’t you?”

You shake your head apprehensively, your grip tightening around the ropes, half-expecting them to bind you physically, yet realizing it's the thoughts swirling in your mind that truly threaten to restrain you. “Why do you say that?”

There’s a soft scoff that makes its way to your ears, registering his disbelief. “You can’t even meet my eyes…are you embarrassed?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you look at me?” He asks poignantly.

“I’ve never been in this out position before.”

“In control?”

You take a moment to yourself to breathe, dropping your head, still gripping around the rope lethally. “Seokmin.”

“Look at me,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’d feel less shameful if you do… what are you thinking?”

You raise your head and meet his eyes, a blend of vulnerability and determination flickering in your gaze. A myriad of words that could have been spoken in response swirl within you, yet each one remains submerged, reluctant to surface and make its presence known. The weight of unspoken sentiments lingers heavily, creating a palpable silence between you.

In the quiet intensity of the moment, his fingertips hand in the charges air, sifting to move between your digits and lock them together. The unspoken tension between you both transforms into something tangible, hanging in the air like a delicate thread, on the verge of snapping. As your eyes linger on one another, a mutual message is exchanged, and without a word, the distance closes.

The kiss is gentle at first, before the heat of his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, softly pulling it towards him. Your lip lock only intensifies as your body presses against his, responding to the desperation that has woven its way through the conversation. The room, once filled with fervency, now holds the soft symphony of a connection finding its place.

As the moment stretches, you muster the strength to finally pull away, cognizant that the power to do so rests solely with you. A gentle reluctance permeates the atmosphere, tinting it with a subdued pink rather than the earlier flickering intensity of red, as you gradually draw back.

Your gazes linger for a fleeting moment, exchanging unspoken promises and silently acknowledging the connection that perhaps shouldn't have been forged. The room retains the echo of the shared intensity, leaving both of you contemplating the significance of what had just transpired.

You release yourself from his touch, the sensation lingering on your skin as your mind wanders, assessing the unfolding actions and the potential consequences. However, despite your attempt at detachment, his words persistently weave through the corridors of your thoughts, rendering any escape from their influence seemingly impossible. “You like being in control?”

You eventually nod.

“Act like it.”

“How?” You question, eyes searching for guidance.

“However you want?”

You seize a fleeting moment, the world around you momentarily suspended, as you deliberate, attempting to release the grip of your inhibitions. The soft murmur of your surroundings becomes a distant echo, drowned out by the internal dialogue that unfolds as you grapple with the decision to unshackle yourself from the mental constraints that have held you captive. It's someone else's job now, not yours. After a thoughtful pause, you finally exhale, uttering a simple but profound, "Okay."

You press yourself against him, your knees locking him at his waist. “Just don’t go whining about it. Or do.” Your hand glides over his restrained wrist, fingering over the vein revealed from his uncuffed sleeve dropping to his forearm, as your other hand claims his face. Initially soft and cool, your touch carries an understated gentleness. Yet, beneath its surface lies a latent warmth that simmers on the skin, gradually intensifying like a path of hellfire. A burgeoning confidence unfolds in you like a delicate bud blossoming into a vibrant bloom. It unfolds gradually but with a definite determination, poised to flourish. “There’s not much else you can do anyway. Isn’t that how you like it?”

"Yes," he confesses, his lungs momentarily devoid of air, the admission hanging in the space like a weighty secret reluctantly released.

The corners of your lips gracefully curl upwards, imparting a subtle but undeniable sense of amusement or satisfaction. “To answer your question earlier, being tied down does still make you manly.” Your hand runs down the length of his arm, settling against the structure of his collarbone, closing the distance between your lips and his honey-glazed skin. "I believe the epitome of true masculinity is found in the act of surrender. It's about willingly placing oneself in a position of trust, embracing vulnerability with unwavering courage."

"Really," he challenges, doubt injecting a sharp edge into his words. "You think that highly of me? Even though you’re the one that can do whatever you want with me?”

“I do.”

You pull apart from him, distancing your bodies and sinking into the bed once you find its edge. You bat your eyes back at him slowly as your hand lands on the top of your chest, releasing a slow and steady breath. “It is simply your form of expression, and in return, I’ll show you mine.”

You fiddle with your buttons, exposing skin bit by bit. Your chest heaves and your legs shift to raise your upper body, anchored by your calves and ankles. Your blouse drops down your shoulders to leave your body, and your cladded breasts are what Seokmin gravitates to first.

Seokmin’s eyes ventured from your lines, the curves once hidden underneath the barrier of your clothes, now in plain sight like art mounted for display. He processes the fullness of your thighs as they drop against your hind legs, and he doesn’t hear the whimper that makes it past his contorted lips.

Hands gripping the sheets, you crawl in prowess towards him wide-eyed until you’re between his legs once again. “Nervous?”

He takes a gulp, his voice tight. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Your fingers move similarly to before, now with your pants which have clung to your body since you’ve worn them.

Seokmin doesn’t for a moment think of a thing as the fabric pulls over your thighs, skin revealing like the first appearance of colored television, nothing short of a visual marvel. He feels gutted, grappling with his restraints. As the sight of you draws near, the longing for your touch bolsters, and an undeniable compulsion surges within him. He barely manages to make out your name in timid haste.

“I’m curious what is like for you to touch my body. How’d you stroke my skin, or caress my legs,” You softly tease, pleased to see the effect you’ve made as he visibly clenched his abdomen. “but I wonder more what it's like for you unable to do a thing as I undress myself.”

"Devastating, truly," he remarks with a chuckle, the irony hanging heavier in the air than any spoken words could convey. “I never thought I’d despise being on the receiving end of a strip tease. Emphasis on tease.”

The pants hit the floor as you shrug them off, “Well, that’s the point of tying you up. You wondered what it was like.” You grinned impishly, “Can’t say you’re disappointed because you didn’t get what you wanted”

“Well, I wouldn’t. Though, I’d appreciate it if—“ Your itching hand grazes the top of his dress shirt, finding the top button and delicately allowing it to come apart. “—if. Ahem. Uh…”

“Yes?”

“I, uh…” he never does finish that sentence, too preoccupied with every button displaced, slowly revealing the tension of his bare torso. He shivers as a brisk draft ripples through his body, his shirt with its open flaps curtaining his taut body, flexing in suspense. “I lost my train of thought…”

You softly chortle as the tip of your nail travels down his concave valleys in interest. “I bet you did.”

Inescapably, you find yourself drawing closer with only a whisper of space between the two of you. Unseen, the sound of Seokmin’s belt unravels, and his eyes widen in shock—catching him off guard. You watch him hauntingly while your hands admire him in a way he’s never even dreamt of.

You roll his erect nipples between your fingers. “Does it excite you? To get doted on? All the attention on you?”

He whimpers quietly, a sigh weakly following. “Yes.”

Your smile lifts up from one end, parting your lips curiously as you tighten your fingers. He winces with short bursts of gasps following and his legs writhe in place while his eyes gloss over in teary awe. “Like when I compliment you? Or when I’m teasing your pretty little parts?”

“Yes. Both.” You wrapped your lips on his bud, the front of your teeth grazing his sensitive skin, and you sucked in your breath. He emits the lightest, airiest of sighs and dips his lower torso into the bed. The rope's friction bit into his skin, undoubtedly causing a burning sensation, only further enticing him.

You softly scoff, leveling your face with him. Your hand glides soothingly over his cheek, cooled by sweat pilling on his forehead, now your inadvertent warmth contrasting against him. “I'm honestly surprised by you, Seokmin. If you wanted me to tie you up, you should’ve just said so. I’d easily comply.”

He nuzzles against your touch, the tip of his nose tracing the crevice of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

You offer him a gentle, welcoming smile. “Don’t be. You’re under my care now.”

“…Am I?”

“Well, are you?”

He moans your name again, longing your hands against his body as you only caress his skin without so much an inkling of moving lower. “Please, that's all I want.”

“What is it you want then?” You grab his chin between your thumb and index. “Tell me everything.”

“Whatever you want to do with me.”

“And if I wanted to just play all evening?” You tested.

He nods back determined. “I’d let you.”

“If I’d sit on your face?”

His breath cuts off in his throat, losing sanity over the potential of your arousal drowning him in bliss. “I’d make sure I’m a proper seat.”

“If I don’t let you cum?”

He clenches his fists, exhaling as you meet your knee with his crotch, where a tent pitched itself right in his trousers. It moves anxiously, already submerging himself in the power of your words. “I’d wait my turn. No matter how long it takes.”

“…And if I want to milk you dry.”

“I’d give you my lifeline…I’m yours.”

In that fleeting moment, the rest of the world dissolves into insignificance. You find yourself yielding to the warmth of his gaze, entranced by the cadence of his language and the resonance of his tone. Finally, you did just what was inevitable.

As Seokmin is bare down to his skin, your hand travels down to the base of his shaft and glides up delicately to his tip. Your lips pressed generously against his collarbone, nipping at his smooth and flustered skin. Your thumb strokes over his veins, grip squeezing his girth, and inadvertently he whines out of his control.

“You’re teasing me…”

“Is that not what you wanted?” Your lips gradually trail down his chest, lowering to hover right over his length that stands mere inches away from your face. “Or are you wanting something more?”

“Of course, I want what you want. I’m s-sorry…”

The tip of his cock kisses against your lips and twitches upon contact. You feign innocence in his gaze and purse your lips. “I can’t help but think, you want me to wrap my lips around your cock. Stuff down my throat. Spill your hot cum inside me.”

“Please,” he moans.

You slot him between your lips and suck on his sensitivity. You hum his name, every syllable vibrating around his skin. He groans observing you, nearly thrusting into your mouth before you decide to slam down his thighs. “Mmh-Mhh, you know better than to do that.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeatedly mumbles, “You’re just so pretty there.”

“Though that may be, you chose to trust me, and now I need to trust you. Behave.”

He swallows apprehensively. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll apprehend you if you don't. I have more than one set of ropes.”

Seokmin’s heart slightly twitches at that, but he decides to obey for now, hoping there’s another opportunity another day. He wouldn’t want to test his limits.

His cock has made its way between your lips once again, exploring deeper until you meet halfway down his length. With your free hand, you tend to his remaining size, feeling it pulse in your touch. His groans become the background music for his symphony of arousal, while the sensation of your hallowed cheeks tug against him.

You allow him to plunge deeper, wide eyes peering at him for his reaction, and you feel the impulsive thrust of his hips again. Only this time, you let him. You feel every inch consume you, lodged far down your airways, traveling at a needy–even desperate–pace. You shut your eyes, feeling your tears burn your skin. Ultimately, you pull out before he gets close, registering his pink cheeks and bite-swollen lips after regaining your sight. You cough away from him, catching your breath and the apology leaving Seokmin’s lips once again.

“I’m so sorry! Fuck! I–”

“I said I’d apprehend you, didn't I?”

You make good on your promise and another pair of ropes makes an appearance, pinning him at either corners of the bed and splaying him like a starfish, rendering him completely defenseless.

He deserves this, he thought, unable to resist the inexplicable thrill that coursed through him. He’d struggle against the rope had it not been for the remainder of your strip show. The slow slip of your bra strap, the release of your clasp, baring you raw in your gorgeous glory. If he had his fists, he’d be biting them. Hell, if he had any control of his limbs, he’d worship you on the very floor you walk on, crushed under you the ball of your feet, and using his hands for your pleasure and your pleasure only.

Perhaps that’s why he could not help but be more aroused like a teenager discovering porn for the first time. That was the beauty of it. It was something Ami never understood. She wanted him to do it all: be the dominant partner all the time, be a one-and-done fucking machine. You are willing to explore things, even with him, and you didng make him feel small about it. He can’t help but feel eternally grateful it's with him.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he had already fallen for you the moment his eyes laid on your photos. He couldn’t believe the sight you were nor the fact that you were on the receiving end of this distress. He knew he had to meet you. He just hadn’t factor in what it’d do to him when it happens.

Even as your legs border either of his side, he’s in disbelief. Your pretty cunt stares back at him in want, aching for his presence just as he aches to explore you. He can feel the drool make it past the corner of his lips as your heat radiates off you, just before letting his raw length part your walls.

A hearty moan escapes you, and all Seokmin can think of how sweet it sounds in company with the moisture of your arousal. Your knees dig into the mattress as you adjust to his size, hips naturally grinding against him before he fully is plunged inside. Drinking in his groans, you slightly fall forward and find your grip on the bedframe, not realizing how easy it is to claim Seokmin’s hands.

A smile tugs at your lips as you delicately weave your fingers through his. You rest your forehead against his, softly cooing back at him. “You’re being so good for me.”

“Anything for you," he responds, his voice filled with a tender, intimate sincerity.

“Mmh, Seokmin...”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Would you like the control of your hands again?”

His eyes flicker back at you, seeing the certainty in your eyes, before hesitatingly nodding. Carefully, you release him, gently soothing the red marks on either wrist. Pleadingly, he asks for your permission to touch you, and easily you oblige, taking his hands. You guide him where he may touch, letting them stroke up your sides. You softly sigh as you let him regain his power, letting it surge through him as he replenishes feeling in his arms.

He balls your flesh in fists, pushing deeper inside you as his tongue grows more possessive. You clench around him, hands accessing his body like free real estate, playing with all the amenities. “Are you that happy? Touching me like I’m yours?”

He throws his head back, assessing his grip on you to pull you forward, giving you a long awaited liplock. He rediscovers your plush tongue, retracing its pattern as he pushes you closer against him to the best of his abilities with his contradicted ankles. He claims you from your lower back, rolling his hips against you, as your furnace-hot body intoxicates him like a drug. “I’m elated. You make me so happy. You have no idea.”

Your exuberant sounds fold over one another, building the tension off your bodies until you’ve reach their highest form. Seokmin was the first to express it. Even before he mumbles how close he is, he’s embracing you tighter as his hot breath fans down your flustered body. To that, you say the first response that comes to mind. “Cum in me.”

“W-without a—“

You tense tighter around him, legs clutching around him desperately. “Cum inside me, Seokmin.”

You get what you want in the end. The streams of white warmth painting your inside are perfection. Like bursts of ribbons in a festive air, he releases a lingering sense of ecstasy. Falling against his chest, you count his pants by the heave of his chest, drifting off from fatigue.

With the bit of energy you had left, you undo Seokmin’s knots, and rest comes easy, no matter how early into the night it still is.

You don’t remember the last time you were held like this. You don’t know if you were held ever like this. His eyes, though weary, radiate a smile that mirrors the gentle curve of his lips. A hand slides behind your head, fingers gently stroking, and his soft sighs become a melodic comfort, conveying solace without the need for words. In his presence, a profound sense of peace envelops you, creating a reluctance to part from this moment of tranquility.

Dinner, once a fleeting moment before the spontaneous decision of sex, turns into a midnight meal, a meal draped in each other comfort. Seokmin effortlessly slips into your comforting pair of sweatpants, while you envelop yourself in his once-abandoned dress shirt, a tangible reminder of the intimacy shared. Together, you concoct a pot of instant ramen, opting for the simplicity of a quick meal rather than the meticulousness of a dish crafted from scratch.

“That smells delicious,” he compliments.

“Sorry, it couldn’t be better.”

His hands find a secure hold on your body, his head gently resting over your shoulder. "It's no bother at all. Plus, you've already worked up quite an appetite."

His kisses, soft against your temple, coincide with the casual embrace of his arms around your waist. Your curves seamlessly mold into the contours of his body, like two pieces naturally falling into place, creating a comforting bond between your bodies.

“Stil, you deserve better than ramen.”

“It’s Shin ramen. It's the best of its kind. I’m more than honored.”

“You’re silly…I like that.”

“Good. I like you. I’m glad that I got to meet you.” His words are accompanied by a gentle squeeze of your hand.

You grin. “Me too…but we can’t do that again.”

“Oh, well why not?”

"Well, for now." You playfully tap his nose with a chopstick. "Let's wait until everything is done. Until we’re both free again.”

He sighs, dejected at your request. “You’re right, but…”

He effortlessly lifts you from the ground and you drop your utensils on the ground. Abruptly, he settles you onto the kitchen counter. The coolness from the marble is chilling as the surface provides a sudden, invigorating contrast to your warm skin. Startled, your eyes flutter back at him, steadying yourself with hands resting on his shoulders. You succumb to the warmth in his eyes, a honeyed allure that wraps you in the comforting embrace of his touch.

“How do you expect me to live on without you in my arms? I’ll never know peace like it.” Seokmin's voice carries a warmth that wraps around you like a blanket, one that is not weighted with darkness and anxiety, but instead laden with love and good faith.

You respond by pulling him into a tight embrace, legs playfully anchoring around his torso. A smile graces your lips as you enjoy the closeness. “A test of faith. Then we can truly enjoy each other's company.”

“I’ll be counting the days then,” he says with a smile

You persist in meeting Seokmin, navigating the divorce process until you're on the verge of its completion. Ironically, amidst the dissolution's purpose, you sense the blossoming of a new connection amid the ruins of another.

“You didn’t have to take me home. You know how risky it is.”

He sighs, squeezing your hand in his, dreading the moment you have to leave. He has grown accustomed to your presence, and every night without you feels like a painful void in his heart, as he awaits the arrival of the following morning. "I can't wait until this is all over."

“Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow, and the day after and the day after—“

“Lord knows how we get any work done,” he giggles.

"I know, right." You let the moment linger a second longer before sharing a final embrace, stealing a kiss on his cheek as you slip away from his grasp. Through the tinted windows, you smile, aware of the blush you've ignited on his face.

Arriving home, the joy is dampened by the sight of familiar shoes. Suppressing your unease, you greet your husband with a forced smile, avoiding eye contact. "Mingyu? Honey? Is that you? No overtime tonight?

You're met with a stern expression and a decisive declaration. Devoid of warmth, he slams a stack of papers onto the kitchen counter–documents that have become all too familiar over these past few weeks.

“I want a divorce.”

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