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huicitawrites · 11 months

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The Hunt

Yandere! Miguel O' Hara x Fem! Spider! Reader

T/W: yandere (slow-burn(?)), dark fic, violence, assault, spoilers for across the spiderverse.

Status: rewritten.

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Word Count: 2,4k

"Y/N! Get. Back. Here. NOW", swinging away from an infuriated Miguel O'Hara wasn't something you had planned or ever thought would occur, never entertained the thought of it. At least not until now, as you desperately attempted to get away from him and somehow escape him- for your dimension-travel watch (as wild as the concept of it sounded) had been snatched by the same man that was madly hunting you down.

How did it even all come to this? Let's rewind, back to the beginning.

Part I

After being bitten by a radioactive spider in a school trip to Alchemax at the young age of 15, you obtained enhanced spider-like abilities: a sixth sense for perceiving danger, incredible reflexes, amazing parkour skills, extraordinary strentgh and flexibility.

And for the past ten years, you have been New York's one and only Spider-Woman.

Learning to use your powers was a whole trip on itself. They awakened rather clumsily -nothing a leap of faith could not fix- as you began to grasp the ropes of being a masked hero in your teenage years [it's safe to say that your teenage years were truly a heck of a rollercoaster].

Handling a double-life was not easy, that is something you have learned with your ten years experience. You saved a bunch of people and thus many lives, you won many times and saved the city countless more. Yet you also earned a bunch of dangerous criminals and villains tailing behind your back that would want to kill you without hesitation and harm you in any way possible.

In spite of the times you were beaten down, left made a mess in the ground, or at the brink of death- you would always get back up because you were Spider-Woman.

Sometimes, getting back up was hard.

The weight of the sake of the city was on your shoulders. And sometimes, that weight crushed you. When you lost your parents it was devastating, because not only had you failed as a hero, but as a daughter.

[Your dad perished in an attempt to save you from an attack of one of many enemies- the Green Goblin . You two happened to be on a ‘father and daughter’ outing in a nice dinner when the Green Goblin tried to draw out Spider-Woman from her hiding place in Brooklyn (unbeknownst of your true identity and much to your own misery and guilt.) After battling the Green Goblin and imprisoning him, you rose with your dead father in your arms, and an huge crack in your heart that would leave a deep scar.

Months later, your mother's followed suit. That day was chaotic, panic filled the streets of New York as The Rhino, a veteran soldier with super human strentgh and a high-techno advanced armor resembling a rhinoceros, laid waste to the city. You were evacuating all civilians nearby, swinging across and into buildings, picking up and scooping anyone you could encounter and putting them out of danger.

It happened as you held falling debris with your arms. You picked up wailing in between the many cries of people, and your spider-sense guided your eyes up from the ground.

A child, no older than five, was crying. He was glued to the floor, too overwhelmed by the calamity surrounding him. A wall from a building was falling on him and your heart beat raced. You still had people below you that were crawling out and the child was a or two block away. Your thoughts raced in your head, you had to save everyone, down to the last live.

"Come on, come on, come on" you muttered in between gritted teeth as you gathered power and lifted the debris into the air. With the help of your web shooter, you pulled all the remaining civilians out and casted aside the courtesy of double-checking as you swinged toward the child.

You could see how the wall fell over him, and you reached out your arm with your forearm out desperately, attempted to pull him out with your web but the wall was already about to touch his head and-

She pushed the child out of the danger, motherly instincts impulsing her feet at the cost of her own life. The child was pushed onto you and you brought him flush against you with your web, arms encasing him as you witnessed the wall collapse on her.

In shock and disbelief, you gently lowered the child to the ground and ran to the fallen wall. Once again in despair, you clawed through the debris and searched for your mother’s body.

You found her bruised and crushed, her face deformed. You brushed the dust off it. Her pained groan was faint, and you begged her right there and then not to leave you. Not to leave you alone, again.

“Is the kid al…?”

“Yes! Don’t, don’t talk. Help, help is coming. You have to stay, you have to.” But her eyes were already fading, and her limbs growing weak. Your disguised hand snatched up hers and you cried,

“Mom!”

She recognized your voice, the one she cherished the most. Her fading eyes gathered all the warmth they could muster and she reached out a quivering hand to your cheek. Her fingers slid into your mask, and she felt your tear stained skin.

“Ah my baby…[Y/n]…I’m so proud... Your father would be so proud... keep it up”. Her last words were voiced with strain, but you would always remember them.]

They became the fuel for your mission, and no matter how many times you were beaten to the ground and wounded to no end, you stood back up. You would save everyone else, no more deaths, you swore upon your parents' last moments.

Now in your adult life, you found yourself in a stable life besides the implications your side hustle not-so-side -hustle brought. You had an adequate job as a writer for small titles in a decent newspaper, and you had a department you shared with your childhood best friend, Peter Parker [who eventually became your tech-desk guy. Hiding your true identity from your best friend and roommate would have never lasted long anyway. You remember clearly the day you climbed into the living's window, beat up, bruised and tired, when the lights suddenly turned on and a Peter with crossed arms and an eyebrow raised was waiting for you like a parent whose child was past curfew. You were without your mask on. Nonetheless, after stuttering uncontrollably and failing to explain and just simply breaking down in front of him. Without saying any words, he took out the first aid kit and reassured you with a smile. You were so grateful to him.]

So now here you were, crouching on the top of The Clock Tower, the moonlight casting its light on your back and darkening your silhouette. Earlier in the day you dealt with some thugs and minor crimes, but since the sun fell nothing happened. That was odd, NYC was never quite, least of all times at night.

But your spider-sense was running, not rampant, but definetely there like annoying itch on the nape. Something had to be off, you knew it.

"Um, I'm not picking up anything, (Y/n). Maybe you should be calling it a night, you've been doing good work so far. You did lower the crime rate, after all."

"You sure Pete? There's this feeling in my gut and-"

"Your 'spidey- thingy' ?".

"Spider-sense, spidey-thingy sounds dumb" you answered with a small groan, rolling your eyes although he could not see the.

He chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he turned serious " but I'm not getting anything from anywhere. From police radios and stations to our own hidden cameras"

"Nothing? Sure?"

"I mean everything is awfully quiet now that I think about it... All I can pick up is glitching, let's see... let me do my thing and-" you could hear frantic typing through the comms of your suit within the mask, you could even picture Peter hunching and fixing his eyeglasses.

What he said left you pondering. Glitching? It couldn't be a coincidence that all the radio signals he could pick up were glitching.

"Aha! Here it is, your spidey-thingy was right." this time, you chuckled as if saying 'see?'. He continued, "-this should be a very hidden signal from the special forces team. Seems classified, man they should really put a little more money into whatever software they use to protect their privacy" and he pushed on one final 'enter', the glitching and static got louder almost startling you to which your friend apologized softly, but it evened out.

"Report the situation, Lieutenant Stacy"

"Requesting back-up right now, suspect is armed with advanced equipment, we are at the Port, South East, many of my men and women have been wounded and- oh, shit, shit" The man's words died down with the sound of something big crashing and breaking.

Well, that's your cue. You stood up on your toes and balanced you body weight forward, diving to the ground. With your limbs extended, you stretched your forearm and extended your wrist, web shooting out from the slick web shooter Peter designed.

Swinging from building to building under the night sky, you jumped across billboards and slid past tight spaces as you were heading to the location of the conflict, and the closer you swinged, the wilder your spider sense got.

When you arrived at the port, you saw a SWAT truck that was flipped over, it had a huge dent in the form of a what seemed to be a claw mark, and the windows had been broken. There were a few members on the floor, and you noticed there were two trying to lift the heavy vehicle.

"Let me help," you announced your presence and they whipped their heads. Their faces were glistening with sweat and dirt, and you could notice their equipment was damaged. You crouched and lifted the truck, there was one member there below, and his leg was twisted the other way, but he was breathing- well, panting.

Without further a do, the soldiers went and dragged out their friend. A soldier's face lit up, though they seemed hesitant [after all, your line of work was kind of controversial among the government and its forces] but they were thankful. "Thank you, Spider-Woman", their voice was genuine and you smiled below the mask.

"Your welcome, leave it to me" winking at them through your lense, you nodded and propelled yourself to the ceiling of the warehouse. You noticed a roof canopy at the center, lucky you, and brought the palm of your hand to it. Utilizing your sticky finger pads, you carefully removed a pane of glass and entered the building without making a sound.

"Be careful, please" Peter voiced with worry.

You hanged the web from it's strongest point at the peak, and slowly lowered yourself down until your hand gently brushed the cold floor . You got off the web and crawled in direction of the tingling of the spider-sense. You found some warehouse crates, pressed your back onto them, slowly leaning your head out to take a peak.

A man stood there, a middle aged man by the looks of him. He had a round pair of black sunglasses on and a large leather coat on, but the most outstanding feature was apparently behind him. Four metal tentacle-like arms sprouting from his back, with threatening looking claws. That had to be the thing that put such a dent in a SWAT vehicle, the advanced equipment you heard of in the interception.

He was ranting about something, speaking to himself. "The power of the sun at the palm of my hand, only to be ruined by that fucking-"

‘What is this man even talking about…’

His words died down in your ears as it took a few seconds for your spider-sense to peak, and you scrunched your face features. Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes squinted, cheeks squeezing up and causing the lenses of the mask to stretch and flatten.

"(Y/n)? Found anything yet?" Peter inquired.

"This man... I think I know him... but also not..." At this point, your spider-sense was rampant. Your gaze still confused as you tried to decipher him. Your spider sense was alerting you of this oddly familiar feeling. It was someone you had dealt with before, but also someone new. Simply off-putting.

Then the realization fell on you, his tentacle-like arms.

"Is that Doc Ock!?" Without getting a hold of your reaction, you accidentally raised your voice and revealed your location. Your spider-sense tingled again, this time, sensing imminent danger as you backflipped and dodged the incoming attack. The crate you were hiding behind of was broken into splinters.

"Come on out, Spider-Man!" he shouted, his voice in pure anger.

Spider-Man? As long as you remember, you never referred to your disguised self as Spider-Man...

"It's Spider-Woman, mind you" You revealed yourself off the shadows, and the light basked in your costume, revealing its signature colors and design. "Do I know you by chance?" you tited your head, inquisitive in your tone as you were trying to figure things out.

The man's expression fell, and his rage was replaced by annoyance.

"Is this some kind of sick joke, Spider-Man? Have you forgotten the name of the man whose work of life you ruined, Otto Octavius." His tongue rolled of his name with spite and you widened your eyes.

"Doc Ock? But, you are different. You are totally human". Last time you checked, Doc Ock was a mad scientist that turned himself half-octopus by bioengineering his genetics in the name of some sort of sick evolution idea. He had tried to turn the city into mutants like himself for 'the sake of humanity's future' and you managed to stop his plans. Furthermore, he had been sent to a high-security prison for villains, where an anti-serum is being developed to turn him back and halt his aggression.

"Are you pulling my leg Spider-Man?" He said with disbelief, and he began to appear more and more angry by the second. He muttered something below his breath, and you swore you saw one of his tentacles turn toward his face as if it were sentient and listening...

"I've told you it's Spider-Woman." You huffed out, chest puffing out. You had a bad feeling about this...

The man's hand ran down his own face and he groaned, visibly tired. "Well, whatever, but you do appear to be an ally of Peter Parker's, your costume and your name leave little room for further speculation". The mention of your friend raised up your guard, how did he know Pete? Any doubts and hesitation erased themselves of your mind, for your friend could be in lethal danger.

"Oh? What's the matter, 'Spider-Woman'," he sneered.

"Picked right on the web, hmm?" He edged on, a dangerous smirk dancing on his face and two claws raising up in the air, ready to pounce.

There was not much to it, as you jumped sideways to dodge whatever that clawed-tentacle-armor was. You found yourself right back at the gig, fighting a villain as the one and only Spider-Woman.

Or so you thought.

A/n: Hi! So when I first saw this fictional man I KNEW I had to write about him, originally, it was going to be a long one shot, but I decided to break it into parts. I expect this story to be up to 3 parts or 4 as most. Anyhow, I hope you come to like it!, and sorry for the long- ass intro, I really wanted to dwelve deeper into reader as a spider person. Next is the real thing. I have seen some people have asked me to tag them, so don’t be shy to ask too!

#yandere #yandere x reader #self insert #yandere blog #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #miguel o hara x reader #yandere miguel #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o' hara x reader #across the spiderverse #yandere across the spiderverse #female reader #yandere spiderman 2099 #yandere spiderman #spiderman 2099 x reader

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wincore · 4 months

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indelicate | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x fem!reader

synopsis: missing the last train out of new shanghai was not on the to-do list. however, your project partner liu yangyang promises fun, dazzling lights, and the warmth of a human connection for this festive weekend. perhaps even in the era of diamond and steel, the human touch means something after all.

genre: oriental cyberpunk, f2l, fluff

warning(s): swearing & several innuendos. also out-of-date jokes sorry guys i wrote this in 2021

words: 11.9k

a/n: this is just a rework of an old fic i posted here with another character! if you find any inconsistencies, it's probably because of that LOL also this is not a wincore revival but i did miss everyone on here !!

i. city plaza

Some idiot, somewhere along in history, decided to renovate a city into something so dazzling that the population shoots up to a hundred and fifty percent of what was before, and the rest of the damage comes along with the people. Promises are made and broken to build this city of extravagance. You have the belief that the more people there are in one place, the more difficult it gets to live there. This dazzling hellscape means colliding into too many people on the streets, too many bright lights outside your dorm room when you’re trying to sleep and the god awful sound of deafening firecrackers at every new year celebration.

Another idiot somehow roped you into his ‘midnight adventure: traditional version’ once he heard you missed the last train ticket out of the city. Liu Yangyang has a terrible way with words—but he has a way.

You were, by some unfortunate gamble of the gods, partners for a project that accounted for sixty percent of the grade. While that affair is over, you still haven't rid yourself of the predicament that is Yangyang. Gorgeous, yes, but too overwhelming. You smack your head against the car window only for him to jump in his seat beside you, hand gently driving over your forehead to check for damage. The neon city lays around you, and festive light projections float across the sky in intricate shapes of the ox and written messages. This is going nowhere. You came to this city sacrificing everything and yet suddenly, everything’s hanging on a string again.

The city lights of New Shanghai are cruel. Everything in this place is cruel.

Which is exactly why you’re in Yangyang’s car, parked by the middle level city plaza on New Year’s Eve. It is, in fact, illegal to hover by the city plaza on New Year’s Eve but Yangyang seems to either not care or simply doesn’t know. You forget the law doesn’t exist for rich kids. Out of all man-made wonders, rules are the most interesting.

“Shall we go?” he asks, voice bubbly as ever. Every morning, he chirps like the alarm birds outside your window. Yes, it has made you want to sleep forever at times.

“It’s just one night. And I’ll be with you, so you don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you snap.

“Not afraid of the dark either?”

You pull your jacket closer to you. Here, the cold streets of the techno-jungle make you shiver more often than not. If you dare go out without friends, a city so grand will inevitably drain the life out of you. Your body alone cannot withstand the dazzle. And—you can’t be afraid of the dark after you’ve complained about the lights.

You look at Yangyang and back to the cityscape outside—large conglomerative blocks of buildings, some hosting advertisements with the faces of inhumanly beautiful models and some with the ‘Happy New Year!’ text animation floating about in increasingly complex patterns. You see the revolving top of one of the grandest skyscrapers, a Dior hotel, not the tallest but certainly the most pleasing to look at. It gleams from red to orange like the pulsating heart of a giant metropolitan beast. There are more funky buildings to look at, some not even the shape of austere corporate skyscrapers.

“Do you wanna go there?” Yangyang asks all of a sudden. “I heard the lounge is closed off from eleven. I can call some friends and we can book a room though—”

“No. No way. I’m not going to spend new year’s eve in a Dior suite.”

He grins. “Thank god. It’s so boring there. Only models and businessmen and whatever freak shit they do.”

You sigh. Liu Yangyang is a whole story in itself. He’s rich and popular—a dream of many—but so few are as welcoming as he is. When you’re in that position, you’re bound to have a little metal seep into your heart. Some hidden part of you, however, tells you to loosen up when you’re with him; just let it go and have a good time. There’s no reason why you shouldn't. The economy is on a steep incline, the people are happy and no other city compares to this place. You could learn a thing or two from Yangyang.

He looks at you questioningly, eyes waiting and the curve of his lips still. You notice his platinum blond hair is more styled than usual, you can almost smell the gel on it, and for a moment, you wish you looked as good as he does. A dark leather jacket accentuates his shoulders, the plain T-shirt underneath not of the flashy type. He looks like he’s ready for club-hopping and you, anything but. If you knew earlier that you’d be by the Strip around midnight on New Year’s, you'd have dressed better.

“If you stay any longer in my car, people are going to assume we’re…y’know,” he states, quirking his eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, though. Like, who thought fu—”

You were wrong. There is absolutely nothing to learn from Liu Yangyang.

“I would get out of this car immediately and fall to my death before I let that happen,” you retort, crossing your arms.

“No, hey. What an inauspicious sentence. Besides, and I’m not bragging but you should know I’m really good at using my assets—”

“Don’t say a word.”

The heat of embarrassment flows into your cheeks at his implication. You look out the window, weighing out the pros and cons. The scenery is so bright that sometimes it hurts to look outside. It’s not midnight yet but the main streets are already getting crowded for the processions; the sound of laughter and conversation ring in the air. It makes you somewhat sad to not be home for this. But as they say, living in a big city can only be done if you sell your soul to it.

You’re directly above the level one city plaza, the people below looking unsettling in the way they’re so small and far away—they don’t even seem human at this distance. You wonder if you look like that to the people above this, to the level three elites who sit on top of the whole city..

You look back to your companion, who’s transfixed on the bakery across the road—either that, or just really, really zoned out. Knowing Yangyang, it could be either. When you tilt your head, waiting, you find that he has pretty features—a shaped nose and round, curious eyes, all in perfect alignment with plump, pink lips. His metallic ring earrings shine when the light hits them right. No wonder you get girls asking how close the two of you are often. Even in a world pushing manufactured love, boys like him make others daydream. You wonder why you’re the one he loves to drag in with him.

Yangyang flinches when he finds you staring at him. You clear your throat, looking away and hoping you can sweep this under the rug.

“Are you- are you by any chance mad at me?” he asks, a nervous smile awkwardly tugging at his lips.

“I- what? No. I’m not mad at you.”

“You look like my mother when I don’t clean my room. Or Ten's cats when I try to kiss them.”

A tiny laugh escapes you before you get back your poised demeanor. “I’m- I’m not mad at you.”

He smiles at you wordlessly and you feel a little conscious. You glance outside when the plaza music starts to get loud and look back at him, debating whether you should just give in.

“So… you’ll let me brighten your life now?” he asks in his regular baritone, grinning wider. “The semester’s over and it’s festival time! I bring good luck, I promise.”

Liu Yangyang is not a happy serendipity. He simply cannot be. However, he does make you laugh more often than you’d admit.

“Whatever. Go ahead. I just don’t want to be hungover on a Friday.”

“You don’t- you don’t have to drink to have a good time.” He laughs. “I would know. I’m sort of a lightweight. I don’t know why I told you that. I’m supposed to be cool.”

You giggle, taking a moment to think.

“Fine then. Show me your magical access key to our beloved Mobius Strip, the mightiest, grandest structure in all of New Shanghai.”

“Well, if you put it that way… I am pretty cool, huh?”

His smile is too harmless for you to roll your eyes. He’s too gentle, you realize all of sudden, to be as awful as all the uni frat boys you’ve had the misfortune of talking to. You watch him as he drives; his arm moves with ease and he tries to make conversation but you can only hum and respond in singular words. The closer you are to the Strip the more nervous you get. It’s like visiting all those dark places that your mother explicitly warned you not to visit as a teenager—but you’re an adult now. No one owns you. No one should be able to own you. The determination builds up slowly over neon lights and hazy street shops.

Nights here are the fun part. Everyone says that. Other than the fact that you can barely make out the colour of the sky under the vivid city lights, there’s something very enticing about the streets, the upper streets that wind around the city.

Yangyang drives the car to a level three street, the behemoth structure of the Strip now so close that all you can see beyond your window are its placid, white walls stretching out to infinity. You can see little gardens and shops, peeking out from between each strip and one of the shopkeepers wave at you the moment you pass. Yangyang says something along the lines of “thanks for the free noodles” to the woman, before gliding higher.

“Grandma makes the best glass noodles here,” he says, excitedly. “I’ll take you sometime. If you like.”

You hum, noting the joy he expresses at the idea of something so simple.

Level three streets are already thousand and a half feet above the ground. You try not to look down; heights aren’t something you’re very fond of even if you love the sky. You note construction work for street levels four and five, shivering at the idea. The winds of change are fucking cold.

Yangyang swerves the car off-road at one point and you clutch his arm by reflex.

“What the fuck? Don’t do that without warning me,” you say, breathing quicker. You do not do well with: sudden movement, jumpscares and boys with pretty smiles.

“Sorry,” he says, looking at you with concern. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You let go of his arm, more embarrassed at yourself than mad at him. Driving the car closer to the Strip, he brakes carefully by the parking lot. The walls are covered in red wallpaper, a few lanterns attached to drones, floating along the path inside. It looks like a rooftop parking lot, though the mysterious dim lighting makes you walk closer to Yangyang.

“I heard this is gonna be a really cool event—they’ve got the latest AI tech hosting and crap but let me tell you the best part.”

He pauses for dramatic effect.

“The food!” He says, spreading his arms and grinning. “The food at private events is the best thing you’ll ever taste.”

You open your mouth but close it again in part horror, part confusion. “You’re… taking me to a private event?”

“Ah, don’t look like that. It’s really fun, promise.”

“I’m not even dressed for it,” you blurt, embarrassed.

Yangyang shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. It’s for rich kids, you know? If I’m being honest, none of them know how to dress.”

His confident statement gets a giggle out of you and you relax a little. You walk with him, further into the square platform and away from the cars. The sky disappears behind the dark roof and for a moment, you feel like you’ve entered a different dimension. It’s like the architecture models that your professors had on display for the Shanghai History class in your freshman year. Old stuff, that is. Before this place even had the first skyscraper.

You turn to your side and narrow your eyes at Yangyang, suddenly wondering how he finagled his way into bringing you here. Your iron-clad will is not so much iron after all. It’s not even steel, you think, once you catch yourself staring at Yangyang a bit too long.

You step forward to find the entrance to the club; it’s a little lonely to look at in the beginning. Then it clicks that it’s probably the back door. The red pillars encase a black door between them, the overhang of the gateway just a little above Yangyang’s head. You can see the hip-and-gable style roof of the larger building behind, looking like a skyscraper instead of the usual historical buildings you’ve seen on the internet. In glowing red letters, it displays a blinking ‘Club 2’ near the top of the door.

The moment you step on the stairs, a bunch of advertisements pop up on the door, bright bubblegum colours hurting your eyes. Yangyang taps at the little x at the corner of the display till it disappears and finally the door is a regular door. The colour is jet black like any other screening platform.

“I thought the rich were exempted from ads,” you say.

“They’re… more likely to buy things though.”

You make an ‘ah’ sound in contemplation when a whirring makes you jump into him. A little spherical drone flies its way out of an opening in the wall and stops right in front of the two of you.

“Sicheng-ge!” Yangyang says, waving frantically at the camera.

The little drone circles around Yangyang’s head before stopping right in front of his face. It runs a scan before turning sharply and beeping at you.

“My plus one!” Yangyang declares, pulling you by the waist. “Or whatever it’s called.”

Your ears feel warm but you don’t push him off. The camera focuses on your face, likely scanning to identify your age and occupation. When it’s done, a beep resounds and the door slides open to reveal a dimly lit pathway. The main entrance is much brighter, Yangyang promises, but for now it’s just the warm glow of the lanterns, Yangyang’s neon red striped jacket and the mechanical whirring of some sort of device in the darkness.

“What’s that sound?” you whisper and Yangyang stops.

He pauses to think. “Oh, they’re Sicheng-ge’s drones. He’s got like a million of them. I'll introduce you—he’s hosting this club event, by the way.”

He smiles at you reassuringly. If Yangyang’s not bothered by it, you’ll follow his lead. Though, you do take more nimble steps and stay close to him like he’s your lighthouse. (In a way, he is, with all that neon shining on his jacket.)

You’re surprised to find a garden, but then it gets stranger when you see brighter lanterns in the middle area. You see figures and before you can react, Yangyang takes your hand and into the central platform.

ii. orchid club square

Yangyang was right. None of them know how to dress.

The two of you stand in the middle of a crowd, who are in fact dressed either for: a) an impromptu pool party or b) a Sunday morning lecture. You blend in somewhat well given the variety though Yangyang’s painted looks have attracted the attention of quite a few giggling, murmuring onlookers.

You clench your jaw in mild annoyance.

“This is a tour,” Yangyang whispers to you. “I thought… you’d like to know what everything’s about.”

You feel grateful to him for once. Having some sort of knowledge about what you’re getting into makes you feel better about any situation. A set of mechanical clicking fills the air.

A woman—no, an AI bot is the first to greet you. She has pale white metallic skin and her dark strands of hair are in a traditional updo. Her lips are imperial red, shaped in a way that makes her seem as though she’s smiling but also not at the very same time. She holds an extravagant fan by her face at the perfect right angle, the patterns on it painted to imitate an ancient cherry blossom tree.

“Good evening, everyone,” she says, her voice pitched up and enthusiastic. It’s a little funny to imagine metal so lively.

You smell oranges and lavender as soon as she flicks her fan once and precise.

“Welcome to the New Shanghai nightlife!” The bot continues jovially. “The oldest surviving city on planet earth, the birthplace of the human race.”

“You are in virtual space,” she informs. “It might look like a courtyard stretching to infinity but it is only an illusion. However, the club is five hundred and sixty one metres wide and six hundred and twelve metres long. It is large enough to hold twenty-one blue whales in a line. That is, if they still existed of course.”

She giggles algorithmically.

“Where you stand right now,” she says, turning her head in a swift mechanical motion to you and you flinch. “This place is called the orchid club square. As you know, only VIP access lets you in.”

You glance at Yangyang worriedly and he shrugs. There’s no way she could know, right? That was oddly specific. But then she moves her head left to right to address the whole crowd in perfect grace. When her movement starts to get a little too eerie to watch any longer, you fix your eyes on the garden instead. You have no way of telling part real flowers from virtual ones and even so—all of them are beautiful. Maybe reality doesn’t make things any prettier.

However, when you look at Yangyang, the thought gets tossed out. You shake your head, in an attempt to get rid of the image of his face. It’s a little too late to be feeling this way. Either that, or the night is taking its toll on you already. The day was exhausting, considering it was the end of the semester.

The AI guide’s chatter fades into something quieter when you move the club square. It’s a rather empty space, fitting for a rave or just housing large crowds. The decorations are for the new year celebrations, banners of the ox in auspicious colours and a few drones projecting the rest. There’s a garden of evermore orchids lining the area in a perfect square and it’s so precise that it’s pleasing to look at. There’s a door at one edge, similar to the one you encountered before entering the club square.

The music that wafts through the air is so gentle, you almost forget there’s a celebration. The beat makes it livelier and even so, the rhythm of your heartbeat matches it in a soothing sort of way. Turning around, you spot the musical ensemble. It’s another AI, peering over a guqin with trained habit.

She looks the same, except she wears an electronic mask over the lower half of her face. It displays a blue musical note made up of noticeable pixels. She has no fan—instead, her fingers strum the guqin rhythmically, programmed with precision and grace. The sound is accompanied by the woodwind notes of a flute, though you’re not sure where that sound emanates from. There’s also a soft drumbeat which seems to come from the guqin bot herself.

You gasp when a few painted goldfish float through the air, almost real to look at if it weren’t for the glitch effect of holograms. One of them swims closer to you, opening and closing its mouth in rhythm and you giggle at its face.

Yangyang laughs, long finger pointing at the critter in amusement. “That’s adorable.”

He looks like a little kid and you giggle at his expression, with wide, delighted eyes and mouth open in focused mirth. He pokes at the goldfish and it makes a bubbling sound, gears shifting in ticking time before suddenly biting at his index finger. Yangyang lets out a low yelp, retracting his hand before clearing his throat in embarrassment.

“You’re like a cartoon,” you tell him, in between laughs. “No way are you real.”

He grins, in that same way he always looks at you and you look away, feeling hot in the face. It’s too enamored a way to look at someone. But of course, that couldn’t be true—he’s Liu Yangyang and you’re you. Parallel lines do not meet, even if they’re headed in the same direction.

“I think you’re unreal,” he mumbles.

iii. club 2

The doors open to a rather spacious arrangement, with several tables one one side and a sort of dance arena on the other where people are trying to out-dance each other. The intensity makes you move further away from it. It seems a little too festive and you can feel the energy slinking away from you. The music is more upbeat but you suppose the DJ tried to make it sound more eastern; the result is pleasing. He wears a smooth black helmet with a neon red beat visualizer on it, with written SFX appearing from time to time. Two pulsing golden horns glow at the sides of his head. You stare at it for longer than you’d like before composing yourself. You’re very impressionable when it comes to parties.

There are two floors to the club, above the bottom floor itself. The other two floors mostly seem to consist of private booths, however, covered with gossamer silk that glow iridescent. A few floating lanterns sway by the upper floors. The ceiling is open to a midnight blue sky and the stars look much larger than you’ve ever seen them—you suspect it’s an AR mesh over the ceiling. A few light shows project little dancing dragons and coins over the sky and you find them too cute to not stare at.

“Wow,” Yangyang says, right after walking in. “Why is Dejun on the table?”

You look where his eyes are focused on, though it’s difficult through the crowd of people, and find Dejun and Kunhang in some sort of old anime transformation pose atop one of the tables. It’s surprising that they’re not the weirdest pair here.

“Now, bear with me, it’s going to be boring as hell till the countdown and the fireworks,” he explains, waving his hands around. “But it’s a good place to have fun and make friends. You know?”

“Friends?” you ask, a little nervous. You’re not very proficient at making friends and it makes you anxious.

“Yeah! Don’t worry. ” He makes a strange gesture, bordering between posing for a beer ad campaign and looking like a motivational speaker for the army, before furrowing his eyebrows. “You just have to be confident! I’m learning too!”

He lets out a sweet laugh and it makes you laugh in turn, hand covering your mouth so you don’t embarrass yourself too much. You don’t believe the words much, but the glow over his cheeks makes you reconsider.

“You look really nice when you laugh,” he comments, a bright glint in his eyes.

“Whatever,” you reply, punching his shoulder lightly.

Just then, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder to find Lana from your ethical AI class, smiling at you warmly. She looks a little tired, of people more than the time. Like you, she is also a scholarship student—and not a day has gone when she hasn’t soothed your anxiety about your classes. In stark contrast with Yangyang, you would trust her over him for most tasks. Even if you weren’t partners, you’re okay with the outcome. You glance at Yangyang.

“(name)! Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming here,” she says. “Did Yangyang kidnap you?”

“I mean, sort of.”

“Hey.” Yangyang looks at you with betrayal.

“And how did you even manage to do that cool ass project with him as your partner?” she continues, squinting at him.

“Honestly, I don’t know either. He can be surprisingly helpful though.”

Yangyang looks from Lana to you in exasperation. “I’m literally right here,” he grumbles.

Lana laughs at his expression, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

“I just can’t believe you let him kidnap you and not me,” she says in mock indignance. “I’m a much better chauffeur, you know?”

“Do you even have a driving license?” Yangyang asks, laughing.

“I got mine before you, rat. Anyway, (name), I’m playing the guzheng. Do you wanna come see?”

“No,” Yangyang interrupts, suddenly grabbing your hand. “I… I mean you guys can go, of course. It's just the countdown’s close, so we have to go to the viewpoint.”

“That’s exactly where—ah. I see.”

"We'll join you another time, Lana," he says quietly, a cute grin on his face like a little boy would make to an older sister for more shares of chocolate.

"No, no. I actually remembered I left my friends in the corner. See you!"

She leaves her epiphany unsaid, offering you a smile and taking her leave abruptly.

“I thought you told me to socialize,” you complain to Yangyang.

“Yes, I’m so proud of you for that.”

“Yangyang, I swear if you treat me like a kid—”

“I’m not, I’m not. Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I just need to borrow you for tonight. After all, I promised you, didn’t I?”

You sigh. “Fine then, what’s this viewpoint you’re talking about?”

“Oh, we’ll get there.”

Someone’s watching you. You turn around a full three-sixty but find only the same crowd of college-age kids. No one sticks out much, apart from Dejun, Kunhang and Ten, who are at this point performing some sort of strange ritual unbeknownst to any new year tradition, with a hell load of yelling.

“Oh my god, you’re dancing too?” Yangyang says, grinning ear to ear. “I didn’t know I’d have that much of a positive influence. Wow.”

“I’m- I’m not- never mind.”

Yangyang furrows his eyebrows. “What did I tell you? More confidence! See—”

He takes your hands in his, pulling you further onto the dance floor. You feel a rising panic but swallow it. There’s a beat of silence in which the two of you look at each other. Yangyang proceeds to perform the stupidest sequence of movements you have ever seen, certainly too awkward for his body to accept as natural but it doesn’t seem like he cares. He’s having fun.

You find yourself laughing. Taking timid steps, you try to loosen up although the inevitable embarrassment arrives in flushes of heat across your face. There are stars in Yangyang’s eyes when you join him—not the artificial jewels in observatories but the real kind that you used to see in your hometown.

You take a wobbly step back. It’s starting to get disorienting. If it were the real sky above you, you might even have felt better. Perhaps the purpose is to get dizzy.

“I’m a little thirsty,” Yangyang says, motioning to the table with food and drinks at a corner. “I’ll head over and be back.”

Unsure what to do, you follow him like a lost lamb and though it would be embarrassing at any other time, any other place, now and here are not part of that.

The red and golden lights of the neon patterning the walls don’t seem as harsh anymore and you let your eyes rest on the boyish figure of Yangyang. You haven’t figured him out yet. Something tells you he’s more than a shallow image of the party-loving rich kids of Shanghai. In fact, in quiet, personal moments, he looks more out of place than you do—despite all that bright neon. You open your mouth to ask something when you’re interrupted by a dizzy Yangyang spinning into you.

“Sorry, (name),” he says, rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. “I genuinely thought I was going to win that game.”

You shake your head, letting him get back to whatever spinning game they were at. He smells like wine and something tells you he’s poor at holding his liquor. The stakes must be high for that game, you figure, because you see Yangyang set aside his beloved shoe on the floor. To be the only scholarship student here suddenly feels scary and awkward.

Yangyang once again tugs at your arm, the touch reassuring as though he understands how you feel. But it isn’t true. There’s no way someone like him can understand someone like you.

“Yangyang,” you call. “Do you come here every year?”

“No, no. I do come for drinks though. I’m only here right now because a friend is hosting this.”

You shrug.

“And you,” he adds and you feel a hot flush rise to your face. “New years are the only time this place is PG-13.”

“I’m not a child,” you snap.

“My mom says childish people say that.”

“Then it's very rich coming from you, Liu Yangyang.”

He laughs heartily, leaning away. A creeping thought grows in your head that you missed out on a lot. But then again, you’ll always miss out on things if you’re not rich enough for them.

Yangyang flinches suddenly, almost knocking a plate off the table. He moves quickly, turning so that his side leans against the wall and the other arm cages you between him and the wall. His frame covers your view from whatever, or whoever arrived at the entrance that made him react so obnoxiously.

However, his lips hovering just a little over yours makes your breath hitch in your throat. This is the worst possible position you could've gotten into. The smell of mint interrupts your thoughts and you look at him with as annoyed an expression as you can muster over the heat of your face.

"Yangyang, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

“I am… admiring the wall. Ooh, it’s got velvet over it, did you notice?”

“You’re going to have your head in it too if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

"Just… sorry. Let’s stay like this for a few moments."

He flashes you an apologetic smile, his face close enough to make yours grow even hotter. A nervous chuckle erupts from his lips.

"Oh my god, get off. People are going to think we’re making out."

"We could do it for real."

"I'm going to scratch your eyes out."

"Sorry, sorry."

“Who are you even hiding from?”

“I’m not hiding… okay, forget that. Bodyguard-watcher-dude. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You have a bodyguard?”

“More like a babysitter.”

You try not to laugh, considering the proximity between your faces. “How come you have a babysitter? Actually, wait, I think I know.”

He huffs over your face and you restrain yourself from landing a swift uppercut to his jaw. Now you know the minty smell comes from mouth freshener.

“He’s a prosecutor. It’s weird that he stalks me in his free time. Even- even if… my parents are paying him.”

“They think you’re doing something illegal?”

“No. I don’t think I am.”

You rest your head back against the wall, rolling your eyes. “Really? That’s your answer? God, your brain cells rotted somewhere along the way, didn’t they? It’s all those parties.”

“I’m starting to feel like my mom hired you too.”

He looks back, and noting the absence of his so-called babysitter, he pulls back from you. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath and you let it out in a shallow effort.

“Your babysitter’s gone?”

“Not a babysit—I regret saying that. Look, I really don’t think they appointed him because they think I’m doing something illegal. I have never done anything illegal. Except that one street race but that’s because Lucas told me it was perfectly legal.”

“The what?”

“Anyway, the point is, let’s look forward to good fortune for this year, hm? Leave all the burdens to last year.”

“Fortune doesn’t favour fools.”

“I’m not stupid,” he complains, spreading his arms to express it further. “Mostly.”

You laugh, turning your attention to the food table.

“Ooh, pineapple tarts,” he exclaims, hand reaching out to grab one when you smack it.

“You’ve had, like, fifteen already.”

“Mhm,” he says, with a few more stuffed in his mouth.

There’s a pause.

“It’s me, isn't it?” you ask quietly. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

He gulps, lips parting and closing. “I brought you here. So you don’t worry about it.”

Rich people suck. You believe that strongly. But sometimes, just sometimes, when you have everything you can ever want, you start to want the same for everyone around you. Some people are special. You find Yangyang genuinely fascinating for being someone who makes friends when he’s supposed to be making more connections. You find him fascinating.

It makes sense for someone like him to be the way he is.

iv. fireworks viewpoint

“That’s the old Shanghai Tower,” Yangyang points to a building in the distance. “It used to be the tallest building once but… well, it looks like the little guy now.”

Lunar New Year’s celebrations are a big, big deal in New Shanghai. It means a break from university, work and every other affair to have as many priorities sorted in anticipation of the new year. And the impact is evident from this height, when you can see the city in its golden glory. It looks warm out there for once—although you’re not very sure if it’s because of the warmth that comes from right beside you. The little wooden boats float by on the river a little far off, various images blooming as holograms above them. You giggle at the large animated fishes swimming above the river with blank expressions and painted button eyes.

The golden clock shines bright in the sky, its holographic hands ticking down to midnight. It looks like something out of a fantasy movie, scattering golden pixels everywhere with each minute passing. The size of it alone reminds you of the scale of this city.

This is an empire. It's owned by the kings and queens who built it over the bones left from sacrifices. It's going to be owned by heirs and heiresses. You feel a looming sense of dread come over you. It's so beautiful and it can never belong to itself. It must always belong to someone. It’s the terms and conditions of human creation.

"Hey." Yangyang taps you on the shoulder and you try not to flinch. "What are you thinking?"

You hum. "Stuff."

"This place is pretty cool, huh?"

That, you can agree with. "It is. It's so amazing that I can't believe I'm here sometimes."

Yangyang laughs slowly. "I hope more people can live here. Not in level one. You know. No one should live in desperation."

You hold back a scoff, though you end up frowning. What does a rich kid know of desperation? He might as well be prince, and princes do not know how to beg. It must be something of a saviour complex. You shrink away from him. The new year music is starting to ring a little too loud in your ears.

"That would be difficult," you mutter.

"Not if you lower the cost of living conditions—ah. Sorry." He pauses and you feel a flicker of surprise in you. “It’s not appropriate to discuss. Or so my parents tell me…”

The expression comes from empathy. You’re sure of it. There’s some sort of passion and not the kind of coloured fire that flames up in parties, but a different one. The kind that says, if you can’t bear the heat then you can’t learn how to forge. You scoff. Which prince has possibly known heat?

“I- I get angry too,” you say quietly. “I think it’s something to be angry about.”

He smiles at you, leaning against the balcony railing.

You’re interrupted by a man in the attire of a waiter and it causes the two of you to jump away from each other. It’s not like you were very close in the first place but the proximity of shared words can play tricks on people. The man offers the two of you a screen and Yangyang’s face lights up almost immediately.

“We can order food with this,” he says. “Or book a table. The top strips are all reserved for members of the club. That’s the big daddy restaurants.”

“That’s… pretty cool,” you say, leaning in to glance over the browsing menu. “But don’t say that phrase to me again.”

“I can. And I will.”

“Ugh. Move on.”

“Okay, so we should drop by the convenience store for some ramen. I heard they taste better in the middle of the night,” Yangyang suggests all of a sudden, leaning in further.

It gets difficult sometimes to not be bothered by him, especially when there is a lack of distance. You look at him, pause and then sigh. “Sure. I guess. Are those free too?”

He opens his mouth in sudden realization and grins sheepishly at you. You roll your eyes.

“Do you have money then?”

“Uh.”

“How do you not have money? It’s the New Year!”

“I… uh—”

“Okay, you don’t have to answer that. But I’m not paying for you,” you complain. “You could always ask your parents for some money. What’s the point of being a party kid?”

‘Party kids’—it makes you laugh in amusement—is the colloquial term given to the children of businesspeople who had a direct hand in the economic progress of New Shanghai. You would sell your kidneys to be one and it still wouldn’t be enough.

His smile wavers at your statement but he shakes his head. “If I call my mom, she’ll start scolding me again about how my apartment room needs to be cleaner. Blah, blah, blah. You know.”

“She’s right- wait, you don’t clean your room?”

“Don’t take her side, (name).”

You bite down a smile and he offers you his biggest one.

“Oh, that place looks new,” Yangyang exclaims, a long index finger pointing to the preview of a sushi restaurant. You glare at him, his face nearer to yours than you would prefer but his eyes are fixed like a child ogling halloween candy.

“Let’s go,” he urges, looking directly at you.

You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head vehemently. “We don’t have money. Or bit-credits.”

He sighs, deflating as though you just snatched the candy right from his hands. “But… I haven’t been there before.”

“So?” You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You don’t have to try every food place in the city.”

“I need to eat,” he says as though it’s a very reasonable response. “I’m still growing!”

“Not mentally.”

He drops his smile, looking at you blankly. “You don’t have to get so smart with me, let me tell you.”

You snicker at the ‘offended’ expression on his face.

In the next moment, your attention shifts to the sudden crowd of people rushing to the balcony. Yangyang pulls you closer to avoid getting pushed by them, and you look around confused. It all makes sense when they start chanting the numbers, counting down from ten. You can only stare in awe at the clock and the otherworldly glee in the rhythmic chants. It’s like they don’t feel anything but joy at this moment. You let yourself smile.

The clock strikes twelve. The sound of the bell resounds throughout the city and the firecrackers burst into a thousand shades of red and gold across the sky. There’s moving images of animals, floating text and other animations which make the night sky seem like a screen. The sparks of the fireworks look like golden snow, or even happy little pixels.

You point your finger to the sky excitedly but when you turn, Yangyang’s eyes aren’t on the sky but on your hand outstretched towards it. He faces you, rather hesitantly as though caught red-handed.

“You’re- you’re… so pretty,” he says, softly and shrugging as if answering a question.

You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that. It’s the lonely speaking, right? The euphoria of human connection in this time and age—it can make you believe anything. There’s a myriad of colours blooming in the sky behind you, a city dazzling with diamond and ruby lights, people with much more stories to tell than you do. This city, this city, this city. This city will break your heart.

“It’s kind of crappy,” you mutter, to which Yangyang quirks an ear.

“Wh-what is?”

“This city. It’s got bright lights and fun and all those promises of success. But all I see are people desperately trying to survive. All I see are the same faces at the top and—I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away.”

“No, no.” He makes a vague gesture. “I’m listening.”

“We’re at their mercy,” you whisper. “My life is not my own. That’s crappy.”

Yangyang hums in response. “You're right. What’s the point of living a life that’s not your own?”

Looking at him again, you see the entire figure of his being against the fireworks and all the beautiful creations of the human race. His almost silver hair falls perfectly by his forehead, the contact lenses looking like glazed frost over his eyes. Just as vibrant and excessive as the city itself, Yangyang belongs here. This is his kingdom.

No, that’s not quite right perhaps. Yangyang belongs anywhere because he brings warmth. You're suddenly grateful he's with you because no one you know would possibly go out of their way to make you feel comfortable like this. You know Yangyang loves people and crowds. No one would do that for you at the expense of their own enjoyment. You smile at the prospect of solving the blinding mystery that he is.

"We… should leave," Yangyang says, all of a sudden. He eyes a man at the corner of the balcony, dressed in a business suit and looking blank. He sticks out like a sore thumb. You're not sure why he's in that getup.

"Okay," you say, not sure why you're so agreeable tonight.

Maybe it's the night. Sometimes all you can do is drag your feet over the asphalt and hope it'll be sunnier tomorrow.

v. two-four-seven convenience store

College boys are the most god-awful creatures on earth.

“Hey, do you always reach class on time?” Yangyang asks, eyes curious. He keeps asking a question every five minutes or so, trying to keep up conversation. You've already told him he doesn't have to. However, it makes you strangely comfortable to hear the sound of his voice periodically. You won't tell him that.

You nod, returning your gaze to the window, though the advertisements block your view. You can always try skipping the ad every five goddamn seconds.

It's your first time riding the train that travels through the Mobius Strip, and certainly the first time in a luxury cabin. Since it’s free for members of the new year club, you can heave a sigh of relief. You will never in your life, even if it’s genetically elongated, ever be able to afford a luxury cabin.

"Oh, that looks so good," Yangyang says, large hand smacking against the window to get rid of the colourful advertisements.

"It's a convenience store, Yangyang," you say. "It's got everyday ramen."

"No, look. It's a different brand. And they're giving a burger for free with two ramen cups!"

You furrow your eyebrows at him. "Well, I guess it's cheaper too."

"Oh, we can go to one of the upper restaurants too. They're free, remember?"

"I like convenience stores," you mumble. There's something about the lack of even lighting and crowds that made them a comfort spot for you.

“Quick,” he says, pulling you off the seat when the train stops.

“Yangyang!” you warn. He's so easily excitable that you find it hard to believe he's real sometimes.

However, when he turns around with his big puppy-dog eyes, you curse at yourself before you curse at him. Sighing, you follow him down the steps, his hand tenderly holding yours. Sometimes, you wonder if the human touch means anything at all in this diamond and steel era. Yangyang’s palm is warm against yours.

The ramen tastes awfully delicious on stolen time, and you would complain more if it weren’t for Yangyang looking at you with so serene a look. It annoys you and you try to grab his attention by waving your chopsticks in front of him. When it doesn’t work, you resort to swearing. You’ve never seen anyone respond with a smiling hum after being told to “eat shit”.

“Oh, this tastes so good,” he states, cheeks puffed with food. “I think I’m going to cry.”

“I- I think you’re crying because it’s spicy.”

“Oh.”

As usual, Yangyang pokes and prods at you with questions about your daily life, like you’re the most interesting thing in a city full of blinding lights, world-class robots and cyber-enhanced technology. You don’t understand how he doesn’t just grow tired of asking every single detail about you.

Apart from the fact that Liu Yangyang is most certainly an environmental hazard, some part of you cannot believe that he's truly terrible. There's something innocent about him, but all at once, something quiet and mysterious.

“Why are you always so curious, Yangyang?” you ask finally. “Why are you always running off to different places?”

“Because experiences never come twice,” he answers after some thinking. It seems to be a little difficult for him to articulate, deep contemplation over his features when he continues. “This city… all the lights and clubs and arenas, all of it will be gone someday. Like we don’t have telephones or those big computers anymore.”

You rest your chin on your palm, leaning in.

“This moment, right here with you… I’ll never experience it again,” he tells you. “We can have more midnight convenience store ramen sometime later but… each time will be different. I’d rather live now.”

You smile softly. “That’s a funny thought to live by.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” he says, patting your head. “Also, I’m like hot and young and popular and not a cyborg—how can I miss parties?”

You shake your head, laughing. He’s ridiculous. He’s completely ridiculous. In that moment, when you look at him, Yangyang seems to be smiling in a daze, eyes on your face.

“You look nice when you smile,” he says quietly.

"Thanks," you respond. "I should keep it a secret then, huh?"

"Not from me," he says, smiling.

Somehow, the extra minutes you have at the convenience store turn to a few multiplayer games and then, ditching technology, to an arm wrestling match.

"I feel like this game is kind of unfair," you say after losing almost immediately. He's clearly got stronger muscles. Does he work out? Probably against his will, you bet.

“My right arm’s a lot stronger than my left arm,” he says, before looking a little horrified. “That wasn’t a masturbation joke, by the way. I am so sorry.”

You roll your eyes. "Give me your left hand then- wait. You're right-handed?"

"That's not the- uh." He thinks for a moment, trying to gather words. “That’s not the reason.”

“I, uh, I heavily damaged this arm when I was a kid—don’t look like that, there’s a fun part to this. It’s made of titanium! And some other things. The names are too complicated.”

You drive your fingers over the arm, so warm and real and flushed red, anything but metal and code. You find curiosity blooming in you more than ever before.

“You know why I’m not with family,” you say, straightening. “But why aren’t you celebrating with your family?”

He gets quiet, thinking to himself for a few more moments. You almost regret asking when he answers, a hesitant sound leaving him first.

“None of us, uh… none of our parents can spare more than three hours. They’ll come in the afternoon tomorr—today.”

You can’t exactly respond to that very well.

“So all of us go hang out at the New Year’s Club.”

You frown. "But it's not a celebration without family!"

"We have new year lunches. And… it's the future. Traditions die. Very few grieve them for fear of being stuck in the past."

You feel partly horrified and partly dismal. "I… You could come with me next year, if you like."

You're not sure where the offer comes from but Yangyang lights up at the idea.

"I can? Oh, we'll have so much fun!"

"Slow down. There's a year to go."

Yangyang laughs. It's surprising the way he turned out. He must have gotten tired of waiting by the door. And now you know all the things about him that his parents don’t.

You smile at him, warming up to the idea of you and him as friends before scoffing at it again.

Right in the next moment, Yangyang dips suddenly to the ground, crouching below the table. You look around in surprise and fall to your knees with a yelp at the tug on our wrist from Yangyang.

“What the hell?” you hiss. “You’re starting to act really weird.”

“I- Sorry. It’s an emergency,” he says, but there’s no sign of distress in his voice. He simply smiles at you. Perhaps he’s never heard of the emotion as of yet.

“Your babysitter?”

“I say that once and on accident—yes, it’s my babysitter.”

You chuckle. He’s simply too cute at times.

“We have to be discreet now, okay? It’s like—what’s the movie called? Oh, Mission Impossible.”

“I’ve never seen that.”

“What? How can you not? It’s a classic! It’s got so many cool—ah, I’ll show you another time.”

You hum, staring at Yangyang’s facial features tense up and relax again as he scans the vicinity outside the window of the convenience store. It’s full of people, even at this hour so you can’t possibly know who’s looking at you from there.

Yangyang turns back to you. “Have you ever been to blue moon station?”

“The one with the pretty walls? No. No, I’ve never even gone beyond Strip Two.”

Yangyang smiles at you and right then, you feel like you’re about to resent whatever’s going to happen next. It’s in the ebb and flow of tonight’s itinerary, however, and you relax your shoulders just as he does a roll across the floor, looking back at you with a grin for executing it flawlessly.

“You’re so silly,” you mutter.

“I heard that,” he whisper-shouts back.

You’re not as afraid as before, you realize. The lights are absolutely mesmerizing.

vi. blue moon station

It drops a few degrees in temperature once you step foot onto the platform. You can see a bunch of scattered tourists, cameras hanging around their neck and a look of awe over their faces.

Yangyang takes off his jacket, shivering immediately but offering it to you nonetheless. When you refuse, he places it gingerly over your shoulders.

"Is that a…?"

"A tourist bot, yes."

"Oh my god, it's so cute," you say, crouching by the little red robot, a teal-colored smiley face popping up on its monitor.

"A lot of tourists in this station," you note.

"Yeah. It's very… visually pleasing."

That's true. The walls are screens with three dimensional graphics, immersive enough to catch one's eye. A single tree grows through the middle of the station, evergreen and alive with holographic flora and fauna. The sun shines eternally over the tree. It's so beautiful that you had trouble taking your eyes off it at first.

The walls next to you are currently displaying a walk through a fantasy forest, crafted by a visionary artist, no doubt. A blue butterfly flies past you and you stare at it before zoning out.

Sometimes, the lights are too disorienting. You start to feel dizzy, massaging your forehead when Yangyang brushes the tips of his fingers against your shoulder.

“You good?”

Yangyang crouches beside you with watchful eyes.

You nod, turning your attention to the tourist bot. It displays a plethora of information about the architecture of this place which you're sure no tourist will bother to read beyond the first two lines.

“You can make it do cool tricks too,” Yangyang says. “Watch.”

Yangyang pokes at it with his index finger, drawing a pattern over the screen. The bot proceeds to do an old internet dance, waving about its arms and hips. You laugh at it and Yangyang looks at you with the pride of a third grader with first place on their science project.

The colours on the walls change and you see the animation of a man and a fox, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to recall that image. They seem to be broadcasting fables through the holograms. You can’t deny that they’re pretty—glowing with auspicious colours and as animated as the real world itself. As if by compulsion, you hold Yangyang’s hand. It’s nice to feel the human touch real once in a while, especially in the overwhelming loneliness of city nights.

Yangyang looks at you brightly and right then, you feel less inclined to leave him.

“You know, I could teach you better ways to flirt than just grab my hand,” he says, grinning like an idiot.

“What?”

You move your hand. “I’m not flirting.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he responds quickly. “Can I please have your hand back?”

You shake your head, laughing. He worries you. Some part of you says you shouldn’t be worried. It’s not like you’re close friends. (Friends, maybe. Close, not yet.)

The night has a different opinion.

—

“Found you,” a voice declares, and the two of you jump into each other with a scream.

The man in the suit looks at you with a fatigued look in his eyes, hair somehow still neat though he breathes like his lungs are on fire.

“Care to tell me why you’ve been skipping my calls?” he asks after catching his breath. “It’s not like I wanted to follow you—you just needed to tell me.”

“I… I was busy?” Yangyang flashes a smile. “Kun-ge, I honestly had no idea you called. I don’t even have my phone.”

The man shakes his head. “Fine. Just head over to Jasmine for the night. And you can bring your date too.”

He gestures at you and you want to deny it as quick as you can. You do not, however. It’s almost like you’ve warmed up to the idea of it rather well.

“Okay,” Yangyang answers quietly.

vii. jasmine private lounge

You enter a lounge with the capacity of around a hundred people. Despite that, there are hardly five present. The walls are black with neon jasmines pulsating from blue to red. A grand piano lies still in all its elegance in the middle of the lounge, played by a plain white AI. It feels like an expensive place to be, and more so, it feels like someplace you’re not supposed to step foot into. There's a bar table at one side, opposite to the entrance which glows a hypnotizing purple. A flat lettering on the wall declares the time to be 3 A.M.

You and Yangyang sit a little too close on the artificially warmed couch, waiting for Kun to return. Yangyang reassures you that you haven't done anything wrong but the illicit outing of yours certainly says otherwise. You contemplate tasting the cocktail Yangyang ordered before finally giving in and find it pleasantly warm to taste. You take another sip.

“It’s a little strong,” Yangyang warns. “Don’t have all of—you had all of it.”

You shrug. Your throat certainly feels better now. This lounge is fucking cold.

"You know, Yangyang," you say with the warmth of confidence on your face. "You're a really nice guy."

He smiles incredulously. "Thanks. You're really nice too."

"And you're pretty decent-looking—"

"I know that."

"—and also popular. So why are you always hanging around me?"

"Uh, that's your question?"

You nod. Placing your cheek against your palm, you try not to sink into the couch.

"Because you're really cool!" He answers before clearing his throat. "I mean. I think you're fun to be around. You make me see things clearer."

"And what exactly are you wanting to see clearer?'

"You."

You blink aside your astoundment, straightening. "What?"

Your question is left unanswered because a man enters and sits across the two of you, a loud huff of annoyance leaving his mouth. It's not just his disposition but the architecture of his face that grabs your attention. He looks like an AI robot so perfectly crafted with coloured lips and flawless skin that you end up staring till Yangyang elbows you.

“He’s not an AI,” Yangyang whispers.

You furrow your brows and notice it is, in fact, true that he's not an AI. There are no ridges over the joints or hollowness in the eyes. He wears the same frost-patterned smart lenses as Yangyang does. However, it doesn't change the fact that the man is beautiful to look at.

“I’m never hosting a new year party again,” he mutters, sinking into the couch.

“It actually sounds kind of fun,” Yangyang interjects. “I can’t wait for my turn.”

“I’m sorry. Good luck standing at Longhua temple for three hours till midnight just to make sure nothing goes wrong. Without dinner.”

Yangyang makes a face at that.

"That's Sicheng-ge," he says, turning to you.

"Ah," you say in response, remembering the name vaguely.

"He let us into Club 2," Yangyang says, noticing your lost expression.

"I think Kun's looking for you," Sicheng says, eyes trained at the back.

His hands fidget with the dim blue buttons at the edge of the table, till a small compartment reveals itself under the glass. An old world-style cigarette is slowly pushed up and Sicheng picks it up. He offers the next one to Yangyang, who accepts it hesitantly. No one smokes tobacco anymore when nicotine is so readily available. Alas, human nature is to want things deadly and out of reach.

“So how’s Cat?” Yangyang asks, fumbling with the plasma lighter he picked from a compartment on the side.

Sicheng smiles a little, the smoke from his cigarette snaking around him as he raises a hand to dissipate it.

“She’s doing fine. Running everything as usual.”

“Of course. Boss lady.” Yangyang does an awkward salute.

“Oh, a new hair color too. As pretty as flower fields in the spring of ‘22.”

Sicheng’s lovesick rambling is interrupted by Yangyang hacking his lungs out. You turn to him and he avoids your gaze, reaching for a crystal blue glass of water one of the helper bots offer. So, he’s not even a smoker? Why did he think you would care?

“Anyway, Kun is glaring daggers at me now. You better get out of here.” Sicheng grimaces.

You turn around to see Kun by the bar table, gesturing towards Yangyang to come. You're not sure why but either of those men make you nervous.

"I'll be right back," Yangyang says, scrambling up and leaving you in a long awkward silence with Sicheng.

“So, uh, I’m assuming you’re oblivious to that lovestruck puppy following you around?” Sicheng asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or is this some game you guys are into? I’m not judging you for that.”

Your face heats up and you fidget with your collar. “The- A what? Game? Uh? I- huh?”

Sicheng tries to press down his smile but it’s evident enough for you to see. Did you say something funny? Did Yangyang say something funny about you? Oh, you’re going to kill him.

“For all that he talks, he’s kind of terrible at pulling together his own love life.”

“I- I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

It still unnerves you to look at him. He certainly looks more android than human when he’s not making any particular expression.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, offering you a reassuring smile. “You should find Yangyang before he lands the two of you in trouble.”

You turn to look at Yangyang through the glass and turn back nodding. Sicheng offers you a parting smile and you hesitantly make your way to the bar table.

"This isn't in my job description," Kun tells Yangyang just before you arrive. "I didn't know being a lawyer included babysitting."

The tips of Yangyang's ears heat up when he notices you.

"It's not babysitting," he murmurs. “Also, you’re not my mom.”

"You, Ten, Kunhang, all of you give me such a hard time," he continues but pauses right when he notices you.

"Oh, hello. (Name), isn't it?" He says, smiling politely. He's quite young and handsome for a lawyer. "Yangyang talks about you a lot."

"Oh," you respond. "Really?"

Yangyang glares at the older man. "You don't have to say everything, Kun-ge."

"You interested in law?" Kun asks, offering you a seat between him and Yangyang.

You make a face. The law is a tool for the rich and powerful. But then again, what isn’t? The world is in your hands when you have billions to spare. However, you still can’t imagine being a rich man's guard dog your whole life.

Kun chuckles. "You kids are interested in tech more, aren't you?"

Yangyang interrupts, "You talk like you're fifty years old."

Kun grimaces, resting his face against his hand. Shooting a glare at Yangyang, he finishes the rest of his wine.

You're not exactly interested in tech or engineering or the big kid jobs either. You just want a way to survive this man-made food chain. Rich eats the world till there’s nothing left on the plate. Then again, you'd rather be a pet than get eaten.

"Anyway," Kun turns to Yangyang. "If you see Ten, give me a call."

Yangyang signals with a thumbs up gesture, watching as Kun’s figure slowly makes its way out of the gate. It’s the two of you again and suddenly, you feel a strange sort of feeling overcome you. Leaning your throbbing forehead against Yangyang’s shoulder, you take some soft breaths and skip the part where you question your actions. It’s pleasant, at the very least. He shifts his chair closer, extending his arm around you so that your head rests against his shoulder more comfortably.

“You must be tired,” he mutters.

“You didn’t answer me,” you say. “Answer in a way I understood, at least.”

“Hm?”

“Why do you hang around me?”

“Do you not… want me to?”

“No. I like your company, actually. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Yangyang laughs. “You’re… you’re really perfect. As a person. At least to me, you seem that way.”

You scoff. “You’re a long way off there.”

“No. No, you felt like clockwork,” he continues. “When I first met you. I couldn’t believe you were real.”

You do work like a delirious robot on clockwork steroids. But you’re not very proud of it. You don’t think overworking is a good personality trait to have—even if it’s for survival. However, the faraway look in Yangyang’s eyes suggests that’s not what he means.

“I felt like I understood you,” he continues after a short pause.

You find it unbelievable. That’s the one sentence you could never imagine coming from him to you, much less agree with. But right then, as his warmth seeps into you, you want to agree desperately.

Yangyang feels an unexpected trickle of doubt down his throat. No matter how many times he’s practised in front of the mirror, the words don’t come out right when you’re with him. With everything you do, he feels more drawn in. There’s something familiar and something honest. And if he’s honest himself, he just likes you. What sort of a hypocrite should he be categorized as, to tell his friends to ‘just confess’ to their crushes when he’s a complete idiot when it comes to you? It can’t be that little voice from his childhood that tells him to stay in order.

Yangyang understands that there are rules to this world but he doesn’t get what those have got to do with him. He sighs, the sound somewhat grim when it comes from him.

"I've seen it before," he says, "People come from all over the country with hopes and dreams, and they get their hearts broken by capitalism."

You frown.

"I don't want you to go anywhere," he mumbles. "I hope you'll stay… even if- even if you feel like that, you know? If you're feeling lonely, I could—"

"Yangyang." You smile. "I’m quite comfortable here."

When you bury your nose into the crook of his neck, Yangyang thinks this is it. This is how he ends the sorry excuse of flirting he’s been trying with you and says something he regrets. It was never this difficult with the other crushes he’s had. He’s always left opening his mouth and then promptly closing it like a goldfish out of water every single time he wants to bring up dating with you. He’s always honest. So, what’s the big deal this time? This is so horrendously not cool of him.

You straighten. “We should get back home.”

“Can you- Can you not move so far from me, please?” Yangyang murmurs, hands gripping yours.

You smile, to yourself more to him but that’s one he likes the most.

“You’re a really interesting person, Yangyang.”

“I am?” He clears his throat and repeats the question.

“How are you so nice to people?”

“I think people are nice.”

“Why do you like parties?”

“They’re fun.”

“When the party’s over, who do you go to?” you ask, words mushing into each other.

“Home,” he answers, gulping down what seems like more words. “Like always.”

A hush falls between the two of you. You’re asking quite the questions.

“I’m sweaty,” you mutter. “I hate being sweaty.”

“You look wonderful though,” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself than to you. “Not that being sweaty makes you wonderful. You’re just nice.”

There’s another hush, the notes of the piano playing a faraway, romantic tune. He turns away and looks back at you again, but right in that moment, you lean forward to press your lips against his. It’s so sudden that he almost falls over backwards, his feet planted firmly on the ground the only thing preventing that from happening. The next thing he thinks is that your lips are on fire and it’s the most comfortable feeling he’s ever experienced.

The two of you fit into each other like clockwork, Yangyang thinks. It’s the one thing in his life that feels whole. Not that he isn’t whole by himself—he just loves your warmth. For a moment he feels like he’s on cloud nine and the next, his heart plummets when he feels you go limp in his arms.

It breaks his heart a little but he doesn’t—can’t bring himself to say much. He’s not this bad when he’s drunk, is he? Pulling you up by the waist, he texts Kunhang to bring his car down to the lounge.

This is going to be a long night.

viii. home

You wake up to the sun in your eyes and immediately know you're someplace you shouldn't be. This isn't your bed. The sun doesn't reach your bed in the morning. This isn’t the dormitory. You see a cubical alarm clock, a pixelated smiley face on it as it displays 10 A.M.

You get up and immediately shriek. You’re not wearing any clothes. Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you look around the room. It’s huge; the walls are multicolored with a little section opposite the bed reserved for photographs. There’s a lot of junk all over the floor that you don’t pay mind to when you notice Yangyang.

“Yangyang?!”

He rouses blinking slowly, hair going every which way and his eyes still unfocused. He looks like he’s had a difficult night.

“Why are you on the floor?” you ask, shrinking further into the ridiculously soft bed when he gets up. Massaging the back of his neck, he looks like he's looking at a mirage instead of a real live person. Unfortunately, he’s not wearing a shirt and you look away after a prolonged minute of staring. This is getting ridiculous. What are you doing here?

“Yangyang!”

“Huh? Oh!”

He seems to be finally awake. You should pop the question before it eats you alive.

"Did- Did we…?"

Yangyang blinks at you in confusion before a loud "oh" erupts from his mouth.

"No!" He says in between laughter. "No, we didn't. Oh my god, you’re so funny. You took off your clothes saying it's too hot and smacked me with them. I didn’t look, by the way.”

Your jaw drops. You can’t even form words through the pulsing headache.

“Your clothes are on the chair. And I didn’t touch your underwear. Out of respect."

You avoid eye contact in embarrassment.

“And… well, you did kiss me once. Twice.”

You look up alarmed and he raises his arms in defense.

“You- you were drunk so I had to push you off. You cried a little after that. Sorry.”

“Oh god.” You cover your face with your hands, sitting down on the bed. That has to be the most embarrassing thing you could have done.

“You- Don’t worry about that. You’re a good kisser. I was kind of surprised,” he offers in an attempt to make you feel better but you only grow hotter in the face.

“And- And I liked it,” he adds in a panic. “Wait, I don’t mean it in a creepy way.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t anyone else.”

“What?”

“You. It’s okay if it’s you.”

You give him a weak smile, still not over the embarrassment.

Yangyang laughs. “I… I think I should’ve said this before but… can I take you out on a date?”

“What were we doing last night then?”

“Well, that was- ah. You’re teasing me. Motherfucker.”

You giggle into your palm. When he takes a seat on the bed, you make a distressed sound and he jumps up immediately.

“My clothes,” you hiss. “Get out of the room so I can wear them.”

“Right,” he says, pointing an index finger at you.

He turns around right then. "By the way…"

You shriek, pulling the cover up all the way to your nose.

"Sorry," he says, averting his eyes immediately. "If- if that was a date, did you like it? Do you wanna go on another one?"

You can see him practically sweat bullets and you laugh at the innocuous questions. He’s too cute. You can’t believe you made yourself shake off the thought every time it crossed you. However indelicate his touch is, you welcome it nonetheless.

"Yes. Yes, I'll go on a date with you. You annoying, stupid, bratty idiot."

“Okay, that was mean.”

Watching his figure leave through the door, you relax your shoulders. In the end, people will always be people. No matter what shiny new toy you give them to play with, people will always search for happiness, and they will laugh and cry and fall in love with people and places and things over and over again. It's lovely to be human in an era of diamond and steel.

#yangyang x reader #nct x reader #wayv x reader #yangyang scenarios #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang fluff #nct fluff #wayv fluff #yangyang fanfic #nct fanfic #yangyang fic #moonwrites #dawg idk what im doing imma be honest here

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galacticseonghwa · 4 months

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matching outfits i think NCT 127 would wear with their girlfriends

INCLUDES: 127 x gfs!, fluff, me just typing out my delusions about 127 wearing matching fits. in honour of 600 followers🫶🏼 thank yous so much🫶🏼 wc: tbc a/n: if yous would like a male or gender neutral version of this please let me know! i tend to get carried away with idol x fem!reader plots/posts. but i don't want yous to be afraid to ask! ALL PICTURES I DO NOT OWN AND ARE ALL OFF PINTEREST

TAEIL taeil loves matching outfits with his gf, however he doesn't mind not doing it all the time. he never pushes you to wear matching outfits 24/7 but rather waits for you to ask him, he'll then pull out a minimum of 17 different matching outfits he's bought through out the last month because he thinks you two would look so good wearing them. he's the type to wear very simple yet classy matching outfits that match yous both.

JOHNNY now sir john john is neither here nor there when it comes to matching it outfits. once in a blue-moon he'll ask you if you want to wear matching outfits, and they're usually monotone casual fits he deemed 'cool' enough to wear. but when you're the one who offers to wear matching fits it's usually cute fits to wear around the house and practice room which he's more than happy to wear.

TAEYONG tyong is defiently the type to love matching outfits but doesn't make too much of a fuss about wearing them. although he loves wearing matching casual fits with you, he especially loves wearing matching outfits when yous got out for very "fancy" dinner dates or just fancy dates in general. so nine times out of ten yous wear fancy/classy matching outfits.

YUTA yuta is defiently the type of bf to want his gf to have a similar fashion style to him. he'd love to wear matching outfits with you just as long as there's a techno or 'grunge' sort of twist to it. he just loves the idea that you both like the same fashion style, also gives him the right to steal clothes of your because "you haven't warn it since.." so if a shirt of yours goes missing it was surely him.

DOYOUNG doyoung seems like the type to wear matching outfits with you only when he gets to choose the fits. not that he doesn't trust you with choosing them or that he doesn't like your fashion style but because he likes the sense of control it gives him. he often likes wearing matching outfits that compliment the both of you.

JAEHYUN oh he absolutely loves it, but he'll NEVER admit to anyone, especially you. he'll make it his life mission to let you know that he hates matching outfits with his being, but he will go ahead and repost a matching couple outfits onto his private instagram acc (you can NOT tell me they don't have accs to sneak around on), saying how much he "hates" it just so you see it and get the exact outfit he posted. he loves any matching outfit. still, he adores the ones you buy because you thought of him the second you laid your eyes on it, but again he will never tell you just how much he loves it.

JUNGWOO he's not really all for it but that doesn't mean he won't do it. he's more of the type to not bother with that kind of thing, but when you beg him so cutely how can he say no? if you somehow manage to get him to agree, he's definitely the one choosing the outfits. he loves the matching outfits that are quite literally the same save for the female/male differences between them.

MARK he LOVES matching outfits. he will happily wear matching outfits just as long as there's a spiderman fit in there somewhere. whenever he's on tour or away from you for long periods of time he'll buy matching outfits he sees while he's away. he's into the cliche kinds of matching outfits or the very subtle matching outfits. he's into it all. you'll sometimes catch him asking you to wear a certain outfit to go see him at the dorms only for him to be in the exact same outfit when you arrive.

HAECHAN haechan absolutely LOVES matching outfits. he will quite literally beg for yous to wear matching outfits, whether it is casual outfits, formal, or even pyjamas. he loves wearing the prettiest matching casual outfits but it has to be the goofiest pyjamas ever. he laughs in your face when you whine about how you don't want to wear them, the only way he gets you to agree is by kissing your pouty lips. "you look cute baby."

NCT DREAM version will be next

#galacticseonghwa #nct #nctzen #nct 127 #nct 127 fic #lee taeyong #moon taeil #johnny suh #yuta nakamoto #kim doyoung #jeong jaehyun #kim jungwoo #mark lee #lee haechan

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maybege · 6 months

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Pleasure

Summary: You get dared by your old school friends to ask a stranger to play with your tits.

Pairing: dad’s friend!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.1k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, older man/younger woman, implied age gap, alcohol consumption, sex with strangers, coming untouched, semi-public intimacy, dom!Boba, sub!Reader, nipple play, dirty talk, little bit of humiliation, Reader is not described but it is mentioned that she does not wear a bra at some point

Alrighty, alrighty. Okay, alright. Are we ready? Like are we really, truly, ready for this? This is obviously set in the dad’s friend!Boba AU which is more of a sandbox AU for me to play in. This is their first meeting (obv) and it is based on another idea I had and I thought it would fit perfectly. Please do let me know what you think and if you like it and if so, what you liked and all that good stuff! Maybe I will write another part or another story set in this AU.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

A year ago, you had never thought you would drown your sorrows at a house party of a person whose name you did not even know in the town you had grown up in with people you had not seen since high school. But here you were, drowning out your disappointment, your sadness and your frustration by the way of loud techno beats and unnaturally coloured alcohol.

“All right,” Marissa passed the hot pink shots she had gotten to you and Chants, though her eyes did not leave yours, “You want a dare?”

For a second you regretted ever having asked her for a dare (“Something to liven up the party,” you had said half-jokingly after the conversation with your two oldest high school friends had come to an awkwardly silent end) but then you also remembered the fun time you had with them in your childhood bedroom, prank calling the neighbours before playing fuck marry killer with the seniors at school.

That was an eternity ago now but it had all seemed to light then. Your happiness did not have an expiration date then and the dream to make it out of your small town by the lake and into the big cities of the opposite coast had kept you company every night.

You hadn’t known yet that your dream would fail.

“Ask any random person here to play with your tits.”

Her voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your face must have shown your shock at the task because her pink-coloured lips (a perfect match to her equally pink hair) pulled up in a mischievous grin. Marissa always had been the joker of your group, you should have known better than to think that the years would have changed anything about that.

“Marissa!” Chants gasped, “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, calm down,” she waved him off, “It’s not like she has to do it. But we're in a house full of strangers and stars know it's been ages since you got laid” – you hated how right she was about that – “So let’s not pretend like I'm not doing you a favour.”

“I’ll do it,” you heard yourself say, steel in your voice as you threw back the sickly sweet drink. There was nothing worse than the artificial strawberry flavour.

“It’s not like I know anyone here anyway,” you stated, looking around the giant living room you were standing in. The villa (because there was no other word to describe the building you were in) was absolutely packed with what seemed to be the entire party population of your town and the few surrounding beach towns as well. It was all stark white walls and cement floors and floor-length windows and furniture that looked more like art than actually something to sit on. Only the colourful lights and (several) mirror balls hued the entire space in ever-changing colours.

No wonder whoever lived here threw all these parties. The place must seem pretty depressing otherwise.

With encouraging whoop whoop!s and You can do it!s you left Marissa and Chants behind and wandered through the dancing, yelling, drinking crowd that took up the entire ground floor. Until you spotted a figure leaning against one of the doorways to the stairway.

Your feet changed your course until you stood in front of him. He was older than you, though certainly not the oldest guest in attendance. (That would be Chants’ 94-year-old grandmother who had a reputation for attending the best raves in the province.)

But what struck you most was how unbothered he looked. How in control. He was dressed in dark pants and a black button-up, his sleeves were rolled up too, revealing strong veiny forearms that had your eyes lingering longer than they should have. He held a glass in his hand and when his eyes landed on you, making your way towards him, you imagined that his grip twitched just the slightest bit.

“Hi,” you said when you finally stood in front of him.

The main raised his eyebrows, “You lost there?”

You pressed your shoulders back, “No. You are the one

His lips lifted in a smirk and it took our breath away for a moment, how handsome he was, and your courage faltered. But you

“My friend dared me to ask someone to play with my tits.”

If your words caught him off guard, the man did not show it.

“So?” he smiled before taking a sip from the amber liquid, “That wasn’t a question.”

Was he really going to make you say it? Your ears burned with shame and something else as you looked at him. But he simply cocked his head as if to say I am waiting. And you somehow found that this was not a man you wanted to leave waiting.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “Will you play with my tits?”

“No,” he said easily and finished his drink, “Congratulations, your dare is fulfilled.”

He turned to leave and you surprised yourself when your hand landed on his thick arm. He froze, as did you, and when his eyes met yours, it felt like a switch flipped in your head.

“No, wait, I –“ you paused, “I actually want it.”

His body faced yours again and stars was he broad as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Stars what are you doing, trying to convince a man to touch you.”

“Ask me again, then, little one,” he rumbled and the pet name had your belly fluttering. Though maybe it was not your belly, maybe it was something else …

“Will you play with my tits, please?” you added the last word quietly, your pulse thrumming as you avoided his eyes. The bass reverberated in your chest and you tried to even out your breathing. This was fine. Everything was fine.

For the first time since you started talking, his eyes left your face and roamed down your body. Over your tight jeans and the loose but not quite opaque top you had chosen to wear. You found yourself wanting to impress him, wanting to please him and you were almost completely sure he would reject you again when he opened his mouth.

“You really want that?”

You nodded, too shy, too embarrassed to say anything more. It had been ages since you had been touched and something about the way he held himself made you feel like he knew how to touch you.

“Good,” he rumbled, his voice dropping even lower and causing a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You watched as he set his glass down on the side table, “But not here out in the open.”

“No,” you shook your head, agreeing with him, though you were a little scared to admit that you would have let him. You would have let him pull you into a corner somewhere and strip you down to nothing and do anything he wanted to you. You would have let him expose you however he saw fit.

Stars, I really need to get laid.

The man brought his hand around you, settling it on your lower back as he led you away from the improvised dance floor. There were throngs of people everywhere but they grew sparser the higher up the stairs he led you. Until you arrived in a hallway that was completely abandoned save for a couple that seemed too busy to make out to notice you. And then he continues, leading you around a corner and suddenly you were alone and the lights were dim and the music only a muted sound in the background.

“Do you live here?” you asked, nervously looking around. What if someone caught you?

“No,” he said, his voice calm as his hand landed on your hip, “but I know the owner. No one will disturb us here.”

You nodded and took another deep breath. That sounded good. That sounded safe.

“Do you still want this?

It but you were grateful. You nodded, your heart racing. And your pussy too.

“I need to hear words, little one,” he said with a crooked smile, still not touching you save for the hand on your hip that seemed to burn through the layers of clothes.

“Yes, I still want this.”

“Want what?”

Oh, now he was just teasing you!

“I want you to play with my tits, please.”

Shame and arousal had your cheeks burning but it was worth it when he hummed, his hand inching under the hem of your shirt. “Good girl.”

Oh.

Oh, that was new. That was lovely. That was something that had your eyes flutter and your pussy get surprisingly wet.

“You liked that,” he grunted, “You like praise.”

It was not a question and so you did not answer. The wet patch in your panties that grew by the second was answer enough. Though you could not shake the feeling that he liked you liking praise. Which made it all the better.

“Lift your shirt for me,” he instructed, tongue running over his lips, “You wear a bra?”

You nodded, your hands trembling as you lifted the soft fabric of your favourite going-out blouse. It was black and just the lightest bit sheer and breezy which made it the perfect sexy thing to wear in the warmer temperatures. The air wasn’t cold – it was the height of summer after all – but your nipples pebbled, still, beneath the lace of your bra.

Big hands reached for your tits, cupping them in his palms before lightly squeezing. His touches were softer, first, before they grew firm and had you squirming against the wall. Your breath got quicker already as you thought about the fact that you did not even know this man and he had you half-naked in the corridor of another stranger’s home.

A year ago, you never would have done something like that.

“Wh-What are you doing?” you whined when he still only squeezed your tits, his fingers gently digging into the soft flesh, “Why aren’t you touching me?”

“You asked me to play with your tits,” he replied steadily, his thumb rubbing over the lace that covered your nipple, “That is exactly what I am doing. Playing with your pretty tits.”

“Don’t you want me to take off my shirt?” you asked, confusion clear in your voice as you tried to shift your hands over your shoulders.

“Nah, little one,” he shook his head, a smile on his lips that made your breath hitch, “You are going to hold up your shirt for me. You want me to play with your tits, you got to do something for that, right?”

You nodded, chest heaving as you leaned your head back against the wall. “Right.”

The older man continued his ministrations, gently massaging your tits, pushing and pulling, making them bounce, teasing your nipples through the lace with the pads of his thumbs or his blunt fingernails. You had never been this turned on in your life.

His finger teased under the scalloped edge of your bra, the touch of his bare skin on yours driving you insane.

When he finally pulled down the cups of your bra, baring you to his eyes, you could have wept from relief. “Arch your back for me,” he murmured, sounding so focused and so in control. You did, doing your best to get your chest closer to his hands.

There was no shame now, now apprehension about what you were doing. This man seemed to know exactly what he was doing and you could not help but trust him.

“You have beautiful tits, you know that?” he asked casually as his fingers rolled your nipples, sending little pangs of pleasure through your entire body, “When was the last time somebody properly paid attention to you, hm?”

Too long ago.

And that was what you told him but he pulled your nipples sharply, “Specifics,” he instructed you lowly as you tried to keep your knees from buckling at the sheer sensation this man caused in you.

“Few – few months,” you tried to think feverishly, “Se-seven months. No, nine months.”

“Nine months,” he tsked, his thumb flicking over your pebbled nipple, “What a shame. What a waste. You deserve to have

Not knowing what to say to that, you simply leant into his touch. He expertly rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger before pulling on it ever so slightly, making you whimper. The mix of gentle and rough had you dizzy and wet and you swore none of your eyes had ever made you feel this way.

Stars you did not even know you could feel this way.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” he asked.

Your eyes flew open and you looked at him in surprise. But the older man simply returned your gaze, never pausing in his ministrations and he seemed serious in his questions. He really wanted to touch you more.

“Yes, please,” you nodded feebly, as if the way you were melting in his hands was not answer enough.

“Good girl,” he praised you again, a smirk on his face, “So polite.”

You squirmed, pressing your thighs together to get some sort of friction to your aching clit. He lowered his head to your chest, his warm breath washing over your skin and you whined, needing him more and more. But he did not let himself be rushed, no. His finger pulled on your nipple again until your whine turned into a gasp. Only then did he let you go and carefully closed his mouth around you. He sucked on you, ever so gently, with just a hint of teeth scraping over the sensitive flesh and you swore your vision went white for just a moment.

He must have noticed the way your entire body spasmed just for him because he pulled away, a glint in his eyes that told you he was far from done with you.

“I wonder if I can make you come just from this,” he murmured against your chest, “Just playing with you until your gorgeous pussy drips all on her own,” he lightly sucked on your nipple, “You want me to try?”

Speaking seemed like the last thing you would be capable of so you nodded, your heavy breaths echoing in the dark hallway.

“Answer me with words, little one,” he admonished you, pinching your nipple tightly and another wave of wetness rushed down your legs. You wouldn’t be able to sit down anywhere today without leaving a wet patch, that was for sure.

“Yes,” you gasped out, “Please make me come.”

“With pleasure,” he grinned, “You just lean back and keep holding up your shirt for me, yeah? I will take care of the rest.”

And he did. He licked and sucked and pinched until you were a dripping, moaning mess. Your hips had a mind of their own as you started to move against him, trying to grind against the considerable bulge in his pants that had your mouth watering, but his hand was strong on your hip, pinning you back against the wall.

“You are going to come only from this,” he instructed darkly and you nodded. The yes sir almost slipping out of you. You felt like you were on cloud nine, floating above everyone and everything. The dim light, the loud bass that echoed throughout the house, hell, even the sound of partying people two stories below – it all added to the thrill of this stranger sucking on your tit while rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

It felt like you could not breathe, like your whole body was pulled taut with pleasure and he was the only one who could release you. Who could give you release.

“You are such a good girl for me,” he grunted in your ear, “I wish you could see yourself. Absolutely depraved right now. Presenting your tits for a man you don’t know anything about except that he is the one that is going to make you come.”

“I know you would have let me do this downstairs, too,” he added, “But here's the thing: I don’t share. And I don’t think any of these boys even deserve the sight of your pretty tits like this, now, do they?”

You shook your head. “Only you,” you mumbled feverishly, your fingers tightening their grip on the fabric, “Only you, sir.”

His groan was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. “That’s right,” he pressed a hard kiss against your neck, “Only I see you like this. Only I get to see how pretty you look when you come from this.”

For a moment, you debated telling him that you did not think you would come. That you were so turned on – more than ever before – and that what he did felt great but you were not sure if it would actually make you come. But then he bit down on your nipple and pulled the other one and your whole world reeled.

You came. You actually came.

And you did not stop coming for what felt like a solid two minutes. You were shaking, gasping, and at some point, you must have let go of your shirt because you were gripping his broad shoulders with all of your might as if they anchored you to gravity.

“Holy shit,” you brought out when you finally regained control of everything, “Holy fucking shit.”

The stranger had let go of your tits. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a hug. Strange enough, this felt way more intimate than what you had done before but you could not bring yourself to worry. Not when he smelled so good and the post-orgasm fatigue set in.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised you, his eyes soft and warm as he looked you over, “Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded weakly and he pressed a kiss to your cheek before pulling away. You were still completely out of breath and your pussy pulsed when you saw him adjusting himself in his slacks. You wanted to touch him.

You wanted to be touched by him.

But you were scared, too. Shocked, mostly. At what you had just done. Had you really let a stranger just make you come in a house full of people?

“Let's get you some water,” he murmured as he helped you straighten out your clothes, “And then off to your friends you go.”

You nodded numbly, legs shaking and still unsteady on your feet. But he helped you, one hand on your lower back and the other supporting your arm as you made your way down the stairs. The louder the music got, the more you felt like you had just returned to reality from some sort of dream. Some perfect, delicious, very hot dream.

Returning to the living room turned dance floor, neither of you spoke and you simply accepted the glass of cool water he got you. “Drink it,” he instructed you softly, “And make sure you get home safe tonight.”

When you found Marissa and Chants again, you were still torn between pure shock at what you had just done and grief at not having asked him for his name.

Your nipples were sore the next day but you still would have done anything to have that man play with you again. Maybe you could have asked him to spend the night at his place, letting him fuck you seven ways ‘till Sunday. If he had made you come this hard just from playing with your chest, you wanted to find out what he could do if he had you all to himself for a whole night.

Still, you stayed in bed until well past noon, trying to avoid the reality that had seemed to be suspended for just a moment last night.

It was unlike you and, to be honest, you were a little scared of your forwardness. Of your courage. But it had been rewarded in the best ways and finally, it felt like maybe you really could start fresh. Like maybe this was the moment you needed to gain back the trust in yourself.

You could do things!

You did not have to have everything figured out right now, you just needed the courage to somehow move forward.

And if you could ask a stranger for intimacy at a party, then moving forward seemed like no effort at all.

You skipped a bra, not wanting to subject your chest to more sensation than necessary, and instead opted for a long flowy summer dress and a light cardigan over top. It would give you some coverage, still, so it would not be awkward for your sister’s fiancée to face you.

Looking in the mirror, you felt like your new self. Like maybe you had needed yesterday to get back some of your courage, some of the spirit that had made the past year so fun before everything had just crumbled around you.

“Oh honey, there you are,” your mother greeted you as you came down the stairs, “You came home late last night. Was it a good party, then?”

You knew she was worried and you knew she tried her best to give you the privacy you needed. After all, you weren’t a child anymore. You were a grown woman who had to move back to her parents across the country after losing her job. It was an unfamiliar situation for you all and you appreciated her effort at making you feel like a roommate more than a child.

“It was,” you replied, grabbing a slice of fruit, “It was nice seeing some people from school again. It is like nothing changed.”

“Oh, you and your change,” she tutted good-naturedly, swatting your hand away as you reached for another slice of orange, “That’s for after lunch. It's almost ready.”

You glanced at the clock. “That’s early.”

“Your father has some friends over,” she explained, “From work. They’re going golfing this afternoon so I thought that is the perfect opportunity for an early lunch.”

Thank the stars for your father and his friends because you were starving.

“Go and say hi, honey,” she shooed you out of the kitchen and you smiled, your bare feet hitting the cold tiles of the hallway, “And you can tell them to set the table.”

You found your dad and his friends on the patio, soaking up the warm summer air.

“There you are, hon,” he greeted you with a smile and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi, dad. Mom says lunch’s almost ready.”

“Ah,” he slapped his palms on his thighs before standing up, “You know what that means, boys! Time to set the table.”

One of your dad’s friends stood up. George, you remembered. He had lived down the street ever since you could remember and his kids were good friends with your sister. “It's been ages,” he said, a genuine smile on his face. “Look at how you’ve grown!”

You were pretty sure you hadn’t changed that much since graduating college but you were not about to correct him. He meant well, you knew.

Your father paused, “Oh I am sorry. Everyone, this is my eldest daughter, fresh back from the other end of the world.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not the end of the world,” you corrected him gently, “Just the other side of the country.”

And what wouldn’t you give to be back there right now.

The men all chuckled and you paused when you heard a familiar voice. You ran your eyes over the mostly familiar faces, faces you had known since childhood or at least from the pictures your parents posted regularly on Facebook. Faintly you could hear your dad introduce them all again – George from accounting, of course, then there was Paul and Obi-Wan and James (an absolute perv as you and your sister had determined years ago) and not to forget Bail Organa.

But it was the newest face, the face that was supposed to be unfamiliar, that made your heart freeze for a scary few seconds before it started racing so fast you thought you might throw up.

“Boba Fett,” he said, holding out an all too familiar hand. A hand that had spent considerable time playing with your tits just last night.

“Boba is the CFO after the merger,” your dad introduced the man, “Recently moved here from – where was it again, Boba?”

“Tatooine,” he replied without taking his eyes off you.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you heard yourself say, his hand closing around yours. His grip was gentle but firm. And warm. You could feel the callouses on his fingertips, the ones that had made him playing with you so fucking delicious. Your nipples hardened under the soft fabric of your dress and you prayed that he did not notice.

“Believe me,” he smiled, though his eyes said so much more than the usual pleasantries when they fell to your chest for a fraction of a second, “The pleasure is all mine.”

#maybege writes #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #smut

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vampireloverz · 1 year

Text

dancing with the devil

pairing: john wick x fem! reader

words: 2.5k

cw/tw: established relationship, age gap (vague but implied, more than a decade), size difference, reader wears a dress and heels, reader and john drink alcohol, public fingering, unprotected sex, au where reader basically takes helen's place, reader knows about john’s previous job, pre canon

You don’t know how you convinced John to go out dancing after dinner, maybe it was the bourbon that loosened him up, maybe it was the trail of kisses you left along his throat as you waited for a taxi. Either way, when the driver asked where to, John had said the name of some club nearby and you’d kissed him as a thank you.

Before long, you’re dancing to garish techno music, drink in hand. Bass rattling in your chest and your heartbeat in your throat as you sway and bob to the booming rhythm, all the while John keeps an eye on you from his seat at the bar. The neon lights strobing above occasionally illuminate him, drawing your focus to him past the throng of club goers every so often.

A few people come up and dance with you; a pretty woman with dark lipstick and a wicked smile, someone wearing a shimmery top you like so much you make the effort to all but scream over the music to ask where they got it, a man who offers you one of his glow-stick bracelets with such drunken enthusiasm you have to accept, laughing.

Eventually jumping in place and bobbing your head to the beat has sobered you up a little, but you’re still pleasantly warm and fuzzy around the edges, smiling as you head back to John. He reaches for you as you approach and you take his hand, squeezing it as a silent thank you for indulging you and waiting so patiently while you had your fun.

“Hello, handsome,” you lean in so close your lips brush his ear as you greet him, “Care to buy me a drink?”

You pull back in time to watch his lips tick up almost imperceptibly as he nods, signaling the bartender over and ordering your drink of choice. You kiss John’s cheek as a thank you and sit on the stool beside him, his heavy hand finding its place on your thigh, curving around you easily. The drink goes down smooth as you curl your free arm around his, suddenly giddy with happiness.

John turns your face to his with two fingers on the side of your chin, saying something you can’t quite hear but you can read his lips. You’re beautiful.

You let out a breathy little laugh that’s swallowed up by the music, heat rising to your cheeks as if it's the first time he’s ever complimented you. But you can’t help it, you cling to every carefully chosen word that falls from his lips.

“Thank you,” you don’t bother projecting, he knows, and he leans forward to kiss you.

The flavor of bourbon is still strong on his tongue but you don’t mind the sting. His hand on your waist reminds you of the same sensation earlier today. Both of you tangled in his expensive sheets, the sun hitting his face just right to light up his dark eyes into rich brown, his lips leaving kisses further and further down your body…

You break the kiss to press your cheek against his, “Wanna get out of here?”

John pulls back and gives you a look, almost amused, and you laugh as you watch the cogs turn in his mind. He takes a long, thoughtful sip of his drink, emptying the glass and setting it down along with enough bills to pay for your drinks and then some. A thrill of excitement runs through you as you hop down from the barstool and John takes your hand.

The crowd is dense but they seem to instinctively part for you two, a sea of drunken dancing split by nothing more than John Wick’s presence.

John rounds a corner out of nowhere right as you spot the exit, turning into somewhere quieter where the pounding bass turns into a pleasant thrum. You stumble into his back, disoriented by the sudden stop, but before you can question him, he spins, crowding you against the wall and kissing you. He kisses you with a surprising ferocity, a hot, hard press of lips with a small slip of tongue before he moves downward, kissing along the column of your neck as he palms your chest over your dress.

“John, what are you—?”

His hand is suddenly on your mouth, his palm to your lips as he orders, “Quiet,” as if anyone would hear.

Being cornered by John Wick sends a thrill down your spine, you suddenly feel high on adrenaline, and you know that this is only a minute fraction of what the people he dealt with at work feel. Felt.

It’s not often you’re reminded he was out killing scores of people when you’d barely started high school. It’s a callus on his palm from gripping a gun, it’s old scars from blades and bullets, it’s the tattoos. The knowledge of it all, his strength, his age, makes this feel dangerous. Despite his past, maybe even because of it, you trust him. He’s never turned his deadly hands to you beyond giving you pleasure.

You purse your lips to kiss his palm and his eyes soften just a touch, his hand pulling back to trace your mouth with his thumb. You kiss the pad of it, both your eyes locked as you part your lips, pink tongue barely peeking over your bottom lip.

John lets out a small laugh as he feeds his thumb into your mouth, gently pressing down to feel the grooves of your teeth, the soft give of your tongue, “Don’t be too loud,” he whispers as his other hand pushes up your dress.

You squirm when he cups your pussy, deft fingers tracing the line of your slit over the fabric before he slips his hand into your underwear. The warmth of his fingers as he slides them between your folds makes you gasp. John never takes long to find your clit, he’s always been impatient when it comes to your pleasure.

“You’re wet,” he comments, a little breathy and pleased.

“It's your fault,” you whine around his thumb.

Both of you make a pleased noise when he slides two fingers inside you, slow enough to have you squirming with impatience. John relents easily, pumping into you a few times to find his rhythm of slow, steady pulses before curling his fingers just the way you like it, the way you always beg for, you have to hold your breath to stop an indecent noise from flying out of your mouth.

The laughs of some people passing by suddenly makes you remember you’re not alone. In fact, the two of you are quite exposed if someone takes a turn into the half-hidden halfway John had slipped you into. You gasp and lift your head to look at him, ignoring the fact that you feel yourself tighten up. John maintains eye contact as the voices draw closer and you blink, alarmed and aroused all at once. He stops pumping his fingers and you watch him make a decision. His fingers stay inside you, curled against the sensitive spot there as he presses the heel of his palm into your clit, giving you a single nod as you grind down into him.

“Yea,” he grunts, “That’s it.”

He takes his finger out of your mouth to cradle your head and press closer to you, hiding and muffling you as best he can as you shudder and press your face into his collar, moaning into it and breathing in his spiced cologne. The voices pass, leaving you both in semi silence and false seclusion. Your knees buckle, adrenaline making it feel all the more intense when your orgasm slices through you, shuddering and panting open-mouthed with your lips pressed onto whatever expensive fabric his suit is made of.

He murmurs something you can’t quite catch over the ringing in your ears before he pulls out of your still throbbing pussy, circling your clit a few times with soaked fingers until you whine. The loss of his fingers makes you feel impossibly empty but watching him lick his fingers clean of you is a fair consolation. He lets out a small laugh at the expression on your face but you can tell he’s got it bad too. You’re half sure that if no one had walked by he would’ve fucked you here, or at least could’ve been persuaded to in the club’s bathroom.

“Let's go home,” John says, leaning down to kiss you. His dark hair falling around both your faces gives the illusion of privacy as you taste yourself on his tongue.

The look he gives you when you palm him over his pants makes you sure that you can get away with fooling around in the back of the cab ride back to your shared apartment. A new song starts in the club as the two of you leave and it feels like heavy bass pours onto the street, sticking in your chest until your cab is hailed and you both slip inside.

It’s late and traffic is to be expected, but you don’t mind because you can curl into John’s side and have your fun. He lets out a soft hum and drapes an arm around your waist, his hand around you tightening when you begin to loosen his tie. You play innocent at first, trailing your fingers along the column of his neck and down his chest, kissing his jaw when he shoots you a curious look. The cab jumps on an uneven patch of the road and your hand slips further down, past his belt until you’re palming him over his dark pants.

You press a kiss to his neck when he stiffens, his strong hand tightening around your waist. A warning but not a sign to stop. His free hand curls into a fist as you trace the outline of his cock, rubbing your palm back and forth until he groans, low and deep enough for a car horn somewhere outside to drown the sound out.

John leans into you and utters a single word into your hairline, “Behave.”

Firm but not angry, far from it. You can’t help the smile that spreads on your face, but you obey and move your hand away, placing it onto a more appropriate position on your thigh until your ride is over.

John’s hand is a heavy comfort on the back of your neck as you walk into your building, at this hour you’re the only people in the lobby besides the doorman. The elevator ride up is mercifully quick and it feels like it only takes a blink for you and John to be stumbling into the bedroom, neither of you willing to break the kiss.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, scratching at his scalp when he slides his tongue along yours. He pulls away panting and presses his forehead to yours, both of you breathing each other’s air. One of his hands follows the shape of your body upwards until he can touch your chest, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You let out a mix of a laugh and a moan as he pulls down the front of your dress, “I have some idea.”

John smiles against your lips as you kiss and he takes your tits in hand, holding the weight of them and squeezing gently. You sigh into his mouth when a callus scrapes your nipple, hardening it with each pass of his palm.

“John,” you moan, shifting in place as the throb in your clit becomes insistent.

He hums thoughtfully, “Turn around.”

You do without question, looking over your shoulder as he kneels behind you, his hands steady on your hips. When you feel his lips on the back of your knee, you jolt a little, his beard lightly scratching at the sensitive skin there, but you’re more prepared when he kisses your other leg. John follows the curves and lines of your legs with his hands first, kissing your skin every few inches and only stopping when he reaches the hem of your dress. When he stands and touches your shoulder blade you think he’s going to unzip you, but instead he pushes you forward onto the bed, bending you over as he bunches and pulls your dress up over your hips.

“John!” you gasp, a short laugh bursting from your lips.

“What?” he asks like he’s not peeling your underwear down until it drops around your ankles.

You make a noncommittal noise and wiggle your hips, the emptiness in your core beginning to become almost unbearable.

“You’re beautiful,” you can’t tell if it’s because of your heels, your dress bunched around your hips, or just the way your ass looks when you’re bent over— but you decide you don’t care when you feel his cock glide through your folds, gathering your slick and nudging your clit, “Fuck, look at you.”

“Please, John,” you plea softly, “Fuck me.”

That punches a groan out of him, you feel the head of his cock push inside as he takes your hand. He slides himself to the hilt inside you in one slick thrust and it knocks the wind from you both.

He sucks in a breath behind you and grips your hip with his free hand, his grasp firm as he starts to fuck you. John fucks into you deep and hard, rutting into you as pleasure washes over you both. You feel involuntary noises spilling from your mouth but you can’t think to stop yourself as you lose yourself in the rhythm of his thrusts.

“I love you,” he grunts, fingers tightening on your hip as he goes rigid, his cock kicking inside you.

You groan into the pillows when you feel the hot spill of cum fill you, twitching every time his hips roll forward and his cock knocks against something tender inside you. It feels like forever before he finally slides out. You both give twin groans at the feeling, but you’re placated by his kisses along your shoulders. You drop your weight onto the bed, ignoring the way John laughs under his breath, and mumble something in half hearted protest as he starts to unzip and slide your dress off you, unclasping your bra and slipping your heels off your feet before he lays in the space beside you.

“Let’s clean up,” he suggests, reaching for you as you shimmy closer to him.

“In a minute.”

Resting in the easy silence, John traces your hairline and you feel the mess between your legs spill onto your inner thighs, hot and sticky and satisfying. You sling your arm over him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt with uncoordinated fingers so you can feel him. Your fingertips follow old scars until your eyelids droop and you rest your hand on him, the beat of his heart comfortingly steady beneath your palm.

“We should go out dancing more often,” you sleepily murmur.

John kisses the top of your head, “Whatever you want.”

#john wick x reader #john wick smut #📝 — john wick #💒.txt

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frenchkisstheabyss · 5 days

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⛧𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙸𝙸𝙸⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/fluff/angst

⛧ Summary: It's been two weeks since that fateful night your crushes revealed their killer hobby to you. You promise yourself you'll never look back but your ties to each other can't be severed so easily. Especially not when your own gruesome urges begin to creep in and an unexpected visitor gives you the perfect opportunity to set them free. Do you have it in you to resist or are you destined to return to them?

⛧ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

⛧ Warnings: horror elements, masturbation (f w/ vibrator), blood, violence (none between you 3 though. you psychos love each other too much), someone breaks into reader's house w/ short fight scene after, erotic homicidal urges, dead bodies, strong language, you become a killer bby girl, suggestive convos, everyone gets kinda sentimental, & that's all.

⛧ A/N: I'm such a spooky girl at my core (it's where my writing roots are) so it's been fun writing this dark comedy/romance and I love you forever if you're joining this quite odd ride with me.

Also thank youuu @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 and @lxsunshine for asking to be tagged! I've never really had a tag list but if anyone else wants to be, totally let me know! 🖤

💀 <<< Rewind to Tape 1 <<< 💀

Somewhere along the way your wires got crossed. You could blame it on Han and Minho for what they did but that’d be unfair wouldn’t it? What they uncovered in you—the same darkness lurking within themselves—has alway been here and it refuses to be buried again. But you try.

It’s been a long 15 minutes soaking in this bath with one leg draped over the side of the tub and your waterproof vibrator buzzing away beneath the lilac bubbles. Music plays in your headphones, ambient tunes meant to melt the tension from your body. Squeezing your eyes shut you try—you really try—to chase off intrusive visions of two sickeningly handsome psychopaths. You don’t want to remember what you saw that night but the picture’s so clear in your head that it might as well be playing out in front of you all over again.

For the few seconds that you manage to shake the thought, your vibrator feels useless. It hums against your walls with all the enjoyment of a leg that’s fallen asleep. But when the image snaps back into frame—them standing there in nearly nothing, blood dripping down their bodies—it feels heavenly. The pleasure travels through you in pulses, spreading further out the longer you indulge in your memories.

This isn’t right. You have to stop. You know you do. So do it. You can’t. Lie to yourself all you want but this is what you need. Water splashes onto the floor as your leg slips into the tub, moans dancing freely from your lips. Your heart thumps like a techno beat, battling the light music in your headphones for dominance.

The pressure in your lower belly overtakes you, dangerously close to erupting. Crashing into your high, your eyes fall open and you’re met with a face you haven’t seen in months. You open your mouth to scream but a hand is already around your throat, dragging you out of the bathtub.

“Where’s my brother?” the man shouts, the dim lighting in the bathroom only partially concealing a face twisted with rage.

You claw at his hands, nails slicing through his skin like razors. He grunts, gripping his bloody hand, and tosses you across the floor. A framed picture crashes to the floor as you hit the wall with a thud, your ears ringing at the impact. Turning to lunge at you again, he trips on the soaking wet bath mat and falls at your feet. You latch onto the toilet, struggling to pull yourself up when you’re still covered in bubbles.

“I know you know something! So tell me!” he demands, catching you by the ankle. He uses all of his strength to drag you down but you’re too slippery to hold onto.

“I don’t know where your fucking brother is!” you scream, grabbing onto the toilet tank. Tucking your fingers under the lip of the heavy lid, you pull at it as hard as you can.

“You’re lying! Either tell me what happened or I’ll make you, you fucking bi—”

Ding! You swing around and crack him in the head with the porcelain lid. He stares up, not particularly at you, his gaze empty. Everything goes dark for him, blood gushing down his head, and he’s down. High off of adrenaline, you toss on your robe and run for the phone at the end of the hall. Hands shaking, tears running down your cheeks, you pick it up to call the cops. But something stops you.

Instinct takes over and your fingers are already dialing the new number. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and find yourself fixated on the bloody skin under your nails. The line rings so many times that you almost think no one will answer.

“My baby!” Han cheers on the other end of the call, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “I missed you.”

There’s some shuffling followed by Minho’s voice, “We missed you!”

You flick the skin from under your nails, smiling to yourself. “Hi boys,” you sniffle, knowing there’s no turning back, “I missed you too. You wouldn’t happen to be, uh, busy tonight would you?”

Minho feels like an old man who can’t get his dick up. It might actually be easier if he were. At least then there’d be a pill to fix what he’s going through. Ever since you walked out that door both he and Han have had the worst dry spell they’ve ever experienced. The only dry spell they’ve ever experienced. The last body they touched was your ex’s. They threw it, every last piece of it, somewhere no one would ever find him and left it at that. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

Detectives call what they’re going through a “cooling off” period. It’s the time between murders when a serial killer returns to their normal lives, biding their time until they can kill again. Poking his spoon around in a bowl of soggy cereal, a pouty Minho doubts that’ll happen any time soon. “I hate this!” he whines, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

Han pushes his legs away, flopping down beside him on the couch, “Get your feet off my coffee table.”

“Meh meh meh meh meh meh meh” Minho mocks, deflating when it hits him that he can hardly enjoy picking on Han anymore.

Han scooches closer to Minho, offering him a shoulder to lay his head on. Minho takes it, feeling Han’s sadness without having to see the heartbroken look on his face. No matter how much he teases him, Han’s his best friend. They’re brothers. They understand each other like no one else can and he knows how badly Han hoped you would too.

“You wanna go to the medical history museum tomorrow?” Minho asks, calling upon all of his cuteness to make Han happy.

Han doesn’t answer but exhales a “Hmm…” that signals he might be interested.

Minho bats his eyelashes, laying it on heavy, “Come on, they have the world’s largest collection of human skulls. You know you love good head. I mean, no, wait, that didn’t…shit.” Han hangs his head, laughing so hard it makes him wheeze. “Why would you say that? Just why?”

Minho sits up, elbowing him in the side, “Fuck you. I was trying to cheer you up.”

Han throws his arms around Minho, hugging him tightly, “Stop sulking! I’ll go! Who needs a girl when you have the world’s largest collection of human skulls, ya know?”

Minho narrows his eyes, resisting the urge to fight against the hug just this once. Deep down inside, really deep, he loves it. “Exactly” he huffs, “Women are a distraction anyway. We’re better off without her.”

Ring! Ring! Ring! The sound of the phone sucks all of the air from the room and their stomachs collectively sink. In record time they’re halfway across the room, pushing each other out of the way to check the caller ID. Your name flashes on it and Han snatches it up just as Minho’s fingers graze the buttons.

Han answers the phone, almost too excited to contain himself, “My baby!” Minho folds his arms, quietly judging Han for being such a dork about this.

“I missed you” Han says, lower this time, his back turned to Minho.

What happened to not needing you? What happened to being better off without you? Oh, fuck it.

Minho steals the phone, blushing so hard his ears turn red, “We missed you.”

A minimum of six traffic laws were broken when the boys realized something had happened to you. Of course you couldn’t tell them the incriminating details over the phone. Luckily, hearing you cry was more than enough for them to stop everything and speed across the city to check on you. They really only cared about seeing you again but the presence of a possibly dead body doesn’t hurt.

In your second stroke of luck tonight, if you can call it that, you’re positive no one knows he’s here. There’s nothing on him to track him by. He came only with the tools he used to break in and a taser he no doubt intended to use on you. And there won’t be any fuss from your downstairs neighbor. She hasn’t been able to hear since 1982. All that’s left is the matter of what to do with him.

Gathered in your bathroom, the three of you stand over the body carefully watching for signs of life. Han and Minho glance at each other behind your back. They’re both wondering the same thing but don’t know how to ask. They play a quick game of rock, paper, scissors. Han’s rock and he hates that for himself. Minho’s paper and he’s never been happier. Minho mouths, “Loser” and Han flips him off.

“Baby” Han says sweetly, holding your hand, “Were you and this guy, like…”

You stare at him, happy to be holding his hand but genuinely confused, “Were we?” Reading the room, you pick up on what they mean. “No, no, no! Never! This…” you say, kicking the motionless body, “Is my ex’s shithead brother. He broke in cause he wants to know where his brother is.”

Minho shrugs, pulling the belt to your bathrobe out, “Let’s make sure they’re reunited then shall we?” He wraps the belt around each hand a few times until there’s tension in the fabric and just enough room to fit a human neck. Minho sits down on the floor, positioning the man’s head in his lap. He’s ready to tighten the belt around his neck but there’s something bugging him. “Do you guys hear that?”

You all listen closely, picking up on a nearly inaudible buzzing. Han follows the sound over to the bathtub where the bubbles have long dissolved and spots the source immediately. He rolls his sleeves up and reaches into the water, pulling out your vibrator.

“Oh my god. Give it here!” you shriek, taking it and switching it off. You toss it in the cabinet under the sink, unable to handle how much they’re obviously loving this. “So, did you come at least?” Minho asks, relaxing his hold on the belt.

“I’m not answering that.”

Han’s studied you enough to tell when you’re lying. “She did! Did you think about us when you did it?”

Minho giggles, far too pleased with himself, “She did.”

“Go to hell!” you snap, getting on your knees beside Minho. You take the belt from him, winding it around your hands the same way that he did. “Show me.”

Your boldness throws them off—this is far from what they were expecting—but they don’t hesitate to guide you. Han joins you on the other side, showing you how to hold the belt properly. Minho checks the pulse before propping the body up for you. It’s weak but it’s there. It feels natural to be doing this together, like the space between them was always meant to be one you’d inhabit.

“Thanks for coming, you guys” you say, seconds from strangling a man, “Most guys won’t even buy me flowers and you risked the electric chair for me. That’s way sweet”

“You’re worth risking the electric chair for” Han coos, kissing you on the cheek.

Minho nods in agreement, kissing you on the other cheek, “Cutie.”

Your cheeks are so warm and you can’t stop yourself from smiling. You’re basically glowing at the love being poured into you. It’s perfect enough that you regret running away from it to begin with but that won’t happen this time.

“Aah!” the man croaks, shooting back into consciousness. He tries to sit up but you use the belt to hold him down, squeezing it as hard as you can around his neck. You lock your legs around him, something they didn’t need to instruct you to do, and hang on until he goes limp. They look at you like they’re terrified of you, afraid to make any sudden movements in case you’re in the mood to come for them too.

Han takes him by the wrist, checking his pulse, “He’s…dead. Holy shit. You killed a guy.”

“I killed a guy?”

“You did! Good girl” Minho applauds, breaking out into a happy dance.

You and Han join him, dancing to totally different songs in your head but celebrating together nonetheless. Han gets up from the floor, dusting himself off, “Now you’ve just gotta chop him up. Got any food in your fridge? I’m hungry.” He wanders off to the kitchen, leaving you and Minho alone in the bathroom.

Minho gets up too, kissing you on the top of the head. “I could use a midnight snack too” he yawns following Han’s lead, “Be careful with the radial artery, love. It bleeds like a bitch.”

Pushing the body off of you, you hop up to chase after them. “Wait! You’re ditching me for snacks? I don’t have the tools for this. And what the fuck is a radial artery?”

#stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #stray kids au #minsung x reader #han jisung x reader #lee know x reader #han jisung angst #lee know angst #lee know x you #han jisung x you #chubby reader #plus size reader

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aphroditestempleimagines · 5 months

Text

Mortal - Chapter 1

A Suguru Geto x fem!Reader fanfiction -16+

Words: 1983

Warnings: Blood, Mentions of Death, Violence, wounds, hospital, heavy angst

Summary: Mimico and Nanako get into a horrible car accident after a drunk night with their friends. Geto is called to the hospital where he discovers you, a human plagued by cursed spirits and a cursed life, who saved his two precious daughters' lives from the fire.

It was quite late at night when Suguru closed the door to his private apartments in the temple. He crawled onto his futon, his eyes barely kept open. He rubbed his temples as he drained the pitcher of water his subordinates left by his bed.

"What a day", his rough voice murmured.

He tapped on the screen of his phone. It was quite late indeed. Nanako and Mimiko had still not returned from their party. He slid his finger down the screen to unlock it and dialled Nanako's phone number; she was bound to pick up. A few moments later the rhythmic beats of the dial were replaced by the loud background of techno music.

"I promise we're going", Nanako's voice said before Sigiri could even ask a question.

"It's already quite late young miss. And you didn't even call"

"I know I know", she whined.

Geto let out a short chuckle. "Are you girls having fun?"

"Lots!", Nanako beamed.

"Alright. You are excused", Suguru said, "But it's time to come home now."

The girl let out a gruff. "Yeeeess we will"

"I'll be waiting for you", Suguru warned, "I won't go to sleep until you come back"

"Ok Geto-san, we're coming", she said before giving him her goodbyes and hanging up.

Geto shook his head. He had been fearful of the time the girls reached this age and now he was experiencing it first-hand. He lay on his side, scrolling down his phone as he read through their messages. He checked on their Instagrams and smiled at the various stories they had uploaded from their night at the party. He knew the kids were from good sorcerer families, even though they themselves did not know his relation to the two girls. He tried to stay awake, but his exhaustion weighed down on his eyelids more than he could lift.

The next thing he remembers is a loud banging on his door. He shook his head awake. He checked his phone; an hour had passed. The girls should had been home by now. The banging continued. He rubbed his eyes as he pulled himself onto his feet.

"Miguel?", he frowned as he slid the door open, "What the-"

"There's been an accident!"

Miguel's words almost stopped Suguru's heart. His eyes grew wide. "What...did you say?", he stuttered.

"We have to go to the hospital! NOW!"

Miguel left to wake up the rest of their little family. Suguru stood there, on the doorstep of his bedroom, unable to move anywhere else but down. He clung to the doorframe, his body trembling in fear.

It was happening again. It was all happening again. The world around him was spinning like a roller coaster. His fingers dug on his chest as if trying to reach his breaking heart. He barely registered Miguel's voice as he returned.

"SUGURU!", Miguel shook Geto's shoulders. Suguru was finally able to focus his gaze. "Get yourself together. They're not dead"

A sliver of hope brightened Suguru's eyes. It gave him the strength to summon one of his curses and carry his family to the roof of the human hospitals the girls had been taken to. Geto ran down the flights of stairs. When he finally found a staff locker room he quickly sneaked inside.

"What are you doing?", Larue followed him, "The twins are bound to be in the emergency room"

Suguru was already half-way into changing from his Buddhist robes into doctor attire. "I'd be damned if I let their primitive medicine touch them", he spat as he gathered his long hair under a blue plastic hat. "What if...what if they...", he could not say that forbidden word, "We can do something! Reverse curse energy can heal them even if they are on the verge...on..."

Larue grabbed a spare shirt and coat and put them on. He covered his square jaw with a mask and nodded his head to Satoru. He'd follow him in whatever he did.

They ran to the emergency room. The others were already sitting outside. Geto used one of his curse spirits to make some of the staff start coughing uncontrollably. Then he and Larue appeared as saviours out of nowhere. He stood over the bed where his girls lay. His hand petted Nanako's hair in sorrow. Her bright eyes which used to be full of life were firmly closed as she breathed through a tube. He lifted the thin blue cover the monkeys had placed over her body to operate. She had a lot of cuts and even more bruises. A few burns were even imprinted on the left side of her body. Her sister was a little bit better. She must had protected her; she always did.

He had never wished Shoko to have followed him more than he did on that moment. He concentrated with all his might to heal the two girls, at least enough to get them out of death's reach. He managed to fix Nanako's internal bleeding and restored Mimiko's ribs to their rightful place before the nurses took notice.

"Did you take proper scans?", Larue asked the nurses, "Cause they don't look to be in need of an operation"

The humans did not believe them until they saw the new scans with their own eyes. Geto was amused by their astonished gaze as they tried to understand the great difference between what they were seeing and their original diagnosis.

"To err is human", said Geto as the girls were transferred into a recovery wing, "We should be glad our colleague spotted the mistake before we endangered the lives of two young girls with an unsanctioned operation".

His charm was enough to win them over. He thanked the mask he wore on his face at the emergency room for saving him from complications when he went to visit the girls as himself. He sat by their bed as they slept soundly. He would try to heal them again when he recovered his strength.

"Are you a monk, sir?", one of the nurses asked, to which Geto nodded. "I see...I suppose it makes sense, they really had luck on their side, didn't they?"

Suguru frowned. "What do you mean?", he turned his gaze to the woman.

"Oh...well..I thought you knew sir...", she fidgeted with the folder she held in her hands, "T'was a drunk driver...I'm afraid their friends died instantly upon collision"

A chill ran through Geto's spine. He looked at the two daughters he had raised, the two daughters that could had been taken aw from him so easily. "They...died?", his voice trembled.

"I'm sorry to say sir", the nurse whined, "Were you taking care of them as well at the temple?"

Suguru shook his head. Damn monkeys. More sorcerers' lives were taken away, this time directly by the hand of those vermin. "What about the driver?", he asked.

"The police are looking for him, sir. His car fell of the bridge as it ricocheted"

Geto clenched his fists. He was almost certainly dead. There was nothing for him to do to make him suffer for hurting his girls.

"Honestly I don't know if I could have done it", the nurse's voice broke through Geto's buzzing thoughts.

He turned to look at her again. "What did you say?"

"That woman sir", the nurse responded, "She called the fire department, then went and carried the girls outside. Lucky thing she did the car was completely enveloped by fire when the trucks got there"

"A woman? What woman?"

"I don't know sir. She's at the other end of the hall. She suffered quite a few burns so we had her treated too"

Suguru frowned. He held his daughters' hands in his as he sat between the two beds. Was that woman another one of their friends? Did she see the accident and ran to help?

"Geto-san", Nanako stirred as soon as the nurse left the room.

Suguru hushed her. "Stay still for now, we'll make you all better in a bit"

"What...happened?", she struggled to say.

"You were in an accident", Geto cupped her hair, "The bastard who hurt you is already dea-"

"Mimiko", Nanako tried to get up, "How's Mimiko?"

"Shhhh", Suguru laid her back down, "She's fine, she's asleep. Look"

Mimiko's gaze turned to her sister but her heart did not settle. "Is she...is she alright?"

"She's fine darling", Suguru reassured, "You're both fine. I made sure"

A few tears of relief pricked her eyes as she settled back in her pillow.

"Suguru", Miguel called from the door. He gestured to the corridor. Suguru left a kiss on each of his daughters' foreheads before following Miguel. He pointed at the smoking area. There, an old friend waited for him.

"If it isn't the wanted criminal", Shoko joked but there was no joy in her voice.

"Shoko...what..."

She put out her cigarette and tossed the bud in the closest bin. "No one knows I'm here. Not even Satoru", she cut him off before he could ask, "One of your new acquaintances came into my lab and let me know what happened"

Shoko walked up to him and pulled him into her arms. Suguru had not realised how much he had needed that.

"So...you're here to help?"

Suguru felt her nod behind him. "Of course", she said, "Just give me an hour and they'll be discharged. Your friend...Laure? He told me you already put in a lot of cursed energy to get them to their current level."

"Thank you, Shoko"

She let him go, her gaze turning serious. "You better disappear as soon as I'm finished. I'd rather if I didn't lose any more friends"

She gave him a kind smile and a pat on his shoulder before going to the girls' room. Suguru felt warmth overcome him. Sorcerers helping sorcerers; That was his one true dream.

As he got out into the hallway he peeked through the open door of the room on the side. He did not mean to, yet as the deed was done the nurse's words came back to him. He saw a young woman. Her hands wrapped in bandages, she sat on the hospital bed with a book on her lap and her gaze turned towards the falling snowflakes outside her window. He stood at the doorstep before he could properly think. There was some curse energy coming from her even though it was not all that strong. He lowered his head. How disappointing.

"Hello", she called to him as he turned to leave, "May I help you?"

He turned to meet her gaze. That's when he spotted the small curse spirit that clung to her body, weighing on her soul like leeches.

"Are you lost?", she asked again. Her gaze was soft and kind like an April cloud watering the fields.

"Ah...eh...no", Suguru said, "Were you the one that helped the girls at room 214?"

"Are they ok?", her eyes widened in fear, "Did something happen? The nurse told me they were stable!"

"They're fine!", Suguru waved his palms at her, "They...uh....They're my daughters. I just wanted to...uhh"

What was he doing? Was he about to thank one of those monkeys? Seriously? Her eyes were confused at his lack of response. After a moment her face relaxed into a kind smile.

"I'm so glad at least they're alright", she said before lowering her gaze, "I wasn't able to get anyone else out"

The old Suguru would had comforted her. He would had gone to her side and placed his hand on her shoulder, letting her know she had done more than enough with the strength she was given at birth. But...he was not the old Suguru anymore. No matter how much his old self screamed at him, he gave her a nod and returned to his family.

#suguru getou #suguru x reader #Mortal #suguru geto #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #hurt comfort

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hellfire--cult · 10 months

Text

Request:

i’d love a sequel where there’s a bit of a “day in the life” with the new happy family, or maybe like some vignettes of them getting settled in and making their new home their own? i would literally love any more content in this universe but there’s my ideas in the hat! 🤍

Your wish is my command 💚

Hook!Eddie x Fem!Reader

wc 3.5K

Read the main story here. 🌟

Summary: This is what happens after everyone starts living in the home. A recap of everything that's happened until we reach the present.

You can always support your writers by hitting THE REBLOG button! 💚

You can always send requests for this beautiful couple! My ask is open!

Hooked on You: After Story

Life after was something everyone had to get used to.

The boys had to be given names, full names, and thankfully Nancy who has some contacts in the newspaper industry pulled some strings for your “orphaned” family.

You didn’t give specifics, but told her that you started dating a man who was struggling to keep his family afloat. They had no records since they were living anywhere they could, and he just picked the kids up like strays. He and his best friend took care of the kids, and that it was a coincidence in meeting when you hired a ‘cleaning service’.

But it wasn’t just any name.

When you showed up with a big smile to your face at dinner, while everyone was enjoying themselves with the food, you had grasped in your hands the adoption papers for each boy in the group.

Through tears, and smiles, they had hugged you one by one, appreciating your kindness but overall, calling you a different name.

Mom.

Eddie, whose last name he chose was Munson, was stunned when he asked if they were going to call him Dad and each boy grimaced at that outcome, shaking their heads. After that Eddie had played a game of chase with the children, playing as the big bad bear, with his hands above his head, reaching for the boys.

That was another change.

“So, this is a– what?”

“Prosthetic. It’s not normal to have a hook as a second hand here, and this has motor sensors, so you can basically have another hand!” You had explained to him, and he was stunned at the realization that he could have his left hand back. But sometimes, he discards the prosthetic, and goes back to his hook because he feels complete with it, that’s what he had told you.

Steve, now Steve Harrington, had acquired the second mom title. Whenever you were gone, or busy, or simply tired, he took care of the boys, played with them, and helped them clean the house.

It was summer time, but you knew you will have to enroll the kids into school soon, but you had to teach them basic things, such as the ABC, numbers, some math, a little bit of history and biology, and Eddie and Steve listened intently, giving their own teachings here and there.

You didn’t want your boys to go into middle school without knowing at least the basics, because then everything would be too complex, so thankfully, Robin, who is a teacher, happily comes once a week to give her own teaching to the kids. You found out that Steve and her had developed a strong friendship during the two months you all had been living together.

Another thing they discovered was music.

While the kids loved normal pop songs, except for Mike who had taken a liking to punk music, Steve had loved the 80’s vibe, sticking to it, and then some 90’s, but poor Eddie had not found himself in any of those genres. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was that he might like, but it wasn’t any of that.

You had tried almost everything, latin music, grunge, rock, techno, but he was still not feeling any of those genres. You were in your room when trying everything in his music app on his phone, and you sighed when he, once again, said he didn’t feel anything from it.

“I really don’t know what else to play Eds…” He grabbed his phone, which you had taught everyone in the house how to use and bought one for each of them, and started scrolling.

“There was something about that Rock genre that you showed me… Something is there, but not fully?” You frowned in confusion at his words, and you had to think outside the box. You were showing him things you liked, so maybe, you had to show him things that you wouldn’t normally listen to.

“Hang on…” You grabbed his phone again and searched for a particular playlist. You grabbed his headphones from his night table, and urged him to put them on. He was confused, but did so anyways, and you pressed play onto the playlist.

Eddie’s eyes widened at the sudden strum of a guitar, wild, heavy, powerful, chord after chord. You bit your lip as you stared at his face, and by the smile that was spreading on his cheeks you knew that you hit the jackpot.

He spent an entire day listening to Metallica. Then the next day to Slipknot. Then Guns ‘n Roses. My Chemical Romance. Megadeth. Rammstein.

The man was a metalhead.

After finding their own music, they had to find their own style. The boys almost wore the same things, sometimes jeans, sometimes shorts, sometimes plaid shirts, sometimes stamped shirts, sneakers… Steve had gone for the rich boy vibe, as you called it. He likes polos, dress pants, tight denims, sweaters, maybe a cardigan.

Now Eddie, you were surprised. He liked everything black, ripped, and he loved the sound of chains as an accessory on his hip. When he found out there were shirts of the bands he started to like, he bought a ton of them, some in white, some in black. One thing that stayed authentic of Eddie, was the black bandana, which he sometimes uses on his head still, or he puts it in his back pocket.

But one of your favorite things in the whole day was going into your room, to finally be alone with him. He was always reading a book, and you came to find out that he loved fantasy. It was funny, because he came out of a fairytale himself, but yet he loves those kinds of books. He devoured Tolkien in a week.

He would always put whatever he was reading down to welcome you into bed, embracing you in his arms, gentle kisses that always turned into heated ones because that’s another thing that happened. He couldn’t keep himself from touching you.

And you didn’t want him to. The boys at first made gagging noises whenever he came into the kitchen for breakfast and gave you a morning kiss, lingering there more than it should, but they soon got used to it. Whenever he could, he was wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close, kissing your neck, your face, your shoulder, anywhere he saw skin.

So you had to introduce him to condoms.

He wasn’t a fan of them, but when you remembered you two didn’t use protection in Neverland, he told you to not worry. In Neverland time is completely stopped, as well as your cycle, and that would explain why you didn’t have periods while being there. You were in such a blissful experience that you didn’t even remember about your period.

But in this world, you could get pregnant, and even if you want a kid of your own with Eddie, there was still so much to get used to for him. But still, it didn’t forbid him from touching every single night, wanting to drown himself in you, and you weren’t complaining. He was always up for trying new things, and you both had discovered many together.

You taught Eddie and Steve how to drive, but there wasn’t much for you to teach because as soon as they touched the steering wheel, they immediately got the hang of it, and Eddie even described it as easy as sailing a ship. You couldn’t believe a former pirate said a car feels like a ship. With the prosthetic, driving an automatic is very easy for Eddie.

The kids love the pool, you bought a slide for it and a lot of floaters for them to swim in. You noticed how maternal you had gotten ever since getting the kids into your life, and it wasn’t something you thought of ever having. Now, you want more, for some reason. You always have to shake that thought out of your head because that would end badly.

Another thing you did, not very recommended in the summer, was getting a tattoo. You had tattooed your grandma’s drawing of Neverland. You knew there was a diary of hers, and she sometimes read the story from her own head, and sometimes from there and showed you the drawing. She explained she could see the island at the top of the clouds, while flying with Peter.

So you outlined it and tattooed it on your wrist.

When Eddie saw it, he was immediately interested, knowing about tattoos but the tribe were the only people that knew how to do it. You decided to visit the shop once with him, and he got a hook tattoo on his ankle, to test the waters of the pain. After a week, you couldn’t find him anywhere for three hours, sending you into a panic, only for him to return with six more tattoos on his body, with a wide grin on his face.

“It's summer! One is already bad, you got seven!” You had yelled at him, but he just shrugged and grinned down at you.

“I’ll get even more in winter.”

But summer was ending, as well as the boys started becoming nervous of going to school, which was a private one so they had to use uniforms for it. They complained of course, but you had promised them that the teacher they were having was going to be very patient and that you met the kids' parents of the class already and they all seemed nice and welcoming.

A week before the start of classes, you decided it was time for a last pool party, and so, you invited Nancy, Jonathan and Robin over, where Robin mentioned she had a long distance friend visiting and she had asked if they could come over with their little sister, to which you agreed.

So now, you were cutting the vegetables for the salads in your kitchen, as Jonathan helped Will start the fire outside for the BBQ. For some reason, Jonathan had taken particular liking to one of your kids, but that’s good, because Nancy had found herself teaching Mike how to play some chess, and Dustin was already attached to Eddie like a Piranha.

One of your boys, though, was sitting alone on one of the lawn chairs, looking at nothing in particular, just the ripples of the water happening on the pool. You put down your knife, ready to go talk to Lucas, but the doorbell rings, making your head snap that way.

“Don’t worry, I got it!” Steve yells as he rushes towards the door, opening it, to see Robin, a smile on his face as they hug tightly.

“Hi there Dingus.” She pulled away from the hug to point behind her back. “My friend is unloading something and he’s right here, okay?”

“Yeah sure.” Steve turns his head to guide Robin towards the kitchen and garden where everyone is and she immediately bolts away. He hears a clear of throat and his head turns back around, only for his eyes to land on blue ones, knocking the breath out of his lungs in an instant.

“Hi, um… Hope we’re not intruding, it’s just, I’m with my sister and I couldn’t leave her alone.” The blonde man says, looking at Steve with the same hazed look in his eyes. Steve shook his head to come out of the trance he was in and smiled, putting his hand out for a shake.

“No issue at all! The boys will love her. I’m Steve by the way.” The other man smiles, his white teeth showing off as he presses his hand against Steve’s, electricity immediately coursing through their bodies.

“I’m Billy.”

“Are you going to keep flirting or…” A soft voice says from behind him, making Billy let go of Steve’s hand with a groan, a blush appearing on his cheeks as he makes way for the redheaded girl to come forward. “I’m Max.”

“Oh hi–” Steve felt the presence of someone else next to him, and he turned his head to see Lucas, staring at the girl with a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Hi… I’m Lucas.” Max’s lips tugged slightly up at the sight of the boy, her skateboard in hand. “What's that?” He pointed at it and she smiled widely, walking inside the house, grabbing onto his hand to guide him outside where everyone was.

“I’ll teach you!” Steve could hear her yell as he let Billy in. He closes the door only to see Billy looking all over the house with a confused frown on his face.

“This is big… You all live here?” He asks and Steve stands next to him, nodding as he looks around as well.

“Yep. We are grateful to her, you know. We would have…” He suddenly heard some footsteps coming over and Steve turned his head to see Eddie reaching them, with a piece of bread in his hand, his other one reaching out to shake Billy’s.

“I’m Eddie.” He greets and Billy looks down at the prosthetic hand, shaking it carefully with him, and when Eddie lets go, the blonde man’s curiosity got the best of him.

“I’m Billy– Um… how did that happen?” He asks, pointing at the hand. Eddie looks down at it and then back at Billy.

“Crocodile bit it off.” He shrugs and walks towards the kitchen once again as Billy stands there completely stunned. Steve’s eyes were bulging out of his skull almost, and he was trying to come up with another excuse because that sounded way too unreal and he didn’t want Billy to think Eddie was messing with him.

“Fucking sick.” Billy says with a smile and he looks back down towards Steve. The brown haired man lets out a sigh of relief and then nods.

“Gruesome, but yeah, sick.” Billy just stands there looking at Steve, his mind completely drifting away and Steve could even sense that, as the blonde’s eyes were just gazing into his, and that was making Steve’s heart accelerate rapidly. “W-What’s wrong?” That made Billy snap out but his face was still the same, still staring as if his eyes were not to be trusted.

“I-I don’t know, you just seem… like you came out of a fairytale or something.” Steve couldn’t help the big smile and blush that spread on his cheeks, while Billy realized what he had just said, embarrassment filling him from head to toe, stammering on his words to try to save it but Steve was just laughing, enjoying the man’s company and voice.

You were sneaking glances through the kitchen door, a smile on your face as you bit your bottom lip. Everyone has someone in your family, your big family, and that fills you with joy. You felt an arm creep from behind you, pulling you close to a warm body. You giggle as his face immediately snuzzled in the crook of your neck, causing your skin to grow goosebumps from it.

“Eddie–”

“Don’t spy on them. Let my second in command flirt in peace.” He says in your ear and you turn around to face him, smiling widely up at him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“I’m just so happy… Everyday just feels like a dream.” You say to him, and he gives you a nod, a gentle smile spreading on his lips as he leans down to kiss your cheek, then the tip of your nose, expressing his love for you.

“I will never regret the day I thought you were Wendy and kidnapped you.”

“I should sue.” He fake gasps while shaking his head at you.

“Now, you’ve hurt me Angel.” Your eyes looked to your side, seeing everyone playing with each other through the window pane you had, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of it all. Nothing could make it better. Nothing at all… Except.

You felt Eddie grip your side, giving it a soft press to catch your attention again. You looked at him and his eyes were nervous, full of doubt yet with determination.

“Eds? What's wrong?”

“I know… The kids don’t call me dad… But–” He licked his lips while swallowing a big lump down his throat and your heart was almost out of your chest and you could hear its beating on your ears. He gives you a big grin as a tear already rolls down your cheek.

He grabs your hand and walks out of the kitchen to take you upstairs and into your grandmother’s room. He then opens the balcony’s door and steps out with you, the breeze already hitting you and the sun beaming down at your body.

“Close your eyes Angel.” He whispers in your ear as he lets go of your hand. Your breathing became heavy as you did as told, and you raised your head up, towards where the second star to the right is. You always wished on it, wished that it wouldn’t take your love away, that it wouldn’t take your children away, wished that everything was real and not a dream.

“Eddie–”

“Open them and turn around.” You did as told, turning to see Eddie on one knee, a box on his hand as his elbow rested on his knee. Your heart got caught in your throat as you looked at the diamond in the box, covering your mouth with both of your hands as tears started spilling out uncontrollably from your eyes.

“What…?”

“I want to be their dad. I want to be with you, forever, for as long as you’ll have me, or for as long as we live. You’re it for me Angel, you have been it for me from the moment you decided to fly towards me, towards the ship, instead of here.” He choked up on a sob and then took a deep breath to keep going. “I know it’s soon, but I can’t imagine my life with anyone else. In my eyes, into my future, you’re always there. You will always be there.”

You dropped to your knees, as happiness flourished in your chest, smiling through your tears as you put your left hand up, putting it on display for him. You looked up at his big doe eyes, a tear slipping out of his left one as he looked down at you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive.

And you were.

“I’m ready to be Mrs. Hook.”

And when our journey is through, each time we say "Goodnight", we'll thank the little star that shines, the second from the right.

A/N: Remember you can still send requests for these two! I plan on making more little one shots for them, but this one is good so you can all know what happened after the return 🥰

Hope you enjoyed this magical little thing!

Song at the bottom is Second Star to the Right from the original 1953 Peter Pan soundtrack.

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stuff-from-the-void-matron · 1 year

Text

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (19)

(c!technoblade x fem!reader) (?who knows at this point..)

(*SCREAMING UNTIL MY VOICE IS GONE* hahahaha i'm finally done with this devil forsaken chapter! I literally cannot articulate HOW hard this chapter was, for who knows what reason! I don't know why but this chapter was a struggle. like some trial a fucking greek god would give me to make me stronger or whatever. but.. I did it finally. PLEASE reblog and comment so I can feel like the pain I went through was worth it y'all 😭🥺👉👈)

—————

Bored.

That’s been his general state of things for about.. I don’t know, maybe 5 months? At least since he’d finished taking part in that last pvp tournament on the championship battle server. But the battle season has finished and he’s not found anything new to hold his attention.

And Phil was busy working on a new build that's taken up his attention. And Techno would help but he knows Phil wants to do it himself, the man is so picky about his builds so Techno just leaves him be. Usually by now someone would have got in contact to hire him for his war faring services. Some kingdom or warring faction, looking for someone well versed in battle and strategy to help them turn the tides. But-

A yellow feather fluttering into his field of vision followed by the sound of flapping wings made the red eyed hybrid look up to see an incoming parrot holding a rolled up letter tied to its leg.

“Well, speak of the devil or whatever,” Techno said in his usual monotone drawl as the parrot landed on his shoulder.

It held its leg out and he took the offered scroll before reaching into his inventory to grab some seeds to feed it. Then once it was happily munching away he unrolled the letter, wondering which server it could be from. Probably some new upstart one inhabited by a bunch of idiots with conflicting opinions who don’t realize they can just go separate directions and end it. That was usually how it went. People were all the same. They find out their opinions don’t match up, they bicker over it, they fight, someone invariably gets killed, they wage war, and then rinse and repeat.

But as he read the letter he realized it wasn’t from just anybody. It was from Wilbur, Philza’s kid. Jeez, he hasn’t seen him in what feels like one hundred years.

Huh, when was the last time he’d seen the bespectacled boy? He actually can’t recall. He thinks back, far back, scouring his memory for instances with Wilbur. He remembers his round glasses, his warm yellow sweater, and his love for anything music. Techno recalls how Wilbur had always detested battle, fighting, anything like that. Hell, he hadn’t even liked wearing armor, even when it was for his own good. Which Techno thought was both foolish and endearing. He himself was always suited to battle, falling into it like how a bird takes to the skies. But he’d always seen Wilbur as so far removed from being suitable for violence.

All the younger man had ever said he wanted to do was sing, play music, and write. He truly had the heart of a poet, that was for sure. Getting him to learn some basic defense so he could travel to the nearby villages on his own without being a sitting duck had been similar to pulling teeth for Philza, his son always treating the lessons like a chore. But he and Phil had managed to teach him enough self defense so he could be safe out on his own, at least from the mobs. And once that was handled then Philza didn’t feel so worried leaving his boy home alone, meaning he and Techno could go traveling again.

And Wilbur hadn’t been bothered by this either, seeming to enjoy having some time to himself when his father and Techno were out. They always came home to Wilbur playing his guitar either outside in the yard, enjoying the sun, or inside by the fire to stay cozy. He’d been perfectly content.

And then one day they came home and Wilbur hadn’t been alone like he’d always been before. He’d had some kid with him, a little boy who actually bore a strong resemblance to Philza, what with his blond hair and blue eyes. That had been more than a shock, he’ll admit. Walking in and seeing Wilbur with some random kid they’d never seen before, just sitting on the floor in front of the couch like it was no big deal.

Yeah, that had been Tommy, and according to Wilbur he’d found him eating out of the trash in the village so he’d brought him home. Of course. When Philza asked where Tommy’s parents were, the kid had wrinkled his nose and said they were probably at home. That had turned into them grilling the kid, trying to figure out where their house was so Wilbur could return him.

But Tommy had kicked up a huge fuss, shouting about how he left on his own and he was never going back. From how he’d described it, his parents hadn’t been the best. Not even close actually, they’d sounded like shit to be honest. I mean if your toddler is willing to up and leave with zero intention of going back to you, like 100% willing to eat out of the trash instead of staying with you then yeah you’re probably a shit tier parent.

Wilbur had begged Philza to let Tommy stay with them. He had nowhere else to go and leaving him out on the street seemed messed up and he was so little, it’s not like he’d take up much space anyways. Yeah, Wilbur admitted the kid kinda ate a lot but no more than he guessed all kids ate… But they had a huge garden and some cows so it wasn’t a huge deal, right?

Techno had been against it, they’d JUST started getting back to traveling again since Wilbur was old enough and capable enough to look after himself now. He’d argued that they didn’t need another little gremlin running around touching their stuff. He’d been eyeing the little blond boy as he stared openly at Techno’s own enchanted sword that was strapped to his belt. He’d tucked it into his inventory to keep it away from the kid and his no doubt grimy little fingers.

But Philza had always been such a sap when it came to Wilbur and his ‘sad boy eyes’. So he’d ended up folding like a house of cards pretty quick, though he’d warned Wilbur that the kid, Tommy, was his responsibility. Philza wasn’t going to start looking after him when he’d not had any hand in taking him in. So Tommy’s well being was now solely in Wilbur’s hands.

Phil had actually been really serious at that part, asking Wilbur if he knew what he was getting into? Because Phil knew how hard it was to care for a child, it was exhausting and sometimes thankless, and you can’t just stop whenever you want because someone defenseless now relies on you.

Wilbur hadn’t been dissuaded though, and pulled the shorter boy close in a half hug, saying he’d be the best big brother ever! Nevermind the child had started gnawing on the arm Wilbur had around him.. Techno couldn’t help but roll his eyes back then and even now as he remembered that promise. But Wilbur seemed happy at least, and neither Phil nor Techno would have to take care of the kid so it hadn’t been so bad. And later when they were alone Phil shared that he was actually glad that Wilbur wouldn’t be alone at home anymore. He’d felt bad leaving his boy all alone, even though he could defend himself.

Techno assured him that Wilbur was a big boy now, practically an adult himself. So he didn’t need Phil worrying about him so much. Phil had laughed and said that was true but he couldn’t stop worrying, it was a parent thing. You never truly stop worrying about your kid. Techno figured that made sense but still told Phil that that was one of the reasons why he wasn’t having kids, too much stress. Techno’s a busy guy, he can’t be losing sleep over some helpless nerds. That had gotten Phil to laugh, which had been Techno’s goal. So, goal accomplished.

Things had been good after that. At least that’s how Techno remembered them to be. Him and Phil would travel and explore to their heart’s content, coming back to the house every now and again to take a break and check up on the brunet and blond. The kid grew like a weed, looking taller and taller with each visit. Him and Wilbur growing closer in height as well as their bond, soon acting like true brothers.

Wilbur had been so happy, and Techno remembers the last time he’d seen him. Him and Phil returned home for another short time between tournaments. They’d walked up to the forest surrounded property they’d called home to see Wil lounging against the porch, guitar in hand with Tommy chasing around a bee, trying to catch it.

They looked so peaceful. And Techno thought that’d never change.

..But reading his letter now made Techno’s stomach sink a bit.

Wilbur was asking for his help. His professional help.. Looks like he’d joined a server not too long ago and started his own nation; L’manberg. Technoblade couldn’t help but close his eyes in annoyance while pinching the bridge of his nose at hearing that. Nothing good ever came from governments, if he’d said that once he’s said it a million times. To the point where if he were a cartoon character from the 80’s then it’d be his damn catchphrase. But people just keep making and joining governments, even Wilbur it seemed..

And from the tone of the letter it looked like Wilbur was in big trouble.

Techno scrubbed his hand down his face, his snout scrunching as he turned the letter over in his mind a few times before sighing and taking out his ender chest. With some mild annoyance he decided to help Wilbur out with his war. Better than sitting around being bored out of his mind at any rate. So he composed a letter back to the brunet, letting him know his services wouldn’t be cheap just because they knew each other, but he’d gladly help him turn the tides. Once that letter was done he handed it over to the parrot, watching it fly off back to Wilbur.

Then on a whim he decided to compose another letter, this time to Phil, letting him know what his son was up to. But knowing the winged man, he’d probably just find the whole thing amusing.

“Well.. I better get packed while I wait for Wilbur’s reply,” Techno said before heading back to his house.

-0-

You carried Azo in your arms as the four of you walked back to L’manburg from the nether portal. Internally you were still seething at Wilbur, you knew what he’d done, to a child of all people. You knew Wilbur, deeper and more intimately than he would ever be comfortable with. But you’d held out hope he’d never sink so low as to harm a child.. You’d really clung to the sliver of hope, despite everything you’d seen him do in the lore streams..

But now you knew with a sad certainty how low he was willing to go for what he wanted. And you wanted nothing more than to sink your teeth into his throat and rend his esophagus from its place in his neck before crushing his skull between your palms. Your jaws ached with the fervent desire to cause the vile bastard as much pain physically as he’d caused you and your children mentally and emotionally.

Though instead of succumbing to those feral desires you instead took a long measured breath in through your nose before letting it out through your mouth, just trying to calm your white hot rage since you needed to focus on the three kids you had with you and not the dead man walking over in fuckin Pogtopia~

You all got to your house and you mentally focused on how too small it was for your family now. Tommy and Tubbo already had their own rooms at your place despite each having their own homes elsewhere. You noticed they usually stayed here at night to sleep, which you were fine with. You preferred it actually, knowing they were safe in bed at night under your roof. But with Azo staying here full time you’d need to make her her own bedroom.

Planning that out calmed your rage thankfully. Turned the magma level heat into a soft manageable simmer. Looking down at the little piglin in your arms made you feel so much better. Things weren’t perfect, no, but you’re just so glad she’s okay. You almost lost her and the thought makes your heart feel like it was being tugged out of your chest. But she’s okay. Things are okay.

You remind yourself of this as you carry your baby through the threshold of your, and now her, home. You breathe and stop at the kitchen, telling the three it’s around lunch time and you’d make them some food. Both boys cheered and sat at the table, while you sat Azo on your hip with one arm while using the other to grab some stuff out of the ice box you kept around to hold food for the two teens.

Azo watched you pull things out with curiosity, not sure what any of them were. Which sent a pang of sadness through you because you know you’ve let her try most of these before but she clearly didn’t remember it. Though you cheered yourself up with the knowledge that she could just try them all over again, rediscover her favorites and least favorites. You still remember the way her little snout had wrinkled up in distaste when she’d first tried a slice of lemon. That had been hilarious and you’d wished you had some way to record it to keep the memory forever, but oh well.

“Mum, can you make us some of that fruit flower tea?” Tubbo asked from his spot at the table.

You smiled and said sure, and reached into the cabinet for the jar of tea you’d made for them not too long ago. You figured a warm meal and warm tea would be better for Azo right now since introducing her to cold stuff in the Overworld, which was already colder than the Nether, would be too much too soon. You noticed with a frown that she already seemed to be chilly. So while the tea was steeping you went over to the couch and grabbed the wool throw off the back and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders. She snorted happily at the sudden barrier from the chill this new world seemed to have.

“We’re gonna have to get you some new clothes, kiddo. Some that keep you warmer than your current ones do,” You said as you went to put some meat skewers onto the smoker and some potatoes in the furnace to bake.

You hummed and swayed your hips back and forth slowly as you watched the food cook. Then the tea was ready and you took Azo to the table and pulled a couple books from your inventory before sitting them on the chair, then you set her on top of them so she could reach the tabletop. She snuggled into the blanket around her while you went to fix the tea.

After giving each kid a cup you finished up the food and sat with them so they could eat. You idly listened as Tubbo and Tommy both talked to Azo, telling her all about L’manberg and their friends, and how they were going to show her around soon maybe.

You just let yourself zone out, taking comfort in your kids all being safe in one place right now.

-0-

Quackity had thought over what he and Reader had discussed the day they started rebuilding the White House. She said he had to make a decision since Schlatt had basically bailed on L’manberg. And she’d also said he’d deserved better than how Schlatt treated him. He’d honestly not wanted to think about that. Because thinking about her words made him throw his entire relationship into question. Did he deserve better than Schlatt? He wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he did then why did he deserve better?

He didn’t want to start dumping on Schlatt, because they’d honestly had so many good times together. Great ones. They’d vibed so well while dating, Quackity can’t count how many times the ram had made him laugh his ass off. Just them two hanging out, sharing some drinks, spending nights out on the town in other SMPs, it was some of the best times of Quackity’s life. Even now, thinking about those times brought a smile (and soft flush) to the duck hybrids face. I mean Schlatt was charismatic, funny, and knew how to make his knees feel like jelly. Plus he had a few other good qualities he didn’t want to focus on too much in public..

But his smile faded away as those sweet memories made way for the not so sweet ones. Things had been great, yeah, but only when Schlatt wasn’t in a bad mood. Now that Quackity actually thinks about it there was always the worry of Schlatt’s good mood evaporating looming over their relationship. If he wasn’t happy then his bad mood sucked the good atmosphere right out of the room. It could be suffocating. The first few times it happened he’d try to give the ram hybrid some space, figuring he’d get over it. But that usually led to arguments, Schlatt asking if Quackity planned to leave any time things weren’t going perfect. That’d made him feel like shit, so he’d started doing all he could to keep the good vibes going.

Quackity isn’t sure when he’d gotten used to it but soon things fell into a rhythm of things being super great and awesome followed by something pissing on Schlatt’s good mood, then him being an asshole, Quackity doing everything he could think of to cheer him up, and then everything repeating in that cycle. It could feel exhausting at times but he just supposed that was just how relationships were supposed to be. But after what Reader said.. he was starting to question if that was right or not. He’d been so conflicted that he’d broken down and asked Karl for advice for a ‘friend of his’ who was having relationship issues.

He’d lied and said it was for a girl he was friends with on another server who was having issues with her girlfriend. Karl had listened to his edited version of events and told Quackity his friend was in a not very good relationship and she should break up with her girlfriend before things got even worse. That had just made his stomach sink further but he played it cool and thanked Karl for hearing him out, and he’d talk to his friend later and tell her what he thought she should do. Karl gave him a sweet smile and wrapped his arm around the dark haired male in a side hug before replying,

“Don’t worry, man. That’s what friends are for. Tell your friend if she needs any help leaving then she can come to us, we’ll help her out of there no problem.”

Quackity couldn’t help the smile hearing this gave him and said he’d let her know.

That’d been hours before and he knew he needed to message Reader and tell her where he stood. It wasn’t good to leave things ambiguous with her, not regarding his allegiance to L’manberg.. She’d messaged him earlier that morning, asking if he was doing alright. He hadn’t replied, wanting to talk to someone else about what he was thinking first. But he knew he couldn’t leave her on read for much longer.

But just as he was getting ready to open his communicator.. it chimed.

He sighed, thinking it was Reader. But when he checked it his throat closed up.

‘Schlatt whispers to you: can we talk?’

Quackity gulped, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat as he read and reread the message at least 7 times. Curses ran through his head as he sat up on his couch, still staring down at the device on his wrist. He tore his eyes away, harshly scrubbing his hand down his face, just trying to calm his racing heart as he tried to focus on one thought at a time. Okay, okay, okay- he needed to relax, just- He jumped when his communicator chimed again. And when he looked back down at it anxiously he paused..

‘Schlatt whispers to you: please babe, come on

‘Schlatt whispers to you: i miss you

The duck hybrid stared down at the screen hard, biting his lip enough to draw a drop of blood as he did. Then with shaky hands he started forming a reply…

—————

@lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @reverse-iak @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale @bananaaddictmilkshake @realitycanbeajerk @lostandsouciant @thegeekisheere @sparkling-gayyy @woman-soot @xxtwizztedxx @fall3n-vo1d @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @jaciahbabes @lucian-kinnder @deadroses2021 @victory-is-here @where-thesundoesntshine @itsberrydreemurstuff

#LW&AT #Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth #LWAT #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #dreamsmp x reader #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #potentially other ships with reader #c!quackity #Reader #Azo #c!tubbo #c!tommy #c!techno #c!wibur

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cherryc1nnam0n · 1 year

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Cherry's Favorites Part 2

Contains NSFW, blood, dark themes and more, just my personal favorites, many characters and topics

Start me up | Mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Wet dreams | Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader

Possessive Techno

Sugar daddy!Techno

Brahms with a Nymphomaniac

Crit Hit | Virgin!Eddie x Reader

A helping hand | Steddie x Reader

Show me | Older!Eddie x Reader

Eddie ‘The Munch’ Munson

Take it | Eddie Munson

Bunny

Eddie's balls

Someone else | Fwb!Steve Harrington

Look in the mirror

Scotty Doesn’t Know | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Use me | Conrad x Reader

Somebody else | Eddie’s girl x reader and stepbro!eddie x reader

Steddie threesome

Daddy Steve

Fem!Reader x Older!Tattooartist!Eddie Munson

Joseph Quinn horny blurb

Moans for a song

Consent is sexy

Final essay | Jim Hopper

Broken bed

Horndog Eddie

What you want

Eddie's glasses

Cum | Steddie

Cum fly with me | Pilot!Loki

Nasty Kurt

Eddie's boobies

Possessive Eddie

Definitely Eddie

Eddie loves teasing

Above and below

Eddie making love to you

Penthouse Eddie

Squirting for Steve

Strong boi Eddie again

Sweet cheeks

Speak up

Steve watching you get off

Girl on the moon | Corroded Coffin x Reader

This dark!Eddie ask is everything

Crush me daddy Steve

Poor Eddie

Undeniable | Older!Eddie

Cockwarming Eddie

More dark!Eddie because I love it

You and abouncer!Eddie fucking in the walk-in during a closing shift

More dark!Eddie because this anon is the best at writing this

Mhm more dark!Eddie

You guessed it, more dark!Eddie

Yes this is more dark!Eddie

Roommate rules

Angel & Devil!Steddie AU masterlist

Eddie's dirty talk

Second Chances at First Times

The kissing monster

Teasing Eddie

A visit to the Healer | Loki

Eddie dry humping reader

Withdrawal | Eddie Munson

Touch me and you lose | Eddie Munson

Thighs | Eddie Munson x Reader

Eddie is a menace

Possible fic material

Fucking Eddie

Eddie slapping you

No more shying away | Brahms Heelshire

Joseph impregnates you

Two perverts in my room | Steddie

Eddie fell asleep while eating you out, again

Don't tease Spencer

Milk | Joseph Quinn

More milk

Rendezvous | Spencer Reid

Subby Reid

Riding virging Eddie

Just a taste

His favorite girl

Gamer Eddie

Red lipstick kisses | Eddie Munson

Mama

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blueberrypancakesworld · 1 month

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Unplanned appointment

Marc Schrader x fem!reader

warning: flirting, some touching, suggested/mentioned sex, alcohol, mutual attraction, no use of Y/n

Summary : After the police graduation ceremony, she had planned to celebrate a little longer, but an unexpected appointment interrupts this and the exchange cadet finds herself at her boss's door with a "familiar" guy.

Info : So finally I write for him and hope that I can give some fans and like-minded people some joy. Also the film is so good and I finally can write a little german in storys so yeah have fun reading plus the inspiration for this came from THIS from @echoe-l check out the blog ;)

gif from me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Music, chatter and a little dancing was the atmosphere that spread around her as she watched the people and her somehow friends. The language she knew, had learned to understand to some extent and yet still had a lot to learn. The banner with the colors black, red and yellow and the bear on it still on the wall. They showed everyone that an official ceremony had taken place here after the officers, senior staff and the mayor had left.

Now the hall belonged to the younger ones, the ,,Cadets of the future for the security of Germany" as she could still remember the speech that came over the speakers to the young adults. They had all stood at attention for an hour before she was finally an investigator. Her dream in Germany had come true, even if it meant sacrifice.

But before the homesickness could take hold of her, she heard the voice of her friends pulling her away from the table and onto the dance floor. ,,Now it's time to party!" her fellow student and second-best student shouted as she spun her friend around.

The glass of champagne was long gone but it was enough to make the music and the atmosphere more pleasant, to make the foreign language sound natural and it helped her loosen up. Dancing around the hall with her friends, laughing and exchanging stories with other students.

Not knowing that after all this he was still watching her. That this one thing that happened just one night ago was more than she thought. He watched as she laughed, joy and devotion in her eyes as the tension left her.

The dark dress with the brooch given to all cadets bearing the police mark let him know she had made it. Your spell has worked unicorn he thought and loosened his tie that had been bothering him the whole ceremony but his blue eyes didn't leave her couldn't leave her.

Because what had happened was better than any drug, any techno music, she was just so much better. But the young woman didn't see her fellow student being approached.

There was annoyance and slight confusion in his voice when he was interrupted in his sitting down. When he had to do something he was called to go to someone he didn't know.

Everything was settled, wasn't it? With one last look at her and ignoring the neccned calls of his "friends" he turned around and left the hall to go to the man who wanted to talk to him.

Minutes passed, minutes passed in which she noticed nothing. She celebrated cheerfully and, over the music and the chatter, hinted that she was going to have a drink. With a smile on her lips, she pushed her way out of the dance floor and made her way to the table with the punch and other drinks.

The red heirloom punch looked sweet and delicious, which is why she had wanted to try it all evening. Just as she was about to reach for a plastic cup, she heard someone next to her. ,,Du bist die Austauschstudierende oder?" came the question from another graduating student in his native language.

She replied with a short ,,Ja" and didn't quite know what he wanted. A few tips for studying abroad? A signature? A photo? Or what else? But nine instead came a ,,You should go to Chief Inspector Minx" he said in English and she was grateful to him because there was a certain caution and uncertainty between them because of the language before she nodded to him and yet she knew where she had to go, everyone had heard of Minx.

The investigator who had been around the longest and was always on the case. Someone she knew had turned up yesterday. She felt a little uneasy as she walked out of the hall and straightened her dress, trying to regain the posture she'd had before.

It was much cooler and more comfortable from the sausage fabric as she stepped out of the hall into the police headquarters and walked up the stairs to the office.

The furnishings were typical German 70's old building as always no money but it didn't bother her because as she walked towards the office she saw that she wasn't the only one who had to go there. ,,What are you doing here Marc?" she asked and saw that she had probably pulled him out of his thoughts because his gaze was turned to the floor and only now was it directed at her. The blue soul mirrors ran over her body without shyness.

He looked at her knee-length dress in dark colors similar to his suit and a slight grin came to his lips when he saw the brooch with the bear again. ,,I could ask you the same thing...I was told to go to him," he said after a short pause and looked at the sign hanging on the wall with the name of the investigator.

She saw that he was preoccupied with something Marc was rather reserved about, at least when he was at work and not in the club. ,,Me too, but do you think it's about yesterday?" she asked, leaning slightly towards him and lowering her voice so as not to be heard when she saw that he was worried about the same thing.

Of course they had both thought about it, if it had just been a club visit, a one night stand or sex in front of the investigators it would have been embarrassing but one thing.

But those little pills, those damn little pills that made the club something alcohol couldn't do was incredible. ,,I never thought the pretty unicorn was like that" he said with a lewd grin as he accidentally undid a button on his shirt and she saw that her hickey was still there.

She felt the warmth on her cheeks as she turned away, ,,That was once, and you wanted it just like me," and pointed to her thigh and pushed her dress up slightly, which made her flinch as he suddenly put his hand on it and felt his markings.

She didn't know if it was the alcohol in his blood, his overhealth in the situation (although she didn't think so) or if he just wanted her, she couldn't tell...but she wanted him again.

After the previous night in the club, the small, worn sofas and benches were not completely comfortable, but it was enough for him and her. His voice was full of lust, slightly rough from the alcohol, high from the pills and the music. She was completely taken by him under the drugs and the atmosphere he seemed like everything.

He kissed her, explored her body and left the marks on her, she clung to him and maybe it was the drugs or the psyche of the two of them but only when they came down from their high together did they seem to realize that they would not only see both colleagues but also each other every day from now on. ,,Du scheinst gar nicht genug zu bekommen" he mumbled in German and smiled when he saw that it affected them, that he knew they were into each other. Hell, how could she not?

His eyes were still on her, seeming to undress her again while he seemed to be the calm one on the outside, but he always was. ,,Never do enough but always just what's needed," she murmured the words he was usually told and heard the laugh as he shook his head slightly but she was right.

He never did one hundred percent but always only what was necessary, except for her it seemed. ,,My unicorn seems to know me better than I thought," he said, wrapping a finger around a loose strand of hair from her fringe to play with it. He twisted the hair a little between his fingers, pulled it gently and came closer to her.

She smelled the scent of smoke, alcohol, party and leather on him, which met her sweeter scent through the perfume. ,,How about here in the hallway?" he began and let his hand wander from her thigh further up, her gaze meeting his.

She saw him lean forward slightly and she did the same before the door to the office was suddenly pulled open and a woman came out who was probably already being nagged by Minx.

As if nothing had happened, Marc simply stood up and held out his hand to her in an elegant gesture which she accepted with an embarrassed smile before they both walked past the woman and arrived in the investigator's office.

Knowing that whatever was going on between them was more than just the one night stand at the club. As his hand ran over hers one last time, touching the fabric where he had left his mark, she knew they would end up together one way or another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@one-boring-person , @lemon-teacake , @babybluebex , @echoe-l , @gaeleneinar ,

#tattoo 2002 #tattoo movie #august diehl #marc schrader #marc schrader x reader #august diehl x reader

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ladyzimmerman · 1 year

Text

Come Back To Me

Pairing: Commander Mills x Fem!reader

Words count: 926

Warnings: a little angst, a lot of fluff

According to station control, he would be gone for 3 months. He sighed as he looked over the manifest, his anxiety only tempered by your body heat next to him. He has been on missions far longer then this one, but this is different. He has you now. Someone he could lose if everything didn’t go completely to plan.

As he lets you sleep for a few more minutes he reminisces. He first saw you during his first week stationed here. He could tell you were a spitfire. You were arguing with a tech, a tablet in one hand and a decoder in the other. Clearly you were in charge and not happy.

He waited calmly, watching the tech leave. He had then cautiously approached you, feigning a question about his ship's propulsion system. He hoped the interaction didn’t end with a tablet to the face. He was surprised to meet soft eyes and a warm smile.

After your first encounter, he continued to visit you in the hanger after meetings. You guys would talk about everything and anything. He found out your name then. You graduated from the academy five years ago and have been stationed here for the last three years. He also found out your favorite food was pasta and you couldn’t stand techno music. You were perfect in his eyes.

You actually asked him out first. You guys had your first date at the M Diner just off base. He knew he was already head of heels for you and you had confessed to him over drinks that you had a crush on him. That you were obsessed with his tender eyes, smooth full lips and his goatee. He remembers kissing you right then and there. You had your first of many nights that night. You moved into his bunker three months later and were married a year after that.

When he found out his mission assignment he was less then pleased. He didn’t want to be away from you, you guys had only been married for six months. You soothed him that night with talk of honor and duty in your sweet voice. You guys made a plan for you to record transmissions and upload them with the scheduled updates. Normal communication would be impossible otherwise.

He promised you when he returned you guys would take scheduled leave. Go see all the planets you grew up dreaming about. He was secretly saving up for a new star cruiser to surprise you with. Perfect for the two of you.

His tablet beeped at him, bringing him back. 10 minutes until he had to board. He places the tablet down and wraps his arms around you. His sweet angel. He squeezes you slightly and nuzzles his face into your neck. Placing soft kisses there as you start to stir. "Baby?" You murmured. "What time is it?" “0540” he says, placing a kiss on your shoulder, putting your taste and soft skin to memory.

You turn in his arms and run your hands through his hair. “Ok” you say softly. He kisses your forehead, then your nose then your lips. “I love you darling.” "I love you too baby" you whisper against his lips. “It’s so early yet… do you really have to go now?” you ask as you rub your eyes. You are so sweet. He breathes your scent in, scanning your face, committing it to memory for those lonely nights. “I’m sorry, babe. Duty calls.”

“Okay” you sigh as you attempt to extract yourself. He holds on tight. “Will you see me off?” he says with a smirk. He immediately chuckles at the huff and single eyebrow raise. He squeezes you one more time as he swings his legs off the bed. He feels your calloused yet soft hands rub along his back. "Go get ready, and we can head down together”. He nods as he tares his eyes away from you as he walks into the bathroom.

He continues to feel uncertain as he finishes with his uniform. He knows he is more then qualified for this mission. He can do this. But they always carry a risk. He tries to put that aside and enjoy the time he has with you now.

You guys walk onto the lift outside of your bunker. He turns you to him as he takes in your angelic features. You place your hand in his and smile. "You will do great Commander" you say in your fakest professional tone. He snorts. "I know babe, I know I just will miss you so much" he says as he cups your face. "I will miss you too. Please come back to me" you reply as you cover his hand.

"Always"

He kisses you, hoping it tells you everything he can not at this moment. The lift stops with a ping. You separate as the doors open. He continues to hold your hand as you walk to the docking bay. “Commander Mills” the docking bay tech says with a nod. “Officer Mills” he nods to you. You nod back. The tech activates the door control panel and stands at attention. “Be safe” you say as you squeeze his hand one more time.

“I will and I love you, Y/N. I will always love you” he says, kissing your forehead. He steps forward into the door. He turns his head one more time to see you with tears in your eyes and your hand over your heart. He can and will do this. For you. His sweet angel.

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

Credits to my dearest @srorgana1 ❤️

#commander mills #commander mills x reader #commander mills fluff #65movie #65 #adam driver #adcu #adam driver x reader

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armpirate · 1 year

Text

The Only One || JJK || Ch. 1

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Seoul, South Korea. 02:23 am

Over the techno music, drowned by the thick walls separating the nightclub from the basement, the dry and hollow sound of the wooden bat against the stomach and chest of the man collapsing on the floor echoed between the four walls.

—Take it like a good girl —gasped a masculine, yet sweet voice—. Now tell me where's my money.

—I don't know —the old man lying on the floor cried, while raising his hands—. I promise I don't know.

—So you can't give Jeon's money back, yet you're paying 800,000 wons to get your cock sucked? —the military boots fly to the man's chubby chest.

—Gil —the pain he was going through was almost palpable through his cracked voice—. Nam Gil. He was the one in charge of the distribution.

—I don't give a fuck who was in charge of the distribution —the brunette yelled, grabbing the almost unconscious man by the collar—. You're the one who's in control of what your boys do, and that includes Nam Gil. If one of your boys loses our money, you're the one making up for it.

—Don't tell Jeon —the middle aged man sounded desperate—, please. I'll get the money. I will —his pupils were shaking while trying to convince the man in front of him—. Please —he sobbed—. I will do whatever you want.

—Oh, whatever he wants?

Nobody needed to actually see him, the tone and sound of his voice made everyone go quiet. The tension was palpable as soon as everyone recognized his deep melodic voice, sharper than the different knives aligned on the table.

He appeared through the darkness, imposing his heavy presence over everyone in the room, as if everything that was going on just a few seconds ago was a child's play. Things were serious now that he was there.

—What were you willing to do, Min Joon? —he questions, raising one of his eyebrows— Were you trying to make my men betray me?

—No, oh my god, no —he shook his head, replying with a trembling voice—. I just need time, Jeon. Please.

—But you got time, didn't you? —Jungkook grabbed his jaw, forcing the man to look at him— You got time, and from what I see you also got some of the money. Used it for something better, I see.

—I'm sorry. I'm sorry —he kept repeating.

—I know you are —his expression softened for one second—. I'm sure you regret it, and you are more than ready to work again to make this all up.

—Yes, sir —the old man was close to breaking in whimpers and sobs.

—Give me the towel —Jungkook ordered one of his men.

—Wha...

—Give me the fucking towel —he raised his voice.

The change in his voice, from soft to rough, made everyone jump and remember who they were dealing with. The younger of them rushed to grab the white towel and hand it to their boss, whose expression was again neutral.

Giving the tied man a small smile, he started cleaning the blood that was coming out of his rounded big nose. He was gentle, calm, cleaning everything and making Min Joon relax. It's like he was sure Jungkook wouldn't lay a hand on him after his promises.

—So, Nam Gil? —Jungkook asked, stepping back again and throwing the towel somewhere in the room— He's the man I should be looking for.

Min Joon nodded fast, stuttering on his words while trying to answer vocally.

—He works for you, right? —Jungkook waited for the old man to nod so he could continue— He lives with his family in Guryong, doesn't he? —Min Joon nodded again— Hmm. Horrible ass tattoo on his leg?

The tied man then understood what was going on, there was no hope for him because they already caught the person he was willing to snitch on to be free. He saw Jungkook taking a plastic bag out of his pocket, before he threw something to his naked leg. When he lowered his eyes, he saw the tattooed skin layer of Nam Gil, shining under the lights because of the blood and the fresh cuts.

His breathing stopped when he realized what happened. Lungs totally closed, with his heart racing faster than it ever did while Jungkook's eyes were radiating with the most sadistic ideas.

—It's so funny —he commented—. Before shitting on himself while being flayed alive, he mentioned you were trying to hide the merch to make more money out of it —Jungkook scoffed.

Grabbing the man by the sideburns, he forced him to look at his eyes. Jungkook slicked his tongue through his front teeth, smiling before he pulled away.

—I didn't want to scare you, Joon —he apologized, moving his hands to his shoulders—. But you do understand that these guys right here respecting me depends on you respecting me. And if you don't respect me, you need to face the consequences —his pierced eyebrow raised again—. I promise I don't want to do this, but I have to.

Jungkook finally stood up, looking at the man lying clumsily on the chair, desperate to keep the balance. Lifting two of his fingers, he signaled one of his men to walk towards him.

—Let's give our guest a lesson for free —his dark eyes went down to Min Joon again—. See? Not only I'm letting you live, but I'm also reminding you things you should already know, without having to pay a thing —he tilted his head—. What should you say?

—Th... Th... —the man shook his head, trying to clear himself and manage to let the words leave his thin lips properly—. Thank you, Jeon —he gulped the thick knot on his throat.

—You're welcome —getting ready to leave the place, he turned to Min Joon again—. I want the merch and the penalty in less than twenty-four hours —turning to the man with long hair, he smiled—. Do you have his food?

The long haired man drew a sided and twisted smile slowly, just to nod and assure his boss that everything was under control.

Turning around, Jungkook made his way out through the dark alley, where a black Audi e-tron GT was waiting for him. The tall muscular man opened the door for him as soon as Jungkook's shade in the distance turned into his clear figure walking towards him with a pissed off face.

He had better things to do than dealing with bullshit like this.

As he got in the car, his phone started ringing in his pocket. And it didn't take him long to guess who could it be.

—Jimin, you better have good news.

—Why so serious, Kook? —mocked the masculine voice on the other side.

The silence in his car only made Jimin sigh and mutter a low "Fine", giving in to what Jungkook wanted from him: an update on the negotiation.

—Remember Pedro Montes? —Jungkook rolled his eyes at the name.

—What about him?

—He's in charge of absolutely everything that happens here: drugs, gambling... He has a lot of contacts, but he said he'll only accept if you're the one he directly talks to.

—Me? Why me? —he frowned— You're there in representation of our team.

—He said something like "getting the man of Korea out of Korea" —Jimin scoffed—. He won't sit for negotiations if it's not with you. He was pretty clear with that.

After winning a spot in Marseilles, where they worked closely with other European mafias, Spain was the only place they were craving to get a spot in -moving constantly from the south to the north, until they thought they found a place in a small island located at the north-east of the Peninsula.

And it seems like it won't be enough with Jimin being there this time.

✸ ✸ ✸

Palma de Mallorca, Spain. 07:23 pm

That time of the year in Mallorca was one of the best for her. The weather wasn't too cold, but it wasn't too hot either. It was the perfect balance between the two extremes. It wasn't that full of tourists either, which made the island accessible and enjoyable for a few more weeks before tourists started raining there.

She also loved every bit of that time of the year because it allowed her to walk everywhere, without worrying about the rain or or the sweat coating her body because of the hotness -there was nothing worse than feeling that sticky liquid, and the fabric humid under her armpit after an hour of being outside.

Y/n carried the bag on her back after a grocery shopping day that got it filled with different things. And, as she crossed the bridge and entered Son Gotleu (1), she realized how living in this neighborhood was never part of her plans. It was her day to day thought, every single time she came here from work or grocery shopping. It hit her how that was her reality after seven years.

As deeper in the neighborhood she got, the harder the smell of parched pee was -mixed with the smell of pot that came from the group of dealers sitting in a bench while waiting for the night to come. The deeper she walked into the neighborhood, the more she remembered why she stayed here despite having the resources to leave and cross the pont.

She entered the communal courtyard of the old block, seeing the same old ladies of every day peeking their heads out of the balconies.

—Coming from work? —asked one of them, raising her voice.

—No, I'm coming from doing some shopping, but I'm leaving again soon —Y/n trumpeted, walking up the stairs as fast as she was able to.

The old ladies started talking between them again, something that only made her smile because it was quite a usual thing for them. Checking who came and left, and discussing the vast amount of possibilities of where that person came from or where they were heading to.

It used to bother Y/n. Until she realized all these people had nothing better to do. They barely were able to leave their homes, strutting around the neighborhood was something that didn't cross anyone's mind -especially when it was already dark.

—Oh, you're back —the old man smiled wide when he heard the door.

—Yup, but not for too long —she made her way to where he was.

When she crossed the double door to the living room, she found Jorge sitting in his corner on the couch, watching one of those cowboy movies that were only played around this time of the day.

—I bought your pills —she informed him, bringing things out of the back—, the baking soda for Carla's experiment, those cookies you like and some vegetables. Don't eat those cookies in one sitting —she warned him.

He smiled wide as he was handed the cardboard box, kissing the young girl's forehead before he went back to the couch.

Jorge was like a father to her when he collected her from the streets. He looked after her, while he was able to. That's why now that he was in such a critical state because of a heart attack he had two years ago, she didn't doubt on helping him the same way he helped her -and it was the same way for Carla, Jorge's teen granddaughter.

They were the only family she's had in the -almost- past decade.

Five minutes later, she was heading out of the building again to take the bus to her workplace. Ready for a new day, or at least she was psyching up on the idea that she was ready for whatever could happen that night. That was part of her job, never knowing what she could come upon.

As the bus crossed the same bridge she crossed just fifteen minutes earlier, she saw the contrast clearer. And she could only wish all the effort she was making would put her, Carla and Jorge on the other side as well. One step forward to a better life.

Another reason why she loved that weather so much... She could wear a jacket, and put the hood on to hide her face and hair as she was getting closer to her workplace. She was able to hide that she was getting into one of the most known brothels in Mallorca. Because working one hour away from home by bus would never be enough to hide what she was doing there.

Nobody would know it was a whorehouse if they saw it while passing by. When you first get in, it seems like the typical bar, but when you go downstairs... That's the reality of that place. Girls swaying her hips on pools, surrounded by men in heat fighting for who runs faster to book the best girl in that place.

Portals Nous gave the establishment some caché, most of the clients were rich assholes desperate to get their dicks wet without their wives knowing, but there were also average men that were willing to spend half of their salaries in just two nights.

That was the reality, her reality.

1*: One of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Mallorca.

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc

#fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #tattoistjk #mafia!au #The Only One #armpirate

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onlyseokmins · 2 years

Text

strawberry & cream • k.m.g.

Pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), "established" undefined relationship (?)

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, delayed orgasm (m), subby!gyu technically yeah uh huh, he's pussy whipped okay, lots of baby/good boy, lowkey i'm crying, consensual video recording/nude pictures taken, cumming inside wheee, mild aftercare!! lmk if i missed anything :)

WC: ~3k

A/N: I finally posted smth!! Was thinking of one of the dialogues in class last week lmfao and this is what happened. I'm procrastinating on everything else bc i'm unhappy w/ how they've been turning out but this one isn't too bad... turned out longer than i thought and i even made a quick banner ehehe 🤞🏻 enjoy ~

"You look like you've never felt the touch of a real man."

It's a comment that would have pissed you off if a stranger dared to say it to you. But you know who this tall drink of water is so you agreeably play along. First, taking a sip from the golden liquor swirling in your glass before smirking.

"How observant of you to pick up the fact that I prefer the company of women. They're lovely, kind, beautiful… " Your pointer finger extends to tap against tan skin exposed by the black dress shirt's two unfastened buttons. You lean in close to the tall man as your nail lightly draws circles causing him to groan. "And so soft and supple."

You pull away the minute Mingyu's eyelashes flutter shut when he breathes in the scent of the familiar perfume you're wearing.

"Unlike you."

Chocolate brown eyes snap back open at your comment but you've already disappeared from his sight. Easily navigating through the crowded dance floor, the gyrating bodies grooving to the catchy techno beat naturally part for you to make your way through.

A large hand wraps around your wrist right before you arrive at the open center. You're swift to hide your knowing smile before he spins you around to face him, sweat glistening on his brow. It doesn't surprise you that Mingyu finds it difficult to move as lithely as you. Although tonight, it just might be the fastest time record he's found you.

"You were quick."

It's a chase and it's a game. Not the way one might think. Even with such a tall figure staring into your eyes, it's you who holds the upper hand. Like a cat tricks a mouse into thinking its escape and safety are secured, you let Mingyu play his cards like he has the winning royal flush.

Unlike a rodent, though, he very well knows to not have a false sense of security. He's well aware of who has the control. You.

But that doesn't mean he'll give in easily.

"Didn't let anyone catch me."

"Atta boy."

He preens under your praise. Mingyu's approachable. Despite his devilishly handsome features, one goofy smile is enough to put anyone at ease. Convince them to talk him up, thinking they might score a chance. But ever since this little "thing" between the two of you started, when that sly glint in your eyes lured him right where you wanted, he's gotten more efficient at blowing people off.

Just to be the lucky one to have you.

You wish you could be annoyed or tired of him. Content to flirt with one of the many other pretty women and men vying to get your attention. But once again, it seems like you'll be going home with your little brother's best friend.

Warm hands roam your body. Eager to nudge his thigh between yours, you can feel the pleased grumble in his chest under your palms. He likes your outfit. Fingers tease at the large open slits around your waist, hooking underneath the silver double chain that decoratively runs across your hip bones. He tugs up questioningly and raises his eyebrows at the saucy wink you send him.

"Lace and beads," you challenge, "or nothing on at all?"

Mingyu wrinkles his forehead in thought, biting his lip at the faint detection of something hard amidst the heat of your cunt pressing into his thigh. "Fuck, you're dirty."

"What's your guess?"

"What do I get if I'm right?"

"Shouldn't you be asking what's the punishment going to be if you're wrong?"

"I'm sure I'll like it either way."

The disco lights blur when he spins you again, the narrow tip of your heels almost make you lose your balance if he didn't have such a steadfast hold on you. Like he'd let you go on his own accord. If possible, he presses the back of your body even tighter against his firm body so you can feel how much he wants you. Not that it's hard to miss, tight pants almost unable to contain such thick thighs, well-shaped ass, and specifically his dick bulge — especially when it's straining against its leather confines.

"Naughty boy."

"Says the one that always looks so fuckable every time we meet," his tongue plays with the tiny hoop on the upper part of your ear. "So goddamn sexy."

"Bet if I told you to, you'd take out your dick for me right now. Slip it right inside of me in front of all these people."

The change in music drowns out his reply but you can easily tell what it is by the desperate roll of his hips. Like a puppy in heat, he grinds pathetically against the thin blue material covering your body searching for some semblance of relief.

You snake an arm behind his neck to grab at the fluffy locks he's growing out because he knows you like to pull at it. Mingyu readily brings his lips to your neck to lather you in hot, open-mouthed kisses. Throwing your head back against his shoulder and swaying to the beat, he continues to casually explore. Wandering hands move upwards, appreciating the access to your midriff above the high waistband.

Brushing underneath the swell of your chest, you hear his frustrated moan at the crisscrossed laces just barely stretching enough fabric to cover your breasts. His brain goes fuzzy with the thought of one light tug freeing those gorgeous tits. The only thing holding him back from doing exactly that is the not-so-subtle gaze of the pretty woman that's been keeping her eye on the two of you moving around the dance floor.

Who she wants is uncertain. Maybe both? The two of you are trying to blend in, acting as if you're not about to tear each other's clothes off right now. A fleeting glance and you probably look like the average dancers surrounding you but a steady, piercing gaze is enough to figure out the undeniable sexual tension between the two of you.

"And you say you're not naughty, Mr. Kim."

He knows you can read him like an open book. "Only for you, god… you know the things you do to me. You alone. But fuck, is this a one-piece?"

"Yeah, you like it?"

"'Course I do, how could I not? But how am I supposed to take it off? I like you better naked, after all."

"Who says you'll be the one taking it off?" Your aloof tone makes him whine and you chuckle. "Luckily, I know a very efficient way to undress."

"Gonna give me a hint?"

Mingyu knows you've started to pay zero attention to any flirtatious gazes when you're in his arms. Which is why he refuses to let go. But of course, you have other plans. You pry one of his hands away from your waist, interlocking your fingers together. Once his grip loosens enough, you step away from his warmth and firm body. Keeping your hand in his, you turn to face him and tilt your head.

"Your answer?"

Brown eyes sparkle mischievously as he weighs his options on how to answer the initial question asked. Your patience will grow thin if you have to wait any longer so he makes up his mind with a toothy grin.

"Bet you have nothing covering that pretty pussy of yours."

Mingyu lets himself be willingly yanked forward by the hand you're still holding. His lips collide with yours and he's quick to brush his tongue across your lips, asking for entry. You hum in contemplation once you feel his hands wander down to squeeze at your ass and press your pubic bone roughly against his bulge. Your mouth opens slightly, enough so your tongue can poke out and tangle with his. It's a battle he's suddenly determined not to lose as he fights and wrestles against your dominance in his overeagerness.

You press a hand against his pectoral to try and steady him so he doesn't knock you over and feel his heart beating at a rapid pace. Pulling away, you shake your head at the way he chases after your lips.

"You're awfully bold for someone who knows their answer is wrong."

"I love kissing you," Mingyu admits more to himself than you yet you catch it anyway. It had taken months for even a peck on the cheek to be allowed. Of course, he'd be delighted with whatever few opportunities he's granted to lavish you in and with a kiss or more.

"Savor it now, baby boy 'cause you won't get another chance tonight."

He's elated, smiling at you and puffing out his chest. Eyes darkening with a carnal desire at the strawberry and cream flavor he can taste with a swipe of his tongue over his own lips. Grateful that you said "for tonight", not forever. A thumb daringly smears the complementary lip tint even further from where it's smudged and escapes the desirable shape of your mouth.

"Oh, I look forward to whatever you have planned."

—

Mingyu lowkey regrets those words an hour later when his cock is still achingly hard — oozing precum that's dripping down the entire angry red length and coating his abs. He wishes he could let his mind wander to ward off the orgasm that's been denied its release but that's impossible with you in his vicinity.

Naked. On top of him. Fuck.

You'd shown him how effortlessly you could take off a difficult clothing set. To know one's surprise, you were the one who taught him how to effectively unclasp a bra with one flick. Obviously, anyone would easily shed their clothes to have a chance with Kim Mingyu, so you figured it wasn't that big of a deal.

But guiding a man on how best to pleasure their partner was no small feat. Although the man only cared to focus on what pleased you.

Of course, it was torturing him. Duh.

Even now, the thought of you simply undressing has his jaw tensing. No one should look that good getting naked. But it's you. Doing it for him.

"Shit!" he rasps out through clenched teeth.

"Aw, what's wrong, Gyu? Wanna cum already?"

"N-no."

"That's right, I didn't give you permission yet. Good boy."

He's panting, trying to keep his senses together but they're so dizzyingly saturated with everything that's you.

The flashbacks.

When you'd loosened the laces and let your tits bounce out from their binds, putting on a little show for him per his request. Squeezing them together and releasing before bending over to show off the round curve of your ass and the pretty little thong you had on. Lace, chains, and beads in all the right places he'd felt earlier, you knew you could wear fancier lingerie without him ripping it because Mingyu wasn't allowed to touch.

The present.

His hands are gripping the sheets so tightly they might rip but both of you could care less about a hotel's bedding. Veins lining his arms pop out in irritation as he struggles to rein in how much he wants to touch you, knowing you let him get his fill out on the dancefloor and you'll more than likely let him cum faster if he's well-behaved.

The visuals.

You're gliding back and forth on top of his dick, not sheathing it fully inside you. Alternating between jerking him off with your hand instead while you sit on his thighs so he can feel your slick arousal all over them. He's doing so good for you and you're pleased. You'd already cummed once, making sure to slip just the tip in so he loses his mind over how tight you clench around him for kicks and giggles.

He was not beneath begging for you, knowing you thrived off of it. It would be a lie to say it didn't stroke your ego to have such a big, broad, beautiful man fall apart and break into pieces for you. He might've even cried, definitely feeling his eyes water in desperation now. You love it.

So much that you dismount, turning your back as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. Mingyu moans without shame but this one's out of despair. He'd rather be denied any release from the immense pleasure you've subjugated him to than ignored.

"Hush, baby boy, I just want to capture how pretty you look for me. That's okay, right?"

"Will you let me cum? I wanna cum so bad. Pretty please?" Hips jutting up at the chill in the air making his dick uber sensitive as it flops pathetically against his stomach. "Please, please, please!"

His "pleases" trail off into a mumbled mess of plaintive begs, big brown eyes pleading. You purse your lips in sympathy when he sniffles, shifting so you can run your hand through his bangs and then cup his flushed cheek.

"Shh, I'll let you cum baby, I will. But you know I need you to answer me." Taking pictures was already established between the two of you — both having your fair share of candid polaroids and videos stored away. But it was still a vulnerable decision and you wanted his clear consent. "Want to hear it from this mouth of yours."

Your thumb traces Mingyu's plump upper lip the same way he did to you earlier. Although you don't hesitate to slip it inside. He readily sucks on your finger and closes his eyes, using it as an anchor to stabilize his breathing and try to clear the haze clouding his senses.

"Y-yeah… Go ahead."

"Good boy, see that wasn't so hard." You snap a few pictures, eating up how good his dewy skin looks under the lighting. You're kind enough to not leave him wanting for too long, finally returning to wrapping your hand around his leaking cock. "Unlike this bad boy."

"'M sorry."

"Don't apologize, you're a vision to behold, Mingyu," you scold seriously. "And never forget that."

"Oh… kay."

"You deserve to cum don't you, baby? Sorry for making you wait so long." You both know you're full of shit. You're not sorry. "Well-behaved boys deserve their rewards, I'll even film a good shot of when you cum — you decide where so you can save it for when you're lonely."

"Th-thank you," Mingyu wheezes out when you begin easing his cock between your pussy lips. Achingly you start to sink down, light spasms causing your hole to ripple delightfully around the full stretch of his girth.

"As long you don't cum until I say so or you'll end up licking it off the bed."

He's so tense you're starting to fear he could tear the mattress. Consolingly, you bring his large hands up to your breasts, encouraging him to squeeze and tug at them as he pleases. Like his favorite set of stress balls, he focuses on kneading them in a way that has you arching your back and causing you to fully sheathe him inside faster.

Sometimes Mingyu can win in the smallest of ways.

You let out paired sighs of relief when the bottom of your ass meets his thighs. "Where do you wanna cum, baby?"

"Inside, god please, inside!"

He babbles helplessly at the sensual way you swivel your hips but you know he can't hold on much longer and want to ensure your puppy man gets his much-needed relief. "Your wish is my command."

The guttural noise he lets out is followed by an incoherent gibberish of him thanking you as he starts to paint your inner walls white with his release. It's a long one that lasts spurt after spurt with an enormous amount of tension unloading from his entire body. You ride him through it, the pleasant way he's twitching inside you setting off your own climax and milking all that he's worth.

You're quicker to recover, obviously. Tilting your phone camera at the perfect angle, you press the red recording button and slowly move your hips up. He grumbles at the loss of your warmth but you coo at him, fingers tapping soothingly where you've braced your hand against his abs for some support.

"Look how good you filled me up, Gyu." You're speaking more to the future Mingyu that will definitely be watching this but the Mingyu now is still listening. "Such a good boy."

He whines at the view he can see, the way globs of his release ooze out of your cunt at every clench you make for show. It's dirty and sinful which is your strongest suit. You save the video and send it to him once you're satisfied, noticing the way his eyelids are starting to droop.

Shaky legs carry you to the bathroom. You return with a washcloth, making sure to be very gentle wiping him down. He shifts onto his side when you've finished and extends his arm over the spot beside him, a silent invitation for you to crawl under the covers you pulled up over his broad shoulders.

And of course, you do. Well aware of how much he likes to cuddle and cling. Mingyu's a needy man all over and a large part of you feels guilty at being unable to give him what he deserves the most.

But he keeps this game going, continually showing up at every bar or club you inform your brother you're stopping by. You're not sure if you hate it or like it. You've left many openings for him to slip away and yet the man doesn't — only insisting on getting even closer.

Not even the cold, empty side of where you laid next to him as he fell asleep is enough to discourage him. You see, you're not wrong but Mingyu's not simply needy. He's stubborn too.

A dreamy grin graces his face at the sight of your trademark pink post-it note left on the nightstand for him. It never says much of any substance but it's not like he bothers reading it. He presses a kiss against the lip stain you always leave on it, breathing in the tantalizing strawberry and cream scent he knows so well that emanates from it. Then he slips it alongside the many others in his wallet. Right next to his favorite nude picture of you and the expired, unused condom from the first night he tumbled into bed with you.

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