#//I had a good time with all of my threads

[s0dium]

𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘

A/n: For all my weird tumblr smut AO3 girls Synopsis: No one expects the weird girl to have such a good pussy. Warnings: Male whimpering, squirting, pussy drunk men, pervert y/n, unprotected sex

No one suspects the weird girl to be a perverted fiend.

No one suspects the weird girl who reads AO3 and Tumblr on the bus and has key chains of their favorite chibi anime guy. No one suspects the girl who fumbles over their words during a presentation, the girl who goes to classes in sweaters and sweatpants, the girl who spends her time daydreaming about fictional scenarios. No one suspects the girl who always seems shy and sweet, only to have a secret stash of explicit fanfiction hidden on her phone, the kind that would make even the most confident person turn red.

And of course, no one expects the weird girl to have such good pussy.

So when the confident, smooth-talking guy gets you in his bedroom, how the hell is it possible that he is trembling from pleasure just from slipping his tip in?

"Fuck, I c-can’t—" he groans, his voice breaking as he stumbles over the words. His usual cool demeanor is completely shattered, replaced with breathless gasps and desperate sounds. His head is thrown back, neck taut, and his eyes are screwed shut like he’s trying to hold onto every ounce of composure, terrified that if he opens them, the mind-numbing pleasure coursing through him will slip away. Every time your pussy squeezes around his aching dick his body trembles uncontrollably, muscles tensing and relaxing in waves as he tries to keep himself together.

"Look at me," you coo, your voice steady despite the pounding of your own heart. You may be practically a virgin, but you're by no means an idiot. Hours of reading smut, scrolling through Twitter porn threads, and indulging in endless fantasies have taught you more than you'd ever admit. You've spent too many nights alone, lost in stories and scenes where you imagined yourself in control, learning every filthy detail in your mind until it felt like second nature. So now, laying here with him unraveling over you, you're anything but inexperienced.

He locks eyes with you, big and desperate and you cup his perfect face with trembling hands.

"You're mine tonight ok?" you whisper, bringing him in just enough for your breath to tickle his lips, your voice low and dripping with confidence you didn't know you had. "Every sound, every breath—your mine."

"F-fuck, y-yeah I'm yours" he groans, accentuating his words with a sharp thrust right into your cervix, knocking the wind out of you.

"Mmm!" You cry. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides in and out of you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making him let out a low groan of his own as he thrusts even deeper into you. 

“Y/n I-I can feel you doing it to me,” he says hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot makes your brain go fuzzy. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as he rams into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" He grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. "Because this is how we were doing it in mine." He felt good? Try euphoric. How could it be possible that pussy feels this good?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion he makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

And of course, no one expects the weird girl to be a squirter.

You don't know whats happening and you don't have enough to warn him. Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to him as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

He stills his motion and watches through wide eyes as clear liquid sprays onto his abdomen and you tremble and moan. As you floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breath came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"Why did you stop?" You whisper.

Sukuna, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro

#weirdgirlpussy

[drchucktingle]

sometimes buds ask’ what is it like to be a neurodivergent artist?’ and this is great summary: the charts can look like this, and at same time people will be endlessly posting on how you are ‘not real’ or ‘a bit’. you can hold bestsellers in slot 1 to 4 and still not be 'serious'

i am ultimately ok with this. i love my trot and would not have it any other way, but i think it is worth investigation. when irony poisoning has seeped into everything, how many times does a neurodivergent person have to say ‘actually this is NOT so bad its good. its just good’

when you are autistic, or queer, or both, how much proof do you need to be considered good art? or good business? what do the charts have to look like for me to be a ‘real’ author? or allowed my face mask at a library association conference? or one person not a group of writers?

im coming up on a decade of writing tinglers soon, and people are still talkin about my ‘serious’ works vs my ‘joke books’ and at every turn, as kindly as i can, i shout from the rooftops: THEY ARE ALL SERIOUS BOOKS. THIS IS NOT A BIT.

but its hard when buds have had ‘the correct way to be a writer. the correct way to be an artist. the COOL way to react to a book that is TOO weird’ pounded into their heads by internet culture. 'kill it with fire' they say. 'i need eye bleach' they say without thinking. a line.

heres the thing, the tide IS turning. theres buckaroos jumping in and saying, ‘I want to be a part of this’ and for that they are being rewarded. the publisher who took me seriously is lookin pretty dang good right now with these charts and these sales. i am honored and moved

over time there will be more buds who shed that irony mask. the tide of sincerity is powerful, and the tide of love is inevitable. it is difficult to stand strong in our uniqueness but it also pays off, and I hope to be a shining example. eventually THE TIMELINE BENDS TO YOU

so this is not a thread to complain. i have been trotting long enough that these things do not really bother me. being made fun of and disparaged as ‘not legit art’ while also being objectively successful at the things im made fun of about is kind of the ocean that i swim in.

no. my point of this is to say THANK YOU to those of you who have been trotting by my side over these years. THANK YOU for proving love to me. im so honored by your support, and you should know that YOU have seen beyond the irony poisoned veil that stops many others. YOU get it.

and to those with their own unique perspective on creation: look what you can do. yes there will likely be a lot of resistance to something different, but there is also a LOT of reward. YOU can trot a new path. YOU can prove love is real, not in MY way, but IN YOUR OWN WAY

anyway thank you for reading buckaroos. thank you for your support. LUCKY DAY comes out next summer and it is probably as FAR OUT and existential as the tingleverse has ever gone. you can preorder it here

[giannaln4]

Lucky Bracelet

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Making friendship bracelets was one of your favourite things to keep you entertained during race weeks, and you just had to make a special one for your boyfriend.  (1.5k words)

warnings: fluff, established relationship, a couple sexual innuendos

a/n: guys look at me! two posts in one week? crazy. i'm honestly trying to clean up my inbox since i still have a few requests from before my break 😭 so if you sent one, i'm getting there, i promise! now, this is a little bit cheesy and there are a few weird time skips so I apologise for that, but i really hope you like it! pls let me know what you think 🫶🏻

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Being constantly surrounded by hundreds of people and the double amount of cameras was not something you liked, but it’s something you had to put up with given the amount of attention your boyfriend got; it was something you have learnt to deal with. Not that you were fully used to it now, but at least it didn’t make you as anxious as it used to when you first started dating.

At least now you found something that helped you get your mind off the intense atmosphere that surrounded you during race weeks: making friendship bracelets. You made a few when you went to see Taylor Swift in concert late last year, and it stuck with you since then.

You travelled with all the materials you needed: colourful beads and cotton threads, tape, scissors — the whole deal. It wasn’t like you made an insane amount of bracelets every time you accompanied Lando to a race, but if you were bored or overwhelmed, you knew you had something to do.

Today was one of those days; Lando was specially busy today, and given your shy and quiet personality, you didn’t know that many people around, so you decided to lock yourself in Lando’s drivers room and get to it, carefully picking the letters and colours you would use.

Lando hated to leave you alone. He was aware of the many things he had to do, but he didn’t expect them to take that long, so as soon as he got a little bit of free time to catch lunch, he went looking for you. 

“Hey,” he greeted one of the mechanics. 

“Hi mate, how is it going?”

“All good, thanks. It’s a bit hot outside but still nice.”

“And yet, you are wearing a hoodie.” He teased him.

Lando let out a laugh, well aware of his reputation. "Well, I still have to keep it in style, don’t I?”

“You do, we know.”

“Anyway, have you seen Y/N?” 

“She must be in your room. I haven’t seen her since the two of you got here this morning.”

He smiled, knowing exactly what you were up to if you hadn’t left the small space all day. “Thanks.”

Lando made his way to his room, carefully knocking on the door before coming in. He didn’t want to scare you and make you drop all your beads, which has happened more times than he would like to admit.

“Come in,” he heard you yell from inside.

He opened the door and gave you the sweetest smile you have ever seen. “Hey, I’m back.”

“Hey, what took you so long?” You dropped everything you were doing to direct your attention at him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know we would have to be there all morning, but I’m back for lunch.”

“It’s okay, and thank God, I’m starving.” You took a piece of tape to hold your bracelet in place and started to get up.

“What are you making here?” He asked you as he got closer to the small table, analysing what you had on display as the bright-coloured beads caught his eye.

“No, it’s a surprise.” You responded, quickly hiding your unfinished creation with your hands. 

“A surprise you say?” He came behind you to wrap his arms around you, softly kissing your head. 

You melted into his embrace and hummed in response, using one of your bags to hide it instead so you could hug your boyfriend back. “You can’t see it until you win this race.”

“Mhm, I see. What if I don’t win? When do I get to see it?” He questioned, not wanting to jinx his weekend, but he was still curious. 

“The next race you win.” You said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Got it. In that case, I’m gonna have to win this race.” He grabbed your hips to turn you around, kissing you on the lips once you were facing him.

You went to eat your lunch together as you normally did, enjoying each other’s company as you talked about anything you could come up with. Before you knew it, he had to go back to his duties, and even though you tried hard to act normal about being left alone so he wouldn’t feel guilty, he still noticed. He knew you better than you knew yourself, anyway.

“You can come with me if you want, that way you don’t have to be alone.”

“No, it’s okay. I know there are millions of people and cameras when you do these things."

He couldn’t help but feel guilty; he knew you were there to support him, so he hated to be apart from you when you did. “I’m sorry, love. I know you don’t feel comfortable when there are a lot of people around. You know you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to, you could always stay home.”

“If you don’t want me to come, just say that,” you joked.

“No, it’s not that,” Lando replied immediately. “I do want you here, I always do, but I hate that you feel like you have to hide.”

“Lan, I’m not hiding. Sure, I do prefer to stay inside, but it’s not because I want to hide from the world. Besides, that’s why I always bring something to entertain myself with. I’ll be fine, I promise,” you reassure him.

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you. “But if you want to go back to the hotel, that’s okay.”

The rest of the weekend went on a lot quicker, even though he was just as busy. Qualifying and race days were a lot less boring since you got to see the cars from the garage, enjoying the full wag experience. 

As the race went on, you couldn’t help but feel anxious and excited at the same time. Lando started from pole (which made you assure him the night before he would get to see the bracelet after the race), but you still had the need to crack your fingers every once in a while. There were only a few laps left, and he had led the entire race so far, and with the gap becoming bigger, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

Once he finally crossed that finish line with a 21-second margin, everyone in the garage cheered and jumped, celebrating Lando’s achievement. A lot of people gathered outside to see him get off the car and celebrate his third win himself, shouting his name and patting him in the helmet to congratulate him.

When it was time for the podium, you decided to go get the finished bracelet you kept in your purse and held it close to your heart, feeling extremely proud of Lando for the amazing race he just had. You couldn't stop the few tears that left your eyes; it made you so happy to see him accomplish his dreams. 

The whole thing was finally over, and you waited for him right there so you could finally express how proud of him you were. 

“Congrats, baby,” you said, hugging him as if you hadn’t seen him in months. “You did amazing.”

“Thank you.” Lando couldn’t erase the big smile off his face as he hugged you back. 

“That’s a cool trophy you got back there.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care about that.” He said, puling away and looking down at you. 

“You don’t?” You asked confused.

“No, I’m still waiting for my real reward.”

“Oh… we can go back to the hotel-”

“No!” He interrupted you, laughing loudly at the fact that your mind went there. “I mean my bracelet, didn’t you say I would get it if I won this race? Well, I did, and now I’m claiming it.”

You laughed, your cheeks burning a bit from embarrassment. “Right, uh- it’s not that great compared to your trophy.”

“I’m sure it’s better than any trophy I could ever get.”

Man, he really knew how to be the sweetest boyfriend in the entire world. You pulled the bracelet out of your pocket, hiding it in your fist before dropping it in his hands. 

The colours were the first thing that caught his attention. Fluoro green and black beads. He inspected these first, until he got to the little letters that read ‘MY WINNER’. He almost couldn’t contain his tears; he was so endeared by you and how much you supported his passion.

“I love it,” he whispered, lifting you up and kissing you emotionally before putting you back down and sliding the bracelet in his wrist, admiring the way it looked there. “Thank you.”

“See? I told you you would get to see it today.”

“It must be a lucky bracelet, then. I’m never taking it off.”

You giggled at this, loving how Lando reacted to the bracelet you made with much love, but you still thought he was just messing with you. “You must be tired.” You teased him.

“Mhm. Now, about my other reward-”

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes as you let out a loud laugh, holding his hand as you made your way to the car.

[robo-writing]

Logan happy trail. Logan happy trail. Logan happy trail—

You’d never stoop so low as to say you have a favorite part of Logan—he’s your boyfriend after all, you love him for all his faults and features. There isn’t a single thing you could ever definitively point out and say “that’s my favorite.”

However, if you had to choose—

“Christ doll, you’re lookin’ at me like a starving dog,” he says with a smug. “What’s got you so worked up?”

You’ve been waiting for him to come back from training all day, sitting on the couch practically counting the seconds. The training session he just came from must have been intense; shirt off, his entire torso glistening with sweat—his happy trail on full display.

You don’t even pretend to be ashamed, blatantly staring at the lovely trail of hair that starts from his belly and moves further down to where the rest is covered by a pair of low-hanging jeans. You’re forcefully pulled from your ogling, hand at your chin, removing your attention from his beautiful patch of hair to his face.

“Y’know, it’s rude to stare,” He whispers. His eyes hold only bad intentions, and you’re happy to oblige, leaning into his touch.

“Kinda wanna do more than just stare,” you whisper back.

His thumb reaches to stroke your cheek. You enjoy the soft touch, hands wandering closer to his torso to stroke the hair that’s been tempting you since he walked through the door, until he catches them in his own with a shake of his head.

“Baby, you know that’s bad manners,” He lets your face go and hooks his thumbs below his belt line, pulling his jeans down even further, exposing the veins that start to run from his v-line.

“If you want to touch, ask nicely.”

The words leave your lips embarrassingly fast. “Can I touch you? Please?”

Your thighs are rubbing together, hands at your side obediently. When he nods his head you reach forward, sliding your hands across his hot skin, nails scratching lightly with each pass, the softest groans escaping Logan with each touch.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Take what you want.”

Spurred on by his words you pull his pants down, boxers strained by the visible outline of his cock. Feeling mischievous, you place a kiss through the fabric, smile widening as you feel it twitch between your plump lips. He hisses in response, fingers curling around your hair.

“Don’t be a tease, or else I’ll leave you here all by yourself,” he says, tugging your head slightly. “We got a deal?”

You couldn’t say no if you tried, so pent up just the sound of his voice gets you riled up. “Promise, just lemme have a taste, I’ll behave.”

He mumbles something under his breath, tugging himself free. Pretty and pink, his cock in full view, still every bit as beautiful no matter how many times you see it. Your tongue peaks out from your lips, tracing every vein with excitement, a smile on your face as he strokes your hair.

“Just needed a taste, is that it?” He groans, rubbing his shiny tip against your lips. “Just needed your boyfriend’s fat cock in your mouth, didn’t you?”

You moan in response, opening your mouth as he feeds you what you’ve been waiting for. Slowly, gently, your tongue massaging the salty skin, inch by inch. Your hand reaches up to scratch at his happy trail and you can feel his cock twitch in response, a gruff laugh vibrating from his chest.

“Oh fuck me, you’re evil,” he sighs. You give him another scratch in response, enjoying the pre-cum that coats your tongue after.

The size of him never fails to make you work for it, heavy against your tongue as your spit runs down your chin. The sounds you make are lewd, sloppy—his fingers push your head further, forcing you to make more. One hand reaches to fondle his balls, the other still resting against his pubes. The feeling leaves Logan breathless, involuntarily thrusting against the wet heat of your mouth.

There’s only a single thread of self-control stopping him from grabbing your head with both hands and fucking your mouth, and you needed it cut yesterday. You force his hands into your hair, stare up at him with your best bedroom eyes, then lap at his balls.

His reaction is heavenly—eyes rolled back, hips stuttering, stomach sucked in as he calls your name.

“Darlin’ you’re gonna kill me,” he huffs, taking your head in his heads. Your lips return to the head of his cock, suckling at his sensitive tip when his fingers tighten in your hair.

You see his eyes darken, your only warning coming in the form of a command. “Keep your mouth open for me doll.”

Your pussy throbs, tongue unraveled as every inch of him slips past your lips and into your throat. Your eyes roll at the feeling, nose touching that oh-so-divine hair that got you here in the first place.

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” he grunts, “Ready for me?”

You moan your approval around his thick length, then gag as he makes good on his word. Every thrust has your hands bracing against his thick thighs, forced to do everything in your power not to choke. Your eyes water, nose full of his musky scent, drool pooling down your chest so much that it leaves a stain against your shirt.

Your brain is filled with nothing but Logan—his taste, his smell, the sound of his moans—it sends your body into overdrive, grinding against the fabric of the couch as he continues to use you for his own pleasure. You’re almost certain you’re leaving a stain against the pillows.

“Real desperate for it huh?” He hisses, using your mouth as a toy. “Gonna cum just like this ain’t you?”

Your lust-addled brain can’t even begin to form a response, but Logan smiles at your fucked-out expression anyway. He doesn’t need you to confirm what he already knows.

When he comes it’s with a shout, leaving you choking against his cock as you struggle to swallow it all. What you can’t runs from the sides of your mouth, his dick coated in a mix of saliva and seed. You greedily gulp down air, a cock-drunk smile plastered against your features as you kiss at his softening cock, then bury your face and nuzzle again his happy trail, tasting the sweat that lingers. The sticky feeling between your legs makes you think at some point you came, pussy still throbbing with that familiar aftershock.

You look like hell, but damn it if you aren’t satisfied—hair a mess, spit and cum staining your skin, tears running down your cheeks—Logan thinks you’re beautiful like this.

“I know vacuums that got less suction than you, fucking hell,” Logan says, still out of breath from what was most certainly a mind-blowing orgasm. He leans down to kiss at your cum-stained lips, messy and unoriented. “Hope you’re ready for me to return the favor princess, because we ain’t finished.”

[ryescapades]

❝ [ kiss the bride! ] ╰┈➤ of the same thread (kaiju no. 8)

characters: narumi gen x lil sister!reader + hoshina soshiro cw: fluff, crack, hint of sexy times but nothing detailed a/n: silly brainrot time for my otst series >:) can be read as a standalone! <700 wc | mini series masterlist

imagine your and hoshina's wedding ceremony where narumi severely insists that he becomes the marriage officiant for you two. no priest or government official whatsoever. him, your older brother.

and as the time comes when narumi has to give his speech, he'd drone on and on about 'how big of a responsibility it is to be one's equal, how hard it is to juggle both work and personal life, how important it is not let your spouse struggle on their own' and whatnot.

and then he'd end his speech with something along the lines of "any objections towards this... wonderful union?"

lines upon lines of family and friends gathering, not a single person in the beautifully decorated hall says a word. because all of them support you and hoshina. except one, it seems.

narumi proceeds to wait for a response.

there might've been a crow flying by, perhaps.

with your hair perfectly done, face prettily dolled up and body gorgeously draped in your customized wedding dress, you shift uncomfortably on your heeled feet as you realize what the long pause is for.

gods, you're this close to strangling the loving heck out of your brother.

your husband-to-be sighs with a deprecating smile on his face, clad in his suit and looking as charming as ever (you had almost lunged to grab at his neatly straightened tie when you first stepped into the hall, to run your hair through his soft violet strands, to mess up his gracefulness and make him look as utterly ruined as he was a few nights ago... fuck, now you're irritated and horny).

"you're stallin'," hoshina finally points out your brother's obvious attempt at halting the ceremony. narumi raises an eyebrow, "no, i'm not. i'm just asking for opinions from everyone. it's good etiquette to include others too, you know?" he nonchalantly says.

that's bullshit, of course. if anything, hoshina soshiro is more versed in etiquette than narumi has ever been in his entire life.

"literally no one is sayin' anything right now," the swordsman deadpans, causing your brother to shrug. "maybe they just need more time. this is a serious matter, after all. need to think it over and all. what do you know about time, huh? hastily proposing to my sister in a goddamn hospital room after she just recovered. tch, so unethical."

"as if you bein' the officiant is not a derogatory towards ethics and tradition itself." narumi snaps at that, the faint pinkish tints that dust his cheeks reflecting his embarrassment, "what did you just say?!"

unaware of how loud his inner voice can get, kafka speaks up, "what are they arguing about? i thought they're gonna kiss already?" he asks reno as they stand side by side at the rows of seats below the altar.

the three of you freeze, reno's eyes dart around uneasily and kikoru visibly hides her face in her hands, internally groaning at the whole situation from somewhere in the distance.

hoshina turns to the older man. "kafka, ever given a marriage officiant speech before? i got a new job for ya," he says. narumi jolts beside him, stunned. "oi, what are you trying to do?!" he sneers just as the crowd starts to chatter in hushed whispers.

trailing his eyes up and down, then up and down narumi's figure again patronizingly before hoshina says, "dischargin' you from your current position, of course. what else?"

"excuse me? who gave you the right to do that?!"

"i'm the groom here. i can do whatever i want at my wedding, captain narumi."

the crowd becomes rowdier, and you grit your teeth, cursing in annoyance when the two dick-measuring males don't seem like they're gonna stop anytime soon.

you just wanted to get married in peace and this is what you have to deal with? such blasphemy!

and thus you finally snap, loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear, "for fuck's sake - may the groom fucking kiss the bride!" you insert yourself between your brother and your now husband, pulling hoshina into a ferocious kiss that he scrambles to reciprocate. narumi and all the other attendees gasp scandalously, which you don't pay any attention to, too busy trying to get yourself officially married.

all's well that ends well, you suppose.

taglist: @maruflix @pixelcafe-network @iamjellyfish @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020 @bgyuus @moon-cakiie

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[patrywoso]

18. Ingrid x Mapi x reader

+18 smut

Warnings: Strap-Ons. Spanking. Mommy Kink. Punishment. 

A/N: Thank you @ljs-woso-vibez for proofreading this fic and making all this much easier

Ingrid strutted back and forth before the two kneeling women, her footsteps echoing throughout the room. “You two sure have an awful lot of nerve,” she remarked. Her voice was level, her tone almost conversational, unlike the words coming out of her pretty mouth. “I do my best to make the rules very clear. So, the question is, were you deliberately ignoring the rules, or just being a couple of stupid, bratty girls?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the elbow from Mapi kept you quiet.

Ingrid raised a brow. “Have you got something to say, little girl? Go ahead, say it.”

“It was Mapi’s fault…she wanted to fuck, and she said you’d never know and...” you rambled on.

“Dammit, you didn’t have to say that…!” Mapi snapped. 

Ingrid patted your head. “Good girl,” she cooed. “Thank you for your honesty.” She knelt to press a kiss to your lips.

It was abundantly clear that Mapi was jealous of the affection you were receiving, though she certainly wasn’t going to speak up without permission as you both were in enough trouble already. Ingrid was very affectionate with you and Mapi. However, she was extremely strict during the punishments you received when you broke the rules.

The first and foremost rule was that you and Mapi must always ask permission if you wanted to have sex. Ingrid usually granted permission, so long as she was there to watch. That week, though, Mapi had been horny and impatient, and Ingrid wasn’t there to grant permission, away on a Norway national camp. So, she’d begged and convinced you to go along with breaking the rule, even knowing Ingrid would be angry.

When Ingrid pulled away from your lips, she glanced at Mapi and saw the jealousy in her eyes. “Darling, you only have yourself to blame,” she reminded. “Perhaps if you take your punishment well, I’ll feel like rewarding you...”

Mapi nodded and said nothing.

With that, Ingrid turned on the remote vibrator pressed against Mapi’s clit. “You’re to remain still and silent,” she instructed, “And under no circumstances are you allowed to cum. Do you understand me, kitten?”

“Yes, Mommy,” Mapi mumbled.

Turning to you, Ingrid said, “You are going to help me show Mapi what she’s missing.” Ingrid settled in the armchair facing Mapi, and patted her lap in a silent command for you to come and straddle her thighs.

“Thank you, Mommy,” you murmured, taking the position, an eager smile on your lips.

Ingrid threaded her fingers in your hair, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” she cooed. “Do you like being punished?” You shrugged, but your smile gave away your mischief.

“Slutty little thing,” Ingrid teased. “Want to ride my thigh until you cum?”

You nodded eagerly, grinding down on Ingrid’s leg in search of friction.

“Does it feel good?” Ingrid asked. “Tell Mapi what she’s missing.”

On a shaky sigh, you said, “I’m sorry... I’m going to cum. I need... I need it.”

Mapi whimpered, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip to quell the urge to beg, knowing Ingrid wouldn’t be swayed by her pleas. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing the image of your climax would be too much to bear without making a sound.

“Open your eyes, kitten” Ingrid demanded. “You’ll want to see this.”

With a shuddering breath, Mapi obeyed. Opening her eyes just in time to see your entire body go tense as you thrust your hips against Ingrid’s thigh, once, twice more before cumming with a cry of, “Fuck, Mommy!”

“Good girl,” Ingrid purred. “You look so beautiful when you cum. Doesn’t she, kitten?”

“She does,” Mapi agreed, voice strangled as she struggled to keep control over herself while the vibrator buzzed against her clit.

Ingrid patted your cheek. “I’m done with you now. Back in line.” 

Once you were kneeling on the floor, Ingrid said to Mapi, “She made quite a mess. Do you want to clean it up?”

Mapi nodded and Ingrid stood, crossed to stand before her, wrapping her fingers around Mapi’s hair and pulling her in until Mapi could pass her tongue along her soaked thigh. Obediently, Mapi cleaned up every last drop of your juices. Then, she changed to pressing kisses along Ingrid’s thigh, higher and higher until she was nearly at Ingrid’s clit.

Ingrid turned up the vibrations buzzing against Mapi’s clit. She clicked her tongue scoldingly as Mapi yelped. “Did I say you could do that?” she snapped.

“No, Mommy, but I just...”

“You were just being a brat is what you were doing, kitten,” Ingrid said pointedly. “You know that’s a treat reserved only for good girls.” Ingrid studied Mapi’s trembling form for a few moments, then declared, “I think I’ve finally decided on your punishment. You’ll get a spanking, ten strikes to be exact and I want our little girl to administer them.”

“What?” you said.

“What!?” Mapi yelped at the same moment.

Ingrid nodded firmly. “Would you prefer not to cum at all? Those are your choices.” When Mapi nodded her agreement, Ingrid said, “Proceed.”

You brought your hand down on Mapi’s ass with a smacking sound.

“One,” Mapi counted, gasping slightly at the sudden sharp contact.

As your hand came down for the tenth and final time, Mapi was trembling with the effort of maintaining her composure and Ingrid’s grin was positively smug as she watched, almost daring her to cum without permission. Mapi barely hanging on to her modicum of control.

“I’m impressed,” Ingrid remarked with a raised brow, apparently surprised. “You managed remarkably well. I was not expecting such a little brat to take her punishment so well.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” Mapi replied, panting softly. The adrenaline coursing through her system was slowly abating, giving her better reign over her senses once again.

“You’ve both been relatively well-behaved tonight,” Ingrid remarked. “And I’m thinking that one of you two deserves a reward. Unfortunately, you were both very bad. So, only one of you will be getting rewarded tonight. The other will watch and get nothing, learning a very valuable lesson in the process.”

Mapi and you shared a look of silent debate, amusing Ingrid. “Don’t worry, I’m a fair woman,” she purred. “I’m going to flip a coin, and our little girl will call it for me.”

“Heads, Mommy.”

Ingrid flipped the coin, letting it fall to the floor between the two waiting women. “What does it say?”

You swallowed thickly, gaze darting from the coin, to Mapi, to Ingrid. “Heads, Mommy,” you repeated.

Ingrid grinned and mussed your hair. Then, she turned to Mapi and said, “Do me a favour first, kitten.” Mapi nodded, teeth scraping over her bottom lip. “Suck my cock.” It was a command, not a request.

“Yes, Mommy,” Mapi husked. She watched as Ingrid fastened herself into the harness, practically salivating in anticipation.

“Good girl,” Ingrid praised. She could see your jealous little pout from the corner of her eye. “Don’t worry,” she assured you, “It’s only to get my strap ready for you.” She tilted your face up so she could kiss you. Then, she turned to Mapi. “Get to work.”

Mapi obliged by opening her mouth, crawling over on her knees, her gaze never leaving Ingrid’s. She wrapped her hand around the base of the strap, her tongue flicking out over her bottom lip, a small groan leaving her as once again Ingrid wrapped her fingers around her hair. With a steadying breath, Mapi took the strap into her mouth, cheeks hollowing out as she sucked on the tip. She kept her eyes fixed on Ingrid’s as she lowered her head until she’d taken the entire length into her mouth, holding it in her throat for a moment. Her eyes watered slightly, not quite able to fully breathe, but she trusted Ingrid completely and was more than content to let her have full control. 

Mapi pulled back until the strap slipped from her mouth and she could once again breathe, as she gulped down air, she stroked the strap with her hand, the other still gripping tight to Ingrid’s thigh.

“You look so good with my strap in your mouth,” Ingrid purred, her hips twitching in time with Mapi’s stroking, “So pretty with your lips wrapped around me like a good little kitten.”

Mapi lifted the strap, dragging her tongue along the underside, then kissing the tip. She didn’t speak, knew that wasn’t what Ingrid wanted her to be doing with her mouth. She once again took the strap in her mouth, sucking hard as she bobbed her head, letting the strap fill her mouth and throat with each stroke. Ingrid hummed a pleased note as she watched. 

“You’re doing so good,” she moaned, gripping Mapi’s hair tighter, struggling not to force her head down any further than was comfortable for Mapi.

Ingrid could feel her juices dripping down her thighs, the sight and sounds of Mapi working her strap sinfully delicious, almost enough to bring her to the brink of cumming. Her hips bucked forward, the strap hitting the back of Mapi’s throat and making her gag. Ingrid paused, waiting for Mapi to tap out, but she didn’t, instead keeping eye contact in a way that let Ingrid know she was ready and able to take everything Ingrid had to give. 

With a growl from low in her throat, Ingrid thrust forward, slamming her hips into pink swollen lips. Mapi moaned around the strap, the sound spurring Ingrid on further as she set a rhythm with her thrusts, plunging the strap into Mapi’s throat.

“Such a good girl,” Ingrid murmured. “You’re doing so well.” Then, a stern command, “Make me cum. I want to cum in your mouth.”

With a little whimper, Mapi moved her hand between Ingrid’s legs, finger slipping easily into her cunt, making her cry out. Mapi’s thumb drew sloppy circles on her clit and Ingrid’s hips twitched in response, her pussy tightening around her fingers. Mapi wanted so badly to touch her own clit, but wasn’t so bold, knowing Ingrid would take away her strap and leave her desperate and needy for days on end.

Ingrid came suddenly, hips stuttering to a stop as her whole body trembled with the force of her climax. She cried out, hissing a sharp, “Fuck!” which only made Mapi want to smirk, filled with pride over so effectively having made her cum. Ingrid released the hand holding Mapi’s hair, letting her pull back from the strap and catch her breath. The saliva coated strap glistened in the overhead light, bobbing slightly as Ingrid caught her breath too.

With a wicked grin, Ingrid dragged two fingers through her dripping cunt, coating them in her juices, then offered them to Mapi for her to suck them into her mouth. Mapi more than willing obliged, eagerly cleaning off Ingrid sweet juices. You were obviously getting impatient, though, squirming in place as you tried to get friction between your legs without ever touching yourself, as you hadn’t been given permission.

“That’s enough,” Ingrid instructed Mapi who released her fingers reluctantly. Without another glance at her, Ingrid moved across the room to settle in the armchair once again. 

“Time for your reward, little girl,” she said to you, “On my lap.”

Eager and excited, you moved to swing your leg over Ingrid’s lap, letting Ingrid wrap her hands around your hips, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise. You grabbed the strap, lining it up with your entrance and sinking down on it with a throaty moan. You sat still, panting slightly, for a few moments as you adjusted to the size. You began moving up and down slowly, grinding your hips in slow circles. Ingrid’s hands travelled down to grip your ass, nails digging into your flesh, and you responded by gripping at Ingrid’s shoulders, giving her better leverage for her thrusts.

“What a good girl,” Ingrid cooed. “Tell me how good it feels.” She leaned forward, taking a hard nipple in her mouth and biting down on it.

“Mommy...” you whimpered at the feeling of teeth scraping across the sensitive bud. You were trembling already, and you knew you wouldn’t last very long at all. “Your strap feels so good...”

“Keep going,” Ingrid encouraged. She moved to lavish the same attention on your other breast. “Show me how much you want it.”

You nodded eagerly, working your hips at a frantic pace, knowing that if you slowed down too much, Ingrid might revoke your reward. “So good, Mommy... It’s so good.”

Ingrid’s fingers sought out your clit and began rubbing it in counterpoint to each of your thrusts. “I want you to cum for me,” she instructed. “Cum all over my lap like a good girl.”

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, yes… so good, Mommy!” you began thrusting more erratically, your thighs twitching with the effort of supporting yourself.

“That’s right, keep going,” Ingrid instructed. “I want to hear you.” She bucked her hips upward, slamming into you and knocking the air from your lungs. Ingrid watched, nearly salivating as your breasts bounced with each of her thrusts upwards.

You tightened your grip on Ingrid’s shoulders, almost to the point of pain, as you struggled to breathe, on the verge of falling apart. It didn’t take long for you to reach your climax, tossing your head back and crying out Ingrid’s name as you rode out the aftershocks, Ingrid’s finger still working your clit. On a shaky exhale, you said, “Thank you, Mommy.”

Ingrid pulled you in for a bruising kiss. “Good girl. I’m so proud of you.” She glanced over at Mapi who looked so sad. “Why don’t you go give Mapi a kiss, to make her feel better.”

You obliged, bringing your lips down on Mapi’s, indulging in the kiss until Ingrid said, “Stop.” Reluctantly, you broke apart, turning back to face Ingrid.

“Hopefully, the two of you have learned something, and next time you’ll be better behaved,” Ingrid said gently.

“Yes, Mommy,” the two of you said in unison.

[yandere-yearnings]

Thinking rrl hard about making out with Dice while riding him to oblivion ok bye

nonnie, i can't believe you dropped this into my inbox and ran that quick😭💔 but this put an image into my head that was honestly fucking nice, i would've liked to make this a bit longer if i weren't on a time crunch but anyway, i digress, hope this will suffice🥰

NSFW under the cut!

Your relatively normal lifestyle made you overly aware of every luxury that came your way — this moment was no different. A mansion in the suburbs, with the bathroom on the fifth story floor far bigger than it needed to be, and a bathtub large enough to fit both you and the man you had your lips locked on. The night danced with you, in shadows and shapes cast by the moonlight. Silver sparking in those dull greys, flickers of ecstasy concealed behind lidded eyes.

The water had long since drained. Cold droplets rolling down your thighs and onto his, reverberating echoes carrying your breaths to the walls. Lost to the sparks up your spine, to the stretch and burn that completed you. Your hips to his pelvis, grinding, rolling, drawing every moan you could from Dice's mouth, spit-slicked and calling your name on stolen air.

He thrust up into you and you had to stop your head from lolling back. So deliciously full, taking all you had not to be reduced to delirium. Your hands threaded through thick locks, pulled, hard. "Didn't I say," an exhale to the lobe of his ear, followed by teeth, "didn't I say I'd teach you to pace yourself? Have you gone dumb, baby?"

The tendons in his neck flexed when you pressed your thumbs to them, had him wincing and still looking so fucked out all at once. "I'm listening to you, aren't I?" He met you in the middle again, cock slipping deeper than before, stars exploding in series past flesh and sinew.

It had your arms wrapping around him, had your body melding right into his. You could give him everything for this pleasure, but it held no candles — Dice's desires shackled him to ruin. He'd chase this until it killed him.

"I could leave." That single threat was all it took, and he was still. Staring up at you bleary-eyed, the closest you'd seen him to tears; you laughed, light, happy. Control felt good.

Tongue to tongue, chest to chest, the centre of a storm that thrummed at your fingertips, that you could reach out to, touch and taste. "Good boy, that's it," again you rocked down — rewarded him. Words pressed to his skin, consuming him wholly within yourself, your entire lives eternalised in this moment, "you follow me."

[chubbydino]

since i probably won't finish it...

Max pulled at the clasp of his TAG Heuer Monaco with a lump in his throat. He felt sick. Everyone in the paddock assume it was the Singapore heat, and Max let them think it as he mopped more sweat from his brow. He certainly wasn’t built for humidity. His eyes burned and itched, but not from the stagnant air or sweat dripping into his eyes.

He’d only seen flashes of Daniel since the checkered flag, and each one made Max feel worse than the last. First, the glimpse of him bent over in the cockpit, taking in the moment like it would be his last in a way that made Max’s heart crush itself. Then the brief look to the screens during interview, where he’d seen Daniel’s tears and the fake smile he knew almost as well as his own.

Racing was as exhilarating as it was cruel. Max’s father taught him early. Doom was always licking at his heels, ready to swallow him when he stumbled. Max feared that Daniel was already lost to the shadowy depths, and he’d been too busy fighting for second fucking place to see it. 

“Max?” his press officer called through the door to his driver room. 

“Yes, you can come in,” Max replied, still fussing with the clasp on his watch. He was two holes past the biggest notch—the one from his eighteen year-old wrist. 

Now, he had a girlfriend. One who knew who he really was and let him be it as long as he didn’t make it public. Max had no intention of ever doing that, because he wasn’t fucking gay. He wasn’t. He was just whatever it meant to be in love with someone who happened to be a man. He didn’t like men—only one. He only loved one.

“Daniel left already,” Max’s press officer said, still out of breath from her jog across hospitality.

Max blinked. “What?”

“He changed and left.”

Max’s stomach dropped through the floor. 

He thought of Niki Lauda, of all people. His dad didn’t like Niki. His dad said Niki bet on the wrong horse, that he was an idiot everyone called a genius because he had a stick so far up his ass it talked for him sometimes. Max only spoke to Niki a few times, but one time stood out. One moment, really.

This is the strange thing, Niki said. You send your life so focused on the seconds, then you say goodbye to a friend and never see them again. It will happen when you don’t expect it—just like everything else in this business.

Max cleared his throat. “Did they say where he was going?”

“The airport. He took his rental to turn it in.”

Max tugged the clasp in place. “Really? Who is he flying with? What charter?”

His press officer frowned. Her hair had curled in the humidity. He’d never say anything, but it didn’t look very good.

“Daniel booked a commercial flight,” she said softly. “He, um. He wanted the first plane out.”

Max’s insides twisted up on themselves. He scrambled for his backpack and slung it on. “Thanks for the info. I’m heading out too. Please have travel prep my jet—now.”

A year ago, Christian wouldn’t have allowed this. He’d force Red Bull to pay for a charter before he ever let Daniel fly with normal people. Even in first class, people loved to bother them. Everyone wanted signatures, pictures—they didn’t give a shit how you were feeling or what kind of day you had. 

He called Daniel as he ran for the car park. The phone rang but Daniel didn’t pick up, which meant he was still on land, at least.

Take my plane, he texted. Fuck first class.

The text thread was a barrage of blue. Max hadn’t realized how unresponsive Daniel had become since Friday, but he saw it now.

[seongwars]

forget me not | v

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.5K (i have to stop with these long chapters, im sorry) Warnings: infidelity, i think one swear word, punching, slut shaming (kinda), implications of smut

Fic Masterlist

a/n: i guess forget me not fridays are a thing now because i posted last friday too. i'd also like to thank insomnia for letting me churn out two fics in one week, though this chapter is kind of filler

Yunho wandered through the bustling marketplace, weaving between vendors hawking their wares—colorful silks, handmade pottery, baskets of freshly picked fruits. The chatter of townsfolk filled the air, their voices rising and falling in a way that brought the village square to life. 

From the corner of his eye, he noticed an elderly woman struggling with a large bundle in her arms. As she shifted the weight of the cloth-wrapped package, her grip faltered, and before she could stop it, the bundle slipped from her arms. Rice cakes and other delicacies tumbled to the ground, scattering across the dusty ground. People walked by, barely noticing her plight, but Yunho, instinctively, hurried over.

“Granny, are you okay?” He asked softly, kneeling to gather the scattered rice cakes. The old woman looked up, her eyes kind but weary, framed by deep lines etched by time. She smiled gratefully, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the fallen cakes.

“Thank you, dear. My old bones aren’t what they used to be,” she said, her voice gentle but tinged with exhaustion. Yunho gathered the last of her rice cakes, placing them back in her cloth bundle and tying it securely before handing it to her.

She looked up at him with a warm, toothy grin, the deep wrinkles around her eyes crinkling with gratitude. “You have a good heart,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret meant only for him. “I’d like to give you something in return.”

Yunho blinked, unsure of what to expect, but the anticipation settled in his chest. The woman’s frail hands moved slowly, carefully reaching into the folds of her worn hanbok. From its depths, she withdrew a small spool of red thread, delicate and faintly shimmering in the sunlight. 

Her gnarled fingers trembled slightly as she snipped a small length of the thread, the gesture deliberate, as if she had done this many times before. She placed the cord gently in Yunho’s hand.

“This is no ordinary thread,” she said in a low, almost mystical tone. “Those bound by this are connected by fate, their souls intertwined across time—no matter the distance, no matter the lives they live. You should only tie this to someone important to you.”

The thread shimmered faintly, its vibrant red hue standing out against the earthy tones of the village. Yunho could almost feel a pulse of energy coursing through it.

"I must be on my way now," she said, her voice soft as her eyes lingered on Yunho momentarily. "Thank you again for your help."

The elderly woman bundled her cloth together, adjusting it over her shoulder before standing upright. Her hunched figure vanished into the sea of bustling villagers, as if she had never existed at all.

"Yunho!" you shouted, breathless and laughing as you reached him. You grabbed his hand, tugging him along excitedly. “Come on, we’re gonna go play by the river!”

"Y/N, look what I got!" he exclaimed, holding up the delicate, shimmering red cord. “Some granny gave it to me! She said it’s special, but I have to be careful who I tie it to. Only someone really important.”

You tilted your head, curious as you eyed the thread. “Like your mom?” you asked, as if it was the most obvious choice.

Yunho hesitated for a second, then shook his head. “No, not my mom. Maybe... Gunho?” 

You nodded thoughtfully, swinging your arms as you looked up at Yunho. “Yeah, Gunho’s pretty important. He’s your brother, after all.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, thinking about the people in Yunho’s life—those who mattered most. Family, friends, the people who had shaped him in his premature life. But as the silence stretched, Yunho found his gaze shifting, not to the thread or the crowd, but to you.

Without thinking much of it, Yunho suddenly grabbed your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it gently. The moment he touched you, the warmth from the thread pulsed between his fingers, almost like it had its own heartbeat. He blinked, surprised at the sensation, but didn’t pull away. Instead, something in him clicked into place—something that told him this felt right.

“Y/N, you’re my friend,” he said softly, his voice more serious now. “I think...I think you’re important. Because you’re kind and you share your snacks with everyone.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone, but you smiled at him anyway, that carefree, trusting smile that Yunho had grown so used to. “Okay,” you replied, holding out your wrist without hesitation. 

Yunho’s fingers trembled slightly as he began to loop it around your wrist. It was a simple act, childlike in its innocence, but as the thread touched your skin, it felt like something much deeper was happening. 

“There,” Yunho said with a small smile, stepping back and letting your wrist go. His heart still beat a little faster than usual, but he tried to act like nothing had changed. “Now you’ve got your special thread.”

You looked down at it, your expression soft, eyes wide with wonder. “Do you think it’s really magic?” you asked, your voice quiet, almost reverent.

Yunho shrugged, trying to play it cool, but deep down, he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice light, but his heart told him otherwise. “But I hope so.”

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”

Yunho’s eyes met yours, the weight of your question lingering, heavy and fragile. He saw the confusion on your face, the struggle to grasp something intangible, and it tugged at his heart. There were many things he wanted to say, truths tangled in past memories you no longer held.

He took a deep breath, gathering his emotions, steadying himself as he gathered his thoughts. “I don’t expect you to remember everything,” he began softly. “I don't even know where to start. But…” He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching for yours. 

“I’m probably the only person who knows you can never finish a book.”

He let out a soft, affectionate chuckle despite the puzzled look on your face. “You always get distracted by a new one, even though you swear you’ll go back and finish the first one eventually.”

The words kept coming, each one a memory, each one a reminder of the person you were—the person you still were, even if you didn’t know it.

“Or how you’ve tried to convert me into being a Lions fan because you’re convinced blue suits me better than red. And when you’re really excited about something, your eyes look like they’re about to fall out of your face.”

His lips curled into a small, wistful smile, the kind that carried a hint of nostalgia. “I don’t expect you to remember everything,” he began, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“But know that to me, you’re everything.”

Yunho’s confession wasn’t a grand declaration or a desperate plea. It was simple, honest, and yet it carried all the weight of his heart. He wasn’t asking you to recall the memories you had sacrificed. He was offering you a glimpse into the life, into the person you had been, and still were, to him. 

His words pushed against the walls you had built around yourself. It was strange—your mind felt blank, yet your heart ached with a familiar longing. And in that moment, something clicked.

It was the trust Yunho had in you—the unshakable belief that whatever had connected you two before still lived deep inside, even if you couldn’t see it right now.

“I’m holding you to that,” you said, voice steady but softer than before. The promise hung in the air between you, binding you both to something larger than words or memory. “No matter what you have to tell me, I’d want to hear it from you. And before I forget…” 

You snapped your fingers and the air shimmered for a brief moment before the toy puppy Wooyoung had swiped from Yunho appeared. Its small, floppy ears were folded in a way that suggests it's seen better days. 

"Thought you might want this back," you chuckled, offering it to him. But before Yunho could take it, you waved your hand over the toy, casting a subtle protection spell. The air around it swirled with magic before sinking into the fabric, leaving a faint warmth behind. "You might need it."

Yunho’s mind drifted back to that day at the beach when you won the toy. You were excited, nuzzling it, saying you’d always have a version of him, no matter what happened. Now, as he held the same toy in his hands, Yunho felt as though he was holding a piece of you—keeping you close, even when you weren’t there.

He reached out, and as his fingers closed around the toy, they brushed against yours, sending a spark through the air between you—subtle, yet unmistakable.

“Thank you,” Yunho said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. His gaze flickered from the toy to your face, and there was a softness in his expression that tugged at something inside of you–a tenderness you couldn’t deny. 

"Take care of yourself," you murmured, the words simple but weighted with everything you couldn’t say out loud. It wasn’t just a casual goodbye; it carried the quiet hope that he would return. Yunho gave a soft, bittersweet smile, his hand lingering for a moment longer before he finally let go. 

⋆

The drive back to Seoul felt endless and suffocating. The hum of the engine was the only thing keeping Yunho tethered to reality, but even that felt distant, drowned out by the steady thrum of anxiety rising in his chest. He glanced at his phone, resting in the cup holder, the screen dim but waiting. He'd tried calling Haewon three times already, and each time, it had gone straight to voicemail. 

With a heavy sigh, Yunho ran a hand through his hair as he merged onto another stretch of highway. His eyes flicked to his phone resting in the cup holder, the screen dark but expectant. He’d already tried calling Haewon three times. Each attempt had been met with the same result: straight to voicemail. 

No response. No explanation. Just silence.

Yunho’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he pulled up in front of Haewon’s apartment building. He stared through the windshield, his eyes tracing the outline of the structure he’d seen a hundred times before. Tonight, though, something felt different.

His eyes flicked to his phone resting in the cup holder. The black screen stared back at him, a reminder of his unanswered calls. He’d already tried three times, each one sending him straight to voicemail—no explanation, no apology, just the cold, automated message. Yunho’s hand hovered over the phone again, thumb brushing against the screen, contemplating a fourth attempt. But the voice in his head—the same one that had been growing louder for weeks—stopped him. No more calls.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he approached her door. Yunho’s heart raced as he lifted his hand, feeling the weight of what he was about to do. With a firm rap, he knocked, the sound reverberating in the hallway. He waited, heart thumping harder than it should’ve been. No answer. 

He knocked again, louder this time, straining to listen for any movement inside.

Nothing.

Yunho hesitated for a moment before punching the code into the keypad. The familiar sequence of beeps sounded too loud in the quiet of the hallway, and when the lock clicked open, the sound was almost mocking. He stepped inside, the apartment dark except for the faint light spilling from the bedroom down the hallway.

“Haewon?” he called out, his voice low but steady. No response.

His footsteps were slow and deliberate as he made his way down the hall toward the light from the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, he could hear faint voices—soft, intimate and too close for comfort. His heart sank.

For a split second, everything felt surreal, like Yunho was standing outside his own body, watching the scene unfold from a distance. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word—just stood there, taking it all in.

Sungjae, shirtless, lounging in her bed with the same smugness he always wore, looked far too comfortable in a place he had no business being. Beside him, wrapped in the sheets, was Haewon. Her eyes widened in horror, the laughter between them dying instantly as the realization hit—Yunho was there.

“Yunho, I—this isn’t what it looks like.”

But it was exactly what it looked like. Yunho didn’t need an explanation. For a moment, he simply stared at them, his face unreadable, emotion caught somewhere between anger, hurt, and a strange sense of vindication. He had known something wasn’t right. He had felt it in the way she’d distanced herself, and the way Sungjae was too eager to insert himself into their lives. 

Rage surged through him, his vision narrowing to just Sungjae’s face, that arrogant, guilty expression that only fueled Yunho’s anger. Before he could think, he was closing the distance in two swift strides, throwing a punch that connected solidly with Sungjae’s jaw. Sungjae’s head snapped to the side, his body tumbling back onto the bed with a groan.

A rush of catharsis hit Yunho at that moment—a wave of release so powerful it nearly knocked him off balance. This wasn’t just about Sungjae or Haewon. It was for something far deeper, something that had been festering in the darkest corners of Yunho’s mind for far too long.

It was for you.

For the night Sungjae had humiliated you, reducing you to nothing with his cruel words, his casual disdain. Yunho stood there uselessly, too afraid of the consequences if he had stepped in and stopped it. He’d failed you then, and that failure had eaten at him ever since. He’d replayed that moment over and over, imagining all the ways he should have intervened and how he should have defended you.

But he hadn’t. And it had destroyed a part of him, leaving behind a guilt that haunted him every time he saw Sungjae, every time he looked at Haewon and knew she had allowed it to happen, too.

Yet, fate had given him another chance.

“What the fuck?!” Sungjae yelped, reeling back from the contact. His hand shot to his jaw, fingers trembling as he wiped at the blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Yunho, but there was no apology in his expression.

“Yunho, listen to me!” Haewon shouted, her voice cracking with desperation. She scrambled off the bed, the sheet slipping down her shoulders as she moved toward him. But Yunho didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at her.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he spat, voice low and venomous. 

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he stared down at Sungjae. His knuckles were still curled tightly, blood rushing in his ears as Haewon pleaded with him, but her voice faded into the background. There was nothing left to discuss. 

It was over. He could walk away.

“Yunho, please,” Haewon begged, rushing to follow him as he moved toward the door, but his steps didn’t falter. “I swear! It didn’t mean anything!” 

From the corner of his eye, Yunho caught sight of Sungjae standing awkwardly in the doorway of Haewon’s bedroom, shirtless and disheveled, a hand still massaging his sore jaw. He looked like he wanted to say something, to either justify or defend himself, but the words died in his throat. 

Yunho’s fingers hovered over the door handle, his gaze dropping to the engagement ring still clinging to his finger. The metal felt cold, unfamiliar—like it no longer belonged to him. 

“Do you remember when I asked why you always made excuses for him?” His voice cracked slightly, but he swallowed the emotion. “Why you always chose him over me?”

Haewon’s sobs quieted as she stared up at him, her tear-streaked face full of desperation. She shook her head, mouthing silent words, but nothing came out. They had danced around this conversation for so long, pretending things were fine, making excuses, but now those lies were suffocating her, and there was nothing left to cover the truth.

“I thought I was just insecure,” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “But I was right, wasn’t I?” His eyes locked with hers, and Haewon flinched as though the truth physically hurt.

“Yunho, please—”

He cut her off, his voice sharper now. “Every single time you chose him over me, this was it. This was what it led to.” 

“I kept thinking you’d come around,” he interjected coldly. “That I was wrong to doubt you. That maybe I was just seeing things that weren’t there. But I wasn’t. You knew exactly what you were doing, Haewon, and you just didn’t care enough to stop.”

“We were having problems!” Haewon’s voice broke through the heavy silence, her words frantic, desperate, as if she could somehow justify what had just happened. 

Yunho’s jaw tightened, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he met her gaze, his eyes cold. “We were having problems, and you thought cheating was going to fix it?” 

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After everything, she was still looking for an excuse, a way to shift the blame onto their relationship as if that could make what she had done less of a betrayal.

With quiet resolve, Yunho slipped the ring off his finger. He placed it carefully on the small table by the door, the soft clink as it met the wood cutting through the heaviness of the room. That simple sound echoed with the finality of his decision, a quiet symbol of everything that had been broken between them.

“It’s over. I’m going to call my parents,” he continued, his tone steady, though his chest felt tight with the weight of what came next. “And contact everyone we sent invitations to, to let them know the wedding is off. You should call yours too.”

With one last look, he turned the knob and stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.

“Yunho!” His mother’s voice was warm and cheerful, just as it always was. It hit him harder than expected, that sense of home, of comfort, and for a moment, he almost couldn’t speak.

“Hey mom,” Yunho said, his voice more fragile than he intended. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I, um…are dad and Gunho also there?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and he could feel her shift into a more serious tone, the way she always did when she sensed something was wrong.

“Yunho, what’s going on?”

Yunho leaned against the kitchen counter, glancing down at a photo tossed in the trash.It was a candid shot of him and Haewon having a picnic at a cherry blossom festival. His chest tightened as he stared at the discarded image. 

He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. “It’s about the wedding,” he began, and already he could hear the concern creeping into his mother’s voice. “It’s off. The engagement is over.”

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. He could hear her breathing, hear the sharp intake of breath that made his heart sink, fearing her disappointment. But when she finally spoke, her voice was soft, kind, and full of the empathy that strengthened his resolve. 

“Oh. Oh dear, I’m so sorry.” She sounded heartbroken, but not for herself, not for the canceled plans or the expectations. She was heartbroken for him. “Are you okay?” 

“I…I will be,” he whispered, his grip on the counter becoming firmer as he tried to steady himself.

In the background, he heard his father, who had clearly been listening in, exhale what sounded like a sigh of relief, almost as though a tension had finally lifted from the air. And then, there it was—Gunho, chiming in with his usual bluntness.

“I knew there was something off about her,” Gunho muttered, almost under his breath, but loud enough for Yunho to hear. 

Yunho let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he turned away from the counter. “She was cheating on me, Gunho,” he called out, no longer wanting to skirt around the truth any longer.

There was a beat of silence before Gunho let out a triumphant, “I knew it! I knew it!” He pumped his arms into the air, feeling vindicated by his gut feeling, as if he had been proven right all along. 

His mother shot him a warning glance, and though Yunho couldn’t see it, he could imagine the look she gave his brother. The kind of look that only moms could give, one that silenced even the loudest of siblings. 

“Gunho, that’s enough,” she warned gently, but firmly. “This isn’t the time.”

Gunho raised his hands in defense, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Sorry, just…you know, I’m glad you’re out of that mess.”

“I’m just glad you’re going to be okay,” his dad said, his voice filled with the unwavering support he always offered. “Your mom and I are here for you, no matter what. Don’t worry about the wedding or the guests. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

A small, grateful smile tugged at Yunho’s lips. “Thanks, Dad. I still plan on calling everyone and let them know. It’s only fair that they hear it from me. I appreciate it. Really.”

“Take your time,” his mom added, her voice full of the love he’d grown up with. “We’re here if you need anything.”

“I know,” he said, feeling a little lighter for the first time in weeks. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, Yunho.”

Yunho retreated into his room and sprawled across his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The chaos of the evening with Haewon’s betrayal was already starting to blur. For the first time in what felt like ages, he wasn’t drowning in a sea of overwhelming emotions.

He reached for the plush, his fingers gently brushing over its soft fur. You had imbued it with a protection spell, one that hummed quietly with your magic like a heartbeat under his touch. As Yunho clutched the toy to his chest, a quiet sense of calm began to settle over him. The tension in his muscles began to ease, the ache in his heart dulled just enough to breathe a little easier. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this—something so simple, so comforting. 

Something from you.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he held the plush tighter. His thoughts drifted, and in that quiet moment, he imagined you there, sitting beside him like you had so many times before. 

“Yunho,” you called softly, pulling him from his sleep. The mattress dipped as you settled beside him, running your fingers through his hair. Without thinking, his hand reached out, fingers instinctively finding the curve of your waist. His touch brushed lightly against your skin, as if his hands had never forgotten the feel of you, the way you fit perfectly into his grasp.

You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his. His breath caught, the warmth of your presence enveloping him as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. His large hands gently but firmly guided you beneath him, as if this was the way things had always been, and always should be. Every inch of his body craved to be closer to you, yet the peace of the moment kept the need slow and steady.

His hands found their way to your face, cupping it gently, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of your cheek. The kiss lingered, sweet and unhurried, filled with a peace he hadn’t known in years. He rested his forehead against yours, the steady rise and fall of your chest in perfect rhythm with his. Everything he’d ever wanted to say was right here, in the way you fit so perfectly against him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Yunho felt whole.

As the dream began to blur at the edges, a weight suddenly pressed against his chest. At first, he tried to ignore it, clinging to the last traces of you. But the weight grew heavier, pulling him out of the dream’s gentle haze. His brows furrowed in confusion as your image began to fade, replaced by...something unwelcome. 

His eyes fluttered open, and instead of your face, he was greeted by the smug, all-too-familiar stare of Wooyoung. The black cat sat perched on his chest, tail flicking lazily, like he hadn’t just ruined the most peaceful moment Yunho had experienced in months.

What the...?

"Wooyoung?!" Yunho’s voice shot up an octave as he realized who, or rather what, was perched on him. “How did you get in here!?”

Wooyoung yawned lazily, like waking up on top of Yunho was the most natural thing in the world. He stretched, paws extending directly onto Yunho’s face, effectively muffling any further protests.

"I have my ways," the cat replied with a casual yawn, stretching lazily on Yunho’s chest. “It was getting boring without you around back in Gwangju."

Yunho glared up at the talking cat, trying and failing to push him off. "It’s only been a day! You broke into my apartment because you were bored?"

“You’re my favorite human to torment,” Wooyoung purred, stretching languidly as if Yunho hadn’t just accused him of trespassing. “Besides,” he added, his voice taking on a teasing lilt, “you’ve got my master pacing around like some lovesick heroine.”

You were waiting for him? The image of you, lingering in the emporium, checking the door every time it creaked, hoping it would be him made his heart ache in the best possible way. His gaze dropped to his lap, cheeks burning as he tried to shake off the feeling. It was too much to handle at once, but he couldn’t help the excitement that bloomed in his chest at the thought of seeing you again.

Yunho shifted awkwardly, suddenly hyper aware of Wooyoung’s smug expression as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced over, Haewon’s name lighting up the screen for what felt like the hundredth time since last night. His jaw clenched, tension creeping into his posture, but he made no move to pick it up. 

"You gonna get that?" Wooyoung asked from his spot on the bed, his voice filled with an annoying amount of curiosity. 

Yunho groaned, rubbing his temples. "No."

The phone buzzed again, this time with a text notification. And then another.

Wooyoung tilted his head, watching as Yunho stared at the phone like it was something toxic. "She's been calling and texting a lot, you know."

"I know." Yunho sat up in bed, running a hand through his tousled hair, the weight of last night’s events sinking in. 

“I mean, considering you caught her cheating, it’s kinda impressive she’s so persistent. She’s either really guilty or really shameless. My money’s on the latter."

“Not helping. And how did you know?”

Wooyoung stretched lazily, as though the weight of Yunho’s glare slid right off him. “I’m a magical being, I know everything,” he purred, rolling around in the sheets like he owned them. “So, what’re your plans for today?” 

Yunho stared at the ceiling for a moment, the silence stretching out between them. What were his plans? Quit his job, contact more people to tell them the wedding is off, and then find the emporium. 

“I’m turning in my letter of resignation,” Yunho said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. The weight of the admission hit him immediately, but along with it came a sense of relief, a flicker of light in the fog that had clouded his thoughts for so long. “I still have people to call to tell them the wedding is off.”

It was one thing to end things with Haewon, to walk away from their relationship, but the reality of breaking the news to everyone—their friends and colleagues—was a whole different kind of burden.

“Well, great! Where do we start?” Wooyoung chirped, his bright eyes gleaming with interest. Of course, Wooyoung would treat this like an exciting adventure. To him, everything was an opportunity for chaos and meddling.

Yunho groaned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his hands rubbing over his face as he tried to summon the energy to tackle the day. “No, you’re not going to help,” he muttered, his voice muffled behind his palms.

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed mischievously as he sat up straight, clearly ready to argue. “Why not? I can use my magic to impersonate you and call people while you’re at work. What’s the password to your email?” 

Yunho shot him a glare. “Absolutely not.”

“Just think how easy it’d be! I could save you hours of awkward conversations!” 

⋆

Yunho stood outside the towering glass building of KQ Bank, his heart pounding in his chest. He had worked here right out of college, climbing the corporate ladder, meeting expectations, playing his part in one of the largest financial firms in Seoul. But as he held the sealed envelope in his hand, he realized that none of it mattered anymore.

Taking a deep breath, Yunho adjusted his tie and walked through the revolving doors, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors of the lobby. The interior was as imposing as the outside—high ceilings, spotless glass walls, and cold, corporate lighting that gave everything a sharp edge. 

The elevator doors slid open, and Yunho stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. His boss’s office. He leaned back against the wall, watching the numbers climb, and tried to settle his racing thoughts. The familiar ding of each floor was oddly comforting, a small rhythm in the chaos of his mind.

His hand tightened around the envelope as he approached the door, the crisp paper crumpling slightly under his grip. With a deep breath, he knocked twice, his knuckles tapping softly against the glass.

“Come in,” a deep voice called from inside.

Yunho opened the door and stepped into the room, immediately met by the sight of his boss, Mr. Park, sitting behind a wide mahogany desk. Mr. Park’s sharp eyes locked onto Yunho the moment he entered, their intensity making his stomach twist. 

He had always admired Mr. Park’s work ethic, his drive, and the way he commanded respect without uttering a single word. Yet now, as he stood there with the envelope weighing heavily in his hand, he felt a strange sense of detachment from the man who had once been a mentor.

“Yunho,” Mr. Park said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect to see you this early. Is everything alright?”

Yunho swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as a lump formed in his throat. He crossed the room, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet that absorbed the tension in the air. With a steady hand, he extended the envelope toward Mr. Park, feeling the weight of it shift as he passed it over.

“What’s this?” Mr. Park asked, his tone shifting from curiosity to mild concern as he took the envelope and slid it open. He unfolded the letter inside, his eyes scanning the words, and Yunho could almost feel the moment his boss realized what it was. 

Mr. Park looked up, his expression unreadable, the sharp lines of his face revealing nothing. “Your resignation?” he asked, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of disbelief.

“Yes, sir. I’m stepping down.”

Mr. Park leaned back in his chair, the weight of the letter resting on the desk between them. He crossed his arms, his fingers drumming lightly against his bicep as he studied Yunho with an intensity that made him squirm. 

“I have to say, this is unexpected,” he said finally, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been with us for years. Why now?”

“I know this may seem sudden, and I can understand if you’re disappointed. But I truly believe this is the right step for me,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve given everything I have to this role, and while I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had here, I’ve made the decision to step away.”

Mr. Park’s brow furrowed, concern flickering across his features. “Yunho, if you’re burnt out, we can talk about a sabbatical or time off. There’s no need to make any rash decisions.”

“I appreciate that,” Yunho replied, his voice steady despite the emotional turmoil brewing within. He felt a genuine gratitude toward Mr. Park for his concern, knowing that such care wasn’t common in their world. “But I need to pursue a path that feels right for me, professionally. And I…believe that’s outside of finance.”

For a moment Mr. Park was silent, studying Yunho with a kind of thoughtful intensity. Then, he nodded slowly, the leather of his chair creaking as he shifted slightly forward.

"It takes courage to step away from something stable and familiar," Mr. Park said, a hint of admiration in his voice as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a rare talent, and you will be missed. Just remember, the door is always open for you.”

The usual sounds of the office—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, distant conversations—seemed to fade, leaving a stillness between them. It was as though the world outside the glass walls had quieted, recognizing the significance of this farewell.

Yunho’s hands clasped together briefly, before bowing deeply. "Thank you, sir," he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "For everything."

Yunho stood outside the park, his eyes squinting against the late afternoon sun as shadows crept along the pavement. The past few days had been a blur—his resignation from work, the finality of ending his engagement. Yet, despite everything, the weight of it hadn’t fully sunk in. 

The park was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant laughter of children. Haewon sat on a bench, her shoulders slightly hunched, and her once-vibrant smile dulled by the truth that had unraveled between them. Guilt seemed to cling to her, casting a shadow over her usual brightness.

With a deep breath, Yunho approached, the gravel crunching under his shoes. She noticed him and stood up from her seat on the bench, each step bringing her closer to something she’d been dreading.

“Yunho,” she said softly, rising to meet him. Her voice wavered with uncertainty, as if she couldn’t quite believe this moment had finally arrived.

“Haewon,” he replied, his tone flat but steady. He sat next to her, the distance between them feeling greater than ever. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of everything they had left unsaid looming over them. 

“I’m glad you agreed to meet,” Haewon finally broke the silence, though her voice trembled with doubt. She dropped her gaze, to her hands. “I... I told my parents the engagement was off. I came clean to them about the affair and they were upset…disappointed.”

“And what about you?” he asked, the words sharper than intended. “Are you upset?”

She was surprised by the bite in his words, but Yunho didn’t care. He wasn’t here to comfort her. “I never meant for it to happen like this,” she stammered, her voice weaker than before. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Yunho—”

“But you did,” he cut in, his tone icy but devoid of malice. 

Haewon blinked, tears welling in her eyes, but Yunho wasn’t moved. He had been drowning in his own misery for too long to feel pity now. Finally, after a long pause, Haewon whispered, “I did love you, Yunho. With all my heart.” Her voice wavered as the tears spilled over. 

“But... but you were drifting away, and I—I didn’t know how to reach you anymore. I didn’t know how to get you back.”

“You cheated on me, and I’m supposed to believe it was because I wasn’t present enough? Do you even hear yourself?”

“I’m not excusing what I did. I know I was wrong, Yunho. But things changed between us, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I was lonely, and...and Sungjae—”

“You had a choice,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “You could have talked to me. You could have told me you were unhappy, that things were falling apart. But instead, you chose to betray me. You chose him.”

Haewon’s lip quivered, her eyes widening in shock as his words hit her. She opened her mouth to respond, to offer an excuse or an apology, but Yunho wasn’t done. 

“How long?”

She dropped her gaze to the ground, as though it could shield her from the truth she could no longer hide. Her fingers twisted together nervously in her lap, her breath shaky as the silence stretched out painfully. But Yunho’s patience had run dry.

“Haewon,” he said, his voice cold, barely restrained as he forced her name through clenched teeth. “Tell me the truth. How. Long?”

Haewon’s shoulders slumped as the fight left her. She took a deep breath, her voice barely audible as she replied. 

“It started after Y/N disappeared.”

Yunho froze, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to process her words. Three years. For three years, the person he thought he was building a future with, the supposed love of his life, had been betraying him. The revelation was heavy, crushing the air in his lungs. 

“How could you do this to me for that long and say nothing?” 

Haewon wiped at her tears furiously, her face crumpling under the weight of his accusation. “I was grieving!” she cried, her voice cracking with desperation. 

“You shut me out, Yunho. You were so distant after Y/N disappeared. I didn’t know how to reach you, I didn’t know what to do, so yes, I made a mistake, but I—”

“Don’t use Y/N as an excuse! This is on you. You didn’t just make a mistake, Haewon. You made a choice. For three years, you had an affair with someone you know I had no trust in!” he gritted. 

She sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her hands. But Yunho wasn’t moved by her tears. Not this time. Not after everything he’d just learned.

“I didn’t mean for it to go on this long,” Haewon whispered between sobs, her voice fragile and broken. “I wanted to end it, but I just didn’t know how!”

“With Sungjae?” Yunho’s voice was sharp, almost demanding. He had known for some time now—maybe longer than he was willing to admit—that she wasn’t just caught between them. “Or with me?” he pressed, his gaze piercing as he awaited her response.

Haewon shook her head, her tears falling freely now. She bit her lip, struggling to find the words that had been lodged deep in her throat for so long. 

“With you,” she finally admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t know how to tell you without hurting you. I thought if I stayed long enough, maybe it would work.”

For so long, Yunho had tried to keep everything together—tried to forgive, tried to understand—but this was different. This was too much. He had always been the one who tried to fix things. The one who swallowed his hurt, who believed that if he worked hard enough, they could still have a future together. He had convinced himself that they were building something, even when it felt like they were falling apart. But now? Now, the truth was staring him in the face, ugly and undeniable.

He looked at Haewon, the woman he had once loved so deeply, and now she stood before him confessing that she had been ready to walk away long before he even knew. 

“You should’ve just told me,” Yunho replied, his voice devoid of emotion, flat and distant, like the warmth had drained out of him entirely. “I would’ve let you go.”

He wasn’t shouting, wasn’t angry in the way he had been moments before. Instead, there was a hollowness to his voice—a weariness that came from realizing that everything he had fought for was already gone.

“We’ve both changed too much to go back to how things were,” he sighed, rising slowly from the bench, the wood creaking under the shift of his weight. His movements mechanical, as he slipped his hands into his pockets, staring at the ground for a moment before straightening his shoulders. 

Haewon’s lips parted as if to protest, but she couldn’t find the words. Deep down, she knew he was right. They had both changed, in ways neither of them could have foreseen. And no matter how much she wished she could turn back time, she couldn’t undo what she had done. She couldn’t undo the choices she had made.

“I’m sorry,” Haewon whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Yunho met her gaze, his expression softening for just a moment. “I know,” he said quietly. “But sorry doesn’t change anything.”

He glanced down at her one last time, his face unreadable, though Haewon could feel the weight of his emotions passing between them–the sadness, the loss, the undeniable reality that whatever they had shared was gone. 

“Take care of yourself, Haewon.”

⋆

Wooyoung stretched out on Seonghwa’s leather sofa, lazily draping one arm over his eyes as he peered through the gaps between his fingers. He watched as Seonghwa toyed with the envelope in his hands, a thin smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t the reaction Wooyoung had expected from the Lord of Death, especially given Yunho’s departure from his team.

“You took Yunho quitting pretty well,” Wooyoung quipped, rolling onto his side, his voice carrying that familiar edge of playful malice. "Or is this your way of hiding the hurt? A cold, dark void where your heart should be?"

Seonghwa’s eyes flickered over to Wooyoung, unamused, before sighing deeply and setting the envelope on his desk. “He was sincere and honest about it. I couldn’t object to it, not when he came to me like that.” His tone was as even as ever, but there was something beneath it, something almost resigned.

“Is the Lord of Death becoming…soft!?” Wooyoung gasped in mock horror. He threw his hands up dramatically, making a show of his supposed shock. 

“Aren’t you a familiar overstepping your duties?” His lips twitched in annoyance as he leaned back in his chair. 

“You really lit a fire under Yunho’s ass, didn’t you? Always the instigator, always pushing people to their breaking points.” Seonghwa finally remarked, setting the envelope down on the mahogany table beside him.

Wooyoung chuckled, his voice light but laced with something darker beneath the surface. “What can I say? The guy needed a push.”

“A push? I’m surprised Yunho hasn’t pushed you off a cliff by now.”

Wooyoung grinned wider, all teeth and mischief. “Oh, please. He wouldn’t dare. Besides,” he added, “he wouldn’t break Y/N’s heart. I’m her beloved familiar, after all.”

“Her beloved familiar,” Seonghwa scoffed, lips curling into a small, contemplative smirk. “You seem a little too invested in all of this for being just a mere companion, don’t you think?”

“I’m waiting to see what happens next,” he replied coolly, shrugging.

“You mean whether or not she regains her memories,” he murmured, his voice low and weighted with something ominous.

“Well, of course, that’s part of it,” he said, his voice lighter, though there was an undercurrent of unease. “It’s not every day someone erases the memory of their own soulmate, after all. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious how it’ll all play out.”

Wooyoung stood up, his hands sliding into his pockets as he wandered over to the window, staring out at Seoul’s sprawling skyline. The usual mischief in his expression dimmed as the sunlight cast long shadows across the room, and for a moment, he let himself drop the playful facade.

“I believe in them,” he said quietly, his voice taking on a somber edge. “Despite everything, they deserve a chance. Yunho has spent so much time trying to fill a void he doesn’t understand.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Seonghwa.

“And Y/N... even without her memories, she’s always felt like something’s missing. She may not remember him, but part of her knows.”

Seonghwa, leaning back in his chair, remained silent, watching Wooyoung with a measured gaze. He didn’t speak, but his curiosity was evident, as if he was carefully considering the words Wooyoung was stringing together.

"They're soulmates. That kind of bond doesn’t break easily. After all they've experienced over countless lifetimes, they owe it to themselves to find their way back to each other."

Wooyoung smiled, more to himself than to anyone else, the faintest trace of hope in his expression. “Maybe this time, they’ll get it right.”

<< iv | vi >>

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[crowleysgirl56]

Book Omens! A meandering journey to reading Good Omens to my son. The finale!

Well we finished it! Here are some thoughts and observations from both my son and myself (mostly myself actually).

- did I miss something or did Hastur just not do anything further once he got out of the answer-machine and ate all the telemarketers? In the show he manifests in the Bentley then gets discorporated and sent back to hell when Crowley drives through the ball of fire on the M25. But the book just has him coming through the phone line, turning into maggots, devouring the room of telemarketers and then that’s it. Also, it’s been a while since I’ve watched season 1, do they show that the telemarketers are brought back to life because the book has one of them call Newt and then gets annoyed that they’ve lost an entire day because they think it’s still Saturday (assuming this is thanks to Adam putting the world right again). Anyway, this is all to say that I find it odd that the thread of Hastur is just left hanging like that. Which makes me wonder if he was always supposed to have a major part to play in the book’s sequel (and therefore season 3). I recently read an old interview where Pratchett said the makings of the sequel are built into the book. Could this be one of those threads?

- on the subject of Hastur my son said that while he was stuck in the answer-machine Crowley should have just turned him into The Best of Queen, and HOW THE HELL HAS NO ONE THOUGHT OF THAT?! This kid is so clever sometimes he’d make Crowley proud.

- another major thing I noticed and I’m hoping I just didn’t miss something crucial here, is it’s never explained where Crowley got the holy water from. Is it implied it was Aziraphale in the book and I just completely missed it? All of this backstory was of course included in season 1 and I’m wondering if it was included specifically because it was never explained in the book. And again, because there was no explanation, would this have been included in the sequel?

- a sudden though regarding the bikers. There’s never any indication that they were restored. I don’t know if this means anything specifically, but considering there’s the short gag at the end of the book that implies the telemarketers were returned and also the delivery man, I wonder why this didn’t happen for the bikers. Again, is this another thread for the sequel?

- I’ve taken some screen shots below of more passages in the book that made me realise why I never thought Aziraphale and Crowley were romantically coded to each other the first time I read through the book (and I think I might do a deeper dive into these passages in a separate post).

Any thoughts about this is welcome. But again, it seems to be one of those “squint to see the deeper relationship” cases here.

- I will admit however the fact that they had no problem holding hands may have been what gave people pause to think about their relationship. Though could their relationship have been framed platonically, like for example Frodo and Sam in LoTR? (don’t come at me for that comparison. I get that Frodo and Sam are shipped constantly, but Tolkien very specifically said their relationship was about platonic companionship and the type of companionship that hetero men seem to be afraid to show each other in modern times.)

- the last passage involving Warlock was really interesting. Again I couldn’t remember if it’s included in the show, but there definitely did seem to be some kind of implication that there was more to Warlock than him just being the swapped child. Again, was this another thread for the sequel? Was it implied that he would now be the new antichrist? Or could he perhaps be the second coming? Will we see him in season 3?

So, overall impressions. My son liked it but I think a lot of it went over his head (I had to stop and explain a lot of religious canon to him, a lot of the satire, and most of the jokes). He liked Death and the rest of the horsemen and also the bikers. He identified with Adam but still didn’t quite understand why Adam just didn’t use his powers for good (bless him). He didn’t really feel anything in particular for Aziraphale and Crowley (sob!). He also asked me to explain what happened season 2 and why I’m sad about it. He is also now very sad for me, and is very angry with NG.

Maybe one day he’ll read the book again for himself and find the humour much more relatable. He is interested in reading Discworld again and maybe this time will stick it out.

I personally am glad I read it again for myself. And I’m also really grateful for all the fanfic that we have that expands on the story and the characters. Thank you so much to the fandom for your fabulous stories and your love for these characters. And thanks for following along with my ramblings.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Hiya dude! I hope you're good! I have another au! I hope I'm not spamming you too much with my weird ideas, but I think you'll like this one.

Also I'll send this to @fanofstuff01 as well, we could rp this all together if you're keen!

The idea is like a swap au- but also a priest au. A bit of both.

So this time Lucifer is is the priest and Adam is the demon. ALSO it's nun!Adam- at first- till he gets all demon-y.

Lucifer runs a small congregation (is that the word? Little church type place?) In the hills of a remote town. Super secluded, really the only people around are nuns, other priests. Most of them live in the village, so during the night, it's only Lucifer.

Lucifer hasn't been in charge long, but before he even came to the congregation, he had heard rumors about it being cursed. So he was tasked to bless the building and bring back God's influence.

Adam starts off as a nun that was already their before Lucifer got there. Adam has changed his human forms slightly throughout the years, not to cause too much suspicion.

When Adam meets Lucifer, they hit it off! Lucifer really likes Adam, but all he wants to do is corrupt Lucifer, like he's done to all the other priests that were ever in charge, basically to keep the place under the Devils influence (I dont know who the Devil is in this au, but he's not really important).

Lucifer eventually figures out there's a demon somewhere, and decides to take care of it himself, to avoid any interference from the church, and it'll look good with his superiors if he handed it himself (I dont know how the Vatican works- this is basically that, I don't know, I'm not religious lol).

After the ritual, he brings Adam out of hiding, showing Lucifer is real form- which- damn- Lucifer is barely holding on by a thread- this man is GORGEOUS.

To fuck with Lucifer, Adam makes it so only he can see him. A lot of interesting things can happen to someone when their being tournament, the hottest being Lucifer has ever seen-

Adams demon look is based off the cambion from bg3. Basically a stereotypical demon, but more Adam- so gold- Basically 😝

I'd love to rp this with someone, it could be a slightly darker version of adamsapple.

Okay- bye!

Oooou yeah! I've only seen ones where Adam is the priest this is a great twist!!

I'd love to. I love darker stories.

Yeah the three of us can do this no problem!

[yuurivoice]

with the new reveal in the the L+F episode, there have been some small timeline issues within the fandom’s understanding, which makes me curious

would you ever consider making some sort of online timeline (such as within carrd or another website making site) in order to avoid confusion?

I've been considering my options there. Having some sort of evergreen post SOMEWHERE at the minimum would be great.

My real goal is to have all of that sort of info on the channel proper, and have it logical and easy to find. I have some thoughts on how to accomplish that.

Situations like this one in particular are special cases because typically I circumvent the confusion by writing it into the script and adding clarity that way. But, cliffhanger. So even though within the next minute or two of the next episode you'd have all of that information..........we're looking at like...weeks or a month away from that actually happening for the audience.

I think where I fucked up this time was that I didn't really consider how we've had issues in Auron's content as well where it's been so long since the establishing of the context, they forget that like...certain events have happened in a specific timespan, and what events then happened after the fact. Currently, Lost & Found is the furthest ahead chronologically, in the Spring-ish of the new year that follows the events of BS3 + Auron's Escape series. It's not unreasonable for folks to have forgotten specifics like that because it has taken literally years for me to get here, so if I had really thought about it, I would have given a little more to work off of and re-establish some of that information.

But, fun fact......I decided to do this particular reveal on a whim. It felt right. I wasn't sure WHAT to do with the audio itself, I knew we'd see Casper's car for the first time, and I thought that Charlie couldn't actually be that dumb. Certainly not if he had enough time to start thinking too much about things. Then I was like......ya know? What if I just...did a little more than I thought I'd be doing with this audio.

There are quite a few bandaids that need to be pulled in terms of reveals and connections leading into Shattered. Felt like the right time for this one, and raise the stakes for everyone by marrying these two particular threads.

I've struggled particularly with how to convey that Auron hasn't been peachy between Christmas and Spring-ish times. I thought about diving right in but realized that people could be thrown off. I thought about adding some context on the front end of Shattered, but we're not quite there yet.

And while the hardcores have caught onto the brief, viney threads that connect Charlie to Auron at this time, being more deliberate about it right now at this time feels good.

I am very amused at the general reaction. So amused, that I wrote the bulk of the next episode last night right after the premiere, because this is too good not to capitalize on. lol

Edit: Forgot to add that I'm aiming to have my timeline solution in place for the Echoes of Evalas drop because we're going to run into the same exact issue with Evalas things. EoE takes place around Shattered in the timeline, but various Evalas spinoffs are years prior. So it's paramount that there is some sort of resource to point people towards. I've been thinking about creating a "Guide to YuuriVoice" playlist that would have a fresh channel trailer, series synopsis, broader timeline clarification, and whatever else might be needed that I can think of. I just need something to be finished for me to go ahead and get that rolling.

[tobi-smp]

this was Originally a response in a reply thread [Link] but I've decided that I'd like people to actually SEE IT fadsjklfasd

so ! here's an expansion on my ideas about dream manipulating Everything into place up until the disc war finale, Including technoblade.

How To Blow Up A Country From The Inside: A Step By Step Guide

(by Dream "Was" Taken)

1: dream Intentionally set up the final control room to sow doubt and mistrust. he didn't Need to have eret be in out, he didn't Need eret to make a big show of betraying l'manberg. but it was done Intentionally.

both to hurt the l'manbergians, And to push some of the heat off of him.

because it WAS eret who took most of the heat after the war was over. that's exactly the Point of having a shadow king. to act as a figure head and scapegoat while still listening to everything that dream said (and to be swapped out at will whenever it's convenient).

oh Dream isn't the king, Dream didn't blow up l'manberg. dream's just Some Guy, who Happens to not want people to gate off his house. don't think about it too much. it's a Very intentional strategy on his part.

2: it can be inferred that techno and dream's duel Was canon to the dream smp, or at the Very Least that techno and dream were familiar with each other before he joined the server. dream is Very aware that techno is one of the very few people on the server who could put up a real fight against him, which makes him a Person Of Interest.

3: dream Intentionally allowed schlatt to do his hostile takeover. he would Claim that he was Only following the agreement with l'manberg, that it was So Sad that his hands were tied, but schlatt's actions directly went Against said agreement. he was presenting himself as an ally to the pogtopians while Actively refusing to materially step in.

meanwhile, we know he was making a deal with schlatt behind the scenes, both to get into his good graces, And to get his hands on the revival book.

4: he was Very Intentionally playing four sides here.

singling tommy out to present himself as His Friend, denying it in public but playing nice with him when it's just the two of them. addressing "Tyrant" SPECIFICALLY to tommy [Link 1, Link 2], where he presents himself as an ally while providing excuses for why he couldn't Materially do anything, and at the same time providing tommy a chest full of supplies directly. helping tommy in the pet war, even when that meant hurting sapnap, Etc.

.

meeting techno in secret to Also give him items, scope out him and his intentions, and Hopefully get on his good side. he is Also, presumably, aware of techno's role in the antarctic empire (or whatever the dream smp equivalent of that was, it's unclear if it was Literally smp earth or not).

.

very Very actively enabled wilbur's downward spiral and distrust. providing him with the tnt to blow up l'manberg, starting the rumor about the traitor in pogtopia, actively egging him on.

.

and of course, playing as schlatt's muscle. watching as schlatt drove everyone else away but giving him the false confidence to continue on to the war, to the Breaking Point.

5: the end goal of all of this being the ultimate destruction of every party involved. he lead the pogtopians to schlatt to let them kill him. he shouted in absolute wicked Glee when wilbur blew l'manberg up and killed himself, telling tommy that Wilbur had been the traitor and joined in the destruction.

I've written before about how I think dream Intentionally pushed wilbur into killing himself, to take him out as a threat yes, but More than that because he was Jealous of him and what he had [Link]

but I think it ALSO needs to be pointed out that dream INTENTIONALLY provoked techno into not only splitting from pogtopia, but Very specifically to pit him against tommy.

to be clear, it was ultimately techno's choice to do what he did. he Chose to do that big speech, to attack his former friends, to set himself as a threat, to join wilbur in bombing l'manberg. he Has agency.

but dream 100% wanted this to happen. he Knew that pogtopia and techno's goals weren't aligned, he Knew that techno has a tendency to react violently, and this was advantageous from Multiple angles.

it's a repeat of the eret situation. just like with wilbur, it's demoralizing and frightening. it breaks their spirits AND pulls attention away from him. he'd greased the wheels that lead to l'manberg's destruction, that lead to wilbur's death, but he was Never the loudest one in the room. schlatt was dead, but Techno wasn't. Techno set himself up as the most immediate threat, having vowed to come back to destroy them again if they made another government. even Phil was out there saying that Techno was the traitor in pogtopia while fighting off his withers.

.

it set TECHNO up at a disadvantage if dream ever needed to "deal" with him. in a one of one fight either one of them COULD make it out on top, but if techno had everyone else in l'manberg as an ally that might actually tip the scales, and he can't have that. in a single night techno lost every one of the allies he'd spent weeks making on the server, lost his base, and had to start off again from scratch, all while branding him with the reputation of a traitor. it was the consequences of his own actions, but it was Exactly What Dream Wanted To Happen

.

it Very Specifically split techno and TOMMY'S relationship. dream wanted wilbur dead because of what he had, because He was tommy's brother, his leader, the person he'd follow to the ends of the earth. but Techno was one of tommy's idols when he joined the server too, they'd been allies and they could've been Friends (tommy had certainly thought they'd been friends). dream Needed to separate them, so that techno would never come between him and what he wanted.

techno Chose to defect from l'manberg, but it was Dream that came out the other side with everything he'd wanted.

and he was Right. Yes dream was on the chopping block for new l'manberg (ala quackity's hit list). but it was Techno that they'd wanted to kill first. it was Techno that was the immediate threat, Techno that they plastered wanted posters for. dream let techno take the fall Exactly the same way eret did.

6: of course, we have exile. we have dream framing tommy for griefs across the server the Day after l'manberg was destroyed [Link]. you have dream taking advantage of tommy griefing george's house (something completely normal on the smp) to set tommy up, to pit him Against new l'manberg and Tubbo in particular. you have him threatening l'manberg and framing it as a punishment for tommy's actions. his open manipulation of tubbo.

he got rid of wilbur, he got rid of techno, and then he pit tommy against tubbo and took him away. and he was designing pandora's vault and testing out the revival book all the while. continuing to manipulate and watch new l'manberg and techno once tommy was gone.

7: dream Knew about the list, or at least knew that l'manberg was after technoblade. and I think it's really interesting to look at what he actually chose to Do.

because he Could Have helped in a Much more direct way, openly allied with techno and prevented him from experiencing the trauma of death at all. but he chose to help Just Enough to put techno in his debt while Keeping techno as the number one threat.

he Could have openly fought off new l'manberg, he could have let techno die and use the revival book on him after the fact (letting new l'manberg think he was dead and get them off of techno's back). instead he lead techno to the totem beforehand, and lead him back to carl after.

enough for techno to escape, enough for techno to Know what dream did for him, but Not enough for new l'manberg to move the heat back to Dream.

and importantly, it's setting techno up to get revenge. because dream Could Have stepped in to stop them Immediately if he Really wanted to protect techno from the goodness of his heart.

once again, everyone made the choices that they did on purpose. new l'manberg Chose to execute techno, techno Chose to provoke them in the first place, and techno would Choose to get his revenge.

but dream very intentionally tipped the scales to move everything in HIS favor. to advantage HIM, and disadvantage everyone else.

8: likewise, dream had initially been nervous about tommy staying with techno. it was what he'd been trying to avoid after all.

and we can see that in his behavior, we can Watch him stalking them in the background of multiple streams, and of course he visited techno's house Directly. by this point dream already KNEW that tommy was there, he'd seen them together.

dream is a manipulator, and he wants to use techno, but he's willing to do a LOT to keep tommy under his thumb.

the tipping point was, of course, the confrontation at the portal.

dream confronting tommy and techno directly, dream trying to assert his control over tommy. and at first techno steps in, tells him that tommy's with him.

but then he offers the favor. tommy's with him, Unless He Wants To Cash In That Favor. and that told dream everything he needs to know.

dream KNEW that techno and tommy's falling out was coming, and he Also knew Exactly how techno reacts to "betrayal." and what's more, tommy's relationship with new l'manberg, with Tubbo, was being set up to degrade even More thanks to his association with techno.

techno would stop at nothing to destroy l'manberg, and tommy would do anything to save it. they would never last, and tommy would be destroyed when it happened.

he let them go Intentionally, with the hope that this would all crash and burn. to destroy tommy's connections and reputation to ash. to chip away that much further at tommy's moral, at his soul.

9: and in many ways, he was right. exactly what he wanted to happen DID happen, and it was the direct result of him provoking the situation further.

tommy and techno had their falling out, he got his hands on the disc, tommy and tubbo's relationship boiled over.

dream got everything he wanted, except for tommy's spirit. loyal to the absolute end.

techno and tommy Could have been friends, tommy Wanted them to be friends.

10: doomsday. l'manberg destroyed to bedrock, techno isolated from the rest of the server, everyone's spirit's ground to dust. dream told tommy that this was Fun, that their story would never be over, while standing above the ash.

pandora's vault would be complete soon, and in it he had a place for the axe of peace, for carl. in it, he had a place for tommy, his most prized possession.

techno CHOSE to do what he did, but dream lead everyone to the paths they took On Purpose. he Wanted their relationships to fall apart. he WANTED everyone to be isolated and broken so he could take what was "rightfully" his. he WANTED to keep everyone on a leash until he could own the entire server in a more Complete way than simply being the server owner.

and this is important to me specifically BECAUSE of what could have been and what would have never been allowed to happen. Because of the ways that techno and tommy cared about each other, and yet were fated to be torn apart.

tommy Chose to defy dream when it mattered, to defeat him through his Connections. through his love for the people around him. while techno did exactly what dream wanted him to.

but it's just like.

when I see people talk about what could have been they'll pick scapegoats like quackity or wilbur, or even tubbo or phil. but never Dream. the person who wanted nothing more than to set them up to fail. who DELIGHTED in it.

and it's so INTERESTING to me. it's so Interesting that the person who used and manipulated techno was Undeniably dream. who saw him as a meat shield, who set him up to hunted down, who isolated him, who fully intended to use him to his fullest.

dream WAS the tyrannical force that techno was so opposed to, dream WAS the person who'd disadvantaged techno the most, and yet they Never get set up as being enemies. either in the story proper or in the fandom.

and that's CRAZY to me !!!! the biggest antagonist to techno IS DREAM! but you'd never know it looking at the fandom.

and that saddens me as someone who likes all of these characters Very Much. I'd KILL for fic that explores this exactly. for techno to realize the sheer Extent that he'd been lead on and used. that his relationships where burned away On Purpose. that someone who truly did not think of him as a human being drove him away from the person who'd wanted nothing more than to be his friend.

it's craaaaaaaaazy, and I feel like I'm the only one who knows it.

[full-of-malice]

me and my friends are being bitter about ai and nanowrimo again. as one of the kids who was part of the group that made the tag of "#nanopocalypse" as a term for what was happening on our website as we were silenced and groomed and our lives went to shit. our lives were falling apart. it was the nanopocalypse for us. that's why we called it that and have referred to the entire situation as that. and we were the only ones who actually put anything in the "#anti nanowrimo" tag to begin with to talk about our hatred and struggles with being groomed. a desperate and ignored attempt to call awareness

so as someone who put in the work and lost days of my life and will not be the same person again and put tears and long days while trying to juggle my school and personal life, checking in on my friends and ensuring that they were okay, it feels really shitty honestly to watch tumblr take the nanopocalypse tag so they can make themselves feel good by talking shit about the ai policy. it's Exhausting. you guys are a solid year late in support and hatred for nano that we could've used when we were trying to get the website halfway shut down. we have been Trying to tell you. there were tiktoks, twitter, threads, youtube videos, tumblr posts, and it's just exhausting that suddenly the trendy hatred of ai is what gets popular. idk if feels like you all just jump on the trend to be the cool savior and hate on ai and write their posts that do nothing informative of helpful and just say "fuck nanowrimo" instead of hating on it for the actually important reasons.

nanopocalypse was the specific instance a year ago in november of 2023, when ywp (young writer program) website users were sick of being abused, neglected, and being in the dark. the mods started banning us just for voicing our issues and wanting change. we took to. the adult forums and talked to adult users who were in the midst of the own issues as well. we finally found adults who believed our struggles and were on our side. on their website there was child grooming involved too, the fbi was allegedly getting contacted it was so bad. after years finally someone was listening. yet within days they turned on us and told us we were too young and had no place in "their home" of the website and that our concerns for our community and wanting to be involved were no necessary. they started twisting our words against us and picking us apart. i spent days fighting with adults just for basic things, adults who claimed not two or three days ago that they supported us and would fight for us and were so sorry for the way we were treated only to turn around and treat us remarkably the same. there was one nanopocalypse.

it's exhausting to have to reiterate our struggles to people on the internet who don't and won't listen, but don't use our terms that we a group of abused and groomed teens made for a one time occurrence and tag that was for us and our struggles a place for us to talk and raise awareness. a place that got ignored until a year too late so ai issues could talk over us.

so fuck nanowrimo. not for the ai, but for the children who suffered for years in silence. the ai should be an afterthought, not the front of the problem.

if anyone's interested either in a separate post or in the reblogs i'll make an extensive list of any youtube videos, tiktoks, tumblr post links, and twitter links that i know of on the situation if you want. i will gladly answer any question anyone has because i've tried to educate people on this for a long time and no one will listen

[positivelybeastly]

What have been some of your favorite rps over the years? Have you developed any personal ocs that you particularly enjoy (I know you've got Dark Beasts going on, so if you wanna talk about what's going on there, that'd be cool too!

Oh, this is a tricky one! Not least because it relies on my memory, which is one of my least reliable traits, ha - but I shall do my best!

The first one that comes immediately to mind is this thread with @themckaytriarchy - it was sort of integral to the process of my getting over what X-Force did with Beast by taking control of it, and it also just let me dive into a more horror based thread, which I don't often get to do. Beast is a character who is often very horror-aligned, so getting to really explore that was a ton of fun. I got very poetic in there, but I had a great time.

There's also this thread with the same writer, which was sort of how Cereal and I really got to be such good friends, and how Hank and Tess ended up becoming BFFs. They just had such instant chemistry and bounced off each other really, really well, and I love getting to play Hank as the best aspects of all of his selves - the more mature vibe of his feline self mixing with his younger, gremlin energy, the regret of his modern self mixing in with that, I like when I can pull on all the strings at the same time, if that makes sense.

Oh! Another one is this thread with @silverjetsystm - one of the things I absolutely love about Hank is that he knows goddamn everybody, like, the man's been on every team you can imagine, so there's always some era you can dive into, and his time on the Secret Avengers was so undeveloped, and MK-mun has just been an absolute joy to write with. You can really tell when I'm getting into a thread because I just write reams and reams and reams, and things get more poetic, and Hank starts thinking heavier and heavier things.

Easily another one is this one with @thebettermccoy - I've been wanting a good Dark Beast to bounce off for ages, to the point where I took him on as an extra muse just so he and Hank could interact and I could practise their voices, but then Squirrel-mun took the brave step to take him on, and it's been a joy ever since. It's so gratifying to get to refer to one specific issue from 1996 that no-one but me and Squirrel-mun know about, and they know the lines of dialogue just as well as I do, and we can just dig.

Another one is this one with @themarvelliteraryuniverse - I've lowkey shipped Beast and Sabretooth for years because of Wolverine and the X-Men vol. 1 #8, and getting to actually attack that dynamic and explore it and see Locke's unique take on Victor mesh with my Hank in such an instantly compelling way . . . god, it's a dream come true for me, honestly. Something that often gets lost about Hank is his inherent sexual drive and energy, his repressed primality, his morals interacting with his pull towards the dark, and exploring that is always just a complete joy.

Oooh, ooh! This one with @notmymamasboy - not only is it fun to play Hank as getting used to being pursued again, but Stabby is just so good at throwing this inescapable, unrelenting energy into Raze that makes him feel like a force of nature that Hank has immense affection for and attraction to, but, again, knows has a lot of darkness attached to them. They just bounce off each other really well, and it's probably what fandom would qualify as a crack ship, but I just like the intellectual conflict intersecting with the interpersonal chemistry.

Another one I've loved is this one with @emmatriarchy - I'm an absolute sucker for getting to fill in missing bits of Hank's history, and I always thought it was such a travesty that X-Force never tugged on the very brief but incredibly impactful time where Hank and Sage interacted in X-Treme/New X-Men, because it adds such dimension to their dynamic. Getting to explore that in-situ is a dream for me, and I also just love getting to play Hank from specific periods with specific moods, especially with gloriously obscure and underappreciated muses, with is sort of this mun's whole thing. :)

Ooh, ohh! This one, with @maximummuses - I again felt like this entire thing was swept under the rug back in the 2010s, and it felt like such a disservice to Hank and Logan that they never got to have this conversation, that they never got to just GO AT one another, everything laid out, all honesty, all feeling. This was, again, just another dream for me, and as far as I'm concerned, this is canon and exactly how it happened.

Now we get into stuff that was more dynamics, and also older threads with are, like, a decade old . . . my X-Force Beast's twisted toxic relationship with dusktrip's Wolverine was a delight, and I miss that writer very dearly (they had to stop RPing due to a lack of time) because it let me just drown in a very dark place for a bit in a very controlled way. They, like themckatriarchy, were integral to me coming to terms with what X-Force did with Hank's character.

There are tons of threads with people like brandisnotmygivenname (Abigail Brand), technarchology (Warlock), hulksdontdoweak (She-Hulk), this-city-is-a-symphony (Dazzler), fangedfirecracker (Jubilee), levoleurcinetique (Gambit), healingtheassassins (Elixir), dontcallmejulio (Rictor) - a lot of people from nearly a decade ago who aren't active anymore, but I still think of them a lot, and a lot of the time, I have to remember that Hank's dynamics and history with these people in canon don't necessarily include these versions of the characters, ha.

But, very formative to my interpretation and exploration and journey with Hank.

As for OCs - I'm sort of a one fictional obsession kinda guy, so I don't really have too many! I did have a guy called Danny Jones who was a mutant based on Tito Bohusk from New X-Men. He was from a Young Avengers RP ages and ages ago, and I think at one point he was going to become a Ghost Rider? It was a long time ago, in fairness.

I also have an AU version of Hank called Sir Henry, codenamed Grandmaster, who's inspired by the Ghost Box steampunk version of Hank and Sublime. Instead of being a scientist, he's a Victorian era spymaster with Hank's typical intelligence, but a lot less of his warmth and ethical consideration. He tended to dual wield pistols a lot.

I actually still have some art a friend of mine did from the Exiles RP he came from. This is her OC, Joan, with whom he had a budding romance.

But, as of late, the biggest one has been The Irredeemable Beast, which has spawned a number of characters, the most significant of which is Zeke.

Zeke has always been a clone of Dark Beast, in my conception of him. I always figured that Dark Beast would absolutely be the type of person to keep spare clone bodies around because, frankly, he keeps wagging his ass at people who are stronger than him and can kill him, and the fact that he kept dying and coming back diminished only solidified to me that he would eventually kick the bucket and need an out.

The version of him in Irredeemable is altered slightly, in that he's a recently created clone of Dark Beast - in the original chain of events, he was released as a kid, along with a twin brother, Strauss, and they grew up relying on each other, eking out a meagre existence by living between the lines. They had full lives, but obviously severely disadvantaged, and hated Dark Beast whenever he was around because, well, why wouldn't they?

Zeke's fun to play around with just because he has a lot of Hank/Dark Beast's perception and wit, but he doesn't have the same level of intelligence, knowledge, privilege, or advantages, so he has a bit of a chip on his shoulder - yet he still tries to have fun, which is very Hank. He's a good grounding presence, which is why I decided to make him a central part of Irredeemable, and I have a good few plans for his arc going forward from Dark Beasts.

His narrative arc is sort of meant to tackle a big problem I had with both X-Force and, more widely, the Krakoan resurrection system, which is the amount of wasted bodies/clones, and the lack of thought put into what's a 'real' life and what isn't.

The whole Talon/Wolverine split is treated completely differently to how the clones in X-Force of both Hank and Logan are treated, and I wanted to unpick that, question exactly what a clone's life is worth, and question why we arbitrarily decided that we put more value on Talon/Wolverine, but carving dozens of Hanks and Logans was perfectly acceptable.

Every one of those Hanks or Logans could have been a valid individual in the exact same way that Ezekiel is, and I want Hank to have to think about that, and be faced with the ethical/existential question of the lives he arbitrarily brought into existence in such a cold, mercenary fashion without any consideration for his responsibility for them.

Zeke is just a really good foil for Hank, and Hank absolutely needs a foil, because his internal monologue is fascinating, but it really can get maudlin and self-involved, so you need to break that up with some youthful 'I don't give a shit' energy, which Zeke provides in spades.

One of the other characters in Dark Beasts, Yekaterina, is a pretty minor character, but pretty much any time I come back to my long term plans for the fic, I keep wanting to give her more to do. I think it's really important to me that X-Men have human characters who are friendly and pro-mutant, who make up the other half of the mutant metaphor, because that's something the comics really did just give up on for the longest time, and it makes such a difference to have a human who's like 'no, fuck Orchis, fuck all these racists, I'm with you because it's the right thing to do.'

I also have a tendency to write exclusively dudes, so Yekaterina and Jennifer Nyles keep being given more and more to do so that I break out of that writing rut. Same thing with Olivia Ocampo, the Orchis commander in Dunfee - I explicitly gave her a Marvel branded alliterative name so that I would use her more, and I know where her story goes. I need to get on that, actually, I want to release that chapter close to Christmas if I can . . .

Gorobitz and Taft are pretty shameless Rosencratz and Guildenstern expies. I like giving goons personalities, and I think it's funny exploring the weeds of the arbitrary distinctions of anti-mutant racism through the lens of a pair of garden variety Orchis grunts. They're gonna turn up in future chapters with similar segments.

I think that covers the majority of it? There are other characters who are going to appear later on, including an Orchis agent that I want to be a bit of a surprise. The entire fic is about the ramifications of Hank's actions and dealing with them, and that agent has a backstory that is all about Hank's actions and what they meant for her, and I think he's gonna struggle not to feel like he should just let her shoot him in the head when he finds out what her deal is.

Thanks for the question! It was a really good one!

[sequinsmile-x]

A Lot of Lonely Places

She used to be good at being alone. 

-x-

Hi friends,

Truly could not tell you where this came from. Opened my laptop, opened google docs and started writing and here we are.

I hope you enjoy it, and as always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She used to be good at being alone. 

She used to pride herself on it. Full of false bravado about how she excelled in her own company that was borne out of necessity, a side effect of her mother’s job that had left her with no other choice. She was good at being alone and she enjoyed it. She’d painted a lonely picture as a kid, something that had followed her into her teenage years and early adulthood. It was only in college, when she spent four years in one place - the longest she ever had - that she started to make stronger connections. Threads of convenience and coincidence that tied her and her friends together during that time, holding them close until drunken promises before graduation that they’d always have each other turned out to be lies. They’d drifted apart, seeing each other only at reunions and organised events, and she knew she wasn’t blameless. She hadn’t been great at keeping in contact, not entirely used to having people to stay in contact with. It was something that slipped away entirely when she’d joined Interpol, her work not something that allowed the connections she had once treasured. 

Even though she’d barely spent time alone when she was eventually with Ian, something he ensured by always having people around her, she’d felt lonely. At first, it had been drowned by the ever-present fear she’d be caught. That he’d see through her practised lies and kill her before she could call for backup. As that faded, as time made it clear he’d fallen for her charm and the skills she’d honed at a young age, the loneliness took over. The strange desire to hear someone call her by her actual name one that never quite went away. 

Returning to her actual life was overwhelming. She was suddenly surrounded by people who knew who she really was. Every single one of them telling her she’d done an excellent job before it was all classified, anything she’d done a secret to anyone who didn’t already know. It made the loneliness bone-deep, so much a part of her she wasn’t sure she’d ever be without it, but it also made it easier to pretend it never happened. To file it away into one of the boxes in her head, the lid of it liable to slip away whenever she heard an Irish accent or smelt expensive whisky and cigar smoke. 

When she joined the BAU, her sense of self pieced back together after her time as Lauren Reynolds, and a fake background typed out on a piece of paper, she wasn’t sure what she’d find. A small part of her hoped she would make friends, something that felt childish and misplaced after everything she’d seen and done, and even that had been dashed by some of the team's initial reaction to her. The mistrust she’d since learnt was a defence mechanism, particularly on Aaron’s part, more painful than she cared to admit even to herself. 

She never expected that she’d find a family, that she’d find people who felt like home. People she would, and eventually did, die for. It made the loneliness in Paris even sharper. Nights that would have once been spent drinking with JJ and Penelope, or watching kid's movies with Aaron and Jack, long and painful as she lived under a name they did not know. She treated the loneliness like a penance, something she deserved for the lies that had led her there, the choices she could never regret but wished hadn’t happened. She got used to it again. The loneliness. The silence that came with it.  She got used to it but every now and again it would weigh heavily on her chest, crushing it inwards until it became unbearable. Gasping sobs would steal the air from her lungs until she’d eventually cry herself to sleep, ready to be tortured by dreams of everything she had lost. 

When she came home, unsteady and unsure of her place in the life she’d built herself, she was overwhelmed again. Everyone’s desire to see her, to spend time with her they thought they’d never get again, almost too much to take. She’d sought out time on her own, would issue white lies that tasted bitter as she told her friends she was tired or had other plans just so she could sit on her couch alone, the television and radio off, the silence a comforting blanket as she tried to learn to be herself again. 

As time went on, she found her footing. Found her new place in her new life, the broken pieces of her old one at her feet no longer a tripping hazard, but the very thing she used as a foundation for what she had now. 

Loneliness became a thing of her past, something she knew she could thank Aaron, and by extension Jack, for. The day after their conversation on the jet, when she kept her side of the deal and admitted she was having a bad day, Aaron showed up at her apartment. He was casually dressed, or as casual as she’d ever seen him at the time in jeans and a polo shirt, and he said he was there to help her unpack. To this day, she had no idea how he knew she hadn’t unpacked, how he knew that her meagre belongings that hadn’t been sold on after she died were still in boxes. She’d let him in, too tired to argue with him, and she’d let him help without argument - something she now knew was a sign of just how much she trusted him even when she wasn’t sure she could trust herself. He’d turned her mood around that day, had arrived to her on the edge of a panic attack and left her laughing, her smile shining with adoration as he dryly told her about something Dave had done whilst she was away. 

He’d come back the following weekend, with Jack and breakfast from their favourite diner in tow, matching smiles on their faces as they told her they were there to cheer her up, and it had been a tradition ever since. Something that followed her and Aaron from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend and now husband and wife. 

She was never alone now and if she ever was, she was terrible at it. On the rare occasion she was in the house alone she’d struggle. She was used to Aaron’s laugh, or the low timbre of his voice that would travel even through closed doors. She was used to Jack’s excited chatter, or the sound of his video games or cartoons he loved. When it was just her, it was too quiet, something she’d try and counteract by turning on the television or simply calling her husband and asking him when he’d be home. She’d feel nothing short of absurd for it, and she knew a past version of herself would mock her for it, but she loved having him near. Loved the reassurance of his presence, and the only thing that stopped her from chastising herself for it was that she knew Aaron was the same. 

The team made fun of them for it. They’d gently tease them for how they would gravitate towards each other, never able to be too far away as if they felt unsteady if they were. In the same breath as they made fun of them their friends would tell them they were happy for them, that they both deserved what they had now.

___

She sighs contentedly as she wakes up, stretching her limbs as she rolls onto her back, a yawn escaping her as she reaches for her husband's side of the bed. She furrows her brows when she finds it empty, the sheets cold to the touch, and she sits up, her eyes flicking to the also empty bassinet on her side of the bed. A quick glance at the alarm clock, and the lack of daylight streaming in through the curtains, let her know it’s 3.35 am, that she’s likely been pulled from sleep by the cold emptiness of her bed as well as the dull ache starting to build in her breasts. 

Even though she knows that they’re safe, that Aaron will have taken their little girl downstairs to give her some more rare and precious sleep, she’s still met with momentary panic. It greets her like an old friend as it wraps its hand around her throat, stealing the breath from her lungs before she can reason with herself, memories of when she was alone and being hunted by the man who had killed her briefly overwhelming. She shakes her head and blows out a slow breath and she shoves the covers off her as she climbs out of bed. 

“Get it together, Emily,” she mumbles to herself, grabbing Aaron’s robe from the back of the bedroom door as she passes it, wrapping it around herself to warn off the slight chill in the air. 

She checks in on Jack on the way past, takes a moment to rearrange his bedding around him and kisses his forehead before she sneaks back out of his room, not wanting to wake him on a night when he’d somehow slept through his baby sister’s cries. She finds Aaron and the baby exactly where she knew she would, snuggled up on the couch together with only the light of a single lamp in the corner of the room illuminating them. She can’t help but smile as she walks into the living room, her chest aching with love at the sight of her little girl fast asleep on Aaron’s chest, her cheek squashed against his t-shirt and a line of drool visible even in the low light. 

“Can I join this party, or is it invite only?” She asks, careful to stay quiet, to not startle him or wake up their daughter. 

Aaron turns to look at her, his smile soft and sleepy, and he removes one hand from Violet’s back to tap the couch next to him, “You’re always invited,” he replies, just as quietly as he presses a kiss to the dark hair on the newborn’s head, “Right, Vi? Mommy can always join us.” 

Emily crosses the room and sits next to him, immediately snuggling into his side, sneaking under the blanket he had draped over his lap. She rests her head on his shoulder and reaches out to run her knuckles up and down Violet’s soft cheek. “Is she okay? You could have woken me up.” 

“She’s fine,” he says, turning his head to kiss her temple, smiling when she tilts her head to capture it, his lips slightly chapped against hers, “She was fussing, but I think she just wanted to cuddle,” he smiles as he pulls back, “Now I may lack the facilities to feed her, but I’ve got it on good authority I give amazing hugs,” his smile gets wider as she lovingly rolls her eyes, “So I thought I’d let you rest until she did need feeding.” 

Emily hums gratefully, kissing the corner of his mouth before she rests her temple against his cheek, unable to tear her gaze away from the sleeping baby, “Daddy really does give the best hugs, sweet girl,” she says, her words disappearing into a laugh as more drool lands on Aaron’s t-shirt, “Although, I used to be the only girl allowed to drool on him,” she strokes her daughter’s head, following the swirl of dark hair. It was the very first part of her that Emily had touched, encouraged to reach between her legs by her doctor and feel the top of her little girl’s head when labour was starting to feel like it was too much, “I guess I can share him with you though.” 

Aaron chuckles and wraps his arm around her, tugging her closer as he securely holds Violet close with one arm, “Did we wake you?”

Emily shakes her head, “No, I think it was because the bed was empty,” she mumbles, reaching for his hand and unhooking herself from under his arm so she can hug it to her chest, his hand sandwiched between both of hers as she tucks them under her chin, “I’m not good at sleeping alone anymore. You ruined me.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her and smiles, “I’m…sorry,” he says, his tone teasing and she squeezes his hand tighter. 

“As you should be,” she replies dryly, feeling sleepiness take over, the warmth of him and the sound of Violet’s breathing slowly pulling her under, “There’s only one way to make up for it.”

He kisses the top of her head and then hides his smile in her hairline, “Oh yeah, what’s that then?” 

“Sleeping next to me forever.” 

He chuckles “You drive a hard bargain, but I’m sure I can manage that,” he says, and she leans into him, his voice something that calmed her, something that pulled her in, “You should get some sleep, sweetheart.” 

She grumbles, trying to fight him on it even though it was a losing battle, “But you’ll be trapped here with both of us sleeping on you.” 

“There are much worse places to be trapped, Em,” he assures her, his words murmured against her forehead, “And Vi will wake us up soon anyway,” he kisses her forehead, “Get some sleep, and I’ll be here for you both.” 

She hums, no longer able to fight it, exhaustion and the comfort of him washing over her, “Love you.” 

The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is his reply, his I love you too whispered against her skin, and she knows that not only would she never be good at being alone again, but that she’d never have to be.