#....time to figure out what to write next

[jessica-meats]

This is a bit of a long thread but the bit that made me laugh was the description of querying agents as easy. "It's like an easier form of job-hunting because all you're submitting is a cover letter for your book." This tells me that the person writing this reblog has not submitted a book.

You don't have to submit just a cover letter. Most agencies want a cover letter. They also want the first few chapters/a specific number of words from the start of the book - this is fine because you've already written it. Then they want a synopsis. And this is where it gets complicated, because summarising your book in a way that gets the important information across is difficult, but also because it feels like no two agencies want exactly the same thing. Some will want a 1000 word synopsis, or a 1500 word synopsis, or a 500 word synopsis. Some measure by page counts and want a 2-3 page synopsis, or a 1 page synopsis. And so on.

And sometimes they ask for different levels of details. When I was looking up places to send one of my words, one website's submission information said that the synopsis needed to contain "every twist and turn" of the plot, and the very next website I looked at said, using the same phrase, that they didn't need to know "every twist and turn".

You have to write about ten different synopses to cover all the bases.

And then some of them ask for an author bio, or a bibliography of your other previous work, or something else like that as well. You have to tailor your submission to every single agency because they're all ever so slightly different and that is time-consuming and frustrating as hell.

Then you have to figure out which agents to send your book to, because most agencies are specific about the genres and age ranges they're interested in. Often, you have to submit to a specific agent within the agency, so you have to figure out which one is going to most likely be interested.

And sometimes, you think you've found someone who's list of what they're looking for lines up perfectly - and then you click to find out how to submit to them and it says they're closed for submissions.

And as for working with editors, quality varies. I've worked with a couple of great editors. The editor I had for Wolf Unleashed was fantastic. His feedback was helpful and clear and shaped the book into a polished version of the story I had in mind. Then there was the copy-editor who worked on one of the books of the Shadows of Tomorrow trilogy who was terrible and actually introduced grammatical errors into the text. Things like putting the apostrophe in the wrong place in plural possessive cases and muddling up "past" and "passed". I had to write to the publish and point out these mistakes and demand that they get a different copy editor to go over the book again.

And even when you think things are going well and you've got success, something can come along and blindside you. I had a novella A Monster's Kindness accepted by Less Than Three Press (a small LGBTQ+ focused publisher) and I was really excited. They worked with me on edits and created a cover for the book - and then the publisher sent out an announcement to all the authors that the publisher was going out of business. This was about a month before my book was due to be published.

The original message of this video can be summed up as "A book can be great and still be rejected" and "Even if you're rejected a bunch, it doesn't mean it's a bad story." That is encouraging. That's not rage bait. That's reassuring to people who are in the process of collecting a huge pile of rejection letters.

The whole "we don't know if this should be YA or adult" is something that happened to me with my first book. I had two agencies state that as the reason for rejecting me.

And they were the ones who gave me a reason. There are several agencies I've submitted to that basically say "we don't reply to everyone; if you don't hear from us within X weeks, assume you've been rejected." A lot of places just give a generic, copy/paste "your book did not meet our needs" response.

If you are a writer trying to get your work traditionally published, "don't tie your self-worth into whether you're getting offers," is a fantastic piece of advice. Because sending your work on submission sucks. And even when someone says yes, it's not guaranteed to lead to success, or even a published book.

When my first book was published, I was doing a lot of promotional legwork (because the first reblogger on this thread is not correct about the publisher doing all the promotion either) and I went to a school careers day to talk about being an author. The advice I gave to those kids was not dissimilar to the advice at the end of this video. I told them to have a backup plan with a more stable form of income, because making money from being a published author is uncertain and unpredictable.

Some truths about the publishing industry because I certainly got blindsided when going in. Now I'm so broken by this industry I struggle to encourage aspiring writers lmao

[sheep-from-rad]

Blood Bound (Yandere Batfam x reader)

Note: I forgot I had this written in my draft notebooks for weeks now. I guess this might be part 1

Masterlist

divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

You have always lived a normal life. You were raised in a small household where it’s just you and your father. Your mother was absent in the picture and you lived in the house near the edge of the town. Though small and seemingly insignificant in the fast moving town of Gotham, it filled you with contentment while growing up. 

The absence of a mother figure in the picture made your father more protective. At an early age you were taught basic self-defense, survival skills, and even made you remember each escape route in the city. Even now that you’re a student at Gotham Academy, he still doesn’t take chances at public transportation safety. He will wake up early in the morning to make you breakfast and lunch, and then send you to school before going to work. You two won’t meet again until after school where he picks you up and makes you choose whether to get takeout or home cooked meal for dinner. 

It was mid Psychics class when the intercom rang, the principal calling you to come to the office immediately. You looked up from your notes meeting the equally confused look from the professor and your classmates. Whenever some kid is needed for an intervention, the principal would only send a staff to pick them up. The intercom on the other hand is reserved for emergencies or when a student commits a big misconduct punishable by suspension or expulsion. 

Well, you did have your fair share of trouble but all of those combined is not enough to warrant a suspension. You made solid knocks on the mahogany door and waited for the principal to say ‘come in’ before placing your hand on the cold door knob and twisting it open. Inside was the principal and a police officer from Gotham PD. “What’s going on?” you asked, taking a seat as you watched their grim expression. 

“There was a break in at your place. The place was torched down and your father was burned alive” 

Damian glared heavily at the titanium case that they had unearthed earlier on the crime scene. The execution of the crime was well timed. The break in happened just an hour after Duke had made his rounds on the town edge, while Damian is at school, while Tim is being forced to rest, while Jason is out of town with Dick, and while Bruce is at work. The entire house is burned down probably to erase evidence that led to the criminals or erase the evidence of the criminals being there in the first place. 

He was ready to write down the case as a possible mafia related crime until Ace started running around and started digging beneath the ashes that used to be the house’s floorboards. 

The dark fabric inside the now cracked titanium safe was unmistakable. The ideology of creating utopia by getting rid of the filth that is humanity and bathing the new paradise with its blood. Leaving the League of Assassins is a death sentence and a leap of faith but surviving for years after leaving is far more impressive. Still, the desperation of fear for life is present as evidenced by the locks of hair wrapped in paper with Archangel Michael’s prayer and a hastily scrawled note that reads, ‘I never regret taking you away’. 

Taking who away? 

The beeping of the comms echoed inside the batcave, taking Tim’s focus who just entered the cavern. “Barbara, any news?” he asked in between yawns. Barbara sighed on the other end of the line followed by the shuffling of papers and sipping of coffee. 

“The DNA from the hair inside the titanium case didn’t match the victim’s” Then there was a pause. It hangs high in the air before she drops the next set of information. “But it matched Bruce’s and Talia’s”

[lokisswiftie]

Satisfied

2.5k Words

Summary: Spencer can’t take his eyes off of your mouth once he notices your fixation…

Warnings: Smut!!! So much smut!!! Reader has an Oral Fixation, post prison Spencer, Dom!Spencer but he’s pathetic guys, Slightly rough Spencer, Oral (m receiving), Reader wears lipgloss?

A/N: hey guys!!! I’m back with more Spencer and I can’t lie I absolutely loved writing this. I’m taking requests, read details on my pinned post! Enjoy, and tell me what you think ;)

———————————————————————

Spencer knows the exact moment that he became aware of your fixation. It happened at night, when he was among the only people still in the bullpen working away at his mountain of files. He figured that the endless piles of papers to complete are a good distraction from the thoughts that follow him home. So, there he was at his desk, dutifully filling in the paperwork with focused efficiency. That was until his eyes briefly glanced up from his work, with the sole intention of taking another sip of his coffee.

Instead, they landed on you. Spencer had grown close to you since his return from prison, and found himself opening up to you, the newest agent. You were sweet, and hard working and growing on him fast. So, he felt very ashamed for the way he was becoming hard at the sight of you.

Very clearly wrapped up in your own stack of files, your brow was furrowed as you read over the writing. Your hair looked especially gorgeous in the low lighting- but that wasn’t what had him slack jawed. It was that you didn’t even notice that you were chewing on the lid of your pen. Your lips are parted around the cap, your tongue flicking out against the lid. He realised with a shuddering halt that a number of things you had done around him were adding up.

While speaking to him once he can recall you frequently wetting your lips. Another time, he can remember you sucking on a sweet treat. Now, Spencer Reid realised very quickly that you definitely had an oral fixation. And he felt very guilty for how much he was turned on by that. He didn’t say anything, just returning to his files and fighting to ignore the tent in his trousers- but from then on he was always noticing you, even when he tried not to.

He tried over the next few weeks to stop his eyes from drifting sinfully to your lips, whenever you would mindlessly chew on your pen without even noticing. Or, the way you almost always had some sort of candy on your tongue, even in the field. It seemed to him that you couldn’t stop wanting something in your mouth, and it was growing frustrating to him that he was so fascinated by this. It was making his life much harder, when everytime he was around you he was only able to focus on your soft lips, that he keeps picturing wrapped around him.

It was wrong. He knew that, as your colleague and your superior he has a role of responsibility around you. But with your friendly nature it’s not like you ever give him time away from you- always at his side talking animatedly about cases with an enthusiasm he can’t match. He can’t, because he’s always focused on your goddamn mouth. His stomach twists in guilt every time he finds himself staring at you, and he forces himself to look away.

The obsession- he’s given in and started calling it that- has gotten to a point where he lays awake at night, unable to sleep for thoughts of your mouth. He always feels shameful when he wakes up the next morning, and the wet patch on his boxers is evidence that he once again fell asleep to thoughts of you. Thoughts of what he would do to keep your pretty mouth busy.

So far he’s convinced himself he’s doing well at maintaining a professional relationship with you. The problem is, you’ve noticed the difference in Spencer in the past few weeks. It’s becoming increasingly more obvious that he’s been avoiding you, and you’re growing tired of it. In all honesty, you miss the casual interactions before he started putting distance between you.

That’s why when you’re about to leave for the night and notice Spencer staying late like usual, you decided that the pile of paperwork on your desk would be a perfect excuse to spend more time around him.

Spencer Looks up briefly as you return to your desk, and grab a file from the stack. He quickly looks away but internally his heart is racing. A quick glance around the room tells him that everyone else has left- leaving him alone with you. Sure, this is fine. It’s fine. Only, when he cautiously glances at you again he’s pained at the sight of your lips wrapped around the lid of your pen while you’re deep in thought. His cock is already perking up in his trousers at the sight and it feels almost mocking how your lipgloss catches the light in that moment.

“Spencer, why are you staring at me?”

You sigh in frustration, and Spencer doesn’t feel the surprise at your words for a good few seconds, as he’s so busy watching the way your mouth forms them. He snaps his eyes to yours, mouth agape and floundering beneath your gaze.

“I- uh- sorry, I didn’t realise I was- sorry.”

He pathetically stumbled the response, his mouth going dry. God, he feels ridiculous. It’s like you’re doing this on purpose- looking so pretty every time he sees you. He’s recently noticed You applying that shiny lip gloss that feels like it was made specifically to torment him. He wets his lips and shifts behind his desk conspicuously.

You raise your eyebrows and stay silent, staring at him while you lift your pen to your mouth again. You stare at him, analysing his fidgety nature. As far as you know, you haven’t done anything to elicit this kind of reaction from him. He’s been acting off with you for weeks and you’re determined to know why.

“You’ve been being weird with me- what did I do, Spencer?”

You question him seriously, and when you’re done talking you put your pen back between your lips again. The funny thing is, you don’t even realise you’re doing it again. Your tongue flicks against the lid, and Spencer groans prompting you to raise your eyebrows again.

“Fuck- that.”

He gives in relatively easily to the question, and he could kick himself for it. But it’s not entirely his fault- you’ve worn down on his capacity to lie convincingly, with your mouth haunting his mind. You furrow your eyebrows at him, and squint at him with a puzzled expression.

“What?- Spencer, what are you talking about?”

You feel your cheeks get a little bit heated at the way Spencer’s eyes are so locked on you. You squirm a little under his gaze. Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore- not when your bottom lip brushes the cap of the pen again when you speak. He grits his teeth and gets up as your eyes follow him. Pacing over until he’s standing in front of you, Spencer places his hand on your jaw which goes slack in shock.

“That. The fucking pen- you keep biting it. You don’t even know you do it, do you?”

His voice has gotten lower- rightfully so, this conversation is not for work. You stumble for a response, and you find that your heart has started racing with his touch.

“I- I don’t-“

“-You bite your lips too. And you-“

Spencer interrupts your weak response with a low tone, and you don’t make an effort to interrupt his impromptu ramble. His palm remains seated on your cheek while you gape up at him, gripping the pen in your grasp. It’s true, now that he’s pointed it out you run your tongue over your bottom lip. He groans at that, and goes silent.

There’s a moment after that where he just looks down at you, gritting his teeth and his mind racing. His brow has a crease in it telling you he’s thinking intently. His trousers have a tent in them that tells you what those thoughts might be.

“You have an Oral fixation. You seek out stimulation through your mouth- by sucking on those candies or biting your pen.”

He finally says, and the words sit on your head and then fly away. You can’t much think past his crotch in your eye line. From above, Spencer exhales slowly and then his hand firmly directs your head to look up at him. When you do, you can’t breathe much for the fire in his eyes.

“But you’re never satisfied. You drive me insane with that mouth of yours.”

The words spilling from Spencer’s mouth have been restrained for weeks. Weeks since he first noticed your mouth in this lewd way, and he’s watching the way they affect you just as much. Slowly, he sinks his hand back to grip your hair firmly as he speaks with his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you want me to help you fill it?”

You feel your heart stutter in your chest, and without really meaning to you tip your head back for him. When his words register in your brain you realise the throbbing between your legs. You’ve surely soaked through your panties by now. Your mouth goes dry and then when your eyes glance back down to his bulge, you find yourself almost salivating at the thought.

“Yes- please, Spencer.”

You nod eagerly and he groans, which turns into a dry chuckle. He feels like this might be another one of his dirty dreams about you- but at this point he can’t be bothered to care. Instead he gently brings your head closer to his aching crotch.

“Yeah, I thought you might… be good for me, undo my belt sweetheart.”

He exhales. Your hands jump into action and you can’t believe this is happening. You drop the pen and it skids away, while you fumble with his belt hurriedly. The thought of Spencer in your mouth is making you press your thighs together. You’ve always had a tiny crush on your fellow agent, ever since you joined the bau and were introduced to him. You always thought that he was impossible to have… but now as you tug down his slacks and come face to face with his tented boxers, you realise you’re not the only one who wanted this. You pause and look up at him, finding him panting and his pupils blown wide in those brown eyes.

“Fuck- c’mon sweetheart, use that pretty mouth for me.”

He says, his chest rising and falling fast. His hand tenses in your hair, eager to direct you to the source of his arousal. The sight of your face so close to his aching cock is making him impatient. Thankfully, you grin and oblige him, pulling down his boxers. He’s painfully hard, his cock hitting off his stomach and pulling a hiss from his lips. Meanwhile, you have to take a moment to stare at him.

Fuck he’s bigger than you expected. You wet your lips as you think about having to take all of him in your mouth, and you decide you want that challenge. Pearly beads of pre-cum form steadily at his tip, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around his base and directing his head to your mouth. You deliver kitten licks to him, and look up to find him a mess already.

“Oh fuck- god-“

His eyes closed for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he gathered himself together. You swirling your tongue around his sensitive head is what snaps his eyes open with a broken moan. He draws in a breath before his hand tightens in your hair and lightly tugs you closer to him.

“Don’t fucking tease me- you know you want to take it all. So fucking take it.”

His voice is low and strained, and it’s making wetness pool between your thighs embarrassingly fast. You wet your lips at his words and you don't wait any longer to wrap your lips around him. The sound that spills from Spencer’s mouth when you start taking his cock into your mouth is borderline pornographic. You stop for a moment in surprise and look up, but when you lock eyes with him and see the desperation in his face you promptly take him all the way in your mouth.

“Oh my god!-“

Spencer’s head tips back, and his hand grips your hair tightly, keeping you like that for a moment while he gets his breathing in check. His eyes have drifted closed and he feels like he’s left the planet for a good few seconds.

“Feels so fucking good baby-“

His voice breaks into a moan when he looks down at you, and you fight the urge to smile around his cock. You slowly start to bob your head in a rhythm, the salty taste of his precum spurring you on. It gets to a point where he can’t take it anymore, and it pulls a choked moan from your throat when he grabs your hair more firmly and starts to direct your thrusts.

“Fuck- just like that baby- you love this don’t you?-“

You’re not surprised that he rambles even now, when your mouth is wrapped around his cock. You smile around your mouthful, and when he sees that he thrusts against your throat with a shuddering moan. The throbbing pulse of his vein on your tongue is addicting. What’s more addicting is that everytime you come up, You swirl your tongue around his head. That pulls the most pathetic of moans from his throat.

“Oh god- oh fuck baby- I’m close, I’m so close-“

Spencer starts to babble, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to watch you. When he fixes his eyes on you he sucks in a breath. Your eyes wet with tears from taking him so well, and drool pooling at the sides of your lips. Your lips- you pull back and then he’s hit with the sight of your lipgloss smeared around his cock. when he sees that, you feel him grip you and slam himself back into your mouth again.

“I’m coming- fuck- I’m gonna come-!”

His voice gets higher, whimpering as he proclaims to you in warning. As if you don’t already know what’s coming, with the way he throbs on your tongue. You lock eyes with him when it happens, and the sight is obscene.

Spencer’s dark eyes almost roll back entirely when he comes with a moan down your throat, his hand holding you firmly in place. You take it all, your hand coming to stroke his hip while you swallow everything he gives you. After the waves wash over him his hand grows slack on the back of your head, and you pull off with a pop.

“Spencer, are you with me?”

Your words come out sly, as you wipe the corners of your mouth from any residue. Spencer’s eyes flutter open, and the moment he looks down at you he’s a mess again. No dream could compare to the satisfied grin on your lips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

The words spill from his bitten lips without any hesitation, and his hand slides to cup your cheek. For a moment the two of you look at eachother, a wrecked smile on his face and a satisfied one on yours. When he catches his breath he fixes himself up- though no matter what he does with his clothes, the fucked our expression on his face remains.

His hand strokes over your cheek and he almost falls down to his knees in his hurry to connect his lips with yours. You decide when your lips lock together that you’d happily let Spencer take care of your cravings like that again.

[cloudyluun]

London Fever | neighbour!harry

Summary: Y/N moves into a high-end London apartment building, only to discover her new neighbor is Harry Styles—enigmatic, infuriating, and entirely too intoxicating. Their tension simmers beneath stolen glances, elevator encounters, and late-night mind games. But when she tries to break free from his spell with another man, Harry finally snaps—pinning her against her door with a dangerous confession.

He doesn’t like sharing.

And now, she’s in deep.

A/N: Me, writing this: Let’s keep it light, flirty, and fun! 😊Also me: What if he corners her in a hallway and says “I don’t like sharing” in a voice that ruins her entire life?

I am not responsible for any emotional distress caused by this man. He started it.

Part Two? Oh, you’re not ready. 😈

Wordt Count: 4,4k

Warnings: 

Explicit sexual tension (if that’s a warning or an invitation, I’ll let you decide)

Strong language (Harry has a sharp tongue in more ways than one)

Mutual pining & slow burn (this is torture, besties)

Jealousy & possessiveness (Harry is territorial, and it shows)

Masturbation scene (inspired by a voice that should be illegal)

Power plays & control games (who’s really in charge here? TBD)

Cliffhanger ending (because I love pain)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

"Welcome home, sweetheart."

That’s what I whispered to myself the moment I stepped into the apartment, dropping my suitcase onto the gleaming hardwood floor. The words felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else. Someone who had their life figured out. Someone who wasn’t running from the wreckage of a messy breakup and a mother who never thought she was good enough.

But this was it. My fresh start.

The apartment still smelled like my aunt—lavender and vanilla, soft and comforting—but the silence was heavy. I hadn’t been back here since I was a kid, when she used to let me sit on the balcony and sip cocoa like I was some high-society socialite. It was surreal to think that this place was mine now.

And it was beautiful. Sprawling windows, high ceilings, a ridiculous amount of space for one person. The kind of apartment people only dream about having in London. But right now? It didn’t feel like home. Not yet.

So I spent the next few weeks making it mine.

I painted over the muted beige walls with warm, inviting colors. Deep greens and soft creams that made the space feel less like a museum and more like a sanctuary. I filled the shelves with books I’d collected over the years, lined the windows with plants that I prayed wouldn’t die, and threw myself into decorating. Gold accents. A velvet couch. Candles in every corner. The kind of place that made you want to curl up with a glass of wine and pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

By the time I was done, it finally felt like I belonged here.

And then I saw him.

It was in the building’s lobby, late afternoon, when I ran down to grab a package the doorman had been holding for me. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone, especially not him—tall, broad shoulders, sweat-damp curls sticking to his forehead, wearing black running shorts and a loose t-shirt that clung to his chest.

Harry. Fucking. Styles.

I nearly tripped over my own feet.

He barely glanced at me as he strolled past, his fingers brushing over his damp jawline, lost in whatever was playing through his headphones. The air shifted the moment he walked by—like he carried his own gravity, something that pulled people in whether they wanted it or not.

I swallowed hard, gripping my package like it was a life raft. Play it cool.

I turned toward the elevator, trying to ignore the way my pulse hammered in my throat. But before I could press the button, I caught him looking. Just a flicker. A half-second. But it was enough.

And I had the stupidest thought.

What if he knew my name?

The thought lingered long after I stepped into the elevator, my pulse still unsteady from that fleeting glance. He didn’t, of course. Why would he? He was Harry Styles. A global superstar. A man who had sold out stadiums and had the world at his feet. And I was just the new tenant, the girl fumbling her way through a fresh start.

Still, something about the way he’d looked at me stuck. Like a brief moment of recognition. Or curiosity.

I told myself I was imagining things.

Days passed without another sighting, and I let myself settle into a rhythm. Mornings were spent at the café down the street, afternoons arranging my bookshelves, nights curled up on my velvet couch with a glass of wine and a too-long list of unanswered texts from my mother.

I should’ve known it was only a matter of time before we ran into each other again.

It happened on a Wednesday. I had just come back from the grocery store, struggling under the weight of way too many bags, my arms aching as I fumbled for my key card in front of the elevator.

And then—a voice from behind me.

"Here, let me get that."

I turned, nearly dropping everything in the process.

Him.

Harry stood there, casual and effortless, one hand reaching out to hold the elevator door open. His curls were slightly tousled, damp like he’d just come from a shower, and he smelled faintly of something clean and expensive. His hoodie hung loose over his frame, sweatpants slung low on his hips.

My brain short-circuited for a second.

"I—uh—thanks," I stammered, stepping inside before my face could betray how flustered I felt.

He followed, standing at the opposite side of the elevator, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket.

The doors slid shut.

For a moment, silence.

Then—his voice, smooth and easy, breaking through the thick air between us.

"New here?"

I nodded, shifting the weight of my bags against my hip. "Just moved in."

His gaze lingered, traveling over me like he was committing me to memory. And then, that smirk. Just the faintest tilt of his lips before he looked away, dragging his fingers through his curls.

"That explains why I haven’t seen you before," he mused, almost to himself.

I swallowed. "Do you… know everyone in the building?"

"Not really," he admitted, glancing at me sideways. "But I would’ve remembered you."

My stomach flipped.

The air felt different now, charged with something I didn’t fully understand. He wasn’t flirting, not exactly, but there was a weight to his words. A casual observation laced with something else.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but then the elevator jerked to a stop, and the doors slid open onto my floor.

A breath. A pause.

"See you around, then," he murmured, watching me as I stepped out.

I nodded, still breathless, and the doors closed before I could say another word.

I stood there in the hallway for a long moment, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I would’ve remembered you.

I should’ve known that was just the beginning.

Because after that, I started seeing him everywhere.

In the lobby, when he’d nod in passing, lips curled in a knowing smirk. In the elevator, where the air always felt a little too thick, a little too charged. Even at the café down the street, where he’d slip in unnoticed, baseball cap pulled low, fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee.

It was like once I’d noticed him, I couldn’t unnotice him.

And the worst part? I was starting to think he’d noticed me, too.

Maybe it was in the way his gaze lingered just a second too long. Or the way his smirk deepened whenever he caught me staring.

But nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared me for what happened next.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when it happened.

Rain drummed lightly against the windows, the city still half-asleep, wrapped in a quiet kind of stillness. I had nowhere to be, nothing to do—so I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water melt away the lingering heaviness of the past few weeks.

By the time I stepped out, steam curled thick in the air, my skin flushed from the heat. A towel was loosely wrapped around my body, barely hanging on as I padded across the hardwood floor toward my closet.

I didn’t think.

Didn’t even glance at the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that framed my bedroom.

Didn’t consider that my apartment was directly across from someone else’s.

I just stood there, half-draped in a towel, fingers carding through my damp hair, completely oblivious.

Until I felt it.

A presence.

That unmistakable prickle of being watched.

My heart stilled.

Slowly—so slowly—I turned toward the window.

And there he was.

Harry.

Standing on his balcony, coffee cup frozen mid-air, gaze locked onto me.

A dark flicker passed through his eyes, something unreadable, something that sent a sharp, unexpected thrill straight through me.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us looked away.

I should’ve stepped back. Should’ve yanked the towel tighter, turned around, done something.

But I didn’t.

Instead, my grip on the fabric loosened slightly, breath caught in my throat as the realization sank in—he wasn’t looking away.

His jaw ticked.

Fingers tightened around the handle of his mug.

And then, his lips twitched, just the faintest flicker of amusement, a slow, knowing curve before he finally—finally—tore his gaze away.

I exhaled shakily, pulse hammering, my skin suddenly burning for an entirely different reason.

I didn’t know what the hell had just happened.

But one thing was certain.

This… this was dangerous.

Because now, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The way his gaze had burned through the distance between our apartments. The slow, deliberate way his lips had curled—not in shock, not in embarrassment—but in something far more dangerous.

Amusement.

As if he’d caught me in a game I hadn’t even realized I was playing.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to stop.

In the days that followed, I kept catching him looking.

It started small—fleeting glances in the hallway when we passed each other. A slow drag of his eyes up my legs, a flicker of a smirk when he caught me watching him in return.

Then there were the elevator rides, where the air felt charged, thick with something unspoken. The way his fingers flexed when they brushed against the metal railing, the way he shifted just slightly closer when the doors slid shut.

One night, I was up late, sipping on a glass of wine on the rooftop terrace, letting the London skyline blur into a haze of city lights and half-formed thoughts.

And then—I felt it.

That unmistakable pull.

When I turned, I found him leaning against the railing, a cigarette perched between his fingers, watching me.

Not just in passing.

Not just out of curiosity.

But waiting.

The realization sent a shiver straight through me.

He wanted me to notice.

Wanted me to know that he was watching—that he was paying attention.

And I couldn’t tell if that made me want to run… or take a step closer.

It all came to a head in the elevator.

I’d just come back from a late-night grocery run, arms full, juggling my keys, my phone, and a bag that was already threatening to slip.

The doors slid open, and there he was.

Harry.

Dressed in a loose sweater and sweats, hair damp, like he’d just come from the shower.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then, with a lazy smirk, he reached out and held the door open, stepping back to let me in.

I muttered a breathless, "Thanks."

The doors slid shut.

And suddenly, we were alone.

The space felt smaller. The air thicker.

I shifted my bags in my arms, but one of them tilted—a carton of blueberries slipping free, scattering onto the floor.

“Shit,” I breathed, bending down quickly to grab them.

Big mistake.

Because the moment I crouched, I became acutely aware of how little space there was between us.

How close he was standing.

How his scent curled around me—something fresh, something expensive, something uniquely him.

My pulse hammered.

I reached for a berry just as he did, our fingers brushing.

Lingering.

And then, in the heavy silence, I heard it.

A low chuckle.

When I looked up, his gaze was already on me, dark, knowing, entirely too amused.

I swallowed hard.

“Need some help?”

His voice was low, dangerously smooth, like he already knew the answer.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Because this…

This wasn’t just a glance anymore.

This was a game.

And I had the sinking feeling I was already losing.

Because now, I wasn’t just thinking about him in passing.

Now, he was under my skin.

Now, every glance, every smirk, every moment of lingering silence between us was a loaded gun—cocked, ready, just waiting for someone to pull the trigger.

And maybe I was tired of pretending I didn’t want to.

Maybe I was done pretending at all.

!!!!

Because ever since that night in the elevator, something had shifted.

The way he looked at me lingered a fraction too long. The smirk he gave me every time we passed in the hallway felt a little too knowing.

Like he was waiting for me to slip.

And maybe I already had.

Because now, late at night, wrapped in the comfort of my own sheets, I was thinking about him.

Dangerous. Reckless. I didn’t care.

I poured myself a glass of wine, the rich red swirling in the dim glow of my bedside lamp. The city outside my window was alive, but in here—my apartment, my sanctuary—everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

I reached for my phone, flicking through my playlist until I found it.

His voice.

It was intentional.

I pressed play.

The song was slow, velvet-smooth, the kind that curled around my body and sank into my bloodstream.

The first note slipped through the speaker, and instantly, a shiver ran through me.

I exhaled, letting the tension ease from my body as I slid lower beneath the covers, my fingers trailing absently down my stomach.

Soft.

Light.

Teasing.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

But God, I wanted to.

His voice was everywhere, thick with longing, smooth like honey and sin, and I let it pull me under.

My thighs clenched as my hand wandered lower, fingers grazing sensitive skin, sending a ripple of pleasure up my spine.

Fuck.

I wasn’t quiet.

I didn’t want to be.

Because some part of me—some reckless, shameless part—wanted him to hear.

The thought sent a fresh wave of heat straight through me.

I pressed deeper, my breath catching as I found just the right rhythm, matching the lazy, sultry beat of his voice.

The apartment felt hot, suffocating, like he was here. Watching. Waiting.

My body arched, chasing that edge, my own whimpers slipping past my lips, louder now, unrestrained.

I imagined his hands instead of mine. His mouth.

And that was all it took.

Pleasure crashed over me, my back bowing, my breath catching on his name.

I didn’t hold back.

Didn’t muffle the sound.

Let him know exactly what I had done.

Exactly who I had done it for.

The air in my room felt thick as I lay there, heart pounding, skin flushed.

Fuck.

What the hell had I just done?

The next morning, I stepped out of my apartment, still half-dazed, still buzzing from the night before.

And then I froze.

Because he was there.

Leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, waiting.

Harry.

His curls were a little messy, his sweatpants hung low on his hips, and that smirk—that goddamn smirk—was already in place.

He dragged his gaze over me, slow and deliberate.

My breath caught.

He knows.

I knew it the moment he tilted his head, the moment his smirk deepened into something dangerous.

And then—

"Sleep well?"

His voice was low, teasing, laced with pure, unfiltered amusement.

I was absolutely, completely fucked.

That morning had changed everything.

He knew.

He knew.

And he made damn sure I knew that he knew.

The looks lingered longer. The smirks deepened. The air between us crackled with something unspoken but dangerous.

Every time we passed in the hallway, I felt his gaze skim over me, dragging heat in its wake.

Every time I stepped onto the rooftop terrace, he was there—watching, waiting, nursing a drink with that look in his eyes.

And then, one week later, fate decided to be cruel.

Because the elevator broke down.

With both of us inside.

It started out normal.

I had just gotten back from dinner—one of those “welcome to London” outings that my coworker insisted on. One glass of wine turned into three, and suddenly, my dress felt too tight and my skin felt too hot.

I just wanted to get home.

I stepped into the elevator, mind already wandering, and didn’t notice him until the doors slid shut.

Harry.

In a suit.

I swallowed hard.

I had seen him in a hundred different ways now. Sweaty from a jog. Shirtless on his balcony. In casual hoodies and ripped jeans.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

The black jacket was tailored to perfection, framing his broad shoulders. The white shirt underneath was undone just enough to hint at golden skin and a delicate silver cross resting against his chest.

He smelled like spice and cedarwood, a scent that curled around me in the small space, making my head spin.

I felt his eyes on me before I even looked up.

Dragging down my bare legs, lingering on the snug fit of my dress, pausing at the way the fabric clung to my curves.

I pressed the button for my floor.

The elevator jolted. Then stopped.

A small, dangerous silence settled.

I exhaled slowly, pressing the button again. Nothing.

My heart kicked up.

His voice, low and amused, broke the silence.

“Locked in, are we?”

I turned my head to look at him.

He was already looking at me.

I licked my lips. Bad move.

Because his gaze dipped to my mouth, and my stomach tightened.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to focus.

“Looks like it.”

I shifted slightly, the air suddenly too thick, too warm.

He leaned against the mirrored wall, arms crossing over his chest, watching me with that smirk.

Like he was enjoying this.

Like he had been waiting for this.

“You like playing games, don’t you?”

The words were soft, but they slid over my skin like a touch.

I blinked up at him, heart hammering.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

A slow, deliberate step forward.

My back met the cool surface of the elevator wall.

His scent filled my lungs, woodsy and warm, and I bit the inside of my cheek as his fingers grazed the metal railing beside my hip.

Not touching me.

But close enough that my breath hitched.

I should say something.

I should do something.

But the moment stretched, hot and charged, and I realized—

This isn’t a game anymore.

It should have been. It should have been a passing attraction, a fleeting thrill—just the consequence of living next door to someone too charming for his own good.

But the way he looked at me in that elevator? The way he let the silence stretch, let the tension coil so tight it stole my breath?

That wasn’t a game.

That was something else.

And when the elevator finally lurched back to life, when the doors slid open and I all but ran out, Harry stayed behind—his gaze heavy on my back, the weight of unspoken words pressing into my spine.

It happened a few nights later.

The storm came out of nowhere.

One second, the evening sky was a deep, velvety blue, the next, rain came crashing down, drenching the city in a relentless downpour.

I had made the mistake of walking to the small café down the street, my coat hanging loosely over my shoulders, a book tucked under my arm.

By the time I sprinted back inside the lobby, I was soaked through.

My dress clung to me like a second skin, damp fabric trailing down my thighs. My hair dripped against my shoulders, cold water sliding between my shoulder blades.

I shivered.

And then I saw him.

Harry.

Leaning against the sleek marble counter, phone in hand, a smirk tugging at his lips.

His emerald gaze flickered over me—slow and deliberate. Taking me in.

I swallowed hard, ignoring the way my stomach tightened.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he murmured, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

My pulse jumped.

I scowled, wringing out my sleeves. “I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

Just stood there, watching.

And I knew—this was dangerous.

Because Harry liked this.

Liked the way my breath hitched, the way my body responded to him before I could even think.

And the worst part?

So did I.

I didn’t think when I followed him.

Didn’t question it when he gestured toward the hallway, when my feet moved before my brain could catch up.

By the time I realized where we were, I was already inside his apartment.

And God, it was warm.

Dim lighting. Soft music. The scent of cedarwood and something undeniably him.

I hovered near the door, my breath uneven.

Why was I here?

He disappeared for a moment, returning with a white towel. Holding it out.

I hesitated.

Then reached for it.

Our fingers brushed.

And it was like a spark, like static curling up my spine.

I sucked in a breath, knuckles brushing his wrist as I clutched the towel between us.

His jaw tensed.

I knew then—I wasn’t the only one who felt it.

He felt it too.

The air between us thickened, pulling me closer like a current, like gravity.

He was looking at me.

Not just looking. Watching. Memorizing.

His lips parted slightly, breath steady but controlled. His hands flexed by his sides, like he was holding back.

I shivered again, but not from the cold.

My pulse pounded in my throat, something deep and primal settling in my stomach.

I didn’t stop him when he stepped closer.

Didn’t pull away when his fingers lifted, trailing up my bare arm.

I tilted my chin.

Our faces inched together, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes.

Close enough that his breath ghosted over my lips.

And just when I thought he was going to do it—just when my heart stopped completely—

He pulled away.

“Not yet.”

His voice was low, rough.

Like it cost him something to stop.

Like he wanted this just as badly as I did.

And then he stepped back.

Leaving me breathless, burning, and utterly wrecked.

That was the only way to describe it.

The heat of his touch lingered long after he pulled away. The ghost of his breath still kissed my skin, and I hated how much I wanted more.

Not yet.

The words curled around my thoughts, tightening like a vice.

He had been holding back.

Not because he didn’t want to kiss me.

Because he wanted to wait.

Because he thought he was in control.

As if this was on his terms.

As if I would sit around, biting my lip and twirling my hair, waiting for him to decide when.

I wouldn’t.

I couldn’t.

Because if I spent one more night lying awake in bed, skin too hot, pulse too erratic, mind filled with thoughts of him—

His touch. His voice. His mouth—

I was going to lose it.

So, I made a decision. A reckless one.

I said yes to the date.

Alex.

Blonde hair. Bright blue eyes. Charming, in a practiced kind of way.

He was polite. Sweet. Held doors open and paid for my dinner without hesitation.

He was everything I should want.

And yet, as he sat across from me at the candlelit restaurant, talking about his job in finance, I found myself drifting.

I stirred my wine glass, barely hearing his words, mind stuck on someone else entirely.

On emerald green eyes.

On dimly lit elevators and the smell of spice and cedarwood.

On a voice lower than a whisper, pressing against my skin.

You like playing games, don’t you?

A shiver rippled down my spine.

Not from Alex.

Never from him.

I forced a smile, nodding along as he spoke, but the restlessness inside me only grew stronger.

It ached.

And when the night finally ended, when he walked me back toward my building with a lingering glance, I knew what was coming next.

A kiss.

I should have let him.

I should have leaned in, let my lips brush against his, let myself pretend for just a little while longer.

But something in my stomach twisted.

Something inside me revolted.

Because no matter how hard I tried—

It wasn’t Harry.

And it never would be.

So, I pulled back.

Mumbled an excuse.

Stepped inside my building—

And froze.

Because he was there.

Harry.

Waiting.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight.

The hallway was dim, lit only by the golden glow of overhead sconces, but I could still see every detail.

His shirt slightly rumpled.

His tie loosened around his throat, like he had been waiting a while.

A slow prickle ran down my spine.

I swallowed hard, pulse hammering as he watched me.

Not speaking. Not moving.

Just watching.

His gaze flickered past me, out toward the glass doors—toward Alex.

Something in his expression shifted.

Something cold.

Sharp.

Possessive.

“Fun night?”

His voice was casual.

Too casual.

But there was an edge to it. A razor-sharp tension that cut straight through me.

I lifted my chin, pushing past the sudden tightness in my throat.

I smirked. “Very.”

His eyes darkened.

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

I could feel the tension in the air, stretching tight between us.

Like a wire about to snap.

I took a step closer, tilting my head, poking at the bear.

“Why do you care?”

That was a mistake.

Because before I could blink, before I could even breathe—

He moved.

A slow, deliberate step forward.

Then another.

Until my back hit the door.

Until he was so close that I could feel his breath against my cheek.

The heat of his body just inches from mine.

The scent of spice and cedarwood, wrapping around me, making it impossible to think.

My stomach tightened, a pulse thrumming at the base of my throat.

This was new.

Harry had always watched. Always teased.

But he had never touched.

Not like this.

Not with his fingers tracing my jaw, with his body caging me in, with his lips hovering so, so close.

His emerald gaze flickered over me, slow and dangerous.

He studied me like he was memorizing something.

Like he was committing every single detail to memory.

I could barely breathe.

His thumb brushed against my cheek.

Featherlight.

A touch so delicate it made my knees weak.

Made my mind spin.

Then, his lips parted, voice dropping into something low and lethal.

“Because, sweetheart,” he murmured, tone dripping with something dark.

Something possessive.

Something I wasn’t ready for.

His fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

Forcing me to see the heat in his eyes.

The warning.

“I don’t like sharing.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

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[moonstruckme]

Hello lovely!! I am obsessed with your emt!poly marauders stories🧡. I'd love to request the emt boys taking care of sweet reader after getting an iud insertion. Thank you so much for your writing!! xx

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: reader with a uterus, cramping, it took me until after writing this to realize you probably meant at a hospital or something so sorry about that! but thanks to @ellecdc for helping me figure out how to fit the boys being emts into this when I was being clueless :')

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

The volume of the television is turned down low, the apartment you share with your boyfriends quiet but for its soft hum. You’re curled up against the arm of the couch. Remus is in the armchair adjacent, and your bum is squished against James’ thigh, your feet tucked half underneath his lap. You think Sirius is nearly asleep on his shoulder. You’ve all had a long day. 

Remus leans over to peer at you. He frowns when he sees you’re awake. 

“Alright, sweetheart?” 

You hum. 

A warm hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn your head to find James frowning at you too. He rubs your arm. “I thought you were sleeping,” he murmurs, concerned. “What’s wrong?” 

You took paracetamol PM as soon as you left your appointment. Between that and how much energy you’d used up on dread during the first part of the day, both your boyfriends and you had expected you to crash immediately after getting home and sleep the afternoon away. Unfortunately, you haven’t been so lucky.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say. With two worried boyfriends looking at you, you’re trying to be reassuring. “I’m okay.” 

Unfortunately, a third only joins the mix. Sirius blinks, groggy, his cheek ruddy where it was smushed against James’ shoulder. 

“Then why aren’t you sleeping?” James asks gently. 

You give a little shrug. “Cramps.” 

Sirius coos, reaching for you. He gives your calf a squeeze. “They’re bad, hm?” 

“Not awful,” you say.

In truth, none of this has been as awful as you’d prepared yourself for. You were on the brink of cancelling your appointment, teary and reticent as the boys tried to get you ready this morning and reassured you over and over again that they’d be there to help you, but the procedure itself had lasted less than five minutes. Even now, your cramps aren’t much worse than they usually are on your period. Enough to prod you awake each time you start to drift off, but not so awful that you’re shaking or sweating like they sometimes get. 

Sirius tsks. “You should have said. We can give you another paracetamol, you’ve only had one.”

Hope must show on your face, because Remus is up in the next second. “I’ll get it. Anything else you want while you’re awake, dovey? Chocolate, tea?” 

“No, thank you,” you murmur. 

Sirius makes a low, pitying sound and folds himself over James’ lap, resting his head on your curled-up legs. “No appetite?” he asks, pouting at you. 

“Not really,” you admit. 

James frowns. “What about your heating pad, angel? Would that be alright?” 

“Oh.” You’d forgotten that was an option. “Yes, please.” 

Remus goes to collect. He does bring you a few pieces of chocolate when he comes back, just in case you decide you might like it—it’s as if he can’t help himself—and you take your paracetamol with some water while James situates the heating pad over your belly. 

He encourages you onto your back, unfolding your legs so your knees sit over his lap. Sirius goes to get another pillow, settling it behind your back. 

“How’s that?” 

“That’s great,” you sigh, meaning it. The angle of your legs seems to have helped somehow, in addition to the heat soothing your muscles. “Thank you.” 

“Are you propped up enough?” James takes your water once you’re done, setting it on the coffee table for you. “We can get another pillow.” 

“No, this…this is good, thank you.” 

“Her back might hurt, too,” Sirius says—not to you, but to Remus, who nods. 

“I’ll get the spare.” 

“The spare what?” You watch Remus go at a businesslike pace back down the hall. “My back does hurt, actually.” 

“The spare heating pad,” Sirius explains. Each of the boys seems to have taken on a more serious manner, their movements efficient and practiced. Sirius helps James lift your back, allowing Remus to slip the heating pad beneath you before he plugs it in. “How’s that, baby? Too warm?” 

You settle back down, pleasantly surprised when your pain eases further. “No, it’s nice. It’s sort of like being in a cocoon.” 

He grins, squatting beside you to press a fond kiss to your nose. “Sure you don’t want more pillows?” 

“This is perfect. Really. It’s a couch, it doesn’t have an up-and-down lever like a hospital bed.” 

You watch James blink as he processes what you’re saying. Sirius laughs. 

“Oi! We’re just trying to take care of you.” 

“The only way you know how,” you tease. 

“Oh, my angel.” James leans over you, hugging you sideways. He’s warm and pleasantly heavy, almost better than both your heating pads combined. “I’m sorry you’re hurting,” he mumbles, kissing your chin and the hollow of your neck until he seems to find someplace worth staying in your chest. 

“It’s not that bad.” You stroke his hair. “Anyway, it’s not your fault.” 

“No,” he says, cheek squished to your chest, “but I do feel sort of complicit in it. I was there when they did this to you.” 

“James,” Remus chides. “Don’t make them sound so villainous. She’s still recovering.” 

You laugh a little at that. It’s worth the twinge in your gut. “It’s okay. I’m not all freaked out about it anymore. It’s over with, anyway.” 

Remus softens. “It is over with. You did really well.” 

“Well, all I really had to do was lie there.” 

“You were scared,” Sirius says frankly, sitting down and pulling your feet into his lap. “I know that makes it hard. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” 

Your voice quiets shyly. “Thanks.” 

Sirius gives a soft smile. He rubs his thumb into your ankle fondly. 

“Feeling sleepy yet?” James asks. 

As if on cue, a yawn takes you. Sirius awws and you hear Remus exhale amusedly from his chair. 

“Sleep it off, love,” he says. “Even if the cramps aren’t gone when you wake up, they should be better by then.” 

You slouch into your pillow, getting cozy. “This has helped a lot. Thank you, guys.” 

Even though you’ve closed your eyes, you feel James’ smile smush his cheek into your chest. “That’s what we’re here for, m’love.” 

[let-me-iiiiiiiin]

I feel like he'd be like "what?? Bingge is looking for me? Bingge is tracking me down?" But his brain cells turn back on and he'd instead think, "oh, it's not bingge obviously— Luo Binghe isn't real. That must mean that airplane is tracking me down? Is he telling me that he can easily doxx me? There are way easier methods to do that than write an entire saga of an arc about my favourite protagonist hunting me down!!"

I don't think he would take action against "airplane" tbh— if he does, proud immortal demon way will be discontinued, and that'd mean no binghe, for the rest of his life. But he can avoid him! (Such as, you know, moving away, getting some internet safety tools, avoiding the routes that are detailed in the chapters...)

Weird thing is, that doesn't stop "airplane". The chapters mention that he's changed locations, but the new location doesn't take much to discover at all, not for bingge. Shen Yuan starts feeling scared at this point, but he tells himself he isn't. Airplane is just some messy, absentminded, just-for-lolz kinda guy who couldn't even write a single decent novel. If he actually appears before him, Shen Yuan wouldn't be scared, he'd simply beat that guy up until he begged for mercy!! So really, do your best, great master airplane! See what you get for all this bullshit, you freak author!!

Until the last chapter, which he reads while on the bus on his way back home. In the chapter, Bingge has finally settled down into his new life and waited long enough to have some history in the world, and now he's making his move. Around this hour (which is exactly now, Shen Yuan notes) he heads to Shen Yuan's apartment, climbing the stairs, picking his lock, and familiarizing himself with the place. Shen Yuan feels goosebumps rise on his skin— the descriptions are exactly right. Everything written there is completely accurate to real life. Which meant that... Airplane must have broken in?

When he's in the building, he hears footsteps from the staircase leading up, and runs to use the elevator to avoid whoever is coming down. He goes up, comes to the door, finds nothing out of place, and suddenly wonders if he's actually wrong, but another look at the chapter on his phone convinces him otherwise. There was really no way this Shen Yuan written by Airplane could be an imagined character at all.

So he goes in, and finds a plate of food on the table, still steaming, and a note beside it. He picks it up and reads.

'Apologies for my intrusion, I had intended to greet you. Next time, I hope Yuan-ge and I can have a talk over dinner. For now, please enjoy this meager offering.'

Shen Yuan debates over eating or not eating it, and finally, tired of all the stress, takes a bite, and suddenly thinks, "you know, maybe Luo Binghe is actually real, because there is no way a normal person could cook this well"

After that point Shen Yuan starts becoming a little delusional (according to himself, and also objectively, a little bit) but slowly as clues add up, he starts to actually believe that Luo binghe is the one communicating with him. At some point he even starts wondering if airplane was actually Luo Binghe all along (ladies and gentlemen he's losing it). Like, yeah, he's right, but tonewise his inner monologues should have a kinda mentally ill vibe you know?? He's so down bad for binghe ough

Bingge communicates through the notes for a while— mostly cause Shen Yuan, even though he starts believing that it's binghe himself, keeps avoiding meeting him face to face for fear that there's still a chance that he could be wrong, and he just wants to pretend that this is all real— but at some point he figures out that Shen Yuan is avoiding him way too well for somebody who isn't informed about his patterns, and figures out what's happening. He gets pidw to stop posting momentarily and while Shen Yuan is going through the motions, bereft of the pidw update, bingge finally catches him 💖💖💖 and Shen Yuan is forced to face the protagonist and his massive obsession

Imagine being Shen Yuan, faithful hate reader of Proud Immortal Demon Way, the 30 million world "hit classic" trashfire, ever imitated, hot blood ed stallion novel.... That finished like a wet fart!!!

After a week reeling, you pick yourself up, get on with your life (reading every PiDW fanfic you can get your grubby hands on, and leaving back handed comments like "this was shitty from start to finish, but still managed to be better than anything airplane ever wrote") until one day, Airplane publishes some extras?

And it's WEIRD AS HELL! Alternate universes?? Bing-ge fighting, what, bingmei??? Who is this weak willed protagonist?!?!?! And what's with bing-ge doing.... THAT, with... With SHEN QINGQIU!!!! He's a hot blooded STRAIGHT lover of women!!! Stop describing Shen Qingqiu's eyes like that bing-ge he's not good for you?

But, it doesn't stop at one extra?? Every day a new chapter comes out, following Luo Binghe as he tries to find that "kind" version of his Shizun... Why is this universe hopping romance thriller so fascinating??? The comments are full of hate, airplane's rep is in the trash, nearly EVERYONE is hate reading now...

Eventually Bing-ge begins the believe that SQQ has been possessed in some way, and comes up with a clever way to discover the true name of that Shen Qingqiu!

Anyway, that's your name, Shen Yuan, right there on the screen??? What the fuck.

What the fuck "great master" airplane!!! Bro!!

It was just some salty comments okay no need to take things so seriously 💀💀💀💀

This weird doxx doesn't seem to go anywhere? So you just keep reading! Okay airplane, point taken, no more nasty comments! Peerless Cucumber will keep things quiet from now on!! Luo Binghe begins a search for "Shen Yuan", finding... Finding his way to the real world, with Xin Mo? Okay...

Every day another chapter comes out, and every day it gets weirder? That's - that's your city?? That Binghe is familiarising himself with? You read about him usurping violent gangs, unrest and danger leaking out into the daylight world, murders and mayhem, and every siren you hear outside seems more and more -

- your parents call? Apparently there is something dangerous happening in your city? Don't be ridiculous...

Every word... Your street... Your apartment block? Binghe! You live on the twelfth floor just take the elevator, not the stairs!!

Maybe you should, um, go out for tea?

Just as the elevator doors are closing, you hear the door to the stair well creaking open, footsteps that are neither slow nor fast, quiet not loud, reaching the landing of your floor... Through the thinnest crack you see...

[satsugacafe]

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐈𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: Just a little something for my favourite strawberry I wrote a while back.

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: time-skip college Ichigo, GN!reader, college au, suggestive content, flashbacks of your night with Ichigo

➳❥ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.3k

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: After having a night with you, Ichigo wasn’t ready to let you leave him so quickly the next day.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Tumbling out of bed with a groan, you fumbled with the blanket before you managed to toss the burdensome material back onto the bed and scrambled to your feet. Your legs buckled, nearly giving out on you, prompting your immediate response to grab the edge of the desk. What the fuck, Ichigo? It was a miracle you were able to stand, let alone move.

Reaching for your clothes, haphazardly lying on the floor after the chaotic interaction between you and Ichigo last night, you swiftly tossed on your yesterday’s attire, glancing at the heavily sleeping, strawberry boy still curled up in bed. The blanket covering his waist, lean abs and legs still peeking out from under, hair sticking in every direction, face relaxed, and lips parted as he looked every bit the angel that wasn’t making you grip the sheets for your dear life.

You would have never expected to end up in bed with the hottest guy on campus from the Language Faculty. Something about wanting to see if guys who spoke multiple languages were considerably hot as others kept saying; you ended up in bed with the hottest of the bunch.

Biting your lips to resist grinning like some victorious fool, you adjusted your scarf and slung your bag over your shoulder, reaching for a sticky note and pen to write him a small note. Taking one last look at what would be your first and last time with him, you left his dorm and made your way down the hallway, through the twists and turns of endless staircases. You could still feel how your legs were crying out and begging for you to slow down and stop for the rest of the day. It couldn’t make it anymore from the relentlessness of Ichigo’s strength and stamina. Honestly, where did someone like him have the juice to fuck for hours without reprieve, and still look like he barely broke a sweat?

Just the mere thought of him deep you in had your stomach flipping. You could feel the swirl of heat growing from within, making you unnecessarily frustrated this morning. That was the last thing you needed when you had classes today��wanting to achieve near-perfect attendance. You needed to focus, not think about how good Ichigo felt when he was taking you from behind, his sweaty, lean chest pressing against your back as he leaned over to whisper in your ear to hold on to the headboard. Another cartwheel your stomach performed, and you needed to stop, gripping the railing tightly as you fought to compose yourself this morning. Every flashback was a smile stretching around your face, and your eyes shutting, shaking your head to shut the flooding memories out.

Taking a deep breath to catch yourself, just as you are about to rush down another flight of steps, you hear the faint sound of your name being called. Looking up, there was Ichigo, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black sleeveless shirt, jumping down the stairs like it was sports. He looked every bit fine this morning, and you cursed yourself for having to leave such a meal when you had only consumed the first course, the other four left untouched.

“Hey,” he called out once he approached, wearing a sleepy smile, yet his brown eyes looked every bit awake as they roamed your figure. Your stomach did another flip. “Leaving already?”

“Umm…” Your voice trailed off as you found yourself staring at him. “I, uh—I have classes this morning for ten.”

He scratched the back of his head, looking sheepishly as though he had a pending question and was unsure how to ask. “Oh,” he muttered. “I thought you had extra time this morning since it’s still pretty early. I, uh, wanted to take a shower and have breakfast with you.”

“Y-you wanted me to stay?” you stuttered, your brain attempting to wrap around his agenda.

Peering at you, hand still holding his neck, he offered a small smile. “Yeah. I, um, really enjoyed last night—a lot—and wanted you to stay a little longer,” he explained. “I kinda planned for us to have breakfast and stuff, this morning. If you’re interested though.”

Now it was your turn to be stunned. Kurosaki Ichigo, the starboy of the campus wanted you to stay over for a shower and breakfast after last night. You didn’t pick him as the type doing this, much less with you, but his offer was tempting—extremely tempting—and you didn’t want to reject it, especially when he was offering so sweetly.

Taking a sharp glance at your phone, you still had three hours, and your apartment was a fifteen-minute walk from here. It wouldn’t hurt to agree. So shoving your phone into your back pocket, you met his pensive stare. “Shower and breakfast, huh?” you teased, lifting your brows and earning a blush creeping up his neck. “Didn’t take you for the type of indulge in those type of stuff, especially after last night.”

“Eh, I kinda thought you might need it seeing how I was, uh—you know, rough,” he mumbled and stepped closer. “So, you’re comin’ back to my room?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“What kind of breakfast are you making for me?”

As if that was his cue to shift mood, grinning as though he had been waiting for this moment, he leaned in, arms snaking around your waist and pulling your flush against him, letting you feel his semi-hard erection pressing through his sweatpants. Your breathing faltered momentarily when you felt him pressing against your stomach, fingers reaching for his forearms to cling to him tightly. Taking a deep breath, you glance upwards, meeting his brown eyes already shades darker, and bite your lip.

“I think you already know what kind of breakfast I’m serving this morning,” he whispered into your ear, teeth grazing the shell of your lobe.

“I thought you agreed on how rough you were last night? Are you trying to make me a cripple, now? I can barely walk from last night,” you breathed with a laugh, looking at him incredulously.

Nipping your ear before dragging his lips down the curve of your neck, he breathed in the scent of your skin. “Says the person who ran down two flights of stairs effortlessly—” he grinned into your skin, pressing a skin against your pulse, smiling hard when he felt it jump. “—If anything, it looks like I didn’t do a good enough job, and I need to correct the situation.” Without another word, he scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing and turned on his heel, marching back up the stairs with a look of victory on his face.

Your words fell short at his actions as you stared at him. “Do I have a say in the matter?”

“Of course,” he agreed with a smirk. “You can decide how and where you’d like to have breakfast. My room’s pretty spacious, so take your pick.”

You hid your face in the crook of his neck as he continued to carry you effortlessly up the stairs and back to his room. Heat travelled up your neck until it covered your cheeks and ears. The level of seriousness and unseriousness he displayed at the same time was baffling. “Ichigo,” you mumbled into his neck, voice muffled. “I have classes this morning.”

“And you can miss them…for good reasons, of course. I’m not ready to let you go so soon,” he grinned and pushed his door open, kicked it closed with his feet before walking over to set you on his rumpled bed.

Squealing as you collided with his mattress, you looked up at him in disbelief and sighed. “You really aren’t anything like they say you are, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he smirked and leaned down, hands on either side of your hips, cornering you. “But you still haven’t told me what kind of breakfast you want.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @edensrose @cookielovesbook-akie @kennys-partner @spellboundsuguru

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Love your work, new fan but big fan, I have an Idea for a centaur x fem criminal story

Basically she has a bounty on her head and can't go through the city gates to escape, a centaur offers her a way out, but she has to be strapped to his underbelly while he wears a centaur sized robe/coat/whatever to get past the guards.

Also she has to take her armor off so theres no sound of chainmail to give them away, so she's totally nude under there, nothing between her bare pussy and the centaurs cock. Which was exactly what the centaur wanted all along ;3

Kabr0z Writes episode 51: Daring Escape

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: dubcon; noncon; size difference; belly-riding; creampie; implied impregnation; cum inflation

A/N: This one looks like fun! I always love a centaur being involved, especially when I can make them as downright unpleasant as Hellenic myth depicts them.

They're meanies.

#####################################

The job went near flawlessly. You broke into the castle, cased the joint, got to the war room and learned which routes the army would be travelling. Once the rebellion gets that, they'll have the King by the balls and finally turn the tide. One problem: they saw your face on the way out. Now you're here, in a stinking cistern, propping up a thieves' guild bar. A head full of priceless intel, that you can't risk getting out, only a dwindling handful of copper to your name, and no way out of the city gates.

You could try sneaking out over a wall, but the wards would stop that short. Maybe try sneaking into a grain carriage? You shook your head, no faster way to get a spear thrust through you. You motioned for another drink. You're dead if you stay, dead if you try to leave. You might as well be dead with a bellyful of whatever pigswill grog they serve here.

A man sat on the stool next to you and spoke "Ever heard of the Wizard Porthos?"

The sign, you knew the response "He rules over Doissetep"

The man nodded, and got up. A piece of parchment lay where he was sat. You palmed it, casually finished your drink and went to an alcove, looking like just another drunk going for a piss.

The light was horrible here, but the enchanted ink glowed ever so subtly: "Seek the hunter under the moon"

You had another round, then left the cistern. It was already night out, but this wasn't the moon you needed. Picking your way across the city you found it. The temple of Luna. Empty at this time of night but for a figure, shrouded in dark. You slid through the door, chainmail clinking gently as you padded in on soft-soled shoes. Your turn to speak this time. "Ever heard of the Wizard Porthos?"

The figure rose. A centaur, the shape of a bow slung across his broad back. "He rules over Doissetep"

You relaxed. Either this centaur was in the resistance, or the whole operation had huge problems

"I hear you need a hand getting out of the city? I'll help, but it won't be easy, or particularly dignified"

You nodded at the centaur. What could you do but hear him out?

"I have a sealskin, when the weather looks bad I wear it. It comes down to about my knees"

You could see where this was going "So you strap me to your belly, and we just walk out?" It was genius in its way. Centaurs hate passengers at the best of times, so checking underneath one's cloak for a fugitive just seems silly. Hopefully the guards would have the same thought process, and even if they didn't, you'd have a four hoofed companion to help run you out of danger.

"One snag though. I heard your armour when you walked in, that'll only be worse when you're under me. I can get it smuggled out separately, but it won't be on you."

"I didn't exactly bring a change of clothes" you weren't supposed to be in the city more than a couple of hours, so luggage wasn't a consideration, besides, travelling light made more sense in the wilderness.

"So you'll be naked. Suck it up, Buttercup. And get some sleep, you've got a big day tomorrow."

You couldn't afford not to take his offer. Laying down next to him, you got as much rest as you could.

It was raining the next morning, the cold predawn light seeping in through the windows. The man from the cistern was there, carrying several loops of rope, a hessian sack and a sealskin. Everything you'd need.

You started to strip. Months in the resistance had beaten any bashfulness out of you, and so you didn't mind the two men seeing your naked body. You could still feel their eyes on you, your boyish hips, slim waist, small tits, not to mention your long, muscular limbs. You glared at them as you stood in the chilly air, feeling your nipples harden in the cold as they started fastening ropes around the centaur's chestnut-furred torso

At last it was time for the finishing touches. You, then the sealskin to hide everything.

"Face up or down?" The cistern man looked over at you "I reckon down, it's a little less comfortable on the limbs, but you won't have a faceful of fur."

You nodded. You've never done this before, but if smuggling resistance members was these people's trade, they probably knew that they're about. Climbing under the centaur you allowed yourself to be tied into place.

The ropes were rough, and itched as they strung around you. Your arms were bound backwards, bent to follow the contours of the equine body, your legs open and lifted behind you, knees bent and ankles secured above. The rest of you was held on with loops of rope, keeping you tight to the centaur and taking some weight off your limbs.

Finally came the sealskin. It hid you entirely, padding disguising your silhouette and the skirts preventing you seeing anything but the flagstones below you.

You heard the cistern man say something to the centaur, but couldn't hear what. They both laughed then the centaur started to walk. He wasn't wrong about your armour. Even trussed up as tight as you were to the horse belly, you were being fiercely shaken. Chain would have been so noisy you might as well have given yourself up.

So you watched the cobbles pass below you. The sound of the rain echoing in your ears as it got heavier. At least you were staying dry under here.

You noticed something. Hanging down from between the centaur's back legs. You stifled a gasp to look at it, his huge semi-hard member dangling down. It swung to and fro with the movement of the trotting centaur, occasionally rearing up to be perilously close to your vulnerable crotch. You could smell it. The warm, tangy scent of his unsheathed member invading your nostrils, moistening your lower lips. It wasn't going down. It gathered length with every swing.

It swung up, pressing against your cunt. Again and again. It pressed hard against the entrance. You felt yourself moving, the centaur was shaking himself, shimmying you down. The expertly tied knots allowing you to slide towards his crotch, cinching tighter and stopping you going the other way. Little by little the flare of his cock was pressing harder and harder against your opening, the steady trickle of precum lubing your hole.

It went in. You stifled a yelp. Who knows what was around you, alerting a guard would be lethal.

Still, the shaking pressed you down. Inch by inch the cock pushing in, your cunt not having a choice but to accept it. You bit your tongue, desperate to stay silent as the cock twitched and pulsed in you. You could feel the flare on the end growing, pressing outwards inside you.

The centaur's chest tightened. His cock stiffened and his hips bucked. Hot liquid started flowing into you in waves. The flare held it in as your womb filled. He stayed hard. You could feel it stuck in you. The flare was receding, but the thickness of it let the cum inside.

You shuddered, the feeling of fullness was sending waves of pleasure up your body. The taste of blood filled your mouth as you bit down harder, cutting your tongue on your teeth, desperately trying not to moan.

Voices "Off out today, are we?"

"Hunting. I expect to be back before nightfall"

"Damn poor weather for it"

The cock pulsed in you again. You clenched your body against the urge to moan

"Best time for it. Scent doesn't travel as well in the rain"

"Very well. Wait here."

Another twitch of your cunt, another throb of that cock. Every time you moved, it moved. Every time it moved, your cunt clenched on it. You could feel your eager body trying to milk the huge cock inside you, even as you desperately tried to think of something, anything else.

You ran over the battle plans in your head. The cock throbbed, and you couldn't focus. You planned your travel once you got away. The centaur shuddered, and your thoughts became phallic. You tried to remember the faces of your family back home. Your cunt clenched. The flare surged outwards. Again, cum flowed into you. You felt your skin stretching. The cock plugging you stopped it flowing out. Your belly grew slightly, over-full of hot equine cum.

The centaur's orgasm passed, and the flare receded again. He still wasn't moving, waiting as the guards checked and double checked his papers.

You could feel your belly pushing, trying to force the excess cum out. It was going to start leaking out, if it pooled on the ground, the guards might check under the sealskin.

You didn't have a choice.

You clenched your jaw. Squeezing your cunt as tightly as you could, you rocked your hips. You could hear yourself starting to pant with exertion, you hoped the guards couldn't over the rain. You felt the cock throb and twitch in you, but it had already came twice. It was in danger of going soft, pulling out as it did. You couldn't let that happen.

You quickened your pace, rolling your hips up and down, clenching strategically. You fucked him hard, rubbing the engorged head of his cock against your cervix. His back hoof was clopping on the ground. You could feel his cock thicken. It was nearly there. The flare expanded again

"All in order, you can go"

The centaur staggered on. Steps as regular as he could manage while riding the cusp of pumping another load into you. The cobbles gave way to dirt path. You heard him grunt loudly above you.

He came less this time, but it was still enough to push your belly out further. You allowed yourself a moan, taking deep, racking breaths as the last of the centaur's cum was forced in.

On he walked, the cock softening and dropping out, followed by a jet of cum pouring from your cunt. It left a trail on the road behind you, a thick puddle on the already sodden ground

You made it to the rendezvous with the man from the cistern, who cut your ropes.

You fell to the muddy ground. Limbs tingling as feeling returned.

"She give you any trouble?"

"No" the centaur replied "she knew what was good for her, even got desperate enough for it to get me off all on her own"

They laughed as they walked off together. You lay there, oozing. Your kit was piled in the grass next to you, probably minus whatever money you had.

At least you got out

####################################

As we approach the end of February and volume 1 of Kabr0z Writes, I remind you all that commissions are free and open, just be aware there is a queue, so it may be some time until you see your request.

Most people send requests anonymously, so do feel free to send as many as you like! (I'm also loving how many people are sending in requests for bad things to happen to the Chitinids. I'm so happy I've made villains people love to hate ♥️)

[crookedghosts]

leo valdez calling jason grace darlin' ..... yes

[thebirdandhersong]

does the frustration that my life isn't plotted out with headings, subheadings, footnotes, graphs, checkboxes, and citations ever go away??

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem: epilogue (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x afab!rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 7.08k

WARNINGS & TAGS: attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both yunho's and reader's), use of fem pronouns for reader, the morning after and the day after that. reader and yunho are very in love is lowkey kind of gross everyone, kissing, fluff, dream-talk, yeosang talk too! a little bit of angst if you squint, decision making and finally standing up for yourself is hard and reader is doing their best, soohyun being a good brother and making reader cry, gyuri being a little shit, wooyoung being a little shit, seonghwa being a good friend, happy endings let's goooo.

NOTES: hi everyone! here's the epilogue i promised! like i've said in a few asks that i've gotten, there's a little bit of the next story here, just something so you all have context of it before going in. i don't know when that one is going to be up (i'm not really far along with it) but either way i want to thank all of you for the patience and the wait! i really loved writing mbc:'). this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: february 20th 2025.

taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @0115degrees, @daniela-f-uwu, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @calmoistorm, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @lemonkait00, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay, @xylatox, @honeybeehorizon, @hwallazia, @mady-66.

masterlist - part one - part two. part three. part four.

When Yunho wakes up, rested and naked, the room is dark. 

He turns to the side and the curtains are, of course, down but the thing is that he doesn’t remember closing them the night before. 

When he turns to where you’re supposed to be, the bed is made on your side and you’re not there. 

Strangely enough, he doesn’t panic. He is sure of what you both have, he trusts you enough to know you didn’t run away from him, from you two, again. 

Also, he can smell a mix of coffee and the turpentine-like smell of paint as he gets dressed with his boxers and the slacks he was wearing the night before after picking them up off the floor and going to the bathroom to wash his face. 

He pokes his face out to the living space and there’s a make-shift tarp on the floor, the furniture is moved around to make space for you and an easel. You’re sitting down on a wooden stool, painting away and he wonders if he just missed that last night or if he genuinely just passed out and didn't notice this much change. 

He clears his throat “Good morning, princess.” 

You jump a little, turning your head to look at him and there’s paint on your face and your hand when you wave at him. 

“Hi, Jeong.” 

“Seriously?” 

“What?” 

He chuckles “No cute nickname? Just Jeong?” 

“Well, that is your name, isn’t it?” You turn back and he catches that you’re pretending to focus on your painting, but you’re repassing the same painstrokes as before. 

“We’re going to have to work on it,” he lets out a sigh that turns into a yawn. “Sorry that I slept in on you. What time is it?” 

“Around three.” 

“In the afternoon?!” Yunho looks around for his phone but he locates the clock in the wall first and he confirms your words. “Princess, why didn’t you wake me up? We could’ve spent the day together…” 

“I rather you rest,” you shrug and he takes a few steps until he’s behind you, his hands immediately reaching out to touch you. He can’t help it, he wants to physically fuse into you but he compromises with nature and just massages your shoulders. “You have sectionals in two weeks, right?” 

He frowns at the reminder, a tiny smile on his lips a second later. 

“How do you know that?”

You stop the brush on the canvas and then look at him again, eyelashes batting with fake innocence. 

“I kind of bribed my assistant so she could bribe yours and now your general schedule is on my phone…” 

He fakes a gasp and he marvels in the pout he gets in return. 

“I needed to know when you were leaving the dorm this week!” 

“So you could drop the gift?” 

“Mhm,” you say, puckering your lips to ask for a kiss. He pretends to go for it and he truly pats his back for having a little of self-restraint when he dodges you to pretend he just thought about something. 

“Oh! That reminds me…” 

You huff in annoyance and interrupt whatever he’s about to say. 

“How did you know my room number and who let you in?” 

“I paid the receptionist and showed him proof that we were together,” he explains like it’s nothing and you huff again, amused this time. “Told him I wanted to surprise you.” 

“That’s so irresponsible.” 

Yunho reaches the box he left on the coffee table last night, opens it and pulls the polaroids out. 

“You dropped this off without any explanation! What are these?” 

When he turns around, you’re already painting again and he gets a five second look in his direction before you return your attention to your art. 

“Oh.” there’s a smile on your lips Yunho loves, although he’s not sure if it’s because you’re doing what you love or if you got reminded of something. “I was hoping you asked me about it. I, um, stayed at a resort during New Years, in Gangwondo.”

“Is this the first time we spent Chrismtas and New Years away from each other?” 

“Not the first time,” you muse and then shrug, “but definitely the first time in a long time, huh?” 

“I didn't like it.” 

“Why?” You look at him again and he sits on his knees on the couch like a neglected child, looking your way. You seem to find it endearing, because you laugh. “Because you didn't have anyone to kick under the table this year?” 

“That has never happened.” 

“Liar. Anyway, they have this winter festival that goes all the way until mid January and they have this… Traditional and modern fusion media dance performance that made me think of you. So I took some pictures of the dancers.” 

“So you just put them in the box because you took them while thinking of me?” 

There’s shyness painting your tone when you reply “Yeah.” 

His heart thumps happily inside his chest and he gets off the couch. 

“I love you.” 

You laugh again “I love you too, Yunho,” and, as you shake your head a little, you look in the kitchenette direction with your lips pointed at it. “I ordered some breakfast that you can heat up or you can give me… Twenty minutes and I can change and we can—” 

Yunho revels in the squeak of surprise you let out when he closes the distance, leans in and catches your lips in a short but firm kiss. 

“We can stay in all day if you want to.” He says and you kiss his lips one more time. 

“Okay,” you seem happy to have that option so he sees the moment you make the decision to not push going out at all. “There’s some clothes for you in the walk-in closet. I ordered them when I ordered all of this,” you point at the mess on the tarp and the floor, “I figured you might need them.”

“Thank you, my love.” He whispers and he pecks your lips before reaching for your nearly empty coffee cup. 

“There’s also one for you in the—” 

“I want this one,” he says, a sly smile on his lips and one of his hands returns to your shoulders to massage them. 

He takes a look at the canvas for once and he notices that, what he thought was a solid background color and some structure, has actually started to look like the view in front of you both, with the Namsan Tower in the back. 

“What about the CD?” 

“Hm?”

“Your gift,” he reminds you, “there’s also a CD.” 

“A mixtape, with songs that make me think of us.”

Yunho blows some air and he doesn’t have to look down to see you’re frowning at the sound “You’re a romantic.” 

“Do you want to die?” 

He laughs but doesn’t address the threat at all. Instead, the focus is on your art “The painting of us and the kids is beautiful,” he can feel your skin under his palm heat up at the compliment and it makes him smile. “This one is too.” 

“It all just flows so much smoothly when I don’t have to think about work or being home,” you admit, your body relaxing into his when he takes a sip of the cup and brings it around for you to do the same. “I want to stay here, with you, forever.” 

“And we can,” he murmurs into your head, leaving a kiss on your temple a second later. “If that’s what you want.” 

“I want to move out,” you say, your tone full of wishfulness and Yunho takes in a breath at what that could mean for you, “I want to quit my job.” 

“And what do you want to do for work, then?” He asks, already supporting the decision. “You want to paint?” 

You shake your head, looking up at him, a wishful glint in your eye “I want to be an art teacher.” 

“Oh?” 

“Do you want to work for your father?” 

“Not in a million years, I— Princess, don’t get mad for what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

You turn in the stool, looking up at him with an inquisitorial brow until he crouches down on the floor to meet your eye. 

“My plan has always been to pretend to work and go along with him until I graduate college. Then, I want to move away. I want to… I don’t know, get disowned?” 

Eyes widening, you take in a sharp breath and then cough into your hand. 

He offers you the cup so you can take the final sip out of it. 

“It’s part of why I went along with the PR relationship in the first place.” 

You nod and he gulps, staring as you get lost in thought for a second. 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“Because I sort of planned to use you?” 

“Not really, though. You wanted to use the relationship they threw us into?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s understandable, then. I… I understand.” This time, you’re the one gulping and he opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. “I, um, I’m not sure if I actually can go against my parents wishes and never see my brother again, Yun.” 

He shakes his head. “If you think for a second that Soohyun is going to give a fuck about your parents feelings, you’re wrong. I… Me and Gunho are not as close as I want us to be, you know? But we talk about things.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Sometimes,” his laugh lasts a few seconds only and then he clears his throat. “If there’s something I'm sure of, princess, is that your brother loves you with all his heart. If you want to step away from the family business, from your parents, he… He’ll understand.” 

You nod again. 

“And I’m not saying any of this because I want you to do the same things I want to do but I—” 

You interrupt him “What do you want to do?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you want to work as an engineer?” 

“Yes,” he breathes out and you smile, “but I also want to dance. Have an academy, maybe, but I need money and experience and a name.” 

“You already have a name.” 

“I need to make a name for myself, princess,” he explains and you nod like you already knew, because you probably did. “Get a stage name, maybe.” 

“Ha!” you laugh and he raises his eyebrows, amused by your reaction. “Maybe… Yunho the rakehell? Yunho… Oh! Yunho the bitchl—” 

“Stop that!” 

It seems like that joke is never to die down and he’s glad, he’s glad that he doesn’t take genuine offense in it anymore and he’s glad it makes you laugh in a way he wants to record and play on repeat forever. 

Grabbing his face, your thumbs brush against his cheeks and he can swear he has never felt so at ease until now. This, waking up and going out of the room to find you doing what you love. You, looking at him with some much love, it's hard to believe it took you both so long to leave your pride behind and work it out. 

“You are worth it, Yunho,” you whisper and he knows right away you’re referring to the fight you both had at the office, “and I have no idea how we’re going to make it, but we are. Of that I’m sure, my love. I trust you,” you brush his hair back and off his forehead, “I trust us.” 

He holds your face as well, the pad of his finger passing over the dry paint on your cheek.

“I trust us, too.” 

Before he can react, you’re smooching his lips again and he melts into the encounter, the passion of last night bleeding into his movements once again and painting him red when he gets on his knees and pulls you into his lap in a smooth motion. You yelp and laugh and then you moan into his mouth when his hands find your ass and his fingers dig into it through the jeans you’re wearing. 

Huh. 

You’re wearing jeans. 

They look so natural and good on you that he didn’t even notice it’s the first time he seeing you in jeans. 

“Again?” You ask, already winded and clinging onto him for dear life in a way that makes him laugh. He pulls back and finds you shyly smiling at him but it doesn’t really help your care that he can see right through the act. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“Yes, actually.” 

“Y/N…” 

“It was a joke,” you grab his shoulders to shake him to no avail and then before getting up you lean in to kiss his cheek in a manner so sweet that makes him all giddy, like a fool in love. Maybe because that’s what he is. “Take a shower.” 

“Take it with me.” He says, without thinking about it but one hundred percent meaning it. 

“I already showered.” 

He makes sure to scrunch his nose and make a funny face “Did you really?” 

It’s not really a surprise when you turn around from your painting and swipe your brush across his mouth. 

“I smell amazing and you smell like shit. Go and shower, Jeong.” 

He enjoys ticking you off a bit too much. Either way he laughs, the taste of paint on his tongue when he does and, when he gets up and goes to the bathroom, he hears the soft sound of your giggle and his heart feels full.  

And then you get him back like ten minutes later, by turning off the light in the bathroom and almost giving him a heart attack at the sudden loss of it. He breathes out an exaggerated sigh and, when you turn them back on, he turns around and watches you through the glass divider. 

Unfortunately for you, the glass is frosted from his chest down, but you lean against the marble counter and eye him suggestively nonetheless. He continues with his shower as if this is the most normal scenario ever for the two of you. 

It feels like it, anyway. 

“Can I help you, princess?” 

“Tomorrow I’ll go home,” you start, not a question or a request, but a fact. “I’ll go home and I'm going to sit with them all at dinner and let them hear what I’m going to do from now on. They don’t need to know that I’m going to take classes—” 

“You are?” 

Humming, you nod once and then twice after a second of looking at the floor, determination in your stare when you look up at him again. “I’m going to get a bachelor’s in art education, maybe just art first. It’ll take time but…” You shrug. 

“But you’ll be doing what makes you happy.” He finishes for you. 

“Yeah,” you return softly, “and I'll be detached from my family’s hip eventually.” 

“One will argue,” he says, closing his eyes to avoid shampoo to get into them, “that you’re already pretty independent.” 

“While doing my work and my brother’s work, sure,” you smile, “but not when it comes to living on my own.” 

An idea crosses his mind and colors his cheeks, so he hums “You’ll be lonely.” 

“I already feel that way at home… But I do love the idea of having a space all for myself.” 

He hums again and then wipes the water from his eyes to send you a look. 

“How much do you love it?” 

“Jeong,” you say, laughing when you finally get what he’s suggesting, “we’re not moving in together.” 

He pouts. 

“Yet.” 

He smiles at you again. 

“Besides,” turning around, you let out a tired sigh when you catch the paint on your face and then you open the faucet to clean it off, “then Yeosang would miss you too much and he’ll blame me. I don’t want your friend to hate me.”

“He would never—” 

You don’t let him dismantle your excuses “What is he up to with that documentary, anyway?” 

He closes the shower and reaches for a towel the next second, not even bothering fully covering himself up when he gets out and you send him a look through the mirror, one he can’t decide if it’s in reproach or if it’s charged with something else. Probably both. 

But he plays coy and tries his best to answer your question as he secures the towel around his hips. 

“He’s doing this documentary about dance, he’s been working on it for a while. Obviously I’m the star of it,” he watches you roll your eyes and he bumps your arm with his in retaliation. “But my co-stars are taking all of his attention now. It’s kind of annoying.” 

“And he finds them— your co-stars I mean,” your eyes roll again, “at the club?” 

Yunho barely helps the laugh that spills out of his lips.

“No, um, that’s a completely different story. He keeps saying that he needs to film this one girl for the documentary but we all stopped believing him when he almost got beat up for filming her,” he explains, his hands brushing his wet hair back, “and he went back to do it again anyway.” 

Your hip connects to the countertop again, your back to the mirror “So he’s in love?” 

“I don’t think so. I think he’s… Intrigued.” 

“Is she an exotic dancer or something?” 

“What?” 

“What?” you return, shrugging, “nothing wrong with stripping for a living.”

“I know, that’s not what I meant—” 

“Do you have something against strippers, Yunho?” Your eyes narrow at him. 

“N-no, of course I—”

“Oh, you don’t?”

“Princess…” He breathes out another laugh, a nervous chuckle this time. “Stop teasing me.” 

Your frown slowly breaks into a smile and he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“But you look so cute when you’re flustered!”

He stops messing with his hair to grab your hips and make sure you have nowhere to go, trapped between his body and the cold marble behind you. 

“I’m not cute,” he says, low, almost in a whisper, “and I showered.” 

“Yunho… Are you not hungry at all? You have to eat something.” 

He wants to laugh again but he stops himself, his hands roaming your front and slipping to your legs when he kneels a little “Hm, I’m starving.” 

Gasping when he kisses your middle through your shirt, you push him away with feign distress written all over your expression. 

“Jeong!” 

He gets back up again “What?” 

“Are you going to be this much of a troublemaker when we live together? I have things to do!” 

He stops, his hands holding your hips still and then you gasp again when he tugs and presses you against his body. 

“You said when.” 

You gulp “I know what I said.” 

“You’re making plans for the future and I’m in them.” 

“Well,” you titter with a nervous glint in your eye, but your chin is up the next second, “you know what? Yeah. Yes, I am, because I love—” 

He presses his lips against yours before you finish your sentence and when he pulls away you push on his chest again. 

“Annoying.” You say but you don’t mean it and he laughs, his arms going around you before you melt into his embrace fully. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Mhm.” 

You think about it, he can feel you thinking as he rocks you both from side to side “No,” you finally say, in a whisper and then your next words come out firmer. “No, I need to do this on my own. I would love to see you later tomorrow night, though.” 

“Hm, I have practice and then I promised to help Gyuri move in with Wooyoung but I can tell them that I’m in love and busy.” 

“No, no,” you pull back, smiling a little, “Can I… I mean, I can help.”

He smiles as well “You want to?” 

You nod. 

“She has a bunch of shit but San is moving most of the stuff because, partially, it’s his fault she has to move, so.” 

“Hm, how so?”

“Gyuri and his girlfriend live together, for years now, and now they want to move in with each other so Gyuri is forced to live with the embodiment of mischief while she finds an apartment she can afford.” 

You laugh “I don’t think it bothers her that much.” 

“Why?” He frowns and, at his question, you give him an incredulous look. “Why?” 

“Baby, oh my God.” 

He lets you go and you push him away fully, getting out of the bathroom. 

“Do you know something I don’t?” 

“Figure it out, dummy!” 

He’s truly, genuinely and utterly confused, but the smile on his face hardly goes down as he watches you sit down in front of your painting again, from the bathroom door’s threshold. 

And his heart aches for the pain you’re probably going to endure the next day. 

When you enter the code to your front door, bag in hand, it’s almost lunch time. You didn’t let them know you’ll be returning today but you’re sure the way your suitcase falls at the dining room’s entrance is enough to alert them. Soohyun jumps a little, your mother lets out a scream and your father looks up from his phone slowly, gives you a look, and then looks back down. 

“Oh, great, you’re back. Y/N, next time would you please let me know when you’re showing up so I can schedule your appointments accordingly— Kim Y/N!” 

Your mother's scandalized scream is not what surprises you. What surprises you is the hug Soohyun gets up to give you, a tight squeeze that you smile into and then make a face at when he pulls away. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to just you. “Don’t let her tell you otherwise.” 

Nodding, you finally face your mother whose jaw is almost hitting the floor by now. Your father, as usual, is unbothered and tapping his fingers against the glass of the table, impatiently waiting for his food. 

“Why do you mutilate yourself like this? And without notifying your team, nonetheless! We’ll have to… Get you some hair extensions for the shoot that you have—”

“No.”

She pauses, her jaw ticking and her eyebrow raising in warning. A few months ago, the mere thought of upsetting her would’ve sent you into a panic attack. Now, you stand your ground and curve your lips with pride, lift your chin up with courage and hold the handle of your suitcase a little tighter because you need it, because your hands tremble a little. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said no,” you repeat yourself and your tone gains you your father's attention. “I’m sure the public can survive a haircut, mom. Can you?” 

“Kim Y/N do not talk to me like that!” 

She steps your way and your brother steps a side, giving you a wide eyed look that can only mean a here she goes again and you purse your lips to stop yourself from nervously laughing at it. 

“You cut your hair, you leave for three months and come back all… All chubby,” oh, my god, “and you dare to speak to me that way?!” 

The mention of your weight does send a little panic cruising through you. It has your father huffing from his seat and your brother snapping his head rapidly in your mother’s direction, a frown creasing his eyebrows and you can tell he’s about to say something but you stop him with a shake of your head.

And then you laugh. 

You taste something bitter in your mouth and you can see the exact moment she notices her words are not affecting you the way they usually do. 

“I think it’s time I move out,” you start, with a tiny, sardonic smile on your lips, “and I also think it is also time you think about the way you speak to me, mother. And I think you,” you turn to your father, “need to think about all the times you allowed her to talk to me that way.”

Your dad looks up, raises his eyebrows, hums and then looks back down again. 

“Sure thing.” He says. 

“What is happening right now?” your mother asks, a nervous chuckle coming out of her and after that she moves her hand, dismissing your point and turning to go to her seat again. “You’re talking nonsense. Go upstairs and wash. You’re obviously not having dinner, I hope.” 

She’s always doing it on purpose, bringing you down like that on purpose, but right now? Right now she craves vengeance. You notice it in the way she looks for your reaction when she looks up. 

“I am having dinner. Not here, not with you, not anymore.” 

Your mother sighs, rubs her forehead with her thumb and her index “Kim Y/N, I beg, stop terrorizing me and—” 

“She’s moving in with me.” 

You turn to Soohyun, he gives you a look to signal you to follow his lead. 

“She’s a little bit too grown up and independent to live under your roof still, mom. Dad?” He asks and your father looks up. “Don’t you agree?” 

“Well,” your father cleans his throat, his back hitting the back of his chair as he thinks it over, “she is capable of being on her own. Besides, her room can make a wonderful office for you, dear.” 

“Her room is staying hers because she’s not going anywhere!” Your mom stands up again, voice dark and tone painted over with something you’ve never even heard before. Not coming from her, at least: Fear. “Why do you suddenly want to move out? Is there…” She closes her mouth and then gulps, breathing out a laugh the next second. “Are you running away with someone, Y/N? Is that it? Did you fall in love on your little trip? You’re promised to someone!” 

“Promised? I am not promised because we’re in the twenty-first century, mom!” 

“To Yunho, Y/N! Don’t be stupid and tell your little fling to get lost!”

“Mom…” Soohyun warns but she laughs again, indignant. 

“What? She knows this already. How would the Jeong’s feel if—” 

“I don’t care what they feel!” 

Your voice resonates in the room, it shuts everyone up, it makes your mom take a step back and your father blocks his phone, finally interested in what’s going on. 

“I am with Yunho.” 

Your mother smiles a second too late at what you said and opens her mouth, but you interrupt whatever nonsense she’s about to spew out. 

“I am with him but not because you or his mother planned it. I’m not trying to fullfill your little fucked up fantasy—” 

“Y/N!” She gasps at the cursing but you continue nonetheless. 

“I am with him because I love him. I love him and he loves me and we are together because, against all odds, we ended up bonding and finding comfort and solace in each other. We made the choice, we did,” you insist on it, to let her know that it doesn’t matter if you two being together is exactly what she wanted, the final say is on you and Yunho alone. “I have something you two could never have and that’s companionship and true understanding that’s not rutted in power or in money. He… He made me realize we’re so much more than this.” You move your hands in the space between you and the rest of the room and your father hums a bitter sound in return.

“This,” your father gets up from his seat, hands going in the pockets of his dress pants and eyebrows raised with a sardonic edge to them that pisses you off, “is your family.”

“I know and that makes it worse,” you nod and the slow anger showing in his expressions grows just a tad bit more, so you go on before anyone else can interrupt you again. “Here’s what’s going to happen from now on, dad; If you want me to, I’ll keep working at the company, but Soohyun's responsibilities are solely his from now on,”  you turn to your brother and he gives a fake pout but then he nods. “My job is simple, my job should allow me to focus on what I really want and, once I get what I really want, I'll make sure to find someone who can fit my spot so seemingly you won't even notice I'm gone.”

“I thought that what you wanted was to work for this company, Y/N.” Your father says.

“I thought so too,” you murmur back to him before shrugging, “but now I’m not so sure.” 

A bit of pregnant silence passes. The air feels thick now that you told them your terms, your plan or what you allowed them to hear of it anyways. Like you told your boyfriend, there’s no need for them to know that you want to take classes or teach. 

You’ll just do it. No need for their approval.  

But your mother still grasps at the control she had on you three months ago. She holds on to it, desperately and, if you were someone else and the situation was any different, you would probably admire the strength it takes to stay this egotistical and delusional until the end. 

She doesn’t seem to understand that her only daughter is running away from her. You’re not sure she cares, either and it hurts because, deep down, you expected to walk off with redemption on her side. 

Sometimes, there’s no redemption at all from the people who hurt you. 

And that’s also okay. 

“Are you done?” She asks, looking around. “Are you all done with this nonsense?” 

Taking in a breath, you try to tell her that what you said it’s what’s going to happen but she is not having it. 

“No,” her finger is up and you raise your eyebrow at it, which gains you a raise on hers in return. “No. You’re not looking for a replacement and no you’re not moving out. That’s insane, Kim Y/N, that’s—” 

“What’s my favorite color?” You interrupt to ask her and she stops, opening and closing her mouth while searching for an answer. “What’s my favorite sweet?” 

“You don’t have one.” 

“I do, I actually have two. What’s my favorite book? Movie? Song?” You turn to your dad this time. “What’s my favorite marketing strategy? Do you even know that one?” 

Silence. 

“You don’t know me enough to want to keep me here. I understand why you might think you do, but you don’t. Because, guess what? I’m an adult.”

Your mother opens her mouth and closes it again when you shake your head. 

And although you’re not speaking to her anymore, you keep looking at your mother straight in the eye and you’re able to catch the exact moment she realizes she lost. 

She lost. 

“I’m an adult with a paying job and savings you didn’t need to know anything about. So you either take it or leave it. Dad?” 

“You want me to decide now?” 

You let out a bitter laugh “You can do whatever you want. Just know that I’m not settling for anything else but what I told you. I can either train someone or you can fire me and I can look for a new job,” you explain, “but either way I’m out of here.” 

Your mother sighs and then mutters under her breath, but you catch it “What is everyone going to say?” 

“I don’t care,” you tell her again and at the response she looks up, startled, like she didn’t expect you to keep going. “Now, I hope you have a lovely lunchr.”

You’re positively shaking when you step into the hallway and through the front door again, with your suitcase in your hand still and no actual plan on where you want to go. Maybe back to the hotel?

Mind reeling, it finally registers the fact that your mother turned to your father and pleaded him to do something for the sake of the family's image just before you stepped foot outside of the house. It was a screech of don't let her go, do something! laced with clear selfish concern. 

You feel panic rising, closing your throat up and you feel lost, lost in what you just did, lost in what it actually means for you. 

“Hey, hey.” Soohyun catches up to you quickly, his keys in his hands, his breath jagged like he escaped your mother’s claws because that’s probably what happened. “Sell out! You needed to signal me when you wanted to leave, dumbass!” 

His eyes linger on your trembling hands when he takes the suitcase from you and you do your best to steady them. 

“You didn’t have anything to eat.” 

“I know. Where are you going?” 

“To… I don’t really know. Yunho’s dorm?” 

Soohyun laughs. 

“You have a house, you know.”

“I think I’m very much homeless right now. I’m getting trapped and probably thrown in a cell if I go back inside.” You swallow tightly as the realization washes over you. “She’s so mad.” 

“My house,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes. “I told them you’re moving in with me, didn’t I?” 

“Soohyun…” 

“I meant it,” there’s something soft in his eyes before he turns to open the main gate so you can both walk up to his car. “You can stay with me. Like you said, you’re grown and I won't have to look after you anymore.” 

“Pfft,” that brings out a genuine laugh out of you, “anymore.” 

“I remember running behind you in the garden because you couldn't keep still the second you learned how to walk!” 

You look at him with a pout as he opens the trunk, throwing your bag in it without any care in the world. 

Like an older brother would. 

If your eyes turn watery, you make sure to swallow back the emotion before he can figure out why. 

“Can I have my own room?” 

“You have a room there already,” he admits, shrugging. “I mean, I thought about you when buying the apartment. Guhno usually stays there but I’m sure he can take the couch when he comes over and— Aw, Y/N!” 

By the time he closes the trunk, you’re already crying. A little, enough for him to notice it. 

“I don’t want to hear it. Open the door.” 

“I’m so telling Yunho you cried!” 

“Leave him out of it!” You push his shoulder, quickly getting into the car when he unblocks the doors and he does the same. “He’s staying over whenever he wants, by the way.” 

Soohyun laughs, his eyes wide when he turns to you “Not a chance in hell, Kim Y/N.”

“Okay, then your boyfriend is not staying over either!” 

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” 

You muse, trying not to laugh “I’m telling Gunho oppa you’re denying your love to my face.”

Your brother lets out a sigh and then you squeak when he pulls your hair, playfully, before looking at you with the most sincere stare Kim Soohyun has probably given anyone ever. 

“I’m really proud of you, kid.” 

Pouting again, you look away and through the window as he pulls out of the curb and into the streets, the house you grew up in quickly fading into the background and your heart thumping hard against your ribs. 

“Are you crying again?” 

“Ugh,” you turn to him, tears running down your cheeks and a smile pulling at your lips, “you’re so annoying.” 

Your clothes are now in your room at Soohyun’s (and yours) apartment, in the walk-in closet. Your brother's taste is nothing short of luxurious and obnoxious and the room is decorated in a way you would never think of decorating it but he swears he has someone who can fix it for me if he wants to.

He forgets that you already know Seonghwa but it's okay, because when you show up at Gyuri’s old apartment, you make sure to find him to tell him just that. 

“I've literally told him that we both know Yunho and each other. Wasn't he the one who gave you my number?” Seonghwa asks, mouth hanging open a bit in surprise. 

“He did, yes.” 

Seonghwa huffs in amusement and you shrug a little “Well, do you want me to work in your room?” He asks after a few seconds and you smile, considering. 

“I think I’m going to do it myself, Hwa.” 

At the nickname, his smile widens and he nods. You think he’s about to say something else, however your attention drifts from your newfound friend and your eyes search for Yunho in the middle of the room, on the floor, as he takes a piece of furniture apart. 

He’s wearing a dark grey crewneck that makes him look so deliciously good you can’t barely help your staring. There’s not one ounce of shame on your body and you’re sure it shows on your face because Seonghwa laughs besides you. 

“So I didn’t paint over the tree,” he says and you frown, turning to him, “but I take you reconsidered my point anyway?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“It’s not going to happen,” the mockery in his tone while he tries to make an impression of you doesn’t offend you because you can see the intention behind it and it makes you laugh, roll your eyes and close your arms over your chest, like a child who just got caught. “It’s not going to happen, my ass. Look at you!” 

“So I was wrong, who cares?” 

“I do, I love being right.” 

“He does,” Wooyoung comes into view from the kitchen, a drop of sweet doing his temple and into his cheek that Seonghwa wipes away like it’s nothing. “But I can say I called it first, remember? I’m never wrong.”

“You most certainly are,” Hwa says and you laugh at the expression Wooyoung makes to his friend, offended. Seonghwa turns to you. “He’s wrong most of the time.” 

“Okay, that’s it, you’re helping me with the weird spice rack she insists on taking.” Wooyoung takes his elder arm and pulls, making you laugh and Seonghwa gasps. 

“You’ve been working on that all afternoon!”

“She installed it herself so it’s all wonky, Hwa.” 

Gyuri screams from behind a pile of clothes. You can't even see her even though you know she's standing up. “It is not wonky, Jung Wooyoung!” 

Pursing your lips so you don't laugh at her predicament, you watch as Wooyoung silently communicates to Seonghwa that the space rack is, in fact, wonky and then you jump a little when arms close around you from behind. 

“Stop complaining, Woo, you're going to have the pleasure to install it however you want later.” Yunho's voice is close to your ear and you hug the arms that hold you, melting into the embrace. 

Gyuri laughs sharply when she registers what he said and Wooyoung makes a face at your boyfriend “I hate it here.” 

“Sure you do, Wooyoung.” You nod at him, joking even though you don’t know him that well, and Seonghwa joins the tiny laugh you let out at the face Wooyoung gives you. 

“I truly did not need a new addition to the group if I was going to get bullied by them as well.” 

You fake offense, laughing a second later and Yunho swats a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he passes by you both and into the kitchen again. Seonghwa rolls his eyes before following Wooyoung into the kitchen as well. 

Yunho breathes out, his lips finding your cheek “How are you feeling?” 

Turning to him, you smile a little. You know he’s asking about what went a little earlier today. 

“I’m good, baby,” you whisper back, leaning in a little and kissing him tenderly on the lips. He reciprocates but when you pull away you can see the concern in his eyes. “I promise. I already knew how she was going to react.” 

“Me too but that doesn’t make it any less fucked up, Princess.” 

“I know,” letting out a sigh, you turn to the living room again and the corners of your lips lift at the mess. “But I’m out of the house and I’m alright now.” 

“My mom texted me to congratulate us.” 

“Oh?” You don’t turn to him again but your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Did you answer?” 

“No,” he breathes out a laugh, “but I should.”

“We can’t run from them forever, Yun,” you feel him nod against you and, finally, you turn around completely to face him. His hands find your waist, his lips curve as he watches you over and you do the same. “Also, you’re banned from my house.” 

His smile drops. 

“Huh?” 

“Soohyun doesn’t want you sleeping over.” 

“What did I do?” 

You hear someone laughing behind you and Gyuri comes into view a second later “You’re the official boyfriend now, Yunho, you lost your sleeping over privileges.” 

“I never had them to begin with!” 

“Well—” The sound of glass breaking stops her in her tracks and she goes a little pale at what it means. “Call the police, I’m committing a murder and then turning myself in.” 

And then she disappears into the kitchen as well. Faintly, you can hear Seonghwa laughing. You hold onto Yunho, fingers threading softly into the strands of hair on his neck. 

“They’re not helping us when we move in together.” 

Yunho laughs. 

“When we move in together we’re going to hire professionals.” 

“Exactly.” 

“And Seonghwa can do the interior design of the main part of the house but we can handle our room and studios by ourselves.” 

“Mhm.” 

There’s that slight glint of concern that crosses his expression again when you take in a deep breath, but you shake your head so he can let go of it. 

“We’ll be okay, Yun. We are okay.” 

You watch him swallow tightly but then he nods. There’s a lot you both should be concerned about right now but, as you hear Wooyoung scream from the kitchen and a loud smack against the wall nearest to you, you both silently decide to be in the moment. 

It doesn’t really matter what hardships you go through, as long as you’re together. 

“Against all odds,” you insist, “we’ll be alright.” 

I love them and I'm so sad to let them go but hey! that's life! If you read all the way down hear, thank you so, so much. Don't be afraid to go into my askbox to make comments, suggestions, etc! I will take everything into account for my other stories. Thank you!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[hyperions-light]

Writing Workshop Master Post

What is it?

A writing workshop lasting approximately six weeks (barring complications), where we go over and practice critiquing a work, and then you provide a piece that is 5,000 words or less for the entire group to give you feedback on.

Where is it?

I run it through a private Discord server.

How much does it cost?

It's free! I'm doing this to provide access to this service for people who want to improve their writing skills without spending a lot of money. I do ask that if you join the workshop and are in a financial position to do so, you consider contributing a suggested donation of $50 (or whatever you can spare) to my ko-fi after your workshop day has passed. (I want to make sure you get something useful out of it first, though!) However, if you aren't able to do that, I understand, and it's still perfectly fine for you to participate!

Further details under the cut!

How long does it take, and when is it?

It takes approximately an hour and a half each time, and we are currently doing it on Sundays at noon MST. If the group would like to pick another date/time, I can likely accommodate it.

Who is allowed to participate?

Any adult who is fluent in reading and writing English is free to join. You do not need to be a native speaker. I have no desire to lock participation to English-speaking countries, but the topics covered in ESL classes are very different from those that I cover, and I don't feel qualified to teach that sort of curriculum. You do not need to be part of the Dragon Age or BW fandoms to join. If you are under the age of majority in the country where you live, please talk to me and we'll see if we can work something out. Some pieces submitted for critique may handle adult subject matter, so special accommodations/permissions may need to be arranged.

What information will you go over?

Close reading, providing helpful critique, how to give feedback to other people that is useful and well-received, how to line-edit a piece, how to write a critique letter, and some general writing tips.

How many people will be in each workshop?

I think I will stick with eight!

How do I sign up?

I will not start a new workshop until the current one is over, but if you know you want to participate, please contact me on Tumblr or ko-fi and I will reserve a spot for you in the next one. I will contact you and send you a survey when the previous workshop ends; if the timing is inconvenient for you, but you still want to do it, let me know and I can ask you later! If you want to, you can contact me right now!

Other writing workshops cost a lot more money. Are they overcharging me?

NO. This is an extraordinary amount of work, and I have no desire to devalue the services that other people provide in this space. I am doing this for comparatively little because I have a deeply held belief that people should have access to education, regardless of their economic circumstances.

Do I have to come to every single session?

Ideally, you should attend every session. The first two are necessary to participate in the rest of the course; if you can't make it to one of those two for any reason, please contact me and I'll see if we can figure out a time to make it up. However, the strength of the workshop is in the participants and the community of writers; the more people are present to give their opinions, the better each critique will be. Please try to come to as many meetings as possible, so that everyone can have a useful and fun critique!

I want to emphasize that this workshop does involve actual critical feedback of your work, and the participants will provide suggestions for improvement. However, I also expect all participants to be respectful and polite to one another, and to offer their critique with the author's goals in mind. If anyone cannot follow these guidelines, they will be asked to leave.

I have more questions! Where can I ask?

You can always contact me on Tumblr via asks or DMs, if you have any questions!

Thank you for your interest! Hope to see you all in workshop!

[shatcey]

Victor theories (after the trailer)

I just scream a bit… bear with me. I'M SO HAPPY I don't have to buy a tamagotchi and kill it. Thank you, Cybird. Okay… This is my last last theory post. The second last post. I do not know how it happened.

@.kurishiri made a translation of the trailer in case you didn't see it yet. In this post, I will use screenshots from this translation.

The thoughts in my head are jumping from one to another. I tried to structure them, though it doesn't seemed to worked out properly. But… I wanted to write it as soon as possible, before something distracted me. Sorry about it.

His age

The first thing I noticed was that Vivi not only has shorter hair, but he looks younger!!!!!

He looks about 15-16 years old… maybe I'm wrong. But… it looks like that to me…

And the words that we see… repeat the words of our beloved Kate.

I'm going to scream! IT WAS HIM!!!! I KNEW IT!!!!

(clear throat)

I'm back to normal.

So, the younger version of Victor that we see in this video was with Kate. Kate is now 25-26, and it happened in her very young years (she barely remembers it)… for example, 20 years ago. This number was on Jude's route… WTF, why not? So…

So... 20 years ago, Vivi was 15-16 years old… So we're back to 35-36 years old. It fits perfectly.

His origin

Another thing that is very hard to miss is his clothes. Larger version from the announcement of episode 0.

At first I thought maybe it was a school uniform. Because of his age… it's possible. But at that time, boys wore the same clothes they do now. A fairly simple shirt, tie, and black suit. Even if we assume that he just took off his jacket, the shirt is too fancy. And a ribbon… not exactly fitting.

Next I thought about Elbie and Ally's shirts… they have a similar style, but not quite. But the ribbon he wears is too simple for nobility. But at the same time… the quality of the shirt says otherwise. Not to mention the stone brooch… So maybe… He comes from a rich family, that become poor. These clothes can be explained that way. But… church schools were only for orphans, no? Or for family members, as we learned.

But I have a feeling that he looks more like a scholar. It looks like he studied theology, maybe he was preparing to become a priest? Haven't I been thinking too much about Faust lately? Maybe.

Is this even a church?

The statue does not look like a modern God… Yes, we have large windows that let in a lot of light (which often symbolizes closeness to God), chandeliers and benches…. but… It feels a little different. Do you see? The statue is too big… and… architecture… is not quite right. It is somewhat reminiscent of Ancient Greece. What is this place?

Fatalism

I firmly believe in fate, so I am extremely happy to see this part. The fact that Kate was back in his life…

I agree that it's probably very strange to meet someone after so many years and in such strange circumstances. If situations continue to overlap one another, despite the fact that the probability that happen is very low… people usually call it fate.

But he's talking again (this time) about fate as a person. Maybe it's just a figure of speech…

That ribbon of his won't let me go… The simple ribbon was mentioned in the bitter ending of Ellis' story in event "Bound to You".

Kate was extremely fascinated by this ribbon. Considering that Kate met Victor with a simple ribbon a long time ago. Perhaps that's why this symbol seems so attractive to her… Forgotten memories, associations…

And the fact that Kate remembers him… there are already two facts about him… mean that he made a strong impression. What happened back then?

Actually in the Dark IF story (translated by @.reccyls)... she sort of remembered him because of his hair...

Yes, he is a magnificent man and makes a strong impression. Maybe it's just an impression. But I'd like to think it was more than that.

I talked about this in my "last post with the theories". Yeah, right… the last.

So… Maybe they were just meant to be together. And that's why (maybe) Vivi let her go many years ago… to keep her safe. And perhaps that's why he feels sad when he says that "fate is playing her cards".. He doesn't want to involve Kate in his life… but Fate has a different opinion.

On the other hand… all the guys "endings" (I'm not talking about… no, it's an untranslatable joke) usually called grim fate. In the sense of the inevitability of missing it, changing it. This is what will happen no matter what. (But we still won't give up!!!) Maybe that's what Victor was talking about. And, perhaps, this has something to do with his grim fate. His grim fate drew Kate into his life. His grim fate made it happen. His grim fate is... so persistent. Peculiar…

His loyalty

This was one of the versions of what his curse might be. I've talked about it… here. But it is very questionable. Victor constantly calls himself the Grim Reaper, the palace Reaper (which kind of resembles Sariel.. who calls himself the devil). So maybe it's just one of the nicknames and has nothing to do with his real curse.

And the last line… totally different from what we've heard before. On every route, they are told us that Crown "destroys evil with evil". So… they don't deny that they are evil, but they do it with a good purpose. But… here Victor said that he was devoted to evil… Maybe the guys don't know who they really work for? Maybe the Queen, as I assumed earlier, is not human at all? Interesting…

Or maybe… He's just being dramatic. He talked about himself as something dark and bad. Maybe it's the curse that makes him think of himself that way…

And a bit more...

It's just a guess. You can't look him in the eye when he gives an order to his victim, otherwise you'll die as well. It's almost the same as a William's curse. He also must look the victim in the eye. It looks a bit like a snake. Has the thought of Sari stuck in my head???? Maybe… no… he's not Hydra.

So… he sold his freedom to get his curse? This… impossible, the curse doesn't work that way. Maybe… he exchanged? What? And again… who is the Queen? Victor belongs to Victoria. Does he have sort of contract with her? Is she the Death itself??? It would be too good to be true...

The design of the spikelet on the dividers I took from Designed by Freepik

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🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[superweinersoldier]

Cabin Getaway

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader, Bucky Barnes x F!Reader, Stucky x F!Reader

Description: You had a plan for your weekend at the cabin, but sometimes plans change, or do they?

Warnings: 18+, Smut, threesome, unprotected sex, creampie, mmf relations (oral female receiving/male giving; male receiving/male giving; m/m kissing; f/m kissing), con noncon, mask kink, primal/chase kink, choking (but not really, more like throat holding), voyeurism, masturbation (let me know i missed anything)

Author’s note: I have never written any sort of fiction before. There’s a lot of grammatical errors I’m sure so please be gentle with me. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while and figured I would challenge myself and write it. I hope you enjoy!

_____________________________________________________________

With a hand on Steve’s thigh, you looked out of the car window. Steve was currently driving to your long awaited weekend cabin vacation.

“I can’t believe he had to cancel on us,” you pouted, glancing at Steve before focusing on your surroundings. You had been looking forward to this trip for weeks. You had it perfectly planned out: a cabin getaway for three.

Taking your hand from his thigh, Steve raised it up to his lips softly kissing your knuckles. You turned to fully look at him as he spoke, “I know, baby, but Bucky didn’t have a choice. He wanted to be here with us.”

“I know, but I was excited to get some time alone with just the three off us. Especially after what we planned,” you replied suggestively before looking out the passenger window again, missing the way Steve smirked knowing what you were in for.

For the next hour, you watched as the trees pass in a blur. Your first evening at the cabin was spent in front of the tv and fireplace, cuddling on the couch and sharing soft kisses. After making dinner, you and Steve made your way to the bedroom to prepare for bed.

Changing into a tank top and pajama shorts, you were already getting into bed as Steve walked out of the en-suite bathroom in black sweatpants looking absolutely delicious. Settling into bed for the night, you shared a kiss and quickly fell asleep.

You were up before the sun. Slowly, you slipped out of bed making sure not to wake Steve. After silently making your way downstairs, you put on some shoes and left the cabin. As soon as you made it out the back door, you began running.

Once the sun had finally settled itself in the sky, Steve’s eyes softly opened only to find the other side of the bed empty. Knowing the rest of the cabin would be empty, he quickly put on a black long sleeve shirt and black sneakers. Before he made his way outside, he remembered to grab the mask and gloves he brought for their weekend activities.

You were wandering further away from the cabin at leisurely pace when you hear the snap of a twig. Your heart began to race as you quickly turned your head in the direction the noise came from. Finding a masked figure dressed in all black standing behind a tree. You begin running in the opposite direction, hoping to escape. It isn’t long before you hear leaves rustling in front of you.

Suddenly, the figure you had encountered was now in front of you. The figure stalked towards you with purpose. You gasp, turning to run away. Real fear was beginning to make its way through your body. How is Steve moving this fast? He was just behind me. Damn super solider serum you thought to yourself.

Before you could run away again, the figure you had turned from, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you against him. Your back was now flush with the figure’s chest. You try to scream, but as you do a gloved hand covers you mouth, cutting you off. The next thing you know, you’re being spun around and pinned to a tree. Your hands are being held above you head by the masked man’s hand, while the other remains over you mouth. His body feeling warm against yours. Steve really knows what he’s doing.

You let out a whimper feeling hot just as your eyes widen in surprise, focusing on the masked figure that appeared behind the one that currently held you. There wasn’t just one masked man, no there were two.

When the second masked figure finally got to you, they curled their hand around the first figure’s throat. The second masked man began to push his body against the one that held you. In turn, this movement caused the man pressed against your body to rub his clothed cock against your clothed clit. You looked at the second figure hoping you could figure out who it is. 

You let out another whimper as the movements between the three of you continue. Confusion and arousal hit you all at once. Bucky said he had to go on an emergency mission, but he seems to be here, just like he was supposed to be. Except you’re not sure which of the masked men he is, neither has made it easy for you to figure it out. They haven’t made a noise and the a covered head to toe.

The second figure goes to move around the first and the moment he does, he makes his way to your side, crouching down to pull your shorts and panties down in one swift motion. You want to look down to see what’s happening, but you can’t. The figure standing in front of you shakes his head discouraging you from trying to move or look down further. You obey wanting to be good. Before you can do anything to move, he removes his hands from your mouth and wrists. He begins to place a piece of fabric around your eyes, tying it at the back of your head. He then pulls your tank top of your body leaving you bare.

You gasp sharply when you feel a mouth against your wet folds, licking and sucking, getting a taste of you. The mystery of not knowing who is doing what makes this situation hotter. You groan in frustration when the man stops his licking and pulls away from you. 

Your hear and feel the masked men shuffling around; removing their masks, gloves, and shirts, while switching positions. They smirk at each other. Just then, you feel a hand make its way down to rub your clit and feel just how aroused you are. It’s not just any hand, it’s metal. Bucky. Bucky had been the one to capture you, not Steve. Now he was the one enjoying your taste. 

You feel a warm breath beside your ear whispering, “You enjoying yourself, baby?” Steve.“Yes,” you respond breathlessly. “Good because we’re just getting started,” Bucky says from below you. As he says this, Steve dives in and gives each of your nipples a quick lick and suck. 

“I want to see you both,” you plead desperately. Steve and Bucky share a look silently letting each other know it was time to let you see what they were doing to you. “Go ahead Stevie. Take it off her,” Bucky directs Steve. 

When the blindfold comes off, you gasp at seeing them. Steve takes the opportunity to kiss you hard, putting his tongue in your mouth. You kiss him with just as much fervor, wrapping your arms around his neck. He groans into your mouth as Bucky begins to reach for Steve’s pants to pull them down just has he had yours. 

As soon as his pants are off, Steve bucks his hips towards you and Bucky in search of some relief. Body shifting away from you slightly, Bucky looked up at Steve with hungry eyes saying, “Stevie, baby, don’t you worry. You’ll get your turn.” With that, Bucky decided to put Steve out of his misery by placing a hand on Steve’s thigh, licking the underside of his cock and sucking the tip for a moment, before standing up. He took Steve’s cock in his hand and guided it to your pussy. The three of you moaned in unison.

“Steve! Please, oh god. Fuck me. Please,” you begged almost pathetically, they had worked you up into a frenzy. “Don’t worry baby. He will,” Bucky let her know. “Go ahead, Stevie, make her happy.” Steve rubbed his cock against your clit and then your folds before he finally finding you hole. He thrust into you. You moaned loudly, reaching for Bucky’s head pulling his face to yours. You kissed him passionately. The kiss didn’t last long before you heard Steve.

“I want to make you happy too,” he told Bucky. Bucky smiled grabbing Steve’s face to kiss him feverishly as he continued to thrust into you. Bucky broke the kiss, moving back to take off his pants, revealing he hadn’t been wearing underwear. Both you and Steve moaned as Bucky began to stroke his cock at the sight of Steve thrusting into you.

The three of you enjoyed the moment moaning in contentment: You and Steve fucking as Bucky watched and stroked himself. You were all moaning so loud, you were happy you made the right choice in picking a cabin with no neighbors for miles. “Steve, harder!” you pleaded. Steve began thrusting harder into you as Bucky came over to kiss you again. After a quick make out with you, he broke the kiss to kiss Steve with just as much passion. Both men groaned.

In a matter of minutes, you told the men in front of you that you were about to come. Steve and Bucky were also close, letting you know it was okay to come already. Moaning as you came, your hands held onto Steve’s shoulders for stability as your head fell back. Steve groaned just as he came inside you with one last hard thrust. “Yes, baby. Take it all,” he demanded. You did. He stuffed you full.

Steve pulled out of you, his cum leaking out of your aching pussy. Bucky guided his cock into you. He relished in the feeling of being inside you as he used Steve’s cum as lube. With a few quick thrusts, he groaned as he came, feeling Steve attach his lips to his neck sucking hard, leaving little purple marks. 

Breathing heavily, the three of you separated from each other with brief kisses. You helped each other get redressed. As you made your way to the cabin hand in hand, you found yourself giggling in satisfaction the whole way back. 

When you made it back to the cabin, you went straight to the bathroom to clean yourselves up in the shower. Once you were done drying your bodies, you didn’t bother putting clothes on again. You made your way back downstairs with the super soldiers following closely behind. You cuddle beneath a blanket on the couch in front of the fire: eating, drinking, and chatting. 

After some time, you find yourself laying between Steve and Bucky. Each had an arm wrapped around you resting a hand on the other man’s back. You look towards Bucky, “What happened to your mission? I thought you couldn’t come with us. Either way, I’m glad you came.”

Bucky laughs as he jokingly assures you, “You both always make me come, doll.” “Buck,” you roll your eyes as you say his name in mock disappointment at his joke. “Okay. Honestly, there was no mission. Steve and I planned to take you by surprise. We both wanted to chase you around like we originally planned, we just wanted it to be more of a surprise. Did you like it?”

“So much,” you giggle, letting them both know the truth. You turned to place a kiss on each of their chests before curling yourself further into their warmth, “Thanks guys, but next time we chase Bucky,” you mumble as you fell asleep. Steve and Bucky’s eyes met over your head as they smiled and leaned in to kiss each other softly. 

[mymindisneverhere]

Double Team

warning: 18+ smut, mndi!, threesome, oral sex, explicit language, use of the N word, dirty talk, completely consensual, a little angsty (Terry and David are mean/intimidating)… forgive me if I missed any. 

Kelvin Harrison Jr. as David 

Aaron Pierre as Terry

summary: Terry invites his best friend David over to chill while he’s in town. After noticing his “girlfriend” Ava’s fondness for David, Terry lets Ava give his friend a happy ending before he leaves. 

a/n: my first time writing a threesome… let me know what y'all think! 

“Did you need anything else before I go back to the room?” Ava asked, trying to get Terry to give her some sort of attention. He had been so caught up in spending time with his friend, he wasn’t paying her any mind at all. 

Terry and David spent majority of their time catching up, sharing stories and playing a few rounds of 2k. They were so busy enjoying each others company, Ava had simply been background noise.

“Nah I’m good.” Terry responded, keeping his eyes locked on the tv screen. 

“David, you need anything?” Ava asked, turning her attention to his friend. She knew what she was doing. Purposely going out of her way to be of service to another man in Terry’s presence just so he could have a reason to acknowledge her. 

“I’m good, thanks!” David replied, meeting her eyes as they stared at his lips. 

“You can leave now, Ava.” Terry said, watching her while she stared at David. This was his third time catching her somewhat in a trance as she looked at his friend. 

He kept his eyes on her as she walked back to his bedroom and instantly got an idea, one that would truly test the “connection” between he and Ava.

David had also noticed how much she stared at him all night, his lips in particular. Even when he wasn’t talking directly to her, her eyes never left his mouth. He’d lick his lips on purpose just to see if she’d lick hers as well and just like clockwork her tongue would peek through before pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth. 

David and Terry were very similar, especially in the way that they loved to see women almost drooling in desperation just to get an ounce of attention from them. It was always the pretty yet easy ones that clung to them no matter where they were.

“Ava!” Terry called. 

Ava appeared once again, waiting for him to let her know what he needed from her. 

He sat quiet for a few seconds, just to watch her fidget with her shorts. He loved the fact that he intimidated her. She was always constantly worrying if she was doing anything that would completely turn him off. She stood there, eyebrows slightly raised as she waited for his instruction.

After a few more seconds he began to speak. Terry gave Ava some bullshit story about him accidentally leaving his phone in the car and not wanting to be a horrible guest by leaving his friend unattended. So he asked Ava to run downstairs to retrieve it for him and she did just that without contest. 

While she spent the next twenty minutes searching for the phone that was in his pocket the whole time, he let David in on the plan he had. Since she wanted so badly to be all in his friend's face he figured he’d give her the “green light” to go all the way if that’s what she wanted to do. 

Terry told David all about his escapades with Ava; how well she’d take him into her throat without struggle, how good she was at following directions, but most of all how desperate she was to please him. 

Terry could say jump and Ava would ask “How high?” and proceed to jump beyond his expectations. She was almost like his personal ‘pet’, there to do whatever he asked, whenever he asked. 

He didn’t care much about her feelings and had made it very clear to her that he had no plans in doing anything past fucking her. However, out of all of the friends he introduced her to, she had only reacted to David in the same way that she would react to Terry.  

Terry was feeling a bit of jealousy but he would never admit that to a girl like Ava. Instead, he wanted to see just how far she’d go just to make him proud… even if that meant fucking his best friend on command. 

Once it clicked to her that his phone wasn’t in his car, she quickly made her way back up to his apartment. The gray jacket from the tracksuit Terry had bought her a few months ago hung off of her shoulder as she pressed the button on the elevator. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the back wall. Crossing one leg over the other, she could feel the wetness in between her thighs that clung to the thin shorts she wore with no panties. 

Thoughts of her kissing David had been swirling in her mind since Terry had introduced them. While she was working hard to get Terry to finally commit to her, it was hard for her to not be attracted to his best friend. She wanted so badly to feel his lips on hers… and her lower set too. 

“Ugh, I wish David would hurry up and leave already! I cannot be thinking about fucking him right now.” She said to herself. 

When Ava entered the apartment, the living room was empty. The TV was turned off, the PlayStation remotes were placed on the charging station and it was strangely quiet.

She shut the door behind her and walked deeper into the apartment, peeking her head around the corner until she saw David sitting on Terry’s bed. 

“Get in here.” Terry demanded. 

Ava walked slowly into the bedroom until Terry came into view. He sat in the corner, arms folded and legs spread as if he was preparing to scold her about something. David sat on the edge of the bed leaning forward on his knees as he stared up at her. Both of their stares were so intimidating. She chewed the inside of her jaw as her eyes switched back and forth between Terry and David. 

“You think I don’t know what’s been going on in your mind all night?” Terry asked, voice extremely calm. 

Ava frowned a bit, confused as to what he was referring to. “What?”

Her gaze continued to shift between the two men, both burning holes in her face. She could sense the tension in the air. She could see the hunger in both of their faces even though they tried to hide their desires with blank expressions. 

“Don’t play with me Ava.” Terry eyed her from her head to her feet, licking his lips to keep himself calm. “You thinkin’ about fuckin’ David?”

Ava’s breath caught in her throat as the question left his lips. She was hoping her moments of staring at his friend had gone unnoticed by Terry, but he notices everything about her whether he brings it to her attention or not. She stood quietly as she fiddled with the bottom of her shorts, trying to predict what could possibly come next. 

“Go ahead.” Terry calmly instructed, resting both arms on the sides of the chair. 

Ava swallowed the lump in her throat, unsure of what exactly he wanted her to do. She was thinking that he was simply testing her. After all, the only man she’d been with in the past two years was Terry. 

Once again, her mind swirled with so many thoughts; was Terry going to call it quits and end whatever this was between the two of them if she did this? Or would he end it all if she said no?

She didn’t know the right decision to make at that moment, so she decided to do what she truly wanted to do. 

‘Fuck the consequence.’ She thought. 

Ava turned her attention to David, licking her lips as she stared down at his. He licked his once more, teasing her as he watched her eyes twinkle. He stayed still, waiting to see what she was going to do to please him for the evening. She smirked a bit, feeling a small sense of control as she studied his face. 

David had been a sweetheart all night. The slight look of innocence in his face had her feeling more confident than ever. Ava knew she’d be able to break him down, one thing she had failed to do with Terry.

She took a few steps forward before he stopped her in her tracks. 

“Strip.” David instructed, his gaze never leaving hers.

Ava looked over to Terry who said nothing. His empty expression let her know that he didn’t feel any kind of way about what was happening right before him. He wasn't going to tell his friend what to do with her or how to do it. She had permission do what she wanted and so did David.

She turned her head back to face David and the smirk that she once wore, quickly faded. She pulled the zipper down on her jacket, letting it fall off of her shoulders and onto the floor. Pushing her shorts to the ground, she stepped out one leg at a time. 

Terry licked his lips as he eyed her. Her body was always his favorite thing about her. He shifted in his seat a bit and adjusted his sweatpants, not wanting to poke through his pants just yet. 

Ava took a few steps forward and was stopped once again at the sound of his voice, deep and demanding. 

“Knees.” Terry said, still staring blankly at her. 

She slowly lowered to her knees, one knee touching the soft carpet before the other. Her eyes landed on David's lips once again, full and moistened from his tongue. Her heart was beating so fast, a combination of anxiousness and excitement swirling throughout her body. She placed her hands on his knees to try to find her balance, unsure if she wanted to kiss him softly or shove her tongue down his throat.

“This what you wanted right?” Terry’s voice boomed from the corner of the room. “You’ve been starin’ at the nigga all night, don’t act shy now.”

Ava leaned up a bit and pressed her lips into Davids, moaning from the touch alone. He tilted his head to the side in an effort to deepen their kiss. The sounds of their lips pulling from the other filled the room, making Terry lean back further into the chair. 

David purposely eased himself back a bit in between the kiss, causing Ava to lean forward. The desperation alone was amusing to him. She’d lean in even more and he’d pull his head back even further. 

Eventually her attempts at feeling his lips on hers again had her full breasts rubbing against his hands. He squeezed them tightly, pinching her nipples while he stuck his tongue in her mouth. 

Ava instantly caught onto what he was doing and moaned into his mouth, enjoying the game he was playing with her. He toyed with her nipples, wanting to feel her moan against his lips again. They wrestled with each other, kissing as if they had both been dying to find out what the other tasted like. 

“Scoot back on the bed.” She whispered against his lips. 

He eyed her as she leaned back a bit, just enough to give him room to push his body further onto the large bed. She stood and climbed on top of him, returning her lips to his. The way her body sat above his, the arch in her back, the slight movement of her ass as she made herself comfortable, had Terry’s eyes low but focused solely on her. 

Ava placed kisses down David’s chin until she reached his neck. Sticking her tongue out, she licked his skin before taking it into her mouth. This moment alone had David’s hips lifting slightly off of the bed. The thick bulge in his pants rubbing against her stomach let her know that she had found his sweet spot. 

She walked herself back a bit, coming face to face with his crotch. David lifted his head off of the bed to watch her pull at his joggers. After a quick second, his dick bounced from the loose fitted pants and she bit her lip at the sight of it. 

Ava could sense Terry’s uneasiness from where he sat. He always did a good job at keeping a poker face but she knew it was taking every bit of his strength to keep himself from joining in too soon. 

Grabbing a handful of David’s dick, she ran her tongue up the side as her eyes landed on Terry’s. Both the look of innocence and lust filled them as she took his best friend into her mouth. 

“Fuck.” David spat. 

Ava sucked him slowly with intention in every move she made. Her eyes still never left Terry’s. She knew he’d love to see her be someone else’s bitch at the snap of his finger. The way she moaned while sucking David’s dick was almost as if she was the one being pleasured. It was her way of communicating with Terry without words. If this is what he wanted to see, she was sure to let him know much fun she was having. 

Spit ran down the length of David’s dick, dripping down into the crack of his ass. Ava rolled her head around, slurping and humming as she sucked him. David was impressed and at the same time turned on by her willingness to make a mess, even if she looked crazy doing it. 

‘You can’t worry about bein’ pretty when you tryin’ to suck a nigga soul out.’ Terry would tell her when they first became involved with one another. Just like that, he had taught her what to do and how to do it well. 

Terry couldn’t stay in his seat any longer. He stood up from the chair and walked to the side of the bed. She watched as he approached, already aware of what he wanted from her. 

Using the spit that had poured from her throat, she stroked David with her left hand while pulling at Terry with her right. With a slight tug at his sweats, his dick sprang up, ready to receive whatever she had to give. She took him into her mouth, already salivated from throating his friend a few moments ago. 

Both men were caught up in the moment, enjoying the pleasures they were receiving from this one woman. Terry reached down to push her hair off of her shoulders, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck to pull her even further onto his dick. The sounds of him hitting her throat instantly filled the room right along with the sticky sounds of her stroking David. 

“You got her trained well.” David said, eyebrows bent as he watched her work. 

“I told you.” Terry replied, watching his dick disappear then reappear again and again. 

After a few moments, David removed her hand and stood up from the bed. Dropping his shirt to the floor, he stood at the foot of the bed. Terry popped himself out of her mouth for a split second as David grabbed her hips and placed her on her back. 

Without any hesitation, David’s lips latched onto her clit, sending shockwaves through her body. It wasn’t very often that she’d get to feel the pleasure of being sucked on in this way. Terry would make her jump through hoops just to get this treatment. 

Ava sat up on her elbows and looked down to watch David eat her, biting her lip and moaning at the sight. However, this was a set up and she didn’t even see it coming. 

Terry grabbed the back of her head and guided himself back into her mouth. He knew it would be a challenge for her to suck him properly while having David’s head in between her legs. 

“Swallow my shit.” Terry demanded. His eyebrows bent as he looked down in slight frustration. He kept his hand at the back of her head, bringing the tip of her nose to his abdomen. 

Her eyes rolled into her head as she spit up on herself. Terry pulled her head back, relieving her for just a few seconds before pressing her face against his stomach once again. Terry knew that every time she’d gag on his dick, her juices would flow more and more. 

Ava’s body was experiencing so much at once, aching from ecstasy. She was moaning and whining out of pure satisfaction and agony. The thoughts she had about David earlier, all of the assumptions she made about him were all correct.

He sucked on her clit, using his hands to spread her lips further apart so he could give even more attention straight to her middle. His tongue lapped all of the juices that spilled from her entrance before locking his full lips onto her clit again.

Terry yanked her head back once again and stared down at her while she tried to gain her composure. He licked his lips at the sight before him. Her brows were curled as she stared up at him, trying to keep her eyes open as she enjoyed David’s tongue. 

“Who taught you how to be this nasty?” Terry asked, tilting his head a bit. 

“You did.” Ava responded, hiccuping in between her response. 

Gripping the back of her neck tighter, he thrust himself back into her mouth. The sounds of spit escaping her throat fell into a rhythm while the noises from David’s lips playing in her essence blended in. Ava’s moans grew louder as she felt herself cumming, eyes shut tight as her body shook. 

“Yeah, enjoy that shit while it lasts.” Terry teased dryly. 

David stood and licked his lips. He slapped her ass, signaling her to assume the position, all fours. Ava immediately flipped her body over, placing her hands and knees onto the bed, never freeing Terry from her lips. 

Terry’s head fell back as he pushed himself in and out of her mouth. Lifting the bottom of his shirt up to his lips, he gripped it in between his teeth and placed his other hand on her head. Keeping her in place, he pushed his hips forward, not caring about how rough he was being. 

David stood behind her and ran the tip of his dick through her slit, collecting all of the juices that dripped from her hole. He toyed with her clit, slapping his tip against it just to watch her body jerk from the sensitivity. Smirking to himself, he entered her slowly in an effort to brace himself for the grip Terry had mentioned to him. 

“Fuuuuck, this shit tight.” David groaned through gritted teeth.  

“Loosen her up.” Terry joked, still fucking her face relentlessly. 

David slapped her ass a few more times, watching it jiggle against his lower abdomen. He gripped her hips to make it easier for him to fall in exactly how he wanted to. In a matter of seconds, both men were stuffing her from both ends. Using her to chase after their own satisfactions.

Ava felt like a ping pong ball being tossed between two opponents. The clapping of her ass against his stomach and the gargling of her throat was music to all of their ears. The way her breasts bounced from the force coming from both sides, had Terry in a trance. 

While spit dripped from her mouth, covering her chin, her pussy creamed all over David’s dick. Moans, grunts and curses bounced off of the walls as they took their time enjoying themselves. 

To prevent himself from cumming too soon, Terry pulled out of her mouth and lifted her chin up to take in the damage they had done so far.  

“This what you wanted?” He asked, smirking at the tears that covered her face. 

Ava nodded, unable to keep her eyes open from the feeling of her orgasm peaking through. 

The way she struggled to catch her breath after deepthroating him while simultaneously being fucked so well from behind turned Terry on even more than before.

Her body weakened as she came. If Terry didn’t have such a tight grip on her chin, her face would’ve hit the mattress. She cried out in intense pleasure as David continued stroking her past climax. Terry tapped her cheek with his fingers until she opened her eyes, looking up at him as his piercing green irises stared down at her. 

“If we don’t get a nut, it’s gonna be a long night for you.” Terry said before telling David to switch. 

It had already been an hour and the two men were still having their way. Orgasm after orgasm, Ava was damn near worn out. They tossed her around like a rag doll, tag teaming her as if she were their opponent. Terry had taken over, throwing her into the position he wanted without hesitation.

“You’re my slut, right?” 

“Yes!” Ava yelled.

“I know you are.” Terry said, pushing her thighs back as he dug deep into her. 

Ava’s head hung slightly off of the bed where David stood. It was now Terry’s turn to fuck her how he chose to and quite frankly, Ava had no complaints. The sounds of his thighs slapping against her ass had taken over the room. Terry bit down on his lip as he stared at her breasts, watching them bounce as a result of his movement.

“Open up for me.” David instructed. 

Opening her mouth, Ava stuck her tongue out. David dipped his thickness into her mouth, placing his hands on her breasts for leverage. The two men had fallen right back into their rhythms, filling her holes, not leaving much room for her to move.

David played with her nipples once again, aware of the fact that it drove her crazy. The enjoyment they both got from watching her struggle to fight against the pleasure in order to please them properly was the best part of it all. Her moans, the way she scratched at Terry’s forearms, the sounds of her gargling spit as David filled her throat, was marking a night they’d all remember. 

“Why this pussy so wet, huh? You like gettin’ fucked like this, don’t you?” Terry asked. 

“Mhmmm.” Ava moaned, unable to fully respond. 

“This a dirty bitch.” David said, gaining a chuckle from his friend. 

The two best friends had their way with her, making sure to keep her stuffed through the entirety of this session. 

Ava’s moans were the loudest sound in the room. She had been completely taken over by all of the pleasure happening at the same time. Hearing Terry’s deep voice as he grunted and growled while he fucked her and hearing David’s curses of shock and admiration had her cumming back to back. 

A thick ring of cum settled right at the base of his dick and he loved to see it. He pulled out, rubbing his tip up the crack of her ass to gather the creaminess that spilled from her then dug right back into her as if he never stopped. 

“Fuck!” Terry spat, feeling his own nut rise to the surface. 

“Mmmmm.” Ava hummed. 

David’s hips jerked a bit from the vibration of her throat around his dick. His mouth fell open a bit as he watched her throat stretch then shrink from his view. 

“Oh shit, I’m bout to nut.” David announced, as he fucked her face with a bit more force, desperately chasing his desire to cum. 

Both men picked up their pace, increasing the momentum as they felt themselves preparing to bust. 

David pulled out of her mouth and stroked himself as thick strings covered her face. Ava stuck her tongue out, trying to catch whatever she could in her mouth as he came. 

Not too far behind him, Terry let out a deep grunt as he stilled himself deep inside of her, letting every drop of his seed fill her walls. After a few seconds, he pulled out, watching his cum mix with hers as it oozed from her hole down to her ass. 

Their heavy breathing could be heard from another room as they brought themselves back down from their sexual highs. David placed his hands on his hips as he fought to catch his breath. Terry slapped her ass a few times, his way of telling her that he enjoyed it. 

“Did I make you proud daddy?” Ava asked, sitting up on her elbows, face still covered in cum. Her brows were lifted in anticipation as she awaited his response. 

“Hell yeah.” Terry responded breathlessly. “Go get in the shower.” 

Ava stood up from the bed and walked to the bathroom. 

The two men immediately got dressed and made their way to the living room. Both shaking their heads in surprise and satisfaction, they turned to one another, slapping hands as they laughed. 

“Mannnn.” David began. “I was just complaining about making this trip but it was worth it.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” Terry laughed, walking his friend to the door. “Let me know when you’re in town again, maybe she’ll be down for another round or two.” 

(Please excuse any mistakes! 🩵) 

taglist: @saltburnsworld @saturnville @kykylovesblog @ovohanna24 @notapradagurl7 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @blackmoonchilee @blckblossom @kaylaahisthebestest-

If you wanna join the taglist pls comment and I'll be sure to add you from here on out. 🩵

[kelpweedkelpweedingkelpweeds]

Ok, so I think I'm slightly ready to talk about the comic (really I'm not but my brain has been thinking about them for an hour straight I have to let some of it out) This comic answered a hundred questions in my head and in the process produced a thousand more to replace them. The exploration of hyuna's thoughts as she was dying, it's so wonderfully complex and exactly what I expected out of vivinos.

Hyuna's feelings towards Luka is less so "I want to hate you, but I can't", rather it's "I hate you, you caused me so much pain and yet at the same time I pity the things that caused you to do this to me and I still care about you". A popular opinion is that as Hyuna spun Luka around her intent was revenge, and my 2 cents on it is that yes payback was part of it, but her kneejerk reaction was to save him.

There's still no official confirmation for Luka's role in Hyunwoo's death but he holds a major part in it. Hyuna cared deeply for her brother; it's no wonder she would hold bitter feelings towards someone who caused her to lose someone she loved. Hyuna knew that Luka loved her more than himself; she knew that she was the only person whose death would make him feel anything, not even his own. So she let herself get shot, made him lose the one person who ever made him feel human, made him feel the human grief of watching someone you care about sacrifice themselves, made him understand how the other performers on stage felt as they watched their friends die in front of them. This was her revenge, letting him feel the same pain she did, the same pain he inflicted on so many others on stage.

But at the same time, Hyuna isn't cruel. Her character is about love, love for humanity and the hope for freedom. As she heard that bullet fired, her first thought wasn't to make him suffer, it was to protect him. That she didn't want to see him die. Because watching him bleed out would cause her so, so much pain. It could be considered selfish, as she is the head of the resistance and he is the alien overlord's favourite pet, the person symbolizing the thing she swears destroy and never return to. But for someone who loves the world so selflessly, her love for Luka is and always has been selfish, and so is her resentment. He is her only weakness, the only person she would sacrifice her life for to teach the meaning of loss and pain.

She tells him that she leaves a puzzle for him to solve, which can be interpreted as figuring out human emotions for the first time. She understands him well enough to know that it will work, for he loves her more than anything else and loves her enough to at least try and move on like she wishes him to. Perhaps he may never find the answer, perhaps he might die before he has the opportunity to, but Hyuna knows he will try desperately, that perhaps in the process he could be given the chance to be human, as he deserved to.

She didn't let herself get shot for the satisfaction of watching him cry for the first time, she died because she loved him and wanted him to come to understand grief and gain the ability to move on, things that he was deprived of since his birth. She never forgave herself or Luka over what happened, but she wanted him to learn to forgive himself, so that maybe he could do what she couldn't. She knew she didn't have to ask him for forgiveness; his love for her poured out of him like water, he could never hate her for the selfish thing she did. So maybe Hyuna died with bitterness lingering towards him for what he did, but ultimately she came to peace with the fact that she loved Luka, that she would die for him, that only he could bring her back to the damned alien stage as her burial ground.

Y'all I nearly cried writing this, can I PLEASE do a self indulgent post next about how pure Luka's love towards Hyuna is I DONT WANT TO DEAL WITH THE COMPLEXITIES OF HUMAN EMOTION IM BARELY HANGING TOGETHER RIGHT NOW

Here have a stupid lil image of them (sorry Hyuna isn't coloured in I know it's really bad but when all you can think about is how tragic they are all I want to do is draw them happy for the rest of eternity)