#But instead I just wrote this whole thing in one sitting

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ GETTING OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

san x gn reader + mingi x gn reader (separated)

part 2 to ateez stuck in the friendzone! read that part so this makes sense

tw: slow burn + veeery dramatic + angst + fluff

a/n: both have the slowestttt slow burns in history of friends to lovers omg my heart did kinda break a little while writing them lol so keep in mind that both are VERY dramatic. maybe even cliche but honestly i just wrote what i, personally, enjoy reading. i’m just a girl in love with love 🥹

masterlist

SAN

san found himself attempting to hide his smile while you told him about your awful date from a few days ago. you were laying down with your head on his lap as san casually untangled strands of your hair, while you rambled on and on about the misfortunes he secretly thought were fortunes in disguise.

“who talks about their mother on the first date? like the whole time i mean, of course it’s okay to mention one or two things following the context of the conversation” you said, moving your hands dramatically to prove your point “but the whole time? i tried to switch the topic of the conversation towards work and can you believe he told me about what his mother does for a living before telling me what HE does for HIS?”

san couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh. you were so cute and he was so happy and relieved that the date had failed.

“he should go to therapy” he said, in between giggles. “right?! sigmund freud would have been thrilled to have him as a patient” you exclaimed, laughing too.

after a few moments of cracking jokes and laughing about the situation, you turned your head to face san. “so what about you?” you asked. he looked down at you, smile on his face still. “what about me?”

“have you gone on dates lately?” you asked. he threw his head back, shaking it slightly “with what time? i’m too busy with schedules” he answered, half lying. it’s true that he’s very busy with his idol duties, but he always managed to make time for you. he knows he could easily use up that time to go on dates, but for obvious reasons that you still were ignorant to, he didn’t. to you, he was just an introvert.

“but are you not interested in anyone?” you pushed, lifting your head and sitting up to face him properly. san chose to avoid your eyes, not trusting himself to keep his own secret. instead, he looked to the city on his right, suddenly finding the building architectures more interesting. he noticed that the air in the terrace got warmer too, and the concrete platform you were sitting on got harder. or was he the one that got warmer and stiffer? “no, i don’t think so” he lied, but you knew him enough to see through it. “liar, you’re blushing”

“well it is an intimate question” he answered, attempting to smile in order to play it off. you shook your head no “you blushed and your left eye twitched a bit. that was definitely a lie and as your best friend i want to know!” you exclaimed, grabbing his hands. if only you knew the effect you had on him.

when he came back from tour, he was determined to confess. but now that the perfect opportunity arose, he couldn’t open his mouth. questions and different negative scenarios plagued his mind, convincing him that maybe it was a bad idea. he much rather work on moving on than lose you as a friend.

“are they that special to you?” you asked, in a much quieter tone of voice, noticing his silence. he nodded, staring at your eyes, hoping you could notice the love they held whenever he looked at you. but despite his desperation, you didn’t. “they are very lucky then, you genuinely are amazing in every aspect sannie”. you continued, going back to your original place with your head on his lap, but still holding his hands. he kept staring at you, if only you knew.

“thank you” san managed to say.

———

“how fast can you come over to help me with something?” you asked san on the phone, as he exited the practice room. it was like the stars aligned, because he had just finished for the day. “i can come over right now, are you okay?” he asked, worried something may be wrong despite you sounding relatively okay. “i can’t pick an outfit and- shit my aunt his calling me, invite yourself in when you arrive, i’m in my room and you already know the lock number of the door” you said, before hanging up.

outfit for what?

��——

so that’s how san found himself sitting on your bed on a friday night, numerous pieces of clothing scattered all over without care. he scrolled through some unread messages while he waited for you to try on a different outfit for your new date. yes, new date. as if his heart haven’t just healed from last time.

“i matched with someone on this app and they immediately invited me on a date so now i’m having a fashion crisis” you had explained to him as soon as he entered your room. why was it so hard for you to realize that your dates have been failing for a reason?

you appeared once again, now wearing an outfit that honestly took san’s breath away as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. it was nothing too extravagant, actually, it was rather simple, but it was enough to make san’s head spiral. specially when you twirled around to show the outfit from the back, since your shirt had an open back.

“so? what do we think?” you asked, eyes filled with hope.

san was conflicted: he was 100% sure he has never seen anyone look more beautiful, more dashing, more perfect. but, it wasn’t for him. he didn’t want anyone else to look at you like that, they would never come remotely close to the way he feels about you.

“san-?” you started to ask after a few seconds of silence, but got interrupted by him: “don’t go on that date”

you looked at him confused, as he stared back with the same surprised face. that really had slipped from his lips before he realized what he was saying. you fucked up big time san, he thought to himself.

“why? do i really look that bad?” you asked, turning around to face the mirror in order to examine your body and face. he noticed the way your eyes dimmed, as you carefully traced your eyes over your figure, finding little imperfections that made your face turn into a sad frown. san felt his own heart shatter at the sight, and before he knew, he stood up and quickly hugged you from behind, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“sannie?” you asked, startled by his sudden action and making you momentarily forget about the insecurities that started flooding your mind. you looked at him through the mirror: even if he was leaning down on you, he was still much wider, making you feel very small in his arms. unconsciously, you lifted your hand and patted his hair. san lifted his head, looking at you through the mirror as well, and your eyes interlocked.

“you’re perfect y/n” he whispered. “i’m sorry if i gave you the wrong idea, you look beautiful and your date is very lucky”. he was trying to be supportive, but traces of sadness and desperation were evident in his face. enough for you to notice. you turned around, and the same hand that was patting his head went down to his cheek, holding him in place to look at you.

“what’s wrong san?” you asked, softly. your thumb traced comforting circles on his cheek, and you could feel his arms tighten around you as he closed his eyes.

“go on that date” he whispered in a shaky voice, before adding “you look beautiful”.

you stared at him confused for a few moments, not really knowing what to say. then, he kissed your forehead and, with the little bit of strenght he had left in him, unwrapped his arms, stepping back. he grabbed his jacket and went to the door, but not before shooting you another sad look and saying “like i said, your date is very lucky”.

he left, heart in his hands, slowly breaking with each step.

you cancelled the date.

———

san couldn’t sleep that night, he kept tossing and turning as his mind wandered about what you were doing with your date. were you still having dinner? no, probably not since it’s like 2 am. maybe it went so well that you invited them over for coffee at your place, something that will probably lead to something else. something he didn’t even want to imagine, since it wasn’t him committing those sins.

maybe it was time to move on, after all. he wants you to be happy, truly, so if your happiness doesn’t include him, then he should at least be supportive. and in order to do that from the bottom of his heart, he should move-

*knock knock knock* he heard, coming from the door. he decided to ignore it, thinking that it was probably mingi, so he turned around and closed his eyes, pretending he was asleep.

“maybe he’s asleep, i should come back tomorrow but thank you soenghwa” he heard you say from behind the door. he never got out of bed faster, as he sprinted to the door and opened it widely.

there you stood, now dressed in a familiar oversized shirt and baggy pants. completely different from the outfit he last saw you on, but to him you still looked beautiful. you looked at him with wide eyes, as seonghwa smirked next to you.

“i’ll leave you alone” he said, before he made his way to his room and shut the door behind him.

you stood there awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. you came here with a question, but now that you had san right in front of you, thoughts were scattered all over your mind and you couldn’t say a word.

“come in” he said, sensing your internal dilemma. you nodded in response, as you entered and made your way to his unmade bed.

“did i wake you up?” you asked. san shut the door and shook his head “actually i couldn’t sleep”

“me neither” you said in a low voice.

“how was your date?” he asked, unsure of what to say. he sat next to you on the bed, looking at you while trying to decipher your expression. you turned your head to san’s bedside table, finding the small plushie you once gifted him randomly. you smiled. “i cancelled it”

“what? why?!” he asked, with surprised wide eyes. you turned back to him. “i suddenly didn’t want to go, that’s it really. so while i was tidying up my room i found this shirt” you said, fiddling with the ends of the shirt that looked a little too big on you “the one you once lent me after we got stuck in the rain that one time. i told you i would wash it and give it back, but i didn’t. why didn’t i give it back to you?”

san stared at you in silence.

“so i realized it still had your perfume, and before i knew it, i had put it on. then i started thinking about you, about us. you’re my best friend, you know? but as i was laying down on my bed, i was thinking: what if you were not? what if my dates always failed for a reason?” you continued, as your fingers reached for his. “what if the reason they always failed was because i always searched you in them? so again, before i realized i was standing in front of your apartment, but with one question in my mind”

san could feel his heart beat increase and his breath shorten.

“what will happen to us and our friendship if i told you how i feel? how i think i always felt even if i didn’t know it?” you asked, looking at him scared.

“you’re dumb” he said, loud enough for only you to hear. that didn’t surprise you, what did was the way he immediately let go of your hand in order to hug you close, bringing you closer to his body. “what will happen? how would i feel? y/n you’re dumb because that’s how i’ve been feeling for a long time now” he said, hands leaving your waist and craddling your face. san stared at you, and now you realized that his eyes looked different: they held love in them. something you always searched on random people in dating apps, yet were never able to find. instead, it has been right in front of you this whole time.

“i love you” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. finally, he thought. he finally said the words he has been keeping locked deeply inside him for years. you smiled, as your nose touched his. “i love you too, i’m sorry i just realized”

maybe it was time to give you the silver necklace he bought you on tour, since now the timing was right.

MINGI

mingi missed you, a lot. he hadn’t heard from you since you stormed out of his house a week and a half ago. he had left you a couple of texts apologizing, and even attempted calling you, but to no avail. you had disappeared, and he didn’t blame you, he was stupid enough to let you go. in fact, that’s the thing he regretted the most about the fight: not chasing after you.

so he did what he knew best: he took his misery and transformed it into work, to be precise, he wrote three songs, all about his feelings, the situation in itself and you.

three different scenarios that made him hear yunho’s voice calling him dramatic in his mind. to be honest, he knew he was being a little dramatic about the situation. he knew that you probably just needed time to cool down, and that if his apology was good enough you would forgive him in a heart beat, because, in the end, he knew you loved him. maybe not in the way he wished for, but you loved him nonetheless.

mingi stared at the ceiling in silence, wondering what were you doing while he layed on his bed feeling miserable. did you miss him too? were you also thinking about him? he was certain of one thing only: he wanted to see you. it didn’t matter to him if you opened the door or not, he needed to at least hear your voice through the door.

he checked the time: 11:47 pm, almost midnight. fuck it, he thought. he stood up and quickly got dressed in a speed record time, tied up his shoes and grabbed his keys and song notebook in the process. by 11:55 pm he was already closing the door of his car.

as mingi started driving, questions also started flooding his mind: will you hate him if he suddenly showed up? what if you had invited someone over? shouldn’t he have discussed this with one of his friends first just in case?

questions, questions, questions.

no answers.

soon enough, he found himself standing in front of your apartment door. he could easily ring the door bell, knock on the door or simply use the spare key you gave him once for emergencies. yet, he was unable to do any, frozen in place as he mentally debated on what to do.

mingi decided to do something odd, something he would have probably laughed at if he saw it in one of the movies you usually forced him to watch with you: he took out his pen and notebook, ripped off one of the pages and wrote on it. then, he slid it under the door and left.

“i’ll tell you everything -m”

———

you have always been a hopeless romantic, mingi knew that perfectly well. you believed in happy endings, and that love and friendship can win over everything. so why hasn’t he heard from you still? did you not get the note? should he leave another one? no, that would be too pushy, it was only two days ago.

questions, questions, questions.

still no answers.

mingi was sulking again, and honestly it started to worry seonghwa and san, who watched as he walked back to his room right after dinner, without saying a word during the whole night. honestly, he was just too lost in his thoughts. their pair exchanged a look, before following him.

“mingi, hold up, everything okay? you’re more… distracted than usual” seonghwa said, carefully choosing his words. mingi hummed in response, nodding as he stopped in his tracks. “yeah, there’s just a lot in my head” he answered, not looking at his friends. “let us hear it then” san said, patting his back and leading them towards the living room.

the trio sat down on the sofa they had bought a few months ago, the one you had scolded them about because it seemed very expensive and too hard to clean. they had all laughed, but soon enough realized you were right when mingi spilled a bit of sauce on it. the stain was still there.

“so? what’s wrong?” seonghwa asked once they all got comfortable. mingi sighed, looking down before he started spilling everything that had happened, from two weeks ago until now. he noticed the eldest nodding along the story, but neither of them said anything until he finished.

“when exactly did you leave this note?” san asked, fidgeting with his bracelet. “two days ago” mingi answered. san’s eyes went wide, as he muttered a small fuck before he sprinted towards the kitchen. seonghwa and mingi exchanged a look, both equally confused at their friend’s actions. after a few moments and very weird sounds that came from the kitchen, san appeared again, with a crumbled up yellow post it in his hand. he handed it to mingi.

“the hell is this? it has food stains san, gross” mingi said with a disgusted face as he barely touched the paper. “open it, i found it this morning” san said, sitting down next to him again. mingi gave his friends a strange look, before carefully opening the crumbled up piece of paper. as he read, his eyes widened in surprise.

“what time is it?!” he exclaimed. “9 pm” seonghwa answered, checking the time in his phone. mingi muttered a small fuck, before putting his shoes on, and grabbing his bag.

“i’ll be back in a while” he said, before shutting the door behind him.

seonghwa looked at san, confused. “what the hell did the paper say?” he asked. san picked it up from the floor and showed it to him:

“8 pm, our special place”.

the hand writing was yours.

———

mingi was almost sure he broke one or two speeding laws on his way to the park where he hoped you were still waiting at. he cursed san for not telling him sooner, even if he knew it wasn’t really his fault to begin with. the park wasn’t far from his apartment though, just a short 10 minute drive. as cliche as it sounds, it was the park were you both met.

at that time, around 6 years ago or so, his mind revolved around perfection, hard work, pressure, debut. so he would succumb to overwhelming feelings pretty often, that forced him to need some time alone. that’s how he found a park nearby, and specifically, one peculiar tree that caught his attention for some reason. he used to sit down under it, notebook on his lap and pen between his fingers, as he scribbled down some random thoughts that plagued his mind during hard moments. he didn’t really plan to turn his words into songs yet, it was just his way to deal with stress. he used to find these little moments very special: it was like he was reconnecting with his inner, truer self, and not the mean facade he wore in front of his soon to be members. yeah, some of them irked him, like that wooyoung guy, but he didn’t mean to be that rude all the time. so, to escape the constant pressure kq fellaz was facing in between the company walls, he found solace in a park, but specifically, he found solace under that tree.

he could remember the day he met you like it was yesterday. he remembers all the stress he was feeling, debut date coming closer and closer. everyone was on edge, from the members to the staff. he had also recently come back from morocco after successfully shooting his first music video! but he couldn’t deny it: as much as he was excited, he was already feeling a little tired. he needed some alone time, just himself with his thoughts. so he found himself walking towards his favorite spot in the park.

only to find you there, sitting down under the tree. his tree to be precise. and you were writing on a pink notebook with a fluffy pen. mingi felt like he was looking at a reflection of himself, but instead of being comforted by it, he felt annoyed. it was HIS tree after all!

“excuse me, this is my spot” he said, coming into your field of vision. you looked up to him, pausing your hand and taking an earphone off. “excuse me?”

“this is my spot” he reiterated, making you chuckle slightly. “the tree you mean? does it have your name or something?” you asked, finding the situation hilarious. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, why did nothing go his way?! “listen, i had a shitty day and i need to sit there for a while, so can you leave?”

“no, i got here first. plus there are tons of other trees here, it’s a park after all” you said, putting your earphone back on and turning your gaze to your notebook. he stayed still in his place in front of you, making you huff in annoyance at his persistence. “look dude, i am not going to move. you can either sit on the opposite side or leave, i don’t care but stop bothering me” you continued.

mingi really really reaaaally needed to be at his safe place, too overwhelmed to funcion rationally, so he rolled his eyes and sat on the opposite side of the tree.

that’s how the story started: at opposite sides of the tree. soon enough it got replaced by sitting nearby, and eventually next to each other. some times you would even bring snacks to share in silence, as you both wrote down your thoughts on your respective notebooks. once he debuted, he broke the silence for the first time, urging you to listen to his song. after that, you started talking more, about music, shows, your respective jobs and life in itself. the safe place you both found under the tree, was also found in each other, quickly realizing you often shared the same thoughts and views about the world.

the story started under a tree, and he hoped it wouldn’t end there too. he needed you to be there, because he wasn’t ready to lose not only his best friend, but also his safe place. even the tree would become stained from the pain. and he would have nothing left, just questions, questions, and more questions about different what ifs.

you weren’t there.

but mingi wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. he started running towards the direction of your apartment, forgetting that he had parked the car on the opposite direction. his legs were aching, and he felt like he was a bit out of breath, despite all the idol training he has been enduring for six years. but he kept running.

until he spot you in the distance.

“y/n!” he yelled. he saw you stop in your tracks and turn around to his direction, confused at the sudden call of your name. once you spotted him running towards you, you sprinted to him.

his body collapsed against yours, as he hugged you tightly, like you would disappear if he let you go. mingi hid his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his back. you could hear his quick heart beat from how close he held you, and you were sure he could hear yours too.

after a while, mingi lifted his head from your neck, and looked at you. “why are you crying?” he asked, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “i thought you wouldn’t come, why are you crying mingi?” you asked, repeating his own actions, but on his cheeks. he giggled, he didn’t even realize he was crying. “i thought i lost you” he said, truthfully.

the park was dark, the only lights came from street lights. so, for outsiders, you probably looked like a random couple having a dramatic moment. definitely not mingi from idol group ateez and his best friend y/n reconciliating.

“i’m sorry” he whispered, locking his eyes with yours. they still held tears, that threatened to spill depending on your answer. you shook your head “no, i’m sorry mings, i shouldn’t have walked away like that. plus i didn't even give you a chance to explain”.

“i’m sorry for not showing you the songs, for not chasing you, and for being too much of a coward to not face you directly” he apologized. you hugged him again, shushing him. “i shouldn’t have pressured you to show me, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do”

mingi looked at you again, and bit his lip. “can i still show you though?”

“it’s not necessary, mingi, it’s fine real-“ you started saying before he interrupted you, taking your hand and leading you towards the same old place from before. “i want to” he said, determined.

you let him whisk you away.

———

back at the peculiar tree that was iluminated enough by a street lamp a few meters away, he sat you down at your usual spot. he sat down beside you, as he pulled out his notebook from his bag. mingi gave it to you.

“mingi, this really isn’t necessary-“ you started saying once again. “please” he interrupted, with pleading eyes. so you took his notebook and opened it on the first page. you already read that song, it was the first one he ever wrote a long while back. “read the last ones”

you turned the pages, until you found them. mingi looked at you nervously, starting to feel fidgety at the thought of you realizing his deepest secret, the only one he hid from you. he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him. he scanned your face, puffy eyes filling with tears once again as realization hit you. you turned your gaze back to him with wide, surprised eyes.

“mingi- what? wait, hold on” you stammered, as tears fell from your eyes. you quickly set his notebook aside to grab your own bag, taking out your new pink notebook, your diary. you handed it to him, saying: “open it on august 5th”

he stared at you confused, and slightly unsure too, since you’ve always been pretty secretive about what you wrote there. he found the page and read:

“august 5th.

so i realized something, that i’m almost too afraid to write even here. i’m scared that if i admit it, i’ll have to face a sad reality. i think i’m in love with my best friend, isn’t that stupid? that’s how i feel, at least. i haven’t seen him in a while because of his work, and i feel like i’m slowly losing my mind. why do i only feel complete when he’s with me? scratch that, why am i even writing this?

anyways, i’ll probably die with the secret”

“now turn to september 16th” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“september 16th.

i’m in love with my best friend. i love mingi. how insane is that? and how stupid? he is my best friend, for god’s sake. but i can’t help the way i feel, specially when he’s so annoyingly observant. like for example, the other day he noticed my pen was dying, so today he surprised me with a new fluffy pink pen. i hate him for making my heart swell at such gestures. specially because i know I KNOW that’s what best friends do.

anyways i’m not gonna use his pen because i decided i’m going to preserve it forever”

“and now, tun to november 10th” you muttered. mingi realized it was yesterday’s date.

“november 10th.

i still love him. and i fucked up. but i’m still in love with him”

he closed your notebook, turning towards you. he found you with your face on your knees, as you hugged your legs, too embarrassed to face him, despite now knowing his feelings. he loves you too, with the same devotion, with the same desperation and intensity. mingi loves you, his best friend.

“look at me, y/n” he whispered. you slowly lifted your head, hesitantly looking at him. the way you both looked at each other held more intimacy than ever. mingi slowly reached for you, bringing your face closer to his. his hold was shaky, almost unsure, this was a whole new territory. he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“i love you” he admitted.

too many questions, that finally got an answer.

“i love you too” you whispered.

taglist: @yoongles2025 @reallychaoticwoo

(to be added please let me know)

[anomaly-076]

If the tkdb ghouls were the whb devils, who do you think would be who?

If Tkdb boys were WHB demons

‎‧₊˚✿Masterlist✿˚₊‧

♦ Ooh a fun concept! ^^ *rolls up sleeves*

  ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Jin

Jin is an absolute Belphegor with the whole 'leave me alone I'm sleeping thing'

Plus he has his trusty servant to take care of everything

Tohma

For the same reason I'm gonna say Tohma is pretty much Beleth

A trusty servant taking on the responsibilities of leading the kingdom/house

Lucas

Okay, not a devil, but I'm gonna say Minhyeok

Our trusty childhood friend who's all prim and proper

And him and Ppyong are amazing besties just like Lucas and Kaito

Kaito

To simply put it: Kaito is an idiot

Kinda like Ppyong, who mostly says stuff that make you wonder if there's a single braincell happening (doesn't matter, he's my son either way)

They both also see themselves at a prince in a shining armor

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Alan

Rarely talks, doesn't really show much emotions...

That sounds like Zagan to me!

Another thing they have in common is their interest in working out

Leo

*sigh* this might be controversial, but I don't hate Leo

Otherwise I'd hate to assign him one of my favorites: Paimon

They're both these cheery and cutesy social media fiends

To be fair: Paimon is a bit controversial too

In a way that there was a bit of drama bc regarding people's HCs (one person was hypocritical about them not adhering to canon)

Sho

Bike boy Sho gets a bike boy Amy

They're both pretty chill despite coming off as a meanie at first

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Haku

Our ever-so-cheery Haku can be no other than babyboy Gamigin

They're both so energetic and adorable ^^

Towa

This is more based on my personal HC, but Morax strikes me as the type to be able to talk to plants/animals and to attract them

Both our boys are on the quiet side and morax is definitely the romantic type too

Ren

In the original design, Gusion was made out to be a gamer in a onesie and so I HC that it was his "teenage" phase he hasn't grown out of and only chooses to dress more mature

They both would absolutely love to have a movie/gaming marathon with MC

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Taiga

Ah, guns ablazing

Stolas has a bit of a short fuse and likes to fire two of his thompsons

I kinda wanna see these two on a shooting range now

Romeo

With Romeo's obsession with meeting deadline money goals, Bimet is the absolute perfect equivalent

We even had an event where some of his money went missing and he threw such a bad temper tantrum

Ritsu

This one is kinda hard...

I don't think there is a demon that would be similar to Ritsu..

Oh, but we do have Bael who is constantly doing paperwork instead of Beelzebub, who's always gone

And Bael is constantly sending all the other nobles out to chase him down

Just like Ritsu constantly bothers Taiga and Romeo with his lawyer roleplay

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Subaru

Subaru as the pretty boy he is gets another pretty boy, Foras

According his idiosyncrasy, Foras is the prettiest demon in Hell so much so even his king, Leviathan, gets jealous

Haku

Personality vise I don't think we have a demon to match Haku, but the spiritual vibe he has reminds me of Buer

Buer gives me the vibe of some temple priest/spiritual healer

Zenji

Zenji is another one who's kinda hard to find a demon for

There isn't really an artist/writer type of demon

So maybe... Astaroth?

Astaroth finds pleasure in corrupting people with his words, just like Zejni wants to spread his poems and songs

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Edward

Old man

Just like Lucifer

I can imagine them sitting in Lucifer's greenhouse and relaxing together

Rui

Another one I wanna say Astaroth about?

Rui is a flirt, just like Astaroth

Plus the whole bar thing matches the corruption thing really well

I once even wrote Astaroth as someone you don't want to watch over the alcohol on a party

Lyca

This one is kinda obvious: Naberius

Since he can turn into Cerberus while angry and they're both precious

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Yuri

Yuri gives strong Agares vibes withe way he thinks everything revolves around him

They're both full of themselves and have a faithful sidekick

Jiro

Gentle giant ♥

Okay, Marbas isn't as gentle (if even), but they're both precious big medic boys

I can even imagine Marbas waving a chainsaw around

If he wan't for the safety of everyone tied up

[screemnch]

Heterotopias, Pathologic, and what they have in common.

In the introductions of these I tend to put completely unrelated life anecdotes, because this isn't an academic paper. With that being said - I do hope to put together the next instalment of the bilingual madness project that I've started, but not right now. I'm in the part of my life where I'm majoring in a subject and a few months of study have granted me the delusion that I actually know things, and I'm taking that and running with it. This little unhinged essay will include the following:

A brief recap of who Foucault is (really brief. Just for the context)

A little less brief recap of his concept of the "heterotopia", an explanation of some necessary concepts and essays on the subject

The examination of heterotopias in game - how they exist within the fictional town on Gorkhon and what that means

Finally, a pretentious talk about video games and specifically Pathologic as a heterotopia, where I might go completely off the rails and lose all my trains of thought at once.

So let's get started.

Who is Michel Foucault?

Michel Foucault (1926-1984) was a French philosopher, critic, activist and damn near everything. There are few topics in my current major where his name doesn't come up. He's had a say in theories of language, gender, sexuality, identity, space, politics, power and so on and so forth. There have also been multitudes of people criticising his ideas, and not without good reason. In this discussion I'm not putting this dude on a pedestal and I don't encourage anyone to base their whole understanding of philosophy on one French guy's opinion. That being said, let's go look at some of his ideas in terms of language and space.

What is a "heterotopia"?

Wikipedia kindly tells me that the word was first used in the preface of an essay called "the Order of Things". In the preface, Foucault compared it directly to the concept of a utopia (which is where the alarm bells go off for any and all pathologic fans). This was preceded by an important discussion of language in terms of relations - the idea that many concepts and things are described and perceived through the lens of comparison and juxtaposition. Think about how one would perceive light by comparing it to darkness. In Foucault's opinion, these relations make up a grid that shapes our perception. These relations are, by definition, also mutually exclusive. That which is a dog cannot also be a cat. That which the language defines as close cannot be far.

Which is why, immediately after that, Foucault says "lol, syke" there ARE things that can encompass these contradictory sites within themselves; a fantastical conceptual instance in which something like that is possible - he calls those things "utopias". In the preface he even calls the road to such a utopia "chimerical". The more common view of a utopia is "a perfect place with no flaws". But in Foucault's writing, utopias are something that rises above our perception of relations and embodies multiple contradictory things at once - which is what makes it perfect. Most importantly, however - utopias have no physical space. They cannot. Our language doesn't allow for something that exists outside of comparisons, especially not when it physically manifests in our world.

This is why, for example, in pathologic, Aglaya Lilich so vehemently insists that the Polyhedron cannot stand. She calls it a utopia, and those things cannot exist, must not exist. They cannot take up physical space. Which is when our good friend Foucault comes back for a surprise round.

See, we were lead to believe that utopias cannot exist, and it's meant to be a comfort - there isn't anything in our perception of the world that shatters our grid of comparisons and juxtapositions and that's wonderful. But we were, all of us, deceived. And we should be scared, because, to quote him directly - "Heterotopias are disturbing, probably because they secretly undermine language, because they make it impossible to name this and that, because they shatter or tangle common names, because they destroy 'syntax' in advance, and not only the syntax with which we construct sentences but also that less apparent syntax which causes words and things (next to and also opposite of one another) to 'hold together'" (this is still from the preface, yeah). In saying this he does not make clear what exactly a heterotopia is, which is why we'll turn to his other works. Namely "Heterotopias" (the introduction to which, written by Anthony Vidler helped me a ton in understanding what the hell this overly verbose dude is talking about) and its later iteration called "Of Other Spaces." I think those were both originally speeches, but I've found them transcribed, and I'm more focused on their meaning anyway. Those two texts are almost the exact same thing, with a few select differences, which aren't exactly relevant.

We get our proper explanation in these essays that I'll sum up to my best ability. A heterotopia is something that takes up physical space, yet has properties similar to a utopia. A physical space that embodies contradictory qualities. One of his early examples of something that is a heterotopia (but also a utopia at the same time, go figure) is the mirror; the false reality in which you are portrayed in a physical space where you are not, because you are quite clearly not standing in front of yourself, makes it a utopia. Yet the fact that by existing it creates a space in which you are technically standing in front of yourself makes it a heterotopia. He also points out a children's playground as a heterotopia. In "Heterotopias" the essay he likens it to children playing on their parents bed, but we could compare it to, say... A sandbox. Children playing in a sandbox is a heterotopia. The sandbox is a physical space, and yet it's also an unreal "other" space that exists in the children's perception. This space, say, a town, is both existent and non-existent. Contradictory.

Foucault goes to say more about the kinds of heterotopias that can exist, and as he mentions them, it becomes clear as to why architects took to the concept so readily. Many of these heterotopias are not just physical spaces, but buildings - theatres, museums, prisons, etc. There are other types of heterotopias - cemeteries, or "heterotopias of festival", but that's beside the point. A prominent example Foucault brings up is the brothel (a place both public and private at the same time) but he states the "perfect" heterotopia to be the boat/ship. Seriously, he calls them the "greatest reservoir for our imaginations" ("Heterotopias") and waxes poetic about how if we didn't have boats we'd be deprived of dreams. But hey, I'm here talking about a video game, who am I to judge.

Architecture, Space, and the Town on Gorkhon

Good old Wikipedia defines heterotopias as spaces that are somehow "other." Which is a good explanation for people who already know what a heterotopia is. As I've explained above, it's a little bit more complicated than that. However when I first heard the definition, my brain went "That's the Polyhedron! That's the stupid tower from that one game I'm obsessed with!" And indeed, it'd be easy to look at Wikipedia's definition of a heterotopia and compare it to the Polyhedron - it's most definitely "other." Even by what we've established here - it's a utopian contradiction that exists in physical space. So is Aglaya Lilich wrong for calling it a "utopia"? Is it actually a "heterotopia"? Would that change anything at all about the events of the game?

Real answer is: I dunno. Out of context of the game's story, it very much would count as a heterotopia (if we treat it as something existing within a real space, not in game space). It would be an architectural wonder, but it would also be a physical space that encompasses multiple things at once. It's made of paper and mirrors at the same time. It's precarious and safe at the same time. You could even bring in a specific type of heterotopia it could be - namely a "crisis heterotopia" (as outlined by Foucault in both "Heterotopias" and "Of other spaces") - a kind that is supposedly phasing out of existence. A place where people go when they are in a state of crisis. This is where debate would no doubt arise, because there are a bunch of types of heterotopias it could be (heterotopia of deviation, for example) and I love that. It's contradictory. It cannot be juxtaposed to other types of heterotopias. It shatters the liguistic definitions we cling to. Meta as fuck and I love that for her.

But also, raining on the parade of "the Polyhedron is totes a heterotopia, y'all" is the existence of context within and without the game. The town on Gorkhon is not a real space, and isn't in a real time. And that is both as a "game space" (a game played by kids in a sandbox) and as a ""game space"" (a game played by us, the players). In this way, concepts can manifest themselves without manifesting, things can exist without existing. The Polyhedron only takes up physical space within the eyes of the dolls, but to the kids it is no more real than the town itself. Within the laws of the game - the Polyhedron never became a heterotopia. It's a concept that the children spoke into existence, a contradictory thing, that also remains within a fantastical "game space". It's only rational that Aglaya would call it a utopia - her meta awareness allows her to see the tower, the whole town, for what it is. And as a utopia, it should not have a physical manifestation within the world that Aglaya can perceive. She is still just a doll, after all, and the world she perceives is physical to her, even if she knows it's just "game space".

I'm not posing either one of these ideas as "the correct one". You can choose to believe that the Polyhedron is a heterotopia, or you can believe that it's a utopia because it's all a game. You can even say that all of this is bs, and all the developers at IPL were trying to say is that perfection is impossible. But I'm gonna keep playing around and talk about another fun thing: the heterotopias are everywhere.

Go back to treating the town on Gorkhon as a physical space again. You may recall in the examples of heterotopias I cited some buildings and spaces that might sounds particularly interesting. A theatre. A cemetery. There's also the idea that heterotopias have a unique relationship with time, in terms of either constantly accumulating time (museums) or emphasising its transience (fairgrounds). This temporal quality may remind you of the Catherdal in marble nest, where it warps time and changes the way it's perceived. In all honesty, when considering heterotopias besides the Polyhedron, my first thought went to the Abbatoir - it's a place where only select few are allowed, where a collective exists both privately and within the eye of society (which is also themselves), that accumulates time from way back in the history of the town. In short, just like the real world, the town on Gorkhon is full of heterotopias. And it's not surprising - Foucault's first principle of heterotopias established in both of the aforementioned essays is that "there is probably not a single culture in the world that fails to constitute heterotopias". Similarly, no longer thinking of the town on Gorkhon as a physical space, the town becomes a heterotopia as well. That is - it's a town within a sandbox during some kids' playtime. Delightfully meta. Let's all get delightfully meta, shall we?

Are video games heterotopias?

I was unable to find if Foucault has ever said anything about video games throughout his life. Technically he has existed at the same as them, but maybe at this point he had lost interest in talking about these spaces. There are multiple articles out there talking about games and Foucault's theories, and the sole reason why I haven't read them for this essay is because I didn't want to go down a goddamn rabbit hole and waste the next 8 hours reading about... Idk, tadpoles or smth. Let's work from the start, shall we?

Foucault clearly states that children playing pretend in a physical space is heterotopic. The place where they play becomes a heterotopia. Jumping off of that we can assume that things such as LARP (which takes place in a select location) is also a heterotopia, with an addition of some rules that the players adhere to. This leads us to considering things such as live dnd sessions heterotopic as well - players are gathered around a table. Their combat map, the physical space the DM uses to create the imagined space - all becomes a heterotopia (yes I made it about dnd, I'm a nerd of many talents). Once we take a step further, towards things like online dnd sessions and eventually video games - an important question emerges: can digital space house heterotopias? I'm sure Foucault would have considered cyberspace itself a heterotopia, if I've understood him correctly so far (and if I haven't... That sucks, cuz we're almost at the end of the essay). Can a heterotopia exist within another heterotopia? Would it be possible to peel away a layer by claiming that the digital screen - our window to the cyberspace, to the "game space" - constitutes as physical space? Is a video game, in that case, a heterotopia as well? And does that mean that by playing Pathologic we are experiencing a heterotopia, within a heterotopia, within a heterotopia? Are you tired of the "h" word yet?

Truth is, once again: I dunno. I like to believe that it is, cuz it allows me to think of Pathologic as something even cooler than I originally thought. Something even more meta. It's interesting thinking about how something that came from linguistics then went into architecture and eventually came to media entertainment. I also really like the implications that come with the significance of this concept in regards to the architect characters present within Pathologic. I wonder if they knew (given how patho is set in a dubious time, so it'd be difficult to establish if them knowing about Foucault's theories would even be possible). In part I just also felt fascinated by many people linking Pathologic to concepts within theatre (like Codex Entry, or that one post on here about Edward Gordon Craig by tumblr user erriga) and got really excited about bringing something similar to the table. I hope it sparks some discussion and brings forth some ideas from other passionate fans. Anyways.

Go read the actual stuff:

https://www.jstor.org/stable/43202545

https://www.jstor.org/stable/464648

(sorry about the links if they don't work. I'm not technologically advanced enough to figure out if smth is wrong before I post it)

[unityrain24]

Saw your tags about Star Wars, it seems Star Wars stans and modern MCU stans are two peas in a pod. :/

im not entirely sure which tags you were referring to, because i have reblogged several starwars posts with Tags, but honestly, the mcu and starwars really are two peas in a pod. And im honestly surprised there isnt more comradery/comparing between the fandoms

both started out as, while definitely not "high art" or anything, legitimately good enjoyable films, with relatable characters the audience could feel empathy and compassion for, exciting new powers and places, fun and adventurous stories, and more, which instantly became beloved classic that people thought about with nostalgia and pleasantness. And they were and by people who cared and the people who watched them were compelled to care and create communities.

But then both franchises saw a shift, from making films from a passionate and moneymaking point of view, to purely making films from a moneymaking point of view. While star wars saw this happen with the franchise being picked up a few years after to make sequels, the mcu's shift happened more gradually, since there was no time in-between making movies.

now, while i would not consider myself a StarWars Fan, my sister and cousins most definitely were, so i had to watch basically everything in order to keep a conversation with them (not that i didnt enjoy it, i quite liked it and all the lore, it just didnt hold the special place in my heart that thing i consider myself a Fan of do). I've watched the movies, the clone wars series, rebels, the mandalorian, etc all the way through. It's been a while since i was keeping up with everything, so forgive me for not having quite a comprehensive understanding and opions of it as i did say, 3-4 years ago lol.

But the starwars sequels are a lot like the latest phases of the mcu. While i cant remember if they explicitly go against any prestablished canon like the later mcu phases do, they definitely go against the spirit and point/purpose of the original (and even prequel) films.From what i remember, the sequels also had went through several different directers and had direction and script changes and was a whole mess, so even the three films were sort of inconsistent or at the very leat felt oddly-thrown together (<-i may be wrong on the specifics of that its been a while. but it was something along those lines). Also like the later phases of the mcu, they relied a lot on the "nostalgia factor" with not only easter eggs but bringing back old ideas, concepts, plots, even characters, since it "worked so well the first time," when really what the "first time" did was think of new things, present old things in new ways, and tell make art from a place of passion, community, and connection, rather than a "whats the least i can do to make the most money" mindset formula (a point brought up a lot by @therese-lokidottir on many of their recent mcu critiques).

Starwars, unlike the mc, did have a brief period of "redemption" where it looked like the franchise would be saved and given back to the hands of people passionate about starwars, stoytelling, and film, with stuff like the final season of clonewars, the mandalorian, and a few other things. That was a great time to be a starwars fan. I wasn't even a fan, and it was kind of magical for me. But now it seems like they are back of the capitalist art-destroying path, hard. They have been pumping out series after series after series (once again going for the "nostalgia" thing, bringing back the clonewars artstyle, several beloved characters, and more), but it all feels so hollow. The stories feel more like they are just putting in a whole bunch of "wow, thats so shocking" and sewing them together with "hey i loved that character!". The costuming and makeup is absolute trash. The worst by far is hera (an alien character from the animated Rebels series, showing up live-action in Ahsoka). It is hideous. I have seen cosplays of her better than what the actual multi-bullion-dollar corpoation disney with all the best resources put on that screen. The costume looked like it was from spirit halloween, the makeup looked patchy and strange, they left out simple details of her design, and all the colours were Off. Examples:

Hera in Rebels:

Hera Cosplayers (x and x):

Hera in the Ahsoka Series: (it is like. seriously disconcerting to me)

and again, the costuming was not the most pressing point. Its actually relatively low on the list of points of everything bad with current starwars. But its good for a visual example. My sister and my cousins loved starwars. Passionate. Ahsoka was one of my sister's favourite characters. She couldnt even get though a full episode of ashoka. I havent heard anything new of starwars from our cousins, either. And we see eachother relatively often. I havent watched a new starwars thing in like... forever now. And it seems like neither have they. And not because they got sick of starwas, i can tell you that. They got sick of the new starwars being pumped out and shoved down their throats where the only things that resembled what they had loved were twisted into something else. Which, at least in my experience, is far, far worse than if they just ended things ubruptly and unfairly. At least mutilated corpse can rest.

The mcu's decline was, again, more gradual, like boiling a frog. Thor ragnarok is where i would probably pinpoint the beginnings though. I didn't like it at first, because it was out of character, sort of reversed elements of the character's well-developing character arcs , narratively picked on some characters more than others, etc. But, it was still a well-beloved film by many, in-universe explanations for why the characters, arcs, and plots were so different could be plausibly thought up, it was fun and unique, and i could make myself ignore the bad parts and focus on the good and enjoy it for a while. But by the time the loki series came out? There wasnt even any of that anymore. No passion. No community. No love of art. No respect for the previous artists and their art, that the new makers were supposed to honour and continue. While ragnarok's morals of the story could be a little iffy at times (attempting to critique colonialism/imperialism, but falling flat because mocking loki for dismantling it; making jokes at points of the film where it was a little inappropriate), the loki series was straight up horrifying. Perhaps most noteably, fucking. GLORIFYING AND EXCUSING/SYMPATHIZING FASCISM??? and labeling genocide as a "necessary evil?" (though, once again, that was not the only immoral "moral" the series preached). Disgusting. And the MCU is pumping out way more films than starwars, and seem far deeper in the money-lust trenches too.

either way, both are suffering and both are bought by disney (and oddly, both keep giving more and more screentime to the fascist characters. but at least starwars isnt romanticizing it like the mcu is...)

and it hurts so much when something important to you is taken from you, and twisted, and ruined, and its mutilated corpse is hung up on string and paraded around as a puppet before your eyes, and burned into your mind even when you finally tear yourself away. And then swarms of people thinking your ridiculous for caring so much about something so unimportant, and others defending the very monstrosity that did this.

But its not ridiculous or silly or inferior to be attatched to a fictional character or fictional world or fictional story or whatever. They can provide comfort, and ways to explore and understand and even come to terms with yourself (or even others!) (and can be especially important coping mechanism for mentally ill people!). And art is a such an innately human thing, for us to express ourselves, and communal art (like film!) is a tradition across humanity and time!

And with the whole thing with people these days defending/denying what capitalism is doing to art, and denying the notion that art has any influence or effect on "real life"... why are these such absurd concept to you, that you liken to some crazy conspiracy theory? Are you really so blind as to not see it happening before you? Is the blindfold over your eyes really so soft it feels like nothing there? They say a bird who doesnt know its in a cage thinks its free. These people seem to think that drastic, unfair, unjust, immoral, inequal changes and systems are only things of the past. And often, the past doesnt feel real. Dinosaurs and the roman empire and some genocide in some faraway land in some faraway time can at times seem just as unreal as mythical creatures and stories. And even if such terrible things were to happen now, surely theyd be able to see it coming. But things like this dont change in an instant. They are gradual. Like boiling a frog. You dont notice. And even if things arent the worst they can be, and never become the worst they can be, they are still bad. Things arent required to be certified the worst of worst in order for change to be allowed to happen. The worst of the worst isnt even a thing.

Our art is being taken from us. We are being overworked and underpayed. Our whole lives are dictated by how "valuable" we are. Our environments are being polluted and decimated and our planet is becoming more and more inhospitable. Racism and queerphobia and ableism and more are taking lives. And none of those things are at the very worst they can be. They could all be much, much, much worse. But we shouldnt just sit around and be grateful its not worse and do nothing more, nor should we deny anything is wrong at all. If you had cancer youd want to do what you could to get better. If you If broke your leg youd do what you could to make it better. Even if you just accidentally cut your hand or finger while chopping vegetables, youd bandages it up. We always should try to make things better.

We deserve to have our art continue to be art. Just as we deserve all the much more pressing areas of our lives to be better too

Anyways, marvel and starwars really are two peas in a pod. And that pod is with other pods, and the plant those pods share is film. Or perhaps even art as a whole. The mcu and starwars are just really good examples of whats happening right now, because not only does it feel like perhaps its hitting them the most, but also because since they are such large franchises, you can really see and document the progression of whats happening with each instalment.

two peas in a pod :( <3

[monster-noises]

Hgggg

Had one of those sundays where i felt just like

A little bit like shit all day

So i didn't really get any of my comic work done and it just kinda became a Lost Day

So now as consequence my brain won't let me go to bed because i did not Satisfy the Requirements as Set Beforehand

But i would like to actually set myself up for a successful week of going to bed on timebl because i haven't the last two weeks and i can Feel it slowly destroying me spiritually, mentally, and physically

But sometimes there js Naught you can do in the face of Wanton Mental Illness

[melon-dot-com]

bonking my head against desk.mp4

I wasted time on something unimportant and that I didn't even care about again!!!!! I'm gonna Lose It!!!!

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK Men React to Seeing You in Their Clothes

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Yuta x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: fluff over fluff, I'm pretty sure I already wrote something like this but I can't find it anymore lol, all scenarios talk about the clothes of the said jjk men being big on you so please don't read if this isn't what you vibe with (but feel free to let me know if you want a version in which their clothes actually fit reader quite well!)

Gojo Satoru

The apartment is unusually quiet as you move through the living room, your bare feet padding lightly across the cool floor. Gojo had left early this morning to deal with some “business,” leaving you alone with nothing but a mess of his belongings scattered around. You’re not one to complain though - cleaning up after him has become second nature after spending so much time together.

As you tidy up his place, you come across one of his oversized hoodies. It’s sprawled across the back of a chair, still slightly wrinkled from when he wore it the night before. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the fabric, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, you find yourself reaching for it.

It’s soft, much softer than you expected. You hold it for a moment, staring at it thoughtfully before a mischievous grin tugs at your lips. You slip the hoodie over your head, the fabric swallowing you whole. The sleeves are comically long, almost covering your hands completely, and the hemline reaches down to your thighs. It’s so big that it feels like you’re wearing a blanket, and despite yourself, you giggle at the sight of your reflection in the hallway mirror.

You sit down on the couch, pulling your legs up under the hoodie, and let yourself relax into the comfort of wearing something that smells like him. His signature cologne that follows him around wherever he goes, that makes your heart skip a beat every time you smell it. To be honest, you really miss him. These past weeks were so busy that you didn’t really get the chance to see him more than 2 hours before passing out sleeping. What you’d do for a whole afternoon, just you and him…

Not long after, you hear the oh so accustomed sound of the door unlocking, followed by the familiar voice of Satoru calling out, “I’m home!”

You stiffen for a moment, wondering how he’ll react, but you can’t hide now. Fuck, you never wore his clothes before. After all, they belong to him and you have no right to grab his stuff as you please.

Before you can say anything to defend yourself, Gojo steps into the living room, his bright blue eyes immediately locking onto you.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

His sunglasses are perched on his head, revealing his crystalline eyes that seem to glow with delight.

“Did you raid my closet while I was gone?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool despite the sudden warmth creeping up your neck.

“Your place was cold. Figured I’d borrow something.”

Gojo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he walks over to you, crouching in front of the couch as he eyes you up and down. His grin widens as he takes in the way the hoodie completely engulfs you, making you look even smaller than usual.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, laced with something playful but undeniably affectionate.

He reaches out, tugging on one of the oversized sleeves gently.

“In fact, I think it suits you better than it does me.”

You scoff, though your heart skips a beat at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You think everything looks good on me.”

“That’s because it does.”

His grin is infuriatingly confident, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“But you, wearing my clothes? I think that might be my favorite look.”

He leans closer, his nose brushing against your temple before pressing a soft kiss there.

“You can keep it if you want,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t think I’m getting it back anyway.”

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s early morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a soft glow over Megumi’s small apartment. He’s still asleep, his dark hair a mess of unruly strands as he breathes softly beside you. You’ve been staying with him for the weekend, a rare break from the chaos of jujutsu sorcery.

As you quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, you feel the cool air hit your skin. Without thinking, you look around the room for something to cover yourself with. Your eyes land on one of Megumi’s plain black shirts, tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. It’s oversized, much bigger than anything you’d typically wear, but you shrug and grab it anyway.

Slipping it over your head, the fabric is soft and familiar, carrying the faint scent of him. It hangs loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long and the hem falling halfway down your thighs. You glance at yourself in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. There’s something comforting about wearing his clothes, like having a part of him with you even when he’s asleep.

As you turn back toward the bed, you freeze. Megumi’s awake. His dark eyes are half-lidded, still clouded with sleep as he watches you from the bed. You can’t quite read his expression -it’s a mixture of surprise, confusion, and something else you can’t place.

“You’re up early,” he mutters, his voice still thick with sleep.

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed your shirt.”

Megumi blinks, his gaze drifting over you slowly. He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can see the way his eyes linger on the way the shirt swallows you, how it looks like you’re drowning in fabric. After a long moment, he finally speaks, his voice quieter than before.

“It looks good on you,” he finally speaks out, a little awkwardly, as if he’s not quite sure how to compliment you.

“Better than it does on me.”

You can’t help but laugh at how flustered he seems, even though he’s trying to play it cool.

“Really? I think it’s a little big.”

Megumi shakes his head, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his messy hair.

“No. It’s perfect.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, almost shyly,

“You should wear my stuff more often.”

His words catch you off guard, and you raise an eyebrow at him, surprised. Even though you know all too well that Megumi Fushiguro has a soft spot for you, you never really thought about stealing or borrowing his stuff. After all, he is the guy who slaps the back of Yuji’s head each and every day over stealing his sandwich or equipment. And now…he’s telling you straightforward that he wants you to wear his shirts?

“You want me to?”

He looks away, his usual stoic mask slipping just a bit as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks.

“I mean... yeah. It suits you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. Megumi isn’t one for big, flowery declarations, but this, this small, almost hesitant compliment, is enough to make your chest warm. You walk over to him, climbing back into bed and curling up beside him like you always do after waking up.

“Well, if you insist,” you mutter teasingly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I might just steal more of your clothes.”

Megumi huffs, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his loose shirt.

“I don’t mind.”

Yuta Okkotsu

You’ve been staying at Yuta’s apartment for the past few days, crashing at his place while you’re both on a break from missions. It’s been nice: quiet, peaceful, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company without the usual chaos of jujutsu high looming over you.

It’s late in the evening now, and you’ve just gotten out of the shower, feeling refreshed after a long day. As you towel off your hair, you realize you forgot to grab something to wear. Your suitcase is still in the living room, and you don’t really feel like walking out there in just a towel.

Your groan in frustration over your usual absent-mindlessness, eyes landing on one of Yuta’s old sweatshirts, folded neatly on the chair by his desk. It’s a little worn, clearly well-loved, and the idea of wearing something of his brings a smile to your face. Yuta definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing one of his shirts, right? And even if he did…you’d love to see that little blush creep up his face.

Without thinking twice, you pull the sweatshirt over your head. It’s oversized, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands, and the fabric is soft and cozy against your skin.

You’re adjusting the sleeves when the door creaks open slightly. You look up just as Yuta steps into the room, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you.

“Oh, hey-” he starts, but then he freezes, his gaze locking onto the sweatshirt you’re wearing.

His face flushes almost instantly, a deep red creeping up his cheeks as he stares at you.

“Uh… is that…?”, Yuta stammers, clearly flustered.

You glance down at the sweatshirt and smile sheepishly.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I forgot to grab my clothes, and this looked comfortable.”

Yuta blinks, his face still bright red, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No! I mean, I don’t mind at all! It’s just… you look… um…”

He trails off, his eyes flicking away as if he’s too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

You giggle softly, stepping closer to him, to tease the hell out of him even more. That poor innocent boy who doesn’t even dare looking your direction when you stumble in the bathroom in the morning with noting but a shirt and panties on.

Even though you’ve been together for over a year by now.

“I look… what?”

Yuta clears his throat, still avoiding your gaze.

“You look… really cute,” he mutters, barely audible.

“In my sweatshirt, I mean.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile as you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Yuta.”

He finally meets your gaze, his face still red but his expression softening as he squeezes your hand back.

“You can wear my clothes anytime you want,” he says quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You grin, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I might just take you up on that.”

Yuta chuckles, his arms wrapping around you in return as he pulls you close.

 “I wouldn’t mind,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Not at all.”

Nanami Kento

It’s late, and Nanami is still out on a mission. You’ve been waiting for him to come home, but the clock is ticking past midnight, and exhaustion is beginning to catch up with you. After all, you’ve had a long and exhausting day at work yourself.

You’re curled up on the couch, half-asleep, when the chill of the evening air prompts you to grab something warmer to wear.

Your own clothes are in the bedroom, and you don’t feel like moving that far. Instead, your eyes land on one of Nanami’s neatly folded dress shirts, sitting on the back of a chair. It’s probably not the warmest option, but the idea of wearing something of his feels comforting, like having a part of him with you while you wait for him to return.

You slip the shirt on, the crisp fabric soft against your skin. It’s too big, of course, the sleeves hanging past your wrists and the hem falling almost to your knees, but it’s cozy in its own way. You curl up on the couch again, pulling the sleeves over your hands and breathing in the faint scent of him that still lingers on the fabric.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until the sound of the front door opening stirs you awake. You sit up groggily, blinking as Nanami steps inside, looking tired but unharmed. He pauses when he sees you, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the sight of you wearing his shirt.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of Nanami’s lips.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he observes, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

You rub your eyes sleepily, nodding.

“It was cold, and I didn’t feel like getting up.”

Nanami walks over to you, his expression soft as he takes in the sight of you.

 “It suits you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“I didn’t expect to come home to this.”

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“If you don’t like it, I can-”

“I like it,” he cuts in, his tone firm but gentle.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand lingers at your cheek.

“I like it very much.”

You smile, leaning into his touch as you look up at him.

“I might have to borrow your clothes more often, then.”

Nanami chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek before he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re welcome to them,” he breathes out.

“Though I have to admit, you make my clothes look much better than I do.”

You laugh softly, your heart warming at his rare display of affection.

“I doubt that.”

Nanami shakes his head, his eyes soft and filled with affection as he looks at you.

“It’s true. But regardless, you’re welcome to them anytime” he insists.

With that, he sits down beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body and the comfort of his shirt making you feel safe and content.

“Thank you, Kento,” you whisper, closing your eyes as exhaustion starts to pull you back into sleep.

Nanami presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and soothing as he murmurs,

“Anytime, love.”

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[dollaches]

— once my flame & twice my burn

♡ mean!professor!ellie williams x fem!student!reader

synopsis: after ellie humiliates you in front of the whole classroom, she desperately tries to find a way to make it up to you before she loses you completely

a/n: this got way out of hand … wrote in like 45 mins idk it sucks im sorry

warnings: DON’T LIKE DON’T READ!!! — sorta angsty at the beginning, mean ellie, professor x student relationship, reader is in COLLEGE!!!, concerning power dynamics lowkey, dom!ellie, sub!reader, manipulation, crying, makeup sex, unhealthy relationships, degrading, pet names (pup used a lot, take it up with god), established relationship, kissing, strap usage, strap referred to as cock lol, fingering (r! receiving), begging, ruined orgasm, sex on the FLOOR!, not proofread at all, do NOT date ur professor ong

wc: 4.4k

The sound of rain pattering against the classroom window has managed to keep you in a dazed state, your tired eyes focused on the way Ellie’s hands moved as she lectured. The sound of her voice felt so far away but just having her near was enough to bring you solace. 

It was as if you had been operating manually ever since school began, beaten down by all the assignments that were piling up and losing countless hours of sleep in favor of working away on your laptop. Even if you were dating a professor, it was not as if you received any special treatment, as Ellie continuously told you if the school board were to hear about your relationship, both of you could end up in trouble. 

So you kept things private, only giving her shy smiles and allowing your hand to brush against hers as you turn in an assignment. In the privacy of her home, you were all hers. It was hard to keep up such a lie but it was all worth it just to have her, even if no one knew. 

But with the stress of school along with having very little attention from your girlfriend due to her being caught up with grading assignments every night, it began to feel like there was a weight on your chest. You ached for some sort of public affection from her, needing confirmation of her love when you are struggling so much. Even now, she was looking anywhere but in your direction as she spoke, her glasses slightly sliding down her nose as she spoke passionately. 

It felt like a silent rejection and even if you knew you were being irrational, it still hurt you. You finally looked away from her, staring out the window and letting your eyes flutter shut so you could take a few deep breaths. Your peaceful state was quickly interrupted, a loud call of your name making your eyes snap back open as you look towards the front of the room. 

“I do not tolerate sleeping in my classroom. If you are tired, stay home instead of wasting my time” Ellie snapped, eyes narrowing as they focused on you. You knew Ellie had been just as stressed as you were but you were in complete disbelief that she would take it out on you in front of the classroom. You can’t even offer a proper reply, your eyes staring down at your lap as they begin to grow glassy. Your throat constricts and you pray the people sitting next to you don’t notice the way you are practically gasping for air. 

There was no need to be so cruel, as she knew that you were under just as much stress as she was but she had nowhere else to place her anger. The sight of you hiding your face from her and not even standing up for yourself shoves her back into reality and guilt eats away at her core, leaving her raw and full of fear of her own fuck up. She quickly clears her throat, continuing her lecture but stealing a few glances at you whenever she has the chance. You refused to even look up anymore, shame burning within you. 

You didn’t even notice when Ellie began to stutter, her nerves apparent as she tried to shove down the worry she felt, at least until she could speak to you after class. The clock continued to tick, the world uncaring that you were nearly in the midst of a complete breakdown. You are only brought out of your daze by the sound of people nearby beginning to pack their things up, a sign that class was over. In a feverish manner, you begin to place your belongings in your bag. 

All you know is that you need to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible, silently thanking God that this was your last class of the day. Ellie tried to see you in the crowd of students that were pushing out the door, calling out your name once more so she could have you stay after class to talk, it would give her the chance to apologize before the two of you got back home for the night. 

However, you ignore her completely, not wanting to be a victim of her anger any longer. You rush out of the building as quickly as possible, leaving Ellie to scramble to get her belongings together so she could follow after you. It was no use, as you were long gone, shivering as rain landed on your skin before you reached your car. 

The minute you were in the safety of your car, you let out a quiet sob, still unable to recover from earlier. On top of that, you had so many assignments to get done tonight that you could already feel the way your wrists would be aching by the time you were done. You allow the tears to cascade down your cheeks, your lip quivering even as you begin to drive. No music is played, the need for silence after what you experienced felt completely necessary. 

You simply couldn’t wrap your head around how Ellie could be so careless, the woman you love suddenly seeming to turn on you. It was pre decided that you wouldn’t be going to her house for once, driving towards your home the best you can while tears blur your vision. You couldn’t care less about the constant ringing of your phone, your lips seemingly set in a permanent frown as you park your car. 

After grabbing your bag, you fumble with your keys until you manage to unlock the door and walk into the safety of your home. You had been spending so much time in Ellie’s home that the space now felt cold and unwelcoming, all the lights being off with no signs of life. You flick on a switch, sniffling a few times as you set your belongings down on the table. You reach for your phone, the screen being far too bright for your dimly lit environment. 

You can at least see that Ellie has managed to call you twenty-two times, sending a few messages asking where you were. Unbeknownst to you, Ellie had arrived at her own home, expecting to find you there. Much to her dismay, she was left to panic in the wake of your absence, her hands shaking as she held her phone to her ear. Every time her call went to voicemail she cursed, running a hand through her messy hair. She couldn’t lose you, not now, not ever. 

When her phone pinged, she picked it up so fast she nearly dropped the device onto the floor. As her eyes adjusted, she could recognize your contact name beside a simple message that read “At home. Please stop calling”. The words are enough to make her heart drop into her stomach, as you had never once refused to see her after a fight. It felt different this time, like you were creating walls to keep her out and she felt fucking terrified. 

♡ 

You had settled onto the couch, mindlessly watching television to keep your mind off Ellie even if it was just for a bit. The nerves within your body began to subside, your breathing evening out as you leaned back a bit. You figured that this was the calm after the storm and you might as well enjoy it before it passes you by. 

The sound of someone knocking on your door makes you flinch, turning to face the direction of the front entrance. Your brows furrowed as you realized who it might be, swiftly tuning to face the tv once more just to shut her out. Ellie could feel her heart pounding against her chest, trying to get you to open the door. “Babe? Can we please talk, just for a second” she pleads, knocking harshly enough to make her knuckles ache. With no response from you, she grows desperate, bringing out the water works. 

“Please, I need to see your face, need to tell you how sorry I am” she states, her voice cracking as tears begin to well within her eyes as she purposely uses the saddest voice possible. “It’s so cold out here, angel, please let me inside” she whimpers as if she were a kicked puppy, although this situation was completely her fault. 

You know that the last thing you should do is welcome her into your home but she sounds so lost, so frightened of what she has done. Even if you were mad at her at this moment, she knew just how to get inside your head and ease you back into her arms. Ellie is just about to knock for a third time when she hears the click of the door unlocking right before she finally gets to see you. 

Even in your disheveled state, you looked beautiful enough to make her heart ache. She can’t get over how exhausted you look, as if she had taken every last bit of energy you had. “Hey, there you are” she coos in a warm voice, her tears ceasing within an instant. You can’t help but avoid eye contact with her, not wanting to give in so easily. 

“You can come inside for a bit but you’re not staying” you mutter, turning away and leaving the door ajar so she can come inside to escape the cold. Ellie breathes a sigh of relief, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her with a soft click. She knows she needs to tread lightly, kneeling down to unlace her shoes and placing them near the front door before she turns to face you. 

You’re curled up in the corner of the couch, not even glancing at her as she inches closer to you. She settles beside you, a small gap between the two of you so that she doesn't scare you off. Ellie plays with her fingers, the only way she can soothe herself in a moment with so much tension. 

Before she can even take a breath in to speak, the sound of your quiet voice cuts her off. “I think maybe this isn’t going to work out” you mutter, your eyes transfixed on the tv. “You have a lot going on and I get that, but I’m not your punching bag, Ellie.”

Your words tear through her like a jagged knife, left to bleed out due to her own inability to control her anger. “No— no, no, no” she breathes, sliding down so she can get on her knees in front of you, forcing you to look at her finally. 

“You don’t mean that, you’re just upset” she says in a broken voice, her warm hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Stop telling me how I feel” you huff, trying to yank away from her touch. Ellie is quick to put a stop to your efforts, her grip tightening so that your cheeks are squished together, your lips all pouty.

You can tell by the look in her eyes that she is not pleased with your rejection, her grip almost harsh enough to hurt. “I am not telling you how to feel. I just know what you really want, what you need.” she says in a tone that feigns pity, a sympathetic smile on her lips. 

You simply narrow your eyes at her, resisting the urge to submit to her completely. She coos at the sight of you, pressing a little kiss to the tip of your nose that makes you huff. “I’m sorry, pup, I really am. But you’re breaking my heart here— makin’ me feel like our relationship is dirty” she sighs, loosening her grip since she knows you won’t back away any longer. 

The pet name causes your mind to go fuzzy, your will slowly weakening. “M’ not saying it’s dirty, you’re just… you’re so mean” you mutter, unsure if she would be set off by your words alone. But she remains calm this time, her grip completely fading as she moves your hair out of your face so she can see you properly. “I know I am, I’m so mean aren’t I, baby?” she hums, being playful so she can get you to relax. 

You nod slowly at her words, already feeling yourself melting into a puddle right in the palm of her hand. “Now, you don’t wanna break up with me, do you?” she asks in a gentle voice, a stark difference from how rough she was being with you earlier. You hesitate for a moment, your eyes scanning her features for any sign of malice and yet you find none. 

After you give a small shake of your head to say no, Ellie finally breathes out. “See? I knew you didn’t mean it” she says in a warm tone, caressing your thighs with her strong hands as she looks at you. 

You just keep quiet, feeling a bit ashamed that you are letting her in so easily, her minuscule apology managing to make you forgive her completely. Ellie can tell your mind is beginning to wander and that is the last thing she wants, so she moves back onto the couch, gently turning your head to face her. 

“My pretty girl” she mutters, her thumb gently running along your plush bottom lip that was still sticky with lip gloss. Your body seems to relax under her touch, welcoming the familiar warmth after such a long day. 

She moves closer, letting her lips linger mere inches from yours as she keeps her gaze fixed on you. “You gonna say sorry for hurting me earlier, angel?” she asks, tilting her head in the slightest as if she were about to kiss you, yet it only served to tease you further. 

“I’m sorry” you manage to whisper, not even truly thinking anything of the words, simply wanting to please Ellie in any way possible. She hums in a pleased manner, finally leaning in to give you what you were so desperately craving. 

Her lips felt a little rough against yours, although her movements start off slow and gentle. She cups your face ever so softly, her tongue only teasing your own. She can feel you leaning into her touch, needing her affection more than anything right now. 

She finally lets you push your tongue past her lips, the sloppy sound of the filthy kiss filling the air around the two of you. There is hunger and desperation behind every move she makes, removing one hand from your cheek in favor of pushing you down until you’re laying on the couch, her lips never once leaving yours. 

The idea of losing you was too much to bear and now that she had you wrapped around her finger, she was going to keep you there. She is purposely being messy, lapping at your lips and tongue so that her saliva connects the two of you, a piece of her invading your body so that she can call you hers. 

You moan as she helps you relax into your new position, her knee slipping between your thighs and perfectly nudging your clit through your jeans. The sensation is enough to make you flinch, not expecting the feeling to be so overwhelming. 

When she finally pulls back, there is a thin string of saliva that connects you to one another, a vulgar sign of your unity. You can’t help but let out a protestant huff when her knee eases up, needing the pressure to keep your mind off the fact that the same woman who humiliated you was now making out with you. 

Ellie on the other hand couldn’t be more ecstatic, a sly grin on her lips when she realizes her glasses are all fogged up. “Stupid fuckin’ thing” she mutters as she pulls them off, throwing them onto the coffee table carelessly before she uses the back of her hand to wipe her lips. 

You are left beneath her, a mess of the strong girl you thought yourself to be earlier. “If you want somethin’, you gotta ask for it” she says firmly, purposely pushing her knee up to get a quick gasp out of you before pulling back once more. 

“Need to feel your tongue or just fuck me, I don’t care. Just give me something please” you beg in a voice that is utterly pathetic, broken down by your own selfish desires. Your pleas are like music to her ears, it’s all that she needs to finally give in to your request. 

“On all fours, take off those clothes or I’ll do it myself” she says in a pointed manner, as if she were giving you directions like you were still in her class. You are quick to nod your head, shakily standing to your feet and yanking your clothes off piece by piece until you are left completely bare. 

There’s not enough room for the position on the couch so you simply kneel onto the floor, instinctively arching your back in the slightest as you get on your hands and knees for her. Ellie tsks at the sight, rolling up her sleeves as if she were about to eat a delicious meal and in her opinion, she was. 

“Such a filthy girl, spreading open your cunt for your own professor” she spits, humiliating you all over again, although this time you find that her words go straight to your aching cunt. “S’ not my fault my professor is a perv” you shoot back, still blowing off steam from earlier. 

Your bratty words only make her smile widen, completely used to how mouthy you get after she’s made some sort of fuck up. “But it is your fault that you like it so much” she quips, her hand resting on the small of your back as she gets behind you. 

There’s no time to think of a sharp reply, as one of her thick fingers is already sliding through your slick folds without a single bit of resistance. “Always so wet for me, pup. S’ adorable” she praises, feeling you shudder underneath her touch. 

“N-no teasing today, you’ve been mean enough” you state shakily, trying to stand your ground for once. Your demand makes Ellie scoff, letting her finger get thoroughly soaked by your arousal before pushing in her finger finally. 

You can’t stop the moan that passes your lips, the relief crashing over you and leaving you breathless. “Holy fuck, no matter how many times I fuck you stuid you’re cunt still sucks me in like you’re a goddamn virgin” she states with a cruel chuckle, fucking her finger into you at an unforgiving pace. 

“Shut up” you manage to breathe out, your hips subconsciously moving back in order to match her pace. “Why don’t you make me, hm? What’re you gonna do? Cry till you get your way?” she questions harshly, giving no warning as she pushes in a second finger, your gummy walls so slick that she can fuck you open with ease. 

You can only whimper in response to her mean words, knowing you had no way of making her be quiet when she has you in such a vulnerable position. Ellie wishes she could record you in this moment, maybe even upload it to some porn site with a cliche title like “student gets on all fours for professor”— or something like that at least. 

“Fuck, just like that puppy, keep moving those hips” she says in a breathless voice, so entranced by the way your cunt keeps a vice grip on her fingers as she pushes them in and out. She moves her fingers in a scissoring motion in order to stretch you further, listening to the way your moans grow higher pitched with every thrust of her fingers. 

The pleasure in your body is building and you know it’s not long until you have to let go completely, yet you find yourself embarrassed by how easy it is to make you come when you’re so worked up. 

“Ellie, Els— gonna come, Jesus Christ” you pant, your thighs trembling as you try to keep yourself upright. Ellie clicks her tongue as if in disapproval, her fingers still curling inside you as she speaks. “If you wanna get fucked you better not come, I swear to god I’ll leave you here if you come on my fingers” she says sharply, showing that she is not messing with you at all. 

“But—“ you start, only to let out a cry as she stills her motions so you’re not receiving any stimulation at all. Just as quickly as you felt your high coming on, it fades away in an instant and you nearly collapse from defeat, your orgasm completely ruined. 

You’re a blubbering mess, trying to turn to face Ellie as tears threaten to spill over from how frustrated you are with her. “I was being good!” you practically shout, not truly understanding why she insisted on stopping. 

That is until your eyes lowered, listening to her belt come undone before she unzips her fly. Once she tugs down her boxers, you’re finally staring right at her strap, the one she used on you nearly every night that you never grew tired of. 

“You walk around with that thing on?” you ask in complete shock, your face flushing at the idea of her packing even during class. “Is that a problem with you?” she questions teasingly as she unbuttons her top, leaving her bare besides the heavy strap that hung from her hips. 

“I don’t care, I don’t give a fuck, just please let me come” you beg, pushing your ass up into the air to get what you wanted from her. “Such an eager student, but don’t think you’re getting an A just cause I get to fuck you” she jokes, uncaring that you’re nearly in purgatory from not being able to have a proper orgasm. 

She redeems herself by lining up her cock with your aching entrance, guiding the tip to gently tap against your clit so she can watch the way you jolt from sensitivity. Ellie doesn’t bother asking how you want it tonight, knowing that you’re just desperate to get off at this point. 

She pushes into you, your cunt only resisting due to the thickness of her strap. You let out a string of moans as she sinks into you completely, feeling so full after being empty for so long. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head at the feeling of her tip kissing your cervix as she bottoms out. 

Within an instant she is moving, thrusting into you like her life depends on it. “Fuck” is all she can pant out as she fucks into you mercilessly, the curve of her cock hitting all the right spots within you. 

You’re down for the count, drool seeping from the corner of your lips as she pounds into you relentlessly. The pleasure begins to build once more and Ellie can tell you are getting close by the way it gets a bit harder to push inside you, your walls tightening around her. 

“You gonna come, angel? Gonna make a mess on my cock like the pathetic girl you are?” she questions, still muttering curses as she uses one hand to spread open your cunt to watch her dick slide in and out of you while her other hand keeps a firm grip on your hip. 

You nod feverishly, knowing that was her way of giving you permission to let go. “Yes! S’ too much, unhh—“ is all you can manage before your words slur into something incoherent. 

Ellie refuses to let up even as you’re coming for her, fucking you through your orgasm and cursing at the sight of the white ring that had now formed at the base of her strap. 

As you come down, you collapse onto the floor, Ellie’s cock sliding out of you as you tremble on the floor, the carpet feeling soothing against your skin. “Thank you” you manage to mutter weakly, gaining a small “aww” from Ellie in response, she undoes her harness as you lay there helplessly, scanning your features for any signs of distress or discomfort but coming up empty. 

Once the item is discarded, she lays down beside you, pulling you close to her own bare body. The skin to skin contact eases you back into reality and you finally feel like you can breathe once more. Ellie is busy pressing kisses against your shoulder, trailing up your neck until she could press a sweet kiss to your lips. 

You look at her with a dazed expression, taking note of how pretty she looked after giving you what might’ve been the best fuck of your life. 

“M’ still mad, y’know” you state, your voice shaking despite your attempt to be firm. “I know, I know. I fucked up. But I’ll keep apologizing till you accept it, I’ll get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness if that’s what you want” she says in a gentle voice, being completely serious. 

She’d do anything as long as it meant getting back in your good graces. “Just give me a few more nights like this and I’ll think about forgiving you” you hum, toying with the ends of her short hair. 

“Sounds very fair, pup” she says in a pleased tone. “Do you need more or are you tired?” she asks in a caring tone, her calloused hand running along your side as she speaks. 

“Sleepy, just wanna shower and go to bed” you sigh, sitting up a bit and glancing at the coffee table. You grab her glasses, putting them on and giving Ellie a fucked out smile. The sight makes Ellie chuckle, her finger coming up to push them up the bridge of your nose so they fit better. 

“Well aren’t you the cutest girl who ever lived” she states playfully. But let’s get you into the shower, alright?” she offers, pulling the glasses off your face and setting them down once more so she can help you up. 

As you lean against her on the way to the bathroom, you can’t help but think of how likely it was that she would take out her anger on you again. You knew the relationship you shared with your professor wasn’t healthy but there was no one else in the world you’d rather have.

[okwonyo]

LOVE ANTHEM, 或 𓈒𓈒 cuddling with them.

( 𝒷 ) INTRODUC𝓲NG 𖥔 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f .. r 7OO fluff established relationship cautions ˚ non-idol au kissing skinship

jiah says : it has been a while since i last wrote headcanons huehue ㅠㅠ hope you enjoy 🪽

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

HEESEUNG

would smoothly slide his hand in yours when you passe by— eyes still focused on the game he is playing. would then tug closer to him, gently and slowly, before resting his hand on your waist and making sit on his lap.

would wrap his arms around your form, stroking your thigh gently, fingertips brushing on your skin as his free hand’s fingers dance on the keyboard. and when he wins; would hug you tight while relaxing on his chair with a proud smile, even turning around with his chair.

him : “i deserve some reward for my hard work, right?” you : “of course, baby”

JONGSEONG

after landing a playful slap on your butt—to which you would yelp—whereupon he sees you laying on your stomach, would come lay on top of you instead of the mattress. ignoring your pleading for air, would rest his whole weight on you.

would at some point start landing wet kisses on your cheeks, sliding next to you so he can have a better angle and can free you from your agony. would then pull you in his embrace, still kissing your cheeks repeatedly.

him : “i want to eat your cheeks” you : “please don’t, i kinda need that”

JAEYUN

would already be following you around the house for a while. with his starry eyes and kicked puppy expression staring right at your back while you do the most random things ever. telepathically asking you for some cuddles.

his face would enlighten when you finally give him some attention. would open his arms for you to hide in and would sinm his nose in the crook of your neck— smelling your comforting scent. an embrace that will eventually end into long cuddles.

you : “jake, i need to pee” him : “just 5 more minutes, please”

SUNGHOON

would look for comfort in your arms after a long day away from you. it would be heard in the way he sighs in relief as soon as he steps foot in your house, his hurried steps approaching to the bedroom you would be laying in.

would love to be on top of you, his head resting on your chest while your fingers wrap around his hair strands. his hand would often take yours and put your hand palm on his cheek, then would turn his head to kiss it— all over.

him : “i missed you so much” you : “you are such a big baby”

SUNOO

would be really good at making you feel like you are the one who wants to cuddle— when you are, in theory, not. would know that if he stays next to you long enough, shoulder brushing yours but not really, you would soon ache for his touch and end up pressed against him.

would have such a cute smile on his face whenever you cuddle with him. would hold you on top of him as if you were an immense plushie with his arms squeezing your waist tightly while your face is in his neck.

you : “you could just ask instead of putting up a whole act” him : “where is the fun in that?”

JUNGWON

would have no shame or restraint in literally jumping on you the second he sees you lying somewhere without him. his laugh would resonate in the whole room when you let out a loud ‘oof’ and try to push him off of you. putting up a fight for anything with him would become a habit.

would love to tease you whenever you are locked in each other’s embrace: tickling you or pinching your sides when he feels like it— you would not even react at some point. but, would also calm down when you rub his back gently, purring like a cat.

you : “jungwon, i will kick you if you don’t stop” him : “you love me too much to do that”

RIKI

would prefer to cuddle during bedtime, when you are both on the verge of drifting to the dream world and your eyes are too heavy to stay open— when he doesn’t have to verbally ask. his shyness would wear off as soon as the tiredness would show it’s nose.

gently pulling the cover over both of your bodies, would scoot closer and put a single arm around you. then, would pull you close to him, to his chest, to his heart. like a real koala, would cling into you like that during the whole night— even if you end up in the weirdest positions, he would be holding you.

him : “wh’ d’you hate me?” you : “i just need some water”

💌 taglist ─── open, mwah ♡

[seren1tyhaze]

Unconditional

PAIRING: jaehyun x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SUMMARY: dating a hot actor is great and all, until you find some texts on his phone that make you wonder if he's really the man of your dreams

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back after another unplanned hiatus. Even when I'm not posting here, I'm always thinking about writing things and wanting to share more. I have written a couple things for Ao3 so those will be up there soon. As usual, Mr. Jeong Jaehyun himself has ruined me again with his new song and video to the point where I sat down and wrote this in one sitting and never looked back. More from me soon, I promise xx

WARNINGS: established relationship, domestic fluff, explicit smut, swearing

PLAYLIST: Unconditional by Jaehyun, Smoke by Jaehyun, Birthday by Ten, Honey by John Legend

--

--

“I just don’t believe you Jae! Do you think I’m stupid?”

Your cheeks are burning red and you know your chest is splotchy as your temperature rises, heart pounding. Ever since you were a kid, your skin would turn bright red the moment you started to get agitated, making you a terrible poker player and never one to even try to lie to anyone. It was one of things that endeared you to Jaehyun immediately, his bright red ears the moment someone teased him or he felt embarrassed.

“Baby, baby,” he starts, groggily reaching a large hand to you from the mountain of pillows and plush white sheets. His hair is still pushed back in that stupid plastic headband he fell asleep wearing the night before, making it hard to take him seriously in the heat of the moment.

You wipe a single tear from your eye before it can slip down your cheek and turn away from him, throwing his phone onto the covers with more strength than you thought you had in the moment.

Dating a famous actor who spends most of his time at premieres in Seoul and on movie sets around the world wasn’t easy. You had turned Jaehyun down the first few times he slid up on your Instagram stories, a mutual stylist friend having introduced you at a small birthday dinner you both were invited to.

Grabbing his phone off the nightstand instead of yours this morning had sent you into a spiral, shaking him awake in the bed to ask for an explanation about why he’s messaging someone about a “gorgeous girl named Honey” and how he “can’t wait to spoil her the way she deserves.”

“We’ve been together for a year and now you’re going to start cheating on me? Really original, Jeong.”

Your eyes roll back into your sockets and you scoop all your long, curly hair onto the top of your head, pulling running shorts and socks from the dresser near the window as you continue to grill him.

Jaehyun sits up fully, the comforter slipping off his shoulders and exposing his bare, chiselled chest. He’s still pale from having spent the whole winter filming in Canada, not having had enough trips to the nearby beach to have his adorable freckles reappear on his cheeks. His hair is bright white, platinum, and long in the back, soft in the morning light streaming in the floor to ceiling windows.

“You know I went out with Mingyu last week to that Dior party and he said if I ever wanted it to be a real date, just say the word and he would drop everything and everyone.”

“Dior? You wound me,” Jaehyun replies, mockingly rubbing his pec as he rolls his eyes. You know how much the statement had to hurt him, he always had been worried about your closeness to his friend Mingyu (and Mingyu’s long wavy hair, sparkly eyes, and massive biceps), even if he lets that go unsaid now.

“I’m going for a run and when I get back, I really hope you’ve managed to get up, shower, and figure out how you’re going to tell your PR team about this, unless they are all in on it too,” you finish, wobbling near the foot of the bed as you try to put your socks on while standing.

A firm hand is on your wrist, instantly balancing you. You look up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes, soft and glittering and sending you back to the first time you ever met.

“Who needs the candy, you look sweet enough to eat,” he had practically purred in your ear, pressing a hand between your thighs, under the silky material of your Vivienne Westwood skirt in a private booth in the back a dark room, surrounded by tall crystal jars of sweets.

Your marketing executive job had your team planning events for high end clients on a regular basis but this event had been extra special as your best friend had finally launched her own luxury cosmetics brand. The event was a mix of rich pops of red, velvety cushions and extravagant accessories, diamond necklaces draped across necks of models with artistic and bold eye looks. You had spared no expense for your friend and your assistant had the mountains of receipts to prove it.

The guest list was no exception, you had made sure every A-list name had received an invite and hundreds of attractive and trendy faces from fashion and entertainment filled the event space. That included Seoul’s hottest star, known for his striking and stoic look and deep, rich voice.

“You are not using that as an opening line on me,” you had sighed, trying to push down the moan bubbling up in your throat as long fingers toyed with lace dangerously close to slipping out of place.

“Technically, I asked you if the brownies had tree nuts because my body guard is allergic,” he quipped back, thumb brushing over you with intention.

You had bit your lip in frustration and swatted his hand away, grabbing his phone from his coat pocket and giving him your number, insisting that he had to reach out first because you were busy with a “real job”. He had laughed, sucking his now wet thumb into his mouth and letting it slide out with a loud popping noise and a simple “Yes, ma’am”.

That same phone was now in his hand a little under a year later, his fingers moving quickly against the glass screen.

“You don’t have anything to say?” you ask in shock and before you can say another word, your doorbell is chiming and he’s up from the bed and down your hallway, wearing nothing but his stupid boxers with lemons on them.

You roll your eyes and move to your large kitchen for a glass for water, almost letting it slip from your hands as he places a large Prada shopping bag on the marble island.

“A bag? A fucking purse is supposed to make me forgive you? How did you even get that this fast?”

“Baby, just look inside and it will explain everything,” he speaks calmly, sliding the bag carefully closer to you.

You untie the ribbon holding it loosely closed and you think you’re losing your mind when you see the bag move on its own. As soon as the thick paper opens, a tiny brown and curly head of fur appears. Neatly groomed ears are shaking and a tiny black Prada collar is clasped around the neck of the puppy.

“A dog?!” you exclaim in disbelief. The puppy lets out a small but high pitched bark, demanding to be let out of the bag with a fluffy paw nudging your hand.

“A chocolate French poodle puppy,” Jaehyun corrects, moving behind you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing his bare chest into your back. He lifts the puppy from the bag and places her into your waiting arms, the puppy taking no time at all to snuggle into your neck.

“Her name is Honey,” he tells you and you can practically feel his smile from the way he speaks.

“Honey…” you repeat. The dog’s eyes are wide in curiosity, head tilting to the side as she appears to recognize her name.

“Yeah, baby?” he jokes back, pressing warm lips to the short hairs at your hairline. You can tell he thinks he’s funny for that joke and you don’t need to turn to see what kind of look is in his eye. He trails his mouth to your ear, nudging the metal hoops along the shell and kissing the “14” ink at the skin behind your ear.

Your mouth is suddenly so dry that you can’t speak so you simply turn in his arms, letting Honey drop to the floor and bound excitedly on your slippery floors.

“How long had you been planning this surprise for me to just ruin it with my paranoia?” you murmur against his forehead, pressing a tender kiss to smooth skin.

“A couple months, I was just trying to find the perfect puppy for us,” he replies, fingers drawing circles on the bare skin exposed between your sports bra and shorts.

“I’m so sorry,” you reply, feeling embarrassment heat up your cheeks and sweat start to prick at your hairline.

“Don’t be,” he smiles back with his million watt smile that landed him his first commercial at eight years old, plucked from his class trip to a theme park by a talent scout.

“You know how I feel about you, nothing is going to change that. Not even if you go on 127 million dates with Kim Mingyu,” he finishes, sealing his lips over yours.

You open your lips and greedily press your tongue behind his annoyingly perfect teeth, lifting your fingers up to tug at the hair almost touching his shoulders.

“God,” Jaehyun growls in between kisses, grabbing at your ass to hoist you up on the counter, tugging roughly at your shorts to push them down to your ankles and ripping your legs open.

You’re panting, resting back on your wrists as he holds your knees open and presses wet kisses to your inner thighs. His energy is wild and chaotic, exactly as you’ve always expected from him and your mind is starting to go to that numb place it always goes when gets his tongue on you.

You arch your back in pleasure, letting moans tumble from your lips freely, trying desperately to ignore the adorable face now perched on your couch, eyes curious but also dozing off from exerting energy after running the full length of your penthouse.

You let your eyes fall to the rolling waves out the window, morning sun blinding you and forcing you to look down at the bobbing head of the blonde man between your legs. He meets your gaze with sparkling eyes and drops a kiss to his self proclaimed favorite tattoo of yours, a small rose on your hip bone. You smile softly at him before shrieking and almost crushing his head with your thighs when he takes sharp canines to the spot, almost drawing blood.

He jumps up and starts running towards your bedroom, scooping a startled Honey off the back of the couch and holding her in front of him he runs backwards.

“Jaehyun, you cannot use our child as a shield!” you yell, almost slipping in your socks as you bound after him.

When you round the corner, you slam into his bare chest, standing at the foot of the bed. Honey is curled up on the same pillow Jaehyun had tucked under his arm as he slept, already dozing again.

“Our child? I like the sound of that,” he says seriously, his voice velvety and tempting. His hands are at your waist again and you are having a hard time thinking straight.

“Calm down there, mister,” you chuckle, pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bed and dropping to your knees in between his open legs.

“Let’s see how you do with this dog first,” you mutter, hands pushing down his boxers easily to take his hardened length between experienced fingers.

He smiles with his whole face at your words, eyes crinkling up in the corners and shoulders shaking a bit as you move your mouth over smooth skin, letting his soft moans fill the room and calm your racing heart.

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[dyaz-stories]

JUJUTSU BOYS + PDA

how the jjk boys are when you're in public with them

including: gojo, nanami, choso, yuuji, megumi, maki

word count: 3.6k (500-600 words for one character)

cw: intended as canon compliant, established relationships, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, kissing, public demonstrations of affection, can't think of anything else tbh

a/n: been reading some fics in this format so wanted to try my hand at it again. it's been years since I wrote short pieces like that, so I hope you'll enjoy them!

GOJO

Gojo has no concept of personal space, and that is something you had to get used to since you started dating — if anything, since before you started dating. Even when the two of you were at a more flirtatious stage, he’d always be leaning towards you to talk to you, face inches away from yours, hands on your hips if he needed to move past you, arm casually around you if you were sitting next to each other. It was all the better if it flustered you.

None of this has changed, except that he’s much more extra about it now. Holding your hand while walking? Nah, that’s boring. He’ll have his arm around your shoulders, even if it’s not convenient given the height difference. He’ll also try to put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, pout if you tell him not to do it. If you’re waiting in line with him, he has both of his arms around you, is resting his chin on top of your head, and wants nothing more than for you to lean back into his chest, relaxing into his embrace. You can both be doing totally unrelated things — you’re reading and he’s checking his phone — but you’re slotted against each other, and that’s how it is ideally for you.

You’re waiting for him to show up to your date when you feel yourself surrounded by familiar arms, and then his cheek is pressing against yours as he surveys the book you’re holding in your hands.

“Whatch’ya reading?” he asks, breath warm against your cheek.

“Just doing some research on emerging curses,” you say with a shrug as you close it and put it in your bag. “So, did you want to check out that new bakery?”

He hums in reply, and you wait for him to move so you can start walking.

He doesn’t.

“…do you plan on letting go of me?” you ask after a while, turning your head to look at him.

He pouts at you, inches away from your face.

“I haven’t even gotten a kiss yet…”

“We’re in public, Satoru,” you say, feeling your face heating up.

“So? Let ‘em stare. They might as well, if you ask me.”

You want to roll your eyes — one day, you’ll have to talk about that exhibitionist streak of his — but in the meantime, you just have to crane your neck a little to peck his lips. They’re soft, as always, and he follows greedily when you pull away, his hand coming up to tilt your chin up gently as he presses more kisses on the corner of your lips, then on your cheek.

“You’re impossible,” you say, badly hiding your laughter. “Let’s go, or we won’t make it to closing time. You’re late, by the way.”

He lets out a heartbroken sigh, but finally frees you, keeping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you start walking towards the bakery. He keeps his strides short, so you don’t have to run to keep up with him, instead allowing you to keep a comfortable pace.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m just too good at my job, they can never get enough of me.”

“Aw, poor darling,” you say. You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and bring it to your lips to press a kiss on the back.

He lets out a cough that doesn’t do much to disguise the fact that he’s getting flustered, and you grin, satisfied. Two can play that game.

Fortunately, neither Satoru nor you have any intention of forfeiting any time soon.

NANAMI

Nanami is a private man. There is no reason for the whole world to know his business, and he doesn’t feel the need to put his relationship on display for everyone to see. His softness for you is still plain to see in how gentle his voice gets when he speaks to you, in how carefully he chooses his words, in how fond his eyes are when he listens to you tell him about your day. He knows you like him holding your hand, though, so he’ll indulge you, especially when you’re walking by his side through crowded streets.

That is for practical reasons, of course. First, it just wouldn’t do to lose sight of you. Second, people tend to steer clear of him, his serious expression and his broad frame, and that means they realize quickly to steer clear of you. It has nothing to do with how soft your hand is in his, or how the way you use your thumb to stroke his skin sends shivers down his back.

“That’s a lovely restaurant,” you comment, eyes drinking in the elegant decor while Nanami is examining the menu.

“It had excellent reviews,” he answers, not going into details as to the great lengths he’d gone to in order to ensure that this date was as perfect as humanly possible.

“I’ve been in the neighborhood so many times, and I had no idea this was here,” you say. The place is very small, only a handful of tables, all of them now filled. You’re sharing an alcove with Nanami, creating some distance with other customers.

“There aren’t many tables available, so they don’t advertise much,” he explains as he sets the menu down. “But they’re known for their excellent cuisine.”

You give him a smile, then lean closer to him to kiss him on the cheek. Your lips linger just a little too long, and then you move them close to his ear, which is already turning quite red.

“Thank you for planning all that,” you say sweetly. “It looks wonderful.”

He clears his throat when you pull away, avoiding your eyes.

“Of course,” he answers, voice wavering imperceptibly. “Anything for you.”

And you know he means it, too.

Under the table, his hand finds your leg, large palm easily covering your knee while calloused fingers carefully rub your calf. You bite your lip, welcome the warmth that spreads in your body. You know Kento well enough to be sure that that’s as far as he’ll go, that he wouldn’t dare to do anything more in such a public setting, and that makes you enjoy the intimacy of the gesture all the more.

Later that night, while the two of you are walking out, his jacket is around your shoulder at his insistence — “It’s cold outside” — and he’s getting ready to call a taxi.

“Kento?”

He lowers the phone to look at you, and you push yourself on your tiptoe, hand closing around his tie to pull him down towards you.

It’s late at night, he tells himself. There’s no one around, he tells himself. That’s why he closes his eyes and allows himself to melt into the kiss, regretting it when you pull away too soon and catching himself before he grabs you by the hips to get you closer to him.

“I had a great evening,” you say. “Should we take this to somewhere more private?”

How much more merciless can you get?

“Certainly,” he says. “Just give me a second.”

There is nothing he can deny you.

CHOSO

Choso cannot wrap his head around what he can and cannot do around you. The rules for what is proper, what is acceptable, have shifted so much since he was last around, and he would die before he embarrassed you — or worse, before he did something that would make you push him away. He knows that you wouldn’t, and yet the fear is like a weight that tugs on his heart every time he thinks about it. He walks by your side, glancing at your hand that’s freely hanging between the two of you, and though he brushes his knuckles against yours, he just cannot bring himself to do it. It’s to the point where it’s the only thing he’s thinking about — and he just can’t do it.

Then you see something that catches your eye and you grab his hand and pull him with you in that direction, and he thinks his heart could just fall out of his chest. You make it look so easy, so natural, being with him coming as easy to you as breathing, and he couldn’t possibly ask for more. It takes him many other tries, many other dates, before he can take your hand in his. When he does, you glance down in surprise, then grin at him, and kiss his knuckles softly — and he’s so happy he could die.

“So,” you say, sitting on the park bench, knee pressed against his while you’re leaning into him to show him your phone, your hair tickling his neck, “that’s the movies they have on tonight. Think we should call Yuuji to ask him what to watch?”

“Hm,” Choso says, not really focusing on anything you’re talking about, not when you’re this close to him, “isn’t— isn’t that the one franchise he’s always talking about?”

You burst out laughing, then rest your head on his shoulder.

“No offense, babe, but there is no one in the world I’d go see a Human Earthworm movie for. Even if this one is supposed to have romance in it,” you shudder at the thought, “I’d like to go see something actually. You know. Watchable.”

Choso’s mind is going in overdrive. You’re so close, and he knows he should have gotten used to this by now. He isn’t usually like this, but some passers-by are looking — not necessarily being judgmental, though there was an old lady earlier who scoffed and shook her head, but… looking.

“Then I don’t know if Yuuji is going to be much help,” he manages to say as you keep scrolling on the cinema’s website.

“That’s fair,” you sigh, standing up from the bench, and even if he can now think again, he misses your warmth and your smell right away. “Well, maybe we drop the movie and just go get something to eat, what do you say?

“Sounds good,” he answers, standing up after you.

Hesitantly, almost clumsily, he reaches for your hand, fingertips brushing against your thigh as he does, then tightens his grip around your palm, ensuring that it wouldn’t slip away from you. You give him a fond smile, then take a step to get closer to him, and kiss him gently. His breath hitches, and his eyes dart around the mostly empty park.

“T-there’s people around,” he says quietly, and he hates that you step back to look around.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”

He takes your hand to pull you with him, and you follow him through the grass as he finds a more secluded spot, behind a tree.

“There,” he says, and you chuckle at how satisfied with himself he sounds.

“Oh Choso,” you coo, leaning against the tree while you grab his shirt to pull him down towards you. His mouth is warm, eager, and his cheeks remain a fierce shade of red as he kisses you back insistently.

You would have missed the beginning of the movie anyway.

YUUJI

The thing about Yuuji is that any type of public demonstration of affection feels so natural coming from him. It’s almost never meant to be suggestive, it’s not something he thinks through, it’s just something he does. You’ll be sitting with Nobara when he appears, and he just puts his arm around you while talking to her, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You’re walking with him when he lifts his head up like he’s forgotten something, and what he forgot was to hold your hand, silly him.

If you walk by him while he’s sitting, he’ll grab your hips to pull you in his laps, fingers rubbing circles on the skin of your arms, absent-mindedly playing with your fingers as he holds your hand. After all, why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t even realize that it flusters you, and it just feels so natural for him to show his affection like that. He’ll look at you with stars in his eyes while you speak, not seeming to realize that his face is so close to him while you’re sitting in his lap.

No one pays attention to it anymore. You arrive just as Nobara is starting the movie — she’s putting on an action movie, thank you very much, even if Gojo just bought the collector edition of Human Earthworm 4 for Yuuji, with the director’s cut — and with all the students crammed in the room, including Panda, who’s taking most of the space on the couch, there’s nowhere left for you to sit.

“Come here,” Yuuji says cheerfully, waving you towards the armchair where he’s found his spot, “it’s about to start.”

You glance around the room for a reaction, but no one is paying you any mind. You walk over to him, perching yourself on one of the arms, legs over his. He doesn’t seem puzzled by it, just puts an arm around your waist casually.

Of course, you end up still sitting in his lap eventually, just slipping in it at some point in the movie. Can you be blamed? He’s warm and comfortable, and he wraps both arms around you so he can tuck his chin in the crook of your shoulder, nose brushing against your cheek when he turns his head. Not that he seems to notice how it makes your pulse quickens, eyes focused on the movie.

“What are the themes even supposed to be,” he mutters under his breath, eyebrows knitting together in annoyance.

“’Military good’?” you suggest quietly as a guy gets blown up on screen.

“The first half of the movie was about military bad,” he protests. “They can’t just act like that never existed.”

“Would you two shut up,” Nobara shouts from her spot, “or Maki will come beat you up!”

The two of you pipe down, knowing the threat is very serious and not one to take lightly.

When the movie ends, everyone gets up, stretching, but you’ve gotten comfortable against Yuuji’s chest, and you don’t feel like doing that just yet.

“That was terrible,” Yuuji comments, and you let out a brief laugh. Gojo has somehow made a cinephile out of him, and you love how worked up he gets over that stuff.

“Yeah, we should have been watching Human Earthworm 4 instead,” you say.

“Exact— oh, you’re making fun of him.”

You giggle, then tilt your head to kiss him. For a second, he freezes, eyes going wide. Kissing is the one thing he rarely initiates — but when you do, you get to see his gaze soften, before his whole body goes soft. His hold on your waist tightens — and then a pillow thrown with impressive precision hits him, and only him, on the ear.

“Not in public,” Maki shouts from all the way into the kitchen.

“Hey,” your boyfriend protests, “I’m not the one who—”

“You’re such a traitor,” you gasp, struggling to pull yourself free from his arms — but it’s no use against his strength, and he refuses to let go.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says. “Now, where were we?”

You might have been at fault for the first pillow, but that second one is all on him, as far as you’re concerned.

MEGUMI

Megumi is a private guy. He can be affectionate in public, but there is a side of him that he only wants you to see. He especially doesn’t want any of your nosy friends, or worse, his adoptive dad to see how he can be around you. They would never stop teasing him after, and he doesn’t think he could live with that.

Or that they could live with that. Because he’d kill them.

It does annoy him that he’s supposed to deny himself because of them. If it was up to him, he’d spend most of his time alone with you, preferably in a small house in the middle of a forest with no one around, no curses, no sorcerers, no nothing. That, sadly, isn’t an option though, so he has to find his own way to do things.

“Don’t move,” he says sternly. “You have something on your face.”

You roll your eyes, but tilt your head up towards him, as he carefully runs his thumb under your eye, then over your cheek, blowing on it once it’s done.

“What was it?” you ask.

“Just an eyelash,” he says with a shrug. “You’re good now.”

You study him, waiting for him to give something away, but he doesn’t, just staring at you with the same expression he always wears.

“Should we get going?” he asks. “I thought we were supposed to catch a movie.”

“Sure,” you relent. “We should get moving.”

The streets are quite full at this time of the day, and you have to step aside frequently to let people pass, sometimes losing sight of Megumi. Eventually, with a sigh, he grabs your hand, pulling you with him as he walks, sending murderous glares to anyone who stays in his path.

“You’re going to get lost at this rate,” he mutters as he pulls you with him.

“I mean, worst case scenario we meet back at the theater,” you say, and you grin at the offended look he gives you. He notices it, but doesn’t answer, a light pink dusting his cheek as he glances away.

He hates the idea of being away from you on a day that’s supposed to be about the two of you — but since he refuses to say the quiet part out loud, you get to tease him all you want.

To be fair to him, having Megumi as your scary guard dog does make it much easier and much faster to reach the theater. He gives you a pointed look when you get there, and, to your regret, lets go of your hand quickly, though his touch lingers there a second longer than necessary.

“Should we get a couple seat?” you ask innocently as you approach the register.

Megumi glares at you once more while you give him a sweet smile.

“It’s better that way, right?” he says, clearing his throat. “Otherwise strangers might have to share one.”

“Sure,” you nod, not even bothering to hide your grin. “It’s just more practical, right?”

“Right,” he says stiffly.

Even once you are in the couple seat, he keeps a thoroughly appropriate distance from you, one that you might find a little hurtful if, at the end of the commercials, he didn’t fake a yawn to put his arm around you, in the least smooth way known to man.

“You know you can just do it,” you say quietly as the lights turn off, resting your head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to go through all that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles.

Reaching for his face, you tilt his head towards you, and push yourself to meet his lips for a sweet, soft kiss. For the first time since you’ve stepped foot outside, his whole body relaxes into yours, and he stops trying to pretend.

“You had something on your lips,” you whisper when you pull away.

He snorts, then quickly goes back in to steal one more kiss from you before the movie starts.

“Liar,” he says.

As if he’s one to talk.

MAKI

Maki isn’t a demonstrative person as a general rule. She does compliment you without hesitation, words falling from her mouth so genuinely that it never fails to fluster you, but physical demonstrations of affection don’t come easy to her, maybe because she received so little of it as a kid. She does it sporadically, and she does very much enjoy teasing you, loves knowing that she can get those reactions out of you.

It’s the more spontaneous gestures that get to you though. She’ll kiss your forehead after a battle that left you bruised, a way of comforting you. She’ll pat your head after you managed to pull an impressive move during training. On one occasion, when you got injured, she carried you in your arms to Shoko, demanding that you be taken care of right this instant. She’d been the one to get flustered after that, hiding her face in her hand in embarrassment when it was brought up later on.

It might not come easy to her, but she does love it when you do it — when you show her your love in that way.

“You’re late,” she scolds you when you reach her for one of your dates, needing to take a second to catch your breath because you’ve been running since getting out of the subway.

“Sorry,” you say between deep breaths, “there was an emergency.”

Worry flashes on her face immediately.

“A curse? Were you hurt?”

She reaches for you, tilting your face towards her as she examines it, then study your body to make sure you weren’t injured. You let her, surprised at first, then endeared.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she frowns once she realizes how soft your gaze has become.

You grin, then push yourself closer to kiss her. You don’t care that you’re in public, and though it wouldn’t have occurred to her to do it, neither does she. The kiss is sweet, gentle. I’m alive, you’re alive, it says. No need for more.

“See?” you ask cheerfully. “All good. Now, I’m pretty sure you were going to buy me dinner…”

She clicks her tongue, but she’s grinning. It’s nice to see her so at ease, so relaxed. It’s a side of her you’d never see within the walls of Jujutsu High, nor on a mission. You’re the only one that can bring it out of her, and man do you love it.

“I’m buying? Again?”

“I did almost just die.”

“Nice try, but you told me you were fine.”

“I’m fine now,” you insist, “but…”

“Well, I was disowned by my family, so I don’t have money. You’re buying.”

The two of you keep bickering, but, as you walk, you reach for her hand. She pulls away at first, years and years of reflexes kicking in instinctively, and once she realizes what you were doing, she’s the one who takes your hand in hers. She holds it delicately, careful not to break it — to be fair, her strength would probably allow her that.

It’s so sweet and light, being out there with you like that. So normal. She hopes it never ends.

You squeeze her hand, and she lets you guide her across the street, content with just following, knowing that she can trust you to fill in her shortcomings in the relationship, like she does it for yours.

The sky is grey, the forecast said it might run later tonight — Maki’s planned an umbrella, she’s sure you didn’t think of it — but as far as she’s concerned, the day is as beautiful as it could possibly be.

this is my first time writing for... pretty much everyone here except gojo lol. i hope you enjoyed it and that the characterization wasn't too off, but any feedback is welcome! if you want to support me and my writing, please reblog/leave a comment or send me an ask, i'd love to chat! i'll see you later for some more jjk writing ^-^

you can find my gojo x reader work here

[undreaming-fanfiction]

The Corroded Coffin used to think they'd be the new Metallica or Judas Priest. But where their passion and hard work never lacked, their big break just never came.

What did come, however, was an unexpected change of their career path.

It started innocently enough - they went through yet another failed meeting with recording studios, they'd travelled pretty far and it was for nothing. Instead of going back to Hawkins and risking another one of Eddie's road rages, they decided to break into an abandoned house and drink their sorrows away.

That is, until their empty bottles started collecting themselves, something invisible touched Gareth's shoulder and the dusty floor started showing written messages.

Jeff wanted to flee. Gareth to faint. But Eddie and Freak just shrugged. Eddie gestured towards the approximate ghost location and said "by the power of I don't give a shit anymore, I compel you to sit down and stop it, we'll clean the bottles when we leave tomorrow."

The rattling stopped. There was a moment of silence when the Corroded Coffin actually thought it had worked, but then the ghost overcame its shock and physically threw Eddie, his bandmates and their things out.

They sat on the wet grass for a while and contemplated their whole exitence. Eddie was pretty shaken about the whole thing because he'd just managed to royally piss off a ghost and lived to tell the tale. But apart from absolutely terrifying...it was also fun?

And his friends seemed to think the same. Jeff patted his shoulder and said: "not bad for a first touch with the unknown, huh?"

They stayed in the area and tried again. They decided to tape over their promotional video - not so great, they had to admit after rewatching it - and started documenting their ghostly encounters. And maybe it was just the timing, maybe it was their interactions and personalities, but it worked. They showed some of their tapes to a local TV station and they got a cautious yes, more than they ever had with their music.

They got assigned a small crew, Fred with a camera and Chrissy for sound, wrote their own episodes and did plenty of research. And they got to try quite a lot of different approaches with their ghostly friends. Eddie was amazing at taunting the ghosts, making them appear if there were any present. Gareth had a wonderfully calming presence, managing to save the CC's ass several times. Jeff was the brains, he made sure they'd always know the history of the house and the probable identity of the ghost. And Freak decided to dabble in the occult sciences with a terrifying precision. There could never be enough salt in Eddie's van for all the circles he made.

It all went well until they learned of the Creel House in Hawkins. They went there, did their research and before entering the house, they ordered some pizza for dinner. They assumed it would be over by midnight, thinking it was just another sad story of an unresolved murder, but the ghost of Henry Creel was out for blood.

Oh, and he also controlled the spiders of the house. That was new.

To set the scene: The crew had fled the house about an hour ago. Eddie was crouching behind an old table, blocking Henry's barrage of kitchen knives, shouting "IS THIS THE BEST YOU'VE GOT?!". Gareth was behind the table with Eddie, but he went more into the wailing territory with "I DON'T THINK THIS WILL HELP YOU MOVE ON, HENRY!". Jeff had blocked himself in the pantry and kept trying to identify the triggering moment - "I think he's re-enacting the murder of his mother, guys! Does that help?!" (it doesn't). And Freak gave up on salt circles and was now tossing handfuls of salt around the house with a questionable technique but unwavering determination.

Suddenly, a car horn.

Then, a bitchy male voice: "Are you coming to get your pizza or what? I have other customers to get to!"

Eddie gritted his teeth as Henry added heavy pans to the mix and hit his shoulder. "We're a little busy surviving here! Ask Chrissy to pay you!"

There was a muffled and annoyed "ugh" from behind the door and then: "Is it Henry again?"

Eddie just blinked. Gareth was more ready to answer: "Sure is! He's not a fan of our exorcism!"

And the pizza guy didn't leave. He just huffed and said something that sounded suspiciously like "amateurs".

Eddie wanted to punch him.

But before he could do that, the front door opened. Gareth held his breath, half expecting a sound of knives hitting their target.

Instead, they heard a few more steps and then: "What the fuck, Henry?!"

A faint whispering reached their ears, but they couldn't decipher it. But the pizza guy could.

"I don't care they didn't get your permission, Henry. Yeah, it's annoying, but what are you going to do? If more people die in this house, it's going to get demolished. You know that. Yeah, I know the house is old, but it's great for your spiders, right? They'd be homeless. Do you want to make your spiders homeless, Henry?"

They dared to peek from behind the table, and Eddie had to pinch himself. Because in the middle of the dusty dining room stood one of the prettiest young men Eddie had ever seen, hands on hips and arguing with something invisible.

The man completely ignored them.

"That's what I thought. Now, apologize. No, they can't hear you, so get creative."

All four CC members stared as words formed in the spilled salt: "SORRY".

The pizza guy seemed to be pleased. "Good job, Henry. Now, let me get them out of here and I promise I'll get the Party to bring you some new spiders when they capture them outside, yeah? Three knocks, slide them in a glass behind the door. Got it. Take care, Henry."

Only then did he look at Eddie and the others and frowned. "That's your cue to leave. Get your stuff and go, now." And as they were quickly collecting their scattered notes and recording equipment, he added: "and say goodbye when leaving. Don't be rude."

Four rushed "Bye, Henry!" and "Sorry, Henry"s later, the Corroded Coffin was standing on the grass outside, feeling the setting sun on their skin and smelling fresh pizza. Gareth promptly paid for the delivery, and everyone proceeded to thank their mysterious savior.

"I'm Steve," he said after they'd all expressed their thanks, "and you're stupid. Do you really do this without anyone who sees and hears them? Do you just stumble blindly into haunted houses for a fun and stabby time?"

Eddie had to swallow down a very bitchy response of his own. "Sorry to stroke your ego even more, pretty boy, but a man of your talents is hard to come by."

And Steve, to Eddie's massive shock, just cocked his head and fluffed his hair, probably out of habit, but damn. "Well, consider yourself lucky because I'm open to job offers," he said with a wink that brought Eddie back into his teenage fantasies. "You need someone like me, and I assume you pay better than pizza delivery. Do you?"

Turns out, their producer was willing to get one more person on board, especially when they finished processing the leftover footage from the Creel house.

Steve was an amazing addition. He was snarky, self-confident, easy to look at and most of all, he was fun and compassionate. Watching him communicate with ghosts of kids and help them move on made Eddie's icy heart melt.

But one day they were on a site of an unfortunate teenage death, Steve was chatting with the ghost of a 17 year old girl like they'd known each other for ages, he was laughing, cracking jokes, and then:

"No, he hasn't kissed me yet."

Eddie turned around on his heel and stared at Steve, snickering to himself and talking to a misty figure next to him. And worst of all, they were both staring right at Eddie.

"Hasn't even asked me out, no. You'd think he'd be interested, but I guess I'm doing something wrong."

And Eddie's head short-circuited, and all the repressed fantasies from nights next to Steve in their trailer came back with vengeance. He howled and threw himself at Steve, kissing him right on that bitchy mouth. "Doing something wrong?! Steven Harrington, those shorts of yours are doing everything right, but how about you say something, huh?!"

Steve returned the kiss to the cheering of the CC guys, Chrissy's clapping and Fred's disgusted noise, and shrugged when they broke apart. "I knew you'd get it, eventually. Oh, and Heather?" he turned to the ghost. "You're the best wingwoman ever, in this life and after."

Four good things came from this ghostly encounter:

After the kiss, Gareth finally gathered enough courage to ask Chrissy out. She said yes.

The episode with Heather became the most watched episode of the CC's show.

Steve and Eddie remained in an equally blissful and teasing relationship for the rest of their lives.

And finally...

The TV station decided to design official merch for the CC's show: incredibly short shorts that said on the backside: "DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT".

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

COFFEE CRAVING

Summary: You work at Starbucks and one day two young men come in and you get along with one of them, staying with him until close time and who knows what will happen.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, strong language, breast playing, unprotected sex (piv), praise kink, recording

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"Dude, I swear, they have the best coffee and cookies in the whole city" Wade excitedly convinced Logan on the way to Starbucks. He just nodded in annoyance. "And besides, there are really pretty girls" he slapped him on stomach with amusement and Wade growled at him angrily. "Chill Wolvie, I'm just sayin'…" he said as he opened the door for Logan, like a proper gentleman.

Logan walked in and discreetly looked around with a stern face, admiring the amazing cafe that Wade hasn't shut the fuck up for forty five minutes straight.

"So, welcome to the best cafe in town, peanut" Wade gave him a side-hug but Logan shook him off imidiately. He was really starting to regret going out with this jerk. Why the hell did he think that it was a good idea.

They get in the line that was quite long. "So if you want some advice, I personally like the caramel frappucino, it's so-" "Can you shut the fuck up?!" Logan growls at Wade, even tho he knows damn well he won't shut up.

"Or latté is good too, it may also calm you down" Logan had no more energy to answer, so he just sighed annoyingly and stepped forward as the line moved.

While waiting, Logan looked at the desserts behind the glass while Wade continued to blare his nonsense at him. Logan after spending some time with that dick learned to mute his voice in his head, and instead of that disgusting voice, all he hears is a hum, a pleasant beautiful hum.

When it was finally Logan's turn and he was ready to order, he froze. You stood in front of him, tapping something into the monitor, before turning your attention to him.

"Hi, what can I get you?" you greeted him like any of your customers and waited with a smile. Logan was still frozen, as if the world stopped around him and the only thing alive was you. As if everything around was black and white but you you shined with colors. He hadn't felt this way in a damn long time.

Wade noticed Logan's struggle and it didn't take long for him to realize what was going on. "Oh hi! Sorry my friend is new here" He tapped on Logan's shoulder, but that still didn't wake him up. You just kept your awkward smile.

,,Anyways um I'd like a capuccino and for him, a caramel frappucino, thanks" Wade saved this embarrassing situation a bit and you breathed a sigh of relief, because you felt that the line behind them would revolt in a moment.

"okay...for who?" you took the cup in your hand and held a marker in the other hand. "Wade and Logan...can you draw a heart on them too? Thanks" you just nodded and wrote their names separately on the cups, each with a heart.

"Is that all?" you asked, setting the cups aside. Logan was still staring breathlessly, he didn't hear a word you were saying, all he could focus on was you, standing across from him with that cute smile that warm his heart.

After Wade paid for both of them and quietly took Logan aside so they wouldn't oblige the others, everything finally returned to normal and he woke up. "Oh, are you okay now bub?" Logan just gave him a hateful look. "Oh you're so back, finally!"

"Ugh" Logan rolled his eyes and crossed his massive arms on his chest. "Capuccino for Wade and caramel frappucino for Logan!" they both turned their heads to the lady, holding two cups of coffee. "Thank you m'am" Wade thanked politely while Logan remained silent, keeping that typical stern look on his face.

When they finally sit in a booth, Logan locked his eyes on you. He watched you sign those cups, interacting with customers while keeping smiling, until he looked at Wade. He was leaning against the table and watching Logan with that silly grin of his.

"The fuck you lookin' at..." Logan scowled sternly at Wade and took a sip of his coffee. It was really sweet, maybe too sweet. "You know, I would never have imagined that you would have a crush on a cashier" "I don't have a crush" Even though Logan knew very well that Wade was saying the thruth, but he still denied it.

"Yeah sure tell that to that tant in your pants" Wade raised his eyebrows amused and took a sip of his coffee too. Logan was already losing his temper, not only from his talking, but also from the fact that it was true and he couldn't admit it. "Shut the fuck up or I'll slam those knives deep into your asshole!" he angrily punch the table with his fists and the cafe suddenly fell silent.

Everyone stared at the two in awe, waiting for what would come next. When Logan's fury calmed down a bit and he noticed that he was suddenly the center of attention, he awkwardly cleared his throat and looked at you to see if you were also watching him. Of course you were. You don't get aggressive customers every day.

"Sorry" he apologized in a deep wolf voice, but he can't deal with people like Wade, who saved him for the second time today. "It's alright guys! He just didn't take his pills today, everythink's fine!" people started talking again and you took one last look at them, before serving another customer with a smile on your face again. Logan felt embarrassed, not because of the others, he didn't give a shit what they think, but because of you.

The strange feeling in his stomach whenever he looks at you is indescribable. He's seen and slept with a lot of women in his life, but you're a whole different level. He had fought so many people but no one had ever made his heart flutter like you, no one had forced him to freeze in place without forcibly hypnotizing him in any way. He fucking hates to admit it, but he really got a crush on you.

"You're welcome by the way, for saving your ass twice!" Wade said it like it bothered him, but he was actually happy for helping his sugarbear. Logan seems disinterested, besides he was still busy watching you. He should go to hell for the scenarios that are forming in his head, but he can't help it.

You are so beautiful, your face glittered in the reflection of the lights and your hair looked so silky and fluffy, he would do anything to feel them, to feel you.

"Hey I feel a little betrayed, I'm your date" Wade sat there keep interrupting Logan from his, possibly terrifying and psychopathic, observation. "Shut up" he hissed and didn't even blink, all his attention glued to you.

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it was a little before eight o'clock, during which a lot of customers changed, but the two of them were still there. Wade, being a very loyal friend, still sat, even in the face of his cruel hunger, just to support Logan and help him if he needed.

You knew about them very well, after all, you remember the sternest face that stares into your soul and then the aggressive behavior of the same man, who is sitting there for a damn long time. You also noticed that he was watching you.

You were scared, but on the other hand, despite how tough the guy looked, he smelled amazing. You would also bet that under all those clothes he has a muscular body like the world has never seen. These thoughts of a stranger's deviance made you a little worried. You didn't know if it was because of work overload or because you were ovulating. Probably both.

From time to time, when you had the time to look at him, his eyes were already on you, not expressing any feelings, just staring. You quickly looked away and felt the heat on your cheeks, knowing that you'll be red as a tomato in a second.

"So, are you gonna talk to her or just keep watching her like a creep" Wade asked Logan with a really tired tone. He didn't answer. "Ah come on! Don't be a pussy! Show her your metal balls!" Wade tried really desperately hyped Logan, but he had his own mind.

"I won't I would..." Logan finally took his eyes off of you and looked at the table, feeling a bit embarrassed. Wade was just waiting impatiently to see what would come out of him. It was unusual for Logan to speak, the more it excited Wade. "I would fucked it up" Logan sighed, it was almost a whisper that was really hard to be heard, but Wade heard him damn well.

He was kicking his feet under the table, seeing Logan like this, it was so cute. "You won't! Come on, have some confidence man!" Wade still tried to support Logan. "Look! There's no one with her now, take advantage of it, do it!" Wade outright chased Logan away, but it was for his own good.

He cleared his throat akwardly, before he start approaching you. You didn't notice him at first as you were busy with the monitor, but as soon as you felt the presence of a man, your head automatically shot up.

"Oh hi! Everything’s okay sir?" Logan took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah I just...wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier" suddenly, when he started talking to you, all that nervousness was gone and the confident flirting Logan was back in the game.

"Oh! That's fine-" "No, I mean it..." he leaned against the cash register, much closer to you and you smelled his amazing perfume again, that you can't get enough of. Now the cards have turned and you're the one who's stiff, your knees are buckling and you're shaking. Logan is, unlike you, completely cool and comfortable, he enjoys it.

"I just lost my nerves there, you know" Logan licks his lips while looking directly into your eyes, sending shivers down your spine. "Uh it's really n-no problem s-sir" you were struggling to even make a sentence with those wolf hungry eyes staring at you. Logan knew you were nervous, that's why he grinned and chuckled a bit.

"Okay, just don't want to cause any trouble" he winked at you while slowly leaving you. He went back to his booth, where his friend was waiting, cheering and giggling like some teenage girl. You lost your breath and your whole body was paralyzed.

It wasn't out of fear, not at all. It's been a long time since someone flirted with you, and probably no one else this much. If you met him on the street, you would say that you have absolutely no chance with him, but you would probably be wrong. After a moment when you found yourself back to reality, you shook your head slightly and got back to your work.

"Oh my goodness, my demons inside me screamed when I saw you there!" Wade clapped enthusiastically and really looked like a teenage girl supporting her friend. There was practically no difference in this.

Logan just smiled and looked proud, Wade’s words only added to his ego. "What did you say to her to make her so stiff?" "Nothing, I just apologized for my behavior" Wade stared wordlessly for a moment until he started to grin. "Ahh, I know where you're going, but anyway, since it's already 8, don't you wanna go and visit her tomorrow?”

Even though Wade was really loyal and waited for Logan the whole time to finally show his balls and talk to you, but he was tired and hungry and dreamed of nothing but bed. Logan forgot all his basic necessities, food, drink, even sleep because of you. He didn't need any of that, just you.

"I'll stay here till close-up" Logan announced harshly, checking on you again. You cleaned the tables and greeted the last colleague who was just leaving.

"Are you sure you can handle this? Don't you need help?" she asked sweetly and you shook your head with a smile. "No thanks, I've got it under control" "Okay, but if you had a problem, with that," she pointed to Logan and Wade with her shoulder. "call me" you just nodded and watched as she walked out the door, leaving you three alone in there.

You sighed, a hint of tiredness, exhaustion and a bit of annoyance at the men who still hadn't left. If only they would finally get out, you could close early and take a hot bath at home with candles and rose petals, how lovely that sounds. But that probably won't happen today.

"Hey, I know you really like her, but I like my bed and it's really late-" "Go." Logan wasn't bothered at all by Wade wanting to leave him alone with you, quite the opposite. He saved his ass, but now Logan has everything under control, he is calm and has only one objective, you.

Wade quickly said goodbye to his obnoxious friend and walked towards the exit. You immediately focused your attention on him and wanted to jump with excitement. "You're leaving?" you fought against every nerve in your body not to add finally in that sentence. Wade smiled and nodded his head. "Yep but uh, my friend will stay..." all that happiness suddenly dropped, as he said that. Great, fantastic.

Wade noticed your ticking eye. He could tell that you weren't happy about it. "Look um, it's not that he wants to bother you or give you extra work, he just wants to help you. I mean look at him" Wade gently grabbed your shoulders and turned you to Logan, who was frowning, even more seeing Wade touching his girl. "I mean isn't that look of the nicest person ever?" you curl your lips into a thin line, as you silently disagreed.

Wade just sighed and shook his head. "Look, you probably won't believe this, but the whole time we were sitting here he was saying nice things about you. He couldn't get enough of you, he kept saying how amazing, breathtaking and majestic you look. He doesn't want to hurt you, that's the last thing he want" when the young man with a burnt head told you this, you looked again at the sitting scowler. He was still looking at you and you could feel the lust in his dark eyes from afar.

You suddenly felt your yore pulsating, you getting wet in a snap of fingers and it scared you, not the sigh of that man looking at you, but the things he is doing to you without effort. You were also slightly moved, if what the boy said was true, by the way he spoke about you. It's been a long time since anyone talked about you so nicely. Plus, when he saw you work in here, where you look like a piece of shit, did you really make that impression on him?

"Well, I'll go now. Bye!" Wade left and as he walked outside the glass where Logan was sitting, he gave him a thumbs up, a finger heart and a sign of sex. Logan just rolled his eyes and motioned for him to finally get out of his sight. Wade teases a little longer, before disappearing by the corner, finally leaving you two absolutely alone.

It was quite exciting, for both of you. You had never had a customer this late, and Logan had never been this late at cafe. But when it came to nervousness, you won 100% in this one. You weren't nervous because of the fear that the man would do something to you, but because of the way he was watching you. You were also afraid that you would leak and he would see your horniness over him. There was so much to be afraid of, but it terribly excited you for some reason.

"You need a hand?" you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even notice how the man approached you. You jumped slightly and grabbed your chest to absorb the shock. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you" god, his voice, his deep, smooth but grainy voice was a music to your ears. You wished he would read you bedtime stories, you would fall asleep right away.

"It's fine...what'd you say?" You scrunched up your face and tried to focus on his words, this time you didn't let your thoughts affect you anymore. "You need help?" he raised his eyebrows, giving you a cute puppy look, which warmed your heart. The question running through your mind was, how could such a tough guy look so cute?

"Uh I- um" you started flushing as you couldn't form a sentence, but your struggling conjured a side smirk on that man's face. His expression just send another wave of wetness into your panties. You're so soaked right now, like you were in some kind of porn.

After a moment when you had already given up on creating an answer, the man leaned dangerously close to you, pressing his hand onto the table behind you and gently grabbing your rag, which he really easily took from your hand. "I'll help you" he whispered, his hot breath against your face making your legs shake even more.

You watched him help you and wipe the tables, take out the trash and just clean up. Again, you were paralyzed for a moment, but you were able to watch him in slow motion,watching his muscles swaying and his focused expression, this combination was really something.

"Well, all done!" he wiped his hands on that rag, which he threw on the table at the checkout, on which he leaned against with both hands. You swear to god those veins on his biceps weren't there before. They looked like earthworms, completely hypnotizing you and coaxing you to look anywhere but at his shoulders.

"Um is there anything else you need a help with?" Yes, with your throbbing pussy. The man was looking around while you woke up again, paying attention to him, not his muscles. "Um I don't think so…" you looked around too for any trash or dirt, but the cafe looked brand new. It frustrated you a little.

Yes, it's true that you wanted the guy to leave as soon as possible, but now you really don't want him to. He is a pretty cool company. “Okay then, I'm Logan by the way" "Y/N" great, so you introduce yourselves and finally know about each other something, now can he fucking jump on you and fuck you until you can't walk anymore?

"That's a lovely name" you melted at his words, at his voice, it must be obvious that you are so desperate for him by now. "Thank's...yours is pretty too" you're surprised that you could manage to answer him properly without a hesitation or mistake. You are improving yourself.

"And uh how long have you been working here?" he leaned back, arm crossed over his chest and chin up, like he wasn't looking at you from up high before. "This is my 4th year here actually" you chuckle by the nervousness you felt and came closer to him, why are you so far away when you want to feel him?

"Oh really? I'm guessing you like it then" he watched you getting closer, walking around the tables until you were behind the counter with Logan, only inches away. You could smell his perfume again, which was pleasing your nasal cells.

"Yeah, I mean if the costumers are kinda rude, it sucks but when they're like you, I like it" you mustered up all your courage and used this chance to flirt with Logan and damn it worked. You notice that little flinch in his smile when you said that, but he tried to keep his cool of course. "Yeah, shame that everyone's not like me huh?" you both giggled and you nodded in agreement.

Logan then turn around to the menu board and grab his hips. He was silent for a moment, before he asked. "Do you really remember all the steps to make these?" he looked at you, that look almost made you faint but you held yourself together. "Well, since it's my fourth year here, I do but if someone forgets something or just don't know, we have a help" Logan nodded his head and turned his gaze back to the board. He then looked down and watch all the utensils and sweeteners.

"Have you ever had the urge to take this whipped cream and pour it right into your mouth?" you looked at the whipped cream that had a place right next to the caramel frosting and laughed. "So many times, but I can't. The camera and-" The first part of your sentence was enough for Logan to grab the whipped cream and pour it into his mouth without hesitation.

He threw his head back and opened his mouth wide as white foam pooled on his tongue. It was really hard, almost impossible, to look at him and keep your core calm and dry. Although he looked sexy, you had to follow the rules.

"Logan stop! I'm gonna get fired!" you were laughing, but inside you were really scared. You chased the whipped cream in Logan's hand and since he was taller than you, you had no chance of reaching it. He looked down on you and mocked you as you tried to jump, grabbing for nothing more than air. "Logan please" you begged, making Logan's pants really tight by that.

"What did you say?" Logan's tone was stern and you stopped jumping. You just stared into his endearing eyes in silence for a while. "Please?" you voice was now more convincing and Logan was fighting the urge to strip those working clothes off of you and fuck you right here right now.

"Open your mouth" he ordered. Normally you would have defended yourself, said you can't do that and things like that, but that stern look and the way he towered over you forced you to do what he said. You tilted your head back and opened your mouth, all the while looking at Logan. He filled your mouth with whipped cream, some pieces fell on the floor and you had to start laughing.

You straightened your head and closed your mouth that was full of whipped cream. Logan couldn't stand it and started laughing too, you looked like a squirrel who keeps nuts in his mouth for worse times.

When you finally manage to swallow the cream, you looked at Logan who was smiling. "Wait, you have a little..." he put his thumb on the corner of your mouth, where there was still some whipped cream left and gently wiped it off. You gazed into his eyes, his miserable fascinating eyes that you could stare into for years. He keeps his thumb on your face, while finally giving your eyes the same attention as you give to him.

You were staring into each other, both of you knew damn well that you wanted it, but is it really a good idea? After all it's late at night, you have like thirty minutes till close-up and everyone who would pass by would see you. However, all of those fears were instantly banished by Logan as he grabbed your chin and pressed his lips to yours.

You froze for a second but immediately cooperated and kissed him back. His hands making their way to your hips, pulling you closer to him. You hugged Logan's neck, as you pulled his head closer to deepen the kiss. Soft gentle kisses were fading into raw and violent ones, Logan forced his tongue into your mouth, showing his dominance.

You fight with your tongues for a while, Logan squeezed your hips and you whine into the kisses, feeling that weird tickle in your stomach. Logan makes you back up to the cash desk, till your ass touches it and he immediately picked you up, placing you up that desk. You automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, your throbbing core touching his erection, making you whine even louder.

His lips break away from yours, moving to your neck, biting and sucking marks on it. His hands tightening his grip on your hips as his body pressed against yours. You were moaning his name while you played with his messy hair, tugging on it whenever he found that sensitive spot on your neck.

"I can't get enough of you, beautiful" he growled as he moved to the other side of your neck, his hands traveled all over your body, exploring every inch of you. But both of you were bothered by the clothes, which were just a burden. Logan therefore wasted no time and began to undress you, each piece of clothing separately. He didn't care where it landed, all he cared about was seeing you naked.

Without breaking the kiss you cooperated and unbuttoned Logan's shirt. In a few moments you were both in just an underwear, Logan's huge body covering yours, as he squeezed and massaged your thighs. "Fuck you're gorgeous" he moaned and took a quick look at you before aggressively shoving his tongue into your throat again. You adored his words, his muscular body that you examined and touched, but mostly, his erection that begged to be released from his boxers.

After your neck was completely purple and sore and there wasn't an inch that Logan didn't destroy already, he backed up and looked at you. You were breathing heavily, from the adrenaline and heat you were feeling all over your body, but Logan's face calmed your breath down a bit.

He was stroking your leg gently and just admired you for a moment. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before slowly pouncing on your bra, which he removed in one smooth motion. You helped him a little, until he finally removed it from your body, your bare chest now being exposed.

Your nipples hardened almost immediately, as the cool air touched your body. "Oh my god...you're driving me crazy" he breathed out as he cupped one of your boobs, and your moan got caught in your throat by that feeling. His massive hand was encircling your entire breast, while the other was playing just with your nipple.

You've never felt something like this before, this combination was making a whole pool in your panties, you even felt a drop running down your inner thigh. You throw your head back and jaw dropped wide open, as Logan started putting more pressure into his hands. You flinched whenever his act woke up your clitoris.

You were moving your hips, not even realizing that you were bumping right into Logan's hard cock. He was twitching in his boxers and Logan tried really hard to be patient. He loved the sigh he just had right now. You nails digging into that desk, your hips trying to have some friction and your boobs, god your boobs.

Even though he tried to be patient with you, you really made it difficult until you finally reached his limit. In one move, his boxers touched his ankles and he removed on of his hands from your chest. Despite your whining, you suddenly felt cold air on one of your breasts, so you straightened your head and opened your eyes to see what was going on.

Logan's lips were parted, he was looking at you with his chin up, one hand kept playing with your already sore nipple, while the other was stroking his twitching veiny cock. You will never forget this moment.

You looked down to see his length and holy, your pupils widened at the sigh. Logan chuckle a bit, caughting your attention. "Too big for you princess?" he asked provocatively. But this question sent more vibrations into your eager vagina, than any provocation or fear that it won't fit.

All your respect was long gone and you cared about nothing more than screwing this man. You grabbed his neck and pulled him into a desperate kiss. "I want to feel you Logan" you despirily whispered making him chuckle. "What is that sugar?" those nicknames he kept giving you were sending just a lot of pleasant waves to your core.

"Please Logan, please" you put your forehead to his, while keep moving your hips back and forth, trying to touch his cock as often as you can. It was just too much for Logan, your urge to ride him while you whine his name and begging, all of this just made his tip leak with precum.

He couldn't resist, those puppy eyes of yours and the desperation on your face, he couldn't put it off any longer. He pulled your panties off without hesitation and moved you closer so that his pink tip was already touching your wet folds.

You opened your mouth as you look down at Logan's dick, which was already penetrating you. You moaned as he was stretching your walls, those wet squishy sounds were music to your ears. "Look at me" he cupped your cheek and made you look into his lustful eyes. "That's it, good girl" he clinched his teeth as he was almost balls deep into you, while you were biting your lower lip to keep yourself quiet.

When he was finally in, he breathed out and closed his eyes. Naturally, you also closed your eyes, the feeling of fullness was indescribable. It felt so good and you know for a fact, that you won't last long. "Fuck, you're so tight" Logan also suspected that he wouldn't be able to keep his sperm inside him for long.

Logan waited a while for you to get used to him and you fell in love with his gentlemanly nature even more. Logan is respectful, yes, but definitely not in destroying your cunt. When he felt your hips slowly riding his dick, he knew you were ready and his excitement knew no bounds.

He aggressively pressed his lips to yours again, biting and licking your lips while holding your back tightly so you wouldn't slip out of place. You were shocked for a minute, but when you felt Logan's cock movin' in you, there was no longer a word like fear or shock.

Slow tiny movements of Logan's hips makes you whine into the kisses, while he was creating a bloody mess on your lips. “Atta girl, just like that” he growled as he left your lips and leaned into your ear so you could hear all his sighs and naughty words more clearly.

He slowly started picking up his pace and strength, his balls started making a slappy sound against your skin and his breath got stuck in his throat a lot more often, while your whimpers could be heard miles away down the street.

“You're doing so good” Logan moaned into your ear while adding strength to his hips. He started taking his cock out of you completely and then buried it deep inside you again, making you throw your head back and scream Logan's name even louder.

You grabbed Logan's hair and tugged on it whenever he leaned into you. Your boobs were shaking in the rhythm of his hips and your whimpers started being in harmony with Logan's growls.

He moved his head to your forehead, his hot breath tickled your nose. “You're a real pleasure to use sweetheart” he groans against his tightly closed teeth, while keep slamming into you with no mercy.

It didn't take long for him to find your g-spot, and you knew that was the end for you. He lost control of his movements, his thrusts were sloppy and he kept hitting that spongy part of yours, making you closer and closer to your orgasm. "Such a good girl" his balls were so fucking full that he though they will explode at any moment now, his dick was twitching inside you and every vein on his penis was pulsating.

You were clenching against Logan's cock, giving him a clear sign your on the edge while dipping your nails deep into his back. "Yeah, keep going" he hissed as your vision went blurry and your mind dizzy, when suddenly you felt that urge to go to the toilet and the heat in your lower stomach.

"Logan, I'm gonna cum" you said hurriedly and opened your mouth wide, as your legs started shaking. "That's alright sugar, c'mon" Logan was at his highest speed, he lost control of his whole body while he desperately tried to chase his orgasm.

A few more thrusts and you finally felt the release you were dreaming of. You throw your head back as you squeeze Logan's cock with your walls and reach your climax. "That's my girl" right before he said that very cuttingly, he grunted as loud as he could and rammed into you so deeply. He squirted everything he had into you and struggled to catch his breath.

You were slowly and gently riding off your orgasm on Logan's dick. He pulled you by your neck and kissed you, but it wasn't some wild kiss. This was a comforting, gentle and sweet kiss, telling you that you did it. After he pulled away, he smiled at you and caressed your cheek. "I knew you could do it" he kept showering you with those praises and you were already red as a tomato, not only because of the adrenaline and the heat of your whole body, but also because of Logan's . You'd even admit that you cum, partly because of his words. Even if it doesn't seem like it, he really knows how to please a women.

After you both wake up and calmed your breathing, Logan slowly pulled out of you, making both of you groan by that. When he was fully out, a combination of your juice and his sperm were dropping out of your core, making Logan giggle a bit. "What is it?" you asked confused and frowned. "Nothing, just a sign that you were doing really good" he smiles at you and walked away to grab a napkin. It was hot and funny at once to see him walking with his exposed dick around the cafe, like he doesn't give a single fuck.

When he came back, he was holding several napkins and wiped you with them. You squeak a bit, trying to keep yourself cool as Logan was practically overstimulating you. "Look at you, you are such a good girl" he dropped the dirty napkins into the trash and gave you another comforting kiss. You cooperated and smiled as you pinned yourself to Logan's naked body. This was the best night of your life, you will never forget that and you will definitely never forget his abs against your fingers.

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It was another day, you were standing at the counter again, asking people what they want. But what warmed you the most was when you saw Logan walk in. He smiled at you and walked into the line, obediently waiting for his time. When that happened, you talked to him like you would with any other customer.

"Hi! What can I get you?" Logan chuckle a bit at you, pretending like nothing happened, but he stuck to his role too. "One espresso please, and can I get a whipped cream separately?" You giggle but immediately stopped.

"Okay sir, anything else?" you grab a clean cup and got ready to write his name there. "Yeah um..." he leaned closer to you, so that no one could hear him. "Do you work till close-up today?" "Y-yes sir" Logan grinned and pulled away, nodding his head. "'kay, that'll be all" your heart started beating faster when you knew what will probably happen tonight. "And a name sir?" you played stupid as hard as you could, making Logan laugh.

"Logan" he said and watched your hand write his name with a little heart above it. "'kay, have a nice day sir" "I will, you too" he gave you one last smile before walking to his booth and sitting in there. After that, you continued in your job like normally.

"Hey, um can I talk to you for a sec?" your colleague interrupted you while you were trying to serve another customer. "Oh yeah, just-" "Someone else will do that, come on" she grabbed your hand and gave you no choice but to follow her.

She took you to the changing rooms where you were alone. You started being a little confused. "So how was last night?" she crossed her arms on her chest and looked at you with a stern face. "It was fine?" you answered, kinda worried.

"Oh yeah? Did you have fun?" you knew exactly where she was going with that, but you didn't let yourself be intimidated. "What are you talkin' about?" she came closer to you so that she could whisper. "I'm talkin' about the sex m'lady" your eyes widened.

"How do you know?" "You realize there were cameras, right?" you tightly closed your eyes and scrunched your nose. "Jesus Christ-" "Look I'm really sorry, just don't tell a boss please" she raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? 'course I won't I'm not a monster" you sighed with relief as you closed your eyes. You wanted to thank her but she was faster.

"I downloaded it and now I'm going to use it as a homemade porn" your eyes widened again. "No you didn't!" you pointed a finger at her and she just laughed. "Fuck yeah I did! But woah, god damn it was really intense girl" she tapped your shoulder as she walked around you, you angrily stomped behind her. "You saw the whole thing?!" "Yeah! And I gotta tell you, I got a boner from that" you rolled your eyes as she laughed her way to her working place. Well, you have to ask her to lend you that record sometime.

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[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part ten

490 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine

When he opens his locker on Monday morning, two notes are lying there amongst Eddie’s things. 

One in the usual scrawl he’s grown fond of and one not. 

Eddie i really like your smile, even when you’re being a little shit how was your weekend? anything fun? i missed you at the party  i don’t think you showed but i was really fucked up so who knows that’s ok though, i didn’t really wanna be there either  -H

Eddie can’t help but smile. The second note, on the other hand, makes him snort. It’s the shit he usually got in his locker before H. 

Freak yada yada yada fag yada yada going to hell blah blah blah blah.

God. Very original. He throws that one in the trash and tucks H’s away with the others. 

He still can’t quite picture Tommy Hagan saying the things from the notes, but he guesses that was sort of the whole point. 

Still, he’s having trouble combining the two people in his mind. 

He doesn’t know which is the true Tommy, but, honestly, Eddie wants no part in finding out. He doesn’t wanna know if Tommy actually likes him. Just the thought makes him shiver in disgust. The boy isn’t all that bad looking. The freckles are kind of cute. But, man, he’s so annoying. 

Eddie doesn’t wanna know if the notes were a prank the entire time, either. For all he knows, Tommy probably got a good laugh when Eddie showed up last week actually wearing the ring.

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s gonna do.

Well, that’s a lie. He’s taking the damn ring off, that’s for sure. 

He doesn’t have the heart to throw it away, though, so he just puts it with the bundle of notes for now. 

At lunch, Tommy is facing away from him, but he can’t help but stare as he tries to mesh the man he’s looking at now with the one who wrote him such sweet messages. 

Eddie knows that the next time he sees Tommy calling someone names or just being an asshole in general he’s gonna have to hold himself back. If he were a worse person, he’d confront him about it. Alas, he’s not. 

His gaze wanders to Tommy’s right where Carol Perkins sits. That’s the other thing; Tommy has a girlfriend. 

Eddie doesn’t even wanna attempt to untangle that mess. He shakes his head and moves onto another person in Tommy’s orbit. 

Steve Harrington. The King. The Hair. 

God, Eddie kinda wishes it were him instead. He’s never been that much of an asshole, honestly. He was even pretty great about the whole birthday fee thing which was refreshing after arguing with people for a whole week beforehand - including Tommy. 

Eddie shares art class with Steve. Carol, too. Neither of them seem that bad. He just doesn’t understand why they’re friends with Tommy. 

Then again, there’s not much he understands these days.

eleven

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sorry if i missed anyone!!

[readychilledwine]

Could i request something where az and reader are mates. They have a huge fight and “break up” and reader leaves the court. She finds out that she is pregnant and writes him a letter. He never shows up so she thinks he doesn’t want the baby. Rhys visit the court she is in and sees her with a child maybe a couple months old. He is mad because she didn’t told him and when he ask her why she keeps his nephew away she tells him that she wrote az but he never answered. Rhys is mad and ask az what is up with him to just leave his pregnant mate. Unbeknownst to him that az was searching for her the whole time. Az tells him that he never got a letter and they find out that maybe elain burned it. It takes some time for them but they find their way back and just fluff azriel dad who teaches his son how to fly.

( you could write more angst between reader and az because of elain or you could use a maid or something who wants az)

Here Without You

Summary - Being a single mother was more painful than you'd ever thought it would be, especially when your son's father was just a court away.

Warnings - Angst, Elain showing those claws, single mom status, a child, PPD and the thoughts that come with it, **edited to add** cheating

A/N - I had one of my friends who is a single mom help me with this one while also imagining my life without baby daddy, and um, yeah. We cried a lot, so hopefully, you all do too.

*message from Liz regarding the ending at the end*

💙Peep my Azriel Masterlist Here💙

You had decided whatever you had done to offend the Mother must have been truly unforgettable and unforgivable as you sank against the wall of your family chambers in the Day Court Palace.

Being a new mother was the hardest thing you had ever and will ever do. You had finally gotten Nox down after 3 hours of fussing and tears, and now you waited. He'd sleep 2 hours if you were lucky, wake up crying, and you'd start the process over.

You had wished for your mate more times than you could count, but that bridge was long gone and burned. He had ensured of that by not coming when you wrote him, by not even bothering to write you a response.

The last fight between you and Azriel had been ugly. Glasses had been thrown, a bottle of wine knocked over in rage, cruel words you would both have to live with ringing in your ears like a scream. 350 years. Gone. Thrown away like garbage. All for Elain.

Selfish, plotting, destructive Elain.

You stood, body swaying with sleep deprivation setting in before sitting at the table where your now cold food set. You were too tired to eat, choosing to instead drink the water you had been desperately craving 4 hour ago.

You had wished you could turn it to wine, drink it with no consequences, and still feed Nox when he woke, but that was not the reality of the world. So, instead, you allowed the room temperature flavorless beverage to slide down your throat before moving like a ghost to the couch. There was no point in getting comfortable in your own bed. You would have to be up soon anyway. It wasn’t as if you had help.

You were alone.

And that wasn't even the most painful part of it.

The most painful part was setting in doubt. The growing disbelief that you weren't capable of this, that Nox deserved more, that you should have dropped him at the cabin you had no doubt Elain had moved into, leaving him with her and Azriel to allow you to-

You cut your brain off, refusing to put those words into a full thought. Refusing to believe that your disappearance or death was better for your son than this.

This had to be enough, you had to be enough, because Gods if it wasn't and you weren't, then what truly was the point in living any longer.

Helion entered your chambers the next morning, eyes falling to where you were sat on the floor, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through you. He placed a large warm hand on your shoulder before taking Nox from your arms. "I know I can not offer much of a break due to his feeding cycle, but when is the last time you ate a hot meal, y/n?"

You shook your head. He was 2 weeks old. You supposed it had been before labor. Since then, it had been moments begging for just a second of deep sleep. Moments begging for the Mother to help you, to guide you. Moments where those prayers went unanswered as if they were just thrown into a void. "I don't remember."

Helion could have killed Azriel for you, for Lucien, for Nox. He almost had when you had winnowed yourself here, collapsing in his arms from the exhaustion magic and a growing babe had caused your body.

You hadn't known when you came to the Day Court, begging your oldest friend for a week of safety and healing that you were pregnant, but the High Lord had scented it the second you appeared.

It left him wondering how the hell Azriel hadn't.

"Let me hire a wet nurse for you," he offered again, knowing you would turn it down since your depressive state had you hyper fixated in this belief that all you were good for now was your breasts, and if you gave that duty away, what purpose did you have? "At least for the next few hours. To give you time to rest?"

You still shook your head, messy, tangled hair trying to sway. "I can't. I can't burden someone else."

Helion turned his head away from you, willing himself not to cry at the emptiness of your voice, at the lifelessness you had become.

"The Night Court and Spring are coming today," he started slowly. "I am the magic selected neutral ground for Tamlin and Rhysand to begin setting a peace treaty and trade routes." He waited for your reaction, almost breaking further as you gave him none. "Do you want to see any of them?"

"Lucien and Tamlin."

Helion felt his heart shatter for Cassian, the male who had been asking about you for months now. "The general-"

"Is Azriel's brother. And probably has taken his side. Attempts to see me are probably to give him some sick sort of satisfaction."

He dropped the subject immediately. Nox was asleep, content in the High Lord's arms. "I have time before they arrive, go nap." Helion ordered it, eyes blazing a soft gold and forcing you into submission.

Your bed had never felt so soft.

Helion was walking with Nox around the Palace, smiling and cooing the little male. He was always content when he was being held, and you were so deeply asleep you hadn't even noticed Helion holding the boy to your chest as he nursed. He walked towards where Lucien and Tamlin were.

His son, his pride and joy, looked just radiant in his Day Court attire. The soft, off-white pleaded fabric draping him showed the new healthy build he had gained since Azriel and Elain's transgressions, a golden snake wrapped his bicep, new golden earrings adorned those many piercings.

Lucien paused, a look of concern etching his face when he saw Nox before shaking his head rapidly.

But it was too late, Helion was already in the room where Rhysand also stood with the Inner Circle. The Lord of Night's face fell as he looked at the Illyrian boy, looking so happy up at Helion as he dozed off.

Cassian had frozen, mid sentence with Nesta. He had tried to take a step, wanting to see the babe he immediately knew was his nephew. His eyes met Helion's pleading with permission to approach. Elain's face had paled. A mix of guilt and fear running across it before she schooled it into a faked look of hurt and sadness.

But it was Azriel's face the broke the High Lord. It was a look he knew all too well.

The look of a father who missed the birth of his child.

The look of a father who didn't know he had a child.

The look of a father mourning lost time.

Lucien moved to Helion, taking Nox before leaving the room quickly. The boy did as he always did when his head found Lucien's warm bare shoulder. He released a heavy breath, snuggling into that familiar scent and warmth. "Your mother did not call for me last night," they all heard his soft voice trailing off, speaking to their nephew softly.

"You will tell me everything I do not know," Rhysand demanded as if he was in his own court. "When the fuck was he born. Why were we not informed of her pregnancy?"

Tamlin looked to Helion, digging the shit further. "Is she in the same room as last time?" The Lord of Day nodded. "I will go see her while you all deal with this."

Helion didn't answer, walking to the centered round table and taking the head seat. "To begin, Rhysand, this is my court. You will not make demands of me in my home." They all sat, aside from Azriel. His gaze was locked on the hallway Lucien and Tamlin had gone down.

If he ran, he could catch them. He could see you. He could-

The slam of hands on a table ripped him from his thoughts, and his head snapped to Helion. The High Lord was blazing, glowing like the sun itself, heat radiating from him. "Sit. Down."

An hour later and Rhysand had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. "You saw her send each letter?"

Helion rolled his eyes, nodding again. "Every month after every check up and once after the birth."

Rhys pointed to Azriel. "But you never got them?"

"My son wouldn't be in another court if I had," Azriel's voice mirrored yours. Broken, empty, mourning. Mourning what was, what he had missed and would never get back. "You're sure she sent them to me?"

Helion could have snapped his neck. "Who else would have fathered her babe? You are the one who stepped out of the bonds of marriage and mateship. Not her."

Azriel paused, a sudden look of anger gracing his face as he looked up at Elain, shadows curling his ears. Nuala appeared, setting envelopes down in front of Rhysand. "In her room. Under her bed in a locked chest. Along with every communication you had tried to send to y/n, my lord."

Feyre gasped, turning her back to Elain and leaning further into Rhysand, holding Nyx tightly between them. She remembered those first few weeks. The sleepless nights, the pain, the emotional down pour. She would not have survived without Rhysand. Without Nesta and Mor. Without Cassian and you and Azriel. Her sister, the one who had held her as darkness swallowed her mind after her son's birth, had allowed you to endure this alone.

Azriel's hands shook, reaching for that stack. He separated out the letters. 10 for him. 2 for Rhysand and Feyre. 2 for Mor. 2 for Amren. 4 for Cassian and Nesta.

Helion stood. "I will let you all process this. Call for me when you are ready to do negotiations. The sooner you all leave, the better for her."

Rhysand's eyes shot up. "You won't let us explain to her-"

"Does it change the fact that he took Elain to their marriage bed? Does it change that he signed the annulment papers." Silence filled the room. "I believe that's why she left. Correct?" Rhys grit his teeth nodding. "Then all this changes is me, someone she trusts and feels safe with right now, informing her of what happened and allowing her to decide if she wants to reach out again from that point." He made a pointed look at Elain. "Which would not matter since I cannot see you removing the parasite from your court."

Helion walked into your room to Lucien and Nox laying skin to skin, a blanket over them as Tamlin held you, long fingers running through your dark hair. "And?" His son said.

"Your mate hid the letters regarding her pregnancy." Lucien whistled. "She's a snake hiding behind beautiful scales."

Azriel had tracked down your room with his shadows easily. The inner circle had been excused for the negotiations and allowed to explore the city. Cassian had flown Elain home, Mor and Amren winnowing Nesta behind them. Cassian wanted Elain out of his house, and Azriel could not have been more grateful to his brother for having his back.

He entered the room slowly and quietly. You were placing the babe in a crib on the balcony. It was shaded from the sun, shielded to remain the perfect temperature, and yet gave him access to fresh air, to the breeze.

You turned, eyes wide the second you saw Azriel. He moved to you so quickly that you could hardly process it. One second, your feet were on the ground, and the next, arms held you tight against him. Azriel was breathing deeply, memorizing your scent all over again.

He set you down, keeping you close to his chest, and sent a prayer to the Mother. "Elain hid all the letters," he began slowly. "She kept them all in her room. I didn't know. Had I known about you, about him, I would have crawled the very depths of hell to bring you back home to me."

You didn't answer. Tears fell as your body relaxed into him. It wasn't fair. The hold he had on you. The need you still felt in your bones when he touched your skin. You ached for Azriel so deeply it echoed into your bones. You longed for his smell. His voice.

Azriel took your silence as permission to continue. "I made a mistake. I will never be able to make up for it. Elain knew the second you left, I wanted to correct this. I was so blinded by her, by the feeling of being needed like that again, that I forgot how precious your independence was. How beautiful it is."

He couldn't stop himself from kissing the top of your head. "You are all I think about. Morning, noon, and night, it is always and will always be you. I am so sorry for what I have done. I am sorry for hurting you, for ruining us, for hurting the family we should be raising together. There are no words for my remorse."

"Why?" Your voice broke as you asked. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Azriel pulled back to look at you, hand raising to hold your chin and force eye contact. "Y/n, you are not at fault for my actions. You did nothing wrong. There is no partial blame, no what ifs. I fucked up. I made a mistake and it cost both of us everything. You are the victim of my actions, not the catalyst."

He saw you process those words and saw as they sunk in. "You were and are more than I will ever deserve. I want to spend my lifetime making up for it. Becoming a male you are proud of. I want to be the father I never got to have. I want to be the husband and mate you deserve. I know it will take time, and I do not expect your forgiveness today, but if you give me a chance, I will go to my grave worshipping the ground you two walk."

"Do you want to meet our son?" He broke at the question, feeling the bond opening back on your end. "This doesn't mean we're back together. It means we need to coparent for him while we work on things." He nodded rapidly, following you to the bassinet.

It felt like the world was coming full circle. You knew it would take time, that you two had many things to discuss first. This was a needed good start, though. Your pain eased slightly as you pulled back the curtains to the crib and whispered, "Azriel, this is Nox, your son."

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**I have received some pretty nasty anon asks, some unconstructive comments, and a good amount of general negativity regarding this fic. If you are unhappy with the ending and want to know why I made the choices I made as the author, click #discussingherewithoutyou. Unconstructive comments will be receiving the same copy and paste answer from here forward.

My time and content are free. If you do not like them, scroll.

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