#I could do so much now if I still had that passion

[imhappierthanever]

“Stay with me.” You said pulling her back down into bed, letting her body tangle between the white satin sheets and your body. Playfully, you trapped her underneath you, letting your hair cascade down her body. She giggled from the ticklish feeling, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear.

You ran your fingers over her delicate lace vintage bra, your other hand pulling her slip down before trailing sweet kisses on her shoulder.

You knew she had to go. You knew she had a full day of work and interviews. A million things to do before she would leave for Australia to tour again. But for now, you just wanted to save the moments between you. All the sweet and soft kisses that lingered on your lips, the way her skin felt on yours, the way her eyes bore into your soul. You didn’t want any of it to stop.

“Can’t you cancel?” You whispered onto her skin. “I can make it worth your while.” You said biting your lip, staring into her gorgeous eyes you were forever lost in. You felt her hand caress the back of your head, pulling you closer so your lips would dance again.

“You make everything sound so good sweet girl. How can I say no to you and your gorgeous face.”

You lit up inside and out. Your excitement being too much to hide. You wrapped your arms around her body, kissing her as a thank you.

“How will you…make it up to me though, baby? What will you do?” Billie asked smirking.”

“Well, I’d start by getting you out of this pretty little vintage outfit of yours that’s driving me crazy.”

“Yeah?” Billie asked biting her lip.

“And then I supposed I’d like to taste you.” You said letting your index finger trail shapes and patterns on her skin.

“How would you do that, my love?” She asked grabbing your hand, placing kisses to it softly.

“I’d kiss you here and there. I’d probably let my mouth explore you.” You broke your eye contact to kiss her ear, biting gently before whispering “All of you.” Billie bit her lip, anxiously waiting for you to make everything a reality.

Soft music played in the background as the sound of rain hit your window. The promise of a cloudy grey day hung in the air, Billie’s favourite kind of day.

Slowly, you undressed each other, letting your bodies press together. Nothing was rushed. Every moment between you both was so tender and filled with love. Moments like this were everything to you and you never wanted them to end.

You both rolled around in bed, hand in hand, sharing passionate kisses, making love over and over, losing count of how many times it had actually been. You took turns gripping sheets, holding onto each other, telling each other sweet nothings as wetness between your bodies helped you to glide, clinging to one another.

You pulled the blanket over both of you, trapping her underneath, stealing even more kisses from Billie.

“I love you, Billie. So much.” You breathed laying your head on her plump chest. Her fingers tangled in your hair, kissing your head before she told you the same words back, pulling your body closer to hers if they were even possible.

“I don’t ever want this to end. I just wish we could lie here like this forever. I never need anything else. You’re all I need and love and want.” You said lacing your fingers, still trying to feel closer to her, trying to get your fill as the days trickled down.

And it was true. Nothing made you feel the way she could. No one made your heart beat quite as fast, made you lose your breath or goosebumps fall into your skin like Billie. She was the absolute love of your life. And you were hers. Even though distance couldn’t come between that, you still despised it because it forced you to be apart.

But for now, you were focusing on what you had together. Focusing on maybe just one more round. Maybe just a few more hours just holding each other and falling more in love. A few more hours of sweet sounds escaping her lips. And your legs tangled, hearts beating fast and the desire between you burning more intensely than ever. Today was for both of you and nothing else.

[himbodruid]

Painting Lessons

Rafayel x Reader

I don’t even know what keywords to use for this one lmao

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

“I don’t think I understand, Rafayel,” you say, tilting your head at the canvas in front of you. You sat in the cushioned nook beneath the giant bay windows that made up his studio, an easel in front of you and various supplies scattered around you. Rafayel sat next to you with his own canvas, guiding you along his creative process. While the painting in front of him flowed whimsically, yours looked…strained and forced. The subject matter was the same, and technically speaking it wasn’t the worst thing you’d painted under his tutelage. But something about it was still off.

“Your brain is thinking too logically,” he said over your shoulder, having leaned in to inspect the canvas.

“I’m a hunter, of course my brain is logical,” you say, scrunching your nose. Rafayel chuckled.

“Yes, yes, Miss Bodyguard, we’re all aware of your mental prowess. But when you’re painting, you have to feel the picture, not think it.”

“I feel it!” Your pout was met with another chuckle. Rafayel then moved behind you, sitting so that his legs rested on either side of yours. It was a far more intimate position than you were used to with him, and you felt yourself flush. As much of a terrible flirt as he was, you knew you shouldn’t read into how he wrapped a steadying arm around your waist, or how he took your hand in his and guided your paintbrush with deft strokes. His hand engulfed yours, his cool touch a stark contrast to the blushing heat radiating off you.

“You need to let the paint guide you, not the other way around. Stop thinking and worrying too much about getting to the end result, instead let yourself revel in the journey. Because that’s what painting is- a journey.”

You fought back the shudder that threatened to overtake you at the warmth of his voice directly in your ear. The light and airy quality of it as he talked about his passion. The breathy undertones as the warmth of your body sunk into his. He released your hand and pulled his back, resting it on your knee. You sat deathly still in front of him, and you had to resist the urge to lean back into him when he pulled away.

“There, see?” He reached over to his abandoned spot and grabbed his paint pallet. “Now take a little bit of this tangerine colour.”

“Wait, what?” You question, looking back at the colours of the Koi fish circling in a dusk-darkened pond. The hues ranged from deep reds, to purples, to varying shades of blue. You were convinced that a bright splash of colour would end up ruining it.

“Just trust me,” he chuckled. “Having a bright contrasting colour will help to draw the eye and guide the viewer around the painting. Don’t add a lot, just the barest outline on the fish.”

You skeptically did what he suggested, and were pleasantly surprised when the tiniest bit helped to pop the fish right off the canvas. Once done, you did lean back to look at it. It still wasn’t anywhere near his level, but it wasn’t awful either. You turned and flashed a grin at him. In doing so, you found him watching you with a painful tenderness in his eyes. A soft smile danced on his face and…wait, was he leaning into you?

A ringing phone was definitely a stereotypical mood-breaker. You huffed an awkward laugh, slumping in disappointment. But when you tried to turn your head away, Rafayel crooked a finger under your chin and pulled your face back to his. The kiss was unhurried, testing whatever feeling, whatever tension, that had been growing for the last hour that he’d caged you against him. Any and all thoughts on the painting lesson vanished from your head, and only he remained. He slanted his lips over yours, taking the kiss further when you didn’t pull away from him. His hand trailed your jaw, curling around to cradle the back of your head, with the pad of his thumb brushing along your cheek. You could feel his heart thundering in his chest through your back, and your heart raced alongside his.

Distracted by him, by his touch, your hand fumbled the paintbrush and it slipped from your grasp. That fiery tangerine colour streaked across his black trousers, thoroughly ruining them. You jerked with a gasp, covering your mouth in horror as the pair of you watched the offending brush roll to the floor.

“Shit, Raf, I am so sorry. I’ll pay for dry cleaning!”

He didn’t reply, just continued to hold you back against him. Hot breath moved the waterfall of hair that barely separated him from you, and it tickled your neck. You were very aware of his lips just a hair's breadth away from meeting your flesh. You subconsciously tilted your head away from his, granting him access to your neck. Those elegant fingers of his rose to brush your hair aside so that he could kiss below your ear, the slope of your neck, your shoulder. Wherever his mouth roamed, your skin heated until you were almost sure you had a full body blush.

“What if,” he murmured between kisses, “I wanted you to pay another way?”

You inhaled sharply when he scraped his teeth against your flesh. With a hand gripping his thigh, you leaned back into his soft bite. It was just enough to sting, but not enough to be painful, and the sensation shot straight to your core. It must have had the same effect on him, as you were certain you could feel him growing hard against your lower back.

And fuck, the sounds he made. The tiniest of whimpered moans that you could barely hear as his hands roamed your body. Those hands that pulled your off-the-shoulder shirt from the waistband of your jeans, that slid up your sides under your shirt. Hands that rested against your ribs, just below your chest in a pseudo innocent touch that seared through you.

You reached your hand up to brush a strand of hair back into place on his forehead and his eyes opened. Those beautiful, deep cerulean depths with flecks of fuschia locked onto you as you turned your head back to him. His lips crashed against yours again, tongue darting against your lower lip to coax you open. The moan he let loose when you did was like a jolt to your core. His right hand engulfed your left breast, his arm wrapped around you and pulled you against him. His unoccupied hand drifted down your abdomen, easily flicking open the button on your jeans and sinking beneath the hem. Your gasp was swallowed by him when those deft fingers of his touched you, testing the slickness of your folds. He groaned into you, finding you wet and wanting.

And then he ripped himself from you, and suddenly you were flat on your back with him on hands and knees over you. His face was flushed and his breathing was ragged, eyes searching yours. Your head tilted and you touched his lower lip softly with a finger. Then trailed that finger down his chin, across his jaw. His breath turned to short gasps as your fingers continued to drift featherlight touches down his neck, his collarbone, and finally the little bit of his chest that peeked between the open edges of his shirt.

He snatched your wrist and brought it to his face. He nuzzled your skin with his nose, an act reminisce of a time he went insane over a silly little perfume. You couldn’t miss how his eyes were darkened with desire, his gaze flicking to yours.

“Cutie,” he groaned, kissing your wrist. “I don’t think i can hold back any longer.”

Grasping the back of his neck, you pulled him down atop you and crashed your lips against his. He moaned into your mouth, setting his weight on you. He pressed you into the cushions beneath you, his knee wedging between yours. You could feel him through the fabric that separated you, hard and heavy. Slipping your hand between your bodies, you cupped his length through his trousers. With a whimpering gasp of a moan, his hips jerked forward. He buried his face against your neck, his breathy moans interrupted by his lips caressing your skin.

“Rafayel,” you breathed, rubbing your legs against his as you hitched them up to wrap around his waist. “I need you.”

It took great effort for him to tear himself away from you. But his blush grew deeper when you sat up, removed your shirt and lay beneath him in just the lacy bra you’d concealed with that plain white tee. It wasn’t intentional, wearing that kind of titillating bra, but you were glad you did when his eyes raked down your body. His shaky hands fumbled with the waistband of your jeans, and you helped him slide the denim down your legs.

And then you lay bare beneath him, running your hands up and down his body after unbuttoning his shirt. Breathy sighs escaped him, turning into those whimpering moans when you unzipped his trousers and freed his cock from its constraint. Your hand wrapped around him, pumping him while you watched his reactions. He clenched his eyes closed, biting his lip to try and halt the noises that threatened to escape. Try as he might, though, the guttural sounds still fell from him with every forward press of his hips. Until finally he wrenched your hand away, pinning it by your head and positioned himself so his cock lay heavy against your pelvis.

“Keep doing that, cutie, and I can’t be held responsible for the mess,” he groaned into your ear. Despite the sun pouring down from the windows, and the heat building between your bodies, Rafayel’s touch was still cool and made you shiver when his hand made its way to your breasts. His lips laid a blazing trail of kisses down your neck, nipping your collarbone, against each breast as his face slipped between them.

His mouth latched onto those mounds, eyes watching you as his tongue lathed first one nipple, then the other. All the while, he trailed that hand down your body until you could feel those elegant fingers dipping into your slick folds. He curled them into you and you couldn’t help the gasped moan that escaped you. He continued until you gripped his arm forcefully to keep him from drawing you over the edge- much like he did when he removed your touch from him. His groan turned into a breathy chuckle and he removed his fingers.

“So wet for me already?” His eyes locked onto your face when he brought those fingers to his face and- fuck the moan he let loose when he tasted you.

He rolled his hips back, aligning himself against your entrance. Your heart thundered in anticipation, you squirmed beneath him and still he wouldn’t push himself into you. Though his eyes were half-lidded by desire, the smirk on his face told you he delighted in teasing you. But the blush spread across his cheeks, from ear to ear, showed that he wasn’t entirely unaffected.

You shifted your hips, pulling him forward with your legs at the same time. The barest of penetration sent a shudder through him and his hips jerked forward. Sheathed on you in one full motion, he dropped his head to your chest with the deepest, most guttural sound you’d ever heard from him.

He trembled with the effort to remain still, mistaking your gasp for that of one of pain. You hadn’t expected him to fill you so wonderfully, the length and girth of him was…fuck, it was like he was made for you. He crashed his lips against yours, pressing forward so impossibly deep. Your moan was devoured by him as he pistoned in and out, grinding against you on every full thrust. Pleasured sounds erupted from him, his voice rising to join yours in a duet of ecstasy. Your arms folded around his shoulders, fingers gripping hard into the loose fabric of his shirt and no doubt leaving wrinkles in their wake.

“How do you feel so good?” He whimpered against your neck before pulling away. He lifted himself onto an elbow, just enough so he could watch your body’s reaction to him. The way your tits bounced with each thrust, the gasping moan when he struck that sweet spot deep inside, the way your hands clenched into his shoulders. Every detail was absorbed by those oceanic depths that made up his eyes, half-lidded by desire.

“Mmmh, every time I slam my cock into you,” he said, punctuating his words with a particularly hard thrust, “I love seeing your body ripple like freshly disturbed water on a calm lake.”

“Rafayel,” you whimpered to him, his words driving straight to your core until you felt something building there. His body dipped and curved, making each of his thrusts seem like a twisting dance, with his voice ringing out into the wide open space around you. He leaned into you, each stroke of his cock accentuated by a moan that you swallowed alongside his tongue.

Soft words murmured into your ear when he buried his face into your neck, and it took a moment for you to dig yourself up from the haze and realize they weren’t english. You recognized the cadence as Lemurian from the few times he spoke his mother tongue around you, and the sound of those words sent a thrill shuddering through you, despite not knowing their meaning.

“R-Rafa..yel,” you breathed, his name broken by a gasp as he tilted your hips by wrapping an arm around your lower back.

“Yes,” he purred into your ear, the pace of his thrusts increasing.

“I’m- I,” you stammered out, not able to form a coherent thought through the building pleasure.

“Yes,” he moaned, his breathing growing erratic as he carried you both to that brink. His hand cradled your head against his chest while all you could do was cling to him with trembling limbs.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-“ he breathed, his sentence cut off by a loud, guttural moan that was ripped from him. You dipped over the edge immediately behind him, the pulsing throb of his cock a mirror to the flutter of your walls wrapped around him. His body, his hips, his breath all trembling, jerking as the climax steamrolled through him. You slumped back into the cushions beneath you, firmly clenching your legs around his trim waist so he wouldn’t dare leave you.

But he didn’t. Instead he let his full weight rest on you, and you reveled in the warmth you shared while basked in bright afternoon sunlight. He pulled back just enough so his eyes could roam your face. He brushed a stray strand of hair away, smiling at you so tenderly that it bordered on painful. He huffed a light, airy chuckle before resting his forehead against yours. With eyes closed, he took a moment to stabilize his breathing before kissing you softly.

“Beautiful,” he murmured to you. He laid in your embrace, absorbing warmth from you and the sun, and you welcomed his weight atop you.

The moment came to an end far too quickly. With one last peck of a kiss, he untangled himself from you and stretched. Your eyes drank him in, gliding over the lithe muscle of his physique before finding him…somehow still hard. You cleared your throat, having caught yourself staring, and sought to cover yourself.

“Not a chance,” he chuckled, yanking your shirt from your hand and tossing it aside. Before you could complain, he scooped you into his arms bridal style and carried you through the villa. His stride didn’t miss a single step until he deposited you in front of the large clawfoot bathtub that sat below windows that overlooked the sea.

While the tub filled, he went to work stripping out of the clothes he still wore. And he kept his eyes locked on you as he did. First the wrinkled shirt struck the tile floor, and then the trousers that were now stained with more than just paint. You almost hated how alluring you found his little tease of a show.

When the bath was done, he helped you into the steaming water and climbed in behind you. Now caged against him in a similar position that started this whole tryst, you relaxed fully into him

“Rafayel?”

“Hmm?”

“Earlier when we…earlier you said something that sounded like Lemurian. What was it?” His arms wrapped around you and you felt him kiss the top of your head.

“Something along the lines of ‘drown in the ocean with me’,” he said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality.

“How poetic,” you sigh contentedly.

Comfortable silence spread between you as he washed you, first your body and then your hair. Your heart stuttered at the care and attention he showered you with while in that bath. And that pulse soon made its way downward as those skilled fingers of his sunk into you and stroked you through another release.

And still he didn’t stop there. After drying your hair for you and carrying you to his bed, he made sure that his name was the only thing on your mind- the only thing you shouted to the vaulted ceilings of his bedroom. He also made his pleasure known by raising his voice with yours.

You were certain anyone standing on the street outside the villa would know exactly what was happening.

****

Later That Night

“What?” Rafayel’s groggy voice was impatient as he held his phone to his ear.

“Don’t hang up!” Thomas’s voice was the last thing he wanted to hear at that moment, and Rafayel grumbled.

“I’m hanging up,” Rafayel threatened, pulling the phone away from his ear to do just that. He glanced at your sleeping form, glad the phone hadn’t woken you like it had him. Granted, he’d worn you out so thoroughly that he would be surprised if you even woke before noon.

“I know you’re…preoccupied, but all I’m asking is that you don’t forget about the event the night after tomorrow.”

“Yeah, fine, fiiine- wait, what do you mean preoccupied? How would you know?”

Rafayel swore he could hear Thomas blush over the phone in the loaded silence that filled his question.

Thomas cleared his throat. “When you refused to answer the phone earlier, I stopped by the villa and…realized that you were…rather busy.”

“Definitely busy,” Rafayel chuckled, ending the call without so much as a goodbye to Thomas.

After all, he had somewhere he needed to be. Rafayel crawled back in bed beside you, giving the back of your neck a lingering kiss and gathering you up against him.

Sleep overtook him more quickly than he’d ever experienced during the night.

[neeeooon]

Hey! How would the bllk boys (Bachira, Isagi, Chigiri, Rin + your choice?) React to their SO trying to break up with them bc she's insecure about not being ambitious enough and she thinks they should be with someone 'better'?

omg this made me so sad 😭 hopefully you enjoy!

when you try to break up with them because you’re insecure ;

bf bllk x fem!reader

bachira meguru

-> watching bachira dance across the field was your favorite thing in the world, but it could be bittersweet. you saw how happy it made him, and it sucked to know that you’d never feel that kind of excitement

-> the thoughts about not being good enough finally got to you, and you caved. “meg? when you have a minute?” “what’s up, y/n?”

-> you didn’t think it’d be this hard. “i… i don’t think i’m ambitious enough to be your girlfriend. i don’t have a thing like you do, and i feel like maybe i’m distracting you? like instead of being on the field, you’re with me, and that’s not fair to you and your dreams.”

-> after a moment of staring and blinking and confused looks from bachira, he jumps up and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. “just because you don’t have a ‘thing’, doesn’t mean i don’t want you.”

-> he releases you and flashes his signature head-tilt-smile combo that wrecks your heart. “i can help you find something that drives you as much as soccer drives me, if you want! and if you don’t, that’s okay, too! but whatever it is, i want us to do it together. okay? :>”

isagi yoichi

-> after watching team blue lock play against the u20 team and win, hearing how determined your boyfriend was during the interview, watching him celebrate with his teammates, you made up your mind

-> “yoichi? can we talk?” and he starts sweating because he hasn’t seen or heard from you except for a little “congrats!” text since his game

-> you sit him down and stare into your lap as you say, “i think we should break up.”

-> he leans forward to ask why, but stops when you look up to reveal tears in your eyes. “i don’t have a dream. i’m not ambitious like you, and i don’t want to hold you back from achieving your dreams. i want you to live a full, prosperous life with someone better—“

-> and he’s kissing you. “y/n, no. i don’t… there isn’t anyone better. yes, this is my dream, but it’s a dream with you in it! and no one says prosperous, babe.”

-> you laugh at that and he helps wipe your tears away. “do you promise?” “i promise.”

chigiri hyoma

-> you loved watching chigiri regain his dream of running and playing soccer, but there were times when you felt like he was going to pass you by and not look back

-> it made you insecure, knowing he was so happy chasing after this dream that had previously been out of reach, when you didn’t have anything to compare it to. you felt like he could do better with someone who understood his struggles

-> “hyoma?” “hm?” “can i talk to you about something?” “mhm!” “something serious?” “… okay.”

-> and you tell him everything. “i feel like you could do better. like if you were with someone who truly understood your struggles and dreams, that you’d be happier. i love you, but i don’t want to be a deadweight in your future.”

-> chigiri would look at you, know you’re not joking, but still think this is a huge prank. “y/n, i’m able to run toward my dream because of you. because in my head, you’re there at the finish line. you’re not holding be back, you’re giving me something to run to.” you cried after that for sure

itoshi rin

-> though you cheered for your boyfriend and encouraged him every step of the way, you didn’t think you’d ever amount to the love and passionate rin has for soccer

-> it made you doubt yourself, seeing him so ambitious to strive for this dream when you didn’t have anything close to amounting

-> when it finally got to be too much, you pulled your boyfriend aside and kept your hands at your sides. “you are the most talented person i know.”

-> and now he’s nervous. “what’s going on, y/n?”

-> “i feel like i’m pulling you away from that when i’m around. i think your career would be better off without me dragging you down. you’re such a skilled player, rin, and i’m just—“

-> he takes your hands in his and squeezes them, almost desperately. “don’t say anything else. i don’t want to hear it, y/n, please. i can’t do this without you. you aren’t pulling me away or dragging me down, so don’t—“

-> this time it’s you who cuts him off when you fling yourself against his chest. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know… thank you for telling me.”

michael kaiser

-> omg he is terrified when you ask him to “talk” because he’s 98% sure he left the oven on and thinks you found out

-> but when you say, “i think we should break up,” his mind goes blank

-> “why.” “i just feel like you’re so focused on chasing your dream that you don’t need me… i can’t help you become a better player, and i don’t want to hold you back—“ “did i do something?” “huh?”

-> kaiser would look at you with such sad eyes, but accept this thinking that you want to leave him. “if you want to go, i won’t stop you. don’t stay with me if you aren’t happy anymore, y/n—“

-> you are confused, because how has the conversation changed this much? “what the heck, no! michael, i’m saying you can do better than me—“ “but i don’t want ‘better’! there isn’t ‘better’. i want you!”

[writingwithfolklore]

I Cut Out Social Media for 30 Days and It Changed My Life

Okay hefty title, but I mean every word of it.

Over January I followed a book called Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport. I'm sure you've already been lectured to death about how bad technology and social media is for you, so I won't repeat the statistics here. What I will say is that Newport suggests that there are also positives to technology and that abandoning it altogether is not realistic. Instead, he proposes that we define our values, and then use technology to attain them--rather than allowing technology to define what values we should hold.

To do this, Newport suggests a complete "detox" of non-essential technologies for 30 days. That means abstaining from social media, netflix and other streaming services, videogames, etc. But of course still being able to phone loved ones, email for work, and use google maps if you're going somewhere new, etc. In doing this detox, he proposes that we will be able to better understand what values we hold as people, not just as consumers of technology.

He was right.

At first I found it really hard. Right away I noticed that any activity other than doomscrolling and watching endless hours of Youtube took a lot more brain power. I started doing puzzles, reading, writing (a lot!), cooking and baking, and taking many walks with my dog. By the end of the day I'd be fuzzy and exhausted, and all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch my favourite shows. I didn't, but I wanted to.

But then I started to notice my "brain stamina" (I'm sure there's a better term for it but oh well) started to improve. Instead of writing for two hours before getting fuzzy, I could write for four. And then six. And then eight. Slowly, I found myself being able to do more in a day, to focus for longer on one task, and I didn't feel as drained by the end of it. I had a clearer mind, I could remember things a lot better, I was no longer struggling to find really easy words--they just came to me.

This all also resulted in me spending so much more time with my friends and family. I realized that I really valued this time--and that it wasn't something I could replace by hitting 'like' on an instagram post from them. I rediscovered community, passion, and in many ways, humanity.

It was like I was looking at the world in a new way. I started to notice more, be curious about more. I kind of remember being this way as a kid, and I couldn't believe how I had ever let that go. Now, the idea of sitting on my couch and watching hours and hours of Youtube in every moment of my free time feels inconceivable.

However, my 30 days are up, and so Newport suggests setting some rules to reintroduce what technology I believe supports my values. I've decided not to return to Instagram, but that I do value keeping up to date with the gaming community and pop culture, which I do on Youtube. Now, Youtube is something that I watch for a couple hours on weekends, instead of eating up every bit of free time I have. I also value interacting with other writers and the writing community, so I've created a couple hours in my schedule to check Tumblr and my Discord and keep up to date with you guys here.

But now most of my free time is spent reading or writing, or being with my family and friends, and I value that most of all. To demonstrate how much has changed, in the months before my detox, I wrote maybe 2500 words. Since my detox, I've written 40 000. Last year, I read about four books. In just one month during my detox, I read 10.

If this sounds like something you'd be interested in trying for yourself, feel free to reach out to me! I'd love to talk more about my experience and things that worked or didn't work for me. I'd also really recommend the book, it was incredibly helpful in determining what rules were healthy to set and how to get out of technology and then back in with success.

Back to usual content soon :-)

[decayed-cartilage]

do you currently take requests? i absolutely ADORE the way you write hannibal and may be a little (aka very) obsessed with the current intern series.. if you do requests could i request dark/yandere hannibal general headcanons :33 could be nsfw or sfw im fine with literally anything you write 🥲

A/n: thank you for suggesting 😊 I really hope I do this justice... Ive never like done this format and I think I wrote a lil too much 😮‍💨 but please let me know how you feel!! 💕 Big kisses

WARNINGS: stalking! Smut! Fingering! Taking advantage! Mentions of death! Allusion to cannibalism!

Yandere! Hannibal headcannons + mini fic(s)

Masterlist

Yandere! Hannibal who deliberately took up new hobbies—ones he knew you loved—just to have an excuse to spend more time with you.

Y/N lit up the moment she stepped into the studio, her eyes wide with happiness. It was an expression I had come to enjoy—genuine, seeing me among the rest of the potters.

"Doctor Lecter! I had no idea you enjoyed pottery as well!" she said, her voice warm, even a giggle slipping out.

I smiled, hands still dusted with clay. It was true that I had no particular passion for pottery, but I had learned. For her. And now, standing before me, she believed this was a passion of mine.

"Of course, Miss L/n," I replied easily, meeting her gaze. "I'm sure we've spoken of it before."

She hesitated, just for a second. Had we? The question flickered behind her eyes, but she dismissed it just as quickly. If I said it was so, then surely it must be.

She launched into conversation without another thought, her words flowing freely—soft, lively, unguarded. I nodded at all the right moments, smiling when she laughed, watching the way her enthusiasm bubbled over. It was an effortless thing, listening to her.

But my attention wasn’t truly on her.

It was on him.

Her boyfriend stood just behind her, arms crossed, gaze flicking disinterestedly over the room. He had no appreciation for the art, not even for the things that brought her joy. He was here out of obligation, not care. And yet, he stood at her side, playing the role he assumed was expected of him.

I watched him, my gaze steady. Unwavering. Not a glare, not an obvious threat—but something quieter. A measured, deliberate look that spoke more than words ever could.

He felt it. I could see it in the way his posture tightened, in the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. He wouldn’t meet my eyes for long.

Good.

She didn’t notice. She was still talking, still laughing, blissfully unaware of the moment unfolding between us. But I held my gaze a beat longer, just to be sure the message was understood.

Just to be sure he knew he didn’t belong.

Yandere! Hannibal, who carefully manipulated doubt into your mind, never overtly suggesting you leave your boyfriend—but making you see the cracks you’d once ignored.

Hannibal watched you unravel in real-time, your delicate fingers fidgeting with the loose thread on your sleeve, your voice quiet, hesitant. You were always hesitant when it came to him. That fool. That boy who didn’t understand what he had—what he was so carelessly throwing away.

"He left me in the middle of the store… and I was so scared," you murmured, like you were embarrassed by the admission, like it wasn’t something that should infuriate you.

But you weren’t angry. No, you were simply hurt. Still trying to justify his actions, trying to shrink your feelings into something more tolerable, something that wouldn’t make you seem like a burden.

Hannibal exhaled slowly, though the tension coiled within him like a serpent.

"He knows about your anxiety, doesn’t he?"

The way your breath hitched—so subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t watching for it—told him the answer before you even nodded.

Of course he knew. And yet he still did it.

How reckless. How unworthy.

Hannibal’s fingers curled slightly against the arm of his chair as he studied you, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you question it, just long enough for the thought to begin forming in your own mind before he spoke again.

"Then he knew what he was doing."

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. One that you needed to hear. One that you needed to accept.

You frowned slightly, your gaze lowering as if you were trying to find some hidden excuse for him among the lines in your palm.

Hannibal leaned forward just slightly, lowering his voice, making it intimate. “And when you found him… what did he say?”

You swallowed. That small, nervous movement of your throat. He wanted to reach out, to smooth his thumb over the tension there. Instead, he waited.

"He just laughed. Said I was overreacting."

Overreacting.

Hannibal nearly smiled. Not out of amusement, but out of sheer disbelief at the audacity of such a dismissive remark.

“I see,” he murmured, but there was nothing soft about it. “Tell me… if it were the other way around, if you had left him there, knowing his fears, knowing how much distress it would cause him, would you have simply laughed?”

Your reaction was immediate—head shaking, eyes widening, an instinctual no.

Of course not. Because you were kind. You were thoughtful. You cared too much, even for those who didn’t deserve it.

He tilted his head, studying you, letting you sit with the realization. “Then why does he deserve that kind of grace?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Nothing to say. No excuse to offer.

Good.

Hannibal relaxed back into his chair, watching you intently, watching the weight of his words settle into you. He didn’t need to say anything else. The idea was already there, curling around your thoughts, winding itself into your heart.

All he had to do now was wait.

Yandere! Hannibal, who held you as you cried over your breakup, but secretly was getting off on it.

She collapsed into me the moment she stepped inside, her fragile frame trembling as if the weight of her sorrow had finally become too much to bear. I caught her effortlessly, as if I had always been meant to, my arms wrapping around her without hesitation. She was so small like this, so breakable, and yet, she clung to me as though I were the only thing keeping her from falling apart entirely.

I settled her in my lap, letting her bury her face against my chest, her quiet sobs muffled against my suit. My fingers threaded through her hair, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she melted into my touch. She fit so perfectly here, as though she had always belonged in my arms.

"There, there," I murmured, my voice a soft lull, soothing, patient. "You’re safe now."

She shuddered at the word, pressing closer, gripping my jacket like a lifeline. Such a delicate thing, so desperate for comfort, for security. And she had come to me for it. Just as I knew she would.

I had warned her. Had spent countless hours listening to her, guiding her, gently nudging her toward the truth. That man had never deserved her. He had only ever caused her pain. And now, here she was, weeping in my arms, proving me right.

I tightened my hold on her, tilting my head down so my lips were close to her ear. "I told you, my dear," I whispered, my voice a quiet promise, a claim. "I would never abandon you like he did."

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t question it. She simply let herself sink deeper into me, into my warmth, into everything I had been so patiently offering her.

And God, if that wasn’t the most intoxicating thing of all. The way she nestled into me, completely unaware, her soft, warm body pressing so perfectly against mine. Every shudder, every shift, only made me grow harder—her delicate frame settling right over my bulge. She didn’t notice, too lost in her grief, too trusting, too utterly mine.

Yandere! Hannibal, who killed your ex and invited you into his home as if he did nothing.

She arrived at my door without memory of the decision to come, her body guiding her on instinct. I saw it in the way her frame sagged, the way her breath hitched unevenly, her red-rimmed eyes barely able to lift to meet mine. The moment I opened the door, her lips parted, voice ruined.

“Hannibal.”

The sight of her in distress, so utterly lost, sent a quiet thrill through me. But I said nothing at first. I merely stepped aside, allowing her entrance. She obeyed, stepping into the warmth of my home, though she looked as if she hardly felt it.

Her arms wrapped around herself as she stood just past the doorway, fragile, crumbling. "He's dead," she whispered. "They found him—my boyfriend. His head was on a fence. Just… stuck there. In the middle of nowhere."

I shut the door with a soft click, carefully hiding the satisfaction that curled in my chest.

"That's terrible," I said, smoothing my voice into something gentle, something she needed.

She let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Terrible." Her fingers brushed at her swollen eyes, sniffling. "I just… I don’t get it. Who does that?"

I took a slow step closer, allowing my presence to steady her. “Cruelty is often senseless,” I murmured. “But you shouldn’t let this consume you.”

She shook her head, lips pressing together, fighting another wave of emotion. "How am I supposed to just… move on from this?"

"You don't have to figure that out tonight." I reached for her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder, watching as she exhaled, accepting the comfort, needing it. "You need to eat. Come, sit with me for dinner."

She hesitated. Her stomach twisted—grief stealing her appetite, no doubt. But she was exhausted, vulnerable. She needed something to ground her, and so she followed.

The meal I had prepared sat warm and inviting before us, though she barely touched it. Her fork scraped against the plate, each bite an effort. Her body was weary, her hands shaking as she set the utensil down. Her lip trembled as she pressed her fingers into her lap, trying to control her breathing, trying not to break.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, voice cracking. "I—I can't stop crying. I feel so stupid. I don’t even know why I came here." A weak, bitter laugh left her. "I just… I didn't know where else to go."

How beautifully tragic. How utterly mine.

I took my time, dabbing at the corner of my mouth before setting my napkin aside. "There is no need to apologize," I said, calm, unwavering. "Grief isn't something to push down. You are allowed to feel this, especially here. You are safe with me."

Her pretty lips trembled further, her lashes wet with fresh tears. They spilled over before she could stop them, a choked laugh escaping her as she shook her head.

“God,” she sniffled, grabbing her napkin and dabbing at her face. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

I tilted my head, gaze steady. “Not at all,” I murmured.

A fragile smile attempted to grace her lips, though it barely held. She played with the fabric of her sleeve, her fingers delicate, uncertain. Slowly, she picked up her fork again, forcing herself to eat. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I leaned forward slightly, watching her closely.

“You don’t have to find out.”

The words wove themselves into the air between us, binding her tighter to me. If she weren’t so drained, so consumed by grief, perhaps she would have questioned them. Perhaps she would have felt the weight of my claim.

But instead, she only nodded, clinging to me as her anchor, unaware that I had already secured her in place.

Yandere! Hannibal who fucked any thought you had of your ex out of your head.

Her sobs were beautiful. Each one made her smaller in my arms, pressing closer, seeking comfort, seeking me. I held her as if she were fragile, my touch gentle, patient—calculated. She was unraveling, and I had known she would.

I had known she would come to me.

And now, here she was, breaking apart, utterly lost. My sweet girl. My perfect little dove. She lifted her head, glassy, swollen eyes searching for something, anything, that might make the pain lessen. I could see the moment it happened—the way her gaze faltered on my lips, how the realization hit her.

Yes, my dear. That’s it.

I had been guiding her to this, shaping her thoughts, her fears, her dependencies. Him—that waste of a man—was gone, and she was here, right where she belonged.

When she leaned in, uncertain but desperate, I met her halfway. My lips captured hers, firm and knowing, a promise sealed in the heat between us. She gasped into my mouth, and I swallowed the sound greedily, my fingers threading through her hair to keep her there.

She thought this was a mistake. A reckless, grief-fueled lapse in judgment.

She was wrong.

As our kiss deepened, it quickly unraveled into something messier, more desperate-a frantic clash of lips and breath as she melted into me.

"So good for me, angel," I murmured against her mouth, my voice dripping with approval. My hands found her hips, firm and possessive, guiding her as I pulled her into my lap. A satisfied hum rumbled in my chest as I pressed her down against me, ensuring she felt just how much I wanted her.

As our kiss deepened, it quickly unraveled into something messier, more desperate-a frantic clash of lips and breath as she melted into me.

"So good for me, angel," I murmured against her mouth, my voice dripping with approval. My hands found her hips, firm and possessive, guiding her as I pulled her into my lap. A satisfied hum rumbled in my chest as I pressed her down against me, ensuring she felt just how much I wanted her.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as she rocked against me. A soft whimper escaped her lips, swallowed by our kiss. I could feel her trembling, begging for me.

Breaking away, I trailed heated kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her pulse beating wildly beneath my lips. I nipped at the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from her.

"Please," her voice barely above a whisper as Her nails scraped lightly down my back,

I growled low in my throat, my control slipping, Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire as she gazed up at me.

"Tell me what you want, angel," I commanded, my voice rough with need.

"Touch m-me," she pleaded breathlessly. " hurts s’bad." She slurred through whiney hiccups

I smirked, trailing my fingers teasingly along her sides. "Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Show me."

She whimpered, arching into my touch. Her hand grasped mine, guiding it lower, over the swell of her breast and down her stomach. My breath caught as she pressed my palm between her thighs, where I could feel the heat radiating through her clothes.

"Here," she whispered, her cheeks flushed. "Please-"

My hands slipped under her skirt, gently caressing her silky thighs. She shivered beneath my touch, her legs parting instinctively. I traced lazy circles on her inner thighs, inching higher with each pass.

"Is this what you need, angel?" I murmured, nipping at her earlobe.

She nodded frantically, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking more contact. "Yes, yes! please- don't stop."

I chuckled darkly, my fingers finally brushing against the damp lace of her panties. She gasped, her back arching beautifully.

"So wet for me already," I purred, applying the slightest pressure. Her hips bucked, chasing the friction. "Such a needy little girl."

I captured her lips in a searing kiss as I pushed her panties aside

My fingers found her slick folds, toying with her sensitive nub. She moaned into my mouth, her hips rocking desperately against my hand.

"Please," she whimpered between kisses. "I need more. Please, please..."

I circled her clit slowly, building the tension. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she writhed in my lap.

"What do you need, angel? Tell me," I commanded softly.

"Your fingers... inside... please," she panted, her eyes glazed with lust.

I smirked, enjoying her desperation. Slowly, torturously, I slipped one finger inside her tight heat. She cried out, her inner walls clenching around me.

All I could do was admire her beauty—the way her glassy eyes pleaded with me in silence as she clung to me, desperate and fragile in my arms.

"More," she begged shamelessly. "Please, I need more."

I added a second finger, curling them to hit that spot that made her see stars. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through her. My thumb circled her clit as I pumped my fingers in and out, building a steady rhythm.

"That's it, good- good girl," I murmured, watching her face contort in ecstasy. "Let go for me. Show me how good it feels."

Her hips rocked frantically against my hand, chasing her release. I could feel her getting close, her inner walls fluttering around my fingers.

"I'm- I'm so close," she gasped, her nails raking down my back.

I leaned down, capturing a nipple between my lips through the thin fabric of her shirt. The dual sensation pushed her over the edge. She came with a cry, her body tensing and shuddering

She panted softly as she came down from her high, her wide, doe-like eyes gazing up at me with a mix of gratitude and adoration

She was now totally under my control

[loveandleases]

Randomly got hit with nostalgia because "Again" sung by Hadley Fraser popped up in my Playlist and now I'm wondering, on the off-chance that MC met the ROs while still with Chris (if Chris is still cheating or not with Jade is up to you), would any of them try to talk to MC at/right before the wedding (preferably before and not objecting during the ceremony, but I'm not opposed to mess) to talk MC out of it and be with them (the RO, that is) before its too late? Damn you Hadley Fraser--

I had forgotten about that songs existence until you mentioned it. (I actually have canon scenarios for Cam, G, and Kara.) ❤️ Cam - Oh you know he is just looking for that moment, to get MC alone truly. To see that this wedding isn't what they wanted, that Chris isn't who they want. Cam is ready for it mess and all. If he did it before the wedding it would go something like this:

If his voice isn't giving away his nerves, then the shaking of his hands as he holds theirs is. His eyes are darting, never settling on one part for too long. Afraid that once he does he'll lose this burst of bravado. "You can't marry Chris."

"Wh... what do you mean I can't?"

Cam's grip on yours tightens, fingers intertwined hoping that, after all these years, you understand—this isn't selfishness. This isn't him trying to stake a claim.

"It's your choice, at the end of the day. But I'm asking you here... I'm," his voice falters, as he closes the distance and places his hand to your jaw. "begging you. Don't marry Chris."

"Cam I can't just... I-I need a reason. You can't just beg me not to and not say why."

Logic—of course you'd ask for logic. He wishes you wouldn’t, because it makes this part harder. And much more embarrassing.

He's not good with words, or at least he doesn't think so. (he's wrong.) Cam’s breath comes quick, his chest rising and falling faster than your racing heart. But before you can question what he's doing he steps closer. Tilting your face so that he can press a kiss to your lips.

"They say it’s good luck to kiss the bride/groom on their wedding day." He mumbles against your lips, just enough to speak but not enough to stop.

"Maybe... but I'm not getting married."

"Then good fucking luck indeed."

💙 G -The real question is whether they would have been invited at all.Chris would never have allowed it, but G would have found a way in anyway. Former friend, former lover—it didn't matter. It was still an important day for MC.

But G couldn’t sit through a wedding. Not this one. The thought of MC marrying Chris—a person so different from them, so full of hate—was unbearable.

So, G arrived early. Far too early. A note in hand, because they knew if they tried to say it out loud, MC would freeze. They’d get lost in pleasantries, in what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.

They waited until MC stepped out of the dressing room. Then, with a final glance at the words they couldn't bring themselves to speak, they left the note behind.

I won’t tell you everything it says. But I can give you a line from it.

💚 Kara - Internally, she would be at war with herself. Because she cares about MC—but she cares about Chris, too. And the Kara before the breakup is not the Kara you will come to know. Back then, she wouldn’t have realized that Chris wasn’t the person she imagined them to be.

So, she would suffer through it. Convince herself that loving MC from a distance was better than not loving them at all. She would force a smile, wish them good luck—

And regret it.

(similar to Angelica in Hamilton.)

💛 M - They are far too shy for the kind of attention that comes with interrupting a wedding. So, they would act weeks in advance. They would ask careful questions, fishing for insight into MC’s relationship with Chris—trying to see if they’re truly happy.

But M notices the truth early on. MC has settled. The spark that usually lights up their eyes when they talk about their passions is dimmed. When they’re with Chris, that glint is nearly snuffed out. The luster of who they are fades.

But not when they’re with M.

And in a fleeting moment, M realizes it. A split-second of shock. Because for all their intelligence, M can be painfully dense—especially when it comes to love. Their thoughts slip out before they can stop them. They tell MC how much they care. How they know they can make them happy. That they don’t want to change who MC is, only help them shine—if MC will let them.

(Expect several pages in their dedication section about the one time they were brave—and how, for once, it worked in their favor.)

💜 Isaac - They didn’t want to admit their feelings for MC. They fought it for so long. And part of them would have kept fighting—because Isaac doesn’t believe they’re good enough for MC. But they don’t believe Chris is good for MC either.

It’s a brash decision. An impulsive one. But on the wedding day, Isaac makes a mess of things. Because the second they see MC, standing there, more beautiful than they ever imagined, they crumble.

They told themselves they’d be okay with this. That they could live with it. (They couldn’t. They just chose to lie.)

So they say it. That it’s a mistake. The whole relationship is a mistake. If MC is going to be with someone who doesn’t deserve them, then they should choose him. Choose Isaac.

They’re not promising MC a life of luxury. Chris has money, influence. But Isaac? Isaac has heart. A broken thing that only felt whole when MC walked in. When they saw Isaac—not just the mess, the flaws, the defenses—but the person beneath. And they took that mangled wreckage and held it together. Made it worth something.

So if MC has to settle—then settle for him.

(And if Isaac found out Chris was cheating with Jade? MC would know before they walked down that aisle. And if MC chose to leave Chris at the altar with nothing but a note to be read in front of the guests? Isaac would be more than happy to do the honors.)

🖤 Ardent - He doesn’t believe for a second that MC is happy. He sees through them the same way they see through him—always has. He knows how terrifying it is to go against expectations, to walk away from the choices you thought you had to make. The ones you were led to believe were the only option.

There’s a knock on the door. You assume it’s the food you ordered, so you open it without thinking. But instead of a delivery, it’s Ardent—cheeks flushed, panting, rain clinging to his skin and flattening his hair against his forehead.

"Can I come in?" he asks, breathless.

"Did you run here?"

He doesn’t answer. Just steps past you, scanning the room. His gaze lands on the wedding invitations stacked on the coffee table—still blank. The wedding creeps closer every day, yet you haven’t filled them out. You haven’t invited anyone.

"Sorry about the... mess." Your fingers brush the embossed lettering, as if touching them will make it real. Before you can shove them out of sight, Ardent takes your hands.

"I need to talk to you."

No one likes hearing those words. And judging by the knot in your stomach, you’re no exception. But you nod, maybe out of shock. Maybe because he looks... hesitant. Scared, even. And that’s not like him.

You motion to the couch, watching as he sits, his rain-damp clothes soaking into the fabric. You can already hear Chris complaining about it.

But that’s not what surprises you most. It’s the way Ardent speaks—soft, careful. Like he’s afraid of breaking something. You’ve always compared him to a bull in a china shop. That’s who he is. That’s who you’ve come to—what? Care about?

The same man who held you when he told you about Chris and Jade. The same man who nearly broke when you said you wanted to give Chris another chance. Because your parents called it a mistake. Because they told you Chris cared. Because they needed you to forgive him. Not for you—for them.

"You're scaring me, big guy. Why are you here so... late?" Focus on that. Not on how your fiancé isn’t home. Not on how they haven’t answered your calls.

Ardent rests his elbows on his knees, threading his hands together under his chin. He watches you—every movement, every breath. Every glance at this hollow room.

"You're not getting married, are you?"

"What? Of course, I am."

He scoffs, raking a hand through his wet hair. Droplets fall from the strands, darkening his shirt. "You're not."

"Yes. I am." You hold his gaze, sharp and unyielding. But then he stands and grabs a handful of the blank invitations.

"Put those down. That doesn’t mean anything—"

"It means everything." His voice booms, unfiltered and raw. Loud. Unapologetic. Angry. Like you. Only, you’ve been holding it back. For what? For who?

"Whether I'm getting married or not is none of your business. It’s not like you care." And there it is. The truth beneath everything.

You want him to care.

"Is that what you fucking think?" He drops the invitations, letting them scatter across the floor. He doesn’t care about the mess he’s making—not of this, not of anything—as he pulls you toward him. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and searching. "You really think I don’t care? That I want you marrying that fucking idiot? That I’m just gonna stand by while you waste your life with them—hell, start a family with them?"

He’s close. Too close. But he won’t cross that line. Neither will you.

"I've cared for so long. You're just too much of an idiot to see it." His breath is warm against your skin, while his is so cool from the rain outside.

You swallow hard, words catching in your throat. "Are you saying..." You fight for air, for clarity, for something—someone—that is only yours. "Are you saying you don’t want me to get married?"

His nod is small, barely there. But you feel it, forehead resting against yours.

"I don’t want you marrying Chris. I don’t want you here in this place. I don’t... fuck, I don’t want you having a family with anyone but me. Is that... okay?"

His hands trace along your jaw, slow and reverent, mapping the lines like he’s memorizing them.

"More than okay."

[w1w2]

A Taste of Love

Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 4k

Synopsis: Yn brings homemade food in Jennie's studio.

Requested by Anon

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The golden afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of Y/N’s cozy apartment, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. The gentle clinking of utensils and the soft hum of an old favorite playlist filled the air as Y/N meticulously prepared a special meal. Today wasn’t just any ordinary day—it was a day she had set aside to surprise Jennie, her lover, with a home-cooked meal after weeks of intense work on her solo album.

Y/N stirred the pot of soup gently, inhaling the comforting aroma that filled the space. The rich scent of kimchi stew—spicy, tangy, and deeply savory—wrapped around her like a warm embrace. The broth bubbled gently, small ripples forming on the surface as steam curled upward, filling the air with a homey essence. She reached for a wooden spoon, giving the stew a careful taste. The balance was just right, the spice level perfect—not too overpowering, but strong enough to bring a satisfying heat to Jennie’s palate.

Turning to the cutting board, Y/N’s hands moved with practiced ease as she sliced fresh fruits into delicate pieces. The blade slid smoothly through ripe strawberries, their sweetness releasing a subtle fragrance into the air. Golden kiwi, its vibrant hue glistening under the light, joined the neat arrangement. Crisp apple slices, perfectly fanned out, completed the edible mosaic. She reached for a small container, carefully layering each fruit with precision, ensuring a visually appealing presentation. Jennie always appreciated the little details—Y/N knew that well.

Next, she moved on to plating the side dishes. The tteokbokki sat in a deep bowl, the rice cakes bathed in a thick, fiery-red sauce that clung to their smooth surface. A sprinkle of sesame seeds and finely chopped green onions added the finishing touch, making the dish look as appetizing as it smelled. A separate container held fluffy white rice, its warmth radiating through the container as Y/N carefully packed it. Beside it, a small dish of homemade kimchi sat, its deep red color hinting at the bold, tangy flavors within.

As she wiped her hands on a dish towel, Y/N paused to admire her work, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips. The sight of the neatly packed meal filled her with a quiet sense of joy. It wasn’t just food; it was a piece of home, a reminder for Jennie to slow down and take a moment for herself amidst the chaos of her work. Y/N knew how much her girlfriend loved her cooking, but more than that, she knew that this meal was an expression of love in its purest form—one Jennie would understand without words.

Her thoughts drifted to Jennie, as they often did. Y/N could still picture the soft crease in Jennie’s brow when she talked about her album. This solo project was everything to her, a culmination of her talent, effort, and dreams. Late-night texts filled with song ideas, the endless hours she spent in the studio, and her drive to create something truly special—it was all evidence of Jennie’s passion and dedication. But it came at a cost.

Y/N frowned slightly, recalling how tired Jennie had sounded the last time they talked. Her voice, usually so bright and lively, had carried an edge of exhaustion. She’d joked about surviving on caffeine and protein bars, brushing off Y/N’s concerns with a laugh. But Y/N knew better. Jennie might be fiercely independent, but she had a habit of neglecting herself when she was deep in her work.

That was why Y/N was here now, standing in her kitchen, determined to remind Jennie that she didn’t have to carry everything alone. Y/N’s gaze fell on the small note she’d written earlier, now resting atop one of the boxes. The words, scrawled in her neat handwriting, were simple but heartfelt:

“To my Jendeuk, You’re doing amazing, and I’m so proud of you. Please remember to take care of yourself, too. Love you always. – Y/N”

The corners of Y/N’s lips curved upward as she slipped the note into the bag. It was a small gesture, but one she hoped would make Jennie smile, maybe even give her the strength to push through another long night in the studio.

Y/N carefully adjusted the lid of the boxes one last time, ensuring it was sealed tightly. She wrapped the containers in a soft kitchen towel, tucking them securely into the tote bag. The bag itself was simple but cute, adorned with small heart patterns, a detail that Y/N hoped would make Jennie smile.

Satisfied with her preparations, Y/N slipped into her favorite sneakers and reached for her coat. The cool, crisp air outside hit her as she stepped onto the street, and she drew her jacket tighter around herself. It was a quiet evening, the kind where the city seemed to breathe a little slower. The faint hum of distant traffic mixed with the rustling of leaves, creating a peaceful atmosphere that mirrored Y/N’s calm but focused mood.

She made her way to her car, pausing for a moment to glance at the tote bag in her hand. Y/N placed the bag gently on the passenger seat and started the car, the engine humming softly to life.

As she drove, Y/N allowed herself to relax, the familiar route to the studio giving her time to think. A soft playlist played in the background, and she smiled as a song Jennie loved came on. It was one of those tracks that Jennie always hummed absentmindedly while doing mundane things, like tying her hair or scrolling through her phone. Y/N found herself humming along, the melody stirring a warmth inside her.

Her thoughts wandered to the beginning of their relationship. Jennie had always been so radiant, so captivating, that Y/N often wondered how she managed to catch her attention in the first place. She recalled their first date, a simple coffee shop outing where Jennie had ordered an iced latte, even though it was the middle of winter. "I like the contrast," Jennie had explained with a sly grin, and Y/N had laughed, completely charmed.

Those early days felt both vivid and distant now, like a golden blur of laughter and stolen glances. Over time, they’d grown closer, learning to navigate each other’s worlds. Y/N had learned to find joy in Jennie’s quirks: her obsession with her pets, the way she’d suddenly burst into song while cooking, and her habit of curling up like a cat whenever they lounged on the couch.

More recent memories bubbled to the surface. Y/N thought of the mornings when Jennie would groggily pull her back into bed, mumbling, “Five more minutes,” as she clung to her like a sleepy koala. Or the evenings when Jennie would surprise her with takeout, claiming she “just happened to pass by” Y/N’s favorite place, even though it was miles out of the way.

But tonight wasn’t about reminiscing, it was about being there for Jennie when she needed it most. Y/N’s smile softened as she turned into a familiar street, the studio building coming into view. Its tall, modern structure loomed against the dusky sky, the warm glow of its windows cutting through the twilight. Jennie was inside, no doubt immersed in her work, her focus so intense that she’d likely forgotten to eat again.

Y/N parked the car and turned off the engine, letting the quiet settle around her. For a moment, she sat there, looking at the bag in the passenger seat. Her fingers brushed over the strap as a wave of fondness surged in her chest.

“Here we go,” she murmured to herself, grabbing the bag and stepping out into the cool evening.

The walk to the entrance was short, but every step carried a mix of anticipation and excitement. Y/N’s mind raced with images of Jennie’s reaction, how her tired eyes would light up, how she might laugh and call her “too sweet” before pulling her into a hug. It wasn’t much, but Y/N hoped it would remind Jennie that she wasn’t alone in this journey.

Reaching the doors, Y/N took a deep breath, clutching the tote bag a little tighter. With a determined smile, she pushed them open, ready to bring a moment of love and warmth into Jennie’s busy night.

The faint buzz of music filled the sleek lobby as Y/N entered the studio building, her tote bag securely slung over one shoulder. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of studio equipment. A few staff members milled about, some reviewing clipboards while others chatted casually. The warm, familiar atmosphere put Y/N at ease.

As she approached the front desk, Minji, the receptionist, immediately lit up. “Y/N! Long time no see!”

Y/N grinned and leaned on the counter playfully. “Hey, Minji. How’ve you been?”

“Busy as usual, but not as busy as Jennie,” Minji replied with a chuckle. “You here to check on her? She’s been practically living here.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Y/N said, holding up the tote bag. “She’s overdue for some real food. Don’t tell me she’s been surviving on just coffee again?”

Minji sighed, shaking her head with mock exasperation. “You know her too well. She’s in Studio 3, probably hasn’t budged from her seat in hours.”

“Thanks, Minji,” Y/N said, giving her a small wave as she made her way toward the hallway.

As Y/N walked through the building, a few staff members greeted her with warm smiles. She was a familiar face here, and Jennie’s colleagues had grown used to seeing her drop by.

“Y/N! What’s in the bag this time?” one producer called out, his tone teasing.

“Tteokbokki, stew, and a side of love,” Y/N shot back with a laugh, making the man chuckle.

“You’re spoiling her, you know,” another staffer added with a grin.

“That’s the plan,” Y/N quipped, her pace quickening as she approached the quieter section of the hallway.

The noise faded as Y/N reached the doors to Studio 3. Through the small glass window, she could see Jennie sitting at the control board, her slender frame illuminated by the soft glow of the equipment. Jennie was in her zone, headphones covering her ears as she leaned forward to adjust the sliders on the mixing console. Her lips moved slightly as if silently singing along to the track playing in her ears.

Y/N paused for a moment, watching her girlfriend in her element. Jennie’s focus was magnetic, her passion radiating from every movement. But even in the dim light, Y/N could see the faint signs of exhaustion etched into her face, the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the way her shoulders dropped slightly as if carrying an invisible weight.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N pushed the door open quietly, stepping inside with practiced stealth. She set the tote bag down on a small table near the entrance and leaned against the wall, watching Jennie work.

Jennie’s head tilted slightly, her attention fully on the music. Her hand moved to adjust a knob, her brows furrowed in concentration. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the sight, it was moments like these that reminded her of how much Jennie loved what she did.

Finally, as if sensing the presence behind her, Jennie turned. Her eyes widened in surprise before softening into a radiant smile. She pulled the headphones down, letting them rest around her neck.

“Y/N?” Jennie’s voice was warm but tinged with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N stepped forward, shrugging playfully. “Checking on my favorite superstar. Heard she’s been skipping meals again.”

Jennie raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a wry grin. “Who told you that?”

“Oh, I have my sources,” Y/N teased, crossing her arms. “And I’ve got proof too. You’re looking a little too thin, Jendeuk.”

Jennie rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small laugh that escaped her. “I’m fine, really.”

Y/N shook her head, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from Jennie’s face. “You’re amazing, but you’re not invincible. That’s why I brought this.”

Jennie’s eyes followed Y/N’s gesture toward the tote bag, her curiosity piqued. She stood and walked over, peeking inside before letting out a soft gasp.

“Tteokbokki? Stew?” Jennie’s voice rose slightly with excitement. She turned to Y/N, her tired expression brightening. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I did,” Y/N said, smiling. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t starve while you’re making history.”

Jennie chuckled, stepping closer to wrap her arms around Y/N’s waist. The hug was warm and grounding, and Y/N felt Jennie’s head rest lightly against her shoulder.

“You’re too good to me,” Jennie murmured, her voice muffled.

Y/N kissed the top of Jennie’s head. “I just love you baby. That’s all.”

Jennie pulled back slightly, her gaze tender as she looked up at Y/N. “You’re going to make me cry,” she said with a playful pout.

“Well, before you do that, why don’t you eat?” Y/N teased, poking Jennie’s cheek lightly.

Jennie laughed, her tiredness momentarily forgotten as she grabbed Y/N’s hand and led her to the table. “Okay, let’s see what you made. I’m starving!”

Y/N sat by a small table in the corner of the studio, away from the clutter of Jennie’s workstation. The soft glow of the equipment lights cast a cozy ambiance in the otherwise quiet room. Jennie leaned against the console, watching with unrestrained curiosity as Y/N carefully unpacked the tote bag.

One by one, Y/N placed the dishes on the table. First, the tteokbokki, its fiery red sauce still steaming as Y/N removed the lid. The glossy rice cakes gleamed under the soft lighting, sprinkled with sesame seeds and tiny green scallions. Then came the rice, perfectly fluffy and fragrant, followed by a container of soybean paste stew, its aroma earthy and comforting. A small side dish of homemade kimchi completed the savory spread. Finally, Y/N retrieved a box of neatly arranged fruits. Jennie’s jaw dropped slightly as she took in the sight of the feast before her. “Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed, stepping closer. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Y/N, this looks amazing.”

Y/N grinned, clearly pleased by Jennie’s reaction. “Only the best for my Jendeuk,” she replied, pulling out a pair of chopsticks and handing them over.

Jennie accepted them with a playful pout. “You’re setting the bar way too high. How am I supposed to go back to cup noodles after this?”

“You won’t have to,” Y/N quipped, sitting down across from her. “Not if I keep showing up with meals like this.”

Jennie laughed, a sound that made the room feel warmer. “You’re going to spoil me,” she said, though her teasing tone couldn’t hide the gratitude in her voice.

“Good,” Y/N shot back with a wink. “Now eat before it gets cold.”

Jennie didn’t need to be told twice. She picked up a piece of tteokbokki, the sauce clinging to the soft rice cake as she took a bite. Her eyes fluttered closed as she chewed, a soft hum of appreciation escaping her lips. “This is so good,” she murmured, savoring the flavor.

Y/N rested her chin in her hand, watching Jennie with a fond smile. “I knew you’d like it. You’ve been talking about craving tteokbokki for weeks.”

Jennie opened her eyes, a mock-serious expression on her face. “That’s because you make it better than anyone else,” she declared, pointing her chopsticks at Y/N for emphasis.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Y/N replied, laughing as Jennie reached for the stew next.

As they ate, Jennie’s initial excitement gave way to a quieter sense of contentment. Her shoulders, which had been tense and hunched from hours of work, gradually relaxed. She alternated between bites of rice, tteokbokki, and the rich, savory stew, her hunger evident but her pace unhurried.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Jennie said softly after a while, glancing at Y/N with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

“I did,” Y/N replied, her tone gentle but firm. “You’ve been working so hard, Jendeuk. I just wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself, even if you won’t do it on your own.”

Jennie’s expression softened, and for a moment, she seemed lost for words. She set her chopsticks down and reached across the table to take Y/N’s hand. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Y/N smiled, squeezing Jennie’s hand lightly. “And you’re even more amazing. I’m just here to remind you of that.”

Jennie let out a soft laugh, her gaze dropping briefly as she composed herself. ���I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she admitted quietly.

“Well, for starters, you’d probably be eating instant ramen right now,” Y/N teased, lightening the mood.

Jennie laughed again, the sound bright and genuine. “True. But you know what? I think you’re more addictive than any tteokbokki.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed at the compliment. “If this is your way of convincing me to make this a weekly thing, it’s working.”

Jennie grinned and picked up a piece of strawberry from the fruit box. Holding it up, she leaned forward slightly. “Open up,” she said, her tone playful.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are we really doing this?”

Jennie tilted her head, feigning innocence. “What? I just want to share.”

Suppressing a laugh, Y/N leaned forward and let Jennie feed her the strawberry. The sweetness of the fruit was matched by the teasing smile on Jennie’s face. “You’re ridiculous,” Y/N muttered as she chewed.

“And you love it,” Jennie shot back.

The lighthearted exchange continued as they worked their way through the meal. Jennie fed Y/N more fruit, laughing every time Y/N playfully protested, and Y/N retaliated by sneaking extra pieces of kimchi onto Jennie’s plate. The room seemed to fill with their shared warmth, the earlier tension of Jennie’s workday melting away completely.

Eventually, they slowed down, both full and content. Jennie leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “I don’t think I’ve been this full in weeks,” she admitted, her voice drowsy with comfort.

“That’s what happens when you don’t eat properly,” Y/N teased, starting to pack up the empty containers.

Jennie watched her with a soft smile, her earlier playfulness replaced by something gentler. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything. Not just the food, but… for being here. For caring.”

Y/N paused, looking up at her. “Always,” she said simply, her voice filled with sincerity. “That’s never going to change.”

Jennie’s eyes glistened slightly as she reached for Y/N’s hand again. “You’re really the best thing in my life, you know that?”

Y/N chuckled, leaning over to press a soft kiss to Jennie’s forehead. “And don’t you forget it.”

Jennie laughed, her cheeks pink as she leaned into the touch. For the first time in days, she felt truly rested, her heart lighter than it had been in a while.

Jennie sat back in her chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her cheeks were still faintly pink from laughing, and her hands rested on her lap as if she were trying to savor the comfort that had settled between them. “I don’t even know how to thank you, Y/N,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost shy.

Y/N, who was tidying up the remnants of their meal, glanced at Jennie with a playful smile. “You could start by eating like this more often. I can’t have my superstar girlfriend surviving on caffeine and willpower alone.”

Jennie laughed softly, shaking her head. “I don’t deserve you.” Her gaze softened, and she added, “But I’m so glad I have you.”

Y/N studied her for a moment, noticing the way Jennie’s posture had shifted, shoulders slightly hunched, gaze lowered. She recognized that look. It was the one Jennie wore when she was trying to carry too much on her own.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Y/N asked gently.

Jennie exhaled slowly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the table. “I just…” She paused, pressing her lips together before looking up at Y/N. “I’m scared.”

Y/N’s heart clenched. She reached across the table, resting her hand over Jennie’s. “Scared of what?”

Jennie swallowed, her eyes searching Y/N’s as if trying to find the right words. “Of disappointing everyone,” she admitted in a quiet voice. “My fans, my team… you.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she squeezed Jennie’s hand. “Jennie, love… you could never disappoint me.”

Jennie let out a small, humorless laugh. “You say that now, but what if this album isn’t good enough? What if people hate it? What if—”

Y/N cut her off by bringing her hand up to Jennie’s cheek, cupping it tenderly. “Hey. Stop that,” she whispered. “You’re incredible, Jennie. You always have been.”

Jennie blinked, and Y/N could see the glimmer of doubt in her eyes.

“You work so hard,” Y/N continued, brushing her thumb gently over Jennie’s cheek. “You put your heart and soul into everything you do. That’s why people love you—not just because of your talent, but because of the passion you pour into your music.”

Jennie bit her lip, looking away for a moment. “But what if it’s not enough?”

Y/N tilted her head, waiting until Jennie met her gaze again. “Then I’ll be right here to remind you that it is. That you are.”

Jennie let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around Y/N’s. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

Y/N smiled softly. “Because I know you, Nini. And because I love you.”

Jennie’s smile grew, small but genuine, and she reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from Y/N’s face. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Maybe,” Y/N teased lightly, her tone softening. “But seeing you smile like that? That’s all the thanks I need.”

The moment lingered, a shared stillness that felt heavy with meaning. Finally, Jennie pulled Y/N into a tight hug, her arms wrapped securely around her waist. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she murmured against Y/N’s shoulder.

“I know darling,” Y/N replied, her voice laced with gentle humor as she hugged Jennie back just as tightly.

After a while, Jennie pulled away, her energy visibly restored. “I feel like I can take on the world right now,” she said, her eyes sparkling with determination.

“Good,” Y/N said, standing up and stretching. “But maybe start with one track at a time, yeah? I’ll save the ‘taking on the world’ part for later.”

Jennie laughed, shaking her head. “Deal. But only if you promise to keep bringing me those meals.”

“Done,” Y/N said, flashing her a grin as she grabbed the tote bag. “But remember, studio visits come with conditions now. No skipped meals, and no falling asleep in the control room.”

Jennie rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “I’ll try my best.”

“No, you’ll do it,” Y/N corrected, wagging a playful finger. “Otherwise, I’ll show up with a megaphone and drag you out of here myself.”

Jennie burst out laughing, the sound rich and unrestrained. “I don’t doubt that for a second,” she said, still smiling.

As Y/N walked toward the door, Jennie followed, lingering in the doorway as if reluctant to let her leave. “Thank you again, Y/N,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “For being here. For knowing exactly what I need even when I don’t.”

Y/N turned, her expression tender. “That’s what I’m here for, Jendeuk. To remind you that you’re not alone in any of this.”

Jennie’s lips parted as if to respond, but instead, she stepped forward, cupping Y/N’s face with both hands and pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. When she pulled back, her smile was radiant, her eyes filled with gratitude and love.

“I’ll text you when I’m done,” Jennie said finally, her tone lighter but still warm.

“You’d better,” Y/N replied with mock sternness. “And don’t even think about pulling an all-nighter.”

Jennie raised a hand in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

With one last wave, Y/N stepped into the hallway, glancing back over her shoulder as she left. Through the small glass window in the door, she could see Jennie already back at her station, her headphones in place and her hands moving confidently across the console. But there was something different now, an ease in her posture, a brightness in her expression.

As Y/N walked out into the cool evening air, she felt a sense of quiet pride. The city lights twinkled above, and the hum of distant traffic filled the air, but her thoughts were focused on Jennie. She could already imagine the music Jennie would create tonight, music filled with the same passion and brilliance Y/N saw in her every day.

“I’ve got you, Jendeuk,” Y/N whispered to herself, a small smile on her lips. She adjusted the bag and headed home. She was already looking forward to the next time she could surprise Jennie again.

Because loving her? That was the easiest thing in the world.

[madridfangirl]

But what if?

(Plot: Jude's girlfriend mentioned a threesome as her fantasy during a couple intimacy quiz. He goes mad, loses his shit, and she makes up to him, in more ways than one.)

1.5k words. Mature language.

..................................................................................................

After a rambunctious session on the couch, Ananya laid in Jude’s arms. Exhausted. Like she’d fall apart if even a feather touched her right now.

Jude surveyed her spent form, with a half-satisfied and half-guilty look. Her body bore the signs of his emotional upheaval, more than usual this time. She was still panting a bit, still sweaty, despite him cleaning her as gently as he could.

Both were silent for different reasons. She was trying to regain coherence while he was partly lost in his head.

A few minutes later, she recovered enough to open her eyes and saw his faraway look. Her fingers traced his cheek softly, bringing him back.

‘Hey.’

She smiled lazily at him. Stretching her arms & legs tentatively & sighing at the soreness. His observant eyes watching every move.

‘Sorry.’

She snuggled closer, while continuing to smile knowingly.

‘Liar, you like making a mess of me.’

He did. A lot. It was a reminder of their passionate bouts. He liked her having to use make-up or dress smartly to hide his marks. Or walk funnily a bit. But just a bit. Not too much. Never too much. 

The sincerity & turmoil in his eyes tugged at her heart. She leaned in to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

‘Baby, I’m ok. More than ok actually. Really, don’t worry about it.’

He nodded. But didn’t kiss her back like he usually would have, something she noticed. Plus he was still avoiding her eyes.

She understood he was still not over the threesome comment. In hindsight, it was monumentally stupid of her to even mention it. Especially when it wasn’t so much a fantasy but a random idea she had thought of, just once or twice. For someone so measured with her thoughts & her words, who was supposed to be the smart one, she acted like a complete idiot here & made a royal mess of things. Jude would take it badly, it should have been clear as day to her!

But the damage was done, and she’d do whatever it takes to show him it didn’t mean anything.

Ananya held his cheek and turned him slowly to face her, gazing straight into the deep bottomless pool that were his eyes. 

‘I love you. So much. More than I can explain. You know that, right?’

He didn’t say anything, which turned her more desperate to get through to him.

‘Oh Jude. Have you ever felt anything else but absolute loyalty from me? You’re everything, honey. More than that. You’re so good to me. Just the best boyfriend, hands down. Pls don’t let one stupid mistake play on your mind.’

‘But you don’t make mistakes, not really. You say what’s in your heart, what you really, truly mean.’

And therein lied the problem. Jude always put her on a pedestal - to say the right thing, to do the right thing, to handle things the right way. To him, she was the personification of all things good, pure & real in the world. Something like this coming from her was more than a low-blow or a bodyblow. It nearly shattered him.

‘Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone. Some lesser than the others but no one is flawless. Today was my turn to fuck up. And man did I fuck up.’

‘You really did.’

‘I know. And I’m so so sorry.’

He didn’t acknowledge the apology, not because he wanted to tease her or get something in return (that would have been so much easier), but because he was still stuck on something. She could see that clearly.

‘Do you…think about this….when we….when we are…’

She cupped his face with both hands, mustering all her love in her voice.

‘Jude - I am barely coherent when we are together. When you touch me like that. Can’t think of my own address, how would I think of anyone or anything else?’

Now this assuaged him immediately. Because he knew this to be true. Once they were together in her room, indulging in each other, when Roma had walked in. Their door was unlocked, she heard her walk into the apartment but forgot her name and Jude had to prompt to understand what she was mumbling. So far gone was she with him so perfectly seated inside her. Later, she had begged Jude to never mention it to Roma, else her best friend here would get offended. Ananya had also added that if he does mention it, she’d flat out deny & call him a liar. Her word against his.

The hint of smile on his face was all the wiggle room she needed.

Ananya leaned closer, relishing his breath on her face, and covered his lips with hers. A soft, slow, lingering kiss, which he grew into, finally relaxing into her mouth.

‘My prince.’

When they parted, she rubbed her cheek against his, just the way he liked. Jude relaxed further.

‘It’s just that….the image…of that….can’t get it out of my head.’

She saw that coming.

‘I can help with that.’

‘How?’

‘How about a different image?’

He looked at her, confused, mouth partly open. So cute & adorable like that. She traced his plump lips with her fingers lovingly, slowly, then tapped on them.

‘What if instead of another guy, there’s another girl…’

Jude’s mouth fell open in real time. She could barely suppress her smile at how well she had predicted this. 

‘…another girl, touching me like that, our bodies squished together, naked…..’

It was his turn to pant & sweat now, with that deliciously open mouth. His hot breath fanning her face.

‘…but you can’t touch either of us…’

Jude felt like someone was murdering him & reviving him simultaneously. He was speechless, not even a half-sound out of him, just staring at her gobsmacked.

‘…you can watch though. As we, you know, do stuff. How’s that for an image?’

He was still silent. That sinful tongue of his had made an appearance between his lips, as he tried to process that, mouth still hung open.

She felt particularly playful, strangely powerful in that moment. Ananya leaned in and slowly touched his tongue with hers, then tugged on it lightly with her teeth, quickly breaking away.

That brought him back to reality.

He looked in awe at his girlfriend, who was slowly batting her eyes at him, cheeks flushed, a picture of innocence and demureness. If he hadn’t heard this himself, he would never believe she was capable of saying such things. Or thinking such things.

But the sly smile was giving her away. Fully aware of what she was doing to him.

‘Not such a good girl anymore, are you?’

Oh she was. 100%. Compared to him & everything he had done, she was a saint. But the playfulness from earlier was still brimming in her.

‘Never said I was. You just thought of me as one.’

‘You little vixen.’

Jude looked her up & down. And debated in his head how feasible it would be to show her right now who was in charge. She may have cracked a few levels of this game but Jude was the absolute undisputed king of this dynamic, something he would never let her forget. Something that she needed to be reminded of. Against a wall maybe. 

But unfortunately, she was in no state for such a teaching right now. Jude wasn’t going to miss the chance to make his point though.

He locked his eyes with her, then inserted two of his fingers into her mouth. She was surprised, but slowly got used to the intrusion, and swirled her tongue around them, making him groan gutturally, like a wounded animal.

He grabbed her face, fingers digging into her soft skin. But his voice was calm, even. 

‘Sweet girl, I’m gonna ruin you. I’ll take everything from you. Everything that a man can take from a woman. And you’re gonna want to give it to me. Heck you’re gonna beg. I’ll make you.’

She suddenly felt hot & bothered, like her skin was on fire, making her whimper as his grip tightened further.

‘No man will ever see you like that. Touch you like that. I won’t let them. No one but me. NO ONE. Is that clear?’

‘Yes.’

‘See - I know how to turn you into a good girl. Just like that.’

She wanted to push him away for that patronising tone but somehow it just made her feel even more hot.

‘You can play all you want. Till I let you. Coz when I take my turn, doll, you have no idea the things we’ll do. The things I’ll do to you. This sweet little mind of yours can’t even imagine what all I have planned for us.’

With that, he picked her up slowly, minding her cramps & soreness, and carried her to his bedroom. She clung to him, hiding in his neck to cover her fluster, while all the previous irritation in him was replaced with the thrill of this game he had just discovered her to be capable of.

......................................................

Continuation of Couple Intimacy Quiz and Intimacy Quiz gone Awry. Can be read separately as well.

As always, let me know what you thought of it :)

[nightghoul381]

Honey Charm & Spicy Curse

Ellis Twilight ~ Spicy Curse

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories! And I promise this one is worth buying because the voiced lines make it so much better 🥵

Explicit Content | Smut | NSFW | MDNI

CW: Curse Play (aka bondage), mention of sexual objects, nipple/breast play, clitoral stimulation, rough sex, mention of death

The night after completing a certain mission.

After we got ready and got into bed together, Ellis gently pulled me into his arms.

Ellis: “I’m glad the mission ended safely. Shall we get some rest today?”

Kate: “Yeah, goodnight.”

He gave me a comforting kiss on my forehead, and I buried my face in his warm chest.

But—the image of the mission site we’d just been at was still stuck in my head.

It was a mansion where men and women, regardless of who they were, could meet in secret and engage in lustful interactions.

The room we entered contained tools for that purpose—some of which we had no idea how to use.

They were covered in various liquids and scattered about.

I found myself caught up in the atmosphere of the room, created solely for the enjoyment of pleasure and casting aside all reason—

(Anyone could use any tool…)

(Ellis… I wonder if there are times when you feel like doing something like that too.)

(…Even if that were the case, I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone other than me.)

(Wait, I can’t believe I’m even thinking about something like this.)

The feelings that had seeped out of me at that time came back to me, and I closed my eyes in a hasty attempt to suppress them.

Ellis: “…Can you not sleep?”

A comforting voice fell over me and my head was gently stroked.

Kate: “Ah, yeah… I just felt excited.”

Ellis: “…Me too. I don’t think I can sleep.”

Kate: “Ellis, you too?”

When I gently raised my head, I was greeted with a troubled smile.

Ellis: “Today’s mission… I’ve been to those kinds of sites many times.”

Ellis: “Until now, I’d only thought of them as places to carry out missions.”

Ellis: “But today, when I saw you shocked by what you saw in the room, I was stunned too…”

Ellis: “…I started imagining what would happen if I did something like what was going on in that room with you.”

Ellis: “I’d like to see you doing it too.”

The seductive whisper sent chills through my eardrums.

Kate: “Actually, me too… Ellis, I was wondering if there are times when you feel like doing something like that.”

I confessed without thinking—

Ellis: “…Well, I’ll tell you.”

Kate: “Huh? Nngh.”

He kissed me passionately and his desire flowed through me.

As I felt my desire gradually growing—

He grabbed the top of my head and snapped both my wrists together at my chest.

Kate: “Ahh.”

Ellis: “I’m sorry, I thought that I would be unable to stop today, so I tried to hold back, but… I just couldn’t.”

Ellis: “Kate, you’re too cute.”

He was on top of me and my wrists, still joined together, were pinned tightly above my head.

I was a little taken aback by his forceful behavior, which left no room for argument.

Ellis: “We don’t have any equipment like in that room here.”

Ellis: “So, with my power… I can restrain you.”

Sensing a faint hint of madness seeping out, my heart trembled and became excited.

Ellis: “But, what I want to do is something that will make you happy, Kate.”

Ellis: “I want to go shopping with you, eat delicious meals with you, and sleep with you.”

Ellis: “…This is how we seek each other.”

He gave me a light kiss, but the twilight-colored eyes looked down at me were consumed in the faint darkness.

Ellis: “This is what makes me happy… How about you?”

Ellis: “Are you…happy right now?”

--The sin of his curse is bondage.

It was my joy to share that sin with him.

Kate: “Yeah… I want to do things that will make you happy, Ellis, and I want you to do the same.”

Ellis: “…Good.”

He smiled happily and carelessly tore off his clothes.

Ellis: “Maybe, I was being selfish today.”

Kate: “Nngh…!”

He quickly sealed his lips over mine and stirred his tongue carefully around my mouth.

My tongue, jaw, and the hot, melting sensation all the way to the back of my throat made my head feel hazy and foggy.

Ellis: “…I like that face.”

The palm of his hand crept up my thigh in a seductive way.

Caressing the lines of my body, he rolled up my negligee, pulled it over my head, and tied it around my wrists.

My bare skin was instantly exposed to the air but was soon covered by the heat of his large palms.

He grabbed the exposed curves of my breasts, licked, sucked, and rolled his tongue over the prominent peaks.

Kate: “aAahh…ngh!”

He smiled blissfully, as if enjoying my reaction to his tongue.

My body began to ache deeply, and my breathing became sweet and humid.

I unconsciously tried to rub my inner thighs together, but his knee was in between us and stopped me—

Ellis: “…Do you want this place too?”

My beloved’s fingertips ran along the base of my thighs, finding the spot I desired.

Through my underwear, he pinched the bud that was swollen with anticipation.

Kate: “Aah! Ungh…”

Ellis: “No? Should I stop?”

The fingertips that still held it were tingling, driving me into a corner and leaving me with no way to resist.

Kate: “ngh, No… Don’t stop… Aaagh…”

My underwear quickly became damp and his fingers ran over it, feeling the shape of the tight folds.

Kate: “Mmmnnn…. Ghhh…”

Ellis: “…It feels good… I love your honesty, Kate.”

He whispered with slightly ragged breath, and then deftly removed the damp underwear that was clinging to me.

Instead of a finger, he pressed something hotter and harder against me.

Ellis: “Me too… I’ve become so honest with you too. Only with you.”

While scooping up the honey with his swollen tip, my folds were prodded and crushed.

The air was filled with lewd, squelching sounds.

There was almost more, so much more, but he wouldn’t give me anything more.

Kate: “…don’t make me wait… don’t…”

Ellis: “Tell me, what do you want me to do?”

Kate: “…I want… I want it deeper.”

Ellis: “Mmm… I understand.”

My inner thighs were spread wide, and I felt a heavy, stretching impact.

Kate: “---AAaahh!”

Ellis: “Can you relax a bit? It won’t go in all the way.”

The gradual push of his heat into me slowly melted my insides.

Kate: “Aah.. There….”

Ellis: “Nnh, it’s stuck…Mmmnngh.”

As if to penetrate further into the spot he had found, he slammed his hips into me violently, making the bed creak—

Ellis: “Hey… Tell me.”

Ellis: “Who is the one pushing into your right now and making you feel so good…?”

Kate: “Haah.. It’s.. you…El-lis…!”

I nearly forgot to breathe, but I desperately tried to give an answer.

I was at the mercy of the stimulation at the place we were joined and felt myself clenching him tightly.

Ellis: “…Fhh, your insides… are responding too…”

Ellis: “That’s right… There were toys in that room, right?”

Ellis: “…What did you imaging doing with me…?”

Kate: “Hnngh, that’s…Ha…Aah!”

The desire and shame that I had been trying to suppress back then mixed together and oozed out again.

I was being torn to pieces by his passion.

Ellis: “I’m much better than some toy, right?”

Ellis: “Hnngh…”

Kate: “Gaah, Aaah…AAanggh…!”

Ellis: “See… I know the best parts of you…”

It was as if his feelings were being planted along with the accelerating desire that he drove into me.

The fragrant scent of a man, the lewd, wet noises, and the drops of sweat that fell on my bare skin every time he moved…

It was driving me more and more crazy.

In my daze, I instinctively asked for the words I wanted to hear.

Kate: “El-lis…are… are you happy…?

He focused on me and gave me a melting smile.

Ellis: “…Yeah, I’m happy.”

Ellis: “I wouldn’t mind dying like this…ngh, Aah!”

Both of us burst with excitement at the same time.

Kate: “---, ….gh!”

The throbbing inside of me was proof of his happiness.

I was trapped in the bottomless darkness of those dusk-colored eyes,

And I prayed for an eternity where the thorns that cut through me would never wither.

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

"I wish you could have met her before."

It is Vivec's first time seeing Sotha Sil drunk. He's been working on Mournhold's court wizard for weeks, slowly winning him to their cause, slowly learning from him the ways of the city and its royalty, but only tonight has he finally succeeded in getting Sotha Sil drunk.

"Before Nerevar…?"

"No, before--"

He looks out of place in the shabby inn-room Nerevar and Vivec have been sharing for the past month, like a stolen artefact propped up in some thieves den. He's at the foot of the bed, leaning back against the wall, his artificial legs splayed before him, his hair loose and falling into the mug of sujamma he's clutching desperately to his chest. His big thoughtful eyes are lost in the distance.

"Oh, Almalexia," Sotha Sil says to himself. "What have you done?"

"Before what, Seht?" Vivec inches closer to him on the bed. It's just the two of them, after all, old friends sharing secrets.

"Before that-- everything. I mean, if you'd met her as a child, and after her coronation…" He barely seems to notice Vivec.

"What was she like?"

"She was bold. Arrogant. A little reckless, if I'm honest, but relentlessly passionate." He finally focuses on Vivec but his gaze is soft. "Your Nerevar reminds me of her. How she truly-- how she used to be."

"Just like Nerevar."

His eyes go back into the distance. "And then she overplayed her hand and got herself into the most foolish situation and handled it so badly and…" there's a bitterness in his voice, "Yes, she threw out the Nords from Mournhold and it was a great achievement, but look at what she had to do to herself. The pain she put herself through, and for what? Nobody asked her to sacrifice herself-- she just sacrificed herself! Her… herself."

Through the thin inn walls they can hear an argument in the next room. Sotha Sil focuses on Vivec again.

"It's as if there's less of her now." He says it as if he's pleading with Vivec for something. "Sometimes I hope it's still there, she's just buried it deep down, but I think it's gone. I wish you could've met her before."

-

"I wish you could've met him before."

It's the first time Almalexia's sat down for something unrelated to duty in over a month. Vivec has to wonder if she's even slept in all that time; the Nords have been recently vanquished but there's a wedding to plan and Ald Sotha is in ruins and it seems as if Sotha Sil will just drop dead from the grief of it, if his injuries don't do him in first.

"I did," Vivec reminds her. "I've known Seht forever."

"No," Almalexia shakes her head, "I mean before."

They're in her favourite hiding place, on the palace roof, staring out at a starry sea of city lights, wrapped in rugs that are too thin for the nighttime chill. Almalexia looks perfectly at home there, the Queen surveilling her empire of sky-lights, but while the light cannot reveal the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the lines that have appeared in her face, the exhaustion in her voice paints its own picture.

"Before what?" Vivec lays a hand upon her knees.

"Before all of it. I wish you'd met him when he was a child."

"What was he like?"

"He was so annoying." Her face is hidden in darkness but affection makes her voice thick. "He could be arrogant, and he didn't always think through how his actions might hurt people. But he was also so, so sensitive, and he hated to hurt people, and if you told him he'd done so, he'd cry. And he was brilliant, even then, he had a way of understanding the world…"

"Just like now."

"He's still brilliant, yes. But--"

Vivec can feel Almalexia looking at him, even if he cant see it. His hand feels cold upon her knee.

"He's just different now," Almalexia sounds resigned to the idea. "He's so cynical, he hates people, he has no faith in anyone. He wasn't always like that. He used to love, so much that it hurt him, he wanted to help everyone and he felt their suffering like it was his own." Her voice is quieter when she adds, "Sometimes I hope that, if he has more time to heal, he'll come back. I want you to meet him as he was before."

Vivec pulls his hand away. Mournhold's darkness betrays so little, spread out before them, but in every window a light gleams.

"Dead things don't come alive with time," Vivec tells her gently, "They just get more dead."

[vinelark]

i would 100% read a brain/carmichael spin off

you and i are on the same page here, the briarmichael (coined by @feyburner) spinoff that lives in my head has rapidly grown to at least 35k worth of plot so far. some highlights:

brian has cared deeply about carmichael since high school, but isn’t In Love with him until later. like the summer makeout could’ve been the start of something, but when carmichael seemingly freaked about it and ghosted, brian pretty much moved on. he mourned the friendship more than the potential relationship. he was always the only one to really see past carmichael’s bullshit exterior, but brian was also 18 and going to college and not going to fight for carmichael’s attention if he didn’t want to give it.

meanwhile carmichael has been screaming crying throwing up in love with brian since like middle school, which he would admit to no one ever

carmichael now goes by "carm" as a nickname (per @cairoscene)

until they reunite post-college, brian does not know where/why carm left, because they weren't really talking at that point, and also brian is going to rutgers and experiencing living somewhere where they don't do like fear gas drills on campus for the first time. brian finally gets to flourish in his true form (affable bro who gets to flirt with everyone he wants at house parties)

i’m still deciding if brian even knows carm got disowned or if it was like a society secret. like carm’s parents made it sound like he just went off on a rebellious little trip or something. or if it was like, society gossip

also haven't totally nailed down the disinheritance situation but i want to say like. carm was interning at his dad’s company or his dad’s friend’s company and saw an executive do something Bad in a way that was very jarring to carm, who until this point has been willfully ignorant about most real-world things, and carmichael still saw himself as untouchable and used his annoying personality for good for once by making enough of a fuss to his dad about it that his dad was forced to cut ties with the executive to save face, but in the fallout carm was quietly sent away aka disowned. which carm did not expect, but had just enough backbone by then to not come crawling back immediately.

it was like. in carm’s mind. the right thing for him to do but also like he wasn’t even losing everything to be heroic, to save the world even the city. he just refused to shut up. and he ended up here.

he leaves gotham for a bit. i think he ends up working in a low-level mob restaurant in bludhaven for some time. he finds out he likes designing logos for things so he’s been taking cheap classes when he can and doing a bit of freelance work (starting with again a bludhaven mob but like, not like he could choose his clientele. and they paid him with bonus free dinner every shift). graphic design is his passion.

and @tigerjpg sent me an ask about them taking a road trip, and i wrote like 500 words off the cuff in response and then tumblr just. ate it. it disappeared into the void. the ask is back in my inbox like nothing happened. one day i'll re-type it, but for now just know that post-disinheritance carmichael sells his bmw convertible (that + what he could fit were the only things in his name that he still owned) and buys a used subaru that he is unhealthily emotionally attached to.

[luffydotcom]

sharing their interests

synopsis: what happens you have the same interests as them (sword-fighting and cooking)

feat: zoro and sanji

notes: could've included the other characters for this, but i feel like for zoro and sanji this would work best!! i've honestly ALWAYS wanted to learn to use a sword. also don't mind how i can't write a fight scene to save myself 💔

also i will make a masterlist soon i just barely have any posts right now RAH

zoro

ZORO has lived by the ways of the blade his whole life. he eats, sleeps and breathes his training, and takes pride in his abilities. but for him its more than just a display of strength, and not limited to protecting others, but what he enjoys doing the most - he wants to become the greatest there is after all - so he is genuinely passionate about it.

so one day, when the crew stops by a marketplace on a new island, and you take keen interest in a display of swords, he is very much intrigued that it also caught your attention. even he can't help admiring the designs of the swords, despite being perfectly happy with his own.

"i didn't know that you were interested in this sort of thing," he folds his arms, looking down at where you're squatted.

"i have learnt how to sword-fight in the past... but i wouldn't exactly call myself a pro," you tell him as you trace your finger over the blade, careful sure not to cut yourself. "even though it's been a while, i still enjoy it and admire people who are great at it."

zoro quickly looks away just for a second, before looking back with a small smirk. "is that so? i want to see for myself." he tried to hide his interest in seeing the skills you claimed to have had.

"i guess i could try, but i'm probably rusty now and these swords are pretty expensive." you sigh as you stand up and face him.

before zoro could argue, you hear loud voices chanting not too far away from you both. you and zoro turn your heads to see some marines not too far away, obviously having recognised you both, charging faster in your direction with weapons in their hands.

zoro was quick to draw out his swords and fight, however you had an idea, and a highly impulsive one. you quickly snatch one of the swords from the display, much to the dismay of the stall's owner as you let out a short "sorry, but i need to borrow this!" and follow zoro into the fight.

with all your strength, and despite how unsure you were of yourself, you grip the sword tightly and slice the marines, making them fall onto the ground and heave in pain, then turn around to fight off the rest that are behind you. having been victorious, and seeing them on the ground, you laugh, pleasantly surprised at yourself. from the corner of your eye, you catch zoro smiling at your show as he deals with the last marine.

after that day, zoro now felt a new level of respect, but also admiration of you, stunned that you also had an interest and talent in the same thing as him. he even bought you the sword that you had used, which nami wasn't too happy about at first, but he wanted to see you in action again, better if by his side.

he mentally made note to ask you to train with him one day and even show you techniques that you might be interested in - he's excited to have a sparring partner to practice with!

sanji

cooking is SANJI'S whole life, it was his very first love and he would never trade it for the world. he loves the feeling of making and serving food to hungry people with a smile, even if he's the only one doing it on the ship.

when sanji discovers that you have a knack and enjoyment for cooking yourself, his love and admiration for you grows tenfold.

after returning to the sunny with groceries for dinner, sanji notices a heavenly smell coming from the kitchen. he knows it can't be luffy - he would never be able to make food smell that good without burning the kitchen down. when he opens the door, he is surprised to see you busying yourself rolling dough and pressing it into shapes, while something is baking in the oven.

"mon chéri, are you making something?" he sets the shopping down on the counter and comes to inspect what you're doing.

"yes, luffy was getting hungry and you weren't here, so i decided to make pastries for us all to share," you indicated to what was baking in the oven. "sorry, i didn't want to use the kitchen without asking you, but i didn't want luffy to wreak havoc with his hunger..."

"it's no problem, love," he smiles warmly, then glances at the pastries you're moulding, each in pristine and neat shape. "they look amazing, i didn't know you were so experienced!"

you laugh quietly. "i love cooking so much - and baking - but i love your cooking much more."

sanji flushes for a second, taken aback by the sincerity in your compliment, but also your modesty. "you should've told me sooner, dear. and you don't need to ask to use the kitchen - in fact, i'd love it if we cooked together."

after the rest of the crew joins you both and share the finished pastries together, sanji feels so happy that he's discovered that he has a common interest with someone in the crew, especially because it's his number one passion!

that same night, after you tell him about how much you love cooking and what you've made in the past, he practically begs you to cook dinner with him - not because he can't manage on his own, but he knows it would be more fun if he was doing it with someone who is also passionate as he is. after, he even lets you borrow his favourite cookbooks, lets you in on his best recipes, and makes it a personal mission to cook with you more!

[tojisprettylittlething]

Chapter Twenty Eight: A Mission Gone Too Far

Pairing: Assassin!Toji Fushiguro x Assassin!Reader

Warnings: violence, blood, gunplay, near-death experience, injury (bullet grazing the head), Toji being pissed, heavy tension, arguments, and power struggles.

Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Testing, testing—"

The smooth voice rang through the earpiece, crystal clear against the static of the comms. You barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

"—If you can hear me, say ‘Gojo is a sexy genius.’"

"Gojo, I swear to God," you muttered, checking the magazine of your gun before slotting it back into place.

"Just say ‘copy,’" Toji’s voice cut in, irritated.

“Copy,” you responded, adjusting your gear.

You could hear Gojo’s smirk over the line. "Buzzkills. Both of you."

You and Toji stood on the rooftop of an old industrial building, eyes scanning the lot below. A shipment was coming in, an underground deal that Gojo had oh-so-graciously assigned you to oversee. A simple recon mission, he’d said. In and out. No unnecessary bloodshed.

Bullshit.

You knew a test when you saw one. You’d been thrown into enough trials-by-fire to recognize when someone wanted to see what you were really made of.

And judging by the way Toji stood beside you, arms crossed, jaw locked—he knew it too.

"Keep your eyes open, lovebirds," Gojo drawled in your ear. "We’ve got movement. Two cars, black SUVs, just pulled up."

You spotted them immediately. Four men stepped out, all dressed in dark suits, their movements crisp, purposeful. Professionals. Armed.

"How much you wanna bet they’ve got more inside?" you murmured.

Toji scoffed. “That’s not even a bet. Of course they do.”

"Then let’s keep this simple. We don’t fire unless we have to."

"Agreed."

You both moved swiftly, descending from the rooftop, taking up positions along the shadows. Watching. Waiting.

Then, right when the deal was about to finalize—

All hell broke loose.

Gunfire erupted, shattering the tense quiet. You didn’t know who shot first, but it didn’t matter—suddenly, the entire place was a war zone.

"Ohhh, now it’s getting interesting," Gojo hummed through the comms.

"Not the time," you snapped, ducking behind a crate as bullets tore through the air.

Toji moved like a damn ghost, cutting through the chaos with brutal efficiency. A blade in one hand, a gun in the other, dropping anyone in his path.

You weren’t far behind, weaving through the mess, gun aimed, shots precise. You weren’t here for an all-out fight, but if someone got in your way? You weren’t hesitating.

At least, not until you saw him.

The sniper.

Perched up high, barely visible through the dim lighting.

And his barrel was aimed directly at Toji.

Your body moved before your brain could catch up.

A sharp bang. The world blurred—pain exploded along the side of your head, a searing, white-hot sting.

The shot missed. Barely.

But you felt it.

A graze, just above your temple, hot blood trickling down the side of your face.

You heard Toji’s voice, sharp, frantic—

“What the fuck?!”

The sniper wasn’t getting a second chance.

You lifted your gun and fired. A single shot, straight to the skull. The body dropped.

The gunfire around you faded into a dull roar, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Your vision swayed for a second—

Then Toji was in front of you, grabbing your face, tilting your head to assess the damage. His hands were rough, firm, his jaw clenched so tightly you swore it might snap.

"Are you fucking stupid?"

You blinked, still catching up.

"Toji—"

"You moved in front of a sniper.” His voice was deadly quiet, barely restrained. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

You scowled, slapping his hands away. "I saved your ass."

"You almost got your head fucking blown off."

"But I didn't."

“That’s not the fucking point—”

"Ah, young love," Gojo’s voice interrupted. "So much passion. So much drama. But, uh—maybe wrap up the lovers’ quarrel after you clear the damn warehouse?"

Toji’s glare could’ve burned a hole through the comms.

But you could barely focus on that. The pain in your head was setting in now, throbbing. Your vision was still a little off-kilter, the blood dripping down your face warm and sticky.

You exhaled sharply, shaking off the dizziness. "Let’s just finish this."

Toji muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue. He turned on his heel, jaw tight, gun raised.

And despite the anger simmering between you—he still positioned himself in front of you. A shield. Just in case.

Because no matter how pissed he was—no matter how much he wanted to strangle you for what you just pulled—he wasn’t about to let anyone else touch you.

Not now. Not ever.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The last few minutes of the mission were a blur of gunfire, adrenaline, and your throbbing head wound.

Toji was furious, but he didn’t let it slow him down. If anything, he was moving faster—his bullets landing with brutal precision, his blade slicing through flesh like it was nothing. If he was pissed before, he was outright murderous now.

You kept up, but the world swayed every few seconds, the warm trickle of blood trailing down your temple reminding you that you weren’t at your best. Still, you weren’t about to sit this out.

Gojo’s voice rang in your ear, cool and entertained. "Well, that was fun. Seems like you two made quite the impression."

"Shut the fuck up," Toji snapped.

Gojo only laughed. "Relax, lover boy. Mission’s over. You’re clear."

You took a slow breath, surveying the bodies littered around the warehouse. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and iron, the tension still clinging to your skin.

Your hand lifted to your temple, fingers coming away slick with blood.

Toji was already stalking toward you, his movements rigid, controlled. The second he reached you, he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your wound. His expression was unreadable, but his grip was tight.

“We’re leaving,” he said, voice sharp.

“I’m fine.”

His jaw clenched. "You're bleeding."

"It’s just a graze."

His hand tightened around your wrist. “You think I give a fuck?”

You stared at him, breath still uneven. His eyes were dark, burning, and his grip on you was almost bruising. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, barely contained beneath the surface.

You didn’t say anything else. There was no point.

Without another word, he yanked you toward the exit.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The car ride home was silent.

Tense. Suffocating.

Toji’s grip on the wheel was too tight, his knuckles white. His jaw was still clenched, his whole body wound tight with frustration. You could practically feel the rage rolling off of him in waves.

You sat beside him, arms crossed, eyes trained on the window.

Your head still throbbed. The blood had dried, crusting uncomfortably along your temple.

Finally, you exhaled. "Are you gonna stay mad forever, or—?"

The tires screeched as he slammed on the brakes, jerking the car to a stop on the side of the road.

Your pulse jumped.

Slowly, you turned to him, only to find him already staring at you—his expression dark, livid.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice was low, lethal.

You scowled. “I was thinking about saving your life.”

“I don’t need you to save me.”

Your temper flared. “I made a choice. I took a risk. That’s what we do.”

"Not like that." His voice was sharp, his breathing uneven. "Not when it means almost getting your fucking head blown off."

“Jesus, Toji—”

“You hesitated before. And now you’re fucking reckless?”

Your fingers curled into fists. “I handled it.”

"You almost died." His hands slammed against the steering wheel, frustration spilling over. “And for what? You think I’d be grateful? You think I’d be proud that you nearly got your skull split open?”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling. His voice was raw, his anger barely leashed.

But beneath it—beneath all the frustration, all the sharp edges of his words—you saw it.

The fear.

He had seen you go down. He had seen the blood. And for a split second—he had thought you were dead.

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Toji exhaled sharply, shaking his head. His hands dragged down his face, his fingers raking through his hair.

Then, softer this time—hoarse, almost—

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Your throat felt tight.

“…Okay.”

Neither of you moved. The car was still. The world outside was quiet.

Then Toji clicked his tongue, shaking his head again. “Fucking stupid.”

You snorted. "You're one to talk."

He huffed, but there was no real bite behind it anymore.

Finally, he shifted the car back into gear, pulling back onto the road. His hand found your thigh, gripping it tightly—possessive, grounding.

You let him.

You stayed silent for the rest of the ride.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When you got home, Toji barely let you step through the door before he was dragging you to the bathroom.

“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the closed toilet lid.

You rolled your eyes, but you obeyed, watching as he rummaged through the cabinet for the first aid kit.

“I told you, it’s just a graze—”

“Shut up.”

You huffed. “Bossy.”

He shot you a look before kneeling in front of you, tilting your chin up to examine the wound. His fingers were rough but careful, his gaze focused.

You sighed, letting him work. His grip was firm as he wiped away the dried blood, cleaning the wound with surprising gentleness.

“…You should’ve let me take the shot,” he muttered after a moment.

You looked down at him, watching the way his brows were furrowed, his lips pressed together.

“But I didn’t.”

Toji’s jaw ticked. His fingers pressed against your chin, his thumb stroking over your jaw absentmindedly.

You swallowed.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. The air was thick, heavy with everything left unsaid.

Then, finally, he exhaled.

“I fucking hate you,” he muttered.

You smirked. “No, you don’t.”

His eyes flickered up to you. A beat of silence.

Then—softer, quieter—

“No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”

Your chest tightened.

Toji let out a slow breath before standing up, tossing the used alcohol wipe into the trash.

“Come on,” he murmured. “You need sleep.”

You didn’t argue.

Because despite the throbbing in your skull, despite the ache in your body—

For the first time since the mission started, you actually felt safe.

My lil taglist ₍₍ ◝(　ﾟ∀ ﾟ )◟ ⁾⁾ : @t4naiis - @crimsonxm00n -

[rik0shii]

younger cousin!reader taking care of Top during his scandal. reader cook for him making sure he eats, making sure he didn't feel alone after what had happened to him. she knows that Top loves music and encourage him to write some as his therapy. (he once mentioned it in his recent interview that making music is one of the things that slowly healed him from his past!) basically just reader feeling concerned and taking care of her oppa <3

A Place to Rest

After everything that happened, Seunghyun shuts himself away, weighed down by exhaustion and self-doubt. But you refuse to leave him alone. You make sure he eats, stay by his side so he doesn’t feel alone, and remind him of the passion that once helped him heal—his music. Through quiet persistence and unwavering support, you encourage him to write again, not for anyone else but for himself. Even if he can’t see a way forward yet, you believe in him—enough for both of you.

hii i hope you enjoy this!! reposts and comments are appreciated!<33

The apartment was quiet, too quiet. It wasn’t the kind of peaceful silence that felt comfortable—it was the heavy kind, the kind that pressed against your chest and made everything feel colder.

You glanced toward the couch, where Seunghyun sat, unmoving. His posture was slouched, his hands clasped loosely between his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor. He looked exhausted, not just physically but in a way that went deeper, like he was carrying a weight too heavy for one person.

You hated seeing him like this.

With a quiet sigh, you placed the bowl of soup on the coffee table in front of him. “I made you something to eat.”

He barely acknowledged you, just a slight shift of his eyes toward the bowl before looking away again. “I’m not hungry.”

“You always say that,” you said, crossing your arms. “But you still have to eat.”

“Not right now.” His voice was low, quiet.

You sat down beside him, determined not to let him sink any further into himself. “Seunghyun, when was the last time you had a proper meal?”

He didn’t answer. That was answer enough.

“You need to take care of yourself,” you said gently. “Even if it’s hard.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, he let out a slow exhale and picked up the spoon. He took a small sip, barely more than a taste, but it was something.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “See? Not so bad, right?”

Seunghyun let out a quiet, almost hollow chuckle. “You’re too stubborn.”

“You’ve known me long enough to expect this by now,” you teased, hoping to lift the mood even just a little.

He didn’t respond, just kept eating slowly, like it was a chore. You knew he wasn’t enjoying it, not really. But at least he was trying. That was what mattered.

For weeks now, he had been shutting himself away. After everything that had happened—the scandal, the backlash, the isolation—he had retreated into his own world, letting the weight of it all bury him. You had seen glimpses of this side of him before, but never like this.

Seunghyun had always been someone larger than life. Confident. Creative. A force of nature. Seeing him like this, quiet and withdrawn, hurt more than you could put into words.

“You know,” you started carefully, watching his reaction, “you once told me that making music helped you through your hardest times.”

He stilled, his spoon hovering just above the bowl.

“You said it was the only thing that really let you express yourself,” you continued. “That when everything felt like too much, writing helped.”

Seunghyun slowly set the spoon down. His expression was unreadable, but you could see something shift in his eyes.

“I don’t know if that’s true anymore,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It is,” you said without hesitation. “Even if you don’t believe it right now, I do.”

He let out a slow breath, leaning back against the couch. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Then don’t think about starting,” you said. “Just write. Anything. Even if it’s messy, even if it doesn’t make sense. Just… let it out.”

He didn’t respond, just stared at the ceiling like he was searching for something there.

“You don’t have to share it with anyone,” you added. “Just do it for yourself.”

Silence stretched between you, but this time, it didn’t feel as heavy. It felt like he was actually considering it.

“You really think it’ll help?” he finally asked.

“I do.” You met his eyes, unwavering. “And even if you don’t believe in yourself right now, I still believe in you.”

Something flickered across his face—something fragile, hesitant. Hope.

For the first time in weeks, he didn’t look so lost.

He didn’t promise anything, didn’t say he would do it, but the fact that he was listening, that he was even thinking about it, was enough.

For now, that was enough.

[lockedtowers]

stop a/starion has a BRAND NEW SIM AVAILABLE ON MODTHESIMS FOR THE SI/MS 2

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

HI. MACKERELMORE. nhw trickster. killington. amity. the chaos zone. deadwood. new and funny and interesting ways to slaughter people. tide clone shit. bonesaw boiling the failed clones alive. muse. trickster using muse to do shit like u just saw in killington. the wards seeing the trickster using muse to execute people in ways Like That. holds up mic!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOD. THERES SO MUCH GOOD FUCKING FOOD FOR NHW IN THE CHAPTERS I READ EARLIER. fuck. god. shit. okay.

starting with the trickster bc i feel like when i get into tides stuff ill talk for 10 years. ohhhhh my god dude as soon as they walked into a town called fucking KILLINGTON ????? i was like. god thats a joke trickster would make huh!!!!! hed think thats so fucking funny. (and it is. but only to me who has the advantage of seeing this as a narrative and not a real event i am experiencing. fucking hilarious shit. killington??!?!?!?!? killington. ) i have a lot of thoughts about the shit he did to Amity before he escaped and like. yeah. fuckin yeah. i dont think he wouldve killed Everyone in the city (gotta have. puppets to play with and also like. people who hes not controlling to chase around and hunt for sport) (this is fucking terrifying and awful! this is so bad! like catastrophically so!) but i definitely think when the wards go to amity (because i want them to do that so bad at some point) i think it will be in sort of a similar state to this with like. bodies strung up like decorations. graffiti made from fuckign. ash and blood and paint all mixed together. really obviously placed traps. etc etc etc. jsut like. evidence that this place is like his fucking playground! horrifying!

anyway yeah also muse holy shit. muse has to singlehandedly raze at least one fuckign town. for sure. dude dude like that fucking video jack had where they had everyone gathered together before they started killing them? that but with trickster and muse? and its . more fucking scary because instead of 200+ slaughterhouse 9 clones its literally JUST trickster and muse. and whatever random handful of puppets trickster is controlling around the edge of the crowd for extra sets of hands.. aauogaouguguhhghhhgh. i need them to do horrific shit.

OKAY. CLONE TIME. CLONE TIM.E . OUGHGHHGHGH TIIIIDE. TIIIIIIIIDE. how many failed clones do you htink there were. how many failed clones to make tide and magma. do you think they know about the failed clones. they got fucking BOILED ALIVE. do u think tide and magma ever see any of the other clones before theyre ready and they have to look at their own fucking faces (face?) and think about that. i still have that post abt the lambert family in my drafts god i need 2 finish that but. in my mind tide and magma are the oldest (technically magma is the oldest but tide was like. a year or less after him so theyre closer in age) and then it was. seismic and whirlwind at the same time so theyre twins. and then shockwave. and then elle. so i think tide and magma have that Eldest Sibling bond where they have. Issues that are parallel to each other. and a LOT of that comes from being endbringer juniors and a lot of that comes from being clones. but where magma got closed off and aloof about it tide like. desperately clung to kindness bc he doesnt like when people are scared of him. anyway im getting distracted. FUCKING CLOOOOOONE SHIT. CLONE LORE. WORM CLONE LORE. THE WHOLE LIKE. either implanting false memories from other people or needing to raise them from scratch????? thats fucking insane. oh my god. what the fuck kind of memories do u think they got. obviously a lot from dr lambert but like. man. do u think the endbringer thing is like baked into their fucking memories. its in their dna. i didnt quite understand the bit about bonesaw trying to give them their powers but if altering memories can alter what sorts of powers they get...... do the endbringers have dna. do u think tide and magma got endbringer dna in them. that would be sick (both in the sick meaning cool way and in the im gonna make myself sick way). actually that brings up the point. are the endbringers even organic??????????? or are they constructs?????????? since they were confirmed created by someone/something....... man. MANY THOUHGST HEAD FULL. HAVING A LOT OF EMOTIONS ABOUT NHW TIDE. bonesaw boiled the failed clones alive. i dont . i dont think tide and magma were ever *kids* (which is like. ow.) but like. god im just imagining the part in trigun where vash and knives find whats left of tesla. holy shit dude. do you see my vision here