#I think about this alternate universe sometimes though

[molecularhomosexual]

wanted to add some thoughts on this thread. i've seen a lot of responses from professors and educators who care quite a bit for their students and create space for them to be able to put effort toward understanding things--and this latter perspective synergizes with being against using AI for essays at school. i wanted to add some more thoughts onto this with the context of: getting to work in teaching and learning shops at universities, i've found a huge variance between the care and patience that professors have for their students with essay-style assignments.

higher ed seems to be becoming quite interested in checking for ai-based plagiarism in essays (might be happening in k12 spaces too, i'm just not familiar with it as much). turnitin, the company that does the whole plagiarism checking software for schools and colleges, now has an ai detection tool that clients can purchase (that also, in our testing, pulls up far more false positives and false negatives than what they advertise to clients). the company always publicly claims that the turnitin similarity checker (this is the main "plagiarism detection" tool) is not exactly a watertight tool, it is a tool that can help with starting conversations about academic integrity with students, and it needs to be paired with instructor expertise on the topic. this ends up conflicting with a common-enough attitude among some faculty that turnitin is getting a perfect match on whether a student has plagiarized or not. combine this move in higher ed with:

depending on how a course is run, the fact of activities being graded in those courses can add a great deal of pressure on students that may not be conducive to learning. i think Jesse Stommel has some compelling stuff to say here through his concept of ungrading: he notes how grading systems have become increasingly comparative and numerical over time, he notes that grades in and of themselves aren't great incentives for learning or the best indicators of feedback in learning, grade-based education tends to favor (or at least be more amenable to) the banking model of education over critical pedagogy--and he backs this up with in-class experiments and experience. i've noticed that creative writing programs have often been at the forefront of finding alternatives to grading systems that are more supportive for their students (Asao Inoue talks about labor-based grading contracts as more equitable than grading systems that connect grades to an evaluation of quality, though I do think even this system could cut out the grading component altogether and still retain its interventional value).

these two points can lead to the following: students often have to do two tasks in an essay being graded: a) write an essay in and of itself, with its intent of critical thinking, effort, analysis; and b) get a good grade, because regardless of the actual material efficacy of grades in getting future work outside of the university (this will cash out differently sometimes based on the field you're working in as well), there will be students who feel a pressure to get good grades (for a variety of reasons). multiply one essay in a course with taking 4 or 5 more classes (common in undergrad) and working a job at the same time (common at my alma mater at the very least), and we're creating a recipe for students to feel absolutely unsupported in the academic environment to actually work on practicing analysis without additional outside pressure.

i think the current conditions across a lot of academia help create conditions for students to use cheating as a strategy to get a better grade: "i can either put all the extra work in to doing this right and possibly get a bad grade anyway, depending on how my professor is deciding to grade the quality of essays; or given that i have a shift to run to after this and family to take care of at home, i can see if there's a quicker solution to take, even if that could also have a risk of ruining my grade. what's worth it, to me?" and in response to this, academic integrity offices will start wondering how to discourage students from cheating, and in happy and hawkish response, academic integrity software companies can get new product contracts on their ai detection tools, that instructors, in their variance of usage of plagiarism tools, can use to either have conversations with students about work in the best case scenario, or punish students through grading them poorly in the worst.

i dunno. i am a philosopher at the end of the day--in my experience with the kind of writing philosophy demands, i don't think that AI writing passes muster in the first place (i imagine this is the case with... most any field that involves any amount of creative writing). but i just want to keep in mind that in my experience working at the university space, for every professor who is genuinely interested in their students' learning and who does everything within their capacity to set them up for success, there is a professor who, regardless of interest, generates a great deal of distress for their students by dispensing with punitive measures in the learning space.

i think that this is likely a reason why some teaching and learning shops have tended to build guidelines for how to use or discuss AI writing with students instead of recommending faculty to discourage its use by students altogether: even though i think a shop should ideally be able to recommend the latter, that doesn't do a lot for the reactionary portion of a faculty community who will consider the shop backwards for making such a recommendation, then continue on with teaching practices that are harmful to students' learning and well-being. (i think the defensive position also comes from not having any deciding power over the business contracts for AI software happening with leadership doing kingdom-building far away from the rest of us [unionize, anyone?], where if there's an evaluation that there's nothing the institution can do to prevent AI usage, then it makes sense to have a damage mitigation strategy to do the least harm to students as possible).

i would have been lucky to have any of the teachers on this thread as my own when i was going through undergrad. unfortunately, what i faced far more were instructors who didn't care very much--either from being tenure-track researchers who weren't particularly committed to teaching, or from (understandably) reacting against being overworked adjunct lecturers who didn't have the capacity to care as much as they should have. what i faced in undergrad quite a bit, barring some notable exceptions here and there, were instructors who didn't care anyway whether i could think critically about something or put effort into writing about a certain perspective. what i faced in undergrad, primarily so, were instructors who were just checking if i could say the correct thing back to them in the correct way--and instructors who would punish me or my peers for failing to do this, no matter how much work they put into an assignment.

if universities as an institution want students to not use AI for essays (something that i'm generally aligned with), they need to give adequate resources to faculty and students alike to be able to focus on essays without fear of academic punishment and without generated lack of capacity from overwork. (but of course, universities is an abstraction here--faculty/staff unions and student worker unions do push for those resources, because university leadership isn't otherwise interested in granting them, because it's not particularly profitable to care about the conditions of learning.)

[xetlynn]

Would you mind doing alternate universe claggor x a fem!reader who's a cat-person like lest?

Here you gooo!!!

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Say It First

summary: [name] and claggor like one another but neither will make it official.

[arcane] [main page]

“[Name]!? [Name]! Dude your shift is about to start!” A slightly muffled voice shouts, startling me awake from the rough sleep I had last night. I shoot up from my couch, my ears ringing due to the sudden movement I made. I look around trying to remember where I even was. 

I glance down to my couch, trying to pinpoint why I was sleeping in my living room and not my bedroom. I get jolted out of my thoughts when the front door is slamming open. My eyes widened, stepping back to see Mylo who just kicked my door open. “Hey, my door!” I scrunch my face, putting my arms up. “You’re fixing that.” I angrily told him. 

“You should be thanking me, actually.” He rebuttals, showing me his watch. The time was 5 minutes before my shift at The Last Drop started. My heart sank. “I forgot to set my alarm.” I solemnly admit, rushing to my bedroom. “I didn’t know you were awake. I wouldn't have had Mylo do that! I thought he was going to pick the lock, not break it.” Powder says, following behind me. 

 “It’s okay, he’s fixing it whether he wants to or not.” I spit out, throwing my clothes off, not caring that my friend was right there. She covered her eyes immediately. “Vander is going to be pissed!” I cry out, throwing my work clothes on, grooming out my tail along with my hair. “I was up way too late last night.” I mutter, spraying a bunch of perfume on.

“Let’s go.” I grab my best friend’s wrist, dragging her out of my room. Mylo stood there, hands behind his back. “C’mon, I don’t want you in my house.” I point to him, taking his arm in my other hand. Hurriedly leaving my place, shutting the door behind me even though it really didn’t matter since my lock and door knob was busted.

“Why were you so tired, hm?” Mylo takes his arm back as we all rush to the bar. “I was out with a friend.” I rolled my eyes, sprinting ahead of them so I didn’t have to hear their teasing. 

“She was so with Claggor.” He whispers over to Powder who just snickers. “Totally.” She adds. 

“Guys, please whispering is not the best thing to do around me.” I point to my fluffed up ears. “We meant for you to hear.” The blue haired girl smirks. I groan. “Whatever.” The Last Drop comes into view and I start running to the building. I made it in just a minute. All eyes on me when I burst inside. I bite my lip, holding onto my tail nervously as I walk to Vander. “I made it on time.” I give him a small salute. 

“You look like you just woke up.” He ruffles my hair, my ears go down, upset with him messing up my hair. “That’s because she did.” Mylo sits on a stool, Powder joining. “Only reason she’s here is because we broke into her house.” She says in a joking manner even though that is quite literally what they did. 

“Yeah, Mylo. I’m not joking when I say you’re fixing that!” I fumed, heading behind the bar to tie my waist apron. “Yeah, yeah.” He sighs in annoyance. “He broke your lock?” A voice adds into the conversation, I perk up looking to see Claggor who’s holding a box of random things. “Yeah, can you believe that?” I smile, leaning over the counter. 

Vander scoffs, walking away knowing I’m about to be really distracted now. “Actually, I can.” He grumbles glaring over at his brother. “He learned it from Vi when we were younger.” Claggor thinks back to the pink haired girl who was basically his sister. I take his hand knowing sometimes it’s a little hard to mention her. “Yeah well he’s going to fix said door.” I squeeze his hand before letting it go to pinch Mylo on the arm. “Better get to it so I have a safe home to go to bed tonight.” I stare him down and when he attempts to argue I just make a zip it motion. 

“Going now…” He groans, storming out of the building. Powder joins Claggor and I, laughing at her pouting brother who just left. “I warned him about having to fix it.” She shrugs her shoulders. “He doesn’t think about consequences much.” I remind her. “Never has.” Claggor chimes in, giving me a small wink. My face flushes and I turn to Powder who was already smirking at me. 

“So, what were you two doing up so late last night?” She abruptly questions us, making both Claggor and I tense up. “Well, um, this was part of the reason.” He lifts up the box he came in here with. “A box of… junk?” Powder tilts her head with a slight expression of disgust. 

“Yes, I’m reusing it. To turn it into jewelry. Claggor and I were collecting them yesterday and he said he’d clean them and bring them back to me. Hence why he brought it here.” I explain, taking the box, hiding it underneath the counter. “Thank you by the way.” I grin, he nods his head. “Jewelry?”

“Yeah, Vander said I could sell some here if they were good enough.” I pointed over to their dad who was talking to a customer. “I forgot you were super into making jewelry.” Powder purses out her lips. “Speaking of jewelry! Ekko and I are going on a date to that art festival tonight. We wanted to invite you two.” She proposes to us and I furrow my eyebrows as Claggor has a slight blush on his cheeks. “You want us to join your date?” I repeated back to her.

“It’s a date for us, it can be whatever… your hangouts are called.” She avoids eye contact with me. I know what she’s doing. 

Claggor and I like each other. It’s extremely evident and we both know how annoying it comes off. For some reason we don’t talk about it nor do we hint at it or anything. No kissing, no hugging, no intimacy at all! I got a fist bump last night and I dreamt about it, that’s how pathetic this whole ordeal is. 

“You don’t have to answer now but I need one before 4.” She smacks her hand down on the counter before walking away just as her boyfriend, Ekko comes into view. I turned to Claggor who was staring down at his hands. “Do you want to go?” I ask him, I feel my tail flicker to the side and I grab it. Not wanting it to give away my interest. “Do you?” 

I smack his arm because of his answer. He does this often. Not giving me an answer on what he wants and deflecting it for me to answer first. “I do, actually. Now, what do you want to do?”

He smiles up at me. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.” He says. I roll my eyes. “Sure it was.” 

•••

Powder gets dressed over at my house. She’s wearing a white shirt that has pink flowers all over it with a long black skirt as I put on a dark blue shirt and jean shorts. My shorts used to be Powders but I absentmindedly cut a hole in them for my tail after I borrowed them. 

“Are you two going to make it official soon?” Powder asks as she finishes her eyeliner. “Again with this?” I whine, aggressively putting my shoes on. “[Name] it is exhausting to watch! Just say something. I’m sure he wants the same thing!” She practically begs and I sit on the edge of my bed, letting out a huff of air. “I know he does but I want him to make the first move. He never says what he wants first.” I throw myself back on my bed dramatically. 

“He’s most likely just nervous, he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.” Powder comes and sits beside me. Her face was hovering over mine. “I understand though.” She rubs my arm. “Funny, Ekko was pretty straight forward last I checked.” I poke her nose, her cheeks turn pink in response. “Okay I don’t fully get it but I do understand if I put myself in your shoes.” She shoves my arm, standing back up. 

•••

We meet up with the guys at the bridge where they’re throwing the festival. Powder jumps over to her boyfriend, linking their arms. Claggor and I awkwardly stand beside one another, following behind the couple into the festival. 

I mainly just looked around for new jewelry inspos to make out of the recycled junk that I have. Telling Claggor to take a mental image just in case I forgot. Powder and I fangirling over certain paintings and little gadgets all around. 

“[Name], look at that table.” Powder points over to another jewelry table but the jewelry wasn’t made of metal or plastic but instead plants. My jaw slacks, grabbing onto Claggor excitedly bringing him over to the table with me. Not realizing that Ekko and Powder took that as a chance to split up from us. I pick up a blue flower crown, examining it. “I could so create something like this!” I squeal, placing it on my head. “Powder they have pink-” I held it in my hands, turning to show her but she was already gone. I press my lips together and frown.

 “Wow.” I scoffed out a laugh. “Hey, since you picked that up you actually have to buy both of them.” The creator comes up behind me, I look at her with a sad look. I didn’t bring any money. Before I can say that though Claggor was already giving him a few coins. “Thank you.” She nods her head, stuffing the coins in her pocket. 

“Sorry, I’ll pay you back.” I hold the flower crown in front of me. Not knowing what to do with it now. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He waves me off. I look between him and the crown, a smirk creeping up on my lips. 

“Put this on.” I give it to him, he raises a brow. “Okay.” He puts it on without a fight and I giggle, giving him a hug. “We match!” I feel my tail flick back and forth and I immediately let him go before he can embrace me back.

I clear my throat. “Let’s go check out the glass area. That seemed cool.” I avert my gaze from him, walking ahead now. “You okay?” He asks. “Of course.” I curtly answered. 

I want to be able to hug him without worrying about doing too much. Or showing him I’m too happy because what if that looks weird. My ears and tail give me away too quickly though. I’ve never been able to lie about my emotions. Ever. If I’m upset my ears flatten. If I’m happy, excited or nervous my tail will show it with how it moves. It’s sort of annoying. 

“I know something’s bothering you, [Name].” He places a hand on my shoulder. See! 

“Nothing’s bothering me.” I lie, forcing a smile. “Let’s go see that glass.” I pump my fists in the air. He doesn’t move though when I begin to walk. “C’mon.” I try to grab his hand but he pulls away to cross his arms. “Not until you tell me.”

I glanced around us and everyone was just walking around, not paying attention to what we were doing at all. “I guess we can stay in the jewelry section.” I attempt to make a joke but it doesn’t land with my very small audience.

Once his silence began to bother me I swallowed down my pride. Thinking back to what Powder said. How it might just be hard for him to explain how feels about things. 

“I want to be something.” I deflect eye contact with him, trying to focus on literally anything else at this moment. “What do you want to be?” He stammers.

“A couple like Ekko and Powder. I want to kiss, hold hands, tell everyone that you’re mine.” I exclaim, at the ending of my sentence I glance up at him. His hands drop to his sides. “I can’t tell if that’s what you want either because you never tell me how you feel unless I say what I feel and then you just agree with me and it makes me feel like you’re lying almost.” I blurt out word after word, not being able to stop the vomit that is this sentence. 

“I just want to know how Claggor feels, not [Name].” I tell him truthfully, my head going down sadly. My ears falling with it. I hold onto my tail to mess with something.

“I… in all honesty [Name] I feel the same way as you most of the time. Like this for example, I want the same thing. I want to call you mine and scream it out to everyone. I just get scared that I’m going to mess up.” He grabbed my hands, my tail dropping back down. “What would you mess up?” I look up at him through my eyelashes. “Everything.” He chuckles dryly. 

“Mm, I don’t think you ever could.” I pull him closer to me, wrapping his arms around me. “I want you to be mine and I want you to tell me everything you feel.” I tell him, my arms going around his neck. “I want to kiss you.” He says, momentarily letting me go so we can get out of people's way a little better. We weren’t exactly stopping anyone from walking but so we could have our moment a little better. He brought me to the wall of the bridge. 

“You want to kiss me?” I giggle, my hand traveling to his face. “Mhm.” He nods his head. I see the redness in his ears from how hard he’s blushing. “Then do it.” I whisper.

He smiles, both of us inching closer and closer before he closes the gap between us. Our lips locking together and then moving as if we’ve done this before. 

Once we realize we were still in public though we back away with dumb, goofy smiles on our faces. “We need to do that more often.” I blurted out, causing him to laugh. “I wouldn’t mind.” 

“FINALLY!!!” Two arms wrap around us, pulling us together with Powder who was excitedly jumping up and down. “What’d I tell you, Ekko. My plan worked.” She throws her head back to look at her boyfriend who shook his head. 

[aryesdanger24]

I'm done with comparisons here.

I need everyone to understand right here and right now.

Everyone had a good ending that befitted their character arc!

Spoilers below for the ending of Season 2 of Arcane, be advised.

We can be mad about Jayvik dying and not getting an absolute confirmation (though some may argue it is pretty clear) .

Some can be mad that there wasn't enough verbally said to add that romantic nature to CaitVi (once again, some may believe they have done more than enough)

IT ISNT A CONTEST!

I personally we are fortunate to have an ending that truly feels complete in some way. It was a good ending overall for everyone expectation wise.

Most of the time we get a physical show of love to confirm anything gay whereas lesbians often say some soft confirmation of love to be 'official' but this gave what media needed.

Lesbians showing a very physical and verbal show of their love while men are having their soft confirmation through verbalizing their love.

It's wonderful, even if you are unsatisfied by the ending for your ship (if you have one) that's why we have fanfiction, to explore what could have been.

You got a problem with the finale, write a what-if spinoff or write how it should have ended or what happened after the official ending.

Stop comparing Jayvik, CaitVi, and Time bomb. It's a waste of your time when you could be writing what you wished would happen in fanfic.

Be happy that the ending is something you can work with, be happy the possibility exists with a solid world built to utilize.

Heck, don't like the world? Build an AU (alternate universe) for them! Make them coffee shop owners, have them be military personnel, make them crazy European tourists!

Do something constructive and add to your Fandom instead of tearing down someone else's.

Getting mad at someone else's ship or flaunting about your own having a better ending is a waste of time and just literally detrimental to the show itself. Respect Arcane and what it was able to accomplish without push back, it is able to walk firmly because previous shows and their small steps.

So, in short, behave yourself. This may be the internet but your words stay forever. Don't try to bolster the status of your ship by pulling down someone else's.

If you feel called out by this, evaluate your recent behavior.

If you feel offended by this, really think about why you feel this way, because it probably isn't because of my language.

Yes yes, I know comparing shows is how we understand and make progress, but I am specifically talking about unhelpful dissertations or memes that specify a ship.

It's fine to write a logical explanation of why you prefer a different ship. It's absolutely fine to explain how something could have been better or evaluate the show and what it has done and could do better.

What's not fine is bashing it because your ship didn't have what you deem a good ending.

Not all people have good endings, not all characters will achieve their good ending despite how good they may be. That's simply the truth of reality and sometimes an author wants their story to mirror their idea of truth.

Respect the show and the work people put in it, and respect that someone else's joy does not deserve your anger just out spite.

[airlocksandaviaries]

would Tom Cruise be a good Tony Stark

Well damn, Anii. You've asked me The Question. Right to the chase. And you didn't even buy me dinner first.

To put it bluntly, no. This is no criticism to TC's acting chops of course, the thing just is, Tony Stark is an incredibly, extremely, tremendously difficult character to play.

The reason being, Tony Stark can VERY EASILY become an unlikeable, hard to empathize with character. (It's the point of why he was created - look it up, it's fascinating. He was an experiment meant to make an unlikeable character likeable). This is mostly due to his cocky outer persona. There's an inner kindness and empathy to him that's VITAL to his character. And if the audience can't see that in him, they won't be able to connect with him.

RDJ is so perfect for the role because he is so similar to Tony Stark in so many ways. He had a redemption story that mirrored the character's, so he was able to empathize. He also operates in a very similar way to Tony. He's very charismatic and sharp, but he's genuinely a kind human being.

It's much easier to play a character that's very similar to who you are as a person. So for a character that's as hard to play as Tony Stark, it fits to cast someone who has had a similar experience.

I don't doubt Tom Cruise's ability to look inside a character and give them a heart and an inner life separate from the outer persona, and make them 3 dimensional, as we've seen him do this before.

I just think that because Tom Cruise is Tom Cruise, we would watch Tony Stark (played by TC), and it would be very difficult to look past his outer persona and see that inner kindness shining underneath.

Also, RDJ is the only person in the world who can play Anthony Edward Stark aside from me. Hope this helps <33

[trekkingthroughthestargate]

@whereiscarmensa took something devastating and made it even worse 😭

[somekindafairy]

thinking about the fact that me and my best friend from childhood and early adolescent started t within a year of each other despite at that point living on opposite sides of the country and not having talked in at least 5 years. (now close to a decade maybe longer)

[cyberpunkgyu]

Moonstruck — P.SH ✧.*

summary: when your boyfriend won’t stop staring at you or sunghoon falling deeply in love

genre: fluff, romance

warnings: not proofread!!

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

sunghoon loves you. there’s no doubt in that.

you are his first love, and hopes to be his last.

sometimes he gets so immersed in his thoughts about the future, and you’re a huge part of it. he wants to marry you one day, loving the thought of being with you for the rest of his life. growing old with you, through thick and thin, and till death do us part.

he would have never thought in his life that he’d be this in love with someone. of course, he knew the concept of it, he did grow up in a loving household, his parents always giving their all to their kids, and to each other. he always felt warm and safe.

and that’s what he felt when he’s with you.

not only that, but your love for him felt overflowing. to him, you were the embodiment of beauty and love.

“i missed you.” arms wrapped around his waist as soon as he entered your studio apartment, giving the boy a soft squeeze as he tried to take his shoes off with his own feet, not wanting to even let you go for just a second.

a cute smile on displayed on his plump lips, his arms hugging you back. he then gently pulled you, your feet dangling as he walked to your bed which wasn’t too far from the door. he plopped you down before pressing his lips against yours, basically caging you around him. “i missed you too, precious. you have no idea.”

you giggled against his lips, enjoying the feeling of his lips. “wait, wait. before i forget.” you pulled away from the kiss, though he stole a quick peck before moving to sit on the edge of your bed, helping you up.

“what is it?”

you slightly jogged to your fridge before taking out a tiramisu cake, your boyfriend’s favorite, which you had made earlier in the morning as you wanted to surprise him with it. surprisingly it turned out well, feeling a bit proud of yourself. baking was never really your thing, but you wanted to gave it a try instead of just buying it at a local bakery, to make it more special.

“ta dah!” you grinned as you placed it on the circle dining table, sunghoon, who had got up looking down at the cake, a surprised expression on his face, lips parted.

“woah. you made all this? i didn’t you could bake.”

“well, i don’t. but i wanted to try it out because i knew it’s your favorite. don’t have high expectations though! i know it’s probably not the best but it turned out okay.”

sunghoon felt his heart skip a beat, gulping at the sudden feeling, his eyes not leaving you. the way you smile while showing him the tiramisu made him feel as if he was floating. how can he not fall in love over and over again if that’s how you treat him? you make him feel so loved.

he loves you so much that he will do everything for you. if there were an alternative universe out there, he wishes that he’ll still be with you. if reincarnation is a real thing, which sunghoon still thinks about from time to time when he’s deep in his thoughts, he hopes that you’ll both find each other, one way or another.

“hoon?” he shook his head to snap himself out, seeing you look at him with such concern, causing his heart to melt.

god, he felt himself falling deeper and deeper for you.

“ah, yeah. let’s go try it.” he smiled tenderly before walking to one of your kitchen cabinets, knowing where everything was as your place was basically his second home.

grabbing plates and utensils for you both, he cut up one for you first, a habit that he formed after he began dating you, before placing a slice for himself. sunghoon quickly pulled one of the chairs for you to sit on, being the gentleman he is. it truly warms your heart whenever he does things like this, as it makes you feel so loved.

he sat down next to you, stabbing a piece into his fork before doing a "cheers" with you, trying the dessert. you watched him take a bite before you did, waiting for any reactions. his brows furrowed as he ate, and a low hum soon followed. "woah! this is really good! good job."

"you think so? i'm glad. i made a lot so you better finish it." you jokingly threatened your boyfriend before eating some more of the tiramisu, pleasantly surprised by your own creation. sunghoon's eyes remained on you as he ate, his eyes twinkling, gaze full of adoration.

he doesn’t realize how much he smiles when he’s around you. pretty sure he only smiles when he is around you. sure he’d smile to others as a kind gesture, but even that was a rare sight, though with you it was different. it was genuine.

he let out a low chuckle when he noticed a small cream from the cake on the corner if your lips, making you look up at him in confusion. “cute.” he mumbled and mindlessly wiped the cream off with his thumb, catching you off guard. your eyes looked up at him, cheeks heating up.

even after months (almost a year) of being in a relationship with him, he never fails to make you shy.

sunghoon licks it off his thumb before he leaned closer to you, lips hovering over yours. your heart felt loud in your ears.

“you have no idea how crazy you’re making me feel.” he whispered with a low and hushed tone. soon his lips pressed against yours, your hand dropping the fork down your plate before you placed it on his arm, kissing the boy back.

his lips felt so warm and gentle against yours. the sweet taste from your lips drove him even crazier, gently biting the bottom of your lips.

he finally pulled away, wanting to give you some time to breathe, though his forehead remained pressed against yours, his hand on your cheek. “what’s gotten into you?” you mumbled shyly, lips swollen and pink.

his eyebrow raised at your question, “what do you mean? can i not kiss my girlfriend?”

“not that… of course you can. just… i don’t know.” gosh, seeing you all shy made him feel some type of way.

“i just really love you. i’m so in love with you, precious.”

you didn’t think your cheeks could get even redder than it was, looking down bashfully.

“well, i want you to know that i really love you too hoon.” you smiled warmly, slowly looking up at him,

his fangs now on display as he grinned, “i’m glad. cause i am never letting you go.”

“sounds good to me.”

sunghoon doesn’t waste anymore time and pressed his lips back against yours, heart and mind filled with nothing else but you.

[ienjoywritingfilth]

a sinner i am

If its so wrong, why does it feel so good?

trope: Boyfriend's Dad PP character: Joel Miller x f reader summary: Your boyfriend Shawn Miller and his dad Joel bring you along to Hawaii for Christmas vacation. Things don't go as planned.

warning: 10/10 on the sexual tension scale, slowishh burn, kissing, grinding, cheating on your bf (but it’s cool, cuz its with Joel and everything is fictional in this universe), alternative universe b/c daddy miller stays alive and hates golf and he has a son named Shawn, no Sarah. rating: E

words 6.8k

wanna see my other stuff?

part i : takeoff

The best things in life are the people we love, the places we’ve been, and all the memories we’ve made along the way. - author unknown

"Loving him is a sin; of that I'm fully aware. But a sinner I am." - Bella Jewel

Your boyfriend Shawn brings over two iced coffees as the two of you work on a crossword together at your local coffee shop. You have been filling in the squares quickly.

"Thanks babe," you say warmly as you take the coffee from him. He presses a kiss to your temple, taking a seat next to you. 

"Damn, you're fast this mornin'," he says when he sees all you've filled in. It's a tradition for the two of you; weekend crosswords over coffee. It's nice. It's domestic. 

It's a little boring. 

You're college sweethearts who met your sophomore year and have been inseparable since. And while the love is still very much there the butterflies have unfortunately been hibernating for a while. 

It's normal, you tell yourself when you sometimes zone out during sex. It's normal when you've been together with someone so long. 

"It's so nice to be doing this instead of college essays," you say. 

"Fuck yeah it is." 

This is your first summer of freedom without the threat of schoolwork looming in the near distance. Shawn is starting his master's in the fall and you've just accepted a position at the local museum. 

“Just think I’ll actually be able to enjoy Christmas this year,” you tease. “Unlike someone who’ll be working on essays.”

“Hey now,” Shawn says with mock offence. “I’ll be able to enjoy my Christmas just fine. Actually, my dad wants to celebrate Christmas somewhere warm this year. He's talkin' about some resort in Hawaii."

Shawn comes from money, the son of the infamous Joel Miller of The Miller Company, the premiere construction firm in Texas. This means expensive vacations, nice cars, all of that is normal for him. You meanwhile have had to work hard for everything you have.

Being left behind at Christmas seems strangely unkind for the normally thoughtful head of the Miller family. Shawn's dad has always treated you like one of the family so this news is unexpected.

"Have a great time," you say trying not to be jealous. "Bring me back some chocolate macadamia nuts."

You can admit that even though both Shawn and his father are humble, kind men, you're always a bit bitter that they live so nicely. Leaving you out of their holiday vacation seems especially unkind. 

"He's taking both of us babe," Shawn says with a grin. "You think he's gonna leave you behind on Christmas? After you’ve spent the last six with us?" 

Christmas in Hawaii? Is this a dream? Your pencil lays forgotten on the table as you gape open-jawed at your boyfriend. 

"Are you serious?"

"Babe," Shawn says meaningfully. "My dad likes you better than he likes me. Of course you're invited."

You've always gotten along with Joel. It's impossible not to. He's friendly, funny and charming. There's a reason he's good at his job. And you're a good girl, a kind girlfriend to his son with clear career ambitions. 

A smile breaks out over your features and you pull Shawn into a tight hug. He chuckles, embracing you back, kissing your cheek. 

"Make sure you don’t overpack, okay?" He murmurs in your ear as you giggle. “I don’t feel like helping you haul six bags of shoes for a week-long trip.”

Thoughts of lounging by the pool with a drink in one hand and a magazine in the other while the Hawaiian sun beats down on you is all too enticing. You kiss him fiercely, imagining the time together.

"I can't wait." 

The two of you finish the crossword puzzle all the while talking about the drinks and food and the excursions you'll both take. 

"Maybe once I've got a handle on school we can think about findin' an apartment in the new year," Shawn broaches, his hand over yours.

Sex fades, but this? This domestic stuff you have with Shawn? That's special. That's love. 

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He gives you a smile, that dimple poking out of his cheek that makes you swoon.

"Ready to go?" Shawn asks, extending his hand to you when your coffees are drained. 

"Yeah," you say with your hand taking his. "Let's go."

When December twentieth announces itself with a thunderstorm you couldn’t care less because you’re at the airport. Your large rolling bag bag is stuffed with cute outfits, swimsuits and even some snorkelling gear. 

"Feels like you got a dead body in here," Shawn laughs as he struggles with the two bags, handing you yours before swinging an arm around your shoulders. 

"I wanted to be prepared."

"Let's go my little Girl Scout," he laughs with a gentle kiss to your temple. You both check in and then find your boarding gate. 

"I'm gonna grab breakfast, you want anything?" Shawn asks as he parks you and the suitcases by the gate full of noisy travellers. 

"Nah, I'm good." 

Shawn jogs off in the direction of a Starbucks you passed on your way in. 

Out the larger windows you can see planes taking off. You've never flown before; you thought that you'd be excited. But at the first view of those planes out the window you feel your stomach drop. 

They’re so big and bulky. How does it fly properly? It couldn’t. What if people shift around too much in their seats? Surely this can’t be a safe form of travel!

You pull out your phone, distracting yourself with a game. You try for several moments but your eyes keep being drawn to the huge planes outside. You grimace, wondering if you should have gotten your doctor to prescribe you something for anxiety. 

"Cheer up," a voice says. "You look like you're goin' to prison, not a five star resort." 

You glance over to see Shawn's dad, Joel, at the other side of you, an amused look on his handsome face. He's wearing jeans and a faded grey Longhorns t-shirt. You're momentarily thrown as normally you see him in dress pants and button downs for work. 

"I'm excited for the resort, just not the giant metal death box hurling through the air that is my only means of getting there." 

"Touche."

Shawn jokes about Joel liking you better then he likes him, but the truth is you and Joel are very similar. Your senses of humour, your ability to read people, your tendency to see the worst in people before they prove themselves worthy.

Shawn is more like his mom, sweet and naive at times, always seeing the good in people. It's ironic considering which parent stuck around to raise him and which one escaped the country six years after Shawn was born. 

Joel takes the empty seat next to you, his kneecap kissing yours as he pulls out his phone. 

"Never flown before," you explain. 

"Ah, I see," Joel puts his phone in his pocket, his attention fully fixed on your face. "Well what if I told you it's actually the safest way to travel?"

"I'd call you a liar."

Joel chuckles richly, his hand falling to your knee and squeezing as he laughs. 

"I promise you, I wouldn't take you on anything unsafe. And if all that's not good enough, you'll have Shawn beside you holding your hand the whole time."

You grin at that, nodding. The thought of Shawn being there does help your anxiety. Joel smiles back, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

"Thank you so much for inviting me along in this trip, Joel. I've always wanted to go to Hawaii."

"S'a beautiful place," Joel nods. "And you don't need to thank me. You're practically family at this point." 

Shawn returns with a muffin and two coffees in hand. 

"Hey dad, got you a coffee," Shawn says handing it to his father. 

"Thanks," Joel says gratefully. Just then the intercom alert sounds 

"Good afternoon passengers.This is the announcement for flight 82B for Oahu, Hawaii. We are now inviting passengers to begin boarding. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Thank you.”

“That’s us.”

The lineup goes uncomfortably fast. You stand beside Sean who is talking to Joel behind you, the two of them deep in conversation about football, a subject you couldn't care less about. You are still too preoccupied with the flight, being surrounded by almost all strangers sailing through the sky. 

You're not a fan of heights. So when you get to the door of the plane you hesitate, willing your foot to move. When it doesn't and the flight attendants shoot you a confused look, you feel yourself start to panic. 

Shawn has gone on ahead to grab your seats and place your carry-on bag in the overhead bin, not noticing that you're not behind him. A large hand flies to the small of your back, a comforting gesture. Joel. He rubs there, soothing you. 

"You'll be okay darlin'," he rumbles in your ear. "Remember, it’s safer than drivin' a car."

“Liar.”

Joel’s deep chuckle makes you grin and you allow Joel to gently prod you onto the plane, shooting the waiting attendants grateful looks for their patience. He takes his seat near the front, watching as you make your way to your seat next to Shawn. As you buckle in a thought occurs to you and you move your voice to a whisper.

"Isn't it gonna be kinda weird with us being there all week with just your dad? I mean, sharing the place and all?" 

"Nah, he made sure the rooms were far apart. Plus, he invited his girlfriend to come along so I doubt we'll see much of him."

Joel is a chronic workaholic, often pulling late nights and working on his phone. You’ve seen him out and about with beautiful women at the events Shawn takes you to but never formally dating them. You always assumed to be a lifelong bachelor. You wouldn't blame him, especially after what he's been through with Shawn's mother. 

"I didn't know he had a girlfriend," you say honestly. "Good for him."

"A couple months now," your boyfriend tells you. "You know my dad, mister private. But he took me to dinner and told me about her so I think he's getting serious." 

"That's really sweet," you say honestly. You want nothing but the best for him. 

All of a sudden the plane starts to jiggle, sending people stumbling down the aisles and others gasping in surprise. You reach over and grab Shawn's hand, trying to regulate your breathing. 

"Not so tight, babe," Shawn complains before gently sliding his hand from under yours. "You scratched me with your nails."

"Sorry," you mumble, eyes closed as the jostling of the plane continues.  

You tighten your seat belt before gripping the seat arms so tightly that your knuckles are white. Sean squeezes your kneecap, murmuring that everything will be okay and that you’re safe. You keep your eyes closed, trying to focus on the soothing sounds of his words.

Eventually the plane enters smooth skies and the seat belt sign is turned off. Despite this you remain keyed up, sitting stiffly as Shawn fades into a nap. 

"Excuse me, Miss?"

You crack open an eye to see a beautiful redheaded flight attendant bending down towards you with a glass of what appears to be whisky in her hand.  She extends it towards you and you take it confused.

"This is from the gentleman in A-1. He says to take this and you'll be relaxed for the rest of the flight." 

You look up a few rows to see Joel giving you a brief wave. You thank the women before raising it towards Joel in a Cheers motion. 

Drink it. Joel mouths. 

Yes, sir. You mouth back complete with a stiff fake salute before tossing back the drink. 

He grins at you before settling back in his seat. 

The drink does the job. 

"Here we are."

The cab drops the three of you in front of the beach resort. When you step out the air is fragrant with the scent of flowers. You wait while Joel checks you all in before he's back, motioning for you both to follow. 

There's the main section of the resort with luxurious hotel rooms. The more secluded section contains a variety of self contained houses that dot the waterfront. Its reserved for people who have unlimited credit card limits and drive cars that cost more than your parents first home.

When you arrive to your unit, your eyes are ready to bug out of your head. It's massive, as far as vacation rentals go. When you all step into the air conditioned unit you have to take a moment to take it all in. 

The beach house is beautiful with floor to ceiling windows, stunning tile floors and tasteful furniture. All of this is topped off with spectacular views of the beach outside your door. 

A plate of sliced pineapple and chilled wine sits on the kitchen table, along with a note that Joel reads when he wanders over. 

"Welcome note," he explains when he sees you looking at it. "I knew the owner back in trade school." 

You and Shawn nod, your boyfriends hand trailing down your back gently. It's much the same as what Joel did back at the airplane, but it feels different. You trail your suitcase behind you hearing the clack of it against the stone floor as you move around the room. 

"Wow." 

It's all you can utter as the three of you tour the rest of the unit. There’s a simple kitchen with an expensive looking coffee machine and a brand new bag of kona coffee waiting to be used.  The living room holds a table and four chairs, a few board games and a list of nearby places to visit along with the wifi code.  The couch is simple, placed in front of a large television that you’re sure you won’t use.

"My bedrooms on the right," Joel tells you both. "Yours it's on the left. We're sharin’ a bathroom, sorry about that. Pretty common in these places." 

Who cares about sharing a bathroom when you're in one of the most beautiful places you've ever been? Even the bathroom is beautiful with its high waterfall shower head and sleek marble. This place must have cost a fortune for the week. 

Joel encourages you both to take a look at your room down the hall and you don't hesitate to take Shawn's hand, dragging him there. Shawn pushes open the door to the bedroom and you can't hold in your shriek. 

"Holy shit! It's gorgeous!" 

The big windows overlook the ocean, the late afternoon beach beckoning to you. The bed is large and plush with white sheets, and framed prints of Oahu sunsets. Its spacious, the bed so large it looks like two giant beds pushed together. The closet is spacious and boats dozens of wood coat hangers.

“Wood, because it’s classy,” you tell Shawn in amusement who is already unpacking his suitcase while you continue to stare in a daze. 

"You like it?"

Joel is standing at the door frame, a shoulder balanced against it, watching you take it all in. He's smiling at you in that gentle, sweet way of his that makes you feel cared for. 

You're suddenly overcome with gratitude and you streak over to him. 

"Thank you, Joel!" You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. "This is the most beautiful place I've ever been."

Joel laughs along with Shawn at your embrace and enthusiasm, holding you around the middle and hoisting you in his arms. Your face presses into his neck as he squeezes you, and the scent of leather and sandalwood envelops you. 

You've never really hugged Joel before. Maybe a polite side hug during family events, a high-five during baseball games and even once a hard push to his shoulder when he made fun of you for being afraid of a spider that had gotten into the house. 

But you've never had your front pressed to his, never really felt the muscles of his back and arms, seen the tendons in his neck or realized just how big his hands are when they squeeze your waist before lowering you.  

"I guess that means you like it," he says, red-faced. You pull back, embarrassed at your overzealous response. 

Shawn and his dad are very similar in their looks. Except Shawn is clean-shaven while Joel has a beard and Shawn's eyes are hazel like his mom's while Joel's are the darkest brown you've ever seen. You've never really noticed how dark until this very moment. 

You shoot him a cheery thank you again before smiling and skipping over to Shawn announcing that you'll unpack as well. 

"You two enjoy, I gotta make a few calls but then we can head out to dinner."

"Sounds great," Shawn says as he searches for his phone charger. 

Joel closes the door behind him and you turn to your boyfriend. You can't explain it but you feel turned on. The Hawaiian air must be doing something to you because

You crawl towards where he kneels unpacking. You grin, feeling the pulse of desire hitting you below the navel. You kneel beside him, dropping your voice to a husky murmur. 

"Should we break the bed in?" 

An hour later the three of you are sitting at a local eatery. Joel and Shawn are talking with one another while you scan the busy restaurant. 

Couples, families, all laughing and cheerful. And why wouldn't they? This is Paradise after all. But you don't feel anything like it, if anything, you feel like a little black rain cloud. 

Shawn turned down your earlier advances, citing that he was too tired. The problem is for the past three months Shawn has been too tired most of the time. At first he blamed grad school but when you pointed out he still made lots of time for gaming with best friends Brian and Kevin he'd been quick to explain that gaming relaxed him. 

That conversation had gone over about as well as a turd in the punch bowl. You remember being so hurt at what you felt was a slight against you. Weren't you relaxing? Weren't you something that made him happy? 

So yeah, you had hoped that this little vacation might stir some of that old spark back. But maybe you were too eager. You had just arrived at the place after all. Maybe you were being unfair. Still, the rejection stung.

"Thought we could do all the tourist-y shit while we're here," Joel says after you've all placed your orders. "Luau, sunset cruise."

"Snorkelling?" Shawn offers. 

"Hell yes," Joel nods grinning. "ATV tour too."

The Millers like to have fun. They also like to keep busy. It's like second nature to them to be off on adventures or activities. You meanwhile plan on spending lots of time by the pool or the beach, reading and drinking. 

"What about you, darlin'?" Joel asks between sips of whisky. "What're you hopin' to do?"

You know exactly what. The thing you've been dying to do since you were a kid at the aquarium. 

"I wanna swim with the turtles."

Shawn bursts into amused laughter beside you, and if you weren't already irritated with him before, you certainly are now. He grins at you not understanding that you're secretly furious with him. 

"Turtles? Really?"

"What's wrong with turtles?"

"Seems kinda babyish doesn't it?"

"What's babyish about liking animals?" Joel cuts in. "You forgetting about the time we wouldn't let you in the petting zoo and you threw your shoe at me?"

"I was five, dad."

"Yeah well, some things don't change," Joel says with a smirk. "Still throwin' tantrums when you don't get your way."

"Fuck off old man," Shawn says through chuckles. “Don’t forget I’m your only child. I pick which retirement home I’m gonna stick you in when your mind goes.”

“Little bastard,” Joel mutters, trying to hold back a loud laugh.

He settles for tossing a drink umbrella in Shawn’s direction, chuckling when Shawn dodges it easily. You can't help but laugh along with him, your bad mood fading. 

By the time dessert arrives you're all several glasses of wine in reminiscing about Shawn's last attempt at surfing. 

"I've gotten better," he exclaims. “I swear.”

"Yeah well we'll see about that," Joel says paying the check. "Alright team, let's head back and get some shut eye. This old man needs it." 

You roll your eyes at that. Joel isn't even fifty and even if he was he's about the best looking man his age bracket and younger. You've seen the way women stare at him, whispering, blushing when he looks their way. He is not what you’d qualify as old.

The three of you arrive back at the unit to the sound of nighttime creatures croaking and buzzing. 

"Alright I'll meet you two out here tomorrow morning around nine. We can go to the excursion desk and plan the week. Sound good?"

"Sounds good, night Dad."

"Night Joel."

The three of you part ways into the opposite bedrooms. Shawn nuzzles your neck gently kissing there. He always does that when he's been drinking. You smile delightedly at this, eager to get into bed.

When the lights are off and the two of you have slipped off your clothes and under the covers you roll towards him, peppering his face with soft kisses. 

"It's late, babe," he murmurs, kissing you sweetly but with finality. 

"We're on vacation," you remind him, slipping your hand under his boxers.

You feel him slowly start to harden in your grip. You hear his breath hitch and you smile, knowing those sounds so intimately. You tug off your panties and slide onto his lap, preparing to ride him. 

"Fuck me," you whisper, hips grinding against his. "Wanna feel your cock in me."

“Baby, no.”

Shawn pulls you off of him and you tumble into the bed next to him, feeling your cheeks grow hot with humiliation.

"My dad is right across the hall," Shawn hisses. “I don’t want him hearing us.”

Rejection never sits well with you and immediately you feel yourself growing defensive. 

"You're dad is gonna be across the hall the whole week, Shawn,” you whisper angrily. “So what, we're not going to have fuck this entire trip?"

"We'll have sex," Shawn said rolling his eyes. "Just not when my dad is ten feet away sharing a fuckin' bathroom with us."

Bullshit. Another excuse to put off the intimacy that’s been dwindling for months. You push yourself from the bed, tugging on your dress from earlier. Shawn leans up on his elbows, giving you a look of concern.

"Where are you going?"

"A walk."

"I'll c---"

"No," you say sharp as a knife. "I want to go alone." 

You stalk out of the house, eyes glossy with hurt and anger. That's the thing they don't tell you about relationships that have gone on so long -- both partners need to work to keep the fires going. 

You make your way to the beach along the softly lit pathway. Its well after midnight and the resort is quiet; the lights dimmed or off entirely. You take a seat on a nearby rock, listening to the gentle sound of the evening waters lapping by the shore. You're very excited to go swimming tomorrow. To feel the warm sand underneath your feet. 

You can hear noise coming from the far end of the resort. You remember over dinner Joel going through the resort map on his phone, letting you know what amenities they had. He had told you both about the dance club the resort had.

Shawn had immediately laughed, stating that he’d take a pass on it.  Shawn hates dancing. You tried to get him to do dance lessons with you once but he wouldn't even give it a shot. 

Right now it seems all you can do is focus on Sean's flaws. You know that he's a decent man, you know the treats you well, but there are these bugaboos these irritants that can't help frustrate you right now. 

"Fuck it," you murmur to yourself, raising yourself from the sand and brushing it from your sundress. You follow the sound of the music, stopping in front of a door with blinking lights. A man in a blue Hawaiian shirt smiles at you when you approach. 

"Aloha, may I ask your Unit number?"

"Number 4, under Miller."

The man types into his computer before nodding, opening the door for you. You step into the darkness, letting your eyes adjust to the blue lights and colourful dance floor. The speakers are playing typical vacation music with a heavy bass.

Bodies writhe on the dance floor, half naked in revealing dresses or in the men's case, unbuttoned shirts. You order a drink at the bar, taking it with you as you scout the area for a free chair. A hand on your wrist surprises you.

"Joel?"

Joel is seated at one of the small circle tables nursing what appears to be a tumbler of Scotch. He motions for you to take the free chair next to him and you do gratefully falling into it, your arm bumping his. 

"What are you doin' here? Since when does Shawn dance?" He asks over the bass, grinning. He looks a bit tipsy, his neck red. 

"He doesn't, I'm here alone. I needed to blow off some steam," you tell him over the music. 

"Me too," he says loudly back. "Couldn't sleep. Too excited, I guess." 

You nod, looking back at the dance floor wistfully. Everyone looks like they're having such a fun time, their worries and concerns far away from them as they undulate to the rhythm of the music.  Joel takes another sip of his drink, watching you from the corner of his eyes. 

You wish Shawn was here with you, you wish he was spinning you around on the dance floor. You wish it was like those early years where you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

"You and Shawn doin' okay?"

Joel's voice cuts into your confusing thoughts. You glance his way.

"Why do you ask?"

"Cuz I'm a dad," Joel. "And I've been married. And I know what tension between two people looks like." 

You sigh heavily, your mind drifting to earlier. You don’t answer Joel because what would you tell him? You can’t tell your boyfriend’s dad that you’re worried his son is growing distant. You can’t tell him that your sex life has been disintegrating for the past several months. Instead you just shrug.

"You two talked about marriage?"

"What? No.”

You and Shawn have been together a long time, but you have no intention of settling down anytime soon. Sean is still doing his masters and you're loving your job at the museum.

"Good. No, not like that," Joel amends when he sees your stricken expression. "I just mean you're both so young."

"You were younger than us when you got married.”

"Yeah and look where that got me," he says with a scoff. 

"Yeah, well, I think it's just been a long time and we're hitting a rough patch. Nothing we can't overcome," you add quickly. "It's just hard sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah," Joel nods. "I know." 

The two of you lapse into silence, watching the twirling, shouting, laughing people swan around you. You shouldn’t be glum, you should be experiencing life!

"You wanna dance?"

His voice is low and husky in your ear. You start, surprised to see Joel inches from your face. You know he's speaking so close to you because it's so loud in here, but it doesn't stop your pulse from ticking at the shock. 

"Don't really know how.”

"Shit reason. C'mon."

Joel throws back the rest of his drink and drags you onto the dance floor. You laugh as he spins you, both of you almost knocking into an older couple who are taking the dance very seriously. They shoot you both a nasty look and you and Joel have to work hard to muffle your laughter. 

"You're gonna get us kicked out!"

"Nah," Joel shakes his head, spinning you again but closer to him. "I'm too charmin’."

"You think pretty highly of yourself don't you?"

Joel shrugs, laughing as the song ends. Another quick one begins and Joel looks serious. 

"I'm gonna teach you some moves Shawn's mom taught me."

"Okay."

You're surprised, he doesn't really mention Shawn's mother very often. 

You watch as Joel attempts to teach you some simple dance moves. You don't know if it's the stuffy club, the drinks running through your veins or the fact that you're dancing with your boyfriend's dad, but you can't really focus on the steps.

"I give up," you moan after the fifth failed attempt at a two-step. 

"You ain't a quitter," Joel assures you, trying to spin you slowly so you can get your footing. 

You never realized that Joel was such a good dancer. Watching him move his tall body is strangely hypnotizing, mainly because you never expected a man that broad and muscular to move so fluidly. 

"Atta girl," he says proudly when you get some of the footing correct. 

You smirk when you see the women nearby watching him, shooting him smiles. But his focus is on you, teaching you the moves and assuring you: it's alright darlin', we'll get you there just take your time. 

You're having so much fun with him you barely realize that an hour has gone by and you can only tell when you realize the back of your neck is damp with sweat. 

You're about to announce your heading back to the unit when the beat slows and many trickle off the dance floor. It's a slow song, and only the couples remain in the glowing dance floor. 

You go to step off when you feel Joel spin you again, back into his arms. You smile breathlessly up at him, the two of you shiny from perspiration from the dancing and the warm crowded space. 

Joel is looking at you strangely, his eyes luminous in the reflection of the twinkling club lights. When he slides a hand at your lower back and urges your hands around his neck you don't hesitate. You lace your fingers there, shifting from foot to foot.

You feel strange to be dancing with Joel. And not because he makes you feel uncomfortable, it's the opposite, actually. You feel almost too comfortable. Joel’s eyes are trailing over your face, sometimes highlighted by the flash of the DJ’s lights.

“You talked to Shawn about all that’s botherin’ you and this rough patch?” Joel asks out of nowhere.

He looks vulnerable; unlike the Joel you know who is all smiles and jokes.

“Kinda,” you say shyly, looking over his shoulder. “It’s just hard. . . We can both get pretty defensive. Plus, I wonder if I’m maybe being unfair. He’s in school and everything.”

“Uh huh, and you started that museum job didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty demanding job, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Joel gives you a look as he rocks you both from side to side

“Can I say somethin’ you might not wanna hear?”

You nod.

“In my experience, it takes two people to make a relationship. Not one puttin’ in all the effort while the other one has his or her head in the sand.”  

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. The song ends and Joel releases his hands you’re your waist before he announces he has to hit the washroom. You head to the bar for a glass of water and to wait for him. 

"Hi beautiful." 

An Australian man around Joel's age with a moustache is leaning against the bar next to you. His eyes are bleary and red-rimmed, his cheeks ruddy. He’s obviously very drunk. You give a forced smile before going back to wait for your water.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No thanks," you answer quickly. "Just getting water." 

"How about a dance then?"

"I'm good," you say forcing a polite smile. You’re facing away from him, eyes on the bartender hoping he notices you.  

"C'mon beautiful," the man insists, eyes sliding over your chest in a very obvious way. "I'm a good dancer too. Could give you lots of lessons." 

"She said no."

Joel's voice is there, having clearly come back from the bathroom. You step backwards and before you know it Joel is sliding his arm protectively around you.  You glance up to see Joel's face contorted into a mask of fury. His teeth are bared like some wild animal and he grips you tightly to him. 

"Sorry man," The guy says holding his hands up in surrender towards Joel. "Didn't know she was taken." 

Joel sneers before leading you out of the club. The cool air is a welcome reprieve when you step outside, breathing deeply. 

"That place is nothin' but perverts," Joel growls as the two of you make your way back along the beach in the direction of your unit. 

"Joel,  you were there," you say giggling. "That make you a pervert?"

"Ha ha."

You walk quietly along the shoreline, confused as to how you can feel this good when just an hour ago it felt like everything was falling apart. Maybe it’s the drink in your veins, maybe its Hawaii, or maybe it’s just Joel.

"Watch it--"

Joel takes your hand when you stumble over a rock in the semi darkness. You let him, not dropping it even when your walking evens out. It feels nice to walk hand in hand with him, it feels safe. He doesn't let go of your hand either as you continue along, your shoes making dual footprints in the sand. 

"Thanks for in there," you say. “I hate creepy guys like that.”

"Was nothin'," he says, then he drops your hand after a moment. "Shawn would have done the same."

"No, he wouldn't have." 

It slips out before you can stop yourself. Joel stops in the sand, his concern there in his face. It’s clear that what you’ve said has upset him.

"What?"

"He doesn't like confrontation, you know that," you say with a shrug. "And I like that about him."

"You do?" Joel challenges. "Really?" 

"Sometimes." 

Honestly you’ve never enjoyed the men who start fights for no reason, who act like cavemen when someone looks at their girlfriend. Shawn is too smart for that, too above it to engage with assholes like that. But you have to admit that there was a part of you that found Joel’s actions inside the club to be a bit attractive. Is that the word? Would you really call your boyfriend’s father attractive?

You look at him standing there, his grey t-shirt clinging to his muscles and wide shoulders, the muscular thighs in denim and you think, fuck, yeah he is attractive. You knew he wasn’t ugly, you’d just never looked at him like that. Like he was a man outside of being Shawn’s dad.

"I come from a time when you take care of what's yours." Joel runs a hand through his messy curls. "If you were mine I wouldn't let anyone talk to you the way that man did, let alone touch you." 

If you were mine. 

You can't understand why but you're nipples tighten under your dress at those words. The possessiveness in Joel's voice is so dark and husky. He’s looking off into the dark like he’s really upset.

"If I was yours," you murmur. 

His glazed eyes move from the beach over to your face. You’re standing so close to one another and you can see his chest rising and falling quickly as he breathes. His scotch-coated breath huffs over your cheeks and you swear you’re getting drunker just inhaling it.

You must be, because why else would you be putting your hands on his shoulders. Why else would you be pressing your mouth to his? Why else would you be tracing his plush lips with your tongue and whimpering when he groans into your parted mouth?

And he must be drunk because he doesn’t pull away or hesitate. He dips his head and his hands wrap around your waist, bringing your body against him tightly. His palms slide over your skin, desperate to touch you everywhere as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You welcome it, going gooey in his arms, allowing him to take what he wants from you.   

He’s so fucking broad, so strong, so masculine. You gasp into his mouth when he grips your ass with his big hands, pulling your hips against his, circling them as he kisses you. You feel his hardened cock through the layers of fabric, straining against the zipper of his jeans, desperate to bury itself in your slick heat.

To be desired like this feels powerful. It feels like years since Shawn wanted you like this much. It makes you lean more into Joel, desperate to keep the sensation going. His hands are sliding under your dress, up your silken thigh and you tremble.

A splash sounds nearby in the water, a fish or something startling you both and you simultaneously break apart. You both take a step back from one another in the sand, eyes wide. Joel looks completely crazed.

“The fuck—what are we doin’?” Joel whispers, the regret clear in both your faces.

You bring your trembling hands to your warm cheeks and tears immediately spring to your waterline.

What have you just done?

“Oh my fuck, no no, I don’t – I don’t know why-“

You bend at the waist, hands braced on your knees as you start to hyperventilate. Joel is pacing up and down the sand, his silhouette barely seen in the darkness of night. You can see his feet pacing back and forth. . . back and forth . . . He stops when you let out a hiccup, on the verge of throwing up.

“Honey stop,” Joel says, a hand on your back, rubbing gently along your spine. “Calm down. Calm down, its okay.”

“I don’t know why I did that,” you say, tears streaming down your face and dropping into the sand below. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“S’not your fault,” Joel says, his voice even and calm. It makes you feel calm. And yet, guilt still bubbles up in your lungs, making a small sob escape.

 “I have to—you need to—I need to tell Shawn. Right now.”

“Hold on,” Joel says roughly, gripping you by the shoulder and urging you to stand. He peers into your face with a grim expression.

“You cannot tell Shawn anythin’.”

“I have to,” you whine.

“It’ll just hurt him,” Joel insists, nodding and hoping you’ll do the same. “It was a mistake. It was nothing, it was just the booze. We just drank too much and we were all hopped up on that asshole inside the club and we weren’t thinkin’.”

“Right,” you agree, relief sliding through every vein you possess as he lays it out for you. “That’s totally what it was. The drinking. We’re drunk.”

“Completely.”

“Okay. Good.”

You’re still shaken up by what just happened, still tipsy from the drinks. Joel runs an anxious hand through his curls, looking utterly wrecked.

“Let’s go back.”

The two of you walk the rest of the way back in silence. You still cannot believe what you did. You kissed your boyfriend’s father. You kissed him and he kissed you back. Fuck, you both must be utterly wasted. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll both forget it even happened. You would welcome the hangover from hell if it could erase the last fifteen minutes from both your minds for good.

Joel tugs open the sliding glass door, not able to look at you as you both pad towards the opposing doors. You glance over your shoulder to see Joel staring at you as you enter the bedroom where his son sleeps. You give him a sorrowful smile before closing the door.

You crawl under the covers, thankful that Shawn is asleep. You slip off the dress, your hair wild from dancing, your skin sticky with sweat, and your mouth still tasting of scotch. Your cunt flutters at the memory of the noises he made.

You roll onto your side, trying to drift to sleep. Shawn, still half-slumbering snuggles up against your back. His arm slips over your waist and he holds you, as he often holds you back home, gentle and tender and full of love.

“I’m sorry about before, babe,” he murmurs into your hair.

You feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You blink rapidly, closing your eyes and trying to swallow the guilt.

You know that Joel is in his bed right now similarly afflicted, thinking about how he did something so unforgivable and to his own son. Joel is the kindest dad you know; he loves his son more than anything. You know that what you both just did was awful and disgusting.

You also know that there is something deeply wrong with you because as you lay there in Shawn’s arms your pussy floods with memories of his father’s mouth on yours still vivid in your mind.  

do you guys want more of this? or should it be a one-shot? also trying a new aesthetic what do we tthink?

[mononijikayu]

pretending as always — ryomen sukuna.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?" He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change." "I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, cheating, unhappy marriage, crying, hurt, sadness, pain, character death, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of broken marriage, depiction of grief, depiction of cheating, depiction of death, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of misery, mention of loneliness, cheating husband! sukuna, long suffering wife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: the thought bubble says 'things change, people change.'; the playlist for this chapter alone was just so angsty. like from i'm not the only one to glimpse of us, i really went through it writing this. i decided to write only one sad fic because i feel like putting out casual, together and thirty nine almost at the same time was just really criminal of me to do. so i hope you enjoy this, though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

ANOTHER HUFF RELEASES FROM YOUR MOUTH. You don’t remember how many you’ve smoked today. But you were sure that it was beyond one pack. This was the only time you could be alone, to think for yourself. To have control. The control you’ve been craving for years and years, one that you will never truly have again. You didn’t need someone to see you out here, to tell you no, to worry about your health. You didn’t need that. Not right now. You needed to be alone. You needed silence. 

You sat on the balcony of your lavish penthouse, gazing out at the shimmering lights of Tokyo. The city was alive, vibrant, a testament to the empire your husband, Ryomen Sukuna, had built. He was the man behind the biggest conglomerate in Japan—a titan in the world of business, feared and respected in equal measure. And you were his wife. 

Once upon a time, you had been someone too. A doctor with a promising career, surrounded by friends, fulfilled by the life you had created with your own hands. Your days were spent saving lives, making a difference, and your nights were filled with laughter and tenderness with colleagues who had become family. You were driven, passionate, and proud of the work you did. But now, as you sat in the lap of luxury, the woman you once were seemed like a distant memory.

Now, you were just his wife. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him—you did. You loved him more than words could express. Sukuna was everything to you, and being his wife brought a kind of happiness you hadn’t known was possible. Yet, there was a gnawing emptiness, a void that had grown over the years. As much as you loved him, as much as he adored you in his own way, you knew the truth.

Ryomen Sukuna was not a man who could be kept down, not even for you. He was a force of nature, unstoppable, always striving for more, always looking beyond what he already had. His ambition was a double-edged sword, driving him to unimaginable heights but also pushing him further away from the simple life you sometimes yearned for. 

There were nights when he didn’t come home, when he was out sealing deals or attending extravagant parties where you were merely an accessory. You’d watch him from a distance, surrounded by admirers, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. He thrived in that world of power and influence, and you knew that no matter how much he loved you, that world would always be his first love.

You tried to be content with the life you had with him. After all, you had everything most people could only dream of—wealth, status, and the affections of a man who could have had anyone but chose you. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had lost yourself in the process. You weren’t the doctor anymore, the woman with her own dreams and aspirations. You were simply Mrs. Ryomen Sukuna, a title that came with its own set of expectations and sacrifices.

As the night grew darker, you wondered what it would take to feel like yourself again. Could you ever reclaim the life you had before Sukuna, or had you given up too much to ever go back? And if you did, would you lose him in the process? It was a question that haunted you, even as you curled up in the luxurious sheets of your bed, waiting for him to return home. You loved him. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Your husband was a man to love—eccentric and electric, a living embodiment of wonder wrapped in the form of a man. His presence was magnetic, a force that drew people in, leaving them captivated by his every word, his every move. Ryomen Sukuna was a personality larger than life, his energy palpable, his enigma undeniable. He filled every room he entered, his laughter loud and contagious, a stark contrast to his own brother, Jin, who was quiet, composed, and unassuming.

Where Jin blended into the background, Sukuna demanded attention. Everyone who met him felt the spark, the electricity that seemed to radiate from him. He was unpredictable, always a step ahead, always thinking of the next big thing. His mind worked in ways that left others in awe, trying to keep up with the whirlwind that was his thoughts and ideas. Loving him was like holding onto a storm—thrilling, dangerous, and consuming.

But for all his vibrance and charm, Sukuna was still a man of cold realities. His work came first, always. No matter how much you wanted to be his priority, the empire he built was what he poured most of his energy into. He was often distant, consumed by the responsibilities that came with being the man at the top. Days would pass where you barely saw him, where his presence in your life felt more like a memory than a reality.

Yet, when he did give you his time, it was genuine and honest. Those rare moments were when you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who cared for you in his own complicated way. His touch was real, his words sincere, and in those fleeting minutes, you felt the depth of his love, even if it was buried under layers of ambition and duty.

There were nights, though, when he would come to bed, slipping under the covers beside you, and in those moments, he was truly yours. Those were the times you held onto, the nights where the world outside his office door ceased to exist, where the only thing that mattered was the feel of his warmth next to you.

His arm around your waist, his breath on your neck—these were the small, intimate moments that made the loneliness bearable. In the quiet of the night, Sukuna would pull you close, and for those few hours, he was just a man who loved his wife, not the untouchable titan he had become during the day.

But as the dawn approached, you knew he would slip away again, back into the world that demanded so much of him. Those nights were a bittersweet reminder that while he was yours, you would never fully have him. Still, you cherished them, holding onto the hope that maybe one day, the man who captivated the world would find his way back to you, not just in the shadows of the night, but in the light of day as well.

If you tried slyly, you could sometimes extract details about his life—small, fragmented pieces of the puzzle that was Ryomen Sukuna. A hint here, a passing comment there. But even after so many years of marriage, he wouldn’t budge.

He was a vault, his thoughts locked away in a place you couldn’t reach, no matter how hard you tried. There were times you sat across from him, watching his expressions, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind those sharp eyes, but he was impenetrable. You didn’t know what he was thinking half the time. 

And as the years passed, you began to realize a painful truth: you didn’t know this man anymore. He wasn’t the man you fell in love with, the one who had promised you the world with that charming smile and infectious energy. That man was a memory, fading with every passing day. The man you were married to now was a stranger, someone who wore Sukuna’s face but carried a weight and distance that hadn’t been there before. He was no longer wholly yours, not anymore.

But when he was—on those rare occasions when he let you in, when the walls came down just enough for you to feel the warmth beneath his cold exterior—those moments were everything. His exterior remained hard, a shield against the world and perhaps even against you, but in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, he softened.

The bed you shared became a pure and sacred shrine, a place where the outside world couldn’t reach, where only you and he existed. In that space, the burdens he carried were set aside, and for a fleeting moment, he was just a man, your husband, the one who still held pieces of your heart.

The warmth of his body against yours, the way he would pull you close as if you were his anchor—these were the moments that reminded you of the love that still lingered between you. It was as if, in that bed, time stood still, and the distance that had grown between you disappeared, leaving only the two of you, as you once were.

And though those moments were few and far between, they were enough to keep you holding on, hoping that perhaps, one day, the man you fell in love with would return to you, not just in the night, but in every aspect of your life together.

You lay beside him in the dark, feeling the weight of the silence between you. His arm was draped over your waist, his grip firm but gentle. It was one of those rare nights when he was fully present, when the business world he ruled seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. You turned slightly, your face inches from his, searching his eyes for something—anything—that might bridge the gap that had grown between you.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?"

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change."

"I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker there—regret, maybe, or a trace of the man you once knew. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar unreadable expression.

"I’m still here. I always have been." he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I never left. And you know that."

"Physically, yes, I know. But I just….It’s just." you murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. "Sukuna, it’s like I don’t know you anymore. You’re not the man I married. You’re not the man who promised me the world. And I don’t know where he is. And I want him back.”

He didn’t flinch, but you felt the slight tension in his arm as he pulled you a little closer. "The world isn’t what it used to be. It won’t ever be what it was, you know that." he replied quietly. "And neither am I. And you know that too. But I’m still here. I’m still your husband.”

You sighed, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "But when you’re here, like this… it’s different. For just a moment, it feels like nothing’s changed. Like it’s just you and me, the way it used to be. I wish we could stay here, like this, forever."

He didn’t respond right away, but you felt his grip on you tighten, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as if to reassure you. "This bed, our bed…." he said slowly, his voice rougher than usual, "it’s our sanctuary. It’s the one place I can forget about everything else. But you know I can’t stay here forever. Not when the world calls me, not when it needs me.”

"I know that." you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. You needed him too. You needed your husband. And he will never see it. Not even when he tries. "But I can’t help wishing you would. That maybe, just once, you’d choose me over everything else. Like you used to.”

He was silent for a long moment, his breath warm against your hair. When he finally spoke, there was a softness in his voice that you rarely heard. "If I could, I would. You’re the only thing that keeps me grounded, that reminds me I’m still human. But I can’t give you all of me. Not anymore. I have things to do too.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall silently. "I just wish… I wish you’d let me in, Sukuna. I want to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. I want to know the man I’m sharing this bed with."

He didn’t answer right away, and you knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a rare, tender gesture. "I’m here now, you know?" he whispered. "Let’s just… stay in this moment, just for tonight."

You nodded, unable to find the words to say anything more. You clung to him, holding onto the warmth of his body, the rare softness of his embrace, knowing that when morning came, he would be gone again—pulled back into the world that demanded so much of him. But for now, you had this, and it would have to be enough.

It sounds more romantic than it actually is in reality. What you shared with Sukuna was far from the idyllic love story others might imagine. It was a volatile existence, a solitary one. A lonely existence. There were no whispered secrets in the dark, no playful banter or stolen glances across the room. There were no soft gazes filled with unspoken affection, no tender moments that lingered long after they ended. With Sukuna, you got the raw, unfiltered version of him—a man stripped of any pretense or facade.

Sukuna was not a man of many words, and that held true even during the most intimate moments between you. He was silent, his focus intense, his mind seemingly elsewhere even as he was with you. There were no sweet nothings exchanged, no promises of forever whispered into your ear. He was a man of action, not words, and even less so when you were in bed together.

Yet, despite the lack of verbal communication, there was one thing he always maintained—eye contact. His gaze never wavered, never strayed from yours, and in those moments, you saw something in his eyes that you rarely saw anywhere else. His eyes were earnest, and that sincerity was the closest thing to vulnerability he ever allowed himself to show. It was as if, in those brief moments of connection, he was telling you without words what he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud.

But even that small comfort was fleeting, a temporary solace in a relationship that often felt more like a battle than a partnership. You loved him, but it was a love laced with pain and longing, a love that left you feeling more alone than ever. Because while his eyes might have been honest, they also held a distance that you couldn’t bridge, a reminder that even in his most vulnerable moments, Sukuna was still just out of reach.

So you took what you could get—the warmth of his body against yours, the rare tenderness in his gaze—and tried to ignore the aching loneliness that gnawed at you in the silence that followed. Because at the end of the day, you knew that this was the only version of Sukuna you would ever truly have. And for better or worse, you had to make peace with that.

You lay there in the quiet aftermath, your body still humming from the intensity of it all. But as the warmth began to fade, reality seeped back in. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid. There was no gentle touch, no soft embrace to pull you closer. Sukuna remained beside you, but there was a distance, an unspoken barrier that kept you apart even when you were lying inches away from each other.

This was your life—a series of fleeting connections punctuated by long stretches of solitude. You had learned to navigate this existence, to find comfort in the small moments, even if they were far from the grand romance you had once imagined. But it was a lonely existence, one that often left you feeling hollow, as if a piece of you had been carved out and left behind somewhere along the way.

There was no pillow talk with Sukuna, no lingering in the soft afterglow. Not like it used to be, when you greeted the morning light talking and talking. The man beside you was not one for such things. He was not the type to reach out and hold you close, to whisper sweet reassurances that everything would be okay. He simply wasn’t built that way, and you had long since stopped expecting him to be.

Instead, there was just the raw version of him—the man who was silent in his love, who showed it in ways that were hard to decipher, in ways that often left you questioning if it was there at all. His love wasn’t gentle or easy; it was fierce, consuming, and at times, almost indifferent. But it was there, hidden beneath layers of responsibility, power, and the iron will that had made him who he was.

Sukuna’s eyes were the only place where you could see that truth, where you could catch a glimpse of the man beneath the exterior. Even during sex, when his body was moving against yours with a deliberate intensity, his eyes stayed locked on yours, never wavering.

There was something disarming in that gaze, something that spoke of an honesty he couldn’t express any other way. It was in those moments, brief as they were, that you felt a connection, a thread of intimacy that tied you to him, even if it was fragile and frayed.

But as much as you clung to those moments, they were never enough to fill the void. The bed, which had once felt like a sanctuary, now seemed more like a cold, empty place where two strangers shared space but not lives. You would turn to face him, hoping for something—a word, a touch, anything to bridge the gap—but he remained still, his mind already miles away, lost in thoughts you could never reach.

And so you would close your eyes, trying to hold onto the fleeting warmth of his body next to yours, trying to convince yourself that this was enough, that you could live with the silence, the loneliness, the distance. Because at the end of the day, he was still the man you loved, the man who had once promised you the world.

But that promise had faded, just like the warmth that now ebbed away in the cold, empty silence of the room. And as much as it hurt, you knew that this was all there would ever be—a man you could never fully have, a love that was always just out of reach, and a life lived in the spaces between what was and what could have been.

You cry a lot about how life has let you suffer this way. The tears come in waves, usually in the quiet hours of the night when the weight of it all feels too heavy to bear. You cry for the life you thought you would have, for the love that feels like it's slipping through your fingers, for the man who promised you everything but gave you only fragments. The pain of it all has become a constant companion, a dull ache that lingers even in your happiest moments, because you know, deep down, that things will never be what you once dreamed they could be.

You knew about the women. You’ve always known. The whispers that reached your ears, the subtle changes in his demeanor, the way he would smell of a perfume that wasn’t yours. You knew about the women he took to hotels, the ones he wined and dined in the finest restaurants, the ones he spoiled with gifts and attention that you used to believe were reserved for you alone. You knew about the strip clubs, the fleeting kisses at bars, the meaningless trysts that filled the void you couldn’t seem to reach.

But knowing and seeing were two different things.

The image before you feels like a knife to the gut, twisting with a cruel precision. She’s beautiful, laughing at something Sukuna has whispered into her ear. They’re sitting too close, his hand resting on her thigh as though it belongs there.

His expression is relaxed, the mask he wears with you completely gone. This is who he really is, you think to yourself. You could feel this bitter realization curling in your chest. You feel like you were going to be sick.

For a moment, your legs threaten to give way beneath you. The restaurant is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking silverware suddenly drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears. You’ve been here before. It’s one of his favorites—one you thought was yours too, where he used to look at you with that same easy smile.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, urging you to flee, to turn away before the pain can deepen. You take a step back, and then another, the darkness of the entrance swallowing you whole as you move further from the scene. It’s as if you’re in a dream, your body moving on autopilot, one step after another, until you’re out on the street, the cool night air hitting your skin like a jolt.

You keep walking, eyes unfocused, the city lights blurring into a haze of colors. The truth is, you don’t know where you’re going. All you know is that you can’t stop moving. Because if you stop, if you allow yourself to think, to feel, the walls you’ve built around your heart will collapse, and you’ll be left with nothing but the agony of what you’ve lost. Or perhaps, of what you never truly had.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you. And you clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you.

And you pathetically clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you. That he'll always choose to come back to you. And only you.

The sound of his key turning in the lock was your cue to slip the mask into place, smoothing out the cracks in your facade. You could hear the soft rustle of his coat as he shrugged it off, the faint smell of that foreign perfume clinging to the air. It was like a slap in the face, but you swallowed the bitterness down, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“Hey.” he called out, his voice casual, as though nothing were amiss. As though he hadn’t just spent hours with someone else.

“Hey.” you replied, keeping your tone light, as if you hadn’t been waiting in silence, wondering who he was with, what she looked like, if she made him laugh the way you used to.

He stepped into the room, his gaze brushing over you, taking in the sight of you curled up on the couch with a book in your hands. It was a scene of domestic tranquility, one you’d perfected over the years. You’d become a master at hiding the turmoil beneath the surface, at pretending that everything was fine.

“How was your night?” you asked, the words slipping out easily, as if they weren’t laced with the weight of unspoken truths.

“Busy.” he replied, moving toward you. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, to savor the warmth of his presence. This was the part you held onto—the part where he came home, where he chose you, if only for a few fleeting hours. “Did a lot of meetings. It was dull. Like always.”

But even as he pulled away and headed to the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel the coldness seep back in, the emptiness that settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew he’d be gone again tomorrow, off to chase whatever thrill he found in the arms of someone else. 

Still, you clung to that tiny thread of hope, the one that told you he would return. Because as long as he came home, as long as he kept choosing you, there was a part of you that could pretend—pretend that it was enough, that you were enough. You knew that you were tearing yourself apart. Apart from this man. But you were stuck. You didn’t know how to get out. Not when you can’t bear separation.

It was a cruel cycle, one that left you feeling shattered and hollow, but one you couldn’t break free from. You pretended because it was easier than confronting the truth, easier than acknowledging that the man you loved was also the man who was tearing you apart. You pretended because you wanted to believe that, despite everything, there was still something left between you, something worth holding on to.

Because as much as he hurt you, as much as he used other women to fill whatever void he was running from, you knew one thing with absolute certainty: he loved you. He might have been distant, cold, and unfaithful, but that love was there, buried beneath the layers of deceit and betrayal. It was a twisted, painful love, one that hurt more than it healed, but it was real. And that’s what made it so hard to walk away.

He loved you, and it hurt you. It hurt because that love wasn’t enough to stop him from seeking out others, from indulging in pleasures that had nothing to do with you. It hurt because that love didn’t protect you from the heartache, didn’t shield you from the loneliness that came from sharing a bed with someone who was only half there.

But it was love nonetheless, a sick, unadulterated, gut-wrenching love you can never truly escape even if you wanted to. and you clung to it with everything you had, because without it, you weren’t sure who you would be anymore.

So you cried, and you pretended, and you waited for him to finish his shower, knowing that when he did, you would smile, you would act as if nothing was wrong, as if your heart wasn’t breaking a little more each day. Because you loved him, too, and that love was the only thing holding you together, even as it threatened to tear you apart.

The stairs creaked with every step, and you quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You knew the routine by now—how to mask the pain, how to put on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the steps, and you braced yourself, slipping into the role you had perfected over the years. He’d gotten out of the shower and dressed.

Sukuna walked back into the living room, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. He glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable as he walked in front of you. You could still smell the faint scent of a perfume that wasn’t yours, the remnants of a night you knew all too well. It was as if he was mocking you. It was as if he wanted you to know.  But you didn’t say anything. You never did.

“Did you have dinner yet?” you ask him, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “There’s still some soba I made for dinner.”

He hums in response, reaching for your hand, his touch warm but somehow distant. “Maybe later, I’ll heat it up myself. Let me stay here with you for a bit.”

You nod, pretending to be satisfied with his answer, even though you know it’s a lie. “Okay, that’s fine.”

You make some space for him to sit beside you, but instead, he lowers his head onto your lap, his body stretching out along the couch. The gesture is familiar, almost comforting, but tonight, it feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. You feel the bile rise in your throat as he closes his eyes, humming softly to himself, as if this moment is as peaceful for him as it is tormenting for you.

You force your fingers to move, to edge along the tips of his fuchsia-colored hair, the strands soft beneath your touch. The motion is automatic, a habit born from nights like these, where you pretended that everything was still okay. But as you purse your lips into a tight line, trying to keep your composure, you feel the tears threatening to spill over, the pain clawing at the walls you’ve built around your heart.

Not now, you tell yourself. Not now. You can’t break, not here, not while he’s with you.

You swallow hard, pushing down the surge of emotions that threaten to rise to the surface, and speak in a voice you barely recognize as your own. “You worked hard.”

He opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours in the dim light of the room. “So did you.” he whispers, his tone soft, almost tender.

His words, if they were meant to comfort you, only deepen the ache inside you. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, forcing a small, hollow smile as you continue to stroke his hair. Because that’s all you can do—pretend that this moment is enough, that his presence here is enough to make up for all the nights he’s been away, all the lies you’ve told yourself just to keep going.

He closes his eyes again, sighing softly, and you watch him, your fingers never faltering in their gentle rhythm. And as you sit there, with his head in your lap and the soba cooling on the kitchen counter, you realize that this is what you’ve become—someone who is willing to live in the spaces he leaves behind, someone who clings to the small moments he offers, even when they’re built on a foundation of lies.

“I missed you, Sukuna.” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“I know.” he replied to you, in a tone that knows. A tone that reveals it all. He knew that you know, you weren’t a fool. You were too smart for it. And yet, here you are. With him, his lying, selfish self, loved by you. “I’m here now.”

You nodded, knowing that was the most you would get from him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

He didn’t respond, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing, his breathing becoming more relaxed. You knew this was as close as he would come to letting you in, and you tried to take comfort in it, even though it wasn’t enough.

You lay there in silence, your hand still resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much it hurt, how much you wished things could be different. But you knew it wouldn’t change anything. He would always come home, but he would never truly be yours.

So you stayed quiet, pretending for him, for yourself, for the fragile love that still tied you to him, even as it slowly unraveled. You pretended that this was enough, that the fleeting moments of closeness were worth the nights spent alone, the tears shed in silence, the knowledge that he would never be wholly yours.

And in the dark, as you lay beside him, you let yourself believe the lie, if only for a little while. Because sometimes, pretending was the only thing that kept you going.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN YOU HEARD THOSE WORDS. The doctor's words echoed in your mind as you drove home, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. "A few months, at most," he'd said, and you'd nodded, thanked him even, before walking out of the clinic in a daze. The sky outside seemed unchanged, the world continuing its indifferent spin, while inside you, something had irrevocably shifted.

When you finally made it home, you sat down, the weight of everything settling onto your shoulders like a heavy blanket. The familiar surroundings seemed distant, like you were seeing them through a fog. The elegant decor, the soft lighting—everything was perfect, just as it always was, but it felt like a set piece now, like something you were watching from afar.

You tried to think of what you should do next, what anyone would do with such news. Should you cry? Scream? But nothing came. Instead, a strange sense of calm washed over you, like the stillness after a storm. Maybe this was it—God's way of freeing you from this misery, this life you’d never truly lived.

A miserable existence, that’s what it was. A life spent in the shadow of Ryomen Sukuna, the man who was everything to everyone, and nothing to you. The man who had captured your heart and soul, only to lock them away somewhere deep inside, where they withered, starved of the love you so desperately needed. You’d given everything to be his wife, to play the part in the perfect narrative he’d constructed, and in the process, you’d lost yourself.

The relief that bubbled up inside you was unexpected, but undeniable. You wouldn’t have to suffer much longer. No more pretending, no more aching for a love that would never be yours. No more nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why you weren’t enough. Soon, it would all be over. You wouldn’t have to endure this life, this love, for much longer.

You decided then and there—you wouldn’t tell him. What would be the point? He was a man consumed by his empire, by his power, and you were just another piece of his world, another part of his success. Telling him would only disrupt the perfect narrative he had written for himself, and you couldn’t bear to see the indifference in his eyes when he realized that your story was ending.

No, you would continue to be his wife. You would play your part until the very end, letting yourself fade quietly from the narrative, just as you had faded from his heart. And maybe, when it was all over, when you were gone, he might feel something—a twinge of regret, perhaps. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

In the stillness of your home, a peculiar sense of peace enveloped you. The silence was heavy, but it was a silence of your own making, one that spoke of an end and a release. You had loved Sukuna with a depth that was both profound and consuming. Your love for him was a force that had shaped your days and your nights, driving you to care for him in ways that went unnoticed and unappreciated. 

But as you faced the reality of your impending departure, a bittersweet calm settled over you. The weight of your unrequited love, the fatigue of constantly giving without receiving, was finally lifting. You had poured your heart into a relationship where your love was met with indifference and infidelity. You had tried to make him see, tried to make him understand, but in the end, the love you gave was never truly reciprocated in the way you had hoped.

Now, as the days dwindle and the finality of your situation becomes undeniable, you found a strange comfort in knowing that the end was near. The thought of liberation from a love that had only ever been one-sided was both heart-wrenching and soothing. You were tired of the endless cycle of giving and waiting, of hoping for something that would never come. And in the quiet of your home, you felt a sense of relief at the prospect of being free from this endless cycle of emotional exhaustion.

That night, when Sukuna returned home, you greeted him with a facade of normalcy. Despite the heavy burden of your knowledge, you smiled at him with a warmth that belied your inner turmoil. You continued to dote on him, serving him his favorite dishes with the same loving care you always had. Every gesture, every touch, every look was a continuation of the role you had played for so long.

You carried on as if nothing had changed, maintaining the pretense of a happy, loving wife. Your actions were deliberate, a final testament to the depth of your love and the extent of your sacrifice. You wanted to give him one last glimpse of the love he had taken for granted, to remind him of what he would be losing, even if he would never fully grasp it until it was too late.

You went through the motions of daily life, engaging with him, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes. The facade was not just for him, but for yourself as well—a way to preserve a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions. You wanted to leave him with the memory of a wife who had loved him deeply, who had cared for him until the very end, despite everything.

In the quiet moments alone, after he had gone to bed, you would sit in the darkness, feeling the weight of your impending departure. You would reflect on the years you had spent loving him, on the moments of joy and sorrow that had shaped your relationship. And as you faced the end, you found a strange sort of solace in knowing that you would finally be free from the constraints of a love that had never truly been mutual.

The peace you felt was not without pain, but it was a relief nonetheless. You had loved Sukuna with all that you were, and now, as you prepared to leave, you took comfort in the knowledge that you would soon be free from the sadness and longing that had defined your existence.

Sukuna looked up from his plate, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He could see a flicker of something in your eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You seem... unusually happy tonight,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of both surprise and suspicion. “Is something going on?”

You met his gaze, a faint smile on your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s been a long time since we had a dinner like this, just the two of us.”

Sukuna’s brow furrowed as he studied you. “Yeah, it has. We’ve been so wrapped up in our own worlds that it’s easy to forget what it was like before everything got so complicated.”

You nodded, your fingers nervously twisting the edge of your napkin. “I’ve missed this—being with you like this, without all the distractions and complications. It feels like a rare moment of normalcy in the chaos.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, but there was an edge of concern in his eyes. “You seem more at peace than usual. Is everything okay? You’ve been acting... different lately.”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “I’ve just been reflecting on things. It’s strange how time changes everything, how we lose sight of what really matters until it’s almost too late.”

Sukuna’s gaze grew more intense, his unease palpable. “Reflecting on what? You’ve been acting like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “It’s just... I’ve been thinking about how we’ve lost touch with each other. How we’ve let life get in the way of what really matters.”

Sukuna’s eyes searched for yours, trying to grasp the depth of your words. “Are you saying there’s something wrong? Something you’re not telling me?”

You looked away, your smile faltering. “It’s not about something wrong. It’s about realizing that sometimes, we need to appreciate the moments we have, even if they’re fleeting.”

Sukuna’s confusion deepened, his concern growing. “You’re scaring me. Why are you talking like this? What’s going on?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart aching with the weight of the truth you couldn’t reveal. “I’ve just been feeling... reflective. It’s hard to explain, but I’m grateful for these moments, even if they’re all we have left.”

Sukuna reached out, his hand gently grasping yours. “Are you trying to tell me something? You’re acting like this is a goodbye.”

You pulled your hand away, the pain in your chest almost unbearable. “It’s not a goodbye. It’s just... a realization. I want to make the most of the time we have, to cherish these moments together.”

Sukuna’s face fell, his worry evident. “You’re making it sound like something terrible is happening. If there’s something you’re hiding, you need to tell me.”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to smile through the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s not about hiding anything. It’s about acknowledging that even when things are difficult, we can still find moments of happiness. I wanted tonight to be one of those moments.”

Sukuna looked at you with a mixture of sadness and confusion, his frustration clear. “You’re not making any sense. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

You stood up from the table, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer. You smiled at him. And even at that moment, he noticed. He noticed it didn’t go up to your eyes. “I can’t. Not yet. I just needed you to understand that despite everything, I’ve always cherished our time together.”

Sukuna watched you with a heart heavy with concern and regret, as you walked away from the table. "Do you still want some wine?"

"No." Sukuna whispers under his breath. "I'm fine."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

YOU WERE GOOD AT PLAYING ROLES. Sukuna didn't suspect a thing. You continued playing your part, showing up at events, smiling when required, and being the perfect wife that the world expected you to be. He remained oblivious, too wrapped up in his own world to notice the subtle changes—the way your laughter had lost its warmth, the way your eyes seemed distant, even when you looked directly at him.

He carried on with his life, his empire growing ever larger, his influence spreading like wildfire. And on the side, there was her—the woman he met in secret, the one who made him feel alive in ways that you no longer could. He didn’t care to hide it anymore, not really. He knew you knew, but in his mind, it didn’t matter. You were his wife, his possession, and that was enough.

The restaurant was bathed in a warm, subdued light, its cozy ambiance a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Sukuna's heart. He sat across from his date, his smirk easy, a deliberate mask concealing the turbulent emotions beneath. His eyes roamed lazily over the flickering candlelight, his drink half-empty, the conversation flowing smoothly. It was supposed to be an escape, a fleeting distraction from the complexities of his life.

The phone buzzed on the table, its vibration slightly jarring against the relaxed hum of the evening. Sukuna glanced at it, a shadow of irritation crossing his features. He almost ignored it, but a nagging instinct—something primal and insistent—prompted him to check. The screen lit up with an urgent message, and as he read the words, his smirk faltered, replaced by a sudden, unsettling pallor.

His hand trembled slightly as he answered the call that followed.

“Mr. Sukuna, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your evening. There’s been an emergency. Your wife—she’s collapsed and has been rushed to the hospital. The situation is very serious. You need to come immediately.”

Sukuna’s mind reeled, struggling to process the gravity of the message. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, a cacophony of fear and disbelief.  “What? No, that can’t be right. Are you sure? What happened?” His usual bravado turned into worrisome, strained whispers. “My wife was healthy when I left her at home.”

“Yes, I’m certain. She was rushed in a couple of minutes ago. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s critical. Please come to the hospital right away.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Sukuna staring blankly at his phone. The realization of what he had just heard began to sink in, each beat of his heart echoing with a growing dread. Without a word, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Suku? What’s going on? Where are you going?” Her face is a mask of confusion and concern. “Suku–”

 “I—I have to go. It’s an emergency.” His voice barely more than a whisper, laden with panic.

He didn’t wait for any further questions or explanations. His mind was a chaotic whirl of thoughts as he left the restaurant, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside him. The drive to the hospital was a blur, the city lights streaking by in a disorienting haze. Every turn, every red light seemed to stretch time, amplifying his growing sense of dread.

Inside the emergency room, the atmosphere was clinical and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the evening he had just left behind. The cacophony of beeping monitors and hurried voices created a symphony of chaos that matched his inner turmoil. He pushed past the reception desk, barely acknowledging the questions they asked him. All he could think about was reaching you, seeing you, and holding onto whatever fragments of hope remained.

“Sir, you need to wait here. We’re in the middle of an emergency procedure.” The nurse said firmly, as Sukuna tried to approach.

Sukuna’s eyes fixed on the form lying still on the gurney, a sight that twisted his insides with a profound ache. The resuscitation efforts were intense, a desperate dance between life and death. He felt a profound sense of helplessness, the cold efficiency of the medical staff contrasting sharply with his own emotional chaos.

 “Please, I need to be with her. I have to—” His voice breaking, a raw plea. “Please let me through—”

“Sir, we need to focus on the procedure. You can’t be in the way.”

Sukuna was forced to retreat, his heart sinking as he slumped against the wall, his fists clenched in frustration and fear. The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. He stared at the closed doors of the emergency room, the gnawing fear that he might lose you forever consuming him.

In the cold, stark hallway of the hospital, Sukuna felt his world unraveling. The veneer of control and dominance he had always relied on was gone, replaced by a gut-wrenching vulnerability he had never before experienced. He was left alone with his thoughts, confronting the painful truth that he had been given a chance to face his own failures and regrets.

Everything they could, they tried—but it wasn’t enough. He could see it in their eyes, in the frantic movements that were becoming more desperate by the second. He shouted at them, his voice rising to a roar, demanding they do something, anything. He wasn’t used to feeling powerless, wasn’t used to being afraid. But in that moment, as he watched you lying there, unmoving, unresponsive, fear gripped him in a way it never had before.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not now, not when he’d taken you for granted for so long. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been there, always been his, and he’d never truly appreciated it. And now, as he watched the life drain from you, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—genuine, bone-deep terror.

When the nurses finally stopped, when they turned to him with those solemn expressions, he knew. They didn’t have to say a word. He pushed past them anyway, falling to his knees beside your bed, his hand grasping yours, still warm but lifeless. You were slipping through his fingers. He didn’t want to free you — not yet. He needs you. He still wants you.

“Don’t do this, not yet.” he whispered, his voice breaking, something it never did. “You can’t leave me. You don’t get to leave me.”

But you were already gone. The silence in the room was deafening, and for the first time in his life, Ryomen Sukuna felt utterly and completely helpless. 

Sukuna stayed by your side long after the nurses and doctors left the room, long after the machines were turned off, and the sterile, mechanical sounds faded into an unbearable silence. He gripped your hand tightly, as if somehow, by sheer force of will, he could pull you back from the brink, undo what had just happened. But the truth was inescapable—you were gone.

The world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the agony that churned inside him. Sukuna, the man who had always been in control, who had never feared anything or anyone, was now paralyzed by a fear so intense it consumed him. He had never imagined a moment like this, a moment where he would lose something so irreplaceable.

Memories flashed through his mind—moments he had dismissed, overlooked, or taken for granted. The way you would smile at him when he came home, the quiet dinners you shared, the way you had always been there, even when he hadn’t deserved it. He had grown so used to your presence that he never considered what it would be like without you.

He had thought he could live his life as he pleased, that you would always be there, in the background, silently enduring whatever he put you through. But now, with you gone, the enormity of his loss hit him with full force. It wasn’t just that you were gone—it was that you were gone because of him. He had driven you to this, with his neglect, his infidelity, his arrogance.

His chest tightened, and for the first time in years, Sukuna felt the sting of tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried—if he ever had. But now, the tears came unbidden, a raw and overwhelming response to the pain that was tearing him apart. He had lost you, and it was his fault. There was no one else to blame, no way to undo what he had done.

He thought about all the things he would never get to say to you, all the apologies that would never leave his lips. He had always believed he had time—time to make things right, time to explain, time to finally show you that you mattered to him. But now, that time was gone, and with it, any chance of redemption.

Sukuna stayed there, holding your hand, until the nurses gently told him that he had to let go, that it was time to say goodbye. He didn’t want to—he wasn’t ready to. But he knew there was no choice. Slowly, reluctantly, he released your hand, feeling a cold emptiness settle into the space where you had once been.

As he walked out of the hospital, the reality of his life without you began to sink in. The thought of returning to his grand, empty house—one that had always been a symbol of his success, his power—now felt like walking into a tomb. You were no longer there to greet him, no longer there to fill the space with your presence.

And for the first time, Sukuna understood what it meant to be truly alone. All the wealth, the power, the women—none of it mattered anymore. The one thing that had truly mattered was gone, and he was left with nothing but the echo of his own regrets.

As he stepped into his car, the weight of your absence pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity. He had never been afraid of anything before. But now, as he faced a future without you, he was terrified.

Sukuna sat in the driver’s seat of his car, the door still open as if he might somehow find the strength to run back into the hospital and reverse what had happened. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, and the first sob broke through his defenses, ragged and harsh. He slammed his fists against the wheel, the sound echoing in the empty garage, the pain in his chest mirroring the bruising force of his punches.

Each hit was a release, a desperate attempt to rid himself of the unbearable grief and regret that had settled over him like a heavy fog. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision, and he felt a profound sense of helplessness that he had never known. He had always been in control, always been the one to dictate terms, to manipulate situations to his favor. But now, as he sat there, he was powerless, unable to change anything, unable to bring you back.

In the midst of his torment, memories began to flood back—painful, vivid recollections that he had buried under layers of indifference and self-absorption. He remembered the way you would spend hours in the kitchen, cooking meals with a dedication that went beyond mere obligation. You had always taken care of him, preparing dishes that you knew he loved, ensuring the fridge was stocked with his favorite foods.

He could picture you now, in the kitchen of your shared home, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, your face focused and serene. The way you’d hum softly to yourself, the warmth of the kitchen contrasting with the coldness that seemed to have crept into his heart over the years. Every meal you made was a labor of love, a testament to the care and consideration you had for him, even when he had taken it all for granted.

And then there were the times you’d prepare extra food, stock the fridge with ready-made meals, knowing that his schedule was unpredictable, that he might be too busy to eat properly. You’d filled the refrigerator with care, making sure he would have something to sustain him, even when you couldn’t be there. 

He should have noticed the subtle changes in your routine. The house had been unusually pristine lately, the surfaces spotless, the floors immaculate. It wasn’t like you to maintain such a high level of cleanliness without a reason. It was as if you had been preparing the space, ensuring that everything was in perfect order, as if you were orchestrating a smooth transition for him, even after you were gone.

The closets were tidier than usual, the clothes organized and neatly hung. He realized now that you had cleaned out your own belongings with quiet efficiency, not because you were preparing to leave in the conventional sense, but because you wanted to spare him the burden. You had sorted through your things, reducing the mess he would have to deal with, thinking ahead so that your death wouldn’t leave him grappling with the physical remnants of your life.

The laundry was always done, the baskets emptied and folded with a care that went beyond routine. You had taken care of it all, ensuring that he wouldn’t be confronted with chores and tasks that might remind him of the void you were leaving behind. The house had been more than just clean—it had been meticulously arranged to make his life easier, to ensure that the practicalities of your absence wouldn’t add to his grief.

In the midst of his grief, the realization struck him with the force of a revelation. You had been planning for this moment all along, your every action a carefully orchestrated preparation for the inevitable. You had thought of everything—how the house should be, how his daily life should continue without disruption, how he might cope with the void you would leave behind.

And yet, despite all your foresight, he had been so absorbed in his own world, so blind to your quiet efforts, that he hadn’t seen what you were doing. He had been wrapped up in his own needs, his own desires, oblivious to the depth of your sacrifice.

Now, as he sat there in the car, the weight of his regret felt almost unbearable. You had given him a gift of love so profound, so selfless, and he had only realized it in the harshest of moments. He had been given a chance to appreciate you, to see how deeply you cared, but it had come too late.

The house was prepared, the chores managed, the meals cooked—all to make sure that your departure wouldn’t add to his burden. And all he could do now was mourn the loss of someone who had loved him so completely, while he had remained unaware of the full extent of their care.

The realization hit him with a crushing weight. You had been preparing him—preparing him for a future without you. You had known, on some level, that your time was limited, and you had tried to make things easier for him, to ensure he wouldn’t be left entirely lost when you were gone. You had left behind a legacy of care and love, even in your absence.

The tears flowed more freely now, each one a testament to the depth of his regret. The sight of the empty kitchen at home, the pristine rows of shelves, the meticulously arranged pantry—all these things that once seemed so ordinary now felt like a poignant reminder of the love he had squandered. You had been his rock, his constant, and he had never truly valued it until it was too late.

Sukuna’s sobs grew louder, more desperate, his grief palpable in the confined space of the car. He felt as if he were drowning in a sea of his own making, surrounded by the memories of what he had lost and the realization of how profoundly he had failed you. The realization of your love, the sacrifices you had made, and the undeniable truth that he had only seen it all now, when it was too late, was a torment unlike anything he had ever known.

He sank forward, resting his head on the steering wheel, letting the tears fall harder than before, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He wished he could turn back time, could undo the mistakes he had made, could tell you how much you meant to him. But all he was left with was the crushing weight of his actions, the echoes of your love, and the empty space where you once were.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I feel like when it comes to the stardew valley spouses Sebastian would be the one I settle down with but Elliot is the one I think about at night.

He shines too brightly. He’s a little too loud. But he still makes my gay little heart jump the same way it did the first time. Every time.

But Sebastian is more stable. Sebastian loves you but can still have his own life separate from you. And he’s there. Quiet, but he’s there.

But Elliot alone in his cabin side eyes me every time I walk down to the beach. I meet his eyes a bit too long at festivals. We both know. We both know if one of us asked we would. But we won’t. It seems that he’s destined to be lonely and I am destined to be trapped. If not in my corporate job then there on that farm with that cozy safe husband and children, crops that need tending to, animals that need feeding.

Is anyone unhappy? No. Elliot has his modest success. He can live modestly off of his book sales. In time he grows old on that beach just as he feared, but it’s not so bad. He’s the town eccentric. He’s the local writer. He writes a new novel every year. A cheap little thing bought at an airport bookstore. A romance writer whose books are eaten and discarded within a week. And he’s happy.

And I sell my little artisan goods. Cheese and wine mostly these days. We put a little skull and crossbones on the wine bottles, just to be edgy. Just because we can. Children grow up in a stable and happy home with all the space in the world to run through the blueberry fields, their adoption papers framed on the wall, their slightly weird alternative dads taking them on motorcycle rides through the mountains. We’re quiet. We only get out on Fridays. Everyone knows us but we don’t hold hands at the store.

Elliot and I sit at the same table in the bar that Leah does. I know her slightly less than I know him. This town has become weirder. That’s good. We chat. Elliot is a messy drunk. Sometimes he gets a little too close to my face when he’s tipsy but he always stops himself. Everyone knows I wouldn’t stop him if he leaned in. Including my husband. We’ve never spoken about it but he’s not dumb. Everyone knows. Everyone also knows that nothing has happened. But it always could.

But Elliot doesn’t lean in. Maybe it’s the smell of dirt on me that breaks the image of me he has in his mind. Maybe it’s the public space. Maybe it’s Sebastian playing pool in the corner. Maybe if he was drunk in a private space everything would come apart. Both of our perfect on paper little lives.

Maybe if this were one of Elliot’s books we would run away together, abandon everything in the middle of the night. But neither of us would like that, really. Both of us are a one person at a time kind of guy. And we both know I made the right choice.

I still have dreams though. Of him and I on a rowboat in the middle of the ocean. He cannot contain himself and kisses me in a fit of passion. Like a vision from another universe where I’m just as happy as I am now. A parallel mirror world where I never climbed onto the back of that motorcycle and ran down the hill to the beach instead, where everything lasted for more than just that one summer.

[kateksmallcuteowl]

June 29: Single Parents/Uncles AU for an event by @bagginshieldweek24

I deeply regret that the challenge is a day late! Exams are merciless to me, and even though I started drawing in advance, I still couldn’t handle the deadline 😅 I promise to catch up with feedback tomorrow, after passing bioinformatics exam.

More headcanons and details under the cut>>

— It’s an alternative Middle-earth universe with hobbits, humans, dwarves, and elves, but set in modern times.

— Thorin grew up in Erebor in a royal family (which makes sense), is accustomed to good coffee, can distinguish different types, and knows which brewing devices are best. Now he has moved to London for work and discovered that both dwarf and human coffee shops would often use cheap beans or bad coffee machines, or they grind the beans incorrectly, or even set the wrong amount of grams of coffee per espresso shot. In general, they save money wherever they can, mostly selling the vibe and relying on the fact that taste isn’t important to most of the customers. Elves occupy the niche of coffee connoisseurs, but Thorin would rather drink filter coffee from a kettle on the roadside than go to elves. And then he discovers that hobbits, little hedonists, love good food and GOOD COFFEE! Of course, in hobbit cafes, he has to sit on low chairs and by the small tables, and at first, the other patrons looked at the dwarf in their company strangely, but it’s worth it. Thorin is willing to sit with a bent back if he gets a quiet and cozy atmosphere, excellent Wi-Fi, and delicious coffee (an office in London is good, but sometimes you need to get out of the four walls to not get nuts).

— Thorin rarely drinks pure espresso, preferring softer variations. He also has a sweet-tooth.

— Bilbo is a children’s book writer, mainly known for a series of fantasy novels about a brave hobbit who traveled over and under the mountains, rode in barrels, and played riddles in the dark (Bilbo, in canon, wrote his memoirs, which all hobbits except Merry and Frodo knew primarily for Hobbiton children, so I think he would primarily write for little hobbit kids).

— It’s not a real feather he uses, but a ballpoint pen with attached feathers, like those sold in souvenir shops. Bilbo bought it after a tour to the Tower of London. He likes the ✨vibe✨ and the fact that he can twirl the feather part around his lips when he’s thinking. (It’s literally an instruction on how to seduce Thorin)

— Mr. Baggins only drinks doppio. The cup is big compared to him because it’s hobbit ceramics, and the portion sizes for hobbits, who love treats, are no smaller than human ones.

— Bilbo has taken care of Frodo since his parents drowned in an accident. Frodo is about 8-9 years old here.

— I love the headcanon that hobbits’ ears react to their emotions, so the fact that Frodo doesn’t lower them when Bilbo scolds him is a good sign. Bilbo is a good uncle.

— Thorin and Bilbo have seen each other several times on Wednesdays. Usually, they don’t care about other patrons, but barista keept trying to serve a doppio to the stern scowling dwarf in black leather jacket, and a cappuccino with whipped cream to the little curly hobbit in a plaid sweater. They’ve had to swap their drinks several times.

— Thorin read Mr. Baggins’ books to his nephews in Erebor and quickly figured out who always sits at the table near the window in his favorite cafe. Thorin likes Bilbo’s books but doesn’t know if he’s married because he keeps his personal life private. Seeing Frodo, he immediately assumed he was Bilbo’s son, considering how the little hobbit looks at him.

— Bilbo immediately noticed the stern ( handsome) dwarf sitting with his eyes glued to his phone, but he always felt too awkward to speak with him. How do you even start a conversation with a stranger, especially from another race? So when Frodo, rather bluntly, commented on his appearance, of course, Bilbo was embarrassed. No, he absolutely agrees with Frodo. The exotic braids, unusual for short-haired hobbits, look amazing on the tall dwarf, and the iron clips highlight his blue eyes perfectly, but isn’t that a bit rude to point that out? Wouldn’t a dwarf decide that he is trying to mock his culture?

— Bilbo saw that while he was scolding Frodo, Thorin turned away and for some reason tugged angrily at his braid, so he decided to muster the courage and compliment him himself to ease the awkwardness and not seem rude (not at all because he would gladly say what Frodo did himself and not because Mr. Dwarf has much more attractive features he’d also like to make a comment on, not at all, what are you talking about, no-no-no).

— The dwarf didn’t seem offended at all.

— They started talking and found out that Thorin’s nephews love Bilbo’s books (Bilbo was flattered by this news. He’s still surprised when his books are read by anyone other than hobbits. (Gandalf didn’t tell him that his books are popular among all races. Mostly because for other races they play the role of kids books where main protagonist is a cute mice)).

— And in the end, as we see, they exchanged numbers 🌚🌝

— They will meet again, but without Frodo and not just for coffee.

— The end✨✨✨

I’m still experimenting with a flat-color style and lineart so I’ll be glad to know what do you think about it. Hope the comic was enjoyable!

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite - 13

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Chapter Warnings: afab/fem reader, Smut, protected p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, mild anal play, grinding, thiago riding, spanking, choking, biting, kissing, violence, blood, cursing, misogyny, sexism, Dom!Seungmin, Possessive!seungmin, Possessive!Reader, Soft!Han, reader gets called puppy (a lot), crying,name calling , fluff, angst, Lee know once again being a dick.

WC: 8.3k

There was a wetness that was traveling up the side of your shoulder that woke you up that morning, a little squeaky ‘mwah’ following each moist point of contact. You blearily opened your eyes, catching the sun shining through the thick nylon of the tent and forgetting where you were for a second. 

Before the mild panic could set in, you were hushed from a body next to you, “Shhh baby, you’re alright my sweet girl.” It was Jisung, he had a softness to his tone you hadn’t heard before. 

“Ji?” You asked, delirious from sleep and turning your head to look at him through half closed eyes. 

“Mmhmm” He hummed, continuing his smooches along your shoulder and trailing up to your neck.

You immediately relaxed, closing your eyes and letting out a sleepy sigh. “Wha are ya doin?” 

“Jus’ missed you is all.” He replied, his warm hands digging under the blankets you were buried under and finding the skin of your waist. “Annnnd maybe I was feeling a little needy for my baby.” 

“Mm. Where’s Channie?” You felt his fingers drumming on your skin, finding your hip and giving it little taps. 

“Hyung is clearing up the stuff down by the beach with the others. He wanted to let you sleep.” His kisses were turning into nips and sucks as he got closer to your jaw line. You let him move his hand ever further south, resting in the waistband of your sweats.

“Hmph” You grunted, “ this is letting me sleep huh?” 

“We all have to make sacrifices sometimes, baby.” He tilted your face to meet his, his eyes half lidded with need. “ I needed you.” Jisungs wet lips found yours with a whimper. You melted into his kiss, breathing a sleepy sigh of content. It’s honestly crazy how he hadn’t kissed you for real until right now. Kissing him was exhilarating. You had hoped he had wanted you but now you could feel how bad he craved you though his lips, a mashing of teeth and tongue, as if he was trying to devour you. You were sure you would never forget the tang of his natural taste, it being reminiscent of Sunny D in that sense.

You gave a low whine when the beta wandered his fingers further into your sweats and into your panties. He didn’t delve his fingers in, just gave you more taps on the flesh that was quickly dampening for him. 

“Fuck my baby, need to hear you make that noise again.” He muttered against your wet lips. The beta could smell your arousal filling the tent, leaking through the pores in the nylon fabric. He hoped to be covered in it. Wanted it to seep into his skin.

Jisungs fingers swiped through your accumulating slick, both of you groaning at the feeling.

“Ji, we can’t umm, we can’t do it right now… I don’t think we have any.. Protection.” You managed to get out bashfully, finding it incredibly hard to stay strong on the matter. But you were not about to have a repeat of Chan's fury.  

“Shh my baby, I know. Jus’ wanna make my girl feel good, is all.” His mouth reattached to yours and his nimble digits circled up to your clit after collecting some of your slick. “Mm so fucking wet, nnngh.” He started to whine as he bucked his clothed pelvis into your covered form, unable to stop the motion.

The beta rubbed harshly on your bundle of nerves, panting as he took in your little squeaks and whimpers of pleasure, finding it addictive. Craving more and more. His little grinds only increased when he parted from your clit and plunged a finger into you, feeling your tightness surround his digit. 

“Sungie” you moaned at the intrusion, eyes clenched shut. You had heard he played guitar so you figured he must be good with his hands but fuck. 

He wanted to cry at how sweet you sounded when you whined his name. Ji used his other hand that wasn’t buried in you to rip the blankets off your quickly overheating body then he pulled your bottoms down so he could get better access to you. 

The sight of your drooling pussy and glassy eyes riddled with sleep and lust, pushed him over the edge, and he came untouched in his sweats. “Fuuuuck my baby, prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, oh my fucking god, so perfect, the best omega in the whole world I swear to god.” He rambled as he came, shoving a second finger in and bringing his other to circle your sensitive nub. 

You felt your high approaching, all it took was for him to curl against your special spot inside of you for you to let go. This one felt a little different from the rest that you’ve had before. When you came there was a release, and a flood of your essence shot out of you, soaking both Jisungs hands and the blankets beneath you. You were crying in pleasure at the feeling. “Ji, Jisung oh my gooood, fuck ahhhh.” 

He moaned loudly when you squirted on his hand, “What the fuck oh my fuck thats so hot.” 

The beta worked you through your high, only stopping his thrusting when you weakly grabbed his wrist. You were panting so hard, your lungs were on fire. He didn’t give you much time to catch your breath, though. When he pulled his soaking fingers out of your hole, he was mesmerized by the shine coating his skin. You watched as he shakily brought the same hand up to his own mouth, and put the dripping digits on his tongue. 

Jisung moaned and screwed his eyes shut at the sensation of your slick on his taste buds. “Fuck I need to taste you properly.” 

Before you even registered what he meant, Ji leaned over and buried his face between your thighs, immediately running his tongue through your folds. 

“Ji too sensitive!” You tried to pull him back despite your moans, pulling at his hair but he only whined into you and made a slurping sound. It was positively filthy. It made your head spin and your brain fuzzy. 

He only stopped once he had his fill of the goodness between your legs. When Ji pulled back the whole bottom half of his face was covered in your slick and his pupils were blown up so big they encompassed his entire eye.

He took in your fucked out expression as he licked his lips, not willing to let even a drop go to waste. He always knew he was a munch but it had never been truer until this particular moment. Jisung already longed to suckle your nectar from you once more, even though he was there seconds beforehand. 

Instead of acting on his urges, he pulled your sweats back up over your hips and gave you another wet kiss. You could taste yourself in his mouth and it made you shiver. Your own hand slowly made its way to his crotch but he caught your hand before you could grab at it. 

You pulled away from his kiss in confusion.”Do you not want me to make you feel good too?”

 His cheeks were bright red and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Don’t worry about that, baby. I already got mine.” It took you a second to realize what he meant, until your eyes dropped to the wet patch that was starting to appear through his sweats. 

“Oh.” you giggled, trying not to embarrass him. It was honestly flattering that he came in his pants just by touching you. 

“Next time I’ll hold out for you, promise.” He had a dopey grin as you kissed him again. He was just too precious. 

A voice from outside the tent startled you both, “If you two are done fucking in there, breakfast is heating up then we’re gonna hit the road, so it sure would be swell if we could pack up this tent.” Minho. 

You covered your face with your hands, as Jisung screeched, “We were not fucking in here, you twat!” 

“Wow, someone woke up on the right side of the tent this morning.” Hyunjin eyed both you and Jisung when you crawled out of the tent a few minutes later. Jisung still had that dopey grin on his face and you had that sex glow you get after you cum. Hyunjin would know, he’s made you do it. 

“Morning Jinnie.” You smiled at him and leaned up to kiss him. He returned your kiss briefly, before pulling away and pressing a kiss to your nose, causing you to giggle. Jisung skirted off, (you assumed to change his pants).You looked around and noticed most of the camp was already put up. Wow, that was a really quick camping trip. You can't fault them, though. It was pretty impromptu. You noticed every milling about, picking up, except Felix and Chan. “Where’s Lix and Channie?” 

Hyunjin grimaced, “Well, uhh, the hormones you release when your uh, releasing, is a little too much for Felix when he knows he’s not allowed to touch you or anything, so he had to separate himself for a while. He stormed back to the beach and Hyung followed after him.” 

Your eyes found the trail to the beach and with a mind of their own your feet were marching towards it with purpose. You were worried Chan was being mean to Felix and your omega needed to comfort the beta. Hyunjin was shocked as you just took off out of his arms, and he didn’t know whether to stop you or let you go. Thankfully (or maybe not) he didn’t have to stop you. 

Before you could register the presence behind you, a hand snatched your arm, keeping you from proceeding. “You’re not going down there, omega.” That was the harshest you’d ever heard Minhos voice, it made you gasp at how assertive he sounded.  

You snapped your neck in his direction, fire lit in your soul at being told no, again. “And why not, Minho?” 

His cold eyes stared into your fiery ones, “It’s not your place to interfere with the Alphas business. You’re staying right here with us.” 

You both could feel the other five pack members watching the interaction, but neither of you gave a fuck right now. 

“You’re not an alpha, you can’t make me do anything, Minho.” You challenged with a shaky voice. 

His eye twitched and he tilted his head in a nearly menacing way, “ You wanna bet?” 

Your nerves were slipping, unable to help the tremble of your bottom lip. “ Chan said I was the woman of the household. I think that's justification to go where I please.” 

His grip on your arm tightened as he growled, “Yeah. You’re a woman. Not a man. Know your place.” 

You gasped at the gall of his statement and tears sprung to your lash line. A sourness overtook your normally pleasant scent, cascading out of you in waves. “What the fuck is yo-”

“Ok! That’s enough of that!” Changbin was the one to break the tension, removing you from Minho who let you go instantly. The alpha took you in his arms and away from the beta. Minho scoffed as you were rescued, rolling his eyes and going back to his tasks. 

“What is wrong with him?!” You were seething, trying to turn your head to glare but Changbin wasn’t having it. 

“Nuh uh, baby. You just keep looking ahead, no need to get even more worked up.” He was trying to be as calming as possible, attempting to release soothing pheromones to alleviate the tension. He set you down on the open hatch of the truck bed. 

Changbin may have been an alpha but his scent wasn’t as assertive as Chans so it was taking you longer to calm down, “Seriously Binnie, what the fuck is his problem?!” 

He sighed, running this hand through your hair. “Baby, you can’t just challenge Min like that.” 

You huffed in protest. You wanted to roll your eyes but thought better of it. “He started it” 

Binnie chuckled, “It doesn’t matter who started it, baby. You gotta understand his position in the pack hierarchy.  There’s a right and wrong way to handle things. Minho is the second in command in our pack, he is directly under Channie Hyung and that means he deserves the respect of someone in a position of power.” 

Your lip was trembling again as more tears sprung to your eyes, and you let your head fall to face your lap. “When he said to ‘know my place’,  he reminded me of my father. He would say that to me and my mother all the time.” 

“Aww baby, come er.” Changbin cooed and pulled you into his chest as you cried. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like your father did. It’s all politics, omega. He’s not quite used to being challenged like that. Especially not by our resident sweetheart.” 

“Still hurts my feelings.” You grumbled, wiping your wet cheeks. 

“Mm I know, baby. Let alpha make you feel better.” He began to pepper kisses all over your face, making a show with the loud smooch sounds. You couldn’t help but to giggle as your tears stopped. 

“Ok ok! I feel better!” You laughed and tried to push him off. You hugged him when he finally stopped his kiss attack, nuzzling into his chest. “Thanks Binnie. You’re good at making me feel better.” 

“I always got you, omega.” He pressed a final kiss to your lips then noticed a mass coming up from the beach trail. “Looks like things are ok over there too.” He flicked his head to make you turn your attention. 

Coming up the trail was Chan, with Felix on his back. The alpha was giving a piggyback ride to the younger beta. Felix still had slightly puffy eyes as if he had been crying previously, but now he had a gentle grin as they entered camp. Felix said something in Chan's ear, making the alpha laugh as he set him down. 

Able to pick up the rigidity in the camp, Chan’s eyes flitted around until they locked on yours. He had a questioning look on his face as he took in your puffy eyes then he sent a look to Changbin. The younger alpha lightly shook his head, his eyes flickering over to a tense Minho then back to Chans. Chan sucked his teeth and nodded back. 

Chan set Felix down by the tents where Hyunjin and Jeongin were finishing packing them up and he made his way to you. Changbin gave you a swift kiss and backed away as Chan appeared, giving him a fist bump before going on his way. 

“He’s fine, if you were wondering.” Chan pulled you into him, his chin resting on your head. “Just got himself a little worked up.” 

“I was really worried for him..” you breathed out timidly. “I was scared you were, umm…” 

“Oh I see, you were scared I was punishing Felix again, huh?” He murmured softly. You nodded in response. “My nurturing little omega just wanted to make it better?” 

“Yeah, alpha” Your voice croaked, thick with more on coming tears. “But Min stopped me…He was so mean.”

“Mmm, I know baby. Ya know, I love how much you care about Lix and the other boys.” You nodded again. “Means you're a good omega. A perfect one for this pack.” 

That made you purr in response, feeling vindicated.

 “But,” Shit, nevermind. 

“You gotta let your alpha handle things. Felix and I were only having a conversation, baby. I wasn’t punishing or scolding him. You would have felt pretty foolish storming over there in the middle of our heartfelt conversation, huh?” 

Hmph “....maybe” 

Chan laughed, rubbing your back and planting a kiss on your head, “And cut Min some slack, he can be a dick but he doesn’t mean it most of the time.” 

“Ugghhhhh do I have tooooo?” you pouted dramatically.

“Yes, baby. Where’s my nice, forgiving omega, hm?” He was using his scent to persuade you. 

“M’ right here.” You melted into him, showing your submission. 

“There’s my girl.” Luckily with you pressed against him, you missed the sly smirk he sent Minho- who was balking at how easily he got you to calm down from across the campsite. “I love you, baby.”

“Love you too Channie.”

“Looks like we’re about ready to go. And I don’t know about you but I am ready for a shower.” He laughed.

You sniffled and pulled away from him, “Yeah you stink.” 

He gasped dramatically, “maybe you’re not nice after all.” He hoisted you into his arms as you shrieked a laugh. He had you over his shoulder so you smacked his ass and in return he gave you one back then laid a bite into the side of your thigh, causing you to shriek again. “Let’s roll!” He called out to everyone else, who had just finished getting ready to depart. He sure did love efficiency. 

The ride home felt like it went by way quicker than the journey there. Chan let you pick the music again and you both belted the words to every song together. He didn’t make fun of you when you did little dances to each one (ok maybe he poked fun a little bit). The alpha adored how goofy you could be, and how every day he gets to see more and more of who you are inside; not just what the omega traits gave you. 

The truck pulled up to the house after the others had already arrived, and the pack was already moving everything back where it belonged. You had been bummed the trip had been so short, but now being back home you felt relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from you at no longer being stuck in the woods in a tense atmosphere. 

After helping move some things and taking everyones dirty laundry into the washroom to be dealt with later, you all had gone for showers and naps. Some of them were still hungover from drinking too much (Jeongin and Felix mostly). 

You went into Chans bathroom to find him already turning on the water, “Wanna shower with me, my love?” 

You were hesitant to reply, remembering the last time you were in that shower together, and how you were punished. 

He could tell you were apprehensive, “It’s just a regular shower, baby. Nothing scary this time, promise.” Chan held out his pinky to you, his eyes crinkling with his endearing grin. When he’s so cute like this, how could you deny him? 

“Ok, Channie,” you looped pinkies with him, then you took off your clothes and joined him in the shower. He didn’t touch you sexually this time, and you were grateful for it. He didn’t think you would be ready for it in this particular shower, anyways. That doesn’t mean you didn’t get a smattering of smooches from him, though. Sometimes he can’t keep his lips to himself, he guessed he was like his pack brothers in that way when it comes to you. 

Once you were cleansed and clothed - in Chans shirt and a pair of shorts, naturally - you padded down into the kitchen for a bottle of water. Jisung was already there, on his phone. 

“Hi love bug.” he greeted you with a kiss. “ I'm ordering pizza, Bin has been complaining that he’s gonna ‘ die of starvation’ if he doesn’t get a supreme asap. What kind do you like?” 

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say no to a hawaiian.” You sipped your drink you got from the fridge. 

“Don’t let Hyung hear you say that.” You felt a hard pinch on your right ass cheek,

“Ow!” 

“He hates pineapple on his pizza” Seungmin snickered, dodging your tiny fist. “My vote is only get hawaiian, really stir the pot in here.” 

“Yeah that's what we need.” Jisung replied sarcastically. “Let’s not piss off the alphas please.” 

“You’re no fun, Hannie” 

“I am fun!” 

At this point you made a swift exit out of the kitchen, staying out of the mini spat. “I swear, they fight like an old married couple.” you murmured. 

“I heard that!” 

“No you didn’t!” You called behind you. 

You ventured into Chan's room to gather his and your laundry, then back down into the laundry room. You hadn’t realized how much it had built up in the last few days, so getting it done was a top priority for you. 

It was about 40 minutes later and you were putting the second load in the washer when you heard a pounding at the door. It wasn’t a gentle knock but more like a rapid banging. You listened for a moment and didn’t hear anyone go to the door so you did. ‘Jeez the delivery man must be in a mood today.’ you thought cynically as you made your way to the entry. 

You now heard harsh whispers coming from the door as you got closer. 

“I told you it was done, Brynn. You can’t come around anymore.” Seungmin, but who was he talking too? 

“You dump me over text and now you won’t even explain why! What kind of bullshit is that? It’s been a week of radio silence from you.” It was a woman's voice, shrill and whiny. 

You could see Seungmins back as he addressed the girl at the door, and you could make out her blonde hair over his shoulder. 

“We weren’t dating. You made it perfectly clear when we started hooking up you didn’t want a relationship. I don’t have to explain shit to you.” He was trying to keep his voice even, as if he really didn’t care. He probably didn’t. “What’s done is done, Brynn. Don’t act like a spoiled child just because you don’t get my dick wet anymore.” 

The woman looked over his shoulder as you came into view, her catty eyes narrowed at you then at him. “Who the fuck is that?” 

Minnie turned his head to catch a glimpse of you, before sighing and pointing away, “Baby go back to the living room with the boys.” 

 “Oh I get it now.”  The woman, Brynn, let her nostrils flare as she zeroed in on you.  “you left me for some omega whore.” 

‘What the fuck did I do?’ 

“You don’t know shit.” He bit back at her, now getting fired up. You stepped closer to him despite his order to leave, now only about a foot away. This girl was starting to piss you off, and you already had enough rage leftover from your altercation this morning. 

“No, I get it now.” She smirked evilly, “Look at the bruises on her legs, you guys are all sharing her huh?” 

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t know anything about our pack.”  He growled at her, glaring daggers. 

“What’s the matter? Mad I got it right? Maybe if you weren’t such a beta loser you could get your own girl, instead of sharing some used up who-” The beta woman didn’t get to finish her sentence before you ducked past Seungmin and slammed your fist right into her left cheek. “AHH what the hell!” she clutched her face as she screamed.  

“Y/N!” Seungmin grabbed your waist pulling you back, he was instantly shocked by your behavior. And maybe a little turned on.  “Don’t, she’s not worth it baby.”

“I’ll show you whos the fucking loser! Don’t you ever speak to him like that again!” You tried to swing your fists again but Minnie had already pulled you too far away. 

“Seungmin control your fucking dog!” She snarled, still clutching her red cheek. 

“Oh my god why is something always happening in this entry way?!” Jisung shrieked as he ran to see what was going on. Chan and Changbin were right behind him. Brynns scream must have alerted them all to trouble.  

“Take her now!” Seungmin tried to hand you off to Chan but you gripped onto the door frame, refusing to let go. 

“No! I’m not done with her!” You were raging, the angriest you had ever been. 

“Omega let go now.” Chan used an alpha command on you, making you release instantly. 

“That’s right, go back to your master.” Brynn sneered. 

“Next time I see you, it’s on sight bitch! Count your days!” You screeched, pointing at her as you were hauled away. 

As you were pulled through the house you could no longer see nor hear the commotion at the door. Chan knew Seungmin would be telling her off and making her leave. “What the fuck was that?” He set you on the couch then crouched to your eye level.  “Did you hit her?” 

You crossed your arms, a snarl still embedded on your face. “If you heard what she was saying you’d wanna hit her too.” 

He sighed, running a hand down his face, “Omega, you-”

“No!” He gave you a hard stare for interrupting him. “Sorry, alpha.” you winced. “ But I couldn’t stand there and let her say that about him! Something came over me and I just had to protect him from her. I have never felt such raw adrenaline before, it’s kinda like I blacked out and before I knew it, my fist was on her face!” 

“I get it baby, you needed to save your minnie from the mean girl.” You nodded. “And I bet you were still feeling the intensity from this morning huh?” 

“Yes, alpha. I’m sorry.” You sighed, trying to let the emotions go but failing miserably. 

“All I’m gonna say is, don’t make it a habit of hitting people. Only warning.” He kissed your head, “But she really did deserve it, that chick sucks.” 

“You should have seen the look on the pizza guys face when he pulled up to Brynns ugly crying face! He looked horrified!” Han held the pizzas in his arms as he passed you on the way to the kitchen. “Also, super hot of you to hit her, baby.” 

Chan groaned and you giggled, “Ji I’m in here actively trying to teach her violence is not ok, we don’t need your encouragement.” 

“Oh lighten up, Hyung. That bitch deserves it.” 

“That’s what I’m saying!” You agreed enthusiastically. 

The alpha threw his hands up exasperated, before standing and stomping to the kitchen. He wouldn’t admit it but it was super hot seeing you all fired up like that. Seungmin and Changbin came in next. Changbin ruffled your hair, “Hey there, good job slugger.” 

“Get off!” you pushed his hand away, laughing. 

Seungmin was next to crouch in front of you, searching your face for any harm. When he found none there his eyes moved down and zeroed in on your hand, that had begun to bruise already from how hard you slammed it into the other woman's face. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

“I wasn’t.” You admitted to him, shyness overtaking you under his scrutiny. 

He scoffed, somewhat amused. “Clearly.” He grabbed your bruised hand and ran his thumb gently over the knuckles. When you hissed in discomfort, he brought the skin up to his mouth and gave it a tender kiss. “Next time, let me handle it.” 

“As if,” you muttered with your own scoff. “I won’t let her or anyone else talk to you like that. You’re not her toy to treat like crap. You don’t belong to her.” You spat the last word like it left a bad taste in your mouth, and the beta noticed. 

“Oh omega, is someone feeling a little… possessive over her Minnie, hm? You want me to belong to you instead?” He had his devilish grin on. 

“No!” you protested, “...Maybe. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” 

He laid you on the couch with a shove, before climbing over you. You gasped and put your hand on his chest, eyes wide. “Don’t you worry about it, baby. As far as I’m concerned I’ve been yours since the spaghetti o’s.” 

“Ugh don’t bring that up again.” you turned your head to avoid his eye contact and he took the opportunity to nip your neck. “Minnie get off!” 

“Yeah get off her! The little savage needs some fuel to keep fighting for her men!” Seungmin was shoved off playfully by Changbin. 

You could hear Chan yell from the kitchen, “No more fighting!” 

“Yes more fighting!” 

“Jisung, enough!” 

“Ok ok, sorry.” 

“Who’s fighting?” Jeongin ran in looking for the commotion. 

“No one is fighting, Innie.” You replied, sitting up. 

“Yeah, not anymore. You missed Baby smack the shit outta Brynn.” Changbin said eating a slice. 

“Baby hit Brynn? No way she sucks!” Hyunjin entered now, trailed by a sleepy Felix. 

The younger beta gave you a look of pure surprise, “For real, you actually hit her?” 

“Uhh yeah, I did.” You felt sheepish now that they all knew. 

“Wow. Our precious baby is showing us she’s not all bark and no bite huh?”  he blinked away his shock, him too entering the kitchen. 

Suddenly, a roar was heard from the head Alpha, 

“Why does every pizza have pineapple?! Jisung?!” 

“Oops!”

Lunch was filled with them all poking fun and teasing you for your altercation. Most praised you (making your brain short circuit) and told you how insanely hot they found it. One beta in particular couldn’t stop letting his imagination wander. He decided right then that he would give you a reward instead of punishing your behavior. 

When you had all eaten you meandered back to your self appointed chore, telling them all to bring their laundry bins down and you would begin taking care of it. While you were folding some of the done pile, a figure came up behind you. 

You shivered when he brushed your hair away from the side of your neck, and he placed the other hand on your hip under your shirt. “When you’re done here, come up to my room, omega.”

Seungmin’s voice was gravely as he lowered it to a whisper. He laid a light kiss to the skin of your neck, and you whimpered, nodding your head in agreement. “Mm, good girl.” 

His hand traveled down to your butt, giving the cheek a single squeeze before he pulled away from you completely, and exited the room as if he was never even there.

You felt your breath return to you once he was gone, only now realizing you were holding it in the first place. With shaky hands you continued, wondering how the hell you were supposed to get anything done after that. 

In actuality you managed to get another load in the dryer and finished folding the one you were working on within about an hour. You set the basket of folded clothes in Chans room, not expecting to see him chilling on his bed, playing on his phone. He smiled when you walked in, setting his phone down. “Hey baby, are you gonna come snuggle with me?” he held his hand out for you. 

“Umm,” you grabbed his hand but didn’t sit. “Minnie kinda asked me to go to his room already..” 

“Oh, I see.” He smirked cheekily, “Well before you go take one of these,” he reached over and handed you a little packet of pills. “Bin picked up your birth control prescription yesterday. Make sure you take it every day .” you nodded before popping one out and sticking it in your mouth. He handed you some water to wash it down. “Now don’t let me keep you then, my love.” he let go of you and sent you off. 

You left the room, and went to the door you knew led to Seungmins room. You steeled your nerves before timidly knocking on his door. You heard a faint “Come in, baby.” so you opened the door and entered his space. You hadn’t been in his room yet, you weren’t expecting it to be so colorful. He had a few hanging plants draping down from his ceiling. The back wall was dark green, and the rest were off white, making the room look larger. Shelves lined the walls that were filled with books. 

You closed the door behind you, and were hit with the encompassing scent of him. The smell was delicate like a thunderstorm. “Hi Minnie.” You twiddled with your thumbs, unable to meet his gaze. 

He chuckled, “ Hey Omega. Won’t you come here?” He was sitting at the mahogany desk in the corner where he beckoned you to him. You shuffled your feet until you came to stand right in front of him. “There she is, my girl.” You preened at his sentiment, the omega inside begging to hear him say it again. “You like that? You like it when I call you mine?” He yanked you into his lap, letting you feel how hard he already was under you. 

He leaned you back into him as he cradled your jaw, tilting your head and giving you little licks into the skin there. “Y-yes Minnie.” 

“Oh I know you do, baby. Here in this room, you belong to me. You’re my girl alone when you're in these four walls, do you understand?” He knew he was laying it on thick but he needed to train you early. He nipped at your skin roughly. 

“Mhm I understand Minnie.” you were whimpering, melting into his hold. He could see your nipples harden under your shirt, pleased you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. 

“Go lay on my bed for me, and take your clothes off.” 

You scrambled off of him when you register what he says, literally flinging your shirt off and tripping lightly when you pull your shorts down. He held back a snort, opting to bite his lip instead. You turn around to face him before you pull off your panties, giving him a full view of your breasts. You tried to keep eye contact with him as you unhurriedly pulled your panties down and let them drop to the floor.

If anything was true about Seungmin; it’s that he was very good at keeping his composure. On the outside he appeared calm and collected as he watched the sexiest creature he had ever seen settle herself on his bed. But on the inside; he was losing his mind. All he wanted was to ravish you, tear you apart and put you back together again. He had let the tension with you rise for days in anticipation for this moment, and he felt like a dog with a bone. More like a puppy. 

The quilt on his bed was a mauve shade and had diamond shapes stitched into it. It was soft on your skin as you laid upon it, helping quell the fluttering in your stomach. You clutched it as Seungmins' predatory stare raked over your form. From your position on his bed he could see the glistening between your legs and his mouth began to water. 

You noticed where his gaze was pointed and it made you feel kind of dirty, the way he had his fixed stare on your most intimate parts had you subconsciously rubbing your thighs together as you released a scent thick with arousal. 

“Look at you, dripping and writhing when I haven’t even touched you yet.” He stood from his place on the chair across the room, palming his bulge through his sweats. “ What am I gonna do with you, pretty girl?” He tore his shirt off, taking a step towards you. “Should I stretch you out on my fingers?” Another step. “Should I eat your pussy till you cry?” Now he was at the foot of the bed. “Or maybe I should make you cum on my cock till you pass out?”  

That had you absolutely panting, eyes blown at the suggestion and your thighs clenching. The arousal was coming out in thick drips and drenching the intricate quilt below you. It would surely take months to get the scent out. Not that he would want to. 

“Option 3? If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll give you what you want.” He licked his lips, itching to grab you but wanting to hear you beg for it. He wasn’t going to touch you otherwise. 

“Please, Minnie.” You whined softly, feeling modest, your face heating up. 

“Is that all you got?” He scoffed and took half a step back. “You must not really want it that bad.” 

“I do, Minnie I want it!” 

“You want it? You want my cock?” His eyes narrowed at you as he smirked. 

You nodded rapidly, “Uh huh.” 

“Then beg me for it, omega.” 

You attempted to take a staggering breath as your lip trembled. 

“Minnie, my Minnie, please, please have mercy on me, and fuck me. Please, Seungmin.” 

A rumble came from him as he pounced on you. He slipped his pants off hastily as he crashed his mouth to yours. His tongue invaded your mouth and his hand groped your chest, the combination being staggering for you. You moaned when he gave your nipple a firm pinch. His pelvis pushed back into you when yours bucked up looking for friction. 

“You really are a needy little thing, rutting into me like a horny little puppy.” He was condescending with his words, mouthing at your lips with cruel nips. “What happened to that feisty omega that took on the world today, huh? Where’d the snappy guard dog go?” He licked your bottom lip messily. “Show me how bad you want it, puppy.” 

You animatedly thrusted up into him, grinding on his clothed member. He could feel the slick coming off of you and soaking into his boxers. 

“Awe you’re so wet omega. Can feel you practically water logging my dick through my boxers.” He grunted, shuddering when you bucked again. 

You were quickly falling deeper into subspace, surrendering yourself to him completely. His dominant aura and attitude was sending you spiraling into the abyss. “Mhmm, wet for my Minnie. Wan’ you to fuck me.” 

Seungmin lowered his head to suck on the opposite nipple than the one he was pinching, nibbling on the hardened bud. 

“I’ll fuck you, puppy. Give you what you need.” He sucked harder, and your hand shot to his hair. “But first you gotta  give me what I need. Make yourself cum, wanna see the look on your face when you rut on me so hard you cum.” 

“B-but I..” You whined, “I don’t know if I can.” 

He quickly slipped a hand down between where your bodies met and gave a slap to your core. You wailed at the sharp pain. “I’ve told you before, I don’t care if you can, the fact is you will.” He smacked again. “Get to it.” 

Seungmin slotted his thigh between your legs to give you more friction. You thrusted up into him again and hooked your thigh over his hips, grinding harshly into him. The fabric of his underwear over his member caught on your clit. Your head fell back into his pillows and you moaned. You repeated that motion over and over again, being so turned on you were actually getting off in it  

“Seung, s-so good.” 

He returned your rutting with one of his own, making you cry out as the knot in your stomach was building. 

“Minnie, I think m’ gonna, gonna…”

“Go ahead, my obedient little pup, let go for me. Make a mess.” 

With his permission you felt your orgasm take over, making you shake with pleasure. “Unngghh” Your ‘o’ face was even better than he imagined, eyes shut tight and drool coating your lips as you moaned. It was the both most gratifying and beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

He barely let you finish your shaking before he had you suddenly flipped over so you were on your stomach. You let out a gasp in surprise. Seungmin leaned back on his heels and yanked you up by your hips, until you were on your hands and knees presenting for him. He admired the way your pussy spasmed from your leftover orgasm and he swiped a finger through your juices, swirling it around before he shoved the finger inside. You squirmed as you whimpered again. He hummed in appreciation, “ I love the noises you make for me, omega. Let’s see how loud you can get.” 

You heard a crinkling sound behind you, so you turned your head around to the sight of him rolling a condom down his length. He had abandoned his underwear at some point and you hadn’t even noticed. When it was rolled on completely he took his cock and rubbed it through your folds, not yet pushing in. His lithe hand ran over your shoulders, barely touching as it trailed down your spine. 

Seungmin laid a harsh smack to your ass cheek when he got to the bottom of your back “ow, minnie!” He didn’t respond, choosing to snicker in amusement when your flesh ripped from his treatment. He entered the tip into your dripping hole, giving a moan at the squelch that emitted. 

He let go of his cock go and opted for giving your ass cheeks a punishing grip on each side, spreading you open for him to get an even better view of your pussy and the other little pink hole that you hide from him. You let your head fall in embarrassment when he seemed to take his time gazing directly at your most intimate hole. Seungmin let his saliva accumulate in his mouth before he leaned close and stuck out his tongue, the spit he collected falling off the tip onto your puckered flesh. 

You shivered when you felt it hit you, eyes wide with slight terror at the prospect of him penetrating your ass. He could sense your fear and chuckled with his signature evilness. “Don’t worry, Puppy. Minnie’s not gonna fuck your ass… today.” your sigh of relief was cut off when his thumb swirled around in his own spit, not pushing in but definitely testing the waters. “Doesn’t mean I can’t play with it a little bit, though.” 

All at once he pushed his length into you completely and also his thumb entered just slightly. Even the tip of this thumb was a stretch for you. The sensations made your back arch and a loud howl break from your parted lips. You had only moments to adjust to him, as he gave your ass another sharp smack and began his thrusting into you from behind. 

Desperate cries were falling from you and Seungmin snuck his hand back up your spine until he found purchase at the base of your neck. He squeezed the skin there and used the grip he had to tilt your head up to face the ceiling, wanting your moans to be projected out. “Let em’ hear it, baby. Let the pack hear who’s making you bark like this.” 

His jarring words made another bout of slick build up and drip out around his cock. The wet, sloppy sounds were resonating off the four walls, making it seem louder with the constant echoes. 

“Mm, I’ll never get enough of this pussy drenching me. Wettest I’ve ever seen, fuck.” He squeezed your neck a little harder, making you choke on your moans. “God damn you look so good with my hand around your neck. Maybe I should get you a collar, make you wear it around like I’m always there giving my girl a good squeeze. My puppy can wear my initials on her pretty neck.” 

“Minnie, please oh my god.” You rasped out between cries, feeling your second orgasm starting to build within you. You clenched particularly hard on him when he pushed the thumb just a touch further into you, stretching your previously untouched cavity. 

“Fuck, omega. Clenching down on me so fucking tight. Gonna make me cum.” 

You whimpered, “Wan you too, wan you to cum please Minnie.” You were begging, tears steadily streaming down your face now, just inches away from cumming yourself. “Wanna cum too, please, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely, make a mess for me, pup. Cum.”

Your eyes rolled into your head as you wailed, toes curling and spurts of slick shooting out from around him. Feeling how hard you clamped down on his dick made Seungmin not be able to hold back any longer. He spewed curses and deep growls as he came, filling the condom with his thick essence. His mouth was salivating and he gave into his urges, leaning up to your shoulder and chomping his teeth down into the flesh just above Felix's bite. Your blood filled his mouth as he bit, and you cried louder than you had the whole time he’d been fucking you. The beta let go of your skin and licked his lips, pupils blown wide.

You were quaking when he removed his thumb from you, giving you a few minor thrusts as he let go of your neck. Seungmin gave you a few tender kisses on your back, trying to bring you back down to earth. 

When the beta pulled out of you, you felt your legs give out and your face planted into his bed with a groan. He gave a chuckle at how cute you were directly after being fucked. You were floating, drifting in hyperspace you didn’t notice when he laid down next to you after disposing of the condom. This is why he toyed with you for days, knowing the buildup would make it all the more intense for you. 

He lifted you to be directly on top of him and he wiped the drool from your lips. “Not done yet, omega. Need you to bite me now.” He pet your hair and hauled you closer, basically shoving your face into his shoulder. “Give it to me, let everyone know I’m taken by you, baby.” 

You did as you were told, almost on instinct, bearing your teeth and digging them into his flesh. He groaned huskily, eyes snapping shut when he felt the pressure. 

“Thata girl.” He held you close to him as you lapped at the wound you made on him, feeling more intimate than anything else you had done with him previously. Now you were positive he loved you, he doesn’t seem like the type that would go around receiving bites for just anyone. 

When you had diligently licked it clean you pulled away from the skin, tilting your head up the best you could to look at him. His pupils were still blown out, making his eyes look almost completely black. His hair had fallen into his face and the sweat had made it stick to his skin. He was panting as if he had just ran a marathon, a deep flush in his cheeks. In all honesty he looked positively immoral.  

You didn’t look any better, you could bet you looked how you felt; exhausted. Exhausted from all the adrenaline of the day and from all the orgasms that had been pulled from you today. 

“You did so well fo’ me, baby.” He managed to say when he caught his breath.He pet the side of your head and wiped the blood off your mouth.

“I did?” You mumbled, coming out of your trance-like state. 

“Mmm, the best. Listened so good to your Minnie. Made me really proud of you.” He gave you a tender kiss. You sunk into him, purring in delight at his praise. You pulled away first, feeling the fatigue you rested your head down on his chest. “You can’t fall asleep yet, we gotta get you cleaned up first.” 

You pouted but still let him scoot out from under you and pick you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom to begin wiping you down and cleaning your newest bite mark. Afterwards he carried you back to his bed, and dressed you in one of his t-shirts. It’s about time you paraded around in his clothes too. 

It was only mid day, but he let you rest under his covers and laid down with you as he turned on a show on his laptop. You snuggled into him and immediately felt at peace. 

You were able to murmer one last thing before you fell asleep, “Love you minnie.” then you passed out, letting sleep take over. 

When you woke up, the sky outside the window had darkened to a deep orange. For a moment you laid there, eyes half open as you came to your senses. You could tell that you were still in Seungmin's room, and that he was laid next to you. You heard the faint voices coming from the laptop on his lap and his almost silent snorts when something was particularly funny on his show.

“Wha’ time is it?” you mumbled, turning your body around to face him. 

“Hmm? Not that late,” He looked to you then to his phone, “ it’s almost 6:30. You’ve been asleep for about four hours.” 

“Four hours?” You started to panic, worried about the chores you were doing. You sluggishly went to get up but he put an arm over you, preventing  you from moving. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“V’ gotta finish the clothes. Don’t wan’ anyone to be mad at me.” your voice was still heavy with sleep. 

He had the most unbelieveing look on his face, “I just fucked you within an inch of your life, and you’re worried about the laundry?” 

“Don’t say it like that!” you tried to pout. 

He broke out into a laugh at how cute you were, “Pup, no one is going to be mad at you right now. You finished enough today, you’re allowed to take it easy. There are no more obligations tonight, you’re in the clear to stay here with me tonight. If you want to.” 

“I do, but Channies not upset?” 

“No, omega. I already checked in with him. We’re all good.” He kissed your cheek, smiling when you giggled. “You should eat, does leftover pizza sound ok?” 

You thought for a moment, then nodded thankfully. “Mmhmm, sounds great.” He kissed you again then he scooted off his bed, and went down to grab food for you both. When he brought it back up you both sat up and ate together. He occasionally poked fun at you and you did it back to him. A playful, easy night was exactly what you needed. He may not have said the words ‘i love you’ but he showed it in his own ways. You felt it in how he played with you, and took care of you when you needed it. 

A/N: my apologies to anyone named Brynn, and also apologies for the pack tension or lee know stans.

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my wonderful bumble bee @ayejaii <3

©doitforbangchan

Taglist- closed

@chxnb97 / @butterflydemons / @zaggprincess2 / @stellasays45 / @uhhheather / @walnutspie /  @a-mistake-tbh / @meowmeeps / @realrintaro / @ihrtlix / @raehawthorne / @juskz / @freckleboilix / @marvelsmarauder / @0325tiny / @iyeeeverydee / @stars-garden / @boi-bi-ahaha / @gini143 / @queenmea604 /  @palindrome969 / @f9clementine / @theysaidhush / @kpophosblog / @usercaiskz / @honeym0chi / @nobody3210 / @changbinswife10789  @5starluvr / @neyangi / @jiminssluttyminx / @ayejaii / @iknowleeknow/ @jeonginnieswifey / @catlove83 / @upsidedownchaire / @emmxxsworld / @manuosorioh / @igetcarriedawaywithyou / @blondechannie / @woozixo / @ilovejeongin007/ @yaorzu-blog / @theydy-madamonsieur / @jehhskz / @feybin / @rylea08 / @sebastianswhore13 / @kihyuns-military-wife / /@lilyuwon @xx3rachaslutxx / @hahhahahjakakla / @skzstaykatsy / @zerefdragn33l / @yuhhhhh-slay / @im-sinking-in-mud / @n0y4

i’m sorry if your tag isn’t working :( i’m trying my best

[wlntrsldler]

bad for business | luke castellan

warnings: loser!luke agenda is strong with this one, insecure!luke because of reader's judgmental siblings but they get over it later on, suggestive content but nothing explicit, luke being happy and in love (we need more of this; i'm pointing the finger at myself, i need to write happy luke fics) aphrodite!reader x luke, in an alternate universe where the betrayal didn't happen

based on bad for business by sabrina carpenter

i. he's good for my heart, but he's bad for business.

"she's probably going to dump him soon, anyway."

"she's just doing it for the tradition, obviously."

"she's too good for him."

sometimes luke just wanted to tell them to shut up, but he's already on thin ice with-- well, everyone at camp. they weren't a fan of the smell of cigarettes that lingered on his clothes, or the ugly scar on his face (this, wasn't his fault though. if anything, they should hate his fucking dad for giving him the quest in the first place), or the fact that he's somehow dating the most popular, gorgeous, and brilliant girl at camp.

you, y/n y/l/n, the favorite daughter of aphrodite. at first luke thought that you'd be just like the rest of the aphrodite girls (he's not one to perpetuate stereotypes, being the victim of it all his life, but the aphrodite kids always turned their noses up at him so he didn't feel too bad dishing it out), but then you smiled at him with your pretty, pink lips and luke knew he was a goner. he didn't stand a chance (not like he fought it too hard anyway)

you made an effort to remember his name, say hello to him when you passed by him, and you even went as far as asking him for his opinion on things.

"what do you think of this strategy, luke?" you asked, staring at him directly. the entire blue team was arguing loudly (luke thought their strategy fucking sucked and was a sure way for the ares cabin to, once again, demolish all of you, but he was going to keep that to himself) before your soft voice broke the noise. everyone stopped in their tracks because why the hell were you talking to him? asking him for his opinion?

he blinked, even looking behind him in case there was some other kid named luke that he didn't know about. when he finally realized that you were talking to him, he managed to stutter out that the plan was fine. you looked at him skeptically, penetrating the persona he put up with everyone, but decided not to push him anymore and simply nodded.

when the red team, led by the ares cabin, of course, handed your asses to you on a silver platter, you found luke at dinner and sat directly in front of him. chris, who was just as starstruck as luke that you were sitting with them, immediately scrambled off his seat and mumbled some half-hearted excuse to leave the two of you alone.

"so, spill," you said, planting your tray of food on the table. "what did you really think of the strategy?"

your conversation went from strategy to your life to his life to everything and anything until you two were the last two people left. he was glad when people finally got tired of gawking at you and him. (many in disbelief, all in jealousy that you decided to sit with him) you didn't seem to mind the stares, though, luke figured it was because you were used to it. it was hard not to stare at you.

luke thought that dinner was just a glitch in the matrix, that it was just some weird anomaly that would never happen again. he was just thankful that it happened; but then the next day, your perfectly manicured hand knocked on the hermes cabin door and you stood in front of luke with a timid smile on your face to ask him to train you in sword fighting.

luke got dressed at record speed. chris woke up after the third time luke hit his head under his bed when he was trying to find a semi-decent shirt to wear to your sparring session (maybe one that didn't smell too much like cigarettes). chris sat up on his bed, eyebrow quirked, with a teasing smile on his face.

as luke was racing out the door, he looked at chris, "don't start.''

chris threw his head back laughing, "i didn't say anything."

luke threw a pillow at chris with an oomph before rushing out to meet you.

the training sessions slowly morphed into sitting next to each other daily during meals, then into hanging out at campfires, until it got to the point when there wouldn't be a second of free time where the two of you wouldn't be together. luke could feel your siblings shooting daggers at him whenever he was alone, like a warning to stay away from you, but it's not like he was the one initiating things.

sure, he would follow you around the ends of the world if you asked (or even if you didn't, let's be honest here) but luke didn't want to test his luck so he just went with the flow. sometimes, he just wanted to talk to your siblings to set the record straight.

"look, i'm just as fucking confused as you are," he would say, "i don't know why she's hanging out with me either."

as much as he enjoyed your moments together, a piece of him still worried that you were just being nice. maybe you were this way with everyone. maybe he just likes you so much that he's making up these scenarios in his head.

he tried to talk to chris about it, but that proved to be the wrong decision because it's not like the boy had any experience either; he was pining over clarisse. the blind leading the blind, truly.

and then one day, while you and luke were sitting beside the water, after a long day of training, you looked over at him with an unreadable expression.

panicked, luke immediately straightened his back and twisted his body to face you. he wanted to reach for your hand to comfort you, but decided against it. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. he cleared his throat, "what's wrong?"

"why haven't you asked me out?"

you would've thought percy summoned a cold wave to crash into luke with the way he was sitting there frozen. luke was looking at you blankly, like his brain was short-circuiting. it was a habit of his to blink and tilt his head to the side whenever he was shocked.

"huh?"

you were frowning now, "do you not like me? i'm sorry, i guess i was just reading the situation wrong."

"woah, pause," luke leaned in closer, inspecting your face to see if there was a punchline about to drop like it was a gotcha! moment and all of your siblings would come out from behind the trees to laugh at him. he found no sign of such a thing. "do you like me?"

"luke, i've been so obvious," there was a hint of embarrassment in your voice and luke wanted to kiss it away. your cheeks were dusted with the lightest shade of red as you chewed on your bottom lip. "i thought maybe you liked me too, but i guess it was all in my head. i'm sorry-- forget i even said anything."

"yeah, i don't want to forget it," luke shook his head, now stumbling over his words. his brain was working again, sort of. "i like you, too. like really like you. sorry, you just caught me off guard for a sec."

"you do?"

"gods, i really really do."

you beamed at him and luke was so thankful that he was sitting because his knees would've buckled at your reaction and humiliated himself by falling face-first in the water if he was standing. he was especially thankful that he was sitting when you climbed onto his lap to make out with him until both of your lips were bruised.

ii. i'm mad for you, it's sad but true, and you know it. you're on my mind, you stole my life and it's showing.

word traveled fast after that. when you walked into breakfast with luke's arm around your waist, the whispers started. luke thought the staring before was bad, but this was on a new level. he felt the other aphrodite kids following his every move, poison in their eyes.

when you sat next to luke, impossibly close to him, chris' eyebrows rose in glee. he motioned to the both of you with his spoon, flicking drops of milk with the motion, "what's going on here?"

"i'm luke's girlfriend now."

luke nearly choked on the apple he was eating when he heard the words leave your lips. yes, he knew that you were dating now (his pathetically hoarse voice saying, "will you be my girlfriend?" after the hours-long makeout session the night before haunted his dreams last night; he wanted to keep his cool so bad, but it just wasn't possible when you were sitting on his lap, all pretty with your thighs on either side of his, lips glossy with his saliva instead of your typical lipgloss), but it was the first time he heard you refer to yourself as his girlfriend. his girlfriend.

"nice," chris raised his hand up for a high-five, which luke was about to complete, but chris pulled his hand away, "not for you, dude."

you giggled and high-fived chris, making luke look between the two of you in bewilderment.

"what the fuck was that?" luke asked. when did you and chris get close?

"this is embarrassing," you started, looking down at your plate of food. you were dragging your spoon across the blob of oatmeal, "but i talked to chris about you last week because i was so sad that you haven't made a move yet. i just wanted to hear his opinion on things in case i was just being stupid."

"why didn't you tell me this?"

"i tried!" chris argued, laughing a bit when luke's face turned red, "plus, i didn't want to tell you that me and y/n had a conversation because i had faith that you'd make a move! i obviously bet on the wrong horse, though, because y/n made the move."

"oh my gods, i'm a loser." luke groaned, tossing the apple on his tray. he lost his appetite. "you mean we could've been together this entire time?"

you placed a hand on his thigh, making him turn his attention to you. you gave him a comforting smile that he quickly reciprocated. you gave his thigh a soft squeeze, "it's okay, luke. we can make up for lost time."

luke smirked at you, "tonight?"

"dude, i'm trying to fucking eat."

luke threw up the middle finger to chris' face before connecting your lips.

to luke's surprise, your relationship didn't really change much after putting a label on it. (the changes that did occur were that now he can kiss you freely, which he was thankful for, and that you were even more touchy with him, which he was extremely thankful for because he loved having you next to him at all times. he was so smitten with you.) he realized then how blind he'd been the entire time because you were so very obvious about your feelings for him, he was just too stuck in his own head to notice it.

he started being outwardly affectionate with you, gaining more confidence while he was on your arm. his favorite thing to do was to wrap his arms around your torso and bury his face into the crook of your neck. he loved hearing you erupt in giggles when his curls tickled your skin. he was drunk on you and you didn't mind one bit.

you even said that you were more attached to him than he was to you (he looked at you like you had three heads because it couldn't have been further from the truth.)

he took you on little picnic dates and made you jewelry that you wore proudly, and you wore his clothes (he would be lying if he said that his heart didn't skip a beat when you walked out of the aphrodite cabin sporting his hermes sweater) but above all, luke loved the way he could talk to you about everything. he told you about his mom, his dad, his doubts and his insecurities, and you listened. you would sit there, hands in his hair, while he laid on your chest. he didn't know the last time he felt safe, but with you, he always did.

iii. all of my friends think i've gone crazy, but they don't know me like my baby.

luke tried to ignore the fact that there were running bets from campers about how long you two would last, but it was getting to him. he'd heard it all; a week, two weeks, three months. he fought the urge to roll his eyes when he heard the jingling of drachmas being passed around when you and him were seen together after someone lost their bet.

it's been two months but people still believed that you two were going to break up soon. the idea of it made luke feel sick. he couldn't imagine a life without being yours anymore. truth be told, he was wholly yours the minute he met you, but after every kiss, every hug, every second with you, he was just falling deeper in love with you.

it was a little scary.

"hiya, baby," you greeted him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

you started calling him the pet name a few days into dating and luke actually whimpered when you did it the first time. you loved getting these reactions from luke and his little sounds (both innocent and not-so-innocent) only spurred you on. when he's with you, luke turned into this mush, always wanting to be held by you or touching you in some way.

"hi," he mumbled, leaning up to place a quick kiss on your lips.

you hummed happily before resting your hands on his back, "baby, you're tense. are you okay?"

"yeah," luke replied, but his furrowed eyebrows said differently.

"no you're not," you walked in front of him, wrapping your arms around his torso, "what's going on?"

luke sighed, "everyone thinks we're gonna break up-- or more specifically, everyone thinks you're gonna break up with me."

"do you believe that i'll break up with you?" you frowned, loosening your hold on him. "did i do something that made you think that?"

"no, no," he said, quickly. he pulled you closer to him, not wanting you to let go of him. "i just-- i dunno. everyone says i'm not good enough for you, and i know i'm not, and it's getting to my head a little bit."

you looked up at him, removing your hands from around him to reach for his face. you brought his face down closer to yours to pepper kisses all over it; his cheeks, his lips, his scar, his jaw. "i think you're perfect."

"you have to say that 'cause you're my girlfriend," he playfully rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop a goofy smile from forming on his face due to your kisses.

"yeah, i am your girlfriend," you reminded him, placing a longer kiss on his lips now. your lips moved together, making luke's hands wander to your lower back to push you closer to him. you pulled away, breathless, "listen to your girlfriend, baby. i'm not going anywhere so don't worry your pretty little head about it."

there were still moments when the voices of the other campers bounced around in luke's head, but you were always there to quiet them with your reassurance and your love for him.

eventually, people stopped talking about you and luke and accepted that you two weren't breaking up anytime soon (they were about six months too late, in luke's opinion). he even managed to win over your siblings later on (kind of; they still don't talk to him unless they have to but they smile at him now, but luke isn't picky; a win is a win)

luke was happy and in love and it was all thanks to you.

[ylangelegy]

watch and learn ♾️ minghao x reader.

“show, don't tell.” # day four of (the)8 days of minghao.

☆ includes: mature content, mdni. alternate universe: non-idol, art student!minghao, f!reader, best friends & roommates, pet name (‘pretty’), cussing, nude modeling/drawing, fingering, implied oral [m receiving]. word count: >4,000

It takes you all of five minutes to figure out why your best friend-slash-roommate looks like the world has crashed down on him.

The answer comes in the form of a piece of art on the coffee table. You crane your neck to check the bright red mark on Minghao’s latest homework. “A grade of ‘B’ isn’t so bad,” you offer, even though you can already see how he’s going to react from a mile away. 

Sure enough, he shoots you a sidelong glare that would be withering if you hadn’t been on the receiving end of it for years.

“That’s what the ‘B’ stands for,” he deadpans. “Bad.” 

You’ve long since reconciled with Minghao’s tendencies when it came to his academics and his art. With a half roll of your eyes, you settle down onto the couch next to him. The offending assignment stares up at you. 

“It’s not bad,” you say as you eye the piece. In your honest opinion, it really isn’t terrible. A part of you must admit, though, that it’s not really up to Minghao’s usual standard. The strokes are not as defined; the edges are a little rough. 

What’s supposed to be a piece for his The Art of the Human Form class looks more like something akin to abstract impressionism. 

Minghao lets out a low sound of displeasure at your feedback. “You don’t understand,” he says frustratedly. 

When you don’t immediately respond, he runs a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he sighs. “I just— I really need to pass this class.” 

You give him a reassuring pat on his knee. For a moment, the two of you just sit on the couch, staring down at the homework that’s brought him so much grief. “What’s your issue with the class, anyway?” you ask after a long moment of silence. “Is it the professor?” 

“No, the professor’s good. Great, even.” 

“Your material?” 

“That’s never been the problem.” 

“Well, what is it then?”

A groan slides past Minghao’s lips; he lets his head fall on to the back of the couch. You turn to glance at him and you see the way his face is contorted with defeat. The words he speaks next sound like they were an actual struggle for him to verbalize.

“I’m not good with live models,” he admits. A beat. He seems to realize that you’ll see right through him, so he adds, “Nude live models.” 

You sink your teeth into your lower lip. Minghao catches the telltale sign of you holding back your laughter and he turns to glance at you again. “What?” he grumbles.

“You’re too… polite, Hao,” you say delicately, leaning back against the couch until your shoulders are pressed against each other. 

“You think I’m a prude.” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You were thinking it. ‘Polite’ was just your way of letting me down gently.” 

This time, you don’t hold back the fond giggle that escapes you. It was no secret that Minghao was a bit of a prig. When asked about his lack of experience with dating or intimacy, his answer had always been the same: Too busy. Too busy with uni to fuck around and find out, to mess with people he didn’t really care about. 

Some of Minghao’s annoyance seems to ebb at the sound of your laughter. He gives a slight shake of his head like he’s ridding himself of an unbidden thought before saying, “Maybe I should just drop the damn class.” 

You nudge him in the side with your elbow. “You’ve never given up on anything in your life,” you chide. “Don’t start now.” 

The platitude does very little to lift Minghao’s mood. He goes into a rapid-fire tangent about his gripes with the class, ranting about everything from the models to his coursemates. You zone out a bit— knowing it was sometimes for the best to let your best friend go on and on— until you feel the buzz of your phone in your pocket. 

Right. You had a study session. 

You try to extricate yourself from the conversation by cutting through Minghao’s tirade with an absentminded, “Well, if you ever need my help, you know where to find me.” 

That shuts him up. 

“Wha— what?” he stammers. 

Both of you fall into a terse moment of silence. It’s like you’ve just realized what you said, what you’ve implied, and you mentally curse yourself for spacing out to the point that you’ve suggested something so out of left field. 

You rise from the couch without glancing down at Minghao; a part of you thinks this might give you some more courage to double down, to feign nonchalance. “If you need any help with the class,” you say as breezily as you can manage. “Like, if you need somebody to model for you or something.” 

There’s an almost distressed way to how Minghao says your name, then. “I’m supposed to work with nude models,” he repeats, like he’s not unsure you caught it the first time. 

“I’m aware.” 

“Are you—” 

“Only if you need it, Hao. It’s not that deep.” 

It is kind of that deep, honestly. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of its chest, but you do your damndest to keep your expression neutral as you go to grab your things. You’ve never been so grateful to have a valid excuse to cut your time short with your roommate. 

“If it’ll help you stop complaining,” you joke in a bid to inject some levity in the conversation. “Then I’m all for it.” 

He only lets out a disgruntled mumble in response. His words are incoherent, lost in the way you’re already halfway out the door. 

You call out your usual goodbye. “Text me what you want for dinner.” 

His typical response— “Take care”— hits just as the front door closes behind you. You might’ve imagined it, you think, but Minghao’s voice sounded just a little bit strained around the two words. 

It takes Minghao two weeks to come to a decision. 

Clearing his mind helped, but it’s really the most recent graded assignment that gets underneath his skin. A ‘C’. Minghao has never gotten a ‘C’ in all of his years of art school.

You’re working on something by the dining table when Minghao bursts into your shared apartment. 

“Does the offer still stand?” he spits out before he can change his mind. 

“Hm?” You glance up at Minghao, unsuspecting as ever. “What, getting pizza for dinner? I mean, yeah.” 

Your nightly text exchanges about what to have for dinner is the last thing on his mind. He takes a fortifying breath, his fingers clutching tightly around the strap of his messenger bag. 

“Not dinner,” he grits out. “The other offer.” 

Good Lord, he thinks with despair as you stare up at him skeptically. I’m really going to have to spell this out. 

He decides to go for the ‘show, don’t tell’ route. He fishes through his bag until his fingers snag his latest graded homework. Wordlessly, he crosses the room and sets it down next to your laptop. 

Your expression of confusion gives way to one of something that resembles sympathy. “Oh, Hao,” you say, and the words grate in his ears.

“I don’t need your pity.” His sharp words are dulled by the way he’s raised his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose in a gesture of sheer exhaustion. “I just need to practice.” 

The realization of your flippant offer being taken seriously seems to dawn on you. Minghao wants to die then and there. He’s already backtracking, attempting to take it back before you can say a word. 

“Forget it,” he says. He can only hope his ears don’t look as red as they feel. “That was stupid.” 

Your hasty call of “no, no” has him freezing. “Sorry, I just— wasn’t expecting it tonight,” you say. 

Minghao can’t even look you in the eye without wanting to die of shame. You go on, your voice cautious as ever. “The offer still stands. Of course it still stands.” 

He attempts to sputter out some words about you not having to do this, about not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but you’re already getting to your feet. “Don’t make this weird,” you reprimand him. 

“But this is weird,” he protests weakly.

“I’m your roommate. I’m your best friend!”

“That’s precisely why this is weird.” 

You’re standing in front of him, now, trying to rearrange your expression into one of sternness. It doesn’t really do much, considering the way you’re at least a head shorter than him. 

“I’m the best shot you’ve got.” You plant your hands on your sides and tilt your chin up. There’s a hint of a challenge in your gaze. “So what’ll it be, Xu?” 

“No need to pull out the surname,” he says dryly. After going through a single, quiet prayer in his head, he jerks his head towards the living room. “Let’s go at it, then.” 

“Now?” 

“When else?” 

It’s your turn to blush this time. Minghao tries his darndest to keep a straight face as you stumble over your complaint. “I haven’t showered yet—” 

“That’s nothing new to me,” he shoots back, earning him a swat to the chest. He rubs at the spot you hit before grumbling, “Fine, fine. How long do you need to get ready?” 

“I’ll be quick,” you promise him as you dart off to the bathroom. Minghao resists the urge to say that he doubts it. 

His worries aren’t unfounded. By the time you emerge from your ‘quick’ shower, over half an hour has passed. He’s doodling absentmindedly in his sketchbook when he hears the door creak open. 

“About goddamn—” The last word catches in his throat as he turns to face you. 

Minghao has seen you in various states of undress in your years of friendship. He’s seen you in the skimpiest outfits before heading out clubbing, seen you in sinful bikinis during your yearly beach trips. But this? The sight of you in a beige bathrobe with the belt left untied, revealing a hint of your bare front? 

He clutches his pencil so tightly that he’s scared it’ll snap. 

“About time,” he manages, even though he’s not entirely clear what he’s referring to.

It takes an hour for you to regret your offer. 

Once the initial shyness had passed, all that was left was the restlessness. Minghao had put one of the dining room chairs in the living room for you to pose on, and you’ve spent the better half of the past sixty minutes just sitting there with your feet flat to the ground.

It’s surprisingly easy to comply with Minghao’s mumbled requests. Shift a little to the left. Move your hand to your thigh. Stop moving. 

The last command is muttered with a lot more frequency. When you try to cross your legs. Stop moving. When you go to scratch your elbow. Stop moving. When your eyes wander over to some nondescript point in the room. Stop moving. 

“You’re brutal,” you rumble after his nth ‘stop moving, please’. “This is inhumane.” 

“You signed up for this,” Minghao answers, his gaze briefly flitting over his sketchbook before going back to his work.

There’s something undeniably attractive about the way Minghao’s fingers are clutching his graphite pencil. A lot about him was attractive— the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the purse of his plump lips as he worked. But his fingers were a whole other monster all together. Long and lithe, with the nails painted to whatever he thought matched his flavor for the week. You can almost imagine what those fingers would look like in your—

Minghao drags you out of your unbidden daydream with a call of your name.

“Could you tilt a bit to your right?” he says gruffly. You scramble to comply, almost like you’re terrified he might have heard your thoughts if you didn’t move fast enough.

He lets out a small ‘tch’ of disapproval at just how much you twist. “Not like that,” he protests, putting his pencil down for the first time in the past hour. “Only about an inch. No, no—” 

“Pose me, then.” 

Where did this brazenness come from? You think that your tenseness is partly to blame, but there’s also an undercut of provocation in your tone. Surprise flits across Minghao’s expression for only a moment. 

He schools his expression into something more neutral as he places his sketchbook face down on the couch. This is a bad idea, you think, as he crosses the distance between you in small, measured steps.

It’s a bad idea, you muse, because if he touches you, he might just feel the rapid thump, thump, thump of your pulse. 

If he does notice, he makes no indication of it. His gaze is perfectly cool as he gently holds your shoulders. You can see the pencil marks on the side of his palm, the smudges of graphite transferring to your otherwise unblemished skin. 

Minghao does as you’ve asked. His pushes are light as he maneuvers you to angle yourself some certain way, and you swear there’s not a single breath of oxygen in the room. 

“There,” he’s saying as he goes to take a step back. 

Something akin to panic rises like bile in your throat. You don’t know why, you don’t know what has possessed you, but one of your hands shoots out for Minghao’s retreating form. He pauses when your fingers wrap around his wrist.  

“Where—” The words escaping you are almost a gasp. “Where do you want my hands?” 

Minghao looks down at you, his eyes imperceptibly wider now despite his attempt to keep calm. “Right where you had them,” he replies. 

You swallow around the lump in your throat, your hand sliding down to clasp his instead. “I— forgot where they were,” you say. It’s a lame excuse, but Minghao doesn’t seem like he’s about to call you out on it. “Show me again?” 

His hand is limp in your hold. For a long, terrible minute, you think you’ve overstepped. 

Then, something in Minghao’s jaw twitches. The hand that’s holding yours pushes your arm, just enough for your elbow to rest on the back of your chair.

He goes to position your other hand right over your upper thigh. Near where you want it, where you need it, but not quite there. 

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you bite back a groan of frustration. Minghao catches the look on your face.

“Why?” he asks quietly, his voice a touch tight. “Uncomfortable?” 

“No.” You freeze at how your response comes out almost like a whine. Minghao freezes, too. 

You try to think of propriety and professionalism. You try to think of your years-long friendship with Minghao; of how awkward it would be to keep being roommates if you’ve somehow overread into this situation. 

All that goes out the window as you shift your hand slightly upward. His hand— the one still on top of yours— follows as your fingertips brush over your core. Your tone is shaky as you prompt, “It would be better here, no?” 

Minghao’s gaze snaps from your hand near the apex of your thighs, to the barely-concealed heat burning over your cheeks. His sharp features are perfectly controlled but there are the smallest signs spurring you on. His dilated pupils, the bob of his Adam’s apple. 

“You want it here?” He isn’t moving his hands. He also isn’t moving away. He looms over you, one hand holding your upper arm; the other, still close to your center. 

“I’m open to suggestions,” you say, your eyes roaming over his face for any signs of discomfort. 

A beat. And then—

Torturously slow, Minghao begins to move. He guides your hand closer to your heat until your fingertips are pressing a little more firmly against your entrance, where wetness is already beginning to pool. You clench around the feeling of nothing as Minghao remains careful about not letting his own fingers touch you just yet.

“I think this is good.” His voice is lower now. “What do you say?” 

You feel like your entire body will betray you if you try to say anything. For now, you opt to only give a jerky shake of your head. 

“No?” A corner of Minghao’s lip twitches upward in the ghost of a smile. You cling to that familiar grin as he pushes your hand up just a little more, just enough to have the tip of your middle finger pressing into your entrance. At this point, he’s moved his own fingers to wrap around your wrist. 

“Not enough?” he coos, even though he doesn’t look like he’s faring any better himself in the department of restraint. “What about here, then?” 

Minghao tugs at your wrist until your middle finger is sliding right into your slick. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. You feel your hand twitch, but Minghao only tightens his hold around your wrist. 

“I need you to answer me,” he mumbles, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s keeping you from moving your finger any further, and something about his demeanor tells you that it would be a bad idea to use your free hand to regain some control. Not when he was looking at you like this. 

“More,” you croak out. 

Minghao’s tongue darts out to swipe over his lower lip. “More,” he repeats, his own voice equally broken. He finally breaks his gaze to look down at the way your finger is buried inside you, at how your hand is completely his to move. “Alright, then.” 

Wordlessly, he guides you into pulling your finger out and then easing it back in. This time, his focus is entirely on the way you swallow up your finger with each shallow thrust; how his own movements are dictating your pace, your pleasure. 

You writhe in the chair, feeling absolutely mortified at how quickly you can feel heat building in your stomach. It’s been simmering for the past hour; this was only leading you to the tipping point. And Minghao isn’t even touching you yet at this point, just helping you get off. 

“Hao,” you exhale, your breath warm against his face. He finally looks back up at you and you can see all of his want on his expression, clear his day. “Hao, I need—” 

Him. You need him. That’s what you mean to say. 

But your best friend seems determined to drag this out for all its worth. 

“You need to stop moving,” he murmurs as he deftly pries your index finger free from its curl. “I don’t think I’ve said that enough.” 

This time, he helps you push two fingers into your heat.

Your head lolls back and your lips part in a silent gasp. Minghao seizes the opportunity of more skin being bared to him. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to your jawline, then to your collarbone. All the while, he keeps driving your own fingers into you.

It feels like a special kind of purgatory.

“Please, Hao,” you plead. 

“Words,” he mumbles against our skin, rewarding— or punishing— you with a particularly sharp thrust of your two fingers. You fold in half at the sensation, only managing to still sit somewhat upright by virtue of Minghao’s other hand holding your back up against the chair. “Use your words, pretty.” 

You bury your face in the crook of his neck. There’s a wretched quality to your voice as you pant, “Need you, please. Need your fingers instead.” 

“And why’s that?” 

“‘Cause—” You clench around your fingers; he feels your body tense underneath him. Both of you let out small sounds of pleasure at the reactions. “Your fingers are better, they’re— they’ll get me there faster— please, oh—” 

Your incoherent babbling seems to amuse and appease Minghao, enough for him to give in. 

He pulls your two fingers out and, before you can whine about the loss, he replaces them with two of his. They’re as brutally precise as you’d imagined them to be. Your knees almost close in an attempt to tide the pleasure that’s about to crash down, but Minghao holds your thighs apart with his other hand. 

“Don’t.” His voice is strained with effort. “Wanna see you. Please?” 

It’s the tacked on please that bowls you over, that has you nodding helplessly. You’d do anything Minghao asked if he asked in that tone. 

The squelches of his two fingers thrusting into you are obscene, but not quite as filthy as the sounds that slide past your panting lips. You moan and whimper and whine, and each little noise only seems to have Minghao moving with renewed vigor. He’s pulled away from your neck to watch you, but his eyes keep darting from your microexpressions to the way his fingers are swallowed up by your velvet heat. It’s like he can’t decide where to look first. 

“You’re a work of art,” he chokes out, his teeth grinding together as he focuses on your face. “So goddamn beautiful— sitting here all nice and pretty for me.” 

One of your hands fly to his hip in a desperate bid to hold onto something, to anything of him.

“Gonna finish,” you sob as you force your eyes open to meet his. Inadvertently, you cant your hips upward to meet one of his sharper thrusts, and the friction has the two of you moaning a little more. “Hao, fuck, can I—?” 

“Please,” he pants. “I need it. I need it so, so bad—” 

You climax with a silent scream, a sound that’s muffled as you lurch forward and press your face back into his neck. His other hand holds the back of your head in a supportive gesture as you come undone, coating his two digits in your slick. 

Minghao lets out a low cuss as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re so beautiful,” he says dazedly, sliding his fingers out of you carefully. “How are you so beautiful?” 

All you can manage is a shaky laugh as you come down from your high. As you keep your head pressed against Minghao, you catch sight of the tent in his sweatpants. Tentatively, you reach up one hand to cup him over the fabric. 

He says your name like it had been punched out of him. “Hey—” he tries to say in warning, but his body betrays him by bucking into your hand. 

“How long has that been there?” Your voice trembles, thick with a heady mix of exhaustion and desire. 

Minghao’s gruff response comes as your fingers twitch around the outline of him. “Since you stepped out of the damn shower,” he admits lowly.  

You let out a contemplative hum. There’s still a low ringing in your ears, a slight buzz in your brain from the last vestiges of your orgasm, but it can’t just be you who’s having all the fun. 

You shift back a bit so you can meet his gaze. You’re torturously slow as you palm his aching hardness, and you revel in the way Minghao reacts above you. His eyes have all but rolled into the back of his head and breathless little gasps are rising from the back of his throat.

“You’ve posed my hands,” you say, trying— and failing— to keep your tone even. “Wanna show me where my mouth should be, Hao?” 

His fingers tighten at the strands of your hair. He lets out just one more cuss before he’s using his other hand— the one still coated with your release— to pull down his bottoms. 

“Watch and fuckin’ learn, pretty,” he breathes, and you have a good feeling that he’ll make good on the threat.       

(Minghao gets an ‘A’ on his next assignment.)

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

bully masterlistִֶָ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. ⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab // gender neutral (two alternate versions for you to choose from) ⋆˙⟡ summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated. ⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. is a bit dark in spaces, as it's about zb1 bullying you and leads to smut. so you've been (generally) warned. specific chapter warnings will be provided on each post.

dividers are all by saradika and mdni banner below is by cafekitsune !!

— MONDAY, Kim Jiwoong 🎭

posted: 1/22/24

it's monday, the first day of the school week. you're excited for your advanced drama class, but not too keen on the person you're always forced to run into there. suave, charismatic, repulsively arrogant: kim jiwoong lives to make your life just a bit harder.

and lucky you: today he's your scene partner.

— TUESDAY, Zhang Hao 🎻

posted: 1/27/24

happy tuesday, you know what that means: two straight hours of wind ensemble. and it's made even more enjoyable by first chair, zhang hao, chewing you out for every mistake you make. he's been quiet today though. it's making your skin crawl.

can you manage to get out unscathed?

— WEDNESDAY, Seok Matthew 💪

posted: 2/5/24

it's hump day... *ahem*. unfortunately you're being forced to play contact sports under the leadership of team captain matthew seok. no matter how many times he's made a fool of you in front of your whole gym class, it never gets old for him.

oh shit. uh, (y/n)? you might wanna duck...

— THURSDAY, Sung Hanbin 📝

posted: 2/16/24

thursday. good news: the week is almost over. bad news: you're stuck in poetry class with sung hanbin as your desk partner. it's weird. sometimes you play off each other so well, you're nearly blindsided by his sudden flipping of the switch.

if only you could steal a glimpse at his journal.

— FRIDAY, Kim Taerae 🎤

posted: 3/2/24

it's the end of the most bizarre week of your life. last year, you would've been overjoyed to spend time in select choir with your friend kim taerae. but that all went down the drain after hanbin recruited him into his group of incessant jerks...

and he's desperate to officially be one of the guys.

— SATURDAY, Reclamation 😈

posted: 3/21/24

nearly every student is gathered for your university's big soccer match against your rival school. you're hoping to steer clear of the boys you've had such strange (and steamy) encounters with this week. i think you can guess by now that fate is not on your side.

or is it?

— THE ENDINGS, You Choose How It Ends 💕

posted: 3/21/24

choose from jiwoong, hao, matthew, hanbin, taerae, group (quasi-poly), and group (revenge)

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Ultimate Decision - MYG

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2.2k+

Summary: 

"I can't feel my legs Hop right on the ledge, jump right off the edge"

Alternatively, 

Worst decisions are always driven by anger and alcohol; but sometimes those are also driven by Love.

Warnings: so much angst, reader's inner turmoil, unplanned pregnancy, yoongi is making things worse, Hoseok is the doctor but he is not to be shipped with the reader here, he is a catalyst though, pining, so much pining.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

A/N: The next chapter from the present timeline.

Taglist requests are closed for now

Read the next chapter

You fumble with your phone, scrolling down numbers after numbers but can’t find a single contact you can call at a time like this. 

The pregnancy testing kit lies on your left hand as if it has been tattooed on your skin. For some reason, you don’t feel dread creeping up through the path of your neck. 

Should you cry? Should you call Yoongi and curse him to your heart’s content? Should you ask him to take the responsibility when he is about to start living his old happy life again? 

Probably you should. 

But the thing is… you can’t bring yourself to do any of those. 

You don’t even know what you should feel or what you need to feel at a moment like this. 

You don’t even have any idea of what’s going to be your next move. 

Will you keep the baby? Or will you choose to abort it? 

But before everything, you should consult with someone, who is wiser than you. 

Your fingers hover above your mother’s contact ID, even though you know your calls are going to go unnoticed, unanswered, ignored as if you never came out of her womb. 

And things will turn even uglier if she answers your call and you manage to tell her what you have done to yourself, more or less willingly. 

So you let your phone fall limp on your lap. 

How funny - you have absolutely no one to confide in. no family, no friends, no one. 

As soon as the realization hits, your eyes start turning blurry. 

Tear drops escape one by one, dampening your cheeks, throat, collarbones. You caress your stomach. 

“What do I do now?” the mumble comes out choked. And then you are thinking of him again. 

How he cried in his sleep the first time you brought him here with you. How he repeated his actions again during his last visit here. 

Both of the time you stood on the sidelines, the center of his universe has always been Gyuri. 

In the end, though, you have been the one affected - with blooming warmth in your chest and in turn a presence of life in your womb. 

As you think of Yoongi, your mind runs back to the man who had helped you in picking him up from the streets. 

You still remember, his card said he was an obgyn. 

Your tears cease. 

Yes. As much as you need a friend or family right now, you need an expert too. 

Standing abruptly from your bed, you run toward the other side of it, reaching out for the night stand, where you had kept the man’s card more than a year ago. 

You don’t have to struggle much to find out the card, it’s there as if it has been waiting to be found all these times. 

Holding the card in your hand, opens the flood gate of fresh memory of that night, of Yoongi’s dirty face, vomit all over his clothes and him holding you tightly in his sleep. 

That was the first and last time. 

He never held you for a second time, unless you were having sex. 

Pushing down the depressing thoughts, you grab your phone and with swift fingers dial the number of the man - Jung Hoseok. 

The clock reads 9 pm on a Wednesday night. And you pray, this is not past his business hours, he has no such mentions in the card as well. 

The universe seems to grant your prayer this time, probably out of sheer pity, as the man accepts the call on the fourth ring. 

“Hello, It’s Dr. Jung Hoseok, how can I help you?” The man speaks with a professional tone that sets you on an unexplainable ease. 

“Hi, uh, I am sorry to call you like this but I had managed to get my hands on your card and I think I need your help. I, um, I’m pregnant. And I think I need an appointment.” your hands start sweating now when you realize all of it is real. You are pregnant with the baby of a man who doesn’t love you. 

Pathetic. 

“How many weeks are you?” the man asks with the same professional pronunciation. 

“I don’t know. I just found out a few minutes ago. This is my first time and I don’t know what to do.” you speak honestly. 

These are the same words you want to confess to a friend, to your mother as well and most importantly to Yoongi. But talking to a stranger, about how helpless you are, is much less nerve-wracking. 

“You are not a teenager, are you?” he speaks, suspicion laced in his voice. 

A sudden chuckle leaves your throat, “I’m twenty seven.” 

The other side of the line only hums and then after a beat he says, “we usually don’t accept appointments made via phone calls but I can guide you on how to book one. If that’s okay with you?” 

“Anything is okay with me.” 

And you are not lying. At this hour, alone in your apartment, robbed off options, in the lack of a confidant - any assistance is okay with you. 

Any assistance is fine if that means you will be able to figure out what you are going to do with a baby in your womb, gifted by the man whom you let destroy yourself for the sake of love. 

The appointment is due at 3 in the afternoon and right now the clock is at 1:26. 

The hospital is an hour's drive away, hence, if you leave now, you will still have a 30 minutes on your hand. 

But the problem is that you didn’t inform anyone formally about this secretive appointment. Applying an official leave would raise questions about the nature and reason of the appointment and you don’t want that. 

You want to protect this truth with every drop of blood your body owns. 

So, you decide to quickly drop by Namjoon's office and tell him you need the rest of the day off for some emergency. 

For a matter you know Namjoon is not privy enough to inquire about the so-called emergency. 

Much to your dismay, your plans shatter like a porcelain vase as soon as you open the door of Namjoon’s office. Because one, there is no Namjoon, two, there is Min Yoongi. 

Yoongi’s expression mimics yours as he takes you in, standing there, staring at him as if he didn’t fuck you raw and left you with consequences just a month ago. 

But then again… a month of radio silence, a month of stolen glances, a month of no skin contact, a month of no Min Yoongi was more painful than you’d dare to admit. 

Your heart thumps inside your chest as you realize, you are standing in front of the man whose baby is currently in your womb. 

You are carrying a baby! And that’s Min Yoongi’s! Screams your mind at the loudest possible volume. 

But still, by some miraculous strength, you manage to smile at him.

A casual, nonchalant smile as you are used to. 

Except this time, Yoongi doesn’t smile back. 

He looks at you with eyes so deep that you fear you will succumb to them yet again if you stay here for a moment longer. 

“Where’s Namjoon?” you get straight to the point, without wasting your time in any greeting. 

“Y/N. Wait.” but you have always been weak to the way Yoongi calls your name. This time, you are hearing it after what feels like an eternity. 

“He went out to escort a guest.” Yoongi says, flatly, his tone devoid of any emotions. It’s tough to believe he cried in your arms a month ago.

“Oh. Then can you please let him know that I have an emergency and I have left for the day? Thank you.” you don’t wait for his reply as you start turning your heels to run away already. 

His voice works like glue and stops you in your tracks. You are now unable to move. A cold, calloused palm comes in contact with your upper arm, forcing you to face the man. 

When you face him, you see his face and expression has softened. The stoic expression is now gone and you are afraid of what to make out of it. 

This is not pity, is it? 

“How are you? It’s been so long- I wanted to see you but-” 

“But there is no reason to do so, right?” you finish his sentence for him, “I am fine, Yoongi. How are you? How’s Gyuri?” 

“All good.” he ignores the mention of the woman, "What's the emergency? Are you alright?” He places the back of his palm on your forehead, checking your body temperature. 

Your eyes fill to the brim. You need to leave right now or you will start crying. 

“I- I’m fine.” you lie, removing his hand from your skin, “it’s just something personal.” 

Yoongi frowns at that “oh. You can tell me. If you need any he-” 

“I can take care of it myself, Yoongi. You have a life to lead, you have better days ahead now, why would you even care about me? I was just a fleeting chapter anyway. Please- please don’t act like our time together meant anything to you. Please, I beg.” try as you might, you couldn’t contain it anymore. 

Just like you, Yoongi, too, is taken aback with your outburst. Though his eyes are kind, if you dare to add, then those might as well be in pain. 

But his next words only break you further, “wasn’t it a given? A silent agreement that our time together wouldn’t mean much to any of us?” 

Is he challenging you? Trying to elicit a further reaction? Is it a knife to dig more in your fresh wounds? 

If yes, then you will do everything to disappoint him. 

You nod, “Yeah. You are right. Forget I have said anything. Bye.” 

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something but you are faster than his words. Before he manages to say a word, you are out of the door and shutting it on his face. 

He is cruel. 

He has always been. 

But you still love him. 

You have always had. 

The fact that Yoongi can be a little heartless has never been a shock to you. 

Nevertheless, it didn’t harm you any less when he let those careless words out of his mouth. Then again, you can not even blame him because you had been the one to place your heart in his hands and asked him to play with it. 

In the end, it’s your fault. 

And you are already paying the price in more ways than one. 

“Miss Y/N?” a nurse calls your name, pulling you out of your miserable thoughts, “you can go in now.” 

With a bow and a forced smile you leave the waiting area and enter the OPD room. 

A man is sitting at the desk, with his scrubs and white coat on, the nameplate on the table says he is the one who helped you out that night. He is Jung Hoseok. 

You failed to look at his face that night, being too busy with tending Yoongi. But now that you are looking at him, he seems to be the embodiment of everything that’s positive, light, bright - much unlike you (or Yoongi for that matter). 

His eyes light up as he takes you in, with a big smile he says, “oh? You are Miss Y/N? I remember you clearly. Please take the seat.” 

You wonder how it's even possible to recall you after seeing you once, that too a year ago, “You do?” 

“Yes. I still remember that night and your friend.” He mentions Yoongi.

If he sees the man’s mention dims you even further then he doesn’t say anything but he chooses to change the topic right away, “have you filled the form?” 

“Yes.” you hand him the piece of paper. 

He goes through it all at once, probably having everything memorized, but his eyes get stuck at one point. And you have an idea what it can be. 

“As I can see, you have not added anyone as your closest contact?” he says with a careful tone.

“Yes.” you reply briefly. 

“You need to add one person at least, maybe a friend, or a family, or the father of the baby.” he suggests. 

“I- No one knows about this just yet. I don’t have any immediate friend or family who could help me out.” your hands are now shaking. 

“Sorry to pry, but what about the father of the baby?” Jung Hoseok leans a little further on the table, as if trying to measure your facial expressions. 

“He is unaware of the situation.” 

“Are you sure you want the baby?” he voices in the softest possible tone anyone has ever used against you. 

“Yes. I want to keep the baby.” and that’s it. If the baby is one last proof of what Yoongi had with you for no less than a year, if the baby is a proof that Yoongi had once held you, cried in your arms, dipped inside you to forget his own complications, then you want to keep it. 

And this will be your ultimate decision no matter what anyone else says. 

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89

Requested Tags:

@ktownshizzle @ilys00ga @marihoneywk @yoongisoftface @sugaslittlekookies @joonwater @geminiml95 @ramicherie @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne @avawants2havefun @artemisdoe @jimintaemin @cuntessaiii