#Meat on the other hand is an absolute no go

[imsofreakingtired]

sevika x korean reader

(aka the most self indulgent hc list i will ever write that probably no one will read lol)

compARING HAND SIZES AS FLIRTING DFKJDSKDJ

south korean beauty standards are rough as hell. sometimes you get insecure about the shape of your face, your nose, and wonder seriously if you should get plastic surgery. when you tell her, she takes your chin in her hand and tilts your face up to look you in the eye. "the face you have now is the face i fell in love with. don't change it."

you whisper all your deepest feelings to her in korean so often that she understands and replies “i love you too” in accented korean and instead of giggling you correct her pronunciation to tease her (your heart's melting on the inside) "it's NA-DO SA-LANG-HAE." "bitch-- i tried."

you call her “sevika 오빠” (oppa, “older brother”, the korean equivalent of “daddy”) when you’re feeling coy and want to make her flustered, but usually “언니” (unnie, “older sister”, affectionate term a younger woman uses for an older woman)

other things you call her in korean: "네 강아지" (my puppy) "멋있어" (handsome) "자기야" (babe) "바보" (dummy) (your favorite)

you never do aegyo to anyone but her, she pretends to hate it but always snickers when you pull the "pretend to get something from your pocket and shoot her with a hand heart" move

you teach her every conceivable korean curse word and she memorizes them at a genius pace. whenever she drops something or burns her hand you hear her whisper “ssibal” (fuck) in the most perfect non-accented korean and you lose it every time

taking long walks beside the han river, watching the cars pass by on the bridge and the glimmer of seoul 

picnicking in the mountains and feeding her kimbap (she will not eat it unless you hold it out to her like she’s a little kid)

she’s also obsessed w shin ramyeon like every time you go grocery shopping she just throws like three packs of those spicy instant noodles into the cart 

she also loves kbbq and insists on grilling the meat herself because she supposedly knows the “secret” to making perfectly grilled samgyeopsal

if she's drunk enough on soju she will consent to you dragging her into a private karaoke room. she sings like a professional but claims to remember nothing the next morning, so you desperately wish you had recorded her.

she will never be caught dead taking one of those cute couple pictures at touristy locations but when you ask her to take pictures of you she takes the job as seriously as if she’s a professional photographer

you manage to drag her into a photo booth once. just once

she tries on men’s hanbok and OH MY GOD 

the neighborhood kids love her like they jump around calling her “sevika 이모” (ee-mo, auntie sevika) and want to hang on her arm and tell her to flex her arm to feel the muscle, they follow her around and she sometimes gives them melon candy if she happens to have some in her pocket

swears she does not cry at k-dramas. she cries at k-dramas. 

also swears she does not like k-pop songs but then you hear her playing "antifragile" while working out

CAFE DATES CAFE DATES 

once had to hold you back from beating the absolute shit out of a guy who said a racist comment to her. you beat him up anyway. 

figures out the complicated-ass subway system after two tries. this amazes you to no end. she knows exactly when to get off and where to transfer trains even though every announcement is in korean or japanese. 

on rainy days: she holds the umbrella as you walk down the backstreets of seoul, watching the water slide off the leaves and listening to the lonely calls of cicadas, your arm wrapped around her waist, leaning on her shoulder.

...yea,,,, sevika x korean reader....... ...

divider by @cafekitsune !

[amorxsomnia]

It's no surprise that Count D. is a vegetarian. As a lover of the natural world and all of her creatures, the very idea of allowing his lips to touch meat is as distasteful as harming an animal himself, even if it is for sustenance. Under no circumstances will the Count ever consume the flesh of an animal, though eggs and dairy are exceptions providing the animals in question are very well-cared for and loved. It's no good trying to fool him - he can taste the difference very clearly and even the sweetest cakes that contains products from mistreated animals will taste as foul as though the entire thing was rotten.

[here-there-were-dragons]

as a general rule, on average, if americans consistently complain about a food being conceptually weird, gross, and scary, then it probably tastes amazing. or at least inoffensive.

this is because in my experience americans for the most part (give or take a few exceptions by region) think eating literally anything other than beef, chicken, bread, eggs, peanut butter jelly sandwitches, ketchup, and disgusting cloyingly artificial brown sludge soda is insurmountably weird, gross, and scary.

[subskz]

…i lost the tag limit war

the reader changing the subject the instant she feels seen by minho is such a subtle but valuable hint that i think says a lot abt the type of person she is, that moment really stood out to me! i know i literally just said this but right down to every minute detail, you've characterized both lino and the reader so masterfully it has to be the most enjoyable aspect of this story for me...and on top of that i just love how you write their conversations so much, they’re both such lil nerds…my intellectually stimulating smarties debating w each other even now 🥰 it all feels so comfortable and natural and draws me into their relationship w such ease!

their discussion abt colors is hands down one of my favorite scenes in all of invisible thread!! it's such an oddly heartwarming conversation and that perfect, out-of-the-box way of thinking that’s just so undeniably minho...it almost reminds me of synesthesia how he describes feelings through color! "the very essence of our humanity" "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean" the way you embodied each colors through emotions/experiences was so wonderfully done, i understood each one instantly like it was a picture being visualized before my eyes. it makes it even more touching that minho and the reader come to understand each other on a whole new level through that way of communicating their moods <3 and for some reason when he gives the example "i feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to" that really tugged at my heartstrings ㅠ it almost feels like he isnt just giving a hypothetical there, like he's giving a small glimpse into his true feelings without saying it outright. maybe he feels invisible deep down, too

them falling asleep together on facetime was so soft and tender ㅠㅠ leave it to lino to ramble abt sous-vide as a bedtime story and complain abt getting SCAMMED lmao the way that is actually smth he would say 😭 "he closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on" this line got me so good ): it seems at first that he's bringing the reader peace but she's bringing him peace in her own way as well...her feelings abt his eyes changing from fear to longing is such a lovely detail and HER COMPLIMENTING THEM!!! HIS STUNNED REACTION </3 "this is the first genuine compliment he's ever received" oh my god does my moss green theory actually have any merit.....does he really feel invisible to the world too...do not do this to me sahar ㅠㅠ but the way he thinks such lovely, adoring things abt the reader in that moment but instead of voicing them he whines abt being hungry....so endearing and so HIM i cant get enough of how youve written minho here ur singlehandedly reminding me why he is allegedly the love of my life

the kintsugi mention made my heart leap in my chest!!! "when you look at that vase, you know it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty" please...that sentence in itself is so moving when you apply it to the context of what the reader has been through her whole life, not just a single crack but repeated breakages. and for it to come from someone like minho; it feels like exactly what the reader needs to hear to truly begin to heal herself...he doesn't coddle her but is still so gentle, putting things into perspective like nobody else can w his unique worldview and mental strength ㅠㅠ and i think i just lost my mind realizing that this scene loops right back to the clay comparison you drew at the beginning of the story oh my GOD....the reader is like a clay pot molded by her mother, broken in places and repaired over and over to create smth still damaged but just as valuable...and lino is the gold filling in the cracks....sahar you are INSANE for this one im kissing ur brain and tucking it gently into bed

the scene w minho in the rain 😞 i was not prepared to see my meow meow upset...but i love the way you wrote it so much. how oddly quiet he is, even to the point where he's not commenting in class or teasing her, and that's the key detail that lets the reader know smth's off w him...i also love that nothing in particular caused his low mood. it's such a human quality, and he allows himself to be human and feel his feelings until they pass. "he knew his emotions would regulate themselves" i cant explain why this line stood out to me so much i really love it, i think it's just such a shining example of minho's mindset...not necessarily optimistic, but practical enough to not be completely swamped by the darkness either. it creates such an interesting contrast to the reader's personality to see how they both handle their emotions, w her pushing hers away and him letting them run their course. but the fact that he typically tries to retreat into himself until he feels better, yet strangely enough, he doesn't mind it as much as he'd expect when the reader catches him in a vulnerable state...my babies ㅠ i also really loved the part where he uses her shower and thinks abt the scent of her soap as he washes up, it's so so sweet n intimate i'm such a sucker for things like that ): there are so many small things minho notices abt her like it's the most natural thing in the world, they're both so attentive of one another

"you were both just trying to make it through the day" and "he knew he wasn't invisible. at least not to you" were critical hits to my heart...it feels like a breakthrough in their relationship—the first time the reader truly truly sees minho, all sides of him, and she accepts them all without question <3

the gradual progression of their friendship is so gratifying to read bc of how organically you made it all flow together!! i adore the entire sequence that shows us how they start to care for each other more and more…the casual intimacy of the reader applying her lip tint to his lips (and him not studying for his quiz on purpose 😭💗 come ON) lino worrying abt her eating enough, the reader tying his bangs out of his eyes, complimenting him so matter-of-factly, and him BLUSHING ALL OVER THE PLACE it’s so over for me x2 they are so tender in their actions even when they tease each other nonstop. it all leads up so perfectly to the point in the story where minho finds himself being drawn to her apartment without even realizing it when he doesn't feel well. the subtle shift from him initially trying to shut her out bc he's so used to managing his bad days on his own, to him eventually leaning in to her kindness and seeking her company instead...and the way she just understands what he needs immediately, allows him to sit in silence and simply exist in peace next to her. describing his mood as "too much of every color" really struck a chord w me as well...i'm just so so in love w the running theme of colors you included throughout this story, it's such a brilliant way to put emotions into words <3

the lil parallels here n there from the beginning of their relationship until now are so cute as well; how lino makes breakfast for her the first time and leaves before she wakes up, but this time, he promises to stay and eat with her...to not be invisible ㅠㅠ i think what's making me craziest of all is how they're both so hyperaware of each other's touch. like when their shoulders brushed while sharing the reader's umbrella, how the reader suddenly finds it difficult to concentrate on her book when lino holds her wrist as she shields him from the sunlight...and little does she know it's the exact same for him too, like when she rested her head on his thigh and all he could focus on was the sensation of her hair tickling him 😭 they are so enamored w each other and have become so tangled up in each other little by little...they don't even fully realize it yet but they've made a permanent place in each other's lives now

"you were already on the other side, you realize. his eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey" oh my GOD!!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ her feelings abt minho's eyes changing from fear, to longing, to at last the comfort of getting to see the other side of those black holes...this line hit me like a truck it might be my favorite from the entire fic ㅠ i have a feeling i'll be saying that abt many more lines to come when you verbalize things in the most poetic ways imaginable heheh but this one truly got me so good, the delicacy in which you describe minho makes the reader's growing affection for him all the more heart-fluttering~

minho hesitating to wipe her tears )): the way he's so careful abt touching her in any unwarranted way bc he can sense that she shies away from skinship is so devastatingly sweet...and then him pinching her right after to make her stop crying NEVERMIND I CANT STAND HIM ACTUALLY. but the way he consoles her is so endearing and so so minho...very simple and sincere, he knows her well enough to immediately figure out the best way to take her mind off of the issue instead of dwelling on it. "you didn't care what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it" i've already pointed out so many lines oh my god i'm so sorry but each one is like another arrow through my heart ㅠㅠ i feel like this sentence is such a perfect testament to the reader and lino's relationship; they've both seen each other at their best and worst and it doesn't change anything abt their feelings, they care for each other unconditionally 😞 also the reader being afraid of physical touch bc she craves it is SO heartbreaking but so raw...i think it aligns so well w her past bc she's so used to either being invisible, or only being perceived negatively when she is perceived. it makes perfect sense how terrifying she'd find it to bare herself to minho when her whole life she's been deprived of genuine affection...you've really done such a phenomenal job of characterizing both her and lino i cant say it enough!

now...the entire final scene...where do i even begin...i had a feeling the climax of the story was going to hurt but not like this ㅠㅠ the reader's inner turmoil as she debates reaching out to her mother again, that conflicting mix of hating her yet somehow still missing her...it's such an inexplicable and confusing feeling for ppl who have experienced that kind of neglect but so so real and you captured it so candidly. it really added a whole new layer to the reader's humanity, for her to be unable to completely let go of their relationship no matter how painful it is to hold on to...for her to cling to the hope that maybe she could be worth smth to her mother if she did everything right ): i genuinely had the exact same reaction as her when you revealed that her mother had deleted her phone number...it felt precisely like a bucket of ice cold water to the head. the reader trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time where her mother stopped loving her was what really crushed me most...what a heart-wrenching sentence ㅠㅠ the fact that she's tried to hard to find solace in other places and people and tried to grow into her own person after entering university, but even so, those marks left from her childhood are still there...a vase full of cracks 💔 as much as it hurts to read, i love that you included this bump in the road of her healing journey and made a point to highlight that healing isn't linear

and minho 😭😭😭😭😭 the way he handled the reader's outburst is so touching...the way he's immediately able to recognize that her feelings are misplaced and smth much deeper is going on beyond what he sees on the surface...using that astuteness to put his own feelings to the side in the moment is so minho. this entire scene is just blossoming with powerful lines i can't forget, but i was especially affected by the reader saying "i'd need you and i can't afford to need someone else." it's such a tragic summarization of her in my opinion...how she went her whole life being unable to rely on anyone but herself, so the moment she's faced w minho, all her instincts say to reject it no matter how badly she craves that intimacy ㅠㅠ and lino saying "i'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me" is such a beautiful declaration of love...it's so selfless and unconditional, and it fits so seamlessly w how their relationship progressed throughout the story, how they were by each other's sides at their best and worst moments.

"the world doesn't stop because we need it to" "we'll make it stop" and then describing their kiss as like "seeing color for the first time"...i'm going to melt into an inconsolable puddle over all these callbacks to their first date together don't think i didn't catch the ways you weaved those in throughout this final scene..you made it feel so complete, like things have come full circle. i already mentioned how much i loved their conversation abt describing colors to the blind, so for their first kiss to be written that way, like the reader was blind to the true color of the world until she met minho....i am going to be ill that is so intensely romantic sahar ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

"he was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together." another heartaching line ): what a way to personify the quiet love minho provides...it may be invisible to everyone else, but not to her

i'm so sorry for my horrifically long comment haha but i'm just thrilled i was finally able to read this beautiful fic 😞 just as i'd predicted, you're a phenomenal writer!! the amount of love and effort you poured into it went above and beyond, i hope you're so proud of yourself for creating such a stunning work!! it's very clear to me how every interaction you wrote between minho and the reader was so carefully thought out and so meaningful to the overarching theme of the story, it's all done with care and purpose and there's smth special to be found in each line of dialogue! it's like you carefully stacked more and more on to the foundation of their bond until before we know it, there's an entire home there that they built steadily together. that kind of subtle progression is my absolute favorite thing. i'm also so blown away by how the reader's mother, though never actually making an appearance until the final scene, has such an heavy impact over the narrative. it's like she's a ghost haunting the reader's every action, every decision, every inner thought...i find it so impressive how you were able to incorporate that effect into the story without us even needing to meet the mother! and i must've mentioned countless lines that stuck w me throughout the fic, but just know that there are countless more i could've pointed out as well...you truly write so so beautifully. so poetic and emotive, but also not so flowery that it becomes hard to follow, i'm truly floored by your ability to achieve that perfect balance! on top of the story being so immersive in itself, your writing style made invisible thread such a genuine delight to read <3

this feels like the kind of story i'll be thinking abt for a long time after finishing it, the kind to revisit over n over bc i'm sure there are so many lil easter eggs you included that i may have missed! i'm positive i'll come back to it many times in the future hehe...but i can't wait to read more of your writing as well! ^_^

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

[lxnarphase]

━ ❝ OH, IT'S MINIKUNA ! ❞

✮₊‧⁺...content: heian era!sukuna x wife!reader, fluff, mentions of childbirth, sukuna is an overly proud father, sukuna is whipped for his wife

✮₊‧⁺...lunar's note: based of this little blurbie and this one too !! needed some fluff with kuna bc he would love having a baby girl idc what anyone says !!! also i did my best describing the birthing process in a time accurate period but it's definitely a bit inaccurate because...i have never had a baby LOL

no one has ever seen sukuna ryomen, king of curses, wince before.

not until today, at the wrath of his pregnant wife who somehow got a hold of his fingers instead of his hand.

one of the nurses did warn him to not give you his finger and to ensure you always hold his hand. but by the gods, he swears you almost ripped his finger off.

it's cute to him, however, when you attempt to curse him out.

'gods, sukuna, i despise your entire being!'

'i know, my wife.'

'i should've never let you get me pregnant, you animal!'

'you begged for it, my wife.'

'i am never letting you bed me again, use your hand for the rest of your existence!'

'you can't keep your hands off me, my wife, no need to lie.'

but the sigh of relief, the way you instantly look down and coo once the sound of wailing filled the air...it makes him melt just a little bit.

he can't deny, seeing you in pain made him heated. it took everything in him not to kill every midwife, nurse, and lady-in-waiting in your birth room for not being able to make this process completely painless.

except chiyo. he would have to reward your personal physician for preparing you so well for this...

what did the old hag like again? wines, meats, gifts for her grandchildren back at home?

hm, yes, that would be great for her. of course, he'll say it was from you. the king of curses shows gratitude for no one.

he's pulled out of his thoughts at the hushed whispers once the other women exam the baby before following your unspoken request to hold your child.

"d-do you think lord sukuna will harm our lady for this...?"

"i hope not, surely he can make an exception, t-they both are still young and can always try for more!"

"but he's the king of curses, t-there no way he won't have a reaction!"

before he can demand what they find so important to discuss in front of you, chiyo hushes the girls with a wave of her hand, ushering the girls to help wipe off your sweat, tears, and clean off the baby—gentle like it's the finest glass, she instructs—before turning to sukuna with a knowing smile.

"well, your greatness...congratulations on having a healthy and gorgeous little girl," she hums, wiping her hands with a clean cloth before going to rinse her hands to help stitch any rips and clean you up.

the room falls silent aside from your soft little coos and the wails of your daughter as you brush the wet, fluffy hair on her little head.

all the women in the room continue to work, but it's clear they are silently waiting for his outburst.

everyone knows that a proper heir to any throne is a boy...but now, sukuna's first born child is a girl.

but rather angry, yelling, and threats to your and your child's life, the room is filled with Suku's booming laughter, which practically shakes the entire room.

instead of an enraged expression, pure delight, and excitement are painted on his face as he sits next to you on the soft cushiony bedding on the floor, his hand caressing the rounded cheek of your newborn.

"so, you've given me a girl," he hums in delight, all four of his eyes narrowing. "this will be the one who takes over my throne once i decide to step down?"

this thing, this tiny, itty bitty baby...came from you both? it's almost laughable how small this baby is compared to his hand, that something so little could be related to him.

she's...nothing short of perfect. "absolutely divine...she will not just be beautiful like her mother, but as powerful as both of us."

he's so proud of you and your child. he would shower your daughter with riches, love, and anything she could ever want and ask for.

but, he couldn't lie.

she's a damned fat baby, big head and all.

"sukuna, watch your mouth!"

he can't help but laugh, not realizing his thoughts came out of his mouth. "what, it's a good thing! means she's healthy," he boasts with a grin, leaning down closer to see her better.

"she looks strong already. as soon as she is able, i will personally teach her how to be a truly malevolent little princess, how to properly slit the necks of her enemies, how to—!”

oh, he is so excited, it's adorable.

“sukuna, shush, i just gave birth to a child with a massive head like yours, give me a moment," you say with a light laugh, your smile still reaching your clearly tired eyes.

“…apologies, my wife.”

chiyo can't help but laugh with you she finishes applying the healing ointment on your lower body, using a bit of her cursed energy to speed up the healing process to help you skip any serious pain.

after all, nothing but the best physician for you in sukuna's palace.

"always such an excitable boy, my lord, ever since you were a young man," she hums, helping one of the midwives properly wrap your baby in the soft, clean cloth.

"be gentle with her," you instruct him, gently moving your arms toward him so he could take the little bundle. he's...nervous, but he hides it well.

you place your daughter in his arms and he looks down at her, suddenly conscious of how loud he's breathing. she's got his hair, still a bit wet but soft and fluffy. it's pink, just like his.

a pleased rumble vibrates his chest, and he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

but then...her eyes open.

both sets.

he almost didn't notice it at first, they're just so small, but they're there. the same color as yours, pretty and big, filled with so much life.

his eyes burn, vision getting blurry. no words come to his head, he can't think of anything to say. he's so caught up in his thought he doesn't even notice chiyo ushering the other girls in the room out and shutting the door before quietly tending to you with water or food.

she knows that look, you do as well. she's been around longer than uraume to know her master, knowing the king of curses since his young years as the unwanted child of the village, abandoned by his mother for his 'horrid' appearance.

she was lucky to have found him before the villagers got to him, torches, axes, pitchforks and daggers in hand to take care of the child who they believed to have brought misfortune to their home.

getting him to safety was one of the best decisions she'd ever made, king of curses or not. no child deserved to be abandoned like that. and now, he's seeing himself in that tiny little being in his arms right now...chiyo can only imagine what he's feeling.

so, out of respect, she keeps her gaze averted, pretending she does not see the misty gaze he gives your daughter. this is a moment for you and him, and she does her best to make all her movements as quiet as possible.

all sukuna can think about in this moment is how he used to be just as tiny as this. he was just as vulnerable in his mothers arms. he couldn't talk, couldn't speak, couldn't fend for himself.

yet, his parents looked down at him just like this and decided he was an abomination and didn't give him a chance.

but now?

sukuna knows he would never, ever let anything happen to this little bundle in his arms. he would rather destroy the entire planet before letting anything happen to his baby girl. no one would make his little one suffer and live to see another day.

he flinches just a little, feeling your soft hand rubbing his bicep. "it's okay, my love," you softly coo at him, reaching up to wipe a tear from his eye before it had a chance to drip down his cheek. "she's going to grow up feeling loved and cherished because she's got a great father."

"hmm..."

a smile crosses his features as he looks back down, looking at the squirming baby so makes a little noise before calming down when he strokes her little, chubby cheek again to keep her from crying again.

"and she's got a great mother. she'll be the most wonderful princess in all of history," he says with a toothy grin, chest rumbling with a laugh.

"aww, my love, that's so sweet..."

"seriously, though, how in hells did you squeeze this thing out of ya? thing's got the head of a watermelon."

"sukuna, give me back my baby, and chiyo? get this man some food to stuff in his mouth before he says something to warrent the rage of a new mother."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[daemonbrain]

Part 2

1.8k, cw: ghosts a pervert, smut, readers husband is piece of work, not proofread.

Simon Riley who first saw you at the butcher's shop on the phone. 

You were a pretty thing. Wearing a pink little yoga set, one arm holding your mat and the other holding your phone to your ear as you wait for the butcher to bring out your cut of meat.

Which was taking a long time

Simon would’ve had it chopped and packed to go by now. Though, he can’t complain with the view he has of your ass- you. The man was touch starved. He hadn’t been back home in a while, back-to-back deployments keeping him occupied. His only company being his calloused and scraped hands roughly jerking himself until he came, bordering on unpleasurable. Not what some could consider enjoyable, but try being in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere for weeks on end and see if you care so much about gentle.

The borderline perverted look you were blissfully unaware of was tracking down your form. He stared at the way the material tightly clung on to every bit of you in a welcoming way, a second skin. The sweat on you from your little session.

Just how flexible does yoga make a bird like you?

It was only when he heard a grating sound come from your phone that he snapped out of his trance. Even with his bad ears from all the bullets whizzing past him, bombs going off within meters of him, and the usual shit show he did for a living he could hear the voice which bled through your phone's speaker.

"Get me a steak this time. Nonna that nasty shit from last time!"

You hurriedly turned your volume down as it blasted in your ear, startled by the voice. Chewing on your lip you pivoted towards the counter to see if your order had been brought out; the motion to no avail as the employee continued chopping away in the back room.

It was only when your other hand came into full view from the motion he noticed the absolute rock on your finger.

"Honey, I thought the salmon was pretty good." That prick clearly firing something back as you winced away from your phone once again. Gritting your teeth as if biting back your arguments, looking around to occupy your time as the man on the phone continues to speak. "I know... I'm sorry. Don't worry, it'll be ready by 7." You placatingly cooed.

"Listen, I have to go. I love y-" You began, but the moment the words tumbled from your lips you pulled the phone fully from your cheek to see a blank screen with the time staring back on you. The asshole hung up!

What a fuckin tosser.

Simon hears the butcher finally call your name with familiarity and with a sigh you step towards the counter. 

He leaned on to the wall further as he had been the entire time. Silent. Unsettling. A stark contrast to your bright appearance in the shop, the larger man brooded in his corner waiting his turn.

“See ya’ next Friday!” You still managed a bright smile at the butcher who handed you your meat.

A mild thing like you really shouldn’t be talked to so thoughtlessly, some guys are fuckwits though. He never liked the type. Why lock a bird down with a ring if you were gonna be mean to her?

“S’cuse me sir, i’m just gonna push past you here” You asked. With widened eyes, Simon gruffly mumbled a “Yeah,” out before creating a stupidly small space.

Maybe he really did want you to push past him. Or just push up on him but oh well.

Sweeping past him, you give him a toothy smile as you had so sweetly done to the butcher, as if you hadn’t got yelled at less than five minutes ago. God you really have no common sense, beaming up at the lurker in the corner at least twice your size. A girl as pretty as you should really stick to herself.

From that interaction on, Simon found himself being guided by the memory of you back to the butcher shop the next Friday.

And the next…

And the next.

Every week progressively standing closer and closer to you as you picked up your usual order. One day you had taken the liberty of starting small talk with him after recognizing his unmistakable stature. After all, there were only so many people you had seen in this shop and none so… large.

You could not deny you found this mystery man disquieting. Always dressed in dark colours, not so much as a word coming from him. Like clockwork you would come in after hot yoga, greet the butcher, he would come in, silence would ensue as you both waited for your meat, and you would leave with a quick smile.

It was rude. He had never even said a simple hello to you! Though, you suppose that it could be due to your own curt exits. The thought of the unkindness you might’ve exhibited subconsciously sent your mind into a spiral, leading to your abrupt introduction.

After all, who were you to judge! Kindness is and should always be the response in your books.

At this kindness, Simon swore he had to take a breath in as you politely outstretched your hand and spoke your name casually. Tilting his head down to your face he raises a brow skeptically, and then firmly shakes your head.

He failed to hide the shudder which wracked his body. The way your hand effortlessly slipped into his. Soft and manicured engulfed in his.

“Simon.”

“Well it’s good to meet you Simon” With the twinkly little smile you would grace him as you hauled it out of the shop. He felt the shiver go down his spine a second time when you spoke his name for the first time.

And then- it happened.

You giggled. A soft thing, no doubt intended to be small. It wasn’t to Simon though. It reverberated throughout the room, rang so prettily in his ears. Fuck. He would remember that sound later on tonight.

“Are you cold? You keep shivering. It’s pretty harsh out there right now.”

“Nah. Not really.” His accent thick as he shrugged.

Letting out a little “mhm” you nod and look back to the counter.

“I was freezing outside! Usually I walk home-” Simon already knew that “-but today I called my husband to come grab me! Way too cold!”

That visibly made him stiffen. Of course. Perfectly normal that guy is coming to get you, he’d be an idiot to leave you walking home alone in the cold.

If you were his girl, Simon wouldn’t have let you out of his sight. Fuck sakes you practically had “come mess with me” written all over you. There were creeps all over the place nowadays, (thought the creep).

He would’ve carried everything for you, scarfed down whatever the hell you had taken the time to prepare him. That husband of yours doesn’t like your salmon? Simon would. Hell if he didn’t, he’d cram it down his throat with gratitude anyways. He doubted anything could be worse than some of the rations he’s eaten on duty. 

That train of thought is pretty redundant when he takes note of how you wouldn’t be able to leave the bed to make anything.

Maybe you’d cram something of his down your throat in gratitude.

Shaking his head subtly, he hears the bells of the store door opening. He watched your face fall as you step away from him and it’s when he sees your husband's look of complete irritation he understands why.

You had grabbed your order swiftly and with a quick wave goodbye you were on your way back to your husband. Simon could only register your husband's whisper-yell as he disapprovingly glared his way. “The fuck are you doin talking to him?”. And with that you were hurriedly ushered out.

You deigned it necessary to continue greeting Simon, have little chats about the weather, any plans he had for the weekend. Tossing in your stupid jokes that he would laugh at. You interpreted it as something closer to a breathy snort-hopefully positive- and it went on as such for weeks

And every time he returned home Friday night, he came home with only one thought after. You.

As he laid in bed the same thought persisted as he slipped his cock out of his boxers, red and weeping for some sort of stimulation. He took to his usual harsh pace. You’d be so much softer.

You’d be so nice to him wouldn’t you? Coo some compliment as he lets you tug at him. Fuck he wouldn’t know what to take first.

Would you give him a blowie or a hand job? 

No. You wouldn’t be on your knees- not yet. If you’d let him have you, you’d be on your back in an instant. He’d rip the stitches of those leggings right down the middle, your panties next.

“Fuuuuuck” he moaned into the quiet of his room. He’d stick it in slow, he’d try. It would be torture not to ram himself right up to the hilt, but he’d do it for such a good girl.

That’s what you were, weren’t you? Always a nice word for someone? What would you say to him when he began to rut into you like a madman. When you would feel the pummeling intrusion, his head knocking into the deepest parts of you.

He’d be able bend you into so many different positions that you’d better hope that yoga has taught you well. Split your legs open to accommodate his imposing body size as he’d take purchase between them. Then you better hope your cunny can accommodate his other size when he spears you open on his cock.

Would you take it smiling? Would your tears roll down your cheeks, the prodding bordering too much? You’d take it either way, he knew you could. He’d rub at your clit with such tenderness he never afforded himself (as gentle as he could anyway). He’d make sure you begged to stay on his cock forever, fuck himself so deep you would be too stupid to pull away unknowing of where he ended and you started. Not that you’d have to care.

He’d flip you on to all fours and rip away your clothes entirely, pounding you from the back and instead of just his own labored breaths, the sound of skin slapping together would ring out.

In silent stoicism, he feels his balls tighten up at the thought of your perfect face stuffed into the pillows screaming your thank you’s. You probably were just as nice with someone stuffing themselves into your pussy.

At both his ruthless ministrations and boundless imagination, his release spurted all over his hand with a breathy sigh. When you were here he’d make sure to slam his hips to yours and keep them flush against you, coat your insides in hot cum better than your limp-dick husband ever could. That man wouldn’t be able to fuck you the way Simon knew he could. You deserve someone who could make you go stupid on his dick, not cry of frustration like you probably did everytime that knob who thinks himself a man rolled over after finishing himself off.

Not that you’ll have to worry about that soon

…

He wouldn’t be around for much longer anyways.

[homunculus-argument]

Zombie/other post-apocalyptic story character concept: The unsettling optimist.

The protagonists of this story encounter an oddly formal loner who seems creepily happy-go-lucky to be wandering alone out there all alone, and assume that this poor fellow is just flat-out insane. A lot of people lost their minds when the world collapsed. An argument is had about whether they can spare the resources to take in somebody who might be a liability, but eventually a consensus is reached that if this mf has been surviving just fine all by themselves so far, surely they're not completely off their roller.

Besides, they don't seem to be out of touch with reality, just... Weirdly cheerful about it. Like wandering around a zombie-infested wasteland is the best thing that ever happened to them. Like it's a privilege to get to eat questionable canned food, to wander from half-collapsed building to another, to argue about where the group is supposed to be going. Like it's a pleasure to be there, and they don't mean it with sarcasm.

And one time when they manage to kill an animal for food, the newcomer volunteers to butcher it like that's a totally normal task that they're used to doing. And working with sure hands and a casual smile, they offhandedly remark how interestingly different it feels to butcher an animal. Full record scratch when everyone within earshot pauses to process what the fuck they just said. How exactly is someone who's clearly that familiar with taking apart meat from bones unaccustomed to butchering animals?

Well, you know how every post-apocalyptic/zombie story seems to have that one place that seems like a clean and tidy wonderful utopia on the surface, but turns out that they're cannibals that eat people? Yeah, that guy is from there. Escaped from there, in fact, and not long before the protagonists found them. And the reason why they've been over the moon about getting to be a part of the whole post-apocalyptic roving band of survivors is the freedom. They get to choose what miserable cans to eat, what miserable ruins to sleep in for the night, what hopeless direction they will miserably trek. And the zombies? The zombies are the best part.

Imagine the joy and luxury of knowing for sure for the first time, that there is absolutely zero overlap between the people who form the community that you rely on to survive, and the people who will kill and eat you if you make one single mistake.

[inhogf]

Lee Byung Hun, your teacher.

more of teacher byung hun · contains: teacher x student, huge age gap: reader is in school, byung hun in mid 50s. smut, dry humping.

byung hun was never the type to want someone so young, no, never— that was until you came into the picture. the little glances he'd share with you in his classroom, your perfect body all dolled up in skimpy clothing just for him, he could tell you do it for him, how desperate you were for his attention. his eyes would be fixated on the gentle slopes of your waist, the curves of your ass and the plush of your thighs. he just wanted to devour you whole. keep you all to himself.

and you weren't oblivious to that. you would always feel his gaze lingering on your figure a bit longer than usual, heat pooling down your core as you squeezed your thighs together in attempts to find something to grind onto. he made you such a mess.

he wanted to keep things professional; keep his distance. but the way you'd look up at him with those fuck me eyes had him running into the staff bathroom stalls, unable to handle any more of the ache growing between his legs, beads of precum spilling out of his uncontrollably swollen tip before he even got to take his boxers off. he needed you. needed you to take his load out into. but he knew he couldn't make his move; poor little byung hun knows he'd get in so much trouble if he tried messing with you.

and he doesn't care.

because right now you were straddling his lap and the growing bulge you thought you were supposed to ignore, as he tutored you after keeping you back when school had ended. the school halls were empty, save for the faint echoes of laughter drifting in from outside. the room was locked, he made sure of that. he doesn't anyone walking in and seeing what he does to his pretty girl.

“such a dumb girl, hm?“ he'd make a remark, pointing to the big red C on your test papers. and all you could do was nod calculus was never your strong suit— but you were beginning to feel like mr. byung hun gave you a C just to keep you back in his classroom.

your breath hitched as he laid a big heavy hand on your thigh, the other held a pen fixing the mistakes on your test paper. you craned your neck back to look at him, faces so close you were practically breathing each other's faces in. he had a dumb smirk plastered on his face— one so subtle you weren't sure if he knew what he was doing right now. if he knew you, his student, was on his fuckin’ lap right now. what a whore.

he tilted his head, removing his hand from your thigh to take off his glasses before setting them on the desk, and clasping his hand on your thigh back again. this time, he'd rub small circles and grab small chunks of meat occasionally. poor you, you didn't even know what to do at that point— but you wanted it. you were down right pathetic for him.

without warning, he'd buck his hips up into the softness of your ass, prevailing in rubbing the growing boner just into the right spot. your breathing got faster, as you bit your now-bleeding bottom lip once again. you were—

“grind.“

and holy fuck. you were absolutely leaking after that. you were so, so, desperate, you started drawing circles into his lap with your hips without giving it much thought. he'd shut his eyes close, nipping at your neck as his free hand reaches around and clamps the base of your throat and pulls it back slightly; all whilst you two were going back and forth, taking turns grinding on each other.

and byung hun was so effing cute, he creamed his boxers before you guys could properly even start. you can't be mad at him, after all, he was your beloved teacher.

cc @inhogf dont steal

[bohemiandeer]

You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

[rafesangelita]

♡ babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader go to her first prenatal appointment

warnings: super sweet fluff, pregnancy, descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, reader is emotional (she can’t help it, okay?!!), crying, reassurance, comfort, some brief medical terminology

a/n: creating an official au introduction for this little universe of mine <3 just a reminder that pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this pairing unless stated otherwise in the author’s note!

wc: 1.9k

“ray, i can’t hold it!” you shrieked, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks, “you’re going to make me pee, i’m not kidding!” rafe was currently tickling your sides, your once hysterical laughter soon turning into breathless pants as he continued ignoring your pleas for him to stop. “aw, come on..” it wasn’t until the smile dropped from your face that he took the hint and got off of you, quickly helping you up to your feet so you could run to the bathroom.

you found yourself doing that a lot more now, your ability to ‘hold it in’ was long gone by this point. that, along with crying over the smallest things like rafe rubbing your tummy despite you not really showing yet, his attentiveness and care never failing to make you sob in his arms. thankfully, your morning sickness wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. now that you were approximately eight weeks, sailing was becoming more smooth, both you and rafe finally catching a small break from the wrath of your raging hormones.

you never got angry in the first few weeks, but annoyed and irritated? definitely. a few times you had to flash rafe a warning smile before he could take the hint that you didn’t want any of the food he was trying to feed you— the smell of certain meats making you feel queasy. “do you want me to projectile vomit into your lap?” you’d ask sweetly, your eyes slightly wide as rafe frantically shook his head before taking the forkful of steak away from your lips.

he’d been a good sport about absolutely everything. even now as he helped you out of his truck, rafe was quick to sling your purse over his shoulder, his hands staying glued to your hips until your pretty pedicured feet softly landed on the ground. you wasted no time in scheduling your doctor’s appointment the same fated day you and rafe looked down at that positive pregnancy test. you couldn’t believe a whole month had already flown by that quick.

“i’m a little nervous..” your whispered, taking rafe’s arm with your own, the height difference easily making you feel comforted as he held your hand. “ah, don’t be, i read that they’re just gonna run a few tests and ask you some questions, that’s all, sweetheart.” oh, you could cry right now. scratch that, you were crying right now. “you looked up how my first appointment would go?” rafe’s head shot down as soon as he heard your crying voice, both of you stopping just right outside of the doctor’s office.

“hey..” he turned, cupping your cheeks, “baby, i didn’t mean to make you sad.” he stroked the side of your face, thumbing away any stray tears that managed to roll down your cheeks. “no, you didn’t make me sad, it’s just— you’ve been so good to me, even before all of this, i just feel so lucky to have you. you’re so sweet, and you’re so helpful, and you even put up with me when i have an attitude sometimes, and—” rafe stopped your rambling when another couple came walking up to the entrance.

flashing awkward smiles at each other, rafe scooted you over before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “what did i tell you when you were panicking, flipping through that calendar book of yours?” you laughed at the memory. you were so scared that day. “you said you were going to take care of us.. of me.” rafe nodded, lifting your chin so you could look up at him. “i meant that, y/n. there’s nothing to be scared of, alright? everything that i’m doing for you isn’t even the tip of the iceberg for what you deserve, you understand that?” you blinked, wrapping your arms around his waist as you two stood there in silence for a few moments.

rafe held you until you were ready to go inside, your boyfriend holding the door open for you as you were hit with chilly air and the smell of antiseptic. “i’ll get the sign-in sheet, just go ahead and sit down, baby.” you listened, clasping your hands together in your lap as you took a look around the other women in the waiting room. everyone seemed so calm, like there really wasn’t anything to worry about. you figured you’d just been overthinking on your way over here, worrying yourself to death for no reason.

rafe came back with a clipboard, quickly filling out your information and handing it over to you when there was a section he didn’t know the information to. “hey, how about we get something to eat after this? we could get those subs you like down at the sandwich shop.” it was as if rafe read your mind, a small smile forming on your lips before you pecked his cheek. “with those spicy kettle cooked chips?” rafe hummed, taking the clipboard back from your hands. “yeah, whatever you want.”

you two waited for your name to be called out for no longer than fifteen minutes, your heart dropping to your stomach once a woman in pink scrubs smiled at you brightly. rafe could tell by the slight shake of your hands that you were back at square one. “look, everything is alright, let’s go check on this little one, yeah?” you swallowed nervously, allowing rafe to guide you inside the double doors, his large palm resting in the small of your back as you two followed the nurse to your room. the walls were painted with all kinds of animals, the woman who was going to do your ultrasound welcoming both of you in.

“hello! how are we feeling today?” she helped you up on top of the chair. “i’m on edge a little bit..” you told her truthfully, your eyes finding the probe for your ultrasound. “aw, that’s completely normal, i promise you you’re in great hands. is this dad?” she glanced over at rafe, the poor man turning red at the name. "yes, that's me.. dad.." the nurse laughed, grabbing a hospital gown from one of the cabinets. "still really new, huh? is this your first?" both you and rafe nodded. "oh, how exciting!" she squealed.

"are you aware of what we're going to do for this first visit?" rafe grabbed the chair from the corner of the room, moving it up to where he could sit next to you. "not really." you shook your head, letting rafe's hand envelope your own. "so even though the pregnancy tests you've taken are positive, we're still going to draw blood and run a few tests just to be sure," she started, "i'm going to be asking you a few medical history questions, checking your vitals to make sure everything with you is okay, and we should also be finding out your due date today!"

you took everything in, your tummy fluttering in excitement at the prospect of getting to find out when you were having your baby. "does that sound okay?" she began typing something on her computer as you hummed. "alrighty, first and foremost; when was the date of your last missed menstrual cycle?" you wracked your brain for an answer, trying your best to remember what your calendar book said. "uhm.. i don't know the exact day but i wanna say it's been five weeks since i found out i was pregnant, and before that i was late three weeks." she typed quickly as you spoke.

the questions continued as she took your vitals, along with recording your height and weight. “are you taking any prenatal vitamins?” you were about to say yes before rafe blurted out. “she’s taking the best ones on the market.” he smiled, both you and the nurse laughing as he took the bottle out of your purse. “yeah, those work wonders,” she agreed, “remember a healthy diet is also key to keep both you and the baby healthy. plenty of water, too.” rafe made a mental note to start bringing your stanley everywhere.

the nurse took your blood, instructing you to change into the hospital gown before she left with the viles to take them for testing. “i think she’s gonna put that thing inside of me.” you pointed at the probe on the side of the ultrasound machine, a shiver running down your spine as you sat back down on the chair. rafe couldn’t help but snap some pictures of you, his smile reaching ear to ear as you posed for him. “i hope she doesn’t take long, i’m hungry.” you pouted. just then, the nurse came back in with a some papers in her arms.

“so just as we expected already, your bloodwork came back positive, and everything else looks really good. all we have to do now is your pelvic exam and your ultrasound to get that due date!” you settled into your chair, stirring uncomfortably as she placed your feet onto the stirrups. rafe was watching everything intently, making sure you weren’t in pain or anything as she began your exam. thankfully, she was making small talk with both you and rafe, asking you two questions as well as giving you advice since you were first time parents.

“y’all are going to be just perfect, i promise you that. loving parents create happy households, and by the looks of you two, your home will be overflowing with happiness and love.” she smiled, finishing up your appointment with a satisfied hum. “everything looks good! although your blood pressure is a little bit up, that comes from the nerves you felt earlier, so we definitely want to be more careful with that, but everything else, baby included, looks healthy.” you sighed in relief, your shoulders relaxing as rafe nodded in understanding.

“when will we be able to actually see an ultrasound?” you asked, kind of sad that you didn’t get to see the little bean today. the nurse took her gloves off before checking something off on her clipboard. “i was actually hoping you’d be able to come in two weeks from now? we should be able to see the contraction of a heartbeat since you’ll be ten weeks by then.” you gasped softly. “oh, i would love that!” you nodded frantically, looking up at rafe just to confirm. “yeah, that sounds amazing.” he smiled, stroking your arm before the nurse adjusted the glasses on her nose.

you couldn’t help but feel antsy because of how excited you were, everything hitting you all at once. you were really going to have a baby. with rafe especially, you couldn’t imagine anyone else in his position. “well, i’m going to go set that up then and print out your overview for the appointment. you could go ahead and change back into your clothes and once your done the receptionist will have your paperwork to take home.” you and rafe thanked her and bid her goodbye before she stepped out.

you took everything in once it was just you and rafe, both of you sitting in silence as you gathered your thoughts. now that all you wanted to do was see that sonogram, you knew these next couple of weeks were going to get here agonizingly slow. “let’s get your clothes on.” you let rafe dress you back up, the two of you making your way up front and getting the papers. you were jumping excitedly on your way out once you saw the due date, rafe taking his camera out and getting what felt like the hundredth photo of you today.

“i can’t wait to find out the gender, we’re going to have the cutest nursery!” you squealed excitedly nearly tripping over your feet before rafe rushed over and got you in the truck. “so how about those sandwiches?”

[norikuna]

★ 🐚 🫧 GONNA' MATCH MY FREAK? jujutsu kaisen. 呪術廻戦.

prologue ⋆ ★ getting down and nasty with some fine men? yes, please.

pairings ⋆ ★ sukuna, toji, geto, hajime, choso, gojo genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab/she+her!reader, making it fít, trueform!sukuna, against a wall, créampíe, bréeding, ríding, temple séx, mild mention of smoking (geto), unintentional public séx, óral (f), inappropriate use of jujutsu (electricity), backshóts, mentions of voyéurísm

word count ⋆ ★ 5.1k a/n ⋆ ★ going thru it 😝 was gonna add noritoshi kamo because he's my #bias #ult but i wasn't sure how to write him yet...

RYOMEN SUKUNA ៹ the king of curses

"now yer' just being stubborn," the blush-haired demon is grousing, dark nails clawing at the bare juncture of your hip, as though he's trying not to let his gaze leer downwards. to linger where your bare cunt is straddling over both his tattooed cocks. hefty, and weighty against the meat of your thigh.

"i can take them, 'kuna, know i can," and it's got sukuna sighing at your stubborn nature, as though he's not already being plagued by the most delightful visions of you swaying those delightfuls hips as both his tips swab at your entrance. oouh, tempting, tempting indeed.

you're already getting ahead of yourself, positioning your leaking folds over the first cock, the one stacked on top of the other, letting the fat tip snag at your gummy walls, and fuck, sukuna genuinely fears he may just be in love when you give him those insufferable, pleading doe eyes, "can y'help me fit them in, 'kuna?"

oh, can he ever. sukuna's ducking his face into the crook of your neck, nipping at the shell of your ear, so you can't see the warm flush painting his cheeks, hands heavy on your waist as he gently props you up, two arms wrapped in coils around your torso, and two softly positioned underneath your shaking thighs.

slowly, carefully, lowering you down. angling you just right, so your cunt eagerly begins to swallow him up. slick already drooling and painting treacly strands over his cock, trickling down to the base of thick, curled pink hair that gathers at his groin.

"haahh," you're sighing, lips parting in a way that makes sukuna feel like someone just hit him with a shovel, dumbfounded at the sight of you, only you, "bigger than i thought, 'kuna."

and the king of curses won't admit in, no, he's loathe to lower himself thus, but his heart (and his cocks) only swell at the praise, the knowledge that you're still just so eager to take him, to ride him on his throne, his kimono opened bare across your pretty form so he can lave sharp, stinging kisses over your chest.

"t-taking it so well," sukuna bites out, doing his best to fight the crack in his gruff tone, for the sake of his dignity. or at least, that's what he tells himself, never mind at how he feels lightheaded from the way your cunt is almost kissing the base of his cocks now, and the sound is absolutely filthy, echoing through out the empty hall. all damp sloshes of pre that's leaving smears over your innermost walls.

he has to focus over the buzzing in his ears to catch your sweet words, a hand coming to rest on the back of your head, tilting you closer to him, "mhm, yer' sayin' something?"

you're nodding, breathless and hazy, steadying yourself now in his lap, groping at the little divot that's already formed where his tip(s) now lie, "does it feel g-good for you?"

sukuna stares at you, half-clouded with the tight heat of your pretty, swollen pussy swallowing him up, "what?"

you're pawing at his chest, nails digging into hardened skin, grazing over dark tattoos that have lasted a millennia, "wanna know if 'm making y-you feel good, 'kuna."

oh, he's in love with you. ryomen sukuna is absolutely, foolishly, pathetically head-over-heels for you. his pretty, little woman that's balanced on his hips, rocking yourself back and forth to feel that glorious friction against your sweet spot.

ugh, fine. just this once. dignity be damned, for he's got you.

a large hand cups your jaw, resting against the curve of your neck, as crimson eyes bore into you, "you are what i want, brat," and sukuna means it, planting a heavy kiss against your lips, "just you, just like this. couldn't be b-better."

"you're getting soft." gentle, teasing as you watch watercolour flush paint pretty pink over sukuna's handsome features. for someone who fancies themselves a rather stoic king of curses, a fearsome sorcerer that can command life and death, he does a poor job of hiding how just how much you undo him.

a low grumble erupts from sukuna, gripping at your hips, pulling you closer to him in a way that you feel his cocks jostle within you, brushing against that sweet, sweet spot, "careful, there. don't wanna' break m'favourite human." yeah, you know that idle threats means that you've really got him blushing.

TOJI FUSHIGURO ៹ the sorcerer killer

"heh, thought you said we were gon' get on the job," toji's guffawing even, but that smug expression quickly flitters away when your wandering, wanting hands are feeling him up. gripping at his pectoral muscles that strain against his black, tight top.

"we are on the job," you fiercely gasp against his mouth, feeling that rough scar twitch against your skin, "jus' need you, that's all."

you can see stone-green eyes flick upwards, heightened senses scanning for any intruders, any unwanted peepers to this show that he's about to put on, before kicking the rusted, weathered steel door closed. sealing you in this storage closet with him.

"so," toji simpers, and you know better than to trust the faux-concern on the assassin's face, "what does she need help with?" large hands patting at the clothed juncture of your thighs, running up the thick band of your holster, "couldn't even wait till we shot the damn' bastard, and took home a niceee paycheck."

you push at him, arms using as much as force as you can muster but it does very little to move this solid block of a man. but toji's clearly humouring you, letting you shove him against the reinforced, but worn-out walls, "how 'bout i give you an advance for the job?"

toji's wrapping a muscled arm around your waist, pulling you closer so he's nudging against your lips, "hah, a little taste then?" tugging at the waistband of your pants, "don't mind if i do."

and before you can even take a second to blink, he's whirling the two of you around. balancing you with inhuman levels of strength against the wall, so your ankles dangle in the air. quickly hooking against his waist, while toji thumbs at your underwear, eager to slide any remaining fabric away.

"stay focused now," toji murmurs, "got a big stretch for ya', heh."

and fuck, he wasn't exaggerating. you've never gotten used to it, the way his thick, girthy shaft melds into you, swabbing at the swollen, dripping walls that toji loves to call home. you're not sure if you're losing your mind, but you swear, you truly swear that you can feel the pulse of that one, angry vein that runs along the underside of his cock (yeah, you're pretty familiar).

"ngh –" you babble, "s-so big, fuck," your mind's gone entirely blank, grasping for the right word to encompass just how enrapturing toji's cock is, "so deep."

toji seems to like that, cheeks flushing the most adorable shade of peach and pink that he seems desperate to hide and deny, "y-yeah? deep in ya'?" he's rustling you in his hold, eager to hit bullseye on your cervix, to see you rolling your eyes to back of your head as you take him.

and if toji tears his gaze downwards, he can see your puffy folds parted, inches stuffed into your cunt. painting such a pretty sight that if toji were a less jealous, lecherous man, he'd hire a photographer to come capture the sinful view. hmm, maybe the new paycheck can go to a camera? oh, yeah, he's havin' ideas.

"t-toji –" you mewl, hands grasping at the firm curve of his pectorals, defined and taut underneath the fabric that stretched across his chest, "that's it, hah, jus' what i needed."

"mhm?" toji chuckles against the shell of your ear, "got so fucked out on the job, needed me to come take care of you like t-this?" he can feel your legs trembling in his hold, turning to mush and quivering, as he batters hit after hit against your mound. he shifts, readjusting himself for the right angle so...

plap! each smack of his heavy, laden sack rings throughout the abandoned storage room of this fuck-ass hideout, repurposed for something far more pleasurable. brows furrowed, sweat dripping down tanned skin as toji squeezes his eyes shut, feels every cell in his body unravelling (or well, something like that, he's not a scientist) as your tight cunt swallows him up, takes him apart.

"hnngh, fuck, girl, look what you're doin' to me," toji gasps, rocketing his hips to dig as deep as possible, cock twitching and practically sending s.o.s signals despite this being the first round of many.

he knows he's close, knows that tell-tale tightening in his groin will only lead to him shooting ropes out, so he pulls you in for a filthy, clashing kiss, "where do ya' want it? gon' have to tell me quick, – dunno' how long i can –"

"inside," you murmur, sounding as breathless as toji fushiguro feels, legs deliciously arched against his back, "want it inside, toji." whimpering the most beautiful, sweet groans against his ear.

toji wishes he was a stronger man, he truly does. wishes that he had some restraint, and sense but the very second your mouth parted to form those syllables, he felt the world go blank. ropes upon ropes of thick, cloying seed stuttering out of him, making the assassin feel off-kilter, "think it took, doll?" toji scoops some of the creamy release against your sloppy cunt, "or wanna' try one more time? or two?"

GETO SUGURU ៹ the worst curse user

"eyes on me, pretty," geto's panting, glossed lips parting, and you can see just how affected he is, that soft tremble of his mouth giving away the cracks in his composure.

but are you shocked? well, nah. you've learnt there are several ways to undo geto suguru, to unravel him until he's a trembling mess and your favourite way is to plant your hands on his bare chest, and rock your hips until the two of you are seeing stars.

and god, you feel as though your mind is turning to a sludgy mush, a faint whine building up between your ears until you realise that the sound is coming from your own parted mouth. geto's got a hell of a package down there, and he sure knows how to use it. every tilt of your pitching hips has his fat tip swabbing smears of silky pre against your inner walls, "mhm – feels s-so good, sugu', fuck!"

it's quite a sight, this you know. you had managed to paw off a decent swathe of geto's thick robes, still stained with a splash red that you're not eager to identify. pooling the silk on the cool tiles underneath the broad man. the taper of his broad, solid thighs keeps you well balanced as you crinkle your nose, plucking the lit stub from geto's smoky mouth. tossing it onto the tiles of the temple, so the flame patters out in the stained, warm glow of this sanctuary.

"hey, i was enjoyin' that," geto glowers, violet eyes subdued into a mauve, lustful haze, and you dig the very tips of your nails into the meat of his shoulders, opting for a harsher, sharper angle to slap skin against skin.

"enjoy this, instead," your eyes roll and fall to the back of your head as geto's grip on your hips tighten, almost bruising in the most delicious way possible. but a large, calloused hand travels further along, coming up to cup the underside of your tits, tweaking and pinching appreciatively. predictable, like an ant to some honey.

"heh, q-quite a sight," geto purrs, watching how your captivating form writhes and shakes. knowing that it's solely due to his thick shaft working inches into you, hitting spots that you weren't even aware of, "always so perfect for me, pretty."

you lean down, capturing his waiting lips in a sloppy, heavy kiss. a clash of your eager tongue against his, teeth sinking into plush lips. geto seems to been hit with a spark of some new idea, for he's suddenly pushing you back, murmuring a gentler kiss against your lips as an apology.

manoeuvring his broad frame so he's sitting up now, with you still balanced in his lap. the change in the nasty angle is so prominent, for his cock feels deeper than ever before. each thick vein scraping and pulsing against the walls of your swollen cunt, leaving no surface unclaimed.

"s-suguru, 'm there, right –" the sentence leaves you, mouth parting in a wordless, mindless oh! for the fat, creaming tip of his cock must have brushed past that delicious patch, that g-spot, and it has you trembling, climax washing over you in the most, delicious pulsing waves.

but geto suguru never lets up, never lets his best girl off the hook that easy. he doesn't stop bucking muscular hips up into you, sticky skin slapping over and over again in an addled cacophony of pleasure, determined to have you fall apart all over again. and he needs it to be asap.

"g-gorgeous, heh," he's tapping fingers against your cheek, pushing and pulling at your mouth, "what did i say about wanderin' eyes? keep them on me, love. need ya' to be lookin' at me when i split you apart."

"fuck, 'm feelin' –" you almost sob from the pleasure, crystalline tears pooling at your lashes from the sheer overstimulation. geto's cock absolutely heavy and weighty in you, kissing at your walls, and pecking your most sensitive spot.

"yeah, yeah, i k-know," geto gasps, feeling his own orgasm knocking on the door, thin strands of wispy cum already beginning to shoot out, but he's determined. a man on a mission, so a wide hand reaches in between the tight space, slapping sloppy circles against your sensitive clit in a way that has you sinking teeth into the side of his thick neck.

he's looking at you expectantly, like he knows exactly what's arriving. and when. long fingers twirling at your sloshy cunt, flicking over your throbbing clit, "three," he murmurs, "two..."

"and one –" geto's climax hits him at the exact same time, the hypnotising pulse of your pussy practically sucking any restraint out of him. translucent ropes of cream and ivory pumping into you, until you can only lay limp and boneless in his arms, with him still sprawled against the floor of the temple and...oh.

"suguru, baby?"

"hah, yeah," oouh, geto sounds ruined. his voice a rock-salt rasp, still quivering from the earth-shaking climax.

"did we leave the temple door open? and aren't all your guests meant to be arriving today?"

HAJIME KASHIMO ៹ the god of lightning

"tch', thought you said you weren't gonna move, silly girl."

hajime's been going at it for hours, now. well, you can't truly be sure for the world has become slow and hazy, but it certainly feels like an eternal passage of time, rife with that familiar, cloying buildup of pleasure shaking your abdomen.

you're whining, glossy and reddened lips being gnawed and worried into, aching fingers curling into loose strands of cyan hair that's come loose from the knots that hajime seems to favour, "i k-know. but it's –" you squeal when sharp fangs bite at the inner flesh of your thighs, "it's so much, and i've already –"

the sorcerer fixes you with that piercing stare of his, that disconcerting gaze of jewel-cerulean that is a direct shade match with his soft hair, "you've what? finished already? twice? thrice?" the man's getting cocky, you murkily wonder, scraping the tip of his tongue against your throbbing clit, "that's the point. but 'm waiting for something else, y'see."

you can only what else he could possibly want from you, for hajime's got you splayed out for him. bare thighs spread across the edge of the clean bed, the heat of your cunt sensitive even to the cool chill of the air, as he continues to kneel in between your legs. humming, murmuring, as he toys with your slick, sweet folds.

but you know one thing for certain, hajime is a man who will never accept defeat. he's competitive as fuck, and he shows it in all aspects, but especially when it comes to pleasuring you.

"look at you," hajime's cooing, pink mouth blooming a vivid magenta, painted a mirror sheen of your arousal, "jus' falling apart from my mouth? already?"

turquoise hair bunched around hajime's shoulders, falling over his white robes in thick, silky swathes, as he wraps his lips right around your sensitive bud, cheeks hollowing to suck. slender, wiry fingers littered with scars trace mindless circles around your entrance, pushing at your gummy walls until he's the one sucking in a breath.

"heh, s-so tight," hajime mutters, bestowing a filthy kiss upon your cunt, all sloppy and so loving, "have half a mind to just fill you up instead, have ya' pressed under me." he seems dazed by the way that you're still taking his fingers so readily, never mind the six orgasms that he's ripped from you already.

and you would be lying if you said you weren't desperate for the thin but lengthy curve of his cock, pressing up against your cervix as he was so prone to doing when he had you in a tight mating press.

"why don'tcha, then, 'jime?" you're mewling, hands moving away from his sea-green hair to paw at the thick padding of his ivory robes, "want y'in me so, so bad." you're all but sobbing, for hajime's delighted with how you're taking a third finger, and he's crooking the digit up. searching, searching for that sweet spot.

"patience, woman," the rough pads of hajime's fingers swirling thick arousal back into every cranny and divot of your walls, "hmm, 'm gonna' try something." he's grinning now, face splitting into an electrifying smile that you are all too familiar with, "just need to relax for me, sweet thing." pulling sodden fingers out of your cunt, ignoring your needy cries at the sudden loss of sensation.

you can practically feel how restless the sorcerer is, bruising the fingertips of his left hand into the fat of your thighs, amused at how they leave gloss-streaked smears over the skin. but the other hand is slowly stroking at your folds, teasing as hajime takes joy in watching your hips buck up continuously, desperate for some stimulation.

and that's when you first feel it. it's a little jolt at first, something stronger and almost harsher than what you're accustomed to. you can't even help the wanton, candied moan that falls from your lips at how the pins-and-needles quickly turns pleasurable, and how hajime's eyes have become aglow, cursed technique ever so delicately ramping up.

"hahh, 'jime," you're not even sure what to say, to cry out and hope that the words are able to form themselves, and not fall out in slurred groans of pleasure, "more, m-more!"

the sensation is warm too, each small spark sets you alight. far more heated than the cool tips of hajime's fingers that you're used to. and you're certain that you can attribute the involuntary twitching of your leg to the small, controlled electricity being channeled through hajime's skin, each pinch at your clit having you arch your back in the most filthy, whoreish of ways.

"aha," hajime angles a finger in you once more, resuming that gentle push-and-pull pace that he's kept for hours, so the messy pop! rings in your ears each time that he glides away and bottoms his fingers out once more, "i think 'm getting the hang of this, wouldn't ya' say?"

you must look absolutely out of it right now, for hajime's cursed technique is running jolts and buzzes through you in such a way that you know jujutsu was never intended to be used for. tongue falling out of your mouth, whining, as you squeeze your eyes shut. feeling the pace pick up, and hajime's fingers hit bullseye when they brush that spot.

"there, there, t-there, 'm gonna –"

you faintly catch the satisfied, thrilled look on hajime's face when you climax, spraying all over his chin. droplets of clear release that he's eagerly digging into to lap up, hah, you know he's glad to have achieved a victory like this, exhilarated just from achieving your pleasure. tongue sloppy as it works you through a mind-numbing orgasm, slick dripping over his faintly-tanned chin.

"see, i knew y'had it in you," hajime's standing up now, and you bite back a bratty comment about how a four-hundred year old sorcerer was able to stay on his knees for so long, gulping as you see him reach for the loose ties on his martial pants, "and i wanna' see something else now."

CHOSO KAMO ៹ the death painting

"are you sure, my love?" you've barely even touched him, and choso already sounds ruined, tremors wracking his sensitive form. he's beautiful like this, broad-shouldered and thick with hardened muscle. a dark curtain of inky, clingy hair falling around his face as he looks down at you, from where he's hovering with his beefy arms on either side.

"i'm sure, cho," you whimper, inching your legs up to wrap around his waist, pulling him in and closer to where your hot, glossy folds are practically begging for his touch. or rather, for his cock — all his glorious inches that beam an angry, sensitive shade of scarlet.

choso brushes his nose against yours, as intimate as he always is, "jus' don't wanna' hurt you," thick tip snagging against the very entrance of your glistening, winking hole, "tell me if it's too much."

"i will, oh, i –" the air is punctured from your lungs, like your very breath has been stolen away from you in the most searing kiss. that first, initial stretch of choso's cock in you is nothing short of delicious and eye-opening. he's always like this, so intoxicating and sweet, and mindful of how the body of a human may differ to that of a half-curse such as himself, so he's running a thick hand against your abdomen, soothing as he bullies another inch into you.

"not too much, love?" choso gasps out, spellbound by your tight, loving grip, and he thinks he's already lost his mind, hand kneading at the sudden divot that's formed under your skin, from where his cock is settling.

"mhm, mm!" you shake your head, unable to speak from the instant swipe of his cock against your sweet spot already, determined not to wantonly start moaning and gasping in his ear before he's already bottomed out.

choso's worried thumb comes up to swipe at your lower lip, pressing into the kiss-stricken flesh, "hey, i like hearing you. always sound so pretty." pressing his lips to your mouth again, as though he could stay there forever. like this, with you. in you.

"ahh, cho, 's good, really," and you're telling the truth, for his thick cock is rendering you senseless, and so in love. nails lightly clawing at his peach-toned skin, certainly leaving small, crescent marks that you know will make choso flush later. raking your nails down as choso finally, finally bottoms out with a pop!

the sound of skin slapping and sliding against skin makes you flush, your arousal practically drooling out of swollen folds, as thin strands delicately balance between your hips before snapping into creamy puddles, creating an absolute mess underneath you.

"it's like i can feel all of you," choso groans, silky ends of his dark hair tickling your cheek, "and yer' so, so pretty," he's gnawing at his lips, blood-hued, fucking you absolutely stupid on his endowed cock. hitting you with solidified rams against that rough, sensitive spot, drawing senseless, pleasured sounds of your gaping mouth.

choso's weaving his hand in between the two of you, determined to reach for your glistening, throbbing clit. to run sloppy, mindless shapes over the bud that make the most filthy sounds, that soft and pulling sound of your translucent slick sloshing over choso's broad hand.

"you gotta' finish," choso heaves, hauling you a little closer to him, so he can do his very best to draw circles around your clit, despite the slick making it nigh impossible for his fingers to stay on course, "gotta' see you fall apart f'me."

and what a glorious sight for choso's eyes, to see how your lips moisten and part. eyes tight and shut, brows drawn together like a bow releasing a quiver of arrows, he thinks he'd be content to stay like this forever. to have your body tremble underneath him, orgasm painting over you in the most gentle shade possible, hips bucking further into him.

"wait," choso looks almost sheepish now, ears a glowing shade of berry-red, kissing away the last tremours of your climax, "can i turn you around? wanna' see how you look from the back."

GOJO SATORU ៹ the strongest

"w-what? here?" gojo groans, but god, he's never one to complain. hard for him to even find one fault in the world when you're straddling his thighs, looking so lustful and dazed above him.

you're nodding, lips pressed into a frown that gojo immediately swipes away with a kiss, "been wantin' you for days, 'toru." hands already pulling aside his haori, digging into the soft bands of his white pants, "always soo busy, everyone's takin' your attention."

oh. you're needy. and gojo's not ashamed to admit that he loves to play into it. loves to see how his pretty wife's brows furrow and lips part when she's desperate for him.

he snickers, looping a muscular thigh in a way that he's able to flip the two of you over. splaying you out on all fours for him, him only. your knees digging into the soft mats in the training rooms that gojo's certain he locked when you dragged him in here.

he's biting at the shell of your ear, rough hand slithering up your top to cup at the fat of your tits, "y'do know that everyone's on me because they wanna' check in about my fight with sukuna." rocking you back against his tight bulge, "and i did say i would face...him before the twenty-fourth."

"you're the s-strongest, – fuck, that's so –" hah, gojo's already a step ahead of you, sheathing both girth and length into your drooling pussy, leaning back to admire the way your swollen folds snatch and eagerly swallow him up, "and you're always trainin', i was getting lonely."

"my, my," gojo purrs, running a large, broad hand down your spine, slamming your hips back into his so the white curls at the base of his cock kiss the heart-shaped juncture of your ass, "if i knew m'wife was this jealous, i'd have brought ya' in to train with me." gojo's figuring that life's kinda short, and he's gotta live a little — revving up six eyes without any shame, desperate to see the curve of his cock drill home into your tight cunt.

you squeal when he rams his thick, rosy-toned tip deep into your sticky, slimy walls. and for each squelch! when he pulls out, there's a coating of gloss that drips from his cock, entrancing the white-haired man, "well, we're kinda' training now, s-satoru."

"heh, you're right, wifey," gojo decides to take it all the way, looming his frame over you so the tight weave of his dark tee presses against your back, his chest firm enough against you that it bows your back down in the most pleasurable arch, rummaging his cock all over, "see, what would i do without ya'?"

if you crack open bleary, hazy eyes, you can make out the cracks and fissures that run deep in the walls here, plaster splitting apart to reveal brick underneath. wondering, vaguely, whether it was the force of gojo's cursed technique tearing apart the foundations of this building. but it doesn't make you shudder, no, what truly makes you quake is the smack! of gojo's palm against the fat of your ass, and his thick, muffled groan against your ear.

"can't believe i've been neglecting ya', sweets," gojo whines, churning at your pussy in determined rolls of his hips, "and her, too, of course." he's got you bent at such a determined angle, that you're not sure whether you can muster the energy to even tilt your head back. but you certain that the hot drops that quickly cool upon your shoulder are leaking from his stormy eyes, prickling at his long-white lashes. gojo's always been so sensitive during sex, always so easily riled up and undone.

he doesn't let up on the place, continuing to smack the fat head of his cock against your cervix, as though he's desperate to not miss the right spot to spill thick wads of buttery release, and you know that gojo won't, not with those superhuman, heightened senses of his.

"close? close? is m'wife –" gojo hoarsely rasps, "are ya' close? because i think 'm gonna pass out, ouh, yeah. snatching me way too good, heh, been missing out on this training," already pussydrunk and babbling as he tends to do, running his mouth at the same pace at which he's slamming his cock into you, "you know i lo –"

gojo's never one to withstand a rude interruption, not even when its his own orgasm snatching the words out of his mouth, so even as steaming, slick strands of his climax pump themselves into you, he's mouthing and kissing at your neck, gently pulling you up from all fours to balance your arms wide, splaying your thighs wide apart — all while he's still filling you up, "love you, love you so much, i fuckin' love you."

[cupcakedieabetes]

DPXDC prompt: Greatest Treasure

In Gotham, there was a new rogue named Box Ghost who had been stealing random things. But, as his name suggests, the random things he stole all were boxes or box shaped. He stole from stores and pharmacies as long as they had a box shape. They were all random, and it didn't matter what inside of the boxes.

To name a few, he stole food that was packed in boxes, packaged furniture, toys, clothes, shipment, diapers, blankets, fishing gear, books, bags, jewelries, etc.

Then, there came the rumors. Despite all the boxes, he had a box that he loved the most. "The Greatest Treasure".

It became a man hunt soon after as many speculated it may be expensive things inside, maybe gold bars since that's box shaped.

As people (not only rogues bc normal people also need money, duh), they started frantically searching for "The Greatest Treasure".

It was too chaotic and the bats knew that they had to act quickly. Time was against them and it was running quickly as practically EVERY gothamites were searching for it.

Idk who manages to find it, maybe a rogue, maybe one of the bats, but they managed to trick Box Ghost from being away from the box he was guarding.

He was guarding it so desperately that it made them wonder what exactly was in the box that made him go bat shit.

Inside the box were two children, one older and the other an infant, sleeping peacefully next to each other, covered in blankets and toys.

Oh

______________________________________________________________

Box Ghost had to flee Amity Park alone. In his arms were 2 vulnerable children. One is his own daughter and the other is a de-aged Phantom. His wife stayed behind to give him more time.

The GIW had been capturing anyone that was 'infected' with ectoplasm. As Amity Park was full of it, a lot of people were, of course, exposed to it.

Maddie and Jack, after discovering that their son was kidnapped by the GIW otw home from school, they pretended they were on the GIW's side.

As soon as they located their son and had a chance, they broke out and freed everyone who was captured there—well, anyone who was still existing.

Box Ghost, Lunch Lady, and Box Lunch were some of the few there and were surprised when they were handed an infant version of Phantom.

There was absolutely no time for any explanation for that, so as the Fentons helped fend off the enemies, Box Ghost and Lunch Lady were both carrying a child in their arms.

They had to get separated from the Fentons as they sacrificed themselves for the sake of their now-infant son.

But, they were ambushed once more by the white agents. Lunch Lady, carrying their daughter, shoved her at him and told him to run.

Box Ghost tried to refuse, but she yelled at him so fiercely. Full of love and tears, but she would do anything for their family.

She turned into a large meat monster to be a better target and to keep eyes away from her fleeing husband, roaring at anyone and fighting against them as best as she could as a distraction.

Box Ghost fled. He had two children to protect now. His daughter was clinging to him tightly while shutting her eyes. Phantom still sleeping, dressed in rags and covered in stitches.

He didn't know where his friends were, but he had no time to think about that. He had two children to care for, so he needed to prioritise a place to run to.

The only place he knew with enough ambient ectoplasm was Gotham. It may take him some time to get there, but he needs to get to safety.

When he stole in Gotham, he may have kept stealing anything that was box-shaped, but many things are in box-shaped containers now, and he couldn't let anyone know what he was stealing. So, what he stole may have been random, but some were needed, and some were distractions. He couldn't let anyone go after his 'Greatest Treasure'.

______________________________________________________________

Prompt:

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon desperately eating you out after a rough day.

***

The door slammed shut, making you jump and bump against the edge of the counter that you stood at before the sink, finishing up a few stray dishes that had been left from the night before. You turned to see Simon standing there in the doorway, stiff as a goddamn board with only his eyes clocking the room to find you and locking on to your form like a beast ready to pounce.

"Pants off...now," he demanded, his voice metered and firm as he removed the mask covering his features.

"Well, hello to you too," you chuckled as you crossed your arms over your chest, but he was not in a picking mood. "What's up?"

He took a calming breath; it wasn't your fault his mood had been soured today and he didn't need to upset the only person that could turn this all around. "It's been a fuckin' day, luv. Need something to take the edge off before I send someone to the goddamn morgue. So, again, pants off…please."

This wasn't the first time you'd encountered this specific Simon before; his short, gruff sentences were an obvious indication that he has had an absolutely rotten fucking day and was completely over it already. And because this wasn't your first time you knew what he wanted…

…what he needed to let all that stress go.

Slowly you undid the button of your pants, pulling down the zipper before slipping your hands inside the waistband and sliding your jeans down off your legs. Once you removed them from around your ankles you tossed them to the side and stood there in your panties and tank top, waiting for him to give you your next instruction. Like a flash he moved in and was now on top of you, enveloping you entirely with his hulking form as it fit against your curves until your backside was being indented by the edge of the countertop.

Hot, hungry lips scrambled to aggressively connect with your own, fighting for dominance as the back and forth of the dance continued with each passing second. He let himself go to become consumed by you, unable to find a pause to take a breath as he all but devoured you whole until there was nothing left in his mind but you.

Those large hands with their thick, rough digits pawed desperately at the warm, soft skin of your bare hips, grasping as much meat between them that they could hold. All those curves, all the smooth, voluptuous flesh ready to be caressed, it was enough to drive him insane; how fucking lucky he was to have it all at his disposal now to help cure his bad day?

God you were a fucking feast and he was starving.

The connection between your lips was broken sloppily and with haste, a sting of spittle connecting your lips sparkling in the light as he pulled away. Simon hurriedly grabbed the hem of your tank top and ripped it up and over your head, letting your breasts drop and jiggle with the reverb as they were set from their cage.

"Fuck," he groaned under his breath with a sharp inhale through his teeth as he latched those lips back on to your own. "That's a sight that could do me in."

On the move he leaned his tall head lower as those raw lips began to explore further down along the curve of your neck, the line of your shoulder, and finally coming to those beautiful breasts which he immediately sucked into his mouth. The suction was intense as he used the very tip of his tongue to circle those perky rosebuds until he felt them stiffen against the roof of his mouth and your body twitch from the tingly feeling it gave off that shot up your spine.

Whatever you were doing before this felt like a distant memory as his attention grew your arousal so that your body responded in kind to him just the way he wanted. He switched sides on your chest, not wanting the first breasts twin on the other side to get left out. Simon only moved on after your hips began to grind against the bulge growing at the front of his pants.

His lips continued down the line of your body as he knelt to the ground before you, ready to put everything into worshiping that sweet pussy he loved so goddamn much. Over your sternum and stomach all the way down to your pelvis his lips caressed until they reached a roadblock covering those last few inches to his destination. That was quickly dealt with as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your panties to slide them down your thighs, letting his lips keep going all the way to the mound of your sex; only then did he pause.

"Spread," he demanded again as his hands tapped at your inner thighs, his message being short and sweet and to the point. "I'm fuckin' endin' this day on a high note. I'm not stopping' till I'm on the goddamn verge of death by suffocation, so don't ya even try to move, luv."

You widened your stance with the guidance of his hands until there was enough space to allow his face to fit between them. Hands back on your hips, holding them as handlebars so that he could incline his face against your cunt he dove in.

Your petals were so warm, so silky, and it felt good on his mouth as he kissed that other lovely set of lips a few times, sighing as he was finally able to relax in his favorite place.

"Here we go, baby," Simon breathed into you as he extended his tongue and drug it over the slit between your legs until he had split you open, rubbing the muscle through the small accumulation of your juices to coat his tongue.

Goddamn were you sweet tonight. "Mmmm mmmm," his deep, garbled hum vibrated deliciously on your clit as the taste of you filled Simon's mouth and tingled on his taste buds.

…And then he began to move the pad of his tongue…

Over and over his tongue engaged your core. "Fuck, Simon," his name fell from your lips as his tongue began to make you writhe against his face.

"Again," he said in that gruff growl as he pulled from your for only a second.

You knew exactly what he meant for you to do. "Simon," his name was beautifully moaned from you once more as he focused all his efforts on that small bead of nerve endings at the top innermost part of your cunt.

The sound of your soft, breathy voice calling out to him made the previously enraged Lieutenant fucking crack at the seams and any trace of that rage-inducing day was suddenly completely gone; replaced by a fire to make good on his promise to desperately lap at you for as long as it took until his skin was infused with your scent and he was fully satisfied.

He moved up even tighter against your core, locking on so that even as you bucked there was no chance he would fall off until he was good and fucking ready to let you go. Shit he was pushing you to the limit of what you could take, your body aching wildly as his strike hit precise and deliberate every time until you were right at the cusp of your pleasure. God, his pace was relentless.

Overwhelmed with the intense gathering of warmth in your belly, your toes began to curl together over top of the floor as you scrambled to keep your breathing steady through the growing euphoria. How were you supposed to force yourself to intake air when all your functioning had been redirected straight to that pleasure sensor in your brain?

That thought had little time to gain traction as that feeling of impending pleasure had reached its peak.

Suddenly you were spilling violently, crying out as you tried to move him from you, but Simon was in this till the end. He kept at it until you had ridden it out to completion and finally settled, your heavy panting becoming softer and more drawn out.

You thought that that was it; the finale had been reached and all was good right? You could not have been more wrong. A wet flash of a smirk crossed his lips as he stood back up before you.

Without even a verbal warning his hands were suddenly digging into your sides as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom where he sat you on the surface of the bed. Reaching with one of his hands over his shoulders he gripped the fabric of his shirt in his grasp and pulled until it came off over the top of his head, throwing the useless article to the floor before stalking towards the bed.

"On ya knees baby," he grunted as he hurriedly laid down on his back beside you further up towards the head of the bed. "Over my face. Now."

Simon pulled at your arm until you moved, his need to be smothered between your thighs causing him to rush. Grabbing on to the headboard for leverage you knelt over his head.

Your petals glistened with the sticky cum and saliva mixture he had just created as he ate his first course, but there was still plenty to get lost in and he was more than ready to dive back into it.

Greedy hands rubbed up and down the smooth skin of your thighs. "Sit," he commanded and you bent your legs until you were just above his nose, but that wasn't good enough; he didn't need you being gentle, he needed you to give him what he wanted - to let him drown in you.

"No hoverin', I said sit," he hissed as he quickly moved his hands to your hips and wrenched them down so that you had no choice but to lower yourself until your pussy was completely flush against his face like a chair.

His breath hitched not just from the instant lack of available oxygen, but because the feeling of being completely enveloped by your pussy was akin to being high; he was on cloud fucking nine just suffocating against you.

The headboard thumped against the wall from your arms shaking as full contact was made again along your core after just having come. The tears stung your eyes, your over-stimulated clit so sensitive it almost hurt. His grip on your hips didn't let up, keeping the pressure tight so that there was no chance of escape, even though you wriggled in search to ease up a little.

There was still some fight left in you; that simply wouldn't fucking do as it meant he hadn't finished the job and he was anything but thorough. Simon needed you completely spent and too exhausted to even move a goddamn inch.

"I-I can't…I can't," you pleaded with him as you squirmed over top of his stark features like anything you said would persuade him to give up.

You could hear his voice in your head, you knew what he'd say if he could talk at that moment. "Oh yes you can sweetheart. You're gonna fuckin' take it all for me."

I mean look at that big boy, he could eat and that meant all types of meals, you included most of all.

As if a nonverbal response to your mewling, his tongue picked up in speed, stroking wildly against your clit with reckless abandonment. Your fingernails were digging into the wood of the headboard, thighs vibrating against Simon's ears as each movement of that deadly appendage brought you closer and closer to your second harsh release.

"Bastard," you whined.

He gave your hips a hard squeeze. Call me what you like baby, he thought, you're still gonna fuckin' come as many times as I want.

So warm, so wet, so soft, gasping for air... He was in heaven.

Unconsciously your hips began rocking along with the thrusts of his tongue, riding him just as he worked and that familiar feeling in your stomach returned. Seconds passed…or was it minutes? Hours? Time seemed to pass differently when he was eating you out.

All of a sudden you stopped rocking, pressing your pussy as hard as you could against his face, and with a few more hard strokes you cried out as you came violently, slamming into the headboard as your thighs clamped down around Simon's ears.

"S-s-shit…" you whimpered as you ground out the last drop of your ecstasy until Simon tapped your thigh to be set free.

Legs shaking, chest heaving, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed bright red, you fell down on the bed beside him, unable to move a muscle save for your head. Turning your face towards him you were met with a very happy and content man gazing back at you with those fiery auburn eyes, face absolutely drenched from eyebrows to chin in a thin layer of your cum.

He reached out to you, his palm cupping over the entirety of your cheek. "You did so fuckin' good for me sweetheart," he praised, thumb rubbing over the supple skin there. "So fuckin' good that I think ya deserve a break…but I don't think I'm finished quite yet."

"Oh?" you questioned back through heavy breaths, eyes wide. More?

He chuckled in that deep vibrato as he rolled over to kiss your forehead. "Well… ya see… it was a really fuckin' bad day."

You hadn't planned on dying today, but if Simon got his way he would be setting up your funeral later tonight, but there were worse ways to go…right?

[scented-morker]

Lovesick fools

Alternatively… enha’s reaction to being on a variety show with their idol!crush

No warnings, 2k words, implied fem!reader.. these took me forever </3

Heeseung

Fourth gen vocalists on the show ‼️

He was so excited to be there that he totally forgot you would def be there too

Until he was getting his makeup done and you walked in with curlers in your hair and coffees in your hand

He immediately found himself smiling at how cute you looked, and it only got worse when you handed him a cup

"Twitter said this was your order, I hope it's right."

The makeup artist starts laughing and opts out of putting blush on him bc he's all red from you

Once filming starts you all sing a prepared cover, and he's so focused on his own that he stays calm for most of it

Except yours is last, which means his mind is fully empty since he’s done and now all he’s able to focus on is how pretty you sound and the way you smile through the words

You sing 'drinks or coffee' from rose's new album and he swears you wink at him

"We don't have to talk, I know that you want me."

Twitter goes crazy bc you absolutely did wink at him, and they have the slow mo replay to prove it

Him blushing like mad also goes viral

He walks up to you backstage

"So... do you want to get drinks or coffee?" 🤭

Jay

It's shuhua's show again, but instead of sunghoon he's paired up with you

Bro gives himself a pep talk in the mirror before filming starts

"You are cool and calm and will not giggle like a school girl at her. Shes going to look pretty and you're just gonna have to deal with it."

Thinks it should be illegal to look good in a work uniform, but there you are

You guys are cooking and you're so impressed by how well he does at separating the fat from the meat

You are so horribly bad at it that Shuhua looks like an expert 💔💔

"Jay I think you need to help her, she's massacring the product."

Ok girl are you a host or a wingman

But he does, telling you to adjust your grip on the knife, reaching over to show you how to do it better which has you blushing like crazy

You guys are partnered up trying to give away samples against shuhua which is where you shine bc people just can't stay away from you especially when you pout and ask 'pretty please?'

Jay doesn't blame them, he's ready to buy everything in the store from you

One of the girls doesn't bat an eye at you when you beg but you're desperate so you yell after her

"Look how handsome my partner is, don't you want to come buy something from us?"

The girl comes back but Jay can't even be flattered bc he's too busy freaking out that you think he's cute

"Did you really mean that?" He asks you after filming

"Of course I did, I'm not blind."

So he asks for your number and ofc you give it to him

Jake

It’s some sort of school setting show

You guys are paired up against Jay and another member of your group as the four of you compete with trivia questions

You’re all English speakers, so they make you answer everything in English and since we’re already being delulu let’s say you have an English accent bc we know Jake loves that

You have to yell at him to lock in because when you start trying to reason out the question he’s so focused on your voice that he isn’t listening to a word you say

You guys are getting whooped by the other team

That is until your member makes a joke about you saying how your ideal type is a smart guy

Bro instantly locks tf in

“October 23rd, 2016”

“That is correct! Team Hot Accents gets another point as they make an impressive comeback!”

Yes that’s your team name, you both have hot accents and you know it 🤷‍♀️

You get so excited every time you guys score a point that you’re practically bouncing in your seat cheering and giving him high fives

You answer a few questions after that but he’s definitely carrying you guys and he could not be happier about it

“Don’t worry y/n, I got you. Just sit there and look pretty.” 😍

By the end you guys are tied and the hosts ask you to give your partner a good luck charm as he and Jay face off for the last question

You contemplate kissing his cheek before realizing that would probably get you murdered on twitter so you settle for giving his hand a squeeze after interlocking your fingers post high five

When he gets the question right he runs over and picks you up to spin you around in celebration

The editors definitely put some incriminating caption like [a very overexcited reaction from the golden retriever] that fans laugh at him for afterwards

But he doesn’t care bc you were in his arms and that’s all that matters ‼️

After filming you’re like “wow Jake you’re so smart do you want to hang out sometime?”

YEP YEP YEP YES HE DOES

Sunghoon

You guys were both ex figure skaters, so they had you guys film an episode at a rink

They got both of you a new version of one of your old costumes, and sunghoon was immediately red at the sight of you in the sparkling dress with a little cut out on the side

You both spent the first few minutes just running around on the ice, enjoying being back

The hosts had a list of skills they read out and then made each of you try

It only made sunghoon's crush bigger watching you move so gracefully, and he grinned so big whenever you'd compliment him

"Woah, he's still really good!"

Towards the end they had you try partner moves, everyone cheering when you guys synced up so well in the turns and twists

“Woah they look really good together! It’s like fate they move at the exact same time!”

They even let you try a stunt, and sunghoon became a stuttering mess when he put his hand on your waist where the cut out in your costume was

"Is- is this ok? I don't want to drop you, but we could skip it if you want."

"Of course it's ok!"

He's so touched at the amount of trust you put in him while trying out partner tricks

And it's rightfully placed considering the time you guys mess up he makes sure to change the angle of your fall so that he takes the brunt of the impact instead of of you

You apologize so many times, including going up to him after filming to thank him again

"Is there anything I can do to thank you?"

"How about a date?"

Sunoo

Who knows why the show paired you guys up

Maybe they saw the media attention from your brief waves to each other at an award show and the viral ‘bite me’ challenge you did together

But they bring both of you to a cafe set and you have to make coffees and such before being interviewed

You’d worked at a coffee shop predebut so at one point you reach over and grab his hand to adjust the way he holds the cup under the milk steamer

The editors zoom in on his red face while you turn around and practically sprint away

Your last task before the interview is to make a drink for the other person while they film a confessional about you

You’re sitting there stuttering over your words as an explanation as to why you ran after helping him earlier and how kind he was when you filmed your tiktok together last time

Meanwhile, sunoo is asking the staff for help to make your super specific and stupidly difficult drink order that he knows from watching your interviews

He pretends it was casual and easy once he joins you at the table, setting the cup down in front of you like he didn’t restart it 3 times

“This is my favorite coffee!! I didn’t even remember them teaching us this!”

“Wow that’s so weird, lucky me I guess”

He tried to be nonchalant but it was NOT working

He literally lets out a giggle as soon as you drink it and do a little happy dance when it’s exactly how you like

When the interviewer asks about your relationship (bringing up the award show wave) Sunoo says that you guys are casual friends but he hopes you can become closer after filming together

To which you respond ABSOLUTELY and promise to wave at him at every schedule you see him

That’s enough for his weak heart for one day so he doesn’t end up following up after the cameras stopped

but you kept your promise and after a few months of excited waves and animated conversations at award shows he secures your number and a date

Jungwon

He’s too responsible to risk anything by talking about his crush on you but once in a live you said you really admired him because you couldn’t imagine having to lead your group while being one of the youngest members

(He saved the video and probably replayed it about fifty times afterwards)

But that was enough to make one of the shows want you guys together !!

Which is how you end up trailing behind him through a creepy dark building while scare actors try to freak you guys out

Bro was not excited for this but he is doing his best bc YOU NEED HIM ‼️

You are so close to his back that he can feel your body heat and when someone jumps out you practically climb on his back

You apologize profusely afterwards, but he waves it off, offering you his arm to grasp onto for the rest of the time

You say in a confessional part that you were scared out of your mind but it was bearable bc Jungwon was there

“He was so brave and cool, it made me feel so much better!”

He isn’t even scared anymore, he’s just mad bc they’re intentionally making you upset so his cute angry face pops out and the two of you make it through the whole haunted house in record time

Afterwards he tells you that he hopes he wasn’t mean or anything, he was just upset they were scaring you

He was mad at them for doing their jobs 💔 rip

But that just made you appreciate him more

“Can I treat you to lunch one day? To thank you for taking such good care of me?”

He MELTS, of course you can

Riki

You and him were both on a variety show to show the difference between maknaes

He was the image of a cool and mature maknae, while you were the giggly pink maknae of your group

He thought it was gonna be awkward bc the whole point of the show was how different you guys were, but you got along so easily

As soon as you started talking he was a GONER

He'd watch you answer a question and get so distracted looking at your face that the hosts would have to repeat the question for him to respond to after 😭

So much for being cool

They ask him how he feels about aegyo to which he describes how passionately he hates it

So they make you do aegyo for him to see if he reacts

HE DOES

Homeboy starts blushing without even realizing it

It puts the biggest smile on his face that they tease him about for the rest of the show

You tell him you'll give him lessons in it if he wants while live and that's how he approaches you after

"You probably need my number to set up those lessons right?"

[hiraethwrote]

best friend!satoru who you’ve known for years, a fact he is very proud of. he loves how he is the privileged one to have known you the longest. he often mentions small quirks you have just to subtly brag that he isn’t just the one who has known you the longest, but he also knows you the best.

and when people ask how long you’ve been friends for, because you just flow so well together, he grows giddy when you huff in thought before eventually answering “oh, i don’t know, feels like forever sometimes.”

best friend!satoru who was your first kiss — but not because there was a natural development. you just wanted to get it over with, as all of your peers had already had theirs.

he was so absolutely baffled by your innocent request, ogling you with big eyes as you stood in front of him with a grumpy frown, arms knitted in front of you and your foot tapping anxiously. “don’t look at me like that! if you don’t want to, just say so!” you had growled at him, only for him to laugh in your face.

it only infuriated you more. you continued to yell at him, telling him to stop teasing you — but your rant was abruptly cut short when he simply pulled you close to connect your lips, his hand graciously cupping your jaw.

when you eventually pull away, you simply smile and thank him sweetly, turning around to go on with your day as if nothing had happened — you just wanted your first kiss to be over after all. satoru, on the other hand, is left nearly breathless as he suddenly develops the lamest crush on you.

best friend!satoru who is always mistaken for your boyfriend due to his blatant disregard for personal space.

if the question is brought to light when you’re around, you’ll simply laugh and decline saying “we’re just friends” — it’s a different case when he’s asked and you’re not around.

he’ll never directly confirm their suspicions — but he won’t deny them either. no, he’ll only let his face be consumed by the smuggest grin known to mankind, shrug with mischievous intent, leaving people to believe that the answer is yes.

best friend!satoru who introduces you to suguru, excited for his two best friends to meet, certain the you will hit it off right of the bat.

best friend!satoru who desperately tries to ignore the palpable tension that is between you and his raven haired friend. it was very evident from the moment you locked eyes that something were to blossom eventually.

however, satoru truly believes that the tension will cease to exist if he just pretends it isn’t there at all. he is sorely mistaken when it only takes three months for you and suguru to become official.

best friend!satoru who becomes uncharacteristically quiet whenever the three of you hang out together. he can’t help it, shooting jealous glances towards your intertwined fingers before having to try and pretend like nothing bothers him.

both you and suguru try to talk to him when you have him under four eyes, but he will always put on such a genuine smile when he tells you that there’s nothing to worry about.

best friend!satoru who has never been a person to ever live with regret — but now he truly regrets never shooting his shot with you.

in one way, before you started dating suguru, he had felt as if you were already his. not in a possessive way, just in the way that you were so deeply ingrained in each other already.

the relation he has to you is the most genuine in his life, and he took it for granted that you wouldn’t only be for him.

best friend!satoru who can’t help but be upset whenever suguru does something slightly wrong.

he has no real reason to be bothered, because it’s never anything major — and more importantly, you seem more than satisfied by suguru’s gestures.

but if satoru overhears suguru order dinner for the two of you, he can’t help but grimace at how your boyfriend always forget how you like your meat cooked. or when he goes to buy you jewlery for the first time, and satoru is annoyed about the fact that he buys the wrong material — how can he not have noticed?

but he always holds his tongue, never commenting on it to you or to suguru — until he slips up.

best friend!satoru who is casually hanging out at your place one saturday evening. he is desperately trying to cheer you up, as it’s your six month anniversary with suguru but he had to be out of town.

suddenly the doorbell rings. not long after you return with a huge smile on your face. and in your hands, the most beautiful bouquet of roses.

and even though you look happy enough, there’s only one thought that goes through satoru’s mind: “but peonies are your favourite.” he doesn’t mean to say it out loud. he doesn’t realise he has until he notices the glare of bewilderment you give him, trying to find the right words to say in the situation.

it’s not until his tiny comment you start to notice just how much satoru knows about you, stuff that suguru should know.

best friend!satoru who is constantly caught in the middle by the increasing amounts of petty fights between you and suguru. he gets to hear two sides of the same issue, and always find himself leaning in favour of you.

he tries to comfort you, like he has done for so many years, reassure you that you’re not crazy for feeling this way — and he always ends your venting sessions with “i really hate to see you like this, you know.”

best friend!satoru who witness how you always resolve things with suguru, learning from the situation. and he quietly hates himself for it wishing you weren’t able to talk things through.

best friend!satoru who constantly lives in with the naive hope that one day you will realise that suguru just isn’t right for you — that he is the one who knows you through and through, and therefore the only one who would be able to give you exactly what you deserve.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[dante-mightdie]

What would happen if someone tried to rob the shop? Held wifey at gun point and everything 🥺 I can imagine Butcher Simon using his freezer for more than just the meat he sales. At least this one time..

c/w: violence, attempted robbery, weapons, threats of violence

you’d picked a bad day to leave the changing bag in the flat upstairs, you realised as you stand frozen behind the counter. your eyes trained on the knife being pointed at you whilst the shouts to hand over the money ring away in the distance

simon left a couple of minutes ago to run upstairs and grab it for you but right now every second he’s gone feels like an eternity

your eyes flick to the baby monitor under the counter, the fear that this intruder will go into the back and find your two daughters dozing in their carriers in the back office. the thought of this alone strikes you into action, trembling hands rushing to open the till just to get this man away from your and your family as quick as possible

but the man is too focused on yelling at you, calling you names and screaming for you to hurry up that he doesn’t even notice the hulking man who had silently entered the shop behind him. the intruder only turns his back to you when he sees your hands still, eyes flicking up a good few inches behind his head as a shadow begins to loom over him

before the intruder can even react to simon’s presence, he grabs him by his hood and throws him to the ground like he weighs absolutely nothing, the knife clattering too far out of the intruder’s reach

simon plants the changing bag on the counter and turns to look at you, not even fussed about the fucker on the floor who has just now realised he’s a bit too far out of his depth here

“get the girls. go upstairs. now.” he says, a rage behind his eyes but it’s not aimed at you. never aimed at you. it’s a warning for you to let him handle this, that he’s here now so you don’t need to worry about anything other than getting your children home and safe

you nod and grab the bag, no thought of questioning him even crosses your mind. running into the back and leaving simon alone in the shop with the man who dared to threaten his wife

he’s silent as he walks around the shaken man on the floor, closing the blinds to the front of the shop and locking the door with ease. simon then kicks the knife into the corner of the room before looming over the man menacingly

“now, m’gonna get you nice and comfortable in the back and then ‘m gonna go check on my missus.” simon says, grabbing the guys hood and dragging him into the back whilst he kicks and screams to no avail,

“when i’m back, we’re gonna have a little chat about it what I used to do before I owned this shop and then i’m gonna ‘ave to kill ya because can’t have ya running off and telling anyone what i’m gonna do to you.”

there’s no hesitation with simon as he knocks the guy out cold with a punch, not even giving him a chance to respond to the threat before leaving him in the walk-in freezer, a soft whistling tune leaving his lips as he goes upstairs to check on his girls

you don’t question how the police already arrived to take the man away or why simon tells you that he’s keeping the shop closed for a few days to ‘upgrade the security’