#They were just hoping Real Hard that something did change it. :)

[marshmallowgoop]

no thoughts just Heiji Hattori (HD)

[bmpmp3]

the really beautiful landscape/skyscape animation in makoto shinkai's works tends to be the big thing i see focused on and that is understandable and deserved like the weather and lighting effects are unREAL but i do think we should also appreciate how absolute insane the plotlines of his original movies get. at least two movies with in universe catastrophes with major ecological implications. the guns and explosions. theres that one movie i havent seen yet with the guy who turns into a chair (?)

[fizzingwizard]

"My brother had no regard for her; his pleasures were not what they ought to have been, and from the first he treated her unkindly. The consequence of this, upon a mind so young, so lively, so inexperienced as Mrs. Brandon’s, was but too natural. She resigned herself at first to all the misery of her situation; and happy had it been if she had not lived to overcome those regrets which the remembrance of me occasioned. But can we wonder that, with such a husband to provoke inconstancy, and without a friend to advise or restrain her[...] she should fall?" - Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility

[velvetydream]

꒰ : ☕️ [ Mercilessly ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : You're normally one who enjoys slow and romantic sex, but something deep inside changed after seeing Yunho at Coachella and on tour.

Pairing : Dom! Yunho x Fem! Sub! Reader

Word count : 2.5K Words

Genre : Smut with soft aftercare

Smut Content ➵ Size Kink (Reader is smaller than Yunho), Degradation, Dumbification, Sex Toys, Orgasm Denial, Coming multiple times, Oral (F receiving), Raw Sex (Wrap it up people), Manhandling

a/n : Yunho has me in a chokehold and istg I'll cry so hard when seeing all these hot ass man next year at baricade.

Disclaimer : This is purely fiction and in no way supposed to dispict how Yunho is in real life. Please skip and block if you don't like it.

Yunho was a sweet lover; he was always attentive to your every need. Cooking nice food, giving you a massage after a long day, cuddling you while playing games. In the sheets he was a sweet and loving man, taking care of you with soft touches and featherlight kisses. Despite loving this romantic sex, something recently switched inside of you.

Watching him at Coachella, at the tour, and all those ungodly fan cams and pictures Atiny posted over the last few weeks had you shaking. Not being able to pinpoint exactly what is bothering you, the sex was good, no question, but it left you unsatisfied, not that you didn't reach your peak, no you always did with Yunho, yet deep down, something was missing.

A sigh leaves your lips as your brain moves around ideas of what could be bothering you, not noticing Wooyoung watching you and taking a seat beside you. "What's wrong?" A little surprised, you look up; you hadn't even noticed him sit down beside you; so much in your own head right now. "O-Oh nothing! I'm fine!" It wasn't a good idea to tell Wooyoung about this; he ran his mouth too quickly by accident, but then he was the most open and helpful person for this topic out of the boys. "Oh, come on, you've been looking like a kicked puppy for days and now have been sighing for half an hour." Eyes wide, you look at Wooyoung; was it so obvious?

"Okay fine.." Taking a good look around, you two were the only ones in the dorm right now; some of the others went to shower while your boyfriend and Mingi went to get the food for tonight. "I don't know how to explain, like.. Yunho is an amazing boyfriend, he is attentive, sweet and always takes care of me.. in every aspect if you know what I mean, he is romantic and careful with me and.. since a few weeks I just feel.. unsatisfied? No.. that's the wrong wording something is missing? I don't know.." Your head falls into your hands as you try to speak the words swimming through your mind for days. "Sounds to me like you want to get pounded mercilessly." Choking on air, your head shoots up as you look at Wooyoung terrified. Why did he always have a way of speaking his mind without a second thought? "No, seriously, of course, romantic sex is nice, but a rough man that makes you forget your own name is something else. Try it; maybe it is the thing bothering you; if not, we can try and think of something else!" Wooyoung's talking about this as if that's a duo mission of you both now.

At that moment, Mingi and Yunho stepped through the door with bags of food in their hands. Wooyoung jumps up to take something while calling everyone to come eat; the others from the dorms downstairs just arrive a few minutes later. "Hope it was okay with Wooyoung; I know he can be a handful." Yunho presses a soft kiss to your temple, which makes you blush and nod. Wooyoungs words invading your mind now. Suddenly, you noticed every little filthy detail about Yunho. The way he towers over you, the way his long fingers wrap around his chopsticks, how his thick lips love, the way his pants strain against his thighs so deliciously. Shaking your head, you take a big gulp of your cold drink before shoving noodles into your mouth. Snickering made you look to your left, seeing Wooyoung smirk at you with a raised eyebrow, that fucker.

The evening continued with everyone deciding on playing a few games; Yunho sat beside you as he played Mario Kart against San, Seonghwa, and Jongho, screaming insults at them, which surprisingly made you clench your thighs under the blanket. Watching the way his fingers hit the buttons on the controller, your mind wandering off to filthy places yet again. Looking up to see Yunho bite his lip as he watches the TV intently while hitting the buttons on the controller.

"We should probably head down now, I'm getting tired." Yunho announces to the group making some whine in protest. Taking your hand, Yunho and you bid your goodbyes as he leads you out of the door and to the elevator to head down to his and Yeosangs dorm. "Hope you enjoyed the evening, my love." His hand was resting on the lower of your back now, drawing patterns with his long fingers. "Oh yes! It was fun watching you guys play, I also had a nice chat with Seonghwa and Hongjoong." Being led outside the elevator now and to the door of their dorm. "Really? I'm glad you enjoyed the evening.." He continued talking as he opened the door, letting you in first before following, quickly grabbing your waist to pull you against his chest after the door closed. "..You seemed to especially enjoy watching me, don't think I didn't see you rubbing your legs~" He whispers into your ear, placing a soft kiss against the shell.

"Are you in the mood? Wanna take this to the bedroom?" His touch was again soft, featherlight as if you'd break any second. "Please.." You whisper as you turn around throwing your arms around his neck as Yunho picks you off of the ground, moving you two to his room and locking the door. "You're so cute when you're needy baby.." His lips are attached to your neck already as he lowers you down onto your back, the softness of the bed engulfing you. "Also the dress you wore today is so pretty." Lips and kisses travel up your jaw till he meets your lips, capturing yours in a soft kiss. His hands run softly over your sides and up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher and higher.

Those long sinful fingers soon meet your clothed cunt, as he starts to tease with light touches, watching your face contort in pleasure and small gasps leaving your lips. Yet it wasn't enough, it was too soft, and something was missing, yet you let him do his thing for now, maybe Wooyoung and your brain are wrong, maybe it was just the fact you weren't home the last few times, having sex in a hotel room is something else, it's weird. But as Yunho continued, slipping his fingers into your underwear, swiping his digit over your clit and down to your entrance, before entering and softly pumping it in and out. Moans leave your lips as your hands claw onto his upper arms, but you're still not satisfied; it wasn't enough; the touch was too soft, and it felt too light. "Yuyu.." You gasp out, his eyes meeting your hazed ones.

"I need more.." You whine, hands holding onto his arms tightly, his finger still inside you. "Do you want more fingers?" He asks now, not quite understanding what you're trying to tell him. Shaking your head embarrassed, your cheeky burn a bright hot red. "Do you want my dick?" He asks making you giggle slightly at the vulgar word leaving his mouth. "Yes but.. no.. I.. please fuck me so hard I forget my name, rough Yuyu please, I need you, use me.." You whine, your walls clenching around his fingers while you tell him what you need, a new wave of slickness covering his fingers. "That I didn't expect.. Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you.." Yunho looks at you worried, but you nod your head immediately. You were more than sure. "Please, Yunho, I need you." And suddenly something switched in Yunho.

Tearing down your underwear, he angles his hand differently before shoving two fingers into you, thrusting them in and out mercilessly, while his head leans down to bite your thigh and suck your clit. Moaning your head is thrown back into the soft pillow that smells like Yunho. Everything smells like him, his whole scent and being surrounding you. "F-Fuck Yunho.." Your thighs were trembling, already close to stumbling over the edge from how intense his fingers were, but before you could come, Yunho pulled his fingers away. "Strip." He orders you, making the wetness between your legs intensify; following his order, you strip out of your dress and bra before he pulls you onto his lap, Yunho still fully clothed.

His fingers soon found your hole again and pounded into it; this time, he added another one, the burn just the right mixture of pain and pleasure. Your head was thrown back as Yunho attaches his mouth to your mounds, licking and sucking the stiff nipples. "F-Fuck..!" Your moans were getting louder, and your hole clenched around his fingers, just to get the orgasm ripped away from you again, whining loudly. "Shut up, you wanted to get pounded roughly, make you forget your own name like a cock drunk little slut, like you're only made for my cock as a toy, the perfect hole to satisfy me." Yunho throws your body onto the bed, before turning you around and pulling your ass up. Before you could ask what he was doing, you could hear a familiar buzz coming from behind you, your whole body jerks as you feel the vibrator being placed against your clit, before it moved to your whole and is pushed in, yet it's your favorite one with two spots so your clit and g spot is being stimulated. "Better keep that in and not come until I'm ready."

You could hear him slowly open his belt which soon hit the ground before he moved to his other clothes, he was taking his painfully sweet time, while your body was being pleasured in two spots soon to make you see stars, biting down on your lip, you hoped Yunho would soon be finished and take the vibrator out before you come. And just as you were close to the edge again, he took it out and turned it off. "Good girl you listened so well~" His hand softly rubs over your back in a praising way. "Now you get what a slut deserves. You'll come so many times on my cock till you can only say my name, till the only thought in that dumb little head of yours is my cock pounding this tight little pussy." Grabbing your ass with one hand, he aligns himself and pushes in slowly, letting out a low groan. Moaning loudly as you arch your back, Yunho feels so deep inside of you. Instead of letting you adjust and start slowly, he grabs your hips with both hands and starts thrusting forcefully while pulling your ass against him in sync. This was what you wanted.

Moans leave your lips as your hands grab onto the sheets nothing else close to grab onto. "Look at that tiny cunt taking my cook so well; you're such a good cocksleeve for me, baby." Yunhos low groans pushed you closer to the edge; of course, he felt how close you were to coming. "Come slut, we're far from over." He groans as he snaps his hips against yours harder as you come on his cock, your walls pulsing around him, but he doesn't stop. Instead, his pace gets quicker and harder, your whole body shaking from the thrusts, and soon another orgasm is building up; this time, Yunho comes along with you. Pulling out for a second, you thought he was finished, but he turned you onto your back before entering your cunt again, making your back arch and tears swell in your eyes.

"Aw baby, no need to cry, I'll just make your wish come true." He whispers into your ear before snapping his hips against yours, his dick moving deep inside of your cunt; your head is thrown back as Yunho is back to attach his mouth to your mounds. He seems to be enjoying this just as much. Thrusting into you ruthlessly, his hips not slowing down once, that must be all the stamina from practice; that man could go for hours without a problem. "Y-Yunho.." Mouth slack as your eyes stare at the ceiling; another high is approaching; your body is already so sensitive from coming two times, already feeling your high; he moves his hand down your body and circles your clit quickly, and your eyes are blown wide from that as your orgasm washes over you that instant. Clutching onto his shoulders now, panting as you're coming down again, but Yunho still wasn't finished.

His big hands quickly grab your knees as he pushes your legs up, sliding into your cunt even deeper than before. "F-Fuck! To deep! Oh, holy shit.." Tears were now streaming down your face from the immense pleasure your body was feeling. "You're doing so great; you're so close to being finished." Yunho encourages you. Of course,, you knew the safeword for any case, but you wanted this so badly, so you nod at him. It takes him a second before pounding into you again, his strong hands holding your legs up into a mating press as he hammers his dick into your cunt. You were so close to seeing stars now from this position; he was so deep, sure he almost reached your cervix; his thrusts weren't letting up but rather getting even more intense. "You're doing so great, come on one more, baby~" His voice was low in your ears as his hips only grew in pace, making your eyes roll to the back; this was heaven. Quickly your last high was approaching, and with another thrust, he spilled in you as your fourth orgasm washed over you, your whole body trembling from overstimulation as his lips softly met yours in a kiss.

"Look at you, love, you did so well~" He slowly lets go of your legs before pulling out, mewling at the empty feeling now. "So pretty~" Kissing the tear streaks softly and rubbing them away with his fingers, your head was in the clouds, feeling his cum flow out of your used hole, eyes staring half-lidded at the ceiling. "Let's wash up." Picking you up softly, Yunho carries your bridal style to the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilette to pee before helping you clean up and putting on some fresh underwear and a shirt of his own. "Was it okay? Not too much?" Your mind was slowly calming down again, looking at him with starry eyes full of love. "It was perfect." Hugging his neck as he carries you back to the room, quickly changing the sheets before cuddling close to you on the bed.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier? If you didn't like it how we normally did it." His head looks down at you laying on his chest. Shaking your head in denial now. "I love the way you usually make love to me, but since Coachella and watching you at the tour, I just felt a bigger need; that doesn't mean I didn't like the other times." Smiling up at him, as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. "Glad to hear that; let's sleep now; you must be tired.. and probably not able to walk tomorrow." He giggles as you softly slap his naked chest, shaking your head before lying down again. Arms around each other, as you're lulled to sleep by his calm heartbeat. You definitely have to thank Wooyoung for his input.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

[misstycloud]

Yandere arranged fiancé x reader

You’re the sole daughter of the famous (l/n) family; big corporations, monopolisation and seemingly endless wealth are all words associated with your family. You have lived well your entire life and will for the rest of it, too. You have never been denied of anything, whether it be new clothes, makeup or whatever new hobby had caught your interest at the moment- except for the chance to take over the business after your father.

Unfortunately, despite how loving your family could be, they still held on to old traditions and ideas. One of which was that the large portion of the inheritance should go to the son. No matter how hard you try or how much you plead, you will never inherit the companies.

Your family doesn’t understand. They believe you should be content with your position- of course you know you’re incredibly privileged, but you hoped do be able to contribute to something instead of just sitting around forever. It made things meaningless. Did you only exist to become someone’s wife?

You barely remembered the first time you met him. You were around seven and he was ten. Despite your foggy recollection of what you two did that day, you did recall the expression on his face; emptiness and indifference. It was the day before that you heard the word fiancé for the first time. You didn’t know what it really meant, but thanks to your parents guidance, you understood it meant you two are going to be together for the rest of your lives.

Your parents had a couple whom they’ve been close friends for a long time, and it just so happened they had a son a little over your age. They were rich, just like you. So why not marry you two when you got older?

The first impression you had of him was of the oddnes he carried with him. He never smiled, never cried and barely spoke. He only lest he’d you with that blank look on his face. At least he played with you. Well, it depends on if it could be called playing, considering it was you dragging him around and demanding he humour you. Looking back at it, you feel bad for him having to endure the torture of a child’s endless energy. However, he didn’t complain at all and kept passing the ball after you continued sending it his way.

Whatever ‘I’m happy so I’m gonna make you happy with my happiness’- magic you had in your youth did eventually rub off on him. The change was evident in more ways in one. He started smiling- albeit they were small- and even gave the occasional chuckle. After that you became friends for real and it wasn’t forced as it’d felt in the beginning. This positive shift served as a strong motivator for both your parents’ willingness to have you wed. You supposed you would be rather devastated as well if your one and only child had come out with the emotional constipation your fiancé had, so you understood their encouragement. They treated you like some miracle cure.

You were content with your life and arrangement for years. That was until you got older and began actually thinking about your situation in detail. Your ambitions and needs also grew and you found yourself wishing to work to make your family greater; to put down the sweat and blood your ancestors had to give you the life you had now. But it was simply a dream, one that wouldn’t come true. You would never forget the confused- almost mocking-disbelief your mother and father showed you when you asked to inherit the company.

“Sweetie, why’d you ever be interested in such things?” Your mother asked. “Simply relax and enjoy the life you have now- the life your husband will continue to provide for you.”

You looked towards your father, hoping he would support you in any shape or form but he nodded in agreement with your mother.

“She’s right, dear.”

He was never a man of many words, however you a single sentence you knew the topic was done with.

While you had no doubt they loved you, they certainly didn’t understand you either. They couldn’t fathom why you weren’t content with your life and didn’t wish for your partner to take care of everything.

You spiraled afterwards. You could have everything and nothing at once. It was a strange feeling and it left you feeling angry. And that anger had to be directed at something: your fiancé. You began thinking he was the source of your misfortune. Because of him you would lose your freedom and have to live by his restrictions and rules for the rest of your life. Once you turn (y/o) you’ll have to marry him no matter your opinion. You would solely be his.

There was still time before your wedding and you’d be damned if you couldn’t live how you wanted until then. In an attempt of rebellion you moved out of your family’s estate and into an apartment of your own. (They agreed because they thought you desired to spend some alone time with your fiancé without them being near) You also stopped responding to his calls; he’d been calling every week to get updates on how things were going. You simply put your phone on silent mode whenever his name popped up. After the fifth time of calling, you blocked his number in great annoyance. Why couldn’t he just leave you be? You’re not ten anymore, you don’t have to talk every second of the day, ugh.

After a couple weeks with your new living conditions, another thought hit you. If you were going to be tied down to one man forever, why not meet as many as you can right now? And so you started going out more, inviting your friends to go clubbing and perhaps find someone interesting. More weeks followed, with a new guy in your apartment every month. Some stayed for the night only, while some preferred to stay a little longer. However, they all left as quickly as they’d come when you’d mention your engagement. Either they didn’t want to get tangled up in some lovers drama or they’d cuss you out for being a cheater. Were you one? Whatever, you thought, it doesn’t count if you don’t love each other- which you didn’t.

But one day, completely unforeseen by you, he swung by your new apartment. He’d been worried about you. Almost three months had gone by without a single word from you. He believed you might’ve gotten in an accident. Suddenly, you felt ashamed. It was strange, you hadn’t felt anything like it earlier. But now you did. You realised that your sweet, innocent fiancé wasn’t the root of your problems. You need to stop directing your anger at the wrong person. You explained everything, about how you felt and why you ignored him for so long.

You profusely apologised to him a million times when he found out about the others you’d been spending time with. You would never forget the look on his face that day when he found out. It was cold- colder than you’d ever seen him. Of course, he was like that to most, but never to you. In the end, he chose to forgive you. He told you that he understood and that it was fine; you weren’t wed yet and it was natural that you wanted to explore. You swore that you’d stop and make it up to him, while he said it wasn’t necessary, you hadn’t actually done anything wrong. You also swore that you’d be loyal to him and that you’d never do anything behind his back when you’re legally married. Thankfully, he appeared to believe you.

However, you wished you could’ve foreseen what would happen next. Nowhere in your mind, did you think you’d find yourself in your luxurious bathroom, staring at the two red lines of a pregnancy test. Eapecially when your fiancé didn’t have a part in it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

[pastryfication]

hi!!! can we get an ollie x reader, frustrated after he misses out on q3 in baku, and fully melts into his gfs arms when he’s out of the car. until someone from the team has to steer him away to the media pen

i guess that's the best i can do

pairing: ollie bearman x reader

note: i absolutely adore writing hurt/comfort so thank u for this request <33 i know it’s been over a month since u requested, and i’m so sorry for that, but i hope u still like it

the streets of baku were unforgiving that day, the tight corners and narrow straights biting harder than ollie had expected as he got into the car. he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but missing out on q3—by just a fraction—hurt more than he wanted to admit.

he climbs out of the car quickly, his helmet still on, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. the moment he’s out of the cockpit, the frustration floods him. all those laps, the careful management, and it still wasn’t enough. he slams the steering wheel back in place a little harder than necessary, trying to keep the emotions from boiling over in front of the cameras. the pit crew is busy around him, preparing for the post-qualifying debrief, but all he can think about is how close he came.

he catches sight of you standing just outside of the garage, your face soft with understanding. it’s as if you know exactly how he’s feeling before he even reaches you. you offer a small smile, but ollie’s expression doesn’t budge. he pulls off his helmet and then his baclava, running a hand through his sweaty hair, before walking over to you, his shoulders heavy with disappointment.

as soon as he’s close enough, he drops his helmet onto the ground beside you and crashes into your arms without a word. his hands grip tightly onto your waist, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, as if all the tension and frustration can somehow seep out through the contact. for a long moment, he just stands there, holding on, and you can feel the shuddering breath he lets out.

you wrap your arms around him, holding him close, your hand gently stroking the back of his neck, offering silent comfort. his body, taut with frustration and anger just moments ago, begins to sag against yours, melting into your embrace. he’s letting it all go, just for a moment, here with you, where it’s safe to be vulnerable—where he can show his true emotions.

“you were absolutely brilliant out there,” you whisper softly into his ear, trying to sooth the storm brewing inside him. “so close, ollie. you fought so hard.”

he doesn’t say anything at first, his face still buried in the crook of your neck, his arms clinging to you as if he's afraid you'll disappear. you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, deep breaths as he tries to calm down, to find the words he wants to say. his grip on you tightens even further for a second, as if he needs to hold on to something stable, something real, before he can speak.

“i should’ve made it,” he mumbles, his voice thick with frustration. “i had the pace. i know i did.”

you keep stroking his hair, your other hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. “you’ll get them next time. this isn’t the end.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy with emotion. “i just—” his voice cracks, and he shakes his head, trying to get the words out. “i wanted it so bad. i was right there.”

“i know,” you say softly, cupping his face in your hands. “i know, love. but this doesn’t change how incredible you are.”

for a moment, he just looks at you, the frustration still simmering beneath the surface but dulled by the warmth of your presence. you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he sighs again, his shoulders finally slumping in defeat—though not the kind of defeat that lingers, but the kind that comes with acceptance, with knowing he did all he could.

but before he can fully disappear into the comfort of your embrace, someone from the team approaches, clearing their throat. you both turn to see one of the pr managers, looking slightly awkward but aware of the time crunch. “ollie,” they say softly, not wanting to intrude too much. “we’ve got to get you to the media pen. they’re waiting.”

ollie groans quietly against your shoulder, his grip on you loosening as reality pulls him back. “right,” he mutters, clearly not thrilled about it.

he pulls back reluctantly, his hands still lingering on your waist for a second longer before he lets go completely. “i’ll be back soon,” he says, the words more for himself than for you, like a promise he’s making to get through this next part.

you offer him an encouraging smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “you’ve got this.”

he nods, though you can see he’s still carrying some of that disappointment with him. just before he walks away, he pauses, turning back to you. “thank you,” he whispers, his voice quiet but sincere. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“you don’t have to,” you reply, smiling softly as you reach up to caress his cheek adoringly. “i’ll always be here.”

with that, he smiles softly and leans down to give you a hurried kiss before finally allowing the team to steer him away, glancing back at you one last time before disappearing into the paddock. you watch him go, knowing that once he’s done with the media, you’ll be there waiting, ready to pull him back into your arms when he needs it most.

[diejager]

Idk if anyone’s written this yet, but I am craving some professional sex worker!reader. cw: smut, sex work, prostitution, OnlyFans, tell me if I missed any.

Soap just happened to find out your little account, the profile image so salaciously tempting with your big, doe eyes, small smile and lacy lingerie. Seated on your bed, you pushed your chest out, showing how your lacy bra made your tits perk up through the sheer camisole, teasing him with a taste of something he couldn’t get, and spread your legs open, revealing your black, floral panty with a garter belt keeping your pretty stockings up your thighs to the camera. You looked so innocent in that attire, a little angel dressed in black, just as your profile name —Seraphim.

He was hooked on the first second, quickly clicking to see more of you. Your subscription was free, to let him have a taste of what was waiting for him behind the paywall of different memberships with pictures of your covered cunt, breasts pushed outwards, sunbathing under the sun and laying belly up while staring at the camera with a pout. He was painfully hard in his briefs, staring at his phone, he needed to see more, he had to at this point when you sunk your fingers so deeply in his psyche.

Without wasting another second, he quickly tapped on the highest membership you had, deciding to pay you monthly for everything you had, and coincidentally, you were live. He felt his cock jump when he caught sight of you, naked and bouncing on a dildo, thick and veiny that curved enough to hit your cervix. His appearance seemed to get your attention, the soft ping of your computer alerting you of a new viewer. You smiled, sweet and delicious, calling out the username he hastily came up with, never once stopping as you spoke breathily, gasping and mewling to the screen.

“Oh! Hi SexiSoap. I hope you’ll enjoy your first live.”

He almost came in his pants, his cock throbbing painfully, the head leaking copious amount of pre. He couldn’t stop himself from replying to you, watching your eyes gleam with excitement when you saw his shyly written Hi, boonie, hips stuttering and bucking sloppily against the round base on the silicone dick. He wished that was him, he wished he was the one you were riding, his cock that you milked and came over.

Ghostie: Cum, love.

He was so drawn by you that he nearly missed those words from a suspiciously familiar name, he wasn’t sure if it were Ghost, but the love in the end only solidified his suspicion. It drove both you and him wild, you let out a cry as you came, thighs jerking as you slumped forward, back arched and ass up; and Soap with feral jealousy and hunger. He hadn’t even realized he came untouched, a wet spot growing on his pants.

After you waved everyone good night, stream ending and Soap panting hotly, he sluggishly cleaned himself up, changing pants and laying on his bed, mind wandering to your body sprawled in every position.

Knock knock

He jumped at the loud knocks, heavy and quick, impatiently waiting for him to answer the door.

“Aye, aye, A’m coming,” he unlocked the door to a black wall, eyes moving up to see a skull-painted balaclava and brown eyes —it was Ghost. “Hey, LT-”

“SexiSoap, huh?”

Soap froze up, his mind going through all the what ifs scenario and how he’d explain to Ghost how he came to find your account. SO he did the one thing he did best, smile and shoot back:

“Ghostie, yeah? Real original, LT.”

Part 2

[monzamash]

wouldn't dream of it lando norris x reader rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language, angst) requested by anon for monzamusings ✨

“What are you doing here, Lando?”

“I just needed to see you.”

Things had been good with Lando. You’d started dating a couple of months ago after being set up by a mutual friend who swore up and down that you were made for each other. And she was right for a time, over winter break when life was easy, no real responsibility or commitment needed to keep whatever it was between the two of you simmering away.

Fuelled by passion and lust with a dash of attachment. He was at your place every night nearly, besides Christmas day when you both agreed taking time away from family for a hook up was absurd. He was back in your bed the day after Boxing day, and working you over until New Years Eve, just the two of you tangled up in the sheets, closed off from the rest.

But then you flew to Monaco to see his world. Big mistake. 

It felt enormous. The constant attention and the anxiety, knowing that fans were sneakily taking photos at every opportunity, which always ended up on the silly gossip pages. And they were silly to begin with, salaciously lying about who you were and what you and Lando were until it got under you skin. Stomach churning.

There seemed to be a direct line of online hate funnelled your way and at first you promised Lando you could stomach it, until you couldn’t. It didn’t take long until reality seeped in, cold and harsh, tarnishing something that was so beautiful. It wasn't labelled but it could be in time, if his life was different – if he was a different person. 

Lando could feel you slipping away so he tried to bring you into his weird and wonderful world, to show you that it wasn’t so scary. But the more he introduced you to his "racing friends" and explained what a "paddock walk" was, the further you retreated and you knew a line needed to be drawn in the sand. Before it was too late.

Before it was too hard to let him go. 

It was callous in retrospect – a handwritten note left on his kitchen counter and slipping into an uber to Nice in the dead of the night. Cruel, really but necessary, you lied to yourself. Lando wanted to be surprised, he did. But everything you had written was true, he knew deep down that his life was fucking stressful, he didn't need reminding or how harsh people could be about the women involved with him and if it were anyone else, he would've slipped the letter in the rubbish bin and moved on.

But you were worth fighting for. And so here he was, on your doorstep in Shoreditch at 11pm on a Tuesday. It’s a wonder you answered the door but maybe there was a part of you that hoped it was him. Glassy eyed and dishevelled from the flight.

“I got your voicemails, I know where you stand but it doesn’t change anything.”

“Why didn’t you call me back?” Lando asked, the crease in his brow permanently furrowed in confusion.

“Because everything I needed to say was in the letter.” 

“What? This letter?” He scoffed, slipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out the piece of paper he had been carrying since the day you left. Battered and torn. 

“All this tells me is that you’re scared to let me in and fine! I get that but if theres even a tiny part of you that wants me –wants us to try and make it work, then tell me because I want this…” Lando stepped forward, making his intentions clear.

“I want you.” 

“It’s not that simple,” You sighed, hands instinctively reaching for him as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you both inside. 

You wanted him more than anything.

“I know it’s not, baby,” He whispered back while you pushed the jacket he was wearing from his shoulders, “But we’re so good together… God, you’re beautiful.” 

Lando took a second to bathe in your beauty before tangling you in a fierce kiss, one that had you clutching his shirt even harder, dragging his pliant body towards your bedroom. He knew the way – every wall you came into contact with bringing you closer and closer to the edge of your bed, needy kisses between sharp inhales of breath. 

“I missed you so much, Lan.”

“Fuck, I’ve missed you more.” Lando whimpered as he hovered above and nestled himself between your thighs, hands roaming every inch of skin presented to him. 

The need to have him was bubbling over as you took him in your hand and guided him to where you needed, eyes squeezed shut as he fell forward, trembling arms holding up his aching body, “That’s so fucking good, baby – ugh, so tight f’me.”

You moaned in response as Lando slowly rocked forward, grappling with the surge of pleasure rushing to your core and the relief washing from your limbs. He was your missing puzzle piece and everything else was background noise, dulled when you had him like this – whimpering and moaning sweet nothings in your ear. Silver chains tangled between you as he pressed his greedy lips to your chest, leaving small bites as a reminder of his adoration and desire. 

“I need you, you know?” Lando purred into your ear as you held him close, fingers sprawled across his perspiring back as he fucked you deep, “These last couple of weeks have been hell without you… hated waking up alone and not having you beside me… not being able to hear your voice… I'm down so fucking bad.” 

His soft voice was breaking as the first droplets fell to your neck, “I know what it’s like now to lose you and I won’t ever take you for granted, I swear on my life…” 

Lando's sobs were quick to wrack his chest as you pulled him down, taking his full body weight in your embrace. He couldn't help but succumb to the emotions that had bottled up and finally spilled, every single worry dissipating as you held him close and soothed his tears with a soft hum. 

“Hey, it’s okay, baby – I’m here…” You cooed, brushing your fingers through his tousled curls and trying your hardest to keep it together. But you could feel the welling in your eyes, heartbroken for the man in your arms and the pain you had caused, no matter how much you believed you had done the right thing at the time.

“I know you’ve been dealing with so much and I never wanted to walk away – I just… I didn’t know what to do because I could feel myself falling for you but what I was too stupid to realise was that I was already in love with you – I think I have been since the moment we met…” 

Lando craned his neck, just enough to catch a glimpse of your beautiful eyes boring into his own – sincerity in every fleck. A small smile stretched across his face as he rested his forehead on yours, “I’m in love with you too. Have been since day one.” 

The smiles on your faces couldn’t have been any wider as Lando pressed a slow, sweet kiss to your pouting lips. You couldn’t help but giggle as he nuzzled into your neck, pressing kiss after kiss on your sensitive skin.

“You loooove me,” He sang, tickling your ribs with his eager hands before flipping onto his back and pulling you on top.  

“Oh, so I’m finishing us off, am I?”

“Yeah, I’m tired from the crying,” He shrugged and clutched your hips, playfully rutting them against his own. The moan that fell from your throat betrayed your mind, body and soul and Lando simply smirked, forever pleased with the effect he had on you. 

“If you weren’t so sexy I would leave you like this,” You teased back, rolling back and forth, edging both of you like a woman on a mission. 

“Please don’t ever leave me again,” Lando moaned, gripping tighter with every tantalising movement.

You shook your head and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his flushed cheek, “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

a/n – did i keep it under 1k words? of course not lol but hope you enjoyed x more f1 writing awaits ...

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Whispers of Him

Or the shadows of Jason Todd always seem to linger. Hurt/Comfort ~2.8k words

Jason Todd's death changed you irrevocably. It was the ache in your bones, the pounding of your veins, the dull throb in your heart that never seemed to leave.

It was a weight on your mind, and it wore away at everything you were, until you weren't sure what was grief and what was you.

The doctors tried to help, the therapists and all their medications that made your head foggy and your body sluggish.

It's not like you didn't want to get better, you did, but the agonizing guilt and despair always seemed to rise in your throat.

They told you it wasn't healthy to constantly mourn, and maybe they were right. Well, they were right, but even knowing that little fact couldn't seem to help you find your way out of the sorrow in your soul.

They said that's why you started to see him. Not just in dreams or visions, but really see him. Hallucinations, they diagnosed you with, your mind and heart desperately trying to cope with a loss you shouldn't have experienced so young.

It scared you at first, seeing him around and in your space like he belonged there. Then you were excited, hopeful, that somehow they were wrong and he was alive. But then you blinked. And he was gone.

It shattered you all over again.

The second time, you were more prepared, and just as hopeful. It was delusional, you knew, to believe he was some kind of ghost, some figment of magic you don't understand. At least, then, he would be real.

(It was Bruce, stony faced and cold, who told you it wasn't possible. That Jason was really, truly gone.)

You learned to take it as it was. A comfort. A solace when you had no other.

The Jason your head conjured never spoke, but he always listened. He never got close, but he always hovered. It became reassuring, to see him in the corner of your vision while you went about your day.

Sometimes, he wore a hoodie, an ever-present sly smile painted on his face and pointed at you.

Sometimes, he wore his Robin suit, practically glowing as you rambled idly to something that wasn't really there.

Not all of the hallucinations were a relief to see, though.

Sometimes your mind would conjure him at his worst. Bloody hair. Bruised face. Torn costume. Twisted limbs.

No matter how hard you squeezed your eyes shut and willed your mind to fix it, the truth of what happened didn't change. You knew he was there. Waiting for you to open your eyes.

You always did.

Even after all the years after his death, years of illusions of him, you still haven't managed to let go.

The delusions change, as you grow older. Sometimes, your head creates visions of what he would have looked like, what he could have been if he had gotten to grow at your side.

It wasn't common, though. At least, it wasn't until last week.

The same hallucination had been visiting you on your fire escape nearly every night.

At first, you weren't even convinced he was an illusion. But he just stared at you, and when you stared back, you began to recognize him.

The same eyes that haunt your every day, the familiar, and unfamiliar, scars that cover his skin, the steadiness in his gaze, all things your brain had created for you to see before.

So you treated him like all the other visions, only noting half-heartedly that he's not completely like the other Jason's.

He's always silent, always watchful, just like others, but his appearance never changes. He doesn't exactly move like all the rest either.

He stays still, tense, careful, while the others always seem to be swaying or rocking. But he tilts his head towards you when you talk the same as they do, picks at the ends of his clothes the same way the real Jason did when he was alive.

His constant presence, always after the sun goes down, is honestly the most routine you've had in years.

You told him that, a day or two ago, and he seemed to stiffen. None of your hallucinations had ever done that before, and you told him that, too.

It's just– you really can't get over how alive he seems. You think it's somewhat cruel of your brain to have created such a perfect image of him, but you can't help but relish in it, spilling your secrets and feelings to your quiet companion.

"I think I was in love with you," You say into the cold, Gotham air. The illusion flinches at the edge of your vision, but you don't turn to look, half afraid he'll fade into nothingness in front of you.

"Maybe that's why I never really moved on," You ramble, words you've never admitted before spilling off your tongue, "We were just kids, ya know? But, you were special. Always were. Guess that's why my brain keeps doing this."

You shift your weight, almost embarrassed to be confessing to no one but yourself, "Isn't that sad? That I can't move on? People die all the time," Your voice breaks a little at your own words, misery making its way onto your face, "Especially in Gotham."

"There's no timeline on grief."

Your head snaps towards him. That– that's never happened before. They've never spoken to you, not once, not ever. He's not supposed to talk.

Your chest tightens, and you jump through scenarios, that you've been talking to some random stranger on your fire escape for a week, that you're going crazy (crazier at least) and need to be put into arkham, or that he's really Jason.

"What," You stutter out, eyes wide and locked on him.

He leans back against the wall, eyes focused somewhere in the distance, "Everyone grieves differently. What you feel isn't any less just because other people cope faster."

You blink, half expecting him to disappear, "What are you saying?"

"You're too hard on yourself," he mutters, lacing his fingers behind your head, "that's all I'm saying."

You blink again, hard, willing him to disappear this time, to show that this is all in your head. But he's still there when you open your eyes, "Okay."

You both fall silent. You want to talk, to hear his voice, to pretend he got to grow up. Maybe the two of you would sit out here like this, find safety in the mundane of just being together.

But a part of you knows it would only hurt more to pretend. So you stay quiet.

You're not sure how long you sit there, but it's long enough you start to yawn.

"Go on inside," he suggests, voice even and soft.

You nod, as much as you don't want to break the moment, to stay with the Jason that actually talks to you, to hear more of his steady, gravelly tone, you know falling asleep out here would be dangerous, "Can you come back?"

You know it's a farfetched request, to ask your own hallucination to return, but the tension leaves your body when he nods.

You tug your window open, shooting him one last glance before he calls your name.

"Yeah," You breathe out, halfway inside your apartment.

"Were– are you sure? You loved..." his voice trails off, and you think it's a bit strange of him to ask.

"I'm sure," You tell him, firm and without a hint of doubt.

He doesn't respond, but something in your chest seems to fix itself.

You thought maybe that it was some kind of breakthrough, opening up to yourself, hearing him speak. Maybe you would get better, maybe you wouldn't see him again.

But as you're getting ready to sit on the fire escape the next night, Jason, dressed in the bright colors of Robin, appears at your side.

You're strangely disappointed, as he waves at you. A part of you hoped the illusion that talked to you would come back. You slip outside anyway, Robin practically on your heels as he settles on the railing, kicking his legs and showing off his handstands.

You don't bother hiding a giggle, even if you were well practiced in not reacting to the illusions in public.

"What's so funny," a voice asks lazily.

Jason's there. The older one. But that can't be right. You've never seen two of them at once.

Your gaze flicks between Robin balancing on the railing and the man pulling himself up on the edge of the fire escape, "I– um, you can't see him," You ask dumbly, half considering making an emergency call to your therapist.

He quirks an eyebrow at you before his face grows more serious, "It's just us here. Promise."

You take in a slow breath. Us. Us implies more than you're ready to deal with. Us implies that he's real.

You're not thinking when you reach out to grab the sleeve of his jacket. He doesn't pull away, doesn't even flinch, only cocks his head at you in a way that's so Jason it nearly makes you sick.

You rub the rough leather between your fingers for a moment, grappling with the stark realization that you've been trauma dumping on this stranger, on the person who reminds you so much of the boy you lost, for the past week.

You tug a little at his sleeve, weighing the facts. Jason is dead. The man in front of you acts like him, looks like him. You've been taking your medication. Nothing worse has happened this week to have set off your brain to create something like this.

So that leaves three options. There's a random stranger letting you touch him outside your apartment window. You're actually doing so poorly that you can't tell the difference between reality and fantasy. Or Jason is alive, and he hasn't felt the need to explain that to you for the past week.

You drop his sleeve. A part of you doesn't want to know. It would be easier to stay in the limbo you've created, to settle against the cold grating of the fire escape and pretend nothing has changed while you talk about your day.

The Robin your brain created waves at you again, catching your eye. He twists in the air, shooting a line that attaches to nothing before disappearing into thin air.

The man calls your name, soft and careful, as you draw your attention back to him, "You still with me?"

"I– feel kinda lightheaded," You admit, and you do. Your heart feels like it's in your throat and in your stomach at the same time. Because this can't be real, can't be right.

Jason is dead. It's been drilled into your head at every therapy session, by everyone you've ever known. Jason is dead, and you've been making him up.

So why is this Jason hooking his arm around your waist? Why is he helping you into your apartment? Squeezing you to his side when you stumble? Helping you sit on the couch as your vision gets darker and your head spins faster?

You want to cry when he brushes his fingers over your jaw, "I'm sorry," he mumbles, "I don't know how to do this. I thought this would be easier."

His eyebrows knit together when you shudder, and he drops his hand, "I shouldn't have– this was selfish of me."

"Don't," You plead, panic lacing your features as you reach for him, "Don't go. Don't leave me alone."

He looks conflicted, but grabs your hand, threading his fingers with yours. They're rough, calloused. And they're warm.

It makes you hold him all the more tighter.

"I'll only make things worse," he warns you, but there's no malice in his tone, only an emotion you can't quite pick up on.

You shake your head, trying to steady yourself, "You won't. You help. You always help."

He frowns, eyes dropping to your linked hands, "I did this to you."

"No," You breathe out, squeezing his fingers.

He doesn't respond, just stares at your hands like he's scared that they'll break, like he's waiting for you to come to your senses and rip yourself away from him.

He eventually nods a little, and settles himself against the edge of the couch, "Just get some rest," he sighs out, idly tracing your knuckles with his thumb.

"I don't want to," You protest, not wanting him to disappear once you've fallen asleep, "I want– I want–" You stutter over your words.

You don't know what you want. Answers? Maybe, but it's clearly something he's not willing to give. To talk to him? Sure, but you don't even know where to begin.

"We can figure it out later," he says, trying to soothe you into sleeping.

It frustrates you, and you confront him through the heaviness threatening to close your eyes for you, "You'll leave."

He presses his mouth into a tight line, unable to deny your accusation, his thumb stilling its motions over your knuckles, "I would come back."

"And if you don't," You choke out, tense and almost afraid to ask.

"I came back today, didn't I," he murmurs, seemingly unbothered by your anxious state.

"Jason," You plead, almost begging, but you're not even sure what you're asking for anymore. You think you want proof. To know that this isn't something you're making up. To know that he's real.

He freezes at his name on your tongue, the air leaving his lungs. You have the distinct feeling that he would run if your fingers weren't curled around his.

"I would come back," he says, voice growing stronger, and he finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, "Okay?"

"Okay," You echo. For some reason, you believe him, and that belief lets you succumb to the exhaustion that's settled over your body. You close your eyes, pushing back the gnawing feeling that falling asleep would be a mistake.

Dreams win you over fast enough. The drowsiness so heavy, you miss it when he starts to trace his thumb over the back of your hand again.

He's gone when you wake up.

You wake up dazed, the events feeling like a dream, and you inspect your apartment in a near frenzy, looking for any signs that he was actually there.

You find none.

No visions of Jason visit you that day, and neither does he. You wait on the fire escape as the sun sets.

He doesn't show.

Even as the hours grow late and the air chills, he still doesn't show.

But when you fall asleep on the cold metal, you find yourself curled in your bed in the morning. It almost makes you angry. No, it does make you angry, that he didn't wake you up.

Another part of you thinks that you messed up. Asked for too much. Told him too many things. The thought hangs heavy as you make your way to the kitchen.

You guess your brain tries to make up for it, because there's a Jason sitting at the counter and a paper bag resting in front of him.

You can tell he's not real by the way he fidgets when you walk in. So, you ignore him, more focused on figuring out breakfast.

"I got you food," he says, hesitant.

You nearly trip over yourself as you twist to face him.

"From that spot we liked when we were kids," he continues, clearly unsure of himself as he pushes the bag towards you, "I just– I don't know if you still like it, but I ordered your favorite."

"It's still my favorite," You tell him softly. The fact that he remembered, the fact that he's here and equally as unconfident as you are, it strokes at your heart, makes your anger and hurt evaporate into nothing.

He almost smiles, relaxing under your awestruck gaze.

You pick up the bag, feeling its weight in your hands grounds you as your gaze darts over him, "Are you going to stay?"

"If you'll let me," he says, voice pitching to a question.

"I– yeah. I want you to," you affirm, moving to sit next to him.

He knocks his knee against yours when you do, something so familiar it nauseates you and soothes you all at once, "We're gonna be okay. You know that, right? We'll figure it out."

He sounds confident, so self-assured that you immediately believe him. You fumble with the paper bag, pulling out your breakfast, "I know," you relent.

You eat your breakfast in between quiet, easy conversation, his thigh pressed along the length of yours.

Only one Jason stays by your side that day. His presence steady and warm and real. And for the first time in a long time, the claws of grief seemed to ease their hold on your heart.

[itneverendshere]

INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (seven)

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: angst; mentions of domestic violence; unhealthy relationships;

For the first time in years, you wake up peacefully. 

No racing heart, no threats lurking behind your closed eyes.

Just... calm. The type of quiet that lets you sink into the warmth of the blankets without a single worry. You’re so cozy, so perfectly at ease, you almost forget where you are and what led you here.

For a blissful moment, all you know is stillness. But then it hits you—this isn't your bed. No footsteps are stomping down the hall, no harsh voices insulting you through your morning peace. 

You blink your eyes open, and it’s a simple little room. Not much here but a heavy old quilt over you, a plain dresser, a lamp that looks like it's been there forever. A small window where the sun is streaming in, bathing everything in a golden glow. 

It’s almost funny, you realize with a little smile. You ran as far as you could, with no real plan except to escape, and somehow, by some twist of fate, you ended up here.

And then you remember why it feels so familiar. 

It’s Rafe’s. 

Your heart flutters around like it’s waking up for the first time in a while, too. You found him—or maybe he found you. After all those years of wondering what happened to him, your first love, the boy with grease-stained hands and the brightest smile was back.

He still looked at you like he cared, that was a given after what he did for you yesterday, between taking you to the hospital and offering you a place to stay, as if the years hadn’t put a single dent in the way he used to see you.

You’d half-expected him to just...look through you like you were a stranger. But Rafe—well, he’d always been different, hadn't he?

You let out a small, relieved sigh and curl up a little tighter under the quilt, sinking deeper into it, because today, you don’t have to run.

Back then, everything about Rafe felt like some secret only you were lucky enough to know. The scrapes on his knuckles, the stains that never really washed off his clothes, the way he’d sneak you out to the pier after dark to talk under the stars like you were the only two people on earth.

The entire world disappeared when you were with him—the line between Kook and Pogue didn’t mean a thing.

You remember his laugh, this loud carefree sound that would just bubble up, surprising even him. He’d make fun of how out of place you looked on the back of his old bike, but then he’d smile in this crooked, lovestruck way and kiss you so hard it didn’t matter. 

God, you were in so deep, and you didn’t care. All you knew was that he was yours, and you were his, and nothing else could touch that.

Your mind is a mess of memories, all those nights you used to slip out to meet him, sneaking around with this thrill in your chest, like you were getting away with something impossible. 

It all changed so fast.

One night, he was there, laughing with you in bed and calling you "princess" in that teasing way only he could get away with. The next, he was gone. You had no warning, no explanation—just this space where he used to be. Your parents finally admitted what they'd done, talking about him like he was a problem they’d finally got to fix. They had tried to break him, ship him off to some military school hours away, like he was just… trash.

But Rafe had always been too smart for them. He ran instead, left everything he knew behind, including you, before anyone could try to cage him. You didn’t understand it fully at first. You couldn’t.

Before college started, you’d waited at all your old spots, hoping he’d show up, that he’d come to you in the middle of the night, even if it meant climbing in through your bedroom window just to say goodbye.

But he never did, when the days turned into weeks, then months, you realized he’d left for good.

You never let him go, not really.

While everyone else told you to move on, you dug in. You spent so much, countless weekends sneaking off with the cash you'd save, paying people in shady corners of town, anyone who might know where he’d gone. You chased whispers and rumors and stray leads, but none of them ever led you to him. You used to lie awake at night praying he was okay, safe, wondering if he was ever thinking of you the way you still thought of him every single day.

You can’t shake the déjà vu now, lying here in his bed, realizing that somehow, by some freak chance, the universe led you back to him.

You think about yesterday, the look on his face when he saw you in his shop, like he couldn’t believe it was real either. He’d dropped everything, no hesitation. 

You call back to those years without him— you’d try to keep going, but every day was like you were carrying a dead weight no one else could see. Nights were the worst. 

You’d lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying all those stolen moments with him, pieces of a dream you were desperate not to forget. It was like trying to hold water in your hands; no matter how hard you tried, bits of him kept slipping through, fading with time, until you started to wonder if maybe you’d imagined how it felt to be that close to someone.

And God, you tried to let go, eventually.

You told yourself over and over, it was time to stop chasing after someone who’d left without a goodbye, who didn't want to be found.

You even went on dates, pretended you could replace him, like it would be so easy to “find someone else.” But no one else ever remotely compared to him.

No one else ever made you feel seen like that. 

Certainly not Frederic and it's like a stab to your heart to even think about it now.

You’d never planned to be with someone like him. He was handsome, polite when you met him; everyone around you liked him, and your parents might as well have handed you over to him in a silver platter the second he moved to town.

They’d called it “the perfect match”—his family’s money, your family’s reputation. They belived it would keep you distracted, and finally help you forget the boy they’d done everything to erase from your life.

You went along with it.

What choice did you really have? Rafe had been gone for almost three years, and you were supposed to move on, fit into this life they wanted for you. So you played along, smiled through dinner parties and gatherings, told yourself you could settle for this.

He wasn’t cruel, not in the beginning, just possessive. You’d told yourself it was almost flattering, that it meant he cared about you, wanted you to be his in some way.

Until the day he found that old picture, the one you’d kept hidden away in your wallet all those years.

That’s when everything changed and he never looked at you the same after that. Suddenly, each glance, every small thing you did, the little freedom you had was a threat to him. You weren’t allowed to go out without him or talk to anyone he didn’t approve of.

He made you feel like you were nothing but his property, something he could control and shape into whatever he wanted. He tore apart the dainty pieces of your younger self you’d managed to keep, as if any proof of the life you’d had with Rafe was something he needed to crush with his bare hands.

After a while, he didn’t even attempt to hide the anger.

The first time he hit you, you’d been shocked, unable to believe it was happening. He apologized right after, swore it would never happen again, but you knew. 

It was only the beginning.

From that day on, you lived in fear, knowing that any misstep could set him off, that each move you made was a risk. You learned to stay quiet, to keep your head down, to shrink yourself into a pet that wouldn’t provoke him.

Nothing was ever enough.

He’d pick fights out of nowhere, accuse you of things that didn’t make sense, twist everything around until you couldn’t tell what was real anymore. But you kept that picture.

Even after everything, he’d broken down every bit of strength you had, but you wouldn’t let it go. It was the only piece of Rafe you had, it didn’t matter that it was just a scrap. When Frederic was away doing business, late at night, you’d pull it out and stare at it, trace the edges of Rafe’s smile with your thumb, wishing you’d get to live something as beautiful again.

You’d almost forgotten was being okay felt like, to be somewhere you weren’t afraid to breathe too loud.

You sit up slowly, the quilt sliding off your shoulders as you stretch your arms overhead, your stomach is already growling with anticipation.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you take a micro second to breathe in the peaceful quiet around you, then, you shuffle to the kitchen, still half wondering if it’s happening, if Rafe is really back in your life after all this time. 

As you enter the kitchen, your heart does a little leap at the sight before you. There, resting on the table is a plate piled high with pancakes, golden and fluffy, topped with a pat of melting butter and a drizzle of syrup.

It looks so delicious and so… thoughtful. It’s the kind of breakfast you’d imagined when you were younger, that felt like love poured into every bite. Next to the plate, there’s a note, scribbled in Rafe’s familiar handwriting, the same jagged loops and curls that make you smile like you’re seventeen again.

You pick it up, your fingers brushing over the paper as you read, “had to run to the shop, didn’t want you to wake up hungry. eat these and don't save some for me, okay?”. You tuck the note into your pocket, almost like a talisman, and turn your attention back to the pancakes.

You settle at the table, the chair creaking beneath you, and pick up a fork. The first bite is like heaven—soft and sweet, the syrup running down your chin as you take a big mouthful.

You can’t stop the giggles, remembering those late-night snacks where you’d sneak with him, trying to be quiet so no one would hear. 

He always ended up with more syrup on him than in the bowl.

As you devour the breakfast he made, you envision how he must have stood there in the kitchen, mixing the batter and flipping.

It's fun to picture him humming to himself, the light from the window hitting his dark blonde hair just right, making him look like some sort of guardian angel. The thought sends butterflies fluttering through your body, and after years in the dark, you feel light.

After finishing the last bite you can’t help but smile at the empty plate in front of you. Rafe really outdid himself. You feel a little giddy, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the syrup or the comfort of the food. 

With a little bounce in your step, you push back the chair and head to the sink, rinsing off the plate. You look around the cozy kitchen, taking in the mismatched mugs and the old-fashioned fridge that looks like it’s seen a hundred breakfasts. It feels lived-in and warm, like a home should, despite not being full.

You can picture Rafe here, maybe making his disgusting black coffee, playing music while he reads. You’d love to share that with him, even if it sounds silly.

You wander to the window above the sink, pull back the curtain and peek out.

Outside, the engine noises and clanking tools are a little noisy but better than the yelling you’re used to. You can see him moving around, his familiar silhouette bent over the engine of a car, grease smudged across his forearms, the sun glinting off his skin.

You’re chewing your lip to death while you admire him like he's the last man on earth. Rafe is dressed in a snug white tank top that hugs his muscular frame, the fabric slightly worn and smudged with grease from a long morning in the shop, showcasing his broad shoulders and the beefy muscles of his biceps.

His arms are covered in a light sheen of oil, making him appear even more rugged and, honestly, a little bit scrumptious. He looks so effortlessly beautiful even in the middle of a workday.

His hair is tousled, falling in soft, messy waves that occasionally cover his eyes, and you find yourself wanting to reach up and push it back just so you can see his gorgeous blue eyes fully. 

This is what you’d dreamed about, all those nights, clutching that tiny picture of him to your chest. Just seeing him like this, working hard like he used to be when you’d sneak out to find him.

You feel bad though.

He’d stayed up late with you, sat with you for hours, listening as you poured everything out, even as you broke down, sobbing so hard you couldn’t breathe. He held you until you fell asleep in his lap, his arms wrapped around you. And now, here he is, working already, probably exhausted after getting barely any rest.

You move back to his bedroom, scolding yourself for wanting to go out there and warn him to take it easy, but you know him.

He wouldn’t listen. 

And maybe a part of you doesn’t want him to, either, because having him there all night, knowing he was close by, made you feel content.

Rafe never did anything halfway, did he? Even back then, he was so… him, so all-in, with that devotion that used to leave you breathless and a little woozy.

Years later, he’s still giving everything he has to make sure you’re okay, he hasn’t changed at all in the ways that matter.

You close your eyes for a moment, just to savor it, to commit this peace to memory in case you need it again someday. You’re not naïve; you know there are things to figure out, talks that need to happen, but he didn’t leave this time, didn’t slip away in the middle of the night, no hidden messages or unspoken goodbyes. 

He’s right here, where you can see him. 

You're still lost in thought, when you hear the front door open.

You sit up, smoothing out your hair and trying not to seem as flustered as you feel.

Footsteps come down the hall, until Rafe appears in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe, one hand braced above his head, looking at you with this little smirk that’s shier than he’d probably ever admit.

There’s a smear of grease on his jaw, and his tank top’s even dirtier than before, he’s been deep in a car engine for hours already.

“Hey,” he says, his voice rough, that southern drawl warming you to your toes. “Just came in to, uh… check on ya. Make sure you ate and all.” He nods toward the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s not sure what to do with his hands. His eyes move to the empty plate on the table, and he lets out a tiny chuckle. “Guess ya did.”

You can’t help but smile back, a little nervous, and shy. There’s this energy between you—it feels like you’re both walking on eggshells, not quite sure how to talk to each other now that the cards are all on the table. 

“Yeah,” you nod softly, clutching the quilt closer. “They were perfect. Thank you.”

He clears his throat, color creeping up his neck as he shrugs. He looks at you like he’s trying to understand every part of you that’s been ripped apart, searching for the pieces of the girl he used to know, while still seeing the woman you’ve become.

Rafe shuffles his feet, his hand drifting to rub the back of his neck, “Sorry, I should probably clean up,” he mutters, glancing down at his hands. “Lookin’ like a damn grease monkey in here.”

You laugh, and the sound seems to surprise him, making him look up with this sheepish grin that’s just so… him. For a second, no time has passed at all, you’re both still seventeen and completely caught up in each other.

Rafe’s gaze lands on the spot where the blanket’s slipped, showing a faint bruise along your collarbone. His muscles tighten just slightly, and he exhales as he asks, “You feelin’ any better?”

You nod, but he’s already moving closer, crouching down so he’s at eye level, his expression creased with worry. He reaches out to touch you, then pulls his hand back, second-guessing himself.

“They, uh… they still hurt?” He nods toward the bruises, his eyes darting over them with a pained look, like he feels every mark himself. He starts rambling, “I got some ice packs in the freezer if you need ’em or I could go grab one of those heat pads, I dunno which one’s better, but we can try both if you need. I don’t want you just sittin’ here hurtin’.” He gestures vaguely, tracing every inch of your body with this helpless, guilty look, because if he could take them on himself, he would.

“And, uh… I mean, if you’re achin’ at all, I got some Tylenol in the cabinet—not the strongest stuff, but it might help a little. Or if you need anything else, I can just run out and grab it.” His gaze darts back to your face, and he adds quickly, “Only if you want, though! I know you’re… you’re strong and all, but don’t mean you gotta sit there and hurt, alright?”

You can't stop smiling, watching him try to take care of you in his own awkward, fumbling way. His shoulders are all hunched up, his fingers fidgeting against his jeans, and there’s that endearing tint creeping up his neck again.

“Rafe…” you cut him off, and he stops mid-ramble, his mouth half-open, looking like he just got caught saying too much.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice dropping, afraid he might’ve overstepped.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

His fingers curl around yours instantly, holding on like he needs the contact just as much as you do. It’s the smallest thing, just the press of his hand against yours, but after so long of being handled like broken porcelain, it’s overwhelming.

“Really, and I’m—I’m sorry I dumped all of that on you yesterday.”

You hadn’t planned on telling him every detail of your personal hell, but he made it so easy.

You were never the best at thinking while under that gaze, it’s wrapped in old memories and hope, and it scares you just as much as it soothes you. He’s close, the scent of his aftershave and engine grease making you feel dizzy with the memory of each kiss, whisper, every reckless promise you’d both made once upon a time.

Rafe sequeezes your hand tighter, thumb grazing your knuckles. 

"Don’t be sorry. Not for that.” It’s so like him, and it nearly breaks you right there. All that quiet loyalty, he doesn’t even know how much he’s giving, he thinks you deserve all of it without question. “You don’t have to go back, y’know. Not if you don’t want to.”

This is real, and he’s right here, asking you to let him in, to let him be the one who pulls you from the darkness. The hardest part is, you know he would.

He’d fight the whole world if he thought it would keep you safe, if it meant you could stay. It’s terrifying, to even hope that you could have this, have him. 

You cover your mouth, maybe if you squeeze hard enough, you can hold it in, but a choked sob escapes anyway, desperate, in a way that embarrasses you. Your shoulders start to shake, and the tears just keep coming, slipping down your jaw and dripping onto your sweater, his.

You try to wipe them away with the back of your hand, but they keep coming, your breaths are turning into these broken gasps that make you feel exposed.

Rafe’s moving without a word, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently pulling you into his lap like he had last night. He wraps his arms around you, careful not to hurt you, and you let yourself fold into him, leaning against his chest, the most familiar place in the world.

He tucks your head under his chin, his fingers cradling the back of your neck, and as your tears soak into his shirt, he leans down, whispering, his breath warm against your forehead.

 “I got you. ‘m right here. Ain’t lettin’ go of you.”

He doesn’t flinch; doesn’t make you feel ashamed for being so sensitive. 

Instead, he brushes his hand up and down your back, whispering quiet reassurances, giving you all the time in the world. He waits until your sobs taper off, left with only the shudders and hiccupping breaths, and even then, he just sits there quietly, letting you be. 

Then, almost like he’s talking to himself, he starts,“So… y’know, been kind of busy these past few years,” he says, glancing away like he’s embarrassed. “Kept up with a lot of late nights in the shop. Got good at fixing engines—real good, actually. Think I could probably fix just about anything, even if it’s been beat up and run-down more times than you’d think possible.”

Rafe’s fingers trace along your arm as he talks, and you know why he’s doing this. He’s looking toward the window, most likely remembering each late night he’s spent there alone.

“Didn’t make much of it at first—just me and Jerry. But folks kept comin’ in, one by one, and eventually, we hired a few guys to help out.” He pauses, swallowing, “Guess it’s sort of a thing now.”

You feel your lips tug up and he must notice because his grip on you relaxes, and he lets out this almost bashful chuckle.

“Got a dog, too,” he continues, scratching the back of his neck like he’s telling you something ridiculous. “Well, he just kinda showed up one day at the shop, but he kept stickin’ around, so I named him Ace. Big, goofy mutt—probably not as tough as he thinks, but he likes to act like he’s protecting the place.” He shakes his head, “You’d like him, I think. He’d probably love you more than he loves me the second you showed up, little traitor. He sleeps downstairs."

“But y’know, no matter how busy it got, or how many things kept changin’… didn’t really feel like home.” He pauses, his hand moving to brush away a stray tear that’s found its way down your cheek, “I thought maybe if I just kept busy enough, I’d stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. Thought it’d get easier with time. But…” He trails off, like he’s confessing a secret. “Turns out it didn’t. No matter where I went, or what I did, it was always just there. Missin’ you.”

You can feel the soft rasp of his thumb against your neck, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey now,” he clicks his tongue, tipping your chin up with a knuckle until your eyes meet his, blue eyes looking at you with a tenderness that almost makes you bawl again. “None of that. I told you, you got nothin’ to be sorry for.” His gaze sweeps across your features, “You been through hell and back. I know that ain’t easy to walk away from, not like that.”

His thumb brushes a tear from your cheek while you ask him, “What if he… what if he finds me?” 

Rafe’s jaw tightens, and there it is—that old, familiar fire lighting up in his eyes. It’s the same look he’d get any time someone even thought about hurting you, he’d rather throw himself in front of a train than let anything happen to you. 

“He’s never gonna touch you again, okay? Not as long as I’m around.” His voice is almost a growl, fierce enough that makes you believe him. “I won’t let him, I swear it.”

You can’t even speak. Your heart feels so full of gratitude, but you manage to force out a, “Thank you, Rafe.”

He pulls the hair back from your face, “You don’t gotta thank me,” he murmurs, “All I ever wanted was for you to be okay. That’s enough for me.”

You look up at him, fingers sweeping against his skin as you ask, “Tell me more? About everything? I feel like I missed so much…”

You attempt to keep your voice from quivering, but there’s this misery in your chest, a deep longing to know the parts of him you hadn’t been there to witness. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue, and then he looks down, being reluctant.

“Yeah, uh… there was one time I went to your university,” he confesses, the words coming out hushed, he’s scared he shouldn’t be admitting this. “It was years ago, but… yeah. I went up there to see you.”

Your eyes widen, “What?” The word slips out in disbelief, and you lean in, “When? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know what I was thinkin’. I just… I wanted to see you. Thought maybe I could run into you, or—” He pauses, looking down at his hands. “Maybe I was hopin’ I’d have the guts to actually talk to you. 

Your brain can’t help but conjure up, what it might’ve happened if he’d just walked across campus that day, to you. The two of you in that place.

You picture yourself, sitting on one of those worn benches under the big oak trees that dotted the quad, maybe with a book open on your lap that you weren’t really reading, because all you could think about was him. It wouldn’t have taken much—the way his heavy boots hit the ground, the scent of his cologne. Would you have jumped up and hugged him? Or would you have sat there, staring at him, wondering if you were somehow dreaming it all up?

It’s a fantasy, you know that, but deep down, you wish that had been your reality—the two of you fighting for each other instead of letting the world and distance pull you apart. It hurts like a bitch, thinking of all those lost years, all the things that could’ve been different if you’d both just been a little braver.

“Rafe…” you breath, and there’s so much tangled in that one word.

The years, the heartbreak, the distance—you don’t even know where to begin, and yet, you don’t need to. He looks at you as if he understands every unspoken word like he’s been waiting just as long.

“I didn’t see you.”

“Hey,” he coos, pulling you just a little closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “It’s my fault, I was scared.”

You smile through the fresh tears gathering and he slants his forehead against yours, brushing one away with his thumb, his face close enough that you could count each freckle if you wanted.

“It’s okay."

“I missed you, so much.”

You hadn’t just missed him—you’d missed the way he made you feel.

Brave. Free. No matter what happened, it would be okay as long as he was by your side. He smiles, a little crooked like because he’s not used to hearing it, he feels like the lucky one here.

 “You’ve always been my girl, y’know that? Ain’t nothing gonna change that. Not then, not now, not ever.”

Rafe’s slowly stitching up something inside you didn’t even know was still bleeding. You wonder if he knows that you're still shattered, that you’re not sure how to feel whole again, but you want to try, for him.

The way he talks tells you that he still can see you as the girl he fell in love with and it makes you hopeful that maybe she’s still somewhere inside you, waiting to be found.

Does he feel the same? Does he mean it, all this talk of missing you, of always coming back to you? Or is he just being kind, because he thinks you need to be treated like a wounded animal?

He’s got his own scars, things he’s carried, and he’s been hiding them just as much as you’ve been hiding yours. 

You wonder what he’s not saying, if he’s afraid of hoping for too much, like you are. Perhaps he’s holding you like this because he’s still holding on to that invisible string that’s kept you tied to him all this time. 

You close your eyes and rest your head against his shoulder, letting yourself breathe him in, feel him under your fingertips.

His lips pucker against your temple, “Don’t overthink, sweetheart. We’ll figure it out.”

But realistically speaking, how long can you run for before the monsters in your nightmares catch up to you?

[hannieehaee]

OMG what about an ot13 reaction where reader accidentally squirts and then become very shy about it like blush REAL HARD

18+ / mdi

reader being embarrassed at accidentally squirting

content: smut, aftercare, mentions of embarrassment, etc.

wc: 679

a/n: thank u for ur request!! hope u like it<3

masterlist

seungcheol -

he's so flustered and shocked, he accidentally makes you feel even more embarrassed through his reaction to you squirting. would instantly whine at you to not be embarrassed, letting you know how much he liked it and how badly he wants you to do it again for him.

jeonghan -

cocky as shit as he plays into your embarrassment, chuckling to himself at how easy it was to get you so bashful and blushy over something that could make any man break. mostly endeared by you but also turned on by the squirting itself.

joshua -

chuckles in disbelief, proud about his effect on you and how shy you got over it. would immediately tackle you and begin loving on you to both calm down your embarrassment, kissing up and down your chest and neck as he murmured words of praise and encouragement into your skin, completely ridding you of any shame.

jun -

short-circuits through the entirety of your orgasm, unable to even notice your embarrassment due to the insane horniness he's feeling at the sight and implication of you squirting. immediately goes back to trying to make you cum again in order to try and replicate what he felt was a life-changing event for him.

soonyoung -

you have no time to be embarrassed when he instantly begins inquiring into how you did that and how he could get you to do it again. literally does not leave you alone about it for days, causing you to proactively become embarrassed by it and have to scold him into leaving you alone.

wonwoo -

shocked for half a second up until the pride and cockiness takes over, making him lightheartedly tease you over it in order to alleviate your embarrassment. would wanna make sure you weren't actually ashamed or anything, reassuring you he loved your body's reactions to him and that you turned him on tremendously.

jihoon -

he's so flustered and his ears are so red, you'd think he was the one who's embarrassed. shock overtakes him so badly he can't even look into your eyes, causing a back and forth of bashful smiles up until he finally grows the balls to touch you again, shyly murmuring into your skin how much he liked it and how much he wants to see if you could do it for him again.

seokmin -

unsure on what to do. on one hand – holy shit, that was hot as hell! but on the other hand, he doesnt want to make this about his own desire for you when you're clearly embarrassed by what just happened. would try his best to reassure you while attempting to

mingyu -

mixture of cocky and shocked, maybe teasing you a bit over your embarrassment and blushy cheeks. he'd see no reason to be embarrassed but would still take advantage of your reaction to feed into his cockiness. would absolutely try to recreate the event.

minghao -

pushes aside the insane effect the sight has on him to try and alleviate any embarrassment you may feel. sort of stern in the way he insists there's nothing to be embarrassed about, even becoming a bit bashful himself in letting you know how affected he was by causing such a reaction from you.

seungkwan -

eyes wide and red cheeks. he'd be the embarrassed one, not knowing how to react at such a sight. would feel a sense of pride deep inside of him, wanting to see if he could get you to do it again but too bashful to even move.

vernon -

oh? oh. frozen up until he realizes you're blushing and attempting to face away from him in embarrassment. pushes aside his shock and his sudden increase in horniness to reassure you that you should not be embarrassed. he liked it and would love to see it again!!

chan -

yet another member who freezes in shock, having never had such an effect on you. wouldnt even realize you were embarrassed as he reconnected his lips to yours, reigniting the moment immediately in order to try and get you to do it again and again.

[bitchlessdino]

boo-ty call 👻 (m)

Pairing: perverted ghost!jeonghan x cute neighbor!seungkwan x afab!reader Genre: supernatural comedy, smut Word count: 11.1k tags: a lot of puns, human body possession (con and dubcon), threesome by definition if you count a ghost, mention of food, cunnilingus, some degrading (slut), light spanking, unprotected sex Summary: As far as unwanted roommates go, your ghostly companion was one you never anticipated. But when this specter began to assert himself and meddle in your dating life—or lack thereof—you started to reconsider your stance; maybe having a roommate wasn’t so bad after all. Especially if he's helping you get laid. author note: it's sluttober! when did i last write anything and have it posted. that's crazy sorry about that yall, but i'm really trying my best to be more active, but ngl its hard. life really gets in the way and we have to remind ourselves to take a back sometimes, even from our hobbies. Thank you to @multi-kpop-fanfics and @seokgyuu for beta reading and helping me perfect this masterpiece and thank you to you guys for your patience. Enjoy! Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone

You should’ve known better than to find an apartment listing in the same place where people get lied to about the types of dogs they’re buying. To this day, your aunt is convinced her Chorkie is supposed to be pure Maltese.

Meanwhile, you’re about 99.999% sure your apartment is haunted, and whatever ghost this was, they really liked stealing your underwear. It should’ve scared you. It should’ve driven you away and rushed you out to find a newer, less haunted place to live. But it was cheap, fully furnished, and came with a walkable laundromat and a family-owned market with homegrown tomatoes. Nothing could beat that.

You could tolerate it. It was better than mooching off your parents, who ask every five minutes when you’ll get a 'real' job. Living away from your parents was necessary for your sanity and a dead pervert is much preferable to a live one.

“Can you fucking stop leaving the bathroom light on? I get that haunting is your job and all, but you’re not the one paying the electricity bill.”

If anyone could see you talking to thin air right now, they would’ve had you committed.

“And while we’re at it, could you stop stealing the lacy underwear? They’re gifts, and I don’t wear them, but I might someday, so leave me the option!”

The hallway light flickered before it finally stopped and swift air breezed past you in response, but no returning underwear. You let out a frustrated sigh and shove the rest of your dirty clothes into the hamper before proceeding with laundry day. 

You’ve never seen any part of them, yet you’re always aware of their presence. It was creepy at first, but that quickly turned into annoyance when you realized how limited their grasp on the living world truly was—just a bit of theft and light tinkering. It was manageable, but you still felt uneasy knowing you couldn’t change without feeling watched.

“I’ll be back. Don’t piss me off more when I do. It is not my week.”

Not a day had passed since you two became acquainted that he didn’t find some way to bother you, but there were definite perks to living in hell’s best apartment lease. As your feet scraped across the tiled floor, the afternoon sun briefly flushed your skin, and a familiar flutter stirred in your chest as the thought of something popped into your head. Instead of the usual contempt, longing filled your chest as you made your way to the machine.

“What do we have today, m’dear?”

Your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, and you pretended to nonchalantly turn around, as if you hadn’t just spent several minutes hoping for his appearance. “Oh, you know, the usual—interview clothes, some sweatpants, and a few coffee-stained rags.”

Seungkwan’s lips curled into a soft chuckle, his laugh warm as he tossed his own laundry into the machine beside yours. “Sounds spicy. Mrs. Whirlpool is in for a gourmet meal today.”

He said the weirdest, most ridiculous things, but the real mystery was how you still ended up wanting to kiss him anyway. There was something about his easy smile, the effortless way he tossed his dress shirt into the machine like it was some kind of party trick.

He had a knack for brightening the atmosphere as if he possessed a magnetic otherworldly charm. Whenever you arrived, you couldn't help but wish he would be there, transforming the ordinary task of laundry into an intimate little affair—just the two of you amidst a heap of dirty clothes.

You observed him from the side, noting that his stack of clothes was noticeably smaller than usual. This made you question why he would wash such a small load. “Today isn't your regular laundry day. It’s usually Fridays and Mondays, isn't it? Today’s Thursday.”

The second the words left your mouth, you cringed internally. Great. Way to sound like a total stalker. Creep much?

Seungkwan cocked a smile. “I’m flattered you’ve memorized my laundry schedule.”

You laughed awkwardly, scrambling for cover. “I pass by here and just happen to have a really great memory.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this might sound kind of gross and embarrassing, but I found these abandoned at the back of my closet. They’ve been there forever, and I had some extra change, so I figured, why not? You know, especially since I’ll be gone at the end of October.”

“You’ll be gone for Halloween?” Well, don’t sound too disappointed.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan said with a soft chuckle, glancing your way. “Family traditions. Can’t miss them. You know, the usual—handing out candy, our neighborhood haunted house contest, all that.”

“That sounds like so much fun. Way better than my Halloween growing up.” 

“Aw, thanks, but trust me, it’s way more chaotic than it sounds. Kids screaming, neighbors going overboard with decorations—it’s a lot." He shrugged as he folded his laundry, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his tone. “What about you? Got any plans?”

“Um… I’m not sure yet. Still figuring it out, I guess,” you answered earnestly, suddenly feeling like a loser with no plans–which you were by definition.

Seungkwan hesitated, his hands stilling mid-fold, the fabric dangling loosely between his fingers. You could see something flickering in his eyes—a jumble of thoughts swirling in his mind like a muddled cloud, visible in the furrow of his brow. “Oh. Well, um…” His voice trailed off, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if he were battling whether or not to say what was really on his mind.

"What?" Your curiosity spiked, your heart quickening as you waited for him to continue. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, stretching the already lingering silence.

He quickly shook his head, offering a faint, almost apologetic smile before turning back to his laundry, his hands moving again, but less sure than before. “Nothing. Just—never mind.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment weighed on you, heavier than you wanted to admit. You glanced at the washing machines, trying to focus on the steady hum of the cycles, but your eyes kept drifting back to the numbers, slowly counting the seconds until the minutes ticked over, all while the silence between you grew louder.

You finished your load long before Seungkwan could wrap up his, the awkward tension of unfinished business hanging in the air like a thick fog. You glanced at him, hesitating for a moment before mustering a tight smile, trying to shake off the discomfort. “Well, that’s it for me. See you around, Seungkwan.”

He looked up from his laundry, the corners of his lips tugging down slightly. "See you, neighbor," he said, his tone laced with a hint of regret. The moment lingered in the air between you, thick with unspoken words, making it even harder to walk away.

With one last glance at his face, you stepped back, the soft chime of the door ringing behind you as you passed their glass doors.

As you walked  back toward your apartment, you couldn’t help but drop in confidence, thinking to yourself that maybe you didn’t deserve good things like cute laundromat boy. The hallway felt more confining than usual, the walls seeming to close in, echoing the insecure thoughts making rounds in your head.

You leaned against the cheaply painted walls of your cramped apartment, sliding down to sit on the floor with your head in your hands. It was just a childish crush—fleeting and meaningless—yet the thought of him going away scared you more than any real-life danger you'd ever faced. He was the only upside to moving to this part of town, the one thing that made the mundane feel even remotely worthwhile.

As you sat on the vinyl floor, you could still picture the sparkle in his eyes when he first opened those double doors, the warmth of his voice as he introduced himself. What had once been just laundry had turned into something to look forward to, a small break from the routine and a chance to brighten up your day in this sparse town. 

Maybe, if you were lucky, it could turn into a little small-town romance. But now, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even saw you beyond the casual pleasantries. Did he just see you as another neighbor, or maybe just a friendly face? 

The familiar flickering light in the kitchen pulled you back to the reality and up from the ground of your haunted apartment. With a frustrated sigh, you turned your attention to your unwanted roommate. “Yeah, yeah, I’m home,” you muttered, trying to shake off the feeling of melancholy.

As you walked toward the living room, the flickering lightbulbs in the lamps followed your path, their erratic dance a reminder of the presence that lingered in your space. Maybe getting rid of them wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. It could be a way to finally cut ties with the ghost that seemed determined to remind you of your solitude. You chuckled softly at the thought. Perhaps an exorcism could clear out both the ghost and all the pointless overthinking.

But that was a problem for another day. Rotting in bed sounded far more appealing right now. You shuffled into your room, the soft glow from the streetlamp spilling in through the window, casting faint shadows on the walls as the evening deepened. The coolness of the night crept in slowly, the faint hum of the city blending into the background.

As you sank into the familiar embrace of your blankets, the exhaustion in your limbs finally settled, but your mind lingered for a moment longer. You glanced outside, the dim light catching in the leaves of the trees below, and for a fleeting second were at peace. No ghosts, no old washers or dryers, no obsessive crush. Just sleep.

You sighed, pulling the covers tighter around you, letting the hum of old furnishing–and probably the old pervert ghost–as you drifted off into sleep.

Your rest was cut short by a full bladder, ready to burst. With heavy eyelids, you stumbled toward the bathroom, barely aware of your surroundings. As you relieved yourself, everything felt normal—the creaking of the bathroom door, the sporadic running of the faucet, and the occasional flickering of the lights above, indicating his restless presence.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes with your fists. “This wasn’t an invitation, Casper,” you muttered, irritation creeping into your voice.

As if to taunt you, the faucet suddenly turned on full blast, running wildly before shutting off completely, leaving you with nothing but the simmering annoyance bubbling inside of you. With a frustrated huff, you quickly flushed the toilet and turned to the mirror. The lone reflection staring back at you looked as tired as you felt.

With dark circles under your eyes and a complexion that could only be described as dull, it was starting to feel like you were one bad hair day away from getting "gave up" tattooed across your forehead. And suddenly you were wondering whether you looked more dead than the ghost.

Instead of wallowing more self-pity, you washed your hands under the running faucet. If the ghost wanted to bother you, it certainly wasn’t going to be about your hygiene. You kept that on lock.

You glanced back at the mirror and no longer were you alone. Instead, where your reflection should have been was the unsettling visage of your ghost, staring back at you with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. His pale features were striking, almost ethereal, with an undeniable charm that twisted your gut. Those mischievous eyes sparkled with a playful malevolence.

Your ghost was attractive–strikingly so–and for some reason that made you dislike him even more.

You shot your shared reflection an unamused smile. “Was that supposed to scare me?”

His reflection chuckled, leaning over his sink to give you an unfiltered view of every extraordinary detail etched into his face like a sculpture. “What? I thought I could finally introduce myself.”

“After months of me already living here? I feel the moment has passed,” you shot back, crossing your arms in defiance.

“Well, I had to pass my own judgment, didn't I? Do you know how many coke-huffing, cheese puff-grubbing, athlete-foot-walking slobs I’ve encountered in my place of residence?” He leaned closer, his expression mockingly serious, the flickering light casting playful shadows across his sharp cheekbones.

“May I remind you that those people were renters? If they paid to be there, who were you to deny them that?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Like I didn’t pay when I was alive? Plus, Muriel definitely wasn’t paying, nor was Monty. They were beyond sketchy.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly relishing the chance to air his grievances from beyond the grave. “Now that I think about it, there was definitely some laundry going on around here—and I’m not just talking about your underwear strewn all over the place.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Would you please leave the undergarments alone?” you replied, trying to keep the irritation from creeping into your voice as if you didn’t sound crazy enough talking into a mirror.

He shrugged nonchalantly, the flickering light casting shadows across his smirking face. “I will once you learn to toss them in the hamper like a normal humie. Upside to being dead: no laundry.”

“I don’t have to take this from someone who can’t even wear underwear anymore.”

“So you assumed I died without any on? How morbidly perverted of you.” His playful smile widened.

You scoffed, incredulous at the absurdity of the conversation you were having—with a ghost of all people.

“You know I’m right…I could sense your heart racing the moment you laid eyes on me,” he teased, a playful grin dancing across his lips as his jaw hung slightly slack in intrigue. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the way your breath caught in your throat, as if he were drinking in every detail, alive in the way his eyes glowed with mischief despite their soulless depths.

His ghostly figure was lean and toned, the contours of his form faintly visible like a lingering shadow, brimming with an energy that felt both alluring and infuriating. The flickering light cast an ethereal glow around him, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaws and the way his seemingly wet hair fell carelessly over his forehead. He leaned closer, the air thickening with a mix of annoyance and something dangerously enticing as if he relished the effect he had on you.

“Are you…flirting with me?” You couldn’t believe you had to ask, but the glint in his eye was undeniable.

“It’s not illegal. Not in the afterlife, anyway. Anything goes here.” He leaned back against the sink, bloodless veins pulsing against his forearms, enjoying the encounter more than he should.

“I…need sleep.” 

You peeled yourself away from the mirror, shaking your head in disbelief, and headed to bed without looking back. You slipped through the sheets, found comfort in their familiarity, and sighed, thinking you escaped.

“You know—”

“Jesus!” you burst out, your heart racing as you instinctively clutched your chest. Opening your eyes, you found the ghost looming above you, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. “What now?”

“Walking to a different room isn’t exactly a proper goodnight,” he said, crossing his arms over his spectral chest as if he were the arbiter of etiquette in the afterlife. His expression was mock-serious, and the playful glint in his eyes suggested he found the whole situation amusing.

“As if ghosts even sleep?” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“No, but it’s polite,” he replied, feigning indignation, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a barely contained grin.

“Is this going to keep happening? You annoy me until I scrape together enough money to move out, or, if I’m not fortunate, end up penniless and homeless,” you lamented, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you threw your hands up in frustration.

“You tell me.”

With a sigh, you shut your eyes again and threw the blanket over your head, seeking refuge. “At least save it for the morning.”

And the ghost did just that—he saved all of it for the morning, better yet the afternoon. Since that’s when you woke up anyways.

“Do people always eat breakfast past two p.m., or is that a recent trend from the last two decades?” his voice called, cutting through the haze of your half-sleep as you started to eat 

“How old are you even?” you mumbled, cereal gnashing between your teeth.

“Old enough to know that you need more than cereal to sustain a healthy human body.”

“Riveting,” you muttered sarcastically, sipping the milk from the bowl. “Next, you’ll tell me that ‘ghosting’ is a real thing in your realm, too.”

“Actually, it is,” he retorts, his presence somehow stronger than it was in front of a mirror, “Happen to be doing it right now. Having some fun.”

“Is that your idea of fun? Stalking me from beyond the grave?”

“Call it what you want, but I’m just trying to keep you company,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon. “Besides, who else is going to breathe some life into your dull existence other than someone who’s already checked out of theirs?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms with a playful huff. “Great. Just what I need—my own ghostly life coach. What’s next? A seminar on the benefits of double-scrubbing the bathtub?

It was meaningless stuff, really. The kind of chatter that filled the air like background noise, a gentle distraction from the world outside your walls. Yet, for someone who was supposed to be dead, he had an uncanny knack for conversation, it only made you assume the type of person he was alive. He could turn the mundane into clear images, painting vivid pictures with his stories about the afterlife—or, more accurately, his gripes about it. Not that you asked for it, but, it was like being told a grand story. Stories you could not for the life of you stop listening to for some reason.

“Okay, ghostie—”

“Jeonghan,” he corrected. “Say it with me slowly. Jeong. Han.”

“Mmh, ghostie! I’ll be back after the laundry is done.”

“No way you’re saving money with how often you—”

“Bye bye, poltergeist!” You cut him off with a wave, stepping out with a load full of laundry.

You had noticed how quickly the days were slipping by, how time seemed to blur when you shared your space with someone—or rather, something—that could actually respond to you in real-time. It was a strange kind of companionship, one that made you forget just how much solitude had weighed on you before.

The passing days also reminded you just how much you needed a breather, to clear your head from this bizarre living arrangement. And somehow, your laundry had piled up, more than it ever should have for someone unemployed who barely left the house. It was odd. Almost like time itself was moving faster, dragging the mess along with it.

“Hey, right on schedule—Thursdays and every other Monday and today’s Monday..”

You almost forgot about Seungkwan amidst all the supernatural nonsense swirling around you, but seeing him brought back memories of your last encounter, and you quickly put on a smile. “Hey there! Look at you, recognizing my laundry schedule too.”

“Thought I’d return the favor since you were kind enough to remember mine. Hope that’s okay,” he replied, his tone light.

You piled your laundry into the machine, carefully measuring out some freshly opened detergent. “It is.”

“Okay… I just want to apologize for being weird the last time we talked,” he said, shifting slightly as he leaned against the machine, his expression turning a bit more serious. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you assured him.

“I just… I don’t know.” He glanced down at the floor, his brows furrowing slightly. “My mind went blank, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled reassuringly. “I get that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

He looked up, a playful grin spreading across his face. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Fuck. “It’s… just an expression.”

He leaned against his machine, his gaze fixed on you. “Didn’t deny it, though.”

You chuckled, feigning exasperation and mirroring his posture against your own machine. “You’re a lot more cocky than I realized, Mr. Seungkwan.”

“Do you like that?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were left speechless. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as your thoughts bounced from one corner of your mind to the other until finally, they found themselves running down between your legs in a new form of discomfort. “Umm…” 

You turned away for a moment, breathing to steady yourself, gently patting away your very alive heart.

“I made it weird again, didn’t I?” he said, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

You spun back around, shaking your head. “No. No! It just took me by surprise.”

“Sorry about that.” Not sounding all that sorry.

“That’s…more than I’m used to,” you admitted, a slight heat creeping onto your cheeks.

“Thank you?” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound brightening the air between you and making the moment feel lighter and more vibrant. Just then, the machine beeped, a sharp sound signaling that your clothes were done, pulling you away from the heated exchange.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both, but this time it felt different—like the crackling of kindling in the perfect moment when fireflies come out, illuminating the night as brightly as the stars in the sky. You exchanged a quiet glance, catching a glint reminiscent of those stars in his gaze, and for a second, it felt like the universe was telling you, ‘Hey, maybe there's something here.’

When you finally turned to leave, your smile was the biggest you’d ever had. And when he matched yours, it was like you had just won a bizarre lottery. You probably looked a bit unhinged, standing there grinning at nothing while swaying in the damp weather, but you didn’t care. The butterflies in your stomach danced happily, and you found yourself wishing you could hold on to this moment just a little longer, savoring the warmth it brought.

“You look happy.”

Not even the Ghostbusters’ final boss could ruin that for you.

“Cram it, Beetlejuice Lite,” you shot back, because although you’re in a good mood, you relished finding new names to call Jeonghan besides his own.

You hummed to yourself as you folded and neatly put away your clothes, feeling his cool, lingering presence behind you. He watched, like always—probably thinking up who put sugar in your cereal this morning for you to be in such an uppity mood.

“Well, I’ll be. You’re actually putting your clothes away like a functional human being?” His voice oozed mock surprise, but today, it just rolled right off you.

“Yep! Just felt like it,” you replied cheerfully, sliding the last of the shirts into your drawer with a satisfied nod.

“Strange. I thought laundry was your natural habitat now, seeing how often you’re in there… but I guess that’s thanks to a certain ‘living,’” 

You snapped your drawer shut, the sound echoing through the room as you whipped around to glare at him, immediately pulling you away from the happiness you felt not that long ago. “You—”

“Seungkwan, wasn’t it? Cute kid. Didn’t quite peg him as your type, though.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed, heart doing an involuntary somersault. Of course, he’d noticed. He seemed to notice everything, like some twisted version of a nosy neighbor, only this one didn’t have the decency to keep his opinions to himself. You wanted to fire back, but your brain was moving a step too slow, still caught up on the casual way he dropped Seungkwan's name. How long had he been watching you both at the laundromat?

“You’re stalking me outside of the apartment now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My spirit may be bound to this place,” he replied with an air of nonchalance, “but my soul can roam as it pleases.”

“Spirit? Soul? Aren’t they the same thing?”

He tilted his head, giving you a patronizing smile. “Not quite. My soul travels freely, observing everything within a reasonable distance—it’s not tethered to the apartment like my spirit is. My spirit stays here, out of my control.”

“So, you spied on me just because you could?”

"Call it research. Gathering intel." He shrugged. "Besides, it's not like you were doing anything interesting."

"Oh, I'm so glad I could provide you with such riveting entertainment.”

You shook your head, leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind you, only to have Jeonghan pass through it. "You know, for a ghost, you're surprisingly annoying."

"For a flesh-and-blood mortal, you're remarkably unfazed," he observes, his ethereal voice echoing slightly. "Most wouldn't last a day with my...unique brand of housekeeping."

You paused, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, well, I'm not most people."

“So,” he began, “about this Seungkwan guy…”

You stiffened, feeling your cheeks heat up. “What about him?”

“Just curious,” he replied casually, though there was a glint in his eyes. “He seems... nice.”

“He is,” you mumbled, suddenly finding your laundry far more interesting than the conversation again.

“And you like him?”

Your heart raced in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words almost sticking in your throat. “Maybe.”

“Does he like you?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “…I don’t know yet.”

There was a beat of silence before he offered, “Want some help with that?”

“No. What? How would you even do that?” You narrowed your eyes, already regretting entertaining this conversation.

He started circling you, wearing a grin that screamed trouble, like a cat ready to pounce. “The only time my soul and spirit are truly joined,” he began in a low, conspiratorial tone, “is when I possess a body and take control of their flesh.”

You rolled your eyes. “Where is this going, Bloody Maury? Skip to the part that makes sense.”

He stopped directly in front of you, arms crossed. “Well, if you’re interested in ‘skipping to the good parts,’ I could possess your body. Help you say what’ll win over Seungkwan in no time.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why in the hell would I be dumb enough to let you do that?”

He snickered, leaning in with a smug look. “Because you’re desperate and haven’t slept with anyone the entire time we’ve lived together.”

“…You talk too much.”

“Think about it,” he continued, unbothered by your glare. “You’ve already got a foot in the door with him. You just need a little boost. I can help.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “This sounds like some high-level scheme to take over my body. Then I’ll end up stuck sharing it with a ghost, screaming into the depths of my soul for eternity. Thanks, but no thanks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve been watching too much supernatural TV. And besides, if I wanted to possess your body for good, I would’ve done it a long time ago. I do have some principles, you know. Consent and all.”

You shook your head, unimpressed. “Nope. I still can’t trust you, ghostie.”

Jeonghan, ever the persistent undead, didn’t know the meaning of giving up—and by now, you should’ve expected as much. And maybe, just maybe, his constant, incessant persuading was starting to wear you down. Sharing the same space day in and day out gave him the upper hand. He knew your quirks, your weak spots—the best and worst parts of you.

These past few days, you weren’t sure if you were going insane by agreeing with a ghost, or if he was actually starting to make some sense.

As you stared off at him, basking in the cool autumn air slipping through the balcony, you started to wonder if his intentions were not as venomous or malicious as you initially thought. There was a strange, quiet sadness in his eyes as if he longed for something he couldn’t put into words. Something that you couldn’t understand even if you tried.

“Am I really so pathetic that the ‘phantom reject’ is willing to help me with my love life?”

Jeonghan glanced at you with mild interest, noticing the way your curiosity had piqued. You sat comfortably on the couch, your elbow propped on the armrest, cheek nestled in your palm, as you observed him. He quietly approached, given that his feet were intangible and didn’t reach the ground, the silence was deafening and he lowered his head to level with you, staring back at you with so much intent it burned to feel his gaze.

He titled his head, brimming with pride. “Well, let’s just say I’ve never been rejected in my life. So.”

“You really think this’ll work for me?”you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.

“Of course,” he replied, with a grin. “You’ve got me.”

You were really considering it—letting a ghost help with your love life. Was this truly insane? Maybe. But it felt like it was worth a shot.

God, this was pathetic. And for once, you had something to be genuinely afraid of. And funny enough, it wasn’t possession. Until, well… maybe it was.

Life had never quite prepared you for this. Standing in your bedroom, surrounded by the overflowing pile of dirty clothes in the corner, you realized you’d put this off long enough—both the laundry and the body possession. You let out a shaky breath, glancing nervously from the mess to Jeonghan. 

His presence loomed, just as insistent as the neglected chores, and you had to steady yourself, mentally sorting through how you’d ended up in this bizarre situation. Laundry? Fine. Ghost possession? Not something you thought was possible. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to assess the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay, Grim Peeper, let’s do this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly as you tried, and failed, to shake off the nerves. His movements were deliberate as he approached, eyes narrowing in focus. He watched how the tension gripped your shoulders, the way your breath quickened despite your best efforts to stay calm. His presence felt heavier, and as he took his position in front of you, the air around him seemed to still. 

You could feel the weight of what was about to happen, the looming absurdity of it all. Jeonghan, who usually exuded a kind of careless charm, now looked oddly concentrated, as if he were preparing for something he rarely had the chance to do. His expression, though still smug, carried a certain gravity. But in all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what to expect.

“I’m about to make contact,” Jeonghan said, his tone unusually serious. “It’s going to feel a bit disorienting at first—like a cold shiver running down your spine. But after a few seconds, your mind will adjust, and it’ll feel like nothing ever happened. My voice will echo in your head, almost like it’s your own thoughts. I’ll let you know when it’s me taking control.”

His hands hovered over your shoulders, a ghostly chill brushing against your skin. For a split second, there was something oddly reassuring in his dead, sullen eyes. "You'll be okay. I promise, nothing will go wrong."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down. "Alright, I trust you." Then you glanced at him, a small smirk forming. "But seriously, what do you get out of all this? Helping me, I mean. I won’t judge... Boo-dini."

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly as if considering how to answer. “I…want to remember what it’s like to feel alive again. See what I missed out on.”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, understandably.

“Expected more from me, humie?”

You shrugged. “Thought you’d have a deeper back story, but that’s fine.”

Jeonghan scoffed softly, giving you a teasing smirk before he began. In an instant, he was there—and then he wasn’t. The shift was so sudden it left you reeling. Just as he’d predicted, a shiver rippled down your spine, cold and unsettling. But what he hadn’t mentioned were the flashes of unfamiliar images that flickered behind your eyes, moments you’d never lived but somehow felt were real.

They came and went so fast, you couldn’t make sense of them—fleeting fragments of his past, perhaps, or echoes of something even older.

‘How are you?’ he voice said, interrupting your thoughts.

You quietly nodded, reassuring him.

‘Very well then. Your lead, dear host.’

You wandered into the laundromat with your overstuffed hamper, feeling a bit like a laundry pirate hauling treasure—or dirty socks—across the high seas. You’d made the executive–and rightfully cowardly–decision to skip your usual laundry day, and now it was leading up to this very moment. Jeonghan stayed mostly dormant in your body as you claimed an empty machine, the back of your head itchy knowing another being was sharing your body that has led you this far. And now it was going to lead you to get laid.

It was like clockwork. Any minute now, Seungkwan would stroll in, and Jeonghan would take over, handling all the nerve-wracking nonsense you'd rather avoid.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ his voice echoed, ‘I almost thought it was my own heart racing, then I remembered I’m dead.’

“Sorry,” you muttered softly under your breath, ignoring the supernatural’s attempt at a joke.

‘It’s fine. Everything will be fine.’

“I know,” you sighed.

“You know what?”

You spun around, facing Seungkwan, who’d entered with that casual, friendly energy you always admired. He smiled, raising an eyebrow at your startled expression.

"Seungkwan!" you blurted out, trying to push the embarrassment down as far as it would go.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greeted, already moving toward his machine, gently separating colors from whites. “How are you?”

“Good—Great! Why do you ask?”

He gave you a light shrug, glancing up with a playful grin. “Just sounded like you were talking to yourself.”

“Well, who doesn’t?” you quipped, trying to play it cool. “Sometimes thinking out loud helps clear the head noise, right?”

“Right,” he said, stretching with an amused smile, clearly entertained by your odd, jittery energy.

‘Wow, thank god you have me.’

You quietly cursed Jeonghan in your head for making this harder than it needed to be, before mustering up the nerve to approach Seungkwan, fingers nervously fidgeting.

"Hey, so... you mentioned you were going to be out of town for Halloween, right?"

Seungkwan looked up, surprised and then grinned. "You remembered! Yeah, what’s up?"

You hesitated for a second, feeling Jeonghan’s smug presence lingering somewhere in the back of your mind. "I thought..."

Seungkwan leaned casually against the now-humming washer, hands tucked in his pockets, his curious gaze fixed on you. "Yeah?"

You tried to keep your cool, but the moment the words "we could do something" left your mouth, your brain started to short-circuit. Seungkwan turned to you with that easygoing grin of his, waiting for you to elaborate, and you could already feel the awkwardness creeping in.

Jeonghan’s voice chimed in, ‘You’re fumbling. Let me take over.’

Before you could protest, the familiar shiver ran down your spine. Suddenly, everything felt distant—your limbs moved, but you weren't fully in control anymore.

Jeonghan’s smooth voice came out of your mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I was thinking, maybe we could hang out before you head out of town? You know, catch a movie, grab a drink, something low-key, say my place?"

Seungkwan's smile widened, surprised but clearly intrigued. "You want to hang out with me?”

Jeonghan, still in control of your voice, replied effortlessly, "Of course." Before you could even process what was happening, your feet began to move on their own, gliding across the floor like a spy on a secret mission. Jeonghan closed the distance between you and Seungkwan, and suddenly, your hands were fidgeting with the hem of Seungkwan's shirt. “I figure it’s a good excuse to steal some of your time before Halloween hits."

Your heart raced, and you mentally screamed at Jeonghan, Okay, okay, that’s enough! I can take it from here!

But he was on a roll. "Tomorrow?" Seungkwan asked, leaning casually against the washing machine, though the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot betrayed his nervousness. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Tomorrow’s perfect," Jeonghan responded smoothly, maintaining the effortless flow of the conversation. "I’ll text you the details."

With each word, your body felt like it was moving on autopilot, and while you were horrified by the lack of control, a part of you couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. Jeonghan was nailing it, but the closeness to Seungkwan was almost too much to handle.

Suddenly, Seungkwan playfully entwined his fingers with yours, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through your hand, as his grin graced his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, savoring the warmth of the connection. When you opened them, you found an unreadable expression on his face—intense and smoldering. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice slightly softer now. “Looking forward to it.”

The way he held your gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you faded into a soft blur. Even though Jeonghan was in control, your thoughts tangled with the heat of the moment, coursing through you like a fever. 

As soon as Seungkwan turned away to his laundry with a lingering grin, Jeonghan released control, and the reins were back in your hands. You blinked, still a bit disoriented from the possession.

‘See? Easy,’ Jeonghan’s voice echoed smugly in your mind.

‘You’re impossible,’ you shot back.

‘But effective.’

That night, you tackled all the prep work you knew you needed to get done. It had been a while since you’d done anything like this, and you definitely had some dust bunnies and spiderwebs in your attic.

“Humie–oh.”

“Jeonghan! What the hell?” Your eyes flew open as you scrambled to pull the shower curtain over your bare legs, the chill of the water sending a shiver up your spine from the products strewn haphazardly at the edge of the sink. “Do you fucking mind?”

“Well, well. Look at you, all cleaned up. At least yourself, anyway. Can’t say the same for the bathroom floor—or that mountain of grooming products over there.”

You gripped your makeshift cover-up a little tighter, groaning in frustration. “Privacy, please! I barely have any as it is.”

“I’m just saying, I’m proud of you. Now, if you manage to sweep up after, I might even give you a round of applause.”

“Out!” you snapped, glaring.

He shrugged, turning to leave with an impish grin. “Hey, roommates catch each other with their pants down one way or another.”

If you weren’t already a bundle of nerves, Jeonghan was getting far too comfortable for your liking. Leading up to that night and the big day, he had been dishing out advice on everything from what to wear to what movie to play, right down to critiquing the meager food stock in your fridge.

“That’s it, you need to go grocery shopping.”

“I can't afford that right now!”

“Just get Instacart. I don’t care. This apartment is as bare-bones as it gets.”

“I have popcorn, soda, and some chocolate for Halloween when I'm giving them out.”

“First of all, popcorn isn’t actually food. Second, prebiotic soda doesn’t count as real soda. And if you can get chocolate, then you can definitely manage to buy some real groceries.”  

But just as you were about to respond, luck decided to abandon you with a sharp knock at the door. “No time!” you hissed, “now scr—oh, you’re already gone.”  

One moment he was there, and the next, he had vanished. Now, it was all on you, and nothing felt more nerve-wracking. You tugged your shorts down just enough to cover the rest of your bottom, anxiety buzzing in your chest. Your hand hovered over the doorknob as you took a deep breath, trying to muster some confidence before swinging it open to reveal who was waiting outside.

“Seungkwan, hey!”  

“Hey!” he grinned, his Halloween-themed vest adding a playful touch to his outfit as he juggled a couple of bags in his arms. “You didn’t ask, but I thought I’d surprise you with some food. Pumpkin-spiced spaghetti and meatballs.”  

“Oh, uhhh…”  

He burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just messing with you! It’s actually butternut squash gnocchi and some stuffed peppers that look like pumpkins.”  

“Oh, thank God! That sounds amazing.”  

“Yeah, it’s festive without going overboard.”  

You nodded in agreement, feeling a warm rush of relief. “Come in.”  

As you stepped aside to let him in, you couldn’t help but notice how wholesomely he was dressed compared to your casual attire. Suddenly, you felt a pang of self-consciousness.  

“I like your sweater,” you said, trying to mask your growing insecurity.  

He looked down, a hint of modesty crossing his face. “Yeah, I think it’s just the right amount of festive, but—”  

“It’s festive but not overboard,” you responded, playfully tossing his words right back at him.  

He grinned, “Exactly!”  

You smiled back, feeling a wave of warmth as Seungkwan's presence began to calm your nerves. As he settled into the familiar space of your apartment, you couldn’t help but discreetly scan the room for any signs of your ghoulish roommate. Half-relieved to find nothing, half-disappointed that your spectral “backup” was nowhere in sight, you let out a quiet sigh. And now it was just you—and the human you actually invited in.

Hesitantly, you eased into the spot next to him on the couch, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. Your hands were jittery as you picked up the remote, scrolling through the movies you’d lined up, your mind racing to figure out what to do next. 

You glanced at him, hoping for some sort of sign or direction, but the words caught in your throat. The longer you scrolled, the more painfully aware you became of the silence, as if it only heightened the nervous tension taking over your body, weirdly missing Jeonghan and how flawlessly he executed what he did yesterday.

"So, movies," you said, aiming the remote at the TV.

"Movies," he echoed, mimicking your tone.

“I mean,” You raised a brow. "What do you have in mind? And there is a right answer."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Alright, I love Halloween, but..."

"But?" you pressed, leaning in slightly.

"I... really can’t handle scary movies. Halloween Town is probably my limit."

"Halloween Town? The kids’ movie?"

"Hey, don’t knock it. They had great graphics!"

"They had awful graphics!" you shot back, incredulous.

He grinned, half-joking but clearly standing by his point. "Yeah, now. But for its time?”

You shook your head in playful disbelief, unable to hold back a smile. “You’re ridiculous. But fine, your choice.”

You were left with very few options. Seungkwan had suggested a few festive, family-friendly titles, but you managed to persuade him to consider a couple of mild thrillers—some stupid but perfectly on theme.

“The zombie version of Twilight? Seriously? Zombies?" he repeated, stressing the idea with disbelief.

You shrugged, smiling from his reaction. “You might like it.”

He dropped his head in defeat, cute little whines escaping his pursed lips. “Fine, but you’d better be my shield for this, okay, neighbor?” 

The movie began to play, the take-out boxes popped open, and your nerves were on high alert, vibrating like something else does on a normal Friday night for you. Except now, it was just you and the incredible realization that the man you're very much interested in was mere inches away. You were a fucking wreck.

Surprisingly, Seungkwan was genuinely enjoying the film, finding unexpected humor and charm in the cringeworthy blockbuster. His laughter was soothing and infectious, gradually easing your nerves until you started to feel normal again. Why were you like this?

Wait, you felt normal again, but what was normal?

Before you fully grasped what had happened in that fleeting moment of clarity, your hand made contact with Seungkwan, trailing lightly up his forearm. He immediately turned to face you, and your eyes locked, but suddenly they felt as if they belonged to someone else as if you were watching a different kind of film—a film where you were a separate character, experiencing everything from an alternate reality.

“Seungkwan,” your voice spoke, sounding foreign and distant as if someone else were taking control. Jeonghan? 

‘It was so painful to watch.’

Jeonghan guided your hand to brush against Seungkwan's ear, teasingly grazing the tip and relishing the warmth that bloomed between your fingers.

“Hey,” he replied, his nerves speaking for him. “Is something wrong?”

A low chuckle escaped from the depths of your throat, echoing Jeonghan’s playful menace. “You didn’t think we were just going to watch a movie, did you?”

Seungkwan audibly gulped, his eyes darting around as anxiety crept in. “We aren’t?”

“What’s the matter?” Jeonghan leaned in closer, your lips brushing against Seungkwan’s ear. “Where’s that confidence you had yesterday?”

Seungkwan suddenly tossed a pillow onto his lap, speechless and blushing fiercely. “Sorry,” he stammered, caught off guard. “I never anticipated—”

“Oh, really? You never expected to do something other than watching movies?” Your hand gently cupped his cheek, and you could feel Seungkwan melt into your touch with a gentle whimper.

A delighted sigh escaped you, fueled by Jeonghan’s newfound confidence coursing through your veins as your thumb traced the curve of Seungkwan’s Adam’s apple, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

“You didn’t think for a second, I’d–you know–keep the night as is, did you?”

He softly groaned in his throat, feeling the tension seep inside him. “Are you suggesting?”

“I don’t want to just watch movies with you, Seungkwan. It’d be more fun to make our own. Isn’t that right?”

“...yes. God, yes.”

He leaned in, cradling your face in his hands, and pressed his lips to yours in a swift, hungry kiss, sending a surge of electricity through you as your tension unraveled in waves. His weight dipped against your body, pinning you against the rough tweed of the couch. His soft moans mingled with your breaths, muffled yet threatening, as if he were desperate to let loose and explore the desire in his heart while you were within reach.

‘That’s it.’

Your hand held the back of his head, catching strands between your fingers and tugged, ravaging his lips as if it’d be the last time you’d get a chance. You weren’t sure when Jeonghan gave you back your control, but in the heat of the moment, none of it mattered.

He tasted like a life force, fueling the fire burning in your loins and the fire kindling in your stomach; he had you wanting more with every passing second. His hands grabbed you recklessly, throwing his weight against you and squeezing your flesh until it was tender and malleable in his hands. This wasn’t something to unfold on the couch, you thought—not when a big, inviting bed lay just a few steps away, calling for you.

Your feet regained enough feeling to guide you off the couch, and before you knew it, you were stumbling toward your room, feverish and driven, with no thought of turning back. Your hands found his clothes, teasing beneath his holiday vest and up his torso, admiring the smooth flush of skin that graced your senses. He gasped, succumbing to your excitement and leaned into it, falling seamlessly into your rhythm.

“Didn’t want to stretch this, but,” he pulled the vest and shirt beneath over his head, tossing them aside in the corner. You let your hand linger longer on his body, running along the curve of his spine as he pulled you closer.

Seungkwan grasped your waist, savoring your lips with gentle strokes of his tongue before lifting you from the ground and onto the bed. Your bodies crushed against one another, peeling off articles of clothing one piece at a time until you were almost bare, expertly taking you apart to have you whole. All to himself as far as he knew.

“Seungkwan,” you called out in pleas, hands cradling the back of his neck as his hair fell over his eyes. “I want you so bad…”

“You’re telling me,” he managed to breathe out,  gripping your underwear at its hem and scrapping it over your hips as he pulled them down. “I’ve thought about you ever since I met you.”

Your heart bloomed in your chest, pleasantly startled by his confession. Your hands ran through his hand, pushing them over his forehead despite knowing they’d only fall back in place. “You were always so…friendly.”

He smiled, pressing it against the corner of your lips and decorating your cheeks and jaw with kisses. “Yeah. I always hoped that we’d be more than just friendly.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” You pulled him back into a lip lock, parting your legs to give him access.

‘Look at all the fun you’re having.’

Jeonghan was like a wandering whisper, weaving through your thoughts as Seungkwan enveloped your senses. Seungkwan’s hands were on your body, touching what’s yours and making it his, where Jeonghan could feel it as much as you could, and you knew it. He got off on this just as much as you did.

‘Feel him rubbing that pretty pussy of yours.’

“So wet…” Seungkwan said with ache, sounding like he was pleading.

His digits found your sensitivity and thumbed over your clit, stimulating you until your voice rang but the last thing you were doing was speaking. You became fluent in moans, fluid in body language, and perfect in Seungkwan. Your breath dragged on, panting against him as your leg hooked to his side, holding him with urgency.

‘So fucking horny…you were begging to be fucked, hmm?’

You couldn’t help but nod, hand lowering to find Seungkwan’s raging erection just within reach. He softly gasped, thrusting into your touch as you held his shaft, stroking his length that felt so full in your hands. So stiff, yet warm to the touch, almost tasting the tension on your tongue. 

‘Look at that size, huh? Imagine how that feels in you. Stretching your pussy and making you feel so full? Doesn’t that sound amazing?’

“I need you in me Seungkwan.” You begged in desperate pants, gripping him by the forearms. “I want to feel you inside me.”

There was a certain eagerness in his eyes, the kind that said he would do anything and everything for you in a heartbeat and succeed. You weren’t dealing with any average guy that wanted to get off. “Fuck,” he whispered, before lifting his upper body, putting himself on full display.

His physique was magnificent in every way, tantalizing and captivating like nothing you’ve ever encountered. You had an inkling of what he looked like under all his clothes, the veins always so prominent on his forearms and hands when he strained to reach something on a shelf, the line of his back when his lifted shirt revealed just a sliver of skin, or his wide hips, baring an ass so round and full they look like they came straight out of the oven. Never have you ever wanted to run your hands over something, nor have you ever wanted to sink your teeth into something. Yet, here was Seungkwan: utterly delectable.

Seungkwan dragged you by the ankles, moving you effortlessly as he angled himself between your legs, your molten heat practically dripping at the sight of him. His groan bounced off the walls, hand coming over your inner thighs and gently massaging your skin. As his kisses started to pepper over your legs, you felt your pussy physically throb, damned to eternal craving.

“You look like heaven,” He cried against your thighs. “Any protection?”

“It’s right–oh.” You picked up a rubber conveniently left at your nightstand, then handed it to Seungkwan. You‘re welcome.’

He set it aside with a smile and instead of putting it on, his face fell on your heat. He tasted you like it was worship; the dance of his tongue was his prayers, while your response flowed like a cascade of blessings. You whined when you felt him pursed around your clit, teeth barely grazing you as he sucked down like you’re the last bit of syrup in a dessert.

At the same time, his eyes glazed over to yours, a hand hovering over your chest, inaudibly asking permission, and when you gave him a wordless nod, he grabbed handfuls of your breasts. He kneaded you between his knuckles, rolling your buds between his fingers, and having you surrender to his chase.

“Seungkwan, please…”

Seungkwan’s eyes glimmered with pride, a sultry testament to the depth of his exploration. The longer he ventured, the more you found ogasmic relief, feeling every ounce of his efforts and every ounce of his pleasure. You held him by his hair, leg anchoring over his back, feeling his tongue massage your inner walls. His voice vibrates inside you, somehow stealing your breath, and filling you with utter euphoria. 

‘You feel that? How much he wants you? How much he craves you. He’s been waiting for this day. And you should reward him. Don’t you think?’

You tugged him up, watch him gasping for air, replace one pair of lips with another. You flipped him on his back, gaining momentum, and relishing in the power of control, and swallowing his gasps. You aligned the hilt of his cock towards you, ensuring you wrapped it protection before it sat between the slit of your folds. 

Seungkwan tilted his head back, his eyes glistening with desire as he admired you, his gaze revealing his thoughts like an open book.  "You're so sexy," he murmured, the words spilling out without hesitation. While his look said it all, hearing it felt like a heated rush of affirmation, and it made you want him more.

You pushed his length in you, feeling his size pulsate through you, and a moan managed to pass through your lips. Shivers ran down through you, goosebumps pebbling your skin, and you realized the raging presence of Seungkwan was going to be the death of you. As he rocked inside you, he held your hips in place, guiding your form up and down on lap, adjusting to your squeeze, and adjusting to how it contracts. “Oh my god, please, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Just like I wanted,” You teased. 

Your lips brushed against his neck, grazing your teeth over his skin before making passionate kisses to his neck, grinding down on his body until there isn’t a hint of space between your bodies. You were growing weary–albeit needy–chasing a high that was so close to be conquered. You felt it, Seungkwan felt it, and damn well Jeonghan felt it. You needed more, just a little more.

Suddenly, the air was knocked out of your lungs, as if something vital had escaped from within you, and your movements were put to a halt. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, pushing the hair way from your face. “Not sure what happened. I promise–”

“Don’t apologize to me, Humie.”

You heard his voice—or rather, an echo of Jeonghan’s voice—calling from below you, and as you met his gaze in Seungkwan’s eyes, your expression widened in shock. “Jeonghan,” you declared menacingly.

“In the flesh. Well, not my own, but you get the idea,” he quipped.

You nudged at the body beneath you, careful of not hurting the host. “Get out of this poor human’s body right now! What happened to consent?”

“Oh, he’s very much consenting to the thrill of this level of intimacy,” Jeonghan replied, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

“Not when it involves a literal ghost!”

“Relax, he won’t remember a thing. My spirit won’t let him. All he’ll recall is the good time he had,” the body thief winked playfully.

“Bullshit! Do what’s right and let the boy go.”

“But I am doing what’s right.” His grip tightened around your hips, pushing Seungkwan’s cock deeper in you as if it was possible and ebbing weak moans from as he pulled you closer, a wicked smile dancing on his lips. “So right.”

“J-Jeonghan,” you stammered, your pulse quickening.

“I just couldn’t take it anymore, Humie. You looked absolutely ravishing. I had to experience you for myself.”

Your head was screaming all kinds of denial, but your body thrived off his confidence, his energy was flowing through you, splitting through you and hitting a spot of pliancy. This was so wrong. “This…this is violating…for him…”

“But you love it, don’t you? It’s like a wicked thrill, a tantalizing pleasure that feeds your deepest, most tumultuous desires.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the pulsating cock rocking your very core. “And what kind of desires is that?”

“You want us both,” he answered plainly. “The human and me.”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around Seungkwan’s shoulders in a desperate bid for security as you fought against Jeonghan’s seductive temptations. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Then, why don’t you get off of me?”

“It’s Seungkwan I can’t get off of,” You clarified.

You could recognize Jeonghan’s smile, even though it was plastered on Seungkwan’s face—so conniving, so devilish. It exuded an intoxicating power that was inhumane, but irresistible. “But it's me you’re riding–and fucking hell–you look so good doing it.”

“Jeonghan…” You whimpered, pleading for release from his coercion, but as you feared, mercy eluded you entirely.

“Yes,” His palm rode up your body, his lips parting in haughty confidence. “Beg for me, beg for me to fuck you full.”

“...Fuck it. I want you to fuck me full.” You accepted him, feeling the tension of the cock inside you, ripple waves straight into your heat. 

Mindlessly, you accepted his domineering hand that landed on your mouth, feeling it travel past your lips, parting way with his thumb. You wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking them like candy, and the shame that once enveloped your paradoxical feelings dissipated, leaving only a deep hunger in its wake. 

Whether it was Jeonghan or Seungkwan beneath you, it was all true to its very core. You had an undeniable infatuation for your cute neighbor and a strange fascination with the handsome ghost. The connection you felt with both was more than palpable, leaving you with an unexplained frenzy of emotions that would require extensive therapy. You knew the logical choice was the one who was alive, but you had never considered that you could have both—especially not in such a chaotic, unorthodox three-way.

“Look at what a slut you are for us, your lips so perfect wrapped around these slender fingers of his.”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly muttered to yourself, grinding harder, sucking Seungkwan’s fingers deeper, and gradually succumbing to Jeonghan’s demands.

Jeonghan let out a deep, rolling laugh that resonated from Seungkwan’s core, a sound so rich and dark it sent a momentary unease through you. “You’re simply giving into your desires, why fight it?”

“You damn well know why,” you spat out his fingers and gritted your teeth.

“Now that’s not nice,” His hand covered the shape of your ass, cupping them in his palms, “Do I need to show you how to be nicer to me?”

“Jeonghan,” you groaned, feeling his digits dig into your flesh as he spread them apart. 

“What’s that, baby?” he experimented, “Looks like I have to make this a teaching opportunity after all? Because you can’t show your gratitude?”

“Jeonghan, please.”

“Well, if you insist.” With an unexplainable, arcane, supernatural force, the dynamics were switched and Jeonghan had you on your stomach, ass conveniently placed in from of him. 

“Jeonghan!”

"I always knew you looked good from every angle, but wow—this one is something else." His hand glided over your curves, Seungkwan’s cock splitting down your divide, you grasped your thirst.

Anticipation was wreaking havoc on your sanity, leaving you in a deafening silence as you waited for Jeonghan to make his move, impatience following. “Will you just–”

A hand clashed against your backside, your skin stinging from impact, and relieving you from a ched yelp. Jeonghan braced you against a groin, the erection nudging at your skin. “So needy,” he chuckled. You felt the tip tease along your slip, eventually filling you up in that familiar way.

You whimper, the size still enticingly foreign, and back into his weight, feel yourself travel all the way down to the base.

“An impatient,” Jeonghan softly groans, grounding himself to you in careful, yet sharp thrusts.

You balled your sheets into fists, your voice muffled as you buried your face in a pillow.

He chuckled against his skin. “That good?”

“Y-yes,” you helplessly whispered.

He slammed down on you, releasing a squeaky spring sound from the bed, both embarrassing and strangely arousing. “Even when I do that?”

“Yes…more please…”

Jeonghan repeated the move, finding a steady rhythm, and watched as your skin and flesh recoiled back against him. He could feel his host basking in the intensity of this pleasure, tears swelling his eyes as your moans echoed in his ears, memorizing from the decibels your voice reached, to the way you looked from behind, and even how the flesh of thighs spilled when you collapsed wearily on the mattress.

“Insane,” He said in hushed whispers.

“Stop it,” you whined.

“Stop what? Showing you how fucking perfect you are taking my cock?” He grunted.

You pressed your lips in a firm lip, clawing down on the bed as your core tightened, every pound drilling into you, giving into his indulgence and taking you along with him. He made every thrust count as the echo of skin slapping faded into the background.

“Oh please, help me cum.” You begged. “Please, please, please…”

His pace quickened, his rhythm erratic. “Yeah, you want you cum coat around my cock like a good little whore.”

“Yes, Jeonghan please, just give it to me.”

“You asked, and you shall receive.”

Finally, he bottomed out into you, unleashing the reins he held to prolong this moment and cut them lose. Your body was no longer yours, weakened by the spirit draining your energy. Your jaw fell slack, unable to close, a waning moaning stretching for miles, ecstasy coursing through your veins. 

You said one name, then another, and then again. This was really confusing but you were here, pounded into obvious for what it seems like endlessly, until you realized you were full and not with what you had initially anticipated. In the remenance of fatigue from the sex, you fail to notice the lack of protetction seeing as proof of you supernatural rendezvous was seeping out of you like a slow river.

“Jeonghan!” 

“What?” he drowsily answered as he claimed the side of the bed besides you, evidently using the extent of Seungkwan’s body.

“What the fuck happened to the condom?”

“Please, that’s my own cum.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ectoplasm, you know. Comes from all sorts of places.”

“I hate you so much—am I gonna get pregnant with ghost kids?”

“Relax, and no you aren’t. It’s as effective as…something really ineffective–fuck, I’m tired.”

“And Seungkwan. What about Seungkwan?”

“He’s fine and his release became as good as mine when I possessed his body. His soul is asleep right about now, having a catnap. Now come here.” he pulled you towards him, throwing your covers over you and keeping you away from the draft into to room, slipping you into his arms. “Stop tiring yourself out any further and rest. Everything will be fine when he wakes up like a man that got laid: amazing.”

“Fine,” muttered with heavy eye lids, “but only because im really tired.”

And from that moment sleep was easy.

You woke up to those same arms, now only asleep and less “ghost-like” and snuggled up closer to him, a newly acclaimed heat source. A soft chuckle escaped him, holding you tighter in his embrace as a kiss fell on the top of your forehead. “Hey there.”

You smile, cupping the side of his face in your hand. “Hi.”

“That was amazing, you’re amazing,” he said, planting another kiss on your nose. “Is it weird to say it felt so good I kinda blacked out?”

“Ha,” you shook your head, knowing the truth, “No, but thank you for the massive compliment.”

He grinned, a flush of red coating his cheeks, before pulling you into a deep and wonderful kiss, entanging his legs with yours. He seeped into realization when he found the mess between your legs, untouched since sex. “Oh shit, i did that, didn’t i?”

“It’s okay, I…have some sort of protection.”

“One moment.” Seungkwan came up naked from the bed, momentarily left the room, and with a noticeably wet hand towel. “I usually have an extra clean one on hand for after my workout. Glad I brought a backpack for no reason today.

As he inched closer, he sat between your legs, uncovering you from the blanket, and politely asked if he could help. When he received your consent, he brought it up to the mess, gently swiping between every crevice, ridding any remnants of cum that might have been left over. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you reassure, visibly gushing.

“Of course, I do.” He insisted, a sincere smile gracing his features. “It's my pleasure taking care of you.”

It was so disorienting going from the original to Jeonghan’s version and back to the original Seungkwan. As if you were once looking through a window of an alternate reality. Still a lot to process what happened.

“I don’t usually do this,” you try explaining yourself, “I just…I’ve been into you for a long time and I just thought, maybe, you felt the same.”

“I do,” he pressed his lips to your inner thigh. “A lot.”

“So you wouldn’t mind seeing me again?”

“I wouldn’t object to the idea,” he grinned, “especially if we get to do what we did to make me black out in the first place.”

[sirenedeslily]

𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ‎𐦍 𝐦atthew 𝐬turniolo

𝒢𑄺 ⸻ ❝ like if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did. ❜ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, a hardened fighter finds unexpected tenderness in the arms of a gentle soul, where love becomes both his salvation and his deepest fear.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, emotional and psychological angst, violence, mentions of trauma, depiction of illegal street fighting, sensitive themes of self-worth, and fear of hurting a loved one. my attempt @ fluff :3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭, 1.4k !

𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒘 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 wasn’t born into love.

no one had ever held him close when he was a boy. no one had ever whispered to him that everything would be okay when the nights were long and cold, when the bruises from the world around him were more than just skin deep. he had been passed around like something unwanted, a shadow that people barely noticed until they had to. one foster home after another, each colder than the last, until the idea of love or warmth was nothing more than a distant memory, something he’d never truly had in the first place.

at sixteen, matt stopped expecting anything from anyone. it was easier that way—no expectations, no hope, no chance of getting hurt. but the hurt came anyway, creeping into his bones like a sickness. the world had never been kind to him, and he had learned, in the back rooms of strangers’ houses, that the only thing he could control was how much he fought back.

and matt fought.

he fought with his fists, with his teeth, with a rage that seemed to consume him whole. it was the only way to survive in a world that had given him nothing but pain. the violence became his only language, the only thing that made sense. it was how he stayed alive, how he kept himself from being swallowed by the emptiness that followed him wherever he went.

that’s when he came into matt’s life—a man who saw the violence in matt’s eyes and knew how to use it. the man didn’t care about the boy behind the bruises, didn’t care about the heart that had been broken so many times it barely beat anymore. all he cared about was how hard matt could hit, how much damage he could do. and matthew? he didn’t care, either.

he was just looking for a place to sleep.

so he fought. brutal, illegal street fights in the back alleys of forgotten places, where the only law was how much blood you could spill. matt became a machine, a weapon honed by years of neglect and pain, his body more bruise than boy. he fought because it was all he knew how to do. he fought because no one had ever given him anything else.

but it wasn’t living. it was surviving, and just barely.

and then you came into his life.

you, with your cinnamon scent and wide, innocent eyes. you, who looked at him like he was more than just the violence he had been shaped into. you, who had never known the darkness he lived in, but who somehow saw through it. you stepped into his world of shadows and fists, and instead of running, you stayed.

you, with your soft hands and your gentle smile, were like a dream. he wasn’t sure you were real at first—how could you be? no one had ever looked at him the way you did, like you could see past the bruises, past the blood, and into something deeper. something matt wasn’t sure existed anymore.. or ever.

but you saw it. you always saw it.

the first time you touched him, matt flinched. not because you hurt him, but because your touch was so gentle. he wasn’t used to gentle. he wasn’t used to anything soft, not after years of fists and hard floors and nights spent alone. your fingers brushed against his skin like a whisper, light and warm, and matt felt something in him break, something he hadn’t even known was there.

you didn’t ask him to be anything other than what he was. you didn’t ask him to change, to give up the fights, the violence that was so much a part of him. you just were—you were there, with your cinnamon-sweet smile and your heart so full of love, and somehow, that was enough.

for the first time in his life, matt wasn’t alone. for the first time in his life, someone saw him, not just the fighter, not just the boy who had been left behind over and over again, but him. the boy who was still trying to find something to hold onto, something that wasn’t blood and pain and broken bones.

you held him without asking for anything in return. you let him break down his walls at his own pace, piece by piece, until he wasn’t just matt, the street fighter, the boy who only knew how to survive. he was yours.

there were nights when matt would come home from a fight, his knuckles bruised and his body aching, and you would be there, waiting for him. you, who smelled of cinnamon and warmth, would welcome him into your arms as if he weren’t covered in blood, as if the violence that followed him didn’t touch you. you didn’t flinch when you saw the cuts and bruises; you just took his hands in yours, your fingers soft as you traced the lines of his knuckles.

“it’s okay,” you’d whisper, pressing your lips to the broken skin on his hands, as if you could kiss away the pain, as if your love could heal the wounds that ran so much deeper than the surface.

and maybe it could.

because with you, matt felt something he hadn’t felt in years—something he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt at all. it was a warmth that spread through his chest, a lightness that came from the way you looked at him, the way you touched him like he was something precious. he didn’t know how to handle it at first, didn’t know what to do with the way you made him feel, like he was more than just a boy made of bruises and scars.

but you were patient. you didn’t push. you just loved him, quietly, gently, until matt started to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was worthy of that love.

matt had never been soft. he had never been the kind of person who let himself feel too much, who let himself hope for something better. but you—you—changed that. you brought out a part of him that he didn’t even know existed, a part of him that wanted to be better, to be more. not for himself, but for you.

there were moments, late at night, when you’d curl up next to him, your head resting on his bare chest, and matt would just hold you, his arms wrapped around you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. and in those moments, with your warmth pressed against him and your scent filling the air, matt would feel something close to peace.

it scared him, sometimes—how much he needed you. how much he wanted you. he wasn’t used to needing anyone, wasn’t used to feeling like someone could slip through his fingers and take his heart with them. but you were different. you weren’t just someone; you were everything.

you were the sweetness in his life, the light in the darkness that had surrounded him for so long. you made him feel things he didn’t know how to name, things he didn’t know how to control. and it terrified him. because matt had only ever known how to fight, how to push people away before they could hurt him. but with you, he didn’t want to push. he wanted to pull you closer, hold you tighter, keep you with him forever.

but love—real love—wasn’t easy.

there were nights when the darkness inside him would rise up, when the violence that lived in his blood would threaten to consume him. he’d wake up in a cold sweat, his heart racing, his hands clenched into fists, ready for a fight that wasn’t there. and you—you would always be there, your hands soft on his skin, your voice a soothing whisper in the quiet of the night.

“i’m here,” you’d say, your breath warm against his chest. “i’m not going anywhere.”

and you never did. no matter how many times matt tried to push you away, no matter how many times he told you that he wasn’t good enough for you, that you deserved someone who could give you more than this life of blood and violence and pain, you stayed.

you stayed, and you loved him, and you showed him that maybe, just maybe, he was worth loving.

matt had never known a love like yours. a love that was gentle and fierce all at once, a love that didn’t ask for anything in return but still gave everything. you were his 𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, sweet and warm, the one thing in his life that made him believe in something more than just survival.

you made him feel like he could be something more than the violence that had shaped him. you made him feel like he could be yours.

and in the end, that was all he ever wanted to be.

𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ trying to work on requests but it’s been mostly chris stuff and i miss writing about my boyfriend soooo :3

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe @ncm9696

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @fawnchives @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia

© sirenedeslily

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

BEFORE I START

Yes, another story of Curly. What can i do? I love him.

THIS IS ALL INSPIRED BY THIS AWESOME ARTIST THAT I FOUND ON TIKTOK

btw the curly of this story will kook like this so you can already imagine him.

The user is ladonb.kokosa

PLEASE GO CHECK THEIR ART ITS WONDERFUL

That being said. Lets get start with

Part 1 - Next

"Cryostasis ended"

"His vital signs are stable"

"Who could it be?"

"Disinfect the wounds"

"There are no more survivors"

"They authorized us to give him the implant."

The man could hear several voices in the distance, he saw silhouettes, shadows, he couldn't distinguish the people around him.

He felt them putting a mask on him to anesthetize him, and everything went dark again.

When he woke up, he saw a woman checking his signs, and he was astonished to recognize her despite some of her physical changes.

She was his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to marry after that trip.

Why did she look like that? She seemed older, but in his sigth, she remained beautiful.

He made some sounds to get her attention, causing her to turn and look at him. She approached and pressed something on his neck.

Curly: "Linda..."

Linda: "...No... Tell me it's not you..."

The woman immediately stepped back, covering her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing.

She didn't recognize the man laying in that bed in front of her, and she prayed so hard that he wasn't the man she was going to marry, but the fact that he recognized her confirmed her fear.

He could understand the terror on her face, but he didn't know there was something else he didn't know.

She took a deep breath and set her fear aside, sitting next to the man.

Linda: "Curly... If it really is you..." she said, still holding out a small hope that it wasn't him, "You were cryogenically frozen for 20 years... They rescued you because the Tulpar re-entered orbit near Earth before running out of energy, they were able to detect it and bring it back without causing damage, and that's how they found you inside... You have been in the hospital for two weeks today..."

He wanted to laugh as if what he was being told was a bad joke, it couldn't have been that long, right?

But looking closely at her, the small wrinkles now on her face and the few gray hairs she had showed her that she was real.

Linda: "They didn't find any more survivors and... The same press has taken care of paying your medical expenses because they want to hear your story... You have an implant in your neck so you can speak, a voice box, you have to press it if you have difficulties but in a while you won't need to do it anymore... and they did a skin graft... Including some prosthetics..."

She carefully took the prosthetics of his arms and raised them so he could see them, Curly felt like a completely different being.

Linda: "I recommend that you ask for what you want now because... As soon as they find out you're awake... They're going to bombard you with questions and the press will come here, they won't show any mercy."

The man tried to raise the prosthesis and pressed his implant on his neck to be able to speak.

Curly: "What about us?"

Linda: "Oh Curly..." she sighed, "When you didn't come back, I thought the worst... That you were dead... I just keep going with my life... I married someone else, I have two children... There is no longer an 'us'."

Before he could say anything else, a reporter peeked in and made a fuss upon seeing him awake; the place filled up in seconds.

The woman lowered her head and left the room in search of security to throw out the press, but the harassment didn't end there.

Curly chose to give them the answers to the questions they had by scheduling a meeting at the hospital.

Thanks to this, many people started donating things to him, including money to help him reintegrate into society.

But beyond the kindness of people, no one wanted to take care of him and help him, not even the nurses, they said they couldn't spend too much time near him.

Linda took care of him during his stay in the hospital while they fixed up his house that had been left abandoned.

Linda: "I found someone who can take care of you."

She commented while pushing his wheelchair, entering his house, that it looked completely renovated.

Linda: "I don't know if you still remember that I mentioned my younger sister, (Y/n), a couple of times?"

Curly: "The one who lived with your father?"

Linda: "That's right... My mom got full custody of her after a few years, and since then she has been living with her until she became independent shortly after turning 18..." 

Curly: "She was 12 back then..."

Linda: "She recently lost her job, I thought it would be a good opportunity for her. She is very responsible, I promise."

When they arrived in the room, he could see a woman standing and looking at the paintings hanging on the walls.

He had never met his fiancée's sister, but he had heard many stories about her, about how her father unjustly gained custody by labeling their mother as crazy, and since then they had fought to get the girl back.

He had been struck by how incredibly different she was from her sister; you two didn't seem related at all.

Linda: "Good thing you were already here," she mentioned with a smile to catch your attention. 

When you turned to look at them, Curly didn't expect such seriousness from you towards your older sister. 

"...Thank you for the job opportunity, I will do my best to help you," you mentioned, looking at the man, ignoring the woman. 

Linda: "Let me show you where everything is-"

"I've already been getting familiar with the place, it's not necessary, you can go."

Linda: "At least let me tell you which medications you should-"

"You have already sent me a message with clear instructions. I can do this, Lin."

Curly: "You should be more respectful to your older sister."

Upon hearing him speak, you turned to look at him again, without any expression. 

"...Lin"

Linda: "I'll leave, there is no problem. I'm sure you've already memorized everything to the letter. If you have any problem, don't hesitate to call me."

She indicated, she didn't want to make a scene and left without even saying goodbye to either of them. 

"...So you are Curly... It's a pleasure to meet you, I hope we get along well."

You had already made a bad first impression on Curly by treating the love of his life so poorly. 

"Lin left your pill organizer with me, and gave me the schedule for them, it's time for the first pill."

You took a bottle and opened it to take a pill, causing the man to tense up a bit as he remembered moments when he was given his painkillers.

Noticing his nervousness, you tilted your head somewhat confused and went to get something to drink so he could take the pill. 

What a surprise he got when you brought him a cup of chocolate along with the pill. 

"When I was little... I didn't know how to swallow pills, I would choke, so I would bite them... My dad used to give me pills with chocolate milk so I wouldn't have a bad taste in my mouth, don't you like the taste of the pills? These can be very bitter..." 

He thought it was very kind of you to consider that, immediately regretting having judged you without knowing anything about you. 

You helped him take the pills, giving him chocolate to drink slowly, it really helped with the bitter taste. 

Maybe... you weren't so bad.

[nymphea0]

Monsters and His Love

Oneshot Story

Yan! Leon winston x reader

Warning : Mentions Of smoke, Force power, light mature scene, Torture scene, Bloods, Cropse body.

Be careful with what you read, minors are prohibited from reading this.

Manhwa : Try Begging

: Adult Manhwa (19+)

Author: Libenia | 리베냐

Artist: ABYSS

Word Count : 2,9K Word.

Hallo.. is neva agains, hope your days fine and good, so soon i will update some long story in Quotev, i will share the links if the story was half done made, so keep wait love🦋🦋.

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story, love.- Neva🦋🦋

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Captain Leon Winston, a vulgar monster clothed in the skin of a stoic and elegant noble. He was a pathetic bastard who only raged at the smell of blood from the torture chamber.

Leon, has been through many things in his life, starting from the death of his father, to a spy who doubles as his maid, Sally Bristol or her real name is Grace Riddle.

Everything that Leon goes through must always be with Grace. Leon will probably always talk about, Sally this and Sally that.

You, you are the daughter of Marquess Von Alderve from the Alvonseh family, the Alderve region.

The Marquis family and the Count family have had a relationship for a long time, Closeness like friends.

From the results of that relationship, it spread to the present, You and Leon.

You and Leon are childhood friends until now, You went through hard times together, But all that changed when you accidentally saw Leon kissing a little girl at a summer resort, having eyes between blue and green, so contrasting, Turquoise eyes, even Leon shared the ice cream he bought especially for the girl.

Since that little incident when you were little, you were not as close as before with Leon.

You could not possibly forget that girl, until you met her again, who doubled as Leon's maid.

Leon did many things, since he was a captain, and a noble, there were many things he could do, but all of that only ended with him covered in blood in the torture room from the victims or Leon called it a wild rat or something from the lower class.

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'Puk'

You put down the newspaper you were reading, again... the issue of the nobility and the revolutionary army faction.

Drinking tea disinterestedly, you looked out the window of your room, now you have entered the mature age of 21 years.

Even Leon was engaged to the grand duke's daughter, Rosalind, though you weren't sure if he even cared about the relationship, since he was so obsessed with Sally or... his enemy's spy.

'Tak'

'Tak'

'Tak'

Damn!, you knew right away whose shoes and footsteps were those!, Leon!.

The man you least wanted to meet!.

Your relationship wasn't as close as it used to be, yes when you were still children, you fell in love with him, with Leon, a normal, sweet boy, but that changed from the incident at the summer resort, to the same girl you saw at the resort doubled as Leon's maid.

You saw more and more that there was no chance there, even when you saw how unenthusiastic Leon was with his fiancée, Rosalind.

So since you were 11 years old, you had made the right decision not to get close and fall in love with Leon.

"What were you thinking that seriously?"

A deep baritone voice right beside you, you could even feel his warm breath on your ear and neck.

It must have always been like that, Leon since he was little, always like that, talking in your ear or just an inch of your face.

"No, just thinking about hospital matters nothing more"

Leon looked at you from the side, you were beautiful, very beautiful in Leon's eyes, your bright purple eyes, hair as dark as night, really made him want to do bad things to you.

No, not now, not yet.

Sitting right in front of you, taking the glass of tea you were drinking, he drank it as if it was no big deal.

You just stared at him uncertainly, but you let him.

Only Leon was a stranger who could easily enter and exit your room, well it's always been like that since long ago.

"Why don't you want to join me? It'll be safer if you're beside me, you know that right?"

His arms were crossed, looking at you, with his usual look, his hair that was always neatly arranged really showed a captain and a noble.

"I'm not interested in joining the noble faction or even the revolutionary faction, both have a greater impact than profit"

Looking towards the window, not wanting to look at the person in front of you.

"You know that-"

You cut off Leon who hadn't finished speaking.

"I might as well get married soon, since father died, mother insisted on marrying me to one of the nobles"

You didn't see Leon's expression, thinking he was just giving a disinterested reaction, too bad, Leon's expression was the expression when he found out that his maid Sally Bristol was a spy, Grace Riddle or the expression when he was betrayed.

Betrayed and in pain!.

"Do you accept it?"

His tone wasn't as friendly as before.

"I'm still thinking about it, I don't think it's a bad idea"

Leon looked at you who seemed, or very uninterested in interacting with him, since when were you like this?

Asking once again, Leon looked straight at your face.

"From which family?"

"Not really sure, but I think from the Earl noble family"

Earl nobles, Nobles with hereditary titles who still have the same blood as the royal family.

"Is that so..."

That was the last sentence before Leon go  from your marquess residence.

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"ARGGH!"

"Aakhh!!"

"Mercy! Help!!! Sorry! Capt-"

Blood splatters, and human bodies in the torture chamber.

Leon, covered in blood up and down his body.

Losing Sally Bristol or Grace Riddle might have had its own impact on him, but hearing you who was going to marry someone he didn't even know who it was... that was a different case.

His heart... hurt, it hurt so much when you said it without the slightest restraint!.

Walking up the stairs, Leon entered his study, sat down near his desk, slowly untied his tie, leaned his head on the chair.

Eyes gazing far away, Leon still remembered when you first met him, when you were both 8 years old.

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Count Winston residence.

Leon, 8 years old.

His father was always excited when he talked about the marquess noble family.

There in front of the entrance, Leon saw, a man who was the same age as his father was chatting enthusiastically with his father, who Leon knew his father and the man or marquess had the same vision and mission about the order of this world.

That's where Leon saw, a little girl, beside the marquess man, had hair as dark as night, but her eyes were... amethyst eyes, unusual eyes.

"Leon come here"

His father bowed and introduced him to the girl in front of him.

Smiling very sweetly at him, Leon's heart beat fast.

From there, the two of you became close.

2 months, was the time when the marquess and count families met at the Summer resort, Leon talked a lot with you, full of enthusiasm, until when you asked permission to go to the bathroom, that's where Leon saw a girl, brown hair, and turquoise eyes, Leon was interested, he even shared his first kiss with the girl.

Strange, he felt he had lost something, but Leon didn't know what.

Since the resort, Leon felt you distanced yourself from him, distancing yourself and almost as if you didn't want to interact with him.

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Exhaling, releasing smoke from his cigar.

Looking at the table, a framed photo of you and Leon, at the Belvelhera restaurant, 19 years old, you smiled so beautifully there, just passed the practical exam to enter internal medicine, unfortunately, the glass frame was stained with Leon's love fluid.

Emotions, passion, and possession, Leon reaped with many beats of his frustration.

You've driven him crazy! Even Grace lost to you!.

Leon thought Sally or Grace was so attractive because of her beautiful face and unique eyes, like you who are beautiful and unique.

Leon did many things to the woman, torturing her, forcing her and so on, but Leon did not cross the line to sleep with her, only biting her neck or kissing her lips, even though every time Leon did that, his heart ached.

Why did he just realize this? His junior always tenses when you look at him or just call his name, he thinks it's a normal reaction when the weather is hot.

Chuckling softly, Leon covers the glass photo frame with his black handkerchief grinning.

"Damn... what have you done to me... my lady"

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2 weeks, is the time Leon didn't meet you, the reason is simple, Leon is afraid of losing control of himself, from before until now, when he sees Sally Bristol or Grace Riddle sweeping, cleaning the floor or doing maid work.

Why does he always think dirty things about you? Even though you're not by his side, seeing Sally as you.

Doing many dirty things, wanting to push you to your limits, begging or rebelling, which one will you choose... Leon really wants to know that.

Crazy huh, he's crazy, crazy about you, why can't he even realize quickly, from being tense, always thinking dirty things about you when someone like Sally/Grace or a woman who has unique eyes passes by him.

Leon stared at the pile of prisoners of revolution, bleeding, tortured.

And he even met Grace Riddle again, the woman tried to double as his maid again, well of course it was impossible

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You are currently walking with the son of the Earl, this man is handsome, but unfortunately he honestly said that he has fallen in love with someone else.

Well you think his courage and honesty are commendable.

"do you like it?"

Vincent is the name of this man, holding a bouquet of roses, you just smile formally and nod at him.

"This is beautiful"

Too bad, you didn't see from across the street, in a 5-star elite restaurant, Leon was staring at you smiling beautifully by another man!.

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Leon for 2 weeks spied on you with that country man, laughing smiling beautifully, holding the man's hand, Leon almost wanted to kill and torture the man!.

Too bad his frustration was vented when When he saw Grace Riddle, pulled her, and kissed her roughly on the lips, his brain mistook Grace for you.

Unfortunately, you accidentally passed them and found them kissing! Awkward! Of course, you and Vincent quickly left the restaurant room.

Damn! Damnit!! You saw him! You saw him kissing another woman!.

You must have considered him impure and dirty!!.

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Leon spent his day and night in frustration.

Instead of getting closer when he tried to interact with you a lot, you actually moved further away from him!.

You even let that country bumpkin from the earl family kiss your cheeks!.

Enough! The problem with Grace Riddle is no longer there, so why should Leon hold back from seeing you with another man?

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Leon Winston's residence.

Master bedroom.

In bed, fast asleep, a woman, both hands cuffed to each bedpost, naked, many kiss marks, and love fluids, puffy eyes, because of crying.

Leon, sitting on the sofa facing the bed, smoking his cigars, wearing only a shirt and long black pants.

His captain's jacket uniform has been forgotten on the floor.

He took your virginity, damn... you even took his virginity too.

See right? As Leon expected, you are perfect for each other, inseparable.

How evil you are to want to be separated from your true love.

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Putting out his cigars, Leon, took a small black whip.

Walking slowly to the bed, his leather shoes made a very loud sound! You even woke up.

Staring at Leon in fear! You don't want to be slept with anymore! Your body hurts and you want to rest!.

Why is it like this? Leon kidnapped you, took you to a foreign country and married you by force!

Staring at Leon who was holding a long black object that looked like a whip, you shook your head.

"Leon!! Please... no more.. I don't want to"

Leon just grinned and wiped your tears slowly.

"Why cry my love? You will be safe because I am with you"

Kissing your forehead softly.

"You are for me, and I am for you, you are crazy for me, and I am crazy for you, my love"

Kissing your lips, devouring them with passion, and ownership.

"I want to keep making love to you my love, until you don't think about the world, but me"

On top of you, opening his shirt, his chest, arms and neck are full of scratches from your previous actions.

"Because my love, you are for me, and I am for you, we mean to be together"

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*Source Image : Pinterest

*Source Image : Pinterest

*Source Image : Pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Story.

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Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.