#aaa i do love to see him run

[allmyandroids]

🏃‍♂️‍➡️

[heechwe]

but daddy i love him | 𝐬𝐣𝐲

୨୧ pairing: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 10.2k ୨୧ genre: fluff, angst, smut ୨୧ tags: badboy!au, innocent!reader, opposites attract, sexual tension, corruption kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), 69, pet names (baby, angel, etc.), face sitting, protected sex. ୨୧ synopsis: Just because there's a new and seemingly bad influence in your small town, it doesn't mean you have to fall privy to his charms, no matter how beautiful he is. But when he takes notice of you, none of the gossiping wine moms can stop him from getting what he wants. ➸ shoutout to @kwanisms and @mini-mews for helping this fic come to fruition, ily guys sm and this is genuinely one of my favorite pieces ive ever written aaa.

“Have you heard about the new family who moved into town? The son is a real piece of work!”

“He’s twenty-one but acts like he’s still sixteen on that damn motorcycle. No class or consideration whatsoever!”

“Maybe they’ll keep him in check if they decide to come to church this weekend. You know Reverend Park has no time for miscreants and delinquents.”

The familiar crowd on your mother’s front porch greets you as you’re attempting to exit the house. They cool themselves off with their makeshift fans and drink your mother’s homemade lemonade in the Saturday sun, continuing to harp on the locals in town that they’ve known for years.

Somewhere in their conversation, they drifted to the topic of the new family that moved in across the street. Three days was all it took for them to begin spouting their judgemental observations, every act from the new middle-aged couple and their son fodder for their discussion.

You smile politely with every fiber of your being, despite your instincts to snap at them and be on your merry way. If only they knew how ironic they are, pointing fingers at others from their high horses when the town kept enough space for their dirty little secrets. “Nice to see you this morning, ladies.”

They say your name with grace, their tones all air with little substance. “On your way to bible study?” Mrs. Choi asks, gazing at you from the rim of her glass.

You shake your head. “Just tutoring.”

“With the Nishimura boy? What a sweet kid.” When Riki’s name leaves Mrs. Lee’s lips, all the women hum in agreement. “Such a bright future ahead of him.”

“Of course, as long as he passes English,” you joke. The women’s faces don’t change, not taking your teasing with an ounce of anything but seriousness. The bags under their eyes, lipstick smudged in the tiny corners of their teeth, and piercing attitudes begin to damper your excitement for the day. You bid them goodbye quickly with another smile, walking down the stairs and onto the path down the street.

As you turn down the sidewalk, still hearing the resounding chatter from the women, your thoughts run wild. Is this what life would be like when you were older, doing nothing but kicking your feet up on a neighbor’s porch with only other people’s business to fill your time? Spending endless days and nights at church, listening to the same sermons leave Reverend Park’s lips until you become as overly critical as they all are?

The screech of tires halts your thoughts in their place. “Watch it!” A young man’s voice pierces the morning air, making you step back even further. You hadn’t realized how far you had walked into the road until you were back on the safety of the sidewalk. You trip on a crack between the two slabs of concrete, falling backwards and meeting the ground hard.

“Shit, are you okay?” He takes his helmet off, immediately hooking it to his handlebars to check on you.

Sim Jaeyun.

You had not met him formally until this moment, but the motorcycle and undeniable looks gave away his status as your new neighbor. Your parents had decided to let the new family settle in before trying to visit and introduce themselves. If they could see you now, your maxi skirt hitched up to your knees and the boy barely a foot away from you, they would have had a field day.

Sure, you both are of age. Butlike Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Lee, and other local townsfolk always do, people will talk about such a compromising position if you aren’t careful.

All those thoughts fade away though when Jake kneels beside you, his face flooded with concern. His eyes linger on the broken skin on your legs and then across your flushed face. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “It’s barely a scratch. Sorry I almost ran into you.”

“More like almost ran into my bike.” He laughs, his expression one of relief as well as humor. “I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

“Thank the lord.” You brush your hands on your skirt and begin to stand up, but Jake grabs you by the hand to help, taking all your weight with him.

“Thank you,” you say, brushing the free hair from your braid out of your face.

“You’re welcome.” He unclips his helmet from the bar and gestures back to his bike. “I can drive you to wherever you’re going if you want. I don’t have a second helmet, but–”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips, the thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle too ridiculous to envision given your status as the deacon’s daughter. What would people say?

Jake just furrows his brows, his lips turning up at the corners. “Is my offer that funny?”

“No,” you say, “I would love to, it’s just–”

“Sim Jaeyun!” The shrill sound of Mrs. Choi’s voice makes you take another step away from Jake, unaware you were as close as you were to him. His presence seems to be magnetic, just like his smile. “Stay away from her or so help me God!”

Jake turns to the old woman down the road and nods his head, trying to be respectful but clearly irritated from her meddling. “Yes ma’am,” he yells, stepping back and getting closer to his bike.

“Maybe another time,” Jake says, “when you’re not flocked by the whining wine moms.”

You laugh and nod. “Maybe.”

Jake rides away on his bike, the wispy ends of his hair your last picture of him before he makes a sharp turn at the end of your street.

“Why do I need to learn this?” Riki groans, laying his head flat against his desk. The church bells ring as he knocks his head in the same rhythm against the polished wood.

“Because you need to be able to interpret text if you want to go off to college, Nishi. Otherwise you’ll be illiterate and an embarrassment to the entire town!” You put on your best harping, disapproving voice. It makes Riki laugh as he lifts his head. You’re glad at least the younger kids appreciate your sense of humor, unlike the older brood flooding your hometown.

“Alright, fine.” He opens his copy of Heart of Darkness, beginning to read the page in front of him. “I avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope…”

A knock on the classroom door makes you and Riki turn. Yeri opens it with a shy grin, saying your name with the same nature. “Someone’s here to see you!”

“Who?”

“Some cute guy on a motorcycle? But don’t tell Jungwon I said that!” She runs back out the door and leaves you puzzled. Surely it’s not Jake. You just met him; he wouldn’t make the effort to try and follow you to your tutoring session, especially at the church of all places.

You head to the window to see Jake sitting against his bike, looking around at his surroundings. He’s wearing the same leather jacket and gray jeans, his white shirt marked with several spots of sweat. Riki comes up behind you, making a sound of acknowledgement. “Oh, that’s Jake!”

“Jake?” You look closer. “I thought his name was Jaeyun.”

“Yeah, but I call him Jake.” He laughs. “He’s my cousin.”

You nod your head, taking in his words. Jake’s sudden move made a lot more sense, seeing as Riki’s mother was getting sicker every day. She must have needed some help from her family to not only manage her household, but make sure Riki stayed on track.

“He probably wants to see you. Yeri must’ve gotten it all mixed up.”

Riki grabs his phone, scrolling through texts with his thumb. “Actually, he did mention almost running over a cute girl on his way to work.” The young boy smirks. “I’m gonna assume that’s you?”

You blush, the flush on your cheeks making you feel hot. “Whatever. He’s probably just picking you up!”

“I brought my own bicycle, dude. And as cool as Jake is, his driving makes me nauseous.” Riki begins packing up his belongings on the desk as you wonder what Jake would want to say that hadn’t already been said earlier. Surely he had no interest in talking to you beyond another apology for almost killing you earlier, not that you would have noticed.

As your thoughts continue on, you barely hear Riki’s parting words. “Have fun making out with my cousin!”

You venture outside and are greeted to Jake’s soft smile as he looks you over. “Didn’t expect you to be teaching my cousin how to read.”

You laugh. “When would that have come up? Before or after I fell face-first on the sidewalk?”

“Technically, you fell on your ass.” He looks over the cuts on your leg again. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

“Barely remember it.”

“Damn. Didn’t realize I was so forgettable,” he teases. You shuck your backpack over your shoulder, pretending his joke didn’t land. But you can’t help how your mouth curves into a grin. “Wanna take me up on that ride now? I don’t see any wine moms in sight.”

Being clear headed and not in the midst of a compromising position, you take a better look at Jake. He may look rugged from the neck down, muscles standing out through his jacket, but his face is incredibly youthful and vulnerable without a touch of hardness. Maybe the wine moms had gotten it wrong; maybe Jake’s actually a stand-up guy bundled up in a lot of leather.

Before you can answer, your father seems to appear from thin air. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Mr. Sim, pleasure to meet you officially.”

Your father holds out his hand for Jake, and Jake takes it with a steadfast grip. “Nice to meet you too sir. My mother was telling me how much you’ve been helping my aunt since she can’t attend services anymore.”

“Akemi is a pillar of our church. It’s only right to take care of one of our own as the deacon.” Your father squeezes you tighter to his side. “Glad to see you and my daughter have met. I hope she’s made a good impression upon you.”

“Yes sir. Very much so.” He smiles in your direction. The dimple in his cheek makes your heart flutter in your chest, the butterflies undeniable.

“Well, please tell your parents to come to ours soon for dinner. It would be a pleasure.” Your father begins the quick walk to his car, the silent request for you to follow him clear in his stern posture. You give Jake an apologetic smile before you leave, hoping your eyes hold the promise of taking him up on that ride someday.

When you’re both out of earshot and in the confines of your father’s car, he turns to you with a frown. “Do not get yourself involved with that boy. He doesn’t strike me as very forthcoming.”

You stutter out an excuse. Surely the first day of knowing Jake wouldn’t be the last. “F-Father–”

“Listen to me, sweetie. I know what I’m talking about.” He starts the car and begins the drive home, tightening his fists on the steering wheel. “I mean it. Do not see that boy again.”

The next morning, you’re sitting in one of the front pews with your mother, Yeri, and her mother. You see your fellow townsfolk in attendance in the other pews, Jungwon being one of them, Yeri’s longtime boyfriend. Mrs. Choi and Mrs. Lee look like they are partially focused on the attendees, but also on their own gossip.

All of you are dressed in your best outfits, your hair wrapped in a bun to maintain the peak of modesty. It doesn’t seem particularly realistic for a higher power to be judging you for your hairdo, but you gave in to your mother’s ridiculous requests as always. “We are important people in this community, darling,” your mother said as she stuck the umpteenth bobby pin in your hair. “If they can’t trust us, who can they trust?”

Riki sits behind you, his pew empty save for him. When you offer the empty spot next to you before the procession starts, he shakes his head. “Jake and his folks will be here any second.”

Your gut tightens, the words of your father playing over in your head. You know you have to heed his orders at all times, but the excitement you feel at the prospect of seeing Jake is unavoidable.

A minute before your childhood friend Heeseung sits at the piano to play the beginning of How Great Is Our God, Jake and his family walk inside. Jake’s impeccably dressed, clad in a red dress-shirt and suit pants. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a handful of tattoos you didn’t notice the day prior. He has his mother’s arm in one hand and a bible in the other, looking completely out of place but incredibly mesmerizing.

He winks at you when he sits down, making you turn your head back to your friend at the piano. You follow in your mother’s and Yeri’s lead, singing alongside them and forgetting the new buzz in your veins. You can feel his eyes on you throughout the songs and sermons, and you should say that you don’t enjoy it, but you don't kid yourself. His attention makes your body tingle in all the right and wrong ways.

You excuse yourself in the intermission, walking outside until you’re a good ten paces away from the church. You take several pins out of your hair, grunting. The incessant tools had been scratching your scalp uncomfortably for the past three hours, and it feels like freedom taking them out one at a time.

It isn’t that you don’t believe in a higher power or the teachings your father and Reverend Park have supplied you with your entire life. The town is just too suffocating on days like these, setting you up to feel like you aren’t good enough no matter how hard you try every day to perfect yourself.

The fashion show of your humble, presentable outfit, the whispered chatter from your community, the watchful eyes of holy men. They all make your skin crawl, that itch only intensifying with every day that passes. How could you stay in such a small room for years and feel misunderstood by everyone? 

Jake saunters up to you, making you gasp in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

He smirks, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I thought you weren’t supposed to say his name in vain.”

You shrug, smiling in relief to find it’s just him and nobody else. No-one to meddle, judge, or question your absence. “I’ll just say a few words of penance. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Jake chuckles and steps closer to you, his eyes lingering on your dress. It’s incredibly modest, the only skin showing high above your cleavage. but the look in his eyes still makes your nerves tremble.

 You wonder what thoughts are swimming in his head and if a majority of them are impure. Would it be so wrong to confess that you feel the same? That whatever he’s imagining mirrors your own fantasies ten times over?

“The updo doesn’t suit you,” he says finally.

You giggle and cross your arms. “It doesn’t, huh?”

He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. It lingers across your neck and shoulder blades. You shudder, hoping he doesn’t notice how his presence affects you. He reaches behind you and takes hold of the hair tie keeping your bun together. He expertly undoes it, your hair falling in waves around your shoulders.

Before he walks away, the church bells signaling the recommencement of the procession, he whispers in your ear, “Much more breathtaking with your hair down, angel.”

The next time you see Jake, he’s across from you at your family’s dinner table, all laughs with Jungwon and Yeri as your father passes out the rest of the side dishes. Riki is also there, discussing his mother’s treatment with your mother and Jake’s parents.

You can’t help the way your eyes attach to Jake across from you. It’s almost a form of punishment that you were made to sit in such close proximity, the weight of his stare on you swallowing you whole.

The feeling of his hand in your hair, his mouth against your ear–it was all so incredibly inappropriate. You shouldn’t have thought about that day last week with such excruciating frequency, but you did. You thought about it when you heard the wine moms whispering about Jake on your porch, when Yeri and Jungwon talked about him as you studied, and when you were alone at night. 

In your dreams, it was even more painful. In a perfect world, he would take his hand from your hair and keep it on your neck, holding you close. He would move his lips from the shell of your ear to the side of your neck, kissing and tasting what skin was available to him in that moment to make you come undone.

Yes, sitting across from him is torment. But the alternative is worse, not seeing him at all and having to conjure images of him alone in the quiet of your bedroom.

“Deacon, sir,” Jungwon pipes up from his spot next to Jake, addressing your father directly. “I was going to study with Jaeyun and Yeri at my house if you wouldn’t mind your daughter tagging along.”

The muscle in your father’s jaw clenches. He’s clearly unhappy with one of the attendees being Jake, but he hides it behind a smile. “It’s up to her. What do you think, sweetie?”

On one hand, you should absolutely say no. Jake may take you into a random spot of Jungwon’s house and make any resolve you still have disappear with the flick of his wrist. Even in the company of your friends, you know no place is safe when he’s around and close to you. And were you willing to crumble so easily?

At the same time, the distance is eating away at you. You can’t take another charged glance in your direction, words unspoken but begging to be released. If you have to catch his bedroom eyes on your body one more time, you may just snap in front of everyone, and care little when you do.

“Sure. I’d love to, Wonie,” you say with a grin. “Nishi, you want to come too?”

Riki shakes his head, enjoying the fruitcake your mom set out. “I’ll stay. Someone has to help clean up.” Jake’s mom squeezes one of his cheeks. Riki’s face suddenly turns pink from his aunt’s affection, making everyone laugh.

On your way out the door, your father catches you by the arm. He whispers, “No later than midnight. Understood?”

On the cusp of 10 PM, you want to protest that time with your friends is already so limited, but you obey with a nod and walk out the door. 

When you get in the backseat of Jungwon’s car, Jake too comfortable beside you, you feel your body flicker to life. “So,” you say, “your house then, Won?”

Yeri and Jungwon laugh, a conspiratory look in both of their eyes. “We’re just gonna make a quick stop first.”

Kiss ‘Em Creek was the unofficial name of the lake that ran through your town, a spot for teenagers to spend a few hours alone with their friends or partners. It wasn’t scientifically-correct, but it stuck nonetheless, many of the locals taking advantage of the not-so-secret hideaway. What went on there you only heard about through Yeri and the wine moms’ conversations, their voices littered with disappointment and condemnation.

Jungwon parks his car and turns his eyes to meet yours in the rearview mirror, that scheming smile still playing on his lips. “Ready to take a dip?”

Your eyes widen. You shake your head at a rapid pace, making your friends and Jake chuckle. “No way,” you say.

“C’mon babe, live a little!” Yeri winks and exits the car, Jungwon hot on her heels. The two of them begin to strip to their underwear, eager to jump in the water together. Jungwon picks her up in a bridal carry, Yeri laughing the entire way as he takes the first step into the awaiting lake.

As the two lovebirds continue heading towards the water, you and Jake sit in comfortable silence, your heartbeat slowly rising at the prospect of being alone in the car together. No distractions, no disappointed parents, no judgemental hags. Just the two of you under a cloud of stars and beautiful moonlight.

“I didn’t know if you would come tonight,” Jake says, filling the silence with a quiet chuckle. “Thought you were avoiding me at all costs, like I’m some kind of plague.”

“No!” You turn in your seat to face him. His expression is teasing but holds undercurrents of disappointment, clearly confused where your feelings lie. And he has every right to feel that way. One minute you’re wishing he would pull you closer, and the next you feel it’s better he keeps his distance. “I just don’t know what your intentions are.”

His eyes darken and his lips curve into a beautiful but intimidating smile. “Is it not obvious?”

You squeeze your thighs together, a wave of heat spreading through your bones. “Maybe I just want you to say it out loud.”

He scoots closer to you, his chest a heartbeat away from yours. “Well, to start,” he says, “I would really like to kiss you.”

You smile. A breathless laugh leaves your lips, eager to know what it would feel like to touch his mouth to yours. “I’d like that too.”

Jake runs a hand through your hair and rests it on your cheek. His touch is as fragile as the tension between you. “Then what are you so afraid of?”

You shut your eyes, trying to come up with the right words and falling short. “It’s just everyone–”

“Fuck everyone else.” He forces you to look into his eyes, the words leaving his mouth being some of the truest ones you’ve ever heard in your life. “You’re not a bad person or a sinner for wanting what you want.”

“I know that.”

“You may know it but you don’t believe it.” Jake’s lips ghost over yours, his breath tickling your cheeks. “Stop thinking about what everyone else thinks of you. Think of yourself for once.”

Maybe Jake’s right. All of your choices in life have been dictated by what your parents, friends, and total strangers have felt. If you listened to your own heart, you would have left all of them in the dust by now, chasing what you really wanted far away from this place.

At the same time, you’re glad to be in this car with Jake. He’s so close to you, telling you to take the leap and choose yourself for the first time in a long time.

When you press your lips to his, the feeling of his mouth on yours soft and tentative, you know you can’t wake up tomorrow the same person. This choice will ripple into all the choices you make from this moment on, but you don’t seem to care.

All that matters is his mouth, taking more control and setting a fire deep in your belly. He presses his tongue to the juncture of your lips, diving inside without protest.

You moan into his mouth, feeling one hand firmly pressed on your neck as the other runs down your shirt to squeeze at your breast through your clothes.

“Fuck, tell me to stop,” Jake says with a heady whisper, still kneading your breast with his palm. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him to the point you’re halfway on his lap, legs intertwined with his. “So help me God, don’t stop now.”

He snickers, pecking your lips again. “You said his name in vain again.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles into your neck. “That wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” You move your lips to his cheek. “Or the second.” They trail down to his neck, taking your fantasies and etching them into his skin. “Or third.”

“Fuck,” Jake curses, holding you tight against him. “You’re too good at this.”

You smirk. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not the first person I’ve ever kissed.”

He laughs, the rumble of it vibrating against your mouth. “I don’t care as long as you keep kissing me.”

“Wasn’t planning on stopping.” By the time you reattach your mouth to his, you’re straddling his lap. His hands are nestled on the small of your back, wanting to inch down further but unsure where or what your boundaries are.

You take the initiative, suddenly bold, and put both of his palms on your backside. “If you wanted to touch my ass, you could’ve just said so.”

Jake licks his lips, his accent coming out in a husky whisper. “I want to touch you in a lot of places. Your ass just happens to be easily accessible right now.”

“Oh really?” You giggle. “Care to enlighten me?”

Jake sharply switches positions, your back against the expanse of the backseat as he towers over you. He rubs his hands across the outside of your thighs, eager but patient. “Gladly.”

He kisses your neck, suckling and licking with perfect pressure, making you whimper. “Jaeyun,” you say out loud, his name coming out like a question more than a statement.

“Use your words, angel. Tell me what you want.” His eyes pass over your face, your kissable lips and lust-blown irises. You’re too entrenched in him now to walk away from this car the same girl, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

It may end badly, crash and burn completely like everyone expects it to, but that’s the last thing you care about right now.

“I want you to touch me.” You take one of his hands on your thighs and place it over your underwear, its center damp.

“Jesus,” he says in wonder, rubbing his fingers against the cotton.

“You just said–oh,” you stop short when you feel Jake’s fingers against your clit. The sensation makes you buck your hips up into him, him discovering the bundle of nerves without trying hard. He’s clearly happy at the wetness he finds. He rubs your folds in the same fashion, biting down on his bottom lip hard.

“You feel so good already. So perfect,” he whispers, taking hold of your lips again with his own while he swirls his fingers in and around your essence. He switches between teasing your clit and rubbing along your pussy, his movements lewd yet graceful. Only when he puts a finger inside of you do you gasp and look at him directly, your eyes clearly giving away your fear.

“What’s wrong, angel? Did I do something?” Concern floods his face, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I’ve never gone this far,” you confess, looking to your side to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He turns your head to face him again, fingers laying under your chin softly. “We can stop now if you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

His response makes your heart clench. Most guys, you’d imagine, would be pissed off or pleading with you to continue on, to do what they wanted and enjoy the moment. That was how Jongseong was, pouting the entire time after you told him to pump the brakes on your makeout sessions.

Somehow, with Jake, it feels right to continue. You suddenly have no anxiety clouding your thoughts or expectations weighing on your heart. You kiss his lips tenderly and shake your head. “No, I want this. I want you.”

A cheshire-cat grin spreads across his face before he goes in for another kiss. He runs his tongue along the inside of your mouth as his finger slides across your folds once again. He plunges it deep inside of your heat, your body adjusting to the new sensation with surprising ease.

You thrash lightly underneath him, matching the tempo of his finger with abandon. He slips another digit in, groaning at the feeling of your soft, gummy walls becoming accustomed to him. “You’re taking my fingers so well, angel. ‘S fucking incredible.”

You gasp and feel the fire from earlier heightening in intensity, spreading from your belly into the other seams of your body. It makes your toes curl and your hand press against one of the doors of Jungwon’s car, needing something to clutch onto while feeling yourself losing what’s left of your control.

“Jaeyun, I think I–”

“I know baby,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re going to feel so good in a second, I promise. Don’t be afraid.”

His thumb makes contact with your neglected clit, rubbing in rapid motions as he pumps his fingers faster in and out of you. You suddenly become overloaded with pleasure; its immensity is something you’ve never felt before. You feel it coat the back of your mouth and take what’s left of your rational senses, your body moving on its own accord as you ride out what’s remaining of your orgasm.

You blush furiously when you come back down to earth, giggling like a schoolgirl as Jake kisses your sweat-drenched cheek. “That was…amazing.”

Jake chuckles, a smirk painting his features. “You’re amazing.”

You tuck your face in your hands, embarrassed but still enraptured by what you just experienced. He pulls one hand away, taking it in his own, his expression suddenly shy. “So, I guess this is the part where I ask you on a proper date.”

You laugh and sit up, placing your panties back around your hips and adjusting your skirt. “I would hope so!”

Jungwon and Yeri choose that moment to run back into the car, their hair drenched but their bodies properly dressed once again. Jungwoon looks at the two of you in the backseat and grimaces. “Not in my car, man!”

Despite the warnings from your parents and the wine moms, you and Jake had become inseparable within a month’s time. It took many late-night impromptu meetings and secret rendezvous to keep your relationship private, but you had succeeded thus far. And it only made the moments you both shared that much more special.

Riki had kept your secret, keeping his eyes out for any prying townsfolk and covering for his cousin and you if need be. Yeri and Jungwon also cheered you on from the shadows, hoping one day you could be public like they were without criticism.

Sitting in the field near the lake, a picnic blanket set across the grass, you have your head in Jake’s lap while he absentmindedly turns strands of your hair into miniature braids. It’s a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, the two of you occupying the resounding forest with no outside influences.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful your hair is?” Jake asks, kissing your forehead before he takes another batch of strands in his hand. If he has to pick one of your best attributes, in his words, he’d say it was a tie between your lips and your hair, the two of them constantly making his heart race. You called him a liar, but as time revealed, he was nothing but honest with you every day, and not just about what turns him on. 

Over time, you discovered his fears, his ticks, his aspirations past the small town you both found yourselves in. You admire his vulnerability, how open he is when sharing the thoughts that occupy his mind.

“At least three times already,” you tease, running your hand across his leg.

“It’s not bad to hear it a fourth time, right?” He plants another kiss to the crown of your head. He drops the braid he’s just made across your face, making you laugh.

“I’d rather hear how work went today,” you say, getting up to press your back to his chest, snuggling into him.

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Not much to talk about. Working with roofs all day isn’t exactly exciting, angel.” 

You know Jake doesn’t want to work at his dad’s construction company for the rest of his life. However, it provides stability, and that matters a lot to him. He knows what it did to his aunt when Riki’s father walked out early on in his cousin’s life, and he wouldn’t wish that lack of support on anyone.

“At least you’re not running a tutoring center and a daycare in the same church,” you joke, your tone anything but humorous. The brood you dealt with every day was completely unlike Riki. They were kids that were carbon copies of their parents, children that would one day become exactly like their absentminded fathers and speculatory mothers. It put a taste in your mouth you couldn’t stomach.

You fall into steady silence, the uptick in both of your nerves ebbing away the longer you hold each other. Sure, Jake hates roofing as much as you hate disciplining whining toddlers and helping apathetic tweens with mathematics, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

All that does is each other, enjoying the midweek sunset and the sounds of the birds flying overhead.

“What would you do if you were somewhere else?” Jake asks into the crook of your neck.

You grin, imagining a world of possibilities. The question never came up before, not from him or anyone else. It opens up a plethora of choices in your mind, but you narrow them down quickly, knowing what your heart truly desires.

“I’d like to teach,” you answer. “Really teach, maybe at a university. Something like poetry.” You turn to look at him, a newfound fire in your eyes. “Yeah.”

Jake smiles back at you, moving stray strands of hair from your shoulder to rest his head there. “I think you’d be great at that.”

“What would you do?”

Jake ponders the question, going over it in the same way you were moments before. You see realization wash over his features, and it makes you smile. “I think I’d write. Not literature or anything, but songs maybe? Teach music in the meantime. Still have to make money somehow, y’know.”

You giggle and push him down on the picnic blanket, running your fingers through his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

He nods, sharing your happiness. “Maybe a kid and a dog can fit somewhere in that plan.”

Chuckling, you raise one eyebrow. “As long as I’m not having a baby out of wedlock, that sounds perfect to me.”

He turns you both over, covering your body with his and kissing you intensely. The passion runs from his body to yours, your heartbeats matching in their strong beats against your chests. “Perfect,” he whispers, his lips meeting yours once again.

It may be too soon to call it love, but you know you’re tiptoeing that line, and you wouldn’t mind falling headfirst on the other side of it as long as Jake’s there waiting for you.

“Are you sure they don’t know I’m here?” Jake asks, hesitant to walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

“It’s fine! They’re at a seminar all weekend with Reverend Park and his son, I promise.” You kiss his lips before running up to your room. Still on the fence, you hear his tentative footsteps trudging behind you.

Another few months rolled by, and your parents had softened to the idea of Jake being around more often. He showed up with his parents to church every Sunday, even if you both snuck off to make out in the backwoods when nobody was paying attention.

He’d stick around for the deacon’s sessions with Akemi, brightening her spirits with his guitar and a couple of songs to replace the ones she missed during normal processions. It helped that she seemed to be getting better, slowly but surely, with treatment and daily prayer.

When you heard your father call Jake a “nice kid,” you knew they were turning a corner in their relationship that you wished for since the night Jake kissed you in Jungwon’s car.

Now, that doesn’t mean they would be happy with finding him in your bed on a Friday night, but you’ve broken enough rules at this point. What’s one more?

“You’re trying to get me killed,” Jake jokes as you rip his shirt from his body, discarding the article of clothing on your bedroom floor. You sit on your bed and marvel at the muscles on his chest and stomach, all of it yours to caress and kiss at any time.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll follow you to heaven,” you tease, pulling him closer to kiss his body. Each press of your lips to his skin makes him tremble, cursing quietly to himself at the feeling.

“With the way you’re touching me, I doubt either of us will make it there.”

You giggle and link his mouth to yours. You moan when his tongue hits the roof of your mouth.

The intentions you had for tonight definitely involved numerous bouts of kissing, but the way Jake’s making you feel will certainly end up with his face or fingers between your legs. And as good as that sounds, you don’t want him derailing you from completing your mission.

There had been so many moments of him giving you pleasure up to this point, you wondered how he had stayed so composed and content after without expecting anything in return.

So, tonight, you decided to give him a bit of satisfaction, even if you’re walking into such activities without any kind of road map. Yeri gave you a handful of tips, but doing it for real is another beast entirely.

“Jaeyun, wait,” you say, taking his face in between your hands.

He looks up at you with eager eyes, wondering why you pulled him away from your neck. “What is it?”

“I want to take care of you this time.” You say, hoping your expression gives off the confidence you’re trying to portray. “I’ve never done it before, but—“

“And you don’t have to, angel,” Jake says with a dopey, relaxed smile. What on Earth and heaven did you do to find a guy like him?

“Please,” you beg, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “I want to try.”

Jake’s conflicting feelings are evident in his eyes. Surely any man wants his girlfriend to go down on him with the same eagerness that you're giving him right now, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated. 

In his mind, pleasure isn’t about some sort of trade-off. He makes you feel good because he wants to, not because it’s some duty he has to fulfill and expects to be paid back for later.

But, you asked so nicely and your eyes shine up at him so beautifully. He feels his resolve crumble enough to concede and do what you want.

You begin to unbutton his pants, your fingers twitching not from fear but excitement. When you pull down his jeans fully and see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, your mouth falls open slightly at the size.

Could it fit in your mouth if it was that big?

Jake chuckles and takes your hand to press to the gaping material covering him. “It won’t bite.”

You look up at him and begin to stutter, unsure how to continue once you take off his underwear. “D-Do you want me to use my hands first?”

“Whatever feels right to you, angel. I trust you.” He rubs his thumb across your cheek, and it calms all the nerves that came to the surface.

It’s in those three words that you find the courage to pull the remaining article of clothing off of him, taking in the sight of his cock in all its glory.

You gulp hard, trailing your eyes from the tip to where it adjoins to the rest of him. You’ve never seen one up close before, and you feel like you’re invading his privacy as you stare at it for another long minute. But who can blame you?

“It’s all for you, baby,” Jake whispers. “Do whatever you want.”

You feel a sharp pang of heat at the center of your thighs, his words spurring you on. You spit into your hand, as Yeri instructed, and wrap your hand firmly around Jake’s cock. With an easy but deliberate pace, you look at Jake directly to see if you’re starting off on the right foot.

And boy were you.

Jake hisses at the feeling of your hand encasing him, loving the tightness of your fingers as they continue sliding up and down his dick. He had envisioned this many times in the solitude of his bedroom, images of you and your beautiful body writhing underneath him enough to get him off. But those nights were nothing compared to this.

“Are you ready for my mouth now?” You ask timidly. Jake wants to laugh at how innocent you sound, the words coming so naturally off of your tongue.

“Yes, angel, please,” he answers, wanting to caress you by the hair and guide you down to his awaiting, leaking cock.

You move closer until you're an inch away from his tip. Flattening your tongue to take it into your mouth, you keep watching Jake’s face for the right signals.

His mouth opens, a satisfied whine leaving his lips. You feel a wave of pride at the fact he’s enjoying it so much, egging you on further.

“Your mouth feels so perfect wrapped around me,” he confesses. He soaks in the sensation of your lips and teeth softly running over the veins of his cock, your head bobbing across his length skillfully. How can an innocent and dutiful daughter like you give such mind-blowing head?

He can’t ruminate on the answer long, releasing a guttural moan as he feels his tip hit the back of your throat, the gag that rumbles from you making his cock even more sensitive.

“Angel, I’m gonna come soon,” Jake warns. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, let me know now.”

You look up through your lashes at him as you continue sucking on him with fierce passion, swirling your tongue across his tip. 

His hand is wrapped firmly in your hair now, fucking your face as softly as he can without forcing anymore of himself down your throat. When you take a hand to cup his balls, softly kneading them between your fingers, he’s done for.

He whines pathetically as his seed shoots inside your mouth. The taste isn’t particularly pleasing, but you milk it for what it’s worth to watch him fall apart so perfectly under your attention.

The orgasm rocks through him with an unshakeable amount of pleasure, his body completely helpless as he continues to spurt into your mouth. He can only hiss and whine as you continue to touch him, letting him come down fully and taking all of him without complaint.

Jake breathes in deeply when he gains clarity again, taking you in his arms and shoving his tongue deep in your mouth. “That was probably the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he states, running his fingers over your face with adoration.

You scoff and roll your eyes, his words making you shy. “I doubt it, seeing as that was my first one.”

“It was!” Jake puts a hand on his heart. “Swear to the savior himself.” Before you can rebut, Jake takes your legs in his hands and moves you to the edge of the bed.

You wake up to the hard knocks at your bedroom door, the morning sun peeking out of your window to prove the previous night has long gone.

“Honey? What did we say about locked doors in this house?”

Your father’s booming voice makes you jump up from bed, smacking Jake hard on the shoulder and chest to wake him up.

“We had an odd feeling at the hotel, so we came home early,” your mother says as you shake Jake from his sleep.

“Ow, what the fuck,” Jake grunts, his voice not quiet enough to go unnoticed. You curse yourself and the reality in front of what’s about to happen, knowing full well your parents heard him on the other side of the door.

“Sweetie, who’s in there with you?” Your mother’s shrill but concerned tone makes you cringe. Jake’s eyes bulge in response, quickly leaping from the mattress to pull on his clothes in haste.

Just when you throw your dress from last night over your head and Jake buttons up his pants, your father slams open the door with his shoulder. Your parents gasp and yell at the sight before them, the man they began to grow comfortable with in a compromising position with their only daughter and precious child.

“What in God’s name is he doing here?” Your father asks no-one in particular, stomping towards Jake’s shirtless figure and yanking him by the neck.

“Daddy, stop!” You plead, scratching and clawing at his frame to pull him off of your lover.

Your mother begins blubbering, teary-eyed before you. “Oh honey, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you scream. “Please leave him alone and let us be.”

“I told you to stay away from him.” Your father stares you down, eyes blazing with fury. “Not only did you betray me, but you betrayed the sanctity of your purity. It’s a disgrace.”

Jake coughs, your father’s hands tightening around his neck. “The only disgrace is the two of you holding her back, like she’s some weak bird in a cage,” he croaks. “She can make her own decisions.”

“You stay silent, you insolent pest,” your father growls, yanking Jake out of your room and down the stairs. By the time you and your mother make it out to the bottom step, your father has thrown Jake out and onto the porch.

“Stay away from my daughter, or you’ll have another reason to pray you don’t end up burning in hell.”

“Stop it!” You step in between your father and Jake, the latter putting on what’s left of his clothes. People begin to hover too close to your family home, suddenly entrenched in the scene playing out before them.

Jake kisses your forehead and walks away in the direction of his parked bike, unsure what else he can do unless he wants to truly end up six feet under. 

 Your father grabs you by the upper arm and pulls you in the direction of your porch, but you resist with all your might. “You can’t make me go back in there.”

“I am your father and you will listen to me,” he grunts, holding on tight.

“Daddy, I love him!” You scream as you yank your arm away from your father, your inner strength giving way. “If you can’t accept that, I guess I’ll just have to burn hell with him. Better than wasting another second here.”

You run toward Jake’s bike and sit behind him, cinching your arms around his waist. He smiles to himself, feeling the press of your chest to his back as he puts his helmet over his head. “Are you sure about this, angel?”

You nod furiously, not bothering to look back at your red-faced family. “More than I’ve ever been.”

All you focus on is his motorcycle rumbling to life before you speed away. Your hair blows in the wind as you both escape the horrified stares of the local vipers.

You end up at a motel on the other side of town, far away from the scandal that’s surely rocking your small community by now. The deacon’s daughter running away with the bad boy next door? What a tragedy!

You run inside to miss the upcoming rain, both of you shivering from the barrage of pellets that did land on your skin. You settle onto the mattress as Jake drops the small amount of belongings he had in his possession on the dresser.

He turns to you with quiet concern, arms splayed out on the furniture as he looks at you, searching your face for any lingering doubt. “No regrets?”

You shake your head, exhausted but glad to be out of that house. “None at all.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and sits down beside you on the bed, rubbing your thigh with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows knit together, confusion pouring over you. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

 You feel tears build at your eye ducts, your voice suddenly growing thick when you recall the scene from an hour ago. “I’m sorry my father was so horrible to you.”

“Hush, it’s okay,” he puts his other hand on your face. He kisses your lips tenderly and gracefully. How did nobody else but you see he possessed the most kind nature of anyone you’ve ever known?

Jake moves his head, his lips curving into the smile that always takes your common sense away. “I love you too, by the way.”

Your confession from earlier hits you like a heavy rock, your eyes going wide and your face turning pale. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to say it.”

“Then say it now,” Jake urges, your face resting gently between his fingers.

There’s no fear or pressure when the three words leave your lips, only the feeling of a weight lifting off of your chest. “I love you, Sim Jaeyun. I love you with my whole heart.”

His face lights up, the words seeming to set aglow something deep within him. The only right reaction seems to be in the form of his lips attaching to yours in a passionate kiss, your shared love creating a beautiful path forward for the both of you.

He whispers his next words so lightly, you almost assume the statement is a figment of your imagination. “Marry me.”

You feel your face contort into a mixture of disbelief and elation, needing to hear him say it again for it to truly resonate. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeats, his smile stretching across his face. “Marry me now, or in three months from now, or whenever you want. Just say you will.”

You exhale a breath of astonishment, unsure if he knows how much you want to say yes, to make this as real as it sounds on his lips. He leaves your side with a kiss to your temple to grab something from his jacket. 

He comes back in record time, standing in front of you and twiddling the black box in both of his hands with anxious fingers. “I brought it with me to your house last night, I just didn’t know how to ask then. But I do now.”

Like in all the stories you’ve read and movies you’ve seen in your lifetime, he sinks down onto one knee before you. You place a hand over your mouth as he opens the box, a ring with an opal-shaped diamond cushioned in the center.

“Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” Those words on his lips, visibly shaken from his own question, make a thousand butterflies flutter inside your chest.

Months ago, if you knew then you would end up here, from the edge of the sidewalk to now, you would not change a single moment. The world had been so gray before, you didn’t know what it was like to step in the sun until he came into your life. What other answer is there?

“Yes, yes, yes,” you respond, tears flooding your eyes as he shakily places the ring on your finger. It fits just right, the stone at the center sparkling in the darkness of the motel room.

You kiss Jake’s lips with all the force your body possesses, certain there’s no better future than right beside him.

The feeling of the gold band around your finger makes Jake shudder as it touches his cock. Your body is nestled perfectly on top of his as you take what you can’t put in your mouth between your fingers.

He laps up your essence with his tongue, ecstatic to have his face covered in your juices and smothered if need be by your wet cunt. If people think wedding nights are magical, engagement nights have to be a step up.

“Fuck, Jaeyun, yes,” you roll your hips into his awaiting mouth, his tongue available for you to lay your slit onto. The expletive leaves your mouth like honey, the feeling fitting for such a dirty word.

He knows exactly how to make you fall apart and be put back together, and the thought of doing this for the rest of your life makes you want to cry again from the pure happiness inside your core.

Jake takes his lips off of your pussy and sits up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he takes you into his lap on the bed and kisses you fiercely. You taste yourself on his tongue as he skillfully takes your breath away with his lips. When you part, he says, “Angel, I know we said we’d wait, but I don’t know how much longer I can handle not being inside of you.”

You whimper at his words and suddenly rock your center into the tip of his cock, making him groan in the process. “I mean—we’re just starting early, right?” 

Jake releases a joyous laugh and kisses you hungrily, his face in a constant state of ecstasy since you said “yes” hours ago. “Right.”

 The anticipation makes you even wetter, crawling to the head of the bed as Jake grabs a condom from the bedside table. If there was one thing he had promised, he swore he wouldn’t get you pregnant. Not yet, anyway.

He rolls the rubber over his cock before joining you on the bed, lining up perfectly with your center. He rubs his tip against your folds, biting his lip at how easily it gets coated in your essence. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, a smirk filling the entire bottom half of your face.

He pushes the tip in, the pressure a foreign feeling you had never experienced before. It took time and practice to get used to the size of his fingers, but this is another level of fullness that takes your breath away.

Once Jake’s partially inside and gives you a moment to adjust, he asks, “Can I move?”

You nod your head, holding onto his shoulders for support as he begins to thrust inside of you. He loves to see his cock disappearing between your legs, your body eagerly taking him in and stretching itself out to accommodate him. He loves the way you whimper at the movement of his hips and the pleasure you’re receiving.

Better yet, he loves you. He loves all of you, from the nonsensical words you speak in your sleep to the wrinkle between your eyebrows when you get mad. You’re all his, and he’s grateful to be the only one you call yours.

“We may never leave this motel,” Jake says, his words breathy as he continues moving his hips. “I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life, angel.”

“I love you so much,” you say, inching your hand between your bodies to roll your clit between your fingers.

“I love you,” Jake says. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you like he wants to pour all of his emotions from his being into your soul, just so you know how deep his love for you goes.

It’s all so overwhelmingly beautiful, you feel the swell of your release cresting over you like a tidal wave. “Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whisper, your mouth open wide from the moans and cries you cannot suppress.

Jake groans and slams his hips into you harder, filling you to the hilt repeatedly. “Come, angel. Come for me.”

You cry out as the orgasm takes hold of your body, your fingers working on their own accord on your clit as you fall off the edge.

Jake stills not a second later, releasing into the condom and taking the last remnants of his energy to thrust inside of you a few more times.

He pulls out and throws the rubber in a nearby trash can. His sweaty body clings to yours, hands rubbing up and down your arm tenderly as he kisses the curve of your shoulder.

You see the flash of your ring in the glow of the motel’s neon sign, and you think about how the night could not have gone any better.

Jake may be a bit reckless and not what you initially imagined for your future, but now that you have him, you wouldn’t give him up for anything. All the parts of you that stayed buried for so long have resurfaced because of him, and you could not be more grateful.

With your left hand a touch heavier than it was some hours ago, you fall asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the window and Jake’s rising and falling chest.

You walk out of your mother’s house, happy to have made a visit with her before she ran off to do her morning errands.

What you’re not pleased to encounter is the same crowd of women huddled with their homemade fans and cups of lemonade. They weren’t there when you arrived a few hours ago.  Of course they show up when you have no chance of escaping them, like the vultures they are.

“Mrs. Sim,” Mrs. Choi says, her tone entirely made of stone with little warmth. “Pleasure to see you.”

Your new surname gives you indescribable amounts of happiness. It took your parents some time to get used to, but eventually, they realized you put your heart in the right place. Your father took his sweet time getting there, begrudgingly admitting a short time ago Jake is a very acceptable son-in-law, the turnaround of his perception of your husband complete.

You give the crotchety ringleader a fake smile and attempt to walk away, but Mrs. Lee interjects. “How’s your mister doing working at the church now?”

“Great,” you say, genuinely happy to talk about a topic you care for. “Jaeyun loves the kids. Little Yuna might actually be a guitar prodigy from what he’s told me.”

They all coo, practically synchronized in their sips of lemonade and fan flurries.

“Soon enough you’ll have one of your own, I’m sure,” Mrs. Choi remarks with sarcasm, her red-lipstick-stained front teeth on full display.

“Not too soon now,” Jake suddenly says, walking up the pathway to your mother’s house and taking you in by the waist. “My wife has to finish her Masters first. How else is she gonna start teaching at the community college?”

My wife. No matter how long it’s been since you officially got married in your church, that day a year ago forever ingrained in your memory, it still warms you to the bones hearing those words leave Jake’s lips.

The women all express signs of agreement, some nodding while others hum.

“We better get back home now, but you ladies have a nice day!” Jake bids them goodbye and walks you both down the stairs with his hand on the small of your back. Even if he were to be more than the perfect gentleman in front of them, they would still linger around with pesky eyes and constantly moving lips.

“They’re still betting we’re gonna crash and burn, aren’t they?” Jake whispers, teasing you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. You fall more in love with him every day that passes, no matter what the people around you do or don’t see. They may have their opinions, but it won’t shake the foundation you’ve built. “Well, they’re sure to be disappointed if I have anything to say about it.”

Jake’s eyes widen, his expression humorous yet surprised. “Easy, angel. Don’t want to have to tear my wife off of a nosy wine mom.”

Your heart aches at his words, him fully aware of what two of them in particular do to you. “I love you.”

Jake grins, inching his face closer to yours. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but what would everyone say?” He asks with a mock face of horror.

You shrug without much care, grinning. “Someone once told me ‘fuck everyone else.’ And right now I couldn’t agree more.”

Jake laughs before he places a gentle kiss to your lips, the sun radiating off of him in waves as he pulls you closer.

No matter what anyone in your small town has to say, your choices are yours; you’re perfectly happy with how your life has turned out whether they think so too or not. And you will always choose Sim Jaeyun, now and forever.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[monamipencil]

— ♡ [21:54]

tw; pregnant! reader + some insecurities

you giggle as soonyoung pushes his face on yours, “I don't see it.” he states with a serious tone. “I don't see the 'ugly' you're talking about.” you chuckle again.

he gasps, and holds your face close enough for you to smell the pasta you both ate a while ago. “no! are you going blind? the doctor said it was a possibility! noooo.”

you simply roll your eyes and pinch his cheek, “they said that experiencing blurry vision is normal, and complete blindness is rare.”

with a hum, he lays on your lap and places his palm on your growing belly. pressing a kiss to your tummy, he rubs his nose against it, accidentally tickling you.

you lean back, relaxing into couch as he talks to your baby. you run your hand through his hair, and caress his head and nape. “I can't wait to dress our baby in tiger onesies,” he squeals like a school girl and you watch him sit up and continue his yap.

he gasps, and you see stars twinkling in his eyes (he's also tearing up), “we all should wear tiger onesies! and-and we'd be the cutest tiger family.” yeah, he's actually crying.

you simply admire your husband while he has a breakdown. but you also love it when he's normal and doesn't indirectly promote his tiger cult. so you put a stop to his rambling by kissing him and soonyoung is more than happy to stop.

he melts into the kiss. one of his hands wrap around your back to pull you closer gently while the other cradles your face. he pulls away to snuggle into your neck and sway you in his arms.

a wave of emotions crash into you suddenly, and you're too aware of how you look and feel. your eyes tear up and you sniff, causing him to look at you.

worry etches on his face, and he holds you like you're about to break. “what's wrong baby?”

“how do you even love me?”

soonyoung smiles from ear to ear, and he excitedly kisses your cheeks. “wanna hear about how I fell for you? I know you heard it a thousand other times. BUT! this one is exclusive edition.”

“why?” you sniff, and pout unintentionally.

“because,” he lays his palm on your tummy and smiles. “this'll be the first time our baby listens to how his dad fell for his mom.”

“his?”

“her. anything. wait, what if the baby is a tiger?”

“that's physically impossible.”

“anything is possible.”

you roll your eyes but your smile softens when he lays on your lap again. he whispers the details of the story you know all too well and won't ever get tired of hearing. and he always finishes it like, “I probably forgot a few other things. I'll say it the next time.”

he's so confident that this won't be the last time he'll reiterate his love for you. and that he'll be there for a next time. that he isn't going anywhere. that you're his home and he's yours too.

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy @jespecially

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys @embrace-themagic

@aaniag (send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

[celestie0]

choso x reader | punk rock au [18+]

in another life ch.1 cupid's arrow

ᰔ pairing. punk rock au - bass player! choso x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. you and choso were lovers in college when him and his rock band were just nobodies with nothing but a dream, but when his band strikes a deal with an up-and-coming record label in tokyo, you make the tough decision to break up with him since you couldn’t go with him to the city. flash forward seven years, his band is the biggest rock band in the world, n you move from the countryside to tokyo with your fiancé nanami to start your new life together. but in the heart of the city, home to many, there’s one person there that still has the power to turn your whole life upside down. and when you run into him again after all those years, feelings you didn’t know were still haunting you come crashing back all at once, and you’re not sure what it is you want from your life anymore.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, punk rock au, partying, drinking/alcohol, weed usage, cigarette usage, romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, second chance romance, time skips, love triangle, bad boy choso, slight age gap (five yrs), longterm pining, jealousy, messy decisions, you know the drill

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 6)

ᰔ words. 10.2k

a/n. hellooooo aaa welcome to my new choso fic :'') i'm so excited for this one! i'm just laughing at how i cannot just stick to a oneshot idea and somehow end up planning out a fullblown series instead hahah. but anyways, i hope you enjoy! thank you to everyone that wanted to be on the taglist, i'm really looking forward to diving into this story. see you at the bottom!!

alsooo my m00tie @sykosugu and i decided to post for our fics at the same time hehe she has a really spicy suguru x reader fic called 'on the run' that i highly recommend so go check that out as well if you're interestedd <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 (pending)

“and there was something about you that now, i can’t remember. it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.”

present day. summer.

“We’re gonna miss you so, so, so much, love,” Mai groans, pulling you in towards her for a hug and you reciprocate with fondness.

Another pair of arms wraps around you, grip much tighter and you protest through a difficult breath. “Do you really have to go?” Nobara asks.

You tap on the skin of her arm, urging her to ease her hold in this group hug, and she finally relents and the three of you pull apart from one another. There’s a slight gasp from your lips as you breathe in fresh summer air. “I do, Nobie, I’m sorry. Nanami said it’s the final decision.”

You’re standing on hot concrete in front of a little countryside cottage that you’ve called home for years, but will soon just be a memory. You know which light switches illuminate corners of the rooms, and which creaking wood panels on the floor to avoid when looking for a midnight snack. It’s where you spent years studying for finals, arguing with your mom, learning how to care for Ms. Roxie, and it’s where you fell in love. More than once.

Your parents gave the house to you and Nanami once the two of you became engaged, but that blessing was soon to be given away, as Nanami received news six months ago that he was being promoted and relocated to Tokyo. Now, you have two bags in your hands, your purse slung around your shoulder, and a suitcase filled to the brim with the life you’ve tried to stuff in it. Your taxi driver has the other suitcase, because there were some things you couldn’t leave behind after all, and he’s putting it in the trunk right now.

“Nanami is so rude to take you from us,” Mai sighs, “but at least you’ll be one of those cool city girls now. So scary. I heard trends change faster there than the leaves on Rowan tree during spring.”

Nobara lets out a gasp that’s only half exaggerated. “No way! It can’t be!”

The taxi driver calls after you with a quick question, to which you answer back with a shout from where you stood. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s time to get moving, as you’ll be taking a connecting train once you reach Tokyo that you need to be on time for. And then he’ll be there. Nanami will be waiting for you there, to lead you into the life that he’s started to make for the two of you.

“I’ll call so very often,” you promise the two of them, “and I will miss you two so very often as well.” Tears prickle in your eyes, and it seems to be contagious as they shimmer in Nobara and Mai’s eyes as well. Another group hug takes place between the three of you, harsh sun beating down with birds chirping in the distance as you try to take in the last few moments you’ve been granted of this place. “Take care of Roxie for us,” you say through a sniffle, “to you, it may seem like you’re only the bearer of food for her, but I promise that little kitty will love you two like no other.”

They both nod at you as you pull away, and you swipe at a tear that rolls down your cheek as you roll your suitcase down the pebbled walkway of your now past home.

The taxi driver helps hoist your suitcase into the trunk and places your other two bags into the back seat. You take a seat at the front with him, clicking the passenger seatbelt, and you roll down the window to wave bye with blown kisses as the taxi driver pulls away from the rocky mud road with crunching under the wheels. You watch Mai and Nobara and your home in the side view mirror until they’re no longer visible, but their voices of farewell linger in the air for a moment more.

“Alright, ma’am, bound for Tokyo!” your taxi driver chirps, his rough-looking hands opening and closing a few times to stretch out the joints of his fingers before tightly gripping onto the steering wheel again.

“Yes, Tokyo,” you murmur softly, gaze set out the window of the familiar street shops and stretches of patchy trees you know you’ll miss once you’re in the city.

“What’s your name?” the man asks, a thick country accent rolling off his tongue, with a sweetness like honey.

You turn your head to look at him more closely. The hair of his eyebrows is bushy, somewhat unkempt, and he has thick lines across his cheeks and forehead that can only mean that he’s lived a lot of life.

You tell him your name and he nods slowly as the two of you stop at a through road, a few school children hurrying past before he turns right onto the main road. “That’s a nice name. Which one of your parents gave it to ya?”

“Um. Both of them?”

He lets out a noise of acknowledgement, and doesn’t ask a further question. You smooth out the fabric of your long skirt with a hand, then toy with the band of your simple watch. Just when you think a comfortable silence has fallen between the two of you, and you think you have the luxury of losing yourself in your thoughts with sights beyond the polished glass window, the man speaks up again.

“Alright then, miss, tell me a story.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Pardon?”

“We’re gonna be spendin’ three hours in this car together, darlin’. It’s either I talk your ear off or you talk mine off,” he says, broad shoulders rolling backwards once as he gets comfortable in his driving position.

“Uh…do we need to talk at all?”

He glances over at you for a moment. The car wheels grind over rocks on gravel road near an agricultural field, and his fingers flex once again on the wheel. “You younger generations are so stuck in your own worlds. Entertain some conversation with the poor old taxi driver, will ya?”

You sigh, folding your hands in your nap neatly. “Alright. I don’t really have many stories to tell, though.”

“A young lady like you, packin’ up her whole life to move to a big city? I beg to differ,” he counters.

His words have you tucking your bottom lip under your teeth, a few blinks of your eyelids to process his observation of you. Your mind searches for stories to tell. Maybe that moment last week when you watched a momma duck waddle across a bridge with all seven of her baby ducklings. Or maybe you could tell him about that time you drove your car into a ditch the night of the comet festival and you swear you saw a UFO in the sky. The story you’ve been telling a lot lately, though, was the one of how Nanami proposed.

But then there’s a different story that comes to mind. With hazy images of blinding stage lights in dim venues, cigarette smoke wafting through the air, sounds of bass and drums and cheers. Smell of dry grass, the feeling of your back against a blanket, heart beating fast underneath the stars in front of a twinkling lake. And forever in your memory, the patterns of his inked skin.

“You got a boyfriend?” the man asks, suddenly.

“Are…are you hitting on me?” you ask awkwardly.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he shakes his head, lifting his left hand up from the steering wheel and turning the back of it to face you. A silver ring adorning his fourth finger shimmers from the reflected sunlight through the window. “Happily married. Been with my missus for 22 years.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you relax into your seat a little, feeling calmer. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry for assuming. And I have a fiancé, actually.”

“Oh?” he chirps, stealing a quick glance at your left hand that was still folded neatly underneath your right one in your lap. “How come I’m not seein’ a ring?”

You tug at the small chain around your neck, a chill felt as diamond stone and cold metal drags against the skin of your sternum before you pull out your own promise of marriage, dangling it in front of your chest for him to steal another glance at. “I wear it around my neck. I’m a pottery teacher, so I usually take it off when showing my students any demos. I figured if I kept taking it off like that, I might lose it, so I just wear it around my neck now.”

“That’s interesting,” he comments, “It’s a real nice ring, that’s for sure! Tell me about this man you’re marryin.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Nanami. It’s been six months since you’ve seen him, since he relocated to Tokyo first, and you’ve missed him every day since. You were in the middle of the academic year at the elementary school you taught at, so they asked you to stay back, but Nanami had already accepted the promotion, thus the two of you made the decision that he would move to Tokyo first to get situated and you’d soon follow in the summer. It was a lot of stress to handle as just one person; searching for apartments on top of managing the heightened expectations from his boss from his new role, but he did it all without a complaint. Because he loves you, and that’s who Nanami was. Someone who would move mountains for you. He’s worked hard to make a place for you in Tokyo, one to call home.

“He really loves me,” you say to the man, softly.

“And you love him?”

“So much.”

“Was he your first love?”

Your breath catches in your throat from his question, a small chill running down your spine. The silence that settles could’ve lasted two seconds or two centuries, and you never would’ve known.

You lick your lips before answering. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Hmm…” the man hums. Bumpy roads are now smooth as he turns onto properly laid roads, the exit from your town onto intercity roads. “I can tell.”

“You can tell?” you ask, skeptic in your tone as you tilt your head at him.

“I can tell from your voice that there was someone else before. Someone who meant a whole lot to you, but he went away for some reason,” he says.

You’re not sure why there’s a lump in your throat from his words, a heavy thing with so much substance that it threatens to weigh your heart as well. Your eyes study the side of his face. “You’re getting all of that from my voice?”

The man’s expression is blank as if it were tabula rasa, something so different from the way you’ve felt for so long now, like your heart has been torn in two. There was something so tempting about it; the luxury of a clean slate. Of a new beginning. A fresh start. And it’s hard not to imagine how you would’ve painted things differently.

“Tell me about him,” the man says, the story he was looking for having been found. “Your first love.”

“He…” you start, shocked that you’re actually answering, but it’s like an invitation you can’t resist, “he was my first boyfriend…my first serious boyfriend. I met him the summer after high school. During a summer like this one.”

.

.

.

seven years ago. summer.

chapter 1. cupid’s arrow.

“C’mon, faster!” Mai exclaims, her hand wrapped around your wrist to tug you across the dim streets of downtown. 

“Just— wait— Mai, please, slow down,” you’re stumbling after her, feet failing to keep up, and you almost crash right into her when she comes to a sudden halt on the sidewalk.

“This is it,” she says, staring up at the sporadically blinking neon lights of what appears to be a small venue, black marquee letters that spell out Backseat Serenade Tonight @ 10pm stand out to you in a way that feels haunting. “We’re so late, let’s head inside.”

Mai drags you inside, and the security guy is less than thrilled by the commotion as he stands in front of closed double doors. You can feel the bass of music vibrating the walls, accompanied by loud shrill screams and chants coming from inside, and the red velvet flooring underneath your feet fuel you with static as you two approach the man dressed in full black.

Mai fumbles with her purse to pull out her phone, and the man scans the barcoded tickets on her screen before giving the two of you wristbands to wear and then he opens the door for the two of you.

The inside of the venue is small but packed, minimal lighting save for moving lights that illuminate the band on stage, but it’s even harder to see anything over the heads of people with their hands up in the air. Mai’s grip on your forearm is tight as she roughly weaves the two of you through the crowd, determined in her gait but you feel the need to apologize to the people she’s shoving in the process. You’re surprised at how fast the two of you make it to the front barricades, thanks to Mai’s nimbleness alone, and your eyes raise to the scene onstage through wafting smoke through the air.

“Alright, alright, alright,” one of the band members chimes right as the final instrumentals of the song begin to fade. His hair is a pale silver under dusty lighting, pushed up from out of his face by a black headband snapped to his forehead, and his eyes are distinctly blue. He has an electric guitar hanging from his neck by a thick black strap. He raises both of his hands up into the air, waving them down a few times to calm down the crowd, and there are scattered hushes surrounding you and Mai. “This is our last song, and we just want to thank you all so much for coming out tonight! This crowd’s the best we’ve ever had!” 

The people cheer in response as a light and relaxed melody begins to tune together from the instrumentals on stage. You hear Mai groan beside you. “What the fuck?! We missed the entire set?!” 

Your hands curl around the cold metal of the barricade dividers and your eyes sweep across the stage. There’s a man in the far back with short black hair, bouncing his leg up and down as he’s seated behind a drum set, fidgeting with wooden sticks in his hands, and you’re puzzled by the fact that he’s wearing a very poorly fitted suit onstage. Off to the right, a man with pink hair is messing with the headphones snapped to his ears in front of an electric keyboard, spread fingers pressing down on chords, and you can vaguely see the black nail polish at the tips of his fingers. A woman with mid length blonde hair and pink highlights stands at the front, her hand wrapped around the mic resting on top of the stand. She’s laughing, tipping her head back at something else the electric guitar player says over the mic, but you’ve drowned out the words because your eyes finally land on what’s directly in front of you.

With an almost bored expression on his face, a man stands with a matte black bass guitar hung from his neck as he has one foot up on the top of a subwoofer located flush to the edge of the stage. His hair is raven black, longer at the nape of his neck with shorter layers scattered, and tendrils fall over his face. There’s a glint to his polished black shoes off of where you’re standing, and he’s wearing tight black jeans that cling to the thick and lean muscles of his calves and thighs, with a leather belt fastened around the circumference of his hips. The shirt that’s tucked into his jeans is just as tight to his skin, and a small gasp leaves your lips when you take in the sight of his arms covered in intricate patterns of ink. His right arm is practically covered from the wrist all the way up to the cut of his short sleeve, likely beyond, and his left arm has ink traveling up to his forearm only, like he’s still working on mapping it all out. You watch the way his biceps flex as he bends his arms, bringing his hands up to his face to push his hair back, and your heart is keeping fast rhythm with the music. 

“Cho!” the woman at the front speaks into the mic, turning her head to look at this man who you’re sure is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “You’ve hardly said a single word tonight, baby. Not that that’s unusual though. Why don’t you say a few words before we kick off the last song?”

A bunch of whoos!! and ahhhs!!! and yesss!!! scatter throughout the crowd in the form of cheers and you watch the man furrow his brows together, a scowl forming on his face. There’s a band of black underneath his eyes that runs across the bridge of his nose, with perpendicular lines resembling arrows running down his cheeks. Dark purple eyes that match the dark shadows around them glint under flickering stage lighting as he takes his foot off the speaker and walks a few steps backwards to position himself at his stationed mic. 

“Fine,” he says, and you’re watching the way his lips barely brush against the mic as he speaks, “This is our last song. It’s called Lost Cause. Enjoy. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Who the fuck am I to tell you what to do.”

There’s only a slight beat of silence from the crowd before they’re cheering again, while his band members just stare at him stunned. The white-haired electric guitarist yells into his mic something like  “THAT’S IT?!” before the drum player cuts him off with three taps of his sticks in the air, and then the song commences from them on practiced reflex. 

The energy from the crowd is loud in the last few minutes of the show, smoke rising in the air from the machines spread across the raised stage, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the bass player. You rest your forearms on the cold metal in front of you, the sight of Mai jumping up and down in your periphery as she headbangs and shakes her hair. 

The bass player’s eyes start to scan the venue within what seems to be the final chorus of the song, chin tipping up and fingers continuing to strum as he assesses the back of the crowd first, then gaze darting throughout the center, before he begins to study the front barricade. You watch his every movement, mapping the trail of his sight, and your heart skips a beat when those dark eyes finally fall on yours. 

His eyes briefly flicker to your left, to continue his study of the crowd, but it’s as if his brain just registered something with a delay, and he quickly moves his gaze back to you in a double take. His eyes widen, bored expression quickly turned into one of surprise with a glint to his pupils, and you swear you’ve been struck by an arrow to your heart.

“Yaaaay! Thank you everyone!” the woman at the front exclaims, pulling her mic from the stand to walk around to make work of the crowd. The white-haired man approaches the edge of the stage with a pleased grin on his face, high-fiving all of the outstretched arms, and the man at the keyboard simply waves a few times before incessantly tuning buttons on his headphones. Drum boy hasn’t stopped playing some sort of loud rhythm as an encore. Your sight is set back onto the bass player, and he’s looking off somewhere else now. Somewhere backstage. 

“Hey!” the white-haired man exclaims once he’s made it in front of the two of you. “Mai! You made it!”

She reaches out to grab his forearm, tugging down harshly so he’s stumbling and dropping one knee to the stage floor, kneeling. “Of course I was gonna make it! Thanks for the tickets,” she’s yelling over loud ambient cheers and music, “this is my friend y/n, by the way. Oh, and this is Gojo, he’s the guy I was telling you about.”

You nod at him, and try to accept his outstretched hand when someone bumps you from behind and your hand is in favor of stabilizing yourself over the divider instead.

You can barely hear the laugh from Gojo’s position on the raised stage. “Just meet us backstage! We can chat for a bit with proper introductions and all.”

As the crowd begins to dissipate with people moving through the sets of double doors out back, Gojo hops off stage to take you and Mai through a side door that leads into a hallway that lines the back of the stage. You look up into the high ceilings with metal structural poles banding between the walls, and the dim yellow lighting in small bulbs bolted to the walls like a runway remind you of movie theater exit routes.

“So, what’d you guys think of the show?” Gojo asks, his arms raised up and hands interlocked behind his neck in a casual-not-so-casual way as he sends the two of you a lazy look over his shoulder. 

“Well, we only made it for one song since miss barista over here was running late from her shift,” she sighs, whacking your arm once with the back of her hand. You glance down and realize you didn’t even have the time to take your frilled and wrinkled apron off. “But, from what we did get to hear, AMAZING! AWESOME! SPECTACULAR!”

Gojo is grinning wide as he turns around to face the two of you, continuing to walk but backwards as he slaps the raised hand that Mai had in the air for him. “I’m so glad, I felt the pressure to please was high since I’ve been hyping up our shows to you for so long.”

“We’ve only known each other for like two weeks.”

“I know. But PSYCH 210 lecture at the ass crack of dawn really brings two people together, y’know.”

Mai and Gojo continue to laugh and talk about random things college-related, and there’s a stirring feeling in your chest that you’re surrounded by people older and much more well-lived than you. You’ve just graduated high school, barely a few months ago, but Mai was a few years older than you, so any time she tries to introduce you to her college friends, you feel the need to perform or be someone that you’re not so they’ll like you, despite the fact that you’re aware of the fallacy in that. And tonight, that responsibility feels much more daunting for some reason.

There are voices heard further down the hall, and as you approach, you notice the drum guy, keyboard guy, and devilishly handsome bass guy are all loitering around in that area, along with a few other people they seemed to have invited backstage. 

Gojo walks up to them, grabbing onto the bass man’s hand firmly before patting him on the back, then slings his arms around the other two. “This is Higurama,” he says, rubbing the top of the black-haired guy’s head with the knuckles of his fist, “he does drums for us. And this is Sukuna,” he says, about to repeat the same gesture to the top of his head but his wrist is grabbed and twisted, “ow, fuck, fuck, fuck– sorry.” Sukuna lets go of his wrist, scowl dissipating into sadistic amusement, and Gojo’s holding his wrist, now slightly red from the burn, with a pout on his face. “He does the keyboard. And all the techno sounds. And some other stuff I’ve frankly no fucking clue about.”

The two of them acknowledge you and Mai, along with the few other people who Gojo seems to know as well, and then Gojo’s approaching the bass player again before resting his elbow up on his shoulder, leaning his weight onto him and the man just crosses his arms across his chest, sending Gojo a side-eye. “Mai, I think you two have met before, but this is Choso. Choso Kamo, our bass player. Best bass player I’ve ever known to be honest. Be careful though, he might bite you.”

Choso scowls, rolling his shoulder back once to get rid of Gojo’s resting elbow. His eyes are on yours, boring into you deep, and when he darts his tongue out briefly to wet his bottom lip, you finally notice the silver lip ring near the corner of his mouth. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” he says, hand outstretched and you shake it with a mention of your name to him. The skin on his fingers feel rough from play, a small sacrifice to pay for the talent he’s harnessed over the years from plucking at strings. His eyes sweep down you once. “Why are you dressed like Strawberry Shortcake?”

“I–” you start, glancing down at your attire and feeling the heat pool in your cheeks, “I just got off a work shift. I work at a cafe.”

“Oh,” he responds, and you notice his hand is still holding onto yours, Your eyes trail the patterns on his skin, visible in more detail up close, and you find yourself lost in every line and swirl and scale and skull and cross, the only thing breaking you out of your trance being Mai’s jab of her elbow to your ribcage.

You gasp, snatching your hand away from Choso, and when you look up at his face, there’s a hint of amusement on it. 

“Babes, he was asking you a question,” Mai says, looking between you and the man in front of you.

“Huh?” you ask, suddenly flustered and you swipe your palm down your work apron to wipe the sweat that begins to perspire at your palm from the lingering heat of his hand.

“I was asking if you liked the show,” Choso says, tilting his head to the side and now he’s allowing his eyes to travel all across you in any way he wants. 

“I loved it,” you respond, almost breathlessly, “it was great. I mean– we only saw, like, one song. But still, really amazing.”  

“Only one song?” Choso asks, his eyebrow raising, “that’s a shame. You’ve gotta come to more shows then.”

Before you can respond, there’s a feminine voice heard down the hallway, sounding an awful lot like the one echoing off the speakers inside the concert venue, and then the blond woman who was the lead singer of the band skips right up to the group formulating in this hallway before wrapping her arms around Choso’s neck and pulling him down towards her in a kiss.

You’re standing there stunned, eyes immediately averting from the scene of the two of them in front of you, but in the corner of your eye you can see his arm wrap around her waist briefly before he pulls her away from him, and the release of her lips from his makes a sound that for some reason creates a pit in your stomach.

“Cho, baby, I just had an insane conversation,” she says, still practically hanging from his neck as she stands on tiptoes, “with this record label guy. He’s apparently hot shit in Tokyo, and he wants to offer us this city gig ‘cause he thinks we’re a potential sign-on, and–”

Choso’s hand reaches to the back of his neck, gripping around her wrist to pull it apart from her other one, and then her arms fall to her sides and her heels flatten to the ground as she blinks up at him. “That’s cool, Sana, but can we talk about that later?”

Gojo’s arms cross his chest as he leans forward, glaring at the woman. “Yeah. And as a band, not just with your lover.”

Sana rolls her eyes and scoffs, placing curled hands low on her hips. “He’s not my lover, bitch. Unless he’s my lover like you’re lovers with a blunt on a sunday– sucked off in a car ‘cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“That’s offensive to both of us,” Gojo grumbles but Choso just sighs, unbothered, as he rubs at the back of his neck. He makes eye contact with you again, and his expression sobers as though he forgot for a second that you were still standing there. 

Sana turns to you and Mai. “Hi, I’m Sana, nice to meet you guys. Sorry, I thought you two were some of our other friends, otherwise I wouldn’t have kissed Cho in front of you. I hate PDA, trust me.” 

Mai lets out an awkward laugh as she shakes her hand, and you almost don’t want to shake her hand, but you do just to be polite.

“You didn’t hate PDA that one time I was about to bag the girl I’d been talking to for weeks and you decided to grind your sorry excuse of an ass right up against me in front of her,” Gojo grumbles.

She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever, she thought you were gay anyways. Would’ve done yourself a favor if you actually grabbed my ass.”

She ignores the insulted gesture Gojo makes, cutting off whatever words he was about to spew with words of her own. “What are you girls doing after this? We’re having a post-show party, you two should come.” She glances at you. “Uh, love, I’d ditch the apron though. Unless it’s, like, some sort of fetish for you.”

You’re defeated as your arms cross your torso to grip the hem of your apron and pull it up over your head, shaking your head a bit to allow your hair to fall back into place, and then you fold the frilly article of clothing neatly before hanging it over your arm. “It’s not,” you sigh, too exhausted to be subject to the title of your occupation anymore. A small flicker of your eyes to Choso tells you he’s staring at you.

Sana shrugs. “So you pretty ladies wanna come?”

Mai shakes her head. “No, sorry, my baby here,” she says, wrapping her arm around yours tightly, “just graduated high school recently, so she’s too young for a party. I’ve got a responsibility to look after her. And throwing her into a room full of sleazy drunk punk college dudes is the opposite of looking after her.”

Sukuna comes around, leaning his arm against the wall, smirk on his face, as he eyes you like you’re something to steal. “Just graduated high school? So you just turned eighteen, sweetheart?”

Mai glares daggers at him. “Get the fuck away from her, Super Senior. You’re icky. Also, case in point proven.”

Sana whacks the back of Sukuna’s head, and he all but growls at her. “Stop being creepy,” she reprimands him before turning to Mai again. “No, I swear, it’s not like that. It’s chill, minimal alcohol. No drugs. Just a small get-together with a few of our fellow friends, and friends of fellow friends, from the music scene.” She leans against Choso’s arm, wide eyes looking up at him, but he doesn’t lean into her. “Right, Cho? No scary guys for her to worry about?” 

His eyes narrow at you, raking down your figure again, and his chest moves a little faster with his breath. “I’m against it. It’s no place for an eighteen-year-old. You’re a fucking idiot for trying to invite a girl who just recently graduated from highschool to a house party. She’s practically a kid.”

Your heart sinks from his words, and you feel juvenile standing in front of him, in a way that makes you angry and embarrassed at the same time, and you can’t bite back the words in time, “Whatever, at least I haven’t been on crack since the day I was born like you probably were.”

Almost all heads in this small hallway snap to you, if they weren’t already there before, wide eyes blinking before Gojo bursts out into a laugh, which dominoes into Mai’s laughter, and you barely register the way Sana looks you up and down once before forcing a smile. Choso’s surprised expression turns into a disgruntled one as he crosses his arms across his chest, and you can’t help but watch the stretch of his inked skin over his muscles as they flex. 

“I’ve never done crack, shortcake, and your lame insult only proves my point on your immaturity,” he scowls, leaning his upper body forward towards you, and his gaze briefly drops to your lips.

Sana comes in between the two of you, pressing herself up against him to get him away, and he takes an involuntary step back and now he’s scowling at her too. She turns around to face you, and there’s that forced smile again. “Uh, y’know what, sweets? Cho is sooo totally right, no place at all for a—I’m sorry, how old did you say you were?”

“Eighteen,” you say with a slight grit to your teeth.

“Oh! Yeah, no place for you, sorry,” she says, with a small jut of her bottom lip to signal a pout.

You roll your eyes at her, then glance past her at Choso who’s looking at you like he’s still got a few retaliating words for you on his tongue, but then he’s dropping his gaze to the neckline of your shirt, eyeing the shape of your breasts, even dipping further down your legs and you let out a scoff.

“You sure enjoy checking me out for someone you think is practically a kid,” you spit back.

He’s not angry this time, the corner of his mouth simply tipping up slightly into a smirk. “I meant you’re too young to drink, but you’re old enough to fuck, so spare me the attitude.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment, nonetheless made in front of a group of people who were practically strangers to you, and you’re about to give him a piece of your mind when Mai grabs your forearm and Gojo places himself between you and jerkface. 

“Woah! Look at the time,” Gojo chirps, glancing at his wrist that was absent of any time-telling device but he rolls with it anyway, “should probably head out now, since the venue’s closing soon. Y’know, grab our stuff.”

Mai nods her head at you in response to his words, sending a single glare Choso’s way before exchanging some pleasantries with Gojo and then dragging you down the hallway with her towards the exit.

“Hey–” you begin to complain, her grip on you starting to hurt, and you eventually yank your arm away from her before she opens the backdoor exit. “Let’s go to that party.”

Mai sighs, leaning her back against the door and crosses her arms. “No way. Your mom wanted me to get you home before midnight,” she says as she glances at the time on her phone, “and it’s close to midnight.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m an adult now, I don’t have to adhere to a midnight curfew, like I’m fucking Cindarella.”

Mai raises an eyebrow at you from the profanity, recognizing the fact that it’s something you just forced into your vocabulary in a way that doesn’t suit you. “I already said no.”

“Take me or else I’m going to tell your mom about the nipple piercings you got last week.”

Mai hisses a sharp breath through her teeth. “You’re a bitch.”

“Take me,” you deadpan.

She tilts her head back so that it hits the metal of the door, and then she’s pushing her back against it to open it, the rush of cold wind from outside brushing past the two of you as she steps into the night and you follow her. “Oh my god, fine. But only for a little bit, and let’s get the lie straight right now–you had explosive diarrhea at the concert so I couldn’t take you home right away since you were incapacitated in the restrooms.”

“What? Why do I have to be the one with explosive diarrhea?” you ask, frown on your face but there’s a skip to your step as you follow her down the street to where she very poorly parallel parked and you open the passenger side door. She doesn’t bother answering you as she settles into the driver’s seat and her car roars to life with a few struggling turns of the key in ignition. 

“No drinking,” Mai says, voice strict with eyes locked on yours, and it’s the last thing she says before she starts driving. 

The house is just a few miles from the venue location, and Mai seems to have been there before since she turns the navigation off once she turns onto a street that has her driving switch to from perusal to more casual.  

Gojo is the one to greet you two at the door with wide eyes and a drink in his hand. You notice he’s changed out of his stage attire into something more casual, and likely in a rush too since his hair is disheveled, and you figured that you and Mai barely got here after they did. The surprised look on his face is quick to turn into a pleased one at the sight of the two of you. “Oh sweet you two actually came,” he comments, waving a hand for you two to come inside, “figured Kamo would’ve scared you off.”

You roll your eyes, “where is that jerk? I still have a few choice words for him.”

“Babes, let it go,” Mai sighs, “Not worth your time.”

“I concur,” Gojo says, “but, if you really want, he’s upstairs putting some of my stuff he borrowed for tonight’s show back into my room. You can…” he glances down at you once, “uh. Cuss him to death? Or whatever you can manage, I guess. But just don’t fuck on my bed, please. That’s my only rule.”

“Why do you sound like that’s a rule you’ve had to make often?” Mai scoffs, amused, while your cheeks feel hot. 

Gojo slumps his shoulders in some type of comical defeat. “I don’t wanna talk about it…” he mumbles, voice trailing off and turning on his heel to walk away while Mai follows him off with more follow-up questions he doesn’t seem receptive to answering. 

Your eyes glance over to the staircase, studying for a moment as loud party music fills your ears before making your way over and up the steps. As you head down the hallway leading into bedrooms, the floorboards creak until your sneakers even over soft carpet, and you hear soft sounds of clattering off to the left. There’s a door that’s half ajar leading into a warmly lit room, and you deftly peek your head through the opening.

Choso stands near the foot of the bed inside a messy room, black boxes and cases and wires surrounding him as he fumbles with unplugging some sort of audio station pad from another piece of hardware. His hand grips tightly around the thick black rubber coating of the wire, and you watch the flex of his knuckles that tense the veins running up his arm, sleeve of the shirt he’s worn all night stretching to accommodate the roll of muscle at his upper arm. With a solid yank, the chord releases itself before the wire whacks him straight in the face and he grumbles a fuck under his breath and he rubs the skin of his cheek, to which you can’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight of. 

His furrowed and frustrated expression turns into surprise as his eyes flicker to the entrance of the room. He stands up straight, and then there’s that bored expression again. “Oh. Shortcake. I thought I said you’ve got no business being here.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m waiting for you to apologize to me,” you say, leaning sideways against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest. 

He sighs, eyes moving away from yours to busy himself with the jungle of equipment he’s practically drowning in, as if he couldn’t be bothered by your presence right now. “Apologize for what?”

You make your way inside the room, foot pushing aside anything sprawled on the floor that’s in your way so you can continue to approach him, and you stop just when you’re just a step away. His gaze is still set to the ground as he’s crouched over slightly, but it shifts from the speaker he was toying with to the shape of your shoes instead.

“Apologize to me for being so crass,” you say, “after we had just met.”

He slowly straightens his spine, and you’re a little shocked to find the height that he has on you. His expression is curious, eyes narrowing slightly like he has you all figured out already, and it pisses you off. “Crass is such a prissy word to use, princess. Try ‘apologize to me for being a massive dick’ or something, and I’ll start to take you more seriously.”

“Why are you so rude?” you ask, anger building up inside of you all of a sudden. “I’ve barely met you, I don’t see how I could’ve upset you in any way. Yet you’ve already insulted me in multiple ways tonight, and it’s not a cool look for you. Trust me.”

“You’re the one that basically called me a crackhead,” he counters, but there’s no real offense behind it.

“Yeah, because you called me a kid,” you say, face tightening even further with anger, “even though I’m an adult.”

He sighs, closing his eyes in irritation, and tilts his head up to look at the ceiling briefly as his mouth hangs slightly open, all as if he’s running thin of the capacity to deal with this conversation, and then he looks back down at you again. “Shortcake, I didn’t call you a kid ‘cause of your age. I called you a kid ‘cause you’re just so–” he starts, eyes traveling down your body paired with a vague gesture of his hand towards all of you, and you find yourself shifting on your feet to stand a little more poised, “you just seem so innocent and clueless and, uh, forgive me, naive.”

“You’re the clueless one here if you still think negging a girl will get you anywhere with her,” you say, hands clenched in fists at your side now.

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he tilts his head at you, some of his dark hair falling over his forehead from the motion and a few strands weave with his eyelashes. “I’m not trying to get anywhere with you here, sweetheart, unless you’re wanting that,” he says, voice almost purred at the end as he steps over a guitar case on the floor to get closer to you.

You’re unable to make eye contact with him when he’s close and you can smell the earthy notes of his cologne, mixed with another scent that seems more distinctly him that makes your head spin. Your gaze takes in the sight of his forearm, the one with scattered tattoos trailing up his arm but not yet fully inked in. You wonder what he’s saving the space for, and what he’s willing to let in. 

When your gaze flickers up to his face again, you’re a little surprised to see his expression is softer. He suddenly holds his forearm up in front of you. Your eyes signal confusion to him, but he just keeps his arm up the same.

“You’ve been ogling my tattoos since we met,” he says, voice low, “if you’re curious, then just have a closer look.”

Your breath picks up in speed, and you hesitate for a moment but it’s true. You were curious. Your hands shakily hold onto his forearm to keep it still as you study the ink on his skin. You twist his arm as much as his joint allows, and he lets you handle him in any way you want, and you swear the snake tattooed on his skin moves as if it were alive. A dark blossoming rose with highlights of burgundy red catches your eye near his elbow, and you brush the back of your hand against it. Your fingers accidentally find his pulse at his wrist, and you find his heart is beating fast. 

You run a flat palm up his arm, the skin to skin contact feeling intimate, and your fingers stop when they tuck under the fabric of his sleeve. You feel the warmth and curve of his bicep, lightly wrapping your hand around it, and you blush at the sight of how small your hand looks on him.

“What does this one mean?” you ask, not meaning for it to come out as a whisper, but you feel like his answer is meant to be kept a secret. Your thumb swipes over small roman numerals permanently etched into him over muscle.

“It’s my dad’s military tag,” he responds, voice quiet like yours.

You tear your gaze away from his skin to look up at him, and you realize he’s closed enough distance between the two of you to where his face is just inches away. From the moment you looked up, his eyes have been on your lips, and his brow furrows as if he’s fighting some voice in his head that’s testing this harmony between the two of you in this moment. 

You swear he’s about to kiss you, since there could be no other explanation for the way he was looking at you, but instead he clears his throat and his face is first to distance from you before he pulls his arm back as well, and then a small step backwards. “Sorry,” he says, and he almost sounds awkward. It startles you, because it’s the first time he doesn’t sound cool or calm or collected.

“That-” you start, “...wait, what are you sorry for?”

His eyes widen, and you see the heaviness under them for a moment, “uhh…I’m actually not too sure.”

Your head feels clear now that he’s not close enough to breathe in, and you blink a few times as your annoyance from earlier resurfaces amidst the lingering energy he just broke between you two. “Start with ‘I’m sorry for calling you a kid, and then also just now calling you naive and clueless,’” you say, foot tapping impatiently, “and then, in front of all your bandmates, mocking the fact I’m not old enough to drink, and shamelessly traveling your eyes over me, and then–” your breath catches slightly as the words fail to leave your tongue, cheeks feeling hot, “and then saying–” you try again, but the thought only falls flat, and he’s taking a step closer to you again.

“And then saying that you’re old enough to fuck?” he asks, finishing your sentence for you, but there’s no remorse in his tone at all. 

His hand suddenly finds the small of your back and he pushes gently so you take a stumbled step towards him, like he needed to have you close to him again.  His lips brush against the top of your head, and the sensation sends a hot feeling through your chest. “Choso,” you reprimand him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, like in cynical disbelief, “my name sounds so sweet coming from you.”

It makes no sense, but you grip his shirt at his chest just to make contact with him, and you brave yourself to look up at him, wondering if he can see the hint of worry in your eyes, because he already feels like something you can’t resist.

His eyes are dark now, different from the tenderness in them before, and he’s freely studying the features of your face. “I don’t want to fuck you, Shortcake, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re a little too good for me to do something like that.”

His words say one thing while his eyes say another, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close, and you’re astonished at how little he cares about the clear contradiction in his words from the way he holds you. His gaze slowly travels down from your eyes to your lips.

“What about–” you start, heart beating fast in your chest as you see the glimmer of the silver ring pierced through his lip. You bite back the words.

But he reads your mind, because his head dips down towards yours and he captures your lips in his, slow and sweet at first before pressing more firmly, more decisively with both hands flying to hold your waist. A moan muffles in your throat at the sensation of his bare fingers coyly traveling under the hem of your shirt, and you can’t help but slide your arms up over his shoulders, locking them behind his neck to pull him down closer to you, and he sighs in response as he presses your hips flush against him. The chill metal of his lip ring has the plush of your bottom lip tingling cold, and when his tongue swipes across to warm it for you, your mouth opens with ease. You taste spearmint on his tongue, and his lips curve against yours in what feels like an amused smile, large hands now slid so far up your shirt that his fingers reach the band of your bra.

“Hey, Cho, do you know where–”

The trill of a feminine voice in the air cuts through harshly, and he pulls his lips from yours but not without a moment of reluctance. You two turn your head to the door, and you see Sana standing there, eyes wide and blinking as she takes in the sight of the two of you standing in what feels like a guilty proximity from how her eyes silently curse you. 

You can only manage an awkward laugh, fist shoving against Choso’s shoulder but his hands are still placed firmly on the curve over your lower back, dangerously close to the plush of your ass, and your hips are practically pinned to him while you do all you can to lean your upper body away. “Oh–sorry, this…is not what it looks like–”

“I…” Sana starts, and you can see the hurt in her expression, but she quickly corrects it, “Oh! Ah, was just lookin’ for Cho here,” she says, making her way into the room, and a harsh shove of your fist against Choso’s chest finally has him relenting to let you go. Your posture immediately stiffens when she approaches Choso’s side, and she playfully pushes his arm but the effort is weak. “Kissing girls in Satoru’s room is seriously not a good idea, Cho. That freak probably has cameras in here to make sure people don’t bump uglies in his room again after that New Year’s party.” 

Choso gives her a pointed look, like he wasn’t caught up on that drama, but you’re just standing there with your eyes flicking between the familiarity of the two people standing in front of you. Why wasn’t Sana jealous? She was looking at you ten seconds ago like she was a whole lot of jealous. 

“What are you looking for?” Choso asks her, and she holds her red plastic solo cup with her drink in it out for him to hold as she crouches down to the floor to sift through the equipment now surrounding the three of you.

“My lucky mic,” she says, ���Gojo said it’d be here.” There’s a hint of something in her voice, something that mirrors betrayal if you’re perceptive enough. 

You watch Choso lick his lips once, eyes darting to you, before he’s crouching down too to help her look. “For something that allegedly means a lot to you, you sure do a shit job at looking out for it,” he comments with a sigh before pulling out a black case from under three other ones and handing it to her. “It’s here.” 

“I’m–” you say, taking a step back and almost tripping over a guitar case, “I’m, um, going to head downstairs. Mai is probably looking for me.”

Choso raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s still crouched down next to Sana, and he’s about to speak when Sana cuts him off.

“Okay. Bye,” she says, still rummaging through things mindlessly even though she had already been given what she was looking for.

Choso makes a move to stand up, like he wants to see you out the door, but Sana’s hand grabs him by his forearm, eyes still not meeting his, and there’s a beat of confusion in his eyes as he studies the side of her face. But you know what sort of look she probably has in her eyes right now, and you know only because you’re also a girl, and all girls know what it’s like when a guy you love doesn’t want you in the way that you want him. All you can do at this moment is feel sorry for her.

The atmosphere in the room begins to suffocate, and you head out of the door in a rush. 

.

.

.

present day. summer.

“He kissed ya the day he met ya? Hmph! That wouldn’t fly with me,” the man seated beside you says, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he shifts slightly in his seat to puff his chest out. 

“Hmm,” you hum as you look out the window wistfully, memories that you had locked up for so many years opened like a pandora box that fills your chest with warmth but has your fingers trembling with anxiety because you know how it all ends. “You wouldn’t…let a man kiss you on the first day he met you?”

The driver humors you with a hearty laugh from his chest, at least. “Not talkin’ about it that way, darlin’. I’m talkin’ about my daughters. I’ve got two girls of my own. A man should keep his hands to himself the first time he meets a lady. At least that’s what I’ve taught ‘em.”

There’s a small smile that tugs at your lips at his words, the love he has for his daughters heard clearly through his strict tone. You left out a lot of the details that probably would’ve angered him on your behalf even more, so the fact he still ended up getting worked up about it has you a little amused and reflective at the same time. “How old are your daughters?” you ask, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, watching the wind-rustled plains of grass that you two have been driving by for a while now.

“They’re a little younger than you,” he comments, his expression now a bit more serious, “one just graduated from college, she’s startin’ more school in the city soon, and the other’s still in highschool. She’s turning sixteen next week.”

“Ah, sixteen,” you muse, “that’s a confusing age.”

“You got that right,” he gruffs, “the other day, she called me on my way home from work to bring some drink called a boba. Fifty-two years of life and I never even knew there was a damn thing called a boba! Why would anyone want swirlin’ stuff in their drink?! Anyways, the shop got her order wrong, and when I brought it home, she refused to drink it, called me the worst dad ever, then stormed upstairs to slam the door on her room. I turn to my wife, and she’s shakin’ her head at me like I’m the one that did something wrong!”

You laugh, then press your lips into a smile. “I’d have to agree with her on that,” you joke, and he lets out another disgruntled noise that has you laughing again. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve lived with my wife and those two girls for over two decades,” he sighs. “I’m used to it by now. All three are equally pains in my ass, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your smile drops a little as you look at him more contemplatively. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he speaks, and you realize it’s familiar, but the answer of where you’ve seen it before fails to arrive.

“My youngest,” he starts again, “she’s been listenin’ to really loud music lately.” He presses one of the buttons underneath the AC vents, static noises coming to life before he changes the output to bluetooth. “My wife says it’s some sort of phase, but I’m not likin’ the music. Always sounding tempered and inappropriate.” He plays a song from his phone paired to the car, speakers flowing with music, and a chill runs down your spine the moment the first few notes fill your ears. A song so painfully familiar, so connected to your soul it’s as if your heart still keeps time with it to this day. 

“See what I’m talkin’ about?” the man says, “Lots of words about skin and cigarettes.” With a shake of his head, he lowers the volume. “She’s obsessed with this band, it’s probably a band similar to your old lover’s from the sound of it. She’s got posters of ‘em up on the wall, and she took the picture of us on our first fishing trip together out of the picture frame on her desk and replaced it with this man. This silly-lookin’ white-haired man that always looks like he’s just pretending he knows how to play a guitar. Hmph! She keeps saying ‘dad, I wanna go to their concert!’ There’s no way in hell I’m allowing that.”

You stare down at your lap, brow furrowed from the realization flashing through your head, and your thumb nervously passes over the skin of your other hand. In your periphery, you see him glance over at you once, and he sighs before stopping the music and speaking up again.

“It’s fine,” he says, “my youngest got her sister into the same band, and she likes one of the other ones. Plays bass. He’s too rough-lookin’ for my daughter. Arms covered in tattoos, he’s even got some on his face! She keeps dreamin’ about havin’ him for a boyfriend, but if she brought that home, there’s no way I’d approve. I’d scare him off with my rifle.”

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, and you realize what a small world it is. Or, you realize just how big Choso’s world must be now. So much bigger than he or any of the other members of his band could’ve ever imagined. For once in a lifetime, so rare and pure, are dreams that are fully realized. 

“Gosh,” you respond when you realize you’ve been lost in your own revelations for too long, “that’s an…extreme response. You sound like my father, though.”

“Hm,” he responds, “I’m sure. Did your father approve of this lover of yours? The one that’s makin’ moves on you so fast and too soon?”

You lean back in your seat with your head hitting the headrest. It’s been years since you’ve felt like you’re being lectured or reprimanded for anything, but the feeling comes back to you at this moment as if no time had passed at all. No matter how old you get, you’ll never forget how humbling the feeling was when you thought you knew everything at eighteen, just to look back and realize you didn’t have a single clue.

You sigh. “No. He didn’t approve. Far from it.”

.

.

.

seven years ago. autumn.

chapter 2. the juvenile & the delinquent.

[to be continued]

a/n. eeeeeppp thank you very much for reading n supporting my new fic!! i hope you enjoyed :') still a lot more to uncover n unpack hahah i'm so nervous to start a new fic but i'm also very excited!!! i love choso sm but i also love nanami so this is gonna be interesting to write. also TYSM to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this omg your support means the world to meeee. love you all sm.

taglist: @joemama-2 @sweetpo1son @lilluna12 @polarbvnny @4y3sh4 @sedona-the-l0bster @horisdope @ilovenana88 @thexmistress @atsushirolll @flvrrg0d @strawnanamilk @nighttwingg @indieotterxoxo @pirana10 @bakuhoethotski @tvdumarvelhpsimp @lavender-hvze @whereflowerswenttodie @alwaysfreakingout @kaitoluver @3xv5s @wrenabbadon @erwinslut @winsga18 @ynishalee @yungbloode

love u all so much!!

[arafilez]

BACK HOME ㅤㅤㅤ☆ ㅤ —﹙ c.hs ﹚

WHEN ㅤ,ㅤ you can't wait till hansol comes back !

ㅤㅤ ᶻzㅤ( x reader ) 𓂃 ㅤ fluff ㅤ drabbleㅤ warnings kissing ㅤ⋆ ( 628 wc ) ㅤ❟❟ㅤ library ㅤ svt shelfㅤ navi

When you first heard about Hansol moving away, your initial reaction was to stand in confusion. This is life, best friends move away too, you had heard your mother say and you had scoffed in your mind. But Hansol had kept his promise, he had kept in touch through his blunt remarks and soft voice echoing over the caller whenever you called.

You have been best friends for four years, but the two years when he moved away made you much closer. So when you see his text light up your phone you almost fall out of your bed. He is coming back home.

Everything came rushing back from the last six years to you, the last two years hammering more. Late night chats, shy giggles, smiling at a single text and anticipation of his return. God, you wish he could come faster and you could see him already. Then the clouds of doubt over your mind will vanish.

Liar, your mind echoes but you push the thought to the back of your mind until he video-called you. Tousled hair and tired eyes welcome you as you pick up his video call. All that cracked voice and low-quality video but he is literally shining. Your heart feels an unnecessary pang as you cut the call and know you are screwed.

You like him. It’s obvious and you groan knowing your friends had every right to tease you. It felt so cliché, you almost wanted to push your face in a pillow and scream. The moment he comes back you are confessing!

Everything goes to hell when you sit in your bed that night and realise you are the most impatient person ever as the text you sent lights up your screen with a single tick beside it. You wished so much you could hold it in because texting and confessing is absolutely the worst way to let someone know but fuck that!

You wanted him! He needed to know at all costs! Fuck everything if you can have him!

You groan, throwing away your phone at the end of the bed and slump down on your bed, pulling the covers to your face, closing your eyes and praying and hoping he likes you back.

A knock on your window jolts you awake making you yelp in confusion and back away from the window. Blinking, you gape in shock as you see the lopsided smile and bright eyes. Hansol. Hansol?

“What the hell?” you whisper and open your window quickly checking the clock- four in the morning. He shuffles inside as you rub your eyes trying to make sense of the situation. “Why are you here, at four?” you whisper shout making him grin and say, “I couldn’t wait.”

“For what?” you grit out glaring at him. As much as you love this boy and his goofy nature you hate being woken up from your sleep. “To do this,” he whispers holding your hand and leaning in as your breath hitches. No! This can’t be real! You are dreaming.

A single nod and he gets the permission, cupping your jaw he presses his lips to yours softly as you try to catch up. You had imagined multiple times what it would feel like to have his lips on you, but the reality felt so much better. You gasp lightly, kissing him back and running your hands throw his hair as he intertwines your fingers with his other hand.

When you break apart he clears his throat and says, “If it wasn’t clear, I like you back,” making you giggle. Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights, tell me about the first time you saw me. Oh it was very clear. And you loved it just as much as he did.

ARA'S NOTES ㅤ,ㅤ omggg i am so happy for @weird-bookworm i literally wrote this inspired from absolutely mini kdrama worthy love story, i was swooning so much sky !

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[mochinomnoms]

Idea: Yuu gets caught up in some circumstances involving Floyd and mates with him. Fully expecting rough ✨️fun✨️. Waiting to stop him for hurting them. Never does. Floyd starts with pleasuring his soon-to-be-mate, preparing them, and THEN penetrates. Catches them off guard, but they love it.

Cut to the next morning. Floyd panics 'cause oh shit, goes, "well, I'm not gonna be a bad mate, so I have other things to do!" (Internally), makes Yuu breakfast, is super gentle. They're stunned, because isn't Floyd the rough one? Not with them!

They go to class and get in a fight with Ace (didn't sleep well) who slaps them on the way to lunch and goes to the infirmary with a crushed windpipe. Ace is fine, and Yuu realizes Floyd is very protective. Cue human falling for moray head over heels.

Ta-da! Power couple.

-nightshade anon

Aaa! So cute!! Floyd has always been known to be rough, both above and under the sea. But once someone has taken his interest, especially as a potential mate, there's an obvious change. Not a personality change, he's still as Floyd as ever. But the morning after reveals a much softer side to him.

He's offering you a sweet breakfast, which was confusing as you expected him to kinda…yeet out. He keeps talking about mating, the irony of you being his Shrimpy, and handing a protective arm over you as you ate in bed. It's a surprise, and it continues as you two head off to class later on. He's still handing a protective arm over you, other students giving you two a wide berth to walk through the hallways.

When Floyd sees you off, Jade comes by to walk to class with his brother, he makes an offhanded comment about Floyd being a rather protective mate. It doesn't really click with you until later, when you and Ace are arguing, with him smacking the top of your head.

It was meant to be playful. It was meant to be a gesture between bickering friends.

So Floyd's had coming up behind Ace, grabbing his hand and squeezing until you hear a crunch, was a horrifying surprise. Floyd's confused himself when you're frantically yelling at him for hurting your friend, rushing Ace over to the infirmary as Floyd follows, calling out about how “It's my job to protect my mate! He hit you! That's not allowed!”

Ace, ultimately, is fine. One of the benefits of magical worlds is that things like broken bones are relatively easy to fix. Ace will have to wear a cast for a few days, just to give the magic some time to heal his bones back into place. And he's pissed at Floyd, but also at you for not mentioning that you mated with the stupidly tall merman.

He has to explain, “I heard merfolk are super overprotective with their mates, they'll get into all sorts of fights for them. Man, if I'd known you were with Floyd like that, I'd have never smacked you.”

So you have an eel bodyguard of a boyfriend? You can't deny that the thought makes you a little warm. Floyd, being so soft to you, and only you, while he roughhoused with everyone else. You should run to Floyd to shower him with affections. He's still pretty pouty about you yelling at him.

[betterthanyalls]

hi!

can i request for a hermes x gn!reader x odysseus? :)

i was thinking that maybe reader is already a friend of odysseus, like a childhood friend maybe or a neighbor/citizen of his kingdom and has known him for years

reader liked ody but ody already has penelope so they arent flirting anymore but when hermes shows up and starts taking readers attention for himself that's when ody starts to get a little jealous maybe? aaa sorry it has been a while since ive requested anything - i hope its not too specific ;v;

i just thought it would be fun to see witty banter battles and playful snark ^^"

I have spent my entire day throughout school and home to work on this so i am very sorry for any mistakes or if its bad, i was speed running before i eepy, also i tried to make reader x odysseus more platonic cus he got penelope yk? ALSO NGL THIS WAS VERY FUN TO WRITE HEHEHEH

Masterlist

Divine Intervention

Hermes x GN!Reader x Odysseus [p]

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Fluff

Words: 2.1K

Published: 11-5-2024

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gentle puff of air blew through the vacant meadow, flowers brushing each other in a picturesque view. Within the center of the field, two souls lied together, laughing and gazing at the clouds with imagination. 

“That one reminds me of Argos,” Odysseus pointed up to a running puff of white above that loosely resembled said dog. “Oh, I see it!” Penelope grinned, her smile shining brighter than Helios. A short distance away, under the shade of a tree, sat the best friend of the couple. With their backs against the tree, Y/n watched on emotionlessly. Their mind felt blank; witnessing the source of their love showing admiration to somebody else delivered a new type of pain to their chest. Y/n felt lost. Would they never be the first choice? Odysseus had known them for the entirety of both their lives, but the moment he met Penelope, he forgot all about Y/n. He was head over heels, claiming he’d marry the princess before he turned twenty. Sure, they stayed friends, but that wasn’t enough for Y/n though they’d never admit it. Y/n couldn’t even blame Odysseus. Penelope looked like a goddess sent from Olympus. Anyone could mistake her for a divine being. 

With a silent sigh, Y/n prepared to push themself to their feet and take their leave. But a new presence stopped them from rising up. Looking to their left side, Y/n saw another figure sitting beside them. “Wow, really the third wheel, huh?” A cheery voice sounded from his mouth.

“Who are you?” Y/n asked, like any sane person would. “You mean you don’t recognize me? Your friend Ody would if you asked him,” the individual turned to face Y/n, giving them a good view of his identity. A metal helmet sat atop his head, adorned by smaller, brown, speckled wings. A mischievous grin was placed on his lips, with the rest of his face remaining covered by a shadow. Y/n leaned back slightly so the sun could pierce the shade better, revealing more of the man. A chiton made of the finest silk hung loosely from his shoulders, stopping at his knees. The male sat casually criss-crossed, his back propped against the same tree. A scepter sat on the ground beside him, holding two golden snakes and two glistening wings, power radiating off the item. Another point of interest for Y/n’s eyes were the sandals on his feet. Not in a footfetish type of interest, but intrigue with the fact wings fluttered like no big deal off the heels. Just as Y/n was going to breathe out his name, the guest spoke first. “Indeed, it is I, Hermes. God of messengers, travelers, luck, gambling, borders, animal husbandry, thieves, wit, speed, language, trades, commerce, athletes, merchants-”

The god continued rambling proudly about each of his domains as Y/n’s awe slowly fell into a deadpan. “I know you,” they cut off his boasting, not truly caring if it was rude. Thankfully, instead of being offended, the god merely grinned. “So, Y/n, what are you doing out here? Away from the party?” Hermes had a teasing tone in his voice, gesturing to the two lovers ahead of them. Odysseus and Penelope had no knowledge of a god offering company to their closest friend. Y/n wanted to ask how he knew their name, but they figured it was some divine power thing.

“Ody wanted to spend time with Penelope, but he was too nervous to come alone. So he dragged me along. But I don’t want to intrude on their moment together,” Y/n shrugged, looking at their friends.

The mischief god watched the mortal for a moment before a plan formed in his mind. “Well, I can’t let such a beautiful soul be alone, now can I?” Y/n turned to face Hermes, an amused yet confused smile on their lips. “I’m sorry?” They inquired, not sure if they understood his words correctly. In response, Hermes stood up and held his hand out to help the mortal up too. “If they have their moment together, then allow me to give you a moment for us.” The god had a gentle smile, keeping his hand out for them to grab. Raising an eyebrow, Y/n hesitantly took his offer and grabbed his hand. He pulled them up to stand beside him.

“So, where are we going?” Y/n asked, looking into the forest behind them. Hermes just laughed in excitement.

“You’ll see!”

And before Y/n could utter another word, the god pulled them close and took off racing through the trees. The world whipped past them at lightning speed. Trees, rocks, roads, towns—everything went by in a flash until suddenly it all paused.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n stepped away from the god. Their legs felt like brittle wood, threatening to give out at a simple breeze. Once they caught their breath, the mortal looked around to see them in the center stands of the nearby sports. Athletes were in the midst of competition down below, and nobody seemed to question two people just appearing. Hermes sat down on a stone slab and patted for Y/n to sit beside him. Doing so, the god offered them some grapes he may or may not have stolen from other mortals. “Did you choose this event just because you’re the god of athletes?” Y/n questioned  with a small laugh, taking a grape to eat and watching the sports continue. Hermes responded with his own laugh, beaming at the person beside him. “Would you leave if I said yes?” Y/n pretended to think for a moment before turning to face him with a hum. “No, but you better make this worth it,” they chuckled playfully, popping another grape to their mouth. ~~~~~ Hermes did truly make it worth it. So worth it that the two began going on adventures every day. From splashing around in rivers to exploring dark caves, the mortal and god’s friendship grew each day.

Anytime Y/n questioned themself in a mirror, Hermes would somehow maifest behind them to compliment their looks before going back to whatever job he had that day. “Dahling, you look gorgeous—beyond stunning, truly.” Was heard more than once

They would even find gifts sometimes, usually always stolen, waiting in their bedroom.

~~~~~

Currently, Y/n and the king of Ithaca were sitting in his bedroom, just talking like old friends. “So, you’ve been disappearing randomly only to come back in one state or another. Not to mention, you’ve been much more upbeat lately. What’s going on?” Odysseus interrogated with a grin. Y/n stayed quiet for a moment. Could they tell their lifelong friend about the new soul in their life? Odysseus had a raised brow, waiting for a response. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything.” He offered with a calmer smile. Y/n’s expression softened, and they sighed, deciding to speak the truth. "I met someone,” they began, trying to form the correct words. Something in Odysseus’ eyes changed at this revelation. His posture stiffened just for a moment before returning to his previously relaxed state. “And who may this 'someone’ be?” The king continued, trying to get as much information as possible. With a quiet whisper, Y/n confessed. “Hermes...” Their lips held a bashful smile as they looked away from their friends' eyes. The friend in question paused, blinking slowly to process the information. “Hermes?! The god?!” He exclaimed with an open jaw. Y/n quickly shushed him, shoving their hands in his face. “Sh sh sh! Shut up! Not so loud,” they hissed, taking their hands away carefully once Odysseus nodded in agreement. “You know Hermes?” He continued to quiz. “Don’t you?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the first conversation with the god. Hermes said that Odysseus would know who he was.

“Well, yeah, I do. But I didn’t think you would too,” he tried to reason, although his point fell flat. “You don’t think a lot,” they retorted. Before Odysseus could try to fire back, a sudden breeze blew in from the open balcony. Looking over, a certain god stood against the stone railing with a familiar grin. “If it isn’t my two favorite mortals! If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say I was the center of this discussion,” Hermes laughed, waltzing into the room. He ruffled Odysseus’ hair playfully before taking a stand next to Y/n.

“Hermes.” Odysseus brought a hand up to fix his hair. The god just laughed again, wrapping an arm around Y/n’s shoulder to give them a side hug. The narrowing eyes of the soldier didn’t go unnoticed by Hermes, brightening his smile.

“Hey Hermes,” Y/n greeted warmly.

Odysseus didn’t enjoy seeing his best friend so cozied up with another person. Even if that other person was a god who saved his life multiple times and also his great-grandfather. An idea began forming in his mind to get rid of the situation. “Y/n, I think I remember seeing a show taking place in the city. You and I can go see it now before it finishes,” the king offered, casting a victorious grin to Hermes as Y/n gave their own smile. “That sounds cool! Yeah, we can go!” Y/n moved away from Hermes' hug as the two mortals took their leave. Once they left, Hermes frowned and took his own leave back to his previous tasks for Olympus. ~~~~~ It didn’t take long for a secret war to begin. Every moment, Y/n was in between two opposing sides. They were either with Odysseus one day and Hermes the next, or they were sitting in between both males who kept trying to one-up each other, which would eventually end in arguments.

“I mean honestly, darling, why spend your time with such a brute when you could have someone as divine as I?” “BRUTE?!”

“Really, Y/n, he’s the god of lies. If anything, his words mean nothing compared to mine.” “Your entire reputation is a lie.” “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, Y/n—” “Oh, please. That’s more of a stress than a privilege.” “Did you hear something, dahling? Why, I can’t seem to hear anything below FIVE FEET.” “OH HOW MATURE—” “IT IS!!”

This took place almost daily, and it acted as peak entertainment for Y/n. ~~~~~ Today, unlike any other, Y/n and Odysseus sat quietly in a familiar meadow. However, the king was being unnaturally quiet. Turning to face their friend, Y/n spoke up.

“Ody, are you alright?” Concern was clear in their voice as they waited patiently. Odysseus didn’t make any notice of hearing their words for a minute before he finally answered.

“You’re replacing me.”

Those words caught Y/n off guard. Odysseus was looking at the grassy field around them rather than meeting his companions eyes.

“What? No, I’m not. What makes you say that?” They furrowed their eyebrows in worry, anxious for his reasoning.

“You spend more time with him,” he hissed, speaking of the god like venom on his tongue.

“Well, maybe, but-”

“BUT NOTHING! I’m supposed to be your best friend! Me! Not him. It’s us against the world; we agreed on that years ago.” Odysseus turned to Y/n with a deep frown, his eyes showing unease. He had been betrayed time and time again before; he couldn’t risk losing another friend.

Y/n stayed silent, stunned by his sudden outburst. Odysseus just looked back to the meadow, shame filling his soul. After a few moments, Y/n regained their bearings as sympathy and guilt covered their features.

“Ody,” they called softly, but he continued to look away. "Ody, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he looked over to his friend.

“Ody, I could never replace you. You are woven into my soul like a grapevine. Why do you think I would break our pact?” They spoke softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Odysseus sighed, looking back to the ground. He felt so stupid for assuming they would hurt him too.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled gently, looking at them out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s alright; I would do the same if I were you. I forgive you,” Y/n smiled warmly to him, earning a hesitant smile back from him.

~~~~~

After this whole incident, Odysseus stopped arguing so much with Hermes. Sure, the mortal still gave the god a few half-hearted glares, but they eventually learned to share Y/n’s attention.

The trio sat calmly on the balcony of Odysseus’ room, waiting for Penelope to arrive for a nightly get-together. The sun sank slowly below the horizon, offering a charming glow to the city.

“So, darling, how’d you manage to get such a feral man to calm down?”

“FERAL?!”

[r0-boat]

Lavender Hair

Whb!Solomon x Demon!Reader

I cannot do porn with plot on this one😭 to save my life so we are just fucking him. Which sucks because I really wanted to write him being charismatic aaa

I had no idea what to call this I just called it that because his hair is very nice and I'd like to run my hands through it and braid it.

Cw: Solomon yoinking your V card, hair pulling, some switchiness, oral, fingering.

When his tip catches against your opening, your heart stops as reality sinks in.

You can see why devils like Solomon.

With his hair spread into pools of lavender all over the sheets, his eyes half-lit and full of mystery staring up at you, his gentle yet firm touch as he holds you in place and rolls his hips up into yours. You feel his bulge grind against your opening. There is no penetration yet; just enjoying the friction.

He was going to be inside you. And you were scared.

Solomon must have noticed because he then sat up a little bit. His voice was gentle and husky. "Is something wrong, love?"

"no, I mean... I just haven't done this before." You admitted, your face turning red at the sheer irony that you, a devil, had never had sex before.

Solomon, across is your cheek. "Oh love, you should have told me." He takes you in his arms as he lays you onto the mattress before crawling on top of you.

"Here, let me take over; I promise I'll be gentle."

He purrs. You feel his lips delicately press against your neck, going down his hand, gentle yet possessive, to feel and trace every part of your body.

"You're so radiant. I feel so lucky to have you in my arms," He whispers in a tickly ear. He chuckles at your whimpering; He loves what his words do to you and what he does to you. He hums, pushing your thighs apart. Tail, out of habit, wraps around his arms. He smiles when he feels it against his skin, gently feels it against his fingers, touching his lips and kissing the arrow-shaped tip.

"Are you comfortable, my dear?" Solomon coos as he shifts his body, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach till you feel his tongue prod you open. Your whole body shivers, your fingers going through his hair, wanting to grab onto something, your heart pounding in your chest. Solomon can sense your nervousness

"I'm going to worship you now. It's okay, I'll go slowly." You felt his tongue lazily lick your entrance before working. You opened each lick, getting deeper and deeper.

Your eyes screenshot as the grip on his hair grows tighter. That lavender main feels soft in your palm. You can feel the beads and his braids as you clench your fist.

As Solomon's movements become rougher and faster, You lose control of your body, giving him a harsh tug, You heard the soft clanks and jingling of the many trinkets in his hair. He let out a sharp inhale and a moan, making you realize what you did.

"Solomon, I'm sorry... I didn't mean-"You whimper and apologize. Solomon stops and looks up at you, those vacant eyes filled with lust and hunger. "Don't be sorry, please tug me as though you are my master."His husky voice, growling such much filth befitting of a demon, made you gasp as he dived back into you once more. His saliva coats your inner walls as it threatens to eat you alive.

You felt something bubble inside you, something foreign, increasing in intensity. Your thighs shake and squeeze around his head, but Solomon does not let that stop him. His fingernails dig into your hips as he forces his mouth, grinding his face against your body.

When he pulls away his tongue out, he switches, putting his mouth around you. You feel a finger slowly push inside you. This feeling is different than his tongue as he stretches you more.

"I'm going to add another finger. Be good to me and take it, please." Another husky whisper as you felt another finger stretch you.

That feeling bubbling in your core gets hotter and hotter, and Solomon strokes these flames, His fingers and his tongue moving faster and faster. He grows, seeing you arch your back.

Something about seeing someone orgasm for the first time made his heart race and his cock throb. And to be the one too give you that pleasure was a feeling greater than just mere sexual pleasure.

After you coat his fingers, he licks them clean before crawling back on top of you, wrapping His arms around you. "Was that good, my dear?" His cock throbs as pre cum drift down his shaft.

"It was." You purr feeling the aftershock of your first orgasm.

Solomon smiles. "Good I'm glad I could make you feel the same way you make me feel." Your heart throbbed at that comment He always had a way with words.

But, You felt his cock straining against you. "Solomon you haven't came."

You heard his muffled hum against your shoulder his hand idly stroking your side and your stomach. "It does not matter the pleasure I get from serving you is all I need."

He always knew just what to say but you really wanted him to feel good too. After he made you feel so good he felt a little more confident, and you're aching to know what it would feel like to have a cock inside you, his cock inside you.

"I want to be inside you; I want nothing more than to be inside you." More dirty filth from that melodic voice.

You turn over to him, his eyes grow wider as your hands strays Your fingers ghosting over his shaft' He could feel his cock twitch aching for more of you. "Please Solomon I want more I'm ready."

By the Kings, You always knew just what to say to drive him crazy. His breath shakes, with no emotion in those eyes and an unreadable face. You mistook it for hesitation until he pressed you onto your back once again, stroking his cock and playing with your opening, preparing himself to go inside.

Even now, he tries to comfort you, holding you as closely as possible, easing his way inside. You're tight virgin walls, even while prepped, still squeezed him generously. Solomon did not hide as pleasure, his face contorting, letting out noise that would make any demon blush and squirm.

A foreign feeling of being filled was painful yet strangely addicting. He stays inside you to the health, waiting for you to adjust to his size. That's stretching pain, fading into burning pleasure. You felt his breath shake against your ear as you clenched again. Your hands and fingers tangled in his lavender-colored hair. His words echo in your mind.

'tug me as though you are my master.'

You pulled at a part of his hair, telling him to move. Solomon lets out a loud whimper as he begins to buck his hips.

With an arm for your head to rest on and his other hand grasping into the sheets, He bucks hard, The slapping against his skin becoming louder and louder, but all you could hear was his and your moans.

That carefulness and softness to the two of you felt for each other was all long gone, that's the two of you fuck like animals.

Balls slapping against you, each thrust going all the way inside, each thrust rhythmic and almost calculated as he hits a foreign spot inside you that makes you suck in breath and arch. He starts to hit that spot over and over. "Right there? Is that the spot, my dear? Is that your spot, love?" if it weren't for the fact he was fucking you into the mattress, you would punish him.

Part of him wanted to flip you over and take complete control, to wrapping one of his muscular arms around your throat and drilling you from behind.

But you are already getting close, and the way you squeeze around his cock, I feel like he is going to come hard, empty his balls deep inside you, and flood your insides.

His rhythmic movements became more and more erratic, your hand abandoning his hair as your nails dug into his back, wrapping your legs around him.

"I'm cumming! Solomon!"You squeal, and Solomon coos, "I know, I know, beloved, you're milking me! I'm going to flood you full!"

He fucks through his orgasm drilling his cum deeper inside riding out both of your orgasms.

He collapses on top of you. He already has his arms around you, peppering your face with kisses.

"That was amazing, you are amazing, you're good, So good." You gave him a dreamy smile. You didn't have as much stamina as most demons, so you were already drained from two orgasms; you idly combed your fingers through his soft lavender mane, drifting to sleep in his arms.

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Aaa back to my origins, I missed writing for Chrollo, he is such an interesting character with some many layers to peel off. Got inspired to write this after doing a lesson for my course where me and my group were discussing about the meaning of life and, y'know, philosophical questions like this would get Chrollo debating for hours just so he could understand his darling opinions.

The room was dimly lit, the only light source was a flickering candle on a worn-out table - the room Chrollo rented this time left to be desired, quaint, old. Shadows danced along the cracked walls, creating an atmosphere that was both claustrophobic and eerie. And you were almost certain that you saw a roach running somewhere. You hated here.

Most of all, you hated him.

Chrollo's dark eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze sending even more chills down your spine. The air as always was thick with tension, one could not have a simple conversation with someone like him im peace.

He leaned forward, his shadows swallowing the light as he let his book rest on the table before turning to look at you again. You could almost see the gears turning on his head. Chrollo was calm and composed but there was something deeply unsettling about him — an aura of danger that lingered just beneath the surface.

Maybe it was his eyes. His very beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that were so similar to two black holes devouring and tainting anything they fell upon. He rested his chin on his hand, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips as he observed you, as he searched through your soul for something only he knew about.

"Entertain me, dear," Chrollo began, his voice smooth, almost gentle, yet laced with a sinister undertone, drumming his fingers against his leg, "What do you think is the meaning of life?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded. You hesitated, knowing that your answer could shape the course of this conversation. He liked doing that; giving you something to think about to mold you into who he thinks you should be. Chrollo was unpredictable, his mind a labyrinth of thoughts and intentions that were impossible to decipher, yet you were learning how to read his mannerisms.

If he could read you like an open book, then you should learn and do the same to him. Two can play this game.

He was a man who could kill without remorse, who was used to steal and take without feeling nothing for the victims, even then here he was, asking you to ponder something as profound as the meaning of life. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to curse him; the man who took you from your old life.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "I think the meaning of life is… To find s purpose. To create something that gives our existence meaning, whether it's love, art, or even just surviving the challenges we face. Don't you think?"

Chrollo's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Purpose, you say? Interesting." He leaned back, crossing his arms as he considered your words. "But what if your purpose is tied to destruction, to chaos because the world failed you? Can that be considered a valid purpose?"

The question sent a shiver down your spine. You knew what he was getting at. Chrollo's life was one of bloodshed and mayhem, his purpose seemingly intertwined with the suffering of others. The thought of justifying such a life made your stomach churn, but you couldn't afford to show weakness.

Sometimes, you mused, Chrollo must think of you like a butterfly strapped to his table while he dissected you.

Or that's how you felt.

"Purpose is subjective," You replied carefully, your voice steady despite the unease creeping through you. "Some might find meaning in creation, others in destruction. But I believe it ultimately comes down to how we perceive our actions and the impact they have on the world around us."

Chrollo's eyes narrowed, the intensity of his gaze becoming almost unbearable. "And what about you?" He asked, his voice soft but deadly serious. "What is your purpose? What meaning do you find in your life?"

The room seemed to close in around you, the air growing colder, more oppressive. You could feel the weight of Chrollo's expectations pressing down on you, as if he was daring you to give the wrong answer. Your mind raced, searching for the right words, the right response that would satisfy him.

"My purpose..." You began, letting your eyes fall to your folded hands. You didn't have one, not anymore at least, he stole that and any chance that you could find it. "My purpose is to live. To experience everything life has to offer, the good and the bad. To find my own path, whatever that may be."

My purpose is to survive you, to kill you. But not yet, dear. You concluded mentally, imitating his tone.

Chrollo studied you in silence, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room was almost suffocating, the silence stretching out until it felt like it would never end. Then, slowly, he nodded, as if accepting your answer — though you couldn't tell if he was satisfied or merely amused.

"An admirable sentiment," He said finally, though his tone was laced with a special kind of amusement. "But remember, the path you choose may not always be under your control, life has a way of steering us in directions we never expected. I'm certain you're quite familiar with this."

Chrollo was a man who thrived on control, on manipulating the lives of others to suit his own ends. It annoyed you greatly that he liked to pour salt over the wound, teasing you about your current predicament.

This time you didn't look away. You held his gaze, refusing to let him see the fear that threatened to consume you. If you were going to survive him, you needed to be strong, to show him that you weren't just another victim.

"I suppose that's true," You replied, forcing a small smile. "But I also believe we have the power to shape our own future, to defy and erase certain aspects of it."

Chrollo's eyes gleamed with a dark amusement, and for a moment, you thought you saw something dangerous flicker in his expression. "Perhaps," He nodded, his voice low and almost mocking. "But remember, in the end, the meaning of life may be nothing more than what we make of it… Or what someone else makes it for us."

The conversation ended with those words, the tension in the room slowly dissipating but leaving behind an unsettling feeling that lingered in your chest. Chrollo rose from his seat, his movements graceful and deliberate. He gave you one last, lingering look before turning to leave, his presence as haunting as ever.

"I'll buy us something to eat, behave yourself in the meantime."

As the door closed behind him, you were left alone with your thoughts, the candle's flame flickering weakly in the darkness. The meaning of life, what did it matter in a world where someone like Chrollo Lucilfer existed, where lives were manipulated and discarded without a second thought?

You couldn't shake the feeling that, in his own twisted way, Chrollo had found his meaning right here and now.

And if he did, if he found his meaning, you didn't want to know what it was.

[nadvs]

i’m ugh i love your take on angst. but twins are usually born early, so when you’re in labor rafes on an away game and you’re going through most of it by yourself

aaa thank you!! omg exactly what i was picturing 🤭

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe’s stomach sinks when he gets the phone call.

he’s boarding his team’s jet after an away game. it was the last away game he told management he could do until the birth of his twins, refusing to be out of town when they arrive.

especially because he was traded at the start of the season, moving them even farther away from their hometown. she doesn’t have anyone else close by to help her if she goes into labor.

she’s seven months and three weeks along. the doctors told them multiple births tend to come early. he agreed to do this one last away game, confident he’d make it.

but now, he’s an hour flight away when he gets the call from his girlfriend that she’s having contractions and on her way to the hospital in an ambulance.

he feels like an idiot for taking this risk. for assuming it’d be fine. because now he’s completely and utterly powerless, having to sit on a plane and wait and hope he makes it there before his babies do.

he calls her the second they land, but she doesn’t answer. the call goes straight to voicemail. in the cab, he calls her a few more times. nothing. her phone must have died.

when he runs up to the hospital desk asking where she is, he realizes he’s nearly heaving while the woman at the front desk searches through the system.

finally, he gets a floor and a room number, and he runs up the stairs and through the hallways until he gets to the door he’s been dreaming about coming through for the last two hours.

she looks up when she hears the door creak open. rafe drops the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder and rushes to her. it hasn’t happened yet.

“i’m not too late?” he says, panting.

“no,” she says, looking utterly miserable. she winces as another contraction hits her, squeezing her eyes shut.

“is it hurting?” he grips her hand, her fingers digging into the back of his hand.

she can’t even speak through the pain, trying to breathe through it.

rafe has never felt worse in his life. she’s been here, without him, in pain, all because he made a bad call.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers. “squeeze my hand as hard as you need to. i deserve it.”

she climbs over the harshest spike of pain, then starts to breathe more evenly as the contraction fades away.

“they keep checking, but i’m not dilated enough,” she tells him. “it’s like my body won’t cooperate.”

“can i get you anything?” he asks anxiously.

“i’m just so glad you made it,” he says.

“i’m so fucking sorry that you’ve been alone.” rafe dips his forehead against her fist closed around his hand.

she bites her lip, her head resting on her pillow. it’s been a nightmare, dealing with the agony and anxiety that she’d be surrounded by strangers during the scariest thing she thinks she’s ever gone through.

her obgyn isn’t on shift, so somebody she doesn’t know will be delivering the babies. she was terrified she’d have to do this without rafe. she looks over at her boyfriend as he kisses her knuckles over and over.

“is this dad?” the nurse says as she comes in.

“yes,” she breathes.

“amazing,” she says cheerfully. “mom is doing great. she’s tough.”

rafe nods, glancing over at his girl, wondering if there’s anything he can do to make up for not being here.

“i’m going to have the doctor on call come in to check up on you again in a few minutes. you still okay without the epidural?”

“yes,” she says.

“just give us a ring if you need us, okay?”

rafe kisses the back of her hand again as the nurse scurries out of the room.

“you seeing how long you can go without it?” he asks, remembering her telling him she was going to only go for the epidural when she was desperate.

“yeah, but i don’t know how much…” she says. “distract me. how was the game?”

“106-88,” he tells her. “easy. they were weak.”

“then why’d you let them get 88 points?” she teases with a small smile.

he stares at her, his gaze heartbroken.

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t here,” he tells her.

“the nurses and doctors have been great,” she says. “they gave me food and water and all the ice chips i could ask for. i’m okay. i was just so scared you wouldn’t make it.”

“i bribed the cab driver to speed,” he admits.

she laughs for the first time in hours.

when the doctor comes to check on her, he tells her she’s still not dilated enough but her blood pressure is getting high, but they’ll keep monitoring.

fifteen minutes later, the doctor checks again and tells her they have no choice but to do a c-section.

it’s all a blur, being rushed to the operating room, prepped for surgery, administered the epidural, feeling the twins kicking her.

once rafe can hold her hand again, he doesn’t let go of her. strangers in scrubs surround her, speaking their jargon, while her strokes her hand with his thumb, whispering to her how much he loves her and how he’ll never leave her side.

their son is born first. they clean him up while delivering their daughter, and when she feels her children resting on her bare chest, she cries in pure disbelief.

rafe kisses her forehead, calling her perfect, their babies perfect, promising that he’ll never leave their side. he can’t believe how close he was to missing this. he’d never forgive himself if he did.

they move to a recovery room. rafe feels helpless watching the hospital staff move through the motions, but once she can rest, the twins swaddled next to each other in a bassinet, he feels like he can breathe again.

in that small moment of quiet, he stands by the bed, seeing the love of his life’s eyelids slowly fluttering after living through such a hard process, seeing the two most perfect babies in the world sleeping next to each other, and tears of awe and happiness well in his eyes.

this is wealth. whatever he thought made him feel fortunate and rich before doesn’t compare to this. the three beautiful beings he’s gazing at right now are all that will ever truly matter to him.

[konigenblobbity]

It’s All Written Down [Part 2]

Hobie x SpideyF!Reader

Warnings: Angsty, also fluffy, sad Hobie, sad reader, comforting, crying, kissing

—> [Part 1]

Summary: After reading your note, Hobie immediately went off to find you, racking his brain to where you might’ve gone. When he finally remembers, he makes his way to you, hiding. Once you see him, you can’t help but break down… unable to contain your emotions, luckily it allows him to finally find the strength to share his own.

A/n: AAA the love I got for the first part! Y’all are so cute I was legit blushing! I also had SO much fun writing the first one so I’m so glad you all enjoyed it! Hope part 2 lives up to your expectations ;) enjoy meine Lieben

You held your mask in your hands, running your fingers over the stitching that lined the eyes. The fabric soaks up your tear as it falls onto it. You sniffle softly and then bring a hand to your face, rubbing away your tears. You had left Hobie’s apartment just 30 minutes ago, still crying over everything that had happened.

Meanwhile Hobie was swinging through the city, eyes darting around, looking for any trace of you or where you might’ve been. He racks his brain for any possible place you might’ve gone to, any place you’ve brought him to. He was desperate to find you, fearing that if he didn’t soon, you’d be gone forever.

He pushed away those thoughts, as he finally realizes where you might’ve gone to. A place you’ve told him about before, one you’ve mentioned fondly, explained how you’d go there before missions, to be by yourself and just enjoy the silence.

-

“Aren’t you just full of surprises” he chuckles and you just smile. “Everyone always says they’re creepy, but I don’t know…. They’re nice and quiet, full of history, very endearing in their own way” you and him were sitting on his bed, you sitting against the headboard, while he was sitting in front of you, legs overlapping with yours.

For the past hour you two have been playing a little game of questions, just using the time to learn more about each other. “So yeah… secret location to relax, the cemetery out near the city bridge.” You say and he just looks at you smiling. His tilts his head to the side softly, leaning back on his hands as he just stares at you, seemingly in adoration.

You blush slightly and glance away for a moment “What are you looking at?” He just shrugs but doesn’t pull his eyes away from your figure. “Nothin’ Marlin… just can’t help but enjoy this moment” he slowly moves to sit up, pulling his legs off yours. “Since I only ever see ya spider self at HQ or on missions” he moves to kneel on the bed.

The way his figure loomed over you now had you stiffening slightly, trying to move back more against the headboard. He just begins to smirk before speaking again “Only here do I get to relish how you talk bout what you love” he moves closer. His knees now on either side of your thighs, practically straddling you. You look away entirely now.

“How only I know what ya beautiful face looks like under that mask” he reaches a hand forward and places it on your chin, he lifts it slightly so your head looks up at him. When your eyes lock with his, he lets out a light chuckle, barely audible but a shiver runs through you as you hear it. “Such a gorgeous lil Marlin” he says narrowing his eyes.

“But what I relish most…” he leans forward slightly and your breath gets caught in your throat, nervous for what he could be up to. Up until that point everything’s been platonic. Your heart beat speeding up at the idea of him changing that part of relationship.

“Is your cheeky little laugh” You were taken by complete surprise at his hands went for your sides, beginning to tickle you without mercy. Your body immediately reacts, back arching as you begin to writhe under him. You laugh out at the feeling of his deft fingers tracing at your sides so softly. “AH! H-hobie! S-st haha! Stop it!”

He keeps you pinned down with his hips pressed against your own, not allowing you to run away from his attack. “There it is… that laugh right there” he says continuing to tease you with his words along with his fingers. You continue to writhe, hands going to grab his wrists to stop him, he easily pushes them away, smiling down at you.

“HOBIE PLEASE! Hahaha! S-stop! Hobi- haha!” You continue to plead, eyes beginning to well up from the shivers running through your whole body. He finally abides, stopping his hand’s movements, letting them just rest on your waist. You reposition yourself to sit up against the headboard again, having slid down from Hobie’s sudden attack.

“God I love it Marlin…” You have a grin stretching from ear to ear, hands grabbing Hobie’s wrists just in case he decides to go back to tickling you. “What I love more is that only I get to hear it” he can’t stop himself as he talks, suddenly feeling very affectionate. Your face begins to blush a dark red at his words, having never had someone as vocal as Hobie with their thoughts.

“T-That’s really sweet Hobie” you say softly and he just continues to look down at you. You both sit there in silence for a bit, his eyes locked with yours. His gaze pure admiration and care, you were sure that yours reflected the same thing. The way Hobie cares for you made your heart sing, knowing that he found the parts of you everyone disliked… endearing.

-

At the memory he couldn’t help but smile, but simultaneously changed his course to find the cemetery you mentioned that night. He had never been this determined before, not even on his missions… his whole mind spinning with worry. Now that he knew where you were, he just hoped you were okay.

You were sat on one of the small concrete buildings within the cemetery, often used to store tools or went down into the ground where more people were buried. It was high enough to overlook the rest of the cemetery, your eyes moving from row to row of headstones decorating the lush green of the ground.

Picking up on which graves were new and pristine, which were covered in moss and had become weathered, which had flowers - wilting or fresh. Then you felt a change in the air, your spider senses went off and you could hear him before you saw him. There was a soft brush of wind that went past you as Hobie landed behind you on the building.

You hear his footsteps come closer, before you notice his figure come into view on your left, watching in your peripheral vision how he sits down next to you, cross-legged, just like you. “I’ve been looking for you…” he says and you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your skull. The sound of his voice enough to make your heart sing, you’d only been gone for 1 hour but had already missed him endlessly.

You don’t say anything, just continue to look down at your mask, just one look at Hobie would be enough to make you fold. You were fighting back tears threatening to surface, your grip on your mask tightened. Hobie immediately noticed, reaching a hand over cautiously to place it on your thigh.

“I read the letter… Marlin listen I-“ at hearing his voice again you couldn’t help yourself, you lunged into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso. Hobie was so caught off guard, he had to use one arm to brace himself, while the other wrapped around your back. He was frozen for a moment but upon hearing your soft sobs, all his attention was back on you.

He sat up, shifting so you could comfortably lie between his legs, allowing you to nuzzle your head further into his chest. He softly caresses your back, trying to soothe you as you continue to cry into his chest. “Oh god… I’m so sorry love” he didn’t know what else to say, your whole body was trembling in his arms, it caused him pain to see you like this, he could feel his heart screaming.

“I-I’m sorry… I-I didn’t know what else to do“ you couldn’t talk clearly, shaky breathes interrupting your words before they even left your lips. “I-I just… I didn’t-” Hobie brought a hand to your head, softly caressing your hair, beginning to rock you gently in his arms.

“Hey… hey Marlin it’s alright. Deep breaths, just take some deep breaths… I’ve got ya, you’re safe” he kept his voice low, not wanting to overwhelm you. His tone was clearly pained, but he tried to stay composed… for you. You were his only priority right now, all he wanted was to help calm you down.

For 30 minutes Hobie sat there, holding you in his arms, comforting you. Your breathing began to return to an even pace, heart rate slowing. At this point your eyes had closed and you were just listening to the sound of Hobie’s heart beat, finding it’s even rhythm soothing.

You finally spoke, although it was low and raspy, he listened intently “Miguel’s right… I can’t handle missions on my own, so I left. Wanted to make it easier, by just leaving” Hobie begins to shake his head, eyes furrowed as he looks down at you “Miguel is fucking daft… he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he doesn’t know you Marlin. No one knows you like I do”

Even at the mention of Miguel Hobie’s blood boiled, the name sat like poison on his tongue. His insult was quick, every word laced with malice. He hated that one goddamn moron in a spandex suit with a shocking amount of self-righteousness was the one to hurt you to the point that you ran away.

“Marlin you’re fucking phenomenal… dozens of missions, and never once did ya make a mess of it. Not even Miguel can say that” he continued to pet your hair softly, occasionally spinning a few strands around his fingers, knowing how you always did that to calm yourself during missions.

“That’s not true… what about w-“ your voice was so soft Hobie easily interrupted you “Don’t fight me on this Marlin.” His words were playful, but still held a weight of warning. You unwrap your arms enough to push yourself out of his chest, sitting between his legs as you look up at him. “Hobie I’m just not sure whether-“

When you finally see Hobie’s face, were shocked to find his eyes watering and a tear running down his cheek, you reach a hand up to wipe it away and gently cup his face. His expression is sullen as he places a hand on yours “Please Marlin… we’ll talk to Miguel. If he doesn’ want you workin’ team missions, we’ll do solo missions together. Just us” his voice was almost a whisper, his head leaning into your touch. You bit your lip, feeling your eyes well up all over again.

You’d never seen Hobie so vulnerable… to be fair, he’d never seen you so vulnerable either. Before you could respond he tilted his head to kiss the palm of your hand, your breath catching in your throat at the sight… heart stopping at the feeling. “Please don’t leave… we’ll figure something out” you felt more tears run down your cheeks.

All you could do was nod your head quickly, a soft “okay…” leaving your lips. Your gaze focused on him as you gave him a comforting smile, even if your expression was contorted with hurt. He let out a soft huff, before smiling wildly and reaching forward pulling you into his arms.

The grasp he had on you was unbearably tight, but you didn’t want him to loosen it or let go, his arms and warmth making you feel safe… as if nothing could hurt you. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you nuzzled into where it met his collar, holding Hobie as tight as you could, grabbing the fabric of his shirt in your fists.

“Christ Marlin…” he begins to say and you hum softly in question, urging him to continue “I can’t believe you said goodbye with a fucking piece of paper” His words were meant to be teasing, but you could sense the hurt and sincerity of his statement. You pull away from his neck enough to look at him again.

“I’m sorry… I just knew that if I said goodbye to your face, I’d never have left at all” you smile at him and he gives you his signature smirk back, leaning forward and kissing your forehead softly. “Then I guess I just have to keep ya eyes on me, hm Marlin?” he winks at you, you chuckle slightly and blush at his words

He was gazing into your eyes, a clear admiration in them, but there was something else. It was the same back in his room, when you two were playing questions. Just as you did that day, you tilted your head and asked with a smile “What are you looking at?” He chuckles softly, recognizing this conversation, he tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

“Nothing… just enjoying this moment Marlin” he begins to say, you watch as his eyes glance at your lips once before locking eyes with you again. “Seeing as I only ever see your Spidey persona at HQ or on missions” you move a hand from around his neck to caress his cheek, using your thumb to trace his cheekbone.

“It’s when we’re alone that I can wrap my arms around you” His tone was low and he was still looking at you, practically unblinking. You swear you saw his pupils dilate. “Only in my room do I get to see that gorgeous face you hide under your mask” his hands grab at your waist. pulling you closer to him, moving you to straddle his lap, his hands now resting on your waist.

“But my favorite part…” a devilish smirk crosses his face and you remember this all too well. You grab his wrists as a precaution, but leaving his hands on your waist. You look at him warningly, raising your brows “don’t you dare tickle me Hobie…” he lets out a soft chuckle before leaning forward.

His plush lips meet yours, you let out a soft gasp in response, which immediately gets swallowed up by his lips. His eyes were closed and after a moment yours fluttered shut as well. He then whispers softly against your lips, finishing his statement “my favorite part is that you let me” you hummed softly at his words.

All his attention went back to kissing you, it was slow, gentle, but you could feel every bit of adoration and care he put into it. Your hands loosened their grip on his wrists, he then intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting them. You abided and let him lead your touch, he placed them around his neck, before placing his hands back on your waist.

Your hands softly begin to caress him, gliding up and down his lean shoulders, one finding its way further up, beginning to gently trace his wicks. You heard a soft groan leave him, before he pulled you closer against him, continuing to mold his lips against yours expertly. When he finally pulled away it took a moment to regain your composure and open your eyes.

“To know that I’m the one you trust most, the one you bear ya soul to… that just about might be the hottest thing in the world Marlin”

Tag list:

@thegirlwholovesmythology @aizawa-shouta-2018 @lavandercookie @darksidescorner @graciebeanss @sunariin @athenxt @pemizart @lilttblog @gamenabaanona @atrashpandaunderthestars @em711 @reaperfeels @jjkclub @5sos-wdw @gwendolyngonzalez

[afyrian]

CONGRATULATIONS ON 200 FOLLOWS AAA!!!! i'm so so excited to see you continue to grow you are so talented and i just can't wait to watch your blog blow up and get the love it deserves <33 regarding your event..... may i request..... ☀️ and suna pls.... I don't think anyone expected anything else of me I'm sorry 😭 AA I'm so excited to see what you do!! <3

sun kissed warnings w/ suna | wc: 300 masterlist | sunburnt

    "you should really apply sunscreen more, it can be really dangerous-"

  "mh mmh yeah."

  his voice is muffled as your hands rub along the top of his back and his shoulders. thick aloe vera is slathered along his back and you work to make sure it's covering every inch of his sunburn. running your hands delicately down his back sends goosebumps up his arms. the burn making it feel cooler than he expected. 

  you roll your eyes, knowing that no matter what you say, he won't pay attention. especially when your thumbs run alongside the sides of his spine, the comforting feeling nearly sending him to sleep, "rin, babe, if you don't be more careful, i'm not going to do this for you anymore. you'll have to call atsumu."

  his head shifts a little, his eyes peering over at you as his smile quickly falls. nearly every time he gets a sunburn you make this threat, feeling too bad to watch him suffer the next. you shake your head when you can see him looking, raising your hands up from his back, one moving for his upper arm. 

  "fine.. i'll put more on next time, okay?" suna turns a little more, resting on his left arm, his right arm raising up and caressing your elbow.

  "promise?"

  "yeah, i promise," he nods, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt's sleeve. 

  instinctively you lean down, pressing a kiss to his lips, nearly tasting the salty ocean air that's cursed him so. they're chapped and you can’t help but sigh happily as your hand feels the external warmth of his sunburn. “now, turn back around or you’re actually going to have to call atsumu,” you lean back a little, tilting your head slightly as you stare into his eyes.

  “anything for you darling.”

[jeongheart]

touch

summary: 'physical touch refers to expressing and receiving affection through touch, physical closeness, and other forms of physical connection'.

w.c: 1.4k.

tags: strangers to friends to lovers (kinda?), mutual pining, fluff.

a.n: i'm soft, this was inspired by that video of jeongin bumping into jisung lol. my first innie work aaa i'm so happy that i finished it, i'm so proud of this one too.

as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes, leave your thoughts if you like! it means a lot.

Jeongin doesn't like to be touched.

He strongly believes that his personal space is sacred, and he can't understand the people who require physical contact 24/7.

It's no secret to anyone that he dislikes (physical) displays of affection, not that he doesn't have them with the people he loves, he prefers to let them know that he loves them with a special gift on their birthday or by buying them something that reminds him of that person.

He especially hates hugs. He feels trapped by the other person, and despite the fact that in the 22 years of his life he repeated it a thousand times, his family and friends don't seem to get the hint.

He doesn't want to be surly, really. It's something that has been like that since he can remember.

Jeongin doesn't like to be touched.

Except if that someone is you.

It's funny actually, you'd met casually, the way people met before: in real life. The first day of college was tough, everything and everyone was new and having to get used to a "grown-up" routine all of a sudden was something that took time.

He remembers the time exactly: 07:20 am. It was the first of the day, he was sitting in front of the class, he had a bad habit of being easily distracted, so he had to force himself to overcome his shame and desire to sleep to be in front of the blackboard.

The class started at 07:30, and the room was almost full. The professor arrived less than a minute ago and Jeongin was glad to be alone and in peace. His notebook lay open in front of him, the pages white and spotless.

Until you arrived, late.

You came running, it was obvious that you'd fallen asleep. Your hair was somewhat messy, probably due to the wind and the run you made through the building, your face was red (from embarrassment and exertion), but a smile was present on your face.

The professor looked at you funny and with a gesture of her hand she asked you to come in and take a seat somewhere free.

The only one was next to Jeongin.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of the empty chair, and even though you couldn't see it, Jeongin rolled his eyes as he saw you approaching the table.

With the woman summarizing her presentation, you arranged your things on the table (everything was in pastel colors, the blonde noticed) and you looked at him expectantly with that smile still on your face.

He could tell you were alone, actually, you were the only two who were. All your other classmates knew each other. So your attempt to start a conversation with him was logical, you also realized that he was alone.

"It looks like we'll be buddies" You smiled again and then told him your name while you extended your hand in an attempt to shake his, a very old gesture and not funny at all according to Jeongin.

He played dumb, but he told you his name. And then he said nothing more, watching out of the corner of his eye as you slowly lower your hand to rest it on your lap.

The weeks passed like this, you had a clear love language and unfortunately it was the one that Jeongin hated the most. You were always trying to touch him, not in a wicked or weird way, just friendly since that's how you showed affection. You were friends, but he couldn't tell you 'stop doing that' every time you reached out to touch his shoulder to get his attention.

You annoyed him every time you did that, but he couldn't deny that when you weren't getting clingy he appreciated your company. You were a comfortable presence in his life most of the time, and he liked not being alone in an unfamiliar environment where everyone greeted each other and ate together every day.

The first part of the academic year ended in the blink of an eye and the relationship between the two of you was only growing.

Jeongin didn't know when he let you touch his arm for the first time, he thinks it was in the library when you were studying for an exam.

He was nervous as he couldn't memorize anything and you, ever so nice, reached out your hand in an attempt to comfort him to rest it on Jeongin's left arm which was sprawled on top of the book he was trying to read.

Jeongin hadn't noticed that he hadn't tensed like the other times and he just kept reading and rereading the same sentences while the heat rose to your cheeks.

You didn't know what changed, but the fact that the boy who moved away every time you got at least 5 cm closer than normal had finally relaxed around you had butterflies flying in your stomach.

The months unfolded normal after that, and Jeongin would let you into his bubble of personal space more and more often.

He definitely hadn't realized how much he liked to feel your warm hands on his when he needed to calm down before a presentation or how his heart would jump in his chest when he saw you smile after you hugged him goodbye when he dropped you at your house after college.

"I like you a lot, Innie" You told him after the second exam.

Another final exam ended, and with it, the end of the year was drawing near. Jeongin was going to a vacation with his family in Busan and you definitely couldn't go weeks and weeks without seeing him, or his dimples or hearing his laugh and you would never forgive yourself if you didn't tell him everything that was on your mind every time you were together.

Jeongin looked like a statue, his mouth was opening and closing in an attempt to find the right words. His mind had short-circuited and it seemed that he had lost all ability to form a coherent sentence.

The snow was falling around the two of you, the heartless winter wrapped you from head to toe and as the minutes passed without an answer, your heart raced more and more and if Jeongin paid enough attention he could see how your eyes began to water as you overthought your sudden confession.

Maybe he didn't feel the same way, and you were making a fool of yourself. You began to prepare the speech of 'sorry, I shouldn't have said anything' to save your heart from the impending rejection and to be able to escape from that situation as quickly as possible.

Until Jeongin moved, he took two short steps until he was face to face to you. He was a head taller than you and your eyes searched his urgently, trying to decipher the answer he hadn't put into words.

The blond placed his big hands on your cheeks, reddened by the cold and now by shame, and caressed your skin with his thumbs.

You swore that if it wasn't for his soft grip on your face, you might have passed out from how fast your heart was beating, your legs felt like jelly, and the suspense felt eternal. You wanted to yell at him to answer or for him to do something, anything to finally stop your heart racing with feelings.

You opened your mouth to talk, but Jeongin closed the distance between you by placing his lips on yours.

You froze at first, arms still on either side of your body but then, as if awakened from a trance, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to lose yourself in the heat of the kiss, everything around you felt cold except for this moment, the soft feeling of his plush lips on yours and the warmth spreading from the tip of your fingertoes to every strand of hair on your head.

He moved only a few inches from you, enough to be able to whisper over your lips "I like you too".

You laughed slowly, so softly that it almost felt like a whisper, so only he could hear it "Yes, I think I realized that" And tangling your hands behind his neck you brought him closer to you to kiss him again.

Jeongin doesn't like to be touched, but you were the only exception.

[digitalagepulao]

My sincere Black Myth: Wukong review

Full disclosure! This is from a recent but earnest fan of JTTW as the original novel, as well as all the social, cultural and religious layers of it. I've seen my fair share of adaptations and derivative media, from shlocky to silly to grimdark to cutesy. I'm a bachelor in visual arts, with an interest in the field of game development since high school. I am also, white and brazillian, and have talked with other jttw fans, both Chinese and not, on this game. If any of these are for some reason motive to not read further, then fair enough. Hope you have fun and continue to enjoy the game, do not let me or my opinion stop you!

Now to the review proper <3

First things first, let the obvious not remain unsaid. This game, is supremely gorgeous. In every sense of the word, and I mean this fully, it's a work of art. The sound design, the character concepts and execution, the animations, the voice acting, the visual effects, the UI design, the cinematography, the 3D scanning of actual historical artofacts and heritage sites throughout China, and everything beyond and between, are phenomenal, full stop.

This was never a debate, I'm sure, but I don't think I can in good conscience not praise them for their work. It's no news that Asian talent, not just in China either, have been often hired to supplement projects on the West, and we can all agree it's about time they got to shine in their own AAA project. My issues with the international game industry notwithstanding, I hope this brings some much needed acknowledgment and appreciation for Chinese culture and arts, both traditional and modern!

Now, from this point on, THERE WILL BE SPOILERS, so proceed with caution!

(word count: +1.8k)

I also deeply enjoy their choices in arcs to revisit. Some like the Flaming Mountain arc are classic picks to adapt but still a very good match to the whole Six Senses throughline. I don't think you can do a JTTW 2 electric bogaloo without bringing up Niumowang and his family in some way (um, put a pin on that), but the other arcs like Yellowbrow or Black Wind Mountain aren't as explored imo, so it's nice to see them being given a bit of a spotlight.

(speaking of the Yellow Ridge arc, whoever made the executive decision of Lingji Bodhisattva being a Xaanxi singer is, genius!!)

I'm also kind of in love?? with Bajie's design and role in the story overall?? Gameplay wise he sticks around just enough to not feel lonely, but not too long to be a nuisance or overstay his welcome. He's no Atreus (GoW) or Ellie (TLoU) of course, but he doesn't need to be, and most importantly, he isn't trying to be, which I feel is admirable of the devs. Given the visible inspirations from the recent God of War games, it would have been easy to lean a bit too hard on it, but I'm glad they didn't overreach.

Him having a more complex love life is also a nice touch imo. It explores more his womanizer ways in an interesting way, and I appreciate it. I love when people complicate the pig! Also, the way he treats Xiaosheng (Destined One) like a nephew?? The scene on the Huaguoshan throne??? I'M GONNA CRY!!!

I think, I've run out of positive things to say.... time for the spicy takes.

I, kind of detest the premise by default. I'm not a big fan of "Superman is Dead" plots, cus it's usually either done for shock value, or taken so lightly that the weight is totally lost. I have such a love-hate situationship with the introduction cutscene because of this. On one hand, it's phenomenal cinema, and seeing Wukong stand up to the Heavenly armies in glorious 4K high fidelity graphics is delicious. On the other hand, the whole debate they are having has me going "?????", not because I don't get it but just, why?? Why did this have to be the premise?? (put another pin on that)

Also the set up and call to adventure is kind of blergh.

Now is as good a time as any to talk about the gameplay. It's, okay. If you enjoy trying to figure out the most stylish combos, or to mash buttons, then you'll definitely have fun. I was sorely disappointed that I pretty much have been going through the bosses rather easily. Chapter 1 it was mostly the struggle of learning the controls, but I never stuck to a boss for longer than seven tries (Whiteclad Noble, the snakeman that you are). Chapter 2 I only struggled on Tiger Vanguard, because I was sorely underleveled and had missed a pathway to explore before him. After that I second tried him. Chapter 3, I have and I'm not joking, gotten halfway through first or second trying every boss.

Mind you, this is not being some godtier gamer or whatever, I'm pretty average and only a recent player of soulslike games too (maybe playing Lies of P made too OP, but I sincerely doubt it lol). No, this is me saying that if you do explore the game and not rush through it, you won't struggle nearly as much as some people have and still are. Most of the final chapter bosses can be trivialized with the chapter's Obsession Realm gimmick artifact, which isn't in itself a bad thing, just feels like an odd choice personally.

Which leads me to, the level design. So far? Preeeeetty lame! It's very pretty and fancy, but so chockful of invisible walls that it feels stiffling and discourages exploration. I can never tell what is meant to be a path or just fancy scenery, and I never know when a jump will get walled or send me to my death by fall damage. When it's not being confusing, the level design is either a bunch of looping circles, or straight lines. And so far, besides a few interactables and loot, there is not much else to look at. That is, bad level design, plain and simple.

Also, the animations are glorious, but what is the point if I can't see the enemy?? That camera is my true nemesis, and I mean that. the fact that a boss can be beyond my field of vision at ANY POINT when I'm locked on and it strifes sideways, is dreadful. GameScience, FIX IT. It is also, very hard to tell what parts of a boss will damage me if I collide with them or not. The Kang-Jin Long fight was baffling on a design point of view, same for Captain Lotus-Vision. Some clearer hitboxes would be swell.

This is the point where I say my main issue with the game lies: it's very pretty, and adoringly crafted, but it lacks substance design wise. I feel like it needed to cook more, the level design polished more so I wouldn't get lost every five minutes, and clearer.... well, everything. Mechanic explanations, level progression, gimmicks, etc. It all needed to be less murky and convoluted to understand.

It also needed more meat in between bosses. I have yet to run into common enemies that give me actual trouble, so it ends up being just a jolly waltz from boss to boss. Boss rushes are fun and great, but not as the base game experience (for me at least). I had to stop one boss away from completing Chapter 1 cus I was just so exhausted. And I had been playing for like, an hour and a half?? That left a sour taste in my mouth, I'll be honest.

Okay, I'm gonna pick open those pins now.

#1 the Flaming Mountain Arc. I'm gonna be very real here chat, that was so cringe. What do you MEAN, Red Son wasn't Demon Bull King's biological son, and Princess Iron Fan was forced to drink from the Childbearing River??? And Red Son hates him????When I watched that cutscene, I had to pause and walk away for a moment, legitimately. This plotbeat is SO WILD to me, I got nothing to say. Just, why??Soooo bizarre. And that the Flaming Mountain Keeper has such a presence in Iron Fan's life is also, weird?? Not bad weird, just Weird, but that's like a nitpick more than an actual criticism. Ping Ping is fine though, I like that Bull has a daughter with Princess Fair Fox, that's cute and interesting. Wish she was in a better plot and adaptation but lol

And #2, the premise. Now we are getting to the meat of it all.

The underlying premise of the whole plot, including the true ending, is flawed by default. The premise runs on what is sometimes called as a "conspiracy theory plot", as in, "what if the gods were bad actually??". It's reddit movie theory content in very short terms, and while it had a place during the 00s grimdark years pre-Marvel, it's become quite a jaded and boring take nowadays. Now you may say that it comes from a genuine desire to show distrust and critique to insitutions and the powers than be, and I can see that.

There is a hiccup in that though.

In JTTW, Wukong is the Mind Monkey because of the religious text and subtext of the stories. Its interwoven in the whole thing, and makes it cohesive. It still offer critique and mockery to institutions, without entirely invalidating their foundations. Not only for genuine fear of prosecution, but because, shockingly, religion and belief is a major component of human society in general. But going back to my point, JTTW is *already* a critique of institutions and the power that be. Adding further layers into it feel like angst and edginess just for the sake of it, and that feels hollow to me.

To go further, this intent also clashes with their own plot. See, they bring up that Wukong's Mind, his Sixth Sense, died. Thus they need another Mind to guide his other senses and reform him, so that he may be reborn.

For one, that is such a convoluted way to do a reincarnation plot, it feels complicated just for novelty sake. Secondly, Wukong being the Mind Monkey, as I said, implies a tie to the underlying themes of the Journey as a person's path to enlightenment. If enlightenment itself is flawed because the gods are flawed/evil, then both themes are clashing. By making a "what if the gods were evil all along" plot while also going by the laws and order of said gods, then what are we even fighting against? What is the point of this whole rebellion between Erlang and Wukong??

my friend @ryin-silverfish said it best a while back, and I'm paraphrasing here (do pitch in or correct me if needed! <3), but the issue with these conspiracy narratives is the inherent anti-religion of them. They don't believe in anything, and thus they cannot properly retell the story of JTTW through a postmodern lense, because they refuse to engage with the religiosity that runs throughout the story.

It also leaves a sour taste in my mouth, because this game will likely be many people's first genuine experience with the JTTW mythos and story, and I tend to be concerned for how much this will "sour the pot" in the conversation. The novels are sadly innacessible enough as it is; the sheer size of them scare many people away, not even to mention the amount of underlying cultural context you'll miss out without proper footnotes and commentary. Most people will not engage with them directly, and certainly not most gamers.

While the narrative of someone embodying Wukong's spirit is not new in itself, I do find that it coexisting with such a poor premise and spin on it will be a sore first experience for new fans, and I can only hope that them meeting fans of the OG novels won't cause much friction in the fandom (we have enough as it is imo).

It also concerns me that, sadly, people and gamers in particular, get too swept up in the ooh-aah beauty of flashy sfx and highly detailed graphics, and fail to notice some of the underlying issues in game design. As I said, this game is a work of art, but it has flaws, and I don't think people are speaking of them enough. No, the issue is not "lack of diversity" or whatever the hell.

It runs deeper than that, and it's an issue I've come to see in recent movies as well. I'm aware it might just be different cultural expectations of the pacing and span of a story, and it may as well be! But I think if there was more care given to the bones of a media, it would bring much needed longevity and weight to these wonderful artworks.

All this said, I wanna see what acolades this game gets and see what the devs are cooking up with the DLCs (they said at one point the game was supposed to have 12 chapters and my god, that game would be TOO LONG. So glad it didn't get like that!), and further more see how this ripples in the eastern game dev scene. While this is a flawed game with a flawed story, it can be the first on a genuinely wonderful wave of new creations, not just by GameScience, and overall I'm hopeful for what might come next!

[zarla-s]

What do you think of red heavy/blue medic or vice versa?

A fun twist on MY FAVORITE! I just love enemy team Heavies or Medics not hurting their counterparts... sparing them or helping them or even just hesitating to kill them, it just gets me right in the heart hhghh. LOVE TRANSCENDS ALL BOUNDARIES... BLOOMING ON THE BATTLEFIELD... I actually even had an experience lately where an enemy Medic hesitated to attack me as Heavy during the humiliation round, I've been wanting to draw that. It seems like both classes are pretty likely to turn Friendly towards each other if no one else is around in my experience. <3 There's something really sweet about wandering around a map and finding a RED and BLU Heavy and Medic just hanging out and dancing or having a picnic together by themselves.

I still prefer them on the same team but I do love comparisons between one Heavy/Medic to the other Heavy/Medic ("You are much calmer than my Doktor"/"You are more talkative than my Heavy") and their awkward flirting can be very cute when circumstances have kept the same-team Heavy and Medic apart. Just constantly drawn to each other regardless of what team they're on...! And I love it when a Heavy can't help trying to protect a lone enemy Medic in trouble too, like it's just an instinct he has. <3 Even better when they're both a little startled by him doing it! Or when a Heavy has to protect a captured enemy Medic from the rest of his team, aaa it all hits so many good tropes.

It can also be very tragic when one of the pair has died and they end up fixated on the matching one on the other team... I read a really sad fic about that with the RED Medic and BLU Heavy hooking up when their respective counterparts were dead, I'd link to it but it was also very explicit porn lol (it was called Ryumki). But it's a tragic and plausible scenario! So many fun ways to play with it all, haha.

Let me see... what are some of my favorite bits of cross-faction Heavy and Medic...

Running into Demo/Soldier by accident on their own date... CROSS-FACTION BROS...

RED Heavy slipping an injured BLU Medic a sandwich (this kind of inspired my fic about doppelgangers!)

RED Heavy getting jealous of BLU Heavy flirting with RED Medic

A BLU Medic seeing a wounded RED Heavy and alerting the RED Medic so he can heal him, even though he gets hurt in the process!

RED Heavy can't bring himself to kill a BLU Medic since they look so similar, he has to protect his doctor!

[the-possum-writes]

You may have gotten a request like this already so please ignore it if you have!

I really enjoy your works so far and I'd like to request the nsfw alphabet with Marshall Lee if that's something you'd like to do! Gender neutral or afab anatomy if that's okay but I really don't mind if you keep it fully gender neutral!

I hope this request finds you well and happy! Thank you for your time to read this ask and for sharing your work, it's very enjoyable to read! (It also helps that I adore possums hehe)

[Marshall Lee NS/FW Alphabet]

Tags: NS/FW, mentions of voyeurism, hcs, dirty alphabet

A/n: Thanks for requesting! Ya'll eating good tonight-! This is for the AT version of Marshall, the F&C Marshall would probs have some differences without the whole vampire thing.

A = Aftercare

Marshall doesn't need sleep so he'll help you clean up asap and lay in bed with you so his low body temperature can help ya cool off, he would also sing you to sleep in compensation if he went too rough on you.

B = Body part

Regarding his partner's, he's fond of your chest. He doesn't breathe so he likes seeing it rise and fall whenever you're panting, and enjoys listening  to your heartbeat during cuddle sessions.

As for his body, he likes every aspect of it but if he had to choose it would probably be his eyes. They're the first thing someone sees when he's lurking in the dark.

C= Cum

Slick like glue, and lacks any kind of odor or taste (I guess it's because he's a supernatural creature). He doesn't produce an exaggerated amount of cum in a single shot but he's determined enough to fill you up until it's sliding down your thigh, no matter how many rounds it takes.

D= Dirty Secret

Marshall snuck into your house once cause he wanted to gonna prank you by hiding your toothbrush and other stuff but he accidentally floated in on you in a private time and didn't leave until you finished. Nowadays he knocks before visiting you, but there are times where he touched himself to that memory.

E= Experience

Marshall has been around for thousand years, he knows his likes and dislikes regarding stuff done to him, and what he likes in a partner. He's confident in his performance as well, he has skill and learns fast, he knows that he'll find and exploit your weak points that'll have you sobbing in a good way.

F= Favourite Position

The dude can fly, he likes having you cowgirl (or reverse cowgirl) style while on mid air even though you've told him how dangerous it is.

G= Goofy

Though he gets heavily feral most of the time Marshall is a versatile man who can still crack a laugh even at the most heated times, if he's feeling playful and is on a full teasing rampage he'd use wordplay/puns that depend on the location you two are at.

H= Hair

Marshall is well trimmed but not fully shaved, his pubes are just as dark and wavy as his hair. However, sometimes he'd occasionally try to do funny patterns and would walk out of the bathroom bare ass naked and ask. "Does this look like a bat to you?"

I= Intimacy

Okay so we all know Marshall portrays himself as the residential bad boy and everyone buys it, but in reality he keeps his relationships at an arms length since he's lost people close to him. The guy craves intimacy and it's evident in the small affectionate gestures during sex like how he intertwineds his fingers in your hands, and after sex, he's got his legs tangled in yours, plays with your hair and rests his head on your beating chest.

J= Jack Off

In the early years of vampire hunting he couldn't allow himself a single moment of vulnerability even if his hormones were getting the best of him, but in current times in Aaa where he isn't always on guard he wanks it on occasion here and there when he's lacking company. Once he starts dating you he can't help but stoke himself in front of you when you touch yourself for him.

K= Kink

Pray/Predator play:

He loves playing the part so much. On a full moon he will give you a 10 minute headstart to let you run loose through the woods in that white transparent nightgown he likes so much (fits your role as the helpless victim) as he shape shifts into a wolf or a giant bat and hunts you down by the scent of your arousal alone.

Size difference:

Okay hear me out on this- The guy can shape shift, it would be impossible that he wouldn't develop a knack out of it (especially with the prey/predator thing) when he's near you. He gets a thrill out of it when he's in his bat form, slowly diving you down on his shaft until your thighs come in contact with his fur.

Blood kink:

At first he wasn't interested since he had enough fighting those bloodsuckers (and because it's an obvious thing for him to have). So everyday he fought the blood kink allegations but after years of denying it, its become a new curiosity. He doesn't need to drink the stuff to survive but there's something euphoric about yours that tastes better than any shade of crimson, he'd avoid your neck the first few times but would obtain it from you inner thigh, it's like biting into a lovely jelly donut.

Voyeurism:

It's rude to spy on others but Marshall is well known to watch over others regardless if they're aware of it or not, you'd learn it the hard way when he caught sight of you touching yourself in your private time. In recent times you purposely masturbate in front of him as he sits back in a comfy seat but only after kicking his ass for being a creep.

Exhibitionism: He doesn't mind taking things in a public space like a bathroom stall or just outside a party, he already has his initials marked all over Aaa so a quickie is just another way to mark his place as his.

Praise kink: can't get enough when hearing you say how much you love him, how good he feels inside you or the sensation of his mouth all over you.

L= Location

Anywhere, anytime. The only place he refuses to go is the Nightosphere cause his mom has eyes and ear everywhere and those pesky demons would rattle him out and before he know it his mom is asking for grandchildren.

M= Motivation

It takes so little to rile him up but the fastest way is when you're wearing on of his band shirts.

N= NO

Alright hot take. Although he jokes around with it sometimes; Marshall refuses to actually bite your neck with his fangs. Sure he'll nibble on your neck and bite your shoulder but his fangs never really pierce the skin of your jugular, it brings bad memories of his own forceful transformation and how it made him feel.

O= Oral

Appreciates anyone who's brave enough to let his teeth near their privates.

P= Pace

He goes rough and fast, he knows he gets too carried away but he forgets it right away when he sees you enjoy it as much as he does.

Q= Quickie

Doesn't mind them.

R= Risk

Definitely a risk taker. There's many ways to turn him on and he'd love to share them with you, his safe word is probably something like batshit or fries.

S= Stamia

Impecable. Unless you're a supernatural creature you can't match up with his subhuman self.

T= Toy

Marshall likes them both on himself and on his partner, he likes the dildo varities in particular (when he needs to prepare you for his bat form) and how crazy some designs can get.

U= Unfair

Ultimate tease, if you start taunting Marshall he's gonna return it in an instant. Doesn't care if you're out in public he'll get handsy with you as punishment, and dear glob have mercy on you in the bedroom cause he'd edge that bratty attitude out of you.

V= Volume

He isn't as vocal compared to you when he takes the lead, he would mostly let out an occasional hiss or groan intertwined with his dirty talk or teasing. Buuut, if he's the one on the receiving end he'll cry, whine and moan like a bish.

W= Wild Card

If it wasn't because of his vampire regeneration abilities he'd get dick piercings.

X= x-ray

A nice 9 inches long with a slight curve upwards, he's long but a bit on the slender side like most of his body, it's color is just as pale too but halfway it leads to a small dark gray tip.

Y= Yearning

High libido, watch out. Although he doesn't need to eat or sleep he can still feel lust and hunger which become stronger the longer his needs go unfulfilled.

Z= Zzz

He doesn't really sleep much nor does he get exhausted easily, if he's with a mortal partner he'd pretend to sleep just to keep you company or sing/ play a lullaby on his guitar for you.