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sailorrhansol · 5 months ago

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Blood & Popcorn | l.c (m)

❀ Pairing: Lee Chan x f. Reader

❀ Summary: Fridays are reserved for watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stuffing your face with popcorn and pizza. It’s been like that for you and Chan since your freshman year of college. But when he skips your Blood and Popcorn night for a date, things take an unexpected turn.

❀ Word Count: 11,315

❀ Genre: Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff

❀ Type: Smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Literally so much misunderstanding and repressed feelings, pining, light themes of jealousy, recreational drinking, recreational weed use, bad communication skills, some mild insecurities, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (do not do this lmaooo), nipple stim, light teasing, oral (f. receiving), clumsy/playful sex, jokes/banter while fucking. They’re both down horrendous. Joshua as an almost love interest. Jeonghan is both terrible and great at advice. Alternating POVs and some time skips.

❀ A/N: This is another work coming from a conversation with @daechwitatamic who at this point, I think had been the driving force behind all three random one shots I’ve written. I apparently can’t say no when she asks for something :) so anyway, here is simp Lee Chan and simp reader because ???? And yes I'm posting this at 11:30 pm at night who cares there are no rules!!!!!!!!

❀ A/N 2: Also thank you to Jo for reading this before hand because it would be otherwise largely illegible. King Julian is on the way, bestie.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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“So why not Blood and Pizza if pizza is always involved but popcorn isn’t?” Mingyu eyes the french fries on your plate. You give him a warning glance, pointing the sharp tines of your fork at him. He retreats, leaning against the cracked vinyl of the booth, pouting. “Also, the title sounds gross.”

“Good thing it has nothing to do with you then.”

“Wow, you’re not even going to invite me?”

“No,” you chirp, popping a shoestring fry into your mouth. You savor the saltiness, humming delightedly. “It’s for me and Chan. Not me, Chan and you. Plus, you know nothing about Buffy.”

“Isn’t that a magic dragon? And are you sure you two aren’t dating?”

The look you send Mingyu makes him hold up his hands in surrender. It isn’t the first time someone has asked if you and Chan are dating, and you know it won’t be the last. You don’t want to start down that avenue tonight, trying to navigate the questions of why and well you seem to be a good match.

If romantic relationships were started over simply having things in common and matching a vibe, you and Chan would have started dating a long time ago. But you’re not, and you’ve already gotten over the fact that you’re not dating and that you will not start dating.

Mostly.

The bell rings above the diner door, drawing your attention. Like he’s been manifested by Mingyu’s dangerous question, Chan spots you and lifts a hand, a smile splitting his face as he heads over. You scoot over in the booth, dragging your plate along with you to make room for him.

Chan is dressed in jeans and a green sweater, your favorite color on him. He sits down next to you, cushioned seat dipping a little as he leans over to kiss the top of your head and steal fries off of your plate. You let him, feeling heat flush up the side of your neck as you look anywhere but Mingyu’s accusatory stare.

“These are so good,” Chan says around a mouthful of fries. “Thanks, Bambi.”

You grin at the nickname, trying not to flush too hard.

“I wouldn’t know,” Mingyu says pointedly. You ignore him, shoving your burger in your mouth. “Apparently I’m not allowed fries or to attend your movie night.”

“Order your own fries,” Chan says.

“Ugh. I already ate mine.”

“So order more, idiot. And of course you’re not invited to Blood and Popcorn. That’s our thing.”

Our thing.

The corner of your mouth twitches as you glance at Chan. He doesn’t notice, catching the eyes of the server and waving happily, giving her a broad smile. She gives him a thumbs up in return, confirming she’ll put in his usual now that he’s there.

There are a lot of things that belong to you and Chan. Studying at the very diner you were sitting in during freshman year had been one of them, though now in your final year there’s not as much of a need to study and you’ve incorporated other friends in your late night trips for grease and calories.

You also shared trivia nights on Tuesdays with Vernon and Seungkwan, football Sundays with Seungcheol, Mingyu and Jeonghan, once a month family dinners with everyone, and most importantly, Blood and Popcorn.

Chan steals another fry off of your plate and you let him, leaning back in the booth. Mingyu glares daggers at you, dark eyes flicking from your plate, to you, to Chan. You grin around a mouthful of cheeseburger and he scoffs before looking away.

Behind you, Chan’s arm stretches across the back of the booth, just barely brushing against the top of your shoulders. Your stomach flips a little, momentarily elated at the contact before you swallow it down with Sprite, pretending it wasn’t there in the first place.

The two boys immediately fall into a conversation about their shared engineering class. You tune it out easily, a learned habit over the last four years of having to listen to Chan tell you the functions of a bridge and the best way to design one. Instead, you focus on the rise and fall of Chan’s soft voice and the way it lulls you into a state of calm.

When the server brings over his order, he pulls his arm from over the back of the seat. Immediately you snatch one of the onion rings from his basket, popping one into your mouth and hissing as the crispy snack burns you. He shakes his head, laughing as he gives you a napkin while you sputter.

“Careful, Bambi,” he murmurs. “They’re literally steaming.”

Mingyu reaches for an onion ring, only to be threatened with the blunt end of Chan’s steak knife. “Don’t even think about it.”

“But she-”

“Bambi has special privileges,” Chan quips. “Order yourself some more fries for the love of God. I’ll pay for them.”

Mingyu immediately stops whining, mood improving markedly as he orders fries, wiggling in his seat happily. Chan cuts his burger in half, asking, “Why were you talking about Blood and Popcorn anyway?”

“Shua asked Bambi out on a date,” Mingyu answers around a mouthful of fries. “She told him she couldn’t go because of Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan stops eating and looks at you, brows creasing. You feel your heart rate speed up as you kick Mingyu under the table. He yelps, knee jerking upward to slam against the underside of the table. The salt and pepper shakers rattle in place as Mingyu bends over to rub his shin.

“He didn’t ask me out on a date.”

“He asked you to dinner!”

“As friends!”

“Oh yeah,” Mingyu snorts, rolling his eyes. “Friends take friends to fucking prime steakhouses. He asked you out on a date.”

For a moment, silence envelops the table. You stare at your fries, watching Chan out of your periphery. He looks away from you, wiping the grease from his fingers onto the napkin. The air feels pregnant with tension suddenly, your anxiety bubbling as you open your mouth to assert once more it wasn’t a date.

Chan beats you to breaking the silence, “We can skip this Friday so you can go!”

You open and close your mouth a few times, heart dropping to your ass. “What?”

“It’s totally fine if we have to skip. I don’t mind.”

Chan picks his burger back up, not looking at you. Heart pounding in your chest, you can’t help but watch him in total silence, trying to string together a response. Sure, maybe Chan doesn’t mind if you miss your weekly solo hangout. But you care.

The ache of the implication cuts you suddenly, a delayed reaction. You feel your throat tighten painfully, reaching for your Sprite to try and swallow past the sudden tension. It does nothing to quell the way the casual dismissal of your tradition keeps cutting you long after he’s said the words, sawing down to the bone.

“I wasn’t aware that we could just skip Blood and Popcorn, I guess.”

“I mean if you’ve got a date.”

That’s not the point, you want to scream at him.

Chan is a lot of things. Perceptive isn’t one of them. If he had been, you know he would have sniffed out your feelings for him a long time ago. Luckily for you, he’s remained completely oblivious over the last four years of your friendship, and you like to keep it that way. Keep it safe.

Nothing ruins a friendship more than unrequited romance. You know that from more than just the media you consume - you’ve seen more than once first hand when one friend catches feelings for the others but the desire isn’t mutual.

It isn’t mutual here. It’s always been very clear where Chan’s interests lie, and you’re totally fine with that. You accept the relationship that you have happily and quietly, and thought moments like are a brutal reminder of where you stand, it’s alright because you also love your friendship. More than you love him - at least, you think so.

So when Chan so easily suggests to go on a date, to cancel your thing with him to accommodate, you know it isn’t because he doesn’t care. He just thinks that you should go on a date because it doesn’t occur to him that the real reason you don’t want to is because your interests are somewhere else. That you don’t want to cancel Blood and Popcorn because it’s for the two of you and no one else.

“Yeah,” you rasp, unsure what else to say. “Um, maybe.”

“Shua is a good guy.”

“Yeah. Yeah he is.”

Mingyu and Chan go back to their conversation about class. You finish your meal in silence, leaning back against the seat as your thoughts wander listlessly. You gaze around the diner, drinking in detail as their conversation becomes background noise and you can no longer understand what they’re saying.

Rounders Diner had been a staple in the college community long before you were born, and continues to be the center for academic life. Students fill the booths sipping on milkshakes as they cram for exams or homework, night shift workers sit at the countertop and order coffee before heading to work, and the jukebox in the corner glows neon, only offering a selection of music from the 50s.

Behind the countertop is an open scratch kitchen, the sound of sizzling grease and yelled orders bracketing an Elvis song you know the words to but don’t know the name of. Black and white tile flooring with years worth of scuffs reflect the canned lighting in the ceiling. Over near the entrance is a wall covered in pictures of students of note throughout the years.

You remember the first time Chan had hauled you to Rounders. It was the first day you’d met, two freshmen absolutely terrified of the world after experiencing two back to back intro courses together. The dining hall was on the opposite side of campus from your classes, but Chan had insisted there was a diner just off the corner that everyone said was a necessary experience.

He was the first real friend you made. Your roommates had become your best friends too, Lorna and Mai splashed across almost every memory you have of college. But that first day is only colored with Chan, who had slid into the seat across from you and looked around the diner with a bright grin like he was suddenly at home.

Wanna start coming here after class?

You did. And you had.

A hand waves in front of your face, making you blink several times before Chan’s face swims into focus. Your thoughts are a little delayed as you drink him in: dark hair framing dark, angular eyes that turn molten brown when the sun hits them just right, a jawline that has turned sharper as he’s aged, though his cheeks still have a youthful softness that you adore, and a grin that makes the world dim.

“What?” you ask him, totally at a loss for words.

He laughs and you feel the corners of your lips turn upward, an automatic response to his mirth. “I asked if you were ready to go.”

You look up to see Mingyu at the register, passing over the bill and a card. “I think I spaced out. I thought you were buying him fries?”

He snorts. “Never fear, it’s my card. Everything okay?”

You hesitate. Not for the first time, the urge to spill your guts to him grips you so forcefully that you almost do right in the middle of Rounders. Almost tell him everything from start to finish, the feelings, the reason you don’t want to date Joshua, how beautiful you think Chan is-

Mingyu starts heading back and you force a grin on your face, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Of course. A little tired, though. Thanks for dinner.”

“You know I’ve got you.” He gets up from the booth and holds his hand out to you. “Always.”

Chan is the stupidest fucking person he knows. He lets out a loud scream into the warmth of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays face down in his bed. His arms are shoved under the pillow, fisting in his sheets as the long-winded scream finally begins to die out.

“Yes, that is healthy,” Seungkwan calls from Chan’s desk against the window. “Let the pillow know everything that you’re feeling.”

Scowling, Chan lifts his head up and looks over his shoulder at where Seungkwan is sitting. His roommate is hunched over Chan’s laptop, a document open on the screen as he clicks around rapidly, cursing under his breath.

“Why are you in here again?”

“My literature professor is a dinosaur,” Seungkwan answers. “And only accepts printed essay submissions.”

��Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No, I mean you don’t have your own printer?”

“No, and I will not be paying thirty cents a paper for an essay that is almost thirty pages long.”

“That’s like, nine dollars dude. Also, why is your essay thirty pages long?”

“Ask the dude who wrote Beowulf.”

“Isn’t that like… a movie?”

Seungkwan mutters something under his breath. The printer chimes, followed by a mechanic whirring as the paper feeds into the machine and starts printing. Spinning in the chair, Seungkwan looks at where Chan is still laying stomach down, face squished against his pillow as he cradles it.

“Speaking of movies - are you having Blood and Popcorn here or at Bambi’s?”

Chan can’t help but smirk at the nickname. It had stuck ever since your freshman year when you’d called Rin Hartford a bambi-eyed bitch for saying nasty things to Mingyu. He thinks that night might be the night he realized he was absolutely head over heels for you, even if he had only known you for two weeks then.

Despite your quiet disposition, you’ve always been the epitome of bravery. He can’t recall a time that you haven’t said what you meant or meant what you said, and defending your friends and speaking up has always been paramount to you.

For someone like Chan who was often the youngest and the softest spoken in any group he was in, you were a breath of fresh air. And you’ve taught him to speak up for himself, letting him grow comfortable pushing back with people - especially his friends - and how to give back what he gets.

Corrupted, Seungcheol joked once. She corrupted him and taught him how to bully us back.

“I’m not really sure,” Chan says slowly, thinking about your conversation at the diner, the exact source of his pillow-scream. “We might not be doing it.”

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise. We’re just friends.”

“That’s the trouble I’m talking about, brother.” Seungkwan turns around to start collecting the pages out of the printer. “Is the Blood and Popcorn cancellation the reason for your pillow screaming?”

“I don’t know that it’s canceled.”

“That really clarifies the issue.”

Chan scowls. “Did you know Shua was into her?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“He asked her on a date.”

“Joshua must have got tired of waiting for you to make a move on Bambi. I guess he decided you weren’t going to.”

Chan frowns and sits up. He didn’t realize Joshua remotely had a thing for you, and while Chan adores the older member of their larger friend group, the thought of him taking you to dinner - a date - makes his stomach tighten.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Seungkwan clarifies. “That you have had the last four years to nut up or shut up. Everyone has waited for you to make your move on Bambi and you haven’t. If you’re not going to do it, someone else might as well.”

“I mean, anyone could ask her out. It’s not like I have-”

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t have dibs. Dibs can be unspoken, Chan. You’ve been in love with that girl since freshman year, if you think people - especially our friends - cannot tell and don’t respect you enough to give you time to ask her out, you need to wake up.”

“It’s that obvious?”

“Not to her, clearly.” Seungkwan stands and grins at Chan placidly, his essay collected in his hands. “Fortunately for you, the only person who is as dumb as you are is Bambi. Match made in heaven, really.”

Chan chews his bottom lip. That offers a little bit of relief. He doesn’t like knowing that his feelings are so obvious to everyone else, but at least you don’t know. He cannot imagine how uncomfortable it would make your friendship dynamic knowing he was mooning over you while you just saw him as a friend.

“Well, she doesn’t feel that way about me. I’m not going to confess my unrequited feelings and put her in that position to deal with them. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Seungkwan gives Chan a slow blink, smile turning plastic. “Like I said. Match made in heaven.”

Heaving a sigh, Chan throws himself on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Chan was certainly an idiot for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason has to be the way he has let his feelings for you fester since freshman year. Instead of implementing preventative maintenance, he’s let the problem grow to the point that his friends are no longer waiting for him to do something about it.

The window of opportunity is gone.

Not that there was a window of opportunity to begin with. Chan has seen what it looks like when you’re interested in guys - dazed eyes, a little flustered, a tiny grin on your face. You’ve never looked at him that way. At least, not really like that. You smile at him all the time, but it’s different.

If he had the slightest indication you looked at him like you were interested, he’d have spilled his feelings a long time ago. Hiding this from you feels almost like a violation of friendship, but in order to preserve the friendship and keep you comfortable, he does what he must.

The memory of him telling you to go on a date with Joshua makes him groan in embarrassment. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars explode behind his lids. It had been a knee jerk response, something to distract you from the immediate jealousy and panic he’d felt that moment that Mingyu had dropped that bit of information at the table.

Mingyu. That motherfucker did it on purpose - not to rile Chan, but to try and give him a kick in the ass toward the right direction. But like everyone else, Mingyu doesn’t get it. If Chan told you how he felt just to get it off of his chest, it would be putting his burden on you. You’d be the one who had to feel guilty for it being unrequited, you’d be the one who would inevitably feel uncomfortable or out of place.

No. It would be the highest form of selfishness he can think of, offloading the heavy weight of his feelings just to give them to you as a reprieve from carrying them around so long.

Chan blinks away the swimming colors, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom again. He can hear Seungkwan singing somewhere in the apartment, liquid voice calming even in Chan’s mild state of distress.

Joshua is a good guy. Honestly, there are only a few guys that Chan knows who would make a suitable partner for you, and he begrudgingly acknowledges that Joshua is at the top of that list. And yet he still feels a twist of self-loathing that he had pushed you so quickly towards it, the regret like bile in his stomach.

The last thing Chan wants to do is skip Blood and Popcorn this week. It is the one guaranteed day of uninterrupted time with you, and he waved it away like it meant nothing to him, which could not be farther from the truth. The nights of watching Buffy and eating pizza and sometimes popcorn mean everything to him.

He just wishes he had been brave enough to stand his ground.

Maybe Joshua Hong is the worst person ever. Chan dismisses the irrational thought as soon as he has it. Joshua isn’t awful at all. It’s just that he’s leaning in toward you and saying something into your ear over the loud din of the party, and Chan watches the way you nod.

Crack. The plastic cup in his hand splits and immediately spills rum and coke all over the kitchen floor. Jeonghan starts yelling at him, ripping paper towels off of the roll and throwing them in Chan’s direction. He mutters an apology, gaze drifting over the kitchen counter to the living room where you’re laughing, head tilted back, warm light splaying across your throat-

“Ya! Don’t just let it pool at your feet!”

Jeonghan’s screech brings Chan back to life. He snatches the copious amounts of paper towels Jeonghan has thrown at him and starts to soak up the drink. The tile floor is already sticky and Chan cringes. No way have either Jeonghang or Seungcheol cleaned this floor any time recently. If anything, Chan has done it a favor.

The party is in full swing around him. He stands up with the soaked paper in his hand, tossing it into the trash and grabbing more while Jeonghan digs underneath the counter. Chan finishes soaking up the spilled drink and comes eye to eye with a new set of paper towels and spray cleaner.

Chan gives Jeonghan the soaked papers. “Jeonghan, your floor is already disgusting.”

“Then you should have no problem cleaning it!”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He rolls his eyes but does what Jeonghan says, spraying the area quickly and pressing down the paper towels. They come away sticky and black, making him cringe in disgust before tossing them out and washing his hands. As he turns off the faucet, Jeonghan has the decency to hand him a new drink.

Chan takes it without comment, the image of Joshua leaning into you a little too much for him to deal with right now. He drains the cup, sputtering a little. Jeonghan is a heavy pour and the spiced rum goes down rough, his eyes tearing just a little as he finishes the drink.

“Well, that’s one way to stop from spilling.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a look before reaching for the mixer and handle of rum again. “You do normally drink like a fish, but anything in particular driving tonight’s thirst?”

“Nope.”

“Right, so it’s not tall, dark and handsome hanging out with Bambi?”

Chan feels his eye twitch as he heavily pours the liquor into his cup. “Nope. And Joshua isn’t even that tall.”

“Taller than you.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a venomous look. His face is beatific, grin a little bit dangerous as he holds his hands up in a white flag. “You look pretty bothered. If only there were a way to fix that.” Chan looks at Jeonghan with wide eyes, hope surging for a moment. “Just tell her you like her.”

“Why is that the only advice any of you have?”

“Because it’s the only advice I have. Either tell her or get over your feelings. Those are your options.”

“And I’ve already told you, it would just make her uncomfortable. It’s not her burden to bear.”

Jeongan taps his fingers on the countertop, studying Chan. Chan pouts into his cup, taking long draughts, trying not to cringe at the strong taste. He can already sense the oncoming buzz and he welcomes it, needing a little something to distract him from the obvious elephant in the living room.

“Alright,” Jeognhan relents. “Then deal with the consequences and get over your feelings.”

And he will. Chan has always been good at dealing with the repercussions of hiding his feelings, and he does them well. So he tips back the cup and rejoins the party, nerves steeled and ready to deal with the consequences like his friends keep telling him to.

“What?” you asked, lifting your voice to be heard over the rowdy game of cards at the coffee table. Joshua had asked you something but the words had been lost on you as your gaze drifted to Chan where he was leaning against the wall, talking to a girl you didn’t know. He was leaning awfully close. “I didn’t catch that.”

Joshua smiles. He really is handsome, and everything someone could want in a partner. He’s kind and gentle, has a little bit of an insane streak, and he is incredibly intelligent and loyal. So why do you feel nothing when he grins at you or laughs?

Your eyes drift over to Chan again and you feel your stomach flip. The alcohol turns to lead. The girl Chan is speaking to is so close to him, both of them turned toward one another as he ducks his head down to say something to her. She laughs and he smiles, looking her up and down.

Jealousy swallows you whole. It roars so loudly in your ears that you almost miss Joshua’s question again. “Did you give any thoughts about dinner on Friday?”

Dinner? Friday? Oh right. He had asked you to dinner on Friday, but you’d declined due to your planned Blood and Popcorn night. With Chan. Who is flirting with the girl next to him, who is flirting back.

The jealousy feels like a raw, rotten thing. It turns the alcohol in your stomach sour, makes the sweat on the back of your neck feel too much, like the room is too loud and too full. Even as the envy rears its head, an ugly beast ready to unleash, you turn to Joshua and say, “I really can’t. Friday nights are really important to me.”

Joshua looks disappointed, but he’s polite enough to nod and smile. “I understand. Maybe a different night?”

“Um, maybe. Would you excuse me? I really need some air.”

You stand abruptly, starling the people next to you. The cup in your hand shakes a little and your throat constricts and oh god. You cannot cry in the middle of a party just because you’re a little buzzed and the boy you like is across the room with another girl.

“Do you want me to-”

“No!” You quip, shaking your head. “Totally fine, I’m so fine, I just need some air. Please! Sit! Stay!”

Joshua raises his eyebrows at your frantic commands and you give a laugh that is a little on the hysterical side as you step over the legs of people sitting on the floor and on the couch. Joshua calls after you as you make the escape but you don’t turn around, eager to get out of the room.

You trip over someone’s foot and nearly launch into a passerby as you go. Strong hands steady you before you totally topple over, though your drink sloshes over the edge of your cup, spilling it on the carpet.

“What is it with you and your other half?” You look up to realize that it’s Jeonghan who stabilized you. “Spilling drinks all over my damn floor!”

“It probably helps. Your floors are disgusting.”

“Ya! That’s beside the point - why do you look like you’re about to die?”

“I feel like I might. I need fresh air.” For a moment, Jeonghan looks confused. You watch his dark brows pull together and he looks over your head, dark gaze scanning for something. For Chan, you realize. It’s usually Chan who leaves with you if you need air or need to stick your head in a bucket to vomit. The realization hits you like a brick. “Not him,” you whisper. “I’m fine.”

Your words land at the same time Jeonghan focuses in the direction you’d last seen Chan. He holds you there, suspended in time for a moment as his eyes dart between you and back to where you know Chan is still leaning against the wall.

There is a flicker of something that you cannot place in Jeonghan’s gaze before it softens and he nods. He pulls you toward him and helps guide you around the groups of people. “Fresh air it is.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“I don’t know, crying alone is kind of lame, Bambi.”

Cool air hits you the second you step onto the porch. Soonyoung is sitting on the railing with Jihoon and Vernon leaning next to him. He waves enthusiastically when he sees you, breaking out into a grin and lifting the joint between his fingers, an offer. You shake your head and he shrugs, passing it to Vernon who lifts a hand in salute.

The smell of weed chases you down the grass slope of Jeonghan’s backyard. It’s not so much a backyard as it is open to the apartment community’s lake. The spray of the fountain grows louder as the sounds of the party fade.

Jeonghan sits down in the grass, leaning back on his hands. You join him, cringing at the dampness from the dewey grass. Taking in a deep breath you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting the wind cool the sweat on your overheated skin. The breeze mists the fountain, tiny specks of water tingling on your face as you sit in silence.

Behind your lids, you can see the image of Chan leaning in toward that girl. The intimacy of the space. You hate how you can recall it in such detail - you’d always been able to remember details where Chan was involved. Like the way he was wearing a black, long-sleeved tee that pulled against his chest and arms perfectly, or the way the necklace you bought him two years ago glinted in the light of the living room, or the way-

“I did it to myself, huh?” you ask, feeling the first tear collect on your lash line. You tilt your head upward, trying to blink it rapidly away. “I could have just told him a while ago.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re entirely responsible,” Jeonghan mutters. “Look, putting your heart on your sleeve is really scary, especially when it’s to someone you really value. But you have to decide what to do. You can either tell Chan you love him or you can decide to get over it. You can’t cling to unspoken feelings, though.”

“I just… I don't feel like he returns the feelings and I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Then get over him.” You snap your gaze at Jeonghan, who is looking at you with the cool and calm you wish you felt. “If you’re unwilling to be honest with him, then your option is to get over it.”

“Do you think he would… react poorly?”

“Of course not, but I will not speak to all of Chan’s feelings. Those are his to share, not mine, and I believe in the sanctity of acting on one’s own.”

“You sound so… saintly.”

“Dealing with all your problems has turned me into a saint. Do you know what it’s like being therapy to all of these damn people? You all take ‘door open’ a little too seriously.”

You laugh, feeling a little lighter. Pulling at the grass, you sigh. “You’re right, though. I either need to just tell him or let it go. I can’t just… suffer.”

“If only you’d come to that conclusion a while ago.”

“Bleh.”

Fresh air and the weight of Jeonghan’s words weigh down on you. You know that he’s right. Though you’re confident that Chan doesn’t return your feelings, you don’t explicitly know because you’ve never asked. And if you never ask, you’ll never know.

Calm settles over you as you decide your course of action. Blood and Popcorn is in two days - you can bring it up then.

Nodding to yourself, you pluck more grass out of the ground. “Alright,” you tell Jeonghan, heaving a sigh. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Ugh, you two! Don’t call me that!”

Hands shaking, you stare at your phone. You’ve had two days to mentally prepare for this evening and yet when you look at your phone, you think two days was not remotely enough to prepare for this evening. You haven’t spoken to Chan at all about what time you want to have your weekly hangout, but that’s not unusual.

The only thing unusual is your hesitation to hit the call button and ask what time he wants to come over. It’s such a simple thing - you don’t need to confess your feelings to him right now. But the anticipation of what inviting him over means and the possible disaster it can bring makes your fingers shaky.

Instead of hitting dial, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly. In slowly again, and-

Your phone starts ringing before you can finish the exhale. Your heart pounds in your throat when you see Chan’s name flash across your screen. For a few seconds there is pure panic, but you manage to collect yourself and slide your thumb across the screen. It takes a few tries, your hands clammy with anxiety as you answer.

“Hi!”

“Don’t kill me,” Chan immediately says on the other side of the line. You pause, cocking your head.

“Why would I do that?”

“I have to raincheck on Blood and Popcorn tonight.”

“Oh no, are you sick? Do you need me to bring anything over? Is Seungkwan-”

Chan laughs on the other side of the phone and your stomach flutters helplessly. You hear the creak of bed springs and you know he’s sitting on his bed. He has the world’s creakiest bed. “I’m not sick.”

“Oh.”

You frown, sitting down on your couch and folding your legs. There’s nothing else you can think of that Chan would cancel Blood and Popcorn for, so illness had seemed like the first rational thing. You feel a little embarrassed at immediately trying to take care of him, but push it away to ask, “What’s up?”

“I have a date. Tonight is the only night she was available for like two weeks. She’s in her first year of law school so her availability sucks.”

It feels like the air vanishes from the room. You lean back against the backrest on the couch, deflated. You hold the phone to your ear, but don’t feel the weight of it in your hand. The TV across the living room becomes a blur, the muted program in the background unrecognizable.

A date. Chan has a date. That he’s willing to cancel your night for.

You think back to that night at the diner when he told you to just go out with Joshua instead of doing Blood and Popcorn. How easily he pushed it aside. Like it was unimportant. Easily missed.

“Bambi?” Chan’s voice sounds distant through the roar of your emotions. “You there? The cell service in your apartment is so shitty.”

“I’m here.”

“Oh good. Sorry to miss, please don’t kill me. We can add two days of Blood and Popcorn next week to make up for it?”

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah.”

There’s a pause. “Are you okay?”

“Definitely.” Lie. “Sorry, I just woke up from a nap and I’m a little spacy.” Lie. “No problems here. I’m not mad. Enjoy your date.” Lie.

“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes after!”

“For sure.”

When Chan hangs up the phone, you think that Jeonghan was right. Crying alone is lame.

Chan can’t do this.

Sol isn’t the problem - at least not directly. She is beautiful and funny, sharp as a whip and has an edge to her that he loves in women. She is successful, has goals, and she’s sensible. And she’s into him, which is perhaps the biggest plus of all.

But she isn’t you. Sol’s biggest problem is that she’s not you, and it’s not really her problem at all. It is Chan’s and Chan’s alone, and he cannot sit through this date anymore. He’s tried for the last hour already, asking all of the right questions and laughing at all the right places, but he cannot stop the way he wonders if you’re watching buffy. He cannot help but wonder if you’re in those expensive pajamas you like, drinking inexpensive wine from the corner story, his favorite contrast.

Chan cannot stop thinking that his button up is a little too tight on his chest and the uncomfortable way his new shoes rub his ankle. He’d rather be in a tee and shorts, freshly showered and stretched out. He cannot stop blinking his eyes, hating the way one of his contacts is irritating him, wishing instead to be in glasses and the lowlight of your apartment.

From the moment he ended that call with you to cancel Blood and Popcorn, all he’s felt is dread. Dread for the upcoming date with someone he should be excited about, dread for telling you how it goes, dread for having to be in public with people and to get to know someone, dread at what happens at the end of the date, does he have to kiss her? Does he have to go get ice cream? What does he do-

“Are you okay?” Sol’s raspy voice draws him from his thoughts - not for the first time that night. She’s leaning back in her seat, dark eyes pinning him to the spot. She is as sharp as she is beautiful, and normally someone like Sol would make him trip over his feet. “You zoned out.”

“I apologize, that was rude of me.”

“It was,” she agrees. She swirls the wine in her glass, looking him up and down before giving him a sympathetic smile. “I won’t be offended if you want to call this off early.”

“What?”

“You’re not interested,” she asserts. Confident. Self-assured. “It’s totally okay if it’s not working for you.”

Heat crawls up the side of Chan’s neck. He runs his sweaty palms over his slacks. “I am so sorry,” he says earnestly. “This sounds so stupid to say, but it is me, it isn’t you.”

“No offense, but I know. You’ve been distracted since we got here. You obviously have something or someone else on your mind.”

“That easy to read, huh?”

“Open book. I have some pride, though. Let’s pay the bill?”

“I’m sorry.”

Her grin is polite. Understanding. “Don’t be. You’re cute and nice, but I cannot suffer knowing your mind isn’t on me.”

“Understandable.”

Chan knows he’s lucky. Anyone else a little less level-headed or less confident might have made him suffer. As it is, Sol does let him suffer a little, sliding the bill over to him with a knowing grin. He likes Sol - not like he likes you, but she’s good people.

“Promise me one thing?” Sol asks before ducking into her Uber. “It’ll help my pride.”

“Sure.”

“Go spend the rest of the evening with whoever it is and make sure you tell them how you feel. It’ll be worth it, that way.”

Chan grins. “Alright. I promise.”

And he does intend to hold to that promise. Something about tonight is different. He can feel it as he walks quickly to his car, undoing the top button of his shirt as he goes. The air is crisp and there are still a few streaks of orange in the night sky, the sun long gone.

Chan calls you as he turns his car onto the road, heading toward your apartment on the northside of down. He drums his fingers along the steering wheel, buzzing with nervous and excited energy as the line rings. When you don’t pick up, he ends the call.

Jeonghan was right - he usually is. Chan could either tell you how he feels or live with the consequences, and he’s decided he cannot live with the consequences. He cannot sit across the table from someone who isn’t you and pretend that he isn’t wondering what you’re doing. He cannot look at the curve of someone else’s mouth and wonder what it would be like if it were yours.

The date had been spurred by the intense wave of jealousy and inadequacy he felt at Jeonghan’s party when he saw you sitting on the couch with Joshua. He has no idea how else he would have had the confidence to start chatting up someone as commanding as Sol, but he was powered by rum and a wounded heart.

Stupid. It was stupid, he realizes now. He has been stupid so many times regarding you and for long enough that even Joshua, the most polite of his friends, felt like they could respectfully intercept you, now.

Well, perhaps you will choose Joshua instead. Chan is fine with that. What you want has always been paramount to him. But if you choose Joshua, it will be with the knowledge that Chan loves you and he always has.

Steeling himself, he gets out of the car at your apartment complex and looks up at the building. He can see the lights on in your living room, confirming you’re still home and probably watching Buffy. The thought sends a thrill through him and he smiles, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

“You’ve got this, Lee Chan,” he tells himself. “You’ve got this.”

A loud knock on your door startles you. You finish blowing your nose in the issue, trying to suck up the rest of your tears. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater - Chan’s sweater - over your hands, you wipe your face with sweater paws, trying to erase some evidence of your tears before having to face the delivery person.

Grabbing the bills on the counter, you wonder how many people delivering food have seen people answer the door while crying or immediately after crying. Honestly, they’ve probably seen all types of strange situations, which makes you feel a little bit about answering the door after very clearly sobbing.

Unlatching the top and flipping the deadbolt, you yank the door open, prepared to not make eye contact to make it a little less awkward for you and the person just trying to hand you pizza and soda, except-

“Chan?”

It is Chan standing outside of your door. You blink in surprise, giving him a quick once over. He looks really nice, dressed in slacks and a black button up shirt that is a little too tight across the chest - not that you’re complaining - and the top of the buttons undone to reveal the necklace you gifted him. His dark hair has styling product in it, pushing it out of his face, save for a small rebel strand that hangs over his eyebrow.

Chan looks… beautiful. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, face swollen from crying, nose a little snotty and looking worse for wear.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why are you crying?”

Chan pushes his way into your apartment and you let him, dropping your arm as he passes by. He shuts the door for you, flipping the latch and lock out of habit as he turns to you. He reaches out to grab you by the shoulders but you back up a little, suddenly terrified of his touch.

He notices. “Why are you crying?” he asks again, dark brows knitted and mouth twisted in a frown. “Talk to me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

“Left early, wasn’t working. What’s going on?”

You swallow thickly, realizing you’re at a crossroads. Silence stretches between you as he waits for your answer, looking at you with so much concern that you begin to crack. The tension in your throat returns, the telltale sign of tears and you ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.

A torrent of feelings bombard you. Anger. Hurt. Desire. Relief. Hurt again.

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan opens and closes his mouth, head cocking to the side a little bit. He looks mystified, trying to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “I don’t understand.”

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn for something else. For someone else.”

“I-”

A series of emotions flit over his face. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you watch each one, trying to catch them as they go. Confusion. Thoughtfulness. Confusion. Realization. You watch as he drinks you in, the tears, the wet stains from crying on the shirt, your words. Slowly, Chan puts the pieces together for the entire picture, and his face becomes so soft that you nearly cringe.

“Oh, Bambi.”

“You can date whoever you want, you’re not mine,” you punch out, wiping a tear as it escapes your eye. Feeling small, you back away from him a little, breaking eye contact. “But it hurts when you shove me aside like that. Look, I know we’re friends, but-”

“Bambi,” he says gently. You’re not looking at him, but you know that tone. The pleading. He’s begging you to stop, you think, but if you don’t get this out now you never will.

“Blood and Popcorn is important to me. You’re important to me. I know you’ve never seen me as more than a friend, but Chan-”

Chan interrupts you again. This time though, it’s by crashing against you. You nearly topple over onto the coffee table with the force of it, but you cling to him, digging your hands into the meat of his biceps to hold yourself to him. His hands press into the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity to you that you can’t pay any attention to, because Chan presses his mouth against yours softly, stealing all of your thoughts.

For a second, your brain goes static. You’re so stunned you don’t do anything but cling to him, vacantly aware that the softness of his lips are on yours. Tentative. Questioning.

Chan pulls away and your eyes flutter open. He is only an inch away from your face, his minty breath fanning your lips as he begins to apologize, panic on his face. You interrupt him this time, surging forward to crash your lips to his, far less gentle than he had been the first time.

The box you’ve shoved every feeling for Chan cracks open. You feel everything pour out of it, a steady stream of want as you press into him. He smells like teakwood and mint, hypnotizing you. His mouth is soft and eager, sucking gently against your bottom lip.

Everything feels lighter, like gravity has lost all meaning. Chan pulls away from your mouth a little, close enough to brush your lips against his in a feather-light kiss, but enough to gaze down at you through half lidded eyes.

“The date didn’t work out because I kept thinking of you,” he whispers, voice shaking. You feel your breath stop as he speaks, each word sinking in. “It was stupid to ask her out. I was feeling insecure about Joshua asking you out, and it was stupid and petty-”

You kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss, letting you lead him, slow and lazy. You feel his tongue brush against the seam of your lips and you eagerly let him in, toes curling as he licks into your mouth.

“I just want you,” Chan admits, breaking away for a quick breath of air. He presses his lips against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek. He peppers your face in them as his hands skate up your back, hot even through the material of his sweatshirt. “I have for so long and I’ve been so afraid to tell you.”

“I was afraid too.”

“I have wasted so much time.” His hands cradle your face, turning you to look at him.

Chan is so earnest. Raw honestly glitters in his eyes. Deeper, hiding beneath the surface is something a little darker and more intense. Want. Desire. Something that lingers, waiting for you to call it forward. You love him so much that in that moment you almost cry more, feeling overwhelmed with everything you’ve buried down for years.

“I want to make up for it,” you whisper, stealing a kiss that is more teeth than anything. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. Your hands sink to his waist, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. “I was actually going to tell you tonight, before you canceled.”

“What a stupid man I am.”

You smirk a little. “Yes.”

“Let me apologize,” he murmurs, voice low. You feel yourself shiver as he pushes you toward your room, connecting your mouths again. The kiss is messy and needy, so different than the one moments before. You tangle together, stumbling toward your room. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh?”

The crash landing onto your mattress is not graceful. Chan’s full weight falls on top of you and your foreheads smack a little. You yelp in paint and Chan groans, burying his face in your neck. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles to the surface, exploding out of you as your hands press flat on his back, soothing as you hold him to you.

“First step of apologizing,” you wheeze under him. “Give her a concussion.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, burying his face further in embarrassment. “I’m a little eager.”

His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm under him. He seems to notice, opting to press open-mouthed kisses against your throat. You hum, eyelids fluttering at the stimulation. “It’s okay,” you breathe, fingers turning to claws against his back. “It’s cute.”

Chan leans off of you, properly supporting himself with arms on either side of your head, caging you in. His knee slots between your legs, making your stomach leap in excitement as he scoots it up a little, almost pressing against you.

“You’re cute,” he notes, kisses getting messy as they go up your neck toward your ear. He nips your ear and you let out a sound. His laughter is warm against you and you shiver. “You’re in my clothes.”

“I wear them all the time.”

He groans. “I know. Fuck I know.”

“Is that what does it for you?” You move your hands from his back to his waist, pulling the tucked shirt from the waistband of his slacks. His hips twitch forward, excited. He busies his mouth with pressing wet kisses to your jaw. “Me in your clothes?”

“Everything does it for me. I am down horrendous for you.”

“I really didn’t know.”

He moves a hand to pull at the collar of his sweatshirt, exposing more of your collarbones to him as he kisses. “Everyone else did,” he assures you. You hiss when he bites down and licks over the sting, looking up through dark lashes to gauge your reaction. You nod a little and he grins, doing it again. “Biting. Got it.”

With trembling fingers, you work the buttons on his shirt. You steal touches as you go, greedy for him. Too long have you hidden what you want in the shadows, too long have you resisted this. Now, you take.

You brush your fingers against the flexing muscle of his stomach as you pull at the shirt, making him moan deep in his throat. His skin is like fire as you brush your fingers across its warmth, shoving his shirt off. He leans up, letting it fall from his shoulders, rippling to the ground.

The light from your hall glows behind Chan, haloing him in golden light. Your breath catches in your chest as your fingers press to his skin, brush over his shoulders and chest, down his stomach. You feel him twitch beneath your hands but he lets you explore, breathing hard under your reverence.

Golden boy, so full of fire. It’s all you can think of as you stare up at him, equal parts light and dark in your bedroom. Your hands drop to his belt and you tug him to you, desperate for him.

“Kiss me,” you beg.

He does. His mouth is greedy, stealing your breath. A thrill shoots through you when he slides his knee up higher, pressing it between your legs. You breath the kiss to gasp at the barest amount of pressure and Chan grins, watching your reaction through a heavy gaze.

“Take this off for me,” he asks, voice raspy. He pulls at the hem of his sweatshirt on your frame. “Please.”

You lean up, pressing your mouth to his collarbone in a sweet kiss as you pull the shirt over your head. He helps you, tossing it somewhere else. His hands go to your sides, fingers tracing up your curves as he pushes you back down, claiming your mouth again.

It feels like you might go crazy. Your bare chest presses against his, the friction turning your blood to liquid fire. His knee is firm between your legs, and when his hand slips to your waist, squeezing you and urging you to roll your hips you can’t help but let out a moan in the shape of his name, helpless.

“Fuck,” he swears, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he helps you move against his thigh. “If you say my name like that again I might bust in my fucking pants.”

“Chan.”

“Don’t,” he laughs, biting your shoulder. “I want this so bad.”

“I want you.”

“I might pass out due to sheer joy.”

“I have some ideas on how to revive you.”

He lets out a swear and you laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Maybe.”

Truth is, you think he might be the death of you. You’d die happily in his arms, completely swept up in the feeling of Chan’s tongue as it skates across your skin and up the swell of your breast. When he pauses, you look down at him. He smirks, happy to have your attention before he flicks his tongue lightly over the peak of your nipple.

You squeeze your legs around his thigh, back bowing off the bed. He lets out a chuckle, repeating the flicking motion as he watches you with dark, satisfied eyes. It drives you insane, the way he watches you with equal parts reverence and determination to find out what makes you squirm.

Chan is a fast learner. His teeth scrape against your nipple and you whine, thrashing under him as he teases you, pulling gently. The sting feels so good, making you melt into the mattress underneath him. He makes a sound of appreciation, sucking gently and sending you to the moon before trailing his mouth toward your other breast.

The hand on your hip squeezes you, reminding you why it had been there in the first place. “Keep going.” His breath fans against your skin and you tremble. “I like seeing you worked up.”

“God,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his leg again. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and as he sucks greedily at your chest you feel like you might rip at the seams. “Who knew you were so… this.”

You feel his wet grin against you, tongue flicking against your pert nipple. Your head falls to the side as you pant, trying to catch your fucking breath.

Of course he can reduce you to nothing so easily. No one knows you better than Chan, the two of you like twin flames. Every touch of his tongue, every press of his fingers into your skin, every breath of your name on his lips were made to unravel you because it’s Chan. Your Chan.

Your Chan who gently pulls the sweatpants from your hips, groaning low and slow when he sees the way your panties stick to your folds. Your Chan who kisses and bites the softness of your thighs, breath ghosting across sensitive flesh, fingers prying your legs apart when they start to twitch shut.

You’d always been made for him. To think otherwise was folly. You know that now, hand gripping his bones tight as he pulls your hands to the side, the cold air hitting your aching cunt. He lets you squeeze his hand, not caring that your gripping is bone-breaking.

“Hmm.” He looks up at you and you look down at him. His eyes are blown and he grins, shaking his head a little. “This for me?” You nod, your thoughts banging around the near empty space in your head as you do. “Fuck.”

And then his tongue presses against you, flat and warm and fuck fuck fuck. You can barely function as Chan drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, avoiding your clit entirely before dragging it back down. He makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a whine and you nearly lose it there, driven insane by him.

Chan takes the hand he has linked with yours and rests it on your hip, pressing into you to keep you still. You buck under his mouth and he laughs, unbothered as he looks up at you. The vision of him between your legs makes you dizzy, his hair mused, tongue pressed between your folds, eyes starving.

Your other hand grips his wrist where his opposite hand holds you open. You cling to him, thighs twitching as he licks you at his leisure. His mouth is a weapon, bringing you to the edge of insane easily. When he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, you fear you might break.

He can sense it too, setting himself to the task of pushing you over the edge. Chan learns you so quickly - maybe just knows you intuitively - alternating between circling his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking on it gently.

“I am going to die,” you gasp between ragged breaths. “Your fucking mouth.”

“Yeah? Feels good?” The buzz of his words drive right into your lower stomach where your orgasmed has so much compacted pressure you know you’re going to snap any moment. “Taste so good. I could eat this pussy all fucking night.”

“Fuck, Chan. I’m gonna come.”

He gives a harsh suck to your cunt, the wet sound obscene. “Good.”

“Like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks, panting. He does it again, following your instruction. Your mouth falls open as you nod, unable to string together more than. “Mmm.”

Chan doubles his effort, the wet sounds of his mouth making it all the harder to keep it together. He keeps you in place as best as he can, but his little hums of pleasure and the combination of his mouth and tongue send your orgasm slamming into you.

You think you say his name. You have no idea if anything comes out at all. You come hard, thrashing against the bed as he licks you through it, uncaring. Every nerve in your body is on fire, limbs tingling as you float in the momentary high of your peak before you start to come back down, breathing raggedly.

A cramp throbs in your fingers that are still twisted in Chan’s grip. You loosen your grip a little bit, feeling a little bad about almost snapping his fingers. He doesn’t seem to mind, head still between your legs, tongue gentle and pressed against your twitching entrance. He avoids your clit, letting you catch your breath.

“Chan,” you mumble. He lifts his head, your arousal spread across his mouth. He is a mess, spiking your need for him. You pull at him, wild. “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles up to you, letting go of your hand in favor of cradling your face. The kiss is hungry and wet, your heady taste on his mouth as you drink him in. You don’t care, desperate to have him close, pulling him into you.

One of your hands snakes between your bodies, pressing against the firm outline of his cock through his pants. He lets out a whine, shaking his head as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy.

“Don’t,” he begs. “I will cum right now.”

“Oh?”

“I’m so serious, I almost came untouched.”

“Wow, I really do it for you, huh?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His sincerity makes you flush and you peck him on the lips. “I cannot promise I will not come apart after a single stroke.”

“Don’t care.” You undo his belt, pulling. “Want it. Want you. Please don’t make me wait.”

He curses. “I can deny you nothing.” He sees your wicked grin and shakes his head, laughing as he pulls away to kick out of his pants. “You like having me wrapped around your finger, huh?”

“You’re not the only one whipped.” He looks at you, doubtful. “You think I share my fries with anyone? Be so real, Chan. That’s something only you can do.”

“Got it. French fry privileges, what else can I weaponize?”

You don’t answer his question, distracted by him as he peels his briefs off and fists his heavy cock. You lick your lips, drinking in the length and thickness of him, the sticky, swollen tip, the way he pumps himself when he kneels on the bed again.

“Hmm?” he asks, noticing you're distracted. “Everything okay?”

“You have a nice dick,” you blurt. He pauses, raising his brows, thighs pressed to the back of yours. You fold your lips flat, a little embarrassed by your outburst. “Thank you is the proper response to a compliment.”

He bursts into laughter and you can’t help but join him, covering your face as it heats up. “Don’t hide from me, wanna see you,” he teases, grabbing your hands and pulling them from your face. He pins them above your head. “And thank you.”

Chan runs the head of his cock along your sticky folds, both of you moaning in unison. His hand still pins yours above your head, making you feel open and vulnerable. Your knees squeeze his hips as he ruts against you a little, eyes focused while he uses his other end to guide himself to your entrance.

“Mmm,” the sound escapes you as he presses in, the ache in your core doubling for a second as he sinks further. “Fuuuck.”

“Okay?”

“Very. Just- slow.”

“You got it, baby.”

The term of endearment hits you low in the stomach. Between him whispering baby and sinking into the hilt, you don’t know what drives you crazier. The easy answer is just Chan. It’s simply Chan who does this to you, who turns you inside out, who reduces you to a whimpering mess.

Chan lets go of your hands and brings it to your face. He leans down, supported by the other hand as he kisses you gently, letting you adjust to his girth, pussy spasming around him as you try to keep it together. The kiss is slow and sweet, in contrast to the feral kiss you shared earlier.

“Fuck,” he breaths against you mouth, laughing. He presses his forehead against yours. “You’re fucking squeezing me. I might die.”

You do it on purpose this time and he hisses, all of his muscles clenching. “Like that?”

“Doonnn’t. If I come right now I’ll be so embarrassed.”

“Why? It’s just me.”

“I don’t want to one-stroke my dream girl, are you serious?”

“Dream girl, huh?” He pulls out a little before shallow thrusting back in. “Mmm yeah. That feels good.”

Instead of answering your jest, he kisses you slowly. His strokes are slow but deep, making you sigh. He feels so good, having him like this. Chan presses his body against you, melding the two of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing to keep him as close as possible.

Your name falls from his lips as you move in sync. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel him shake in your hands. He buries his face in your neck, mouth pressed against your skin as he breathes heavily. You cling to him, as though you could press your love into him, as though you can transfer it through touch.

Chan slides a hand between the two of you, reaching down to circle your clit gently. You whimper in surprise, squeezing around him and drawing out a low sound. “I’m gonna come soon,” he murmurs. “Do you have another one, baby? Can you try for me?”

You nod. He presses his lips to your temple, driving his hips faster, fingers firm. You feel yourself wind up again, desperate to catch up to Chan, to give him what he wants, to come undone together. You’d do anything for him - anything he asked. You always have.

A glint of metal catches your eye. You see the necklace you gifted him hanging around his neck, tapping his collarbone in time with his movements. The sight of it makes you possessive, your desire for him surging. Gripping the back of his neck, you bring his mouth to yours. You don’t kiss him, but your mouths are pressed together as you mutter, “I love you, you know?”

He groans, hips stuttering, fingers firm. You’re so close, you feel yourself right on that edge again. “I do know,” he admits, his cock pressing that perfect spot inside of you that has the room spinning. “I love you too, you know?”

You feel him smile against you. The kiss he gives you is so gentle that it sends you over the edge. You hold him tight, coming undone around him as he groans into your mouth, unraveling with you. When he stills, you keep holding him to you, his embrace warm.

Chan nudges your nose with his. You open your eyes to find his dark ones peering at you. You smile, lifting a hand to trace your fingers along his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the roundness of his cheeks. You note the faint freckles under his eyes, his long lashes, the way one side of his lips lifts before the other when he smiles.

“Hmm?” he asks.

“You’re so pretty.” You trace your finger to his nose and then flick it. He frowns and pulls away, making you laugh. “There is cum leaking down my leg to my ass.” He thrusts once sharply and you whine. “Chaaaan.”

“Hmmm?”

“Can we shower?”

“We?”

You grin. “You speak French?”

“I speak pussy.”

“Ew, get off of me!” you laugh, hitting him in the shoulder. He laughs too, rolling off and pulling out. “Take me to the shower, you loser.”

“Oui.”

“Then I want to watch Buffy - oh no.”

“What?” He stands and reaches a hand out to you, helping you up. “Are you alright?”

“I ordered pizza and they probably tried to deliver.”

“That’s okay.” He pulls you toward the shower and smacks your ass lightly, making you yelp. “Start the shower, I’ll call and get it re-delivered.”

You pause, looking at him, unable to bite back the smile. “I love you.”

“Mhmm. Love you too, Bambi.”

“I know I’m good looking,” Chan murmurs, eyes on the screen. “But you’re staring very hard at me.”

You’re laying against his chest, head tilted up to look at him. You can’t help it, watching the blue light from the TV dance across his face, reflected in the glasses he put on after the shower. His hair is still damp and fluffy, skin glistening from the skincare post-shower.

“You are good looking.”

“Damn. Only like me for the looks?”

“Well your jokes aren’t very good.”

He levels you with a glare and you laugh, kissing him quickly before settling down in his arms again. His embrace is warm and he smells like your shampoo. You press yourself into him further and he grunts, letting you.

“Can we do Blood and Popcorn forever?” you ask, watching him fondly. He smiles and kisses your forehead, flooding you with warmth. “Please?”

“Anything you ask, baby. Blood and Popcorn forever.”

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topazadine · 3 months ago

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Remembering Perspective When Writing Descriptions

Just a short pet peeve of mine, inspired by a shower thought, where I remembered the most terrifying description I'd ever read.

It wasn't bad, or even horror. It was well written.

However. The POV character described his *sister* in a way akin to this (my recreation, not the actual text):

Braden met his sister at the gate. They'd been apart for several years, and in that time, she had truly become a woman. Her curves had filled out, and her red silk dressed strained across her tight figure. Her long black curly hair shone in the late evening light, while her blue eyes watched him intently.

No, this wasn't a brocon thing. The (male) writer was just horny for his female character and ... kinda forgot that his MC, her brother, would not feel the same way.

Now, of course siblings growing up together are going to notice the other one maturing, but it's not going to be ... that. This is how I describe 17-year-old Uileac looking at his little sister, 13-year-old Cerie, in 9 Years Yearning:

She'd shot up in height this past year - almost as tall as him, to his dismay. Whatever they were feeding her in the meronym was quite good for her metabolism, as she'd put on a bit of healthy weight. Her cheeks were losing their baby roundness, and the autumnal light accentuated the sharp intelligence behind her green eyes.

In this description, you can feel Uileac's paternal attitude toward his little sister. "Oh, she's put on a bit of weight and isn't a total twig anymore! I'm glad they're feeding her well. Her face looks more adult. Fuck, she's almost as tall as me now ... I wish I weren't so goddamn short ...."

This is a much more normal way for siblings to talk about each other, if a bit more "dad mode" than the typical older brother.

Siblings who grew up together are not going to say "holy shit I can really tell my sister has become a woman, wow her dress is tight over her curves." If my brother had said that about me while we were kids, I'd throw up and dump a pot of soup over his head.

This kind of thing is generally accidental and has to do with how *you* feel about a character. But the thing is that even the sexiest femme fatale is just going to be Jennifer, The Stupid Annoying Sister, to their sibling. Our brains are literally wired not to see our siblings as sexy if we grew up with them.

There are many other ways that you must take perspective into consideration when writing descriptions. Here are just a few of them.

Sexual attraction/orientation

You're going to focus on different things if you're sexually attracted to someone; namely, you'll focus in on things like breasts, legs, abs, etc. You'll also likely devote more attention to describing people of your particular sexual orientation than you would one that you are not attracted to, and you will focus on different things.

This is part of why we hate "men writing women:" they describe every woman as if they want to fuck them. (See the first example.) It has to do with the places that their gazes naturally linger on any woman, which is what they consider important and what they focus on.

But the thing that they miss is that just because we are sexually attracted to a specific gender does not mean we would want to bang anyone of that gender. I am a lesbian, but the way I would describe my mom or my therapist is vastly different than how I would describe a woman I am actually attracted to.

Romantic interests should get a more sexualized gaze; not exploitative, just more in-depth, and with more focus on their figure, specific details, etc. Everyone else should get a more basic look at eyes, hair color, height, build, and so on.

Feelings about a particular person

You're going to be more forgiving and complimentary toward someone you care about than someone you hate. Things that would be charming on a friend will be downright annoying on that one asshole at work who always throws projects to you at 5pm on a Friday.

A lover's thick eyebrows might be called "dashing" or "strong," while on an enemy, they'd be "overbearing" and "harsh." Your bestie's lisp is cute, while it seems babyish on your school rival. Your dad's meandering sentences give him a sense of harmless musing, but they make someone else look like an idiot.

If you have a character that is prejudiced toward a given group, they are always going to describe that group more harshly than they would a favored group. If they don't like authority figures, a police officer leaning toward them will seem menacing, when they wouldn't even notice it otherwise.

It can be very fun to give two characters similar traits but describe them differently based on the POV character's perspective of them. Readers might not even realize that it's the exact same physical feature!

Previous experiences at a given place

When describing settings, we're going to give more attention to somewhere we care about, like our home. I imagine you can tell me about every chip in the paint in your bedroom, or that one weird stain in the floorboard that you've tried everything to fix. Many times, this is a good time to add depth to the character's backstory by briefly mentioning previous occurrences there.

Would you notice any of those things about a place you're visiting for the first time? Probably not. You'll give a more global attention to the scene and provide impressions, not specifics.

Depending on how nervous or adventurous you are, you'll look for similarities or differences to things that you're accustomed to. You might compare it to other places you have been, trying to get a frame of reference.

If you're on a vacation and were really looking forward to coming to this specific spot, you will likely hone in on exactly what you came to see, whether that's the scene from a particular hilltop or a cafe, and this will get the most description.

Current Mood

Descriptions change with a character's mood, even if they've been in that place a millions times. People just notice different things depending on their mood; if they're happy, they'll look for things that support that mood, while if they're upset, they're pointing out the negatives.

For example, consider someone walking into a court room when they are on trial versus when they are there as a simple court reporter. The person on trial is probably going to be glancing longingly at the door, picking out the angry faces of observers (or assuming the observers are angry), focusing attention on the security guards, staring at the plaintiff with hate in their eyes.

The court reporter will likely pick out anyone they know in the room before looking at anything else. Then, they'll check out the defendant and plaintiff with idle curiosity. Since they are more familiar with the room, they'll gloss over the boring details that they have already seen a million times, giving them only a cursory once-over to see if anything has changed.

Current Need

Your character's objectives need to taken into consideration as well. As an example, remember the last time that you really needed to pee while you were out. Were you slowly and casually admiring the scenery? No! You were hunting for the bathroom. If literally anything registered for you, it was anything that looked vaguely bathroom-sign-shaped. Everything around that bathroom sign, and on your path toward the bathroom, got more attention and description to you than anything else.

Your character's interests

When describing a scene, you don't need to take time and define every single little thing in a character's path. It's annoying and overwhelming. You need to give us a basic overview (it's a forest, it's a grocery store, it's an abbatoir) and then hone in on the specific details that your character finds interesting in order to fill out the entire scene.

We, as people, focus on things we care about, things that we feel are relevant to us. Different people will notice completely different things when they walk into the same room. An animal trainer will appreciate a big pet bed and an ergonomic food bowl. An artist will admire the artwork on the walls. A computer nerd is going to roll their eyes at the scuffed-up Mac laptop.

This doesn't mean that you can't describe other things, too; it just means that your character's attention is going to be drawn to stuff that they, in particular, like or dislike.

Things like where a character's gaze lands, how they describe things, and how much detail they give to any particular element are an important part of secondary characterization: how we get to know a character beyond what they do or tell us. It helps to create a fuller picture of their relationships, their interests, and their thought process, and it deserves just as much attention as actions and dialogue.

If you enjoyed reading this, perhaps you'll consider purchasing my book, 9 Years Yearning. No weird sibling vibes I prommie

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authorhjk1 · 1 year ago

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Interlude: Lonely

IU X Miyeon X Male Reader

You have walked past her table a couple of times already. It's not unusual to drink while having dinner, she is an adult after all. But the amount she is consuming starts to concern you. One bottle of soju after another finds its place on her table.

When you walk past her once again, to greet someone whom you haven't talked to yet, you decide to sit down. In that moment, someone else enters your restaurant. You stand there for a moment, wondering what's going on.

Her black dress is slightly gleaming in the light. It's quite short and her rather big boots compliment it well. She isn't wearing a necklace. Only a couple pearl rings and a handbag. Her black hair completes that dark look she has going on.

When your eyes meet, you remember you are in a public place. There is no official reason for the both of you to know each other. And yet Choi Miyeon has that look on her face already. That look that tells you what she wants you to do to her tonight.

Distracted, you don't realize that you have been standing next to the other idol, whom you were concerned about earlier.

"Why are you standing here? I didn't order anything."

Her drunk voice sounds kinda cute, although her outfit isn't. She is going for the same look as the vixen, who just sat down at a table nearby. Dark and sexy.

Her eyes are only half open as she stares at you.

"You know what? Bring me another bottle?"

She points with her finger at you, but it sways slightly and it looks like she wants to hypnotize you.

"Ms Lee. Why don't you go back to your hotel?"

You ask in a polite tone, but she waves you off.

"No no no. My room is empty. I don't want to be empty."

She scoffs before downing another glass of soju.

You weren't prepared for drunk talk tonight, but she is still your customer. When she appeared a few hours ago, you were surprised, but then you remember the brand, which you buy your soju from.

Lee Ji-eun, aka IU, decided to check out your restaurant, when she heard of its opening.

"Ms Lee. Can you tell me where your manager is?"

If you can't get her home, he probably can.

"Don't call me that."

She furrows her brows as she leans her head on her forearms, which are resting on the table. Her chef for her table left a while ago, so the two of you are alone.

"Just Ji. Or IU. I'm alone anyways."

She murmurs into the sleeves of her jacket.

"Fine. IU then. It's late already, don't you want to have some sleep? I'm sure you are tired."

"No no no."

She raises her hand and waves to decline your idea.

"My bed is empty. I don't want to."

"It's empty since you aren't in it."

"I'm empty."

You sigh as you rub your face. The whole day has been hectic and stressful.

"How about I bring you home?"

IU focuses on you, at least she is trying to, and eyes you suspiciously.

"You-You wanna play?"

You raise your eyebrow.

"What?"

"You wanna play?"

She giggles before trying to one shot another glass. Most of the clear liquid falls onto the table, some stains her top.

"What kind of game?"

IU shakes her head, which obviously makes her feel dizzy afterwards.

"You don't know. No no no."

You sigh, before asking the inevitable.

"What don't I know?"

"What-What we play. I never have someone to play."

"Don't you have friends?"

You feel like you are talking to a twelve year old who just took some painkillers.

"They don't play with me."

She mumbles on and pouts cutely as she slightly lifts her head.

"They only play with each other. Or with guys."

The last part was definitely filled with bitterness and annoyance.

"Guys don't want to play with me either. Why not?"

She looks at you, her eyes still barely open.

"Why don't boys play with me?"

You are starting to realize what she is saying. And you also realize where this is heading.

"Am I not cute?"

She pushes the empty green bottles away from her and you realize IU is recreating one of her commercials. At least she is trying to.

You do have to say so that drunk IU isn't as cute as her sober counterpart.

"Or am I not sexy enough?"

It takes her a moment to focus on you and open her eyes completely. But when she does, she looks stunning.

The Korean singer is older than you. Quite a few years actually. You weren't really into older women before, but IU? You can see why guys would be tempted.

"You are one gorgeous woman."

You smile at her, hoping this will lift her mood.

"Then why don't you do it?"

She gives you a groggy smile and sways that finger of hers again.

"Why don't you play with me?"

"You are drunk, IU."

She shakes her head.

"No no no. Not drunk. T-Tipsy."

She nods as if she is trying to convince herself.

"Yes, yes. Tipsy."

You lean back in your seat, trying to come up with a plan to get this woman in a bed. It doesn't have to be yours, but if she would be to sober up on the way, you wouldn't be complaining.

"Excuse me, sir."

You close your eyes in disbelief as you recognize the voice. Turning around, you see Miyeon standing behind you.

"May I talk to you for a moment? It's-"

You can see her struggling to come up with some excuse. Luckily, almost all of the media is already gone.

"It's about the cucumbers."

She looks surprised at herself at that idiotic comment. One might think that she is hammered too.

You glare at her, but she eventually convinces you with her suggestive glance towards your crotch. Cucumbers my ass.

About to stand up, you see IU lift her head, which dropped back onto her arms a couple of moments ago.

"You."

She looks at Miyeon.

"He wants to play with me. Why are you taking him?"

Miyeon ignores her and drags you a couple of steps away.

You don't know how Miyeon did it. But you find yourself walking down the sidewalk, IU holding onto your arm. She is less drunk already. The pill that Miyeon gave her, some water and the cool Paris night seem to sober her up.

"I apologize for making you bring me to my hotel."

You shake your head as you look down the empty street.

"It is closing time soon, anyways."

"Thank you, though."

She squeezes your arm gently.

"What did you mean earlier?"

IU looks at you with worry.

"What did I say?"

"You said you are lonely."

"Ah."

She nods as the two of you keep walking.

"I am. I sometimes have the feeling that no one is interested in me."

You stay silent as she keeps talking.

"I can never really have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend."

She whispered that last word, but you managed to hear it.

"It must be hard since you are a celebrity. But I'm sure you will find someone you love eventually."

To your surprise, IU shakes her head.

"That's not what I want right now."

She looks up into your eyes.

"Oh."

You look away and keep walking in silence.

"I just want to-"

She looks around the empty street, before getting on her tiptoes.

"-get fucked."

She stares at you once more.

You are about to say something, having Miyeon's plan still in the back of your head, but the Korean actress looks away.

"I'm jealous of all the girl groups, you know? They maybe don't have boyfriends, but at least each other."

She sighs and you realize she isn't completely sober yet.

"Imagine if you were in a nine member group. All of their hands on your body."

Her voice sounds dreamy and you stay quiet, but not because you are polite.

"Their fingers on your skin. All of them taking turns kissing you..."

She trails off and looks into the night.

You curse silently, glancing at your pants.

As if she has done this a million times, IU lets her hand slide down your arm and locks her fingers with yours.

"As much as I love younger girls eating me out, I love younger guys fucking my brains out more."

The two of you come to halt and you can't say a word. Until now, she was as subtle as possible. Now she is just saying out loud what she is thinking.

"Do you know how long it has been since I sucked cock?"

She takes a step closer, her eyes partially covered by her bangs.

"I would give anything for a nice dick in my pussy right now."

As soon as the elevator doors close, IU pulls your head down. She captures your lips with hers and you can still taste some of the soju she drank earlier.

As the taste and her scent start to take over your senses, you realize she smells like strawberries. Her lips, which have a similar color, are soft and sweet as you invade her mouth with your tongue.

Your make out session is interrupted when the doors open again, but IU takes your hand and drags you after her. She almost runs to her room, before she uses the key card to open the door.

As she is about to step inside, you pin her against the doorframe. You feel her bite your lip as you push your tongue inside her mouth once more. Holding her hands in yours, you take the key card and let it fall to the ground, right outside the room.

The two of you stumble towards her bed as you kick the door shut behind you. Afraid you are gonna hurt her, you make sure she is on top as the two of you hit the sheets. IU is lying on top of you, her bangs slightly tickling your forehead as she keeps her lips on yours.

As you stroke her hair, you feel her hands running down your body with one particular goal. Making quick work of your belt, she doesn't stop kissing you. Your own hands run down her naked lower back and hold onto her butt, locking her in place.

"Let me go."

She smiles into the kiss as she tuggs at the waistband of your boxers.

"I can do more with these lips than kissing."

You let her cheeks go and you feel her glide down your body. Raising your hips, you see IU taking off your pants.

"This was worth the wait."

Her eyes sparkle with satisfaction as she sees your cock. She reaches out with both hands, before she starts to stroke you. One at the bottom, one at the top. You feel yourself harden immediately at her work. She does seem skilled, although she said she doesn't have much sex.

Opening her mouth, IU lets some spit fall off her tongue and onto your tip. She spreads it around your tip with her thumb.

"This looks delicious."

She gives you a big smile, before she leans down. Her upper hand is replaced by her warm mouth. Slowly, her lips glide along the length of your shaft.

You reach out to hold her hair as IU gives you one of the best blowjobs you ever had. Her skillful tongue does not miss a spot as she lets it roam all over your cock. Her lips are sealed tight around you, making her cheeks hollow. While her right hand is still holding the base of your cock, the left one is sliding upwards, underneath your shirt.

IU can feel your abs with her hand as she keeps taking your cock into her mouth. You almost think that she doesn't have a gag reflex at all. Your tip reaches the back of her throat. The black haired woman takes it with ease as she has almost all of your cock in her mouth.

Once she reaches your base with her lips, she does choke slightly. She looks up, before moving her head in a circular motion, which makes you groan. Your cock still deep inside her throat.

"Fuck, you are good."

IU slowly moves her head upwards, letting your dick out of her mouth.

"This is nothing."

She gives you a naughty smile.

"I could suck you off with my eyes closed."

"Is that so?"

She winks at you and resumes her blowjob. You have to close your eyes momentarily as she works wonders on your cock. A few moments later, you are able to untie your blue tie. Reaching forward, you place it on her eyes, before tying it at the back of her head.

"What is this?"

IU chuckles.

"You said you could do this with your eyes closed."

You glance at the door as you see it open quietly.

"You bet. As long as I have a cock in my throat, I don't care if I can see or not."

The woman who just entered the room bites her lip at the older woman's comment.

Afraid that IU would catch on, you guide her head back towards your dick. When her lips touch your tip, a smile plays around them, before she obediently opens her mouth. As your cock glides into her mouth, you see Miyeon staring.

As if she forgot what she is here for. You point with your free hand towards her small sports bag she brought with her, which snaps Miyeon out of her trance.

She puts it down quietly, but all that can be heard in this room right now are IU's sucking sounds.

The younger woman opens her bag quickly, taking out a long, black object.

Unbeknownst to IU, Miyeon hooks her thumbs underneath the straps of her dress, before letting it fall to the ground. That she isn't wearing a bra was obvious before, but you can now see that she isn't wearing underwear either.

While IU still works on your cock, you watch Miyeon idly playing with her clit. She rubs it with two of her fingers as she watches the two of you.

"Miyeon!"

You mouth in her direction.

It takes her a couple of moments to tear her eyes away from your cock, which is currently resting inside IU's throat.

She winks at you, before reaching for the black object and something else inside the bag. When she said she brought some toys, you just shrugged it off. But it looks like Miyeon has a whole arsenal with her.

You watch her putting on the black strap on, while holding a bottle of lube.

"You are so quiet. Did you pass out already?"

IU chuckles at your attempt to keep quiet.

"You would need to work harder for that."

"Fine."

She sticks her tongue out mockingly, before letting more spit drop out of her mouth.

"Let's see who passes out first."

She wraps her lips around your cock once again.

As IU deep throats your dick, Miyeon is slowly walking towards the bed. She already opened the small glassy bottle in her hand. She is slowly stroking the long strap on with her slick hand. If you saw it correctly, the lower part of her toy is resting inside her own pussy, around four inches, while the rest is for her to use on her sunbae. It's around your own length, but yours is slightly bigger.

IU is still chocking on your cock. It looks like she is determined to make you pass out, or at least make you cum. Either way, she keeps you down her throat, not letting an inch miss any attention.

You have to hold onto a fistful of her dark hair, while your left hand is grabbing the sheets. IU is not joking around when it comes to blowjobs.

You watch Miyeon as she is now standing right behind the bed. In one swift motion she reaches forward and takes a hold of the older girl's pants' waistband.

"What?"

IU's surprised yelp is muffled by your cock down her throat. You force her head in place. Miyeon starts to take off her pants. IU struggles against the two of you.

"Stay put."

You force her lips to reach your base once more.

"You said you want attention."

Once IU has calmed down, Miyeon finally manages to rid her off her pants.

"Wow, unnie. Your pussy looks so pretty."

She purrs, before getting onto the bed herself.

You see IU relaxing as she realizes that the other girl is someone she knows. She just doesn't know who it is yet. In her blindfolded state, she is forced to only react to both of your touches. Miyeon holds onto her waist, making her rise her butt. She is now in this "demon pose" position. You can see the shape of her plump ass behind her head from your point of view.

"Fuck. Your body."

You see IU smile around your cock.

It's quickly replaced by a moan as you watch Miyeon spit on her hand, before reaching between the older girl's legs.

A couple of moans and seconds later, you can already see Miyeon aligning her strap on with IU's snatch.

You are kinda jealous, especially after Miyeon's comment.

The older girl's mouth forms an O shape as she gets penetrated by the plastic strap on. Your wet cock falls out of her mouth.

"Holy fuck."

"Do you like this, unnie?"

"I love it."

IU sighs as she holds onto the base of your dick once more. She guides your tip towards her mouth. Pushing her head down, you watch IU getting two of her wholes stuffed with cock. Although you can't see it, you can tell that her eyes are closed in bliss.

Miyeon moves her hips back and forth, letting the strap on slide in and out of IU's cunt. With every thrust forward, the older girl gets pushed forward, which forces your cock deeper down her throat.

Your head rests against the hotel room wall as you try to keep your composure. Even with a dildo in her pussy, IU is still sucking the life out of you. Her mouth trying it's best to make you cum. Your hand in her hair tugs at it occasionally, making her stop for just a moment. There are plenty of moments, where you think you are about to cum. But luckily, you manage to make her stop just at the right time.

"Your cock is so big now."

IU's words are interrupted by another one of her moans.

"I know you are going to cum."

She uses your tip to smear all your pre cum over her lips.

"Just give it to me already."

She takes you into her mouth again. Determined to make you cum now.

Looking behind her, you watch Miyeon slowly fucking IU from behind. Her own eyes are closed, the other end of the strap on obviously pleasuring her more than she would like to admit. Her hips roll back and forth, letting the plastic move in and out of IU's snatch.

"Come on, baby. Cum in my mouth."

The older girl makes you focus on her again. You have to hold onto her head with both hands, due to the pleasure she is sending through your system. You didn't plan on cuming so fast. But here you are.

As IU deep throats your cock, you hold her in place with both hands. Her lips almost reaching the end of your cock. You feel her gagging slightly. The muscles of her throat tighten around you. The slight shoves from Miyeon make her move around you. She humms slightly, when Miyeon hits the right spot.

"I'm gonna cum."

You groan as you feel IU's hands wander towards your abs once more. She isn't leaving room for her hands on your cock anyway.

Her gags become louder. As Miyeon gives her a big thrust from behind, you finally cum down IU's throat. You push her head further down as you feel her moan. Ropes of your cum coat her throat and mouth from the inside.

It takes you a couple of moments to recover from IU's blowjob. You just lie on the bed, enjoying the view of her getting softly pounded by Miyeon. You realize that she still doesn't know, who is fucking her.

The same thought runs through Ji-eun's head at the same time. She was surprised at first, to say the least. And although the strap on doesn't compare to a real cock, it's still a nice feeling to get filled in two holes at the same time. As you are now recovering, your cock resting in her hands, Ji-eun tries to guess who is fucking her. It's hard, since she sometimes loses her train of thought, whenever the girl behind her is hitting the right spot. She called her unnie, right? It can't be Yoo In-Na then, since she is older. Plus, she would have recognized her voice.

Lee Ahin maybe? But she would have called her "sunbaenim" respectfully. But it still could be her. Ji-eun remembers, that she was jealous the way Ahin looked at you occasionally from across the room.

You see Miyeon bite her lip, as a moan escapes her mouth. You never expected to be in this situation. And you never expected Miyeon to come up with this idea.

Watching her pleasuring herself and IU with her strap on makes your cock hard again. The older girl's hands aren't very innocent either though.

As she realizes that you are ready for round two, IU takes you into her mouth once more. You are still a little more sensitive than usual. You groan as she does her best to make your cock as hard as possible. Her body still being rocked back and forth by Miyeon.

"Daddy, you should try this pussy."

Miyeon sighs, her half opened eyes focused on you.

"I think this unnie is hungry for your cock in her little cunt."

The way IU moans at the younger girl's comment makes you slowly guide her head off your cock.

Her eyes are still covered, which means she still can't see what you are doing. You get off the bed and walk over to Miyeon. Capturing her lips with yours, you make the younger girl come to halt. The two of you enjoy each other's mouths.

Glancing downwards, you have a good view on IU's pussy. It's visibly stretched out by Miyeon's black dildo. Her lower lips are tightly wrapped around it. You can see some of her slick juices running down her inner thighs as she is still in the same position as before. You reach out to knead her left ass cheek.

"What are you waiting for? Give it to me."

She moans as she looks over her shoulder, eyes still covered by your tie.

You push against the left side of her hips, which makes her fall on her back on the bed. Miyeon left her pussy just a second earlier and now you are standing between her legs.

You admire IU's beautiful pussy. Her pink, plump lips glisten slightly. Her clit is slightly visible and her skin around it is as smooth as the rest of her body.

Unable to resist, you lean down to have a taste. You taste some of her juices as you lick her pussy lips.

"Oh, fuck."

IU moans. She expected your cock, not your tongue.

Standing straight again, you hold her waist with both hand. Nodding towards the bottle of lube, you instruct Miyeon to use it. A mischievous smile appears on her face. While she opens it and pours some of the liquid onto the strap on, you pick IU up. She instinctively wraps her legs around you, still not having a clue about what's about to happen. Her arms are reaching around your neck and her face is right in front of yours. You move a little, so that Miyeon can stand behind her.

You place your hand on one of her firm butt cheeks, while the other reaches for your cock. Slowly, you insert yourself into her pussy.

"Oh god."

IU sighs as your tip enters her. Since she is way smaller than you, you have to slide her up and down on your cock. Now holding both of her cheeks in your hand, you slowly lower her further.

With every inch, IU's mouth opens wider. When she finally reaches your base, a loud moan escapes her mouth.

"Fuck you are so big."

Her walls are tight around you. Looking down, you see one of the most beautiful things you have ever seen. IU's pink lips molding around your cock, keeping it in her snatch.

Her head drops back as you make her lean away from you by pulling her ass towards you. She is now on the perfect night for Miyeon. The younger girl runs her fingers over IU's waist, before aligning her strap on with her hole.

Once the wet plastic touches her rear entrance, IU knows what's going on.

"Oh fuck! I have never dones this before."

You can tell she is squeezing her eyes shut as Miyeon starts to push inside of her. You feel her strap on press against your cock through the thin wall of IU's body. With every inch, the older woman breaths heavier, until she is completely filled.

Her black hair covers Miyeon's face as she is just hanging there between the two of you. She is completely defenseless. IU can't do anything but moan as you start to lift her up.

She has never felt so full. Both of her holes are stuffed with cock as she slides upwards. Since Miyeon is shorter than you, you have to stop lifting IU when you reach your own tip, otherwise the strap on would slide out. And whenever you push IU down, she can only take a third of Miyeon's dildo inside of her.

Despite these little flaws, the older girl still feels like she is in heaven. All of her muscles relax except the ones in her pussy and ass. Over and over you slowly lift her up and pull her down. After just a couple of moments, the Korean actress has become a stuttering mess.

"Oh! Fu-! Yes! Please more!"

Her back is now completely arched, her head resting on Miyeon's shoulder. Because IU is still wearing that black top, you can only dive into her neck. You kiss her skin as you make her moan in tandem with your moves.

After having found a rhythm that works for all of you, you start to go a little faster. The effect it has on IU is evident as her moans turn louder and her hands on your back hold you tighter. You hear Miyeon moan occasionally as well, whenever IU is pushed onto her strap on. It pushes it a little further into her own pussy everytime, giving her pleasure as well.

The older woman has now lost her ability to form words. Her moans are deep and drawn out. Her pussy feels incredible tight, partially because of Miyeon's strap on in her ass, which slightly pushes against your cock.

You hear IU whine as she starts to cum. Her body tenses up a little as she feels a flame burn through her body. It has been building up since Miyeon pulled her pants off. Now, she is cuming on your cock, her juices dribbling down onto the carpet.

You hiss as you feel IU's pussy contracting around you. The way she feels pushed you closer as well. You are able to hold out, until she calms down, but you know that you might not survive another orgasm of hers.

You keep your rhythm nonetheless, making IU moan loudly once more. Her eyes are still covered as she sees nothing but darkness. After that orgasm, the flame in her body doesn't die down. Instead, it keeps building again. The darkness is replaced by bright colors. You are quite literally making her see stars as you make IU cum for a second time.

She whines once more, too lust drunk to speak. At the same time, Miyeon moans. You guess it's not really about the stimulation for her, but the act itself. A small orgasm rushes through the younger girl's body, making her knees buckle.

Seeing the two of them cum, makes you want to do the same. For a second you wonder if you want to trade holes with Miyeon, but IU's pussy is something you can't pass up on. There is no way in hell you pull out, until you cum.

Up until now, the two of you fucked her with a rather slow, steady pace. Fast enough to make her cum, but still not with your usual force. You can feel the lust building up inside of you.

Miyeon looks like that as well, although she probably has something else in mind. Although the dildo inside of her makes her feel good, it's hard for her to cum. The two of you exchange glances, before you come to a silent agreement.

You lift IU up one last time, higher than before. It makes Miyeon's strap on slide out of her ass, while your tip still remains inside of her. You see your cock is slick with her juices. The younger girl hurries to unbuckle the belt of her strap on, before letting it fall to the ground. She jumps onto the bed, her hand already near snatch as she is ready to watch the end of the show.

Ji-eun is still wondering what's going on as she obviously feels Miyeon's strap on leave her ass. You kiss her neck once more as she is too tired to complain about the lack of fullness.

Your arms start to get tired, so you place her on the wooden dresser, which is standing near the bed. Her back is pressed against the cold wall as you push fully inside of her once more.

"Right there."

She sighs as you hit a new spot in this position. Looking behind you, you see Miyeon is already knuckle deep in her own pussy, eyes only half open. She decided that it's more pleasurable for her if she doesn't have to move so much. The fucking tiring her out.

Knowing that IU can't look at Miyeon, since you are blocking the view, you pull down your tie. It hangs loosely around her neck as you see her eyes after a long time. Her lust makes her look like she is angry. Her brown eyes focused on you as her upper lip slightly twitches.

"Now fuck me hard."

She demands, not even bothering to try and find out, who fucked her ass.

You bottom out inside of her as you start to pound her onto the wall.

"Faster!"

She has become more vocal, now that she can see. Maybe she was a little shy earlier, but now, she is enjoying herself too much to care.

"Fuck yes! Make the whole hotel hear!"

She moans loudly as you keep your pace. The dresser doesn't seem very safe. It starts to rock back and forth with your thrusts, hitting the wall occasionally. It creaks as you fuck IU on its smooth surface.

"Make them know that I'm getting pounded hard! Make them touch themselves!"

You fuck her faster, almost scared she is going to hit the wall with her head. Now that she can see, IU keeps her eyes on yours, capturing your gaze.

"I'm gonna cum."

It's hard to bring that sentence over your lips, but you can't stop it. It's like IU's pussy was made for only one purpose. To make you cum.

"Yeah! Give it to me!"

She moans louder, holding onto the shirt you are still wearing.

"Cum all over my pussy! Paint me with your cum!"

Holding onto her waist, you pull IU further onto your cock with every thrust. You hear Miyeon in the background, moaning and whining as she cums on her finger. The dresser sounds like it's going to collapse any minute as you fuck one of the most beautiful women on earth on its surface.

IU's face is close to yours and her lips find yours. The two of you kiss, without slowing down your pace.

Pulling back one last time, you thrust into IU as you feel yourself cuming. You regretfully leave her tight pussy. But she told you where she wants it.

As you climax, your cum starts to paint her pussy. It coats her puffy lips and her clit, some drops hitting her flat midriff.

"Fuck yes."

IU sighs as she feels your warm cum on her pussy. It slowly dribbles down along her lips and onto the wooden surface underneath her.

You capture IU's pink lips with your own as that strawberry taste invades your taste buds once more. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Miyeon is already putting her dress back on.

IU will never know, who of her juniors made her ever feel so full. And loved.

------------------

(Alternative Ending)

Hi, everyone!

I hope you guys enjoyed this one. From now on, I will try to occasionally mix in these shorter interludes. This way, I can write smaller chapters, which I get expired by in random situations, or you can request scenarios, which aren't exactly compatible with the story. I will try my best to somehow fit them into the story, for example as a dream. These short chapters aren't really relevant for the plot, which means you can read them without the story, or if you don't like the idols, you can just skip them.

Have a great day!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #gidle miyeon #miyeon #IU #lee jieun

1K notes · View notes

okiedokrie · 7 months ago

Text

High Infidelity

Summary: There are many different ways that you could kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough. So what happens when you find someone who was all too willing to give you thee attention you craved, you said you'd only dip your toes into the idea, and yet, you find yourself already drowning. The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?

Characters/Pairing(s): Xu Minghao (The8) x F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

AUs/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person (not) Too Late

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, afab!reader, wears dresses, lmk if i miss something!! (Smut warnings under the cut)

Rating: 18+

A/N: banner and dividers by @daemour!! tysm!! This is also a rewrite/reupload of my own fic, "High Infidelity" on @pyeonghongrie, yes I reskinned my own fic.

A/N 2: Thanks to @nebulousbrainsoup, @kwanisms, @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, and @gongiz for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, masturbation, lmk if i missed anything!

The rain soaked into your skin—cold and icy—piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-

"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.

You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.

Unfortunately, life said, "Fuck you."

With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your husband returns to work as if he didn't just cause you a serious inconvenience.

Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides toward your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes are left in the sink.

And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? He has to be kidding me, men.

You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making you more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.

I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following. He's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?

You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you put bacon bits on mac & cheese.

Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was the correct move.

Xu Minghao is a passionate man, you can see his dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others were sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, and others were more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.

One thing about Minghao's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.

Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece, simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.

As a romance writer, this is exactly what you need.

You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.

You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.

You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'11", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has a peculiar hairstyle, a mullet to be exact, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.

"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.

"I'm Minghao, by the way, Xu Minghao. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Minghao. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,

He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection, to begin with."

You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.

"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, "Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your work?"

He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear you’ve never looked at a man like this in your life. You were down bad for his smile.

"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "Although I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.

You ponder on this for a bit. Going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."

A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, “Of course, I look forward to our time together.”

The mug in your hands warmed your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you. He talked about another piece of his, titled “Longing”; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in its purest form.

“It sounds a bit pathetic, I’m known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I haven’t been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps that’s just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic. Then again, you wouldn’t know the feeling of being lonely, I assume.” He said calmly, a small chuckle ending his tangent.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea. Your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, “To put it nicely… my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.” You shouldn’t be talking about Haru like this. Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasn’t the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.

Looking back up at Minghao, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we? I could keep you company.”

That. That was a quality of his that you noticed fairly early on. You can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.

But your anxiety wasn’t caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didn’t want to reject him.

“I’d like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband won’t be back for a few months because of a business trip in a few weeks. I could use the company.” You say, looking at him through your lashes; he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, it’s just two friends agreeing to get drinks sometime in the future.

But to both of you, well, only the two of you know what’ll happen once the sun goes down.

“Of course, my schedule is free for the rest of the month. Be sure to think of me if you need company.” He offers you a soft smile, directly contrasting how intensely he’s making eye contact with you. The way he’s looking into your eyes makes you feel vulnerable like he’s directly using them as windows into your head. You’re half-convinced he could read your mind, if he could, he’s a master at hiding it.

You haven’t learned much about him, but from what you do know, you can never take his words at surface level, much less his actions. The way he’s leaning over the table, elbows on the surface, and his shoulders relaxed. His closing the distance, even if just by a hair, and the way his posture suggested the epitome of familiarity, shook you to your core.

His presence is almost suffocating, his dominance over your mind silencing whatever protest his suggestions may have created. You nod dumbly, “Of course, be warned though, I think of you a lot.” This causes his smile to relax into a smirk, the kind that could pass off as a smile if you don’t think too hard about it.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think about you a lot too.” He says picking up his cup of tea, “So much that a collection was born from the thought of you.” He takes a sip from the cup in his hands, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the cup, the way he holds eye contact with you always makes goosebumps litter your skin, the cup hiding the growing smirk on his face, silently enjoying his effect on you.

“Ah, speaking of the collection,” He started again, after setting the cup down, “Would you do me the honor of visiting my studio sometime? I’ll text you the address right now, you can come by at any time if you’re interested.” Taking his phone out from his pocket, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pick it up. The small device, usually light, feels like a heavy weight on your palm.

Opening your messages, you see that Minghao already sent the address, a building about 20 minutes from the cafe you’re in right now. “Lovely, could I trouble you to pick me up when I decide to visit?” You ask,

“Of course,” He replies, a gentle smile stretches across his face, “I’d love nothing more than to see you more often.”

The first time you entered Minghao’s studio, it felt like a dream. The studio wasn’t small by any means, the place was neat, neater than what you imagined any artist studio would look like. “Make yourself at home, I’ll brew some tea for us,” Minghao said as he took both your coats. Hanging the heavy fabrics on his coat rack, he gently guides you to the couches with a hand on your back, the light touch helping to ground you in this new environment.

He shoots you a quick smile before turning his back to you, setting his electric kettle to boil the water at the perfect temperature for tea. He rummages through his extensive tea set collection, settling on a simple white ceramic set with wooden handles. His eyes meet yours briefly, taking note of how you watch his every movement with care and curiosity, the way you were fascinated with the way his hand veins jumped every time he set a piece of the tea set down.

The kettle finishes boiling, he finally sets it down next to the tea set. “I want to introduce you to this teacake that my friend from home sent me,” He pulls out a teacake about the size of his head from the drawer under the table, wrapped in a slightly stained paper. He carefully unwraps it to show you the rich brown of the aged tea leaves, “This is a 15-year-old aged pu’er, I haven’t had the chance to try it yet, so I’d like to try this with you.”

“What an honor, I read from a recent interview that you were waiting for a good day to taste that right?” You ask, trying to gauge his reaction, if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it,

“Of course, making a new friend is a special occasion, isn’t it? I’d consider that a good day.” He replies cooly, taking a tea knife and carving out a piece of tea to steep for a second, you watch as he delicately handles the porcelain set, the control in his movements reminding you of his mastery in sculpting, “You know, making tea is much like cultivating a new relationship,” he starts as he stands up to take the kettle off the stand.

“You carefully carve out your leaves, boil your water to the perfect temperature to bloom them, and steep the leaves a few seconds at a time.” You see him pour the water over the tea leaves, dried blades blooming like flowers under the delicate stream. “Each steep of tea is different, starting from the bloom until the flavor develops; and only then will you appreciate the true complexities of what tea has to offer.”

A small smile grows on your face as you watch him pour the first bloom onto his tea pets, “If my assessment is correct, you’re trying to correlate the developing flavors of tea with how our relationship is progressing?” He nods, confirming your hypothesis, “Then, I’ll ask you a question, which steep are we on?” you say with a cheeky smile.

Minhao grins at this, eyes almost disappearing with how wide his smile was, “Literally? The second steep.” He says as he pours more water over the leaves, you let out a chuckle at his little joke, “Figuratively? The fifth.”

You tilt your head a bit, “The fifth? I didn’t realize we were already at that stage.” you say as you accept his offer of a teacup.

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t just share my most expensive teas with anyone, so I might as well share it with one of the most brilliant minds I know.” he said while bringing the cup to his lips, sipping the drink carefully while making eye contact with you over the rim, winking playfully.

You raise your cup as well, the rising steam not being the only reason for your flushed face, you grin against the rim of your cup, savoring the rich and deep aroma of the high-quality tea.

After a while of banter and small talk, you finish your tea, setting down your cup gently on his expensive-feeling coffee table, he stands from his seat, “Could I show you something?” he said, holding his hand out to you. You place your palm on his, the warmth from his hand seeping into your skin. The touch was negligible, simple, even, but the contact with his skin sent electricity through you, like a violent jolt of excitement.

Minghao notices this and smirks, feeling pride swell up in his chest as he pulls you up from the couch, leading you to the other side of the room with a hand on the small of your back. He finally stops in front of a large canvas, laid across what looks like a bare-bones bed frame. You turn to him, curiosity growing on the expression of your face.

“What’s this? This looks fairly new, the paint on the frame still seems wet.” You ask, eyes raking over the splotches of color seemingly placed without much thought or care, it looked like the aftermath of a messy and angry paint spill.

“It is new,” Minghao starts, “I’m trying a new technique where I release frustrations by getting whatever paint catches my eye and throwing cups of it without much thought.” He shrugs, nothing particularly of note, but you do notice the amount of emotion that is in the piece.

“It’s not an elegant piece, but for a collection centered around passion I find it missing raw emotion.” He runs his hand through his face, frustration taking over his features, something you noticed early on was his emotions were closely tied to whatever art was around him, it seems as though the frustration in this one was affecting him at this moment.

“Yes, the human form and sex are great subjects, but pure, raw emotion is hard to capture.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. “So, that’s why I invited you here. Tell me, as someone who’s written longing, despair, and everything in between. How does this make you feel?”

You pause and take in his words, turning back to the canvas and trying to soak in the colors, the shapes, and the emotion behind this piece. Yes, frustration is here. Yes, anger is here. But how does it make you feel?

“It makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.” You say simply, your stomach sinking just thinking about what that might entail. Minghao has a genuine look of shock for the first time since you’ve met him. His head tilted to give his attention to you fully.

“Really? Interesting. That’s the first time I heard that about this piece specifically.” He said with a lopsided grin, seemingly getting a new stroke of genius with your answer. He looks back at the canvas too, shoulders shaking from his restricted laughs. Your answer seemed to entertain him a lot. That much you can figure out, but you can never be sure what goes on in the mind of Xu Minghao.

Just then, your phone starts to ring, you only know one person who would call you at this hour—your Husband. You watch as the expression on Minghao’s face falls, face contorting into something short of a scowl for a split second before settling on his usual cool neutral expression. It was so quick that you barely missed the change, it happened so quickly that you decided it was all in your imagination as you ran to answer the phone.

You pick up the phone, “Hi honey-” You were cut off by your husband speaking,

“Get home, it’s getting late and you haven’t started dinner yet.” He said simply, before promptly dropping the call.

You stand there, the line going dead as you try to hold back tears. You take a deep breath, too afraid to show your face to Minghao in case tears were about to fall from your face. Grabbing your coat, you turn to face the door.

“Thank you for inviting me over, I have to get home now,” you said, your voice a little shaky, as you roughly opened the door.

You were out of his sight as Minghao stood alone in his studio, pondering. As silence took over the space, a dark smirk on his face.

'How long before you break?' he wonders.

The next time you and Minghao meet, you’re sitting on a park bench watching the autumn leaves dance to the silent song in the wind. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear leaves crunch beside you, seeing the tail of Minghao’s long coat swaying in the wind.

He sees you, a smile spreading across his face, his long hair almost covering his face. His fast-paced walking makes the leaves crunch under his weight rhythmically. You think that he looks beautiful under the soft brightness of the autumn morning, only ever seeing him in the harsh rays of high noon or the constant humming of fluorescent lights.

You feel the heat radiating off his body through your and his coats as he sits next to you on the park bench. “Beautiful morning, the view is exquisite.” He says, looking directly at you. You giggle at this, he’s always been such a charmer ever since you met him. You peel the notebook from your lap, “I’m no artist, but the park is too gorgeous this time of year to not at least try to capture on paper.” you say as you open it to show him a relatively crude sketch of the scenery.

“Oh? This feels like a threat to my career.” He says with a chuckle, “But, genuinely, this is an amazing sketch. Are you sure you aren’t an artist?” You think you could get used to how relaxed you were around Minghao, conversations with him flowed so easily, it reminds you of the times your husband used to be invested in you as a person. Perhaps it was easier to compare the thrill of meeting a new person with feeling the start of a romantic spark, it was a dangerous game to play with him.

“No, I’m not, but I can appreciate a masterpiece when I see one.” You say, this time looking at him. He notices this and laughs at the fact that his joke is being used against him. He closes the notebook, handing it to you to put in your tote bag.

“The weather is perfect for a walk, care to join me?” He said, offering his hand for you to take. You accept the offer, the warmth of his palm being something to ground you on such a dreamy morning. Leaves crunch under both your weights in synch, your hand moves from his to hold onto his arm, and you try not to notice the lean muscle of it or the steady and secure way he guides you through the path.

You breathe in the autumn chill, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed the quiet whistle of the wind. “Your book,” Minghao said, his silky voice cutting through the silence effortlessly, “The one that inspired the collection, I’ve been following your publisher’s updates on the series, and I was wondering if you'd be able to share your progress on the second book?”

“Ah, about that.” You grimace, and you shake your head, quelling the urge to complain about your husband’s lack of sympathy for your predicament. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time, it’s not something I can talk about at the moment.”

He hums, luckily, Minghao was never the type to pry, “I get it, ever the tortured poet you are.” he said in a joking tone, you let out a chortle at this, agreeing that you may or may not be one.

Both of you are stopped by a flower vendor, “You both are a lovely pair,” The old man starts, as he turns to Minghao, he asks, “Could I interest you in some flowers? I’m sure your lady would appreciate them.” He smiles.

Before you can correct the old man, Minghao speaks up, “Of course, could I take three of these?” He said, pointing at the basket of Jonquils.

“Of course, you’re in luck too, these are the last off-season flowers I had in my greenhouse.” the old man said as his nimble fingers wrapped the flowers in some yellow tissue paper.

“I'm really lucky indeed.” He agreed while looking at you, your cheeks warming up at the implication. Minghao accepts the flowers and happily pays for them, gracefully handing the bundle to you.

Holding onto the stems, your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the bright yellow flowers. “Thank you Minghao, they're beautiful.”

He smiles at the way you look at the flowers fondly, simply adoring the way your face lit up; literally, the yellow from the flowers reflected off your face and gave it a yellow hue.

“Shall we continue to walk?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold again, you hold onto it, the flowers in your other hand. And you let the silence take over again.

Before you knew it, you've spent the entire day laughing and talking with Minghao, only stopping at several vendors for food and other trinkets, feeding the ducks berries, and watching the fish in the pond.

But the day has to end at some point.

You regretfully leave Minghao at the train station, waving goodbye through the glass of the train doors as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller.

Arriving home, you try to find a vase to put your flowers in, setting it down on the kitchen counter, your husband walks in and sees them.

“They're ugly, don't put them anywhere where I could see them.”

He said coldly, you try your best not to scoff at him, still searching for a vacant vase.

Finally finding one, you decide to place the flower vase on the windowsill of your office, the bright flowers contrasting everything else in the room, the dark and neutral furniture your husband got for you.

You jolt, realizing you're comparing your husband to another man.

You expected guilt to eat you up at the realization, but really, you couldn't find a reason to keep defending Haru.

“Could you come over to the studio later tonight? I don't think I should be alone.”

This text from Minghao worried you a bit, you've been spending a lot of time with him recently, you met him 6 more times after he got you flowers at the park, and you never noticed that he could deal with something so sinister.

Of course, you agree to come, your closest confidant in your adult life needs you right now. You wait for your husband to fall asleep in his office, again, before you leave the house, walking to the end of the block before calling a cab.

Arriving at his studio, you already knew the code, punching in the numbers 150526 on the smart lock, the studio opens with a click.

You take cautious steps into the studio, seeing the silhouette of a man on the couch, his back towards the door, nursing what you assume is a wine glass in his hand.

He turns his head to face the door, “You came.” He said, with relief in his voice, a little slurred from the alcohol you assume.

“You called.” You replied. Shrugging off your coat to hang, you join him on the couch. He looked a lot more disheveled compared to the usual clean and put-together Minghao that you know.

His hair is slicked back, some pieces of hair falling onto his face, his tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And glasses resting lowly on his nose.

You look at his face, and you notice dark circles around his eyes.

“Drink, and stay with me. Please.” He asks, no, almost begs you. You don't have the heart to decline. He pours you your glass and you both toast your glasses together.

You take the normal sip and he downs the rest of his, taking in a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Y/N, there's something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach drops at this, anxiety filling the pit of it as you nervously wait for the rest of what he has to say.

“I think I'm in love with-” he pauses, “someone I shouldn't be in love with.” He finishes, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine.

Your face falls only slightly, a minuscule change in expression that neither you nor Minghao catch. You cross your hands over your lap as soon as you realize your silence.

“Why can't you be in love with them?” You ask. Your head tilts as you take another sip of your wine. He hums, a smile graces his lips, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

“They refuse to be vulnerable with me, opening up throughout our time together then closing back in the next time I see them.” He says with some fondness, “Also, they're married to someone else.”

“You probably should've led with that.” You mumble lowly, “I see, I know that all too well, wanting someone you can't have, someone so close yet so far. It's suffocating, especially when you haven't felt like yourself in so long, and then this person comes around and gives color back to your sad, gray, life. It's cruel, actually.”

You realize you've been rambling, turning to meet Minghao's eyes, you notice an emotion swirling behind them, something bittersweet, a realization that may change the course of your relationship.

“Anyway, how did you end up falling for them in the first place?” You ask in an attempt to bring the conversation back to him,

“Well, at first it was just a cure for boredom, I saw how receptive they were to my advances and I thought their marriage served as a fun, harmless challenge for me. But I got to know them, spend time with them, I got to witness the color come back into their face and I couldn't help but find it beautiful. That fact that I did that, bring color back into their face, slowly becoming someone again. The moment I saw their face light up with a simple gift I knew I was down, down bad.”

You hum, thinking the person Minghao was talking about is one of the luckiest people in the world right now. To be loved by him was like witnessing Orpheus’ choiceless grief that drove him to save his lover from the underworld, it was like feeling the devotee's dread-filled need to turn around, it was like experiencing the immediate forgiveness of Eurydice.

You wanted to be loved by him.

You both continue to chat and drink, and it isn't long before the two of you finish your second bottle of wine, Minghao offers to pay for your cab home, and he decides he's going to sleep in his studio.

You reflect on the events of that night as you slip into the cold covers of your marital bed, your husband’s side tidy as it was for the past month.

You run your hand over the pristine and cold sheet, imagining someone else filling its space on your bed, as he does your heart.

Minghao added a new piece to his collection, his gallery is still a work in progress and you walk through familiar doors. The very same statue you were entranced by still sits by the entrance, and you see a very familiar figure standing in front of it.

“I feel like this already happened before.” You said cheekily, he snorts at this, handing you a paper bag with tissue paper peeking from the top.

“Maybe this happened before in a dream, maybe we were destined to meet under the judgemental fluorescent lights.” He jokes as you feel the weight of the bag on your fingers.

“What's in the bag, Hao?” You ask cautiously, mischief flashing on his face before he fully turns his body to you, giving you his full attention.

“It's something you might like, maybe.” He said, his confidence faltering toward the end of his sentence. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he eagerly waits for you to open the semi-heavy bag.

You carefully move the paper to the side of the bag, seeing white porcelain peaking back at you, you whip your head with with your face showing an expression of surprise. Minghao smiles, enjoying your reaction to his gift.

“You got me a tea set? That's so thoughtful, thank you.” You say with a smile, inspecting the frog patterns in the glaze.

“You mentioned your husband is leaving for a business trip soon, so I figured you'd like a set so we can have tea at your place. I'll even bring you a teacake to keep.” He said as he pulled a hand out of his trousers, fixing a stray hair that fell from your up-do.

“It's perfect, thank you.” You said, looking up at him, a smile still on your face.

“Do you want to walk around the gallery with me? I added a few pieces since then, and I'd like to talk about them.” he said, offering his arm. You wrap another hand around him, the familiarity of his arm under your palm giving you a sense of calm.

You spent the rest of the day walking around the gallery and chatting, other gallery-goers openly gawked at Minghao. It was obvious, really, the artist is here in the flesh, and he's gorgeous.

Minghao stopped to entertain other guests too, seeing him in his element made pride swell in your chest. His work, and by extension him, is finally being recognized by more people in the community. His hard work and dedication paid off handsomely.

Stopping in front of a mural, you noticed it was a replica of a really old painting. A painting of Ares and Aphrodite getting caught by Hephestus.

“Oof, poor bastards.” You joke, Minghao found this funny too, chuckling with you.

“It’s almost comical how this painting compelled me. I don't know what drove me to recreate the thing as a whole mural, but we both know I'm a little crazy.” He says with a playful groan, you try to hold back a loud laugh by giggling into your palm.

“Well, dear Xu Minghao, everyone knows crazy people are geniuses.” squeezing his arm, you check out the side of his face. His side profile was so sharp and soft at the same time, the dichotomy of his features was an easy subject to study. He's a gorgeous man, too gorgeous for his own good you think.

You both sat down on the bench in front of the mural to chat, and before you knew it, enough time has passed that the gallery was about to close.

Minghao calls a cab for you, and you arrive home in-tact, but not safe.

“Y/n, where have you been running off to these past few weeks?” Your husband questioned you as soon as you entered your home. Your mood instantly dropped, feeling the weight of your actions all at once.

“I'm hanging out with a friend, and it's really not that deep. It's not like I've neglected house work at all. So you should have a reason to care.” You snap back, a little too much for such a simple query. Your husband rises from his seat, cupping your face with a gentle hand for the first time in a long time.

“You’re my wife, of course it's my concern.” He said, just as he was about to make you fall for him again, he said, “We haven't been intimate in a long time, I'm leaving in a few days, so I want to make love to you before I go.”

Ah, there it was. He only ever shows affection for you when he's asking for sex nowadays.

You nod, what followed was unfulfilling and unsatisfying sex. Missionary, a few pumps just to get him off, and he didn't even kiss you.

And obviously, he didn't make you cum.

Your husband is fast asleep in your bed for the first time in months, and yet you can't find it in yourself to be happy about it.

You take out your trusty friend, egg.

The jolts to life with steady vibrations as you press the toy to your clit, relaxing into the sheets as you imagine a pair of calloused hands roaming the plane of your skin.

Controlled pressure and technique only a sculptor could have, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes holding you gaze as if you gave him everything he could ever want by simply existing.

He looks at you like you hung each star in the sky just for him, just so he could watch your skin bathed in moonlight, twinkling like the most precious diamond he could ever have.

This man isn't your husband, It was Minghao.

Your orgasm came unexpectedly, the realization that you were fantasizing about him snapped you back into reality so violently that you ruined your own orgasm.

You huff as you tuck the toy back into its drawer, pulling up the covers to try and sleep off the guilt.

Your husband left for his business trip a few days ago, and you made preparations for your first guest in a while. You finally set up the tea set when you heard a knock at your door, springing up, you head towards the door to look through the peephole, you see Minghao dressed a little more casually, a cap on his head and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You swiftly unlock the door for him, he smiles upon seeing you, tipping his cap, he says, “Good evening, it's a pleasure to finally be invited into your home.” You greet him back, stepping to the side to let him enter. As he does, he takes his cap off to let his hair fall onto his face again.

He offers you the flowers and you take them, “I'll go find a vase for these, make yourself at home, dinner is still cooking in the oven.” You said as you turned back to find another vase.

After finding one and setting the flowers in your office again, you find Minghao setting a record on your turntable, a slow tune plays through the air, instantly making the room feel calmer and homey.

“I didn't pin you as the type to have such an extensive vinyl collection, you have good taste too.” He said, swaying to the music by shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“I didn't feel the need to mention it considering I haven't touched those in a while. My husband hates them.” You say solemnly.

“Well, he isn't here now. Let's enjoy the music,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take, “Dance with me?”

You smile as you take his hand, he suddenly pulls you towards him and you land on his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as you sway to the calm of the music.

You think to yourself, This is nice, this is safe. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Minghao instead.

You turn your head and press your ear to his chest, hear him breathe slowly, his heart beating rhythmically. This is the first time you were ever this close to him, practically holding him in a loving embrace.

His woody cologne almost distracts you, so seductive and masculine and you almost reach up to cup his face, to kiss him. Before you realize that he isn't your husband.

You're both snapped out of your little bubble when the oven dings, signaling that dinner is ready. You break away from him, already missing his warmth as you set the dining table, one that hasn't been used in a while.

You eat dinner with him, talking about your days and how work has been. It's a welcome change of pace from your husband’s tolerance of your presence. You didn't have to beg Minghao for footnotes on his life, you didn't feel like you're taking up too much of his space or time.

It's safe, secure. It feels like you're being celebrated for existing.

You dwell on this feeling long after Minghao heads home, your stomach and heart full. As you slip into the covers you wonder what it'll feel like to hold him under them, for him to kiss the crown of your head and whisper the three words you desperately wanted to hear again.

You fall asleep with the fantasy that when you wake up, he'll be right next to you.

Minghao invited you downtown this time, various pop-up stores of luxury brands recently opened and he just secured a sale of a really expensive painting; so of course, what better way to spend that money than taking a shopping trip with his closest friend.

“This would look amazing on you.” He said while taking out a dress, it's a color that compliments your hair and skin wonderfully. Minghao always knew how to dress.

“Oh, I'm inclined to agree, but I'm not willing to look at the price tag for that one.” You joke, shrugging as you follow him around the store.

“Nonsense, I'm offering to pay.” He said, turning his nose up. “I'm getting this for you, I'll ask the salesperson for more sizes so you can try them on.” He said, turning to the salesperson doing just that.

The salesperson nods enthusiastically, bringing the dresses to the dressing rooms and ushering you in despite your protests. Minghao only smiles in amusement as the curtain hides your figure, he sits on the bench near the dressing rooms in silence, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

He hears the curtains roll open, it only takes a moment of him looking at you in the dress to take his breath away. It fits you perfectly, hugging your body deliciously. Minghao almost drops his phone onto his lap, his grip loosening, star-struck by your beauty.

“How does it look?” You ask, awkwardly fiddling with the expensive fabric of the dress, feeling a little too expensive to be on your body.

Minghao wordlessly stands from the bench, looking a little dazed, he turns to the salesperson and tells them, “We're getting the dress.” As he walks toward the cashier almost in a trance.

You're a little taken aback by his reaction, but nonetheless you change back into your regular clothes. As soon as you walk out of the dressing room Minghao Pushes you back in with more dresses.

“Please try these on.” He says, not having the strength to look you in the eyes. You comply.

It took you hours of trying on dresses and accessories to the point that you almost bought the store out. Minghao couldn't get enough of the mini-fashion show you were putting on for him, and it's not like the salespeople are complaining either.

You walk out of the first store with multiple bags in hand, you thought that was enough shopping for the whole year maybe, but no, Minghao pulls you into another store, and another, and another, all leaving with bags (multiple) of clothes.

It got so bad to the point that Minghao had to leave your bags in his car so you could free up your hands to buy more stuff.

You stopped trying to fathom the amount of money Minghao was spending on you, yes, he did buy items for himself too, but he looked much more satisfied to provide for you rather than procuring items for himself.

The car ride back home was filled with way too many ‘are you sure's and ‘you really didn't have to's. But Minghao was insistent on you keeping all the items he got for you.

“I'm being serious, you're a gorgeous woman, you deserve to be spoiled like a queen.” he said, turning to you while waiting at a red light, “You need to visit my studio in the clothes I got you, you'll fit right in with my paintings.” He smiles.

Your face flushes at his compliments, a bright and happy smile stretching across your face. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy with someone. To find joy in the company of another felt liberating, you felt like you deserved this.

Minghao drops you off at your place with your new clothes, helping you get them into your living room like a true gentleman.

“I'll see you next time, Y/n.” He said stopping at your doorstep, annd leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head, he took note of what your shampoo smelled like and left. Leaving you awestruck in your doorway as you watch his car drive off.

This studio has become so familiar to you, like a second home almost. Punching in the code was muscle memory at this point, the smell of drying paint and clay becoming a calming scent.

You smooth over the front of your dress, one that Minghao got you, as you enter his studio again. Shrugging off your heavier coat, the beginning of winter creeps closer as the trees lose the last of their leaves.

Minghao just got out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his paint-stained shirt and apron. He looks at you, the dress, the way it fits on you. And he smiles widely.

“Hey there gorgeous, what are you doing all the way there? You should be over there with the rest of the art.” He says cheekily.

You giggle as you enter the space more, stopping in front of him taking his extended hand and following it, giving him a twirl.

He simply adores the way the fabric flows and shapes around your curves and contours, your skin practically glowing with life.

He fights the urge to kiss you, succeeding for now.

He guides you onto the couch, a turntable sitting next to his stone tea tray on the coffee table. ”Oh? This is new.” You said when you noticed it.

“Oh that? I got it for when you come over. I got a few records too, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable while I brew us some tea.” He said, untying his apron to hang on an easel, turning his back to you and he started preparing tea like before.

His movements and practiced, you'd guess this tea ceremony is second nature to him, considering he always talks about it. This scene is safe, familiar, it's comfortable.

He does this whole song and dance again, you've seen him do this over and over again but you can't seem to get sick of it. It's like you're giving yourself excuses just to keep seeing him.

But they don't feel like excuses, not at all, they're just more reasons why you feel deeply, and so quickly for Minghao.

Again, the both of you talk about everything and anything under the sun, him walking you through all his latest pieces, him plans for new ones creativity vibrating through ever cell in his body.

You imagine him talking so passionately about the future, maybe even a future with you.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you’re holding onto Minghao’s shoulders for support,

and you lean up to kiss him.

Minghao fights the urge to kiss back, he fails.

His hands come up to cup the back of your head tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pouring all his emotions into the simple, gesture of affection.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from his cologne and the wind getting knocked from your lungs as soon as your lips met his. It was electrifying, finally feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close, yet so far from yours.

Oh, you wanted him, so, so badly.

He pulls away first, heaving from the intensity of the kiss, eyes in a daze. Meeting your eyes again, he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss.

This time he's really pressing into you seemingly drunk off of the feeling of his lips meeting yours. He's just a man at the end of the day, a weak, weak man in the face of paradise.

He came back to his senses once he felt the cool metal of your wedding ring on his neck. Jolting back, he pushed your shoulders back, creating a significant distance between the two of you.

“I, I think you should leave.” He said turning to hide in his studio bathroom to collect his thoughts.

You stood there puzzled, did he not feel the same way you did? But why did he kiss you, twice? Something isn't adding up.

But moreover, you can't ignore the painful sting this rejection gave you. You wanted him, did he not want you? What was the point of trying so hard to make you fall for him when he just decided to back down when he finally had you?

You gather your belongings and leave the studio, the door clicking to lock behind you. The ride back was suffocating, it felt like you left a part of yourself in that studio with Minghao. And you fear that this may be the last time you see him.

You haven’t spoken to Minghao in the weeks following the kiss, your nerves on fire every time you remember how his pillow lips felt so right on yours.

You're standing in front of the mural. The one where Hephestus caught Aphrodite, his wife, and Ares, her lover, having an affair and having sex on their marital bed.

It's funny, looking at this mural. You spent your last weeks wandering his gallery, searching for his shadow, but he always seems to evade you so easily. He's marked you like a bloodstain on a pristine white dress, lingering like fog on a cold autumn day.

Winter is still young, yet you feel cold. So, so cold.

As if your most desperate prayers were heard, Minghao practically materializes next to you.

“Hi. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you for the past few weeks. I'm a coward, a fool to run from you.” He said, both of you looking at the mural and not at each other.

Silence follows, you couldn't look at him, you couldn't speak to him. “Y/n I-”

“This isn't the place to talk about this.” You said coldly.

Minghao flinches a bit, not used to how icy your voice was. It usually greets him so warmly, so lovingly.

“Let's go out to drink, there's a bar that's walking distance from here, if you'd like go go with me. I have too many things to say to you, too many thoughts left unsaid. You deserve to hear them, at least.” He said, remorseful.

You really couldn't find it in yourself to stay mad at him. So you agree to walk with him.

The walk to the bar is silent, unlike your previous walks. You're so far from him, you even refused to hold onto his arm like you usually do.

It's early winter yet Minghao is sweating bullets, he's almost vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. His nerves are all over the place, he's acting so out of character, nothing like the calm, cool, collected Minghao you've come to know over the past few months.

He takes a deep breathe before you both enter the bar.

A few drinks in and you’re already tipsy, “You know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.” You drunkenly slurred, “This novel I’ve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. He’s a giant pain in the ass-!”

Minghao snorts at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, “Your husband is a fucking dick! Your work is amazing. If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writer’s block, you know, inspire you.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, “Thank youuuu hao bear~ you’re the best-!” You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side. You’ve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.

“Hao bear? That’s new, you’ve only known me for- what? 3 months? You’re already calling me nicknames!” He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, “I should give you a nickname too… Starlight, how does that sound?” At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.

This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.

“Starlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.” You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.

“Let’s move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work. We can head to my place to settle down for a bit.” There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Arriving at Minghao’s place, you take a quick look around his apartment. Everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues making the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, “Hao, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~” You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.

“Thanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.” He passionately talks about them, “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.” He says, rummaging through his fridge.

“Oh, just water, please.” You say you have a feeling that you need to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.

He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table. It’s the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldn’t tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.

“So, let’s talk about this book that you’ve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what it’s about?” He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adam’s apple bobbing from his drink.

Bro’s so majestic.

“Well, it’s about an artist who’s losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. It’s a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-”

“Give me a percentage of how much of it is smut.” Minghao interrupts you,

“Like… 75 percent?” He snorts at this, “Anyway, I’ve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,” You take a swig of your water, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex life’s been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods and-”

Minghao interrupts you again, “And he doesn’t fuck you right, does he?”

The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Minghao looks at you. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he wanted you, but he never acted in any inappropriate way. He never makes you uncomfortable.

This was no exception. The swirling in your stomach wasn’t because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.

“No, no he doesn’t.”

He leans in, kissing you. This time he's not rushing, no more pushing and pulling, no more things left unsaid. He wants you, he'll have you. That was a promise.

He lifts you from the couch, lips never parting as he carries you to his bedroom, peeling each other's clothes, bumping into walls and furniture. But you couldn't care less, you were lost in each other's embrace and you can't think of another place you'd rather be.

Half-naked on Minghao’s bed, who, need you be reminded, was not your husband.

His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck. You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.

“How would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?” He asks, clearly getting off on the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasn’t your husband.

“I hope he’d be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.” You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.

Minghao gently pulls away from you from that, “What?” he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, “Sorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but… I’m angry at him.” He says, avoiding your eyes.

“I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before. It fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?” He said anger gradually filling his voice. His hand reaches for your face when your eyes meet, thumbs pressing down on your cheekbone. The controlled and purposeful movement reminds you just how pliable you are under his touch. He sculpted you into what he wanted you to be; beautiful, strong, unashamed.

You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, “Kiss me, Minghao.”

And he did.

His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close. You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Minghao’s tongue was exploring it.

At that moment, you knew you were gone.

Minghao pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke. At that moment, Minghao was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over like he couldn’t stop tasting your lips even if he tried. A sweet ambrosia, too saccharine to stop. He’s become addicted to your lips molding onto his like sickly sweet honey sticking to his lips.

Out of breath, he grabs hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him. He reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it. He cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.

Placing both of your hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze. Minghao notices this and his gaze darkens, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp leaves you as you started to grind harder against Minghao.

His nails started to dig into your hips, his own desperately grinding up against you for more friction. Soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.

“God, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.” He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.

“Right, you still need to cum inside of me.” You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this.

“Fuck, you make me want to keep you forever,” taking one of your hands and placing a kiss on your palm.

He lifts his hips only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying them off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you lean down to kiss him again.

When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two. You took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.

Minghao hisses, “Fuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.” he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.

“God, Minghao, fuck I need you inside me.” You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips up to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking on the thick girth. You throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,” He moans, he’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal he’s being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, “Let me keep you forever, please, don’t make me beg, run away with me.”

You openly gape at him from this, You’d be a fool to accept this, especially since you’ve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.

“Take me with you, anywhere you want to go. I’m yours, please take me.” You say desperately. You’ve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.

Minghao abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin. You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that you’re doing this to him, and only you.

You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin. Your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Minghao isn’t far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too. He’s so close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.

“Minghao I’m gonna cum-!” you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time. You swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.

“Did you mean that?” You ask breathlessly, “When you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, I meant it word for word. Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.” He smiles at you.

In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger with his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasn’t surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Minghao.

Still, time was the ultimate truthteller.

Your husband found out about your High Infidelity around the middle of your divorce proceedings, and in a rage, he threw you and all your belongings out onto the driveway. In the middle of winter rain.

The rain soaked into your skin, cold and icy piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

You finished your book, it received critical acclaim and it was a New York Times Best-Seller.

And you got to marry Minghao, the love of your life. Who you were happily married to until the both of you grew old.

FIN.

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radioisntdead · 7 months ago

Note

Hello hello for the third time!!

Once again, your fics absolutely BLOW my mind away!! And I'm here to request just a silly fic with Angel Dust (platonic) and a feral!child reader, who always gets into trouble with his workplace and the hotel?

(I mostly just wanna read Valentino be shit on lmao)

Yours Truly,

- XIN 💠

(P.S, I RLLY WANNA BECOKE UR FRIEND OMG)

Good evening my dear! You requested this at the perfect time because I had to stop the feral child I am related to from running over the elderly with a grocery cart so that's definitely going to play into this not the hitting the elderly with a cart but the general vibe, ALSO THATS SO SWEET OF YOU TO SAY, I'M OPEN TO FRIENDSHIP JUST MESSAGE ME ON HERE BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IF I MESSAGE YOU FIRST IT'LL BE FROM THIS BLOG OR MY MAIN ONE (I've been on Tumblr for like 5-6 years now and I still don't know how it works) YOU WILL GET ME YAPPIN' ABOUT HAZBIN, SENDING RANDOM SNIPPETS OF MY WRITING WITHOUT ANY CONTEXT AND MILDLY ODD EDITS OF SOUP

@fuck-this-shit-xin

Favorite babysitter

(Or alternatively Valentino gets beat by a child)

Angel dust & child reader, platonic!!!

Warnings:

I got carried away, Valentino loses a wing and both Antennas, nothing graphic surprisingly no unholy jokes mainly because the reader is a child, this is a shorter one, mild OOC

Angel dust didn't mind children, he preferred not to be around them because well, he wasn't the most child-friendly person to be around

However it was just his luck that the hazbin hotel's resident feral child had decided he was their favorite babysitter.

You had shown up one day at the doorstep of the hotel with a note taped onto you just saying 'Good luck '

It was suspected you were some type of bomb at first but that quickly was pushed aside when it was found you were just feral, you weren't a bad kid you just didn't listen, climbed onto the walls, tabletops, bit into things you weren't supposed too but you could be a very sweet kid, playing with the Egg Bois, helping Charlie by drawing, helping Husk dry the glasses or hunting down roaches with Niffty,

That last activity had been banned since you almost stabbed one of the Egg Bois.

You were a very sneaky and little clingy thing that was evident with you latching onto his legs at random times, sometimes he wouldn't even notice you until it was pointed out or he looked down and bam! There you were wrapped around him like a baby possum sippin' on a juice box.

He made it a point to make sure someone was distracting you as he escaped the hotel to go to work, unfortunately for him Sir Pentious who was meant to be watching you was distracted by his egg minions almost smashing themselves while trying to recreate action movies and you ran after him following him through the city and into the Vee's tower, shockingly due to plot convenience you weren't noticed until Valentino was yelling at Angel dust for who knows what before any work could be done, he pulled out Angel's contract for whatever reason, maybe to make a point? You didn't really know but you didn't like that what looked like a giant dressed up purple grape was yelling at your favorite babysitter so with your little legs you stomped up to Valentino tugging on his wings that acted as a robe, he looked down in fury that quick turned into angry confusion

"Who the fuck brought their child to set?!"

Valentino shouted looking around as his employees looked around shaking their heads, a rush of pure panic rushed through Angel dust, when did you get here? He didn't even notice you? Wasn't Sir Pentious watching you?!

Before he could even get a word out you stomped your leg and pointed at him, eyes full of pure fury.

"Say sorry!"

"¿Qué? What did you just say?"

"Say sorry!"

Valentino leaned uncomfortably in, opening his mouth to say something but Angel had grabbed you in his many arms fully intending to take whatever hit Valentino could throw at you, however you had a different plan, with a large frown on your face you wiggled your way out of Angels arms and pounced onto Valentino, your little clawed hands tearing into his wings, leaving small puncture wounds behind as you climbed up him, the contract that bounded Angel dust's soul to Valentino floated down to the ground.

Valentino yelled out words you couldn't quite understand as his wings flared out, you took the opportunity to steal his hat and bite into it tearing it apart before throwing the remaining fabric onto the ground.

The unholy studio's employees could only watch stunned as you grabbed onto his antennas completely ripping them off, if he couldn't fly because of his damaged one before, he definitely had no hope of it now.

Valentino dropped to the ground screeching, arms reaching up to throw you off only for you to start crawling around his back like a little bug leaving more scratches and wounds

Angel dust once he recovered from the shock of you absolutely tearing apart Valentino tried to grab you fully intending on taking you and booking it to the hotel where you'd be safe,

Unfortunately you were freakishly strong and in angel's attempts of trying to pull you off ended up pulling one of Valentino's wings out.

"Are you going to say sorry now?"

Valentino let out a groan of disoriented pain,

That didn't sound like an 'I'm sorry' to you, so you climbed up his remaining wing and ripped a large chunk of his fluff from it, Niffty would be proud!

"¡Lo siento! ¡Lo siento, solo vete!" the still disoriented Valentino shouted from the ground,

You smiled as you stood up from the overlord and skipped towards Angel dust, your eyes caught the contract that had floated to the ground, now you didn't know what it contained because you couldn't read but you assumed it probably meant something to the purple guy and so you decided that you should rip it.

"[Name] get over here' I gotta get you outta here before-" Angel dust started as you swiped the contact off the floor and ripped it to shreds, the smoke-like chain briefly appeared around Angel dust's neck before breaking apart and whooshing away.

Angel was stunned for a moment before a large grin broke out on his face, before anyone could say anything he picked you up, raised a certain finger up and shouted that he was quitting, after all Valentino didn't have his soul anymore, and frankly the work environment would be awkward now to say the least since a child had just inflicted permeant damage to his now former boss, he could find another job.

Unfortunately someone who didn't have good morals called the security team and now Angel dust was running down the Vee's tower holding you, he would pull out the guns that he kept in I assume his ribcage or something but you were right there and the gunshots would hurt your little eardrums, eventually the two of you outran them and returned into the safety of the hotel.

Angel dust sat you down on the ground as he breathed in, catching his breath while Sir Pentious rushed to you lifting you up while asking where you were before looking at Angel in confusion.

"Aren't you ssssssupposed to be at work?"

"I quit! Lil' chronic juice-o-holic over there ripped up my contract and fucked up Valentino! hAh!" Angel said still trying to catch his breath as you slipped out of Sir Pentious's hold and ran to go bug Husk for a juice box.

The news of you ripping Valentino's antennas and a wing out made hotel news, you were lightly scolded by Charlie about taking the violent route but she gave you ice cream and bought you a toy as a reward, Alastor saw great potential in you, Husk patted your head saying that you did good, Vaggie would eventually decide to teach you how to fight, you got being feral down but it couldn't help to teach you to be more calculated, Niffty was happy when you gave her the big clump of fluff for her collection, she already had some from her earlier interaction with the now antenna-less moth but more couldn't hurt!

And Angel dust, well he owed ya big time although he did scold you for following him into a dangerous place [thank goodness you didn't see anythin' unholy or Vaggie would've had his head!]

He spent a little more time with you the following week before he decided to do some job huntin', he would sneak you some candy or a extra juicebox when he could, and the two of you would watch kid friendly Disney or dreamworks movies on the hotel's TV.

Valentino laid down in his hospital room, full of fury that he got injured by a child of all things, a small child that had some type of connection with Angel dust who's soul he no longer owned, he swore that he would get payback against the child, unfortunately for him the mere presence of that child would strike enough fear into him that he wouldn't be able to make a move, and even if he could he wouldn't be able to do anything to the feral child.

He got off easy this time, he wouldn't be as lucky the next he messed with your favorite babysitter again.

Good evening folks! Hope you enjoyed! I'm working on getting the older requests in my inbox done and getting them out next week along with the 100 followers fic with Angel dust! So tune on in for that! Goodnight folks!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #Angel dust & reader #hazbin hotel angel dust x reader #angel dust x reader

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buggybambi · 9 months ago

Note

Ooo hiii! Can I please request a Carmy x fem!reader where he proposes to her on Valentine’s Day? Ooo and maybe this is the au where she’s his assistant, and has been for years, and the staff is heavily involved in the proposal hehe

Also Richie making some joke about how this is some promotion she’s getting lmao

hope this is okay my love! i honestly had no idea i had an au where she's an assistant lmao! i also changed it a little bit, hope that's okay ♡ - wc: 1.02k | nav post - request guidelines | cw: fem!reader, mention of reader wearing a dress

"You're not seriously proposing, are you?" Richie asks Carmen as the two prepare the Beef for it's opening. Carmen lets out a sigh as he ties his apron behind his back. "And who the hell told you?" Carmen questions in return.

"Sugar did. You proposin' or what?" Richie repeats, as Carmen rolls his eyes. "Cousin, you are not to say a word about this to anyone, okay?" He lets out a long exhale. "I am. Tonight." Carmen confirms as Richie stares at him. "Oh my gosh, you're gonna marry your assistant. If only we had an HR that could have a field day with you."

"I'm basically HR, cousin." Carmy reminds as he walks over to Marcus. "Chef, how's it going?" He asks as he rubs his hands together. "I have got our Valentine's day treats prepped, and I even have a cake prepared for when you propose to your girl." Marcus grins as Carmen rolls his eyes. "Maybe Sugar is the one I should tell to shut up." He mumbles before he walks over to his station.

"So, any big plans for tonight?" He overhears Syd ask you as you and her handle cleaning one of the other stations. "None at all. Why is everyone asking me that today?" You laugh, a sound that he can't help but smile at, as you walk over to Marcus with the clipboard he assigned to you three years ago when you began working as his assistant.

It was Sugar really who gave him the idea of getting an assistant. She told him, "you're busy. You can't handle your own schedule or meetings, so hire someone to do it for you." She was the one to pick you out from a list of candidates, and from the moment he met you, he was in love with you.

But, in usual Carmen fashion, he took forever to get with you. Convincing himself you wouldn't feel the same way, that you wouldn't even want to be with him. Until you told him first that you loved him and had been in love with him. From there you two were kind of like the Jim and Pam of the Beef, at least that's what Sydney referred to you too as.

"Hi Marcus. Oh, cute treats." You greet with a smile as you lean against the wall by his station, clipboard resting face-up against your front. "What's with that cake?" You ask, looking at the clipboard for any orders that may have been placed.

"Uh, I asked him to make it. Pete and I's anniversary is coming up and we didn't save any of our wedding cake so I asked Marcus to recreate it." Nat swoops in, smiling at you. You nod slowly. "Right.. well, congrats on your anniversary, Sug." You say before you turn and walk over to Carmen.

"Hey you. Clear your calendar because I am setting up a date night for us." Carmen says as he leans on the counter, standing in front of you. "Mm. Can I ask what we're doing on this date night or is it a total surprise?" You ask.

"Total surprise. I'll pick you up at your place." He kisses you on the cheek before walking off. You laugh before going back to your clipboard filled with Carmen's list of activites and meetings for the day. ────

You sat on your sofa, the dress you first met Carmen in on you. You figured with it being Valentine's Day, the nostalgia of the first time you met him would be nice for the date night Carmy had planned.

A small knock from the front door, and you stood from your spot and walked over to answer it. Fixing your hair as you stood in front of the door for a second, you opened it, expecting to meet Carmen's eyes. Instead, you found him on one knee in front of you, one hand behind his back.

"I was going to do this at a restaraunt. Or on the sidewalk, or literally any-fucking-where else." He admits with a breathy laugh following. "But, I couldn't wait. I couldn't imagine myself doing this anywhere else and of course it's like me to do this at your front door on your welcome mat."

"I love you. I've loved you since I met you, and each day that passes I find myself falling more and more in love with you. You're my everything, you're my moon and stars- no, you're my fucking universe." He shakes his head, tears in his eyes. "And I can't imagine a world or my life without you there. I want you and I to build a life together. To have a family with you if that's what we find ourselves wanting." He smiles. "Will you make me the happiest man, even though you already have, make me an even happier man and marry me?"

As soon as he pulls the ring out you're already saying yes, practically dragging him up off the ground so you can kiss him. He slides the ring onto your finger before kissing you again. You pull away, laughing as you place a hand on his cheek. "Carm, I love you so much- was everyone else in on this!?" You ask through a laugh.

"They were. Sugar kept telling everyone, I'm shocked no one spilled." He laughs as well, wrapping his arms around you to hug you, burying his face in your neck. "Okay, seriously no Valentine's day will ever top this." You say.

────

It doesn't shock anyone when you show up to work the next day with the ring on your finger, and the story of him proposing on your doorstep doesn't shock anyone either. "Is this her getting a promotion?" Richie asks with a grin as you roll your eyes. "If we had an HR department I swear I'd file a report against you."

"You're technically marrying the HR department." Carmen says softly as you grin. "Hell yes I am." You place a kiss on his cheek. "Hey, now as your assistant I get to schedule your wedding." You note as he smiles, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Can't wait for it."

˙ ✩°˖🌸 ⋆｡˚꩜

thank you for reading! please feel free to engage with this post by reblogging, commenting or sliding into my inbox to leave feedback! i appreciate all of you! check out my nav post here for more fanfics!

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astrodances · 10 months ago

Text

"Now I've had the time of my life No, I never felt like this before Yes, I swear it's the truth And I owe it all to you"

This is a very, very special drawing for me. ✨

In September of last year, I watched Dancing With The Stars' "Step Into the Movies" special again, at the end of which they recreate "The Time of My Life" scene from Dirty Dancing. And that sent me on a nostalgia trip back to my high school theater days over a decade ago now, where the drama club accepted my idea to do a "Time of Our Lives" theme, and a performance for that song à la Glee. Mind you, I was mainly the stage manager/techie sort, but I did some scenes for the showcases, and participated in this song with my then-boyfriend, along with two other couples.

And while we were hanging out in the green room backstage, a friend took some pictures of us. Including the one that directly inspired this drawing of Webby + Lena.

This started out as a memory remix of that photo, after watching the DWTS special, because I thought these two lovebirds would be really cute subjects for it.

But once I got going, it turned into a love letter, for many things.

As part of the remix aspect of it, I now picture myself in Lena's spot in the photo, getting to have the short hair I wish I had had back then, and getting to wear a suit and tie! (Yes, in the original photo, I am wearing the dress and red bow Webby's sporting here, and I have long hair. 🙈 Though I will say here that the little heart necklace she's wearing is exactly like the one I had, too! :)) Drawing this was really cathartic for my nonbinary self. 💜

And as for Webby, in this remix, she represents someone that, in retrospect, I wish I had shared this moment with from back then. In many ways, she really was the Webby to my Lena. 💜💖💝

(Literally) beyond the subjects of this though, this is indeed very much a love letter to a lot of things, to passions. The background is pretty much a replica of the drama classroom wall we were in front of for the photo, at least as far as layout goes, with a few direct recreations of things that were on the wall and on the table there. Everything else was me being a passionate (theatre) nerd.

(Details (many details) of said nerdiness and alternate versions below the cut!)

I've included un-blurred and background-only versions (and a version with drop shadow lines on the girls, because why not? it's a cool effect!) below, but I just want to point out the details, because I'm so dang proud of this.

The posters/programs for The Phantom Blot of the Opera, Featherspray, Chickago, and My Fair Dewey are obvious duck-parody references to their real-world counterparts (with the latter being the exact poster they use in DuckTales, in Dewey's dream in "Nightmare on Killmotor Hill!" So thanks, Dewey! 😂). The Featherspray one was also included because Hairspray was one of the shows we did in high school! And lemme just say, creating theater posters is really fun!!

The MJ the Musical poster and the half-shown Notre Dame de Paris "Duckbill" right behind Lena's head are particularly special to me, since they (along with Phantom) are my favorite musicals, and getting to draw those two was especially fun!

The L'Orange Theater poster in the top-right is a bunch of duck easter eggs in one - the L'Orange Theater is mentioned and seen in the very first episode of DuckTales 1987, and of course, there's Aquarioon from DT17! Looks like it toured in Duckburg a long time ago. 😉

And the sheet music is the DuckTales theme! (Or at least the left side of it :P)

The "Congrats" card, calendar (the whale for upper half was my own touch), folder, page of random backstage stuff behind Lena's head (which includes little Star Trek and Darkwing Duck references), and golden "Theatre" card (with my old director's favorite quote) are directly from the photo (or at least based on what I could see through its blurriness 😝), as is the very edge of a cast photo in the upper-right. The purple note (totally not with any secret messages whaaaaat) below that, the certificate of excellence, and the little pride heart pins everywhere are little garnishes/dedications. 😊

The stage/theater diagram below the certificate is really cool, because that's a direct recreation (+ another hidden message) of a project a friend and I did for stagecraft back in our freshman year - I was even able to copy my own handwriting for the labels! 😄😂

The "Time of Our Lives" poster is a reference to the showcase I mentioned above that inspired all this, though the real-life poster looked very different, from what I remember.

The green bag below is sorta a nod to the secret pal exchanges we used to do during shows. 😉

And finally:

The Glittering Goldie show poster is me just having an absolute blast drawing her once again and coming up with something for her Blackjack days! And bonus - I'll be posting a gradient-only version of Goldie tomorrow! Really happy with how she turned out!

And the "All the World's a Stage" poster is me combining all of my theatre nerdiness with my passion for space and a good pun! 😁

ANYWAY...

I learned a lot with this drawing, about creating and about myself.

And I just had so, so much fun with it - it was all love, all passion, all happiness for this one. 💜💖💝

Wishing the same for all of you. ✨

Love, Astro 💜

#DuckTales #Webby Vanderquack #Lena Sabrewing #weblena #my art #long post #I just have a lot of feelings for this one 🥹#(the post itself kinda is a love letter? for future me as much as past me and present me. yeah let's go with that)#for real though still cackling over my design for the Phantom Blot of the Opera poster XD

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 4 months ago

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A mix of the posts I see about Sebastian bulking for The Apprentice and Chris being in NYC for filming The Materialists have me thinking up my first-ever evanstan nonsense 🥺

I know they're both in long-term relationships now. Chris just got married, I knowwww, but let me wallow in this like a pig in the mud 😭🤣

I'm just saying that it would be awfully convenient for Chris to stay with Sebastian in his New York City apartment while he films... Plus, I would like to think that they already have a relationship going here. It's pre-established. Another thing I see about Sebastian on Tumblr is his submissive tendencies. There are so many signs and they make me all melt. So, they're together for the few months it takes to film The Materialists while Seb is prepping for his own film and they have their low-key dom Chris and sub Seb dynamic going.

Evanstan belly kink weirdness below! Warnings for slight weight-related insecurities (that are quickly smoothed over by Chris), kink discovery, sub!Sebastian/dom!Chris, weight gain, stuffing, etc.

One afternoon on a weekend when neither of them is required to be anywhere, they're just having a slow afternoon in as Seb confesses to Chris, finally, that doing this sugar-heavy diet - shotgunning cokes and snacking seemingly constantly on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - is kind of awful. He knows he shouldn't pout or complain because he's doing it to himself. He decided to take this film; he's the one who suggested that he physically go for it rather than relying on a fat suit like he did with Lee Bodecker; further, he shouldn't complain because it should be nicer and easier than his usual pre-filming routine. Like, he complains so much about his crazy diets and workout regime for every other role he takes (having defined abs is a job in of itself, after all). So, really, it should be nice to relax and stop restricting so hard. But it isn't.

Seb vents to Chris many more things, too. For example, not only how surprisingly tiring it is, he feels lethargic all the time, but also how much work it is to make room for all this food in his stomach. Even when he was bulking up and waking up in the middle of the night to eat a whole chicken breast, keeping his protein up, he didn't feel like he had to stretch his stomach in the way he has to now. Plus... he's kind of scared, he admits as he fiddles with his shirt, that he won't "bounce back" and if he never looks the way he did before, his career will go south. Hollywood is so vain. Even more frightening is his thoughts that maybe Chris won't like him as much if he can't go back to his old body after this.

Logically, Seb knows most of his thoughts aren't true but he needs someone else to say it back to him to verify those things. He's searching for something, someone in particular, to calm his swirling thoughts.

Chris does more than verify what he needs to hear - that he'll be okay, that it is hard to make such a drastic lifestyle change, that it is challenging to bulk with fat as much as it is to bulk with muscle, he's seen him struggle every day he's been here, and that, of course, his body doesn't matter to him. Seb can look however and Chris is still going to love him. Further, he can look however and he'd still find him sexy as hell. Chris reminds him extensively, until Seb is blushing, how he couldn't keep his hands off of him when he was filming Pam & Tommy and was the tiniest he's ever been, but also how fucking terrible filming Civil War was because all Chris wanted to do was shove Seb into the nearest dressing room and have his way with him rather than reciting lines. Not to mention, of course, every other role with every other body type he's had while they've been together. Chris can't get enough of him, not matter what the shape of his body is. But...

Seeing how pouting Seb is at that moment, Chris wonders out loud if it might help him feel better if this weight gain wasn't just for work. What if it was recreational, too?

Seb doesn't understand at first what Chris means but with more explanation, he does.

Oh.

What Chris means is that what if rather than just having to put on weight for work... what if they played a game like they do in the bedroom where Chris makes the orders up and Seb follows them until he's shivering with the feeling of being obedient and good. Not having any control, ceding it all to his boyfriend, and being praised for his subservience just the way he craves in exchange. In the bedroom, being taken care of how he needs to be, held by the back of the neck, stern, with a voice in his ear, firm and inarguable. Shit, Seb always leaves his body when Chris gets like that with him.

If Seb wants to play, Chris could order him to eat and eat until his stomach aches like he already has been doing. But it will be different because it will be because Chris told him to. And it'll be different, hotter, because if he does what Chris says, Chris can soothe his upset tummy however he sees fit. A reward for following orders. Chris can rub his belly for being a good boy and doing what he told him to. Devouring everything he told him to eat. Chris can kiss the apex of his rounded, stuffed belly and trail hotter, sloppier kisses down until he's hidden behind the taut hill of his stomach, sucking his dick until Seb busts down his throat. Chris can fuck Seb on all fours to let him feel what he did for him, how good he is, his belly hanging and jiggling underneath him without an ounce of shame because he did it for his boyfriend - feeling extra stuffed than he already does when he's fucked by Chris' thick cock.

Not to mention how, if that was the case with Seb eating for him and not some production, when Seb looks in the mirror, rather than being reminded of work and how exhausting it is, he'll be reminded of Chris. He will see his reflection widened, softened, and changed with evidence of what a good boy he is. His boyfriend's marks visible on his body in a way that they usually can't risk - no hickeys or bite marks anywhere that paparazzi can catch. Not even any mark as innocent as holding hands! Further, unlike a hickey, a bite mark, a collar... that weight can't be faded as easy. Chris' mark on him will last.

Chris has always been a little possessive, Seb is familiar with it and often enjoys it seeing as the possessiveness comes out as roughing him up, taking more control, and fucking harder. Ngh. And so, Seb can wrap his brain around why the weight would be sexy to Chris. He can believe him whereas before he was having trouble understanding what about being fat would be sexy to his unbelievably attractive boyfriend. Literally movie-star-hot. Talking like this, he can see it in Chris's eyes - they're locked onto him, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips, and one of his eyebrows is raised. His expression turned on and dangerous but with just enough of a question to let Seb know that if he refuses, he won't push or bring it up again and they will go back to normal.

Seb isn't sure if he can go back to normal after those words, though. Jesus.

Evidence of Chris on his body. All over his body. Not something he can take off easily yet something everyone can see. PLUS, God, the thought of Chris rewarding him, giving him treats, to coincide with daily orders? Seb isn't sure he'll survive. He'll be floating through days in a cloud of arousal, he can feel it already, just knowing that he's constantly pleasing his boyfriend, fulfilling his orders.

Possibly it's Seb's background experience of giving up control to Chris and getting his rocks off as a result that's giving this the appeal it has. But maybe... maybe there's something bigger here.

Bigger.

Something bigger like his ass. His ass that's been feeling considerably wider every time Chris can't resist but give him a teasing spank when they pass each other in his tiny apartment or the way he gropes him whenever they fall into bed now, taking handfuls of it. His flesh jiggles now in a way he didn't before and, suddenly, like a switch flipped right here, sitting on the couch with his boyfriend and talking, he's curious about how it would feel for there to be more meat on his bones. More fluff for Chris's big, strong hands to sink into. More to jiggle. He's...

Seb's mouth is dry, feeling like needs a drink. A coke?

He feels abruptly, intensely sexy in his own skin at the same time that he's thinking about getting bigger. Bigger and better to drive Chris insane with, flaunting how he can follow orders eagerly, not just eating as much as he tells him to but relishing in the eating, stuffing himself fast and moaning through bites, begging for belly rubs just to keep him close and have his hands on his body, exploring all the ways he's changing it to satisfy him. Gaining weight faster and faster, all to feel it but especially to hear Chris's praise and moans if he ever gets big enough for Chris to really fuck his pecs when he gets big enough for Chris to fuck his moobs.

Can we just admire how he squirms when he blushes? 🥴

#mylevisdontfitanymore #text #belly kink #sebastian stan #chris evans #evanstan #chubby sebastian #weight gain #stuffing #dom/sub

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chronicbeans · 2 years ago

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Human Illustrator Wally x Reader (part 2)

Fun fact: I like to listen to music that fits the vibes of what I'm writing and I wanted something more cheery an whimsical for this... but my dumb brain likes sad/creepy music and I couldn't find anything I liked that was truly happy, so I ended up listening to Bo en's My Time while writing this.

TW: None

🐻 When you arrive at the daycare, you quickly show everybody the book. Opening it to the back page, where he signed it, you see his name scribbled down. It is slightly messy, with all the letters being capitals and the "L"'s being slightly sideways. From what you can tell, it fits his silly little personality.

🐻 However, right as you begin showing everyone the book, you remember that some of the kids won't be able to see it that well, if at all... Oh no, now you feel like garbage...

🐻 One of those exact kids, a little girl related to Howdy, the local store owner, asks "Can I hold the book? I wanna see if something I heard works!" You grow quiet, before saying "Sure." To your surprise, all of the kids are watching and whispering "Right... Let's see if it works..." What in the world are they talking about?

🐻 She holds the book in her hands, which you made sure to keep opened to the signature. She runs her hands across it, before she makes it to the signature. She flinches, before gently pushing down on it. Her little face beams with the joy of a thousand summers as she chirps "He cares! I can feel it! I can feel his name! Johnny! Johnny, get over here!" "You're right, Henny!"

🐻 You are shocked, as well as a bit confused. You don't understand and want to investigate, but you want to wait for the children to calm down and let them have their fun. Even a few of the children with no visual impairments are pressing their hands on the book, chirping that they can feel it, too. You have an idea as to what it could be, but you want to check, first.

🐻Henny calls you over "Ms./Mr./Mx. (Y/N)! Come on! Feel it! I know that you probably didn't think to do so because you can see it, which is alright, but it's so cool!" You gently take the book, staring at the signature, before placing your fingers on his name. Your suspicions are confirmed as you grin.

🐻 While writing his name, he must've pressed the pen down hard enough to leave an indent to let all the kids be able to experience his signature. "Wow... Henny, how were you able to tell he would do this?" Henny, as well as the other kids, all start speaking over one another. You can hear Henny's voice over the rest, though, as she practically shouts with pride "My dad is friends with him! He constantly talks about how Wally does things like that for kids! My dad was the one who gave Wally that idea!"

🐻 You look down at her, expecting the other kids to tell her that she is lying, however, they go along with her claims. "I saw Mr. Wally at his store a few months ago with my mama! He tries to do that thing where people dress up as someone else, but his blue hair is very recognizable!" "Yeah! He helped me reach that apple toy on the top shelf! He then got another one and bought it for himself!" "Howdy is so cool for knowing celebrities!" "Doesn't Wally also know Ms. Poppy, that baker? I saw a show where she baked a cake in the shape of one of the bears he drew!" "I heard Mr. Wally gets his clothes from Julie's Joyous Clothes Company and is friends with Julie Joyful, herself!" Slowly, but surely, the talks about Mr. Darling and Howdy knowing each other turns into children's gossip about which famous people Mr. Darling does and does not know.

🐻 You think about the number in your pocket, subconsciously placing your hand over it. You don't know enough to know if any of their gossip is true... But you have the means to find out more about the mysterious, cheerful man. You can also make these kids so happy by having him visit! They can ask him questions about what they want to know, too!

🐻 Mr. Abbott walks into the recreation room, smiling as he asks you "Looks like these kids have Darling Fever, eh, (Y/N)? Do you want to go outside to relax? It is, technically, your day off today. Andy can take it from here." You giggle at the words "Darling Fever", before nodding. "Yeah. I actually want to talk to you about something, if you don't mind."

🐻 The two of you walk outside, sitting on the bench at the front of the daycare. You take out the paper from your pocket, saying "Mr. Darling gave me his number to call if you ever want him to visit the daycare." He gasps, looking at you "He... gave you his number? That's amazing! Wait, why are you trying to hand it to me?" You tilt your head and you hold it out to him "Well... you own the daycare? So it would make sense for you to call?"

🐻 He shakes his head quickly "No, no... he gave YOU his number! He very rarely gives out his number to people. I don't know why, but I think it might be that he doesn't trust many people with it. So, I can only assume he gave it to you because he trusts YOU. If I called, he might be uncomfortable." You look down at the paper, asking "Really...? There is so much I don't know about him. Should I call to see if he can visit? He must be a busy man... I don't want to bother him while he is doing something."

🐻"It's now or never. I know you. You'll be too nervous to call if you don't do it now." You smile, taking out your phone and calling the number on the paper. It beeps a few times, before somebody picks up and says "Hello?"

🐻 You take a deep breath. You can hear the voices of the crowd at his book signing in the background. You must've called during it... You hesitate, before saying "Hello! Umm... Is Mr. Darling there? I am from the Apple Castle Learning Center. He gave me his number and told me to call to see if he can visit?" The man on the other end of the line hums in thought, then says "Let me go get him. He has been waiting for you to call. It might take a moment, so be patient."

🐻 You tense up, feeling your heart race. He has been waiting for you? You look to Mr. Abbot, who places a hand on your shoulder to try to comfort you. He whispers "You're doing great! You got this!"

🐻 The man on the other end of the line suddenly shouts "COMING THROUGH! MR. DARLING'S GOTTA VERY IMPORTANT CALL! OUTTA THE WAY! HE'LL BE BACK IN A MOMENT!" You flinch from how loud it is, but you are shocked when you hear Wally's voice in the crowd, asking "Did they call? Please tell me it's them!"

🐻 It takes a bit, but you hear the crowd's voice die out, before Mr. Darling says a quiet "Thank you, Barnaby." Then, your heart races when he says "Hello? Is this (Y/N)?" You grin, saying "Yes, it is! Umm, I was wondering if you would like to set up a date and time to visit the Apple Castle Learning Center?"

🐻"That would be just lovely. We can talk about it tomorrow. Do you want to meet up at Howdy's Place? I'm friends with the owner. We can sit and talk at the little cafe area near the back. They serve some lovely milk tea. We can talk it all over then. I know you have some phone anxiety from your tone." "Of course! How about we meet there at 12 PM?" "That would be lovely. I'll see you then. Goodbye, (Y/N)." "Goodbye."

🐻 You end the call, looking over to Mr. Abbott and telling him the plan. He pats you on the back, telling you how well you did on the phone. You write down some things you need to ask Mr. Darling about, such as what date and time would be best for him to visit, as well what activities would be best. Then, you suddenly realize something... You never told Mr. Darling your name and there is no name tag on your uniform. The daycare doesn't have enough funds to make them... So how did he know it...?

🐻 You write down at the bottom of the list to ask him about it at Howdy's.

#welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home au #wally darling #wally darling x reader

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thehazelmist · 7 months ago

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So, I just had a dream about Mr. Puzzles (SMG4). It's very weird, so brace yourself. - Mr. Puzzles/Reader Fanfiction I guess??? created by: HazelMist's Unconscious

Um, so…I just had a strange dream with Mr. Puzzles. Specifically, a dream where he announced the new PuzzleVision merch. It was a 1960s style commercial…kind of, I guess. I have barely watched any 1960s commercials, so I'll just say It was black and white, except for Mr. Puzzles smile. and the commercial was animated.

So In the start of the dream, I wake up. and see In my notifications, that SMG4 uploaded a video. titled "NEW PUZZLEVISION MERCH!" I was extremely excited and hoped they had made a plushie of Mr. Puzzles. so I clicked on it, and uh...this Is how the commercial was.

So, he Is first walking down a lonely street, and see's someone leaning on a pole. uh, that person was Y/N... And they were wearing a plain T shirt, with oversized baggy pants. Not very fitting for the 1960s, but 🤷‍♀️. Mr. Puzzles noticed them, and walk right up to them and said

"Well, hello there my dear~! I'm your friend Mr. Puzzles, and- Oh god, what the hell are you wearing. Your outfit Is so boring, It makes an Average Joe look special."

Uh…Couldn't tell If my unconscious was insulting me or not, because I enjoy wearing plain T shirts and baggy pants. Then Y/N looked down in embarrassment. Then Mr. Puzzles grabbed their hand, and kept walking. but Mr. Puzzles was so tall, that Y/N was almost tripping. but then he stopped, and looked right at Y/N, and suggested

"Hey, I've got the solution to your problem! Why don't you buy some of the latest PuzzleVision merchandise? Your fashion sense would be amazingly blinding! Why not try on our Mario's Mysteries T shirt? Blue's clues and Mario fans would be confused by your stunning (not bootleg…) shirt, and you would attract many PuzzleVision fans!"

The shirt was basically the Mario's Mysteries thumbnail, Then he handed Y/N the shirt, and they responded "W-Wha..? but I don't even watch-" Then Mr. Puzzles cut them off

"Oh, and If you didn't like Mario's Mysteries, we have T shirts of our other episodes too! It would normally be 300.000.00$, but since you are special to me~ I'll make a discount! It's now only 30.00$!"

The shirts were also the thumbnail of the episodes. Then he threw them In a dressing room, and Y/N came out with the Once upon an SMG4 T shirt on. Mr Puzzles clapped his hands excitedly and said "Oh my dear! You look absolutely gorgeous! And If you get cold with only a T shirt, Buy our Mr. Puzzles Hoodie! It's 50.00$!"

The hoodie was a picture of Mr. Puzzles sitting in a chair, with his legs crossed. with a smug face. then afterwards, he said to them

"And I will be going soon, but If you want to keep me with you forever, then you should get…"

Then he pulled out a Mr Puzzles plushie, except It looked kinda weird. He didn't have his bowler hat, and he didn't have his color bar smile, It was just a straight line for a mouth. Anyways, he continued

"This adorable version of me, In plush form! Take It with you everywhere you go! Or If you don't want to get it dirty, just keep It on your shelf! But If you aren't the plushie collector type, Here Is an awesome figurine!"

It was a figurine of Mr. Puzzles doing a JoJo's Bizarre Adventure esque pose, with his maniacal face. and then he showed another figurine.

"Oh, and here Is another action figure of….that one inkling guy!"

The figurine barely looked like Oneshot wren though, and It wasn't even an Inkling. It looked like someone tried to recreate Wren In Plotagon. and didn't Western Spaghetti already have It's own merch? I kind of forgot what else Mr. Puzzles said, but he showed some Mr Puzzles Pins and Keychains that were both In chibi style. they were really cute! not like that Oneshot Wren figure…And after showing all the merch, He said

"Now, Let's skip time to a few weeks, and see how much these items have affected you!"

And then there was the Spongebob time card that said "2000 years later" and we are back with Mr Puzzles and Y/N, Except he is holding a microphone now, and asks them

"So, how much have my great merch helped you In life?" and then Y/N says something like "Nothing much has changed-"

and then the commercial rewinds, and goes back to when Mr. Puzzles asked that question. and then Y/N says "Oh, I feel much more happier now! with my amazing T shirts, I have so many more friends, and everyone wants to hang out with me! and I am enjoying your company, In plush form! Thank you, Mr. Puzzles!"

Then Mr. Puzzles responded "You're welcome! Have a great day, my darling!

Then, the commercial cuts to a blank screen, showcasing all the merch. and some strange announcer voice, that was definitely not Mr. Puzzles, their voice was very deep. says something like… "Go buy the new PuzzleVision Merch In smg4.store today!"

And then the video finished, and I was very confused of what I just saw. but then I might have waken up.

and uhhh…I think thats all I remember. If you made It this far, thanks for reading me ramble about some nonsensical dream I had last night. I probably dreamt It because I am TERRIBLY DESPERATE to have a Mr. Puzzles plushie. If I feel like It, I might try to make an animatic based on this dream. I might post It on Youtube. But I dunno, would you actually want to see that?

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verdantlights · 19 days ago

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Modern AU Headcanons

For all 7 of my ocs!! :3

all of their ethnicities/nationalities are canon to the ALNST universe too, but theyre just more applicable in a modern au.

The artwork I did for each of them isnt fully colored like how i originally planned, simply because this took FUCKING FOREVER. (17 hours??? all 7 ocs just to this basic color with 17 hours and 25k strokes??? according to procreate???) and i was so ready to be done with it, ive been talking about this for like ages and i knew that if i didnt finish this before Blink Gone dropped,,,, itd never get finished.

i also have other stuff i need/want to work on in regards to my ocs SO. if the art looks half-assed, im calling it a design choice 🎀

Toki (Redone):

He'd be a dancer that runs a choreography channel on youtube and tiktok. A really popular/famous content creator.

He's Asian! (South Korean)

Fluent in English/Korean.

Would probably face a lot of controversy for making strange jokes about cannibalism, but he never stays down when cancelled. (hes so schlatt core)

He's not a horrible person in a modern au. He's relatively normal, if not for the fact that he is still an orphan and still clinically mentally ill. He's just not toxic. He still has his cunt and freak but... he just doesn't manipulate, mansplain, and manslaughter anymore.

He's only toxic and awful as hell in ALNST because of the dystopian circumstances. His toxicity is seasoning to the tragedy that is ALNST.

He is still an orphan and his first memories would be in the orphanage where he was pretty much alone. People thought he was strange.

I'd like to believe he was selectively mute for quite a long time, which was another reason why people called him strange.

Still has the habit of studying peoples behaviors and learning them entirely for his own benefit. He wouldn't use it against someone unless absolutely necessary in a modern au.

He gets adopted when he's 13 by a kind, older man. He homeschools Toki and puts him in sports and recreational activities of his choice.

Toki chooses gymnastics and dance, contorting and moving his body at his will gives him a sense of control that he always felt he was never privileged to.

He didn't start talking until he was 16. His first words were, "Thank you, dad."

As an adult, as I said above, Toki runs a choreo channel on tiktok and youtube that gets a lot of traction. He enjoys having fans because it makes him feel less alone.

He's still possessive over Inna, but it's only because Toki struggles with feeling a sense of belonging and a home to come back to, and Inna becomes that home for him.

He has a streetwear aesthetic!

Of course, Toki still has his obsessive and possessive personality, that will never go away. It ends up rearing his head towards Inna, but I'm pretty sure Inna likes it anyway, the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴.

Didn't go to college because his socmed took off before he graduated, sustaining him really well financially.

Friends with Ichor! Travels to Korea with him sometimes, but usually prefers to stay in America since that's where he was taken to when he was adopted.

Innamorati belongs to @alien-til-i-stage <3

Clove:

He is Latino! (Dominican/Caribbean)

His right eye is a lazy eye and he wears glasses. They're silver round frames that he sometimes puts a neck chain on.

His hair is dyed the same, but the dark brown is really short and cut to be fluffy/messy while keeping his long sides/short bangs!

He has a dark academia aesthetic mixed with a little bit of cottagecore. He's a lot more comfortable in his skin in regards to his gender so he wears skirts and dresses sometimes.

Spends his time at the library a lot, enjoys library dates with Aster (and also coffee shop dates).

He is fluent in Spanish and English.

He only has his ear lobes pierced and keeps small silver studs in them at all times.

Still trans, of course! He gets top surgery and a hysterectomy in a modern au (projecting what I personally want lmao)

All of his siblings are alive, and are still all named after flowers!

His upbringing was really peaceful, if not for having a very alive and loud household with 6 kids, him included.

His parents and siblings are all incredibly accepting and they all helped pitch in to get his top surgery done for his birthday one year <3

He inherited his parents flower shop and runs it now! His parents own the parent company to the flower shop, so all 6 children own one of said shops around the state!

He majored in Biology in college.

A lot of the neglect and trauma he faced in ALNST/ANAKT was only specific to the universe. He would lead a relatively normal and peaceful life, otherwise :)

Aster belongs to @apriciticreveries <3

Horizon:

He is American!

Horizon is incredibly smart and is an astrophysicist! He took it in college and has been hyperfixated on space since he was a kid.

Is the most visibly/recognizably autistic OC out of all of my OCs. All of my OCs are neurodivergent in some way because of my own neurodivergency, but Horizon takes the cake because his modern au mother (based on Scorpius) is also autistic. She raised him to not be forced into a mask.

Scorpius is a single mom and loves space as well, teaching Horizon all about it when he was a kid. Over time she grew more distant and would only connect with her son when its about his interest in space, or in regards to what happens at NASA.

Horizon is aware of his mothers distance and neglect and wishes things could go back to when he was a kid and she wasn't so distant.

He is still a narcolept, but is medicated and in physical therapy to help combat it.

He works at NASA! He makes good money and has discovered a lot of new stars!

He's more vocal in a modern au! He'd still go nonverbal a lot, but he'd also open up more and be less distant.

He still yaps about stars and space as much as possible.

He does not have stars in his eyes. I kinda feel like that goes without saying, but he does have dark grey-blue eyes.

Fond of Seraph and likes to study it. Fully aware something is wrong with it and that it definitely does not belong in his world, but finds it intriguing all the same.

Does not have a set dress style, he mostly dresses for comfort. He does have a lot of NASA merchandise and space/galaxy themed clothing, though. (would 100% have that blue and pink galaxy wolf hoodie at one point)

Seraph:

Still not human, and I will not elaborate as to why!

Also still uses He/Hy/It (Hy/Hymn).

It's a lot creepier in a modern au, actually. This is because the dystopian setting of ALNST makes it a bit more... usual and acceptable for Seraph to be uncanny? However, in a modern au... that's not the case.

People do NOT vibe with it more often than not.

Hy is British.

He is still albino with void-like eyes.

It majors in psychology and went to the same college as Horizon. This is related to his special talent,,, but that isn't released yet. :)

Still horribly enamored with Horizon and follows him around and studies him.

Horizon doesn't mind hymn and honestly knows somethings not right with Seraph, but he doesn't really care and actually likes to study Seraph back. (and seraph couldnt be happier about it, tbh)

Not a lot changes about Seraph, in all honesty. Hy doesn't really belong in the ALNST universe, what makes you think hy'd belong in the modern universe?

The things that do change, like it's echoing voice and it's staticky/distorted laugh, are gone because it personally stopped using them.

It's style is... elegant goth with some... cyber goth? Kinda strange and hard to describe but he does understand the morals and values of goth culture and music and upholds those values.

Lowkey an anarchist but you didn't hear that from me.

He is Horizon's roommate.

Seraph likes to believe their mutual studying of each other is what a romantic relationship entails.

Horizon spoils Seraph a lot... he has to do something with the money he gets from NASA.

He still does not like animals or Ichor.

Ichor:

He is still a catboy. He's not even like... a kemonomimi. He's just a fucking catboy.

If not an actual catboy, he would be a therian and/or kemonomimi. (kemonomimi directly translates to animal ears i believe? kemonomimis are just people who enjoy wearing animal ears/tails.)

He is also Asian! (South Korean)

Has a lot of mixed aesthetics, but enjoys crossdressing (in a cute way) and ouji fashion/lolita.

Autistic with selective mutism and is nonverbal more often than not. He is fluent in both ASL and KSL as well as spoken English/Korean. This is canon to the ALNST universe, but he is fully mute in canon.

Would probably be a professional gymnast. I'm talking like Olympics... professional.

Takes the fame from being a professional gymnast and becomes a content creator to show off his impeccable fashion sense.

100% dating and smitten with Briar. I'm assuming Briar would be a doctor in a modern au (akane, you can correct me if I'm wrong), and if that's the case, then Ichor would make a bunch of "woe is me, I need a doctor" jokes to Briar.

He'd immediately go to Briar if he gets hurt during performances.

Would actually be friends with Toki!! Both as a content creator and as a gymnast. They would get along very well due to overlapping interests, even more so when Ichor learns that Toki was mute for a long time.

Sometimes takes up gigs/jobs as a Sign Translator for both KSL and ASL.

Recognized as a Fashion Idol in Korea.

Frequently travels back and forth between South Korea and America due to this. ^ (his boyfriend misses him...)

Also did not go to college! He went straight into professional gymnastics and makes a living off of it! If he could go back to school, though, he would want to study the arts!

All of his hair is naturally white! He was based off of a white Turkish Angora cat, and since his hair was dyed against his will in ALNST, that wouldn't be the case in the MAU. He's only pink in his art because that's his color <3

Briar belongs to @aakaneeee <3

Lys:

She is Creole and born and raised in Louisiana!

Fluent in both Cajun French and normal French. She was a French immersion kid! (as in she learned french as she learned english in school growing up)

An amazing cook and loves to cook for her family and friends.

Has a brother and a sister, but she is the oldest. She loves her family and is very protective over them, same with her friends.

A big party-goer and social butterfly, she is the life and light of the party. She stays humble about it, but she can't deny how nice it makes her feel that people like her so much.

Dominates karaoke like it's no ones business. She loves singing and was in the church choir growing up.

She grew up Catholic, but is currently Agnostic.

Still a lesbian, and is very open about it. She is a strong advocate for LGBTQ+ rights and goes to as many Pride Parades as possible during pride month.

LOVES HER GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!! EVEREST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Her favorite way to wear her hair is super long box braids with bright colored weave, usually orange or red, but she's done the whole rainbow before!

Majors in cosmetology!

Wants to be a fashion designer, and is also building a socmed presence!! Her childhood dream was to work at Hollywood as a SFX/Makeup artist! (She still kinda does, but is okay with working for any movie company, honestly)

Has a streetwear and Y2K aesthetic! She likes to explore a bunch of other fashion cultures, but normally ends up falling back to those two as a base/familiar ground.

Is really good friends with Clove! She knows him through Everest, who had befriended him in overlapping college courses. Clove approached Everest and became friends with him before she introduced Clove to Lys. They all like to hang out together :]

Everest:

She is Australiannnnn!!!!

Still albino!

She does have the sensitive skin and eyesight in the modern world, though. She is not genetically modified, therefore she has really powerful glasses and is covered a lot.

Wears a lot of loose flowy clothing and big sunhats to protect himself from the sun.

Also still intersex!

Still feels 60% femme and 40% masc with very little in between. Doesn't mind being referred to as androgyne, but prefers either or, rather than in between.

She is sapphic and horribly in love with her girlfriend, Lys.

Is a lot less morally grey in a modern au and is a lot more like Luna Lovegood, one of her inspirations.

His morality in ALNST comes from the dystopian setting, being used as a toy for the segyein after winning, and being a pet in general. Since that doesn't happen in the modern day, he doesn't have that trauma to influence him.

She takes second place on most visibly autistic. (Ichor takes third)

Majored in Chemistry and wants to be a chemist.

Has overlapping classes with Clove and is friends with him!

Comes from a pretty wealthy family and was raised prim and proper. Her parents believed she'd be better off presenting as a boy, but once she realized her autonomy, she refused it entirely and told her parents that she will live how she wants and that her body is hers to dictate.

Her parents don't like that she switches back and forth between masc and femme, but she could not give less of a fuck and honestly does it a little bit out of spite.

He still loves his parents... kinda. He has the mentality of "they gave me life and raised me, I should be grateful andlove them all the same." He just wishes they weren't so bitchy over his body and what he does with it. They can't say anything either considering he plans on being a chemist, and they're both very fond of the idea that their child is smart and will bring in more money.

They're also lowkey homophobic and only give Lys a pass because they see Everest as a boy more often than not. They still don't quite like Lys because she is a full lesbian/sapphic and sees Ever as femme.

Enjoys travelling a lot!!

Has a socmed presence through Lys and appears as a duo with her a lot. People love them together and give them a lot of the stereo contrasting ship types (fire/ice, blue/red, black/white, etc)

It not famous on her own! I don't think she would actively seek out a socmed presence of her own and would be content with being featured on Lys' socmed. He was only famous in ALNST for winning s36, he did not ask for that.

thats about it!! sorry its so long, but... i love my children... so...

anyways, taglist!! no pressure to respond <3 @rockwgooglyeyes @bluemoonscape @tsukacchako @starry-skiez @junebluues @yunoftheclouds @waterydream @pwippy @ivanttakethis @nottoonedin

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weaselle · 20 days ago

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My perfect day is…

i want to wake up around 6:30 and snuggle someone, have coffee over parallel-play style Gentle Mentals [as in an activity that provides gentle mental stimulation, for example scrolling social media, reading a newspaper, finishing last nights chapter in the book you’re reading, doing a crossword puzzle etc]

Then trade cooking breakfast and clean up with shower times [A showers while B cooks, then B showers while A does final cook phase, plates breakfast and does clean up, and we trade off who is A and who is B depending on how we feel about cooking or cleaning- and when i'm B i'm for sure going to do be doing some breakfasts that are clean as you go finishers so my partner gets a little No Clean Up Surprise some mornings]

Then we eat, dress, and i Clock On For Myself [as an entrepreneur which i am currently trying again because i would really like my own little enterprise instead of working to make other people's dreams come true]

I'd love to spend work time with a partner, either just in the business partnership sense with someone, or with my romantic partner, who could also be my business partner if they were into that like i am, but even if we were just each doing our own work, i’d love to work with my romantic partner even just in a parallel-play sense. Like, even if i have no business partner AND my romantic partner is not my business partner, and i am just hard at work for myself as a small business entrepreneur, then in an ideal world i would like at least part of our workday to be sharing space in some way, just, to feed off each other’s getting-shit-done vibes if nothing else. But it would be nice to be able to idk, complain about a tough client, or brag about a workday accomplishment to each other, maybe eat lunch together or something)

Finish up the day in time to have an afternoon/evening shift for self, i.e. go to the gym, go to a dance class, do a big cooking dinner thing, run errands, whatever.

Have at least an hour of recreation time with partner in the evening. Snuggles and books or a show/movie in bed for favorite. Sleep by 10:30

And then days off where we lean into the romance of the moment.

Uh, you know, when you Lean Into the Romance of the Moment?

Like, if it’s raining, then we we're probably gonna do candles and books and tea or hot cocoa and listen to the rain on the roof, or light a fire in the fireplace and eat stew and binge watch something under the blankets on the couch. That’s what i mean by leaning into the romance of the moment, like if it’s morning and we’re super tired from a hard week or a late night, then we do PJs in the cafe and/or the sunglasses indoors brunch, or the wake and bake cartoons and munchies day, really lean into the romance of the hangover sunday vibe. And if it’s nice and we’re feeling it we go road-tripping or backpacking or kayaking or museum hopping or go-cart racing or nature walking or have some kind of Hallmark Holiday Date experience where we, like, go on a bike ride together and then drink hot pumpkin spice drinks while we wander the local farmer’s market. Oh and the Zoo and probably an amusement park and we could pack a day bag and hop a ferry to the city and do some urban exploration. I just. Want a life where i can live comfortably (rent a decent apartment, save for my old age) with a real partnery partner, and do those kinds of things.

ANYway, that’s what i want. Not that weird to do list i made when i first tried this.

#my life

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asirensrage · 2 months ago

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Saudade - Chapter 6

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: Thank you so much for the comments on the last chapter. I'm so glad you've enjoyed it. I hope you like this one as well. This includes one of my friend's favourite scenes

Please be advised it does follow canon in this next part and that does include canon character death…in a junkyard…where our girl meets some of our favourite siblings ;)

I hope you enjoy it. Your comments mean the world to me. Thank you all.

also on ao3

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Takemichi tries to keep Takara out of the fight. The one that he’s already warned her changes their future and results in Hina’s death. She promises to stay away so that he doesn’t have to worry about her and breaks it the moment he leaves. She’s not about to let her brother do something stupid. Not when she can help.

The junkyard where the fight is organized to happen is easy to find. It takes Takara a little bit to get past some of the people dressed up and getting ready to celebrate the day. Part of her regrets not being involved, being excited to scare others and gorge herself on candy…but she has enough weird things happening in her life. She doesn’t need to search for more.

She pauses at one of the entrances, checking around quickly for the best place to watch this go down. Most of the spots are already taken by various boys wearing signs and colours she doesn’t recognize. The ground is also not solid which means she’s going to have a hell of a time walking over on her wheels. She hears a bunch of voices coming closer from behind and she makes a split decision, heading for a section that’s out of the way but seems manageable to sit at. There’s also not as many men in the area as others but she makes the choice to ask instead of barging in on their area they’ve claimed.

“Hey, you guys mind if I sit with you?”

They look over at her in surprise. She doesn’t know if it was because she hobbled over in her skates or the fact that she asked.

“What are you doing here?” the blond asks.

“I came to see if my brother’s going to get his ass kicked again. Someone’s gotta look out for the punk.”

That gets their attention. “Your brother?” the one with the braids asks.

“Yeah, he’s in the Tokyo Manji gang.”

“You’re fucking brave, aren’t you? You know there’s a reason there are no girls here, right?” the blond asks again.

“Family over gender,” she says, waving it off. “I’ll take off if I need to.”

The two look at each other before the one with the braids nods. “Alright, you can sit. We’ll make sure no one touches you.”

She grins sharply before hopping up on one of the scrap heaps with her hands. “Thanks.” They don’t say anything else, eyes on the groups that are coming in to actually fight. Takara looks, trying to find her brother in a sea of black and bleached hair. It’s harder than she thought it would be. Draken however is easy, both by being tall and in the front. As is the asshole who stole a kiss from her. Her lip curls, unimpressed at the sight of him.

They don’t seem to notice her, at least not at first as their attention is focused on the other gang…until Takemichi yells her name.

“Takara!”

She curses him under her breath as multiple eyes look toward her. “Idiot,” she mutters. The members of Toman frown at her presence, except for Mikey who nods toward her. She’s not worried about them though.

“Come to see me win, princess?” Hanma shouts at her. He’s grinning widely, looking completely unconcerned about the fact he’s about to be in the middle of a major gang fight.

“Only to see you fucking bleed!” she snarls back. He just laughs, as though he expected that response. She turns her attention to Draken who’s watching it all carefully. “Hey! Draken! That’s the asshole I had to teach consent to!”

Draken’s expression darkens just like she expected it to. She remembers the way he reacted to her telling them about it. Hopefully, he’ll take care of that problem.

🐈‍⬛

She doesn't really know what's going on if she's honest. There's a lot happening and she loses sight of Takemichi multiple times as the gangs swarm together. It's only easy to see Mikey once he’s climbed up on the junk pile, even as he looks like he's defeated.

She can sort of make out what the one boy is yelling at Mikey, which makes it seem like there was a bunch of drama behind the scenes that led to this build-up. It wasn’t surprising based on what she remembers her brother and Baji telling her, but it reaffirmed that it was probably one of those things where it all could have been avoided if the boys just had a proper conversation.

She keeps her mouth shut, watching Kisaki make a call to arms to help Mikey. She could see how it looked natural, but based on everything she knows, it feels like a set up. It is too easy, especially with how he slipped through the sea of bodies to make it there. Then…Baji appears, aiming straight for him.

Takara remembers the way Baji told her he had a plan, that it would work but not that it was good and when she sees the one who attacked Mikey sneak up on him, blade glinting in the light as he stabs him, she knows Baji failed. She also knows this has officially gone too far.

She digs out her cell phone, watching Baji force himself to stand, acting like he’s fine. She’s seen enough boys try to hide injuries so they could keep playing over the years, her brother included, to know he’s lying, even at this distance.

“Hey,” she calls out to the two older boys who let her sit with them. “You guys might want to run. I’m calling an ambulance.” They offered to protect her while she was here. The least she could do was give them a fair warning.

“Fight’s not over,” the blond with the glasses points out.

“Yes, it is. Someone brought a knife to a fistfight. That means the rules changed and I’m stepping in before this goes off the rails. No one needs to die for some stupid shit.” She dials the number for emergency while the boys she’s with don’t move. They might rat her out for this, but she’ll take the chance. As soon as someone picks up, she starts talking fast, pitching her voice up higher so it’s less recognizable. “There’s a fight!” She gives off the location before continuing, trying to sound more panicked than she feels. “Someone’s been stabbed! I think they’re really hurt! Hurry!” She hangs up as soon as they confirm that someone is on the way.

The one with the braids shakes his head, seemingly amused. “Get ready to move.”

Glasses glares towards her but Takara simply shrugs back, turning to see Mikey pummeling the one who stabbed Baji. She knows she should be concerned, but that seemed like a logical consequence for trying to murder a friend. Besides, the cops are on their way…even if she should have maybe requested two ambulances…

She watches as Baji calls for Mikey to stop as he stands…and then decides to be dramatic and stab himself. Again.

Takara doesn’t think. She jumps off of the junk that she’s sitting on and hobbles her way over as she hears the boys panic, crying at Baji for what he’s done. No one’s putting pressure on the wound. Honestly, you’d think they were helpless.

She doesn’t listen as people try to stop her, managing to slip out of their grips before she can reach Baji and those who surround him. She can suddenly hear sirens and the panic around her increases. She ignores it, ignores the way Mikey stares at her as she pulls off her shirt and uses it to press against Baji’s stomach wound as she drops to her knees next to him.

“Fucking idiot,” she mutters. Baji just grins at her.

“Worked,” he says back before talking to her brother who moves in next to her, trying to cover her up from the gazes of the boys and men around them. She’s in a sports bra. Even if it’s not something anyone else here is used to, she’s fine.

The one who stabbed Baji is stock still, staying even as Takara has to threaten her brother to leave. She’s not sure who pulls who away as Takemichi and Chifuyu leave, but she throws his jacket to Takashi so there’s no trace him. She doesn’t move, keeping her hands pressed against Baji and telling him that he’s not allowed to die. He grins at her again before passing out and she realizes that she hasn’t stopped the blood from the wound on his back.

“Give me your shirt,” she demands, not even looking up at the attempted murderer.

“What?” he asks, still seemingly in shock. She doesn’t know why. What did he think would happen?

“Your shirt! Now!”

He quickly strips it off, coming to kneel across from her on the other side of Baji. She grabs it and uses it to try to staunch the blood flow from the wound he created.

“Is he..?”

“Shut up!” she snaps. She’s trying to save a friend and the cops are coming and she has to figure out what the story she’s going to tell is. Takara can only try because everyone else is fucking useless including the boy who stabbed her friend in the first place. Just because he’s passed out doesn’t mean he’s dead. There’s still time.

It feels like forever before the ambulance finally arrives, paramedics praising her as they take over. Baji is taken into the ambulance and Takara stands in the junkyard alone, hands covered in blood and surrounded by police as they arrest the boy who stabbed him.

🐈‍⬛

She’s covered with a blanket to give her some sense of modesty. She’s not sure if it’s for her or them. The police can’t seem to decide whether or not to praise her or tell her off for getting involved. Her story was that she was rollerblading and came across the two of them fighting. She saw Baji get stabbed and it devolved from there. She called emergency services and tried to help. That’s how they found them.

She gets charged for being a public nuisance because of her rollerblading, because one of the cops recognized her, but it only comes with a small fine and a warning. She’s forced into slippers and doesn’t get to leave though until she’s picked up by an adult because she’s technically still a minor.

“What about my friend?” she asks once they finally stop repeating their questions. “Is he okay?”

There’s a moment of silence, the officers looking between each other, that tells her everything she needs to know. That explained why they suddenly came in earlier, their questions more demanding than before.

“Oh.”

She had tried. Her hands were still stained with his blood. She could see it in the cracks of her skin and under her nails. She had tried.

“Your friend died in the hospital,” one officer says softly. “They tried but…there–there was too much blood loss and his internal organs were shredded.”

“Fucking idiot,” She mutters again. She doesn’t say anything else.

Takara feels as though she’s been submerged in water as the world moves around her. She can hear her father lecturing her for getting involved but she can’t really make out the words. It’s doesn’t matter. He’s not really hers. He finally falls silent, leaving her to her own thoughts on the ride home.

She walks into the house, still wrapped up in a scratchy blanket, wearing thin slippers that threaten to fall off of her feet as her father tucks her blades away, and Takemichi comes running from the other room. He skids to a stop, looking at her.

“Takara! What happened?”

“Baji’s dead,” she tells him, the simple fact it now is. She hears him protest, demand more information, but she ignores him, moving on autopilot to the bathroom. There is blood on her clothes and her skin. She strips, throwing the clothes in the garbage before stepping into the shower. She turns the water on as hot as she can stand it.

Baji is dead.

They weren’t close, but she liked him. He felt familiar, he made her laugh, and now he was dead because the boys in this world were fucking idiots.

It was a sharp reminder of what awaited them, that the threat that continued to linger over Takemichi’s head waiting to fall in the future was real.

She scrubbed hard at her skin. That was never going to happen to her brother. Just because the boys of this world were idiots, didn’t mean she had to fall into that same trap. Takemichi was going to be fine. She’d make sure of it.

🐈‍⬛

Takara has never been to a funeral like Baji’s.

Takemichi has yet to leave, to go back to his proper place in the future, and he leads her through it, whispering guidance. None of his advice helps when she finds her arms full with a crying older woman who is thanking her for trying to save her son.

“Don’t thank me. It wasn’t enough,” Takara says softly.

“It was,” the woman insists.

She’s never dealt with this before but she hugs the woman back, hearing a voice in her head telling her that everyone deserves comfort, and she offers her apologies and assistance should the woman need it.

The woman pulls back and cups her cheek gently, smiling softly at her as tears fall. “You’re a good girl. Your parents must be proud.”

They barely act like she exists, but Takara nods and Baji’s mother is led away by another relative, back to her position for the wake.

She sits with her brother. Their parents were too busy to attend a funeral for a boy they didn’t know, but they handed them money to contribute and left them to their own devices. They’re surrounded by friends, all of them here to offer their respects.

Chifuyu and Emma are crying, while Draken looks solemn. Mikey looks like he’s still in shock, like he did in the hospital when his men were around him and he was determined to be strong. It looks exhausting.

Takemichi is crying. Of course, he is. She pulls out the tissues she brought in her bag because she knew he would and hands them over to him. Takara stares at Baji’s picture on the altar, listening to the service and the sounds of mourning but she doesn’t really hear it. All she knows is that it won’t be her, she won’t be sitting in a wake mourning again. She’s lost too much already. She won’t lose another brother. Not if she can help it.

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#fic: saudade #oc: takara #tokyo revengers oc #tr oc #tokyo revengers fanfic #sano mikey x oc #haitani ran x oc #hanma shuji x oc

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