#an ironic reading wouldn’t be out of the question

[meli-writes]

Boar and the Lamb - Ch. 01

On her last hunt before a blizzard, Kori stumbles on a chained-up girl unconscious in the snow. Rescuing her is barely the start of Kori's troubles, as the girl is less than pleased to be snowed-in with her.

(Read on AO3)

It can’t be far now, Kori thinks, across the bitter, wind-drifted snows to where a fire, if it still does, burns on her hopes alone.

The cold whistles above her, and snow tips over into her boots. It shrieks in a squall-before-the-squall — a starved vulture stalking a deer upon its last legs, waiting till she can’t stoke from herself another step — and bites at the ends of her countlessly patched-and-resewn cloak, supping curiously on the tender heat of her skin.

Kori’s own deer is dead. And on not a leg at all.

Trussed-and-upturned — antlers snagged off in the deep snow — it carves a wound-in-the-white behind her as she drags it through the now half-buried path of where she trod out to hunt warmer hours earlier. She’d found it eating through the frost-cracked bark to lap at the sap beneath, leaving behind the cold to seep into that tree’s heart and soon kill it. But, when it falls, Kori knows it’ll feed others. As the deer will feed her.

That is if she’s enough of herself left to prepare it; the hope she loses with each step.

Aah. Ahhhh.

Kori rattles her head at the dim wail. Not a deer: the rest of those had scattered at the javelin she’d woven through a dozen trees. It should be the wind but—

Ahh-Hah. Aahhh.

It comes again. Too broken to be the coming storm — and with none of its hunger.

Kori finds her where the wind has too. A girl swallowed into a tree hollow, with tears frozen on her cheeks. The snow melts on her faint hips and wets a thin dress to her sides. Chains clutch even tighter; iron bands around her neck, her wrists, her ankles; links between them till all she can do is huddle into herself.

She doesn’t look up. Hasn’t even noticed Kori is there, doesn’t notice when Kori reaches under her arms to hold her aloft. Head-to-head she doesn’t even reach down to Kori’s knees. Small enough to be Kori’s baby sister — though she wouldn’t be either of those by now.

Before Kori dares think on how much it’ll slow her — kill her — Kori’s wrapped her in the cloak and hurled her over a shoulder, like a servant ferries a carpet.

It can’t be far now.

---

The fire chokes on the air as Kori does. She lets the wobble in her hands stoke the flames, and breathes in its warmth; leaves the girl where it’ll swell over her unblackened skin.

It’s more than a miracle for Kori to look at.

Kori dreads to think about how she got there; can’t help but calculate it. The snows, even in their squall-summoned impatience, would’ve left some kind of track for Kori to spot. Now, or when she’d passed by hours before.

It’s either that, or she’d have found a corpse.

Sometimes, she tells herself, the cold takes its time. And if whatever miracle, the one that didn’t kill her, had changed its mind about this girl, Kori would at least hold her close. Make sure her quiet stoop into death is comfortable and not alone.

But it’s not that, it’s more like: “You must’ve been plucked from the heavens,” Kori thinks out loud, and sweeps off the frosted cloak to let it melt with the deer.

She stops half-turned back — able to pour over what cloak and darkness had hidden from her — because now she sees the knife. Her guts turn to iron; twisted up like chains. Like the ones begging questions out of Kori. Ones with answers too hard for a girl that she thinks would look so soft, if the ice didn’t make her look like she’d snap at the simplest touch.

Still, Kori has to. She pries it carefully from the girl’s hands, eyes the blood all over it and her. It isn’t the girl’s blood.

Not most of it, at least.

Kori pushes aside the reappraisal she’ll have to reckon out of her, because her wet mess of a dress has to come off first and it’ll be better now while she’s too out of it to protest. So, Kori palm-spins the small blade — feels the concerningly familiar shape of its conqueror’s-gold handle takes in her hand — and presses it to the dress’ straps and sides till it pulls off and the scraps trapped under the manacles slip out.

No, none of it hers.

With more wounds than the freshest, but all of them still scabbed or scarred over, Kori’s left with nothing to tend to but how cold she should be. The frostbite would’ve taken her exposed parts first — nose, fingers, ears. Should’ve even in the time it took to reach the cabin; and this should’ve been visible to Kori even before this; and it still isn’t believable to not find even a speck of it now.

Kori knows to trust eyes-and-gut over her head. It trails behind sometimes, and she leaves it to catch up. It can’t be far. Goes off what’s in front of her, and when the tears frozen to the girl have melted, and her skin feels autumn-tepid, Kori buries her in a knitted blanket that makes her bow low and fetal.

Moments after she’s strided over to tend to the deer, Kori hears it tumble to the floor with a wallop. Followed by the ravenous clitter-clank of the girl’s chains.

Kori looks over at her. The wakefulness must’ve returned before the girl’s senses, so she potters over as she tucks the new blade into her belt. She eyes the armchair she can steer the girl into while reassuring her that whoever she’s running from is far enough away for now.

She’ll be scared, surely, but doubtless moderated with some gratitude. But, when Kori reaches out, what she gets instead is:

“Get the FUCK off of me.”

Kori stumbles over one of the deer’s hooves. That shriek would’ve shattered glass if Kori had kept anything as fancy as that. It’s also terribly incongruent with the butchered lamb she’s looking at, who she cautions, “Woah there, sweetheart.” Her throat aches as it remembers how it feels to speak. “You’re in pretty bad shape, and me — I’m here to help.”

“Don’t need your fucking help.”

The girl’s eyes dance between Kori’s and the blade.

“Now — give me the fucking knife,” she commands, with a regal raiment if one forgives all the swearing.

“That… seems like a bad idea?” Kori offers, half-sure the blade will be stuck in her the moment she hands it over. She presses her hand forward again, “And you’re safe here, I promise.”

“And I don’t care,” the girl snarls.

She stalks towards the door willfully now, with none of what Kori said addressed. The wind howls at the shutters as she draws closer, eager for her to waltz onto its white, ice-flecked tongue.

Kori cuts her off. Slides into her path, careful not to touch as she settles where she can block the door and warns, “Hey. Stop!”

The girl’s attention snaps to her with the soft, slow, threatening crack of a frozen-over lake that’s about to collapse beneath you.

“That’s a really bad idea, ya got it?” Kori says. “And the blizzard’s only getting worse right now.”

Even the lone, cast-out wolf needs a den to hide in, come the worst of winter. But, of course—

“I don’t care.”

Kori’s mouthing it as the girl suddenly shoulders past her.

It’s just her elbow she gets caught at, but it’s enough to push her back to the wall, spurned alongside her warnings. Kori snarls. For a moment she knows she shouldn’t have risked her life bringing the girl in; sharing the little she has; but she swallows the anger with the pain.

“Stop, seriously!” she says again, because fuck— fuck if she won’t at least try. “You’ll die out there.”

The girl reaches the door.

“I DON���T CARE.”

She shrieks at the latch, and before she can mess with it Kori rushes up behind and slips her hand under her shoulders, and hoists her up.

Held head-to-head once more, she’s left with no leg to stand on. Because perturbing strength-or-not, Kori is still bigger.

Her arms shudder and flail, but the chain’s don’t let her reach Kori — a guilty sort of blessing to count. Her feet though, those thud into Kori’s thighs and stomach, doubtless leaving more than a couple bruises.

It continues as she’s carried across each room. Kori licks up each blow with no more than a wince of complaint. She learned to keep her mouth shut when her brothers beat her into the dirt, lest she not be allowed to loft the wooden sparring sword and try again — and again, and again — till at last she was the one beating them.

Moreso the wince is for how undignified this all is. She waddles over to the pair of meat hooks where from one she’ll need hang the deer carcass as she skins it, and slips a loop of the chain over the other. When the girl finally stops kicking out, she spins her around.

Kori thinks the glare might kill her.

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

(Read on AO3)

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[friendly-neighborhood-reblogs]

Madame Giry’s line, “I’ve been mother to you and Christine as much as my daughter!” in response to Erik accusing her of stealing Gustave is living rent-free in my head. Like please elaborate. Where are the fics

[alice-everafter]

"Is the room to your liking?"

Riddle's tentative voice rings through the peaceful silence. He's stood like a stranger, unsure and hesitant in his crimson pajamas. Which is ironic given the fact that it’s his own room that the two of you are in. Really, that should be you standing around awkwardly. But instead here you were, sat on his king sized bed in similar pajamas without shame.

"Riddle," you don't have to fake the giddy grin as it stretches across your face painfully wide. "Any room is to my liking considering the shack I currently call home."

He gives you a concerned little smile in response. You couldn’t help it, you were excited to finally be able to sleep on a mattress that wasn’t lumpy. Or creaky. And or slightly moldy. The point being you’re excited to get some good sleep.

Riddle flicks off the lights and starts to settle into bed. You follow his lead, because if there is one thing Riddle Rosehearts can do is be a commanding presence even in satin pjs.

He turns on his side, staring at you from across a reasonable gap given the fact that you were currently sharing a bed. A really big one at that but a bed regardless.

And then continues to stare as a questionable silence occurs.

“Do you always go to bed this early?” You blurt out before you can think any better of it. The awkwardness was just asking to be broken.

“This is early?” Riddle’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “I’ve always gone to bed at this hour, even as a child.”

You can just vaguely make out the light of the still setting sun from the window behind you.

“Well, I mean, what time do you normally get up?”

“6 am.”

“Oh,” well. Maybe he’ll let you sleep in, enjoy the luxury of a non-lumpy bed while you still can.

“You seem apprehensive.” Riddle fiddles with the blanket in his hands where it rests right below his chin. You try and shoo the imagery of a small child being tucked in out of your brain.

Thank god his unique magic didn’t have to do with reading minds, otherwise you’d be thrown to the streets with a collar as a parting gift.

Speaking of collars and lack there of, today had marked a month since Riddle’s “big summer blowout” as you have codenamed it as. And what started as a ���1 month of sobriety” joke by Ace turned into an actual celebration by Cater. So, naturally, you dragged yourself along and helped yourself to Trey’s mouthwatering pastries. But then one thing led to another and somehow you were roped into playing a Twisted Wonderland version of Monopoly that led to Grim melting all the plastic house pieces in a fit of firey tantrum to then being forced to fix them by Riddle in an impromptu magic lesson/lecture and—

Yeah, so a lot happened. And next thing you know, you’re being surveilled watched by Trey as you meticulously brush your teeth along to his direction… for some reason? Turns out Ace wasn’t spewing complete lies about Trey’s “fetish” for teeth. You wouldn’t call it that, personally. It was more like a… slightly uncomfortable passion.

But anyway, here you are. Sleeping over at Heartslabyul because Riddle had insisted you and Grim stay the night since by the time you had realized, it was past curfew. Though, surprisingly, Riddle insisted that you share his bed. And Grim, still more than a little apprehensive about the Dormhead, scampered off to sleep with the other freshmen. Cramped dorm rooms be damned.

“Prefect?”

You shake yourself from your thoughts, realizing you had left Riddle hanging for your answer.

“No, no. I’m just… difficult to get up in the morning.” You settle on saying, fiddling with the comforter much like Riddle was.

“Oh, well you can’t be worse than Ace. He’d sleep the entire day away if I allowed it.”

You can see that familiar spark of disapproval flare up behind his eyes and you instinctively tense up. Though as quick as it was there, it fizzles out. Reminding you that yes, this was Riddle, but not the same one that nearly decapitated you with a rose bush.

This is the one that you saw break down in tears on the Heartslabyul lawn after treating it like a playground sandbox. The one that nearly did it again—the crying part, not the sandbox bit—as he pulled you aside and apologized for nearly killing you.

You remind yourself that as you decide to take a small leap of faith with your next words.

“I was also sort of hoping to sleep in tomorrow.”

“Oh,” is all he says. Which isn’t terrible, but not exactly good either.

“Since, you know. It’ll be Sunday. And, you know, still the weekend so. Good to get caught up on sleep while you can… you know.”

He’s analyzing what you’ve said, you can tell by the way his eyes get wide and concentrated. Oh, he’s biting his lip now. That means he’s actually considering your thoughts. He’s thinking, he’s about to speak—

“Alright.”

“…Alright?”

“Yes, alright.” He seems to solidify his answer with a nod. “Let’s sleep in.”

Those words settle in your chest like the sweetest relief.

“Brilliant idea, Riddle!” You can feel the excitement as it grows in your chest. So much so you reach over and grasp his hand, shaking it in emphasis. “You won’t regret this, I tell you.”

“You’re acting like I’ve just done something revolutionary.” He titters, cheeks pink from the unexpected contact as you basically start shaking his hand like an eager businessman after a hard won deal.

“How many times have you slept in before?”

He opens his mouth to respond, ponders, and then slowly shuts it.

“See! So it's basically revolutionary. Why do you think we threw you a party?"

"Oh, and that's another thing." He seems to remember something at the mention of the party. "The fact that Ace and Cater kept congratulating me on my '1 month of sobriety' is pure nonsense. I've never had a lick of alcohol my whole life, so why would I be sober if I never got not sober to begin with?"

As he rambled, you could see his confusion slowly shifting towards indignance. His cheeks were beginning to flush, eyebrows knitting together. His fingers were clenching and unclenching in the sheets pulled over his body.

He looks at you now with pursed lips, bordering on pouty, waiting for a reply.

"...Well, it's a, um..." You stop yourself from saying joke. If you wanted Riddle to not possibly get offended, you'd need to overexplain as much as he can overthink. "It's supposed to be ironic. As in like, 'haha get it? Riddle would never get drunk and therefore sobriety makes no sense and therefore is funny!' kind of ironic."

You subconsciously ended up avoiding eye contact throughout your entire explanation. And also leaving out the comparison of his... "moments" with alcoholism, since you didn't think that would go over very well. So when you finish and decide to just bite the bullet and look, his expression is one of... disappointment?

"Oh," he says, simply and softly. "I see, I guess that... makes sense."

...Maybe you should explain the comparison. "If you need me to elaborate, I can."

"No," he quickly responds with a shake of the head. "That won't be necessary. Your explanation was more than enough."

His eyes are trained on a loose piece of thread near the edge of his pillow yet it's like he's staring straight through it.

"Is there... something else then that's on your mind?"

"I guess I am just... realizing a few things about myself. Especially in regards to these past few months. All those times when I overheard a student comment that I 'couldn't take a joke' were, in essence, correct."

"What?" Talk about a topic shift. "Wait, hold on a second, where did this come from?"

"From just now, actually." He begins picking at the thread he's been zoning out on. "I mean, you saw me. I almost talked myself into a tizzy over, what? A harmless phrase that had no intention of demeaning my character? That ended up turning into a party meant to congratulate me?"

"Well, I mean, there is an underlying comparison between your 'tizzy' moments and alcoholism so—"

"Ace was right."

You blink, momentarily wondering if the person laying across from you is actually Riddle or not.

"How?" You don't bother with hiding your incredulousness, too confused to sugarcoat.

"When he said that everyone around me only panders to my behavior." He huffs, a small humorless laugh filled with self deprecation. "I, all that time, was just silencing thoughts and behavior that I viewed as wrong even though it would've been right. It's no wonder some of the freshman are still hesitant with me. Why it feels like everyone is walking around eggshells when they talk to me."

"Even you, Prefect." He looks... small, truly like a child. Curled into himself like he wishes to disappear from sight. Blinking rapidly like he's trying not to cry. "Even you do it. You let me do what I want, you're never 100% honest with me, and you justify my responses. Like just now."

You open your mouth to rebuttal, but he shakes his head, smiling sadly.

"Don't bother, I can give you examples. Asking me if we could sleep in, expecting me to disagree. Only half explaining the meaning to me since it'd be directly referencing my anger. Which you have yet to actually name for what it is, not once."

You... hadn't even realized you were doing that. It was all just, natural. Instinctive.

"I can... I'm not the most perceptive but, I can tell when you tense up, Prefect."

He meets your gaze, and that's when you process the tension in your shoulders. You had been tensing them, for who knows how long.

"I don't blame you," he speaks before you can begin to try and say anything in response. "Not after everything I did, not after I overblotted and nearly got us all killed."

He looks defeated as he turns over to lie on his back, staring up at the canopy of his bed.

"Ace and all of them were right, I'm just a baby tyrant."

The two of you lapse into silence, you with nothing to say and him having said it all. You don't know how long you stare at his profile for, just scraping the recesses of your brain for the words to say. But eventually, you decide "fuck it" and just let him have it. Like he deserves.

"So you're a bit of a control freak." His head snaps to you but you force yourself to ignore it, barreling onwards. "Scratch that, you ARE a control freak. Can you blame yourself? What with that shitty mom you have, I'd be surprised if you didn't turn out some form of fucked up."

"My mother is—"

"Nope," you abruptly hold a finger up right to his face. "None of that, I'm talking. You want the truth so I'm giving you the truth. Your mom sucks, severely. She basically made you into the baby tyrant that you are. And we, as friends and as your dormmates, have perpetuated that attitude. Thereby continuing the cycle of tyranny until when someone eventually called you out on it, you exploded."

All that momentary fight dies out the more you went on. Every new statement was like a lash across his face. Now he refuses to look at you, too disappointed to meet your gaze. Eyes glossy with unshed tears.

You cross the invisible wall between you two and reach out, grabbing his hand once again in yours.

"But that doesn't mean you can't change." You squeeze his hand, whether to reassure yourself or him is beyond even you. "The fact that you're acknowledging your behavior is proof enough that you're on your way to fixing it. But even then, healing isn't linear. If you take a few steps back, just get back on it again. It's going to be a while but there's nothing you can do about that except let it happen and be patient. Don't let every reminder of your faults be a dissuasion, let it be a motivator to keep going."

You take a moment to breathe, but also to gauge his reaction. Wide eyed and staring at you in wonderment, Riddle lays unmoving. Nothing but the dim impression of street lights outside to illuminate his form in the darkness of his bedroom. Looking at you and only you.

"I'll do better," you tell him, resolute. "I'll hold you accountable. I'll remind myself more to say what I mean, or even call you out on your shit if I need to. And if not me then someone else will, especially Ace. Consequences be damned with him."

He's lying once more on his side, mirroring you like before. His fingers have since found their place around your hand, holding it in kind. His grip tightens with the lull in your speech. You don't know whether it was intentionally or not but it's enough to encourage you to let that last little thought out.

"And for what it's worth, I think you're doing as good a job as any, Riddle."

Silence settles in, him with nothing to say and you having said it all. Well, almost having said it all.

"So," you pipe up before those tears you can see in his eyes decide to fall. "I think this call for a concluding hug, what do you say?"

So, so many emotions fly across his face as you hold open your arms as best you can while lying on a bed. Eventually, what he settles on doing is laughing. Watery and in disbelief, Riddle laughs and leans forwards into your arms.

"Honestly," he chides without an ounce of real intent as he presses his face into your shoulder. "That's how you decide to end your thoughts?"

"I don't see you doing any better, Mr. 'I'm just a baby tyrant.'"

A month ago, that response would've gotten you a one way ticket to collar town. But tonight, he only laughs and holds you tighter.

"Touché, Prefect." He leans back enough that you're able to watch as a smile spreads across his face, unabashed and bright like the sun.

It's one of the firsts of its kind that you've ever seen on his face. You hope you can keep producing more just like it.

[venuslarkspur]

Teen Hero Shenanigans

Part 2

We Were Written In The Stars, Boyfriend Of Mine.

Summary: Your Damian’s Twin Sister, after arriving 3 years after your brother, you never excepted to take the Robin mantle, until your brother runs away and you volunteer to take his place. Damian eventually returns and you are discharged from the role, after bottling up your anger you decide to go solo by running away and stealing the Batgirl. But you’re not alone, your sort of boyfriend joins you. The main problem is the boyfriend in question is your brother’s best friend, Jon Kent.

Pairing: Jon Kent x Batsis!Reader on this one. Mentions of platonic batfam and reader.

Notes: Sorry this took so long and it’s shorts I have an exam in 2 days 😢 - ONLY HALF PROOF-READ IM SORRY. Just pure Jon and Reader today

Warnings: Mentions of past child abuse, vomiting, derogatory language, cuts and bruises. Reader has some childhood ptsd.

Words: 1.6k

This morning was significantly quiet, sitting on the windowsill of what was your new home you hadn’t heard a scream in the last 12 hours, no petty purse snatching in sight. There were some clouds in the sky, it was never this nice in Gotham, too much pollution. But the harsh breeze against your skin reminded you of what life was like in the mountains training with your grandfather, it really made you think of how ironic it was that you always got Damian’s sloppy seconds. First being heir of the league of assassins, then being Robin, but now you have something that’s yours; the sleeping boy in the bed. Next to you. Even though he was technically Damian’s first, he doesn’t get to see him this way.

You dabbed your wounds again and let out a disgruntled noise upon hitting a bruise, you grabbed some honey and dabbed it on the dried up cut. You had gotten into a confrontation last night and you weren’t expecting for the low level thug to have some backup. Long story short, he had a ridiculously big group of goons and Jon had to come and help. Let’s hope they all had health insurance for the beating you both gave them. But you couldn’t lie, without your father or siblings there you felt like a rogue, even when you were fighting crime with Jason you never felt this out of place. You felt like you would relapse at any moment and forget your new ways. You never took pleasure in killing, it’s just how your grandfather taught you. Nobody taught you about redemption, you were just explained the world in black and white.

Luckily, you had Jon if you ever nearly slip up. You hadn’t looked at your phone in 3 good days and you had been happy that way, you missed them, even your father to an extent but you also knew proving yourself was important. The highlight of all of this was Jon, sure breaking a few scum noses was nice too. But nothing beats the adrenaline of going on patrol together and the press wondering when you two became an item, you leave as quickly as possible though; you can’t risk your family coming to get you or Jon’s for that matter. It was a bit easier for Jon, his parents trusts him and loves him. Your family loves you too, but if Bruce trusted you then why fire you?

“Ouch.” You murmur after hitting a particularly sensitive bruise, deciding that’s enough and wanting to spend some more time with Jon before your patrol, you slip back next to him; ruffling his hair and trying to shuffle as close as humanely possible, the more you shuffled the more healed you felt by the moment, not just physically but mentally as well. There was so many things to tell him, about your overbearing mother? Or maybe almost being disowned by your grandfather? But you didn’t wanna tell him things he wouldn’t know what to do with. So you embrace him and he gets the message and pulls your waist around him, which made you hope the morning would never end.

————————

“I received a call from Clark this morning.” Bruce said sternly to almost all his children, they all sat on the couch, “Clark? has he found her?” Stephanie spoke up first, her eyes widened with hope as Barbara placed a hand on her shoulder. “Steph..” she said whilst rubbing her back to comfort her. “Well, what did he say?” Barbara asked, Bruce let out a sigh and faced his kids.

“You all remember Jon right?” They all nodded in unison and mutual confusion, “Well, recently Jon has gone off too, they think around the same time as your sister.”

“What are you saying?”

————————

“You okay?” Jon asked as you searched the knocked out drug dealer in front of you. “Absolutely nothing, no leads.” You replied, you’ve been trying to find the boss of a local drug cartel but you’ve had no luck. “Babe, I was asking about you.” He looked down at his shoes before moving over to you. His glowing features making you forget about the filthy, rat infested alley. “Ups and downs, some days I really miss my family.” You look down and don’t realise the thug under you has woken up and has now broken out of his restraints. “I’ll get you for this you slu-“ he lunges at you seething with anger; but you swiftly move out of the way and restrain his hands before Jon hastily pins him to the ground again, using his weight against him. “You brats..” you role your eyes and gesture Jon to walk away with you, and you nearly did until for the first time you lost sense of self.

“You fucking cunt! Look at me!” The thugs screams and you pull Jon along, nothing he can say to you can do anything, you’ve heard it all, well until he reopened some old wounds; emotional wounds. “You are nothing bitch!” You stop dead in your tracks, Jon looking at you with extreme concern and wondering what changed. Immediate memories flood in, Damian leaving, your grandfather working you to the bone after his disowned, former heir left. Harsh days that ended in you holding your stomach and trying to keep your breakfast from coming up, which didn’t always work and wasn’t always pleasant. Vomiting blood was the worst of it after you were hit a bit too hard and were left clenching onto your stomach for dear life.

“On your feet.” A grating voice that resembled your grandfather spoke, were you having a panic attack? All you knew is you were reliving you worst memories. Please I don’t want to remember! I won’t. “Do you want to be meaningless? Pick up your sword and face me, I won’t allow you to fail.” You wondered if your mother even cared, she would carefully ogle your hands at night, commenting on how your once porcelain, delicate, hands were now ruined. But she did nothing about it, you wanted to be the heir; but not like this. You risked being disowned too if you even asked about your father or brothers, so you didn’t. You just didn’t,

“Babe? Are you okay?” A familiar voice said, you were now acutely aware you were out of the alley and lifted into your boyfriend’s arms. “You were in a daze..I couldn’t wake you up I’m sorry.” He looked down whilst placing you guys atop a nearby building, “it’s okay, I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before.” Jon offered you and sympathetic look before taking one of your hands in his, “I wanted to show you something to make you feel better.” You tilted your head, wondering what he had planned.

“Come.” He said and slowly lifted his feet of the group flying upwards, you were also gently lifted off the ground; surprisingly, no strain, only his gorgeous features. “Only a little longer now.” He said as he went further up in the sky only a bit stray of the clouds, he quickly shifted you upwards into the bridal carry. “Sorry if this isn’t a comfortable position, I wanted you to be facing me; since you’re my equal and everything..” he spoke in a shy tone, without hiding the faint blush on his face. Your heart was melting, he might as well take it for himself. But you wouldn’t say that to him, could ruin the mood. “I’m plenty fine here.”

“Good we are here.” He took his fingers and lifted your chin upwards; you were met with a vast sea of glowing stars, because of the pollution in Gotham; you never saw this many. You had never felt so loved in your life, so validated, so cared for. You started shedding tears and hugging into his chest, “Shit-oh sorry I didn’t realise this would-I’m so sorry-“ Jon said scrambling to rub your back and pepper your forehead with kisses to repay you. “No, Jon, happy tears I promise.” You say softly and his calms and he places his chin on the top of your head, “This is why you’re the only person I’ve ever let into my heart in this sort of way..” You utter and Jon has to hold back some tears of his own, “Thank you.” You move in closer and grab his face to kiss him, and it seems like it lasts forever before you both pulled away gasping for breath.

“I think I-“ you scramble to get your words together, feeling everything so intensely, until your finally get it together. “I love you so much Jonathan Kent.”

“I love you.” You finish, staring directly into his eyes, “I love you too.” He said, matching your gaze. “I love you so much more.”

Tag list: @waterwyne @venusmorning @planetlotus @sugarrush-blush @skepvids @dreaming-of-the-reality @otterluver05 @godoreo22 @earth-to-name @krys0210 @jisnothere

It wouldn’t let me tag a few people so please check your settings if you asked to be a tagged and weren’t! (Sorry for the inconvenience)

Thank you for all the lovely support <3 it’s definitely helped me finish this part off and it’s very appreciated. 💕

Next Part: Robin Vs Batgirl (yes it’s getting dramatic in this one.) NEXT PART IS OUT.

[angellic4l]

la vita è bella - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader and season2!spencer see a foreign film together after work.

content: fem!reader and season2!spencer, they’re so in loveee, fluffy fluff, mentions of drinking but no one actually does it, brief mention of spencer’s germaphobia, mention of the holocaust and ww2.

a/n: i wrote this all in one go bc my draft that i’m working on is so not ready, so i apologise if it’s bad. also, la vita é bella means life is beautiful, the Italian name of the film, which is why i called the fic that. WAIT I JUST READ IT AND I NEED TO SAY I DON’T THINK ELLE IS MEAN I LOVE ELLE! anyway, kisses!!

After a pretty rare, uneventful day at the BAU - just hours of paperwork, filing, reports, and a lot of team banter - the team of profilers begin to pack up. Coats are lifted from the backs of chairs, bags slung over shoulders, chairs put under desks, and a chorus of contented sighs coming from the agents.

The team, bar Hotch and Gideon, begin to make their way to the elevator together, walking in a huddle on their way out of work while making light conversation about their plans, considering everyone’s getting out early today.

“I say we all go the bar, a few drinks, maybe some darts, and lots of fine women,” Morgan suggests with a smirk, patting Spencer on the back when he says ‘fine women’.

Elle and JJ laugh, the thought of Spencer trying to talk to ‘fine women’, as Morgan called them, an amusing thought to the two of them.

Spencer, who’s walking in between you and Morgan, pushes his glasses up his nose with his index finger, his face sporting one of his infamous looks you’ve come to know, his brows furrowed as he silently questions Elle and JJ’s laughter.

“Actually, I was going to go and see a foreign film downtown, if any of you want to come. It’s an Italian film, but I can whisper translate, called ‘Life is Beautiful’, which is kind of ironic because it’s about a Jewish man and his son becoming victims of the holocaust, but-“ Spencer’s cut off by a comment from Elle about him being ‘dorky’, his face loses the small smile he’d had while talking about the film, and his once gesturing hands fall to his sides.

You think your heart might’ve actually shattered at the sight, Spencer’s dejected look never becoming easier to see, no matter how many times you do see it. The other three agents agree to go to the bar together while you and Spencer remain silent, walking in step with each other.

“You coming, sunshine?” Morgan asks, looking past Spencer to gaze at your face, Elle and JJ turning their heads slightly to look at you stood behind them, all of you coming to a stop at the elevator doors.

“No, I think I just want to have a quiet night in. I hope you guys have fun, though,” you reject them, a small smile on your face because only you know what you’re actually going to do.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

All of you step out of the FBI building, JJ, Morgan, and Elle splitting off to head to the bar, Spencer walking through the parking lot and starting his journey to the metro station, while you wait for the other 3 to be gone.

It’s not because you’re embarrassed of Spencer, no, you wouldn’t have cared about offering in front of the others, but you knew he’d probably be teased for it, and that’s the last thing you want. He’s so sweet to everyone, unbelievably kind to you, but everyone teases him regardless. It hurts your heart every time he goes quiet after being told to ‘shut up’ or someone comments on his rambling.

Once you’re sure Morgan, JJ, nor Elle are in earshot, you hurry over to Spencer’s slender figure that’s slowly dissipating, emerging with the dark night sky, becoming nothing but a shadow as he gets further.

“Spence! Wait, come back!” You call out, quickly realising his long limbs are no match for you and he was getting further by the second.

Spencer stops almost immediately, spinning on his heels when he hears your voice. He could recognise it anywhere, your sweet, melodic voice engrained into his brain; it’s one of his favourite things about you, how each word you speak seems to be infused with honey, ringing out sweet and soft.

Although, even if your voice is sweet and soft, despite the fact that you’re shouting, adrenaline spikes in his body - Why are you shouting him? Are you hurt? Are you okay? - the questions plague his mind, increasing his heart rate faster than anything ever has before. That’s saying something, considering he sees dead bodies, crime scenes, and confronts serial killers almost weekly.

Spencer’s legs have carried himself over to you before he’d even processed it, his own mind had distracted him, thoughts had clouded his head, and he only realises he’s stood in front of you and that you’re okay when he hears your melodic voice again.

“Spence? Spencer? Are you okay?” You ask, brows furrowed ever so slightly and pink lips pouted to express your concern for the brunette boy.

You didn’t ask him to ‘snap out of it’, make a joke about him being stuck in his big brain, or say ‘are you even listening?’. No, you just asked if he was okay. Spencer smiles softly at that, another gentle reminder that you really are an angel personified, despite his agnostic beliefs, regardless of whether he prays to a God or not, you are angelic to him.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay,” Spencer reassures you, the soft smile on his face still there as he looks down at you. His brain catches up after he stops being dazed by your seemingly divine presence, in his opinion.

“You called me over, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay. Could I come and see that movie with you? I know some Italian and you said you’d whisper translate.”

Standing in the middle of Quantico’s parking lot, the pair of you clad in thick coats due to the recent spike in cold weather, your head tilted back so that you can look up at Spencer and his tilted down so that he can see you. You watch Spencer’s face go from a small smile to a full blown grin, his teeth peaking out from behind his pink lips making your heart warm in your chest, winter weather aside.

“Yeah? You’re serious?” Spencer asks, you nod.

“I’ll drive us there, no need for the metro. I’ll take you home, too,” you say, dangling your keys on your ring finger. The pair of you begin to walk to your car as Spencer explains what the movie is about, not being cut off this time.

In the car on the way there, he starts to talk about WW2, rattling off all of the details he knows about it, mainly ones he thinks will be relevant for context to the film. Smiles rest on both of your faces as he does so, his hands moving frenetically as he talks. When you know what he’s talking about, you’ll wait for him to finish before talking yourself, but mostly, you just listen to him.

Spencer stays true to his word and whisper translates the film to you, his voice in your ear something you like much more than you probably should, close proximity between the two of you because of it. His head is tilted towards you, lips by your ear but not so close that all you hear is his breath, Spencer’s very mindful of that.

At some point, you both reach for the popcorn between you without looking, his hand coming to rest on top of yours in the bucket. Suddenly, you’re very thankful for the dark room hiding the pink tint of your cheeks, completely unaware that he’s thinking the same thing.

Retracting his hand from the bucket quickly, he whispers a small “sorry,” secretly hating the loss of contact with your smooth, silky skin, warm fingers, no longer under his.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, eyes never leaving the screen in front of you for fear of him seeing the blush that’s painted your cheeks. You reach into your bag and hand him a hand sanitiser, knowing how he is with germs.

Spencer can’t help but wonder if you carry this just for him as he takes the clear bottle from his hands, reading the label as best as he can in the dim theatre and learning the hand sanitiser smells like vanilla. So do you, he notes, and he decides he doesn’t mind his hands smelling like you, in fact, he actually quite likes it.

An hour into the film, despite your best efforts not to, you succumb to sleep, the sound of Spencer’s voice in your ear every few seconds, the dim room, and how warm you are all lulling you into the unconscious state you currently find yourself in. Well, Spencer finds you in that state when your head drops to his shoulder, looking down at you through his glasses, and realising you’d fallen asleep.

He blushes at the sight of your head on his shoulder, the weight of it grounding him and sending him to some extreme height at the same time, your hair splayed over his shoulder making him smile to himself. In this moment, he decides that, despite all of the horrors he sees daily, the trauma he was subjected to growing up, and everything else in between, life is beautiful.

[kaeyeahsworld]

The Right Choice

content warning: mild abusive relationship, thoughts of cheating (but none actually) scumbag ex, mild violence, regret, big dick toji, eating out, female reader, fingering, orgasm, 18+, angst bcs I love writing it.

A/N: another tattoo artist Toji brain rot. Not proof read or edited pls don’t come after me, come after or for toji which ever works for u :D

It had been an entire year of your scumbag boyfriend setting up his own tattoo parlour right along side Toji’s.

Although in the initial days, your boyfriend’s place had done better compared to Toji’s simply because he was loud and obnoxious enough about his work, but when ultimately it came to finesse in the art Toji remained undefeated.

Toji’s calm but awkward manner with the clients made him an instant favourite in stark contrast to your boyfriend who only cared about the bucks.

With the tattoo parlours being almost beside each other, you often bumped into him. The first few times were just awkward but prolonged eye contacts, that went ahead to subtle smiles and Toji’s crinkling eyes, which at last proceeded to an awkward conversation.

“I see you around a lot. You work here?” He somehow mustered up the courage to ask you that, praying to the saints he hadn’t come off as creepy or overbearing.

Toji could never forget the first time he had laid his eyes upon you. It was late in the night while he was closing down, when he heard some voracious laughter coming off from Zack’s parlour. On the usual, he wouldn’t give two fucks if someone was even dying on Zack’s side but when curiosity got the best of him, he turned around and glimpsed at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.

Only for the rose coloured glass to be broken when he got to know that you were dating Zack. The most narcissistic piece of douche Toji had ever come across.

He initially thought you might have been the same and somehow kept convincing himself to keep away, but none of that worked when you guys had started conversing.

You had met Zack at a concert and not knowing better started dating him and the year since then had been..well, bleak to say the least.

Zack was beyond your comprehension. He was everything you wished you were- loud, confident but the more you came closer to his world, the more distant you felt from him. The Zack that doted on you in the beginning and made out sloppily with this stinky breath was nowhere to be found these days. The Zack that was all up for late night video calls was now the same one who would leave you on delivered for 24 hours straight. Or should you say a different one. Still, you were a stubborn little one. Refusing to accept the reality of the situation.

To the add to the whole thing, was the guilt that was brought upon by your little crush on Toji. You would never cheat on your guy, but god Toji felt like he was everything you deserved and more.

His intense lingering gazes, his soft smiles, his gentle demeanour but the strength that had come with it. It gave you all the right shivers.

Ironically, the first time you guys spoke to each other was when you were trying to escape your boyfriend who was fighting with a customer about the design, when you had accidentally bumped into Toji.

Noticing the inked beauty peaking out on his forearm, you immediately realised that this was your favourite artists design.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah” Toji looked at you, trying to not let his heart eyes show,

“Is your tattoo Miyazaki’s work?” This question genuinely surprised Toji and gosh he prayed to the heavens to warn him if this is the part where he falls head over heels for you.

“Ya know him?”

“OF COURSE I DO??” You had screamed and almost pounced on his arm to admire the man’s work.

Toji had wondered then how your eyes would light up if you got to know he had trained under the said artist.

Fast forward past a few more of “accidental” bumps into each other, and some lighthearted conversations about everything and nothing under the sun, in a few moments and both of you could sense the undeniable attraction you had felt towards each other.

But neither of you ever crossed the line. You were a woman, taken, and he was a man who respected your choices no matter how strange or..shitty.

You couldn’t help but notice how different Toji was around you and when you were together with Zack.

The kind demeanour he held was immediately replaced by indifference whenever he would see you with your boyfriend who would pass on a snarky reply just to irk the said man.

Toji could easily give Zack 2 broken legs with how big he was, but one look into your doe eyes and he couldn’t even bring himself to look in your direction except throwing a finger off to the other guy.

But nothing could keep you away from each other especially during those lonely wistful nights.

You lying in your bed with your fuck ass boyfriend wasted somewhere, fingers plunging deep into your warm cunt and a heart full of regret, guilt and most of it all, lust for Toji. Nights that went away calling out his name in small whispers imagining his large hands that would envelope you and touch in all the right ways nobody ever could. Making you see stars and kissing you through the bliss.

Toji was no better. Stroking his cock in anguish, lusting after you like a beast in heat. Your plump lips, your sexy fucking hips that he would dip kisses all over, if you were his, your luscious skin that he would worship and mark, you were going to be the death of him.

But when the nights slipped away and dawn broke and as in when in you guys bumped into each other, it was the same all over. Hidden glances and lazy longing that would never translate into something more.

Until it had.

You shouldn’t have come to the parlour today. Things had been rocky between you and Zack for a few weeks now.

He had been smoking up all the money and refusing to take even the simplest of clients just out of sheer audacity and worst of all, paid no heed to your words more than ever.

Going to the parlour, at 2 am in the night after getting a call about the ruckus your boyfriend had caused and setting the damn curtains on fire, you immediately ran over only to come across the most drunk and high Zack had ever been, amidst scattered flames.

You knew from your experience to be better than to be around him when he intoxicated but the situation at hand was not helping. If only you hadn’t invested money out of blind stupidity into his tattoo parlour, maybe you would have been spared this ordeal today.

“Drag this bastard away miss OR we are gonna call the cops on y’all” said a stranger trying to control him.

“I’m so sorry about this”

“WHO…THE FUCK..lem..me gooo you little..bitch..”

“Baby listen to me, you aren’t in the right mind let’s get out of here..”

Zack had always been rough with you but never violent but it seemed like that was about to change tonight, when he grabbed you by your shirt collar and harshly dragged you towards him.

”ZACK! LET..ME GO!”

“Fuck youu..you” but before he could bring his face towards you, came a dangerous hit that probably bore into the drunkard’s skull.

“Hands away you sick fuck.” said the seething voice.

It was Toji. More than the pain, all you could think about was the relief that had washed over you on seeing Toji’ eyes that were ablaze with fury.

Before you could even say anything, he grabbed your wrist towards his motorbike and plopping helmets on both of you, drove away to your address.

He drove like the man he was at the moment- fast, angry and menacing. You clutched onto his waist for you dear life and that was the only thing, that calmed Toji a little bit.

You were here, he was here with you and you were safe and that was all he needed.

But in the half an hour that he drove both of you in utter silence, the events of the night slowly came crashing back to you.

Longing that turned into regret and that had now taken its ugly form of shame. Shame for who you were and who you had chosen to be with.

Sensing your hasty breaths on his back, Toji slowly parked his bike near the sea shore.

Even with unbearable longing like his, Toji had made it a point to never touch you. He would only do that when you were his completely mind, body and soul.

Tonight was the first time and he didn’t like it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to face Toji and when he slowly grabbed your chin to look at him, the sight before him tore his heart apart.

Tears welled up in your eyes and dripped down your soft cheeks like pearls, if Toji was a god he would be raging a war by now. But he was a mere mortal and all he could do was engulf you into him. Arms all around, caging you and protecting you, while you stained his jacket with your sobbing.

After the night had passed and somehow returning to your apartment with his help, you didn’t leave the confines of it for almost 2 weeks. Except for the occasional knocks from the said man or a get well soon bouquet, he had not spoken a word more to you, just as you hadn’t.

Both of you knew it was your decision in the end.

Almost as a sign, you got the news from your friends that Zack had ran away the same night as the police tried to catch a hold of him. Nobody knew where to and neither of them cared enough to find out.

The last checkpoint was having a conversation with Toji.

As you slowly approached his parlour, the ever so familiar but distant end of the tattoo street, one end of which was burnt ashes and the other end bustling with less customers compared to the usual, you awkwardly knocked on the clean glass door.

“Here inside” said Toji’s low baritone from the room within, as you noticed him deeply zoned in into his work on an old man and mistaking you for a customer.

You decided to wait outside in the waiting hall. It felt only right. It was only right to apologise for whatever had happened.

He had waited for you so patiently always, a steady wall that you had come to lean on unknowingly through the past few months and he never once asked anything in return. You loved him and you would wait for him just as long.

After being done and billing up the customer half an hour later, Toji peeked into the waiting hall to see who had checked in while he was working when his heart raced at the sight.

Here you were, in a soft white dress that had flown gently till your knees and straps falling agonisingly over your shoulder, looking like the sweetest angel and not to forget, with a small flower in hand. A delicate little rose and upon seeing Toji in all his black top and pants glory your heart welled up just as much as.

“Toji…I didn’t want to disturb you..so”

“You should have. You can always disturb me you know that right?”

He wanted to hug her. Touch her face, kiss her locks and smooch her lips. His restraint was a tight string waiting to break.

“Why are you here, Y/N?” His voice came off tighter than usual. With tears in your eyes and slowly offering him the small flower you found on your way here, you asked him

“Toji, can I get a tattoo?”

This took him by surprise. He didn’t know what he was expecting but tattooing you was definitely last on his list. Heaving a sigh, he gently took your fingers and the flower and moved you into the room with all his equipment.

Nobody had given him flowers before. The simple gesture had set in an ache for your being that he couldn’t ever define even if he wanted to.

If you wanted to do it his way, so be it.

“Where do you want your tattoo miss? Based on that I can tell you how painful—“

“My lower back”

“What—“ before he could even say anything, you were stripping down from your dress, locking the door while Toji’s mind was reeling.

2 weeks you had disappeared and now you were here in front of him , half naked.

“You favourite work of Miyazaki. Can you ink it on me Toji?” Of course he would. He could never say no to you. Not when you looked so sweet, sitting right in his chair looking up at him with heart eyes. Legs on display all for him. In nothing but soft lace panties.

“Fuck…darling, what are you doing to me..” he said as he slowly grabbed a delicate stencil of one of his favourite art, a pattern of the moon, the cherry blossoms and a ripple through it all.

Toji was an excellent artist but he never had to work with a raging boner before. His pants were bursting to the sight in front of him, you in a relaxed state ready to be marked. Almost a dream.

“Are you sure baby?”

“Yes. But one thing before that.”

“Hm?”

“Can you kiss me Toji?”

That was the last straw and before you could even say anything, Toji was at your lips, grabbing you by the back of your head and devouring you. You deserved slow and gentle and Toji swore to himself he would take all his time with you, but not at this moment.

Months worth of pent up lust and more so, love and the result of it, was kisses that took your breath away. Nipping away at your lower lip gently, as you opened your mouth he plunged his warm tongue into you, making you moan in ecstacy.

“Hmpph— To..jii..hm!” “Gosh baby do you know how many times I have dreamt of doing this to you huh? Your luscious fucking lips that you keep tinting up with that gloss..fuck..”

Littering kisses all around your neck, under your ears, licking across your collar bones, your whimpers were honey to his ears. Slowly wrapping your hands around his nape, you whispered to his lips

“Take me Toji. Make me yours, please.”

That was all you had to say.

Kissing you harder than ever, Toji grabbed your waist. “Turned around for me baby. Let me take care of you” with your back arching and on all fours on his chair, he ripped at your panties. You were a dripping mess and Toji was so close to coming in his pants like a fucking teenager.

“Toji..wait…it’s messy down there..stop—“

“Tell me girl. Did that fucker ever eat you out?” He asked venomously, slowly slipping in a finger into your sopping hole

“No-ughmm!!- he said it was too dir..ty..” his finger was so different from yours. Long and thick. If a finger alone was so delicious, you were sure you woud go crazy once his cock was in you.

“Proved himself to be a fucking moron once again. Well, you are all mine now. So let me treat your delicious cunt the right way baby yea?”

“Hmm—ahh!!” Dipping his face into your wet folds and antogonizingly licking up along them, eating you out from the back was Toji’s personal heaven. His nose bumping right into your sensitive clit and making you wetter by the second and now 2 of his fingers in your cunt, prodding you in all the right places sending shudders down your spine.

“Ride my face baby. Find your rhythm and make yourself feel good” Toji said and as he literally sucked and slurped at your folds and clit like a man starved. Spitting and licking and slightly pinching on your clit, in a few minutes, you were seeing stars that would normally take you so long.

“I’m cominggg Toji—!!!” Crying out and slumping over the chair.

Toji couldn’t get enough of you though. Marking you all over your back, letting red bruises blossom like petals, leaving you a sputtering mess.

He needed more. He needed you to cry his name out. Turning you around, he latched his lips onto your breast this time with a finger brushing on your clit lightly.

The wet muscle languidly brushing over your sensitive buds, teasing and biting and soothing it up again, you were so lost in pleasure, sure you would come from his attention to your breast alone.

“Faster toji..please..” “On your clit baby? Like this?” His gentle brushes had now turned into precise strokes and never in recent times had your dreamt of coming twice so quickly.

“Ahh!! Fuck!! Just like….that..I can’t! M gonna——cum..”

“Come for me good girl, let it all out… there ya go” and with the knot uncoiling, you came harder than ever.

“Such a good fucking girl for me” he whispered sinfully as he locked your lips in a gentle peck, making you ride out your high.

Little did Toji know that his sweet girl was minx in bed, all ready with her cunt clenching around for his cock. And he was all ready to give her the entire world, and of course his cock too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~••••~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: everytime I wrote Zack my brain kept going ‘gongaga’ send help.

A/N: just edited it a lil bit I’m so sorry for the all the typos 😭

[rafeshow]

where a fan made an 10 minute video with a compilation of hasan and reader being in love.

just for clicks

hasanabi x fem!streamer!reader

tags : hasan being a bit of an ass, tension, lingering touches, angst, use of y/n (scary ik), this is a blurb (I can’t make more parts if ppl want it), basically just angst, nothing really from the readers pov

a/n : i’m pretty sure you were looking for a more sappy direction w this request, but i rlly couldn’t help myself and i made it angsty 😭. also this is my first fanfic on this acc so pls be nice to me 🙏 im not good w english

It was a regular streaming day for Hasan, for the most part. His typical bogging on about politics, random internet drama, and his frequent frustration at chat. Behind all that though, his mind was a fog. You; another streamer, having been friends with Austin, being introduced to the Fear& group, and all but weaseling your way into being a staple member of the friend group, was all that Hasan could think about. Austin had tried to set the two of you up when you were first introduced to the friend group, but you never ended up going on any serious or planned romantic ventures, the two of yous schedules preventing from such.

That’s not to say you weren’t interested in eachother, it was quite the opposite actually. It was unspoken between the two of you, literally. Minus talking on the podcast or short interactions in videos, you had never spoken outside of ‘work’. That didnt stop the tension from growing though.

It started as accidental; Hasan gently grazing the back of your neck when walking behind your chair during filming in the cramped podcast room, his warm fingers barely lingering for a second on your bare neck, followed by rushed apology. Then it was you; lightly holding his waist as you attempted to squeeze behind him during a cooking stream, still unable to get past without his backside brushing against your front to a degree. And those two accidental touches wouldn’t have been a problem if they had just stayed those two accidental touches. The two of you managed to bump into eachother enough times that it had you each questioning if the other person was doing it on purpose.

Hasan was the first to break the ‘accidental’ rule, having grabbed your waist firmly and practically picking you up off the ground to move you on one occasion. You followed suit with the rule breaking, leaning across him to grab something from QT while filming the podcast and intentionally resting stretched for a moment; your top half shelved atop his forearm as it laid flat on the table.

The two of you refused to do anything about it though, and it was driving you both mad. Each touch was getting more daring then the last, and it was a game of who was going to break first. You were mad because you thought he was intentionally toying with you; knowing it drove you mad whilst not being interested himself. Just doing it to mess with you. Hasan on the other hand was just generally pissed you hadn’t done anything yet, which was ironic considering he didn’t have the gall to do anything himself either.

It was all that Hasan had been thinking of that day, and he questioned that if his facecam didn’t cut off at the top of his head that chat would be able to see the steam emanating from it. He was beyond frustrated, but he found it easy to play off; opting to take his anger out on the idiots who left comments on his livestream.

The two of you hadn’t thought about what your predicament looked like from an outsiders perspective though, not until now atleast.

Hasan was watching some political interview; mostly letting it play while opening links from chat in other tabs. As he opened one in particular, his heart stopped. He quickly clicked back to the tab, his brows taught together as he re-read the title.

“No fucking shot.” He forcibly laughed out, not only in disbelief himself but also trying to play his reaction down a bit for the stream. It was a compilation video, titled “y/n and hasan being down bad for 7 minutes”.

He was shocked he hadn’t thought about it, honestly. He was so concerned with keeping his feelings down while streaming by himself that he hadn’t even considered how he looked when he was actually with you. He clicked play without a second thought, his brain still registering the situation at hand. He had to stop himself from letting a grin slip out.

He watched the whole video without saying anything, which was alarming for chat and him. He was just entranced at how painfully obvious the two of you made it. The way he stared at you as you spoke to someone else. The way you never looked at him when he spoke to anybody. The way he stared at your hands as you fidgeted with a mic cord. The now obvious touches. He was baffled.

But his emotions quickly flipped back to his previous frustration. All that has been going on and you still hadn’t done anything? The two of you still hadn’t even talked? You had interacted this way long enough for somebody to make a 7 minute long compilation and the two of you still hadn’t done anything? He turned to chat, decided to take it out by being defensive.

“It’s actually hilarious the shit you idiots come up with. You do realize we’ve never talked right? The little shit we’ve said on camera is all we’ve ever said to eachother. Ever. I don’t even know her actual name. I don’t even have her in my contacts. I’ve never even thought about her in that way. You guys are so apt on shipping every male and female to ever interact together, it’s disgusting. You guys are fucking weird.” He took a beat, knowing the shit he was saying was doing anything but help his case, and knowing the hole he was digging for himself was just getting deeper. The few excuses he could come up with were borderline pathetic and certainly laughable. He just hoped he said his words fast enough that none of it stuck, even though he could practically feel the clips getting posted to twitter. In a last stitch effort to save himself, he blurted out;

“And anything she’s ever done around me is just for fucking clicks anyway.” He closed his mouth immediately after saying it. Hasan knew how much of a low blow that was, he knew how much he defended other streamers in the space for the same shit, and he couldn’t believe he’d just let that out about you of all people. He knew then in that moment that he’d lost all chances of anything with you, and he couldn’t grasp the fact that he was able to royally fuck himself over in a matter of seconds. He sat there silent, grumbling something else about chat being stupid, and then he went back to his political video.

He tried to keep a stone face, but he couldn’t help as his eyes caught chat every few minutes, mixes of shock and anger still bubbling between all of them. Hasan tried to redeem himself as much as he could; making some jokes and throwing some insults at whatever video he was watching. The main mass of the shocked comments eventually fizzled away, but he ultimately ended up wrapping up stream after another 30ish minutes. All he could do now was watch as everything unfolded before him.

[fangdokja]

Trust no one. Not even yourself.

❤︎ Synopsis. In a world where love feels like a cage and loyalty is a loaded weapon, you must navigate the suffocating grip of those who claim to care—because sometimes, the ones who love you most are the ones who break you.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! College! Bully x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Torn Between Us - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 12,333

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, social isolation, bullying, love bombing, explicit domestic violence and realistic depictions of abuse in the family, mature language, crime, unhealthy coping mechanisms, gaslighting, victim blaming

♡ A/N. It's kind of hilarious that I get comments from "Are you okay?" to "Why do you romanticize sexual abuse in glamorous ways". Yes, in that wording too. The dichotomy of comments. Of course, already putting it out there, I'm not the type of person to chat and waste time in internet arguments. If one doesn't obey RULES, immediate block, no questions asked. It's also to make sure these people don't get bothered by my content that disturbs them. So, it's a win-win. But, to me, it's funny. Like "Wow, thank you. It's so good that it felt so realistic, huh?". That makes me happy. A big turn-off for me as a writer (but I don't mind it when other authors do it) is "inaccurate world building and logic." I get genuinely irritated at myself. It's why when it comes to fandom characters, I make sure it's as accurate as a Yandere character can get. Same goes with anything world building. I like worlds that still have systems and logic involved, even in fantasy settings. And, by default, this also includes, controversies and taboos. Yeah, I talk a lot in these notes. But, honestly? Considering how fast you long form readers go through my work. Might as well chat, since I hardly talk anyway. And, if you read these notes. Thank you. :)) Also, I was supposed to put the NSFW until I realized it was reaching 13k+ words already...

The first thing you felt was pain.

It wasn’t the kind that built slowly, easing its way into your senses—it was sharp, sudden, and all-consuming. A brutal yank at your scalp wrenched you out of the fragile limbo between consciousness and exhaustion. Your head snapped back, the roots of your hair screaming as you were dragged from the mattress by an iron grip.

You hit the floor hard, the side of your head smacking against the cold tile. The sting of impact shot through your temple, and for a moment, everything blurred—the light filtering through the curtains, the outline of the woman looming above you.

Your mother.

Her face was twisted in rage, but there was something worse in her eyes—a hunger, a satisfaction in your helplessness.

The door clicked shut behind her, sealing the soundproof room in its suffocating silence.

“You really thought you could hide from me?” Her voice was a low, venomous hiss, the kind of quiet that always preceded something worse. “You think I wouldn’t find you, huh? After everything I’ve done for you?”

You stumbled back, your body already trembling with an instinctive fear that seized your lungs and made it impossible to breathe.

“I—I wasn’t hiding—”

“Don’t you lie to me!” Her hand shot out, grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward so violently your head snapped back. Her face was so close to yours you could smell the acrid stench of cigarettes on her breath, could see the bloodshot fury in her eyes.

“You haven’t come home in weeks,” she snarled, her voice trembling with rage. “You think you can just disappear? Just run away? I had to come all the way to this shithole because of you. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is for me?”

She threw you down, and your back slammed into the edge of your desk. Pain radiated up your spine, sharp and paralyzing, but before you could catch your breath, her hand was on you again—this time in your hair, wrenching your head back so hard it felt like your scalp was on fire.

“Answer me, you little leech!” she screamed, shaking you violently. “Do you think I enjoy cleaning up your messes? Huh? Do you think I like chasing you down?”

She yanked you upward by your hair again, dragging you to your knees. Your scalp burned, and a whimper escaped your lips before you could swallow it down.

You whimpered, trying to pull away, but she yanked harder, the tendons in your neck straining painfully as you choked on a sob.

“I don’t have the money,” you gasped, the words spilling out in desperation. “I promise, I—”

The slap came so fast you didn’t even see it, just felt the explosive pain as her palm connected with your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, and the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth.

“Of course you don’t have the money,” she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’ve been too busy playing house here, haven’t you? Hiding away like a pathetic little coward, thinking I wouldn’t notice.”

Her hand released your hair, only to shove you backward. You hit the wall hard, the impact rattling your teeth, and before you could even think about moving, she was on you again.

“Please,” you choked out, your voice hoarse from the lack of sleep. “I—I’ll get the money. I just need more time—”

Another slap came fast, cracking across your cheek with enough force to whip your head to the side. The metallic tang of blood bloomed on your tongue, and your skin prickled with the sting of her hand.

“Time?” she barked, her laugh sharp and bitter. “Time doesn’t pay the fucking bills. Time doesn’t keep a roof over your head, you little parasite!”

Her words struck harder than the blow, each one carefully crafted to cut where it hurt most. You weren’t her child. You weren’t even a person in her eyes. Just a burden. A mistake.

She shoved you backward, and you scrambled to catch yourself, your palms scraping against the rough tile. The small, cramped dorm room felt even smaller, the walls closing in as her shadow loomed over you.

“I raised you,” she hissed, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “I fed you. Clothed you. And this is how you repay me? By acting like a selfish little bitch? By keeping what’s mine?”

Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. Crying would only make it worse.

“I don’t have it,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I promise, I’ll—”

Her foot connected with your side, and pain exploded in your ribs. You crumpled, clutching your stomach as she kicked you again and again, each blow punctuated by her snarling words.

“You don’t have it? You don’t have it?” she repeated, mocking your desperate tone. “Then what the hell have you been doing all this time? Lying around, feeling sorry for yourself?”

“I had to come all the way here,” she hissed, dragging you across the room and throwing you onto the bed. The back of your head slammed into the wall, and your vision blurred. “Because you’re too much of a coward to face me like a damn adult!”

You tried to sit up, but she was faster, straddling your chest and pinning your arms down with her knees. Her fingers closed around your throat, nails biting into your skin.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is?” she spat, leaning in so close that her spit flecked your face. “Do you know how humiliating it is to have to track down my own child like some fucking runaway dog?”

Your airways constricted, panic surging through you as you choked, your nails scrabbling uselessly at her hands. Her grip was too strong, her weight crushing the breath from your lungs.

Tears streamed down your face, and the corners of your vision darkened.

She released you suddenly, and you gasped, coughing violently as your lungs screamed for air. Before you could recover, she slapped you across the face again—once, twice, three times. Each strike was sharp and deliberate, her rings tearing into your skin.

“You’ve been hiding at this university,” she said, her voice cold and measured now, as if she were recounting a list of your crimes. “Pretending you’re some poor little victim. Do you think anyone here gives a shit about you except me?”

Her hand closed around your arm, nails digging into the soft flesh as she yanked you off the bed and threw you to the floor. You landed hard on your knees, pain shooting up your legs.

“Answer me!” she screamed, her booted foot colliding with your ribs.

The impact sent you sprawling, the air rushing from your lungs. You tried to crawl away, but her foot came down on your back, pressing you into the cold tile.

“You think you’re so clever,” she continued, her voice rising. “Hiding here, avoiding your responsibilities, avoiding me. But I know you, baby. I know every little secret, every little lie.”

She grabbed the back of your head, slamming your face into the floor. Blood spattered across the tile, warm and sticky as it seeped from your nose and split lip.

“You owe me,” she hissed, crouching beside you and grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at her. Her nails dug into your cheeks, her breath hot and foul against your skin.

“Do you understand?” she said, shaking you violently. “You owe me. I don’t care if you have to steal, cheat, or whore yourself out—you will get me that money. Do you hear me?”

Your voice cracked as you sobbed, nodding frantically. “Y-Yes—”

The next slap sent your head snapping to the side.

“Louder,” she demanded.

“Yes!” you cried, your voice breaking. “I’ll do it! I’ll get the money!”

———

The hand in your hair yanked with ferocious strength, pulling at your scalp until the roots screamed in agony. Your head snapped back, the sharp crack of vertebrae forced into an unnatural angle resonating in your ears. Before you could cry out, a fist collided with your cheekbone, the impact sending shockwaves through your skull. Your vision blurred with stars, and the coppery tang of blood filled your mouth as your lip split open.

Her voice was low and cold, slicing through the air like a blade. “You thought you could hide from me, didn’t you?” A sharp tug on your hair wrenched a pained gasp from your throat. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused me?”

You tried to stammer out a response, but her fist collided with your cheek, the force sending you sprawling. “Shut up!” she hissed, towering over your trembling form. “Do you think I’m stupid? Running off to your little school, acting like you’re too good to come home.”

Your body was dragged across the floor like a rag doll, the rough texture of the tile scraping the skin from your knees and elbows. A boot slammed into your stomach with brutal force, driving the air from your lungs. The sensation was hollow, a sickening vacuum where breath should have been, your diaphragm spasming as you choked on nothing.

A boot slammed into your ribs, the sickening crunch of bone making your breath hitch. “You don’t even deserve this education. What have you done to earn it? Nothing!” Another kick landed against your stomach, and you doubled over, clutching yourself as the air left your lungs.

“Do you know what I’ve sacrificed for you?” Her voice rose, venom dripping from every word. “All the things I could’ve had if it weren’t for you? And you have the nerve to ignore me, to avoid your responsibilities?”

Before you could even attempt to rise, another kick landed squarely against your ribs, the crack unmistakable this time. A sharp, jagged pain bloomed in your chest, each shallow gasp of air accompanied by the fiery agony of bone grinding against bone. You curled in on yourself instinctively, arms shielding your head, but it offered no protection.

A hard-soled shoe came down against your forearm, the force bending it at an unnatural angle. A white-hot flash of pain exploded in your vision, your own muffled scream echoing in your ears as the limb gave way. You clutched it to your chest, trembling, only to feel fingers clawing at your shoulders, wrenching you upright.

You whimpered, curling into yourself, but she wasn’t done. She grabbed your arm, twisting it cruelly as you yelped in pain. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” She dragged you upright, slamming you against the wall. Your head hit the plaster with a dull thud. “You think I’m blind? You think I don’t know about the money you owe me? About the favors you’re dodging?”

Her nails dug into your shoulders as she leaned in, her breath hot and acrid against your face. “I should’ve left you to rot,” she snarled. “Ungrateful little bitch.”

The shove against the wall was unrelenting, the back of your skull slamming into the unforgiving surface with enough force to make the plaster crack behind you. Your head swam, the room spinning violently as nausea roiled in your stomach. Her nails raked down your arm, leaving red welts in their wake, and the dull thud of another punch to your abdomen left your knees buckling beneath you.

She didn’t let you fall.

Your body was dragged upright again, only to be shoved forward. You crashed onto the floor, your face bouncing off the tiles. The sharp edge of your jaw hit first, sending another sharp stab of pain radiating through your skull. You tasted more blood, hot and metallic, as it spilled from your mouth, pooling beneath your chin.

You flinched as she slapped you across the face, the sting blooming into a sharp, fiery pain. “Do you think the world cares about you? Do you think anyone at that school will protect you when I’m done?”

You tried to pull away, desperation overtaking your fear. “Please, I—”

“Please?” She mocked your voice with a cruel sneer. “Please, please, please,” she repeated, punctuating each word with a punch to your side. “That’s all you ever do. Begging like a worthless rat.”

She pressed you to the ground, her foot pressing into the small of your back. “Get up,” she spat. When you didn’t move fast enough, she grabbed your hair again, yanking you upright. “I said get up!”

You sobbed, choking on the blood pooling in your mouth. “I’ll get the money, I promise. Just give me time—”

“Time?” she interrupted, laughing bitterly. “Time is for people who deserve it. You think you’re entitled to my patience?” She slammed your head down against the floor, the impact making you see stars. “You’re nothing but a burden. And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

A foot pressed onto the small of your back, grinding down with her full weight. The force flattened you against the floor, your bruised ribs screaming in protest as you struggled for breath. The heel twisted, grinding into your flesh, and you bit down on your own lip to keep from screaming, the already tender flesh splitting further.

Your good arm instinctively reached out to crawl, but she stepped on your hand with calculated precision, the heel of her shoe crushing your knuckles into the hard tile. The popping sensation was sickening, each joint folding under the pressure, and the pain was enough to make your vision go black for a moment.

Her grip returned to your hair, yanking your head up and slamming it down once more. The impact jarred your entire body, the sound of your skull cracking against the floor echoing in the small room. Blood smeared the surface where your face had been, a sickening trail that blurred with your tears.

There was no reprieve. No pause between strikes. Each hit, each blow, felt calculated—designed to hurt, to maim, to leave a mark that would ache for days, weeks. Your body was a canvas for her violence, every bruise and laceration a testament to her fury.

The world faded in and out, each moment marked by a new wave of pain. When her hands finally released you, your body crumpled onto the cold, blood-slick tiles. Every breath was a struggle, every twitch of your limbs a reminder of the damage inflicted.

The room was silent now, save for the ragged sound of your own breathing and the steady drip of blood hitting the floor.

———

After a while, the barrage stopped, and you dared to glance up, only to find her crouched in front of you. Her face was close—too close—and her breath reeked of stale alcohol and cigarettes.

Her voice softened suddenly, a terrifying shift that sent chills down your spine. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out yet,” she murmured, crouching down to meet your tearful gaze. “But keep this up, and you’ll find yourself with nowhere to go. Understand?”

You nodded weakly, trembling beneath her cold, predatory stare. She patted your cheek almost mockingly, smearing your blood across your face. “Good girl,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. “Now clean this mess up. I don’t want to see a single drop of blood when I get back.”

Her voice mellowed, sickly sweet, as she reached out to cup your bruised cheek.

“Oh, baby,” she cooed, her tone dripping with soft tenderness. “You know I don’t want to hurt you. But you make me do this. You make me.”

You flinched as her thumb brushed over your split lip, and her smile widened.

“Don’t cry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t make me feel bad, okay? You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? You’ll fix this. You’ll find a way to make it right.”

Her other hand clamped down on your shoulder, nails biting into your skin.

“You will, won’t you?” she pressed, her voice hardening just enough to make it clear that this wasn’t a question.

You nodded, the motion jerky and desperate. Anything to make it stop.

Her smile returned, and she stood, brushing her hands off as if you were nothing more than dirt she’d stepped in.

“That’s my girl,” she said, turning toward the door. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

She didn’t slam the door when she left. She didn’t have to. The sound of her calm, measured footsteps receding down the hall was worse than any explosion of anger. It meant she was satisfied—for now.

You lay there on the floor, the silence in the room broken only by your ragged breathing. Your body ached, your chest heaving as you struggled to hold back the sobs clawing their way up your throat.

The phone on your desk buzzed once, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet. You didn’t need to look to know it was another message. Probably him. The bully. Or maybe someone else who wanted to mess with you.

It didn’t matter.

You were the weak link, and everyone knew it.

────────────

The lie came easily—too easily. It dripped from your lips like oil, slick and poisonous, just like the makeup covering your face, as you stared at Domo’s face on the screen. “She’s been gone for so long, you know? And she just… wants to spend time with me.” You hated yourself for the waver in your voice, the hesitance that made it sound true. Domo smiled, her usual warmth softening her features. “Of course. Family comes first. We can always reschedule.”

Her kindness twisted the knife in your chest, but you nodded anyway. “Thanks. I’ll text you.” And then you ended the call before you could hear more, before her care could claw any deeper into the fragile parts of you that you were barely holding together.

The truth? There was no family bonding. No heartfelt reunion. Just you, sitting alone in your dorm as the hours stretched long and suffocating. You stared at the laptop glowing before you, the dim blue light washing over your battered face. The bruises on your cheek and ribs throbbed in unison with your pulse, each beat a reminder of what waited if you didn’t produce the money fast enough.

You clenched your teeth, flexing your fingers before placing them on the keyboard. This was the part of yourself you never wanted anyone to see. The part you shoved into the shadows because it didn’t fit the quiet, awkward nothingness that defined you.

But it was the only thing you had.

The screen filled with lines of code, flashing in rapid succession as your fingers moved. You had always been good at this—too good. The exhilaration of bending firewalls to your will, of slipping through systems unnoticed, had once been a guilty thrill. Now, it was a survival mechanism.

You rationalized it as you worked, forcing the bile down in your throat. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone. This isn’t stealing. It’s… repurposing. The rationalizations tumbled over themselves like dominoes, each lie shoring up the fragile structure of your conscience. You weren’t hacking major accounts or wiping people out. Just skimming from places that wouldn’t notice a few hundred dollars gone. Universities, minor corporate accounts, underused funds in bloated systems.

The screen flickered, the transfer confirmed. You leaned back, chest heaving as though you’d run a marathon. Two hundred dollars here, fifty there. It wasn’t much, but it would add up. It had to.

You glanced at the clock: 3:42 a.m. Only a few more hours until she comes back. The thought sent a fresh spike of panic through you, and you dove back in. Another account. Another breach. Every keystroke felt like a confession, a sin piling atop an already crumbling foundation.

This wasn’t the first time you’d done it. The bruises lining your arms and the faint scar under your lip reminded you of how long this had been your reality. She leaves. You buy time. She comes back. You pay her off. A cycle that never ended, no matter how desperately you wished it would.

When the hacking was done, you stared at the balances displayed on the screen. Enough. For now. Your head thudded against the back of the chair, exhaustion wrapping around you like chains. The room was cold, empty, suffocating in its silence. You wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything to break the hollow ache gnawing at your chest.

But instead, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the sharp pain radiating from your side. You shuffled to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to peer out into the quiet campus. The streetlights cast long, eerie shadows across the pavement, and for a moment, you swore you saw movement. A flicker of something—someone—watching.

You yanked the curtain shut, heart pounding in your chest. Just your imagination. Nothing’s there. You repeated the words like a mantra, though the uneasy weight of a presence lingered, settling into the corners of your mind.

When morning came, you’d transfer the money to her. When she left, you’d breathe again—for a little while. But tonight, you had no time to think about Domo, or bullies, or the terrifying fragility of the life you’d cobbled together.

Tonight, survival was all that mattered.

────────────

The air in the dorm room felt heavier, as if the walls themselves anticipated her arrival. You’d barely slept, the dark circles under your eyes deep enough to make your hollow face look corpse-like. The money was ready, stacked in an envelope on the small table near the door. A meager offering to stave off her wrath.

It’s enough this time, isn’t it? It has to be.

When the knock came, sharp and deliberate, your stomach twisted into knots. The sound echoed through your chest, each rap like a nail driven into your ribcage. You didn’t hesitate. Hesitation would only make things worse.

Opening the door, you saw her—your mother, standing tall in the hallway, her tailored coat spotless, her hair perfectly styled. She looked out of place in the dingy dormitory, like a predator descending on prey. Her painted lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It never did.

“Sweetheart,” she greeted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The smell of her expensive perfume suffocated the room. “I was wondering if you’d forgotten about me. You’re cutting it close this time.”

“I-I have it,” you stammered, pointing to the envelope. She clicked her tongue, her heels sharp against the floor as she approached the table.

Picking up the envelope, she weighed it in her hand like a predator inspecting its meal. “All of it?” she asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

“Yes. I promise.”

Her nails were painted crimson, as though dipped in fresh blood, and they grazed the edge of the envelope as she opened it. Her eyes scanned the money, the movements slow and deliberate. “Hmm. This isn’t as much as I expected.”

“It’s everything I could—”

The slap came so fast, so sudden, you barely registered the sting on your cheek until you were stumbling back, your head snapping to the side. Her handprint burned into your skin, but you didn’t dare cry out.

Her voice was cold, the venom behind it more terrifying than her strike. “You think this is enough? Do you think I go through all this trouble for crumbs?”

“I—I can get more!” you blurted, your chest heaving as panic clawed at your throat. “Just give me a little more time!”

She closed the envelope, tucking it into her purse with an air of calm so calculated it made your blood run cold. Then, without warning, her hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

You screamed, but the sound barely escaped before she yanked you down, dragging you toward the center of the room. Pain exploded across your scalp, blinding and raw.

“Do you think I have time for your excuses?” she hissed, her grip tightening. “You’ve always been pathetic. Always needing someone to clean up your messes.”

Her knee collided with your stomach, and the air rushed from your lungs in a broken wheeze. She released your hair, letting you crumple to the floor like a discarded rag doll.

“I should’ve known you’d be useless.” Her voice was low, deliberate, and each word sliced through you like a scalpel. “It’s embarrassing, really. How you can’t even manage something as simple as this.”

You tried to push yourself up, but her foot slammed down on your back, forcing you flat against the floor. “Stay down,” she ordered. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. Crying would only make it worse.

“Do you know how humiliating it is for me to come here?” she continued, pressing harder until your ribs screamed in protest. “To see the pathetic little hole you’ve buried yourself in? You’re lucky I even bother with you.”

She released you, and you gasped, curling into yourself on the cold floor. Her heels clicked as she walked to the door, her purse swinging at her side.

“Don’t make me come back for this again,” she warned, her tone sickeningly sweet once more. “You wouldn’t like what happens if I do.”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence. You didn’t move for a long time, your body trembling with the aftermath of pain and fear. The room was dark now, the only light coming from the faint glow of your laptop.

You stared at it, the temptation gnawing at the edges of your mind.

Just one more time. I’ll take a little more. I’ll make it back somehow.

It was the only way to survive.

────────────

The room was dimly lit by the pale glow of your computer screen, the soft hum of the CPU your only companion through the relentless hours. Your fingers ached, stiff from the endless tapping and coding, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins kept you moving. You’d done it. After days of sleepless nights, tense calculations, and hacking sessions that pushed the boundaries of legality, the number on the screen made your chest swell with something foreign: triumph.

It was the largest sum you’d ever seen in your life. Enough to keep your mother at bay for a long time, maybe even the rest of the year if you played it smart.

You leaned back in your chair, your head lolling against the worn cushion. Exhaustion clawed at you, but a smile—real, genuine—curved your lips. For once, there was no immediate shadow of fear, no sharp pang of dread in your stomach. You felt... safe.

Your gaze drifted to the photo frame sitting on the cluttered desk, the only piece of decoration in your otherwise bleak dorm. It was your high school graduation photo. Your father, with his immaculate suit and confident smile, stood tall beside your mother, who clung to his arm, her makeup flawless, her pride radiating through the glass. And there you were, sandwiched between them, holding your diploma with trembling hands.

Back then, you thought things would stay like that forever. A perfect picture. A perfect family.

Your smile faltered as your eyes lingered on your mother’s face in the photo. She looked happy then—truly happy. Not the brittle, strained version of her that had emerged after your father’s departure. The moment he left, everything broke.

You closed your eyes, memories creeping in like unwelcome guests. The screaming matches, the shattered glass, her tear-streaked face twisted in anguish as she begged him to stay. And then the silence, the unbearable silence that followed his departure, her love curdling into something sharp and possessive, clinging to you like a drowning woman to a lifeline.

“She only has me,” you whispered to yourself, your voice trembling in the quiet room. The words felt like a mantra, a justification for everything you endured. “She needs me.”

The screen in front of you flickered as you finalized the transfer. The money was secure, broken into portions just as you’d planned. You wouldn’t give it to her all at once—that would only end in disaster. No, you’d ration it out, let it trickle through her fingers slowly. Enough to keep her satisfied, to keep her from asking questions, from demanding more.

A wave of relief washed over you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were ahead of the game. You could breathe.

The thought of handing over the first envelope filled you with a strange kind of hope. Maybe this time, she’d smile like she did in the photo. Maybe she’d thank you, even hug you. Maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they were.

You stood, stretching your aching limbs, and crossed the room to the mirror. Your reflection stared back, hollow-eyed and pale, but there was a spark of pride in your gaze. You’d done something good—for her, for yourself. It wasn’t legal, no, but it was necessary.

Your fingers brushed against the photo frame as you returned to the desk, the cold glass grounding you. No matter how much she hurt you, no matter how much fear she instilled, you still loved her. She was your mother.

And you’d do anything to keep her happy.

———

The knock on the door was soft, almost tentative, but it still sent a jolt of adrenaline through your system. You clutched the envelope tightly in your hand, its weight heavier than the sum it carried. This was it. You smoothed your hair, tried to compose yourself, and opened the door.

She stood there, a vision of maternal grace, her sharp edges carefully filed away. Her lips curled into a warm smile, one that lit her face in a way you hadn’t seen in years. For a moment, she looked just like the mother in the graduation photo—loving, proud, whole.

“There you are, sweetheart,” she said, stepping inside and brushing a hand over your hair. Her touch was light, affectionate, as if the hands that had dragged you out of bed days ago had never known violence.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Hi, Mom.”

Her eyes flicked to the envelope in your hand, but she didn’t reach for it. Not yet. Instead, she guided you to the small couch in your dorm room and sat down beside you, her perfume a familiar cloud of roses and nostalgia.

“You’ve been working so hard,” she said, her voice tender. “I’ve been so worried about you. You look tired, baby.” Her hand cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against the dark circles under your eyes. “Have you been eating enough? Sleeping?”

You nodded, unsure of what else to do. The words caught in your throat, tangled in the weight of her presence.

“I brought your favorite,” she said, producing a neatly packed box from her bag. Inside were homemade cookies, perfectly golden, still warm as if she’d baked them just for you. She broke one in half and held it to your lips, her eyes soft with an affection that made your chest ache. “Here, eat. You need your strength.”

You bit into the cookie, its sweetness almost overwhelming. She watched you with such intensity, as though every crumb you swallowed was a testament to your gratitude, your obedience.

Finally, you held out the envelope. “I—uh—I managed to save some money,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “For you.”

Her eyes widened, shimmering with what looked like genuine pride. She took the envelope delicately, as though it were a fragile gift. Opening it, she flipped through the bills, her expression melting into something softer, more radiant.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” she breathed, pulling you into a sudden, crushing hug. “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

Her words were honeyed, dripping with adoration, and yet they stung. You closed your eyes, leaning into her embrace, the warmth of her body erasing the bruises she’d left days before.

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmured, her hand stroking your hair. “You’re all I have, you know that? Just you and me against the world.”

Her grip tightened, just for a moment, but then she pulled back, holding your face in her hands. “Promise me you’ll always take care of yourself, for me. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

The tears in her eyes looked so real, so heartbreakingly sincere, that for a moment, you believed her. You wanted to believe her.

“I promise,” you said, the words feeling like a chain coiling tighter around your chest.

“Good girl.” She kissed your forehead, a gesture so tender it left you dizzy. “I love you, you know that?”

You nodded, your throat burning with unspoken words.

The rest of the evening passed in a surreal haze of domestic bliss. She stayed for hours, tidying your dorm, chatting about mundane things, laughing at old memories as though nothing had ever been wrong. It felt like stepping back in time, to when your world was still intact, when her love wasn’t a weapon but a shield.

And yet, beneath the surface, something gnawed at you. A shadow of doubt, a whisper of fear. Because you knew—deep down—that this wasn’t love. It was something darker, something that wrapped itself around your heart and squeezed until you couldn’t breathe.

But for tonight, you let it happen. You let her smile and laugh and hold you close. You let yourself believe, just for a little while, that everything could be okay.

———

The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air, a biting reminder of the wounds she was carefully tending. Her touch was impossibly gentle, almost reverent, as though the same hands hadn’t carved those injuries into your skin just hours ago. She hummed softly, a melody you vaguely recognized from childhood, her voice smooth and warm like a lullaby meant to soothe your fears.

“Hold still, sweetheart,” she murmured, her fingers brushing your cheek as she dabbed at a cut near your temple. “This might sting a little.”

It did. The pain flared, bright and hot, but her other hand stroked your hair, grounding you in the surreal tenderness of the moment.

“You’ve always been so brave,” she said, her eyes meeting yours with a depth of sincerity that made your stomach churn. “Taking everything life throws at you with your head held high. I don’t know how you do it, baby.”

Her smile was soft, motherly, and the juxtaposition of her words against the still-healing bruises on your arms made your throat tighten.

She leaned closer, inspecting her work, her breath warm against your skin. “There. Good as new,” she said, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. Her hand lingered on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “You really scared me, you know. You’ve been so distant lately.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse and small.

She tilted her head, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated concern. “Oh, sweetheart, no. You don’t need to apologize. You’ve just… been through so much, haven’t you?” Her hand moved to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin with an intimacy that felt suffocating.

“I’ve been so hard on you,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly as though she might cry. “I hate seeing you like this, so beaten down. You deserve so much better.”

Your chest tightened, a knot of confusion and unease tangling with the faint, desperate hope that this time—this time—she meant it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re my baby, my whole world. I just want to see you happy.”

She stood and moved to the kitchen, her movements fluid, almost cheerful. “You must be starving,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll make your favorite. Just sit there and relax, okay? You need to rest.”

Her back was to you now, and for a moment, you could almost pretend this was normal. The hum of the stove, the faint sizzle as she prepared the food—it all felt so mundane, so safe.

But the memory of her voice—razor-sharp and dripping with venom—echoed in the back of your mind.

"Don’t make me come back here for nothing, you useless little brat."

You shook your head, trying to dispel the thought. She was different now. She was kind. Loving. She hadn’t been like this in years, not since before everything fell apart.

The meal she placed before you was perfect, a careful recreation of a childhood favorite. She watched you with expectant eyes as you took the first bite, her smile widening when you nodded in approval.

“See? Mommy knows what you need,” she said, sitting beside you and placing a hand on your knee. “We’ll be okay, won’t we? As long as we have each other.”

You forced a smile, the words catching in your throat.

The warmth of her affection was almost worse than her anger. It wrapped around you like a blanket, smothering you under the weight of its expectations. But you couldn’t pull away. You couldn’t risk breaking this fragile illusion, not when the alternative was so much worse.

So you nodded, swallowing down the fear and confusion and guilt. “Yeah. We’ll be okay.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, you could almost believe it.

────────────

The halls were quiet, the chaotic din of the usual school day replaced by an unusual calm. It was as though the entire campus had been wrapped in a fragile layer of peace, everyone too preoccupied with the looming end-of-year celebrations to pay you any mind. You walked alone, the fluorescent lights overhead flickering faintly, your shadow stretching and shrinking against the scuffed linoleum floor.

For the first time in what felt like ages, your chest felt lighter. The suffocating weight of constant vigilance had lifted, even if only for a moment. Domo was away, too busy with her responsibilities to hover protectively over you, but her absence didn’t feel like a loss. It felt like freedom.

You passed clusters of students bustling about, their faces flushed with excitement and stress as they carried props and decorations for the Christmas program. No one spared you a glance, not even the cliques that usually whispered behind your back or the bullies who made a sport of finding new ways to humiliate you. They were too wrapped up in their own lives, their own dramas.

The solitude was soothing.

Your lips curled into a faint smile as you stepped out into the courtyard. The winter air was crisp, biting gently at your cheeks and nose. The skeletal trees stood silent, their barren branches reaching towards the pale gray sky. You sat on one of the cold metal benches, pulling your coat tighter around you, and watched the world move on without you.

It was better this way.

The distant sound of carols drifted through the air, mingling with the faint chatter of students. You allowed yourself a moment to close your eyes and soak it in—the peace, the simplicity. No shouting. No biting words. No stifling fear clawing at your throat.

For the first time in months, you felt something like happiness. At least for a while.

———

The air was crisp and still as you crept through the dimly lit campus grounds, the cold biting at your exposed skin. Every step felt heavier than the last, your stomach knotting tighter with each reluctant movement. The text from him sat unread but seared into your mind, its bluntness coiled around your thoughts like barbed wire: "My dorm. Tonight. Don’t make me wait."

It wasn’t the first time. His demands always came with the same suffocating inevitability, a choice between the humiliations he’d orchestrate and the unspeakable consequences of defying him.

You kept your head low, your heart pounding as you slipped into the shadows, avoiding the few lingering students rushing to finish end-of-year preparations. The warmth of the day had been fleeting—Domo’s absence notwithstanding. You’d almost dared to hope the universe might grant you a reprieve. But he’d reminded you, as always, that peace wasn’t for people like you.

His dorm building loomed ahead, its sharp, modern edges cutting against the pale moonlight. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the door, the sterile chill of the metal handle grounding you in the moment. Inside, the fluorescent lighting buzzed faintly, the hallways deserted and eerily quiet.

Room 312. You knew it by heart. You had never asked to learn this intimately, but circumstance—and his persistence—left you with little choice.

The door was ajar when you arrived, as though he’d been expecting you.

“Come in,” his voice called, low and casual, from somewhere inside. It grated against your nerves, setting off alarm bells in the recesses of your mind.

You stepped inside, the warmth of his room almost suffocating after the cold outside. He was seated at his desk, leaning back lazily in his chair, his posture deceptively relaxed. His gaze met yours, sharp and assessing, and the faint smirk playing at his lips sent a chill down your spine.

“Right on time,” he drawled, gesturing for you to close the door. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

You said nothing, your throat dry as you complied.

The tension in the room was palpable as he stood, his movements unhurried, his towering presence swallowing the space between you. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he remarked, his tone light but laced with something darker. “Almost like you thought you could avoid me.”

“I wasn’t—” you began, your voice shaky, but he silenced you with a sharp laugh.

“Save it,” he said, stepping closer until you could feel the oppressive heat radiating off him. “I don’t care what excuses you’ve been telling yourself. You’re here now, aren’t you?”

His hand shot out, gripping your chin with bruising force as he tilted your face upward. His expression was unreadable, his eyes scanning you like you were something to be dissected. “You look happy,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “What’s got you in such a good mood, huh?”

The question was rhetorical, his fingers tightening painfully as he leaned in closer. “You know,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against your cheek, “I don’t like it when you forget your place.”

You swallowed hard, the fear clawing its way up your throat as his grip shifted to your shoulder, shoving you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Sit,” he commanded, and you obeyed, your limbs stiff and trembling.

He loomed over you, his shadow stretching long and menacing under the harsh light. “We’re going to play a little game,” he said, a cruel glint in his eyes. “You’re going to listen very carefully, and if you’re good—well, let’s see if you remember what happens when you’re not.”

The words hung in the air like a noose tightening around your neck. You didn’t dare look away, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, as his gaze pinned you in place.

And just like that, the fleeting warmth of the day was gone, replaced by the cold, unyielding reality you couldn’t escape.

———

He leaned against the desk in his dorm, his expression dripping with smug satisfaction, as if he had already won a game you didn’t even realize you were playing. His phone rested in his hand, the glow from the screen casting shadows on his face.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he began, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. His tone was light, almost amused, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it. “All this time, I thought you were just pathetic. Turns out, you’re also a little criminal. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”

Your stomach dropped, your breath hitching as his words sank in. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, pushing off the desk and stepping closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he sneered, tilting his head as he studied your wide-eyed panic. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? That you could just go around doing… that and no one would notice?”

He held up his phone, the screen flashing with what could only be described as evidence—screenshots, transaction logs, even security footage. Your heart pounded in your chest, a sickening rhythm that drowned out everything else.

“You’re so damn stupid,” he said, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Leaving a digital trail like that? Rookie mistake. But I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from someone like you. After all, you’ve never been anything but a useless, desperate little nothing, right?”

The insult stung, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. His grin widened at your silence, his enjoyment of your fear palpable.

“Let me spell it out for you,” he said, stepping even closer until you were forced to back up against the wall. “I’ve got everything I need to ruin you. Everything. Those little stunts you pulled to get your precious mommy her money? Yeah, I’ve got it all. And trust me, it’s enough to get you expelled, arrested… maybe even worse.”

You shook your head frantically, your voice trembling as you tried to protest. “I-I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, save it,” he snapped, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t give a shit about your sob story. You think anyone else will? You’re nothing, sweetheart. Just a sad little loser with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.”

The tears burned at the corners of your eyes, frustration from everything welling up as if ready to pour out; but you blinked them back, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. He noticed, of course, and his smirk turned cruel.

“Aw, don’t cry,” he mocked, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You wouldn’t want Mommy Dearest to find out, would you? Imagine how disappointed she’d be. Or worse—imagine what she’d do if she found out her little cash cow has been hiding things from her.”

His words were a dagger to your chest, twisting with every syllable. He knew exactly where to strike, exactly how to exploit your deepest fears and vulnerabilities.

“But don’t worry,” he continued, his tone softening into something almost sweet. “I’m not a monster. I’m willing to keep this between us… for a price.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight. “W-What do you want?”

His grin widened, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “Oh, nothing too crazy,” he said, leaning in until his face was inches from yours. “Just a little obedience. A little gratitude. Maybe even a little fun. After all, we’ve got such a good thing going, don’t we?”

His hand reached up to cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Or, you can try to run. Try to fight. But let’s be real—you don’t have the guts. You’ve never had the guts. So why don’t you just be a good little slave and play along? It’ll be so much easier for both of us.”

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His words wrapped around you like a noose, tightening with every passing second. There was no escape, no way out. He had you, and he knew it.

———

The air in the room felt oppressive, suffocating, as his words dripped into your ears like poison. His grin was wide, vicious, a predator toying with its prey, knowing there was no escape. He perched on the edge of the bed, his presence overwhelming even as he leaned in casually, as though you were equals in this twisted game.

“You really think she doesn’t know?” he murmured, his voice a low, mocking purr. His eyes glittered with malice, reflecting your panic like a mirror. “Domo. Your precious, perfect Domo. She’s not stupid, you know. I mean, come on, you’ve been sloppy, haven’t you? Or did you think you could actually hide all this?”

You flinched at his words, the knot of anxiety in your chest tightening. You had been careful. Meticulous, even. But now, doubt began to claw its way into your mind. His smirk widened at the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.

“That’s the thing about people like her,” he continued, his tone almost conversational. “She’s got this shiny, righteous exterior. Strong sense of justice, doesn’t she? Loves tearing people like you apart. The frauds, the liars, the criminals. Do you even know what she’d do if she found out?”

Your stomach churned. You’d seen it yourself—how Domo could rip someone’s reputation to shreds with a single exposé, how her ruthless sense of morality left no room for gray areas. And you, with your secrets, your crimes…

────────────

The first time you saw Domo’s sense of justice in action, it left a deep impression—one that you didn’t know whether to admire or fear. It was a cold, rainy afternoon, the kind where the sky seemed to weep with an intensity that felt personal. Most students had already gone home, but you stayed late in the library, hunched over a stack of outdated textbooks you couldn’t afford to replace.

That was when you heard it—low, vicious laughter echoing from the stairwell. Curious, you crept closer, peeking from behind a bookshelf.

There she was. Domo.

And in front of her, trembling like a trapped animal, was a senior. He was taller, broader, someone who carried himself like he owned the place—until that moment. His usual cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a look of sheer panic.

“I didn’t mean for it to go that far!” he stammered, his hands raised as if to shield himself from her words. “I was just messing around—”

“Messing around?” Domo’s voice was calm, almost too calm. It carried no heat, no anger, only an icy precision that made your blood run cold. “So stealing exam papers and selling them to desperate students counts as ‘messing around’ now?”

She took a step closer, her shadow looming over him despite her slightly smaller frame. The rain continued to pour outside, its rhythm punctuating her words.

“I have the screenshots, the emails, the recordings. Every lie you told, every bribe you took—it’s all here.” She held up her phone, her finger hovering over the screen. “It would only take one click for this to reach the dean’s office.”

The senior’s face paled. He stumbled backward, his bravado crumbling into a pitiful mess. “Please, Domo. Don’t ruin me. I’ll do anything—just don’t—”

“Ruin you?” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing. “You ruined yourself the moment you decided your greed was worth more than the futures of those you exploited.”

There was no room for argument in her tone, no opening for negotiation. She wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t emotional. She was just. And that made it worse.

When the senior finally broke down into sobs, begging on his knees, Domo didn’t gloat. She didn’t smile. She simply pressed send.

You didn’t need to stick around to know what happened next. The senior was expelled within a week, his disgrace plastered across every whispering clique in the halls.

———

Another time, you saw her in action during a group project. It was supposed to be simple—divide the workload evenly, finish on time, get a decent grade. But one of your teammates, a quiet girl with a perpetually nervous expression, confessed to Domo that someone had been stealing her ideas and presenting them as his own in front of the professor.

Domo didn’t hesitate.

She called the guy out during the next class, her voice ringing clear across the room. “I think it’s only fair to credit the person who actually did the work, don’t you?”

The guy laughed nervously, brushing her off. “What are you talking about, Domo? We all worked on it together.”

“Really?” she said, tilting her head slightly. Her eyes glittered like shards of broken glass. “Because I have the timestamps on her drafts and the plagiarism report showing your presentation is word-for-word identical. Care to explain how that’s a coincidence?”

The classroom went silent. The professor frowned, leaning forward in his chair.

“Domo, I—” the guy started, but she cut him off with a single, raised hand.

“I don’t want your excuses,” she said firmly. “I want you to admit what you did, apologize to her, and redo the work properly. Or we can take this up with the academic board. Your choice.”

You could almost hear the sound of his pride shattering. He mumbled something that vaguely resembled an apology, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and spent the rest of the term walking on eggshells around her.

———

Domo’s sense of justice wasn’t loud or flashy. It didn’t rely on intimidation or physical strength. It was quiet, methodical, and utterly terrifying.

She didn’t give second chances. She didn’t forgive dishonesty.

And that was why you could never let her find out. Not about your hacking. Not about the money. Not about how you had initially planned to use her kindness for your own survival.

Because if she ever did…

She wouldn’t just hate you.

She’d destroy you.

────────────

“I mean, it’s almost funny,” he said, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Here you are, pretending to be this innocent little thing, latching onto her like a leech. But let’s be real—this friendship of yours? It’s built on lies. You used her.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, your voice trembling. “That’s not true. I—”

“Oh, but it is,” he cut you off, his tone sharp and biting. “You needed her, didn’t you? Not for who she is, but for what she could give you. Money. Protection. A shield to hide behind. You’re pathetic.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I care about her,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Care about her? Don’t make me laugh. If you really cared, you’d have told her the truth by now. But you won’t, will you? Because deep down, you know she’d drop you in a heartbeat. She’d see you for what you really are—a selfish, manipulative little rat.”

The words hit like a slap, and you recoiled, your heart pounding. “I didn’t—”

“Save it,” he sneered, cutting you off again. “You think she’s going to believe you over me? I’ve got proof, sweetheart. I’ve seen what you do. All those late nights, the hacking, the money you’ve been funneling. You really thought you’d get away with it?”

You opened your mouth to protest, to deny, but he didn’t give you the chance. “Don’t bother,” he said, his tone softening to something almost tender. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to tell her… yet. But imagine how she’d look at you if I did. Imagine the betrayal in her eyes when she realizes her best friend is nothing but a criminal.”

His hand reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a mockery of affection. You flinched but didn’t pull away, too frozen by fear. “But I’m not the bad guy here,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m giving you a chance. A way out. All you have to do is listen to me. Do what I say. It’s not that hard, is it?”

You shook your head, your voice trembling as you tried to stand your ground. “I won’t let you manipulate me.”

His grin widened, his eyes dark with amusement. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t need to manipulate you. I just have to tell the truth. And that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? You’ve already done all the hard work for me. All I have to do is hand her the evidence, and you’re done.”

His hand slid down to your wrist, his grip tightening just enough to make you wince. “So here’s the deal,” he said, his tone cold and commanding. “You’re going to do exactly what I say, when I say it. No questions, no hesitation. Because if you don’t…”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make sure she knows everything. And when she does, she’ll hate you. She’ll destroy you. And I’ll be right here to watch.”

You shuddered, the weight of his words crushing down on you. He pulled back, his grin as smug as ever. “So, what’s it going to be?” he asked, his voice laced with mockery. “Are you going to be a good little girl and play along? Or do I need to make a few phone calls?”

The silence stretched between you, suffocating, as he waited for your answer. And in that moment, you realized there was no way out. Not without losing everything.

———

His lips crashed against yours again, rough and demanding, his fingers curling into the nape of your neck with enough pressure to make your scalp burn. You didn’t resist—not because you wanted this, but because resisting would only escalate things. His breath was hot and suffocating, his teeth grazing your lower lip as if to punish you for every shudder of disgust you couldn’t suppress.

Your mind spun in chaotic circles, desperately searching for an escape even as his body pressed you further into the mattress. His weight pinned you down, his hands wandering in a way that felt more like a claim than an embrace.

You closed your eyes, trying to block him out, but that only made your thoughts louder. They roared with a single name: Domo.

Domo, who would never forgive you. Domo, who could never know.

The thought of her was a knife in your chest, sharp and twisting. You didn’t fear her anger—you feared her disappointment. Domo wasn’t just a friend. She was the only light you had, the only one who ever made you feel like maybe you weren’t completely worthless. But Domo had a sense of justice as unforgiving as the universe itself.

You had seen her at her most ruthless. She wasn’t the type to scream or cry when betrayed. No, Domo dissected you with precision, unraveling every thread of your lies until you were nothing but a tangle of shame and regret. You had watched her dismantle people who thought they could outwit her, her sharp words leaving them gutted in ways they never recovered from.

If she found out about the hacking… the money…

Your stomach twisted. You’d seen it happen before. The way her eyes hardened, the way her voice turned cold, like steel slicing through flesh. Domo didn’t just destroy people—she erased them, made them into cautionary tales.

And she’d do the same to you.

But more than that, you’d lose her. She wouldn’t see the circumstances. She wouldn’t see your desperation, your mother, your empty dorm room filled with shadows. She’d only see the crime, the betrayal, the weakness.

The bully’s lips moved to your neck, and you bit your tongue to suppress a gasp. His hands slid lower, possessive and mocking, as if to remind you of the power he held over you.

“Thinking about her again, aren’t you?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and cruel. “Your precious Domo. Wondering what she’d say if she saw you like this.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Because the truth was, you couldn’t let her see. You couldn’t let her know how far you’d fallen, how much you’d compromised. If she knew—if she even suspected—she’d leave you.

And your mother…

The thought of her sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through you. If Domo’s judgment was cold and calculated, your mother’s was visceral and brutal. She wouldn’t just be disappointed. She’d punish you, grind you down until there was nothing left. You’d seen it in her eyes, in the way her fingers curled into fists, in the way her voice dropped to a low, venomous growl when she was angry.

The money wasn’t just a lifeline—it was the leash she held you on. It was the only thing keeping her rage at bay.

“Pathetic,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re not even here, are you? Too busy thinking about how to keep all your little secrets.”

He kissed you again, his hands tightening their grip, and your mind screamed at you to focus. But all you could think about was Domo’s face—her sharp, piercing eyes, her unwavering sense of right and wrong.

And the cold, hard truth that if she ever knew the real you, she wouldn’t just walk away. She’d destroy you.

Just like he would.

“Go ahead,” he taunted, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His smirk was razor-sharp, his gaze dark with amusement. “Keep pretending you’re innocent. But we both know the truth, don’t we? You’re just as dirty as the rest of us. And the best part? No one’s going to save you.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t.

Because he was right.

———

Your head swam with the weight of his words, the dark intensity behind them burrowing under your skin like thorns. His breath was hot against your lips as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with an almost tender care, a stark contrast to the bruises you knew he’d left on your body before. The room spun with his presence, suffocating, inescapable, and yet something in you was too tired to resist.

“You think anyone else could love you like this?” he whispered, his voice low and raw, each word an anchor pulling you deeper into his orbit. His lips found the corner of your mouth, teasing, brushing, and when you didn’t pull away, he took that as a surrender.

“I see you,” he murmured, his hands trailing down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “The real you. The one who’s scared, pathetic, desperate. I see it, and I still love you for it. No one else does. Not Domo, not your mother, no one. They only see what you pretend to be.”

He kissed you hard then, his mouth consuming yours, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless. The edge of his teeth scraped against your lower lip as he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his eyes sharp and burning with something primal.

“It’s always been the two of us,” he growled, his voice thick with possession as he gripped your hips, grinding against you in slow, deliberate movements that left no room for misinterpretation. “Even when you ran to Domo, even when you tried to leave me behind, you always came back. You’re mine. Always have been. Always will be.”

Your chest tightened as his words drilled into you, his logic cutting through every feeble protest you might have had. No one else cared. Not like this. Not with this twisted, obsessive devotion that terrified you as much as it made you feel alive.

“You think Domo will stay if she finds out who you really are?” he sneered, his lips ghosting over your jawline before nipping at your ear. “She’ll throw you away like everyone else. But me?” His voice softened, his tone almost reverent. “I don’t care what you do. Cheat, lie, betray me—hell, run back to her if you want. I’ll still be here. I’ll always be here.”

Your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. Your lips pressed against his, hesitant, shy, but it was enough to spark something dangerous in him. He growled low in his throat, his hands tightening on you as he deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding entry, his movements aggressive but laced with a desperate kind of love.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your lips, his hands roaming, gripping, owning. “You’re starting to get it now, aren’t you? You’re mine. No one else gives a shit about you like I do. No one else knows you like I do. And no one else ever will.”

His words were a mantra, a binding spell, as he kissed you again, his love a suffocating force, overwhelming and inescapable. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t kind, but it was real in a way that twisted something deep inside you.

“You and me, baby,” he said, his voice a promise and a threat all at once. “Always.”

———

The hesitation lingered in your body, a faint tremor in your hands, a fleeting flicker in your gaze that he picked up on like a predator scenting blood. His grip on your waist tightened as his lips hovered over yours, smirking just slightly at the way you tensed under his touch.

“Still fighting me, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and rich with amusement, a dangerous edge beneath his tone. “You don’t have to say anything. I know that little head of yours is spinning, trying to figure out what to do. But we both know the truth, don’t we? You can’t afford to push me away.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, deliberate and suffocating, drawing out every second as if savoring his victory. “Not like this is new for us,” he whispered against your lips, his tone almost tender, like a lover’s. “You remember, don’t you? Or are you gonna pretend you don’t? It’s been a while, sure—probably because you’ve been too busy drooling over that bitch Domo. But this? This has always been us.”

The words landed like blows, each one calculated to chip away at your defenses. You stiffened at the mention of Domo, your mind spiraling into the familiar maze of fear and guilt. He laughed softly, sensing your weakness, and tilted your chin up so your eyes met his.

“There it is,” he said, his grin widening as his fingers brushed your cheek with mock tenderness. “That little look of guilt. You don’t want her to know, do you? Don’t want her to see the real you. The one who cheats and lies and does whatever it takes to survive. Guess what? I already know all of that, and I’m still here. Isn’t that funny?”

You stayed silent, your breath shaky as his hands roamed with purpose, drawing you closer, forcing you to feel every inch of his control. “She’d never forgive you,” he continued, his voice a soft hum of poison. “If she found out, she’d drop you like you were nothing. And your mom? Oh, let’s not even start on her.”

He chuckled, low and dark, the vibration of it sinking into your chest. “But me?” he murmured, brushing his lips against the corner of your mouth before stealing another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier. “I don’t care what you do. I don’t care what you are. I’ve always loved you for it. Your pathetic, broken little self is mine.”

You knew he was pushing you, pressing all the right buttons to ensure you bent to his will. Your mind screamed at you to resist, to fight, but the weight of everything he had over you—the photos, the proof, the cruel knowledge of your worst secrets—held you firmly in place.

“That’s right,” he whispered as you finally stopped resisting, your body going limp under his hold. He kissed you again, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, possessive and firm. “You’re getting it now. This is where you belong. With me. Submitting to me, just like you always have, just like you always will.”

He didn’t stop, even as your compliance became evident. Instead, he pressed harder, his kisses more demanding, his touch bolder, his words laced with a dangerous, almost intoxicating affection.

“I don’t just own your body,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands pulled you even closer. “I own your heart, your mind, your fucking soul. Domo doesn’t get that, and she never will. This? This is ours. Always has been.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight as the reality of his hold on you settled like chains around your chest.

Every word, every touch, every calculated smile of his reminded you of the truth—you were his, and fighting back only tightened his grip.

———

His hands moved with an infuriating blend of precision and fervor, peeling away layers of your clothing as if removing barriers to what he believed was already his. Each brush of his fingers was rough, each kiss an assault, his lips crushing against yours like he was trying to consume you entirely. He growled low in his throat, a predatory sound that sent a shiver of both fear and shameful heat down your spine.

"That’s it," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his pupils blown wide with a dangerous mix of lust and obsession. His breath fanned hot against your skin as his fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer. “My little masochist. You like this, don’t you? Pretending to fight me, pretending you have some kind of choice. But deep down, you love it. You love me.”

The words dripped with mockery, but underneath the venom, there was something softer—something that felt almost genuine in its twisted way. He leaned down, his teeth grazing your neck, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. “Yeah, that’s the sound I want. None of that quiet, boring little act you pull for everyone else. Show me what you really are, hmm? Weak, needy, desperate. Mine.”

Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch even as your mind screamed at you to pull away. He noticed, of course he noticed, and his smirk widened, his movements growing bolder. His hands roamed over you with a hunger that bordered on savage, but there was a calculated restraint in his grip, like he was savoring every moment of your submission.

“You know,” he whispered, his voice rough and husky as his fingers slipped beneath the last layer of fabric, “I could ruin you, completely destroy that pathetic little life of yours. But I don’t. You know why?” He kissed you hard, swallowing your unsteady breaths before pulling back just enough to whisper against your lips. “Because I love you. No one else gives a damn about you, not your saintly Domo, not even your precious mother. Just me.”

His movements grew rougher, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he pushed you back onto the bed. He hovered over you, his gaze dark and feral, his smirk curling into something more primal. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he said, his voice almost a growl as he pressed his body against yours. “Careless, weak, a complete mess. But you’re my mess. And no matter how much you screw up, no matter how much you betray me, I’m the one who’s always going to pick you up, fix you, keep you safe.”

Each word came with another bruising kiss, another searing touch that left you reeling. He whispered sweet poison into your ear, promises wrapped in degradation, affection laced with humiliation. “You’ll never find anyone else who loves you like this,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Who knows you like this. You’d be nothing without me, and you know it.”

His real personality was fully unleashed now—raw, unfiltered, and terrifyingly familiar. The mask of control slipped just enough to reveal the primal, obsessive hunger beneath. Every movement, every word, every calculated act was designed to remind you of one thing: he owned you. Body, mind, and soul.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. episode 08: lost in the fire.

preview: " . . . Without a second glance, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his foot, his voice low and taunting. “I don’t feel guilt, doll.”

“I…” you cannot put into words how you feel, it feels as though you had swallowed your tongue and any smart retort you had prepared is thrown out of the window. Shuji notices the change in your expression, how you went from being incredibly affected by his words to nothing all of a sudden. There’s an emptiness behind your eyes as you nod at him. “You’re right.”

And then you were gone. ."

word count: 5,3k

content warning: nsfw warning! heavy smut, choking, biting, n!pple sucking, unprotected s/x, not enough foreplay, jealousy.

༉‧₊˚. note: happy new years :) starting 2025 with a new chapter! thank you to my amazing best friend @aurelianamu for being my beta reader and helping point out mistakes and things that needed serious editing! i am still on a hiatus, but enjoy reading. thank you!

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

➜ MASTERLIST

Hanma openly admits his vocabulary isn’t exactly expansive, chalking it up to his teenage self choosing cigarettes over books, biker gangs over libraries and nasty fights over going to school. Only that he knows a couple of words, they’re still insufficient when he is facing this hurricane of emotions and fails to locate the heart of it. He can’t pull the plug on something that’s blurry, so he sits in his car and looks out of his window. The vehicle trembles in sync with the rhythm of his restless foot.

A tattooed hand goes up to his face, and he slides down his blouse cuff to stare at the watch adorning his wrist; 10:32PM. You had to be awake, right? 

One would question why he couldn’t simply send you a message, and the truth is far more complicated than that suggestion. He can’t message you when he was the one who told you he doesn’t fuck you on your period. You were offended by his tone more than what he was implying, and told him and he quotes ‘to go fuck himself and never come back again’. 

Now, this wasn’t the first time that the two of you had a petty argument, the earliest one Hanma can remember was of him saying he didn’t want to eat your homemade food because he thought soup was boring, and you had glared at him the whole night until he apologized with his head between your thighs. Or when you tried to insinuate that he was so much softer than you had thought, the night ended with tears streaming down your face as you gagged and choked on his cock. 

The two of you didn’t know what communication was, sex seemed to be the solution to everything. Well, except for this time.

You were understandably hormonal when you texted him, asking if he could drop by and hang out with you for a couple of hours at the beginning of November. And him being an asshole, he made some poor joke about how ‘he doesn’t fuck women on their periods because they’ll get attached’ and the rest is history.

Hanma doesn’t think he fucked up that badly, but that wouldn’t explain the fifth cigarette he throws out of his car window as he glares daggers at your balcony door. You can’t keep ignoring him forever, it’s been ten days. 

He mutters a sharp “fuck” under his breath as he swings the car door open, stepping out and locking it with a press of his key fob. His strides are long and confident as he reaches into the pocket of his suit pants for another cigarette. Shielding the flame with his hand, he lights it, the glow briefly illuminating his face before he tucks the cigarette between his index and middle finger. He ascends the stairs, smoke curling in his wake as he eyes the apartment doors one by one. Ironically, the one thing he had memorized beside the feeling of your hallway, was the smell of homemade food that emerged from beneath your doorway, a scent which was forever engraved at the forefront of his mind. 

A familiar wooden door greets Hanma as he steps into the dimly lit hallway, and he braces himself for how many times he is going to knock to get you to open the door for him. The memory of you whisper-yelling at him to just get in flashes before his eyes and an amused smirk finds its way up his lips, but it’s immediately wiped off when the door suddenly swings open. Surprised, he takes a step back with furrowed eyebrows, hand reaching towards his gun holster out of instinct. 

Then he hears it, the sound of high heels clicking against the tiles. 

You step out of your apartment with your back facing Hanma, allowing him to scan your outfit for a brief moment. It was cold outside, so you were wearing an oversized, fluffy and warm jacket on top of what he believes to be a short dress, and the black stockings you had chosen for the night bring more attention to your legs. To match the aesthetic of the outfit, you chose to wear your knee high, black leather high heeled boots, adding a couple centimeters to your height. And to finish off the look, you had styled your hair in a way that Hanma could only describe as intoxicating. The perfume you were wearing was dizzying, and it only worsens when you turn around and Hanma sees you with a full face of makeup. The right amount of glitter, the sharp eyeliner, the mascara giving your face that doe-eyed look and finally, that lip combo.

Where the hell were you headed to?

The good thing about working in corporate jobs was the amount of birthday celebrations to look out to. You had at least two birthdays each month, and November was no exception. But to ensure that not every winter birthday is celebrated inside the company, a co-worker took it upon themselves to invite everyone to a club, and who were you to turn down the offer? 

You hated being holed up in your apartment for too long, it made you feel claustrophobic and anxious, and you were getting sick of your balcony and the same boring view. The moment you step out, you get a whiff of cigarette smell and instantly, you realize who was behind you. Your movements are slow and careful as you lock your door, fix the scarf that’s wrapped around your neck to keep you warm then–you see him.

Hanma doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows twitch when you lock eyes with him, he can’t deny that the slight purse to your lips makes the coil in his stomach tighten, then your frown deepens. 

“Smoking’s not allowed in the hallway,” you point out towards the cigarette bud hanging between his fingers.

“Where are you going?” he completely dismisses your statement, eyes scanning your outfit from head to toe for what feels like the hundredth time. He knows exactly what hides beneath those layers of clothing, he’s touched and felt and groped it so many times already–then why does it bother him that you’re dressed so prettily for an occasion?

You’re already fed up with him, your high heels clicking against the tiles as you walk past him and Hanma almost groans when he gets a whiff of your perfume. Fuck, why did he have to be so stupid?

“Whatever, don’t stay here for too long or else they’ll kick you out.” You announce as you call for the elevator, pressing the button as you put your keys in your handbag. 

The tall man is quickly standing behind you. He knows why you’re ignoring him, but he doesn’t think it entirely justifies not answering him. “Did you not hear me?”

You scoff. “You’re saying that?” 

“It’s different, I’m asking where you’re going–”

“And now I’m asking you to mind your own business?” you hear a ding and step onto the elevator, Hanma right behind you. “I’m a grown ass woman.”

“Never seen your grown ass outside at night.” How blunt.

“Oh right, because in the last two months when you’ve known me and rarely ever visited may I add, you’ve never seen me go outside after 8PM?” 

You were bitter, that’s understandable, but that doesn’t explain completely avoiding his question, does it? He was only asking about your whereabouts so that he knows where to expect to see you! 

And perhaps even follow you there. 

Hanma bites his tongue at your words. He would never admit that you were right, or that he messed up by completely ignoring your phone calls and messages because you had told him that you were on your period. However, everyone makes mistakes and it’s what makes us human…

…or however that saying goes. 

The elevator starts to go down, his golden eyes alternate between scanning the number shown in bold colors indicating the floor number and the screen of your phone. You were sending a text in a group chat, he could see the name of it–something about your company, and next to it was the word ‘birthday party!’. He’s thankful that he’s being sneaky enough to be able to look at what you were typing, however that doesn’t last when you finally notice that he has grown a little too quiet. You hide your phone in your chest.

“Can you not?” you hiss, voice laced with venom as you shoot him a glare over your shoulder. 

“A colleague’s birthday?”

“What are you, twelve?” you furrow your eyebrows as you turn to face him fully. Even with high heels, you don’t reach his full height and you hate it. You hate that you are looking up at him, at his handsome face which you didn’t see for a full week, and you absolutely despise the way he is staring at you.

His eyes were devouring you, forcing you to think of anything but how you’ve made them roll to the back of his head countless times. You refuse to stare at his bulging arms, or how his hair was slightly disheveled from running a hand through it. Was he frustrated by his own actions? You hope he was, you hope he fisted his cock pathetically to the thought of you, that his whines were so loud it echoes in his empty apartment. You pray that a mission interrupted his alone time, and he had to finish off some guy he didn’t like with painful blue balls.

And you fervently and desperately hope that he cannot read your true thoughts.

“Add sixteen years to that,” he replies while bringing the cigarette to his lips, taking a whiff from the stick. He pulls his hand away, smirking when he notices the slight shift in your expression and it worsens when he blows smoke on your face.

“Stop that! I don’t want to smell like cigarettes when I get in the car!”

“Oh?” he tilts his head to the side, golden eyes locked with yours as he searches for another clue. “So you need a car to get there?”

“I would be crazy if I walked outside dressed like this.” you ignore his intense stare, masking your nervousness with annoyance as you pull out your phone again. 

“Who’s driving you there?”

“None of your damn business.” 

“An uber.” The elevator finally dings and you hurriedly step out of the cubicle, trying to get away from him as far as possible. 

“Oh! We got ourselves a detective here!” you exclaim jokingly, the sound of high heels clicking against the tiles echoing in the empty hallway. “You should work for the FBI, has anyone ever told you that?”

Hanma ignores your comments, his strides long and purposeful as he walks right behind you. “You keep clutching your purse, it’s open so you can make sure that your credit card is there and your forgetful ass didn’t actually miss anything. You’ll stop getting anxious when you get into the car and pay the driver–”

“Stop that!” You finally turn around to stare at him, and the tall man has to stop himself from scooping you into his arms and fucking you against the nearest wall. You puff out your chest like a balloon ready to burst, a fragile show of dominance and anger, but you were clearly fed up and you couldn’t handle hearing his voice anymore.

“You think you can read me easily, you think using your little criminal tricks on me will get you off the hook, it doesn’t.” you get even closer to the man, a manicured finger poking at his chest with each syllable rolling off your tongue. “You think you’re the only one who can read me? Well, I’ll tell you what’s in front of me right now.”

Hanma remains unnervingly quiet, so you continue.

"I see a man who couldn’t keep his word if his life depended on it. Someone who drowns his guilt in cigarette smoke because facing it is too much to bear. A man so shaken by the idea of me living my life without catering to him that he’ll go as far as to ruin it for me, hoping to force a reaction out of me. Well, guess what? You won’t. So enjoy your misery and your frustration, because tonight? You won’t be getting anything from me"

The only sounds breaking the stillness of the moment were the occasional hum of passing cars outside the building, their distant echoes a sharp contrast to the suffocating quiet of the hallway. The air around you felt heavy as you struggled to catch your breath, your face was in flames. Your gaze flickered wildly over Shuji’s expression, desperate to find even the slightest crack, some hint that your words had gotten to him, that they had landed where they intended to. 

But all you were met with was silence, dragging on until a scoff cut through the air and you felt your chest tightening. 

Without a second glance, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his foot, his voice low and taunting. “I don’t feel guilt, doll.”

“I…” you cannot put into words how you feel, it feels as though you had swallowed your tongue and any smart retort you had prepared is thrown out of the window. Shuji notices the change in your expression, how you went from being incredibly affected by his words to nothing all of a sudden. There’s an emptiness behind your eyes as you nod at him. “You’re right.” 

And then you were gone. 

He doesn’t try to follow you, the sound of your high heels clicking against the concrete becomes a distant sound the farther you walk away and he stands near the entrance of the building with his hands buried in his pockets. 

It was time to work.

—

“Where were you? We were looking for you!”

“Sorry! My cat threw up on the carpet and I had to clean it real quick,” you say with a wave of hands, looking around the crowded area with bright eyes. “Seems like the birthday girl is having fun!” 

You see a flash of red hair on the dance floor, and chuckle when you notice the way she seemed to effortlessly become the center of attention. People were cheering her on, clapping and asking the DJ to change the song just to match her energy. Meanwhile, you decide to take off your coat and place it on the chair that a coworker had reserved for you. 

You weren’t the type to go clubbing, years of being constantly guarded by your brothers had left you tense and uneasy under the flashing lights, but you envied those who did it so effortlessly. They wouldn’t look as awkward as you do. 

That is until you feel a pair of eyes following your every move, and you are forced to look at them. 

It was a coworker, someone you had grown comfortable around because of his kind gestures. He would offer to help you carry papers around even if you were going to take the elevator, and when you ran out of water or your favorite drink in the fridge, he would be the first to request a restock for you. He was a gentleman, one that didn’t know how to hide his attraction towards you.

And you didn’t seem to mind it, a woman could appreciate being treated nicely once in a while.

“Not going to join them?” He gestures towards the rest of your colleagues who seemed to be enjoying their time on the dance floor. You chuckle as you shake your head, leaning back in your seat.

“Dancing is not my thing,”

The man, whose name is Tomoya, takes this as an open invitation to sit across from you. He puts his elbows on the table as he leans forward, clearly invested in the conversation.

“Why? It’s just moving your body to the beat.”

You press your lips as you hum, leaning towards the brown haired man as you respond.“Hmmm, I’m not sure if I like that.” 

“How about this, if I can change your mind, you–” he pauses as he points his finger at you, eyes glimmering with mischief. “--go on a date with me.”

You scoff, raising an eyebrow at him. “A date?”

“Yup.” 

How do you explain this to a man you hardly speak to at work? How do you tell him that your life is already entangled with someone else–someone too deeply involved in your world to simply cut loose? The idea of going on a date with Tomoya doesn’t seem so bad, but the thought of facing Hanma, of telling him about the possibility that you want to end whatever it is you have, makes you hold your head in your hands. 

“We’ll see.”

You’ll deal with it later.

The rhythm of the music reverberates through the air as you find yourself on the dance floor with your colleague, Tomoya, who seems to be enjoying himself far more than you. The bass is heavy, the lights flicker like a heartbeat, and for a moment, you can almost forget your reservations. His encouragement draws a timid smile from you, and despite your clumsy attempts to follow his lead, you eventually surrender to the music. The tension in your shoulders eases as your movements become less forced, and soon enough, you find yourself laughing and moving your body to the beat.

You walk through the crowd to greet the birthday girl, your grin bright and contagious as you ask if she’s having fun. Before long, Tomoya succeeds to reclaim your attention. His lips move, but it’s hard to hear anything with the loud music.

“What?” you call out, cupping your ear for emphasis.

With a smile, he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “I said, you look beautiful.”

Goosebumps rise on your skin at his words, and your face heats up. Your laughter quiets down as you shyly glance away, scanning the room for an escape from his intense gaze. That’s when you see him. A familiar figure near the bar freezes you in place. Your chest tightens, the world blurring as you focus on the tall man leaning casually against the counter.

“Are you okay?” Tomoya’s voice snaps you back, but your response is dismissive.

“Yeah, yeah,” you pat his shoulder with a forced smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Your steps quicken as you drag your feet through the crowd, each stride bringing more dread. Please don’t be him. Please. But as you approach him, there’s no denying it. That sharp grin, the cigarette dangling between his fingers–it’s him. Your hand finds his shoulder before you can stop yourself, and when he turns, you’re met with those golden eyes that seem to silently mock your surprise. 

“Well, what a coincidence, doll,” Hanma drawls, his voice dripping with amusement. “Do you need something?”

“Excuse me,” you snap, your hand gripping his forearm as you pull him to his feet. “We need to talk.”

“Oh absolutely,” he smirks, letting you drag him past the sea of curious eyes. He seems far too entertained for your liking, his laughter barely contained as you shove open the door to the women’s bathroom.

The startled gasps and shrieks from the women inside only add to the dread you were feeling. You glance around apologetically, muttering a quick, “Sorry,” as they scurry out, a few of them shooting you knowing looks. 

“Relationship emergency?” one asks before disappearing out the door.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, locking the door behind you.

“Are you insane?” you whirl around, glaring at Hanma as he leans casually against the sinks, an infuriating smirk painted across his face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Why? Did I ruin your little moment out there?” His tone is playful, but there’s an edge to it that makes your throat tighten and your mouth go dry. “Mad that I stopped you from almost fucking him?”

“Don’t you even start–”

“Or what?” His voice drops, low and dangerous, as he pushes off the sink and begins to close the distance between the two of you. The confidence in his stride makes your knees feel like jelly, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the way he towers over you so easily. “Tell me, doll, is this why you didn’t want to tell me where you were going tonight? Were you afraid I’d show up and fuck up your little date with that fucker?”

“Don’t call him that,” you retort, though your voice wavers under his suffocating stare.

His eyebrows raise, mock surprise etched across his face. “Oh? Defending him now, are we?”

“I’m not defending him!” you argue, though the crack in your voice betrays you. Shit, you were a nervous mess. “He didn’t do anything to deserve your anger.”

Hanma chuckles, low and menacing. “Anger? Oh, doll, I’m not angry. Not with him, anyway.” His steps falter when he’s inches away from you, his body caging you against the door. “Because we both know he doesn’t mean shit to you, right?”

Your silence speaks louder than words, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “It’d crush him, wouldn’t it? If he knew why you’re so hesitant to go on a date with him.”

“I never said–” Your breath catches as his hand cups your jaw, tilting your face upward. 

“So you do want to go on a date with him?” His golden eyes burn into yours, searching for something, though his grin never falters.

You gulp, your voice barely above a whisper. “...maybe.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip, and you can’t stop the way your lips part instinctively. “You’re a liar,” he coos, his tone dripping with mock pity.

“Am not–”

A gasp is ripped from your body when you feel his knee push past your thigh, landing perfectly on your clothed cunt as he presses you further against the wall.

“Let’s try again,” he purrs, pressing his lips against your ear. “Do you want to go on a date with him?”

Your lips tremble as you throw your head back, and Shuji’s hand lands perfectly on your throat. He feels a piece of jewelry there, but he ignores it as he squeezes your neck gently, drawing a quiet moan out of you. 

“I…” you start, unable to keep your eyes open as you feel your body burn up. The effect he had on you, the way it felt effortless to make a mess of you felt unfair. You gulp as you try to morph the lust in your gaze into anger. “I do.”

A pair of lips crash against yours almost immediately, and Hanma quickly catches as your knees give out on you at the impact. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss this–his lips, how roughly he handled your body whilst making sure that nothing hurt you, because you craved it more than anything else. So you kiss him, fervently moving your lips against his as your hands claw at his shoulders and back. You felt like a flower starved of sunlight, withering in the absence of warmth and connection. 

Hanma couldn’t offer either, but his touch was enough to fill the void. 

He pats your butt and you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist before sitting you on the sink. The marble is cold, sending a sharp chill against your skin but it quickly fades away when Hanma’s lips travel down your neck, then your exposed chest where your perfume hits his nostrils the hardest. 

The tall man stands there, inhaling deeply as your scent washes over his senses, his eyes closing as he surrenders to its intoxicating pull. He notices the necklace, how it seems to be stuck to your skin even if it doesn’t match your attire and something coils in his stomach.

Without second thought, he sinks his teeth on the skin of your boob, a loud gasp ripping from your throat as your hand finds his hair.

“Not there–” You try to reason with him, but he doesn’t listen. Instead, he sinks his teeth into a different spot, watching as you throw your head back, your back arching in response, a wave of pleasure taking over.

If he could, he would tear that piece of jewelry from your body.

“Shuji,” the sound of his name slipping from your lips is a melodic drawl, intoxicating him like no drug ever could. An animalistic growl rumbles from the back of his throat as he pulls down the top of your dress, revealing your boobs. The cold air makes goosebumps rise on your skin, and your nipples instantly harden under the attention given to them. 

He fervently licks and sucks on the buds, shoving his hands under your dress. You are lost in the pleasure, fingers digging in his scalp as he gently bites on your left nipple, his hand groping the other breast. 

Then you hear a tearing sound, followed by a sudden chill, making you shiver as the coldness creeps in.

“Oh my god!” you scream in horror, instinctively trying to close your legs as you eye the ripped stockings. “Those were expensive you fucking asshole!” 

“Fuck that,” your heart stills when you see him lean down, biting your inner thighs and salivating at the sight of your black thong. “I’ve got money.”

“Y-You’re not buying me a-anyth–ah!” you try to cover your mouth when you feel his head get shoved between your thighs, a wet tongue pressing against the fabric of your thong. And then, you hear a dark chuckle. 

“You smell so fucking good. Did all that fighting turn you on?” he pulls away, his fingers playing with the straps of your thong. “Or did you fuck around hoping that I’d fuck the attitude out of ya?”

Stubborn yet looking for a good fuck, you respond breathlessly.“No.”

“No?” he tilts his head, a mocking expression on his face as he purses his lips. “So you don’t want me to fuck you?”

He sees you look down at your own lap, and bursts out laughing as he finally removes the fabric off of your body. “Ah, you’re so fucking adorable,” he moves away from the sink and starts to unbuckle his belt. You sit up on the sink to admire him as he frees his hardened cock, stroking it a couple of times before standing between your thighs. He notices your starstruck gaze, and a low chuckle rumbles from the back of his throat, as if amused by the effect he has on you.

“Cockdrunk already?”

“Shut up.” You pull him in for a kiss, your hand traveling down to line up his tip with your entrance. He parts his lips, but then you feel him smile against your mouth. You open your eyes to meet his gaze. 

He watches with an amused grin as your jaw goes slack the moment he pushes himself inside, but it quickly fades away when the wetness of your pussy washes over his senses and he has to take a moment to ground himself. 

He can’t cum too quickly, that would be pathetic.

Hanma doesn’t take long before starting to fuck you, slow and calculated thrusts quickly turn into hurried and sloppy ones when your pussy clamps down on him with each kiss he presses to your pulse. He feels his self control slipping through the cracks of his mind, and when he finally looks at your face again, he is reminded of why the two of you were fucking in the women’s bathroom. 

With a clenched jaw and flared nostrils, his hand travels to the back of your head and he yanks it back. 

“Thought we had an agreement doll,” he hisses through gritted teeth, barely able to keep his eyes open as he grips your hair. “I thought you knew that you couldn’t pull shit like that with me. But I bet you like it, huh? You love testing my limits–ah fuck!” you clamp down on him again when he hits that one spot that makes your eyes roll, the added friction of his crotch against your clit sending shivers down your spine as you arch your back.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, the burning in your scalp mixing with pleasure. 

Hanma leans forward, pressing his lips against your cheek as he growls. “Answer me.” 

Tears well in your eyes, overwhelmed by the sheer presence of him. He was everywhere–inside of you, touching you–and now it felt as though he was trying to invade your very thoughts. “Fuck, fuck Shuji please don’t stop, please–” 

He continues to fuck you at the same angle, licking his fingers to rub your clit in messy circles.“You like getting on my nerves, don’t ya? Makes it more fun for me to fuck you stupid.”

“Oh!” You gasp at the stimulation, eyes widening as you try to look down at where the two of you meet. “Oh, right there!”

“I asked you a fucking question.”He spits out venomously, his grip tightening around your head, forcing your forehead to press against his as he holds you in place.

“Yes!” You cry out, not caring about how fucked out you must look. “Yes, yes I do! I love it, oh my god please don’t stop fucking me, please–”

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought–come on baby girl, get filthy with me.” Hanma grins triumphantly, but the pleasure starts to wash over him. “Make a mess on me, pretty girl. Use my cock, you know how to do that.” 

He leans back, watching as you pathetically try to move your hips back and forth. After a few failed attempts, you break down in front of him.

“I c-can’t, I can’t!” You sob, your hips trembling and shaky. Hanma’s gaze locks onto yours, his dark eyes fixated on the tears streaming down your cheeks–the sight of you so fragile beneath him is enough to send him over the edge. “Please, please fuck me Shuji.”

“Fuck–” His hand wraps around your throat, fingers grazing your necklace as he captures it in the same motion, and then his hips find that same delicious pace. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing in the same dizzying motion that made you the loudest earlier, but instead he hears nothing.

You suddenly fall quiet as your body arches away from him and Hanma watches in awe as your hand shakily grips his forearm. The bathroom is filled with wet sounds of skin to skin, and then he feels something wet on his pants and a loud gasp painfully rips from the back of your throat. 

“Oh shit!” His proud laughter dies down on his tongue as your pussy clenches on him, burying his face in your chest. He reaches his own orgasm after a couple of strokes, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own noises.

The two of you sit there in silence, with mostly you trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. You had never cum that hard before, not with a man at least, and your face burns with the realization that you squirted on him.

“Oh no, how am I going to clean that?” you don’t even notice that Shuji’s pants are soiled as well, his cock still nestled in your pussy.

“I don't pay cleaners so I can grab a mop myself.” 

“What?” you furrow your eyebrows as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Did I not tell ya?”

“Huh?”

 His voice dips lower as his grin stretches wider, “I own this club, doll.”

2025 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[hoes4lino]

Poisonous tears

Genre: Angst, fluff & smut | exes to lovers

Word Count: 10.8k

Reading Time: 40 minutes

WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains NSFW / suggestive & angst content and mentions of infertility, alcohol & cigarettes. Minors please don’t interact, please beware of the content you consume online.

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May 8th 2021,

They say that when cats are about to die they run away from their home so that their owners won’t see them die.

In this case, no one is dying, though every day you notice a black stain growing on Minho’s love— as harsh as it sounds.

He would take late night shifts to avoid being on the same bed as you, hanging out more with his friends so he wouldn’t hear your obnoxious voice, he was just barely home nowadays.

He was running away from you, so you wouldn’t notice how the light of his heart was diminishing by the day, perhaps this was his way to protect you from a heart-wrenching heartbreak. Ironic isn’t it?

However, one thing you know about Minho is that even though he might not love you anymore, he would rather walk on fire stones than hurt you. How do you know that? You just know it.

You knew it. You knew something was wrong the moment he told you he was going to be home for dinner.

You knew something was wrong when he suddenly kissed you this morning after weeks of no kisses.

“My feelings for you died” The words repeated over and over again, you felt your gut wrenching in pain as the sudden urge to scream, run and throw up rushed through your whole body, suddenly the air felt too thick to breathe, your skin was icy cold and your lips trembled.

“Oh” is all you said, not even a word just a mere sound ‘Oh’ though it sounded nonchalant deep inside it held all the emotions, the grief you were going through.

You didn’t cry though. He was not worth your tears, thats what you told yourself as you felt the knot in your throat tightening, deep inside you wanted to burst your lungs out crying for him, cling into his leg and tell him you would change.

However crying was useless, it wasn’t going to help you get him back, on the other hand it would make him see you as a weak woman, you didn’t want that.

“Im sorry”

Right. He is still here, he is sitting on the opposite side of the table, eyes watery, head hung down.

You felt the urge to scoff, he was the one ending this long term relationship why is he swallowing tears? That should be you.

The silence that filled the room by the seconds consumed the both of you, the tension was something that couldn’t have been cut with the sharpest knife. You have a million questions but the main one is why? when did all go wrong?

Millions of memories rushed through your mind as your love for Minho was on the verge of life and death, trying to recall the moment where things when downhill.

“Y/n”

Why does his voice still has that soft caring tone when calling your name in this situation? You felt your stomach twirl, your gaze looking up to meet his.

He stays quiet as you both locked eyes for the first time today. Suddenly he ran out of words.

“Please leave” you needed time for yourself, him being here was pointless now, there was no reason. You didn’t wanna hear him anymore, you didn’t want to see him nor breathe the same air as his.

You wanted him to vanish from your life. He stood up and slowly walked away, he hesitated to leave his heart having a million words to tell you, he wanted to clarify that deep down he cared for you. But he knew better.

Little did you knew he would actually vanish from your life.

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July 18th 2021,

After the breakup you felt you were scarred with the deepest wound ever, two months passed and getting up the bed was the hardest task every morning.

Who would say a person could have such impact on you? To be fair you never thought of breaking up with Minho ever since you two began dating during senior year of high school.

I mean every action he did guaranteed you that he was meant to spend the rest of his lifetime with you. Maybe it was because he applied to the same colleges as you to always keep you close, or because you guys discussed your wedding, pregnancy, sex, kisses, undying love. BULLSHIT that’s what it all was.

You found yourself on the floor, greasy hair, puffy eyes, runny nose, pajamas you been wearing for days— takeout boxes laying next to you alongside soju bottles.

What was the point of living if your reason to live is gone? Were you being dramatic? That’s what your friends said… that’s what your mom said… that’s what everybody said.

“You are overreacting”

Maybe you are, maybe you are not, however you don’t care, you don’t care anymore about anything, that’s why you find yourself in this state.

You can’t cry anymore because there’s no more tears to shed, you can’t continue with your daily life because your daily life didn’t exist anymore. So what now? are you supposed to just suck it up? You don’t even remember how your life was before you started dating him.

Five long years of him next to you, now there was nothing. Just an empty heart and poisonous tears that would sting your cheeks.

The ringing of your phone rung on your ears, you groaned as you stood up. You didn’t check the phone, you didn’t care. Instead you sat on your vanity and looked at this version of you, the sad one, the miserable one.

You gaze slowly shifted to the wrinkled Polaroids of you and him that you tried to rip off but couldn’t because your weak. And just like that you felt your wound bleeding again. That hypothetical one, the deep wound of your heart.

Your phone lit up next to you catching your eye. You vaguely grabbed it to see an unknown text pop on your home screen. It was a video.

You furrowed your brows as you open the displayed media. Your phone dropping to the floor as soon as you realized what it was. A sex tape.

Not any sex tape. It was Minho’s with some other girl. Just like that… the wound got deeper. The video clearly shows the girl recording herself sucking him dry. Even if his face wasn’t shown you knew it was him, you knew every inch of his body better than yours. Also with the fact you could hear his soft moans in the back, pet names that used to be yours and only yours being used on some bitch.

Your knuckles turned white, if you said there weren’t more tears to be shed you were wrong. You walked to your kitchen opening the fridge to get a soju bottle. Drinking it one go, you smashed it on the floor, the glass shattered all over the room. Another bottle was opened.

Fuck you Lee Minho, is what your brain screamed while your heart screamed heart wrenching why’s.

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January 1st 2024,

The colorful lights and the loud bangs of the new years fireworks hovered all over your apartment. Another year passed. Another year without him. Its been about 3 years since Minho broke up with you, and honestly you don’t care about it anymore though the pain always lingered.

However you could feel the wound of your old long term relationship healing as the years passed by. You have had no contact with the man you used to love dearly. He vanished from your life, just as you wished the day he broke up with you. Crazy how someone you love can turn into an stranger in mere of seconds.

You took a long drag of your cigarette as you stare at the invitation of a new years party. Scheduled for Jan 8th. You had the feeling he was going to be there since you were invited by Changbin, a mutual friend of yours.

You wanted to go, and not because deep down your heart longed to see him, but because you truly felt like a party was what you needed, it's been a while since you last went to one and had actual fun with friends and new people; However, you hesitate to reply, as you had no clue how you could react if you were to cross paths with him. You still had a bunch of unanswered questions for him and though you craved an answer you needed to move on. His love was dead as much as you were.

The next couple days were filled with crippling anxiety, you hated that after 3 years the thought of him still lingered in your mind. However how could he not? He used to be your world mere years ago.

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January 8th,

You applied your cherry tone lipstick, trying your best to not mess up as your hands trembled. You looked at yourself in the mirror longer than you’ve wished. Your dress was completely neat yet you kept passing your hands over it.

“You got this”

You mumbled as you took another look at yourself, you looked divine, smooth skin, perfect hair and dress that snatched your body perfectly. It was his loss it really was.

The pang of your heart increasing with ever step you to took to the main entrance of the party. As you entered the music automatically ringing in your ears as it progressively got louder the deeper you went inside the house.

“Y/n” You heard a cheerful voice call out for you, it was Changbin alongside with Seungmin. You gave them a sheepish smile. The two boys stared at you reassuringly, they been your friends for so long… they knew.

They knew about the way your stomach twirled and your heart pang with the thought of seeing him and you hated that with your soul.

“Your late, I thought you were going to ditch us” Seungmin said with a warm smile trying to break the tension that was surrounding you.

You chuckled nervously, they know why you late. “Don’t press it Seungmin, she arrived at the best time, everyone is drunk meaning the party is about to get lit” Changbin jumped up and down gaining a glare from the younger one.

You laughed this time sincerely, gaining a bright smile from the boys. “Do you wanna join us at games?” Changbin said and you nodded.

In a place filled with hundreds of people, you are the one my eyes look for every time I look around.

The burning sensation of the tequila hitting your throat made you squint your eyes as hard as you could as you downed your shot refusing to answer the question being asked on the game of truth or dare.

“Would you talk to him if he was here?”

Crazy how a simple hypothetical question made your whole body spin.

You could hear the boys scolding the person who asked the question as you bit onto the lemon. You didn’t wanna play anymore and they knew, but you didn’t want to feed into their perspective of you being a weak woman. So you sucked it up.

Today it seems that they’ve decided to make it a target to get you wasted as all the questions they asked revolved around him, guess that's what you got for making your love for him your whole personality back then.

Chan scolded everyone a million times for bringing him up, however you reassured him it was ok. He knew it wasn’t. Yet he was just as curious as everyone else on why you two broke up. And as painful as it was you didn’t know the answer to most of their questions either.

You excused yourself to go to the bathroom. It wasn’t until you stood up that you realized how drunk you were. “I’ll go with you,” Felix said, ensuring you would make it safely to the bathroom.

The conversation that bloomed between the two of you as you walked to the bathroom was pleasant, maybe it was because of the way he slightly flirted with you or because as you two talked you spotted a pair of eyes looking at the two of you with anger in them.

Fuck you.

Before you could even made it to the bathroom you were pulled into a kiss, not that it was unpleasant, it was unexpected… more like uninvited, you haven’t kissed anyone since Minho.

And not because you couldn’t but because you wanted your first kiss after the breakup to be significant, as significant as the ones you gave Minho during your relationship.

This kiss meant nothing to you, just the desperate desire of love to be loved.

Tears creeped into your eyes as you locked eyes with Minho while Felix’s plump lips were on yours, his hands roaming on your waist. Since when things turned like this? You could see Minho swallowed a lump that formed in his throat.

His eyes looked red-ish, sadness lingering in them. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t believe his poisonous tears. Fake tears. Same tears you saw the last time you saw him when he broke up with you.

Fuck it.

You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around the blond boy’s neck. Gaining a soft moan from him, you smirked into the kiss as you opened your eyes again. This time no one was there anymore. The brunette boy was long gone… again.

The wet kisses being placed on your neck and the leg in between your legs was not enough to get him out of your mind, Felix was too drunk to even notice you were standing stiff against the wall with a blank face.

You played with Felix hair as you slowly pushed him away. The freckled boy gave you a sweet smile, the blush of his cheeks rushing to his ears.

“Sorry y/n, I got carried away” His words were sincere and warm, but what can you expect from one of the purest souls you know. You reciprocated his smile and pecked his cheek.

“It's fine lix” You said softly as you walked away. While Felix had a full-on makeout session with you, you made up your mind. And you would face your biggest fear.

Your body walked aimlessly through the crowd of people that filled the house, you tried your best to walk as straight as you could, but those shots of tequila you had while playing truth or dare added a weight to your shoulders. It wasn't until you crashed on a firm body that you snapped out of whatever was on your mind.

Maybe you underestimated the seriousness of the situation once you were face-to-face with him. The whole scene felt like something out of a book, his sharp features looked more prominent under the soft light of the neon lights, the music blasting in your ears and the people that constantly crashed on you as they danced were quickly erased from the face of the earth, as all your attention revolved around him.

“You are drunk” His voice had a cold tone you never heard before, not even when you barely knew each other. You began to understand why people thought of him as a cold person, it was the first time you saw him using his shield on you; just like that the first dagger stabbed your heart.

You scoffed softly as you looked at the floor, taking a deep breath to get your act together, missing the way his gaze was fixated on the hickeys Felix had given you previously, he pressed his tongue against his cheek annoyed at the sight.

“I don't want to talk to you right now" You tried to say firmly, however you could hear your own voice trembling. Minho knew he should have just gone and left you alone but he didn't want to, and as selfish as it sounded he wanted to stick around just so no one else would touch or even look in your direction.

After a while of fighting with his own thoughts, he grabbed your wrist to pull you outside the party "We need to talk" He said as he led you out to the balcony, stopping in his tracks as he felt you trying to pull away.

“Please not now” Your voice cracked, you sounded vulnerable. He could feel his heart dropping to his stomach as he heard your voice, he hated how much he had corrupted your happpiness, he was always aware of your emotional status, maybe he hadn't been present these past three years but he often checked on you, finding himself going to your favorite spots and watch you from afar.

You sucked your breath as you turned around to leave, he knew this wasn’t the moment but while you weren’t looking he took a second to admire your delicate beauty, the one he fell in love with, the one he still loves but it is kept a secret as his emotions are trapped in a bottle deep inside his heart.

“You are drunk” He said as his warm fingertips rubbed around your wrist. You felt an electric shock tensing your muscles. “Call it a night and let me drive you home” You should have said no. That’s what your brain kept telling you, however you didn’t listen. The moment you nodded your head it felt like the biggest betrayal ever.

The ride to your house felt nauseatingly nostalgic, he remembered the shortcuts he used to take, your favorite song playing on the car radio. You were too drunk for this.

As you were getting out of the car, you stumbled making him worried you wouldn’t make it safe to your door. You protested against him, but he wouldn’t budge. Walking you to your apartment, hand on your waist as you grabbed into his shirt for steadiness.

Your heart jolted with joy, the whole scenario that your head was creating was fake but you blamed the alcohol, just enjoy the moment and play pretend.

He helped you enter your apartment, helped you clean up, and gave you pills to prevent the hangover, the whole interaction felt too domestic for a man who became a stranger three years ago. You wonder what he has been up to, and yeah maybe you stalked his social media here and there, but he was too mysterious— there was never something new on there.

“Minho” You said in a soft voice as you struggled to stay awake, his soft gaze looked at you as he sat on the edge next to you, his hand softly caressing your hair “Let's talk… someday” You sounded weak, you hated that.

The last thing you recall before blacking out was a chaste kiss on your cheek that reassured your question.

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January 9th

You woke happier than usual, filled with a lot of energy, you found it odd since you swore you blacked out last night, matter of fact you don’t even remember how you got home.

You did remember your dream vividly though, Minho taking care of you like he used to when you two were dating. Perhaps and that’s why you felt energized, you were unsure of it.

Turning on the shower you took a long steamy shower, today you wanted to feel pretty just like your mood. You even did your hair and makeup, you had nowhere important to go, but you might as well.

Once you were done you walked over to your kitchen, and thats when your heart dropped.

You could smell the fresh aroma of breakfast— walking closer to spotted a plate with french toast and berries, a cup of coffee on the side alongside a note.

“Im writing this since you probably forgot about last night, and before you freak out no we didn’t do anything, sorry I stayed the night, I just wanted to make sure you were ok, here is some breakfast in compensation.

Also lets meet up next week, I’ll send you a text with deets”

- Minho

You could feel your stomach twirling as you read the note. No way what you thought was a dream was actually real.

Honestly, you hoped he would forget about it but it's Lee Minho, something about him is that he never forgets stuff, which was a blessing and a curse considering that he never forgot any detail about you or important dates, however, he never forgot your weakness either.

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February 12th

Minho has been texting you nonstop since that night, often sending good morning texts to check on you, etc. You hated the way you woke up every day with the thought of finding his texts on your phone. His been wanting to meet up with you to have a proper conversation but to be fair you were unsure of it.

"I don't know Chaewon" You groaned as you threw your head against the table, Chaewon laughed softly as she took a sip of her coffee. "Girl look, Im in no position to talk about Minho's business, but I've heard from Jisung that he went through some hard shit even before you two broke up if anything you weren't the only one suffering," Chaewon said as she moved her gaze towards you, your head laying on the coffee table while looking out the window.

"And? I don't care that bitch made me lose myself, he can't just come back whenever he wants to" You said stubbornly standing on your own business "You know that's the biggest cap ever, you do care, and plus who said he wants to go back with you? what if he just wants to talk and finally tell you why he decided to cut off the relationship? Cause you know damn well it wasn't because he didn't love you anymore" You rolled your eyes softly at her remark.

You know she was right and you hated that. "Bitch you are supposed to be on my side, what happened to hater Chaewon?" You said frustrated making her laugh "She died the moment she learned the other side of the story," She said making you scoff "I will never get why you and Jisung refuse to tell me his side of the story"

"Because that's none of our business, Minho should be the one to tell you" You sat up straight on your chair looking defeated "Chaewon..." You spoke softly, "I'm scared" She gave you an encouraging smile "Girl, trust me..." She paused briefly taking a deep breath "The worst thing that can happen if you two meet is him leaving again but this time for good" She then took a sip of her coffee.

"Being honest it all depends on your reaction when he tells you his side of the story, but I must say you two might end up bawling your eyes" Chaewon suddenly laughed when she saw yours eyes widen.

"You'll be fine trust."

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February 14th,

After your little coffee date with Chaewon, you went home and texted Minho that you were ready to meet up and talk in person, however, should you find it suspicious that after a month of casual contact since the New Year's party, he suddenly texted you on Valentine's Day that he would drop by your house? Yes.

You were sitting on your living room couch as you re-read the text over and over, did he mean today? now? You quickly got up and rushed to your room to get ready, however, you stopped. Should you look casual? yeah, it might be Valentine's Day but he is not your date.

After sitting on the floor with a bunch of clothing options you decided to not think much about it, I mean yeah it's Valentine's Day but it's also February 14th, just another date on the calendar.

You wore your favorite pair of new balances, black track pants, and a cute crop top along with all your jewelry, like you said it's just another date on the calendar, therefore, you dressed casually. Just another day.

You arrived to the cafe downstairs your apartment. You immediately spotted him, baggy jeans with a black hoodie with the picture of a cat. Great, he was also dressed casually. Just another day.

“Hey” you said softly as you scooted on the chair in front of him. It would be weird to say this wasn’t awkward however it really wasn’t, and that just made you more uneasy about this whole interaction.

He looked up from his phone to look at you, and he smiled softly. In all honesty, it was hard for him to be here for so many reasons, and this is the main reason why he fought with himself this morning to come here and not ditch you.

Before the breakup, Minho was going through some issues on his own, which would eventually evolve to be the main reason why he left you. He knew he would hurt you sooner or later, so he decided to do it quick, leaving the situation as vague as possible as his heart imposed him from opening up to you.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to come back and clear things up” Although he sounded nonchalant you could see the pain in his eyes, maybe Minho was never open with his feelings but his eyes always spoke what he felt.

“Being honest, I couldn’t bring myself to face you, Jisung basically smacked some sense into me” He smiled awkwardly "Plus when I saw you at Binnie's party I felt it was time to stop running away" There was tension surrounding both you that made it hard to breathe.

“It’s fine… have you tried the pudding here?” Maybe you knew he was here to tell you something, but you also knew the knot in his throat was making it hard for him, so you chose to break some of the tension. Just another day.

Thinking about it, it’s kinda ironic how forgiving you are of him, he left you with no explanation, made you lose yourself and on top of that he never dared to show up again after three years and no. The cherry on top is the sex tape you have engraved deep down on your brain of him and some other bitch.

You could feel the rage boiling inside of you, but you quickly shrugged it off as he began speaking “I haven’t…” He was hesitant with his answer, something tells you that he has tried it before but he wanted to pleasure you by pretending he didn't.

You just nod as you suggest he try it, and once the waiter comes around to pick up your order, he gives you a vague smile as he orders for both of you.

Just another day. You have been sitting in this cafe with him just talking about life as if you are back in time and you two are together again. It’s smooth and pleasant, there's chuckles here and there. However, he is not talking. He is not addressing the big elephant in the room and it's bothering you, however, you stood quiet, waiting for him to feel ready.

“This might be weird, but you think he could keep talking in your apartment? I kinda want a more private place” He has always been a confident man, and you know that, however, he sounds weak and insecure, completely opposite of who he is.

Maybe and the break up also made him lose himself? Little did you know he lost himself way back before the breakup.

Once in your apartment he sat on your living room as you poured some wine for both of you, after a while of thinking you figured some alcohol would help him loose his tongue and speak fearlessly to you.

“Thanks” He muttered, immediately taking a sip of the wine. “To be fair what I’m about to tell you is not easy for me, but I know you want answers and I want to help you find them as much as I can” His voice was sincere, soft, and vulnerable, you could feel a squeeze in your heart.

“I won’t pressure you into talking” Although you tried to sound sincere and gentle, the hidden anger inside of you was slightly present in your tone. You hated yourself for being bad at hiding it.

He chuckled softly at your tone, he knew you were mad at him and so was he "I sound like a hypocrite I know, I broke up with you yet I'm the one making a big deal to just clear things up" The room was quiet for a moment, it felt cozy, the gentle sunlight from the sunset hovering over the living room, the soft breeze of spring moving the dried trees with flower buds on them, but most importantly he was there. After three years, there he sat on your couch, you wondered if he noticed you changed it, you wondered if he noticed that you changed it because of him.

His soft sigh broke the silence and darted your attention to him, he fidgeted nervously with his fingers as he kept his gaze on the window. "Do... Do you remember our life plan" You knew words had power but you never realized how much power they had. Your stomach twirled in anxiety at the memories.

The sweet memories of him and you cuddling in bed some Tuesday afternoon as you both made life plans. You nodded, biting your lip as the urge to cry became present. "How could I forget, we planned to live in a peaceful neighborhood, adopt a few cats, and raise our children with love and virtue" You chuckle softly attempting to cut whatever tension was forming in the room.

At the sound of your soft laugh, he smiled melancholically "The day we talked about our kids, made me realize how much I wanted to be a father... especially with you" He took a deep breath and your eyebrows furrowed as you listened to him.

"I... I really wanted to be a father" His voice cracks softly as his words hold an incredible amount of weight on him "So I went to my doctor to have my annual check-ups" A knot began to form on your throat as you began predicting where this was going.

"He... he told me I can't have kids" His voice broke into soft sobs "I wanted to tell you about it, but seeing how in love you were with the idea of having a baby... I couldn't... so I kept it to myself" He stood quiet as he tried to get himself together.

"My emotions eventually began fogging my brain, and I felt I had to distance myself to prevent hurting you... however, seeing how happy you were every time you saw me after days of me treating you like shit made me resent you" His voice raised with each word we spoke as his emotions began overwhelming him.

"I didn't resent you because I was mad at you, but because you still loved me after the way I treated you during our last weeks of dating" You looked at him with teary eyes while he still refused to look at you "I didn't deserve your love, yet you never stopped loving me... and I never stopped loving you either..." The silence in the room felt deafening, there were so many things you had to process, many things to take into consideration. He then grabbed the courage to move his gaze towards yours, your lips half parted in shock as the sudden confession made you feel dizzy.

"Minho... I..." You were at a loss for words, so many things to say but nothing was coming out, a single tear fell down your cheeks, your conversation with Chaewon repeating in your head, she was right both of you were about to bawl your eyes out.

"Why you never told me?" You quickly wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek, you were tired of crying for this man, you were tired of everything "Because I was scared of losing your love y/n" He screamed at you making you lose your patience.

"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard Minho" You screamed back but then took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down, however, you failed. "Do you know how many nights I cried for you? The amount of times I wondered what was wrong with me? You hurt me and left me, like you didn't care and you expect me to believe this was your reason? Because you can't have stupid babies?" You stopped at your last sentence when you realized what you said, you let your anger control your words and now unconsciously you stabbed a knife into Minho's wound.

He looked unfazed by your words, again he was using the mask everyone talked about, the one that never let anyone see his emotions, however, you didn't miss the way his lips slightly curled up, that's how you knew it deeply hurt him.

He scoffed softly "Stupid babies?" He laughed "I guess I lost myself over something you didn't really care about" He stood up from the couch and looked at you one more time "Sorry for wasting your time" You quickly stood up to stop him from leaving but words didn't leave your mouth as you blankly stared at him storming out your house.

"The worst thing that can happen if you two meet is him leaving again but this time for good"

Chaewon's words stroke your heart as you are left alone in your apartment.

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March 18th

"How many times do I've to tell you, I won't talk to him again" You groaned as a very exasperated Jisung paced in circles in your living room "C'mon y/n, you have to admit that what you crossed the line, I mean I understand the anger but really? did you not hear what he was telling you?" Honestly, at that moment, you felt you could smack Jisung in the face.

This past week was filled with a bunch of guilt trips not only by your friends but also by yourself "You know what Ji?" You said bluntly "I'm tired. Tired of everything, why am I suddenly the bad guy? Why does it feel like my side of the story is being invalidated?" You could feel tears creeping in your eyes.

Jisung sat down next to you as he took a deep breath "I'm sorry..." He said softly "It's just... I've seen both of you hurting for so long, I just want for both of you to finally clear things out" You understood Jisung's point, he was your and Minho's friend, he knew both points of view perfectly and you never really thought how that might of been a weight for him too.

"I get it... I also wish we could talk things out but... it's hard you know?, we both got our own wounds and it's hard to talk without making one of them bleed" You took a deep breath "That's the most poetic shit I've heard in a while" You couldn't help but laugh at his statement, nudging his shoulder playfully "Shut the fuck up" He laughed along with you.

"You think he would let me talk to him?" You said as you both stopped laughing "It would be a hard task but not impossible, his soft spot for you is one of the most loyal things I've seen" You smiled softly at his remark.

"You know... I've got an idea... so next week the 24th I have to take care of my baby nephews, however, that same day I got a final, I was going to make Minho babysit them for me, but to be fair he will definitely need help" You squinted your eyes at his suggestion "I don't know Ji..." He was quick to interrupt you "Shshshs don't say a single word you are babysitting with him"

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March 24th

Jisung left the house a couple of minutes ago, he reassured you that Minho was on his way and that he knew about it. You sat down on the play mat with the two baby twins, they were 2 and a half years old and truly a menace, they wouldn't stop moving around and crawling to be on top of you.

Although you felt overwhelmed it felt nice, playing with them made you forget about Minho and your current situation, you had one of the babies in your arms while the other one showed you some toys and spoke nonsense, you chuckled as you pretended to understand what he was saying.

When Minho entered the house, you were completely unaware of him as he stood at the entrance of the living room looking at you, looking at how domestic you looked with the babies. He couldn't help but fantasize if this is what it would feel like if he were to come home to you with your own babies.

He hated the way butterflies would rush down his body to his... 'Get it together Minho' He scolded himself, he was supposed to be mad at you not feel this way.

"You are not Chan" He finally spoke making himself present, you and the babies fixated your gaze on him and he could feel his heart melting "Huh? Jisung told me you knew you were babysitting with me" You said slightly confused.

"He lied then, he told me Chan was helping me out with the kids" You nodded awkwardly making a mental note to smack Jisung's face later. Although the tension between you and Minho was prominent, the babies made sure to keep both of you busy, constantly crying because they were hungry, needed a change of diapers, wanted attention, etc.

Both of you sat down on the couch exhausted when you managed to get them to sleep, the silence felt nice after all the noise that came from the babies, and you sighed softly "I'm sorry" it was unexpected, you didn't expect yourself to say it, it just came out, it was sincere and you hoped Minho knew.

"Sorry for what?" He said genuinely confused making you raise an eyebrow as you moved your gaze to meet his "You know... for what I said the other day, I didn't mean it I was-" He cut off your words as he chuckled softly.

"Don't worry about it, your reaction was totally valid, I mean I understand why you were mad, it's fine, you did nothing wrong" His words felt like a bandaid being placed in your heart, these past weeks you were convinced you were the bad guy, your friends reminding you your lack of understanding towards him, yet here he was all chill about and validating your feelings, it was just what you needed to hear.

You smiled warmly at him, glad he was able to see the situation from both perspectives, you envied the way he was so mature about it. "Still it was not nice the way I acted, It was immature and I know you, I know you got mad" He nodded in response "I did, and I won't lie I am still a bit salty but I understand your anger I do"

You chuckled softly and bit your lip not sure if you wanted to say this but you eventually got the courage to say it "I didn't know you really wanted to be a father" You said softly trying not to cross any boundaries "It was just a silly dream" He said making you shake your head immediately "It's not silly... You would be the perfect father" You said reassuringly.

"Bullshit" He said in a playful tone making you scoff "Bullshit? I don't know how the hell you managed to put those babies to sleep" You chuckled softly making him smile, his heart beating faster than usual at your compliment.

"Well even if I do have the potential to be a good father— I can't have babies" You noticed the way his voice cracked softly as he said those words, although he was smiling you knew those words were like daggers to his heart. "Bullshit" You said in a confident tone, he moved his gaze back to yours and raised an eyebrow "Bullshit? The doctor said-" You interrupted him before he could "Who cares what the doctor says? don't you know about rainbow babies?"

He was quiet for a while, his gaze focused on yours "We... we never tried to have one... what if" It was his turn to interrupt you "I'm tired of the 'what if' y/n" He sounded defeated and you hated that, this was not the confident man you knew.

"I'm serious though, I never knew you actually wanted to have a baby, if you had discussed it with me we could have gone to an endocrinologist and seen our options... it's not impossible Min..." You sounded frustrated making him sigh "I'm sorry for not telling you it's just, that I was too overwhelmed" He stopped talking when he felt your hand on top of his, he looked down to see them and then up at you.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as regret filled his head, regret of not telling his issue before, regret of closing up to you, when all he needed to heal was you, your reassurance, your love, and your understanding.

You both stood quiet as his tears began falling, you couldn't bare see him like this so you moved to hug him. Once his body was fully engraved on your warm embrace he began crying harder, his tears soaking down on your shirt, but you didn't care. You were finally there for him, something he restricted from himself out of pure spite.

A couple hours passed and the babies woke up again, you and Minho were playing with the kids while both of you also caught up with life, it felt nice, the tension that felt suffocating was finally released.

"Pause... So that video you sent me way back, wasn't you?" He shook his head as he played kitchen with the baby girl "This bitch blackmailed me, a month after we broke up Jisung took me to a stripper club and I might've vented to one of the strippers...." He said embarrassed as you played cars with the baby boy "Tell me the name of the strip club" You said coldly making him laugh.

"Don't worry Chaewon already dealt with her" His remark made you laugh so hard you could barely breathe. The remaining time you both stood at Jisung's house playing with the babies and talking felt nice, way more nicer than it should.

It honestly was impressive how despite the difficulties you both went through, that connection you both had never faded. Once Jisung was back home he couldn't help but smile as he saw both of you getting along.

Both of you served as bandaids to cure each other's wounds.

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March 28th

"How many times do I have to tell you it's not a date?" You told Chaewon who was on the other side of your speaker "Yeah, sure" She said in a mocking tone "Two exes going out for dinner as friends my ass" You couldn't help but laugh softly "You are insufferable" You said making her giggled.

"Says the girl who called me asking me for fashion advice for her D-A-T-E" You rolled your eyes at her remark "It's not a date!" You said frustrated as you finished putting on your dress that hugged your curves perfectly and complimented your eyes and hair.

"Yeah, Yeah, Just remember to wrap it before you tap it," Chaewon said jokingly but her comment made your stomach twirl in anticipation of something occurring tonight.

"Girl- goodbye" You said hanging up the phone before she could finish whatever the hell she was going to say next. Minutes felt like hours and you could feel anxiety rushing through you, you shouldn't be this nervous... after all it's just a friend's hangout. Right? However, waiting for him to text you felt like torture.

The sudden knock on your door took you by surprise, a shiver traveling down your spine as you took a deep breath. He was here, the amount of happiness swirling in your head felt nauseating. You thought he was going to call you to come down, but of course, he had to be the gentleman he is and personally escort you to the car.

The moment you opened the door he felt butterflies rushing down his stomach as he saw you, you looked beautiful, you truly had no idea how much he had missed you. This was supposed to be a casual hangout but the way your long-sleeved dress hugged your waist and fell free at your hips. Made his heart flutter and wish this was a date instead.

"Hey" He said with a shy smile, softly scratching his neck. You swallowed the urge to chuckle at his shy demeanor, it reminded you back to when he first approached you.

"Hey" You replied cheerfully making him smile, you could feel your own nervousness leaving as you realized he was in your same position. Minho and you decided to do some errands first before going to the movies, the car ride was surprisingly pleasing, you both seemed to have so much to talk about. The soft music playing in the background as you casually averted your eyes from him to the window as he spoke.

You weren't quite sure what exactly he was saying, but the melody of his voice was welcomed by your ears. The first stop was the pet shop, while Minho made his way to the cat section to buy his cat's food, you took a turn to see the little animals, your heart melting at the sight of the lovely animals on display. As you read the description of each animal, you couldn't understand how a human out there would purposely abandon such cuties.

Maybe you were too invested in the animals you didn't notice him calling your name, it wasn't until you felt a warm hand on your back and butterflies rushing down your stomach that you turned around to meet his eyes. "All done?" You asked as you looked at his hand that was carrying the cat food. "Yup" He said with a smile "No toys for the babies?" You asked playfully, however his heart skipped a beat at the question, making him wonder why he felt like this.

"They already have enough," He said with a chuckle as you squinted your eyes and shook your head "They deserve to be spoiled, but you are their father so whatever" You giggled as you both walked to the cashier. Again Minho wondered why his heart kept missing a beat with each word you spoke.

He wasn't expecting anything from tonight, he truly just wanted to spend time with you after so long, make your relationship better... as friends of course, but the more he interacted with you the more desperate his heart turned for you.

The moment you both sat in the movie theater it was an instant regret for Minho to have suggested it. Memories flooded both of your minds as you both sat next to each other. MInho cleared his throat and looked at you. "Popcorn?" He offered you with a thin smile, you wanted to laugh at that moment, if he was trying to make the situation less awkward he was failing to do so.

"No, I'm fine" You said in a soft whisper as the movie began. The whole time you couldn't really focus on whatever movie was on display, your gaze kept averting to his hand that rested on his leg. You hated yourself for wishing his hand was on your leg instead.

Take it slow.

You kept reminding yourself, this was a hangout as friends nothing more, it hurts slightly the thought of it, but after the complicated situation you both faced this past years, it was better to take things slow, who knows maybe you both will end up together? maybe not? whatever destiny the world was for you both.

Minho didn't know if he was tripping or not but he swore he could see you looking at his hand, to be fair he wasn't paying attention to the movie either he was too focused looking at your every move with his peripheral vision. he thought you might be cold as your legs were exposed to the theater air conditioner, so he took his jacket off and gently placed it on your legs.

The action took you by surprise the warm jacket on your legs did feel nice, and as he placed it on you, you could smell his scent all over you, how much have you missed that scent. You leaned closer to him, your breath hitting his cheek as you spoke a soft "Thank you"

That moment felt like pure temptation to Minho, they say God likes to test his strong soldiers, however, Minho was 100% sure he was not his strongest soldier when it came to you.

Soft moans echoed in the theater, both of your bodies stiffened as a sex scene came up, honestly what's the deal with movie franchises adding unnecessary sex scenes in their movies? Can we talk about it? At that moment you could feel a tension forming between both of you, was it awkwardness, or was it a hidden desire? You don't know but you closed your legs together trying to stop any lustful thoughts from popping on your mind.

You noticed the way he shifted on his seat awkwardly, looking at his phone to check the weather, you chuckled to yourself, feeling playful you leaned to tease him "Can't handle a sex scene hm?" You chuckle softly, he moves his gaze from his phone to look at you. His desire woke up with each word you said.

You were going to tease him? two can play that game, was it a dangerous move? maybe, but fuck it, let the night take whatever route it wants.

He turned to face you and leaned closer, his face just inches away from yours, you took a second to admire his eyes and features, you never forgot how handsome this man was from up close. "It's not that I can't handle the scene, I just can't handle my inner thoughts" The tone and the look he gave you was more than enough to let you know what he was thinking.

You were both on the same page. Involuntarily you squeezed your thighs together, he noticed, his eyes looking down at your covered legs, he smirked making you nudge his shoulder "Focus on the movie" You scolded him as you turned your attention back to the movie, not missing the way butterflies twirled around stomach and the evident heat on your cheeks.

The ride to your house was quiet, there was a tension lingering in there, but unlike the heavy uncomfortable one, this one was a little more light-headed, more enticing. Your footsteps were the only sound echoing through the hallway to your apartment, he followed behind you, he wasn't too close but he was close enough for you to feel his warmth and presence.

When you opened the door you turned to look at him, the silence felt deafening, both of you stared at each other, you didn't miss the way his eyes slightly moved to get a glimpse of your lips. You were both desperate to feel each other, that was no secret, but who would make the first move? most importantly was it the right time to make a move?

Your thoughts were interrupted when his hand flew to your waist and pushed you closer to his body, his lips crashing against yours. You felt on cloud 9, suddenly everything felt more vivid you could swear hearts and stars were flying around you both.

His soft plump lips felt as if a feather was brushing against your lips, it felt tender, full of love yet you wanted more, you needed more. When he moved his lips away from yours a soft whine escaped your lips, making you embarrassed.

Although he wanted to laugh his worries took over him, he looked at your eyes for ay sign of discomfort, maybe even regret but he saw none. "I'm sorry, I know its too soon-" His words were interrupted as you placed a finger on his lips.

"Too soon?" Maybe it was soon but to be fair you have been waiting for this kiss for some time now, so yeah maybe it was soon, but rhetorically it wasn't, you waited long enough. And if he feels the same way you do, what is really stopping you?

"Min..." He felt his breath hitching at how lovely his nickname escaped your lips, it's been so long since he last heard it... it felt nostalgic. "I'm not sure if it's too soon for you, but to be honest I've waited long enough for that kiss" Before you had the chance to say another word, his lips were on yours again, and this time he pushed your body inside your apartment and closed the door behind, his lips not daring to leave yours in case you realized you didn't want this.

As the kiss progressed you could feel your knees turning weak, the way he caressed your waist while his other hand was on your cheek was enough to send you down a spiral, however when you felt his warm tongue brushing against your bottom lip, desperately asking for access inside your mouth was when you lost it.

He groaned softly as his tongue danced with yours, you began feeling light-headed, maybe it was because of lack of air but you didn't care you didn't want to leave his lips.

"Y/n..." He said in a pleading tone as he panted for air once the kiss broke, his eyes looked darker than normal yet they looked tender, his body was still pressed against yours, his hand moving up and down your sides. "I need you" Your heart dropped as your blood rushed through your body. This night was going to take a different route.

You were currently leaning back against the wall while he left a trail of wet pecks on your neck, your body shivered as the delicate kisses fogged your mind, it was a sensation you couldn't really describe. A groan left your lips as he nibbled on the soft spot you used to love, he remembered. "Aren't you getting greedy?" Although you wanted to tease him your voice was shaky, too high in the ecstasy of having his lips attached to your neck.

"I'm sorry princess, you have no idea how bad I'm craving you" He said in a low tone as he nibbled your lobe, your eyes closed shut and a soft whimper was heard, he pressed his body harder against yours, too desperate and touched deprived for you. "Fuck" He mumbled when his erection brushed against your crotch, your dress rolling up as he grinded on your vaguely.

The wave of wetness that pools between your thighs immediately soaks your underwear. It takes every bit of your lingering self-control to not moan at the sensation.

Even so, the desire and lust took over your body with each minute passing, his hands traveled up and down your legs, pausing to lift and wrap your leg around his hip. So this is what heaven feels like. It's been so long since you last felt like this. You nearly moaned as you felt his erection pushing against your pelvis.

His face was at the crook of your neck as his desperate whimpers traveled through your body. "Oh fuck—" Your mind went blank, losing yourself at the delight of his touch you began whimpering.

"Can we go to my room?" You hid your face when he shifted to look at you, too shy to look him in the eyes. It's been so long since you both were intimate, yet you never lost that alluring presence that hypnotized Minho every time.

"Whatever my princess desires" He said softly as he looked down at you, your soft blush and trembling body, the way your dress was messy because of how desperate he was touching you, sent a rush of heat down his dick.

He grabbed you bride-style as he walked to your room, opening the door your sweet scent embraced his nose, he was getting drunk on you. He gently placed you down on the bed, the fairy lights of your room plus the soft moonlight that crept through the windows added to the vibe going on.

You could see his sharp features as he hovered on top of you, he moved your hair gently out of your face and giggled "I've missed you" he said in a tender tone before he leaned to leave pecks all over your face, you giggled along him until his lips crashed on yours.

The kiss was slow yet passionate, taking your time to taste each other properly, the string of saliva created wet sounds that echoed in the room, he took this time that you were distracted as an opportunity to spread your legs with his hand, his soft fingertips leaving ghostly touches all over your legs and inner thighs.

Three years and he still knew how to get you ready for him, although you had been ready ever since you two started making out at your front door. He broke the kiss to move down your body, his intense gaze never leaving yours, as he began kissing your legs, in a painfully slow rhythm, he knew what he was doing, he wanted to get you all needy for him.

However, he was also making this hard for himself, as he was also getting impatient, he moved back up so he could nibble on your neck, soft moans escaping your lips, making a sweet melody for his ears. His body involuntarily pressed against yours Yours and his moans bleed into one another as your clothed cores come into contact. Minho's fingers tightened on your leg, it was definitely gonna bruise overnight.

You wonder if he can feel the extent of your wetness against the front of his jeans, as your dress had rolled up and you were basically on just your panties, all thoughts are chased away when he drags his finger on top of your drench mound. "Fuck princess" He hisses, his hand beside your head tightening into a fist, his face pressed against your neck "Feeling how wet your pussy is for me is making it hard for me to just not cum" How you loved the chokehold you had on this man right now.

His words only motivate your intentions, thrusting your hips into his fingers, desperate to create some type of friction. Seeking more leverage, you wrapped your legs around his waist pressing him against your clothed cunt. His face traveled down your collarbone sucking and biting on it as he hand massaged your breasts.

"Fine. I’ll give you what you want” He said breathlessly as he sat to take his pants off, your gaze never left his as you admired his body, he was indeed the man of your dreams, you pressed your thighs together and bit your lip.

A loud moan escaped your lips when his tip tap on your clothed cunt. He moved it up and down your drenched panties to coat his dick with your arousal. You both breathed heavily at the sensation. He looked at you for reassurance, his priority was your comfort and that made him even hotter at that moment, you nodded your head and smiled at him, letting him know that you wanted this as much as him.

He teased you by gliding his hands up and down your inner thighs but not touching your cunt, when your moans got desperate, he moved his index finger up and down your slit, he then used that finger to move your panties aside, he felt his cock twitching at the sight of your wet pussy.

He leaned closer to blow on it and then gave it a kiss "I missed what mine" He said possessively as he bit your inner thigh, you moaned at that, you felt loved something you hadn't felt in quite some time.

The way your warm cunt clenched on his tip was making it hard for him to go slow, he wanted to go slow and stretch you out properly since you didn't let him give your foreplay due to your impatience. But how could he restrain himself when your hand is playing with your clit in front of him?

And oh god you were indeed the devil because of the way you desperately moaned his name so he would go all in, if it wasn't for your greediness he would have done way more than just put his cock deep inside you, but he couldn't say no to you, not when you have full control of his body and mind.

The lewd sounds embraced the room, the sloppy sound of your arousal and the thump of his pelvis hitting yours turning both of you even more. His lips crashed into yours as he felt his cock deep inside your wall, he kissed you passionately, his hand leaving a feather touch on your leg.

Although everything felt so sudden, it felt right. The passion the lust everything. It felt like the best timing despite the previous circumstance, lord how badly you missed him, and not only for his cock but for the way he always made you feel like a princess, you were his queen.

It wasn’t until his kisses got sloppier that you knew he was close to cum, you grabbed his hair and squeezed it tightly as your back arched, the feeling of his cock twitching was sending you to cloud 9 and it made your mind blank as moans left your mouth shamelessly.

If you thought he couldn’t go any deeper you were wrong. His dick rubbed that spot that’s been getting teased for a while now. He pressed his hand on your stomach just so he could see how deep his dick was inside you. And oh lord the sight of his dick drove him to the edge.

You both cling to one another as your high approach one after another. Minho's groan triggered a release that spilled white-hot bliss through your veins. The feeling of your cunt clenching around him made you pant for air, you both stayed still for some minutes.

He then began kissing your neck again which made you chuckle, as you moved to play with his hair. "Can we start over?" His voice was shaky, you could tell the question triggered some anxiety in him, you moved your hand to caress his neck to soothe his nerves.

"Asking me that while I'm cock warming you is crazy" You tease him making him groan "I'm serious... I want to take you out on dates again, I need you in my life again" His words triggered something inside you making you clench your cunt, he moaned as he was still sensible, making you blush embarrassed "Sorry" You mumbled making him laugh.

"I'll take that as a yes" He said making you laugh, his lips attaching to yours once again. "How about we do a round two but you let me see them..." He stopped talking to squeeze your breast, you chuckled playfully as you pecked his lips.

"Anything my prince desires" You said before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his lips. Time might've separated the two of you, but the bond you both had was stronger than any misunderstanding.

[ariahmichelle]

Secrets Out- Drew Starkey x Actress!reader

Can be read as a stand alone but it is Part 3 of ‘phoning it in’ Part 1 here Part 2 here

Also my requests are open!!

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It had been almost 3 months since you and Drew confessed your feelings for one another. The transition from friends to… something more was surprisingly natural. You’d agreed to keep things under wraps for now, wanting to enjoy this budding relationship without the pressure of others watching.

You and Drew became official two weeks ago and of course, have yet to tell your mutual friends, both of you amused by watching them slowly catch on.

Tonight, though, the entire Outer Banks cast was gathering for a night out to celebrate before filming for Season 4 began, you knew some of them had been sensing a shift between you and Drew but none of them have questioned either of you yet.

However you knew it wouldn’t be much longer before the secret is out.

The girls—Madelyn, Madison, and Carlacia—were already at your apartment, getting ready. Your place had turned into a full-on glam zone, with curling irons, makeup bags, and laughter filling the space. Madison was expertly applying eyeliner while Carlacia debated between outfits, and Madelyn scrolled through her playlist to set the mood.

You were perched on the edge of your bed, fixing your hair in a handheld mirror. It was a classic girls’ night, full of chatter and teasing.

“You look cute,” Madelyn said, glancing over at you with a grin. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“No one,” you said quickly, but the way your cheeks heated gave you away.

Madison wasn’t buying it. “Come on, you’re glowing. Who is it?”

“Yeah,” Carlacia chimed in, looking up from her outfit choices. “There’s definitely someone. Spill.”

You laughed nervously, brushing them off. “I’m just excited to go out. That’s all.”

But as the conversation shifted back to which heels would be most comfortable, your phone buzzed beside you. You glanced down to see a text from Drew.

Me and the boys are otw. Can’t wait to see you sweetheart xx

You bit your lip to suppress the smile that immediately followed and typed back a quick reply.

You thought you’d played it cool, but Madison caught the way you tried to hide your grin. “Okay, who are you texting?”

“No one important,” you said, tossing your phone onto the bed.

“Uh-huh,” Madelyn said, smirking. “Sure, we believe you.”

Luckily, the doorbell rang, saving you from further interrogation. You stood up quickly, smoothing down your outfit. “That’s the boys.”

As you opened the door, the guys poured in, bringing their usual loud energy. Chase, Rudy, JD, Austin, and finally Drew stepped through the threshold. Drew’s eyes immediately found yours, and his face softened with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low.

“Hey,” you replied, your chest fluttering as he stepped inside.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” Rudy announced, holding up a bottle of tequila.

Drinks were poured, laughter echoed through your apartment, and the group settled into their usual rhythm. As the night unfolded, you found yourself hyperaware of Drew. He was his usual charming self, joking with JD and Austin, but every so often, you’d catch him glancing at you. When your eyes met, he’d give you a subtle smile that sent your heart racing.

Meanwhile, you noticed Chase leaning toward Rudy, whispering something and glancing in your direction. You pretended not to notice, but you had a feeling they were starting to pick up on the little moments between you and Drew.

Eventually, the group decided it was time to hit the bar. It was one of your favorite spots downtown, with good music, strong drinks, and plenty of room to dance.

As you weaved through the crowd at the bar’s entrance, Drew’s hand found the small of your back. The simple touch sent a shiver down your spine, but it also felt protective, grounding. He guided you through the throng of people, staying close behind you until you reached the table the group had claimed.

“Everyone good?” Drew asked, his hand lingering on your back for a moment longer before he pulled away.

“Great,” you said, glancing up at him.

He smiled down at you, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, despite the chaos of the bar around you.

The night picked up quickly. Drinks flowed, the girls dragged you onto the dance floor, and the guys took turns buying rounds at the bar. You found yourself caught up in the energy, but your eyes kept drifting to Drew. He was at a table with the guys, laughing at something Rudy said, but every so often, you’d catch him looking at you.

Finally, after watching him from across the room for too long, you decided to do something about it. Dancing your way back to the table, you stopped in front of the boys, hands on your hips.

“Alright, enough sitting around,” you said with a teasing grin. “All of you, up. Dance time.”

The guys groaned in unison, but you weren’t taking no for an answer. Grabbing Drew’s hand specifically, you pulled him up. “Especially you.”

He laughed, letting you drag him onto the dance floor. “You’re relentless.”

“You love it,” you shot back, spinning around to face him.

As the two of you danced, the rest of the cast slowly joined in. But you and Drew stayed close, moving in sync with the music. You could feel the weight of your friends’ gazes, especially when Drew placed his hands on your hips.

Leaning into his ear, you said, “I think they’re catching on.”

Drew tilted his head down to yours, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe we should give them another hint.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a tentative kiss; it was confident, sure, and full of feeling. The world around you seemed to blur, and for a moment, it was just the two of you.

When you pulled back, cheers erupted around you. “Finally!” Madison shouted, clapping her hands.

“Took you two long enough,” Chase added, grinning.

You buried your face in Drew’s chest, laughing at their reactions.

Drew wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. “Guess the secret’s out,” he murmured.

You looked up at him, smiling. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

The rest of the night was a blur of dancing, laughter, and teasing from your friends. While the secret was out, you couldn’t have been happier that you and Drew no longer had to hide. As far as you were concerned, the night couldn’t have been more perfect.

[satangcrush]

an ode to nicknames pt.3 <3

✦ CAST: simeon, solomon, diavolo, luke, barbatos ✦ WC: 1.8k ✦ SUMMARY: f! reader, what nicknames (or lack of) will the cast use for you! established relationship (simeon and solomon), diavolo (more than friends), luke (familial) and barbatos (start of program) ✦ WC: 4.4k✦ WARNING: spoiler for OB!SWD for simeon’s part

[PART 1] | [PART 2] | [PART 3] | MASTERLIST

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Simeon thinks you’re an actual saint for putting up with the demon brothers and calls you ‘angel’ somewhat as a joke at first but now thinks you actually can be one. He also regularly calls you ‘sweetheart’, ‘darling’, ‘doll’, and ‘love’. He loves referring to you by a nickname but unfortunately or fortunately (however you see it), he has the vocabulary of a friendly old lady. (Spoiler for OM!SWD in Simeon’s part)

.

“Angel.”

“Yes?” Simeon was insistent on using the nickname despite you telling him not to. At first, you wondered if this was some kind of weird coping mechanism of his but he had repeatedly assured you that it wasn’t. Thus, over time you have now fully embraced the weirdness of the ex-angel calling you… an angel.

“I overheard this today while manning the cafe. What does a sheep in wolf’s clothing mean in the human world?” His gaze lingers as he looks at you sprawled on the table over a book. The chair beside you made no noise even as it was pulled out for him to sit gently.

“I believe the saying goes something like a wolf in sheep’s clothing instead.” You huffed out a laugh, making a move to close your book to meet Simeon’s curious expression instead.

“How did you even overhear that conversation? Like, what’s the context?” You propped a hand up on the table that you were reading on, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully. 

He pursed his lips, clearly racking his head to search for the answer. “Honestly… I forgot. I only heard the ‘sheep’ part and was reminded of when you turned into a sheep during our initial stay in the Devildom. You were very adorable, and I regretted never getting the chance to cuddle you back then.” You stifled a laugh, knowing that he wouldn’t appreciate you laughing at him. He was so cute, you don’t even know if he noticed that he was pouting right now.

“Well, too bad.” You said teasingly. “I’m pretty sure the brothers cuddled me enough for your share too.”

“Maybe I should ask Solomon if he has a spell to turn you into a sheep temporarily,” Simeon winks at you, tone inked with hope. 

You hit his shoulder playfully and shot him a glare. “Respectfully, that would only give Solomon too much power. And in case you forget, I’m a fully-fledged sorcerer now too.” Simeon gave you a kicked-puppy stare, and you could swear you almost saw imaginary puppy ears on him.

…Maybe you should ask Solomon to start teaching you about transformation spells.

“Ah right, back to your original question. I could be wrong but I vaguely remember the term deriving from a fable by Aesops. But anyway, the phrase is used to express someone who deceives others by pretending to be harmless when they have evil intentions. It’s not a positive expression.” You shook your head slightly, heart squeezing at the sight of Simeon’s frown deepening at your explanation.

“I thought it would be a different explanation in the human world, but I guess it’s the same everywhere, huh?” Simeon sighed, arms folding across his chest, “I was hoping that it might be a cute expression.”

“I guess not. The Devildom uses something similar too right?” You turn in your chair, flicking your finger on his forehead gently. “Come on, we should start on dinner. Should we cook or eat out today?” You hesitate to get up from your chair when you notice the pondering look on Simeon’s face.

“What if I change it to an angel in human’s clothing? Wouldn’t that refer to you?” You tilt your head, not knowing if you should say something or just let it be. It was ironic coming from the mouth of an ex-angel.

As you froze in your movements, Simeon grabs your hand to pull you into his lap, and you go without question. His lips lay on the crook of your neck and you fondly stroked the top of his head, the repetitive motion soothing your heart. His breath was warm against your neck and then suddenly, a cold flash of teeth and tongue drifted along your neck like he was tracing stars into your skin. You wonder if he could hear your pulse beating deep within you. But it’s not like he would care. You’re certain that if you put your ears to his pulse, his heart would also be beating to the same rhythm as yours.

A sharp sensation of teeth punctured the nape of your neck before he quickly swiped his tongue over the skin. You pulled on his hair, watching as the spit connecting the both of you together broke. “Simeon!” You admonished him with a laugh, “Why did you bite me?” You trace the indentation on your neck, glancing at the sheen of spit that came away with it.

“Disgusting.” You whine, “Come on, let’s eat. Aren’t you hungry from working?”

“Mm. Give me a minute,” He muttered, burying his face in your chest. “Let me have this for a little while longer,” His arms tightened around your waist and you nodded to yourself, steadying your hands on his shoulders.

“Thank you, love.”

Your heart swelled at his declaration as your hands interlocked behind his shoulders. It wouldn’t hurt to rest another five minutes, you supposed.

══════════════════

One would think that Solomon’s experience with his 500 wives and various other relationships would mean that he has at least learned how to act like a proper gentleman. Sincerely, this man lives purely based on menace and instinct. He would address you by all sorts of nicknames but his particular favourite is calling you his dear apprentice, student, and maybe even his other half. Your master-student relationship is the one thing that the two of you shared that the brothers are unable to take part in. With you, Solomon treasures the quiet moments when he can steal you away from the rest.

.

The apricot-skied evening blooms before your eyes and when you look up, the vast stretches of wilderness expand rapidly and you couldn’t help the gasp that hitched in your breath. It was… ethereal. You would love to take in all of the scenery peacefully… except for the fact that you are currently hanging upside down with all the blood rushing to your head, thousands of feet in the air.

“WAH! SOLOMON! Let me down! You stupid wizard boy! I’m going to curse you!” Tears blotted your vision as you buried your head deeper into the curve below Solomon’s ear. You can feel his chest shaking in laughter as he heaves your legs higher around his waist, steadying you. As frantic as you had sounded, you were still clinging on for dear life to him. 

“MC… you know you don’t sound threatening in the slightest, holding onto me like that.” He murmured, lips brushing the tip of your ear softly. Solomon hummed lightly as he recited another spell, to levitate the both of you up a few feet higher. You chanced a glance to look at the ground and immediately regretted it. You could practically feel bile coming up your throat and you quickly squeezed your eyes shut again.

How in the three realms is he okay suspended mid-air while being flipped upside down??

“Dumb old man! Stupid wizard! This is not what I meant when I said I wanted to fly!” You hissed, fearing for your life as your grip on the back of his neck turned tighter. You should have known something was up when Solomon had asked if you had a fear of heights and you cursed at yourself for mentioning that you wanted to freefall after watching that stupid movie with him last week. Your face contorted into a grimace; survival instincts kicking in as you pressed yourself against him as if you were climbing a tree.

“My dearest apprentice, you need to relax. I can’t focus on the spell if you keep yapping beside me, you know.” There wasn’t even the slightest hint of irritation in his tone, you could clearly tell he was enjoying your panic to the fullest. “Also, do you really want me to let you down now? We’re so high up. Though, if you wish for it, I could make your dreams come true.” 

You felt his fingers, which has been firm around the plush of your thigh, loosen a little. “N-no! If you let me go, I’m breaking up with you, you ass!” You threw out your words venomously, as your grip tightened into an iron grip. If you were any less scared, you would have worried about his ability to breathe with the amount of strength that you were putting around his neck.

Solomon tsked at you, the corners of his mouth turning up at your ultimatum. His hands slid from under your thigh to the back of your waist and pinched the skin there. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” You could practically envision the stupid smirk he must be wearing but you couldn’t be bothered to reply, fear choking your windpipes.

“Don’t worry darling, we’re reaching the fun part now. Be a dear and hold on tighter to me, kay?” His voice took on a simpering tone and before you knew it, you could feel the magic that was holding you and Solomon up, disappear.

There was no way you weren’t going to murder Solomon the moment you touched both feet on the ground.

You couldn’t even let out a yelp as the air was stolen from your lungs as you felt the wind and your hair whip past your face. Solomon caged you with his body, the sound of his laughter lost in the air. The only thing that you could do was to hold onto him while shaking like a leaf, breath forced out through your burning lungs.

You honestly think you must have passed out on the descent down because the next thing you knew, you were on the ground staring up at the darkening sky, though your limbs were still entangled around Solomon.

“There, there, MC. See, that wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it? You just needed faith in your master to take care of you,” He soothed you, grabbing your hands from around his waist to entwine them together as he planted a kiss on your forehead.

You found it concerning that he was still wearing that stupid smirk on his face as if the both of you didn’t just have a near-death experience. Your mouth gaped open and closed, reminiscent of a fish out of water, as you intended to berate him but the words died on your tongue as you realised that the scratchiness in your throat was preventing you from speaking a word.

“W-water.” You managed to squeak out, face red in embarrassment. Solomon quirked a curious eyebrow at you as he placed a finger on your chin to bring your head up, “...Did you lose your voice?” He could barely fight the grin off his face, fingers now trailing down the curve of your neck. 

You glared at him, resolutely not breathing a word. His face seemed to be utterly insufferable today, and you would just love for the opportunity to punch that pretty smirk off his face.

“Well, it seems you’re just in luck, my dear apprentice. It’s about time for our dinner reservation, I’ll teleport us there now.” He mused, drawing his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

“You’re paying for the dinner, you slimy bastard.” You mouthed at him bitterly, while he just laughed your frustration off. “Don’t I always pay? Come here, don’t be angry anymore. I apologise for my wrong-doings,” He cooed at you gently, smoothening the wrinkles in your forehead out with his fingers, as he cupped your cheek.

══════════════════

Diavolo is a certified loverboy, honestly. However, due to the importance of needing to keep up his reputation, he uses your name in public. (Though, he has ‘slipped up’ and addressed you by ‘love’ a couple of times.) Around people he trusts or when in private, he calls you his ‘love’, ‘beautiful’, ‘princess’, and even ‘queen’. He is such a romantic that he even made Barbatos research the trendy nicknames that humans use so that he can impress you.

.

Diavolo suddenly leans forward in his chair, “MC, I’ve been recently researching human nicknames and I would like your opinion on them.” His eyes sparkle as he angles his body towards you.

You pause in your journey to reach out for another dessert, one of Barbatos’s famous pastries that Luke has been singing praises about. You considered his question for a bit and somehow, you were almost sure you knew exactly where this conversation was going to go, but the allure of the delectable pastries was clouding your judgment.

“Yeah? What kind of nicknames have you come across?” You said, mid-crunch through the flaky croissant, and you internally melted at the taste. If only you had a butler like Barbatos, you would put the demon to work every day just so you could have a taste of this heavenly (devil-y?) flavour. He should be competing in all three realms with his talent, it was indeed a waste to keep it hidden.

Hands, big and burly, catch your attention as he plants them on the table. “I’ve heard humans call their partners or friends… ‘pookie’.” Your eyes had honed on his fingers, now drumming on the table, as the words flew past your head before you registered it with disbelief.

Sometimes, you wonder if the next-in-line for the throne has a screw (or multiple, maybe) loose in his head.

You frowned up at him, embarrassment suffocating you into silence. For an agonising few seconds, he holds eye contact with you before he tilts his head, silently prompting you to give him an answer.

You clear your throat as you wipe your hands on the provided tissue placed on the table, “Um… I believe yes. But, I don’t know much about the term if you require an explanation,” God, you hope the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You don’t understand why you were chosen to discuss such a topic with the ruler of Devildom.

“Ah well, that is fine. I was hoping that I could refer to you as ‘pookie’. I’ve heard that a sign of closeness for humans is to start using nicknames.” 

Your distaste for the term must have been unfiltered as Diavolo immediately leans back after seeing your expression, thighs spreading wide against each side of the chair. “If you are unhappy with the name, you may tell me so.”

Honestly, you were at a loss. This seemed like a lose-lose situation no matter how you see it. It wasn’t like you could reject the Prince of the Devildom. (I mean you could, but you dread the scolding that Lucifer would give you once he found out.) 

And if you allow Diavolo to call you ���pookie’... you could almost envision Solomon rolling on the floor, dying of laughter. Even worse, you shudder to think of him calling you by that in front of the whole RAD. Suddenly, you very much regret not letting Belphie make a second attempt on your life.

“It’s not that I am unhappy with the name,” You start slowly, “I just believe that a nickname should be more personalised like… I can call you Dia!” You hurriedly blurt out, waving your hands frantically in front of you. 

Diavolo says nothing, and your eyes quickly skim his expression which remains startlingly neutral. For a second, you wondered if you had overstepped your boundaries. Maybe Dia was too chummy of a nickname for you to use?

Before you can continue spiraling, his face breaks out into a wide grin. “I hadn’t even considered that! What a wonderful idea, as expected of the human exchange student that Lucifer chose. I will come up with an appropriate nickname accordingly as well.” He gushed, “As expected, it seems that my knowledge about human world customs seems to be lacking. I will need to brush up on them.”

You scooted back in your seat while laughing politely, heart jumping to your tongue. You had definitely avoided a red flag but somehow… it felt like you had triggered another, which was now waving frantically in your face. You tapped the side of your thighs anxiously, you do hope that you make it out of this interaction without any further embarrassment. You don’t think that your heart could take another shot.

“How about cuddlebug? I’ve also heard that it is popular amongst humans.”

“...Sorry?”

You were going to need someone to sedate you so that you can forget this interaction once you were home.

══════════════════

Similar to Simeon, Luke also calls you an ‘angel’ and he is convinced that you have been born in the wrong world. He believes that someone of your character should have been up in the Celestial Realm. He also tries hard to come up with all sorts of nicknames using your actual name, be it shortening, or even substituting your name to something similar. (He had always wanted to give you a nickname but was too shy to. However, he learned that the demon brothers had been using nicknames and he felt spurred to do so as well.)

.

“MC!” You spun just in time to see a mess of blond hair barrel into the side of your body as you grabbed onto their shoulder to steady them.

“Woah, hey there.” You gently ruffled Luke’s hair, ignoring his complaints, knowing that he secretly enjoyed it. After all, he had once made a sleepy confession that he found the motion reassuring, and ever since, you always made it a point to do it.

 “Did you need me for something?” 

He started twiddling his thumbs, looking up at you with a hesitant pout. “What is it? Did you get bullied?” You lifted his jaw with your hand, scanning his face for any physical altercations. After checking that there was none, you let go and took a step back to give him a onceover.

“No! It’s nothing of that sort, MC. I…I just-” He cuts himself off, before looking down at his feet sheepishly, “I want to use a nickname for you too,” He mumbles under his breath, voice only slightly louder than a whisper.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Sorry Luke, you need to speak up. I can’t hear you,” You said apologetically, a small smile playing on your lips. The expression on Luke’s face could only be described as ‘deer-in-the-headlight’ as he shifted side to side. He mumbled again, an embarrassed flush at the tip of his ears.

This time, you waited for him to look up before pinning him with a questioning glance. He sighed before taking in a deep breath, “I SAID…I WANT TO MAKE A NICKNAME FOR YOU!” After shouting his request, his face immediately turned red. “I-if you want! I will make you my special cupcakes if you say yes!” 

Your heart swelled up with affection, “Aw Luke, you don’t need to bribe me to say yes. Of course, we can use nicknames. I’ll call you…” You placed a hand on the top of his head and thought carefully. “Puppy?” No matter how you thought about it, ‘puppy’ was the only adjective that you could think to describe him, even more so now as he was looking at you with big shiny eyes.

“MC…” He whined, looking at you with a disapproving stare that eerily reminded you of a certain angel. It was endearing how his actions resembled Simeon at times, it just showed how much Luke admires him.

 “But it’s so cute… You can come up with a nickname for me too,” You said encouragingly to him with a hint of amusement.

“Angel. I’ll call you angel! You’re so nice like one,” He said animatedly and your heart fluttered at his visible show of excitement. It seemed like he already had a nickname in mind when he came bounding up to you.

“...Sure.” You knew you had taken a second too long to respond when you caught his worried glance, “Do you not like it, MC?” Luke’s face started to fall as you quickly placed your hands into an ‘X’, “No! I love it! It’s just that I can’t help but think it could be a little offensive if other angels hear you calling me as… one?” You questioned, scratching the tip of your nose bridge in awkwardness.

You didn’t want to get into trouble with the Celestial Realm, after all. Being an angel is a tall order in your opinion.

“No, they won’t! Once they meet you, they will definitely agree with my nickname too!” He said with so much conviction that you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

‘Well, it’s meant with good intention… So it should be fine,’ You mused to yourself as you nodded at Luke, giving him the go-ahead to use it.

“Well, if it makes you happy then. I’ll think of another nickname for you since you bestowed such an honor on me then,” You said teasingly, “I will also take you up on your offer about those cupcakes. Shall we head to Purgatory Hall? I’ll stay and bake with you today.”

══════════════════

Barbatos is another one in the cast who will exclusively refer to you by your name as he shows his affection through acts of service. However, if you ask him to use nicknames, he will, but it won’t be of his own accord. 

If he does use a nickname of his own accord, Barbatos will call you little sheep to tease you. Barbatos could easily kill you with a single strike (as does everyone but he is most aware of it) but treats you like a puppy (or sheep) that he leaves alone as he feels bad for you. 

(He smiles gently at you but there is not an ounce of care behind it. It is just for politeness's sake.)

.

“It is surprising to see you here so early, MC. Did the brothers not give you any trouble today?”

“Eh, no. I came from RAD.” Your natural response was to talk informally to Barbatos as you still have not gotten a grasp on the custom here.

“Sorry, I meant to say that I came straight from class. Pardon my rudeness.” You apologised, still feeling unsettled in the Devildom.

“It is alright, MC. However, the young master is still in a meeting and will presumably not be out anytime soon. Would you like for me to serve some tea and pastries first?” 

“That would be great. Do you need any help?” Despite your obvious apprehension, you still weren’t beside your manners to ask him.

Caught up in your conversation with Barbatos, you hadn't even noticed that he had led you to the guest room. “Please take a seat here. I will prepare the refreshments for you.” Barbatos replied in a gentle tone, firm in not letting you do any work.

“Ah, could you please prepare cold water for me instead?”

“...I understand.”

After Barbatos had left and you were alone in the room, you did a cursory glance and quickly covered your face with the back of your hand to sigh. The problem was that you still weren’t used to the Devildom and you jumped at every single thing that moved and that butler scares you. His mouth may be curled up into a polite smile but you could not feel any warmth behind it.

‘...Urgh.’

The best scenario now is just to survive the school year without dying since it seems that going back to your realm is impossible.

“MC?”

You quickly straightened yourself and smiled at Barbatos, hoping that he did not notice your worries. 

“Ah, thank you.” You took a sip from the cup that Barbatos had brought over and instantly your face scrunched up into a frown as you took in a deep inhale.

“Is this lemonade?”

“It is lemonade, the Devildom version of it. I thought it would help you feel more refreshed.”

You remember telling him to prepare cold water yet he still chose to exert more effort to bring over a cup of cold lemonade. You feel anger bubbling up but squashed it down in fear of the sly butler, who was now looking over at you with a pleasant expression that was telling you to enjoy your drink.

God, you never had an issue with lemonade but it seemed that the Devildom version was much sourer than what you were used to.

You continued to drink the lemonade.

“Thank you for the drink. It was perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear that, MC.”

Barbatos’s cordial and gentle smile sent chills straight down your spine and you subconsciously clenched the glass tighter. As a human, you can only trust yourself.

“Barbatos, please continue with whatever you were doing before I came. You don’t have to be around me, I can take care of myself.” You wanted this butler who gave you the creeps to quickly go away as you didn’t want to see his face, but he refused to leave.

“MC, it is my duty as the young master’s butler to attend to his guests when he is not here to do so.” 

You inwardly clicked your tongue loudly after seeing Barbatos flash another smile at you, his teeth glinting in the light. You wanted to throw a tantrum but you shuddered at the possible repercussions, so you opted for another method instead.

“Well, why don’t you sit down and enjoy these pastries with me? It’s a little too much for you to be hovering over me and not eat anything.” Despite your best attempts to not let your sarcasm bleed into your words, your tone had taken on a complaining whine in the end. You took a quick peek at Barbatos, who was standing there with a stiff expression.

…Should you not have said anything?

Before you could regret anything, the screeching sound of the chair being pulled made your head quickly turn up to see Barbatos sitting down opposite you, back straight with perfect posture.

“I will fulfill your command then, little lamb.” Barbatos chuckled, and despite yourself, you found yourself letting out a huff of laughter as well.

You decided right there and then that you would treat Barbatos better following the next interaction. The way he was smiling at you right now just made you feel plain uncomfortable.

══════════════════

a/n▸ my apologies if barbatos is OOC, he was especially difficult for me to get a read on seeing as I don't play through any of his devilgrams. Thus, i feel that MC would have been very awkward with barbatos initially bc all his actions/words were due to his sense of duty. I also think its funny to see barb fkin w mc LOL Personally, i think its hilarious to characterise MC as jumpy because man, all of these characters are sus as hell, ik i wld be getting heart palpitations every minute #solomon is a menace, the movie they were watching was How to Train your dragon LOL, i was rewatching it and i wondered how it wld be like to freefall

[cei1ne]

—You suffer from anemia yet your boyfriends as supportive as ever, just in his own way

დ .•*”Summary: You suffer from anemia but you don’t let it stop you from becoming a hero, yet, your boyfriend’s a stubborn mess and forced you to rest.

༺ღ༒Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Anemic!Reader

☆࿐ཽ༵Tags: High school; Relationship; UA; GN!Reader

＊*•̩̩͙Warnings: Cursing?; Anemia; Overprotective boyfriend

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Word count: 3.8k

‧͙⁺˚*･A/N: Someone requested this but it was anonymous and my tumblr was bugging lately! It just got deleted but I still had lots of fun writing this and I hope you’ll have just as much fun reading this! And I didn’t know if they meant headcanons or Scenario so I just did both!

Headcanons: Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Anemic!Reader

1. Worry Masked by Irritation: Bakugou would constantly mask his concern for your condition by pretending to be annoyed. He’d grumble about you being “too weak” but would secretly go above and beyond to ensure you’re healthy.

2. Diet Control Freak: He’d take control of your meals, researching iron-rich foods and sneaking them into your diet. If you tried to resist, he’d shove a plate at you with a snarky remark like, “Eat this before I lose it.”

3. Hyper Awareness: Bakugou would become hyper-aware of your signs of fatigue or dizziness. If you so much as swayed while standing, he’d immediately drag you to sit down.

4. Loud Protector: If anyone dared to tease or question you about your condition, he’d explode (figuratively and maybe literally). “You got something to say?! Say it to me!”

5. Gentle in Private: Though Bakugou is explosive in public, in private, he’d show softer affection. He’d tuck blankets around you, carry you to bed if you overexerted yourself, and grumble softly, “Don’t push yourself, idiot.”

6. Hates Seeing You Weak: Seeing you too tired to get up genuinely unnerves him. He’d pace, bark orders, and eventually sit by your side, silently holding your hand.

7. Acts of Service: Bakugou would do small things like fetching water, helping you stand, or taking on your chores. Of course, he’d act like it’s no big deal. “You’re lucky I’m not a total asshole, huh?”

8. Research Master: He’d secretly learn about anemia from every available resource and even consult Recovery Girl or doctors. He wouldn’t tell you about it, though; he’d just start doing things that showed he knew what he was talking about.

9. Training Adjustment: He’d modify training sessions for you, subtly encouraging you to take breaks without making you feel weak. He might even offer to spar lightly to “keep you on your toes.”

10. Blunt Reassurance: If you ever felt self-conscious about your condition, Bakugou would bluntly shut you down. “You’re not weak. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Rest is for the Weak (But Not for You)

The morning started like any other. The dorms buzzed with activity as Class 1-A prepared for the day ahead. You had been one of the first to wake, though not because you were particularly eager. A familiar heaviness sat on your chest, and your limbs felt as though they were weighed down by lead.

It was nothing new. This was your normal.

“Y/N, you doing okay?” Mina’s cheerful voice rang out as she caught sight of you rubbing your temples. “You look kinda pale.”

You gave her a small smile, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“You sure? I can grab you something from the cafeteria real quick if you need it!”

“Thanks, Mina, but I’m good,” you said firmly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

She hesitated but eventually nodded, skipping off to join the others. As you gathered your things and headed toward the training grounds, you could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning your head, you locked eyes with Bakugou.

He didn’t say anything, but his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow made it clear he’d heard the exchange. You pretended not to notice and hurried to catch up with the others, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.

_________________________________

The training session was supposed to be routine—a series of combat drills designed to test reflexes and stamina. You had been paired with Midoriya for a sparring match, something that usually wouldn’t faze you.

But today, every movement felt sluggish. Your punches lacked their usual strength, and your dodges were just a fraction too slow. Midoriya, ever the observant one, noticed almost immediately.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked, concern etched into his face as he blocked one of your weak punches.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, dodging to the side as he retaliated.

But the dizziness was getting worse. Your vision blurred at the edges, and the sound of your own heartbeat roared in your ears.

“Y/N—”

“Stop holding back!” you snapped, cutting him off.

Midoriya flinched but complied, though his hits were clearly pulled. You hated it—hated the pity in his eyes, the way he seemed afraid to fight you properly. You wanted to prove you could keep up, that you weren’t a liability.

And then your knees buckled.

_________________________________

“Oi! What the hell are you doing, Deku?!”

Bakugou’s voice rang out across the gym, loud enough to make everyone pause. You barely registered the sound of his boots stomping across the floor before he was standing between you and Midoriya, his crimson eyes blazing.

“I-It wasn’t his fault—” you started, but Bakugou cut you off with a sharp glare.

“Shut it, dumbass,” he growled before turning back to Midoriya. “What the hell were you thinking, letting them push themselves like that?”

Midoriya opened his mouth to respond but quickly decided against it, his expression shifting to one of resignation.

“And you,” Bakugou snarled, rounding on you. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve hurt yourself!”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, trying to push past him.

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

“You’re not fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re done. Sit down before you pass out.”

_________________________________

Bakugou practically dragged you to the edge of the gym, ignoring your protests as he deposited you on a bench. The other students watched from a distance, their whispered conversations filling the air.

“Bakugou, you’re overreacting,” you muttered, crossing your arms as he crouched in front of you.

“Overreacting, my ass,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “You’re pale as shit, and you can’t even stand up straight. Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You glared at him, but the dizziness made it hard to keep your head up. Bakugou noticed immediately and let out an irritated sigh.

“Tch. Stay here,” he ordered before stomping off.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a water bottle and a protein bar. He shoved them at you without a word, his scowl deepening when you hesitated.

“Eat. Drink. Now,” he barked.

“Bakugou, I don’t need—”

“Don’t argue with me, dumbass!” he snapped, his voice louder than necessary. “Just do it!”

You flinched but complied, taking small sips of water and nibbling on the protein bar.

________________________________

When the session ended, Bakugou didn’t give you a choice about walking back to the dorms together. He hovered close, his sharp eyes scanning you for any signs of weakness.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” you muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t carry your ass,” he shot back.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. But as you reached the dorms, Bakugou’s voice softened.

“You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in his demeanor. “I do take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “If you did, I wouldn’t have to babysit you all the damn time.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the exhaustion caught up with you, and you leaned against the wall for support.

Bakugou was at your side in an instant, his hand on your arm as he steadied you.

“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he grumbled. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

_________________________________

Once inside your room, Bakugou made himself at home, pulling a chair up beside your bed as you sat down.

“You’re not staying,” you said, giving him a tired look.

“Like hell I’m not,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something stupid.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re an idiot,” he shot back, though there was no real heat behind his words.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tension gradually fading as the weight of the day settled over you. Bakugou’s presence, as much as you hated to admit it, was comforting.

_________________________________

The silence in your dorm room was a strange thing. Bakugou wasn’t one to enjoy stillness, yet here he was, sitting in your chair like he belonged there, arms crossed as he glared at the wall. The occasional sound of his foot tapping against the floor was the only thing breaking the quiet.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you said finally, unable to take the tension anymore.

“Too bad,” he replied curtly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’re seriously overreacting. I just got a little dizzy.”

He turned his sharp gaze on you, the intensity in his crimson eyes making you freeze. “A little dizzy? You couldn’t even finish training without almost eating shit in front of everyone.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you muttered, looking away.

“I’m not saying it to piss you off, dumbass,” he snapped, leaning forward slightly. “I’m saying it because you’re being reckless.”

You stared at him, surprised by the raw frustration in his voice. Katsuki Bakugou was never one to sugarcoat his words, but there was something different about the way he spoke to you now—like he was genuinely afraid for you.

“I just don’t want to hold anyone back,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s expression softened for a moment, though his scowl quickly returned. “You’re not holding anyone back,” he said firmly. “You think I give a crap if you can’t keep up sometimes? You’re not weak, Y/N.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d always thought Bakugou saw weakness as unforgivable, that he’d look down on anyone who couldn’t match his relentless energy. Hearing him say otherwise left you speechless.

“Tch. Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I’m just telling the truth. Now shut up and rest.”

_________________________________

Despite Bakugou’s insistence that you stay in bed, word of your condition had spread among your classmates, and it wasn’t long before a few of them came knocking.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Mina burst into the room, her usual enthusiasm dampened by concern. She carried a small bag of snacks, which she set on your bedside table with a flourish.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bakugou interjected from his seat, his voice dripping with irritation. “Now get out.”

“Bakugou, be nice!” Kirishima appeared behind Mina, giving his friend a pointed look before turning to you. “We just wanted to check on you, Y/N. You scared us a little back there.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, guilt creeping into your tone. “I just… overdid it.”

“You think?” Bakugou muttered under his breath.

Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, we’re glad you’re okay. Just take it easy, all right? And don’t let Bakugou boss you around too much.”

“Too late for that,” you joked, earning a glare from Bakugou.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Mina and Kirishima finally left, though not without a promise to check in on you again later. As soon as the door closed, Bakugou let out an irritated huff.

“They don’t know when to leave,” he grumbled.

“They’re just worried,” you said, leaning back against the pillows. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a damn audience while I’m trying to take care of you,” he shot back.

You raised an eyebrow. “Trying to take care of me? Is that what this is?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing again.

_________________________________

That night, long after Bakugou had begrudgingly left your room, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His words from earlier echoed in your mind.

“You’re not weak, Y/N.”

It was such a simple statement, yet it meant more to you than you could explain. For as long as you could remember, you’d been battling the fear that your anemia made you a burden. You hated the idea of being someone others had to take care of.

But Bakugou didn’t see you that way.

You weren’t sure when he’d started paying such close attention to you, but his protectiveness was undeniable. It was infuriating at times, but it also warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t ignore.

_________________________________

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the smell of food.

Groggily sitting up, you saw Bakugou standing by your desk, a tray of breakfast in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“What’s it look like?” he replied, setting the tray down on your lap. “You’re eating before training today.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You made this?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s just eggs and toast. Not like I cooked a five-star meal.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you picked up your fork. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

As you ate, you noticed how he lingered by the door, his usual impatience replaced by something softer.

“Are you gonna watch me the whole time?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he shot back.

_________________________________

Over the next few weeks, Bakugou’s concern for you became an undeniable part of your routine. He started carrying snacks and water bottles with him during training, shoving them at you whenever he thought you looked tired. He adjusted his own training schedule to keep an eye on you, even if it meant sparring with someone else so he could watch from a distance.

And while he never outright said it, his actions spoke volumes.

One day, after a particularly exhausting training session, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the gym, your legs dangling over the side as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou appeared beside you, handing you a cold water bottle without a word.

“Thanks,” you said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“Tch. Don’t mention it,” he muttered, sitting down next to you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the gym fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded you just how much Bakugou cared, even if he’d never admit it.

“You’re not weak, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” you said quietly, using his first name for the first time in weeks.

He didn’t say anything, but the faint smile that tugged at his lips was enough.

[cozymochi]

Nyoka Information & Class

(Gonna assume that’s a typo. Meme here.)

Class: Who is your twst OC's classmate(s)? How would you describe their relationship? Did they have different classmates in previous year and did they get along?

Nyoka is a third-year student in Class D. The only other cast member who is in that class is the Malleus Draconia. Their relationship is… classmates. Will interact a bit inside the classroom due to circumstance, but not so much outside of it.

Small talk may be exchanged if Malleus or Nyoka has something to say. Nyoka would never disrespect royalty, so he treats Malleus accordingly. Malleus treats Nyoka with courtesy as well, as he’s expected to.

They will be paired up often because the rest of the class fears Malleus on principle due to his reputation and overall presence, and Nyoka can carry an unapproachable aura too despite his docile behavior. He’s not scared of Malleus per se, just reasonably cautious. He certainly wouldn’t willingly venture to Diasomnia, though. I can imagine Malleus in his weird-fae-way teasing an invite every now and then if Nyoka ever asks a question (like, say about the loud reptile who keeps escorting Malleus to class every day). It’s probably a real offer laced in mild ironic humor, but it’s hard to tell. Besides, a Savanaclaw student waltzing into Diasomnia? Absolutely not.

I’d probably describe the relationship as amicable. Not unpleasant, but neither really go out of their way to hang out. They’re both kinda stiff and dignified, but Malleus has a cheekiness that Nyoka lacks, I think. Malleus can be kind of in his own world, and Nyoka is just going through the motions. Reptile solidarity 🤝 Sort of. Not friends though. It’s not a thought that crosses their systems.

It’s hard to say if Nyoka ever shared a class with anyone else in previous years because I don’t really know how NRC is structured in that regard. It’s possible, but I can’t be sure with certainty. I won’t rule it out, so I’ll put a pin in it. Might’ve crossed paths with Rook though in previous years, for sure.

Second answer as optional read under cut. Out of universe yapping.

Inspiration: Is your twst OC inspired by any villains? Concepts? Anything Disney-related?

YES! Primarily inspired by Ushari the Egyptian Cobra, secondary villain in season 2 of “The Lion Guard.” Visually, though, I focused more on the real species and some legends attributed to it.

So artistic liberties were clearly taken. Blud looks more like an Indian cobra. BUT! I will let it slide because red/purple hues are more visually eye catching for a cartoon snake than black (and in some lightning, looks gold), so I can kinda see the thought process there. I didn’t wanna nix that red/purple entirely so I just threw Ushari’s og color scheme and pattern into Nyoka’s eyes and eye makeup. That was my compromise. My little subliminal bell to ring.

I think the closest Disney-ish related concept that I also incorporated in subtext is something I can’t articulate too well.

Maybe it’ll be brought up in some future material.

HAHA SEE I ACTUALLY ANSWERED ONE OF THESE THINGS. TAKE THAT ME FROM MONTHS AGO WHO ALWAYS FAILED TO.

[moonlight-joy]

The Realm’s Harmony

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: Through wisdom, compassion, and an unyielding dedication to family, you became the heart of House Targaryen, guiding its members—both children and adults—away from division and toward unity, ensuring Rhaenyra’s reign as Queen and the realm’s enduring peace.

Pairing: Reader/Daemon Targaryen

The fires of ambition often threatened to consume House Targaryen, but under your watchful eye, those flames were tempered. Married to Daemon Targaryen since before Rhaenyra’s birth, you had spent years nurturing bonds within the family and easing tensions that might otherwise have erupted into chaos. Though your union with Daemon had its share of whispers—his reputation and fiery temperament never escaped him—your devotion to the family earned you respect and love. Over time, you became more than just Daemon’s wife; you became the heart of the Targaryen household.

From the moment Queen Aemma placed her infant daughter in your arms, you felt a bond with Rhaenyra that rivaled blood itself. Aemma’s tragic passing only deepened that connection. As a young girl, Rhaenyra sought comfort in you, her "second mother," who could soothe her fears and guide her with gentle wisdom. You braided her silver hair when she was restless, read her tales of Old Valyria, and taught her the strength of her heritage. When whispers questioned her claim as heir, she once asked you, “Am I strong enough to be heir?” Her violet eyes were filled with doubt. “You are a dragon,” you replied, placing a hand on her cheek. “The blood of kings flows in your veins, and dragons bow to no one. Remember that, my sweet girl.”

Even as she grew older and faced the trials of court, Rhaenyra remained fiercely loyal to you. When others doubted her, you stood by her side, defending her right to the Iron Throne with a ferocity that matched Daemon’s own. Yet, Rhaenyra was not the only one to benefit from your guidance. Though Alicent Hightower held her children close, wary of Rhaenyra’s rise, you worked to mend the fissures threatening to tear the family apart. On a quiet night after the King had reaffirmed Rhaenyra’s position as heir, you sought Alicent out in her chambers.

“You fear for your children,” you said gently, sitting beside her. It wasn’t a question. Her gaze faltered, her composure cracking. “They will see them as threats,” she whispered. “As enemies to Rhaenyra’s crown.” “They will see them as family,” you corrected firmly. “Because we will make sure of it.” Your words planted a seed that would grow over the coming months. Though Alicent remained cautious, she came to see you as an ally rather than an opponent. Together, you bridged the gap between her children and Rhaenyra, ensuring that they grew up as siblings, not rivals.

Aegon’s defiance and arrogance were well known, and even as a boy, he tested the patience of everyone around him. Alicent often fretted over his behavior, her strictness clashing with his carefree nature. But you saw through his bravado to the boy beneath—the boy who craved approval but was too proud to ask for it. One afternoon, when Aegon had shirked his lessons again, you found him perched on a windowsill, gazing out at the sprawling city below. “Planning your escape, are you?” you teased gently, leaning against the wall. He glanced at you, his lips curling into a smirk. “If I were, would you stop me?” “No,” you admitted, crossing your arms. “But I’d remind you that running won’t change who you are. You’re a prince, Aegon. That comes with responsibilities, whether you like it or not.” His smirk faded, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes. “What if I don’t want to be a prince?” he muttered. “What if I just want to be… me?” You stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Then be yourself, but be the best version of yourself. Not for the crown, not for your mother—for you.” From that day on, Aegon began to confide in you, sharing thoughts he wouldn’t dare voice to anyone else. Though his rebellious streak never disappeared, he learned to temper it, finding a balance between his own desires and the duties expected of him. He respected you not because you demanded it, but because you earned it.

Aemond’s struggles were different. Born into a world of dragons without one to call his own, he often felt like an outsider among his siblings. His frustration boiled over when Lucerys taunted him, leading to the infamous fight that cost him his eye. You were the first to sit by his bedside after the maesters had tended to him, refusing to leave until he woke. When his good eye fluttered open and landed on you, you smiled softly. “You’re awake.” Aemond reached for the bandage over his injured eye, wincing. “Does it… look horrible?” You gently took his hand, stopping him from touching the wound. “It looks like strength,” you said firmly. “You are not less because of this, Aemond. You are more. You have endured, and that makes you stronger than any blade or dragon.” Those words stayed with him. As he grew older, Aemond often sought your counsel, especially on matters of strategy and history. He admired your intelligence and the way you commanded respect without raising your voice. Though his ambition burned brightly, your influence ensured it did not consume him. Instead, he became a loyal and formidable ally to Rhaenyra, channeling his determination into protecting the family rather than tearing it apart.

Helaena was unlike her brothers. Quiet and thoughtful, she preferred the company of her insects and her dreams to the noisy chaos of court. While others dismissed her as odd, you recognized the wisdom hidden beneath her gentle demeanor. She often sought you out in the gardens, where she would sit beside you and speak of her dreams. “Do you think dragons dream?” she asked one day, her voice soft as she watched a butterfly land on her hand. “I think dragons see what we cannot,” you replied. “They understand the world in ways we’ve forgotten. Perhaps that’s why they are drawn to you.” Helaena smiled faintly, her gaze distant. “Sometimes, I think I see too much. The things I dream of… they frighten me.” You placed a hand on hers, grounding her. “Dreams can be frightening, but they can also guide us. You are stronger than you think, Helaena. Never doubt that.” Under your care, Helaena blossomed into a beloved figure, not just within the family but among the people of King’s Landing. Her gentleness became a source of comfort in a court often filled with tension, and her bond with you remained unshakable.

When Rhaenyra was crowned Queen, it was not just a victory for her but for the entire family. Aegon stood beside her as a trusted advisor, his cunning turned toward diplomacy. Aemond became her sword, his loyalty fierce and unwavering. Helaena brought peace to the court, her dreams often guiding Rhaenyra’s decisions. Your children stood proudly with their cousins, a testament to the bonds you had nurtured. Years later, as you watched your grandchildren play in the gardens of the Red Keep, you marveled at what had been achieved. The Dance of the Dragons, the war that could have torn the realm apart, had been avoided. The Targaryens were united, their power unmatched, and Rhaenyra’s reign was secure.

Daemon joined you on the bench, his arm slipping around your shoulders. “You’ve done it,” he said, his voice warm with admiration. “We’ve done it,” you corrected, leaning into him. “The blood of the dragon burns brighter because we chose to build, not destroy.” As dragons soared above and laughter filled the air, you knew that peace was the greatest legacy you could leave behind. House Targaryen was whole, its future secure, and the realm at peace under the reign of Queen Rhaenyra.

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[ssa-dado]

0 - Symposium, definitely not Platonic love.

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader (I hope I tagged it correctly woops)

No use of Y/N!

Summary: Hotch, after seeing you reading a book on the jet, picks it up out of curiosity. Late-night texts with you evolve from work to teasing philosophical banter about love, deepening your connection. Through this dialogue, Hotch reflects on both philosophy and his feelings for you, as the conversation subtly flirts with deeper emotions.

Genre: fluff, sapiosexual fluff.

Warnings: Implied alcohol consumption ; Reader and Hotch being completely blind yet marvellously insightful ; Philosophical discussions, I tried my best to make them as user friendly as possible ; Sir kink if you squint, although it's not intended in that way at all ; The story is set around season 3/4 before the team found out about Strauss' drinking problem, I feel so bad anyways.

Word Count: 2.9k

Dado's Corner: be kind this is my first ever Hotch fic and overall first fic I've written in English (yes, I indeed am a real Italian stallion) so there might be some mistakes, bear with me.

next part - set when they first ever met.

Hotch sits on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows across his living room, the house is so quiet, he briefly interrupts his late night reading session as he swears he can almost hear Jack’s light breathing from across the house. Those sweet thoughts, mixed up with the muffled night traffic almost lullabies him to sleep while the weight of another long week at the BAU settles into his bones.

His eyes immediately gaze down to his hands, firming holding opened the slim book: Symposium by Plato—a book he wouldn’t normally pick up on his own. The corners of his mouth quickly turn up as he recalls how he’d seen you reading it on the jet a few cases ago, sitting cozily and crossing your legs alone in a seat in front of him, strategically shielded from the table seats occupied by playing the rest of the team, including himself, busingly playing cards.

Every now and then his gaze automatically lingered on your stillness, the only movements coming from the swift air you moved while turning the page or adjusting your pose to be more comfortable, this sight intoxicated him. Your focus was so intense you didn’t even flinch at Derek standing up from his seat and leaning forward, while his hands gravitated towards the doctor’s bare neck after the latter just killed him off the game because oblivious of yet another variation they all added so it would make it easier to beat Reid. An attempt that ended tragically.

In that abrupt mess - from JJ laughing at the ironic hilarity to Reid using the highest-pitched voice his vocal chords could ever produce to defend himself from Derek's accusation of cheating - Hotch only remembers how your statuesque figure slowly had revived itself again as you glanced up to make sure no harm was done to the doctor. You made eye contact with Hotch and and you immersed yourself back to the slim book as soon the Unit Chief signed you not to worry and that he would tackle the situation himself. In a matter of fractions of seconds all your surroundings had disappeared again.

As soon as the Unit Chief was back into his office, curiously reminiscing about your hypnotic serenity, he’d ordered a copy.

Now, as in the comfort of his living room slowly turns the pages, his phone vibrates with a message from you awakening him from his trance, immediately wonders why you would message him so late at night.

“Hotch, quick question: about the profile for the Winger case—should we revise the victimology section?"

…Of course, he almost started to hate how his role as Unit Chief always seemed to ruin his brief-lasting delusions.

He robotically types a response, a straightforward answer to your work-related question but as he presses send, his gaze lingers on the book in his hands. There’s somehow a temptation on his side to share the weird coincidence, to see how you might react.

"Good catch. I’ll review it tomorrow.” He writes.

“Wow that was quick, I didn’t expect you to still be up, did I interrupt your late night reading session?”

He quicky blushes, how could you know him so well?!

“You did. Don’t worry about it. By the way, I’m reading Symposium tonight." He blurts out

There’s a pause, and he can visualize your surprised reaction, how the sight of your smile would always warm his heart; almost immediately, his phone buzzes again.

"Wait, really, Symposium?!”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t smile so much if you were standing in front of him, thankfully, the shield of communicating through texts allowed him to put down his.

You continue. “Not to raise your expectations too much, but that’s my all-time favorite book, just so you know!"

He swears he can hear the intonation of your voice reading that text, visualizing how you would face your palms towards him and raise your shoulders, trying to keep that non-chalant expression of yours and not perk a soft smile to him.

Entitled by that fateful coincidence, Hotch feels brave enough to decide to tease you - just a little - hoping the text doesn't sound that much so out of character for him as much as it does in his head, although he shrugs, sending it before he starts overthinking it.

“Your all-time favorite? A book about love? I should’ve known."

He pauses, imagining you raising an eyebrow, maybe with that knowing smile you wear when he’s teasing you. And even though he’s playing it off as a joke, part of him can completely see how you, could actually have a natural flare for romance - even if you never openly admit it and always tried the best you could to suppress that side of yours.

He decides to blame it on the years spent at the BAU when it was just the two of you along with Rossi and Gideon; At how you were recruited as soon as you turned 21, while the youngest person you worked with on the team and could relate to the most was Hotch himself, even if he was late in his Jesus year.

He quickly remembers how you would always overwork yourself - you both still do nowadays, that's why you're having a conversation at past 2 AM - He could see how you were always trying to prove your worth more to yourself rather than to your co-workers or even to the sketchy police officers and detectives somehow still stuck in the 1400s.

He had always admired you for your intelligence and acute instincts, and so does your nowadays team, immediately entrusting you with the nickname of "Prehistoric Reid" only because because you had started working at the BAU back when they still didn't provide the jet so you all had to move using the trains. Even if you already have 9 years of experience in the field, yet you were the 2nd youngest - still no eidetic memory though - this desire to always prove yourself never fully went away. One day you were the youngest, the other they assume someone way more genius than you were so you can't stand out anymore for merely for your intelligence.

You finally respond: "Well, it’s more than just a book about love. It’s actually quite of a concrete example of Plato’s take on philosophy - the whole thing told through dialogues, like a discussion among friends. But I won’t bore you with all the technicalities"

Hotch chuckles softly, picturing you downplaying your passion, trying not to sound too academic. What you don’t know is that he could listen to you talk about philosophy for hours - especially tonight, about philosophy’s take on love, no less. He doesn’t dares to say that, though.

"I wouldn’t say you’re boring me. In fact, I’m starting to see the appeal. But really, all-time favorite?"

He leans back into the couch, waiting for your reply.

You told him back when you first met that your first ever degree was in philosophy, and now recalling that specific information he's been wondering why exactly a barely-reaching-100-pages-long book holds such a special place for you, out of all the others he’s seen you passionately read during the years. A part of him is genuinely curious, the other part is trying to stretch as much as possible this conversation with you.

"Absolutely. I mean, think about it: a bunch of people crashing at their friend's house, sitting around, getting drunk, each giving their take on love while they feast at a banquet." You continued. "It’s almost like when we’re at Rossi’s, except instead of love, we’re all talking about criminology and cases while stuffing ourselves with his Italo-American dishes".

An image of Rossi pouring wine wearing an ancient greek costume - fake long white beard included - while everyone at the table delves into some intricate discussion about a case flashes through his mind, Hotch immediately chuckles at the comparison. He's sure you've imagined the exact thing too and he can almost hear you suggest hosting a real Symposium next time, his profiling skills never fail him as soon his phone buzzes again.

"Imagine if we recreated the Symposium at Rossi’s. Each of us giving our take on love. I can almost hear Reid's speech delving into the psychology of affection and its variations throughout the various cultures"

Quick on his chubby fingers, after laughing at the scenario, he types the continuation "In stark opposite, Garcia would follow him and pull out her tarot cards and read each of our birth charts, telling us who we're most compatible with based on our stars alignements"

While waiting for you, he stands up and makes his way towards his home bar, reaching for the scotch bottle, swiftly filling up his glass, silently blessing Plato for making this the longest light-hearted conversation you haven’t had in years. You were both either too focused on your work or actively suppressing your romantic feelings and ignoring each other. After all this time he would almost forget how the two of you were first and foremost very good friends. As the liquid burns the back of his throat, his phone buzzes again.

"That's actually really fascinating yet so intimidating, what about Rossi though? Of course he's hosting all of us but I feel he would totally blurt out some old-scool stuff he only understands. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't get his references, but I really feel bad whenever I don't."

He almost chokes himself after your other reply

"So, big boss, have I convinced you with giving us the free week-end or should I extend the invite our lovely friend Strauss? I fear that after a few glasses of Rossi’s wine all that angst towards you might turn into some ol' sweet love. I would watch out if I were you, Unit Chief"

You loved poking fun at him using his rank; It all started a few years ago to jokingly shrug away the awkwardness caused from how the co-worker you always used to joke around, spend the nights together in the same room, sharing your theories about the unsub and building up the profile with suddenly turned into your superior. As much as you both didn't want to admit it, something in your relationship had shifted since this happened, not to mention to the fact that it's much more awkward to admit to your boss you've been having a crush on your him for almost 9 years rather than to your co-worker.

Now Hotch, encouraged by the slight booze, further teases you "And what do you think my take on love would be?"

This was the closest he could ever come to flirting with you, walking on that fine line and never pushing himself further. For Hotch, the gesture of basically asking you to profile him in a moment in which he was so vulnerable, breaking his golden rule of "never profile your coworkers" was the most romantic declaration of love he could ever think that of.

Your text brings him back down to Earth:

"Hmm, I imagine you’d give a thoughtful, analytical speech something with a lot of depth but surprisingly subtly humorous. You would wait for everyone to finish their own speech so you would be last, acknowledging all of us completely busted, only because you have self-control."

You feel the need to add something else, even if you know already he would read into it, at the way how you reserved a mere sentence to describe that scenario involving your teammates. On the contrary, you could write a whole book about him and all his hypothetical remarks, meticulously poiting out every small gesture or expression - or the lack of - of him. Since truth lies in the middle, you decide to dedicate him only another lengthy paragraph.

"You would start with something along the lines of ‘Love is a complex system of emotional responses influenced by myriad factors…’ as if you were delivering a profile, definitely using that same tone as well. You’d probably have us all analyzing every possible nuance and you enjoy watching us slobber, trying to quickly sober up to keep up with your impeccable remarks. Of course we would miserably fail at being analytical whatsoever, but you love whenever we make a fool out of ourselves."

He chuckles "You do know me too well"

He probably hints at the possibilty of having a weekend off with his next text "And since now you're making me think I might have to start prepare my speech about love, it wouldn't hurt to also include a few practical applications for the BAU team’s dynamics."

Ha. You wish he showed you what those practical applications consisted of. Hotch although interrupts even the possibility of recycling this genius quick witted remark with him, making sure to replace yourself with his archenemy section chief Erin Strauss, to not weird him out.

"Jokes apart, your take on love would be fascinating, I'm looking forward to hear it", he says.

"Only if you’re ready for philosophical debates after a few glasses of wine. Though, I’ll warn you - I take my Plato very seriously."

Hotch smiles at that, apparently he took his Plato quite seriously as well. What you're not aware at all is that the late-night session of Symposium you had interrupted wasn't his first.

"I’ll keep that in mind. But honestly, I’ve been finding parts of it… enlightening."

He had actually finished it for the first time less than a hour before you texted. What you actually interrupted was Hotch helplessly going back through certain passages that reminded him of you. He hypothesises your take on the subject of love, trying to gauge how you view it without revealing feelings he’s kept carefully hidden for a long time.

"Enlightening, huh? So you’ve gotten to the part where Socrates explains how love makes us better people?"

Hotch remembers that part well enough, but he hasn’t revealed just how deeply he’s been thinking about it - how, in his own quiet way, he’s been trying to connect those ideas to his life, and to you, so he chooses his next words carefully.

“Not yet." He lies, knowing that the part you appointed to would only come much later in the book "But I’m guessing you’ve got some thoughts on that?"

He imagines you smiling on the other end, maybe a little amused at how he’s obviously deflecting, although you don’t press him, but your next reply doesn't lack a subtle challenge.

"I do. But I think you'd find it pretty relevant, Hotch. Phaedrus talks about how lovers fight better together - how love gives them courage."

He quickly smirks and reminds himself how much he loves when you put him in the corner with the choice of your words, there was no way he could deflect that, since Phaedrus’s speech comes first, he couldn't say he hadn't read that yet.

Hotch's eyes flicker toward the book again, remembering Phaedrus’s discourse: the idea that love could make people fight harder, be stronger… it strikes a chord, reminding him of the strength he’s seen in you, in the unique way you both handle the intense challenges of your work when paired up together. He types, his words more deliberate now.

"Phaedrus might be onto something. Love as a motivator, as a way to push people to be better. What about you? Do you see it that way?"

There’s a slight pause before your next message, and he can almost sense your careful consideration, you’ve never been one to answer these kinds of questions lightly.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, love isn’t just about being close to someone, it’s about making each other better, pushing each other forward. But that is not easy at all. It takes patience, discipline… and maybe a bit of faith."

Hotch’s expression softens as he reads your words. He admires your thoughtfulness, your ability to cut straight to the heart of something that most people shy away from. He finds himself thinking about how true those words are, how they seem to apply not only to love, but to the way both of you approach life and work. He types slowly, his words carefully chosen.

"Patience, discipline, and faith. Sounds a lot like what we do every day, maybe we’re already living it."

As he sends the message, he sets the phone down beside him and glances at the book again. He’s aware of the irony - that for all the deflecting, all the jokes, he’s learning more about you through this conversation than he would have if he had simply asked.

The words of Plato, the discussions on love, seem to take on a new meaning - one that feels personal, one that makes him wonder if he’s been missing something between the lines all along.

"You know, this conversation feels a bit like Socratic dialogue. Just without the wine. Maybe I’m learning about love through you and Plato’s dialogues in a way Socrates might’ve appreciated."

He sends the message, a small smirk on his face. He knows how much you would appreciate the unexpected extra philosophical remark about Socrates even if he knows little to nothing about him apart from that his idea of love in Plato's book. To impress you he totally forgets how only just a few moments before he stated he hasn’t read his discourse yet. A few moments later, your reply comes through.

“No way! Aaron Hotchner now delves into the Socratic dialectics?!"

Now you smell the lie so to make sure you trick him with the next text "Well, maybe you should read something by Socrates next, he was quite the conversationalist, you would rely a lot to him, especially after all of this philosophical banter"

"Any recommendations?" He naively takes the bait

"That’s the thing, Unit Chief - Socrates didn’t write anything. He relied on his students to record his thoughts. It’s all oral and dialectical. The dialogues are his legacy, not written works, maybe that’s why it’s such a rich experience—like having an ongoing conversation with someone through the ages."

Hotch leans back, wishing these moments would linger forever, hoping the words you exchanged could be eternal just like those exchanged by the men he was reading about, now printed with black ink on the paper resting in his hands. He's surprised he doesn’t feel the tiredness of the week anymore or neither the need to sleep. Damn, he has so much energy he's sure he could run a whole marathon, but only if you’re out there watching him.

"Well, if our conversations end up like Plato’s dialogues, I think I’m in for a rewarding challenge. Just don’t make me drink too much wine before our next discussion."

"Unit Chief I thought you had self-control and didn't need to be babied like us mortals"

His phone buzzes with another message from you.

“Sorry if I ask, I’m curious - what got you interested in Symposium all of a sudden? I didn’t think philosophy was your usual reading material."

Hotch takes a moment to think, considering how to respond without revealing too much.

"You know, it’s funny. I saw you reading it a while back and it piqued my interest. I guess I wanted to see what you found so engaging about it. And honestly, I’m finding it pretty compelling - there’s a lot more depth to it than I expected."

His cheeks turn into a light shade of pink at your last response. "Unit Chief, do you believe you might need some professional insights on that speech you needed so urgently to write?"

"I definitely might need a hand - if I'm not wrong you do have a philosophy degree, don't you?"

Symposium might just become Aaron Hotchner's all-time-favourite book as well, after all.