#and all the things that could be done with it

[thatonegrimm]

Can I request a drabble for Saja Boys accidentally hear his gn s/o sing "Soda Pop" but you never sang when he's around because you feel bashful to sing in front of the original idol when you're only average at singing please?

Thanks for your request! 💌

Okay, I’ve checked the lyrics three times, ran it next to a transcript, and I’m still second-guessing myself LMAO 😭Hope you enjoy it! 💖

🌙Saja Boys x Reader Soda Pop (Secret Version)

Summary: You’ve never sung "Soda Pop" in front of your boyfriend. Not when it’s his group’s song. Not when your voice is average and the lyrics are just this side of too flirty. But when you’re alone? You can’t help but hum it. Too bad you're not actually alone.

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🧿 Jinu 

He only came down the hall to get his phone charger. That’s all. He wasn’t snooping.

And yet—

“Don’t want you, need you… yeah, I need you to fill me up...”

You were barely above a whisper. Alone in the kitchen, swaying with your headphones in, mouthing the lyrics with that tiny smile that melted him every time.

You hesitated on the Korean line—mumbled through “성에 차지 않아” like you were unsure, then laughed softly like no one could hear.

Jinu froze in the hallway, hand half-raised toward the doorknob.

It hit him in waves. You were singing his verse. Shyly. Secretly. Like a crush confession whispered to no one.

His chest went tight.

He stepped away without a sound, heart racing like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

He didn’t say anything then.

But that night, when he curled up beside you on the couch, he slipped a soda-flavored candy into your hand.

“Yours is sweeter,” he murmured.

You blinked. “What?”

He just smiled.

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

💪 Abby

He was midway through his post-shower cooldown set—tank top damp, hair messy, just one more set of shoulder presses to go.

And then he heard it:

"Yes, I'm sippin' when it's drippin' now It's done? I need a second round And pour a lot and don't you stop"

Your voice.

And not just any part—you were doing his lines.

Poorly. But with passion. Like you meant every fizzy, ridiculous word.

He stood completely still, dumbbells in hand, and short-circuited.

You hit “It’s done? I need a second round” with such conviction that he nearly dropped a weight.

You didn’t know he was there. Not until you turned around and—

“GAHH—!”

“YOU—?!”

Abby held up his hands, wide-eyed. “I didn’t mean to—! That was—you’re really cute when you—!”

You buried your face in the nearest towel.

He spent the next hour praising your timing and lyric memory like a coach hyping his MVP. And the next day?

He handed you a mic-shaped smoothie straw and asked, totally serious:

“Wanna be my hype partner for the encore stage?”

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

📚 Mystery 

You thought you were alone.

You weren’t.

He’d been watching—silently—next to the mirror on your bedroom door, half-faded into a shadow like always.

“꿈 속에 그려왔던 너…” “난 절대 놓칠 수 없어…”

Your voice cracked.

You shook your head and restarted.

You didn’t know Mystery was listening to every note like it was sacred. Didn’t know your version of his verse—soft, breathy, uncertain—made something curl and settle in his chest like warmth.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t reveal himself.

But later that night, when you went to get water, you found a tarot card tucked under your phone.

The Star. On the back, written in neat, almost delicate handwriting:

“I waited so long for a taste of soda. You sound like the real thing.”

You stared at it for ten minutes.

The next morning, your mirror was fogged—but the words “Sing again.” were traced in the glass.

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

💋 Romance 

You were singing in the bath.

Not just singing—acting it out.

“Lookin' like snacks ’cause you got it like that—woo!” “Take a big bite, want another bite, yeah!”

You did the ad-libs. You winked at yourself in the mirror. You bit your lip mid-verse.

Romance was outside the door, hand on the knob, absolutely frozen.

He wasn’t sure if he was more flattered, impressed, or dangerously close to combusting.

He finally cracked the door open and leaned in just enough to say:

“Careful, babe. That line’s copyrighted.”

You screamed. He cackled.

“Relax,” he said, grinning. “I’ve never heard someone cover my part like that. You want coaching? We could make it a duet.”

You threw a towel. He caught it. “Encore performance later?”

“GET OUT.”

“Love you too, soda pop.”

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

🔥 Baby 

You were in the middle of making ramen—phone propped up on the counter, apron tied loose, bare feet tapping the tile.

“Uh, make me wanna flip the top… 한 모금에 you hit the spot…”

Your voice was breathy. Coy. A little too into it.

Baby stopped in the doorway. Leaned on the frame. Sipped his drink.

You didn’t notice him at first.

Then you turned.

Froze.

He tilted his head. “...That my line?”

“I—no—kind of—maybe.”

“Sounded like you meant it.”

You squeaked. He grinned.

Walked over, stole your chopsticks, and leaned in.

“You want me to hit the spot, sweetheart?”

You shoved him with your elbow and buried your face in your hands.

He didn’t stop smirking for the rest of the day—and you didn’t stop hearing him hum “Soda Pop” just loud enough for you to blush.

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

M-List

[luna-azzurra]

Dialogue Lines (Dark Romance)

» “Say I’m a monster one more time and I’ll prove it, by walking away when you beg me to stay.”

» “I’ve done awful things. I’ve bled for less. But I swear to God, I’d never hurt you.”

» “I’m not asking you to save me. I’m asking you to stay when I’m no one worth saving.”

» “You’ve seen the worst of me and you’re still here. That should terrify me. Instead, it makes me want to fall to my knees.”

» “Let them call us monsters. We’ll still sleep better knowing we survived everything they never could.”

» “I’m not scared of your darkness. I’m scared of how much of mine you’ve lit up.”

» “Touch me like you mean it, or don’t touch me at all.”

» “You think you’re hard to love? Baby, I love you like breathing. Painfully, constantly, and without asking for permission.”

» “Don’t tell me you’re too broken. I’m already in the wreckage with you, building a home out of it.”

» “If I burn for you, I won’t ask you to put it out. Just stand with me in the fire.”

» “There’s blood on both our hands. Difference is, I’d still hold yours in front of God.”

» “You look at me like I’m your worst idea. So why do your hands keep finding mine?”

» “I know exactly who you are. That’s why I’m still choosing you.”

» “I’ll love you when you can’t speak. When you shut down. When you disappear. But don’t ever mistake that for weakness.”

[emisluvr]

‎ AFTER HOURS ˎˊ˗ teaser

✶ SYNOPSIS ── your coworker, jake, is the shameless office slut. he’s cocky, lazy, and infamous for fucking every girl in the office until they’re obsessed. you’re the opposite: organized, driven, and sick of his shit. your best friend heeseung keeps teasing you about the “sexual tension,” but you deny it every time.. until one night, you and jake end up staying after hours at the office.

✶ STARRING ── office fuckboy!jake, fem!reader, bsf!heeseung

✶ CAUTION! ── sexual content, enemies to lovers, lots of cursing, office au, y/n overhears boss and jake getting freaky, eventual smut scenes, teasing, heavy tension, mentions of gossip, jake is an absolute menace. warnings will update in the final fic.

✶ DURATION ── teaser is 1.1k words. oneshot is currently at 4.2k, estimated to finish at 8k-10k.

EMI ✉️ rahhh first long fic in the making !! i've been pretty consistent with writing this so far.. hopefully i don’t lose the motivation /j there’s no deadline for this tbh, but i predict it’ll be out nearing the end of this month, or earlier, but we’ll see! if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this fic, comment on this post or send me an ask.

‎

‎

Jake’s the type of guy everyone loves, even though there’s not a single good trait about him. Except for the fact that he shows up to work looking hot with zero effort. In the bathroom, girls constantly gossip about him. There’s never a time you can pee, let alone wash your hands, without overhearing some girl rave about how good he made her feel.

“He made me cum in under five minutes.”

“He secretly edged me at my desk.”

“I still dream about how his fingers felt inside me.”

“He fucked me in the lounge room.”

These are just a few of the things you hear about him on the daily. And it’s usually a different girl every time. That’s what made him such a whore in your eyes. And sure, everyone knew about it, but no one cared. A guy as good-looking, probably big, and charming as Sim Jaeyun could get away with just about anything.

To say it pissed you off was an understatement. He showed up late almost every day—today being a rare exception. He flirted with HR and practically skated by with minimal effort, all because he was hot and somehow everyone’s type.

Yes, he does actually do his work on rare occasions just to avoid getting fired, but most of the time he coasts on charm. It’s the only fucking thing he knows how to do with that pretty face.

What everyone knows best about him, though, is his reputation for fucking his female coworkers and leaving them obsessed. The thought made you partially disgusted. But at most, all he is to you is just a guy with an insane face card who’s using it to his advantage and getting exactly what he wants in return: pussy.

And as if that didn’t already paint the perfect picture of him being an asshole, he always made it a point to specifically tease, flirt, and annoy you. The one person in the office he hadn’t gotten the chance to fuck. If you gave him that chance, he would absolutely take it. But since he’s your arch-nemesis, you promised yourself you’d never let him touch you, let alone lay a finger on you.

──

You didn’t know why it was still lingering in your head—like you didn’t already know that he’s done this to nearly every girl in the office. It doesn’t matter. It’s just Jake. He’s a sleaze, a whore, and the very reason your days feel ten times longer than they should.

And yet, you can’t stop thinking about what you heard. The way she moaned, the way he groaned and talked so dirty to her, the infamously cocky tone in his voice like he knew he was ruining her.

You squeeze your thighs together under your pencil skirt, looking away from the screen, utterly disgusted with yourself for letting your thoughts wander.

You keep clicking away at your mouse, moving tabs around, trying to look productive—like you’re doing something—but you can’t focus on anything. You type random words that float around in your noggin that don’t relate at all to what you have to write about, delete them, type again, until you eventually give up and roll your chair away from your desk, now facing the entrance and trying to take a breather.

Your thoughts still creep in your head. They’re almost impossible to push out.

“He fucks like that just for a raise?”

“She sounded so dumb for him.. Was it that good?”

“Is he that big?”

“Why the fuck do I care?”

Fuck it, you need another cup of coffee.

You step out of your cubicle, running a hand through your hair as you notice Jake walking out of the office. His hair is messier, shirt untucked, sleeves still rolled to the elbow—he looks even more disheveled now. But he still looked so good, even post-fuck.

You really didn’t want to cross paths with him again, not after hearing him railing your boss in real time, when he didn’t think anyone could hear.

The minute he walks by you, your eyes meet, and he winks. “Slut,” you mutter under your breath, heart skipping in frustration. You blink, your heels clinking against the floor louder as you walk faster toward the lounge room, desperate to get away from everything and anything, even if that meant through another dose of caffeine.

You and Heeseung planned to meet at a small café in the lobby of your office building during a quick break. Since the workday had already started, the café was pretty quiet—soft music played in the background and just a few coworkers were scattered around. It was the perfect spot to catch your breath before heading back.. and to tell your friend what you had just heard not long ago.

“You look like you saw something you weren’t supposed to,” Heeseung says, noticing how you look down in your lap and stay oddly silent. Normally, if you were going to complain about Jake or your never-ending workload, it would’ve spilled out by now.

“Close enough..” You look up from your lap and at your friend’s bambi-like expression, and reluctantly tell him what you overheard just an hour ago.

“You heard it? Like.. full-on?” His eyes slightly widen—not that he was surprised or anything. He was only shocked that you had finally got a taste of it yourself, meaning you heard everything.

You nod, lips pressed together. “Gosh, she sounded like a pornstar..” you say, before cringing at your own words.

“Was he all like ‘who’s your boss now’?” Heeseung smirks, about to laugh at his own dirty comment.

“You’re disgusting,” you say, before realizing that’s one of the many insults you threw at Jake today.

“I’m just saying.. guess the real promotion was inside her all along.” He cracks another stupid joke.

“Heeseung!” Your tone goes higher.

“Jeez, sorry,” he says, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Bet you couldn’t even focus on your work after hearing that.”

You can’t even make eye contact with him anymore. Because it’s true—you couldn’t. The sole thought and memory of it was consuming you, and you hated it.

Jake’s high-pitched groans, his breathy filthy talk, the way she was moaning like it was the best sex she’s ever had—all lingered in your brain more than they should. It’s almost as if the second you heard it go down, the sound stuck with you for the rest of the day, clinging onto you like a reminder that the man who teases you every day, the man you despise, is willing to go as far as fucking his boss for a raise.

He doesn't even deserve one. Never did. But again, who says no to a face like his?

© emisluvr 2025. all rights reserved.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! I wanted to say that I really liked your Huntrix and Saja Boys being besties with the manager reader, and a thought came to mind. What if manager reader also gives the best hugs and is surprisingly cuddly so huntrix and saja boys fight each other for reader's hugs and cuddles.

If there was anything both Huntrix and Saja boys can agree on it would be the fact thar you gave the best hugs they've ever had, how heavenly they felt to the point your hugs had become somewhat of an addiction for them all at some point.

Zoey was the first to experience your hugs -having done so in a fit of excitment and happiness- yet the second she felt you hug her back was the stark constract to her tight embrace, it was soft and assuring as you rubbed her back gently, a calm balm to her energetic self. Zoey had to fight the urge to fully colapse within your arms, burrow her head into your neck and fall asleep there for the rest of the day becuase that's how your hugs had affected her so much.

She would later tell Mira and Rumi and Bobby that your hugs were like that of a security blanket, reassuring, warm and grounding, something that she could anchor herself to without the fear for of drifting away. Almost as if you had magic within your fingertips, witholding a warmth that made her skin tingle pleasently.

Romance was the first out of the Saja boys that you hugged, even if it was brief and cordial, and yet it might as well have lasted for eternity for him. To him being embraced in your hug had brought up softer feelings a demon shouldn't be feeling, there was comfort, there was a sense that he could be allowed to breath and not worry so much as it all seened to fade away from his mind as he allows himself to melt within you hug with a genuine smile upon his face.

He goes back and tells Abby, Baby, Jinu and Mystery that your hugs were like being welcomed home, a sense of belonging and a feeling of being seen and still being worthy of love, and how your hugs made him feel as though he could breath again and learn to drop the facade now and then. Your hugs made him feel as though he didn't feel the need to hide but instead find respit in your hold, letting you run your hand up and down his back, all the while he wanted to rest his head upon your shoulder and just shut his eyes.

Now that both groups were aware of the power you hugs and cuddles hold after experiencing them firsthand for themselves, there came a not so silent competition between the two to see who could recieve them first or the fastest, which brought about the competitive sides within both groups as neither were all that eager to loose to the other in the slightest. They both wanted all of your hugs and cuddles as much as they can whenever possible, even if it meant somewhat disrupting your work ethic doing so, something they try not to do so much but it will happen now and then, but at least they apologised and made it up to you by spoiling you in droves.

Jinu acted like he wouldn't participate un such a thing- but the fact that he was wandering the hallway of your apartment said otherwise- however he should've known better then to think that he would be the only one here for your hugs because when he was just about to come into the living room, he saw you hugging Rumi who looked him dead in the eye and smirked as she burrow her head into your shoulder, holding you tightly as you ran your fingers through her unbraided hair and easing the tension that you was certain was there.

'You're doing great Rumi but you need to start resting more, taking time off even if it's for a week, the fans aren't going to be upset and they'll understand and wait until you girls come back.' Jinu heard you say and he clenched his jaw, jealously filling his chest as he watched how Rumi hogged all of your attention all to herself, not leaving an ounce for him or the boys to have later on from how she seemed to cuddle into you almost possesively. He thought the competition between huntrix and Saja boys stupid and yet he would find himself willingly participating in it regardless, your hugs were like heaven to him and drowned out any voices that he could be hearing at that time, making him feel the safest he’s been in a long, long time.

Rumi on the other hand was enjoying every second the hug continued, finding herself more at peace within your arms, finding a reason to relax and be a little lazy if it meant staying here in your embrace, and leeching off of your warmth like she was now. She was hardworking, headstrong and a bit of a workaholic but within your hugs she was the opposite and she was loving every second of it, even when it was to the detriment of Jinu as it was a way to rub it in that she got to you first and that he’d have to wait until she was done; which wouldn’t be until like thirty minutes from now.

‘Rumi?’ You asked.

‘Yeah?’ She says sluggishly.

You chuckle. ‘Don’t tell me you’re close to falling asleep just from a hug?’

Rumi shrugs, burrowing herself closer to you, all the while making sure Jinu’s pout as he stormed off back down the hallway was engraved within her head. ‘What can I say? Your hugs are healing.’ And she wasn’t joking when she said that.

Mira was confident that she was going to get her hugs in today, having had a rough day in preparation for the newest Huntrix album, all she wanted was to rest her head on your chest as you swaddled her in your warmth on your beloved couch. Her body almost puts itself in a relaxed state before she had even gotten to you -she guessed it was her body’s way of telling her that you were close by- already stretching her arms out in hopes to be greeted with a hug without words, only to find you cuddling Romance while Abby was cuddling you, it was a cuddle sandwich and you were the delectable filling.

‘Oh you’re here,’ Abby says, caressing your sides, ‘why we’re a little overbooked right now, come back in about…an hour and a half, maybe two.’

Mira glares at him, her arms dropping to her sides quicker than anything as your fingers ran through Romance’s hair, your fingers should be running through her hair not his! Romance didn’t make things easier as he opened one eye to look at her, a smile tugging at his lips as he wiggles his fingers at her in a mock greeting, which only served to piss her off even more but wouldn’t dare loose her shit in front of you in the slightest and would try -keyword being try- to keep things civil as ling as the boys sandwiching you did.

‘Too slow.’ He mouthed to Mira as she huffed, quite literally done with this game as she walked over to the couch, staring the three of you down as you looked up at her with confusion while Abby and Romance were waiting for just about anything. What either Saja Boy didn’t expect was for Mira to muscle her way between you and Romance, forcing him to be squished to the back of the couch while Abby groaned under the additional weight, and snuggle herself into you as she clung onto your waist.

‘Guess I think we’re going to fall off the couch.’ You warned, liking the attention you were being given, but could feel that all of you were slowly but surely tipping over the edge of the couch that was more or less made for luxury comfortability then anything else.

‘Get off.’ Romance hissed at Mira who only hugged you tighter.

‘No you fuck off.’ She hisses back as Abby too was hissing at her to leave you to him and romance, completely obviously to the fact that you were about to fall off of the couch within a matter of seconds.

‘Guys.’ You tried again but nothing worked and before you knew it you, Abby, Mira and Romance were all on the floor, the cuddle session was ruined the second you all fell to the floor groaning. ‘I did try to tell you that there was too many people on the couch, three was pushing it already but four-‘

‘Four is a crowd.’ Romance mutters as Mira, somehow still clinging onto you, only smiled at him knowing that she ruined his and Abby’s cuddle session short to have her own instead.

‘Oops.’ Was all she said, though she wasn’t anything but happy to have you all to herself now, even if it was on the uncomfortable floor but she’ll take what she can get.

It had been a while since the competition had started and it had only gotten worse since as Zoey, Mira and Rumi were walking towards your room in hope for some group cuddles, however to their dismay Abby, Romance and Jinu were already there at your doorway looking in with pouts upon their faces which made the girls pause for thought in their steps, having noticed that their rival idol group were two members down.

So where were Baby and Mystery?

Cuddling you they would soon find out as they shoulder checked Abby, Romance and Jinu out of the way to see what they could see, only to see Baby cuddled into your side as Mystery cuddled at your feet, yet they weren’t the only ones as you had two more additional guests in a big fluffy blue tiger cuddled at your head as the bird with the tiny hat was resting upon your chest. All of you were fast asleep and looked to be in no mood to be woken up either, far too comfortable in your current state to wake up even if a megaphone was set off within range of your ears. Thank god your bed was big enough for all of you, but damn if you didn’t all look comfortable together, content in heaven and cuddles that all the rest of them could feel was jealously for being left out.

‘We’ve been looking for them for hours and here is where they’ve been, selfish.’ Abby said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

‘Tell me about it.’ Mira replied as she saw the smile upon Baby’s face as he slowly but surely flips her, Rumi, Zoey and the rest of his band mates off.

‘Cheeky bastard.’ Romance spat as Baby’s arm fell limp at your side, clutching onto you tightly as he made a deliberate show of hooking a leg over your hip and burrowing his head into the crook of your neck. Mystery was limp as anything but would occasionally grunt and kick his leg before going still once more.

‘Boo.’ Zoey chimed in as she pouts, Rumi pats her on the shoulder as Jinu only looked on in betrayal of his animal companions having lost themselves without your warmth and companionship. The competition was stupid but none of them were willing to commit nor trusting of the other group to a truce, so they’ll continue to stand at your sorry like a bunch of neglected children in varying degrees of weird but cute cartoonish pyjamas.

[reidrum]

plush, interrupted | s.r.

A/N: everyone say thank you margot for providing me with the doctor!reader idea to get me out of my writer’s block (this felt very rusty to write still so pls take with a grain of salt)

summary: in which dr. reid attempts to find the perfect birthday gift for you

cw: doctor!reader, fluff, mild suggestive content if you squint but not really honestly

wc: 1.9k

It’s a balancing act to juggle the gift bag, bouquet of flowers, and the box of your favorite donuts as he bends precariously to press the doorbell. The real act is controlling the beads of sweat forming on his brow bone—he’s real nervous about tonight going well, hinging on proving the voices in his head wrong that you won’t hate your gift.

The door swings open, he smells you before he sees you, wafts of gourmand calming his nerves immediately. ��Hi baby, happy birthday.”

You melt visibly, “Spence, what is all of this?”

“For you, obviously.” he steps in, handing you the box of donuts and flowers so he can remove his shoes, “I got your favorites.”

After placing his shoes on the rack he meets your face again to see you mid bite, already devouring a chocolate sprinkled donut. An easy grin splits his face wide open in pure adoration for how content you look with a stray sprinkle on your lip.

“Sorry, I’ve been craving these for literally ever. The hospital admin said it was too far to get it catered for the break room, and ugh I’m sure you could hear my heart shattering.” you pout.

Spencer reaches a thumb to your face and swipes the stray sprinkle, letting it land between your lips as you gently part around it. “Good thing I can be your donut dealer then.”

You giggle, “Donut dealer! And how would I pay you adequately for your services?”

“I can think of a few ways.” he curls a hand around your waist, sinking and imprinting down to tug you closer to him.

“Sounds like a threat,” you breathlessly laugh.

His head dips down to press a kiss behind your ear, a spot he’s discovered to be a tender one, where he relishes in the shivers and preening he can induce from a simple touch. “It’s more of a promise.”

He hasn’t dropped the L-word yet, surprisingly, since you make it so easy to want to say it every waking moment he spends with you. It’s only been a few months since you started dating and Spencer really believes he would have said it on the second date if he had no filter. 

You walk towards the kitchen in search of a vase for the beautiful flowers he’d brought, “I’m really happy you’re here, I was so sure a serial killer would have whisked you away this week and I was fully prepared to spend the day all by my lonesome.”

Spencer follows you, “Couldn’t have that now, could we? I think I’m more surprised you got the week off.”

“It was all Arlene,” you chuckle, “she insisted I switch shifts with her to quote ‘Spend my birthday doing hot illegal things with my hot federal boyfriend.’ end quote.”

“Hot illegal things?” Spencer grins, leaning against the kitchen island with a brow raised. “Like what?”

Your eyes flit to the abandoned gift bag from your colleague in the corner. “You can’t laugh.”

The amusement overfills his eyes, “I won’t, I promise.”

You continue trimming the flower stems in a poor attempt to avoid confrontation with him. “She got me a slave Leia costume.”

A loud laugh rumbles from his chest, “Like from the movie?”

“Yes, like from Return of the Jedi. Don’t laugh.” you fail to hide your smile as you point your scissors threateningly at him.

Spencer rounds the kitchen island to stand next to you, hands coming to your shoulders to smooth down the figure of your body. He chuckles, “I’m more of a Star Trek person personally, but I’m sure we can make it work.” he leans down to press another kiss to the base of your neck, reaching for your hands holding the scissors, “Will you let me do this? Don’t want you doing anything today.”

“It’s okay Spence, I’m almost done.” you say softly, plucking a petal off.

His hands encompass yours, “I bought them for you so you could enjoy how almost as pretty as you they are, let me do it.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” you bat your lashes.

“Always.”

You resign with flutters in your stomach, “Fine, does this mean I can look at what’s inside that bag you brought?”

He freezes, ironically, because being around you makes him feel like he’s braving the surface of the sun. The glow, the light, the warmth of it all encompassing his entire being, all just by you existing. Entirely the point in why he freezes, because you questioning about the contents of the bag means he has to come to terms that this is the pivotal moment in which you decide if this is all worth it.

Okay, he’s being very dramatic.

Truth be told, he had thought long and hard about what to get you. This wasn’t a simple holiday like an anniversary or Christmas, this was your birthday. A day where you deserved to feel special. You deserve to feel special everyday of your life, and Spencer makes sure of it as best as he can to make you feel that way. But finding the perfect gift for someone who deserved the world was a feat in itself.

Spencer isn’t exactly private about you to the rest of the team, but he definitely likes to keep you close to his heart. They knew about you for sure, after the first week of meeting you Spencer couldn’t hide his sudden change in mood and optimism for life. You were new, exciting, lovely to have around, and god forbid he wants to hold you secret for his eyes only.

He figured he had to outsource somewhere to get some help, and it was slightly helpful he recalls.

A few days ago…

Derek saunters into the bullpen and grins, “Pretty boy, I hear it’s Dr. Pretty Girl’s birthday soon.”

Spencer looks at him puzzled, “How do you know that?”

“Little birdie told me.” 

Garcia, he deduces. Morgan continues, “You decide what to get her?”

“Not yet—well, I have something in mind. I'm just not sure if she’ll like it.”

JJ chimes in, “Ooh, is it heart shaped jewelry? Girls hate that.”

“I got my last girl a heart pendant necklace, said she loved it.” Morgan counters.

“And that’s why she was your last,” Emily snickers, earning a playful shove from him. “How long have you guys been dating now? Few months now, right?”

“2 months, 14 days, 21 hours.”

She rolls her eyes, trust Spencer to have the answer down to the minute. “Ah, so you can’t get her anything too big.”

Spencer furrows his brows, “Why not?”

Emily and JJ share a look, “If you get something too big then you set her expectations too high, if you get something too small then you make her think she’s not important to you.”

“But she is really important to me.”

Morgan reaches over from his perched position on Spencer’s desk to ruffle his hair and chuckle, “So then think, lover boy.”

He’d scour store after store for weeks looking for something that he thinks you’d like. He passed on necklaces and rings knowing you weren’t allowed to wear it during your shifts. You had enough stationary to last you the rest of your life, enough candles to light every inch of your apartment.

Then, as he’s scrolling on his phone through the New York Times Games—he’d got the notification you completed the crossword and went to go complete it himself.

A very, very, targeted ad that is so on point it might as well have a big red dot smack in the middle, pops up before he can click start puzzle.

It’s so silly, ridiculous, there’s no way you would think it’s a good gift. You had class, elegance. But it seems just whimsical enough to where you might actually like it.

You say his name softly again, waving a hand in front of his face to gain his attention. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he snips the last flower stem and finally arranges the bouquet in the vase, “You can open it, but if you hate it please don’t tell me. Or tell me because I kept the receipt in case you didn’t, and then I can return it and find a better gift for you. Or if you do like it that’s great, but I’m really nervous you won’t and I’m actually making myself more nervous because I think you’re going to pretend to like it so my feelings don’t get hurt. You don’t have to spare my feelings, I promise, I can take it. And—“

“Spencer,” you say sternly.

The death grip on the emotional support flower stems tightens, “Yeah?”

“I’m going to love it regardless, because it came from you. You didn’t even have to get me anything, I told you.”

“If I could give you everything, I would. I’m still figuring out how to bring the moon down for you.” he says with pure intent.

You peck his cheek, “How romantic.”

You place the bag on the island and start delicately pulling out the paper stuffing, revealing an oblong shaped item wrapped in tissue paper. You unwrap it completely and audibly giggle through bubbling happy tears as you stare down at the contents.

In the middle of the tissue paper lies a plushie, complete with the vessels and chambers to make an anatomical heart, adorned with two little beady eyes, sets of arms and legs, and a smile almost as endearing as Spencer’s.

“Oh my god. I love him, are you joking?” you squeal.

Spencer’s heart loosens its chain, “Really?”

“Yes!” you pick up the plush and hold it close to your chest, relieved and overwhelmed to find his cologne sprayed on it flooding your senses. “Oh my god, he’s so freakin’ cute I can’t.”

“JJ was so sure you’d think it was stupid.” he mumbles.

“Are you kidding me? This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

He can’t hide his surprise, “The best gift?”

“Yes, the best gift ever.” you hug the plush tighter, “I’ve never gotten something like this before and I can’t believe it’s taken this long for it to happen. He’s going straight to my desk, I hope you know that.”

The relief is visible on his face, complimented by the rosy blush of his cheeks at how enamored you look by your new friend. His hands circle your waist, “I’m glad you like it, pretty girl. Happy birthday.”

You turn to kiss him soundly on the lips, “Thank you, I really really love this, like, so much. More than the donuts.”

“I think that’s the best compliment you could’ve ever given me.” he mutters into your neck.

“This is my son now. His name is Artie.”, you proudly say, “Expect many pictures of us on the job and our day to day lives.”

He furrows his brows in amusement, “Artie…like arteries?”

“Maybe.” you say under your breath.

He opens his mouth to say it, the L-word, like it’s second nature and absolutely needed with how you’ve endeared him yet again by simply existing and being you. He wants to say it so bad, but he knows the moment in which he professes his love for you needs to be a special one. You deserve that much at least, not because you giving an anatomical heart plushie a cute name has made him realize why love incites wars and acts of passion and grandeur for a very good reason.

Spencer will however, remember this moment as the one where he realizes he is irrevocably, indisputably, entirely captivated and deeply, deeply, in love with you.

[yanderenightmare]

jujutsu kaisen- which yanderes are really scary? i love the one you did about bnha, like which ones are just show, and which ones are really dangerous ones!! 💘

Yandere JJK

♡ FEAT: Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Itadori

♡ TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere, kidnapped reader, pet-play, degradation, caging, punishments, manipulation, forced submission, other stuff...

♡ FEM reader

♡ Kento Nanami

He’s scary because he’s so strict. 

He’s got house rules and expects you to follow them—no exceptions. Oh, and when you fail to do that? He expects you to take your punishment without any fuss.

“You know what you did wrong, baby. Be a good girl now and make it right, and I’ll forgive you.”

Yeah… you’ve yet to learn how to do that…

Stupid as you know it is, you always try to run—and it always makes it worse.

Your ass stings, smacked raw after three dozen hits. You sit with it on your heels, kneeling before the man who dealt the blows. That would have been the end of it if only you’d managed to take it properly—you could have been done. But now here you are, tears on your face, hiccups still raw in your throat, as he fastens the collar around it.

He doesn’t take kindly to you when you try to avoid responsibility. Accepting your punishments is one of those responsibilities.

It’s about humility, knowing when you’re wrong, and a matter of integrity to accept the consequences. And as Kento makes clear, a good girl should have both. And if you have neither, well, then you don’t deserve to be treated like a good girl, now, do you?

And that's a real shame. You see, because good girls get to eat their dinner at the table. They have the right to take warm showers, can sleep in the bed, and wear clothes. They’re even allowed to have hobbies after they’re done with all their chores. 

But bad girls, however? They don’t get any of that. 

Because a bad girl is no different from an animal. Bad girls get their dinner in a bowl on the floor, are hosed down in the tub, sleep and stay in their cage whenever their master’s out, and walk around on all fours naked with a collar around their throat until they’ve proven themselves worthy of being a good girl again.

And how does she do that?

Why, by obeying and serving her master, of course.

And so, even a whole week later, you're still stuck sucking his cock through the thin black metal piping of your cage, just like a glory hole.

His fingers interlock with the bars above you, holding them tight enough to make his knuckles whiten, rattling the cage somewhat each time he rocks back and forth.

He doesn’t talk to you much when you’re in this state. Small talk and sweet nothings are reserved for good girls. While bad girls, naturally, only deserve commands like sit, open up, tongue out, suck. 

“Turn around.”

Your breath is erratic, throat abused, voice weak, saying, “Yes, master.”

You’re not allowed to call him by his name, only when you’re back to being his good girl. For now, you’re not his pretty wife; you’re just a caged critter he’s training, and as such, you’ll refer to him appropriately with the proper title.

You honestly don’t know which is worse sometimes, acting like his ever-sweet housewife or this, this fucked up pet-play.

You twist around on all fours in the small cage—face down, ass in the air, as you press your cunt up against the cool metal bars and await getting fucked just like an actual animal.

He’s laid out a baby pink dress on the bed, all frills and ruffles like the things dolls wear—a clear sign. This is the last day of your probation—if you manage to pass the test, that is—meaning, be a good pet and take the pounding.

The cage rattles even more after he drives himself inside and sets his tempo.

It’s hard maintaining the position, painful, but you hold it as good as can—keeping your cunt pressed flush against the wire so hard the fat of your ass and thighs squeeze through, leaving cross-hatched markings on the skin, staying there for every harsh thrust until he's filling you up with his load.

When he’s done, he crouches down, asking sternly if you’re going to be his good girl from now on. And you, despite knowing how the cycle repeats, nod your head, desperately wanting out of the cage even if it means wearing whatever he dresses you in and doing whatever he tells you until the next time he deems you’re due for a demotion.

♡ Satoru Gojo

Gojo’s scary for the opposite reason from Nanami.

Where Nanami is structured, Gojo is random. You never know what to expect or when his switch is about to flip or go apeshit.

Most days, he’ll act like your boyfriend and treat you like his girlfriend. Ignoring you when you don’t play along. He just boops your nose and calls you his grumpy little tsundere with a fond smile on his lips.

He’ll be so lax with you then, allowing you to call him names and fight him. Pulling you to him and spinning you about, doing whatever he wants, treating you like a doll. Laughing at your protests as if they’re all just jokes.

Other days, he’ll be much the same, but even more lax, so lax that he might even actually listen to you, throwing his hands up in surrender, saying “okay, okay” when you growl at him not to touch you.

He’ll act, somehow, somewhat normal on those days as if the two of you just happen to be living with each other. He won’t insist on you being his girlfriend or him being your boyfriend, won’t force you to be lovey-dovey, and won’t force his own lovy-dovey-ness onto you.

On those days, he actually seems to accept that you don’t love him, and you can pretend he’s just this roommate you don’t like. You'd call it his sane days. But at the same time, you think you could even stab him, and he wouldn’t care. So, it's more like his too-tired-to-care-or-something days.

Then there's his demon days.

On those, you don’t get away with anything without him shoving it in your face how little anything you do matters.

He’ll be nasty about it, too. Grinning at your struggle as he pins your wrists above your head and holds them there without budging, making it painstakingly clear that no matter how much strength you put behind it, it’s nothing to him. 

He might even lift you by his hold, haul you off the ground, up onto your tippy-toes, and further, until you’re no longer touching the floor, have you hanging there, like he’s nailed you to the wall.

At those times, it’s as if all he wants to do is make you squirm.

Cupping your cunt in his other hand, he tickles the slit before filling you with two of his ever-long fingers. Breath hitting your cheek and neck, where he whispers filthy teasings in your ear, his sharp blue eyes beholding you with a glint and a smirk on his lips.

He strives to make you cum, but it’s not about your pleasure—it’s about proving a point. The point being, everything in your body surrenders to him, so you should give it up already and accept it.

And still, he doesn’t really tell you to stop fighting—he just mocks you with false coos, “All I want is to see the look on this cute face when I make you cum. Come on, show it to me. We both know you’re gonna, so just give it up already, yeah?”

He only snickers when your cunt flutters around his fingers, eagerly watching you try denying it by shaking your head and biting your lips from squealing.

“That’s it. So fucking cute. And it’s all fucking mine.”

Sadistic glee is painted on his face as he furthers your humiliation by treading your sensitive walls over his cock next. Up against the wall, your thighs around his torso, his mouth on your neck with tongue and teeth.

No matter how you push on his shoulders and chest, he doesn’t budge—just continues to have his way.

You never know which mood you’re waking up to. Delusional boyfriend Satoru, strange roommate Satoru, or this, sadistic Satoru, or someone completely different, someone who’s in all matters of likelihood way worse like that time he cam home covered head to toe in blood and still insisted on fucking you then and there.

♡ Suguru Geto

You started off as a simple temple follower before Geto became the new head priest. You’d been brought into it by your parents from birth. They’d both tried leaving when the organization changed. It would have cost them their lives if they hadn’t had you to offer instead.

And so you become one of his personal servants.

It wasn’t so bad in the beginning, to be honest. You had other maids to find solace and solidarity in. It was only when he took closer notice of you that you started feeling the urge to run away.

Geto is an understanding and patient person. And so he allowed you many liberties, such as letting you talk your way out of coming to his chambers when he requests you, knowing it’s only a matter of time before you run out of excuses.

It’s only when you abuse those liberties that he deems it fit to punish you. When you, just like your foolish parents, take his loose reins as an opportunity to run away.

Naturally, you don't make it far. You should have learned from your parents' mistakes. But, where he was more than happy to stain his pristine monks' robes with their blood, he doesn’t lay a hand on you.

No…

He leaves that to them. 

The many monsters he summons—all slimy, bulky, bumpy ones that drool over your pretty skin as they tear your clothes off and start groping you, rearing your every orifice with something gross.

You scream in the beginning. Then you sob. Then you go silent, whole body limp and twitching, eyes miles away.

He calls them all off when you’re spent—when you don’t even have the strength left to lift a finger, and all you do is lie there where they’ve left you, in a heap of your own undoing.

He doesn’t even say anything. He just snaps his fingers, ordering some other servants to come and collect you.

Lying on the floor, your vision fades in and out as you watch his long robe drag along the floor, steadily moving away from you until disappearing.

The other servants bathe you and dress you, erasing all traces except for those left on the inside.

You don’t see him until later. And this time, the very sight of him makes you shiver.

He asks you which you prefer: how you can choose to behave and be treated like his favorite, or pull a stunt again and be reduced to a plaything.

And this time, it’ll be forever—he doesn’t do third chances.

Your hair’s still damp, and you're wrapped in the fluffiest of all robes, and still, you feel raw and cold and dirty beyond relief as you nod your head and whimper out how you’ll behave.

He smiles then. That kind smile he uses with those sorry people who come to the temple to have their problems fixed—the one where his eyes will crease, and his lips will stretch just far enough to curl at the edges and betray him. 

This time, when he touches you, you accept it by lying still and spreading your legs. 

Vowing to both him and yourself that you’ll never be so dumb as to go against him ever again.

♡ Sukuna

You don’t dare fight him at the start, nor do you run. You don’t even dare think about it.

Tales of the king of curses made you more than willing to bend over backward if it meant staying alive. And somehow, it’s enough to get in his good graces. 

It’s not without sacrifice, of course, being his concubine. He’s not the easiest to please. But watching the way he cuts others into pieces before setting those pieces ablaze, you figure catering to the monster is better than being his prey.

You might be his favorite for now, but you know you’re not any special. That’s to say, you don’t think he’d spare you if you tried running away. In fact, you’re quite sure he’d set his domain off and level everything within a mile’s radius.

Again, not because you’re anything special to him, just out of principle. 

You’ve seen him do worse for less. In the end, all that really matters to him is that his word is law, and if anyone goes against it, they pay the hefty toll of death by utter annihilation.

You know this, and yet as the months go by and you grow more comfortable by the day, you do end up becoming a little brazen. A little naughty. A little too naughty for your own good, maybe... Walking about in expensive silk and jewels, wicked smiles, and coy catlike eyes, playing games with the king of curses and deadly poisons as if you’ve become immune.

“What would you do without me, huh?” you drawl, lying on top of his naked chest, softly lulled by the rise and fall of his breathing while listening to his heartbeat betray the fact that he is, in fact, still somewhat human.

The two of you had just finished up, now lying sweaty in the afterglow. He’s got an arm propped up behind him against the headboard. The other three he keeps on you, petting your skin. Cuddling.

He quirks his brow down at you but neither of his faces react much, regarding you like the silly creature you are and talking to you just so,  “Going somewhere, are you?”

You trace the black ink on his chest. “Oh, you never know... One of these days, I might just run away. Never to be seen again. Leave you here with your dick in your hand.” Your finger reaches the apex of his chest, giving it a tap while you look back up at him, a sly smirk on your lips. “Or, well… dicks in your hands.”

His eyes, all four, squint while eyeing you.

“Are you now…”

There’s a sudden rush, you don’t know where you are for a second or what’s happened. Getting your bearings, you realize you’ve been spun on your back, still in bed, though now lying beneath him.

He seems much bigger this way, terribly big, caging you with his four arms.

“I was…” Your voice comes out as a whimper this time, stripped of all things insolent, now weak and soaked in building fear. “I was just… joking. I didn’t mean anything by it… I–”

“You didn’t mean anything by it, huh?” he cuts you off, leaning down until his head’s next to yours, breaths warm and heavy, hitting your neck and chest.

You squeeze your eyes shut, frozen in place, thinking his teeth are next, knowing he’s no stranger to the taste of meat, knowing he has the palate for it.

His mouth brushes your throat. His teeth follow shortly, gracing your jugular.

But, right before he’s about to puncture your skin comes a chuckle instead, then a whisper, “I’m just fucking with you, brat.” 

The bite still comes, but it's barely hard enough to be called that. Just enough to make a bruise, but nothing you’re not used to.

Still, having your life flash before your eyes is not something you recover from quickly, keeping your breath caught in your throat, just beneath the spit and sting left there by him, leaving you mute.

He, however, is feeling uncharacteristically chatty.

“Not that it would matter either way…” He draws back with a smile, leering down at you with an amused expression written plainly across both his faces, stroking your cheek with his thumb, making your breath stay stuck. “You wouldn’t even be able to leave this room, let alone this temple, without me knowing about it.”

His lower arms lift your thighs and spread them. You only now realize he’s hard again.

“But, to humor your question, if you ever dared leave me…” His grip tightens, his black nails sinking into the doughy flesh. “Well, I’d simply haf’to bring you back, now wouldn’t I?”

His grip seizes, turning gentle again. And your brows furrow, needing to blink.

That’s a little boring, you almost say, only to realize you’re able to breathe again. “You wouldn’t punish me?”

He smiles warmly, admiring the confused pout on your face while rubbing soothing circles over the moondents he left on the insides of your thighs.

“Nah…”

His softness is a little offputting, and so still makes you shiver as one of his upper hands slips down between you and starts playing with you all leisurely.

You only barely get the question out, “Why not?”

He hums, entering you with his fingers, feeling the silky slick left there from before, something proud written on his face. His voice is something nearly unrecognizable with what he says next, though, you suppose, he’d already been acting unlike himself. “If you rip just one petal off a flower, it loses all its beauty.” 

Your breath stops short again, this time for a different reason.

He thumbs your cheek, then curls his digits inside you, making you keen. 

He smiles in return, then says, “And I prefer you just the way you are.”

And it might just be the scariest thing to ever leave the tip of his tattooed tongue. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to breathe again.

“Don’t get me wrong, though, pretty flower,” he continues with a grin, feeling your walls clench around him. “The thing is, no matter where you go, no matter how far, and no matter how well you hide. I’d still find you.”

His hand then goes from your cheek to thumbing your chin—still just as deceptively softly, whispering just so, “Even if I’d haf’to obliterate every last person on earth to get to you. It wouldn’t matter.”

You swallow thickly at that, feeling his lips ghost yours, feeling some of that brazenness return for some reason, making you whisper back at him. “You’re crazy.”

He hums out a chuckle again. “Mh, to push me that far… I’d say you’re the crazy one.”

♡ Yuji Itadori

He doesn’t listen.

He’s like Gojo in that regard. He doesn’t take you seriously.

With his view of life and his knowledge of real horror, he doesn’t take anything seriously anymore.

His life is a waking nightmare, and you? You’re his sitcom.

You thought he was going to be gentle your first time together. And he was, sure, to some degree. He’d prepped you on his fingers and tongue first. Having taken his time with it, getting you puffy, wet, and hot to go. 

You’d been ready, feeling good, sitting on the bed, watching him undress, smiling and happy, biting your lip as he lifted his shirt off, revealing his chest and all those perfectly cut muscles of his. 

Everything was going well at the start. But that’s not to say he didn’t totally bulldoze you in the end...

His sweats were next, and you felt your lower belly do somersaults, needing him like you’d never needed anything else.

But then, when he dropped his boxers, and you finally saw the sheer size of him, you could only reel back in silent shock.

Eyes round and glossy in the dim light, switching between looking up at him and it as if your stare alone could keep it at arm’s length. 

You swallowed thickly, trying to ease the sudden pang of anxiety, making your heart shudder in your chest. But it was to no use. When he took a step toward you, you couldn’t help but bring your knees up to your chin, as if on instinct, locking your thighs together before shaking your head.

“That’s not gonna fit—I was wrong, I’m not ready.”

To which he only blatantly disregarded with a smile, “Pff, don’t worry.” Shaking his head right back at you with a chuckle, then insisting with casual neglect, “It’ll fit.”

Still, watching him climb after you on the bed, you shuffled backward away from him and the threat pointing right at you, repeating, “No, I’m serious, I’m not ready.”

“Baby, relax,” he drawled, stroking his rough hands up and down your thighs to comfort you. “Trust me, alright? I’m gonna make you feel real’ good,” he promised with a wink, hooking his beefy arms under your legs and, without further warning, parting them and pulling you closer, making your back hit the bed with a bounce.

The impact made you blink, and when your eyes opened again, you were all but face to face with it—the massive thing bobbing above your belly, struggling to carry its own weight, and even larger up close.

Honest to god, it must be the size of your forearm. No doubt, it’s going to tear you in two.

Your entire system goes into full alarm. And again, you repeat, now with urgency, “No, Yuji, really, that’s not gonna fit–”

This time, he just laughs—as if you’re only cracking a joke and the laugh track within his head is going nuts.

“You’re supposed to squeeze a baby through here,” he smiles, already pressing the tip against your wet entrance. “Compared to that, this’ll be nothing.”

♡ Toji, Mahito, Yuta, Naoya, & Megumi coming...

♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist ♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[carnalcrows]

SUB! MINSU HEADCANNONS

pairing: minsu x top male reader (LOOK AT HIS FACEE!! i wanna squish him <33)

Minsu’s quiet—painfully shy, even outside the bedroom. He always seems like he’s trying to make himself smaller, like if he breathes too loudly, you’ll look at him and realize you could do better. You hate that he thinks that. You’ve told him a hundred times how much you adore him, and still—his cheeks burn every time you compliment him. Every praise gets stored away in some sacred corner of his mind, like he's starving for it.

In bed, he’s even quieter. Sometimes you don’t even realize how much he’s trembling until you touch him. His voice is soft, almost inaudible, like he’s scared he’ll say something wrong. But when he does speak? “Can I—um. Can I kiss you?” “Did I… d-do good?” You always stop and cup his cheek and say, “You did perfect, sweetheart.” And the way his eyes flutter shut from just those words? Devastating.

He’s got a big dick, yeah. And you make it so much worse for him by teasing him about it in that low, smug voice that always gets him flushed. “Shame,” you say, eyes dragging down his chest. “All this, and no idea what to do with it. Guess I’ll just have to keep teaching you.” He goes red instantly, buries his face in your shoulder, tries to hide—but he can’t hide the way his hips twitch. He likes it when you talk down to him, even if it flusters him.

He’s not the type to ask for things outright. He just gets soft and clingy. You’ll find him hovering at the edge of the couch while you’re reading, fingers twitching at his sides like he wants to reach out but doesn’t know how. When you finally ask, “You need something, baby?” he just nods, sheepishly. It could be a kiss. It could be your cock down his throat. He’ll take whatever you give.

Sir kink is quiet but deep-rooted. He whispers it sometimes without meaning to, usually when you’re being especially firm with him—tugging his hips into place, pushing him down against the mattress, telling him to be still. “Yes, sir,” he breathes, lips parted, and when he realizes he said it out loud, he gets all flustered and apologizes like it’s a crime. You just smile and say, “That’s right. Say it again.”

He lives for physical closeness during sex. Doesn’t matter how he’s positioned—he needs to be able to see you, hold you, bury his face against your skin. You once tried fucking him from behind without holding his hand, and afterward he quietly admitted, “I… I missed you.” Now you make sure to always wrap an arm around his waist or lace your fingers with his. He calms instantly with that grounding touch.

Praise is everything. He didn’t grow up hearing it, so now he drinks it in like water. He can be sobbing, shaking, overwhelmed—and the moment you murmur good boy, he chokes on a moan and nods, like that one phrase makes it all okay. “You’re doing so good, baby.” “You’re taking me so well.” “I’m so proud of you.” He melts under it. It rewires his entire nervous system. He needs it to come.

He doesn’t ask to be tied up. But the one time you gently pulled his arms behind his back and bound his wrists with your belt, he went still for a long, trembling breath—and then moaned so softly you almost missed it. Something about the helplessness, the surrender of it, makes his brain go quiet. He gets so still. So obedient. Like he’s giving you his whole self without needing to speak.

Hair pulling? He’s done for. You learn this by accident—fist tangled in his hair during a rough kiss, and he whimpers into your mouth, hips bucking. When you do it while fucking him, making him look at you even when he’s falling apart? He cries. Literally. Pretty, glassy-eyed tears that you kiss away as you keep telling him how perfect he is.

Despite how shy he is, he’s obsessed with sucking you off. It’s quiet, reverent—he doesn’t even need you hard. Just likes the weight of you in his mouth. The act of worship. You’ll be half-asleep and suddenly feel his breath against your thigh, gentle fingers easing your waistband down. No words. Just a soft sigh as he curls up around your cock like it calms him.

He loves being used. Not in a rough, raunchy way—more like an offering. He wants to make you feel better. Wants to be your comfort. You come home tense, and he’s already stripped and kneeling on the bed, arms folded behind him like he’s not even allowed to touch unless you say so. “You can take it out on me, sir,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “I’ll be good.”

The first time you whispered I wanna get you pregnant while deep inside him, he gasped so loud you thought you hurt him. But then he nodded—frantic, teary-eyed—babbling, “Please, wanna try, wanna feel full.” He knows it’s impossible. Still likes to pretend. Still wants to be bred like he’s yours forever.

And when it’s over—aftercare is sacred. You clean him gently, kiss his forehead, cradle him like he’s breakable. “Don’t go yet,” he whispers, scared you’ll leave too soon. If you try to get up, even just to get water, he’ll look so lost that your chest aches. He needs you to stay. Needs you.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

Taglist: @belovedengie @jrxkar @yippee-yippee8 @faggotboulevard @bleedingbl0ssom @green-turtle3 @mazettns @laynnetteii1 (comment to be added)

[bedupolker]

How are you so good at art and comics and characters but it's not even a professional profession of yours? (can it be that hobbies and skills don't necessarily need to be monitized?)

Thank you! I still feel like I have a lot to learn, haha. I did study animation in college but that's not really my calling, I can't spend 40 (or more!!!) hours a week in front of a computer. As I get older I don't regret it. I'm a little guilty of overworking in certain contexts, but I'm not sacrificing my health or social life for a tiny shot at storyboarding for The Minions 6. (And if I did dedicate myself to that, I almost definitely wouldn't be spending my free time drawing.)

I remember I had some kind of portfolio development class and the professor made a comment telling us to like, stop going to parties and playing video games and just to dedicate ourselves to our art. Maybe that kind of advice to just lock in is helpful for a certain kind of person, but if you're an artist/writer, especially someone who might be young, if you're able, maybe also consider:

Engage with eclectic interests outside of the type of art you want to make. If you want to make an action-adventure comic and your only source of inspiration is Fullmetal Alchemist and Spiderverse, yes those are very good stories and it's understandable they could be a source of inspiration to you, but honestly, most people would probably just go and read/watch Fullmetal Alchemist or Spiderverse. Now if someone wanted to make an action-adventure comic and they had a weird amount of knowledge about technical canyoneering or Korean horror movies or vintage cars or emo-rap music or cubist art or endangered birds endemic to new zealand, now I kind of want to see what that's all about.

Researching the sources of inspiration of art you love is a good jumping off point too. A lot of great stories are more grounded than you'd think, and going out and looking for new things that interest you keeps it from feeling too "incestuous" for lack of a better term.

Try and connect with different kinds of people you wouldn't meet otherwise. Most people are nicer than you think, most people like talking about themselves, and everyone you'll ever meet knows something you don't.

Frankly between social media and living through the covid years, I just think it'd be good for a lot of peoples' mental health to realize there's a world outside of whatever hyperspecific fandom or internet mirocosm or whatever you find yourself falling into.

Try to have a new experience every week. You don't have to blow tons of money and free time to throw into climbing Everest or partying in Barcelona or whatever, just walk home a different way, try volunteering for an organization that you care about, listen to a weird genre of music, hop onto youtube and try some yoga or calisthenics or something. You don't even have to like it, just give it a shot.

Find beauty in the mundane... birds, bugs, alleyways, the light fixture section at Home Depot, it's all there.

Done is better than Perfect

Maybe it's easy for me to say as an artist who has a pretty decent sized following but FR FR don't do just things because you think they'll get popular online!!!!! You don't have to broadcast every single thing that you do. Some art/writing is just for experimentation or self indulgence, that's all good too.

[pomegranate-eater]

Phainon has a dream. cw: fingering, public sexual acts in the field, afab reader, fluff.

“You’re breathtaking when you’re like this…” Phainon murmurs against your ear. The voice comes from behind you, while you feel yourself drown into his broad chest your back is rested against. You both swim, actually; in the field of wheat, as it is the place where no one can disturb you two. It was just a few joys ago that the tunic of yours was bunched up and your garments pulled to the side. Now the legs that trap you from both sides are the only barrier concealing your below-waist nudity, after Phainon has stolen you to rest with him amidst the sunny land.

Except, said voice and nature are not all of the audible sounds in the open — the way his hand between your thighs lazily plays with your outsides and insides forces your wetness to be stirred in teasing to register for ears smacks. It’s all you can wrap your mind about besides how those fingers do you extraordinarily well — two are thrusting and curling in your soaked and constricting walls, while the heel of his palm rested on your mound keeps hitting your bud repeatedly. The arm draped across your front also allows you little escape, while the other makes sure to hold at least one of your shaky and sensitive limbs from closing.

“Phainon…” you whimper, needy yet wary... if not agitated from your desperation for release, as well. Your unadjusted gaze keeps the duty of taking in your surroundings to be on guard against any possible viewers. While the body wants to reach the highest of pleasures, the mind screams you are scared of this closeness disappearing too soon.

The calm sea that peeks through the golden crops feeds your tongue with salty air, the shuffle of wheat lulls you further into his manipulation, the house you two live in is in piece, and the familiar warmth of your lover leads you to believe you are still safe — nothing has changed, but the tension he's been building up lingers. Gathering wheat into your hands is all that you can do in order to ground yourself.

“Shh… I’ve told you, it’s just the two of us here. It’s my secret spot- or should I say, it's ours now,” he reassures with a loving laugh buried in and reverberating across nape, endeared by your vulnerability. As if to reward you for your patience with his slowness and bravery to be so exposed for him in the world’s rawness, his fingers hasten their pace and dig deeper into your body.

You moan — barely, as you remain prudent — and he smiles. “Feels wonderful, doesn’t it?” You nod, the back of your head against pressing tighter his shoulder when a nevralgic spot is grazed inside; as much as this question isn’t about this hedonistic comfort being the only possible truth.

You can feel your sweet release hanging and threatening to erupt between your legs, nestled under his eager hand, and he at once encourages you to let go. “It’s alright. I won’t deny you anymore…” it’s a soft promise made with a kiss as soft, right below your ear.

“So you do admit you were teasing me?” you manage to say amidst your whines and muffled groans, almost angry you had to endure his playfulness; but you’re not really mad at him, as you could never truly be that about your Phainon.

“Would you scold me if I said it’s more about prolonging our moment, even if you are not being given all that you want?” the way he speaks is gentle and you are incapable of reprimanding his approach. “Each chance is too precious to be ending soon.”

“Not if you finally…” your breathless reply is interrupted. Or rather, you deliver a clear answer as you finally finish on his fingers. It is him who’s cautious this time, the other hand quickly clamping your mouth. It’s a shame he has to be robbed of his name on your lips, but he’s not done with you yet to be letting other villagers know you’re hiding with him here.

The next thing you know, you’re on your back, the wheat's fibers poking and tickling your skin from below your fabrics. He’s protective, as the land is softened with a hand under your head. It’s just the bronze plants that accomplish entangling your hair, and you punish them by pulling at them with your growing anticipation once more.

“Will you allow me to have my own share of feeling wonderful?” That mischievous hand next rubs you between your folds, electrifies what’s already overwhelmed, and as your head tilts back with one more pleasure, all you could think about is how much more you want.

When you nod, he’s quick to be selfish himself, bottoms shoved down in a blink of an eye. Phainon is letting you know how much he needs you, and you appreciate that by wrapping your legs around his hips, entrapping your lover so he shall never leave.

“You’re beautiful. I can’t believe you’re here with me. Please, don’t you ever look away from me,” his desperate words are not a plea, but a wish you feel obligated to fulfill. You don’t look away from him now, and you want to maintain that promise in every future sense. Even as you feel the hot and hard intrusion and your hips taunted with a tight grip, your eyes abide faithfully to his ocean and reverent ones.

One thrust inside and the sole saltiness on your tongue is now his happy tears.

[papayainsectorone]

Empty Spaces.

summary: uhmm what should i say.... told you.... still spiraling? we´re almost done now just a liiiiittle itty bitty bit more, you´re moving in and lando is freaking out

content: grief, emotional vulnerability, emotional collapse, overwhelming sadness, clueless!lando (like get a grip dude...still)

word count: 3,2k

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader charles cameo

walls are way too thin - series - a´s masterlist

definatly confusing if read as standalone

The apartment was quiet in a way that didn’t feel peaceful — not really. It felt unfinished. Like a sentence interrupted halfway through. Like if you stood still long enough, held your breath and tuned into the walls, you’d hear something waiting to speak again. A hum. A memory. Something not yours, but something you’d recognize all the same.

It wasn’t much, just a modest studio tucked into the slope of a narrow street above the marina. From the front door, you could glimpse the sea in flashes between the neighboring rooftops, if the light hit right.

Yours alone.

There was supposed to be freedom in that. In the quiet. In the lack of someone else’s toothbrush on the sink or socks tucked between the couch cushions. No need to share drawer space. No headphones left charging on your nightstand that didn’t belong to you. No one to ask you where you were going, or when you’d be back or if you could pick up Kinder chocolate on your way home.

There should have been peace in that.

But what you felt instead was something a little heavier. Not regret. Not exactly.

You unpacked slowly. Not because you didn’t want to be there — you did — but because something in you was still hesitant. As if you were afraid that once everything was unboxed and put in its place, it would make this choice permanent. Real. Like setting down roots in soil you weren’t quite sure of yet.

Some of the boxes were recycled from the last move, the one that took you into Lando’s flat. The marker labels had faded, smudged with time and handling, but you still recognized his handwriting instantly. Slanted. Messy. Familiar in that way certain things just are when they’ve lived in your periphery for long enough.

“Bathroom” “Misc crap” “FRAGILE lol”

You smiled in spite of yourself. That one had made you laugh when he first wrote it. You could picture him on the floor in joggers and socks, sharpie between his teeth, pulling your kitchen drawer apart with exaggerated judgment.

“Why do you own three vegetable peelers?” “For the same reason you own three sim rigs — I like options.”

Back then, it had all been easy. Still new.

Still just you and him, friends orbiting each other in a blur of banter, familiarity and recently sex. It was just a laugh. A couch shared in the early hours. A foot nudging his under the duvet. No weight. No rules.

You’d packed that place together, your old apartment emptied over a day of pizza and caffeine and innuendos tossed like popcorn.

You remembered that day clearly. He was sitting on your counter, peeling labels off beer bottles with ink-stained fingers while you knelt in front of a box labeled “BEDROOM,” digging through drawer contents that had no business being grouped together.

He held up your toothbrush like it was a piece of evidence.

“I will be confronting him, you know,” Lando had said, suddenly.

You blinked. “What? Who?”

“Your ex,” he said, dramatically serious. “For only going down on you on special occasions. Honestly, criminal.”

You’d flushed. “LAN—”

He laughed. Loud, delighted. “No, no, I’m serious. Like, I still don´t get it?”

He wiggled his eyebrows, smug and somehow still charmingly dumb. “You’re telling me you stayed with a man who treated your orgasm like it was a Christmas bonus? Still nonsense”

You’d snorted. Bit back your laugh.

“Well,” he’d added with mock-thoughtful emphasis, leaning back like he was issuing a ruling, “I can confirm now that he´s missing out, like the favor returned is B-E-Y-O-N-D this world. Like, I’d write sonnets if I could.”

You’d thrown a sock at him.

It had been so stupid. So light.

And yet, now, standing in your new apartment — one you’d picked because it was neutral and temporary and safe — you turned that same box around so the label didn’t show.

You didn’t need the reminder.

Didn’t want to see the pieces of something that was once soft and stupid and good in a way you hadn’t realized you were missing until it was too far gone to reach for.

You set the box down gently, like touching a bruise. Let your fingers rest against the cardboard for a moment longer than necessary.

Then, without thinking, you walked across the room and opened the window. The marina breeze drifted in, salty and warm, and for a moment, you closed your eyes and tried to breathe like it didn’t still hurt a little.

Like it wasn’t grief. Like it was just growing pains.

You stood there for a moment, the stillness settling around your shoulders like a light coat. Not heavy, just… present. The kind of quiet that made you want to keep moving, to keep your hands busy, because if you stopped long enough to listen, you weren’t sure what you’d hear.

So you picked another box.

Books. You could tell by the weight of it, the way it settled against your thighs when you dragged it toward the narrow shelf tucked into the corner by the window. You’d brought too many. You always did. A comfort, maybe, or a habit — stacking stories where you could when your own felt too unfinished to read aloud.

You peeled back the flaps and smiled faintly at the mess inside. Paperbacks with cracked spines, a few hardcovers borrowed from Lando and never returned, dog-eared poetry collections that had survived three moves now. You set them on the shelf one by one, half by size, half by memory.

A ticket stub fell from one of them when you opened it, a folded relic from a last-minute trip to Barcelona, tucked in between pages you’d never finished reading. A race weekend. You held it between your fingers for a moment, letting the edges soften in your grip before slipping it into a drawer without opening it.

No need to go there now.

You lined the rest of the books up in loose rows, not bothering to organize them perfectly. Some leaned, some stood upright. You liked the imperfection. It made it feel more lived-in.

Next box: candles, a string of fairy lights, two framed photos you hadn’t decided whether to hang yet. One of them was from a beach day, back when everything with Lando had still been playful and golden, sun and saltwater and stupid grins behind mirrored sunglasses. You didn’t turn it face-down this time, but you didn’t put it up either.

Instead, it joined the drawer.

Your phone chimed from the kitchen counter, the sharp trill pulling you out of your thoughts.

You wiped your hands on your hoodie and crossed the room, screen already lighting up.

Charles: Back in Monaco. Coffee later?

You stared at the message for a beat longer than necessary. Let your thumb hover over the keyboard, not from hesitation but from the unfamiliar ease of it. Simple. Neutral. Uncomplicated.

You needed that right now.

You: Sure. Just say when.

You set the phone down, its screen fading to black again, and exhaled.

The shelf looked better already. Cozy. Full without being crowded.

You unpacked a small ceramic bowl, something handmade and slightly lopsided, and placed it in the center, then dropped your keys into it with a soft clink. It was the sound of settling in. Of rituals forming.

One by one, you pulled things out of the box: incense you barely used but liked having, a worn deck of playing cards, a tangle of necklaces you’d need to untie later. A stack of postcards, blank on the back, most of them picked up in places you couldn’t quite name now. You kept them anyway.

You stepped back. The wall still looked a little bare. The bed was unmade, sheets rumpled from the night before. The lamp in the corner flickered when you turned it on.

But it was a start.

You didn’t feel at home yet — not exactly. But you also didn’t feel like running. That counted for something.

Your phone chimed again. You walked over slowly this time.

Charles: 3pm? I know a place.

You smiled to yourself, just a little.

You: 3 works. Send me the pin.

You set the phone down again and opened the last box.

The sea breeze curled in around the café awning, warm and salted from the marina, carrying the distant clatter of halyards against masts and the occasional bark of a dog. There was something almost cinematic about it—Monaco polished under a pale sun, your chair pulled just out of the shadow, and Charles, perfectly unbothered, draped across from you like this was his natural state of being.

He stood when you approached, arms spreading with theatrical exaggeration. “You’re late,” he said, a teasing edge in his voice. “Two more minutes and I would’ve come knocking to drag you out of your cave.”

You raised a brow, unbothered. “It’s not a cave. It has a window.”

“Barely. A sad little rectangle.” He handed you a paper bag. “Croissant. So you don’t insult me again in front of the barista.”

You pulled it out, flaky and still warm. “Finally learning,” you said, the ghost of a smile curling your lips. “Very thoughtful.”

Charles smirked. “Fear is a strong motivator.”

You took a bite, and it was good. But more than that, the moment itself was good. Uncomplicated. With him, there was no bracing for impact, no unspoken weight in the space between words. You didn’t have to hold your breath waiting for a change in tone, didn’t have to decode subtext layered with heat or hurt. Lando had always been sparks—ignition after ignition. With Charles, it was more like a steady flame. Calmer. Simpler.

You leaned back in the metal café chair, letting your legs stretch slightly under the table, listening as Charles launched into a story about a race incident. He had that easy gift for turning nothing into something, the kind of charm that didn’t demand your attention but made you want to give it anyway.

Halfway through your croissant, your phone started buzzing.

Once.

Pause.

Twice.

Then again. And again. Four quick vibrations in a row.

You didn’t reach for it. Not right away. But your chest tightened in that instinctual, invisible way. Charles didn’t ask, didn’t glance. He sipped his espresso, watching the water.

“He asked about you a few days ago,” he said quietly. No judgment. Just fact.

Your laugh came quick and flat. “Of course he did.”

There was no venom in it, just resignation. You didn’t look up from your coffee. The quiet clink of your spoon on ceramic was the only sound for a moment.

The phone buzzed again.

Finally, you turned it over and unlocked the screen. The messages hit you in a wave:

Lando: You really left huh?

So this is how it is now?

Not even a heads-up you were getting your stuff?

You moved all your shit like it never mattered. Like I never mattered.

You with Charles? Is that what this is?

You said you cared.

You said that it’s okay.

And now you’re with him.

Say something. Just say something.

Please?

Or don’t. Whatever.

You stared at the screen. Eyes skimming the words, again and again. Your thumb hovered above the keyboard. Then dropped.

The wind shifted. A gull called from somewhere above.

Charles didn’t ask what he’d said. He didn’t need to. He kept his gaze on the water, giving you space to choose if you wanted to speak into the quiet or let it stretch.

You slid the phone back into your pocket and exhaled, slow and tired. “If he cared that much,” you said, voice low, steady, “he would’ve said something before I left.”

Charles didn’t respond with comfort or commentary. He nodded once, as if to say I get it. Then he picked a crumb from the corner of his plate, flicked it onto the tray, and said, “You want another coffee?”

You looked at him. The way his eyes crinkled just slightly, warm and calm. Steady.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Sure. Why not.”

The flat was cold. Not just in temperature — it was the kind of cold that creeps in beneath your skin and lodges itself deep in your chest. It hit the moment he pushed the door open, the sharp edge of wrongness slicing through the air like an unseen blade. Something had shifted. Something had been taken away while he wasn’t looking.

At first, he couldn’t place it.

The light was off in the kitchen. Shoes that used to crowd the hallway, kicked off after late nights, were gone. The silence was too heavy, the kind that fills every corner and swallows sound whole.

He frowned, toeing off his own sneakers and stepping inside with a stiffness he couldn’t explain. He tossed his bag carelessly onto the couch, the thud hollow in the quiet room. His hand ran through his hair, fingers catching on the tangles of tension there. Maybe it was the jet lag, the long flights, the relentless pressure of the season catching up to him. Maybe he was just tired.

But no. No, it was more than that.

He moved toward the hallway, steps slowing, his chest tightening like a fist around his ribs. The door to your room stood ajar, a faint crack letting in the dim light from the corridor. Not messy, not like you’d just left in a hurry. Just empty. Hollow.

He stepped in, like it was a mistake—like you’d just tidied up, like maybe—

But the dresser was bare.

Drawers yawned open, empty or nearly so. No makeup bag tossed casually on top, no scattered jewelry, not even the silly little Polaroid you always kept propped against the lamp, the one of the two of you squinting into the sun, laughing like fools.

Gone. All of it.

“Fuck.” The word slipped out, sharp and jagged. He turned, his shoulders taut as he stalked back toward the living room, hoping maybe the ache in his chest was just in his head, that the quiet wasn’t so absolute.

But it wasn’t.

It settled there, the hollow scrape of absence that no noise could fill.

His fingers trembled as he snatched his phone off the kitchen counter, cold and suddenly foreign in his grip. He opened your chat window, blinking against the harsh glow of the screen in the dim apartment. The words he wanted to say hovered just beneath his skin—too jagged, too sharp—but he forced himself to type. Then deleted. Typed again. The letters blurred as his hands shook, subtle but enough to make the sentences distort and fade in his mind.

You really left huh?

He stared at the message, breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he hesitated. Second-guessed. But the weight of unsaid things pressed him forward, and he hit send.

Then the silence slammed down harder than any words ever could.

Minutes dragged by like hours, each one mocking him with its stubborn stillness. The quiet was suffocating, a heavy fog pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe, to think.

So this is how it is now?

His jaw clenched until the muscles ached, the tension crawling like ice down his spine. He could almost feel the weight of each unsent message piling on top of him, heavy and relentless.

Not even a heads up you were getting your stuff?

He leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees, the phone slipping from his trembling fingers only to catch it just before it hit the floor. His eyes locked on the screen, breath hitching as he forced himself to type the next line.

You moved all your shit like it never mattered. Like I never mattered.

The words burned on the screen, the truth stinging sharper than he’d ever expected. It hit him like a sucker punch—raw, brutal, and entirely undeniable—a betrayal he wasn’t ready to name, a wound still fresh and bleeding beneath the surface.

You with Charles? Is that what this is?

You said you cared.

You said that it’s okay.

And now you’re with him.

His thumb hovered over the send keyboard, the pressure unbearable. Every letter felt like a shard of glass, slicing into something raw and fragile inside him. Anger bubbled fiercely beneath the surface, hot and violent, screaming to be released. He wanted to yell, to shake you, to demand answers. But instead, all he could do was type—again and again—each message soaked in the sting of rejection.

A slow, burning betrayal spread through his chest, like acid eating away at the walls he’d built so carefully around himself. He’d told himself it wasn’t love, not really, but this… this felt different. The fact that you’d packed up, erased your presence without a word, without a fight, it wasn’t just absence. It was a deliberate vanishing act.

Like he was nothing. Like he didn’t deserve even a single argument, a moment of anger, a chance to say goodbye.

He swallowed hard, the bitter taste of humiliation rising in his throat. His fingers clenched the phone until his knuckles turned white. And then, with a shaky breath, he pressed send.

The sting of those words hit harder than anything else, like a cold slap that knocked the breath from his lungs, like the sharp crack of a mirror breaking in his chest. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to name this betrayal, or admit how deep it cut.

Because beneath the anger, beneath the fire, was something far heavier.

A crushing, aching sadness that crept in quietly at first, a slow seep of emptiness that filled the cracks he hadn’t even realized were there. It wrapped around his ribs and settled in his gut, a hollow weight that threatened to swallow him whole.

Say something. Just say something.

Please?

The silence stretched on, thick and unyielding. No reply. No sign. Just the empty void where your words should have been.

The sadness twisted, tightening its grip, and for a moment, he let himself fall into it, let the loneliness consume him, cold and unforgiving.

Then, just as quickly, he snapped out of it. Anger flared back up like a desperate flame, burning away the ache and replacing it with something sharper, fiercer.

Or don’t. Whatever.

He sank back, his head falling into his hands, breath shallow and rapid. He’d sent too much, too fast. But still, there was no answer.

The quiet mocked him—louder than any scream could ever be.

He closed his eyes, taking a slow, shuddering breath.

But it didn’t help.

It never helped.

tag list:

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[validatemylife]

I think it’s more terrifyingly mundane than that. When a cyclist gets hit by a car and dies, of course everyone is saddened. It’s a tragedy, someone’s life is gone. Some people even try to raise awareness or get infrastructure changed! But most people ask where it happened, were they wearing lights, were they being safe, couldn’t they have done something different… no, we can’t change infrastructure to make cycling safer, that would cost money and nobody rides bicycles these days. In fact we wish nobody would ride bicycles, because they’re in the way of my car sometimes and I have to slow down.

It’s not that they deserve to die, it’s that sometimes people get hit by cars on their bikes. It’s not that they deserve to die, it’s that changes would inconvenience me (even if they wouldn’t). It’s that it would be expensive (even if it wouldn’t).

It’s not that these people without healthcare deserve to die. It’s a tragedy every time you hear about it. Someone dies rationing insulin. Someone dies because they couldn’t afford cancer treatment. Tragedies all, but sometimes these things happen.

It’s indifferent enforcement of the status quo. Callous acceptance of the fact that tragedies happen. You could trip and hit your head and be dead tomorrow, anyways - these things happen. We have a system that isn’t perfect, but what can you do? Things happen.

They simply do not stop to think that these things *do not have to happen at all. Ever.*

[binmeister]

Morally Grey - Headcanon / notes

Saja Boys x Demon Assistant! Reader (Fem)

Thinking about a demon assistant!reader instead of a demon manager!reader because you’re not actually managing their activities, you’re not scheduling events or doing all the things expected of someone to manage them. You’re there to assist their plan.

More headcanon-y than the normal stuff, just wanted to get the ideas jotted down and not that invested in writing a full story. Primarily still follows most of the movie plot. Title means nothing it just sounded cool in my head.

CW: potential angst, unformatted and not proofread, fan HC heavy, may contain mature / dark themes, these are just my loose HCs and notes

Premise

There’s demons that feast on human souls and take pride in it, but there’s also demons that still have remnants of their humanity in tact - that fight back against Gwi-Ma as their little ‘fuck you’ to him. What if you were like that?

He had no hold over you, you were disinterested in the memories he tries to control you with - your loved ones had been dead for centuries it doesn’t matter what you do now, what’s done is done and you accepted that already. Gwi-Ma wanted control and he’ll get it one way or another.

So you’re forced to assist with Jinu’s plan, despite your obvious disinterest. Despite your clear distain at the idea of hurting people. But you go along with it because Abs wanted to spend time with you, because Mystery asked you sweetly and because Jinu looked at you like he was on the verge of breaking apart.

Curse your remaining empathy.

You didn’t really care for whatever plots or schemes Gwi-Ma demanded of you, at this day and age if you remember right you’re maybe at 450 years of existence give or take - not accounting for the 20 or so years you were actually human

The first 50 years of him tormenting you with the memories of your family or loved ones had stopped meaning anything, at this rate you’ve spent more time as a demon than you ever did alive with them so what do these memories even mean anymore? He could conjure up a dragon and say that it was your father and you’d believe him at this point - because it stopped meaning anything to you

You’ve spat that at him, told him that directly to his dying flame - he was furious and burned you with your markings for hours before getting bored and tossing you aside: you’re just one of millions of demons, why does it matter anyway?

You weren’t alone in this, knew other demons who also functioned similarly where none of you could care less - what’s he gonna do anyway, eat you? Kill you? Not much of a threat if it means you’re free of purgatory from him

At this rate he keeps you and the other like-minded individuals like you alive to torture you but you’ve grown bored

Tired

He doesn’t stop any demons from sneaking to the surface when they’re able, he wants them to succeed in whatever scheme they want after all so it’s not anyone’s business what you do

And what do you do?

You sneak up in your once human form, clad in whatever time appropriate clothes matched the living and breathing humans around you and you walked amongst them, observed them, quietly adored them from afar

You just people watched.

Your not-so-secret little hobby as you watched people, watch their happy moments, their sad moments, their worst and best moments, you even had the privilege to watch a few souls from the time they were able to crawl to the time they were being laid to rest surrounded by people who loved and remembered them

That thought was what occasionally made you sad.. that no one remembered you, but realistically you didn’t remember you

You have a habit of keeping your human illusion on in hell, not always, just enough so you wouldn’t forget what you use to look like - a little scared that if you forget then there’s no evidence that you existed before, Gwi-Ma tried to use that against you and you didn’t fight back just let it happen and then he got bored because you weren’t screaming or fearful

Aside from demons with similar mindsets you’re close with the demons that eventually become the Saja Boys, not because you sought them out but because it just lined up - all relatively tossed into hell at similar time periods

Baby shares what he remembers of his life with you, his face is so young and when he talks about the desperation he faced you feel bad for him but admit that you don’t.. know how to comfort him.. that you’ve forgotten

But he doesn’t stop you whenever you seem to think he feels down, doesn’t stop you when you pull him into your arms and softly hum some tune that you’ve memorised from one of your human retreats

You teach him how to read, when he admitted that he wasn’t sure what that was - each era that goes by you bring him a piece of literature that you’ve smuggled in from the surface and you sit down and teach him what things mean - what words are what, what the current trend of slang is

Mystery had lashed out at you on your first meeting, unable to fathom what he had become and he was feral - but you didn’t look at him in anger or disgust, just sadness

And it made him hate you for a while. Every time he encountered you, he’d growl and swipe at you but you never fought back, just let him do what he wanted as he cuts at your arm for the umpteenth time and occasionally you’d smuggle something delicious for him and offer it as a peace offering

Eventually he’d been at peace with you, opened up a little about himself and when he feels like he’s losing who he becomes.. you tell him what he told you, remembering the pieces of himself that he had started to forget and it’s enough to keep him satiated for a while as you two often just sit in silence together the times where you aren’t able to escape

Abs had admitted to you one day when he had tagged along with you on your people watching escapade that he didn’t remember anything from his previous life

He’d been wiped clean, the only thing that torments him is just an overwhelming sense of guilt or rage that gets ramped up when Gwi-Ma isn’t happy with him but other than that it’s.. empty up there.. which seemed worse in your opinion

When you first met him he didn’t emote much, expression neutral most of the time and then you and Jinu teach him how to feel again, feel things other than the guilt and rage and he learns to laugh even though he doesn’t remember why it’s important, on his second century he figures out why it’s fun to laugh again but he manages to suppress Gwi-Ma’s influence over that

Romance is scared of you. You notice immediately when Abs and Jinu introduce him when they come across him when he first lands in hell, he’s terrified of you in particular 

He’s not scared of Abs’ or Jinu’s height or frames, he’s scared of you - because you’re a woman, or at least once were a woman 

He notices that you stop getting in his space, that whenever he shows up and sits on the ground you’ll shift over so you’re not touching him - he realises that you know he’s scared of you but you’re not disgusted or annoyed by it, you’re still talking to him and engaging in conversation with him when he joins in and over time he steadily becomes more comfortable and initiates conversation with you

At some point he’s stopped flinching if your knees accidentally bump against each other, instead he gives you a smile and his eyes sparkle with warmth - something so foreign to all of you

Jinu is.. someone that you have a mutual respect with is how to word it

He’s the most affected by his memories and it often leads to arguments and walking on eggshells, the entirety of the centuries you knew him there’d be days he was alright - bantering with everyone, engaging in conversations

Then there’s other days where the memories are loud and he snaps at you in particular, because he admits that he hates the fact that you’re not suffering like he was and you admit to him that you envy him. Envy the fact that he still remembers what they meant to him. When he asks you to elaborate you point out that you’ve spent more time with Abs and Baby in the last year of knowing them in comparison to the 2 decades you had with your supposed family, you honestly didn’t even know if they were your family in the first place because sometimes there were inconsistencies in the torment - the faces blurred

“I envy the fact that they mean anything to you.” “What?” “They stopped meaning anything to me after he dangled the memories over my head for half a century.. I’ve known all of you longer than 5 of my human life spans could fathom. And you expect me to cling onto people that I don’t remember anymore?”

Most of your interactions are neutral, sometimes even good, then Gwi-Ma yanks on the leash he has on Jinu and he pulls away again

I have a HC that Jinu is the most active for this plan and the others had just followed his lead bc there wasnt much else to do honestly and it sounded kinda fun to do, they’ve got so much time on their hands and had just existed for years without really doing much aside from occasionally going up and sapping a soul or two - and with Gwi-Ma weakening they had 0 issues being on stand by but they see how Jinu is falling apart by the day and want to help him because they did learn to care

When Jinu discloses his plan, you were originally going to skip the congregation and just go people watch like you always did but Abs had grabbed your hand before you could sneak away and begged you to be there - just be a bystander because it’d for them

What you don’t expect is for Gwi-Ma to accept the proposal. For his twisted and sick fiery head to lift you up out of the crowd and force you up the stairs and slam you onto the stone flooring as you grunt out in pain, telling you on the spot that you’ll be responsible for assisting Jinu in his little scheme - when you deny him and fight back he amps up the torture, forces the others to watch as he burns you and watches you writhe in pain until you crack and agree in front of the crowd - in front of the guys

The moment you are released you’re silent, your body feeling like it was made of molten lava as you nod blankly because the pain is too much to bare for once and he laughs at your suffering - you hear the distant laughter of other demons as they follow his lead albeit hesitantly

Getting dismissed after Gwi-Ma and Jinu have their moment you don’t speak to any of them, not when Abs asks if you’re okay, not when Mystery tries to reach out to you or when Romance or Baby try to catch your eye, Jinu even tries to catch you but you refuse to look at any of them as you try to process what’s due to happen

Jinu isn’t talking to you like before, instead primarily speaking of the plan and you all collectively ignore the elephant in the room that is what little there is left of your morals being tested for this plan - to break the honmoon and let Gwi-Ma reign supreme

Your tasks as the ‘assistant’ isn’t that much, primarily sharing what you know about the current world, because you have the most experience with the modern times and when they show you their human forms you cringe at their ugly outfits - Abs  is the least offensive as he’s gone with you before on your people watching excursions but the others’.. are rough

you tell them that you’ll be the one to co-ordinate their outfits, things that will compliment them and make them look good and they’re all sceptical - even Abs

you grumble as a puff of pink smoke engulfs you briefly, now changed into one of your well-dressed outfits alongside your human form and they all pause - it’s not the usual hoodies you’d wear to blend in, it’s something nice that compliments your figure and suits your skin tone

you’ve even done your hair so it’s styled nicely with a cute matching hair pin and they begrudgingly agree to being dressed by you

you had broken down current music trends, explained what could make stand out in the current scope of tough bad boy music and girl crush music - something light and refreshing would break the market (prior to this plan you had shared this information as part of your usual info snippets when they asked about whats going on above, not knowing jinu was using this information for the plan)

when you’re tasked to help them secure a venue, Jinu already knows you have a place in mind and tasks the other guys with getting that information out of you

He knows youre not invested, knows youre trying to hide information but he knows as well that you cant help but offer up info to people when they ask with earnest

Mystery asks you, takes the time to take you aside and quietly asks you where you think a good place to go would be and youre hesitant but instead of describing it.. you take him with you so he can see himself

You warn him that it will be loud, it will be busy, you know he comes up the least aside from Jinu so you tell him if its overwhelming to let you know 

When you lead him to the public square he’s a little tripped out, looking blankly at all the shiny buildings and wow that ones made of almost all glass- but he follows your direction as you point out where you think would be a good spot to try for, then he asks about what else is in the area

And you tell him with this little sparkle in your eye what you know, about the little food stalls, about how on Mondays theres a little farmer that comes in with his truck and fresh crops he sells at a low rate bc hes so proud of himself, about how theres usually a lot more teens on a Friday as theyre running around hanging out and prolonging the inevitable of having to go home to do more homework

The sound of the crowd is drowned out to him as he focusses on your voice alone, doesnt even notice when a person or two bumps into him on their way by and apologises about it bc hes so wrapped up on whatever youre describing - the little snippets of genuine joy as you share small unimportant observations 

When you return back later he thanks you for taking him and he sees the smile on your face turn cold, but you still muster up the energy to say “you’re welcome” as your patterns surface

The first performance, the guilt is already steadily building up as you see people so excited about the Saja Boys debut

You’re watching them perform off to the side, looking at all the people so excited about the impromptu performance and cheering

Your heart feels full watching how happy everyone is for a moment you forget about the plan, a smile on your face as you get to witness their fleeting moments of joy

You don’t notice the hunters, and the hunters dont notice you, as you slip away from the crowd once the performance is done and you dont meet up with the boys again

Instead you wander aimlessly, appreciating the warmth of the afternoon sun and the bustling of the crowd

The peace

Abs appears abruptly, bringing an arm to wrap it around your shoulders in a playful manner but before he can, the words asking about how their performance was to you die on his tongue as he just observes your serene expression as you continued to look at the people around you

He doesnt interrupt you, letting his arm drop and just watching with a calm expression on his face and waits for you to notice him before he asks you how you thought they did

“I liked it.. you guys are good.” At your small praise, the way your lips curl into a genuine smile, it makes him feel something and it feels good

“..i wonder if it will be okay..” you murmured softly but he heard it, heard the hesitation and guilt leaking in but he doesnt engage - instead just follows you around as you continue to look around and enjoy your little hobby - the pretence of being human

After the game show that night, after their scuffle with the hunters - they come looking for you because they know you wouldnt go back right away, Jinu had split from them when he had his moment with Rumi

They catch you observing from a ways away, staring at something down by the street and they follow your line of sight to where theres a few teenagers recording themselves doing the Soda Pop dance, laughing and making fun of each other as they redo the take

You look sad as you watch them, they watch you hug yourself and the way you scratch at your arms slightly  like you need to self soothe - hear you whisper “they’re so young..”

No one says anything but Baby does go up and drops his head on your shoulder and you jolt, not expecting the contact and you almost turned to punch him had he not wrapped a familiar arm around your waist and quietly mumbled in his low voice that “you’re normally happier when you watch them (humans)”

He doesnt hear you reply but he feels you tense up under his arm, then youre all groaning as Gwi-Ma starts murmuring in your heads before youre all pulled down and into the crowd of awaiting demons

You dispel your human form first, breaking contact with Baby as everyones cheering and gushing over the boys - you slink into the crowd and out of the spotlight

Then someone screams about the soul dropping from the sky and you feel your stomach drop as you watch the light come down

The boys had dispelled their appearances by now, looking exhausted at the act they’d put on all day and you don’t stay long enough to see Jinu appearing by Gwi-Ma as you rush to get away

Jinu’s first secret meeting with Rumi you had caught him, before she had appeared, you talked to him and asked him what he was planning and he shrugged and said its just a casual talk

But you know better, you know he can be cunning so you give him shit for it

“She’s a human girl, Jinu. Her heart is fragile.” “She’ll get over it.” “She won’t.”

You’re frustrated at him, at his dismissive nature as he shrugs you off and tells you to piss off, before you leave you say over your shoulder that you “..hope you’re not playing around with her for fun. Thought you were at least above that.”

After he’s done messing with Rumi he seeks you out, not really knowing he’s actively doing it when he comes across you overlooking the city at some lookout area and just quietly observing it - the city lights frame you as you lean against the railing and it makes him misstep and almost fumble over himself

Your head turns to look at him flailing to look cool and you don’t laugh, just raise an eyebrow at him and you dont even smile because youre still pissed off at him

He gives you an awkward smile as he comes up to lean against the railing as well and neither of you say anything until you say something before he can

“You know what she is now, don’t you?”

Hes surprised, questions you on how you know and you shrug at him saying plainly that youve been around long enough to spot her when she’s having a meltdown in a not so private area here and there when she thinks no ones around to hear her cry

“..Jinu don’t play with her heart.” You say it like a plea and he scoffs a little, running a hand through his hair as he’s adamant that she’ll get over it and its not that big of a deal and you finally cut him down with

“You’ve had 400 years, to get over yourself. And you expect her to get over this in her time alive? You’re playing with her heart.” He freezes for a moment before his anger flares up in return “Stay out of my business.”

“I never wanted to be part of your business, you brought me into it.” You’re both furious, patterns on full display over your human skin as you glare at eachother

You knew why Gwi-Ma forced you to assist, yeah, you knew. Jinu was the one to call your name up because when you replay the memory of that moment in your head you see the regret and guilt on Jinu’s face as he watches you suffer for his benefit

The plan is succeeding, explosively at that - everywhere you went is their song playing, their human facades plastered everywhere and you feel conflicted

on one hand you should feel happy that their plan is succeeding, that things are going good

But then you feel sick at the fact that all these people are so happy and enjoying themselves without knowing they’re being used, someone’s late night snack could mean they become a demon’s late night snack

You’ve watched unsuspecting victims as demons lurk behind them and suck out their souls, there’s an instance where you attack a demon that’s about to feed off a young child and when they ask ‘Unnie what’re you doing?’ you smile at them and say that there was a big scary bee and you were trying to keep them safe as they squeal and hide behind you at that, that demon still remembers you and grumbles about it when he next sees you

There’s a moment where you’re down below, watching all the souls fall from the sky with the other Saja Boy members as you sit over a cliff to watch it all and you can’t stomach it knowing that it couldve been any of the faces that you’ve seen yourself - people who were oblivious because they were just trying to find some semblance of joy in their short life time

Romance catches you as you’re leaving, hand on your shoulder to stop you for a moment, then he sees the conflicted emotions in your eyes and he doesn’t stop you when you disappear from his grasp - just lets you go

So it leads you to the look out again, chest heavy as you look at the peace of the city knowing that your fellow demons are wrecking havoc and indulging in their hunger and greed

You can’t take it as the shame and guilt eats you alive, your patterns burn and you can hear Gwi-Ma cackling in your head as he mocks you and reminds you that it’s your fault for helping, your fault for assisting, has always been your fault for caring

In your past life time and now he reminds you that it was always your fault because all you did was care too much that you were blinded by it and would help anyone.. including the people who could turn on you at any point and then the blurred faces he used to torment you with are clear, faces of family friends you thought you could trust when you’d been ‘blessed’ by Gwi-Ma, the same faces that gleefully stole from you and abused you after you had helped them, the same that pointed and framed you for things you didn’t do which lead to your death as you were bludgeoned and thrown carelessly into the river 

Everything caves in and you’ve collapsed to your knees, heaving air into your lungs as the tears don’t stop and Gwi-Ma continues to laugh in your head as he distorts those old voices, the ones you thought you had forgotten as they all laugh at you for being a fool 

You don’t hear when footsteps approach you, you don’t hear the sound of a blade cutting through the air until you feel the relief of a cold blade pressed against your neck

“You.. you’re always around the Saja Boys.” You hear Mira’s voice as she speaks, her weapon gripped tightly in her hand as she holds it against your neck and you finally turn - eyes wide and expression frazzled as you realise the three hunters were surrounding you, weapons drawn and ready to end you if you move wrong

But they don’t expect you to lean into the sharp weapon, to press it deeper into your neck until it makes a cut and there’s blood leaking out as your hand tries and press it even deeper

“Wait- you can’t-” You hear Rumi’s voice and then you vaguely remember seeing a puff of smoke as familiar hands grab you and you’re taken away, to some secluded park and you vaguely remember hearing the sound of Romance’s voice as he calls out “Sorry, we’ll be taking our assistant home now.”

You’re quiet as you feel Abs arms hold you tight before he lets you down on the grass, lets you reorient yourself as you realise the four demons you’ve grown accustomed to had followed you up - watched you break down into your most vulnerable state and refused to let you go

No one says anything, no one reprimands you for being stupid and trying to get yourself killed, you feel Baby’s hand on the cut on your neck and he complains as he pulls it back and licks your blood off his hand before he leans down to make sure that your body is regenerating - even if you didn’t want it to it’s already done

You don’t look at them, your head is lowered as they watch your patterns shift and seemingly consume what little skin there is that isn’t already covered in markings and they don’t force you to go back down with them - just quietly stay in the vicinity of you because they’d be disingenuous if they said they knew what you were feeling

Mystery drops a jacket on you and though their bodies are facing you, they keep their gaze away to give you some semblance of privacy as they let you continue to cry your eyes out until you’re throat is hoarse and you ask if they can take you back home

After Jinu has his moment with Rumi and Gwi-Ma drags him back down to mock him in front of everyone, he’s a little listless as he wanders about and gets himself sorted for their last performance - the one that will make a difference for everything

he doesn’t know  that you’ve encountered the hunters, doesn’t know that Rumi had hesitated on having you killed because she never mentioned you

As he’s getting dressed and prepared to look the role - the group and you in their dressing room as the last pieces of their plan comes together, you finally break and ask Jinu in front of the others “Don’t you feel selfish?” he pauses as he finishes buttoning up his shirt and he calmly responds that “No, the memories will be gone and I’ll be free”

“What about the people here?” You ask and point out that he’s lived for centuries and most of them will be lucky if they make it to a fraction of that with their memories and joy still in tact, clearly even less now with the approaching doomsday - you hear Abs try to interject and say that things are going smoothly but you and Jinu keep going at eachother

“Just because you lost your humanity doesn’t mean these people have to suffer for it.” Your voice was quiet, softer than normal but the words were loud and cut deep.

“I don’t want to suffer anymore.” Jinu responds - tone flat because he doesn’t want to hesitate anymore.

“So they should?” You snap at him.

“What would you know! Huh?” He whirls around finally, expression crazed as his voice rumbles.

“What do you know about me, Jinu? Tell me. What do you know about me. It’s always about your memories, always about how you feel, everyone walks on eggshells around you so tell me. What. Do. You. Know. About. Me. About anyone, about any of the guys.” You’re jabbing at his chest now, with each pointed word you’ve emphasised it with a pointed finger jabbing into his chest.

“I don’t-” 

“Did you know that Baby is illiterate?” Baby freezes, eyes downcast when Jinu looks at him in shock.

“What-” 

“That Mystery keeps to himself because he’s scared he’ll lash out at you guys and hurt you.” Mystery shrinks in on himself, self conscious as he instinctively starts playing with his hands.

“...” 

“That Abby doesn’t recall a damn thing from his past life and is still tormented.” Abs doesn’t pipe up, just stays leant against the wall with his arms crossed as he listens to everything happen.

“Wait I..-” 

“That Romance is actually terrified of women. Do you? Do you know anything about any of us?” Romance doesn’t say anything either, when Jinu meets his eye he just breaks the eye contact and fixes up his shirt.

“We’ve known you for centuries and you push us aside, now you’re using an innocent girl to get what you want.” 

“And how does that affect you? You’re a demon, like me.” Jinu is hurt, his throat tightening up and he feels like he’s about to burst into tears as he sees yours brimming before spilling down your face as you try to keep your voice steady.

“Because I believed that you were still human. And I was clearly wrong for that.” You left them after that, not storming out but steps confident as you excuse yourself and leave. As you trail further and further away from the room you hear Gwi-Ma roar in your head about how joyous that was to witness and soon you find yourself in front of him again.

Your human form is crumbling, the demonic part of you no longer trying to hide as you stare at the ground below your feet as Gwi-Ma giggles gleefully

“Ah.. how I’ve wanted to see you like this for so long.” He comments as he absolutely revels in your suffering, then he continues on “Though.. would’ve preferred if you didn’t meddle with the others, they were doing so well without you making them feel free enough to think about anything but their suffering.”

You don’t scream when he attacks you, you don’t fight back as he ups the anti, you’ve already lost whatever war you’d been fighting against Gwi-Ma as he finally consumes you now that you’re pitiful and broken 

The final steps of the plan are succeeding, Huntrix has publicly broken up now and Jinu and the boys deliver the message on the last special performance - keeping up the pretty faces for the announcement before they allow themselves to get ready to perform in their true forms

They don’t know you’ve been consumed by Gwi-Ma, he’s gotten some low level demon to borrow your appearance and apologise to the boys - to trick them into thinking you were alive and well and on  board with the plan

They’re confused, don’t believe it’s you but they don’t have time to explore that as they need to get on stage now - ‘you’ wave at them and as the song starts they catch the demonic grin that slips onto ‘your’ face and they realise that sensation they had earlier like something important had been cut from the sliver of a soul they had left was the real you - that you were gone now

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ oh my god (she showed me all the stars ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by ✨ anon ˚₊ ⊹

ft. rumi x f! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ rumi has her first time with her girlfriend┊1.7k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub rumi┊established relationship, rumi’s first time with another girl, scissoring, mentions of a past boyfriend 

➤ author's note: don’t be fooled by how hot she looks in the gif, she’s a total bottom here

rumi isn’t the most experienced when it comes to relationships and sex due to her busy lifestyle, but she isn’t a virgin, if you must know. she’s had a boyfriend before, two if you count the one in middle school (she doesn’t because she doesn’t remember his name), back in college when she was tense and stressed all the time while trying to juggle getting her degree, training to be an idol, and training to be a demon hunter. he was a nice guy: smart, funny, handsome, but she always knew that he wasn’t the one for her, more like a device to pass the time by making it more enjoyable with company and to stop the questions on why she was still single when she was as pretty as she was. to be completely honest, she doesn’t exactly remember much about her first time, even though it’s supposed to be a special event. it’s more of a blur because they had come back from a party and had quite a few drinks in their systems, but she certainly remembers the lack of sexual chemistry and feeling quite disappointed afterwards, even though they both had their orgasms. they did a few more times after that, but there was a lack of spark, like they were only going through the motions because couples were supposed to.

then they broke up after her rise as an idol, no longer having much time for him and no longer being able to live normally without being swarmed by paparazzi. she was more confused than anything about her lack of heartbreak over the entire thing, and for quite a while after that, she thought there was something wrong with her other than her half-demon blood. he really was a good guy all around, many said she was so lucky to be with a guy like him, but she didn’t understand it when she felt so neutral about him in every sense. 

soon, she realized that the issue wasn’t her lack of passion, but rather, she was simply with the wrong person (and was probably only with him due to pressure from outside forces to be with a man even if she didn’t care for him, which was the final verdict reached with the help of her elder gay friends during a sleepover), because once she caught feelings for you, she quickly found herself absolutely infatuated as if all of the feelings she was supposed to have for her previous boyfriend said “double it and give it to the next person.”

when you asked her out to be yours, she nearly passed out on the pavement right there because of the overwhelming amount of dopamine going to her brain, making her first instinct to scream about it to her friends before remembering that she actually had to agree. every day was christmas day with you after that, even if they were as mundane as just relaxing on the couch together or helping her practice choreography. she just adores you so much, and it makes her feel like a girl in a fairytale who got her forever happily ever after.

so when you have her in bed like this, underneath you and pressed into the mattress, fully sober and making out sensually on your bed with your hands instinctively starting to wander all over her body after pinning her wrists to the side of her head, she feels nervous. she’s never done with another girl before and doesn’t know much about it as a result, and she feared she would disappoint you in the same way she was disappointed by her ex. 

you could tell that she was worried by the way she was suddenly hesitating to continue, so you let go of her for a moment and looked her in the eyes, full of understanding in a way that only wanted what was best for her, “we don’t have to do anything tonight, you know. we could just cuddle and watch a movie if you want—”

“no! it’s not that i don’t want it, it’s just… i’ve never done it with another girl before, and i’m just… not that experienced in general…”

“i don’t mind that, i just want you to be comfortable, that’s all.”

“i am! and i really want to do it with you, i’m just a little… nervous, that’s all…” how is it that she was easily able to perform in front of millions as an idol, but was suddenly getting shy about intimacy between girlfriends?

her ears were burning from embarrassment, finding it hard to believe that she could easily perform in front of millions as an idol but was suddenly getting shy about intimacy between girlfriends.

“don’t worry about it, it’s completely normal,” you assured. “whatever you want to try, i’ll teach you.”

“well, i… could you… could we try… scissoring?” her ears were burning from embarrassment, evident by how red they were, and her voice had lowered to a kind of high-pitched whisper. 

“you wanna try scissoring?”

“i just… you know, i wanna know if it’s real or just a porn thing… zoey said it didn’t really do anything for her but mira said it did… so i was wondering if it would work for me?”

god, she’s so cute when she’s all shy and submissive like this. you wanted to tease her so badly, but you refrained, knowing that this was a vulnerable moment for her. besides, you’ll have all the time in the world to do it when she’s more confident, moving to kiss her again to unravel her anxiousness, “just lay there and be pretty for me, okay princess?”

rumi’s already a hot mess and melting like putty in your hands, both at the term of endearment and the mere thought of your lower lips ‘kissing’ like the upper ones were right now. you could tell how aroused she was by it when you pulled off her underwear, cute and pink and so soaked that there was an evident wet patch in the fabric, and you couldn’t help but place a little kiss on her pretty flower-like pussy to watch her blush all over. the intricate patterns painted were starting to flicker in a similar vibrant purple as her hair, making you wonder how they would light up like fireworks when she orgasms. 

her mind is running in laps as you strip yourself of your own clothing to match her nude state and position yourself to interlock legs in the most comfortable position. it’s her first time properly seeing you naked, the only other time being when she accidentally walked in on you changing before bolting out of there in mortification, but she’s laying there questioning how on god’s green earth a loser like her who was barely able to string together a sentence when you first met managed to pull and be in bed with a goddess like you. 

the gawking didn’t last for much longer as you pulled her close to you, and she finally felt your two heats meet, so close and intimate in ways she’d never believed possible. it seemed so natural to her to be like this, with your hips slowly moving in a constant motion to press your cunts together, allowing her to feel every inch of you against her in the best way possible. the pressure was making pleasure build as the stimulation made her let out a moan, unable to help herself from also moving to copy your actions and make it faster and better. 

the entire thing is so exhilarating with her heart beating out of her chest as your clits kiss and grind against each other, providing the most exhilarating feeling she could have ever dreamed of. it’s all so intimate, as if this was a ritual that was helping connect your souls in a deeper manner, and she’s felt closer to you now more than ever, both physically and emotionally.

 she peeked one eye open to watch your through her long lashes, observing how yours were screwed shut with the most beautiful expression she’s ever seen while you focus on the movement, the light of the nearby lamp catching in the light sheen of sweat coating your soft skin and making you look more radiant than normal. 

an unfamiliar knot was beginning to form in her abdomen. her mind was all hazy, and she briefly wondered if you had noticed that there were tears in the corners of her eyes and a little bit of drool starting to trickle down her mouth at the heavenly ecstasy. she’s close, she could feel it, but in a way, she didn’t want it to happen yet. you would probably start with aftercare after she bursts like a bubble, being all sweet and tender as you help clean her up, but in a way, she didn’t want this to end yet even if it meant she’ll pass out from exhaustion.

she wants to go all night if it were possible, and if you were willing to. she has plenty of stamina from always singing and dancing for the better part of the day for most of her recent years, and she’s sure she could keep up with whatever you threw her way, even if you wanted to strap her down or finger her senseless or anything else you wanted to do.

all of these wild things running through her head of you using her until she was completely spent was enough to send her over the edge after a mere six minutes of stimulation with her eyes rolling to the back of her skull and her toes curling. “god, that was… that was so perfect,” she whispered once she came down from her high, noticing that her patterns had taken on a gentle glow and that there was a slight numbing feeling in her quivering thighs. it was one of the most amazing feelings she’s ever experienced, second only to the day she found out she would be debuting with her dearest friends but before the day she graduated high school. 

“here, i’ll help you get cleaned up and run a bath—”

“wait!” she called out, grabbing onto your wrist. you still haven’t came yet, and even if you were putting all of your focus on her, she could see that you were still in clear need of your own release. “could you also teach me how to… how to eat… pussy?”

request:

Hi hi! ✨ anon here again! Hope you’re having a good day/night! The last prompt was so good! I loved Rumi’s part! I was wondering if I could request a nsfw fic with Rumi and a female reader? With Rumi being new to wlw intimacy (new to it in general, but not knowing as much about sapphic spicy stuff) And her girlfriend guiding her through it? (Stuff like scissoring and eating out for example) Thanks! And please take your time! No worries!

[solxamber]

Want You Back with: Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie

Where they're still in love with you

Other parts: Housewardens

Trey Clover

Trey insisted that he was doing just fine after the breakup. He said it with a firm, reasonable tone which made people afraid to challenge him. But there was a sudden spike in sweet production that should've triggered an intervention.

The first sign that something was deeply wrong was the dessert box you received. Deuce was the delivery method–nervous, sweating slightly, and holding it like it might explode.

"Trey asked me to give you this," Deuce said. "He made too much again. I didn't ask questions. Please don't ask me questions."

Inside was your favorite dessert. Made exactly the way you liked it, portioned perfectly, with a note about storage instructions.

The next week it happened again. Deuce looked more tired this time.

"I don't even think he's making any for us anymore," he said. "There were twelve of these and they all had your name on them."

The week after that, he just left the box outside your door and sprinted away.

Meanwhile, Trey had developed a new habit of dropping half-memories into conversations and then staring into the distance. He'd start a sentence with something like, "Remember when we went to—" and then just stop speaking altogether. Sometimes he'd blink slowly. No one ever asked him to continue.

The real problem happened during a meeting, when Riddle asked Trey to pass the sugar.

"Sure thing, babe," Trey said, without thinking.

Silence. Absolute, dead air silence.

Trey apologized immediately, said he'd been distracted, maybe overtired, clearly mixed something up. Riddle stared at him for a full ten seconds before continuing like the moment had been stricken from existence through sheer force of will.

But for the rest of the day, he referred to Trey exclusively as "Mr. Clover."

Even Cater started noticing. During a tea party planning session, Trey was explaining seasonal pastry pairings and said, "They always liked the these in spring—" and then stopped. And just stared into space with a haunted look, eyes unfocused like he was watching a flashback play out on the wall.

Cater, in a rare moment of self-preservation, slowly slid his chair backward and excused himself from the room.

Trey never addressed any of it. The desserts kept coming. The flashbacks kept happening. He went about his day as if this was all very reasonable.

He never asked you to come back and you never said anything either.

But when the next dessert came with a note that read "Let me know if you want to bake something together again," you kept the note.

You'll answer him soon enough.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie took the breakup well. Or at least, that was the impression he worked very hard to give. He laughed a little too loudly at everything, kept his tone light and breezy, and absolutely would not stop making jokes. About anything. Including your name, the concept of heartbreak, and on one occasion, a broom that somehw reminded him of you for reasons he refused to explain.

He also always seemed to know where you were. He could recite your schedule better than most professors, which was concerning considering he never wrote anything down and clearly wasn't trying to remember it for academic purposes.

That was around the time the snacks started appearing.

A variety of edible items were now being left on your windowsill with increasing regularity. One day it was a crumpled bag of crackers. The next, something that looked like it had been stolen from the cafeteria. The quality varied, but the intent was consistent: he was absolutely not going to speak to you, but he was going to feed you like you're a raccoon whose trust he's trying to earn.

Eventually he started doing things "just because." Favors you didn't ask for, tasks you hadn't gotten around to, errands you never mentioned. You'd open your bag and find things you lost last month. Your laundry got done at suspiciously convenient times. When your dorm got mysteriously dusted while you were in class, you caught a faint trace of a very familiar scent and found a magift disc that definitely wasn't yours under the bed.

You stepped outside your dorm one afternoon to find him lying on the ground in the grass, dramatically clutching his ankle and squinting at the sun like it had personally wronged him.

When you asked what happened, he made a vague gesture and said he "might have twisted something," although there was no visible injury and his shoes were off for some reason he refused to explain. He stayed there, groaning softly, waiting for you to help him, and occasionally adjusting his pose whenever you looked away—presumably to appear more pitiful.

When you finally helped him stand, he immediately stopped limping, dusted himself off, and suggested that maybe you could "hang out or whatever, since we're already here."

And how could you say no?

Jade Leech

Jade didn't make a scene. That wasn't his style. After the breakup, he went about his life with the same calm demeanor he always had. There was no change in his expression or his routine but there was a slightly unsettling increase in how often he happened to be standing somewhere near you, doing absolutely nothing.

It wasn't stalking. That would be unrefined. But it also clearly wasn't coincidence. He never approached you directly, he just loitered with purpose, nearby, always pretending to be on his way somewhere else.

The mask only cracked once, when Floyd casually brought you up in conversation and Jade's smile froze so precisely mid-expression it looked like it was carved onto his face. He just stopped blinking for a moment, like he'd mentally stepped out of his own body to scream into a bucket somewhere. Floyd stared at him, then slowly reached across the table and took his drink without asking.

He never brought you up directly. Instead, he asked theoretical questions that weren't quite as subtle as he believed.

"If one were to mend a broken relationship," he asked Azul one afternoon while reorganizing in the lounge, "would it be wiser to reintroduce emotional intimacy gradually, or would a surprise approach prove more... efficient?"

Azul didn't respond. He just walked out of the room.

Every time he ended up beside you, always by coincidence, of course, he acted surprised.

Jade didn't sit next to you on purpose. That would imply intent. He simply appeared, occasionally, in the seat beside yours with a faint expression of interest and a stack of papers that had no relevance to the current activity. He never made conversation. He'd just sit there, glancing sideways every so often, not enough to be obvious but enough to be very clear that he was waiting for something.

Eventually, during one of these "well-timed encounters," you shifted slightly toward him.

He didn't say anything and he didn't look at you. But his posture straightened, and he put the papers away.

They had been blank the entire time.

Jamil Viper

Jamil tried to maintain the illusion that everything was fine but it was convincing nobody. It was the kind of performance that might have fooled a distant acquaintance or a houseplant, but not anyone who had seen him operate at full power.

He still showed up where he was supposed to be, still got things done, but he looked like he hadn't been sleeping, hadn't been resting, and had possibly stopped eating.

The worst part was the silence. He didn't correct anyone, didn't complain, didn't throw out any of his usual quietly exasperated commentary. The version of Jamil who rolled his eyes at other people's nonsense had vanished. In his place was a pale imitation who sat in the corner during group work and didn't even make a face when someone proposed an obviously bad plan.

People stopped bothering him with small talk. It was like he had been quietly reclassified as an emotional hazard zone—calm on the surface, but likely to combust without warning. Even Kalim gave him space, which was saying something.

Eventually, something gave out. He cornered you after class and he looked like he had rehearsed being casual and then immediately forgot how to be human. He asked, very quietly, why you were still being nice to him if you were done.

His voice cracked on the last word in the most inconvenient, humiliating way possible. You didn't even have a chance to respond. He just blinked like he wanted to walk into a wall and left before he could hear whatever answer might make it worse.

You caught him pacing behind the library one day, clearly in the middle of talking to himself.

"Just say you want them back. Just say it. Just—"

He noticed you and immediately fell into silence. He tood perfectly still like he thought if he didn't move, you might forget he existed. The silence stretched for so long it started to feel like you were intruding on a wildlife documentary.

And when you stepped closer and reached for his hand, he didn't pull away. If anything, he looked offended it had taken you this long.

Rook Hunt

Rook didn't take the breakup well, but in typical fashion, he made it everyone else's problem long before it became obvious to you.

Every animal in the woods now had an opinion about your relationship with Rook. Squirrels paused on branches when you walked by. Birds gave you judgmental side-eye. There were rabbits that watched you like they knew something.

Rook took the breakup in stride, if your definition of "stride" included extended lurking behind trees and several suspiciously well-tended patches of flora outside your dorm.

He didn't approach you or speak to you but somehow, your favorite flowers were always in bloom, even out of season, even when they shouldn't have survived.

When this failed to produce results, Rook made a tactical shift that alarmed everyone more than the silent stalking ever did. He became "normal."

It had people watching him out of the corners of their eyes, waiting for him to snap. He spoke plainly. He answered questions without dramatic pauses or poetic tangents. He didn't climb anything. He didn't even add French into his sentences.

It was so unnatural that Epel asked him, in all seriousness, if he had been replaced with a government clone. Vil asked if he'd taken a blow to the head. Trey nearly dropped a tray when Rook said "thank you" without calling him "chevalier."

And through it all, he stayed out of your way.

If you went to the greenhouse, he was suddenly busy elsewhere. If you entered the courtyard, he exited as though he'd simply remembered an urgent appointment on the other side of campus. It was like he was trying to give you something you hadn't asked for: peace or space.

Then one afternoon, you saw him outside your dorm, kneeling beside the flowers with a small trowel while performing an act of unspoken devotion.

You didn't say anything and just knelt beside him in the dirt.

And when he shifted slightly closer, you stayed exactly where you were.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia claimed to be doing fine. He laughed about it and told everyone he was at peace. He tossed out a few remarks about how heartbreak was good for the bones, and then promptly vanished for three days.

When he returned, he looked like he'd been emotionally dry-cleaned and hung out to air. The sparkle was gone from his eyes. His posture was slightly hunched, like he'd lost a duel with gravity.

No one mentioned it. He brought it up before they could.

"Refreshing trip," he said, standing perfectly still in the doorway. "Cleared my head. Found myself. Spoke to a bird."

From that moment on, the descent was slow and profoundly unserious.

He started texting you again, always in the middle of the night, always with images no one could trace to a known source. Memes of screaming frogs, unidentifiable creatures holding signs that said things like "miss u" and blurry screenshots from ancient anime with captions he had clearly written himself.

The culinary sabotage began shortly after. Each dish felt like a personal challenge to every culinary rule known to man. There was something that resembled soup but smelled like pickled beans.

One meal arrived in a jar, bubbling slightly. Silver tapped it with a spoon and backed away slowly. Sebek refused to eat altogether and Malleus did not comment—but the haunted look in his eyes said enough. If he ever got down on one knee, it would be to beg you to fix this.

Lilia, of course, pretended to remain blissfully unbothered. He'd hum quietly to himself while pouring powdered sugar into things that weren't desserts and casually mention how lovely it would be to "have someone to experim—I mean, cook for—again."

One evening, as you were winding down, you heard a strange tapping at your window. It wasn't the usual rhythm of branches or wind so you pulled the curtain aside.

And there he was.

Lilia, suspended upside down from your roof. He was perfectly still while grinnimg. Hanging there as if this was the most natural way to say hello. You screamed. He screamed back. It was as though he'd forgotten that normal people didn't expect unsolicited nocturnal bat-visits from their ex.

The silence afterward stretched far too long. He remained dangling. You stood frozen. It became a standoff of mutual embarrassment and stubbornness.

And then, with a sigh, you opened the window.

Not because it was a good idea or because you'd forgiven him. Not even because he'd apologized.

Because, in some twisted way, you had missed him too (and honestly, it was starting to rain.)

Masterlist

[inthegardensofourminds]

-[speaks foreign language] was discouraged at thr company I worked at, you wanted to identify the language if it at all possible for those sound cues since even if it's not the main language used in the show, doesn't mean it's a foreign language to the audience or the characters. But in my experience you don't transcribe it if it's not intended to be understood by the audience. I have seen the sound cue misused for sure, but it's usually not transcribed in my experience when it's not the target language or intended to be understood. It does eliminate the possibility of a multilingual person being able to pick up on things like one can with audio, but choosing whether to subtitle additional languages usually comes down to intent of the source. I can see the flaw in this approach though.

-Sentences are sometimes condensed for readability, it's not laziness or intent to change the meaning, but because there are rules about reading speed/characters per second. It's actually more challenging when you have a situation where you have to do this compared to when you have space and time to include every word. You can push it a little bit sometimes, but the rules about how many characters you can have per line are strict. I agree it's not great, but not everyone would be able to read them in that situation. It can lose a bit of nuance, but at my company we tried to preserve the meaning as much as possible while remaining within the technical parameters of a given project.

-I agree about not including sŵear when it's not bleeped in the source audio. We would not have done this at the company I worked at. It's possible a bleeped version, in theory, could be used when crating a subtitle track, then the client used it again on an uncensored version of the same video without revising the subtitle file. However, with things translated from one language to another, sometimes target audiences are not the same as in the original, and that can result in changes in language. That's a whole other matter and I haven't experienced that, and I don't know where I stand on that. With unscripted or behind the scenes content, I was trained to keep in mind the target audience, so if you're subtilitng a behind the scenes segment for a family or child audience and someone in the background swore, we wouldn't include that along with other audio, but I don't know how often that happens and I don't think that's what OP had in mind here. If companies are censoring subtitles for no reason, I would disagree with that.

-Something I have also seen that always bugs me for disrespecting audience members is when sound cues for visible sound sources are subtitled. For example, I was trained not to write [door slams] if you can see the door being slammed. The viewer can see it, and including the sound cue can imply you don't think the audience member knows what they are seeing. An exception to this would be if the door slams and something unusual happens, like there being no sound or an unexpected sound like if there was a duck quack instead of the slamming sound.

happy disability pride month and once again, FUCK lazy subtitles. fuck the [speaks foreign language] instead of actually transcribing the words, fuck shortening sentences and changing whats been said for no reason, fuck censoring swearing in captions but not in audio and fuck anyone who says youre being 'too sensitive' for being upset about a lack of accessibility

[glitterghost]

Started thinking about a stop motion/claymation Sleep Token music video, and now I can't stop.