#and this does it. this is the perfect explanation. the best I can come up with

[yuseirra]

Final Analysis: "Oshi no Ko" is indeed a story that reinterprets mythology (the story progresses with both surface-level and deep-level narratives running in parallel).

Just why didn’t they explain this beforehand?

I REALLY hope this is my last time bringing up this subject! I'm doing this for myself mostly, because I want to understand things and form a proper closure! If you disagree, I understand! But I'd like to say I really am fully believing the idea after having given this series a proper close read and examined the work with care. I did my best.

In my opinion, the only way to explain this work and understand why its narrative unfolded the way it did is truly just that—it’s based on mythology.

But the creators didn’t fully elaborate on or explain this, so is it fair that readers are left to figure this out on their own over months, scouring articles or even research papers? And even then, because they didn’t definitively establish this, I’ve now reached the conclusion that there is no other way to explain this work than by interpreting it as mythology. The story doesn’t just reinterpret mythology; it reaches a level where the ending is essentially swallowed by the myth itself. And yet, it feels like no one around me—aside from me—is thinking this way. It’s incredibly frustrating, suffocating, isolating... My head honestly hurt so much because I wasn’t even sure if my interpretation was correct.

Still, since the work itself is so chaotic and spiraled into complete disarray near the end, I felt the need to solidify what kind of story it actually is. After all, we need to at least understand what this story is about to form any kind of judgment. If things remain unresolved like this, the story remains incomprehensible and unbearably unsettling, so I felt I had to tie up the loose ends myself.

I considered myself a relatively diligent reader who followed the story closely, but there were so many events happening in the narrative, and yet the reasons behind them—the explanations for why things unfolded that way—remained utterly unclear and confusing. (This is why I often criticize the story as incomplete or poorly written.) I don’t think I lack reading comprehension or the ability to grasp context. Usually, I can figure out what a story is trying to convey. But with this work, it’s simply impossible to explain unless you bring in mythology. On the other hand, if you do bring mythology into the equation, then it becomes explainable.

That’s why, even if one wouldn’t be able to fully understand the story, there'd be the need to examine those elements to make some sense of it. From the moment the narrative introduced gods, missions, and similar motifs, it became clear that those elements weren’t insignificant. After all, the protagonists themselves reincarnated to fulfill their missions from the gods. But even this concept of “mission” wasn’t clearly defined in the story—it was left ambiguous, merely hinted at. Readers are forced to figure out what it might be on their own, but the story doesn’t even provide proper clues. This lack of clarity and consideration for the audience is why the manga feels so unkind and perplexing.

This manga, in short, simultaneously unfolds with two narratives: a surface-level narrative (表層叙事) and a deep-level narrative (深層叙事). This will get long, so I'll put everything else under the read more.

The surface-level narrative is the storyline we see directly in the manga. It can be summarized as Aqua’s journey for revenge.

The deep-level narrative isn’t intricately crafted or detailed—it’s simply mythology. The deep-level narrative of this manga is a reinterpretation of Japanese mythology. However, it’s only faintly alluded to and isn’t treated as a significant element. But by the time we reach the conclusion, understanding this deep-level narrative becomes necessary to explain and make sense of the events in the surface-level narrative. Despite this, the creators didn’t even acknowledge the existence of such a layer, leaving readers confused and unable to understand.

And yet, even if readers were to figure all of this out, it likely wouldn’t fundamentally change the evaluation of the work. Perhaps that’s why the creators chose to leave it as is.

Unless you're anyone with even a moderate understanding of Japanese mythology, it's impossible to figure out, “What is this? What kind of story was this?” But if that’s the only way to understand it, then it’s the creators who failed, isn’t it? I happened to have a faint understanding, so I thought, “Could it be this?” and started looking into it. As I became more interested, the things I discovered fit together, allowing me to interpret the story. But ultimately, the material that should have been fully shown and explained within the work itself wasn’t properly addressed. That’s the problem here.

Using the interpretation I pieced together, everything can align perfectly. The hints are subtly present in the work, and when you connect them, you can explain what kind of story this is. But the problem is, the balance shifts in a strange way.

Can this balance really be considered “well-handled,” or does it feel more like, “The narratives we thought were important turned out to be irrelevant, and this is what it actually was”? Seeing the resolution, I’m leaning toward the latter.

The parts involving Aqua and the two heroines (Kana and Akane) are the surface narrative. Most readers, while reading this manga, probably thought that this was the important part and rooted for this aspect of the story. Aqua lived as a doctor, was reincarnated as the child of his favorite idol, and entered the entertainment industry seeking revenge after that idol’s death. Along the way, he formed bonds represented by the two heroines, and through these relationships, he experienced change. Most would think, “This is the main plot of Oshi no Ko,” and the story indeed presents it that way.

But when you reach the ending, this narrative doesn’t hold as much weight as expected, and that’s bewildering, isn’t it?

The weight of the story shifts to the deeper narrative rooted in Japanese mythology, that's why.

It's characters like Ruby, Ai, Kamiki, and Tsukuyomi who are deeply intertwined with this deeper narrative.

Ruby was supposed to fulfill the role of a dual protagonist and occasionally received key episodes. But for some reason, it always felt like Aqua was the true protagonist. Looking at it now, I think it’s because Aqua and Ruby had different roles as “protagonists” within the story.

If Aqua was a character involved in the “human side” of the narrative (which made him seem incredibly significant, leading us to follow his journey as if he were the main protagonist, with his story appearing to form the core plot), Ruby was more deeply connected to the “divine side.” (She was loved by the gods, received their help, became entangled with the crow, and even at the end, it was said the gods sent her. She called herself Amaterasu and prayed to the gods. While Aqua had some involvement in this aspect, his role was more about supporting Ruby, making her far more significant in this context.)

But this “divine side” ultimately took all the narrative weight. Ruby survives, and everything Aqua achieved through the story is discarded in the end.

The storylines involving Kana and Akane? If you consider the ending, they were peripheral and not truly necessary. While their parts were enjoyable, and one might have hoped for an ending where Aqua survives and builds a future with those friends, those relationships don’t significantly affect the plot or the conclusion. Whether Aqua met them or not, the crux of Aqua’s story was about confronting the presumed murderer of Ai (his father), seeking revenge, and eventually killing Kamiki, who posed a threat to Ruby’s future. Aqua then sacrifices himself for this cause. That’s how it unfolded. Unfortunately, neither Kana nor Akane played a major role in influencing or changing this outcome. Strictly speaking, their presence wasn’t necessary for the story. Which I feel pretty sad about, but it's true. Aqua could have straightforwardly found his father and killed him, and that would have been the end of it. This is what makes it feel so hollow.

And this is why I concluded that the divine narrative overshadowed everything else. Aqua’s personal growth and relationships in the story were all consumed by this.

It does seem likely that the author decided on the ending first and then built the story to fit that framework.

The story became what it is because they decided to “follow the framework of mythology.” That’s why so much of what Aqua did all along ultimately felt pointless. The mythology’s ending was already predetermined.

This story opens by saying it’s fiction. Isn’t mythology the quintessential example of fiction? If that’s the case, the creators should have at least made it clear that this was their intent. That would have been understandable. But this work doesn’t even do that, nor does it adequately present the knowledge required to grasp the mythology. Instead, it forces readers to put in extraordinary effort outside of the work itself to do it (I’m not even Japanese, so this wasn’t easy for me).

You can still read the story without knowing these things, but fully understanding “What was this story really about?” becomes impossible. That’s a problem. Without resolving that, the story remains incomplete. It feels unfinished.

So, what conclusion have I drawn about the deeper narrative of this manga?

Ruby is Amaterasu. Her mission is to become a radiant being (as shown in the final chapter).

Aqua was born to protect Ruby. That is his mission (as stated by himself).

It was hinted from the very beginning that these two were born with missions. The concept of reincarnation itself is presented as highly unique, and Tsukuyomi, the god appearing in the story, repeatedly suggests pondering the meaning of their souls inhabiting their bodies and their purpose. From all this, it seems correct to say they are beings with predetermined missions.

However, Aqua only realizes his mission is what he's stated at the very end, moments before his death. Up until that point, he clearly lived with a different goal in mind. His stated objectives throughout the story were: avenging Ai by finding and killing the person who caused her death (his biological father) or making him suffer unbearably.

But can that goal naturally shift to protecting Ruby? Can killing Kamiki really lead to that outcome?

If we accept this, it means Aqua’s “mission” as hinted throughout the story was ultimately connected to Kamiki.

The mission to kill or capture Kamiki was always there; it’s just a matter of how it was rationalized.

Aqua’s purpose shifted from avenging Ai to protecting Ruby. The actions required to fulfill these purposes, however, remained the same.

Aqua often says things like, “I’ll go to hell” or “I don’t deserve happiness.” I strongly feel that this sentiment stems from the nature of his mission—to capture or eliminate someone.

Recall how, when Aqua believed his father was already dead, his expression softened, the black star in his eye disappeared, and he seemed at peace. It was because he felt freed from the burden of his mission. But as soon as he discovered that his father was alive, he became ensnared by it again.

Aqua’s mission was likely to take down Kamiki, or to accomplish something related to him. And perhaps, in carrying out this mission, Aqua knew he would have to die.

That’s why Tsukuyomi warned him not to form emotional attachments to others.

Now, let’s ask: why is taking down Kamiki such a monumental task, one deemed significant enough for the gods to assign as a mission? Why must it become the life’s purpose of our protagonist, requiring him to sacrifice everything he has?

The reason is that Kamiki is no ordinary human.

If he were to be just human, they could simply have him arrested. Just file a report and be done with it. So why does Aqua have to die for this?

It feels as though that’s not an option. Somehow, things just can’t work out that way, right? And the events surrounding that character are deeply unsettling. It's unnatural. I'm not even sure if it's controllable.

It’s ambiguous whether Kamiki causes destruction intentionally or whether it spirals out of his control. His seemingly small actions lead to catastrophically disproportionate consequences. Furthermore, there’s no evidence left behind. The incidents surrounding him, in my view, aren’t something that can be carried out or resolved within the realm of human capabilities.

Kamiki’s involvement is so significant that the gods decided it warranted reincarnating two individuals and assigning them a mission.

When you piece together the identities of the gods mentioned in the story, you’ll uncover what Kamiki truly is.

If we analyze it closely, there are two distinct groups of myths woven into the story.

First, there’s the mythology surrounding the death of the creator gods Izanagi and Izanami. Their children, Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi, are explicitly referenced.

Second, we have myths related to the Sun Goddess and the descent of the Heavenly Grandchild, involving Amaterasu and Ame-no-Uzume. These deities are directly mentioned by name in the plot.

In the myths about the creator gods, Amaterasu, Tsukuyomi, and Susanoo are triplets. If Aqua corresponds to Susanoo, the god of storms and the sea, we can identify thematic parallels. In the myth, after Izanami’s death, Izanagi descends to the underworld to retrieve her but fails. When he returns to the surface, Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi are born from his eyes, and Susanoo from his nose. While Tsukuyomi is the one that is related to the eyes in the original myth, along with Amaterasu, Aqua seems to have inherited the star-related motif instead.

This influence from mythology is evident. Susanoo is said to have cried for his mother, leading to a conflict with his father, reflecting Aqua’s own struggles with his father and his longing for his mother figure, Ai. The star motif in the twins' eyes could also stem from this myth.

Additionally, the creator god myth includes the father’s failed attempt to resurrect the mother—a narrative that echoes the dynamic between Ai and Kamiki.

The Sun Goddess and Heavenly Descent myth introduces Ame-no-Uzume, the goddess of entertainment and dance. In myth, she uses her bold and honest nature to coax Amaterasu out of the cave where she has hidden, frightened by Susanoo. This parallels Ruby’s transformation from Sarina, who was inspired by Ai’s performance, to becoming a radiant idol herself. If Ai corresponds to a deity in this myth, she would align with Ame-no-Uzume.

Ame-no-Uzume plays another crucial role: she escorts Amaterasu’s grandson to Earth and encounters Sarutahiko, a deity of light and the Earth who guarded the passage to Earth. His body is said to sparkle brightly with light. Sarutahiko initially opposed Amaterasu’s grandson’s descent because it would diminish his authority. However, he fell in love with Ame-no-Uzume, who seduced him. They became a couple, and while there’s no explicit mention of their marriage, they lived together on Earth, had children, and were revered as a couple. Their descendants were known for performing "Kagura," sacred dances.

The shrine the characters visited in Oshi no Ko, the Aratate Shrine in Miyazaki, is dedicated to commemorating their meeting. Aqua references Ame-no-Uzume by name, saying he knows her well. However, the shrine doesn’t honor her alone but enshrines her and her partner Sarutahiko together.

As for Kamiki, the parallels he has with Sarutahiko are undeniable. It's no joke, I keep finding new things that I find they share in common every time I look up the god.

= Kamiki is the deity Sarutahiko Okami, the husband of the goddess of entertainment (Ai). This has to be it. Every time I read this work, I keep coming to this same conclusion. There’s even foreshadowing to back it up.

Sarutahiko is said to have the power to fulfill the wishes of others, a power that only manifests when he is with his wife.

Most importantly, Sarutahiko is a guide, leading people toward a brighter future, into goodness. Under normal circumstances, this is a benevolent role.

However, something has clearly gone awry. This "flaw" is explicitly referenced in the lyrics of the songs featured in the story.

The source of this "flaw" is rooted in Kamiki’s past, which the story has partially revealed. And as stated by the songs, the "lack of Ai"'s what's been intensifying, amplifying, or the major cause of him unable to be helped out of that state.

While much about Kamiki remains ambiguous, if he is that deity who can "twist the future," all attempts to rationalize his character become unnecessary.

Imagine such a deity descending into madness. Aqua’s mission to stop him suddenly makes sense.

It becomes a divinely mandated duty—worth sacrificing one’s life for—because this is a calamity beyond human intervention.

Notably, this deity is said to meet his end by drowning, a detail consistent with the story’s thematic elements.

So ultimately, the narrative of Oshi no Ko can be understood as a fusion of various myths centered on Amaterasu (Ruby).

The myths include:

The story of Amaterasu’s parents and the failed resurrection of the deceased (echoing Ai and Kamiki).

Amaterasu’s emergence from the cave (paralleling Ame-no-Uzume’s connection with Ai and Ruby).

The Heavenly Descent myth, where Ame-no-Uzume meets and seduces Sarutahiko (amalgamated with the creator god myth, having Aqua, the Susanoo, the sea deity who;s in bad terms with his father, playing a role in Sarutahiko-Kamiki’s demise).

Thus, Ruby suddenly emerges as the central figure of this intricate tapestry of myths.

To elaborate a bit further, Sarutahiko was also a native sun god, meaning he likely served the role of the sun deity before Amaterasu.

Therefore, if he wasn’t in good condition, the gods might have sent Amaterasu, the new sun god, to replace him. This is a plausible interpretation.

As for Ai… Kamiki is her divine husband, isn’t he?

Kamiki is originally a guiding god who leads everything in a positive direction. Ai might have unconsciously known that the situation would improve if he were set back on the right path. That’s likely why she entrusted their children with the task of helping her with guiding him back if he's gone lost.

Sarutahiko and Ame-no-Uzume are known to be an incredibly harmonious couple, they are very loving together.

It seems to me that the author of this story really loves mythology. Considering that this is a narrative about the entertainment industry, it feels inevitable that the story of these deities—protectors of the entertainment world—would be incorporated. Their tale is actually rather charming and heartwarming. A goddess descended from the heavens and, upon seeing the radiant god of the land, fell for him. She persuaded him to guide her, and they instantly hit it off. The two eventually became a couple and jointly protected the entertainment industry. After that, Ame-no-Uzume took charge of love and romance, while Sarutahiko became the god who guides everything toward good outcomes.

As for their inherent abilities: Ame-no-Uzume was associated with entertainment (dance and song) and was also the goddess of dawn, while Sarutahiko was a great deity of light, the land, and the sun.

When they became a couple, they gained additional abilities. Ame-no-Uzume, worshipped alongside her husband at shrines, began granting blessings related to love, marriage, and romance. Sarutahiko, after guiding Ame-no-Uzume and Amaterasu, gained the ability to lead others' futures in a positive direction—a power to guide others' fates.

Don’t these characteristics align with the abilities Ai and Kamiki would have if they were deities?

Their abilities also correspond to those granted by the white and black star eyes: eyes that convey love, and eyes that influence and sway others.

Ai and Kamiki correspond to Ame-no-Uzume-no-Mikoto and Sarutahiko-no-Ōkami, respectively. By nature, they would have been a deeply loving couple.

Sarutahiko, in particular, was convinced by his wife’s words, let go of many things, and agreed to marry her. This indicates that he was likely a devoted husband. Furthermore, he is such a powerful deity that he’s referred to with the honorary title Ōkami, placing him among only seven supreme gods, including Amaterasu.

After his wife’s death, he seems to have gone mad and caused disasters. There’s no way this god would have wanted his wife to die. I think he didn’t realize at first that he had the ability to twist others’ futures. Hints of this can be found in the lyrics of the first ending and the second opening of the series—lines like "I’ve forgotten who I am" and "creative fall" are highly suggestive. Also, in the first opening, which focuses on Ai, she’s referred to as the reincarnation of a star. This suggests that Ai is literally a "star"—in other words, a kind of deity.

The white and black star eyes possess power and exert influence over those who have them. Kamiki, who was gathering white stars, was essentially searching for Ai. He was looking for his wife.

Now, let’s summarize the deeper narrative of this story:

Ai and Kamiki are not ordinary humans but are reincarnations of gods—specifically Ame-no-Uzume-no-Mikoto and Sarutahiko-no-Ōkami.

They were somehow born as humans, met, and became a couple, but the darkness of the entertainment industry drove them apart. At this time, Kamiki was in a very poor state.

Kamiki, as the god of light, could not restore his light. The key to recovery, based on clues from the story’s ending, appears to be "love." This is also essential for Ai as a deity. Both characters lived longing for love because it is central to their function as gods.

Kamiki, a guiding god, became fixed in a state where his eyes were black stars instead of white ones, leading him to unintentionally twist others’ futures negatively. This likely wasn’t intentional at first.

The gods gave their children a mission. While the children were originally not supposed to be born, Tsukuyomi (the god of fate) intervened to place suitable souls into their bodies. In other words, the bodies are the children of reincarnated gods, while their souls were specifically chosen by the gods. This is what Tsukuyomi means by "you should realize why your souls are within those body"

Among the children, Ruby is Amaterasu (confirmed), and Aqua is likely Susanoo (suspected). Tsukuyomi watches over them (Izanagi’s triplets).

Ruby’s mission is to shine, while Aqua’s mission is to protect Ruby as she fulfills her role/get his dad.

Amaterasu, as the sun god, overlaps with Sarutahiko’s domain. In one myth, Amaterasu replaces Sarutahiko, after which he drowns. If Ruby is Amaterasu, she may have been sent to replace Kamiki, who was no longer functioning properly.

Ai dies. Aqua becomes convinced that avenging her is his mission. Kamiki is somehow involved in Ai’s death, and he blames himself for it. Whether it was his intention remains unclear as of the story’s conclusion.

Kamiki wanders in search of Ai and her love. Based on the lyrics and narratives in the story, he initially wanted to bring Ai back to life. Realizing this was impossible, he seemed to shift his goal to becoming like Ai or getting closer to her. At the same time, his self-hatred intensified, leaving him indifferent to his own survival. Yet, he couldn’t give up on Ai and continued pursuing related endeavors.

Kamiki, realizing that his children are seeking him, guides Ruby and Aqua to find him through his powers as a guiding god (lyrics of Mephisto). Ruby’s rapid career rise, seemingly aided by divine intervention, is likely due to his influence. He is also the one granting wishes, as seen when he asks Ruby what she wants to become or wishes for.

Tsukuyomi observes the situation and prompts the twins—especially Aqua—to approach Kamiki. From the gods’ perspective, Kamiki is dangerous and must be replaced and removed. Ruby, as Amaterasu, is capable of both replacing him and fulfilling Ai’s role. Aqua is pushed to protect Ruby’s fate and eliminate Kamiki through extreme measures.

Ultimately, Aqua sacrifices everything, including his own future, to achieve this goal. Kamiki, as a guiding god, cannot influence someone with no future, making Aqua’s choice effective. In the process, Aqua realizes that his mission was to help Ruby shine as Amaterasu.

Ruby, as Amaterasu, fulfills her mission and shines brilliantly. She continues to live, carrying out the role assigned to her by the gods.

This is probably how peculiar elements like gods, reincarnation, missions, wishes, stars, etc., have been underlying this story all along.

And if you look closely, these are the decisive elements that have driven the narrative. Without these, there would be no reason for the ending to unfold this way, and interpreting the progression in this light feels more natural.

But why didn’t they properly explain this??? Are there many people who understand this story as such? I think there’s no other way to unify and explain everything in the story except for this interpretation, and yet, even I have never seen the story explicitly touch on this properly, so I’m confused myself. I honestly think the storytelling failed here.

I usually write posts like this all in one sitting, this time too, so I ended up completely drained... LOL. But if I can sit down and write all this at once without any outline, it means I’m not bad at writing, right...? haha..

The writers didn’t do their job properly. I haven’t been able to find any other way to interpret this. Over the past few months, I’ve been wondering what on earth is going on because the most basic elements are presented in such a vague and peculiar way that it’s hard to grasp. It was so frustrating.

This is it. This must be it. Writing it all down like this helps me move forward a bit.

I don’t know if there’s any other way to interpret it, but interpreting it this way makes everything fit perfectly—even down to the characters’ names.

Kamiki, that guy, is the god of light. Ai is "the love of the stars", in this manga, stars = gods, and the light of love (Ai) resides within the white star in the eyes.

That’s why Kamiki, after Ai’s death, went looking for her through gathering them. Even the lyrics of the songs align perfectly when interpreted this way—it all comes together cohesively.

Seeing their father go mad, and act this way - because he’s a god gone mad- the other gods used their children: one to replace the roles of their parents (the god of light + the god of love substituted through Amaterasu) and the other to capture and possibly kill the mad god and prevent him from causing further catastrophes.

That’s the core of this story.

But then, what were Akane and Kana? Why did they include those narratives if they didn’t influence the ending? It’s so frustrating and infuriating because, on the surface, it seemed like Aqua and his friends were the central focus of the story. Looking at the ending, though, they were treated as side plots—parts that could have been left out entirely.

Should we think of them as subplots? But then again, Aqua hurt those girls so much. It’s heartbreaking when you think about it. I wish he just stayed as a pal and hadn’t gotten entangled with them or played with their feelings. Why did he leave things ambiguous with them...

Hey, but Kamiki, at least, was sincere toward Ai. About his concept of love... sigh. He’s got a lot of issues, really, but despite all those issues, he genuinely wanted to give everything and devoted himself entirely to her. To me, it seems like he loved Ai so much that he went mad, and because his powers went awry, Ai ended up dying. So he roamed around, trying to retrieve her and bring her back to life to reverse it.

I don’t think he ever had malicious intent. I know, clearly, at this point, he’s completely insane and needs to face punishment still, but... his life was just total misery and the story doesn't explain anything about him so that he can be took as what he actually is in a fair sense.

This person… It’s not that I can’t analyze characters, and it’s not that I’m unable to read into their psychology, but I think this person really is kind. They act and speak kindly even when there’s absolutely no need to do so in a given situation. It’s not pretense—it’s genuinely their nature. That’s why I’ve been so unsure about how to perceive them. Why would the writers portray someone like this? Without delving into the deeper narrative layers, it’s impossible to grasp this character.

If Kamiki hadn’t ended up in this situation, he would’ve been an incredibly good person. Not just ordinarily good—exceptionally so. There’s not much evidence for this, there isn't much we see about him in the first place, but if they’ve shown him to this extent without directly portraying anything that proves against it, it actually makes sense in terms of narrative causality. It means the events unfolding the way they did are somehow justified even without explicit proof. That he's kind, but there's still something about him that can cause immense malice and destruction at the same time. From what I can see, he would’ve been one of the rarest and most genuinely good people, in the top few percent. That’s why I found it so baffling that he could commit such actions.

He’s likely a god,—a god who couldn’t handle the grief of losing his wife. He really is a god. Rather than a person being evil, he’s a god driven mad by his wife’s death. I wish Ai could come for him somehow... He should go to hell, he's committed so many unforgivable sins yeah? but on his way there, I hope she could at least see him off one last time. That is, if she didn’t lose all affection for him after witnessing his actions. I don't think she would have, but he'd still have to pay for his wrongs though. That's why I kept drawing comics with that kind of note.

It’s unclear whether he intended such extreme outcomes or whether his powers acted on their own. That ambiguity comes from the fact that there were definitely points where it seemed like he couldn’t control himself. He speaks so softly, and he’s kindhearted—but he’s no longer in his right mind, and it seems like everything other than Ai has completely disappeared from his view.

It shouldn’t have come to this. If he remained the kind of person he should’ve been, this wouldn’t have happened. But we’re not just seeing a change in personality; this is a fundamental corruption of his very essence. It’s the kind of transformation that happens to someone who isn’t human, and there were clues all along suggesting this. That’s why interpreting it this way feels right.

When you view it through this lens, the entire story comes together. It explains why things have unfolded the way they have.

I need to go read some books. Honestly, while following this work, I seriously questioned myself: Am I the one who doesn’t get it? Is it my reading comprehension that’s lacking? I agonized over it because the plot was seemingly sailing smooth, but the ending threw me into complete confusion. I started wondering, Can I even read books properly? and felt a bit of existential dread.

But this works. This must be it.

It’s not about couples or pairings; ships, otps, I'm serious!!! It’s about how the story unfolds in a natural flow and leads to this kind of conclusion. From that perspective, this kind of organization was necessary.

Now, I really don't want to keep talking about this anymore. I don’t want to. I just want to organize my thoughts, understand, and conclude, Oh, this is what the story was about, and then move on to something else. I want to shake off this lingering discomfort. This work kept bugging me because it felt so unexplained and I could sense some sense of underlying layer just hanging but never discussed.

I was really anxious, but I’m confident this is it. Even if it isn’t, I don’t think the writers could have wrapped it up in a way that makes more sense than this. That’s how certain I am.

But seriously, how could they make me piece this all together through independent research on my own? This is just too much… it was so exhausting, truly.

[emmyrosee]

C-can we have baby megumi call reader mom for the first time 🥺👉👈

YOU TRYNA KILL ME 🥺

——-

The movie is just about over when you meet your gaze with toji, who’s half asleep on the couch next to you. He smiles exhaustedly before flicking his eyes down to megumi, who’s fast asleep in your lap. Bedtime was hours ago, but ever the stubborn one, Megumi insisted on watching the movie with you both, changing the subject from horror to family friendly.

He was sound asleep not fifteen minutes in. Your thighs are tingling with numbness, but you would never dare waking the small boy.

“I’ll clean up toys, you wanna do bedtime?” He asks. You hum happily and scoop the small boy in your arms, smiling as he stretches before nuzzling closer. “Kid’s getting big.”

“Never too big to be tucked in,” you mewl, shifting Megumi slightly. He smacks his tiny lips together.

“Maybe he’s too big for ya-“

“No, he’s not, he’s perfect, back off,” you hiss quickly, making Toji snicker and shake his head. You carry him down the hall to his bedroom, plopping down on the small bed and cradling him close. His cheek is warm against your hand, and you press a tiny kiss to his forehead adoringly.

“Your dad’s crazy,” you whisper to the small boy, brushing his hair out of his face. “But I guess we’ll keep him, yeah?”

“Mmhm,” megumi huffs, knuckling his eye. You smile roll your thumb over the swell of his cheeks.

“Go back to sleep, ‘gumi,” you coo, shifting the blanket to slot him under. He quickly burrows under the warmth, nuzzling into his pillow. His cheeks are reddening with sleep, and just as you make a move to leave, he paws for your hand.

“Mumma…”

The room is still, save for Megumi’s rhythmic breathing. His tiny fingers grip onto your ring finger, holding tightly. His little lips are smooshed against the pillow as he sleeps, but you however, couldn’t breathe, too overcome with emotions over just what megumi said.

Mumma. He called you his mumma, he trusted you enough, loves you enough to give you that title, and your bottom lip wobbles as your thumb strokes over his tiny fingers. Tears roll down your cheeks and splatter onto the sheets below you, darkening the fabric underneath. Your free hand comes up to cover your mouth, worrying about waking him with your sobs.

Your body trembles with emotion, exhilaration and excitement coursing through you, and you try your best to keep it all composed.

“M-Mumma’s he-re, baby,” you choke, squeezing his hand gently.

You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there, watching him sleep, but it’s long enough where toji comes to seek you out.

“Jeez,” he grumbles, voice low to keep his son from waking up. “How long does it take-“ he softens at the sight of your tears. “The hell happened?”

“He called me mumma,” you explain, sniffling and shaking your head. “He’s just… never done that.” At your explanation, toji chuckles and stalks into the bedroom, big hand resting on your back and rubbing soothing circles to ground you.

He hums, “what can I say? The booger likes you.”You look up at him with a smile, and he uses his free hand to wipe a tear from your eye. “And I got no complaints about your company either.”

You gently ease your hand out of Megumi’s grip, moving his stuffed dog from one side of his bed and into his arms, which he subconsciously grabs and nuzzles into.

“I like him, too,” you whisper. You look back up at toji, and immediately, raise your arms. “And I’ll like you too if you carry me to bed.”

He groans softly, “the kid is right here-“

“If you really love me you’ll do it,” you tease. Toji rolls his eyes and hunches over to get you onto his back, shushing you as you giggle and climb on.

“You tryna wake the brat up?” He grunts, carrying you out and closing the door behind him.

“He’s not a brat.”

“You’re a brat.”

You kiss his temple wetly, “so what?”

“I’ll give you so what,” he grumbles, stalking through the halls.

[jupiterpilgrim]

The Secret Folders - Or Surprisingly Exposed

Seulgi x Male Reader

word count: 4.5K

The horror movie flickers across the TV screen, casting dancing shadows around Seulgi's dimly lit living room. But you can barely focus on the generic slasher plot - not with her sitting so close beside you on the plush leather couch. Your best friend since college is wearing those damn gray pajama pants again, the ones that hug every curve of her toned legs and petite frame. Combined with a loose t-shirt that's always sliding off her shoulder, giving a glimpse of her collarbone; she's the perfect mix of casual comfort and unintentional sexiness that's been driving you insane lately.

"Earth to spacehead," Seulgi says with a playful nudge, breaking you from your wandering thoughts. "That's like the third time you've jumped at absolutely nothing. The movie's not even at a scary part yet."

You force what you hope is a casual laugh, hyper-aware of how her half-bare shoulder brushes against yours as she shifts position. "Just tired I guess. Long week at work and all that."

"Bullshit," she counters with that knowing half-smirk that makes your stomach do backflips. "I've seen you marathon horror movies until 4 AM after double shifts. Try again."

"Maybe I'm just getting old and jumpy?" You attempt deflection, but your voice comes out higher than intended.

Seulgi pauses the movie mid-scene, turning to face you fully with her legs tucked under her.

"Or maybe," she draws out the words slowly, dark eyes studying your expression, "you're distracted by something else entirely. Or should I say... someone?"

Your heart rate kicks up several notches. There's a glint in her eye that you've never seen before - something predatory and knowing that makes your mouth go dry. "W-what do you mean?"

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean." She leans in slightly, her vanilla-scented shampoo filling your senses. "See, the other day when I borrowed your laptop to print those work documents? I may have accidentally stumbled across some... interesting folders."

The blood drains from your face as realization hits.

Fuck.

Those folders.

The ones you thought were safely buried in obscure subfolders with innocuous names. The ones filled with carefully edited split-screen videos - porn on one side, usually featuring petite Asian women who looked just like...

"Your face is doing that thing it does when you're panicking," Seulgi observes, seeming almost amused by your deer-in-headlights expression. "The same look you had that time we almost got caught sneaking into the campus pool senior year."

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out. How do you explain away folders full of porn videos meticulously edited to display alongside photos of your best friend? There's no platonic explanation for that level of obsession.

"I have to say," she continues casually, as if discussing the movie rather than your darkest secret, "I'm a little hurt you didn't just tell me you were into me. We've been friends for what, six years now? That's a long time to keep those kinds of feelings bottled up."

"Seulgi, I..." you start, then falter. "I never wanted to mess up our friendship. You mean too much to me to risk that. And I know those folders were fucked up. I promise I'll delete everything! I'm so sorry you had to see that-"

"Shh." She presses a finger to your lips, effectively silencing your rambling apology. "I'm not finished. Because while I was surprised to find those folders... What surprised me more was realizing how much they turned me on. Damn, I didn't know you were such a dirty boy."

Your brain short-circuits at her words, unable to process this turn of events. Seulgi takes advantage of your stunned silence to slide closer.

"Want to know a secret?" she whispers, her lips barely an inch from your ear. "I've thought about you too. All those times we've had sleepovers, sharing my bed... I'd lie awake wondering what would happen if I just rolled over and kissed you. If I told you how wet I get when you look at me with those hungry eyes you think I don't notice."

"Fuck," you breathe out shakily as her hand lands on your thigh, fingertips tracing idle patterns through your sweatpants. "Is this really happening?"

"That depends," she replies with mock thoughtfulness. "Do you want it to be happening? Because I saw those videos you like... all those pretty Asian girls taking it up the ass... is that what you want to do to me? Do you want me to be your anal princess?"

Your grip on the couch cushion tightens as arousal shoots through you at her blunt words. Hearing your best friend talk like this is driving you crazy.

"Don't worry, I always wanted this too," she continues, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Do you remember all those times I'd sit in your lap for no reason? When I'd 'accidentally' grind against you while reaching for something?" She grins wickedly. "That wasn't accidental at all. I've been trying to make you hard for months."

Your mind races back through countless moments - Seulgi plopping down on your lap during movie nights, wiggling her tight little ass against your crotch as she "got comfortable." How many times had you gone home afterward to jerk off thinking about it?

"I could feel it, you know," she continues, her voice dropping lower. "How hard you'd get. Sometimes I could even feel your cock twitch through your pants. It made me so wet knowing I was affecting you like that."

You groan, unable to help yourself. "Fuck, Seulgi..."

"And you know what really got me hot?" She leans in close, her lips brushing your ear. "Sometimes I could feel your cock right against my asshole through our clothes. The way it would press right there... god, it made me want to just pull my pants down and let you fuck my ass right then and there."

Your cock is straining painfully against your jeans now as Seulgi's dirty confession pours out. She notices, of course, and presses her palm firmly against your bulge.

"You still haven't answered me: all those videos you picked - they were all anal scenes. Is that what you think about? Fucking my tight little ass?"

Unable to form words, you just nod. Seulgi's hand squeezes your cock through your pants.

"Tell me," she demands. "I want to hear you say it."

Swallowing hard, you force yourself to meet her intense gaze. "Yes. Fuck yes! I think about your ass all the time. Every time you wear that fucking leggings, I can see every curve, how tight and perfect it is. I go home and jerk off thinking about spreading those cheeks and burying my cock in your ass."

Seulgi moans, grinding the heel of her hand against your erection. "Keep going. Tell me more."

The dam breaks and all your pent-up fantasies come pouring out. "I think about eating your ass first, getting it nice and wet with my tongue. Spreading you open and licking you until you're begging for my cock. Then sliding into that tight hole inch by inch while you take it all..."

"Fuck," Seulgi gasps, her free hand sliding between her own legs. "I knew we had a connection. Want to know a secret?"

You nod eagerly, hypnotized by the way she's rubbing herself through her pants.

"I have toys," she confesses. "Butt plugs, dildos... I use them in my ass almost every night thinking about you. Imagining it's your thick cock stretching me open instead."

That confession breaks the last of your restraint. With a growl, you grab Seulgi and pull her into your lap, crushing your lips together in a desperate kiss. She responds immediately, grinding her ass against your cock as her tongue invades your mouth.

You grab her firm ass with both hands, squeezing and spreading the cheeks through the fabric. Seulgi moans into your mouth, rolling her hips to create more friction.

"Bedroom," she pants, breaking the kiss. "Now. I need you to fuck my ass properly."

You don't need to be told twice. Standing up with Seulgi still wrapped around you, you carry her down the hall to her room, hands firmly gripping her ass the whole way. She attacks your neck with kisses and little bites that make your cock throb.

Once in her bedroom, you toss her onto the bed and she bounces with a giggle that quickly turns into a moan as you grab the waistband of her pajama pants and yank them down. Her tiny black thong comes with them, leaving her lower half completely exposed.

"Fuck, look at that ass," you breathe, taking in the sight of her small, perfectly round cheeks. You've imagined this view countless times, but reality is so much better.

Seulgi wiggles her hips teasingly. "Touch it. I've been waiting so long to feel your hands on me."

You don't hesitate, climbing onto the bed and running your palms over the smooth globes of her ass. Her skin is incredibly soft and warm under your touch. You squeeze and knead the firm flesh, spreading her cheeks to reveal her tight pink hole.

"God, it's perfect," you groan, rubbing your thumb over her puckered entrance. Seulgi pushes back against the touch with a whimper.

"Taste it," she demands, arching her back to present herself better. "I want to feel your tongue in my ass."

You dive in eagerly, spreading her cheeks wide and dragging your tongue from her dripping pussy up to her asshole. Seulgi cries out, pushing back against your face as you circle her rim with firm licks.

"Yes, fuck, just like that," she moans. "Get my ass nice and wet for your cock."

You alternate between broad licks and pointed jabs with your tongue, gradually working the tip past her tight ring of muscle. Seulgi's whole body shudders as you tongue-fuck her ass, her pussy dripping onto the sheets below.

"More," she begs. "Stick your tongue in deeper. Get me ready for that thick cock."

You redouble your efforts, gripping her ass cheeks hard enough to leave marks as you bury your face between them. Your tongue pushes deeper into her hot channel while your nose presses against her taint. The musky, intimate taste of her ass only makes you harder.

Seulgi reaches back and spreads herself even wider for you. "That's it, eat my fucking ass. God, I've dreamed about this so many times."

You pull back just enough to spit directly onto her hole, watching it clench and relax. "Me too. Every time you sat on my lap, I wanted to bend you over and tongue-fuck this perfect little ass."

"I knew it," she pants. "I could feel how hard you'd get. Sometimes I'd grind back extra hard just to feel your cock pressing against my asshole through our clothes."

You press your thumb against her spit-slicked entrance, watching it slowly sink in to the first knuckle. Seulgi moans and pushes back, taking it deeper.

"Look how eager your ass is," you tease, working your thumb in and out. "Such a greedy little hole."

"Only for you," she gasps. "I've been saving my ass for your cock. Now stop teasing and fuck me already."

But you're not done exploring yet. You've fantasized about this too long to rush it. Pulling your thumb out, you replace it with two fingers, slowly working them into her tight channel.

"Fuck yes," Seulgi hisses. "Stretch me open. Get me ready for that big dick."

You pump your fingers steadily in and out of her ass, watching in fascination as her hole grips and releases them. Your other hand slides around to find her clit, rubbing the swollen nub in time with your thrusts.

"Oh god," she moans, rocking between your fingers. "That feels so fucking good. Add another finger, please. I want to be nice and loose for you."

You comply, working a third digit into her stretched hole. Seulgi's back arches beautifully as she takes it, a long moan escaping her lips.

"Such a good girl, taking it so well," you praise, scissoring your fingers to open her up more. "I can't wait to feel this tight ass wrapped around my cock."

"Please," she whimpers. "I need it. Need your cock in my ass so bad."

You continue finger-fucking her ass while your other hand works her clit, building her up slowly. Seulgi's moans get higher and more desperate as she approaches orgasm.

"That's it," you encourage. "Cum for me. Cum with my fingers in your ass."

Seulgi's whole body tenses as she crashes over the edge, her ass clenching rhythmically around your fingers as she cums. You work her through it, only stopping when she collapses bonelessly onto the bed.

"Holy fuck," she pants, looking back at you with glazed eyes. "That was so good."

You slowly withdraw your fingers, admiring how her hole stays slightly open. "Just wait until you feel my cock in there."

"Yes please," she purrs, rolling onto her back. "But first, get naked. I want to see what I've been missing."

You quickly strip off your clothes, your cock springing free rock hard and leaking. Seulgi's eyes go wide as she takes in your size.

"Fuck, you're bigger than my toys," she says appreciatively. "No wonder I could feel you so well through your pants."

She sits up and pulls her t-shirt off, revealing small, perky breasts with hard nipples. Your mouth waters at the sight of her toned body, tight abs leading down to her bare pussy.

"Come here," she beckons, reaching for your cock. "Let me get you nice and wet first."

You move closer and Seulgi wraps her small hand around your shaft, stroking slowly. Pre-cum leaks from the tip and she uses it to lubricate her movements.

"I've wanted to touch your cock for so long," she admits, leaning in to lick a stripe up the underside. "Every time I felt it getting hard under me, I wanted to pull it out and suck it."

Her tongue swirls around the head before she takes you into her mouth. You groan as she sucks you deeper, her hand working what doesn't fit.

"Fuck, your mouth feels amazing," you pant, threading your fingers through her hair.

Seulgi hums around your cock, the vibrations making your legs shake. She works you expertly, alternating between deep throat attempts and focusing on the sensitive head.

After a few minutes of this heavenly torture, you have to stop her. "Wait, I don't want to cum yet. I want to save it for your ass."

She releases you after a long suck on the tip. "Mmm, yes please. I want you to cum deep in my ass."

Seulgi rolls over onto her hands and knees, presenting her ass to you once again. "I need your cock in my ass so bad, babe. The lube is on the nightstand."

You grab the bottle and drizzle it generously over her hole and your cock. Using your fingers, you work it into her ass, making sure she's well-prepared.

"Ready?" you ask, lining yourself up with her entrance.

"God yes," she moans. "Fill my ass with that big cock."

You press forward slowly, watching the head of your cock stretch her tight ring of muscle. Seulgi whimpers as you breach her, her hands fisting in the sheets.

"You okay?" you check, pausing to let her adjust.

"Yes, don't stop," she pants. "Keep going. I want all of it."

You continue pushing forward inch by inch, groaning at the incredible tightness of her ass. Seulgi rocks back slightly, helping to work you deeper.

"Fuck, you're so big," she gasps. "My ass feels so full."

Finally, you bottom out, your hips pressed flush against her ass cheeks. You both moan at the sensation of being completely joined.

"How does it feel?" you ask, running your hands over her back.

"Amazing," she breathes. "Better than I ever imagined. Start moving, please. I need you to fuck my ass."

You pull back slowly until just the head remains inside, then push back in at the same pace. Seulgi's ass grips you like a vice, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"God, your ass is perfect," you groan, establishing a steady rhythm. "So fucking tight around my cock."

"Yes, fuck my ass," she moans. "Use my tight little hole. I've been saving it just for you."

You gradually increase your pace, watching in fascination as her ass swallows your cock over and over. The sight of your shaft disappearing into her stretched hole is hypnotic.

Seulgi reaches between her legs to play with her clit as you fuck her ass. "Harder," she demands. "I can take it. I want you to really fuck me."

You grip her hips tighter and start pounding into her ass with more force. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with both of your moans and gasps.

"Yes, just like that," she cries. "Fuck my ass hard. Make me your anal whore."

Her dirty talk spurs you on and you slam into her even harder, watching her small body jolt with each thrust. Your balls slap against her pussy, adding to the obscene symphony of sounds.

"You like that?" you growl, spanking her ass cheek. "Like having your tight little ass stretched around my cock?"

"God yes," she pants. "I love it. Love feeling you so deep in my ass. Don't stop, please don't stop!"

You can feel her getting close again, her ass clenching rhythmically around your cock as she works her clit faster. The extra tightness is bringing you closer to the edge too.

"Gonna cum soon," you warn, your thrusts becoming more erratic.

"Inside," she begs. "Cum in my ass! Fill me up with your hot load."

The combination of her words and her tight ass proves too much. With a final deep thrust, you explode inside her, painting her walls with rope after rope of cum. The feeling of being filled triggers Seulgi's own orgasm and she screams your name as she cums hard around your cock.

You continue pumping slowly, working both of you through your climaxes until you're completely spent. It's when you collapse forward, careful not to crush her smaller frame. Both of you pant heavily as you come down from your respective highs.

"Stay inside me," she murmurs when you start to pull out. "I want to feel your cum in my ass as long as possible."

You comply, remaining buried in her stretched hole as it continues to pulse around your softening cock.

"Fuck, that's hot," you groan, bringing your face closer to kiss her neck. Her tight hole squeezes you and you can feel your cum starting to leak out around your shaft.

"I can't believe we finally did this," Seulgi says softly, turning her head to look at you with those beautiful eyes that always drive you crazy. "I've wanted you for so long..."

"Really?" you ask, genuinely surprised. "I had no idea. I mean, I've always been attracted to you too but I figured I wasn't your type."

She lets out a little laugh. "Are you kidding? You're exactly my type. I've been fantasizing about you fucking me like this for years." She rolls her hips slightly, making you both moan as your semi-hard cock shifts inside her cum-filled ass.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" you ask, running your hands up and down her smooth back.

"Same reason as you probably - didn't want to risk ruining our friendship," she admits. "Plus I wasn't sure if you saw me that way. I mean, you were always so shy, never showing any obvious interest, despite your glances at me... It was hard to decipher what you really wanted."

"Well, now you know what I really want. Do you know how many times I've jerked off thinking about that perfect little ass of yours?" You give her ass cheeks a squeeze for emphasis. "Or those cute little tits? Or those fucking gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock?"

Seulgi moans softly at your words, her ass clenching around you again. "Mmm tell me more... What else did you think about doing to me?"

You can feel your dick starting to harden again inside her as you continue: "Fuck, everything. Bending you over every surface in my apartment. Watching you bounce on my cock. Filling all your tight little holes with cum. The way you'd look with my dick stretching out that pretty mouth..."

"God yes," she whimpers, beginning to slowly grind against you. Your cock is definitely getting hard again now, making her gasp as it swells inside her ass. "I used to imagine you just grabbing me one day and taking what you wanted. Pushing me up against a wall and shoving your big cock inside me..."

"Yeah? You wanted me to just use you like a little fucktoy?"

"Yes! Fuck yes," she confesses. "I wanted you to treat me like your personal cumslut. Make me take that fat cock however you wanted..."

Your dick is fully hard again now, throbbing inside her cum-filled ass. You can feel your previous load still leaking out around your shaft as she continues grinding against you.

"Well now we can make up for lost time," you tell Seulgi as you pull out of her slowly, laying on your back on the bed as you pull her on top of you. "I'm going to fuck this tight little ass whenever I want now. Fill you up with load after load of cum..."

"Promise?" she asks breathlessly, grabbing your cock in her hand as she slowly reinserts it into her ass, sitting on top of you. The new angle lets you fully appreciate her perfect petite body - those perky tits, flat stomach, and that incredible ass currently impaled on your shaft.

"Fuck yes I promise. But now I want to see your perfect little body riding my cock..." You grab her hips and thrust up into her, making her cry out in pleasure.

"Oh god! Yes! Let me ride you," Seulgi purrs. She starts rolling her hips experimentally, getting used to the feeling of controlling the penetration. Your previous load of cum makes obscene wet sounds as she moves, some of it leaking out around your cock and dripping onto your balls. The sight of your thick shaft disappearing into her tight little hole is fucking mesmerizing.

"Fuck, you look so hot like this," you groan, gripping her slim hips. Her ass clenches around you at the compliment, making you both moan.

"Yeah? You like watching me bounce on your big cock?" she asks breathlessly, starting to lift herself up and down properly now. The way she moves is absolutely perfect - she clearly knows exactly what she wants and how to get it.

"God yes, love watching this tight little ass take my cock," you tell her, giving her ass cheeks a squeeze. "Such a perfect little slut, riding me like you were made for it..."

Seulgi throws her head back and really starts going for it, bouncing enthusiastically on your dick. Her small tits bounce with the movement and you reach up to pinch her hard nipples, making her cry out in pleasure. The wet sounds of your cum squelching around your shaft get even louder as she picks up speed.

"Fuck! Your cock feels so good in my ass," she pants, grinding down hard against you. "Love feeling it stretch me open... Love having your cum inside me..."

You thrust up to meet her movements, driving your cock deeper into her tight hole. The way she's riding you is absolutely incredible - her ass is still gripping your shaft like a vice even after taking your first load. Every time she drops down, taking you balls deep, she lets out these perfect little whimpers that drive you crazy.

"That's it baby, ride that cock," you encourage her, running your hands up her sides to cup her tits. "Show me how badly you've wanted this..."

"Wanted it so bad," she moans, bouncing faster. "Dreamed about riding your big cock like this... Feeling you stretch my tight little ass..."

Her dirty talk spurs you on and you start thrusting up harder, making her cry out with each deep stroke. The sight of your shaft disappearing into her perfect ass over and over, still slick with your previous load, is absolutely incredible. Some of your cum is leaking out around your cock, running down onto your balls in thick white streams.

"Such a perfect little anal slut," you growl, squeezing her tits roughly. "Taking my cock so well, begging for more... Were you always this much of a cumslut or is it just for me?"

"Just for you," she gasps, grinding down hard. "Never wanted anyone else like this... Never begged for anyone else's cum..."

Her words make your cock throb inside her and you start really pounding up into her tight hole. The way she's moving her hips is absolutely perfect, grinding down to take you as deep as possible before lifting up until just the tip remains inside her. Her ass clenches around you each time she rises up, like she doesn't want to let your cock go.

"Fuck yes, ride that dick," you encourage her, gripping her hips tightly. "Show me how badly you want another load in this tight little ass..."

"Want it so bad," she moans, bouncing frantically now. "Want you to fill me up again... Want even more of your hot cum deep inside me..."

The sight of her riding you like this is absolutely incredible. Her perfect little body bouncing on your cock, her tight ass gripping and milking your shaft, the way your previous load is leaking out around your cock - it's all driving you crazy with lust.

"Gonna fill this tight hole up again," you grunt, squeezing her ass roughly. "Paint your insides white with another huge load..."

"Yes! Please cum in my ass again," she begs, grinding down hard. "Want to feel you pump me full... Want your hot cum deep inside me..."

You can feel your orgasm building as she continues riding you frantically, her tight hole milking your cock perfectly.

"Fuck, I'm close," you warn her, gripping her hips tightly. "Gonna fill this perfect little ass up again..."

"Do it! Cum inside me," she moans, grinding down hard. "Fill me up, mark me as yours..."

A few more bounces and you're there, groaning loudly as you start pumping another huge load deep in her ass. Seulgi cries out and clenches around you, her own orgasm hitting as she feels your hot cum flooding her insides.

"Oh god, yes! I can feel it," she gasps, grinding against you as you continue spurting inside her. "So much cum... Filling me up so good..."

You thrust up a few more times, making sure to deposit every drop of cum as deep as possible in her tight hole. When you're finally spent, she collapses forward onto your chest, her sweat-slick skin sliding against yours, both of you breathing heavily as your softening cock remains buried in her thoroughly fucked and cum-filled ass.

"That was fucking incredible," you pant, running your hands up and down her back.

"Mmm it really was," she agrees, nuzzling against your neck. "Best night ever. We definitely need to do this again. Like, a lot."

"Oh we will," you assure her with a grin. "I meant what I said - I'm going to use this perfect little ass whenever I want now. You’re mine. Officially. No take-backs.”

Her grin softens into something more genuine, and she cups your face, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “So we’re doing this? Like, actually doing this?”

“Hell yes, we are,” you reply without hesitation. “We’ve wasted enough time pretending we didn’t want this. And now that I know how good we are together, you really think I’m letting you go?”

She pulls you into a kiss, slow and deep. “Good. Because I don’t want to go anywhere. I'm stuck with you now.”

“Stuck with me?” you repeat, smirking. “Babe, I'm the one who'll have to deal with your insane ass from now on. If anyone’s ‘stuck,’ it’s me.”

“Oh, please,” she fires back, rolling her eyes. “You love my insane ass.”

“Damn right, I do,” you say, sliding a hand down to squeeze it for emphasis. “And I plan on showing you just how much, every chance I get.”

She laughs, wrapping her arms around your neck. “God, we’re so screwed up. Who the hell starts a relationship like this?”

You shrug, leaning down to kiss her again. “Us, apparently. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The two of you stay tangled up in each other, talking and teasing until the conversation drifts back to the years of near-misses and unspoken feelings. It’s all out in the open now, and for the first time, it feels like everything’s exactly where it’s supposed to be.

—

You slowly open your eyes, still groggy from last night's intense activities. The morning sunlight filters through the curtains of Seulgi's bedroom, casting a warm glow across the messy sheets. Your naked body feels pleasantly sore as memories from yesterday flood back - how your petite best friend discovered those edited porn videos you made of her, and instead of getting pissed off, she got turned on. Who would've thought sweet little Seulgi was such a dirty girl?

The bed beside you is empty but still warm. You stretch lazily, enjoying the lingering scent of sex in the air mixed with her perfume. Your morning wood is already throbbing as you replay highlights from last night - Seulgi's tight little ass bouncing on your cock, her moans when you ate her holes, the way she begged for more...

The bedroom door opens and there she is - your best friend in all her sweaty glory. She's wearing a sports bra that shows off her perky tits and skin-tight leggings that hug every curve. Her skin glistens with perspiration, loose strands of hair sticking to her flushed face. Your cock instantly gets even harder.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Seulgi chirps, grabbing a towel to wipe her face. "Hope you don't mind, I always do my morning workout. Gotta keep this body tight, you know?" She strikes a playful pose.

"Fuck, you look incredible all sweaty like that," you growl, drinking in her athletic form. The way those leggings cling to her ass should be illegal. "Your body is fucking perfect."

She bites her lip, clearly pleased by the compliment. "Mmm, someone slept well I see," she says, eyeing your obvious erection beneath the sheets. "Still naked under there?"

"Want to come find out for yourself?"

"Actually..." Seulgi's eyes gleam with mischief. "I could use some extra cardio. Work up even more of a sweat..."

You throw back the sheets, exposing your rock-hard cock. "Get that sexy ass over here then."

Seulgi saunters toward the bed, her hips swaying. The musky scent of her post-workout sweat hits your nostrils and makes your mouth water. When she gets close enough, you grab her wrist and pull her down on top of you.

"Mmm, someone's eager," she giggles, grinding against your erection through her leggings.

You bury your face in her neck, inhaling deeply. The salty tang of her sweat mixed with her natural scent is intoxicating. Your tongue darts out to taste her glistening skin, trailing up to her ear.

"Fuck, you taste so good all sweaty," you growl. "I want to lick every inch of you."

Seulgi moans as you suck and nibble at her neck, leaving marks. Your hands roam over her toned body, squeezing her ass through those sinfully tight leggings. You've fantasized about her in workout clothes so many times, and now you finally get to live it out.

Your mouths crash together in a heated kiss. She tastes like mint - must have brushed her teeth before working out. Your tongues battle for dominance as you grind against each other. One hand slides up under her sports bra to pinch a hard nipple.

"These fucking leggings," you groan between kisses. "Do you know how many times I've jerked off thinking about ripping them open and fucking you in them?"

"Show me," she purrs. "Make those dirty fantasies real."

You don't need to be told twice. Gripping the fabric between her legs, you tear a hole right over her pussy and ass. The sound of ripping material fills the room as Seulgi gasps.

"Fuck yes, ruin them," she moans. "I love how fucking nasty you are."

You run your fingers over her exposed holes. Her pussy is already dripping wet, her asshole still slightly gaped from last night's pounding.

"I gotta admit, I'm gonna miss these leggings," Seulgi whines, but her pussy visibly clenches at the dominant display.

"I'll buy you new ones," you reply, tearing the hole wider until it extends from her lower back to her upper thighs. The torn edges frame her holes perfectly. "Now get to work on my cock while I eat this pretty pussy.”

She straddles your face in reverse, giving you a perfect view of her holes as she wraps her lips around your throbbing shaft. You groan at the wet heat enveloping your cock, the vibrations making her moan around you.

You spread her ass cheeks wide, admiring how her holes glisten with arousal. Her pussy is swollen and pink, cream already gathering at her entrance. Her tight asshole clenches invitingly.

"Such a pretty view," you murmur before diving in, dragging your tongue from her clit all the way up to her asshole. She shudders and moans around your cock, taking you deeper.

You alternate between broad licks through her folds and targeted flicks against her clit, gathering her tangy juices on your tongue. Her thighs start trembling as you suck her sensitive nub, her own oral efforts becoming sloppier as pleasure overtakes her.

"Mmmph!" she gags slightly as you thrust up into her throat, your hands gripping her ass to hold her in place. Tears gather in her eyes but she doesn't pull away, relaxing her throat to take you deeper.

You release her clit with a wet pop. "Good girl, taking my cock so deep while I eat this pussy." You punctuate your words by spearing your tongue into her dripping hole, tasting her deepest parts.

Her hips start grinding against your face as you tongue-fuck her, smearing her juices all over your chin. The torn leggings frame the erotic sight perfectly, the ripped edges emphasizing how thoroughly you're debauching her.

You pull back slightly to admire your work - her pussy is even more swollen now, her inner lips puffy and glistening. Her clit stands out prominently, begging for more attention. Above, her asshole clenches rhythmically, practically begging to be played with.

You drag your tongue up to circle her puckered entrance. Seulgi's whole body jerks at the contact, a muffled moan vibrating around your cock.

"Your ass is perfect," you murmur against her skin before diving back in, circling her rim with firm pressure. Her resistance melts away as you continue the rimming, replaced by breathy moans and hip rolls against your face.

You alternate between her holes - tongue-fucking her pussy until she's dripping, then moving up to tease her ass until it's quivering. Her own oral efforts match your intensity, her throat muscles massaging your cock as she deep throats you.

"Such a dirty girl," you growl between licks. "Getting your ass eaten while deepthroating cock... I bet you were planning this when you invited me to watch a fucking horror movie yesterday.”

She pulls off your cock with a gasp. "And it worked so we- Oh fuck, don't stop... feels so good..." She immediately swallows you back down, sucking with renewed vigor.

You focus your attention on her asshole, pointing your tongue to breach the tight ring of muscle. She practically squeals around your cock as you tongue-fuck her ass, her thighs shaking uncontrollably.

Her pussy is dripping steadily now, cream coating your chin and neck. You reach up to gather some on your fingers, using it to lubricate her asshole as you continue eating it. One finger slides in easily alongside your tongue, making her whole body jerk.

"Gonna make you cum just from eating your ass," you promise, working a second finger into her tight hole while your tongue continues circling the rim. Your other hand moves to her clit, rubbing quick circles on the swollen nub.

She's barely sucking your cock anymore, just holding it in her mouth as she pants and moans. Her hips rock desperately between your fingers and tongue, chasing her release.

"That's it baby, ride my face," you encourage, curling your fingers inside her ass while flicking her clit rapidly. "Want to feel you cum all over my chin..."

Her inner muscles start fluttering around your fingers as her orgasm approaches. You double down on your efforts, tongue and fingers working in harmony to push her over the edge.

She pulls off your cock with a cry as she starts cumming, her whole body convulsing. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuck!" Her pussy gushes, coating your chin and neck with cream as her ass clenches rhythmically around your fingers.

You work her through it until she's whimpering from oversensitivity, then slowly withdraw your fingers. Her holes clench around empty air, still quivering from the intense orgasm.

"I-I n-need your cock in my pussy," she pants. "You didn't even fuck it last night because you were so focused on my ass. Time to make up for that."

You give her holes one last long lick before letting her climb off your face. Seulgi turns around and straddles your hips, rubbing her dripping pussy along your shaft.

"Watch how easily your big cock stretches my little hole," she purrs, positioning you at her entrance.

You groan as she sinks down, taking you balls deep in one smooth motion. Her pussy grips you like a vice, so hot and wet around your throbbing member.

"Fuck, you're so tight," you growl, gripping her hips. "Ride that cock, baby. Show me how bad you want it."

Seulgi starts bouncing on your shaft, her perky tits bouncing in the sports bra. Sweat drips down her toned stomach as she works herself on your cock. You reach up to pinch her nipples through the fabric, making her clench around you.

"Your pussy feels amazing," you moan. "So fucking wet for me."

She speeds up her movements, slamming down to take you as deep as possible. Her pussy makes obscene squelching sounds as your cock pistons in and out of her soaking hole.

You thrust up to meet her bounces, making her cry out each time you bottom out. Her pussy cream coats your shaft and balls, making everything deliciously slick. You can feel her inner walls fluttering as she gets close to cumming again.

"Play with your clit," you command. "I want to feel you cum all over my cock."

Seulgi reaches down to rub her swollen nub while continuing to ride you. Her movements become more erratic as pleasure builds. You grab her ass cheeks, spreading them wide and teasing her rim with your thumb.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum on your cock!" she screams. Her pussy clamps down on your shaft as her orgasm hits. You keep thrusting through her climax, prolonging the waves of pleasure.

When her spasms subside, you pull out of her drenched hole. Your cock is coated in her cream, making it perfect for what comes next.

"Get on your hands and knees," you growl. "Time to stuff that tight little ass again."

Seulgi quickly assumes the position, arching her back to present her ass, the torn leggings frame her still-twitching holes perfectly. Her pussy is still pulsing from her orgasm, cream dripping down her thighs. Her asshole winks invitingly, already loosened from your fingers and last night's fucking.

You kneel behind her and rub your slick cock between her cheeks, teasing both holes. "You want my cock in your ass, don't you? Such a dirty girl, getting off on having both holes used."

"Please," she moans, pushing back against you. "Fuck my ass! I need it so bad!"

You press your cockhead against her tight rim, watching it slowly stretch around you. Despite being fucked there just hours ago, she's still deliciously tight. You grab her hips and steadily push forward until you're balls deep in her ass.

"Fuck yes," Seulgi pants. "Your cock feels so good stretching my ass!"

You start with slow, deep strokes, watching your shaft disappear into her hungry hole. Her ass grips you perfectly, sending waves of pleasure up your spine. You reach around to rub her clit, making her moan louder.

"Such a good little anal slut," you growl, speeding up your thrusts. "Taking my cock so deep in your ass while I play with your pussy."

Seulgi pushes back to meet each thrust, clearly loving the double stimulation. Her pussy drips steadily as you pound her ass, adding to the lewd sounds filling the room. You give her ass a hard smack, watching it jiggle.

"Harder!" she begs. "Wreck my fucking ass!"

You grab her hips tight and really start hammering into her. Your balls slap against her pussy with each thrust as you drill her asshole. Sweat drips down your chest, mixing with hers where your bodies meet.

The sight of your cock stretching her tight rim combined with her wanton moans has you getting close. You increase the pressure on her clit, wanting her to cum again before you finish.

"Gonna cum again," Seulgi gasps. "Keep fucking my ass just like that!"

Her whole body shakes as another orgasm rips through her. You feel her asshole spasm around your cock as she screams in pleasure.

“Fuck, I'm almost there,” you moan. “This time I'm gonna cover your little body with my cum.”

You pump into her stretched asshole a few more times, savoring the tight grip before withdrawing with a wet pop. Her gaping hole clenches around empty air as she quickly flips onto her back, her abs glistening with fresh workout sweat. The torn leggings frame her lower half perfectly, her pussy still dripping from her previous orgasms.

"Fuck, look at you," you growl, furiously stroking your cock as you kneel between her spread legs. Your shaft is slick with her ass juices, making obscene squelching sounds as you jerk it. "So fucking hot all sweaty and messy for me..."

Seulgi runs her hands over her damp skin, pinching her hard nipples through her sports bra. "Come on baby, mark me up. Want to feel your hot load all over my abs..."

Your cock throbs harder at her words. She looks like a fucking goddess lying there, skin golden and gleaming with perspiration, hair messy from getting railed, lips swollen from sucking your cock. The contrast of her still being partially clothed in her workout gear while being completely debauched is driving you wild.

"Play with yourself," you command, stroking faster. "Want to watch you rub that clit while I cover you in cum..."

She immediately slides a hand between her legs, fingers circling her swollen clit. Her other hand pushes her sports bra up to fully expose her perky tits, rolling a nipple between her fingers.

"Please," she whimpers, hips bucking as she pleasures herself. "Need your cum so bad... want you to paint me with it..."

You can feel your orgasm building, pressure mounting in your balls. Your cock is angry red and leaking precum steadily. Seulgi notices and licks her lips.

"Are you gonna cum for me baby?" she purrs, spreading her legs wider. "Want to feel it hot and thick all over my sweaty body... want you to mark your territory..."

"Fuck... gonna cum so hard for you..." you grunt, your hand a blur on your shaft. The wet sounds of her fingering herself mixed with your jerking is obscene.

"Do it," she demands, her fingers moving faster on her clit. "Fucking cover me... want to feel it splashing on my skin..."

Your orgasm hits like a freight train. The first rope of cum shoots out with incredible force, landing in a thick stripe from her collarbone down between her tits. The second and third spurts paint her ribs and abs, hot white streaks stark against her shiny skin.

"Yes! More!" she cries out, her own orgasm hitting as she watches you mark her. "Cover me!"

You continue cumming, decorating her sweaty stomach with rope after rope of thick seed. Some lands on the torn edges of her leggings, soaking into the fabric. The final few spurts dribble onto her lower abs, mixing with the sweat pooled in the grooves of her muscles.

When you're finally spent, you sit back to admire your work. Seulgi looks absolutely debauched - covered in sweat, cum, and pussy juice, workout clothes torn and disheveled, hair a mess. Your cum is already starting to run down the sides of her torso in rivulets, mixing with her sweat.

She runs her fingers through the mess on her stomach, spreading it around like lotion. The sight of her rubbing your seed into her sweaty skin makes your spent cock twitch weakly.

"Mmm, so much cum," she purrs, gathering some on her fingers and bringing them to her mouth. She maintains eye contact as she sucks them clean, moaning at the taste. "Love how it mixes with my sweat... makes me feel so dirty..."

She continues playing with the cum on her body, alternating between spreading it around and tasting it off her fingers. Some has dripped down to her pussy, mixing with her own juices.

"Fuck, that's hot," you groan, watching her enjoy your mess. She gathers more cum on her fingers and offers them to you. You eagerly suck them clean, tasting the salty mixture of your cum and her sweat.

"Love marking you up like this," you say as she continues rubbing the cooling cum into her skin. "Looking all sweaty and used, covered in my load..."

"Mmm, me too," she sighs contentedly. "Want you to do this every time I come back from working out... mark your territory all over my sweaty body..."

The combination of the visual, her dirty talk, and the various fluids coating her skin makes your cock start to harden again despite having just cum. Seulgi notices and laughs.

"Already getting hard again? Such a horny boy..." she teases, running a cum-covered finger down your shaft. "Save that energy for the next workout... want you nice and pent up so you can cover me in an even bigger load..."

You spend the next few minutes trading lazy kisses and caresses, enjoying the afterglow. Seulgi's skin is still flushed and glowing with sweat. Her sports bra is stained with your cum, marking her as yours.

"I should probably actually shower now," she says eventually. "Want to join me? I could use help getting clean... or maybe getting dirty again."

"Lead the way," you smirk, admiring her ass as she heads to the bathroom.

—

After the shower, you throw on some clothes and head to the kitchen. While Seulgi makes coffee, you raid her fridge for breakfast ingredients. The domestic scene feels surprisingly natural after the intensity of your sexual encounters.

"I still can't believe this all started because you caught me making porn edits of you," you say, cracking eggs into a pan.

She laughs. "I mean, I was shocked at first. But then I watched them and... fuck, they were hot. Made me realize how much I wanted you."

"Could have saved us both a lot of sexual frustration if we'd admitted it sooner."

"True. But making up for lost time has been pretty fun," she winks. "Plus now I have a personal trainer who really knows how to motivate me."

Breakfast becomes less about eating and more about stolen touches. Her fingers graze yours when you pass her a plate, and your knees bump under the table like it’s on purpose. Each bite of food comes with a side of heated glances that linger too long. The energy between you is still electric, even after having sex twice just this morning, alive with the kind of hunger that never truly fades.

Seulgi reaches across the table, her thumb brushing a crumb from your lip. Her touch lingers, her gaze heavy with desire. "We’re really bad at pretending this isn’t gonna happen again in about five minutes, huh?"

You grin, pushing your plate aside.

"Who’s pretending?”

[froggibus]

hiiiii :3 idk if ur taking reqs for dc right neow but a thought that tickles my brain rlly good is dick grayson/reader w a praise kink and dick exploits it n uses it to his advantage.... preferably afab reader but gn is fine :P

CTRL + H - Dick Grayson

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem! best friend! reader (uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: when your best friend discovers porn in your browser history while fixing your computer, he decides to use it to his advantage

CW: friends to lovers, lots of praise, uses of ‘good/pretty/lovely girl’ dick calls you sweetheart/angel, dick is CORNY I’m sorry, mentions of porn/asmr porn, teasing, gaslighting (but not really), fingering, marking, unprotected sex, lots of sweat (its sexy i swear), dick fucks you over a desk, kinda rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, implied to be summer, i think thats it??

hey hi 👽 anon, thanks for the request! im sorry it took so long, it wasn't meant to be this long i swear, i just got caught up in the thought of Dick being all hot and sweaty and praising you while fucking you >~< and yeah this happened. really hope you like it (but if you don't, let me know and ill totally rewrite it!) lots of love yes i took an extra 30 mins to find nightwing #83 to take a picture of the comic book to make this banner lol

As if having Dick Grayson look at your search history wasn’t bad enough, now you have to live with the mortifying ordeal of him knowing you have a praise kink.  

When you had first invited him over to take a look at your malfunctioning computer, you’d thought nothing of it. You figured he would turn it on and off again, maybe update some drivers. So when he suddenly clicked into your browser and began scrolling through the long, long list of websites you’ve visited, you weren’t sure how to react. 

You noticed it at the same time as him, the glowing screen forcing you to freeze where you stand. There on the screen, from just last night, read: praise nsfw asmr. You swallow hard and lunge for the mouse to click out of your browser history, but breathe a sigh of relief when Dick does it first. 

There’s a beat of silence, your racing thoughts deafeningly loud as you try to come up with a reason to kick him out. Fanning your face as if that will help chase away the heat of the day, you swallow once more in an attempt to work some moisture back into your mouth. 

“F—find anything?” You say as casually as you can. 

It’s ridiculous how embarrassed you are, honestly. He’s just your friend, it’s just porn, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Still, the rattling of your heart against your rib cage and his cruelly quiet silence make it feel like it is. 

He shakes his head. “Not so far, I should keep looking but—“ he flicks his eyes up your body, perfect blues tracing your every curve, “you seemed flustered.”

You raise your hands in denial all too quickly, your sweaty palms stretched out towards him. Dick raises an eyebrow, examining you in the way he does with strangers in coffee shops. 

“I just…don’t see how my search history is relevant, I guess. That’s all.”

He grabs your wrists, lowering your arms from the defensive position they’ve taken. Despite the familiarity of his touch, something feels off, different in a way you can’t explain. You shake the thought away. 

The world has not shifted on its axis because your best friend suddenly knows what kind of porn you’re into. 

His touch lingers on your wrist and he uses the leverage to gently pull you closer to where he sits at your desk. When he finally drops your wrist, a chill circles the space where his hand once was, refreshing your feverish skin.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t accidentally picked up a virus somewhere. If we can find one in your history, it’ll be much easier to get rid of it.”

The explanation only half seeps into the mush your brain has turned into under his gaze and you find yourself nodding without quite understanding. 

You were fooling yourself by inviting him here. While asking for his help was cheaper than hiring a professional, having him so close to you almost hurts—especially when lately you’ve been trying to force away the feelings you’ve harboured for him. 

“So,” Dick says again, “won’t you be a good girl and let me fix your computer for you?”

His words force you out of your thoughts, purely by short circuiting your brain. You blink at him with wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“W—what did you say?”

“I just asked if I could fix your computer now.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Did you mishear him, or did he call you ‘good girl’? He flashes you that signature smirk of his, his blue eyes suddenly dark with something you don’t recognize. 

Though everything on his face reads innocent, something not-so innocent lurks beneath the surface. Something that stares you down and screams ‘challenge me’. 

“Yeah.” You swallow. “I guess that’s fine.” You take a deep breath and try to steady the spinning in your head. 

Dick continues his work nonchalantly, hitting a few keys and opening your browser history once more. You turn your eyes away from the screen, instead focusing on the way your fingers grasp the desk until it hurts. 

You listen to him scroll for a while and try to pretend like he’s not looking through the most intimate part of your life. The idea of him seeing that part of you excites you as much as it nauseates you—a lethal combination. 

“You can relax.” Dick hums. 

You lift your head to look at him just to see him focused completely on the screen. You don’t dare glance at what he’s so focused on. 

“Why not sit down? This could take a while.” He says calmly. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better if you do.” 

You roll your shoulders. “I think I’ll just stand.”

There’s a shift in his eyes as if your words sparked something in them. He finally glances away from your screen, completely focusing on you with a newfound intensity. You want to shrink from his gaze, to run down the hall and hide in your broom closet, but you stay rooted in place. 

“It would help me a lot if you sit down. Don’t you want to be a good girl and help me out?” 

Holy fuck. “What did you just say?”

It feels like you’re waiting an eternity for him to speak again, your heart beating a mile a minute. He’s going to deny it, or make fun of you even more or worse—tell Wally about it. 

He pats his lap. “Come sit with me,” he purrs, “be a good girl, keep me company while I work.”

In your shock, you find yourself shuffling towards him and settling in his lap. Dick helps you adjust, tugging you back to his chest and keeping one arm around you while his other reaches for the mouse once more. 

He’s so close to you that you can feel the beating of his heart, his breath on your neck. You close your eyes and pray that he can’t feel the heartbeat that’s suddenly appeared between your legs.

You can’t remember a single time he’s been this close to you, a single time he’s touched you like this. The sudden proximity makes you dizzy, butterflies taking flight in your tummy. You clench the arm rests on either side in an attempt to keep your cool.

Dick shifts behind you, one of his thighs gently brushing your clit in a way that makes you squirm. “Don’t do that!” 

His hand slides from your waist to grip your thigh, a shiver running up your spine at the contact. “Don't do what? This?” He repeats the motion.

You squeak, lurching forward in an attempt to get away from the friction. You tilt too far and suddenly you’re falling head over heels towards the mat beneath your chair. Dick is quicker than that, wrapping one arm around your chest and another around your waist to tug you harshly back to him.

“Don’t do that,” you repeat breathlessly, “please.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, soft strands of black hair tickling your cheek. “Why not? Use your words, angel.”

The nickname reignites something inside of you, rekindling a fire between your legs. You clench them together in the hopes it will do something to muffle the throbbing, but when you feel Dick smirk against the side of your neck, you know you’ve failed.

When you don’t answer him, he grins his knee between your legs once more, an innocent hum prompting you.

“You’re—fuck, you’re kneeing me in the cunt.”

Dick’s not sure if it’s from your brazen words or how entirely ridiculous this whole afternoon has been, but suddenly he’s laughing. A big, open mouthed, creasing at the corners of his eyes, laugh. 

His laugh surprises you enough to summon one of your own, sending you both into a fit. You shift on his lap to look at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to support yourself while the two of you laugh. It’s stupid and ridiculous and you’re not quite sure what you’re laughing at—just that you are. 

You’re laughing and laughing and suddenly his lips are on yours and his eyes are closed and—fuck, he’s kissing you. And then you’re not laughing anymore, your hands brushing up his neck and tangling in his hair. He’s not laughing anymore either, his hands gripping your waist like he expects you to leave at any moment.

You’re breathless when you pull away, refusing to open your eyes and face the reality in front of you. Because maybe the world didn’t shift on its axis when he learned your porn preferences, but it definitely has because he just kissed you.

He taps your cheek gently, using that terribly calm voice he does whenever you start spiralling. “Y/n.” He coos, “open your eyes, y/n.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head in refusal. You know as soon as you do, you’ll have to confront your feelings for him, and his for you, and all of that is just too much and god, when did it get so hot in here? 

You open your eyes one at a time, casting them down to where your thighs rest on his. Your hands come together, fingers twirling in your lap just to give you something to focus on other than the throbbing in your clit and the weight of Dick’s eyes on you.

He drags a finger down your overheating cheeks, tracing the outline of your jaw and tipping your head up to face him. His blue eyes are lined with something new, something darker—a need you’ve never seen before. 

“Look at me.” There’s a commanding tone to his voice before it softens, “c’mon, please?”

You finally force yourself to meet his eyes, the familiar ultramarine calming the sudden bite of your nerves. “Only cause you asked so nicely,” you say quietly. 

“Good girl,” he smiles and it feels like the sun pushing through rain clouds. He strokes your cheek gently, his thumb landing on your cupid's bow. 

You shiver beneath his touch despite the unbearable heat of the day. While his finger on your lips threatens to send you flying away, spiralling into space, his other does the opposite. His grip on your hip is tight, fingers digging in and sure to leave behind bruises. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks quietly. 

It’s only a small mercy that your nod doesn’t prompt another ‘good girl’ from him, or some other horribly delightful variation of it. However, when his lips brush yours and his hand slides to the base of your throat, all of the thoughts melt away. There’s no embarrassment, no overthinking, just raw emotion and the sensation of his skin on yours. 

You shift in his lap, sliding one of your thighs over his so you can straddle him. Dick offers a guiding hand while you slide forward, half steadying you, half tugging you closer. You shimmy up the length of his jeans until you’re as close as possible, your stomach pressing into his toned abs. 

A gasp leaves your throat when your clit brushes the very edge of the bulge in his jeans, the noise only edging him along. His teeth graze your bottom lip, both gentle and desperate, before his tongue slips into your mouth. 

The taste of him is intoxicating, consuming you until you’re grabbing his cheeks with both hands to pull him as close as possible. You whine when his cock grazes your clit again and Dick breaks the kiss to let out a breathy laugh against your lips. 

“Someone’s needy,” he teases, but his eyes are rimmed with dark and when he looks at you through his lashes, all you see is need. 

“Back at you.”

His palm sticks to your cheek with sweat when he goes to pull it away. “You’ve been so good for me today,” he hums, his other hand trailing up your thigh. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You mumble a breathy ‘please’ before his fingers are brushing your clit through your pants, the heat pooling in your panties near insatiable. You tighten your grip on him and bury your face in the tight black fabric of his t-shirt to muffle your heavy breathing.

While one hand rubs intense figure eights up the length of your pussy, his other hand is fiddling with the buttons of your pants. He sighs in triumph at the soft popping noise and then the fabric is pulling away from your skin, Dick somehow managing to tug them down with only one hand. 

You shift in his lap and prop yourself up on your knees to give him better access while he drags the fabric down your thighs. He takes advantage of your position to spin you to face your monitor once more, leaning back in the chair so you’re reclined against his muscled chest.

Warm breath fans the overheating skin of your neck just where your shirt meets your skin. Two calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, skimming the warmth and slick of your cunt. Dick sucks in a breath, his pants suddenly too tight.

“You really are needy,” he swallows hard. “Lovely, needy girl.”

His words only serve as a catalyst to the intense need you feel in your core, amplifying your desire tenfold. The pad of his index finger brushes your clit and you’re suddenly a goner. Your eyes squeeze shut and you throw your head back, imagining the circles of Dick’s fingers in your mind.

He gently kisses at the neckline of your shirt, his lips soft against the sensitive skin. His tongue runs across the sensitive skin there in tandem with the moving of his hand, the duality sending shockwaves through you. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out his name.

His wrist slides further into your underwear, fingers moving away from your swollen clit to run along the rim of your aching pussy. You suck in a breath, not moving an inch while you anticipate what’s to come.

Dick sucks a dark mark into your neck. “Ready f’me?” He mumbles into your skin.

You eagerly nod, trying to shift your hips into his fingers and shove them inside of you, but Dick moves away. You frown, lazily looking over your shoulder at him.

“You have to use your words.”

You almost roll your eyes but in your desperation, let your head hang in defeat and open your trembling mouth. “I-I’m ready Dick,” you say, quietly adding, “please.”

“Good girl.” 

Then he’s suddenly slipping a finger inside of you, travelling the length of your spongy walls to sit deep inside of you. A gasp rips through you, his name tumbling off your lips faster than you can catch it. He grips your hip to steady you, strong fingers bruising the exposed skin.

He curls his finger inside of you, prodding at that sweet fucking sensitive spot. He only stops when you whine, slipping his finger out for only a second before shoving it back in. He repeats the motion, starting a rhythm of thrusting in and out, his hand on your hip tapping along in tandem.

You squirm in his lap, that ball in the centre of your stomach turning white hot and growing until you can barely contain it. One of your hands squeezes his wrist—whether to stop or encourage him, you don’t know.

“Dick,” you whine, your voice taking on a raspy tone you hardly recognize.

He hums in response. “Does that feel good?”

“S-so good.”

He rewards you by slipping his other finger inside of you, the two of them working in unison. His fingers are so long and thick that they reach places inside you that you’ve never been able to touch on your own, stretching your walls just enough to make your eyes roll back.

The impending waves of your orgasm roll over you, that knot in your core so tight that you know it's bound to undo any second. You squeeze his wrist tighter in warning, your fingers pressing into his veins until you can feel the steady thrum of his blood pulsing. 

Dick slips his hand from your waist up your shirt, palming your tit. “Cum for me,” he murmurs. “You’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

His words walk you right over the edge, that knot finally coming undone and sending wave after wave of molten pleasure through you. Every muscle in your body contracts, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tightly it almost hurts. Both your hands clench around the wrist currently in your underwear. Holding him steady while you ride out your high on his fingers.

Dick holds you, keeping you stable while you gush and thrash wildly in his lap. He can feel your slick soak through the fabric of his jeans, his thighs warm with your juices, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

He trails kisses up your neck to your jaw, your cheeks and finally, tips your head back until he can plant soft, chaste kisses to your lips. His wrist aches from how hard you squeeze him but he doesn’t dare pull away until your muscles are relaxing and you let out your first, panting breath.

“Feel good?” He prompts.

You shake your head vigorously, all sweaty hair and hot skin and aching lungs. Dick almost wishes he had a camera because the sight of you laying in his lap all fucked out is one he would love to savor and put in his wallet.

He shifts behind you, only now remembering his aching cock and how badly it yearns to be free of the denim confining it. “Think you could do one more? For me? It would make me feel so, so good, sweetheart.”

You don’t think twice about his words, lazily trapping his lips in a sloppy needy kiss and mumbling ‘yes’ against him. In your fucked out state, you’re only half sure that you’re even speaking, the world around you fading. Dick slips his hand out of your panties, his palm soaked with your juices, and rests it on your thigh. 

“I need you to stand up for me,” he says, only half asking. 

He helps you up on shaky knees, your pants that had been resting just above your knees dropping the rest of the way to the floor. You brace yourself against the desk, half bent over while Dick slowly tugs down your panties. The minute the sticky, soaked fabric peels away from your pussy, you gasp.

Dick stares at the mess he’s made of you proudly, your folds glistening with the slick of your last orgasm. He burns the image into his mind while he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans, standing behind you while he drags them to the floor with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and dripping with pre cum, begging for you.

He strokes it absentmindedly, all of his thoughts only on you and your trembling thighs, bent so perfectly over the desk waiting for him. He lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, rubbing it through your folds and prodding your clit before repeating the process over again.

Each shift of his cock, each rock of his hips, forces shivers of anticipation down your spine. Heavy breaths leave your lips, your arms barely managing to hold your weight over the desk when you dip your head down to stare at him through the crook of your arm.

“Such a pretty pussy. So wet and needy,” he groans when he finally lets his cock rest at your entrance. “So ready for my cock.”

You nod even though he’s mostly talking to himself. You let your arms sag against the desk and rest your face against your forearm, the sweaty skin sticking to your forehead. Dick thrusts forwards and lets the head of his cock push inside of you.

Moans leave him the second he dips into your heat, the tip of his cock stretching you in a way that has both of your eyes rolling back. His fingers resume their earlier position on your hip, digging in so hard it almost hurts. 

He stills once his tip is nestled in your walls, listening to the whiny breaths you let out while you adjust to his size. Your clench your hands into fists, slightly shifting from left to right to help him fit better. He’s big, bigger than you expected, but the way he molds your walls to his cock is almost enough to have you cum right then and there.

Dick is so distracted by the sight of his cock dipped inside of you that he doesn’t remember to move. It’s only when you let out a needy whine and shuffle your hips backwards that he realizes you’ve been waiting so patiently for him.

He snaps his hips against yours, the head of his cock barreling so deep inside of you so quickly that it almost hurts. “Sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, “didn’t mean to make you wait.”

You try to tell him that it’s okay but you’re silenced with another hard thrust. You cry out his name into your arm, your teeth grazing at your skin in your attempt to be quiet. Dick grabs the other side of your waist, using his hands to push and pull you as he pleases.

You fall further against the desk, your body lazily resting against it while Dick’s hips snap into yours repeatedly. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin, a chorus of your combined moans filling the empty space between thrusts. Each shift of his hips, each prod of his cock, only spurs you further along.

You squeeze your eyes shut, completely focused on his cock battering its way through your walls. You’re only vaguely aware of Dick talking to you, his praise sounding incoherent beneath the rush of blood to your ears. Your pussy flutters around him, his cock scraping your cervix with every thrust.

He thrusts particularly hard into you, his cock jamming hard into the very edge of your walls, forcing a loud cry from you. It aches as much as it pleases, and without thinking, you’re suddenly crawling forward across your desk. Dick tightens his grip on you before you can get very far, tugging you back hard against him and slamming your pussy down on his cock.

You nearly squeal from the pleasure, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. That familiar heat builds inside of you once more, spilling over more and more with each intense thrust.

“You’re taking me so well,” he coos. “So tight—god, it’s like your pussy was made for me. Fuck.”

His lewd words add to that growing knot inside of you and suddenly you’re coming undone in his arms. Everything is too hot, too much, too loud. Tears spill from your eyes and you’re barely aware of the half sobs, half moans you let out through your orgasm.

“That’s right, let it all out. Good girl, cumming around my cock like that.”

Dick holds you steady the whole time you cum, thrusts growing sloppy as your pussy sucks him in and tries to keep him inside of you forever. He’s almost as breathless as you while he watches you cum and the way your pussy seizes around him is enough to have him tumbling over the edge after you.

He wraps both arms around your waist, pulling your hips flush to his, before he lets the both of you fall back into the chair behind him. Your new position forces his cock deeper inside of you—as deep as it can go—and then he’s cumming inside of you.

You can barely feel the hot ropes of cum he spills inside of you while you come down from your own high. Your thighs shake where they rest over his and you’re grateful for him holding you. 

Dick lets his forehead rest in the crook of your neck, his sweaty hair wetting your t-shirt. Even after he’s done cumming, he holds you tightly against him, the two of you panting in sync.

It’s nearly five minutes later when you can finally bring yourself to speak, your hoarse voice evidence of the pounding you’ve just taken. “I take it you saw my browsing history?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Dick laughs, his voice gravelly and deep and sexy. “Yeah,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I did.”

You awkwardly turn in his lap, twitching at the way it adjusts his half-hard cock inside of you. You look up at his eyes, the blue finally starting to seep back in through the dark. He cups your face, his hand sweaty, and pulls you in for another kiss.

When you pull away, you can’t help but ask, “so, what now?”

“First, I think I should show you how to use Incognito Mode.”

masterlist | dc masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! i appreciate every like, comment & reblog i get ^^

[i6eyes]

%% jean kirstein bf hcs !!

pt 2

contains: sfw and nsfw, implied fem!reader (no y/n), established relationship, soft jean teehee, jean’s horse cawk, nothing too graphic tbh

— who knew a fucking stallion will be the one who's going to bring me back from the dead .

sfw

omg omg he's soo tall right

definitely puts his arms around your shoulder, and kisses u on your temple or forehead too

the sweetest !! i feel like he would be so so attentive to u

oooh u did a double take at the dress u guys walked passed by earlier in the mall? woah it's suddenly in ur bed the next day !! :OO

he's a nice cook ! can cook but the best, his expertise are mostly breakfast foods but he can cook you lunch and dinner as long as he has a recipe

oh he'd be absolutely smitten !!!! i luv big scary men being total sweethearts to their s/o

if ur trying some shoes, he'd be the one to do all of the work ! he'd kneel down, take off your shoes, puts on what you chose on you, will be the who's going to take it off too, then will tie or buckle your shoes up for you

or or or, he'd be out alone and he passes by this little store filled with trinkets and stuff. safe to say, he walked out of the store with a silly little keychain he knew you'd like

^^ one of his love language is acts of service

he loves spending time with you. specially the moments where you two just chill and share some occasional kisses here and there

his favorite thing to do is have you lay on top of him while he's laying down and make you talk about your day !! he'd play with your hair and caress your nape and back while you do so :((

he's obviously attractive, but he doesn't know how much

there's so many simple things that he makes attractive

his attentiveness. you'd be in the grocery then he'd suddenly disappear for a while, only for him to come back with arms full of chips and snacks. "these are your favorites, right?" he said while dumping them in the cart, not even waiting for your answer.

oddly specific but the way he leans on every door way. you know the thing where people place their hands on top of a doorway? that, but he subconsciously does it everywhere. omg imagine he fetches you from your house for a date and the moment you open your door, boom! there's jean, towering you with a smile on his face.

he knows how to slow dance, like the ones in the movies where the main characters would suddenly dance in their living room, to which, he did with you!

slow dancing in the living room with jean :(

if you're still in school and he sees you struggling with a subject or school work, he'd help you as soon as he could, specially if it's something he already learned before. but! if that's not the case, he'd take his time to learn what you're having problems with and try to come up with an explanation to make you understand better

he's so lame (affectionate)

nsfw

oh boy

he's not the stallion for nothing

easily one of the biggest cock in the aot verse

usually, i'd be realistic when it comes to sizes, but jean is at 7-8 inches.

hhhhhhgggh, king of dick prints. he's naturally big even when soft, about 5 to 5.5 maybe. < he's a grower

he's such a big man, his proportions are perfect, of course he needs a big fucking cock to go along with it

he keeps his happy trail no matter what happens. he knows it's attractive and knows that you love seeing it on him

^^ up to you whether you want him to shave or trim, he's fine with anything as long as he keeps his happy trail

wide athletic shoulders that he puts your legs at while he's eating you out our splitting you open with his cock

this man's proportions are actually making me insane i don't know how to put my thoughts into words anymore

his hands are big, but not huge or ginormous. it's pretty and rough looking at the same time. his fingers are longer than most men's but are thick enough like the ones most are familiar with when thinking about a man's hand.

his nape is sensitive, simple touches like brushing his hair back will make him shiver. hickeys also show more easily on his neck, just suck on it lightly and there's already a blooming red mark left in its wake.

oh my god, touch his torso or the bottom of his stomach (ehem, close or at his happy trail) and he's gone. it's starting to become an actual problem because there would be completely innocent moments where you touch those places because you need to get pass by him and he'd just suddenly pop a boner on the spot.

*taps mic* soft dom

he absolutely loves praising you, it's an unconscious thing he does

you'd be on your knees, sucking in his cock on your mouth as much as you could, and he'd groan while keeping your hair out of your face using a hand while the other caresses your cheek, wiping away the tears that lay there.

^^ "there we go, knew you could do it.", "fuckin' natural at it.", "think you could take me a little deeper? uh huh? yeah that's my good girl."

im in shambles

he's SOOOOO good with his fingers my GOD.

he knows what it takes to make you cum with his fingers, he has an actual technique it's crazyyy. doesn't prioritize in making it fast or hard or whatever, whether you like it like that or slow, he will follow his own lead on what he thinks will make you feel spineless.

knows the fingers inside you, palm on your clit thing. has made you squirt using it on multiple occasions

while he adores missionary because he loves seeing your face and folding you in half with your legs beside your ears, doing it doggy will always make him carnal

he has a thing for your backkk. he'd grab the one side of your shoulder while he's hitting it from the back, sometimes he'd bruise your hips with his grip instead

will slap your ass. not really in a sub/dom dynamic. he just likes the way he sees his handprint on your ass while you're writhing beneath him

stroke game is unmatched !!!!!!!!!

he doesn't rely on his size alone, this bitch is actually prepared and knows his shit y'all

even if he doesn't or can't push all of him in, he'd work with what he's able to put inside you and god does he do it well

during missionary, expect him to put a pillow under your hips despite his size and knowledge. he want to make you feel the best at any given time

while he doesn't mind if you're a loud moaner or what, he LOVES hearing you whine.

if you're a whiner, boy is it a good time to be ALIVEEEEEE

he founds it so cute and hot <3

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

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Masterlist

[jobean12-blog]

Had to be You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (enemies to lovers ish)

Word Count: 2,270

Summary: You and Bucky have been going at each other for months. He's grumpy and defensive. You're sassy and frustrated. Steve's had enough. So when Steve steps in to do something will it work? Or will it makes things worse?

Author's Note: At this point all I want is for Bucky to kiss me senseless for the rest of my life (and do everything else) but really. Kisses. Yes please. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some light mead comsumption, angsty ex talk, tension but softness, happy ending

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! You get back here right now and open this door before I kick your ass!”

Steve’s chuckle only makes you angrier. “I’ll open it when you two make nice.”

“STEVE!” you screech.

His retreating footsteps have you banging your forehead into the thick metal of the door, muttering curses under your breath.

“Please tell me Stark has some hidden exit in here somewhere?” you sigh.

“I’m going to kill Steve.”

When Bucky’s speaks his first words since you got locked in the gym together you spin to face him, eyes hard.

“Get in line Barnes!”

“Hey, look at that kids, you’re agreeing already!” Steve’s voice rings out from down the hall.

With that last remark everything goes silent other than your frustrated huffs.

“Is this actually happening?” you whine. “Can’t you just break the door down?”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare blankly and you grow more agitated.

“Why the hell did he do this?”

You glare back in his direction, hands on your hips. “Because of your sunshine and rainbows attitude toward me!”

You spit out the words, letting them drip with sarcasm.

“MY attitude?” Bucky grits out as he sticks a finger in his chest. “Doll face. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to you.” That same finger spins to point at you now.

You face him fully and take a step closer.

“Grunts do not equal a greeting and barely answering questions and barely making conversation definitely does not show your gentlemanly side!”

Bucky opens his mouth to retort but you continue on. “And what about avoiding me all together!? What the fuck is that about?”

He runs his large hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck, setting his lips in a hard line.

“Fuck. Please tell me there’s still some of Thor’s mead in here,” he mutters.

“Why the hell would he leave alcohol in the gym?” you ask, your brows nearly hitting your hairline.

With a shrug Bucky starts moving about and searching under things. “He likes to ‘get drunk’” and he makes air quotes as he says it, “and then show us how he can still lift heavier weights.”

You can’t help the laughter that boils up and over but you quickly cover your mouth when Bucky gives you an unamused look.

“Here it is!” he chimes, seeming far too relieved.

You move toward him as you watch him take a swig from the bottle, the muscles in his neck shifting with every swallow.

“Save some for me,” you say quietly and hold out your hand.

He smirks.

“Careful doll. Too much of this and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”

As more of the mead circulates through your body you start to relax marginally, thoughts of killing Steve slowly fading.

Bucky has been sure to keep your consumption under control and other than feeling less murderous and calmer you’re lucid.

“So,” you muse. “It doesn’t look like Steve is coming back any time soon. And we’ve been quiet. No yelling or fighting.”

Bucky simply grunts in agreement.

“SEE!” you nearly shout. “That’s exactly what I mean. I say something and your answer is a grunt…WHAT. THE. FUCK!”

While waiting for his explanation you notice a slight pink flush to his cheeks and you find it hard not to throw him a triumphant smile.

Deciding to let him off the hook for now, you ask, “how long have you known your best friend is insane?”

To your surprise, Bucky laughs. A real laugh that has his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

You try not to stare too long but you find it difficult to look away.

“Are you drunk Barnes?”

His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth twitches with a boyish smile.

“You’re full of questions tonight doll. And for the record it takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” he admits as his smile widens.

He shifts in his spot on the floor, his long legs now stretched out in front of him and you can’t help but focus on his thighs and the way his jeans pull tightly over the thick muscle.

“Who knew all we needed was a little alcohol to not fight.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out for the more.

He shakes his head no and places the bottle down on the floor before leaning forward.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”

At his admission, your expression hardens.

“Then why are you so….so… unfriendly?” you ask.

“Why are you always so sassy?” he shoots back. “Seems to me like you’re the one always looking for a fight.”

His answer makes you sigh.

“I don’t see you doing that to Barton or Steve…hell anyone else!” he adds.

He waits patiently, his eyes trained on you and his body straining forward.

With more nonchalance than you feel, you confess, “you’re kind of my type. And my dating track record sucks. So…you know…”

You motion to him. All of him. His long legs, broad shoulders, hard chest, sculpted arms and his perfectly handsome face.

Stunned, Bucky stares for a second too long and too fiercely.

Heat starts to tickle your skin as you feel your body react to his focused attention.

“Are you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me and that’s why you hate me?”

The tension is thick, stretching between you for many long seconds before you wrench your eyes away and look down at your hands.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your words are quiet and the next sentence that passes your lips is even softer. “I just have a hard time trusting men.”

When he doesn’t say anything you look up at him and see the hurt etched across his features.

“Are you sure it’s not just me you don’t trust?”

At his question, the realization of what he’s implying hits you and you immediately slide closer to him and reach your hands toward him.

“No Bucky. That’s not it at all. In fact I trust you with my life…just not necessarily my heart.”

When he continues to study you, his features softening, but doesn’t speak, you add. “It’s not your fault. Really.”

“I want to know why.”

“Why what?” you ask.

“Why you don’t trust men.”

His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched in his lap.

He’s clearly distraught over the fact that you’ve been hurt and you’re sure he’s thinking the worst. It melts you more and you want to reach out and trace the hard line of his jaw to reassure him.

“It’s not anything that bad. I’ve just been hurt. A lot. And not just in romantic relationships. Friendships too.”

He scowls. “In what ways?”

You shrug like it’s nothing.

“What is there to say? The first real relationship I was in ended when he found something better. He told me when we broke up, ‘why would I say with you when I can do better’.”

“That motherfucker,” Bucky fumes as he opens and closes his metal fist, the whirring metal sounds momentarily distracting you.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the last. My boyfriend after that I found out was sleeping with my friend. Or I thought she was my friend.”

“Fucking hell. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He stands slowly, visibly agitated.

“And we haven’t even gotten to my last boyfriend yet. Better sit back down.”

“I’m too fucking pissed off to sit,” he growls.

“Honestly, it’s more my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have dated him. He was just like the rest and when my friend sent me a video of the two of them fucking I was hardly surprised.”

You couldn’t look at Bucky anymore and you dropped your eyes.

“Guess I’m just not good enough to stick around for.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “Doll.”

He sat down in front of you, forcing your attention back to him.

“Please don’t tell me you really believe that.”

You give him an exasperated look. “After being dumped three times you kind of start to believe it.”

Suddenly, he kicks at one of the weight machines, making the metal creak and bend then he falls to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

The smell of him surrounds you and you have no where to look but into his eyes.

“These men,” and he spits out the last word. “Fuck that, they aren’t men. These pieces of shit have no idea what a gift you are and they don’t deserve you. They deserve a fucking beating.”

“Bucky.”

You squeeze his hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he counters. “Tell you the truth? Tell you that you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, and kind.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips.

“Hardly kind,” you scoff. “Look how poorly I treated you.”

He reluctantly drags his eyes from your mouth and determination hardens his gaze.

“Nah doll face. I get it now. And honestly, a lot of that is on me. I couldn’t understand why someone as perfect as you wanted anything to do with me. I put up my defensives the only way I know how.”

You whisper his name hoarsely and run your thumb along his jawline.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he exhales.

Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop the way your body moved closer to his and when he slides his hand up your arm and around the back of your neck your lips part in a gasp.

Just as you feel his warm breath tickle your skin the lock on the door turns and Steve calls your names.

You quickly pull away with wide eyes, shooting one last look at Bucky before you lift your eyes to Steve.

He stares between the two of you and then at the half empty bottle of mead.

“What…?”

“Nothing,” you and Bucky say at the same time.

Bucky jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for you.

You take it and let him pull you up and into his body. Your chest brushes his with your every breath and you’re right back where you were just seconds ago…under his spell.

It only takes a moment for your past hurt to flood back and wash away the desire you’re feeling and in the next breath you’re mumbling goodbyes and rushing off.

When Bucky finally finds you the next day the apology you’ve been wanting to give him spills out.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

He takes a step closer to you, crowding you against the door of your room.

“I really appreciate that doll, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.”

It’s all you can manage to say with him so close to you.

You can feel your pulse jump and when you hear the moving metal plates in his arm you look down at his hands to see them clenched into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” you ask.

“I’m having a really hard time not touching you,” he explains in a pained whisper.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

He closes the space between you and your back hits the door. He slowly lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb and then slowly sliding his fingers down to stroke your neck.

The gentle dominance in his touch sets you on fire and you lean into him.

“I’m scared of getting hurt Bucky.”

The words tumble out and you start to drop your gaze but he stops you with the press of his fingers under your chin.

His eyes harden and he doesn’t speak.

You whisper his name, your voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just talking myself out of hunting every one of your exes down and skinning them alive.”

His voice grows with anger and you press a soft hand to his hard chest.

“They aren’t worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Taken aback by the intensity of his words you stare into his eyes, their blue color filled with longing and fierceness.

“Fuck doll. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? I can hardly catch my breath.”

Your hand shoots to your mouth and you quietly inhale, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the smile that wants to break out across your face.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

You drop your hand from your lips and reach for him. “No.”

He tilts his head and inches closer, his mouth lightly brushing yours.

Your fists clench the front of his Henley and your eyes close at the light press of his lips. You stay like that, trying to remember to breathe.

He pulls away only enough to stare at your mouth and then traces his thumb across your upper lip.

“What is it?” you ask with a worried tone.

His thumb falls to your lower lip and he gives it the same attention, savoring the softness.

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

He drops his hand from your lips and as his fingers fall they trace the outline of your neck before his hand wraps around the back of it and he brings you impossibly closer.

“I’m worried that once I start…” he breathes against your lips. “I won’t be able to stop.”

When he presses his lips to yours he groans low in the back of his throat, his hands desperate to get you closer.

The way you taste, the feel of your lips, your gasps and moans…he can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @lizette50

[kenyummy]

DREAM ꒰⚘݄꒱ NAGI ,, SHIDOU

SYNOPSIS : what do the blue lock boys dream about when they're away from you, training to be the greatest striker?

note: hi! again, this is the same thing i posted earlier, just nagi and shidou versions ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) both are mildly nsfw. um actually i just read through it and i take it back shidous one is like hella crazy. I'm not making it as nsfw because its more like super crazy making out but. uhmm... yeah. ˙ᵕ˙

nagi seishiro

There's a bright light everywhere. Nagi can hardly see, through the half-lidded lens of his eyes. He blinks a few times, and there's a muffled sound encasing his ears. It sounds like his name is being called out in a pleasing voice. That voice sounds nice. Nagi wonders who it belongs to.

Through his blurred eyes, he can make out vibrant colours of purple and black encasing the walls of wherever he is. It's mostly white noise—but Nagi can make out a hint of a pop song playing in the background, but he doesn't care for which.

He turns around, vision still hazy, until he meets a pair of eyes. Beautiful, bright eyes that sparkle under this blinding light—a pair of eyes that belonged to...

"[name]?" His vision is suddenly completely clear, and he can see you in perfect detail. You're standing there with a soft smile, a bag around your shoulder and dressed in flowy, casual clothes.

"You finally responded? Did you manage to get the Psyduck?" You walk forward and stand beside him—and only now does Nagi realise where he is.

The arcade, with [name]?

Is this a dream or something? This feels way too good to be true.

Your expression drops and you look at him, annoyed with your hands pressed against the glass—you look mad, but it feels more like an angry kitten rather than anything to Nagi, "You didn't even insert your token?"

Looking down into his hands—he didn't even feel the weight of the full cup of tokens in his grasp until you mentioned it. He blinks, eyes dulling. "Oh. Sorry." He responds dumbly, quickly inserting a token.

The claw machine lights up and blares embarrassingly loud music that draws attention, but you don't acknowledge it and only cheer when he moves the claw around, "Go, Nagi!" You whoop, and this makes the snow-haired boy feel even more determined to win that stupid platypus Pokemon.

He finally gets the claw into the perfect position and sends it down—it grabs onto the plushie, and for the first time ever, Nagi gets it on the first try. It gets sent down the winning hole, and you cheer in joy as Nagi bends down to pick it up.

He stares wordlessly at the plush for a second, looking into its cartoonishly stupid eyes, before looking back up at you, with your wonderfully large smile, and holding it out to you. "Got it for you."

You blink, looking up at him, then the duck, then him again, lips parted so invitingly. Then, you smile, cheeks flushed prettily, and you take the duck from his arms, and into your own grasp. Hugging it into your chest, you lower your face into the head of the platypus, "Thank you, Nagi... you really didn't have to. It's a date for both of us, after all."

A date...

This is a dream.

Nagi has this sudden realisation while looking around. You're here, and you feel like you—but isn't he supposed to be in Blue Lock? Working his ass off to become the best striker? He shouldn't be at some random arcade on a "date" with you. Ego would never let that happen.

So, the last explanation Nagi could come up with, is that this is all a dream. That's the only thing he could come up with. Nagi was never that smart, but even he could point out the inconsistencies that came with this whole scenario.

So... if this is all a dream... I can do whatever I want.

He swallows thickly.

With no repercussions. This is all in my head... and anything I want can happen.

Nagi moves forward and suddenly hugs you close to his chest. You yelp in surprise but do not push him off or say anything—simply accepting his warmth engulfing your figure. He digs his nose into your hair and takes in a deep sniff.

You smell nice. Much nicer than any of the guys in Blue Lock.

But, you simply letting this happen confirms his theory. This really is a dream. You—the real, fleshy you—would never allow Nagi to just hug you without at least hitting him with an iconic one-liner or snarky quip. If this version of you is not real... if this version of you will never remember what he feels...

He looks down and removes one hand from your waist to tilt your head upwards, and with the most innocent look he can manage—he shuts his eyes and leans down. He knocks the breath out of your lungs with an aggressive kiss, fiery hot and burning in your stomach.

His heart churns and his mind is running at a thousand miles per hour, but Nagi can't care. He doesn't care, because this is what he wants—and is it selfish of him to take it within a dream? That is only what a true egoist would do, right?

You squeak, but Nagi does not acknowledge it, engulfing the puff of air in his own mouth when he connects his tongue with your own. It takes a good few seconds for Nagi to pull away—and he only does so when you grab his soft cheeks in your palm and push his head back. A thin string of drool connected the two of you.

You look into his eyes, hazy and misty and his clothes suddenly feel too tight and the room is far too hot. He runs his hands up and down your torso, feeling the creases of the material underneath his electric fingertips, and it's like every sense he has is heightened in this blazing moment. "Nagi... not here..."

Oh. So even his dream version of you had her morals.

"Fine." Nagi mumbles, eyes sunken low. He knows this is wrong. He knows that he should not speak, but the words glide off his silver tongue before he has a chance to stop himself. "But when we get home, you can't expect me to stop."

His heart skips a beat after he sees your embarrassed expression. He can't find it within himself to care that this is all a dream, and in the morning you will never know this has happened. You won't ever know what has gone on between the two of you in his mysterious mind—and this will be a secret Nagi will forever take to his grave.

It's okay if he does this, right? Because it's your Nagi, the one who you adore so much. He's forever yours—if only you'd say the word.

shidou ryusei

"So... you're seriously saying you... want to...?" Shidou asks incredulously, and he can already feel himself twitching. His blunt nails dig into his palms and it takes every last bit of self-restraint he has left in his body to not pounce on you like a dog in heat.

This is the most composed you've ever seen him—and that's saying something. Well, not really, because he still looks like he's going to implode (haha, very funny) on the spot. You swallow thickly, a thin layer of sweat sheens down your back and suddenly the room feels way too stuffy—even if it was freezing cold when you had walked in.

Room... this room felt oddly unfamiliar. A room painted completely white, except for the odd accent of dark blue, proving its existence within Blue Lock. Shidou remembers stomping here after a brawl with Rin and getting extra scratched up this time because Rin ended up landing a good punch or two—he can't recall.

He doesn't remember how long he was out after you shocked him into submission—rather, he only recalls how you started this whole thing, as soon as he woke up in this strange room, you were practically in tears from how scared you were. Usually, Shidou woke up at most a few hours after being tased out, but this time, he was knocked cold for a whole day.

You nearly cried when he finally woke up, sitting by his side in a chair. You're holding onto his hand, but quickly let go in favour of hugging him so tight that he can barely breathe—and he can feel everything—and your voice is wracked with relief.

So now, here's the present, where you look like you're going to melt into a puddle on the floor when you say, "Y...yes... Because... I feel bad. That's the only reason I'll let you do this..." Still, with your pissy prickliness, you fold your arms under your chest, "But... only that, Shidou. Nothing more... I won't shock you this time... but I'll make you regret it."

Ignoring the comment that immediately comes to mind with your last sentence, he grins devilishly and feels his heartbeat increase with the anticipation, "Hell yeah! You're being serious, yeah? You'll let me?!"

Shidou can't quite remember since the last time he'd felt this excited for something that hadn't even happened yet—his goals were a burst of dopamine, but this? This was pure, unbridled excitement.

His leg unwillingly starts shaking up and down and you notice it—clearly, with the large sigh you suck in. You have to turn your head away before you shake your head—lest you see the face Shidou makes, a face you'd prefer not to be seared into your mind.

You walk forward, each step feeling like thousands of hands were trying to warn you—to hold you back—but you continue, right until you're standing in front of Shidou, who's sitting on the edge of his bed with his legs hanging off the side.

You place your things down on the table beside you. Hesitantly, like you're weighing your options—you slide your shoes off, so that the only thing on your feet are socks, and you slowly slide your jacket off, cheeks burning, so that you're only wearing your tank top.

Shidou watches in terrifying silence—you're sure this is the quietest you've ever seen him—and his eyes follow each move you make like he's a predator hunting for prey. Frankly, this scares you, but you have no room to say anything in this moment, so you only take in a deep breath, and lean upwards, placing your legs over his, and placing yourself on his knees.

Perched all prettily for him—shouldn't this be enough? Not for somebody like Ryusei Shidou, especially not just this. This would never be enough, and you were disappointingly aware of it.

This thing—the thing Shidou's been asking for since he met you... is to touch your boobs.

It shocked you just as much as it shocked anybody in the vicinity with his bold request, and you swore to yourself you'd never give in—especially not to somebody like Ryusei Shidou. But here you are now, practically trembling as he stares at you—his hands slowly reaching up.

He's silent... why is he silent? These thoughts run wild in your brain but are quickly shut down like a dead landline when his touch finally reaches your stomach. His fingertips are rough against your untouched skin, and it sends shivers flicking down your spine. Then, they finally came in contact with the lace around your bra, and he almost looked disappointed with the revelation.

But this doesn't phase him, no, not one bit, because as soon as his large palm engulfs one side of your chest, he squeezes. You slap your hand over your mouth and all the humiliation suddenly comes running back to you—crashing your brain like a ten-ton truck. He squeezes, and squeezes hard, like it's a stress ball and not a part of your body.

You bite out through groans, "Don't be so rough. Otherwise... I'll leave."

Shidou, who's been scarily silent this entire time, Shidou, who had his hand wrapped around your tit like a vice, and Shidou, who's looking into your eyes with such a serious look it makes you shiver, "Nah. Won't let ya."

You blink, and for a second, forget your humiliation in favour of blank confusion, "What?" You ask, dumbly.

"Won't let ya," and suddenly, the Shidou you know returns with full force, cheeks a hot stain of red and a demonic grin stretched out across his face—behind his sharpened, pearly teeth is a sense of danger, "I mean... ya gettin' me all worked up over here... and you think I'll just let ya leave?"

His eyes darken, and he grips your waist with his free hand, sliding you into his lap. "No. Fucking. Way. I would sooner quit soccer than let ya leave now."

Basically what he's saying—you're not going anywhere. Your heart races—sadly, you forget that he has a hand right over where your heart lies (even if it is a bit preoccupied with something else), and gets to tighten his hold before you squirm away. Warningly. He's saying—don't you dare fucking move.

He moves his hand from your tit—leaving the other one trapped around your waist—and moves it upwards, to the back of your head, gripping your hair hard in his hand. "You're way too pretty, manager-chan~ All those guys look at ya, but here I am, the one you hate the most having you here perched all pretty in my lap. This is how it should be, yeah?"

He grins, a grin you learned to despise, because of the words and person it was usually paired with—Ryusei Shidou looks so much like a demon. You can't say you hate him, but you don't like him either.

So then, when he crashes his lips into yours with the full ferocity you usually see on the court, do you not push back? Maybe deeply, somewhere in your fucked-up mind, you actually like this. At least, Shidou hopes so—because he can't get enough.

His lips move against yours in a harsh motion you're probably not used to—by the way your hands grip his shoulders and definitely leave marks from your nails. He tugs your head forward, wanting to become even closer—you think that if he moves you any further you'll fuse with him, but maybe, that's what he wants.

Ryusei Shidou loves so violently, so unabashed and unbridled that it scares normal people. Average people—who will never dream of understanding somebody like him. His love is so intense and overwhelming that he can't physically hold it in—but that is Ryusei Shidou, and he has no plans to change himself, especially not with how good it feels.

Dopamine spreads through his veins and he feels like he's about to light on fire from how hot his skin feels—but you're the same. His fingers sneak up the back of your shirt and it's positively burning, like wildfire in a dry forest. The mere thought that you're feeling the intensity he's trying to show you revs him up a gear further, biting down on your lip hard in excitement.

You try to pull back with a wince, but Shidou doesn't let you, kissing you so hard and pushing your head in so much that all you can do is whine against his lips. He fucking loves this. He fucking loves you. His eyes open just the slightest, and the expression on your face nearly makes him explode.

His hand slips down, and he grabs a handful of your ass underneath your sweatpants, nails sinking into the material with how hard he grabs it. This feeling—that spreads from his numbed mind towards the tips of his toes, is a feeling he doesn't think he'll ever be able to get enough of. He's kissed people. He's made out with people. But it's never been like this.

He's never had such mind-numbing excitement right here, in front of him and completely pliant to his doing—Shidou has never been this excited before. It's not just what's happening—it's you. He's so drunk—so high off of you that it makes him want to melt into you and never return. If one day, you decided to make Shidou your own, that would be the day he would die happy and submit to your will.

But until then... Shidou will have the reigns, and control them—until you and him are forever like this.

Finally, after a minute of torture and pathetic gasps for air through your nose, Shidou pulls away, letting go of your sore head of hair and panting, a thin string of drool connects both your lips. He grins at the sight, face flushed and a thin layer of sweat sheened over his face.

But you—with your lips swollen, glossy and plump from being kissed so hard by him, and the sweat beading down your face giving you an ethereal glow—looks so much more beautiful than he ever could, he's sure.

In fact, that look on your face—misty eyes with lids too heavy to hold up, and lashes curled upwards to your brows—is what prompts Shidou to finally flip it out.

You're moved faster than you can react, your back crashing against the sheets before you have a chance to protest. His legs are positioned in between yours, and he's hovering on top of you—his antennae ticking your cheek. You look up at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted from shock, and Shidou runs his tongue over his bottom lip when he sees his sight. Underneath him—where he believes you should always be.

My heart won't stop pounding. He thinks, a smile spreading at the thought.

The dopamine rushes through his veins and it gives him the energy to lean down, held up by the arms that cage either side of your head, "You're fucking gorgeous."

I love you.

I love you.

I love you so fucking much.

Shidou loves with such intensity that it can blind people—and maybe, you were the only person who could take such love. Even when his lips crash against yours once again, and you find you're now without your tank top—even in a dreamscape such as this, Shidou is sure that you'll just know.

© KENYUMMY 2024

[daenysx]

hi love <3

first off i wanted to say that i find myself lurking in your blog way too much than I should (i mean i have a life and i cant spend all day reading your fics, OR CAN I?) and i love how you write and hejsusjsjsj you just make my day, so i hope you’re having a wonderful day gorgeous💗

second of all, can i please request either a poly marauders or a sirius (or James whichever you think fits the story better) x fem reader where her birthday passed and just no one seemed to really care except for the boys? Some of her friends forgot and some others gave a half hearted birthday wish and she just feels sort of unloved? and just lots of hurt/comfort/cuddles/fluff hehe thanks

if u cant tell, im projecting🤧 my birthday was on the 9th and lets just say it was not that important of a deal for most people :)

you are the sweetest angel, my love, happy late birthday!! i'm really sorry, you deserved the best birthday and i hope you can accept this little fic as your birthday gift!! ♡

it's my first time writing for poly!marauders, please share your thoughts with me!!

poly!marauders x fem!reader, fluff + a little hurt/comfort

your cheeks ache from giving smiles to your boys all day.

it wasn't an eventful birthday for you, but it was so so nice. you woke up to kisses from james, his whispers of sweet nothings as remus came back to your side from kitchen. sirius's hair was wet from the shower he took as he does every morning, you and james watched how remus took care of his curls from bed. you spent more than an hour just staying in bed, feeling more loved than ever with their words and kisses.

when remus finally convinced you to leave the bed, james offered to carry you in his arms all the way to kitchen. "anything for my birthday girl." he said, your lovely boy. sirius kissed your lips as he handed you a cup of coffee, pancakes and fruits were just like you enjoy. a perfect birthday breakfast, you laughed at every joke sirius made, accepted every forehead kiss from james. remus was giving you heart eyes, you blushed from the attention you got. he gave you an easy smile and you blew him a kiss.

the boys had plenty of offers for your birthday celebration but you decided to stay at home. you wanted a quiet day with them, just being lazy and careless. thinking about wishes and dreams about your new age. you liked how easy it was to do as you wanted with them, no explanations or excuses needed.

you could hear the whispers coming from kitchen when james got you comfy on his chest, cuddling on the couch. he kissed your hair, your arms tightened around his body. legs tangled, fingers curled up on his shirt.

you checked your phone, the screen was bright, showing there's a birthday message from lily. you smiled, replied her long text. there were other texts from a few of your friends. well, technically they were birthday messages but- none of them felt like they actually wished you the happiest birthday. why would people text like celebrating someone's birthday is a chore? you frowned, couldn't accept the fact that you were in fact, waiting for something better. didn't you deserve it?

james noticed how your smile fell, he could see the texts on the screen. "happy birthday, love u." that girl was supposed to be one of your closest friends. you really were expecting something more- heartfelt? you always tried to make sure people you like know how much they are liked by you, texted the sweetest messages to them, cared about their birthdays more than yours. it didn't feel fair. still, you didn't want to jump into conclusions and ruin your day. you let go of your phone to wrap your arms around james.

he held you gently, kissing you again. "anything wrong?" he whispered. you shook your head. it was nothing important. he nodded, giving you a little time to collect your thoughts.

"angel." he said, "there's something here you may want to see."

you looked up, saw your boyfriends holding a birthday cake for you. it was beautiful, covered in silver colored candles. remus held the cake for you to see better as you sat up, the candles were definitely sirius's choice. you forgot about the texts, seeing them smile at you like you were the most precious thing in the whole world was making your head dizzy with affection.

you blew the candles, making a wish. james's fingers were drawing circles on your arm. you kissed your boyfriends thank you, a slow but happy tear rolled on your cheek. "come on, sweetheart, there's nothing to cry about. you're still young." sirius said, winking. his lips were curved into a playful smile.

"let's eat the cake." you said. "god, it looks so good."

"you remember remus's friend who owns a bakery? we got the cake from his shop." james said.

"who, charles?" you asked, remembering details about charles for a second. "i always see the cakes he makes on instagram, he's really good."

"first slice for the birthday girl." remus said, giving you your cake. "happy birthday, sweetheart. we love you so much."

"i love you so much." you said before taking a bite. "it's delicious. thank you."

sirius ate his own slice in three seconds. "this is better than i expected. another slice, please moony."

you kissed his chocolate covered lips fondly. hours were spent on eating cake, gossipping about sirius's workplace, drinking tea, and changing into different cuddling positions. your phone was silent, no one called. there were no other texts. it's weird, you thought. even the people who celebrated their birthdays with you didn't bother to give you a small text.

the day is almost finished, you are full with cake and sweets. james insists on doubling up the princess treatment he gives you every day and helps you with your skincare. you are sitting on bed as his fingers apply your night cream on your achy cheeks, sirius and remus brush their teeth at the bathroom after you and james leave for bed. your hand reaches to your phone. nothing.

"i think," james starts. "it's time you should tell me what's been on your mind all day."

you shrug. what can you tell? expecting birthday wishes from people feels weird. maybe they forgot. maybe they didn't care enough. should you remind them it's your birthday? no, that's stupid. is it? you don't know.

"what's upsetting my baby on her birthday?" he says. "tell me."

"there's something upsetting our baby?" sirius steps in after remus. "what happened?"

you give them a smile that says you're okay. "nothing." you start. remus's eyes find yours, worry sparks in them. "it's just- the girls and my friends from work- some of them forgot about my birthday, and other messages were a bit weird."

"i'm sorry." remus says, holding your hand. "i'm really sorry about that, angel."

"it's okay." you say. "i mean, no one has to remember."

"um, yeah, they kinda have to at some point." sirius says. "you do your best to remember things about your friends and you have every right to expect the same from them."

"i know." you say. you know, but what can you do?

james leans in to kiss your cheek. "i know it's terrible. you don't deserve it. i think- it's not your fault, yeah? you didn't do anything wrong. you deserve the best."

he says the last part silently like he's sad and it breaks your heart. they tried to make your day perfect, they don't deserve to end it sad. you don't deserve to sleep upset on your birthday. you look into james's eyes. "i already have the best." you say. "have you seen our boyfriends?"

you are being sweet on him. "have you seen yourself?" you say, pulling his face to kiss him. he smiles into the kiss. "i'm okay, really." you say.

"of course you are." sirius says. "in what world the birthday girl goes to bed upset?"

remus brushes a kiss on sirius's curls. they are lovely, sitting up in bed to comfort you the best they can. you need a bit time, you think. it's a hard thing to carry, feeling like you are not loved by some people you care about. it's not fair to the boys though. you are so incredibly loved by them and you feel it in your every breath. you can think about the others later. for now, you only need to show your love to your boys. the three people who deserve it the most.

[heechwe]

the start of time | 𝐩𝐣𝐬

୨୧ pairing: park (jay) jongseong x reader ୨୧ word count: 8.6k ୨୧ genre: angst, semi-fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: friends to strangers to lovers, childhood friends, miscommunication, pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex, TRIGGERS FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND PARENTAL ABUSE IN THE LATTER HALF OF FIC. ୨୧ synopsis: You've lost your creative spark for the first time since moving away from Jeju Island, leaving behind your best friend in the process without an explanation. But when a work assignment sends you back to your hometown, truths come to light and perhaps lost love can come back with a little time and effort. ➸ bless @pars-ley for following this fic to the very beginning and being one of the best betas ever! this story is for you, ley, and thank you ♡ 💿Listen to the story's playlist here!

Over the thin railing that separates Jay from the cliffs below, the waves crash violently together. The weather mirrors the feelings circulating through his veins. The ripples of the seabed meeting the sand make him long for what his life could be instead of its current state. The wind whips his trenchcoat in angry thrashes against his back. His hands grip the lighthouse’s iron bars to keep his body steady. The upcoming storm was forecast last night to be one of the biggest downpours of the summer.

As the second in command of the lighthouse keeper, his father, it’s standard practice to be prepared for what’s to come. As the sea continues its visceral reaction to the weather, Jay thinks about her and what her life has become since she’s left. Is she happy? Is Seoul everything she dreamed of? Was running from Jeju without saying goodbye worth it? Or is she closer than he believes, her heart’s desire turning out to be not far from the fishing town they grew up in?

His father calls for him inside, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. Probably for the better, anyway. Thinking about those chapters of his life, the book separated cleanly and harshly with a before and after, does him no good. So, like he should, he runs inside to do the next task that keeps one of the last lighthouses in Jeju working properly. Even if his heart has to be sacrificed in the process.

The subject of your next photograph takes no interest in the lens standing three feet away. Her tail wiggles rapidly as she inspects the bush in front of her with her perky, wet nose. You giggle quietly behind your camera, trying not to disturb her inspection of the roses.

Rule #1 of photography, according to your department head Sunghoon, is to make yourself nonexistent. To get the perfect shot, conceal yourself as much as possible. It’s taken many practice sessions since your first magazine catalog, the original photos coming out less than perfect. Thankfully, you’re now lead photographer thanks to Sunghoon’s tutelage and tips. After five years, you feel like you’re on stable ground.

It reminds you of Jay, the sudden memory of him being the focus of your lens many times before a punch to the gut. Your oldest friend in the world probably wonders what the reason was for your sudden departure. You couldn’t even leave him a letter to provide some semblance of an explanation, one that he definitely deserved more than anyone else.

If only you had a reason that made sense or could salvage the bond you once shared. You know now it’s been eaten away by silence, so what could be said anyhow to repair it? 

Your guilt gnaws at your empty stomach the entire way back to the headquarters of Otherworldly, the magazine you interned at and subsequently were hired to take pictures for. You greet the rest of your team when you make your way upstairs.

”Finally found some inspiration?” Sunwoo asks. Your friend tries to balance a pencil on the top of his nose.

”I’m working on it. In the meantime, I got the copies you wanted.” You give him the folder that holds your pictures for the month’s spread.

”Barely made the deadline this time, kid.” Sunghoon tuts his head at you.

“Leave her be,” Chaewon chides him, thwacking her notebook on the back of his head. It’s nice to know the writer’s room has your back when the boys decide to tease, especially in the form of Chaewon. She may be a stern leader, but she also happens to have a soft spot for you, the only female photographer.

You hear your boss, Kim Taehyung, call your name and ask you to come to his office. Your body bristles at the command, but Chaewon pats you on the shoulder. “Probably just a timesheet thing.”

Tip-toeing into Taehyung’s office, you smile at his back. Your boss is focused on a box of files on the windowsill, the outline of his button up shirt highlighted by the sun. “Please sit,” he says.

You do as he asks, putting your hands on your knees to pinch the skin, an old habit you couldn't kick. You tuck your hands under your legs to stop when Taehyung turns to you. He presses his glasses higher to the bridge of his nose, a soft smile emerging on his lips. “I wanted to say your photos from the last column were very impressive.”

”Oh!” You respond instinctively. Expecting reprimands that turned out to be compliments, you mentally take a deep breath of relief. “Thank you, sir.”

"Also," he says, "I was wondering how you’d feel being sent out on an assignment. Well, you and Sunwoo, actually. Sunghoon was discussing a location-focused piece, and he recommended you for it since you may need a change of scenery for some fresh inspiration.”

You nod your head immediately. “Of course!”

Taehyung claps his hands together, clearly pleased. “Perfect. I’ve already booked you two for the next flight to Aewol in two days. It’ll probably be easy to find a place to stay, right?”

The pit in your stomach that faded immediately widens into a chasm. The sound of your hometown’s name on Taehyung’s lips could have been a figment of your imagination. A sick joke your guilt materialized to punish you further. But as you look longer at your boss, his glee transforming into hesitant confusion, you know the reality is far worse.

”The location piece is for Jeju,” you say, the realization on your lips hitting your ears like a cannon.

”Is that an issue? I can always send Jungwon with Sunwoo instead."

”No sir! Not a problem at all.” The words tumble out before you can stop them.

Jungwon, the little prick, wouldn’t get in the way of your success if you could help it. It’s bad enough that he reminds you of your creative block whenever he gets the chance. No way would he steal a cover piece from you. Particularly the one Sunghoon recommended you for and your boss expected you to complete without problems.

Despite the implications creating intense dread in every fiber of your being.

”Perfect. Get some sleep for the flight! I’ll send the piece details in an email first thing tomorrow morning.”

You walk back to your desk in a daze, unsure what to say when Sunghoon, Sunwoo, and Chaewon ask about the meeting. All your thoughts can center on is Jay, his smiling face continuously playing in your mind’s eye.

“This town is cute! A bit barren, but cute,” Sunwoo says as he exits the car parked in front of your childhood home. Your mother’s rose bushes stand tall near the mailbox, the only color in the dry grasslands surrounding your house. Aewol pales in comparison to the colors of Seoul, the city’s vibrant hues suddenly replaced with sepia tones. The only color that seems to shine through the landscape is the sea a five-minute walk away.

”Say that again, Woo, and your face won’t look so cute.” You roll your eyes and grab your luggage from the trunk.

Two weeks, only two weeks, you can survive two weeks. Your mantra on the flight to Jeju Island has been giving you some relief at the thought of going back home in half a decade. Standing in front of the brick and mortar that encapsulates your old house, you find the words to be extremely hollow.

With her uncanny senses, your mother is already out the door and greeting you and Sunwoo with hugs and kisses on the cheeks. How she could tell the two of you were barely out of the car without spying out the window, you’re unsure.

Sunwoo melts under your mother’s attention, his gummy smile and polite aura on full display. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

”Ah, my prayers were answered. Glad to see my daughter returned with a boyfriend!”

Yours and Sunwoo’s eyes grow to saucers. Your tongues are erupting with explanations at an absurdly fast speed. “No, Mom,” you shush her as Sunwoo’s blush creeps across his neck. “Woo’s my coworker. He’s here with me on an assignment.”

”Oh! Apologies.” She laughs behind one hand and pats Sunwoo on the back with the other. “Doesn’t mean one day you can’t be more than coworkers! That’s how your father and I met, remember?”

You give her a close-lipped smile and nod, the muscles in your jaw tightening.

You hadn’t thought about your father or your parents’ relationship once since you had flown out to the mainland. Admittedly, your life was all the better for it.

Feeling the air of his presence surrounding yours again twists the veins in your neck to tense knots. The ends of your hair prickle in anticipation. You make it to the front of your doorstep, wondering where he is and why he didn’t barge outside to greet you.

Like she can read your mind, your mother says, “I forgot to call and tell you, honey. Your father had an accident at the factory a month ago.” You see a tear in the corner of her eye, but you don’t address it. “So…he’s been bedridden for the past few months now.”

Sunwoo expresses his deepest sympathies. Unbeknownst to him, they deserve to go to the next beggar before him.

Like any other child, you should worry about your father’s sudden health change with a heavy heart and a frazzled mind. You should feel guilty for being away for so long, wondering how to make up for the lost time.

But you feel nothing. Not an ounce of what you should feel.

Even when you sit by your parents’ bed, his eyes lazily gazing out the window while your mother tells him in a loving voice that you’re home, your emotions are devoid of anything negative or positive. Sunwoo smiles and greets him politely. Your father says nothing. The seizure that overtook him stole his ability to enunciate coherent words.

Some moments later, when it’s just the two of you in the room together, you itch to leave. It should be a pleasure to see him. But you’re unsure to see it any other way but objectively: he’s just a body in a bed, doing nothing every day.

You hear your mother shouting in the living room. Her voice is at an abnormally high pitch to exemplify her happiness. You forgot she could achieve such a decibel when she wanted to.

”You won’t believe who’s here, Seongie!”

Seongie.

The childhood nickname Jay was blessed with by his parents, and the name stuck like a second skin. Now, it bounces off your ears and exacerbates your already conflicting emotions. Your body goes into overdrive from the sudden overstimulation, at ease from knowing Jay is close by but petrified you're seeing him after so long.

You fix your hair and take tentative steps out of your parents' room and into the hallway, hearing your mother call your name to beckon you to welcome your old friend.

When you see him, his frame filling the doorway of your childhood house, you’re transported back in time. You see yourself and Jay on a day when he could barely stand at half the wall height. You were etching pencil markings into the doorframe, the wood concealing the handwriting perfectly when the door was fully closed. A time when there were no worries or anxieties placed on you, the two of you against the world.

Looking over his face now, you realize the years have not shown physically. He still has the same angled jaw and smooth cheeks. His bottom lip remains puffy, especially when he pouts. The only thing that has changed with time is his eyes, most likely from the image before him, one he hasn’t seen in so long.

He has every right to be confused. One second, you stopped being a staple in his life. Now, you’re back in it without a warning.

You can’t deny your heart clenching. The muscle seizes when he looks over your figure, his jaw ticking when he finally meets your eyes with his own.

”You’re back,” he says finally. His first words to you in five years hold an air of uncertainty, laced with unspoken pain. He’s unsure what to do with his body, his arms pressed to his sides and his hands stuffed tightly into his pockets.

Knowing you’re the cause of it makes you want to run to Seoul all over again with your tail between your legs, hoping you can forget the misery you’ve caused. How can one apology hold enough weight to make up for what you did to one of the only people you’ve ever loved?

Sunwoo, aware of the sudden tension flooding the room, holds out a hand to your best friend. “Hi, I’m Sunwoo.”

Jay breaks eye contact with you to take Sunwoo’s palm, shaking it with a gentle but present grip. Jay gestures to your mom when he discusses yours and Sunwoo’s job at the magazine. “She’s very proud of her daughter, you know."

”Of course!” Your mother exclaims. “‘S not everyday that your child becomes some hip photographer.”

Jay inhales a heavy breath and looks down at his watch. “I have to go back to the lighthouse, but—“

”I thought your dad still ran that thing,” you cut Jay off. Aewol’s lighthouse was one of the last on the island, and the last love Jay’s father had left after his wife passed away twelve years ago. You expected it to stay in the family, but not in this way. Not when Jay has so many dreams to fulfill. Or, at least, you hope so.

Jay releases a humorless laugh, eyes falling at the corners. “Pop’s getting old. Can’t do it forever.”

He hugs your mother and gives a soft wave to Sunwoo. You feel the pit in your chest from a few days ago re-erupt when Jay looks in your direction before he departs. All you’re left with is the grim line of his mouth to haunt you for the rest of your afternoon.

The shutter of your camera makes Jay turn his head to you with a shy grin, his hair blowing in all directions from the wind. Your spot on the cliffside overlooking the sea is close enough to the lighthouse for you to see Jay’s father going in and out of the structure with supplies shipped from the mainland. Jay only runs over when his father calls for him to help, but his father hasn’t bothered to in the last hour or so.

In the downtime, the two of you have been alternating between science homework and enjoying the cool, cloudy weather. You’ve taken a number of shots of the water’s current and weeds surrounding your picnic blanket, but the majority of them were of your best friend. He pretends he’s going to smack your lens away, but he never does.

“Are you done taking candid shots of me?” Jay asks, his pencil scratching against his notebook.

“Depends. Maybe once you tell me what you’re writing,” you tease. “Because it’s definitely not a chemical equation.”

Jay chuckles and puts his notebook between the two of you. The words are jumbled in front of you until you recognize them as a recipe. “I was testing out this version of hoedeopbap last night, but I used white fish instead of salmon. It turned out really good, even Jaeyun liked it.”

You rest your head on your hand, sprawling out on the blanket to look at Jay. He always appears so animated when discussing food. You wonder when he’ll take the initiative and do something with his passion.

“What?” He asks when he catches you staring.

You grin and turn your eyes away. “You’re just a dork for food, is all.”

“Says the nerd with her camera always around her neck.”

You click your tongue at him. “I consider myself an opportunist. How else will I get good shots if I don’t have my baby with me?” You rub your camera’s body lovingly, and Jay releases a hearty laugh.

The booming sound of your father’s voice calling your name makes your entire body flinch. You swear his figure is as tall as the lighthouse as he comes towards your picnic blanket, stopping short when he sees Jay next to you.

“It’s almost dinner time. Let’s go home.” Your father says the words with a false ease; they hide his warning to follow him back to your house. Your anxiety rumbles low in your stomach, but you play it off like it’s nothing as you pack up your stuff.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jay says, his eyes hopeful for the next morning. As it is your routine for him to bike with you to school, you’re also counting the minutes until you see him again.

“See you tomorrow,” you say, your eyes soft but your stomach wrapped in knots. When you’re out of sight, and your father wraps his hand around your upper arm on your way to the car, you calculate the next seconds until you’re away from him and back in the safety of your best friend’s presence.

You and Sunwoo have been around the town square of Aewol all morning and afternoon. The crisp hour of 4 PM hits you sharply with the sound of cows and other livestock sounding off somewhere nearby. The pictures you’ve both taken of the local townspeople, random animals passing through the pale greenery, and subtle landscape have been average at best. They don’t hit you with awe or fuel any further inspiration. It’s the same cycle you’ve repeated for the past three months, trying to strike some sort of match of creativity only to come up empty.

“Let’s be honest,” Sunwoo says, looking over his own camera’s reel. “These kinda blow.”

“You don’t say?” You kick a free cobblestone off the road in front of you, lips downturned.

“The assignment is ‘Hidden Treasures’ right? Maybe we’re just looking in the wrong place.”

“Where do you think we’ll find something like that here?”

“You’re a local,” Sunwoo says in his defense. “Where did you go all the time in this backwater town?”

The beginning of your sarcastic remark dies on your lips the second you see Jay walking out of the laundromat with Heeseung, one of your old high school friends. He looks the same as Jay, still youthful but showing maturity around the edges.

Jay catches your eyes as they continue walking, his face contorting in surprise but unsure how to address it. Heeseung is the one to run towards you and pick you up in a tight hug, practically squeezing the remaining energy out of you.

“Holy shit, Jong wasn’t lying! You’re really back!” Heeseung laughs, his eyes becoming crescent moons from his happiness. You match his reaction, genuinely glad to see another familiar face.

You introduce Sunwoo to Heeseung, and Sunwoo exchanges pleasantries with Jay. Jay remains tense, the two of you conflicted about how to bridge the awkwardness that lingers.

Heeseung, like Sunwoo, is a great detective, sniffing out tension and immediately directing the conversation to your cameras. “So, Jong was saying you’re here for an assignment?”

“Yes!” Sunwoo says before you can. “We’re trying to find hidden treasures, actually. Our boss’s words, not mine.” Heeseung laughs at Sunwoo and then flicks his fingers.

“Jong could show you guys the inside of the lighthouse! Or even the view from that damn balcony would be a treasure in its own right. You can practically see the whole town from up there. Right, Jong?”

Jay rolls his eyes and rolls the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. “Yeah, that would be fine.”

“Perfect! We were dying here without any good material. No offense to you small town folk,” Sunwoo apologizes, but neither of your old friends mind. They welcome Sunwoo’s city perspective with laughter and an open hand, just like they always have with newcomers.

On your walk to the lighthouse, Heeseung and Sunwoo taking the lead, you’re left to walk alongside Jay. The tension is a tad looser than it was before, but it still pervades the space between you both.

Finally, Jay says, “I can’t believe you’re actually home, y’know.” He says the sentence more like a question, his voice unable to mask the traces of hurt that linger.

It makes your heart rip, but you avoid the workings inside your chest to keep the conversation light. "It took a long time, didn't it?”

”Yeah. It’s like you dropped off the planet.” Jay’s voice turns a degree lighter. He smiles, the crack in his solid facade giving you a way back in.

“I basically did. All I had was my camera and some clothes in my bag.”

Jay's eyes widen, startled by the thought. “You’ve never traveled light once in your entire life.”

”I know! I barely had time to grab the necessities.”

His eyes are filled with humor. “And by that, you mean…”

“Obviously my Pokémon collection, for starters. I had to start from scratch,” you joke. “Good thing I saved all of the old cards under my bed.”

”Even the one of Charmander that I dropped in Jaeyun’s homemade soju?”

You nod, laughing. “It still smells like watermelon.”

”Bullshit!”

You both fall into an easy rhythm of witty banter and taunting, recalling old memories and brushing shoulders in a mocking fashion.

By the time you’re taking photographs on the highest floor of the lighthouse, the tension has dissipated by a large portion. Your relationship with Jay may not be completely back to where it was before, but the first lighthearted smile he throws in your direction proves it’s a start.

And a start is just enough to make your heart feel a million pounds lighter.

“So Jongseong is flailing this card around, not realizing that the bowl of my signature soju punch is right there behind him…” Jake tells the story of the Charmander card with animated expressions. Heeseung and Jay roll their eyes, but Sunwoo laughs the entire time, his buzz bumping his energy to a level you had never seen before.

The bonfire Jake and Heeseung set up a walk away from the lighthouse is big enough for all five of you to sit comfortably around it. It seemed to be the only way your old friends could hang out together at this point in their adult lives. The bar that still stood in town filled with too many old people to feel like an acceptable hangout location.

“And he completely dropped not only her precious Pokémon card, but his whole fist into the punch bowl! I had to make a whole new batch without my parents knowing about it!” Jake laughs incredulously.

The memory still holds a level of insanity for him, clearly—not just at the situation but the level of teasing that you and Jay would devolve to when you were in your own little world together. You couldn’t help that you wanted to take your card from Jay’s hands, even if that meant soaking him in alcohol to get him to give it up.

You lift your beer to your lips, blushing. Jay sits beside you and notices the humor in your expression, smiling to himself too. You didn’t expect to reach this level of closeness again so soon. Who knew it would take a work project to find your way back to each other? With the week coming to a close and a good catalog of photos under your belt thanks to him, you could say the glass was looking half full.

“You guys got any more stories? This shit’s hilarious!” Sunwoo says, still laughing.

“Loads, man,” Jake responds.

“He’s got the best memory of all of us. Probably remembers all of our first naps in elementary,” Heeseung adds.

“How about we focus on the present, please? Otherwise we’ll be here until the sun comes up, Dee and Dum,” Jay says, pointing to the prime suspects with their all-knowing smirks.

“What else is there to say, Jay? Jake and I have been toiling on the dredging boats. You keep guarding that white tower and saying no to your uncle every time he asks you to work at his restaurant. Same old, same old.”

You turn your head to stare at Jay, perplexed. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

It’s always been Jay’s dream to make something of himself with his recipes. Bookmarks, sticky notes, anything with free space held an ingredient here or a step for a recipe there. It was like it was second nature, as were photographs for you.

How could he deny himself from what he wanted?

“I already have responsibilities here. I can’t drive up and down the highway to Park & Co. every day.”

“Start small, idiot.” You chide him, half-serious in your pestering. “Who said you couldn't do both? You can be a good son and still have your own dream.”

“Careful,” Jake says to you. “He might listen to you.”

“You’re the only one who gets through that cold heart of his,” Heeseung teases.

Jay gives the older boys a stern look, and they back off immediately.

On the walk back to your house, Jay’s jacket nestled around your shoulders, you grill him further on the prospect of him cooking seriously. “You should do it.”

Jay shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “And what’ll happen to the lighthouse? My dad will go back every morning on his cane and keep it working himself? No way.”

“Come on, who says you can’t do both?” You flaunt your arms in the air, emphasizing your point. “It’s not like it rains every day here.”

He looks at you with humored eyes, their shape becoming extremely thin when he smiles. “You’re even more stubborn as an adult, you know?

You poke your tongue out at him. “I could say the same about you, Seongie.”

The rain soaks your clothes when you run through Jay’s door. You shake off the droplets in your hair, most of the strands needing to be wrung out in your fist. Jay gets you a towel to dry off with, laughing at your current state of affairs.

”Don’t make fun of me. Be glad I still came, asshole,” you warn, warming yourself with the dryness of the cotton towel.

Jay raises his hands in mercy. “I told you to come earlier! Forecasts are no joke.”

”Sometimes they’re wrong,” you say. 

”Ninety-five percent of the time, they’re not. Trust the lighthouse keeper next time, maybe? I’ve been watching those skies for three years. I know if and when the weathermen are full of shit.”

You roll your eyes and shuck your shoes off, “Whatever. Any chance you have a spare pair of warm socks for me? I may get frostbite.”

”One, that involves snow,” Jay says as he walks into his small bedroom, leaving you alone for a second before coming out with what you requested. “And two, promise to bring them back. I only have so many pairs before I have to go to the city for more.”

”Scout’s honor,” you promise. You switch out your soaked socks for Jay’s, the feeling of the fabric making you immediately warmer. It could also be the fireplace that Jay put kindling in before you got there, but it’s mostly the socks. “Thank you. I feel better already.”

“I’d offer you a set of clothes too, but I’m moving a lot of my stuff from my dad’s.”

“It’s not that far away, though. You really want to live in this tiny shack?”

Jay laughs and returns to his food on the stove. “Do you think I could bring a girl home living with him? I love him, but I’m getting too old to be his roommate.”

You smile and press your arms into the kitchen counter, but you know it’s false. The thought of Jay being with someone else sprouts a gargantuan knot of jealousy in your stomach. He’s never belonged to you, not by any means. Not only that, but your illogical departure gives you no right to claim him now. And yet…

“Hey, where’d you go?” He waves a dish towel in front of your face, a smile on his lips.

“Sorry, just lost in thought,” you play off your prying thoughts.

“Obviously.” He sticks his tongue out at you and continues to stir the concoction on the stove.

“What are you making anyway?”

“Seaweed soup. I haven’t been able to make you any since…the last birthday we spent together.”

Your body warms deep down to the soles of your feet at this surprise. “My birthday was three months ago.”

He chuckles and turns his head to you, smirking. “Consider it a belated birthday gift then.” He carries on stirring, but continues talking. “Besides, you always liked my soup compared to your mom’s. Too watery, if I remember right.”

You blush and step away from the counter. “Let’s not talk about her or her food.”

Jay’s face turns puzzled. “You’ve always been so bristly when we talk about your family. Your mom is one of the sweetest ladies in town." 

“You don’t get it. You didn’t grow up with her.”

“Hey, at least you have both parents around.”

You slam your hand down on another laminate countertop, growing more frustrated the longer the topic is broached. “Jongseong, please drop it.”

“Why are you getting so upset?” He asks, puzzled and growing alarmingly quiet at your outburst.

“Because you don’t get it! And you never will, okay? So let it go!”

The kitchen suddenly feels too suffocating, the memories of the past and your argument melding together in a way that makes any hunger that you had become a full stomach stuffed with nothing but anger and fear. You run out of the house and back into the rain, knowing if you say anything more, your secrets will fall around you like pellets soaking your skin.

The lanterns fill the sky like a thousand stars, close enough for you to touch before they’re whisked away into the dark clouds above you. Even for your small town, every adult and child knows the end of summer festival is a time to make the last set of wishes and affirmations before autumn comes. If Jay’s father yearned for an easy season, he would buy a lantern to release on a night light tonight, as would your friends’ families who hoped for good health and fortune.

You smile when you manage to catch one, holding on tight despite knowing it’s against tradition. Once one is meant to float away, it was considered rude to stop it from continuing on its path upward.

Jay chuckles and grabs it from you, matching your pout in jest. “Next year, I’ll buy you your own, alright? Don’t be greedy!”

You roll your eyes and watch the lantern rise up and away from your spot on the beach. It shimmers in an amber glow until it slips away into the black sky overhead.

You turn to him, eyes lit up not just from the lantern flames. “Did you wish for anything this year?”

Jay shrugs. “I can’t really wish for anything ‘cause I didn’t get—“

“Don’t give me that! It’s symbolic, anyway. Just tell me,” you whine.

Jay only side-eyes you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You attempt to throw a bundle of sand in his direction, but he sees your upcoming attack the second you raise your arm. He takes your wrist in his hand, the clump disintegrating between your fingers. The two of you laugh as you try to wiggle free from his grasp.

You’re both a tangle of limbs until he finally pins you down on the ground. He hovers above you, panting hard. “I win,” Jay replies, his breathing ragged but eyes still sparkling from a successful takedown.

“You wish.”

In the flicker of lantern lights and midnight stars overhead, Jay can’t help himself from leaning down closer until there’s barely a breath between your lips. He lets every doubt that has lingered over the past fourteen years dissipate and surrenders to the moment, feeling the softness of your mouth as he kisses you.

You could be glowing as bright as the lights still being sent off into the sky. You feel like you are, anyway.

He doesn’t go faster or push you further, the simplicity of the act making you sparkle from within with every ebb and flow of your conjoined lips. The crackle of a firework is what makes the two of you come up for air, unaware of how much time has passed.

 You let the moment hang between you the entire walk home. He holds your hand, squeezing it every now and then, the action more valuable than any words he could say right now. He holds himself back from giving you another kiss to say goodnight, knowing there’s always tomorrow.

Minutes after you make it inside, the scene in front of you turns whatever joy was left from Jay’s presence into acid.

“Can you not do anything right around here? I ask for the simplest things and even that’s too much.” Your father points to the food in his hands with an air of disgust directed at your mother.

He spits his vitriol in her face, the pattern commonplace. The behavior is nothing new, but his eyes show something worse than normal brewing beneath the surface.

“I can fix it,” your mother assures him, trying to take the bowl from him. “I’ll throw out the old batch and—“

“So now you think wasting food is the better choice? Are you stupid?”

The two of them are unaware of your presence, but even if they were, you doubt that would change the downward spiral they were heading towards.

She tries to walk away from him like she always has, diffusing the situation in the only way she knows how, but he drops the bowl on the counter and takes her by the arm.

“You’re not leaving,” he warns. The next moments pass in a blur, each one that plays out making you hover outside of your body, looking down in disbelief. Your mother’s temple hits the wood with a terrible thud. The next second, your body is pressed against your father’s to pull him away, begging, “Daddy, please stop!” 

His upper arm has enough force to jam into your chest and knock you onto the kitchen tile below. Pain reverberates up your tailbone from hitting the floor in a violent bang.

Your mother comes from the daze of her assault to cover your body with her own. It’s a pointless defense, your father’s feet slamming hard on the floor as he walks away and into the bedroom without looking back once.

She apologizes profusely, holding your head in her hands as tears stream down her face without an endpoint. You can barely form a tear yourself, still unsure the past ten minutes happened at all. An hour ago, you had your first kiss, and now…

“Your aunt lives on a coast off the mainland. I can’t let you stay here anymore, my love.”

That moment is when you feel the water form in your eyes. You couldn’t leave now, not with so much left uncertain.

“Promise me you’ll leave this place. Don’t think about this night again and find something better, please.”

That entire night, the waves knocking into each other with the same force as you had encountered hours ago, you feel your heart shatter into a multitude of pieces, each fragment tinier and more painful than the last. The thought of Jay waking up to see you in the morning only to find you erased from his life, robs any chance of you sleeping on the boat ride to Wando.

He’ll try to call and text, for sure. But what could be said that would explain the last twenty four hours without breaking your promise to your mother? How could you live with sharing such intimate details of your household, even with someone as sacred to you as Jay is?

How could you make him believe it wasn’t his fault that you fled without revealing your most vulnerable and harsh reality? After coming so close to the future you always dreamed of with him, what would he think? What would he do?

So, like any coward does, you let the phone ring until your battery dies, not bothering to charge it again until you make it to your aunt’s. You tell yourself he’ll move on and life will be better with you safe and out of the picture. Every beat of your breaking heart may call you a liar, but you’ll learn to twist it into the truth one day.

The next afternoon, sun slowly setting to meet the waves below, you walk towards the lighthouse with the courage your younger self didn’t have the night you ran away. Your heart tosses around in your mouth when you take the first step through the threshold, but now is the last time you fear the truth. If you couldn’t explain the circumstances back then, the least you could do was explain them now.

You take the trek up the steps to the top floor of the lighthouse, every step heavier than the last. Jay stands inside the lantern room cleaning the large bulb at the center of the space. He immediately tenses when you walk through the open door, but he says nothing. He only holds the same somber expression he had the first day you arrived back in Aewol. Only now, so much more rests behind his face that you cannot decipher.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. The words release something you believed couldn’t be separated from your being. Your guilt remains present, but the apology provides a long-held breath of fresh air.

He looks up to meet your gaze, eyebrows furrowing just a touch. The setting sun casts amber shadows across his face, making his confusion breathtaking. Clearly, he’s unsure what exactly you’re apologizing for.

The next words already taste like lead in your mouth, but you can’t hold the weight of them for another second.

Speaking them out loud is what will set you free.

“The night I left, my dad pushed my mom into a cabinet,” you confess. The eight words you just uttered create a well of tears in your eyes, but you keep your voice level and solid. “He had always been…harsh before, not just with her, but that was the first night I ever saw him hurt her with his hands instead of his words.

“I tried to stop it from getting worse, and I fell down—no,” you take a breath, “h-he threw—he threw me down on the floor.” You feel foolish for trying to minimize his actions, knowing there’s no reason to protect him anymore. You lower your head, ashamed. “That was when my mom called my aunt in Wando. She begged me not to say anything, so I kept it a secret. You’re the first person I’ve ever told about it… and about how much of an asshole my father really is.”

You can’t help the way your words crumble on your tongue or the low whimper that erupts from your lips. You had accepted in silence the harsh reality of your father being a violent and cruel human being, but speaking the words aloud is another beast entirely.

You go cold, your figure limp until you feel Jay’s gentle fingers under your chin. They pull your face up to meet his, catching his glassy and red eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

You sniffle. “What would you have done? We were seventeen—“

“Fuck that,” Jay seethes, his face a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I would’ve killed him then, just like I want to right now.”

You laugh and take his fingers in yours. “I made a promise.” You lock onto his gaze harder, trying to convey every ounce of regret you still feel. “I thought about calling you every day. I’d pick up the phone and didn’t know how to come up with the right words, especially after…”

Jay laughs, passing over the curve of your cheek with his thumb. It’s the rhythmic pattern of his touch that makes you come down from such heightened emotions. It’s always been his superpower, grounding you like this. “If I had known I wouldn’t see you again, I would’ve kissed you until the sun came up.”

You blush, your body flushing with heat. “Nothing’s stopping you now, Jongseong. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He steps forward, the shy boy you grew to love appearing in front of you. The last time you were this close, you both were unsure about most things in life, but not about how much you meant to him, and vice versa.

Now, the feelings he had put on hold for so long take hold of him, his heart a kaleidoscope of pent-up sensations when he finally presses his lips to yours. His mouth is ravenous, his tongue finding yours as his arms clutches onto your body with fervor.

You’re encased in him, all the lost time suddenly found in the spaces of his mouth on yours, your hands on his body, and the moans that leave your mouth. He undoes the buttons of your cardigan with quick ease, taking it off of your shoulders and somewhere in the room you don’t care to remember. You help him pull the sweater over his head to kiss the column of his throat and top of his chest, making him shudder.

You both pause to hurry down to the drawing room below, not wanting to continue on the iron floor next to the bright bulb of the lighthouse. Yes, the cot off to the side of the room is not incredibly comfortable, but you care little about its lack of comfort when Jay lays you down on your back and smothers your body in kisses. He makes a map of your skin until he meets the apex of your thighs, your body highly strung by the time he kisses the center of your legs.

You clutch his hair with both hands and hold tight in the midst of his ministrations, his whispered words of affirmation and the figure-eight patterns of his tongue saying just enough to push you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

He lifts his head from your body to crawl over you, his heart in his mouth as he says the words that have always been in his mind and heart from the second he saw you. “I love you.”

You’re unsure if it’s normal to cry at such a confession or in the midst of your current situation, but regardless, there are no tears of fear or pain. They’re ones that fill the silence between you with what he already knows to be true. But you say the words he needs to hear anyway. “I love you, too, Seongie.”

This is what it feels like to be at home. His body against yours, him sliding so easily inside of you without a word needed for the immense amounts of pleasure that already exists. It could be a handful of minutes or a span of time that carries over into the next morning. All that matters is his lips on your own and his hips meeting yours with every thrust.

And in between every movement, he has to remind you how much he loves you. His words and feelings are already embossed into your heart, but it’s nice to hear the breathless cadence of his voice. “I love you so much,” he groans, his end close with the sudden stutters of his body.

You fall off the cliffside together, your bodies in sync in the best possible way as your eyes see the stars from the very first night you kissed in the back of your eyelids. And when he has his hands in your hair, his touch lulling you to sleep, you wonder why it took you this long to come back to the one person who has always been the safest space in your world.

The two of you stay nestled in the thin blanket, Jay’s body your source of warmth in the small drawing room of the lighthouse. The cot barely holds your bodies, but with you both squeezing together and not wanting to let go, you make it work.

Jay takes stray hairs from your face to tuck behind your ears. “I can’t believe you didn’t know how bad my crush was until the festival.”

You giggle into his chest. “I wasn’t paying attention to boys back then! How would I have known?” You hold his gaze, suddenly vulnerable.

He chuckles. “I think I was pretty obvious.”

“To everyone but me, I guess,” you joke. “Besides, I think I always knew I’d end up with you, strangely.”

“That’s not strange, not at all.” He kisses you tenderly, nipping your lips until you laugh into his mouth. “Perfect. At least to me.”

“Same,” you agree. “I’ve never felt more at home than when I’m with you.”

Jay responds by holding you tighter between his arms. He kisses the top of your head before whispering, “So where do we go from here?”

The answer is simple, but that doesn’t make it any easier to face.

Jay looks deeply into your eyes and senses the words you cannot say, and the strength of his stare and his arms as your protective walls from all the harm that still exists in this world gives you the power to confront what you need to.

That afternoon, leaving Jay in the lighthouse with your heart fully in his possession, you know you have to face the demons that wait for you in your childhood home. If you are to have a future together, the first thing you have to do is make peace with the past.

A handwritten note on the fridge tells you your mother went out for groceries, giving you the perfect excuse to release the words that would end your terror once and for all.

You enter your parents’ room to see your father, unmoved from the spot you saw him in on the first day you were back home. Your mother pleaded for you to check in every now and then now that you were back, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not until now.

You move the chair by his bedside out to sit down. When you finally face him again, you take note of the details you were too blinded by indifference to notice before. You observe the wrinkles on his forehead, the sunken divots under his eyes, the age lines surrounding his mouth, the frailness of his body.

The weight he’s lost since his accident makes all his features stand out more. All that he’s lost, but has also always been, is on full display now: this husk of a man without the venomous words and bravado to hide behind is truly nothing to be scared of anymore.

 “You’re so much smaller than I realized.” You say it with a breath of relief, any fear or anger that was left behind for him in your soul replaced with pity. You can walk away without regrets or words you wish you could’ve said, because you know now it’s a waste of your peace. Maybe one day, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive, even. Not today, but someday.

You walk away with no grievances left, back in the direction of the lighthouse with a new purpose and ready to take the path you were always meant to. Back to the home you’ve always had resting inside of the one you love.

Jay stands with his back facing you, staring off into the expanse of sea in front of him. His shoulders ease as you step closer.

“You’re back,” he says with saccharine happiness. He takes your hand in his and presses your fingers to his lips.

“I am,” you respond. You kiss him with your whole soul, incredibly in love and unafraid of what will come next.

“Babe! The new issue is here!”

You open your eyes to the sound of Jay’s words. You could barely doze off when he was so excited to grab the mail this morning. It was only delivered a few minutes ago, but of course he has to check for the newest spread of Otherworldly in your mailbox. To his happiness and your shy pride, your name’s plastered in almost every section of the photography credits.

Convincing your boss to let you work for the magazine from your hometown turned out to be easier than expected. With his happiness from your newfound inspiration, it seemed like you could take pictures of algae for all he cared and it would be a hit in the magazine’s eyes.

You weren’t the only one who could take credit, though. Jay’s name was also included in some of the photos, his insight into Aewol’s cuisine and new sous chef position at Park & Co providing more than enough influence for your photography. The lighthouse would always be his priority (aside from you), but his second love of food could not be kept at bay any longer.

He opens the magazine to the first page that features your photos, the centerfold being of Jay’s original recipe for hoedeopbap. “It looks even better in print,” Jay says, his face three shades brighter staring at the meal.

You giggle and wrap your arms around his middle, peeking your head out from the side of his shoulder to look at the pages. “It’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Some of the best you’ve ever done.” He turns in your hold to press your chest to his, kissing your forehead in the process. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Actually, getting lucky is how we got this.” You take his hand and rest it on the curve of your stomach, fifteen weeks peaking out from under the midriff of your tank top.

He laughs and presses his lips to your cheek. “I love you.”

To your surprise, peace was easier to find than you had expected. Confronting what you ran away from all those years ago feels like a distant memory, the pain of the past a part of another reality. There are no monsters that creep in the shadows or secrets to keep locked behind closed doors.

All that remains is the ease that comes from a life filled with nothing but love and happiness, as weightless and freeing as a lantern floating through the sky.

“I love you too, Park Jongseong.”

@junekissed (thank for beta-ing also june!! ilysm) @yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

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

[tarre-was-right]

ROUND ONE: MATCH-UP EIGHT

Remember, this is NOT about who would win in a fight. This is about who makes the best leader for Mandalore as a whole.

Explanation post

Seeding

Propaganda below the cut! You can submit more on this post and I will reblog it back to here!

ALPHA-17

@ihuntmonsters: He’s uhhh super badass and sexy and kicks ass and is really awesome and I’m in love with him Perfect propaganda yes. He shall lead Mandalore

Anon: He's pretty good with training children! He is very good at inspiring loyalty! He is very willing to go after sith lords with just his teeth if he has to!

Anon: Vote for Alpha he’s got Cody’s thighs, Fox’s tits and Wolffe’s ass. He’s also a DILF, if you consider the shebse squad/command batch headcanons. And who wouldn’t want a Mand'alor like that?

Anon: Alpha-17 would be a great mandolorian leader I mean look at those Pecs! What else do u need in a leader?

Anon: HERES WHY ALPHA-17 FOR THE WIN: HE WILL ASSASSINATE ALL OF THE OTHER POLITICAL FIGURES WHICH MEANS DEAD SKEVY SHEEVY PALPATINE AND WHO DOESNT WANT THAT?

Anon: What a guy. I love him so much. He's such an asshole. Alpha-17 was part of the second test batch of clones of Jango Fett, one of a group of 100, and as such he was trained directly by Jango Fett in the art of war; these early batches who had more contact with their Mandalorian trainers are commonly considered to have a stronger claim to 'Mandalorian-ness' because of this exposure and learning experience than clones from the later, larger batches

Anon: Propaganda for Alpha 17: tall

Anon: Alpha-17 should rule Mandalore because a good king doesn’t want the power of the throne and he does not want that at all. also he’s the funniest choice. might have the skills to not get killed by maul

JANGO FETT

Anon: Jango became Mand'alor (according to Legends) at the tender age of 15 immediately after the death of his adopted father Jaster Mereel. While another of Mereel's men (Montross) made a grab for the position Jango brought up the betrayal Montross had done to Mereel causing the older man's death. The other Haat Mando'ade fell in behind Jango as he had become Jaster's Legacy. He led the Haat Mando'ade for 8 years and seemed prosperous. - And then Galidraan happened, between poisoned information and tensions being high between the Jedi and Mandalorians it only took a spark for it all to be blown to hell.

Anon: Jango was trained to be Jaster's successor to the title of Mand'alor from the time he was adopted at about 8 years of age, following the death of his blood family - when Jaster was killed, Jango was chosen by their people to step into the role despite being a young teenager at the time, suggesting that he was already known to be a good leader, and one who had earned their loyalty and trust over even Jaster's formerly-trusted second-in-command - while his time in the position was short, he did seem to command great loyalty and respect from his followers, although his focus seemed to have been more on their faction's mercenary work than on serving as a ruler or even cultural figurehead for the people of Mandalore at large - regardless, Tor Vizsla saw him as enough of a threat to his own claim to the throne to seek his swift removal from the political field - even after having disappeared from the field of politics for years following the incident at Galidraan, many Mandalorians still answered his call to come and serve as trainers for the GAR, suggesting that they took his claim seriously as well

Anon: Jango Fett, while a man of many mistakes, inherited the role of Mando'alor from Jaster and tried to do the same as he did: honour their past, move forward and provide for their people - He took care of Montross and tried his best to protect the people who followed him, to make sure they had a future and didn't fall apart and get scattered to the winds again.

@lightsaberwieldingdalek: I mean. Jango’s got the best brand recognition? Absolutely everyone for centuries with recognise the Jango Fett look, and that army that Jango was kinda sort of responsible for did conquer at least half the galaxy, just…. Not in the name of mandalore

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: I hope you all enjoy this random idea.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

One hand guides the fabric as the other turns the wheel. Your work is slow but steady, every stitch perfect, every seam precise. Your fare may be modest and your product simple, but its quality cannot be contested. Your labour as yourself is honest and plain.

The noise of the machine is your only company. The one-room shop nestled behind the butcher’s rarely sees a customer through its door. Instead, the orders are sent from the factories, returned with the printed adverts you disperse outside their doors. The writs are sent along with an envelope of pence and shilling and you complete each with equal diligence before sending them back bundled in paper and twine.

The operation isn’t especially fruitful but the profit is enough to subsist. Enough to guarantee your independence; a small apartment just above and a pot of stew to last you through each week. This humble existence is preferable to any marriage you’ve witnessed. 

The letters from your sisters reaffirm your spinster’s fate. You’d rather a hand wheel and a needle than a brood and broken back. A husband seems to provide several jobs at once, you’ll happily settle for one.

As your hands work from memory and your head wanders from tedium, the bell above the door gives a single sharp toll. You ease the wheel to a halt and leave the seam unfinished. You peer up above the black iron machine, reminding yourself to fix your hunch as a client enters. You can’t but wonder if he may have come to the wrong shop.

By his attire, he is a class above the factory women who require gray skirts and simple stays. His waistcoat is embroidered and his jacket is pressed and clean. He is tall, locks part tidily so his curls lay gracefully. His face is fresh-shaven, square jaw with a cleft, and shoulders broad and strong. He does not share the same sinewy gauntness as the labourers with the coal-dusted noses.

He carries a fine leather bag. Another clue to his status. His shoes, another. Polished and without creases.

You stand to greet him, “good afternoon, sir. Might I help you with something?”

His answer is not prompt. He takes in the finished dresses hung by the east wall and turns to examine the rolls of wool and cotton. At last, he returns his attention to you.

“Afternoon,” his deep timbre fills the small space, “you are the dressmaker.”

It isn’t a question, but you answer, “I am.”

He narrows his eyes as he approaches your desk, the sole fixture in the space. From without, the shop is just as bare. The blackened windows offer not insight into the business, its only suggestion the sign hung above the door, though the paint requires a fresh coat.

“And the shop owner?”

“That is me as well, sir,” you assert. The presumption is not uncommon.

“Ah,” he accepts your explanation without comment, “so, you will have sewn this.”

He puts his bag on the desk, nearly knocking your shears from the corner. You try not to flinch as they teeter near the edge and he pulls open the top of the leather bag. He pulls out a swath of grey. You recognise it and he rolls the cuff to show your initials sewn within.

“Sir,” you say precariously, “is there some issue with it? Is it your wife’s dress?”

“Wife? No, no,” he dismisses, feeling the fabric between his fingers, “rather I am in search of the dress’s owner. The initial must belong to them, yes? So you would have a name for the buyer.”

“Mm, no, those are mine,” you point at the letters, “as it is my handiwork.”

“That makes sense,” he frowns in disappointment. “So you wouldn’t know who would wear it?”

You rub your chapped lips together. You find your tongue sliding over them often when you work, turning them raw with the habit. The man’s lips are rosy and smooth, as well-kempt as the rest of him. He is no factory worker’s husband.

“I might… would you take it out?” You ask.

He obliges as you pluck up the metal cylinder from your desk and unfurl the tape measure from within. He shakes out the dress, holding it by the shoulders to reveal salt stains along the skirts and unleashing a dingy smell in the shop. You wiggle your nose at the stench but worse roils in from the butcher’s on hot days.

You take the measure of the sleeves and the waist, then to the hem. You scribble the numbers on a scrap and take that to compare with your ledger. The measurements are in now way defining but might narrow it down. He keeps the dress aloft and you return to him to check the thread along the seams. A few months ago, you changed the thickness as the factory workers complained of splits under the arms.

“Hm, it is a recent purchase,” you assure him and return to the ledge. 

He lowers the dress and approaches. You snap the book closed and turn your face up to consider him once more, “why do you need to know, if it is not your wife?”

“You are very discerning,” he remarks as he folds the dress and drapes it over his bag, “I’m certain then you can surmise the woman who wore this dress did not meet a kind fate.” He tugs up the hem and shows a tear trimmed in scarlet, the colour not obvious from a distance. “Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. I’m a detective and I’m trying to identify a poor woman found not far from here. I believe it is in your own interest that I discover her assailant.”

“I cannot say for certain which she is,” you turn over the scrap and re-open the ledger. You write down three names which match the measurements and hold the paper out to him. He takes it, his thick fingertips brushing yours. “Those are the ones which align with the dress.”

“Mm,” he hums as he tucks the paper into his chest pocket, “and your name? I couldn’t make it out on the sign.”

You recite your name flatly, “it isn’t on the sign.”

“It requires new paint,” he admonishes, “I could hardly find you.”

“I am aware,” you reply. “Thank you for noting.”

He’s quiet, “being a detective, however, I did indeed put together the clues.”

Is he making a joke? You cannot tell. He folds up the dress completely and puts it back in the leather bag. The smell persists.

“What are you prices?” He asks abruptly.

“Sir, I sew dresses for factory women, sometimes a few communion pieces, but I’m afraid I don’t do much suit work.”

“My sister requires a dress,” he sniffs, “as simple as it is, I can see your work is fine.”

“I have only wools and cottons,” you counter.

“Do you always turn away business?” He challenges.

“I wasn’t, sir, I’m only clarifying what I currently do. My prices are set for those fabrics,” you explain.

“I will pay for the muslin and velvet,” he waves his hand staunchly, “you will be paid for your labour. Can you sew with more than wool and cotton?”

“I can, sir, but you could find a ready-made dress in a market boutique if the dress is required promptly.”

“I can afford the time and coin,” he insists. “You are not a talented advertiser, are you?”

You’re taken aback by his bluntness. Often, his ilk have that demeanour. It’s why you’d rather the factory workers and the fish sellers’ wives.

“I suppose not,” you agree, “I would need measurements before I begin. You may send the numbers along with the fabric, then. And I would require a style. Perhaps your sister is a purveyor of fashion magazines?”

“I will send a messenger,” he shrugs. “Thank you for your time. I shan't get in your way any longer.”

“Good day, sir.”

“Good day to you,” he takes the bag from your desk and the shears fall to the floor with a clatter.

You skirt around to grab them as he bends and swipes them up first. You recoil as he closes the blades with a snap. He examines them before placing them back on the desk.

“Apologies,” he says, “and miss,” he looks at you, “take to heart what I’ve told you today. Keep away from the allies and perhaps you may consider locking your door.”

“Thank you, sir, your concern is appreciated.”

“Rather you might just keep those close, eh,” he points to the shears and his cheek dimples.

Again, you can’t be certain of his humour. You keep a placid expression, neither smiling nor scowling. He clears his throat and runs his hand down his jacket, gripping the lapel.

“Very well then, I’ll be off.”

He turns on his heel and marches to the door. You stay by the desk as the bell rings with his departure. Once the door closes, you cross the shop. You turn the lock into place, his foreboding lingering with the stale scent of dirty water.

🪡

Despite the unusual visit, your days roll on like a hand on a clock. The thought of the woman’s tragic fate looms like a shadow but fades. You have too much stitching to do to fret over that man and his ominous words. You assume his interest in your work thereafter was wholly feigned as he does not return.

That day, you pass off six parcels to Eustace, the driver who takes them down to the stacks to hand off to the floor bosses who will parse them out to the women they’ve been cut for. You pay him his toll before he climbs back into the seat of his cart, his horse kicking impatiently.

“Excuse me, sir,” another driver clops up along the other side of the street, a narrow squeeze between the slanting buildings. “I’m in search of a dressmaker. I believe the store is tucked behind the butcher’s and…” the man’s voice drifts off as his eyes flit to the meat sellers marquee.

“Right here, good sir,” Eustace responds, “wouldn’t ya know, she’s right here.”

You lift your chin to see past the cart and spy the driver. He removes his cap as his gaze meets yours. Eustache dips his chin as he adjusts his own hat and snaps his old mare into a canter. As you're left alone with the carriage driver, a vehicle rather lofty for a block like this, you fold your hands behind you.

“Sir, you hardly look in need of a work woman’s dress,” you say.

“Miss,” he ties the reins off and jumps down from his seat, “I am sent for you, not a dress.”

“For me?” You echo.

“Mr. Holmes has sent,” he crosses the muck and nearly slips. “He said he made an appointment for a seamstress.”

“An appointment? I wasn’t informed of the time,” you rebuff. “I’ve a shop to run, orders paid for. I can’t simply leave.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Holmes made mention of a fee,” the man feels around his striped coat, “he said a deposit would be needed.”

He takes out a brown envelope and hands it over. You take it, a small weight within. You look at the driver before you pull back the flap and peek inside. A large gold sovereign sits in the corner of the paper; a whole pound. That’s at least three days work.

You hold your breath, trying to maintain some composure. If that’s the deposit, what is he offering for the rest? You slip out the folded paper within, a page torn from a fashion journal. The dress is elegant if not extravagant. You don’t often do off-the-shoulder or ruffles like that but it isn’t beyond your skill.

You fold the flap closed again and lift your chin to face the driver, “I must lock up, you see?”

“Take your time, miss,” he says kindly. “Mr. Holmes isn’t expecting you to hurry.”

“Thank you, sir,” you bow your head and turn away.

You measure your steps along the facade of the butcher’s shop and curl around to the alleyway. You let yourself into your shop and tuck the envelope into your apron pocket. You take your sewing bag from under the desk and shake off the dust. You don’t often have reason to use it.

You open it up and pack away your shears, a measuring tape, pins with a cushion, your notebook, and a few other bits and bobs. Just in case. You grab a role of linen from against the wall. It’s heavy but you can manage.

You take the key from your desk drawer and switch off the overhead light. You lock the door and continue back out to the street. The driver puffs smoke from a pipe as he waits.

“Miss, allow me,” he snuffs out the pipe and puts it in his pocket. He nears and reaches for the roll of linen.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” you say.

“I insist, miss, can’t have a lady doing all that,” he takes it, not forcefully, and you let him.

As he goes to the carriage and opens the door, you give pause. You don’t know if you should be so easily swayed on a gold coin. Mr. Holmes hadn’t been entirely pleasant and you do prefer your simple work. Still, you can hardly turn your nose up at a pound. Not with the summer fizzling to a finale.

You lift your skirts and cross the street to the open carriage, “sir, might I have a name?”

“Gavin,” he answers, “and I have yours. Mr. Holmes made sure of it.”

“Yes, very good,” you say as you approach, another sliver of doubt trickling through. Mr. Holmes claimed to be a detective but is that really the reason he was strolling around with a dead woman’s dress? You gulp and look at Gavin then the carriage, “might I keep the window open?”

“Surely you can,” he agrees amiably. “Mr. Holmes lives quite a ways, shouldn’t mind the air. I’ll be certain to stay away from the stacks.”

“Thank you, sir,” you accept his proffered hand and he helps you up into the carriage. 

You settle on the bench as the door shuts and you open the window from within. You lean back, your hand grasping the top of your bag. You unclasp it as you feel Gavin climb up on the driver’s seat. You dip your hand inside and clutch your long shears.

You don’t forget all of what Mr. Holmes said.

[evilminji]

Ya'll know our BELOVED? Little Baby Man?

The noodliest ghosty boy?

What if he WAS Baby? It wouldn't be the first time Danny's enemies plotting gave him offspring. Only this time it's not a clone! It's a proper GHOST baby. Like Lunch Box.

Who's the other parent I hear you ask?

Pretty human-centric view point there buddy, to assume Ghosts NEED two participants to make an offspring. OR are limited to two! Just cause Lunch Lady And Boxie are a couple doesn't mean that's the standard!

We lack data here! ASSUME NOTHING. *sciences harder in your direction*

*awkward cough*

*shuffles notes*

ANYWAY! The child! All it would really take is one(1) VERY poorly timed ambush attack. Imagine if you will, a cell. How does it multiply? While not even close, the simplistic images ARE pretty good as an explanation!

But isn't that just an ecto-clone? You say?

Close!

But THOSE? Are hollow bags of GOO!

No CORE! *slaps the chalkboard behind me*

However! If you wanted, say, a precious bundle off joy? Well, nothing can come from perfect void! You must contribute the building blocks of LIFE! And what are those, my students, in ghost biology??!

Two vital pieces! The Ectoplasm aaaaaaand? That's RIGHT!

The CORE!

A critical and ever vital part of ghost biological function.

Which, like every OTHER part of the body, is malleable. One could, say, make it smaller. Create part of a proto core. OR, should one be ALONE in this process, a FULL protocol.

Upon which, ectoplasm latches, builds, develops and grows. Becomes its own soul.

Now! Do Not mistake me! There is a WILDLY vast difference between the formation of a core and a shattered core. Between willing life and untimely second death. It is not, and never WILL be, easy to create the soul of a child. Tampering with your core is PAINFUL, dangerous, and leaves you WILDLY vulnerable.

There is a REASON Neverborn are so precious.

Buuuuut..... *pulls out a book labeled "Curses Though The Ages"* we must ALSO consider the famed Fenton Luck(tm).

Consider! Where would be the "safest" place to practice making clones of yourself? A place that's wide open. No one wearing white likely to take pot shots at you while your attention is divided in multiple places at once. No parents blowing up the basement at a delicate moment and leaving you trying to hide that extra arm for a week...

Maybe you forget... oh yeah... OTHER GHOSTS.

So there Danny floats. In the Zone. DISTRACTED. His core HUGE from all that recently Royal business as it tries to digest it. Feeling bloated. Trying to work off some energy, as it were. Then who should come along? Why, the universes BEST HUNTER of course! To say *gun powering up noise* :) HI :)

Like buddies DO.

Danny doesn't see him.

Danny is mid-split.

At his limit, honestly. Already made as many copies as he usually can. Is trying for ooooone moooooore..... when...

PAIN. Something cracks.

He loses concentration. Tries to curl in on himself.

Both 1.5 of him tries. He loses hold of the "clone's" Ecto. Somethings free floating leaving his chest along with it. Behind him, Skulker is freaking out. That was MEANT to be on opening volley. A gentle little "hey, come fight me". That crack sounded SERIOUS.

Danny can't breathe. It's like the portal all over again. He curls tighter and tighter. Feels the crown, which was not THERE until this moment, press down tight and gripping onto his head. Thrumming. And then... something feels like a muscle releasing.

His core is... smaller? He'd been watching its progress, it couldn't have digest so fast... how did it lose so much... mass...

Danny feels all the blood drain from his face.

He nearly died.

Again.

His... his soul... WHERE IS HIS SOUL?? That's a piece of him! A part of his SOU-!

He spins around... only to meet the eyes off a blearly blinking, noodlish, cartoon like gremlin with his color scheme. Who's floating along like they're in zero-g. Just... drifting in a slow circle.

They yawn at him with a mouth full of teeny tiny baby fangs. Then chirp.

That's his Son. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know WHY, but he somehow instinctively... just... KNOWS?

They blep.

Danny looks a Skulker. His eyes hold MURDER.

"You're paying child support."

"......yes sir."

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[allllium]

andrewgarfield!peterparker x reader where reader has the biggest crush on peter but doesn't know he's spiderman? angst to fluff please!

have lovely day/night <3

Unrequited (I've always loved you)

~ Sorry this took so long and it's a lot longer than I usually write but I love how it turned out <3

~ Fluff, hurt/comfort?, Angst, WC: 2,274

~ Your best friend has a secret

Being in love sucks. Being in love with someone that's not in love with you sucks even more. But that's fine. Everything's fine. Nothing can go wrong when you're in love with your best friend.

Peter looks over at you as you repeatedly tap your pencil against your notebook, very obviously not doing the homework. You're sitting on his bed while he's across from you at his desk. Ignoring the tap from your pencil, you look around his room, lost in random thoughts, well thoughts mostly of him.

"You alright?" He asks, soft voice coming from a few feet away.

"Ugh, just bored." You slightly whine. Standing from the bed to look more around his nerdy room. All the walls are covered with different things that you don't really understand.

He just nods and returns to his work. You admire him from your stance behind him. The way his fluffy hair falls softly in front of his face or the way he's dressed so casually but still looks so good. You don't understand how one person can be so perfect. Not to mention the way he's stronger than he looks, allowing him to maintain his lanky figure that fits him so well.

Out of your boredom you start rummaging through all the stuff he has lying on his bookshelf, which leads to opening all the drawers you can find. You continuously look over at him to see if he has a problem with what you're doing but he makes no move to stop you even as he watches what you're doing.

As you're digging around you eventually reach his closet, you're a little hesitant because you don't wanna press your luck too far but what are best friends if not nosy. His closet is small and way overcrowded with clothes you swear he's never worn. You wouldn't doubt that his aunt tried to sneak them in to help him fit in more.

Something catches your eye as you go to shut the door. You wouldn't think anything of it but the red color of it deeply contrasts the rest of the closet. It looks like fabric but it's not hanging up with the rest of his clothes. Instead it's in a box on the floor, only a piece of it visible as if he rushed to put it away.

Peter shoots out of his chair when you bend down towards the box. He grabs your arm and pulls you away so he can quickly shut the door.

"What was that?" You ask in suspicion. Peter's reaction is one you haven't seen from him before.

"Nothing." He tells you, a serious look falling over his face. He pushes you a little further so he can stand between you and the door.

"Peter, c'mon." You deadpan. All the embarrassing things it could possibly be run through your head. Nothing you think of would warrant this much of a reaction.

"No. Leave it alone." He doesn't exactly snap at you but it's definitely on the line of it.

"Okay then. I'll go now." You tell him quickly. You gather up your stuff and look at him one more time before leaving, his gaze is focused on the floor in front of him. Shaking your head in even more confusion, you leave.

You don't see him for the rest of the day. Or the next day. Or even the day after that. You get the feeling he's avoiding you. It's a mystery why you think to yourself in a sarcastic tone.

Of course you see him around school but he always does more than necessary to avoid looking at you. At this point you're determined to know what was in that box. Is it a huge violation of his privacy, yes. Do you care, no, not one bit. If he doesn't want you to violate his privacy, why would he hide things from you? Make it make sense.

It's not that hard to get access to his closet considering Aunt May will let you in the house will no explanation. After school you walk right in, she gives you a bright smile and continues whatever it is she's doing. Not one question.

You have no problem going into his room, he's probably off skateboarding or whatever else nerds do in their free time. Once you get your hands on the box, that he's now shut completely, you have second thoughts. Maybe it really is wrong of you to invade his privacy like this? Oh well you open it anyway.

Holy shit. You don't even know what to think as you pull out a spiderman costume. You think, well hope, it's a costume because you don't know what to think about your best friend being the New York superhero.

How? When? How again? Is this why he's so strong? You've been friends with Peter long before Spiderman showed up which means he chose not to tell you. Is it because he doesn't trust you? Or maybe he doesn't like you as much as you like him? That stings.

Now you know why he was so adamant you leave it alone. But how is this even possible? He swings from buildings and fights giant lizards. How are you supposed to believe that your Peter can be doing that?

You quickly put the suit back in the box and hurry out of his room. As you rush down the stairs, he's coming up, running into his shoulder halfway down. You know he immediately knows but you keep running anyway.

He doesn't even stop to explain as he continues up the stairs. You walk home and wonder if there's any possibility it was just a Halloween costume.

Your phone rings over and over and over. It's obviously Peter. It's only nine in the morning on a Saturday so you have no plans of getting up or moving enough to answer your phone.

You're guessing he's mad. He should be. Now that you know what it is you can think a little clearer and you understand that maybe you should've respected his wishes a little more.

You don't answer the phone because you know he'll be mad and you don't want him to ever be mad at you. Or he'll be sad and you don't want that either. But of course, above all, you don't want to admit to him that you were wrong.

Once you finally get to moving out of bed, you spend a lot of time reading articles on Spiderman and trying to figure out how he does what he does. Now that you know Peter is Spiderman some of it makes more sense but all the other stuff makes even less sense.

Your phone rings a couple more times and you get a dozen messages but eventually they all stop. You focus your time on reading every single thing you can about him. From everything about the giant lizard to saving cats from trees and catching falling women.

"That was an interesting day." A voice comes from behind you. You jump out of your seat and turn to face them. A not so flattering shriek leaves your mouth and your heart beats faster than you thought possible.

"Peter, what the fuck." You gasp. Heart still racing and breathing slightly heavy. You take a moment to look at him, taking notice of his messy hair and the fact that he's in the Spiderman suit. Obviously he looks insanely hot but very very angry.

"Oh what? Did I invade your privacy?" He mocks, throwing down the mask you're just noticing was in his hand.

"I mean you came through the window so I'd say so." You whisper, not sure what you're actually supposed to say.

"I guess we're even now huh." He takes a seat on your bed and you almost want to say something about outside clothes on your bed but you don't have that right.

"Yeah I'd say so." A simple shrug of your shoulders has him rolling his eyes.

"That's the second time you've said that."

"I don't know what else to say."

"I wonder why." He mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

"Were you ever gonna tell me?" You ask, hurt covering your voice.

"I wanted to." You sit next to him on your bed.

"No you didn't. You should've told me."

"I don't see how it's any of your business." The setting sun shining in through your window glows on his face. You can see every detail of both him and his suit.

"Because we're friends. I don't know, maybe it wasn't."

"Really? You're gonna play this card." He stands in front of you.

"What card, Peter?" You almost yell back.

"You! Acting all sad and betrayed, trying to pretend you don't know if we were ever real friends." He's yelling now too.

"What does that even mean!? I'm allowed to be upset when you keep something like this from me!" You stand up, not liking the way he was looking down at you.

"It's none of your business." He enunciates every word to get his point across.

"Fine. It's not my problem. I shouldn't have done it. Now get out of my room."

He stares at you for a full minute. Like he's not done with whatever he wants to say or maybe he just wasn't expecting you to snap. Either way he respects your wishes, waiting only a moment more to leave out your bedroom window.

The next week rolls around very similar to the last. You go to school, you go home. Peter still avoids you, and what looks like everyone else. Throughout the whole week you don't see him talk to Gwen or anyone else he usually hangs out with.

It's not until Thursday that Gwen actually comes up to talk to you. Usually you would talk everyday but she's been more than busy with her band.

"Hey, are you alright?" She asks, coming up behind you as you put stuff back in your locker.

"Yeah, why?"

"I don't know Peter's being weird and all mopey so I thought he finally kissed you or something." She sighs so freely like she didn't just say something like that.

"What do you mean finally? Why would he kiss me?" She looks panicked. Clearly she wasn't supposed to say something but everyone knows Gwen isn't someone that keeps secrets very well.

"Fuck." She turns around and starts walking off. You slam your locker shut and follow her.

"No, no, no, no. Gwen, you get back here."

"I can't, I wasn't supposed to say that." She starts walking through people and down random halls.

"Gwen, you better get talking or I'm telling Peter what you already told me." That makes her stop in tracks. She turns to you with a look of both disbelief and betrayal.

"You're not even on speaking terms!"

"We'll go on speaking terms outta spite."

"Fine, I'll tell you but you can't tell anyone." She points her finger at you accusingly.

"Who would I tell?"

"Peter may be an insy tinsy bit in love with you."

"Gwen!"

"What? I'm not the one in love with you!"

You take a deep breath while you try to process everything you've learned in the past three minutes.

"I've been trying to get him to admit it to you forever but he didn't want to do it until he told you he's Spiderman." She continues her explanation, not realizing she's yet again saying more than she's supposed to.

"So you already knew he was Spiderman?"

"Fuck." She whines and turns to leave again but this time you let her. It's not her fault Peter didn't trust you. Or that he's in love with you.

"Gwen told me she told you." Peter says, not even a moment after you opened your front door. "And so I guess I don't really have a choice but to explain myself. And I mean that literally because Gwen is giving me no choice." He talks quickly. It sounds like he's trying to say it as fast as possible to get it over with.

"Wanna come in?" You ask, again not knowing what to say. It's funny how all it takes is his presence to make you more nervous than you ever have been.

He walks in hesitantly and doesn't move further than the entryway before he starts talking again.

"I only told her first because I'm not in love with her. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want it to affect anything, but I didn't want to tell you I was in love with you before I told you that I was Spiderman because it didn't feel right to keep that a secret."

"That makes no sense." You run your hands tiredly over your face. "I mean seriously at least have a good excuse."

"I don't have one. Okay, I don't know why I didn't tell you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I love you and I don't want this to ruin anything." He looks down at his feet, breaking the eye contact you were making.

"I love you too but if I was a superhero I'd tell you."

"I know you would. I don't know why I didn't." He shrugs. "Did you just say you love me?"

"Not if it takes you that long to notice." You smile, forgetting about being mad.

"I really am sorry." He says, stepping closer to you.

"So am I." You say, also taking a step closer.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, closing the space between you.

"Of course." Your smile grows even wider as his lips reach yours.

[yesimwriting]

hii 💗

so im currently obsessed with best friend!felix and wanted to request that perhaps their relationship evolves to a point where they’re practically dating but they’re both unaware of it

thank youu

a/n omg you understand them so well

----

There are certain expectations attached to Felix's name, weaved into each syllable like delicate stitches in a tapestry that depicts a family crest. You're not unaware of what the world associates with him, not oblivious enough to lack a general idea of what most assume when they think of being close to someone like him.

People would never guess that the best part of being best friends with Felix are the little things, the small gestures that show how careful he can be when he cares.

The girls you usually sit with in your last class changed so drastically when they saw him on the bench outside of your lecture hall. They whispered and giggled and twirled silky hair around their fingers. It made something in your stomach turn to stone... and you still can't figure out why. You'd be hypocritical to fault them for gossip.

They eventually started chatting about the type of girls someone like him must like. That only made things more awkward when Felix finally spotted you and waved you over. They gaped at you, and with Felix waiting, you weren't given the space needed to stumble through an explanation. The only thing you could manage was a shy 'it's not like that' and a sentence you barely remember that used the word 'friend' way too many times to be structurally sound. It didn't stop them from begging you for details next class before you finally walked away.

Now, in Felix's room, his hand on your shoulder, firm enough to be anchoring, you can't help but compare reality with what they must be imagining. The only details you can offer them are mundane. A fact that only makes you more protective of these moments. They wouldn't get it.

You're convinced no one can, so why take their comments to heart? Even Farleigh, who actually does know Felix tries to twist your friendship into something salacious, something worth gossiping about.

"You're tense." His voice comes out so low you're not sure if you're meant to respond. Felix's thumb traces circles against the top of your shoulder. "You said you had a good day today."

Felix reads your mood with a talent that'd make you uneasy if he was anyone else. "I did." The words feel flat, tired, even though your day was objectively good. You had time to stop for a coffee before class, a TA handed back graded exams and you did better than expected, and you finally finished your essay. "Just Tuesday and Thursday classes."

He nods once empathetically, thumb pressing into your skin. "Tired?"

"Yeah."

The two of you are quiet for a moment. Lulls in conversation have a tendency to make you feel the need to compensate. With Felix, the silence never asks to be rushed through. "Want to rest your eyes for a little?"

This wouldn't be the first time you took a nap in Felix's room. It's not exactly a habit--yet--but it's circling that territory. Sometimes he'll go to sleep with you, other times he'll stay up reading to you.

The offer is irritatingly perfect. You want to say yes, but you--ugh. This is what you get for talking to Farleigh. This is ridiculous. There isn't anything unusual or potentially romantic about your friendship with Felix. You're close, and when it comes to Felix, close is all consuming.

You briefly let your eyes shut. "Sounds nice, but I--I have a lot of homework."

In one movement, he lets his hand slip down your arm and his head fall against your shoulder. "C'mon," his breath is warm against your neck, "I'm tired, too."

The weakness in your resolve makes you like yourself a little less. You swallow, mentally preparing yourself to fight against your fondness. "Out late partying?"

He sighs against you, the sound more amused than it wants to be. "Oh, yeah, Oliver and I were out until the ungodly hour of 11:30." You move your arm, nails brushing a few strands of his hair back into place. "I sleep better when you're here."

Felix is always so warm, it's nearly impossible to not get caught up in it. You almost told him that he could have come over. That the movie you went to see with your roommate had ended around 10:30 and that the only reason you were dismissive when he called is because of what Farleigh had said in the library.

Instead, you settle for running your fingers through his hair. "I told you, Nadia and I went to the movies."

He sighs again, the sound a little sharper this time, almost a huff. A smile tugs at your lips. Felix looks up, half-glaring-half-pouting. "You think it's funny?"

"No," you try, extending the syllable in an attempt to prove your innocence.

Something shifts, you feel it before Felix moves. He straightens, taking his weight off you, likely in an attempt to lull you into a false sense of insecurity. You lean back, resting your weight on one hand. The bit of space you're quick enough to create isn't enough to save you.

Felix leans forward, hand finding the shoulder farthest from him. It's instinct to lean back further in an attempt to duck out from beneath his arm. The move paired with a laugh that makes you lose balance proves to be a mistake. Felix is too tall, too inescapable. His other hand finds your side and you have no choice but to let your back hit the mattress.

He's not pinning you down, but he is hovering in a way that makes you think twice about moving. "Felix." It's meant to come off as threatening, but you're still giggling and it only makes him grin.

"What?" You bravely lift an arm, placing your palm flat on his chest. You will yourself to push him away. He pulls a hand back, giving up trapping you in favor of covering the back of your palm with the front of his. "You started it."

"Doesn't sound like me."

His smile widens. "No?"

He pulls your hand away from him, and for a second, you think he might be ready to release you, but then he presses a kiss to the side of your hand. The warmth of the gesture would normally make you dizzy, but with Farleigh's words ringing in your ears...it's impossible to fully relax.

His eyebrows pinch together, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you hum, "Just tired. Like you said."

He gently sets your hand down. "Y'sure you don't want a nap?"

"No." You're only human. "A nap sounds nice. Just need to use the bathroom first."

Felix squeezes your hand once before shifting onto his back. His absence leaches all the heat from your body. Suddenly, it does feel like a damp autumn day.

You sit up, sock clad feet instinctually slipping into Felix's discarded slippers. They're too large, and you always have to remember to watch your step when you steal them, but they're so plush it's worth the caution.

There's a familiar bundle of fabric thrown over the back of the desk chair. You unzip your jacket. The cold air bites at you as you slip off the thin fabric. You grab Felix's jumper, instinctually pulling it over your head. The material engulfs you in his essence.

You shut the door behind you as you step into his bathroom. Why is something so small getting to you so much? And something that Farleigh, of all people, planted in your head. He likes to twist things until they resemble something entertaining or beneficial. We're just friends. Are you sure?

What kind of a question even is that? Obviously, you'd know if you were dating someone. Obviously, you'd know if you were dating Felix. So of course your answer was a little forced and awkward. Farleigh should have teased you about it. Instead, he looked at you oddly, eyebrows pulled together almost sympathetically, and told you he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anyone be that close with their friends. Not even Felix.

Okay--don't think about it. What does Farleigh know about genuine, platonic friendships?

You turn on the sink. Splashing some water on your face will he--a bottle of moisturizer and face wash. Spares that you had picked up for Felix to try, go to's for you during impromptu sleepovers.

You force yourself to look up. Your reflection stares back at you, Felix's jumper sliding off your shoulder, exposing the sleeve of your shirt.

You dab water against your face before shutting off the sink. Maybe some sleep will help. You'll take your nap, and then you and Felix will wake up, and you'll see that everything's the same.

Felix is already beneath the sheets when you step out of the bathroom. You walk to the edge of the bed, sliding off his slippers before climbing into bed.

"Darling?" You hum in response before craning your neck to look at him. Felix's gaze is fixed on the ceiling. "Are y--Did something happen?" You freeze. Has Farleigh been telling other people what he told you? Did all of it circle back to Felix in some embarrassing way? "With us, I mean?"

The clarification is too small, too uncertain to fit him. You lift your head. "What?" His attention is still on what's above. "No." With a sigh, you lean forward until your chin's resting on his stomach. "Of course we're fine." He tilts his head slightly, eyes finally landing on yours. Felix is quiet for a moment, taking in your expression. Treating him differently isn't fair. "Do you think we're too close?"

His expression falters, the slight concern behind his eyes morphing into something more closed off. "You--you think we're too close?"

"No." You don't even have to think about it. Maybe that's what bothered you about what Farleigh said. You don't want to think about what should be different because you know you don't want to feel less close to him.

He doesn't ease, and you can't blame him. You place a hand on his side, smoothing your thumb up and down the fabric of his shirt. "I--just--the other day, Farleigh ran into me in the library, and we started talking and he made some comments...." Felix groans. "About how close we were, and at first, it just felt like Farleigh, and then he said a lot of people assume things and--I--"

"Who cares what other people think?" Felix shifts, his fingers tracing patterns against your back. "We're happy with how we are."

You smile, "Yeah." It's probably easy to dismiss opinions and rumors when you're someone like Felix. You decide that it's okay to borrow his worldview. "I am happy."

Felix grins, available hand moving to grab yours. He kisses your palm before placing your hand back on his side. He squeezes your hand against the space between his ribs and hip. "I'm happy, too."

You grin, angling your head downwards to press a kiss against his chest before laying down fully. Felix's knuckles run up and down your back. It's soothing, making everything else disappear long enough to let you fall asleep.

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae

i love how much you guys seem to like bestfriend!felix 😭 i have some more requests/fics for him coming,, someone in one of my asks said they weren't sure if i was still taking requests for him and i definitely am,, he's so fun to write for

[imagionationstation]

“How often DOES Donnie get hugged?”

Answering that Ask: Part Two of Two. (Part One)

I was trying to come up with theories, but the best one that I had was a halfhearted theory on touch aversion? Like, maybe he doesn’t like sudden physical contact and his brothers don’t want to present a hug (physical interaction) with him first?

But, that can’t be the case. Physical interaction consistently comes from both sides and neither ever seems bothered by it.

Of course, lack of hugs does not mean a lack of affection.

They’ve just learned to show it in different means.

Leo tends to be supportive or protective, but in small ways, easily missed if you blink. He speaks up for Donnie’s habits “We all deal with stress in different ways.” and takes a genuine interest in what he does. He looks over blueprints, waxes the ShellRaiser, and listens to (often mission-related) explanations from his brother.

He also tries to protect Donnie from his own OCD tendencies. All three of them knows that Donnie has little chance with winning over April, but Donnie’s obsession has latched on tight. Unless she tells him herself, he’s not going to respond in a positive way to their objections. (People with OCD may quiet down about their tendencies, but that doesn’t make the problems themselves go away. It could only make Donnie distance himself from them.)

“What?!” “Why would you tell him that?”

“Because he has no shot with April.”

“Yeah, but you don’t tell him that.”

Leo seems to know exactly how that kind of news would impact Donnie. If anything, Raph probably made the situation worse. Now he could feel insecure or alone. And in feeling alone, Donnie may choose to do things, like, say, break into a Kraang facility on a rescue mission without his leader or teammates to have his back?

As for Raph…

His moments with Donnie are always the bigger ones that are somehow STILL blink or you miss it. He consistently assuring Donnie when something horrible or upsetting happens. Raph tends to step up when Donnie needs that strength and reassurance to ground him. He does his best to pick Donnie back up when he falls, but he doesn’t offer platitudes or false hope. It’s never his style. And Revenge Of The Triceratons, is a brilliant example of this.

“You’re smart enough to built a robot like Metalhead, right? Maybe there’s a way you can rebuilt Fugitoid.”

His brothers know he’s struggling, and their cheer in response to Donnie simply getting the Fugitoid’s head to turn back on is perfect. Exactly what he needs while he’s fretting about everything.

One of my favorites:

Splinter’s main means of grounding his sons when they’re stressed or upset seems to be a hand on the said-son’s shoulder. I LOVE when his older brothers copy that when he’s in distress.

I may never get over the fluff in the show.

HIS BIG BROTHERS ARE SILLY BILLYS BUT THEY LOVE HIM