#because he's just a Problem in every sense of the word

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ TALKING TO THE MOON

❛ 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘪 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧— 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘮 𝘪 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯? ❜

timeline: 2018

synopsis: After months of avoidance and awkward interactions, two hearts finally break their barriers, sharing confessions under the moonlight and finding the closure they both desperately needed.

warnings: angst, cursing, crying, arguments, mentions of anxiety, yelling, “i hate you!” (lies), closure, confessions, reconciliation, some heart-wrenching shit, simp!Jeonghan, scared!Luna, heart-to-heart talks, explanations, Yoon Jeonghan will be on his knees… begging, heartfelt, hopeful, somewhat a happy and silly ending, ends with fluff

due to popular demand of more angst here is more of the rejection aftermath. this story takes place after If Only & Can I Be Him? and takes place before His English Love Affair. so i highly recommend reading everything in order to understand. every single one-shot in my blog is arranged in chronological order in the writings masterlist which is linked below👇 happy reading, my loves 🤍🩵

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Jeonghan is an island.

Not in the literal sense, but in the way he exists.

To him, being an island means standing steady amidst the tide, a constant presence when the waves threaten to overwhelm those around him.

Jeonghan has always seen himself that way— a safe haven for his loved ones, a place they could come to with their burdens and leave feeling just a little lighter.

He takes pride in this role, knowing that if someone he cares about feels lost, they can always find their way back to him. And when they’re ready to leave, to set sail again, he’ll let them go with a quiet smile, no questions asked. He exists as a constant— a refuge, a quiet place to rest before facing the storm again.

Jeonghan has always been that for the people he loves, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. When the members of SEVENTEEN come to him, seeking advice, a listening ear, or simply someone to sit with in silence, Jeonghan is there.

He listens patiently, his eyes fixed on theirs with a quiet intensity that tells them he is fully present. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence with platitudes or fix their problems for them. Instead, he allows them to speak, unraveling their worries, frustrations, and fears as he holds space for them.

More often than not, the members leave those moments with him feeling lighter. They walk away with the weight of their worries softened, bolstered by his quiet reassurances or the practical wisdom he dispenses so naturally.

In their world of relentless schedules and pressure, Jeonghan is their counselor, their confidant, their steady shore.

But no one seeks him out more than Luna.

For as long as Jeonghan could remember, Luna had always gravitated toward him in times of need.

Out of thirteen members, she could have turned to anyone. Each of them was capable in their own way— each a pillar of strength, kindness, and understanding. And yet, time and time again, Luna came to Jeonghan.

It wasn’t because he was the most understanding or the most overtly comforting. It wasn’t because he had all the answers. It was simply because Jeonghan knew how to listen.

He listened in a way that made you feel seen.

Truly seen.

Luna would come to him during her moments of doubt, her voice cracking under the weight of frustration or pain. Sometimes, she would rant about the pressures of their industry, her words tumbling out in rapid succession as she paced the room with clenched fists. Other times, she would sit quietly, her eyes filled with unshed tears, as she shared her fears, her insecurities, and the thoughts that kept her awake at night.

And Jeonghan— he would just listen.

He never judged. Never interrupted. He let her speak until her voice grew hoarse or until she could no longer hold back her tears.

On some occasions, Luna didn’t want advice; she just needed someone to bear witness to her pain, and Jeonghan respected that.

When she didn’t need solutions, he didn’t offer any. He simply sat there, unwavering, his presence a balm to her raw emotions.

On other occasions, Luna would fall apart completely, her sobs breaking through the walls she worked so hard to build. And Jeonghan would be there, his arms wrapping around her as she cried into his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded. He’d rest his chin on her head, murmuring soft reassurances or nothing at all, letting her release everything she had bottled up inside. He would hold her until her tears subsided and her breathing evened out, and even then, he wouldn’t let go until she was ready.

Sometimes, when the tears had stopped, Luna would stay in his embrace, her head resting on his shoulder as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Those moments would stick with him long after she left, her gratitude settling in his chest like a warm, lingering weight.

Jeonghan never failed her.

Not once.

Whenever Luna needed him— whether it was for advice, for a hug, or simply for a quiet moment of understanding— he was there, always.

And for him, that was enough. To be her constant, her refuge, her island.

It was a privilege Jeonghan remembered to never take for granted.

He also remembered how Luna had been the first person to offer herself to be his island when he needed it most.

It was years ago, back when they were merely trainees, their dreams raw and fragile, and their bodies pushed to the brink of exhaustion day after day. He was seventeen then, and she was just sixteen, both of them barely holding it together under the immense weight of expectations.

Yet somehow, amidst the chaos of it all, they had found each other.

It was late at night, the kind of late where the world was quiet, and even Seoul seemed to pause and take a breath.

The two of them sat by the Han River, tucked away in a secluded corner where no one would find them. The air was cool but not biting, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of water and earth. The river stretched out before them, dark and glimmering under the moonlight, its surface rippling faintly with the movement of the current. Above them, the sky was a deep navy, scattered with stars that peeked through the haze of city lights.

It was peaceful, the kind of peace that allowed them to simply exist without pretense.

Jeonghan had leaned back on his elbows, his legs stretched out in front of him, watching the water shimmer. Luna sat cross-legged beside him, her chin resting on her knees, her face illuminated by the soft silver glow of the moon. She looked so serene, as if the weight she carried every day had been momentarily lifted, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride that maybe, just maybe, he had helped with that.

They had been talking for hours, their conversation meandering between dreams and struggles, fears and hopes. Luna had shared her frustrations— the grueling hours of practice, the aching muscles that never seemed to heal, the pressure to prove herself in a room full of talent. She had spoken about her fear of failure, of being left behind, and Jeonghan had listened quietly, nodding when appropriate, offering a few words of comfort when needed.

And then, when she had finally fallen silent, Jeonghan had spoken softly, his voice carrying the kind of weight that came from someone who understood exactly what she was going through.

“Nana-ya,” he said, his gaze still fixed on the river, “if it ever gets too much… you can come to me, you know? Just like this.”

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide and curious.

“I mean it,” he continued, his voice firm but gentle. “If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed, if you just need a break… I’ll be your island. A place to rest.”

Luna blinked at him, her expression softening as his words sank in. “An island?” she repeated, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan replied, sitting up now and turning to face her. “An island. Somewhere you can come to when you need to escape. No judgment, no pressure. You can tell me all your worries or you can just… rest. And when you’re ready, you can leave and come back whenever you want.”

Luna looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if she were trying to memorize every detail. Then, she tilted her head slightly, her smile widening.

“But what about you?”

Jeonghan frowned, confused. “What about me?”

Luna’s gaze didn’t waver. “Who’s going to be your island, Hannie?”

The question caught him off guard.

No one had ever asked him that before.

Jeonghan stared at her, his lips parting slightly as he struggled to find an answer. But before he could say anything, Luna leaned closer, her voice soft but certain.

“I can be your island, Hannie.”

Jeonghan froze, his heart skipping a beat as he stared at her.

Luna was looking at him with such earnestness, her smile so warm and genuine that it made his chest ache. The moonlight framed her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw, the faint blush on her cheeks, and the gentle sparkle in her eyes. She looked like a dream, so achingly beautiful that it took everything in him not to reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face. The moonlight softened her features, illuminating her skin with a silver glow, and he found himself thinking that she had never looked more beautiful than she did in this moment of quiet contemplation.

In that moment, seventeen-year-old Jeonghan knew.

He had known since the first time he saw her that he had a crush on her— how could he not? Every trainee did.

But now, as she sat there offering herself to him in a way no one else ever had, he realized it was so much more than a crush. It was something deeper, something that made his heart feel too big for his chest and his thoughts spiral in directions he couldn’t control.

And yet, he shook his head mentally, pushing the thought away before it could consume him. Instead, he let a teasing smile curl on his lips.

“Island, huh?” he said, his tone light and playful. “You’re going to have to come up with a new term, Nana-ya. Island is mine. I’m trademarking it.”

Luna rolled her eyes, her laugh soft but genuine. “Alright, fine,” she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. “I’ll think of something else.”

They chuckled together, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the water against the riverbank. Slowly, their laughter faded, leaving behind a comfortable silence that felt as natural as breathing.

Luna tilted her head back, her gaze fixed on the moon hanging high above them, its pale light casting a soft glow over the world.

Jeonghan, however, didn’t look at the moon.

He couldn’t.

Because the moon was sitting right next to him.

Jeonghan let the comfortable silence stretch between them.

The sound of the river’s quiet ripples filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of the city. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Han?”

Her voice broke the silence, soft but deliberate.

Jeonghan hummed in acknowledgment, his head tilting slightly toward her.

“You know what I’m named after, right?” she asked, finally turning to face him.

Jeonghan nodded without hesitation, his lips curving into a faint smile. “The moon.”

Luna’s grin widened as she nodded in return, impressed by his certainty. Of course, he remembered— she had told him once, during one of their late-night conversations in the practice room, how her mother had chosen her name because of her fascination with the moon.

“My mom is weirdly obsessed with the moon,” Luna chuckled, turning back to gaze at it. Her voice was light, but there was a warmth to it, a fondness that Jeonghan could hear clearly.

Jeonghan stayed quiet, watching her from behind. He didn’t interrupt; he knew she was building toward something.

“She used to tell me that when she was younger, she’d talk to the moon about her worries and her problems.

“Talk to it?” Jeonghan asked, his tone laced with curiosity but devoid of judgment.

“Not out loud,” Luna explained, gesturing with her hands as if trying to clarify. “More like… mentally, you know? Just looking up at it and mentally speaking to it. Does that make sense?”

Jeonghan’s lips twitched upward, his gaze never leaving her animated expression as she spoke. “It does,” he said simply, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. “Her heart speaks to it.”

Luna paused, her hands falling to her lap as she turned to look at him. Her wide eyes shimmered with surprise, as if she hadn’t expected him to understand so easily.

Most people laughed or dismissed the story as strange, but not Jeonghan.

Never Jeonghan. He always understood.

“Yes,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. She smiled, small and appreciative, and for a moment, she felt her heart skip a beat. Then, as if shaking herself out of her thoughts, she laughed lightly. “Anyway, sometimes I like to do that too. Just stare at the moon and… mentally talk to it. It’s comforting. So maybe you can do that too.”

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. “Talk to the moon?” he mused, his tone teasing but thoughtful.

“Yeah,” Luna nodded, her smile growing.

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Jeonghan continued to admire her in quiet fascination, while Luna seemed lost in her own world, her gaze fixed on the moon above.

Then she giggled, her laughter light and airy, breaking the stillness. “There are even stories and myths about the man in the moon,” she said with a smirk, turning to face him.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “The man in the moon? You mean the little boy fishing?”

Luna blinked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion.

It took her a moment before realization dawned, and she burst out laughing. “That’s the ‘DreamWorks’ intro! Not that!”

Jeonghan smirked at her, his expression playful. “No? You and your mom aren’t talking to a little boy fishing in the moon?”

Luna scrunched her nose at him, pretending to pout as she glared. But her mock annoyance quickly melted into giggles. “No, silly,” she said, rolling her eyes as she shifted closer, lying down beside him. She rested her head against his outstretched arm, her body relaxing into his warmth.

She pointed toward the moon, her finger tracing invisible patterns in the sky. “They call it ‘the man in the moon’ because sometimes, if you look closely, it looks like it has a face. See?”

Jeonghan followed the direction of her finger, his eyes narrowing slightly as he focused on the craters. “Hmm,” he said after a moment. “It does.”

“See?” Luna said again, her voice tinged with pride. She turned to him with a triumphant smile. “So instead of an island, you can talk to the moon.”

Jeonghan’s eyes softened as they met hers, a small smile playing on his lips. “I already do talk to my moon.”

Luna’s brows furrowed, her head tilting in confusion. “Your moon?” she echoed. “You do? What do you tell it?”

“You tell me,” Jeonghan said, his voice lowering ever so slightly. He finally looked down at her, their faces inches apart, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You’re the only moon I talk to.”

Luna’s breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as his words settled in, her heart thudding against her ribcage. But she didn’t say anything, her lips curving into a soft smile instead.

That moment of silence carried a weight to it, one filled with unspoken understanding.

And from then on, Jeonghan’s favorite nickname for her was born.

His moon.

His pretty moon.

From the moment under the moonlight at Han River, Jeonghan and Luna had unknowingly started a tradition— one that became their sanctuary amidst the chaos of their lives.

It began innocently, born from that night when a seventeen-year-old Jeonghan and a sixteen-year-old Luna shared their hearts under the stars.

Whenever the weight of their training bore down on them, they’d find themselves wandering back to that secluded spot by the Han River. It became their unspoken agreement: no matter how tired, how frustrated, or how uncertain they felt about their futures, they’d sit side by side and talk.

They’d talk about everything and nothing.

The worries that festered in their minds, the dreams that seemed just out of reach, the frustrations of not being good enough in their own eyes. Sometimes they’d rant, voices loud and passionate, the river carrying their words away like an invisible confidant. Other times, they’d fall into contemplative silences, punctuated only by the sounds of water lapping at the shore or the rustling of trees in the night breeze.

Even after debuting and becoming idols, Jeonghan and Luna fought to keep this tradition alive.

Their once-frequent visits to Han River dwindled as schedules filled with practices, performances, and public appearances.

But they found ways to adapt.

Instead of sitting by the river, they’d sit on the floor of one of their apartments, cups of tea— or sometimes wine— cradled in their hands as they leaned against the sofa, talking until the early hours of the morning.

When their schedules took them abroad, hotel rooms became their new haven. No matter where they were, Jeonghan and Luna made time for each other when they needed it most.

But everything changed almost a year ago.

Jeonghan hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on those late-night talks until they were gone. He hadn’t understood how much Luna’s quiet wisdom and steady presence meant to him until he lost it.

The last time they had one of their late-night conversations was a night that Jeonghan replayed in his mind more often than he cared to admit.

It had started like all the others— a quiet moment after a long day, a bottle of wine between them, and an unspoken understanding that they were each other’s safe space. But that night had taken an unexpected turn when Luna, cheeks flushed and words slightly slurred, had confessed her feelings for him.

“You make me feel things,” she had said, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with emotion. “And I hate it.”

Jeonghan had been stunned, caught completely off guard. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. But the sincerity in her eyes, the vulnerability in her expression, made him painfully aware of the weight of his next words.

He had declined her feelings a few days after— not out of malice, but because he was scared, it was risky. Also because he wasn’t sure he could be what she deserved at that moment. Before he had the opportunity to tell her as much, Luna brushed it off and dashed out the elevator, his heart aching at the way her face fell.

Since then, everything between them had changed.

The awkwardness was subtle at first, but it grew with time. Their once-effortless conversations became stilted, filled with polite exchanges that lacked their usual warmth. When they were alone, the silences between them were no longer comfortable but heavy with unspoken words.

Even in group settings, Jeonghan felt the shift. Luna would exchange a few words with him here and there, but she gravitated toward Mingyu more and more.

It hadn’t taken Jeonghan long to notice the way Mingyu had become Luna’s confidant. He saw how Mingyu stayed by her side, offering her the support that Jeonghan no longer could. And while a part of him was relieved that she had someone to lean on, another part of him couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into his chest whenever he saw them together.

So, Jeonghan gave her the space she seemed to want. He told himself it was for the best, that she deserved to heal in her own way and in her own time. He respected her boundaries, even though it meant losing the one person who had always been his island… his moon.

Now, as he sat alone in his apartment, the memories of those late-night talks played in his mind like scenes from a movie. He could still hear the sound of her laughter, see the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she was passionate about.

He could still feel the comfort of her presence, the way she always knew what to say to ease his mind.

And Jeonghan missed her.

He missed his moon.

Jeonghan sat on his couch, the glow from the city lights spilling through the window casting faint patterns across his living room. His mind churned endlessly, cycling through the same thoughts that had been haunting him for months now.

No matter how much he tried to shake them off, they persisted. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and sighed deeply, raking a hand through his hair.

His gaze drifted to the moonlit sky outside, and without realizing it, his mind wandered back to that first late-night talk at the Han River with Luna.

It was so many years ago, yet the memory was so vivid it felt like it had happened yesterday. He remembered the way the moonlight reflected on the water, how their quiet voices had melded with the soft sound of the current. He could almost hear her voice again, playful yet serious, telling him to talk to the moon when he’s struggling.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. If he was honest, he’d never taken her advice— not because he thought it was foolish, but because he never needed to.

Why talk to the moon when he’d always had her?

Whenever he was drowning in worries or self-doubt, Luna had been his island. His anchor. His moon. The one person who understood him without him having to explain.

But now, with a gulf between them that felt impossible to cross, her advice suddenly didn’t seem so silly.

So for the past few months Jeonghan has been looking up at the moon, watching it as he mentally cried his heart out.

Tonight was no different. But tonight something was pulling him to talk to the moon somewhere else.

With that, Jeonghan stood up. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and reached for his car keys on the counter. His decision felt impulsive but right, like this was exactly what he needed to do.

Han River, the sanctuary they had shared so many times. But this time, he’d be going alone.

As he stepped into the hallway, the familiar sound of a door closing echoed from just beside his own. He froze, the keys in his hand jangling softly, and turned his head toward the apartment next to his. His breath hitched as Luna emerged, bundled in an oversized jacket, her own car keys clutched in her hand. She was locking her door, her movements deliberate yet distracted.

When Luna finally looked up, her gaze met his, and they both froze.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. It was as if time had slowed, the hallway shrinking to just the two of them.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other earlier that day— they’d been side by side for a team photoshoot, exchanging polite but distant words.

Yet, this moment felt different.

Charged.

Jeonghan’s first thought was that the universe must have grown tired of watching them avoid each other.

As cliché as it was— there was no other explanation.

This had to be fate’s way of giving them a nudge— a forceful push, really.

Luna blinked, breaking the spell, but her surprise was evident. Jeonghan noticed the way her fingers tightened briefly on her keys, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Instead, they just stared at each other, a strange understanding passing between them.

Because in that instant, they both knew.

They didn’t need to ask where the other was going. They already knew the answer.

Han River.

Luna was the first to glance away, her cheeks faintly pink under the hallway’s dim lighting. She shifted her weight awkwardly, clutching her keys tighter as if that would ground her.

Jeonghan, however, stayed rooted, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. After a beat of silence, he extended his hand toward her.

“Come on,” he said softly, his voice low but steady.

Luna’s eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face, searching for something in his expression. His gaze was calm, open, almost expectant. After a pause that felt much longer than it really was, she reached out and slid her hand into his. Her fingers were cold against his warmth, and something unspoken passed between them as Jeonghan gently guided her toward the elevator.

The ride down was quiet. Not awkward, but not entirely comfortable either. It was a silence that carried acceptance— an understanding that neither of them could put into words just yet.

The elevator’s soft hum filled the space as they stood side by side, their hands still loosely linked. Jeonghan glanced at their joined hands briefly before looking ahead, lost in thought.

It was ironic, he thought, how the last time they were in this elevator alone, everything had changed.

Almost a year ago, Luna had laid her heart bare, only for him to gently decline.

That night had been a turning point, one that neither of them could ignore, no matter how much they tried to move on. And now, here they were again, in the same space but under entirely different circumstances.

Jeonghan didn’t miss the symmetry of it, nor the weight of what tonight could mean.

For both of them, this was the night to finally talk. To lay everything out in the open. It was either the start of mending what had been broken or the final thread that would unravel everything completely.

Jeonghan silently hoped— prayed— it would be the former.

He didn’t look at Luna, but he could feel her presence beside him, her quiet breathing grounding him.

And though neither of them spoke, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

Soon Jeonghan was driving them to Han River.

The car ride was steeped in silence, the kind that carried its own weight yet wasn’t entirely unbearable. Jeonghan kept his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead, while Luna sat in the passenger seat, her head resting lightly against the window.

The hum of the engine filled the space, accompanied by the soft tunes of the radio playing in the background. The music— a blend of mellow piano and soft vocals— felt like a balm, easing the tension between them, though neither of them acknowledged it.

The thirty-minute drive stretched on, both of them lost in their thoughts.

Jeonghan occasionally glanced at Luna from the corner of his eye, noting how her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but every time he opened his mouth, the words seemed to falter before they could form. So instead, he let the music fill the gaps, hoping it was enough to make the quiet less suffocating.

When they finally arrived at the Han River, Jeonghan pulled into their usual spot. It was secluded, a little pocket of peace away from the bustling city— a place that had become theirs over the years. He turned off the car and stepped out, the crisp night air biting at his skin.

Without a word, he walked to the passenger side and opened her door. Luna blinked up at him, momentarily startled, but she accepted his silent gesture, stepping out into the cool night.

From then on it was like clockwork.

Jeonghan made his way to the trunk, where he pulled out a blanket. It was old and slightly worn but soft, and it had lived in his car for years —just for nights like this. Draping it over one arm, he turned back to Luna, intertwining his fingers with hers without hesitation. Her hand felt cold in his, but she didn’t pull away. Gently, he guided her down the familiar path to their secluded spot by the riverbank.

Once they reached the spot, Jeonghan spread the blanket out on the grass, smoothing it down with deliberate care.

They both sat down, the sound of the river lapping softly against the shore filling the space between them. Overhead, the sky was clear, stars scattered like tiny diamonds, and the moon hung low and luminous, casting its glow over the water.

For a while, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, side by side, watching the river and the sky in a silence that felt heavier than the one in the car.

Finally, Jeonghan broke it.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here together,” he said, his voice low but carrying over the stillness of the night. He glanced sideways at her. “You still come here often?”

Luna turned to him, slightly taken aback by his casual tone. She studied his profile for a moment before answering. “Not as much lately,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “It hasn’t felt… the same.”

Jeonghan nodded in understanding, his gaze fixed on the river. “Yeah. I know.” He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips as a memory surfaced. He chuckled lightly, the sound breaking through the somber air. “Remember the last time? You were mad at me because I forgot your coffee order, and you swore you’d never trust me with your drinks again.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. That smile sent a jolt straight to Jeonghan’s heart. She hadn’t smiled at him like that in so long. And he had made it happen. He had.

“You brought me iced coffee in the middle of winter, Han,” she replied dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. “You’re lucky I didn’t throw it at you.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his smile widening as he looked at her. “Right. And then you made me drink it as punishment.”

“I did,” she said with a small nod, her gaze drifting back to the moon.

A brief silence fell over them again, but this one felt different. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but it carried the weight of all the things left unsaid.

Jeonghan shifted slightly, the grass crunching softly beneath him, and his tone grew quieter when he spoke again.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to come with me,” he admitted, his eyes trained on her face now.

Luna sighed softly, her shoulders rising and falling. “I almost didn’t.”

Her words made his chest tighten, but he turned to face her fully. “I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’ve missed you. I missed us… Jiyeon-ah, I—”

“Please,” Luna interrupted with a soft sigh, shaking her head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Jeonghan frowned slightly, his brows drawing together. “No, you’re right,” he said after a moment, his tone steady. “I don’t have to apologize… I need to apologize.”

He met her gaze, his eyes searching hers. “I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you. For that night… for lying that night.”

Luna looked away before he could continue, her voice low as she said, “Are you sorry because you hurt me, or is it because you don’t feel the same about me?” Her voice softened even further, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she continued. “Han, I forgave you already that night in the elevator. I was hurt, yes, but I understood. I just needed space. I never blamed you for not liking—”

“Ya… Bae Jiyeon, stop. Just stop.” Jeonghan’s voice was firm now, his tone cutting her off sharply. He turned to her fully, his eyes blazing with frustration and something else—something deeper. “First of all, stop saying I don’t like you. That’s not true. Not even in the slightest. And stop it with the calm, good girl act you force yourself to be. I know you more than anyone. I need you to be angry. Be angry at me. Yell at me. Fuck, slap me in the face for hurting you and making you cry! Don’t pretend you’re okay, because I know damn well you’re not!”

Luna’s head snapped up, her eyes locking with his for more than a few seconds, truly and deeply looking at him for the first time since they had caught each other outside their apartments earlier. Her eyes were red, tears welling up and threatening to spill over.

Jeonghan read her like an open book, every emotion she had tried so desperately to hide laid bare before him. And he knew— he knew— that she was lying to herself, trying to shove everything under the rug and pretend it didn’t matter.

But it did.

And it was hurting her.

Jeonghan’s heart clenched as he watched her, knowing this moment was long overdue.

Luna had been bottling up her pain for far too long.

She needed to let it out— now.

Luna’s hands trembled as she clenched them into fists at her sides, her entire body taut with the emotions she had suppressed for so long. For a brief moment, Jeonghan thought she might hold it in again, that she’d swallow the words she desperately needed to say and give him the same composed facade she always wore.

But then, her lips parted, and the dam broke.

“You want me mad?” Luna’s voice came out sharp, her tone cutting through the stillness like a blade. “You want me to scream and cry? You want me to tell you the truth? Fine!” Her voice rose, trembling slightly as her emotions began spilling out. “What do you want me to say, huh, Jeonghan? Do you want me to tell you how you’ve had me wrapped around your stupid finger since the fucking beginning?”

Jeonghan’s breath caught, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.

“Do you want me to tell you how the second you introduced yourself to me, I knew— I knew— that I needed you in my life? How every single night, I beat myself up trying to forget about my feelings for you because I couldn’t risk it? I couldn’t risk our friendship, the group, our careers, the guys’ careers! Do you want me to tell you how my heart hurts— no, how it shatters— every time you get linked with someone else, rumored with women you barely even know? And do you know what’s worse? I have no right to feel that way! None! Yet… fuck! I still do!”

Her voice cracked, but she pushed forward, her words gaining momentum as tears began to glisten in her eyes.

“Do you want to know how I cried to my mom on the phone, begging her to help me like I was a child because my heart wouldn’t stop pounding after you kissed me on the cheek for the first time when we were trainees? A stupid, innocent kiss! It was nothing to you, but it meant everything to me!”

Jeonghan’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest, guilt twisting like a knife as her voice started to tremble.

“Do you want me to tell you how much you make me feel? How much I love the way you make me feel so special, so loved, so pretty? And how much I hate it? How much I hate how I love it, because it’s you! It you, Yoon Jeonghan! It’s you who makes me feel like that, and it’s you who made me feel like I was nothing that night!”

Her voice broke, and the tears finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at them furiously, but it was no use— they just kept coming.

“I cried myself to sleep on the floor of my apartment after you rejected me,” she admitted, her voice now raw and unsteady, her breath hitching between words. “The floor, Jeonghan. I couldn’t even make it to my bed because I thought I’d suffocate under the weight of it all.”

Jeonghan’s throat tightened, his hands curling into fists in his lap as he fought the urge to reach out to her, to stop the flood of her pain even though he knew she needed this.

“And do you want to know the worst part?” Luna’s voice dropped to a whisper, trembling with the weight of her confession. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes glistening with tears that reflected the moonlight.

“I hate how much I love you.” Her voice broke completely, and she sobbed openly now, the sound raw and anguished. “I hate it, Jeonghan. I hate how much I love you, and I hate how much it hurts to love you.”

Jeonghan couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Jiyeon—”

“No!” she cut him off, her voice rising again despite her tears. “You wanted this, right? You told me to let it out, so here it is! Here’s the truth, Yoon Jeonghan! I love you, and I hate you for making me love you this much! So much that it physically hurts me! Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what you—”

Before she could finish, Jeonghan surged forward, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame and pulling her tightly into his chest.

Luna struggled against him, her fists pounding weakly against his chest as she sobbed, her frustration spilling over in the form of muffled cries and anger. “Let go of me! Let me go, Jeonghan!” she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I don’t want— just let me—”

“No,” Jeonghan said firmly, his voice low but steady. He held her tighter, refusing to let her go no matter how much she fought him. “I’m not letting you go, Bae Jiyeon. Not now. Not ever.”

Luna’s struggles slowed, her fists unclenching as she slumped against him, her sobs shaking her entire body. “I hate you. I hate how much I love you,” she whispered brokenly, her words muffled against his chest.

Jeonghan squeezed his eyes shut, his chin resting lightly atop her head as he struggled to keep his composure. His own voice trembled when he spoke, filled with the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “I’m sorry, my moon. I’m so sorry.”

Luna’s cries quieted into broken hiccups as her face remained buried in Jeonghan’s chest, her tears soaking into his shirt as the weight of her pain finally found its release. Her fists, now slack against his shirt, clutched weakly at the fabric as her shoulders trembled. She mumbled against him, her voice muffled yet still laden with hurt.

“You made me feel like I was stupid for even trying,” she whispered, her words cracking under the weight of her emotions. Her chest heaved as she struggled to steady her breath, but her next words came out shakier, weaker. “Like I was crazy for thinking… for hoping…”

A sharp hiccup cut her off, and she dissolved into tears again. Jeonghan’s hand instinctively cradled the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair in an attempt to soothe her. He sighed deeply, the sound heavy with guilt and sorrow, before murmuring gently, “I know. I know, angel. And I hate myself for it.”

His voice wavered, but he kept his tone steady for her. “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do with how I felt—”

Before he could finish, Luna abruptly pushed herself out of his grip, her hands pressing against his chest until she could create enough distance between them. Her eyes met his, wide and glistening with tears, her cheeks flushed from crying. The vulnerability in her gaze was quickly overtaken by anger, sharp and raw.

“How you felt?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Han, this wasn’t just about you. It’s about me too—about us. Do you even know what it’s like to pour your heart out to someone you’ve loved for years only to have them look at you like it’s all a mistake?”

Her words hit Jeonghan like a slap, and he instinctively shook his head, the motion frantic as if it could erase the idea entirely. “No,” he said quickly, his voice firm yet pleading. “No, Jiyeon. You were never a mistake. I need you to believe that. Please.”

Luna’s lips quivered, her glare unwavering despite the fresh wave of tears brimming in her eyes.

Jeonghan took a deep breath, his own voice trembling as he continued. “I was an idiot. I am an idiot,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging as the truth spilled out of him like a confession. “I… I was scared because you mean so much to me. I told myself it would ruin everything if we tried and failed. I kept convincing myself it was better this way, safer, for both of us. I told myself all these excuses why it wouldn’t work— why I shouldn’t feel the way I feel. But they were just that… excuses. I was a coward, okay? I let my fear control me. And because of that, I hurt you. I hurt us.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked at her with desperate, searching eyes, as if silently begging her to understand.

Luna stared at him for a long moment, her expression etched with a mixture of disbelief and pain. Finally, she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think it didn’t terrify me too?”

Jeonghan froze, his breath hitching as she spoke, her voice growing stronger with each word.

“But I still chose to try. Yes I was drunk when i confessed but I never denied it afterwards. I could’ve acted like I didn’t remember what I said but I didn’t,” she continued, her voice breaking again as tears spilled over her lashes. “Because… because loving you felt worth the risk.”

Jeonghan felt his heart shatter at her words, the weight of her pain crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Without thinking, he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against her wet cheeks as he tried to catch the tears that kept falling.

“You’re braver than me,” he said softly, his voice full of admiration and regret. “You always have been.”

Luna shook her head furiously, her chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. Her hands came up to grip his wrists as if to push him away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I don’t feel brave, Hannie,” she hiccuped, her voice barely audible. “I feel broken.”

Her words tore through Jeonghan like a knife, and he could feel his composure slipping as she finished, her voice raw and trembling.

“You broke me,” she said, her lips quivering as another tear slid down her cheek. “And it hurts.”

Jeonghan froze as her trembling words struck him like a blow. Her tear-streaked face, her voice breaking with pain— every part of her screamed of the hurt he’d caused, and it was unbearable.

Jeonghan shook his head, his voice low but steady, desperate to reach her. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix it if you’ll let me,” he said, his hands firm yet gentle on her arms. “I’ll undo all the words that hurt you. Just tell me how.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her voice sharp and trembling as she shot back, “What good are words when they always just get in our way, Han?”

Her challenge hung in the air, raw and heavy, but Jeonghan didn’t falter. His brows furrowed as his dark eyes bore into hers, soft yet resolute.

“Because words matter,” he countered firmly, his voice calm and measured. “Words are what brought us to this moment. I said the wrong ones before, but I won’t stop trying until I say the right ones. I can’t give up, Bae Jiyeon. Not on you.”

Her tears continued to fall, and Jeonghan reached forward, brushing the strands of hair that clung to her damp cheeks. His fingers moved slowly, tenderly, as though she were something fragile and sacred. His hands found her face, cradling it, urging her to look up at him even as her gaze flickered uncertainly.

“Show me, my moon,” he whispered, his voice quiet yet pleading, the nickname like a soft caress. “Show me where I hurt you so that I can love you there the most.”

The words were spoken with such raw sincerity, such desperation, that they seemed to wrap around Luna’s heart and squeeze. She released a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering closed as a tear slipped free and traced a path down her cheek.

Her heart— shattered as it was— still managed to beat for him.

It always had.

It always would.

And that scared her more than anything.

“You don’t get to just say that now,” Luna said shakily, her voice cracking as she shook her head, trying to pull away but finding herself unable to. “You don’t get to show up and say everything I’ve been dying to hear after you crushed me.”

Her walls were still up, fragile but standing, and Jeonghan could see her fear, her need to protect herself. But he wasn’t going to let her go. Not this time.

“I told the moon about you, Jiyeonie,” he murmured softly, and the words made her freeze.

Luna let out a broken sob as her head dropped onto his shoulder, her tears soaking into his shirt. Jeonghan didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her close as she cried, his hand stroking her back in soothing circles.

“I told the moon about how I wanted to dedicate a song to you after I met you for the first time,” he continued, his voice trembling but unwavering. “I told the moon about how your laugh feels like the answer to every question I didn’t know I was asking. About how you hum to yourself when you think no one is listening, and it’s my favorite sound in the world.”

He gently pulled her head off his shoulder, his hands finding their way to her face again, cupping it as he cradled her, his thumbs brushing away her tears. Her red-rimmed eyes stared into his, her lips trembling as he spoke.

“I told the moon about the way your nose scrunches up when you’re concentrating. About how you never finish a cup of tea but insist on making it anyway because the ritual calms you. I told the moon how you bite your lip when you’re nervous and how it drives me crazy because I want to kiss you every time you do it.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her tears spilling over again as she listened, her heart simultaneously breaking and healing with every word.

“I told the moon about my regrets,” Jeonghan admitted, his voice cracking. “About every time I hurt you, every time I held back because I was too scared to face what I was feeling. I told the moon about how it’s just the hardest thing to love you but not know how. So I spent all my nights in the dark, afraid. Afraid because I tried to forget you, but these things— you— just don’t go away.”

His voice grew softer, more vulnerable. “I hate that you’re so perfect,” he said, his lips curving into the faintest, saddest smile. “So perfect for me… made for me.”

Luna closed her eyes as a fresh wave of tears escaped, her hands coming up to grip his wrists, holding onto him as though she might crumble without the contact.

“The excuses I gave you… none of them mattered,” Jeonghan continued, his voice steadying as he poured his heart out. “Because the truth is, Nana-ya, I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I can even admit to myself.”

His hands slipped from her face to rest on her shoulders as he leaned closer, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I love you,” he said again, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that made her chest tighten. “I love the way you brighten every room you walk into. I love the way you care for the people around you, how you give so much of yourself even when you have nothing left to give. I love the way you see the world, how you find beauty in places no one else would even think to look.”

He paused, his gaze softening as he added, “I love you, Bae Jiyeon. All of you. The good, the bad, the messy, the beautiful. I love you more than words can ever say, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you, if you’ll let me.”

Luna’s tears fell freely now, her breath hitching as her hands clutched at his shirt, grounding herself in him. Her walls, the ones she’d fought so hard to keep up, began to crumble, piece by piece, under the weight of his love.

Jeonghan’s voice broke as he continued, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone like he was trying to erase the pain he had caused. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know the truth. I pushed you away because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I thought you deserved someone who wasn’t going to mess up. But the truth is… the thought of losing you terrified me more than anything else.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her voice trembling as she whispered, “And yet, you still let me go.”

Her eyes opened, glistening with unshed tears as she searched his face, her expression filled with a mixture of heartbreak and disbelief.

Jeonghan swallowed hard, shaking his head almost frantically. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, okay? I thought I was protecting us, but all I did was hurt you. I can’t take that back, but I can promise you that I’ll never make that mistake again.”

She closed her eyes briefly, her shoulders sagging as though the weight of the past months bore down on her all at once. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I spent so much time these past couple of months convincing myself that maybe… maybe we just weren’t meant to be.”

Jeonghan’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, and he stared at her, shaking his head with conviction. His voice was firm, urgent, as if he could will her to believe him. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that, Jiyeon-ah. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it for me. I was just too blind to see it in time.”

He reached for her hands, holding them tightly between his own as his voice softened but lost none of its determination. “Please… please don’t give up on us. Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that I’m not going to hurt you again. I’ll do whatever it takes, Jiyeonie. I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll fight for us, for you, for our friendship. Just… just don’t shut me out.”

Luna’s fingers trembled as they wrapped around his wrist, her grip weak but steadying as she brought his hand down from her face and held it in her lap. Her voice was soft but resolute, her gaze piercing as she finally met his eyes. “You can’t just fix this overnight, Han. We can’t go back to how things were. If we’re going to try again… we need to fix our friendship first. We were friends first. We need to rebuild what broke before anything else.”

Her words hung in the air between them, weighted with truth and the hope of something new. Jeonghan nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he absorbed her words.

Despite the desperation in his heart to hold her close and never let go, he knew she was right.

“I know we can’t go back to the way we were,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. “And I don’t want to go back. I want to move forward— with you. I’ll be better. We’ll be better. I’ll start wherever you need me to. As friends, as strangers— just tell me how to fix this. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. I’ll earn your trust back, your love, everything. Just… don’t give up on me.”

Luna exhaled a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around his wrist as her gaze softened. “I’m not giving up on you. I never gave up on you. But this time, it’s going to be on my terms.”

Jeonghan’s lips parted, and he nodded without hesitation, his sincerity clear in every word he spoke. “Your terms, always. I’ll wait. I’ll work for it. Just… thank you for giving me the chance to make this right.”

Luna’s lips curved into a faint, tired smile, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she spoke, her voice lighter than before, though still tinged with lingering sadness. “Well, the heart wants what it wants.”

Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at her, his expression one of reverence, like she was the moon and the stars shining down on them, lighting his path. “It does. And mine wants you. Always has, always will.”

He spoke the words with such quiet certainty, his gaze never wavering from hers.

In that moment, the air around them felt still, as though the universe itself had paused to bear witness to the weight of their emotions, the unspoken promises lingering in the space between their hearts.

Jeonghan gently pulled away from Luna, the warmth of his touch lingering on her skin. His lips curved into a teasing smile, the kind that used to infuriate her and had always held the power to disarm her. “I can’t wait to tell the little boy,” he said, his tone light and mischievous.

Luna blinked at him, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What little boy?” she asked, her voice laced with equal parts exasperation and bewilderment.

“The little boy fishing on the moon. The man in the moon, remember?” Jeonghan replied, his grin widening as he referenced the conversation they’d had years ago at the Han River during one of their first late-night talks as trainees.

Luna’s jaw slackened slightly before she snapped it shut, shaking her head. “That’s not– He’s not–” She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging in mock defeat. “You’re an idiot.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound rich and familiar, like a song she hadn’t realized she missed. “I know. We’ve been through this,” he said, the humor in his tone softening into affection as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She didn’t move away, didn’t flinch. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut, savoring the moment before she opened them again and met his gaze.

Despite the magnetic pull between them, the kind that had always existed and only seemed stronger now, they both knew the truth.

They couldn’t rush this, not yet.

The more mature parts of themselves— the ones hardened by heartbreak and regret— understood the importance of rebuilding the foundation of their relationship.

Their friendship was the cornerstone of everything they were to each other, and if they wanted to build something lasting, something unshakable, they had to fix what had been broken first.

Neither of them wanted to wait.

They wanted to dive into each other’s arms, to silence the ache with whispered promises and stolen kisses. But they respected the process, respected each other too much to risk repeating their mistakes.

They had taken the first step tonight, had opened the door to healing by airing their frustrations, their fears, and their truths.

Luna had cried until her chest ached, and Jeonghan had been there to hold her. Jeonghan had confessed his regrets, his love, his hopes, and Luna had listened, her presence steady even as her tears fell. They had yelled, voices raised as years of pent-up emotions spilled out, but even in their anger, there had been a yearning to understand.

They were in love.

That much was clear to both of them now.

But love alone wouldn’t be enough if they didn’t have a solid foundation to stand on.

So, Jeonghan promised to work for it, to make it worth it.

Luna promised to trust the process and let him prove himself.

Even so, in the quiet recesses of their hearts, they both knew that it was only a matter of time before the fire between them ignited even more, before the spark that had always been there became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t a question of if they would cross that line, but when.

And they both felt, deep down, that the moment would come soon.

The universe, it seemed, had been on their side all along.

The anxiety that had drowned Luna earlier in suffocating waves, the restlessness that had driven her to the Han River in search of solace, had carried her back to her island— Jeonghan.

And Jeonghan, who had sought to talk to the moon to share his frustrations and to make sense of the ache in his chest, had found himself drawn by gravity to his moon— Luna.

As they sat there in the stillness of the night, the city lights twinkling like distant stars, Jeonghan reached for her hand once more, and this time, she didn’t hesitate to take it. Their fingers intertwined, and though the path ahead was uncertain, the warmth in their joined hands was a promise.

Together, they would find their way.

They always do.

For the tides, ruled by the moon, carried Luna from the depths to the island of Jeonghan’s soul.

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[ervikirvi]

TADC Rambles and Rants: Kinger (TW for Disturbing Images)

Remember when Baron Mildenhall said that he was no longer the protector of his wife and theoretical children?

[ignore the misuse of the word pair, I couldn't find another word for it]

And how we all agreed that the Baron is a pretty obvious parallel to Kinger in the past? Considering that this would've been during the time both Queenie and Kinger were already stuck in The Amazing Digital Circus, and it would've been some time after they arrived, who do you think "theoretical children" were referring to? Because not only that, but it's "children", plural. And again, since this is taking place back in Kinger's past, and I don't believe this is referring to Pomni like a theory channel suggested. No, this is definitely referring to someone way before her time, but who?

If we take a look back at the environmental storytelling of Episode Three, our first clue is a gravestone with the name "Peggy Mildenhall"

Problem is, she died in 2029-2030, WAYYYYYY after the early 2000's, where the timeline supposedly takes place. Unless the game is being restored or something at a later date, this makes no sense. And yet it's there, unless of course we just blame it on the fact that Caine is an AI messing up minor details like AI's do, there might be some importance to this. Another thing to note, Peggy died as a one-year-old, a baby. Which makes it even more strange that she'd be included here at all unless it was Queenie and Kinger's before they entered the circus. OR, the one-year difference is supposed to represent how long the person survived in the circus before abstracting. At this point, I'm grasping at straws, so I'm going to ignore the date but keep it in the back of your mind that there are three Mildenhalls. (Peggy is also a girl's name, keep that in mind later)

Now, pay attention to the pictures on the walls before the adventure starts.

This one piqued my interest the most. A woman (we can assume to be Martha), and two others. The one in the white shirt seems to be younger than the other one, with a chubbier face, and appears to be placed on Martha's lap (notice the arm beside them). I believe this is Peggy. The other one looks to be a bit older, standing up perhaps or just leaning on Martha. With their short hair and pointier chin, I believe they are a boy. With no other reason as to why they have a picture of Martha with two children hanging up in their home, I believe there are now FOUR Mildenhalls.

And now notice the picture on the left whenever Ghostly introduces himself.

One eye and buck teeth? The Pink Cyclops

They even have the same shape of eye; however, the eye color is a little lighter than that of the Cyclops. Whose eye is the same color as the rest of his body. There is a less strong contender on who this could be, but just keep in mind that we'll see a one-eyed creature again.

And now I want to introduce to you someone who I have no clue the identity of.

Since I'm going off of every-picture-has-meaning, I believe they are important too. The figure I assume to be a woman from the long, black hair and small, pointy chin. It's obviously not Martha, so who could it be? Possibly another older child? I wouldn't say that Caine couldn't make a parallel to Kinger's past appear as a dead figure, he did that with Kinger himself. Whatever it is, it appears to be... demonic

Let me show you a few other things that caught my attention, some of which I have no explanation for or are pretty obvious for what they represent.

Originally, I was going to say that this was something related to Queenie because at the beginning where it was first shown the room was dark, and you could only see the left side with the scaly eyeball, and the shape of it made it look like a moth wing. But at the end when everyone is reunited you can clearly see that this is the hide of something. Possibly of the deer skull above it? If so, the Baron did a terrible job. But the fact that is the shape of a strange, squiggly line(?), with a scaly eyeball, and contour lines makes me think it might have to do with The-Worm-On-A-String

A stretch, but still. Could it be Peggy? Or the demon woman from before? How many children did Kinger have???

Looks like to be the Angel, but why did the Baron have them painted and hung up on his wall? In one of the main halls might I add??

Obviously an Abstraction, but of who? Or is it to represent Abstraction in the first place? Another thing to note is that this painting is in the same room with the Cyclops and Demon Woman, could this be telling us that the pictures of the other two are IN-FACT Abstracted characters?

Another one to add after the adventure ended. I believe that they are two Abstractions, on their knees, connected by a branch or a tendril. Strangely, they only have one eye. And they ARE two different Abstractions since the farther one is slimmer with a bigger white dot on its stomach. Keep in mind that there will be a repeating theme of twos and threes.

And now for the adventure:

A skull I could not identify, in a way it reminds me of a bear and canine skull, but incredibly bloated. The eye sockets are also wrong, the right one seems to be higher up to the top of the skull, while the other is more forward. One socket prey, one socket predator, in the same diagonal direction as that of the Angel. Speaking of the Angel, look where it's located.

Right under the Angel's head. Who, coincidentally, has the same eye-diagonal-direction to that of Queenie. Although there are different takes as to what the Angel itself represents, I believe it represents an Abstracted Queenie, or at least, Abstraction in some way or another.

Skulls in The Bible represent mortality and the nature of Life and the inevitability of Death, something that the Abstracted know all too well. Minor rant over, just know that Queenie will be a part of this. And the skull-skeleton-bone whatever WILL make a minor comeback! 

//Minor appearance of two people, one being built like Bigfoot and the other, possibly a woman, carrying a dark object in her arms, or having her arms wrapped around something, a dog, perhaps.

The Boiled One The painting beside the stairs resembles the Demon Woman, but de-faced, bloody, and crying blood. You can tell it's her from the eyes, nose, pointy chin, and smile. Interesting that she got more demonic since the adventure started, and that she's looking directly at the staircase that is walled off with brick. Preventing Pomni and Kinger from going back upstairs to the rest of the group, while she was also the one right beside the Scary Door. Almost like the painting is sentient somehow.

Enough about the Demon Woman, this is where things start to connect: [Heads up from the future, I went crazy after describing things that you can just see with your own eyes, just skip to the third photo. Still keeping it in here for those who are curious]

A missing pair of three, two ghostly women looking out hauntingly. And a singular entity that looks to be on its own page, less human than the others. One woman stands out with a crooked neck, and we can vaguely tell that she has a dark set of hair. The other, with a more neutral expression, has a light set of hair. The three men, two dark beards one light, interestingly have X's over their eyes. This is the point where I want to mention that these figures could just represent friends that have Abstracted. After all, these do seem to be the victims of God's Angel. A reason for the Baron to go after it, a reason for Kinger to protect his family from it, whatever it is. Another Side Rant: If God's Angel represents someone who Abstracted or Abstraction in general, the early players may not have known that they were Players. And that they were viruses or demonic creatures that Caine put in to torture them. And when Queenie Abstracted, that's when Kinger realized, or after attacking the beast who "killed" his wife he realized it WAS his wife, and thus that heartfelt reunion in the Pillow Fort. That's why Queenie held no grudges, she knew Kinger was just trying to protect everyone else.

"And I ended up shooting the love of my life, mistaking her for the creature. It's ironic, isn't it? In my attempts to protect her, I ended up becoming the monster myself." -Baron Theodore Mildenhall

BUT I'M NOT DONE [Just a heads up, I went nowhere with this]

BECAUSE I BELIEVE THE CROOKED NECK LADY IS QUEENIE. OR MARTHA WHO KNOWS, IT ALL LEADS BACK TO QUEENIE IN THE END SO WHO CARES? A REPRESENTATION OF A REPRESENTATION IS STILL A REPRESENTATION BUT ^2. This entire thing is me grasping at straws, so why not more? She's wearing a robe, and her hands look to be detached. Also, messed up neck? Queens have quite a history of neck and head trauma (ever heard of King Henry VII? /j) Why is Martha revealed to be dead already? I don't know, the figure behind her also has a chubby face, could it be Peggy? Are we circling back to Peggy now? Is this the baby but as a teenager because they're shorter than Martha? Is the one-year difference just how long they survived in the circus? Why do they have light hair? Can't be the Demon Woman because they also have dark hair. But guess what, according to Google baby hair can in fact get lighter as they grow older. Ghost-white hair though? I don't know. If it isn't Peggy, then how many HYPOTHETICAL children did Kinger and Queenie have????? Am I going to get anywhere with this?

The only photo I want to note here is the last one with the creature. A black, gangly creature with two heads although the left arm looks to have an eye on it. Abstraction representation anyone? (Also why was the Baron taking photos of his own Manor???)

This is where the connecting starts happening

The one-eyed figure returns. Another hint that the Cyclops might be one of Kinger's children (if you completely forgot that was the point of this post, I don't blame you) HOWEVER, he does look like another character. One that is purple with spikes.

It is almost an exact match, even down to the highlight in his eye and the pink spike on his head. Only thing different is the black lines, suggesting tension, on the pink spike, which looks more like a flower petal. And having a full set of teeth. Strangely, it's a picture of only their side, which the Cyclops picture also does:

The Cyclops picture, actually being the Whatever-It-Is makes a little bit of sense since they have a lighter iris, a prominent bucktooth, and matches more with the body color. The only problem is, Whatever-It-Is has a snout, this guy does not. They look like a cyclops with Whatever-It-Is's coloring.

The other elephant in the room is the high-looking dog thing that also reminds me of a muppet. A sock puppet. A dog sock puppet that looks like none of the two characters who would fit that bill.

It has piercing, blood-shot eyes while being as pale as a ghost, it has to be one of them. Unless Caine has forgotten what they look like, or Kinger? At this point, I'm ready to throw my towel in and just say that the Whatever-It-Is and the Cyclops are the children, if I didn't know that it continued.

Slithers A snake-like creature can be spotted on the shelf, a GREEN snake. A green, worm?

guess who's part green

And to top it all off?

Queenie's there too. A spider on a green web. If this entire episode is on Kinger's past, and everything so far represents someone, then Queenie is a bug. If she's not the Angel, then she's a bug. Unbeknownst to Kinger, the entire family was reunited in some messed up way. Not only that, but Martha's portrait is on the bottom left-hand screen. And you want to know what's even better?

DO I NEED TO SAY MORE? Not ONLY that, but the ANGEL is RIGHT THERE TOO, with the caption "IT'S IN ME". And TO CONTINUE, there is a hole on the abstraction page, with black blood splattered over the Angel and gibberish note. ALMOST LIKE A GUNSHOT???

The Angel being some sort of parallel-representation-whatever of Queenie, would make sense as to WHY it ONLY started to attack Pomni and Kinger AFTER Kinger killed the fly. Could it be a parallel (I'm getting sick of this word) to a struggling fly caught in a spider's web only alerting the spider after thrashing around in its web? (Pomni and Kinger, Kinger specifically, struggling to kill the fly, and making a whole lot of noise when he does?) Or could it just be that she was pissed that he killed a fly in the first place? MAYBE THAT'S WHY SHE WENT DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE OF ABSTRACTING, KINGER KILLED SOMETHING FROM HER INSECT COLLECTION!

Anyways, REMEMBER THE SKULLS?

THREE FLOWERS, TWO SKULLS, THREE PAIR TWO PAIR. And who has the third skull? QUEENIE, because EVERYTHING COMES BACK TO QUEENIE. 

//Queenie died and took the children with her istg

But two children and one parent don't fit the pattern we've been seeing. Where's the Demon Woman? Where's the Worm? Who is Peggy? Who are their children??

I think the answer lies in that first photo:

A woman, Martha. Queenie. And two children, a boy and a baby girl. Originally I went into this wanting to prove that Dobby was their son, but it looks like there's more evidence for Whatever-It-Is being their son than him. So that's who the little boy in the picture represents. The girl, however, I have two answers:

The girl is Pomni, hypocritical of me since at the start I said. "And again, since this is taking place back in Kinger's past, and I don't believe this is referring to Pomni like a theory channel suggested."

And I also said that I believed the baby to be Peggy, who also only lived for one year. However, the time difference doesn't necessarily mean she was one year old, she could've been born (joined) a week before New Year's or a few months before New Year's. And escaped the circus (died) at the beginning of the new year. The baby could represent a new child in their life, some more recent, Pomni.

OR

The baby is the Worm-On-A-String, which would be a more satisfying answer since this IS supposed to take place in Kinger's past. Also, very multi-colored children, seem fitting. (she also looks like a Peggy)

But if the Worm-On-A-String isn't the baby, then she's the Demon Woman. I mean, worm--snake? Close enough. The funny thing is her getting more demonic as time goes on. First, she appears beside the Scary Door, as if she's hiding or has something to do with its contents. The next time we see her she's looking at the stairwell, smiling, almost like she's curious to see their reaction to the stairs being bricked off. Like she knew it was, maybe even was the one who did it. This also forces them into doing the adventure and forces the events of the entire episode to take fold.  Although she does not appear demonic, rather, she appears curious about the situation. Funny how an entire plot point of this episode was the demon being revealed as one of God's Angels. Two skulls, three flowers. Maybe the skull underneath the Angel's head wasn't to say that Queenie had the third skull, the Worm's skull, but rather that she and Kinger are the skulls, and their children are the flowers. A set of two, and a set of three. Two parents, and three children. It would make a lot of sense for the Worm to be one of their children since there are two girls and one boy.

But if we say that the Worm-On-A-String is Peggy, then who is the Demon Woman? Could it be perhaps Pomni because she gets possessed? But this takes place before Hell, and we're trying to stay timeline-consistent here. Who is the Demon Woman? They may be another Abstraction that we haven't looked at yet, one with too much of a blurry door to tell what it is. Or maybe the Demon Woman isn't a woman at all, but rather a lingering presence in Kinger's past that started all of this. Perhaps they are the first Abstraction, when they realize they can, in fact, die. They may not be an actual person, they may just be Abstraction itself, but it would explain why they get a humanoid figure. A representation of Death.

Perhaps the Worm-On-The-String is both Peggy and the Demon, first to go, first to die. We only see Martha with two children, not three. Maybe the skulls, Queenie having one, represent them all being dead. And the flowers? I'm not quite sure, could be the memories of them, that would explain why Queenie's the biggest. But it's not confirmed if Kinger has any memories of his children. He did say that the memory of his wife once he "has control over", maybe the memories of them are like a candlelight flickering in and out. I genuinely do not have an explanation for them, all of this is speculation and me grasping at straws trying to make a scarecrow out of them.

I believe that Whatever-It-Is and Worm-On-A-String are Queenie and Kinger's children. I don't know about Pomni and I don't know about the Cyclops. Perhaps they were in the "just getting there" stage. Gooseworx did say we will get to learn more about Kinger, and I can't wait to see what I got wrong and what I got right.

//I was going to do another rant on Kinger's realization with Queenie, but if you couldn't tell I hit the maximum number of pictures I'm allowed to use, so that will be for another time.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

i'm also a big fan of both! maybe tav will get the whip this time? i'm a sucker for raphael in traditional devil setting, it scratches something in my brain. for the rest, whatever you want is fine with me

Tav tested her restraints. Not looking for weakness, no. She expected none. The chains around her wrists were heavy-duty and clinched tight, biting into her skin. She wanted some leeway. She’d been strung up and dangled like a prime cut of meat, just high enough that her feet lifted off the ground without supporting her entire weight, leaving her strained and uncomfortable. That she was nude only made things worse. Avernus’ air was dry and hot, yet Tav shivered; she was waiting for him, and the dread, the anticipation, chilled her to the bone. She had no way to know how long he kept her waiting. An hour, an eternity, it was all the same. When she finally sensed him enter the room, each of his footfalls causing tight spasms in her belly as he approached her, she was already breathless.

“My, my,” purred Raphael, clear delight in his hellish eyes as he observed his prisoner. “So well-behaved…not even a squeak from you. I almost forgot you were in here.” He reached out one big and warm red paw and cupped her chin, lightly dragging the claw of his thumb across Tav’s bottom lip. “Unfortunately, no one leaves the Room of Shame without submitting to their punishment, but that’s a rule you know intimately…isn’t it?”

“I…” Tav hesitated. Raphael’s expression did not change, but he traced her lip again, this time pressing just hard enough to make a thin scratch. Tav winced at the sting, a taste of what was to come. “Yes, I know,” she murmured.

“Of course you do. And you know exactly why you’re here, hanging so…precariously…yes? Remind me.” The way he curled his smoky words with such sweetly sinister intent never failed to heat Tav’s cheeks, or moisten her sex. Apart from his grip on her face, Raphael was keeping himself out of reach. Reminding her of the distance, metaphorical and physical, between them. He was untouchable and she, a wriggling morsel for him to play with.

“I’m being punished because I…because…” Tav didn’t want to admit her transgression aloud. Raphael hummed throatily, his black and fire eyes glittering with dark delight.

“Every second you hesitate is another lash, dear…”

“I’m being punished because I played with the incubus without permission,” she blurted. She wasn’t sorry and he knew it.

“Indeed you did. You took advantage of my previous generosity and indulged in my unruly pet’s attention. How many lashes do you think you deserve for that, audacious little mouse?”

“Ah…um…t-ten?”

“Ten?” Raphael barked; laughed. “Ohhh, audacious and foolish, aren’t you? Were I not in such a good mood, I might’ve decided you deserved flaying instead for that.”

Tav shuddered. She was both lucky and unlucky as a warlock, with such a temperamental patron. She was too useful to be disposed of. There was the sound of infernal displacement and a whiff of fire and sulphur, and Raphael’s unruly pet himself swaggered into the room.

“Oh, excellent! You haven’t started yet,” Haarlep crooned.

“You weren’t invited,” Raphael growled. “Go back to the boudoir where you belong.”

“And miss a good old fashioned whipping? I think not.” The incubus clicked his fingers and summoned a chair that he, sensual and over the top, folded himself into, ready to watch.

“Fine.” The master of the house decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. “But be quiet and keep your hands to yourself.”

“Not a problem.” Haarlep winked at Tav. She couldn’t hold his lust-laden gaze, dropping her eyes to his bare feet – long, clawed toes that he deliberately wriggled, rubbed the arch of one foot with, reminding Tav of when she, out of her mind on spit and pheromones, eagerly gagged on them to the sound of the demon’s twisted laughter. He made her experience shame and humiliation beyond anything even Raphael was capable of. Haarlep smirked when Tav looked away.

Disregarding the exchange, Raphael cleared his throat. He was, after all, the most important person in this room. “What delightful instrument shall I use on you…”

“Cat O’ nine tails,” Haarlep offered helpfully. His suggestion was ignored.

“How about one of my old favourites?” The devil clicked his fingers and a long, thin whip with a flared tip appeared in his hands. “Yes…this will do. Simple, but effective. Sometimes a bit of simplicity is all you need.” He petted the weapon, fondled the black leather, testing its weight in his hands. Tav watched with baited breath. Raphael grinned, making a show of rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He was enjoying drawing it out, knowing Tav’s racing thoughts, her growing dread, would only make her suffering taste better. She knew better than to beg for clemency. Begging excited him, meaning he was inclined to strike her far more times than he promised. All she could do was wait. In a way, that was worse than the whipping itself.

Get on with it, please, she thought, on the chance that he might be peering into her mind, hit me already.

Raphael prowled around her, a lion circling his prey. Tav tensed, jolting when he stroked the length of her spine with one claw. “Such a pretty canvas waiting to be painted…where shall I make the first stroke?”

Deafening silence. Tav’s own heavy breathing. Then a mighty crack – the whip split the air, and Tav’s skin. For a brief, merciful moment she didn’t feel it, but the agony wouldn’t be denied. Sharp, burning. Tears sprang up in Tav’s eyes. Her body arched, her mouth open but her scream silent, shock and pain stopping her from making a sound. Good, because Raphael preferred it if she fought just a little, if she refused to give him what he wanted until he broke her. Haarlep shifted where he sat, eager and lascivious.

“How was that, sweet mouse?” Raphael cooed.

“F-fine,” Tav managed through grit teeth.

“Hmm…perhaps I need to make the next one harder.”

She could picture him raising his arm up higher, bending into the strike. He grunted as he swung. Tav couldn’t keep quiet this time, making a strangled noise as the whip ripped her flesh. Her mouth filled with blood; she’d bitten through the meat of her cheek.

“How about that one?” Tav struggled to speak, fought to push words through her copper-wet mouth. The devil chuckled. “Surely you’re not done in already…we’re only on the second…”

“No…I’m f – it’s f-fine.”

“Good girl.”

Tav briefly whited out with the third, calculated strike. He’d got her across her lower back. She could only imagine the expression on her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, because when her vision returned she saw Haarlep avidly watching her, feasting on her torture, his thighs spread. He squeezed and rubbed his fattening cock still in his harness. His forked and fraudulent tongue licked his thin lips that were pulled into a serpentine smile. Raphael released a quiet groan from behind. Arousal and frustration went into his next strike, and the next, and the next. Again and again and again. No break between, no leering in her ears.

Someone was screaming, guttural and wheezing. Tav realised it was her. She could feel her warm blood dripping down her back, over the swell of her ass. Raphael was shredding her raw; Haarlep had freed his red, ridged prick and was stroking it leisurely, enjoying the fruits of his impish, infernal misbehaviour. Never punished, always rewarded, but Tav just couldn’t hate him for it.

“There, now,” Raphael crooned, sounding a mite breathless, awed by his work. He rounded her. Through blurry eyes Tav saw a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, a lock of black hair unkempt from his effort. The whip was soaked crimson. The devil’s erection strained in his trousers and he was alight with fiendish frenzy. His tail swayed to and fro. He spoke with pride. “Quite the piece I’ve made of you this time, I must say.”

“It looked good from the front, too,” sighed Haarlep dreamily. “Choke her on your cock and you’ll complete it, I think.”

Raphael hummed, loosening his belt. His dick, hard and veined and heavy, its thick head leaking hot cum, sprang free. He clicked his fingers and Tav lowered to the ground, collapsing onto her knees – perfect height for Raphael to feed that fat dick between her slick and bloodied lips, into her warm and slack mouth. He groaned deep in his throat when his precum-sticky tip touched the back of her throat and Tav gagged. “For once, Haarlep, you’re right about something.”

[kisakunt]

U UP? - SATORU GOJO

you’ve got a big problem. and that problem has the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen.

wc: 1.2k

satoru (derogatory): hey :p

you’re bored, truthfully. it’s a bad saturday night— all of your friends drowning with work, or babies, or friends who don’t like you, or anything you could imagine. that’s the only reason you respond, you tell yourself, but deep down you know you would’ve even if you were at the bar.

grown ass man btw

satoru (derogatory): well that’s just not nice at all now is it

it’s not an easy feat to know gojo. your relationship is, for lack of better word, complicated. he texts you after dates to tell you how miserable (or amazing) it was, you fall asleep in his bed with his hand tracing stars into your arm, he plays the ‘have you met ted?’ game with you whenever he sees a man who might tickle your fancy in public, you pick him up his favorite snacks days before you’re assured you’re going to see him, he writes notes and leaves them tucked into your purse every time you hang out.

he’s an enigma, you think. and a damn bastard too— especially every time you’re alone in the confines of his room and he shows you those big, bright, deadly eyes.

what do you want .

your fingers tap over the volume button on your phone, lip tugged between your teeth as you wait in the index of your messages, staring at his typing bubble from outside the chat.

satoru (derogatory): movie night? game night? yap night? come over we miss each other >:)

you should maybe just kill yourself at this point. yeah, you’re fucked. absolutely, positively fucked.

who says i have ever missed you a day in my life

satoru (derogatory): quit being so mean!! i want to see my queen 🙇‍♂️

you’re kidding yourself because the second he texted you you’d looked through your camera roll to find which outfit you’d change into before you came over. you’re kidding yourself because the second he asked you to come over, you were jumping for your eyeliner and mascara.

this is fucked up.

yeah ok On my way!

satoru (derogatory): ew just say omw you freak

it’s not hard to find your way to satoru. it’s like you have something inside you that guides you to him— so it makes sense that it took you all of two times to memorize the twenty six minute drive to his house. your body settles as you walk through his complex, you melt into yourself when you get the familiar smell of him through the crack of his door.

you’re met with blue. fuck. and plaid pajama pants and a loose gray shirt. double fuck. this is obscene and you are no better than all of the other girls in the satoru gojo fan club.

“hi, pretty lady.”

“hello, satoru.” short and sweet. plain and simple.

“that’s all i get? harsh,” he laughs, bumping his shoulder into your own, lightly putting his hand over the small of your back as he guides you to his room as if you don’t know where it is.

it smells like him. a little off, a little dior, a little manly, the smallest bit like laundry. it’s so raw and real you think you’d open your veins and fill them with it.

“did you want a desperate love confession?” he scrunches his face up, easy grin on his face.

“well that would be lovely.”

it’s ritualistic. no matter what you say you’re going to do, what plans either of you have for the night, within the first two minutes you end up with your back against his chest and one of his hands on your thigh and the other around your waist. you think he’s insane.

he goes on and on, telling you about his day and boring you with all the small little details, and you wonder if you might be in love. you figure, begrudgingly, that you are.

“hey, you good? zoning out there.” he waves a hand over your face, you can’t help but notice how little callouses he has.

“what are we doing?” the worst question a woman could ever ask comes out before you can think twice. oh, so you’re really just a fucking idiot then.

“hm?” he pauses, puts his hand back down to your hip, and looks up at the ceiling before back to your face.

“well,” it’s a drawl, his usual exuberant and over the top tone teasing at you. “me personally, i’m just hanging out with my favorite person ever.”

that’s not good enough for you though. that wouldn’t be good enough for anyone, you feel, if they happened to be in love with the so-called honored one. but beyond that, that wouldn’t be enough for anyone who got to genuinely spend ten minutes alone with satoru.

“okay.” it seems that’s all you can muster. and it seems, he picked up on that.

“and,” he sighs, head dipping down to press a kiss to your eyebrow. “i’m spending time with the only person who ever makes me feel content anymore.”

fuck.

“the only person i’d ever let in my room— you know how much i love my room.” you huff a smile, but you think if you made a quick jab at him your voice would fail you.

“the only person who knows exactly what to order me— because no matter how much i say i like zunda, you know fresh cream is actually my favorite kikufuku.”

you’re completely, utterly fucked.

“the only person who dares be as insanely and completely mean to me as you are.”

“satoru,”

“the only person i think actually makes me feel like i am a worthwhile person.” and that hits. that hits hard, like nothing has ever hit you before.

“satoru.” its got a softness to it— the way you say his name. none of that sharp edge or desperate pining like there normally is. just pure, unequivocal kindness.

“what are you doing?” your name sounds like a prayer from him. before you can even think, he continues. “what are you doing with me?”

it takes awhile for you to say something. you can tell by the way he taps your hipbone, satoru gojo is nervous. he hides it well, though, eyes looking down at you, smug grin strapped to his face as if he knows what you’re gonna say. and maybe he does. maybe everyone in the whole world knows what’s about to leave your mouth.

but still, he is nervous. you realize, right now, you have his itty bitty heart in your hands and you think you could just lift it to your mouth and take the biggest bite.

“i think i love you.”

“how rude,” he huffs, fingers gripping into your skin, and he is beaming. “i know i love you. show a little certainty why don’t you?”

“oh.” you don’t seem to be very good with words right now. you think you may even be making a fool of yourself. but you don’t care. satoru gojo— mister six eyes, the strongest, the honored one, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, the light of your life— just told you he loves you. and what can you really say to that?

“me, too.” well that was stupid.

“i know, pretty girl.” it’s a reprise from earlier, but there’s a new weight to his words. you want to kiss him. you want to kiss him always, you want to kiss him bad, you want to kiss him now.

but before you can, he leans down and dusts the bridge of your nose with the softest touch of his lips you could’ve ever imagined.

“we’re doing whatever you want. just take your time, okay?”

thank fucking god your friends were busy.

[kloss-karliee]

"it's definitely a struggle... but as long as those two boys are happy, it doesn't matter to me. i can take a couple of weeks of pain while they're gone, as long as they are happy." she began to think about how things transpired over the last few years. "i'm not too sure if they fully grasp what is really going on. i know Elijah is too young to really get it. but i'm sure that Levi is slowly beginning to understand that they're getting in a car with one parent, going to a different home & the other isn't coming with them. he's so smart, i almost dread the day that he comes up & asks what is actually going on." she gave a little sniffle & let out a deep sigh. "i'm not sure what i'm going to say to him, or how i would even go about explaining that to him. it's not like Joshua & i hate each other. we just... don't love each other the way that a marriage requires. we have love for each other, just aren't in love with each other... if that makes any sense. it honestly took me a while to wrap my head around that statement, myself. my mom had to explain it to me when i first told her about the two of us separating & sleeping in separate bedrooms. which happened about a year before we finally decided it was better to get a divorce." that was a terrible memory for her & a tough part of her life.

as she took a beat to pause & actually take a breath she realized that she had been droning on again. letting out a scoff at her own actions. "i'm so sorry, i must sound so selfish! i am just droning on & on about my own problems. i'm sure you don't wish to hear about my marriage & divorce. i do so hope that none of this is scaring you off." she just felt so comfortable speaking her thoughts with him. it was a feeling that she hadn't felt with anyone besides her own family in a long time. she felt safe.

she sat up straight, pulling her hands into her lap & lacing her fingers together & began the chewing of the inside of her lip once more, her nerves getting the better of her. she wanted to hear every word that he said clearly & wanted him to know that she was paying close attention. it was only right. as he spoke she felt a sympathetic smile grace her face. "i am so sorry, that just sounds so awful. i mean, it's good that you stuck around for the work but, how rude!" it almost sounded like she was giving her best Michelle Tanner from Full House impression with that one 'how rude'. the chewing of the inside of her bottom lip turned into chewing of the lip itself. it was a habit that would progress from bad to worse, eventually she'd begin to peel the skin off of her bottom lip if she didn't get a hold on herself. she carefully planned out her next statement before she spoke. "i won't lie, i'm a little happy that it didn't work out with her... because without that, i wouldn't have had the opportunity to have you here." she gave a coy smile & a little playful shove to try & lighten the rather tense topic's of conversation.

feeling his lips against hers once more, one thought took up her entire mind. 'God i could live here...' she swore that one thought was so loud that he could probably hear it. the words that he spoke about being afraid to get hurt again, rang true with her. "i can definitely understand your pain there. it's a terrifying thing to put yourself back out there after going through heartbreak like that.

"Oh weeks apart is even worse. But good for you two doing what is right for them even if it's hard." Oliver chuckled softly "I have no doubt that you would Mum love is a intense love that is super human." He had never really thought about kids before, he loved kids, he was great with kids. He had never been with anyone that had kids before and to be honest it didn't seem to bother him. Oliver knew that it would be a while before he met them so before that happened he would be a supportive ear for Karlie to talk about them and miss them.

"Yup." he sighed softly as he brushed away some hair from her face. "A girl, for love. Well what I thought was love... it was going well for a bit and then she met someone else and instead of leaving I stayed for the work." He licked his lip and shrugged "It all worked out in the end I guess but since that I haven't really been in a real relationship." He kissed her softly again "I guess I've been a little afraid of being hurt again."

[immobiliter]

know that i always want to write new things with flint, but a) he is a tricky muse to write with if there's no plotting or discussion beforehand ( on the fly stuff just doesn't work with him, trust me, i've tried ) and b) in addition to being a big fan of his character, i am also the number 1 flint hater lmao

[melminli]

BANG BANG BANG

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, death, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

prev. l next.

"I ask for your attention. The first game will begin shortly. Each player will have their picture taken, then they will follow the staff onto the pitch."

You eyed the confusing and pastel-colored building you were standing in as you listened to the instructions. It wasn't too loud although, there was a bit of whispering from the crowd, the line to the photo booths was pretty organized as well. That was until you suddenly noticed a commotion from a corner, and look who was at the center of it. You just rolled your eyes when you saw the purple-headed guy standing casually between his fans and looked away annoyed after he winked at you charmingly.

Thanos didn't let your subtle rejection bother him. He called out your name and gestured with his fingers to indicate that there was an empty spot next to him - you know, for the group photo. "Hey, you can join the photo, too. Come on."

You continued to ignore his voice and moved forward as the gap between you and the others in front of you widened. Eventually, the loud voices faded into the background, and it was your turn to take the photo. However, while you stood in front of the camera and looked at the smiley face before you, all sense of happiness vanished. If only you weren't so desperate for money, you wouldn't feel compelled to remain in this strange place surrounded by these people.

The flash went off without you even realizing it and caught the absent look on your face. You continued to follow the moving queue like a grazing animal following its herd, lost somewhere in your thoughts until suddenly a person grabbed you by the shoulder.

You instinctively started to defend yourself with widened eyes. "What the hell dude?!" you screamed silently in a panic until you saw the grinning perpetrator in front of you. "Su-bong? What's your problem, I told you to stay away from me asshole, are you stupid?" you grunted angrily and tried again to catch up with the person in front of you so as not to block the way any further.

Thanos just shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly while he casually climbed the stairs behind you. "You really talk a lot, so don't hold it against me when I tune most of it out," he replied, which made you walk a little faster and made him pick up a little more speed to keep up with you.

"Hey, wait a second, woman!" he called out and followed you. "Besides, you know what? You should just call me Thanos, everyone does - it's the name I go by, you know? Not that I expect someone like you to understand the creative thought behind it, but come on. At least try."

You raised your palm to stop his flow of words and perhaps also to put up an imaginary wall between the two of you. "You can explain it however you want, but that's not your name, it's stupid, and I'm definitely not going to call you that." you laughed at him. "Only someone like you could watch every single Marvel movie there is and then identify with the ugly mega villain, really."

That's why I'm not listening, he thought to himself, running his tongue through his teeth in annoyance. "Can you like not be a bitch for a second? You're killing the mood," he spoke out before leaning over the railing and shouting. "The mood is dying!"

"Shut up!" you whispered aggressively as you dragged him away by the arm and rubbed your face in frustration. "What did I do wrong in life besides being born to deserve this..."

Su-bong shook his sleeve from your grip as he sighed himself. "Don't be so dramatic. Are you really still angry about that thing with -"

"Yes," you answer without hesitation, not needing to know how he finished his sentence. Why? Because ever since you knew him, this guy had only made decisions that made you angry. When you thought of the reason that finally broke the camel's back, you had to stop yourself and take a deep breath. "Whatever, someone like you isn't worth it," you declared and then walked with several others through some gate, into the open. No, you were still surrounded by walls, even if they disguised themselves as the sky and clouds.

"Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field. I repeat -"

You continued to look around and noticed people entering from two more entrances. Thanos stood in front of you to block your view. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now? You women are all the same."

You only confirmed his statement with your silence and by averting your gaze from him. Before he could object any further, the gates suddenly closed behind you and the voice from the loudspeakers started talking again. "The first game is called: Green Light, red Light."

A game for children? You repeated perplex in your head and tuned out the voice explaining the rules of the game. You often played this game as a child anyway, you knew how to play it. Do we really earn money by playing this?

"Listen to me! Listen carefully, everyone!" A man suddenly shouted out, attracting the attention of the crowd by trying to explain that losing in this innocent game would mean death.

Unconsciously, your heart began to beat faster as various thoughts raced through your mind. What is this crazy guy talking about? You get killed if you lose? What nonsense. But on the other hand, there must be a catch, who else would give out money for something like this? Maybe -

"Don't worry, that guy just has a few screws loose." Su-bong's voice suddenly spoke out next to you as he turned his index finger next to his head to visualize it. "I can see that there are a million completely unnecessary thoughts running through your little head right now because you always have this funny look on your face when you do," he explained and you just tried really hard not to pay attention to him. He just had to make life difficult for you.

Your eyes wandered again and you looked at the disbelieving faces of the others, who were also just looking at the front man strangely. I'll just be careful and see what happens. Someone will probably lose and then we'll see if it's true or not, simple as that.

There was an announcement that the game was about to start and you saw the stopwatch at the front set to five minutes. You took a deep breath and finally, the robot girl moved to look away. "Red light, green light."

Your concentration was fixed on watching her movements so that you could stop at the right moment. You didn't want to rush, but the time pressure was real. You found yourself glancing at the time too often and subconsciously started to count the seconds you had left. You usually weren't a person who could work under such circumstances, but you had to manage the whole thing somehow. You really didn't want to lose, especially not be the first to do it.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

Shut the fuck up. This guy was seriously getting on your nerves. Your eyes were looking forward while you just stood still and then, a bee flew in front of you. Stay away you stupid thing, you thought as the distance between the insect and your face grew smaller and smaller.

A female voice next to you finally spoke out. "Is this guy on drugs?" She asked when the strange man started to scream again, you didn't know if it was that which caught the bee's attention or her sweet perfume that was suddenly being carried through the wind in your direction, but it didn't matter. You were just glad that it wasn't your problem anymore. Though, you couldn't breathe a sigh of relief since you didn't dare breathe at all when that creepy doll was turned in your direction. The thing looked like it could shoot lasers out of its eyes at any second or something.

"Nope, that's not how you act when you're high." Thanos replied from beside you, and even if you could hold your breath for as long as you needed to, things looked a lot different when it came to a petty comment. 

Your mouth didn't move when you spoke, like that of a ventriloquist's. "Of course, you would know best, you fucking drug addict." was all that came out of you while you looked at his back. 

Thanos grunted as several ideas popped into his head about how he could twist your words, but he tried really hard not to say any of them. I could really take some pills right now. "I'm about to really hurt your feelings, sweetie."

"No! Really?" you let out as you pretended to be really scared of what was about to happen before your tone changed back to being monotone. "I'm pissing in my pants, please don't."

Ignoring your argument, the little innocent bee finally landed on the neck of number 196. "Hey, what's that?" she uttered as she felt a slight tingling sensation on her neck.

Thano's eyes turned to her figure beside him as he answered her. "Don't freak out, it's just a bee."

"A bee?!" She exclaimed in a panic and started waving her arms around wildly to scare the insect away as quickly as possible. You watched her, as many others probably did right now, but the girl herself realized her own mistake far too late when she finally stopped moving and looked up at Thanos. "Shit." she laughed out. "I just moved."

As soon as she finished her sentence, a bullet flew straight through her skull and dropped her body motionless to the floor. You felt a cold shiver run through your whole body and your heart suddenly stopped before it started beating like crazy in your chest. That didn't just happen. Your head automatically tried to calm you down with some kind of slander, but your eyes couldn't help but move to the dead body on the floor, which was now smeared with fresh blood. No, it really did.

next.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[brother-of-a-villain]

Sirius couldn't hear the twinkling. He couldn't hear the difference between the stars and the buzz of electricity running through the lights above. The only stars that he could see were the ones haunting his brother's body like an iron brand. What was the difference between the twinkling of the stars and the searing of the flesh? One just had a prettier name.

He was plating with forces he couldn't quite understand. And every time Sirius learned one thing, there were always ten more unknowns to take its place. Ghosts and Gods, Yeti's and Canvases. Don't you look down on him for being just a man, there was power in his humanity that they could never understand.

Maybe that was always the problem. They could simply never understand each other.

There were people in his sanctuary, invaders of his paradise that weren't supposed to be here. His paradise. Not Wren's. Because a wolf in the pen of a lamb was in heaven, yet the lamb trapped with a wolf was in hell.

Sirius grimaced at his intruders. Their words didn't make sense, and their actions even less so. But Sirius had given up on trying to understand them long ago. There was no point, not when neither were willing to budge on their perspective. It was just pitting an unstoppable force against an immovable object.

Sirius kept his eyes on Wren and the Yeti. Son. He couldn't help but scoff. He was the only family he had left. And he didn't like the look of that lamp either, more magic mumbo jumbo to corrupt his little brother. Sirius raised his gun again to shoot it, but was inturupted by this new stranger.

More stars, more canvases coming to take Wren away, as if they hadn't already taken away enough. "My mind is sound," Sirius spoke with dangerous eyes, ones that were ready to hurt everyone in this room to get what he wanted. "You're the ones getting in the way," and he raised his gun again to shoot down this new star. It didn't matter to him. There was so much blood on his hands he couldn't tell who's was who's anymore. What was one more splash in an ocean of red?

Secrets of the family get buried twice as deep.

Sanctuary.

That's what he called it when they'd finished building it together. The old abandoned building right on the border of Crime Alley and the Bowery that was more than it seemed. Because under all those shabby rubble covered windows, was a paradise secluded from the outside world. His paradise. His sanctuary.

It was too secure for anybody to get into, armed guns and reinforced walls to withstand the rogues of Gotham he used to work with. Alarms and doors and lazers, tranquilizers and poisons and gases galore. It was basically an aboveground bunker with 8 years of constantly upgraded and refined security.

He called it his sanctuary, because no one could get in. Not far anyways.

It was his home for a good while, too. Everything someone would need to survive comfortably could be found on one of the many floors. It also happened to be his workshop, where the "magic" would happen, making and fixing and building everything that anyone needed, the pinnacle of technological creation.

Wren walked through one of the many floors of his Sanctuary, packing away whatever he needed into his suitcase before he hit the road. He just needed to collect some things first... mostly guns... it was a lot of guns. Then after he'd contact Danny and he and Tim would move to the Ghost realm until shit all blew over.

With every door Wren passed through, he closed it behind him, locking and sealing them just in case. This was his Sanctuary, no one else could get in. But he never shook the feeling of a general wrongness.... his betrayal really hit him hard. Because of him... nowhere could every really feel safe... could it.

Wren furrowed his brows as he rummaged around one of the shelves, full of many different kinds of ammunition, rounds, anything that could go pew pew if shot right. "Where the fuck did ya go..." He muttered to himself, placing his hands on his hips with an annoyed little huff. One of his guns that he made required very special bullets. Couldn't just buy them anywhere, he made them himself. Sure he could just take a different gun, but considering who was after him right now Wren didn't want to take any chances.

Running his hands through his hair, Wren moved to the elevator, going down another floor before stepping out, shutting and sealing the door behind him just like he did all the other times.

....Why did this floor feel different?

Wren furrowed his brows further as he walked. This was his "junk" room, full of scraps he didn't want to throw out just yet incase they still had use. Did he accidentally put them in here? That would be annoying. We'll, the only way to find out was to start looking, right?

This was his sanctuary. No one else could get in.

Wren expected to be alone.

Wren wasn't alone.

@brother-of-a-villain

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　TOO MUCH

chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt and Nick say some hurtful things to Chris during a fight, bringing his insecurities to life and causing him to turn to his anchor, Y/N.

WARNING: Insecurities, fighting, crying, anxiety attack.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The noise in the living room had escalated from playful teasing in front of the camera to sharp, biting words. Chris stood behind the kitchen table, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared at Matt and Nick, who were both looking at him from the other side of the table with expressions caught between frustration and exasperation.

"Do you ever think before you act, Chris?" Matt's voice was, surprisingly, raised, an edge of impatience in his tone. "We can’t get through one day without you doing something childish and making a scene, or worse, making our videos look like shit because of it!"

Chris’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately, his eyes darting between his brothers, trying to make sense of how things had gotten so out of hand.

"I wasn’t trying to do anything." He muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper laced with hurt. "I was just... being myself."

"Yeah, exactly." Nick jumped in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "And that’s the problem. You’re always yelling and doing the most, Chris. It’s just... exhausting, okay?"

Chris clenched his fists, jaw tight as he glared at Nick, feeling himself crumbling a bit because sure, he’s too much. Sure, he speaks too loud and had opinions about everything and wasn’t afraid to share them, even if they were about the silliest things. Sure, he feels cornered and childish and immature and annoying, and most of what they're saying is probably true, but hearing his own brothers say it out loud... it pains his heart.

"You know, that’s actually rich coming from you." He shot back, his voice carrying a frustration he couldn’t hold back, trying to disguise his pain with anger. "You’re always the first to say that people watch us because we’re different, because even though we look the same, we're still different. But all you ever do is complain that I’m not just like you or Matt!”

Nick’s expression shifted, taken aback by Chris’s words. But Nick wasn’t one to back down, his voice snapping back almost before Chris had finished speaking.

"That’s not what I’m saying at all!" He fired, eyes narrowing. "Is it so insane to want you to stop yelling and acting like a literal child in every video? We’re trying to be professional, Chris! People like us, yeah, but they won’t if you keep acting like-"

Chris dragged a hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead, trying to shut out Nick’s words, trying to drown out the overwhelming feeling of being misunderstood.

"... and we can’t keep dealing with it, Chris. Grow the fuck up."

The youngest felt his chest tighten even more. His greatest insecurity - one that clawed at his chest every night when he couldn’t sleep, when the silence around him became deafening - was now on full display, brutally brought to life by the people he trusted most.

The internet was relentless in labeling him as "the weird one", the "annoying triplet", just because he was loud and talked too much, just because he was unapologetically himself. He’d laugh it off, of course, joke about it even because it was easier to pretend it didn’t bother him. But deep down, those words haunted him, scraping at the edges of his self-worth, making him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t enough.

And now, hearing Matt and Nick throw those same words at him... he felt hollow. Like all the air had been knocked from his lungs. They knew. They knew how those comments got to him, how hard he tried to ignore it, to rise above the criticism.

"Fine." He said bitterly, hating how his voice trembled slightly as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I’ll get out of your way, then."

He pushed his weight off of the table, preparing himself to get out of there, but as Chris stormed away, Nick's frustration boiled over, and he turned to Matt, his voice sharp and incredulous.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He hissed, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

But Chris kept walking, his shoulders tense as he made his way to the stairs, refusing to let himself look back. His brothers’ voices felt like static at this point, blending into the background as he forced himself to keep going.

Behind him, Matt muttered under his breath, an edge of impatience creeping in.

"Why is he being so dramatic?" He called, exasperation evident in his tone. "Chris, just come back, man! Let’s finish this video."

But Chris didn’t even slow down. Each word felt like salt in a wound he was struggling to ignore, a constant reminder that he wasn’t on the same level as them, that they were all looking at him like he was the problem.

Maybe he was.

As he went down the stairs, his mind was racing, every emotion simmering just below the surface.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached his bedroom door, a mix of anger, shame, and sadness twisting in his chest, his breath hitching as he struggled to keep it together. He wanted to scream, to push all the hurt away.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Y/N - curled up on his bed with notebooks spread around her and laptop balanced on her knees - looked up instantly, a huge smile spreading across her face as she noticed him, her expression so genuinely happy to see him that it made his heart ache even more.

"Hi, honey! How was filming?" She greeted brightly, unaware of the turmoil written across his face.

But her smile faltered quickly as she took in his red-rimmed eyes, the way his face seemed almost haunted, his body tense and trembling as he stood frozen in the doorway. She blinked, worry flashing across her features.

"Chris? Hey, what happened?" The girl whispered, and her words were like a lifeline, breaking the dam he’d tried so hard to keep in place.

She was quick in put her work together, placing her notebooks and laptop gently onto the floor beside her, leaving it all opened for her to come back to it later, her arms instinctively opening up to him.

"Come here, baby."

Without another thought, Chris crossed the room and collapsed into her open arms, sinking onto the bed as if the weight of the world had become too much for him to bear alone.

His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face burrowing into her shoulder as if he could somehow hide from everything that had been clawing at him. His legs slid between her thighs, his body curling into hers, every part of him drawn in close, seeking refuge in the only place that felt safe.

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She could feel the way his shoulders shook, the silent sobs racking through him as he tried to hold back, his breath catching painfully against her neck. She held him even tighter, her hands slipping up to cradle the back of his head, her fingers threading gently through his fluff hair as she pressed soft, reassuring kisses to his forehead, his temple, anywhere she could reach.

"Shh... It’s okay, sweetheart." She murmured softly, pressing her lips to his line of hair. "I'm here. You're safe. Just breathe, Chris. Just breathe, baby."

But Chris felt anything but safe in his own skin. Shame and hurt twisted inside him, tightening like a vice around his chest. He tried to fold himself even smaller, curling tighter into her, trying to somehow look smaller for a 5'8 grown man, pressing his body as close to hers as he could.

He wanted to disappear, to melt into her embrace, and let the world live freely without his presence. The words Matt and Nick had thrown at him - the very same words he read online, the labels he was used to brushing off - felt so true, so much a part of him that he couldn’t deny them.

Childish. Annoying. Immature.

He hated himself in that moment, hated how much he cared, hated how the words dug under his skin, making him feel unworthy, unloved.

"Am I... am I really that annoying?" He whispered, his voice cracking and sounding more horse than it should. "Do you... Do you think I’m too much, too?"

Y/N’s heart twisted painfully as she heard his words, the broken way he spoke them. She frowned deeply, pulling back just enough to look down at him, her hand cupping his wet cheek as she met his gaze, her thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down his face.

"Oh, sweetheart..." She shook her head gently, her voice laced with disbelief and fierce love. "No. No, Chris, of course not. You’re not annoying. You’re not too much. You’re everything I could ever want. You’re perfect exactly the way you are."

He clenched his fists, gripping onto Y/N’s hoodie - or better, his own blue hoodie -, his knuckles white with the force of it as he tried to agree with her, but her words didn’t seem to reach him. His brow furrowed, his eyes filling with fresh tears as he choked out.

"They said... They said I’m always yelling, being loud, making a scene... like I’m always... embarrassing them." His voice caught on the last words, his breath hitching as he fought to keep from breaking down completely.

Y/N held him tighter, her hand moving to the bottom of his white shirt, traveling inside of it only to rub soothing circles along his naked back as she spoke in a soft, steady tone, hoping her words would anchor him.

"Chris, they love you. They’re just... they don’t understand how much their words hurt sometimes. But that doesn’t mean you’re a burden or that you’re too much. You bring so much joy and energy to everything. That’s part of who you are, and it’s one of the things I love most about you."

He shook his head slightly, his breathing coming faster as anxiety started to build again, overtaking him.

"I... I just don’t get it. One minute, they’re saying people watch us because we’re different... and then they tell me I should be more like them. I don’t... I don’t know how to be that. I tried so hard to be like them, you have to believe me, but I don’t know how to change who I am-"

Y/N felt the depth of his frustration in the desperate way that he begged, wanting - no, needing - her to believe him. She cupped his face gently, urging him to look at her.

"You don’t have to change, Chris. Not for anyone. You’re enough just as you are, baby. And you’re not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone who really sees you and loves you for who you are."

He nodded slowly, finally trying to take a deep breath, only to feel like his nose was closed and his throat was being chocked by invisible hands. He closed his eyes forcefully, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tried to breathe in a gulp of air that never seemed to be enough. Chris could feel his heart tightening, his chest struggling in the quick movements of going up and down too many times in a second.

"Can't- I... Please-" He tried, tightening his hands around her hoodie, panicking with the anxiety attack that seemed to come so suddenly.

"Hey, hey, Chris. Sweetheart, you’re okay." Y/N whispered softly, her voice a calming presence against the storm inside him. She shifted slightly, one hand now resting on his chest with a firm press as she guided him through deep breaths, her own voice slow and steady. "Come on, just breathe with me, okay? In... and out... Nice and slow. I’m right here with you."

Following her lead, Chris pressed his eyes tighter in a way that made him see stars behind his eyelids, focusing on the rhythm of her voice, the rise and fall of her own breathing against his fists. With each exhale, he felt a bit of the tension release, his chest loosening as he tried to match her calming breaths.

Gradually, his racing heart began to slow, the adrenaline draining from his body, leaving him feeling heavy, exhausted.

Y/N smiled softly, brushing her fingers through his hair as she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"There you go. That’s it... Well done, my strong boy. Now, just relax. I’ve got you."

As his breathing evened out, Chris opened his eyes slowly, his blurred gaze meeting hers with a vulnerability that tore at her heart.

"You don’t have to carry all of this alone, Chris. I’m always here for you, no matter what. You’re safe with me, okay? I love you... so much." She leaned down, pressing another kiss to his forehead as she held him close, her voice soft.

The gentle reassurance, the quiet love in her words wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him further into her warmth. His eyelids grew heavier, the tiredness finally catching up with him as he let himself surrender to the comfort of her arms, a quiet whine escaping his throat.

"I know, honey. Sleep." Y/N whispered, a tender smile on her lips as she cradled him closer, holding him like a mother would hold her kid, her hands tracing soothing patterns along his back. "You can rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up."

As she continued to whisper soft reassurances, her fingers running gently through his hair, Chris’s breathing finally evened out, his body relaxing completely in her arms. His head rested on the curve of her neck, his arms still wrapped around her waist as he drifted off, his pain and worries slipping away in the safety of her embrace.

Y/N leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss to his hair before laying her cheek against his head, her arms wrapped securely around his body as she watched over him.

"I love you, sweet boy."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A couple of hours had passed, the sunsetting casting a soft, warm light over Chris’s room, where he and Y/N lay wrapped together on the bed. Chris’s face was nestled against her shoulder, his breathing steady and calm now, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

Outside the room, Matt and Nick exchanged a glance. They’d been standing in the hallway for nearly five minutes, trying to muster the courage to knock. Their earlier argument with Chris had weighed heavily on both of them, guilt twisting in their stomachs as they replayed every hurtful word that had left their mouths.

Finally, Matt raised his fist and knocked softly on Chris’s door, the faint sound echoing in the silence. When there was no answer, he hesitated, glancing at Nick before slowly pushing the door open.

They both froze at the sight before them. Chris and Y/N were curled up together on the bed, Chris’s face still damp from tears as he lay against her, completely relaxed in her arms. Y/N had one arm around his shoulders, her fingers resting in his hair, while her other hand was hiding inside his shirt, holding his back, cradling him protectively. They looked peaceful.

Matt’s heart clenched at the sight, guilt intensifying as he took in Chris’s tear-streaked face. He glanced over at Nick, who was staring down at his feet, clearly feeling the same crushing remorse.

"Let's go. We can come back later." Matt muttered, pulling Nick towards himself before starting to back out of the room, thinking it might be best to give Chris a bit more time.

But just as they were about to close the door, Chris stirred, shifting slightly in Y/N’s arms. He nuzzled his head on her shoulder, his face just inches from the gentle slope of her neck where he could still catch the faint, familiar scent of her perfume mingling with the natural warmth of her skin.

He moved slightly, careful not to wake her, though his movement caused her to pull him in closer, her fingers instinctively brushing over his back. The feeling of her hand tracing small, soothing circles over his shoulder as if it was a muscle memory grounded him further, coaxing a soft sigh from him as he nuzzled deeper into her embrace, pressing a gentle, barely-there kiss to her neck.

When his sleepy eyes finally traveled around the room while gently stretching his legs between hers, he finally caught Matt and Nick's figures standing in the doorway.

His face fell the instant he realized they were there, his peaceful expression replaced by a guarded, distant look. Carefully, he eased himself up, making sure not to wake Y/N as he pulled himself away from her arms.

"Came for round two?" He looked at Matt and Nick, his sleepy voice laced with bitterness as he asked.

Nick swallowed, words catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right thing to say. What an irony. He opened his mouth but only managed to mumble, stumbling over his words as he tried to get them out.

Finally, Nick took a small step closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Chris, I... we came to say... We just..." His pearly teeth caged his bottom lip momentarily, taking a deep breath. "We love that you’re different."

Chris stared at him, incredulous, eyebrows raised as he scoffed softly.

"Different? That’s what you’re leading with?" His eyes narrowed, hurt simmering just beneath the surface. "So now I’m the ‘different’ one? Funny, ‘cause that didn’t seem to be a good thing a few hours ago."

Nick faltered, his face flushing as he realized his words weren’t coming out the way he intended. He tried again, tripping over his explanation.

"No, no, I... I didn’t mean it like that. I just-"

Chris took a deep, shaky breath, his gaze lowered as he avoided Nick and Matt's eyes, interrupting Nick.

"Look, I want to apologize, alright?" He started, his voice barely more than a murmur, thick with emotion. "I know it was all my fault and that I’m a lot to handle. I get it. I can be too loud, too... everything, really. And I know I’m not like you guys. I’ve tried so hard to be, but it’s just... not me." His words hung heavy in the room, his fingers twisting anxiously in his lap. "I feel like sometimes I just ruin things because I don’t know how to turn it off. You two seem to have this balance, you know when to joke and when to be serious, and I’m over here just... always pushing things too far."

He exhaled deeply, finally lifting his eyes to meet his brothers', the weight of insecurity and years of self-doubt written all over his face.

"I’m sorry if it feels like you have to put up with me. I’ve tried to be more like you, but it’s never enough. And sometimes... it just feels like who I am isn’t what anyone wants." His voice cracked at the last words, his vulnerability laid bare, and he quickly looked away, bracing himself for whatever they would say.

Nick and Matt shared a look, each seeing the guilt mirrored in the other’s eyes as Chris’s words sank in, cutting through them like a blade.

Matt felt his chest tighten, a pang of regret settling heavily in his stomach, making it hard to breathe. How could he have let Chris - his little brother, the boy who was always loving him no matter what - believe, even for a second, that he wasn’t wanted exactly as he was?

His legs moved on instinct, carrying him back into the room before he even registered it, straight to Chris, who looked so small and hurt, slumped at the edge of the bed. Kneeling down, Matt reached out, placing a steadying hand on Chris’s knee, his fingers gently pressing into his brother’s skin as if trying to ground him.

"Chris, you’re our little brother. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re too much for us." He swallowed, his voice wavering as he continued, willing Chris to see and feel every word. "I love you, man. We love you for who you are. You don’t need to change a thing. It’s your energy, your spark that makes everything better. You have this way of bringing life into everything, and that’s something I wouldn’t change for anything." He looked into Chris’s eyes, his own gaze filled with a raw honesty. "We need you to be you, Chris. No one else."

Nick’s heart clenched as he watched, his own guilt building with every second. Gaining control over the hurt and regret flooding him, he crossed the room in long strides, dropping down beside Matt. He looked up at Chris, his throat tight with emotion, the sight of his little brother so closed-off, so wounded, cutting deep. He was supposed to protect him, not hurt him.

"Yeah... you being another person? That’s not what we want at all. We’ve never wanted you to be anyone else. You’re perfect the way you are, Chris." Nick’s voice shook, filled with a determination to make Chris understand the truth, to undo every careless word he and Matt had thrown his way earlier. "I'm so, so sorry that we said all of those things and made you think so bad about yourself."

Chris’s defenses wavered, his resolve crumbling as he glanced between his brothers. Their sincerity seeped through, but doubt still clouded his gaze. He let out a heavy sigh, loosening his grip on his hoodie just a bit.

"You promise?" His voice was barely a whisper, fragile and laced with uncertainty, his fingers twisting anxiously into the fabric of his sleeve.

Without hesitation, Nick reached forward, taking Chris’s hands in his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing firmly.

"We promise. We love how wild you are, how you’re always the one bringing the energy. You’re louder, sure, but that’s not something bad, it's exactly what makes you, you. You’re the happiest out of the three of us, Chris, and we wouldn’t change that for anything." He gave Chris’s hand another reassuring squeeze, feeling the smallest hint of relief when he saw the younger brother begin to relax, if only slightly.

Matt nodded, adding gently.

"And hey, I don’t think we need to be professional or act in a type of way for our videos to be good. The viewers love us for who we are... the mix of chaos and calm. That’s what makes us, us. It’s why they stick around."

Chris took a shaky breath, letting their words settle over him, feeling the weight of them begin to ease some of the pain. Slowly, he nodded, his fingers curling back around Nick’s reassuring grip.

"Okay."

Matt leaned forward, placing a hand on Chris’s shoulder.

"We’ll do better, alright? We’re brothers. We’re gonna mess up, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have each other’s backs. Always."

Chris exhaled deeply, finally letting the tension melt away as he leaned into their touch, the comfort of his brothers grounding him in a way only they could. Straightening himself, he managed a small, tired smile, his heart feeling a bit lighter.

"Yeah... always."

"Well, I’m really glad you guys are okay again." Y/N’s soft voice broke the silence, bringing all three heads up in surprise.

She moved with a quiet strength as she sat up and brushed her hand tenderly through Chris’s hair, watching his face light up as he realized she’d been awake all along.

"But just so we’re clear... if either of you hurt my baby like that again, you’re going to have to answer to me." She turned her gaze to Nick and Matt, a playful but fierce glint in her eyes.

"Y/N..." Chris dragged the last letter of her name in a whining tone, feeling flustered with how she called him 'her baby' in front of his brothers - even though they were more than accustomed with it.

Nick’s eyes widened jokingly with her threat, a chuckle escaping him. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, glancing at Matt as if to say, 'Well, we better watch out'. Matt nodded, eyes a bit sheepish, scratching the back of his neck.

"Alright, alright, no more ganging up on Chris. You have our word, Y/N."

Content with their promises, Y/N turned her attention back to Chris, opening her arms and pulling him into her embrace once more. He let out a soft sigh, sinking into her warmth, his head nestled against her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him protectively, fingers tracing soothing circles along his back as she whispered.

"I told you they didn't mean it." He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him, the last bits of hurt melting away.

Nick and Matt watched the two of them, a fondness softening their expressions.

"You know." She murmured, pulling Chris's head away from her chest and looking at him with a mischievous grin. "You’re pretty lucky to have all of us wrapped around your finger."

Chris laughed, a real laugh this time, the sound full of relief and love.

"Yeah, I know. I just... I guess I forget sometimes."

"Well." Nick started, squeezing Chris’s shoulder with a grin. "We’re not going anywhere. So next time, just remind us if we’re being idiots, alright?"

Chris nodded, glancing gratefully at each of them, feeling more grounded and cherished than he had in a long time.

[taeyongdoyoung]

good for you

summary: your boyfriend is literally perfect and treats you like a princess but you want him to completely lose control 😇 pairing: mingyu x reader genre: smut, tooth-rotting fluff warnings: established relationship, home intruder roleplay, consensual somnophilia, safeword exists but isn't used, rough sex, no lube, no protection, neck biting, size kink (no one is surprised), titty slapping, sir kink, spanking, praise+degradation, slight dumbification, subspace, pet names, shy dom gyu, crying, mentions of pee (non-sexual context), aftercare!!! word count: 1.7k

You and Mingyu have not been together for long but from what you know so far he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever dated. He treats you like a princess, brings you flowers or chocolates with or without occasion, drives you around everywhere, gets stuff from the top shelf for you and is basically the kindest soul to ever step on this Earth. You are, of course, beyond grateful for that, and do your best to show him how much you appreciate him every chance you get.

However, a little demon inside your brain kind of wants him to not treat you as if you are made of glass all the time. While the sex is great and Mingyu makes sure that you reach an orgasm, you can’t help but fantasize about him going rough on you. Even when his friends tease (bully) him, he almost never uses his height and strength to his advantage, instead accepting everything with a good-natured smile.

But you would be lying if you said that the idea of him just snapping doesn’t excite you. Nevertheless, you are not sure how to bring this up to him. You don’t want to sound ungrateful or for him to feel insecure about his abilities because he’s perfect the way he is. It’s your filthy brain that needs fixing. Still, you decide that honesty is the key to a healthy relationship and you gather all your courage to approach him about this.

“Hey, Mingyu, can we talk about something?” you ask one evening after you two have finished having dinner.

His eyes are immediately filled with worry. Judging by the tone of your voice, this is something serious. So far, your relationship has been lighthearted and devoid of any problems. Mingyu thinks that it’s going great but apparently he’s been fooling himself.

“What’s wrong?” he wants to know. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

“What?! Of course not! Do you want to break up with me?” you panic.

“No, no, please,” Mingyu shakes his head fervently.

“Good, good,” you exhale in relief.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Um, it’s kinda embarrassing but I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”

“Secrets?” Mingyu blinks in curiosity.

“Yeah…You know how you’re always super gentle with me, both outside and inside the bedroom?”

“Uh, sure? What about it?”

“Can you consider…not doing that all the time?”

“In what sense?” Mingyu raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“In the sense that…can you fuck me harder without holding yourself back? You’re not gonna break me, I promise.”

“Oh…” he finally realizes what you’re getting at. Because he doesn’t say anything rightaway, you hurry to explain.

“Not that I don’t like how sweet and patient you are with me! It’s more than amazing, I just thought that…maybe it’d be fun to try something new. If it’s not your thing, forget I mentioned it, I’m so-“

“It’s not that it doesn’t sound appealing. But I’m afraid that if I’m not holding myself back, I’ll end up hurting you,” Mingyu confesses, surprising you.

You reach your hand out across the table to hold his comfortingly.

“You won’t. I know how caring you are, Mingyu. Which is why I would trust you with something like this. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods. “Did you have a particular scenario in mind or do you want me to surprise you?”

“Surprise me.”

Mingyu smirks sinisterly. Oh God. What kind of demon have you unleashed?

🎀🎀🎀

A few days later, you receive a text from Mingyu while you’re walking home.

Mingyu: Busy tonight?

You: All yours

Mingyu: Unlock your door at exactly 10pm and wait for me in your bed. If I’m not there by 10:30, lock it again, alright?

You: Yes, sir 🛐

Mingyu: That’s my good girl.

Fucking hell. Your heart flutters upon reading these words. He’s called you that before but in this context, it thrills you even more than usual.

Mingyu: Safeword is butterfly. Use it if something is too much, if you’re in pain or for any other reason that brings you discomfort, okay?

You: I’m gonna need a safeword?!?!

Mingyu: I hope it doesn’t come to that but just in case. See you in a couple of hours, baby.

You’re too excited for tonight. You take a long shower. You wear your prettiest lingerie and make your room as cozy as possible. Not that it matters. You spray perfume over your neck and wrists. You put on some lipbalm and mascara. You want to look good for him. But the truth is, you had an exhausting week and already feel sleepy. You unlock the door at 10pm, climb into your bed and…

Somehow you fall asleep. You feel disoriented as your consciousness is slowly returning to you. You feel too hot, too weak and too full. Fuck. What’s going on? You don’t dare to open your eyes for fear of ruining the sweeter than sleep reality.

“Dumb baby couldn’t wait for me and fell asleep all by herself?” Mingyu’s deep voice coos in your ear.

In your half-awake state you feel your boyfriend’s cock thrusting deep inside of you, taking you rougher than ever before. Well, you asked for it.

“So cute and helpless, leaving the door unlocked for anyone to enter and use you like a whore,” Mingyu murmurs.

He rubs your clit vigorously while still fucking into you, making you wetter than ever before.

“Nnghh,” you whimper drowsily.

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep,” Mingyu whispers. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything.”

He squeezes your boobs, leaning down to bite your neck like a hungry wolf. And here, you thought your boyfriend was just a cute puppy.

“S-so big,” you cry out pitifully.

“You can take it, slut,” Mingyu says confidently.

You don’t offer a verbal response but your body speaks for itself. Mingyu is almost splitting you in two but your pussy is swallowing him up greedily.

“H-harder, p-please,” your mouth seems to have a mind of its own because it speaks against any common sense.

Mingyu slaps your tits, a little hesitant at first.

It stings but it’s such a sweet hurt you’re already addicted to it.

“Like this?” he asks, making sure it’s okay.

“M-more,” you beg, forgetting all inhibitions. “Use me.”

He does it a couple of more times, while still fucking you roughly. His dick is so enormous that you’re certain you’ll be sore tomorrow but it will be more than worth it. You lose count of how many times you’ve come around his cock. Sliding out and flipping you on your belly, he takes you from behind, too, spanking your ass and gripping your hair.

“Such a good girl, just for me, right? No one else gets to see you like this, yeah?” Mingyu’s words come out rushed, almost in trance.

“All yours, sir,” you promise.

Mingyu seems satisfied with your answer because he spills his seed inside of you seconds after. You follow his lead and eventually, your knees give out, your mind goes blank and you collapse on the bed.

“Baby?” Mingyu checks up on you worriedly.

You are not capable of responding, brain barely functioning anymore. He moves you gently to see your face. Your eyes are open but unblinking, which scares the shit out of him.

“Come back to me, my sweetheart, please,” Mingyu cries out, hugging you tightly.

A couple of moments later, you still don’t remember your own name but something more important to you leaves your lips:

“Mingyu?” you whisper cautiously.

“Oh, angel,” Mingyu sighs. “I’m right here.”

Then, you suddenly burst into tears. Overwhelmed by how good he made you feel and how much he cares about you, your emotions fully take over.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?” Mingyu positions you so that you are sitting on his knee and rocks you gently back and forth.

“N-no,” you shake your head. “I’m s-so happy.”

“You poor thing,” Mingyu chuckles softly. “Can’t believe you worked so hard to doll yourself up and make the room smell nice. You knew I was gonna ruin your lingerie anyway, didn’t you?”

“I just wanted to look good for you,” you admit with a pout.

“You always do. My best girl,” Mingyu kisses you sweetly and wraps you in his warm embrace, lulling you back to sleep.

🎀🎀🎀

The next morning, you wake up to the feeling of wanting to pee so badly. You manage to climb out of bed but barely make one step and trip on the ground. Uh oh. You got fucked so good you literally can’t walk.

Awakened by the loud thud, Mingyu is by your side in no time.

“What happened?”

“You happened,” you reply truthfully, but you don’t blame him because you brought this upon yourself.

“Oh…” Mingyu understands what you mean. “Did you want to use the toilet?”

“Uh, yeah. Gosh, this is so mortifying.”

You cover your face with your hands.

“I was literally deep inside of you a few hours ago, get over yourself,” Mingyu laughs and lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bathroom.

“Are you gonna stare at me?!” you ask in embarrassment.

“Might as well,” he laughs but gives you some privacy, even though there is no need to be shy after all the things you’ve done together.

After that, he insists on doing everything for you. You tell him you are perfectly capable of brushing your own teeth but nope, Mingyu wants to do that, as well. And honestly? It feels too good to reject.

He even makes breakfast and brings it to bed so you can share it together. As you take the first bite and drink the first sip of coffee for the morning, the feelings come crashing once again. And you start crying even harder than last night.

“Oh, baby, what is it?” Mingyu wants to know, as he brushes your hair behind your ear and wipes your tears.

“N-nothing, you’re just so amazing and kind I feel extremely touched.”

“You do realize this is literally the bare minimum, right?” Mingyu seems shocked. He just made pancakes. It’s not some heroic act, in his humble opinion.

“It’s so rare to find a lovely guy like you, though,” you admit.

“Well, my good girl deserves only the best,” he smiles shyly and kisses your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning wider than ever before.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll want to be good for you forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The End

[makkir0ll]

"you have really long eyelashes"

it catches him off guard. you guys are just laying in your bed scrolling on your own phones. he didn't even feel you staring at him. how long have you been looking?

"thanks?" he replies

"no i mean seriously like drop the lash serum." you joke at him as you continue to observe him.

they're long and thick. the kind of lashes that have a natural curl, unlike yours, that fall straight down and take several minutes to curl to your perfect liking. not to mention the layers of mascara you apply to get them to even remotely look like his.

he turns his head to you and you don't miss his dilated pupils as his eyes bore into yours. you take note of how the lashes perfectly frame his eyes. and you're so jealous.

but then an idea pops into your head, you smile to yourself and he senses it coming.

"can i-"

"no" he cuts you off.

"babe please you don't even know what i was about to say!" you grab onto his shoulder as you plead.

"whatever it is im sure it's going to be bad." he retorts, turning his face away from you and going back on his phone.

"i'll buy you you're favorite food."

and that's how you end up here on his lap with your mascara in your hand. his hair is pushed back as his hands rest on your hips, drawing small circles as he awaits your actions.

you open the bottle with the black liquid and bring the wand close to his eyes. "don't move" you whisper and he listens. mainly because he's scared that you're going to poke his eye out as you bring the wand to the base of his eyelashes and wiggle it slowly before moving it up to coat the length of the lashes. some of the mascara gets on his eyelids. you repeat the actions on the other eye before going back and doing a second coat. you can tell that he might be slightly nervous that you're going to blind him with the way he holds his breath and the grip he has on your hips get ever so slightly tighter.

you move yourself off his lap and he goes to grab his phone so he can see what he looks like.

"wait no not yet, i'm still not done" you say as you go and grab ur q-tips and micellar water.

"still?"

"yes still, i need to clean up the mascara on your eyelids," you say as you place yourself back on his lap. you open the bottle of micellar water and carefully put the clear liquid on the q-tip. you bring the white stick of cotton to his eyes and you tell him to close them. he feels the wet cotton and it's a weird feeling. you watch the q-tip turn darker the more mascara you wipe off.

"okay i'm done!" you say and he opens his eyes and you don't think he's ever looked more majestic. his already long lashes looking even longer and bolder now that he has the mascara to bring them out. you notice that the color of his eyes pop more. "you look so pretty" you smile as lean in to pepper kisses along his face. his cheeks feel warm and he can already tell that they're probably red.

he reaches over to his phone and opens the camera app and switches the camera so he can see himself. and he immediatly notices the stark difference in his eyes with the mascara. he brings his fingers to his lashes to touch them. it feels weird and his eyes kind of feel weighed down. but he has no regrets when he sees you smiling at him so fondly.

"they look nice." he smiles at you, dropping his phone to the side.

"i know right, ugh im so jealous i wish i had your lashes. all my problems would be solved." you say, thinking about the long and excruciating lash routine you perform every morning.

"all of them?"

"yes, all of them."

he chuckles at your words. "alright, but can you take it off now, it feels weird." he says, hands coming to touch his lashes again. you pout as you grab the micellar water you put away and a cotton pad and remove the mascara from his eyelashes, being gentle so that he doesn't lose a few. he appreciates the action. and maybe he would let you put more than just mascara on his face another day.

KAGEYAMA (has the best lashes argue with the wall), suna, tsukishima (genuinely terrified that you're going to make him go blind), OSAMU, kuroo, MATSUKAWA MY LOVE, iwaizumi, OIKAWA (he would eat that shit up), akaashi, kenma, +ur fav.

[blkkizzat]

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟻........... THE BIG BROTHER ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: crazed with quarantine boredom, you can't help but to tease your naive lil' roommate—choso kamo—but you'll know when to stop before it goes too far—or have you already let the real choso in?

classifications: huge mommy kinks, calls reader mommy, dommy mommy!reader, affectionate cruelty/cuteness aggression, manipulative reader, begging, teasing, virgin, creampies, masturbation, panty theft/sniffing/munching, cunalingus, pussy drunk choso, dumbification, slight mentions of menophilia, mentions of aged-up yuji and todo (they give choso “the talk” lmfao).

incidents: 6.9k

You felt bad about this.

You really did. 

Although apparently not enough to actually keep you from teasing your half-cursed roommate, pushing him to the point where moisture shines in his wide, puppy-like eyes.

Standing behind the door of your apartment, you pretend you don’t know the Choso before you is not actually a doppelgänger—so convincingly, in fact, that Choso has even begun to question his own sense of self. 

“B-But, b-but—I t-think, ah no! I promise it’s really me. I can’t be the curse! I-I mean—wait, I am a curse—but only half! D-Don’t you recognize me??”

Worry edges Choso’s voice while his bottom lip quivers.

Damn, Choso just looks too cute, all forlorn and pouty. You can barely stand it.

“Nah, sounds like you’re copping pleas to me, doppelgänger.”

You nearly give yourself away too, stifling a small mewl from watching his adorable lil’ face crumble, blinking back tears. 

While you didn’t intend to make him cry, your pussy is now crying too. Moisture dampening your panties from finally releasing some of the twisted cuteness aggression you’ve been bottling up for so long.

Your half-curse roommate was just too baby-girl for his own damned good—how could you possibly resist toying with him a little?

With that, you decide to take things up a notch.

“Um, are you sure you’re who you say you are? Because my boyfriend, Choso, is already home!”

“B-B-BOY-F-F-FRIEND?!”

Choso’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, blushing furiously and practically choking on the word itself.

EEEEE! Too precious! 

You quickly cup your hand over your mouth hoping he couldn’t hear your giggles through the door.

Truthfully, you and Choso were just roommates.

Neither of you had come close to crossing any lines in the 10 months you’ve lived together. Your cohabitation has been entirely platonic thus far—to your dismay. 

Choso was unbelievably sexy and it makes him even sexier knowing how oblivious he was to it. However, Choso’s obliviousness is a problem in itself. Every subtle hint you drop seems to go right over his head. He was still so new to the ways of living as an everyday human and thus he interpreted everything in the most innocently unaware way possible.

You had no idea if Choso actually had any romantic inclinations towards you, but watching him get all flustered at the thought of dating you then cheesin’ like a goof only encourages the game you’re playing to continue.

You’d end this charade soon—you promise—but you just needed to mess with him a bit more. He’d been gone for almost two weeks, temporarily staying with Yuji back in the Jujutsu High dorms. You’ve been so lonely at home without him, which of course you use to justify your teasing by saying how he owed you this tiny bit of entertainment.

And it's entertaining as hell.

“You mean you don’t even know that Choso and I have been dating for 3 months!? You’re a horrible doppelgänger, you know that? I thought you’d be more convincing than this.”

On the other side of the door Choso was close to losing his entire shit. He had no idea how to process any of this information—unequivocally not having the slightest clue you’re purely fucking with him.

“D-Dating!? 3 m-months!?!”

Choso chews on his lip, trying to churn his exhausted thoughts together. 

When did this happen!? 

He’d been away hunting doppelgänger curses with Yuji practically non-stop for 2 weeks, he’s exhausted from the sheer number of doppels they exterminated and can’t think straight. He didn’t expect to come home to you accusing him of being one—let alone calling him your boyfriend!

Boyfriend. 

That title continued to pinball in Choso’s mind. 

He wanted to get closer to you for such a long time too, but didn’t know how exactly to go about it, all the social aspects of humanity being brand new to him—especially dating.

Not like he’d ever thought about living a normal life or dating living as a curse. Not until he started working for Jujutsu Tech and Yuji suggested he try living a bit more independently. You, one of the many assistant managers and Yuji’s friend, just happened to be in need of a roommate at the time. Being familiar with the Jujutsu world, you weren’t put off by him being a half-curse, quite the opposite. You’d been so helpful, always cheerful and kind, guiding him through any rough patches and helping him in a way similar to how Yuji does.

Yet it didn’t take long for Choso to realize he felt things about you he’d never experienced with anyone else, not even his brothers. 

The desire to constantly be around you and protect you was similar to how he felt about Yuji but with you it just didn’t stop there. Choso wanted to touch you, he wanted to hold you and he desperately wanted to be held by you too. 

Simultaneous to his budding affections for you—Choso realized the persistent pattern of his cock stiffening terribly when you’d casually roam around the apartment in your pjs. PJs that consisted of curve-clinging bottoms and braless crop-tops that would show the exact outline of your pussyprint along with every slight jiggle of tiddy from your movements.

Confused, Choso immediately went to Yuji with his problem—divulging everything. 

It took about 10 minutes for Yuji and Todo (who happened to be with Yuji at the time) to stop laughing before Yuji finally explained that it was a perfectly normal reaction to seeing a pretty girl dressed in so little. 

“Ha! Damn, seeing that juicy ass in tiny shorts everyday? You are truly blessed brother.”

Choso frowned, going silent. 

He secretly hated when Todo referred to him as brother—only him and Yuji were brothers. 

Moreover, the sinister urge to release piercing blood right through Todo’s tiny peanut head had startled Choso. Choso wasn’t one quick to anger and Todo’s comment wasn’t a threat or an insult by any means—but Choso still didn’t like it, even if he agreed with the sentiment. The last thing he wanted you to do, even to his own torment, was to cover up.

Although admittedly, Choso had seen lots of beautiful women wearing even less on the social media apps Yuji had him download. However, the faint notions of attraction were never as intense as when he was around you.

Not even close.

He didn’t know what to do about that. 

Especially after Yuji had warned Choso that it would be inappropriate to let you see any of the many erections Choso got while in your presence. Continuing to say that unless you felt the same way, it would make you uncomfortable and the only reason you did dress that way around him in the first place is because you are comfortable with him.

Todo on the other hand had a different approach and suggested to Choso he “accidentally” drop his towel in front of you after getting out of the shower.

Face red with embarrassment, Choso pointedly ignored that advice.

Making you uncomfortable was the last thing Choso wanted to risk. 

Choso didn’t want to be any more of a burden to you after you had so graciously helped him over these past months, so he never made any of his affections for you known and certainly wouldn’t be able to recognize if you felt the same way. 

Consequently, he would always quickly excuse himself to the bathroom to take care of the issue, anytime it happened to ‘pop up’. 

Literally. 

He was only glad right now that he couldn’t see you in them calling him your boyfriend or he would surely get hard, hell he was starting to regardless.

Choso is thoroughly perplexed, yet his next question is so innocent you nearly moan out from the sheer cluelessness of it all.

“A-A—Are we really dating—y-you and I? I-I mean, you actually wanted to d-date someone like me?”

Okay, now.

Now would be the perfect time to come clean. 

You’d had your fun right?

You could tell he was starting to take this seriously and it wouldn’t be harmless for much longer if you kept this up. 

You honestly don’t even know what’s gotten into you. This sudden wave of aggression feels out of character for you. You’ve never had any inclination to be so pushy or dominant—in fact, you’ve been referred to as a pillow princess in past relationships.

Yet with Choso it was different and had been since the beginning. The urge to encourage him felt so natural—manifesting as a strange bubbling in your chest whenever he had a doleful look of wide-eyed wonderment, head tilted slightly to the side from processing new information. 

God, it was a mixture of pride, joy and endearment that intensified in such a way you just wanted to make him cry—and it’s the exact same look he has right now you note gazing out of the peephole. 

Your legs rub together, but the shifting of your thighs wasn’t near enough stimulation for your repressed lust. You resisted the compulsions that would sprout to tease or taunt him for far too long and it was all spilling out now.

“Of course, we are Cho! Well me and the real Choso—you’re clearly just a doppelgänger or you wouldn’t be asking your girlfriend that.”

You are the absolute worst. 

“Oh, r-right…”

Choso stops, trailing off mid-sentence when he is finally hit with a revelation. 

But if you two were in fact dating did that mean—

Choso swallows hard, recalling all the accounts Yuji and Todo sent him full of videos (twitter porn) of what two people do together when they ‘date’. Yuji also told him though, if he’d go out to bars with him and Todo he’d likely have no issue finding a girl who’d also do it with him—even if they weren’t dating.

But Choso declined. 

He wasn't interested in doing those things with anyone else—he only wanted to do those things with you.

—wait but….could he really *gulps* with you?

Choso breaks into a anxious sweat.

The problem in his pants had been getting worse lately. To the point he had been excusing himself twice a night to settle down his cock and would try to sit on the furthest end of the sofa during movie nights with a pillow over his crotch. 

Although to his torturous agony, somehow you always seemed to find your way over to his side. By the end of the movie you’d be curled up to him with your head on the pillow in his lap over his erection that would have been throbbing all the while. 

But dating?

Were you actually dating all this time and he’d been too clueless to recognize it? 

Choso didn’t know how it started or what all it entailed but he definitely felt like the worst boyfriend in the world for not realizing it sooner! 

He needed to talk to you about that and apologize—but first he needed to convince you it was actually him.

“B-But roomie—please, it’s really me!”

You smirk, getting another mischievous idea.

Roomie, eh? Heehee.

You and Choso call each other ‘roomie’ in the same affectionate way close friends would call each other ‘bestie’—but this too you would use against him as you’re too far on a roll to stop now.

“Roomie?! Nah, my boyfriend Choso only calls me Mommy.”

“MA-MA-MOMMY!?!”

Choso grabs his chest over his heart, and begins muttering something you can’t quiet here, prompting you to consider if a part of his brain has shut down. 

Well, a piece of yours surely did.

All your thoughts are now controlled by the growing ache between your thighs.

You wish you could tackle him to the ground and ride him until he can't cum anymore and his pleas for you to stop melt into submissive whimpers as your pussy would continue to milk him.

While you might not have confirmation if Choso has feelings for you, you can plainly see he’s not repulsed by it at least.

Even so, intrusive pessimistic thoughts creep in, making you wonder if you’re simply too much for him. He’s already been so jumpy around you lately—more than usual—to the point where you worry you might be making him uncomfortable.

Maybe you haven’t been as good with keeping your cruel urges suppressed as you think?

Choso has been keeping a bit more distance too whenever you try to get too close. You know he’s still so naive to the ways of the world, and even if you are teasing him now, the last thing you want is to make him feel taken advantage of.

After all, you genuinely consider both him and Yuji friends—especially since letting Choso stay with you was originally a favor to Yuji.

However, a part of you secretly thinks Yuji may have had some vendetta against you—because why else would he have gifted his older brother those gray sweatpants and black compression tees for xmas? 

Choso didn’t wear underwear often either, especially when around the house—and a person would have to be blind not to see how fat his cock was just flaccid against his thighs.

So yeah, you did start wearing less and less around him, the boy shorts you wore a few weeks ago might as well have been panties from how far they rode up your crack to let the bottom of your ass cheeks poke out of them.

But Choso, even with that, still wouldn’t look your way for too long. 

You sigh.

Alright you had your fun, you’d—

“I-I’m real, I know how to p-prove it!”

Seconds away from stepping back to open the door and barrier, you're speechless as your eyes widen with recognition. The solid blue and tan print cotton material Choso tearfully pulls from his sleeve definitely belong to you.

YOUR RILAKKUMA PERIOD PANTIES!?

“A f-fake Choso wouldn’t have t-these!”

The words spill out of his lips as he looks down at his feet in shame.

Your eyes haven’t dilated from the size of saucers as Choso reveals undeniable proof that he’s the real deal. How else would he have found those heavily soiled teddy bear granny panties you’d hidden so well at the bottom of the laundry basket? You’d stashed them there weeks ago, right before he came home earlier than expected—just before you could wash them. 

You hadn’t even realized they were missing!

*Sniff* “M’s-so s-sorry M-Mommy, I-I know i-tt’s wrong—j-just miss you s’much when *sniff* m’gone for so l-long… n’these smell s’much like you n’have your b-blood on ‘em a-and—”

Is this real life!?

Choso’s mournful apologies are blubbering out of him a mile a minute but your thoughts go to hell at the debauched truth. Taking shallow breaths, you’re mindlessly caressing the pads of your fingers over your clothed cunt, eager to relieve any of the ache.

“—Uh—um, C-Choso, baby…?”

Even though he’s still rambling, your voice quiets him.

“Y-yeah, Mommy?”

Fuck! 

The hand stroking over your pussy urgently fumbles under the waistband of your shorts and panties to rub on your clit directly now.

He couldn’t just call you Mommy like this and expect you not to be soaked! (Even if it’s your fault he is).

Silently praying that Choso couldn’t hear the soft clicking of your fingers sliding inside your drooling folds to play with your slippery lil’ bud.

Yeah, you were horrible alright—yet you were also horny as hell. 

An unexpected turn of events for sure, but there’s no way you couldn’t see this through now. Especially now that he was full on calling you ‘Mommy’ and had just admitted to stealing your panties! 

So he’d liked you all this time after all?! 

Finding out more was becoming an essential need akin to breathing air.

“T-Tell Mommy something, yeah Cho baby? W-What exactly do you do with Mommy’s panties?”

Looking at his feet, the embarrassment on Choso’s face speaks for itself as he turns his back to the door in shame.

Likewise, you peel yourself from behind the door, leaning against the adjacent wall for additional support as your other hand hurriedly pushes up your top to tweak at your nipples. 

Getting off on the mere mental image of his chagrin and the pitiful whimpers you can hear through the door as Choso starts explaining through his tearful sobs his filthy thieving actions.

Shit—he’s such a horney little freak about it too!

Choso reluctantly admits that due to his heightened senses of being a half-curse he can always smell when you’re bleeding (Yuji also had to assure him there was nothing wrong with you).

Once he’d discovered the pair you left in the basket, Choso couldn’t help himself. 

And they weren’t the first pair he’d taken either. 

Choso had pilfered many sets of your undies to sniff while he hurriedly jerked his cock. Admitting to you sometimes just being around you for too long causes him to get hard. He’d rush to the bathroom and dig through your laundry, scouring for a pair of your panties or thongs like a mad man before resting them directly over his lips and nose. Finally at ease, the bathroom was his refuge and Choso ultimately would bathe his senses in your scent more than he would use the bathroom to actually bathe his body. 

Never lasting too long, Choso would cum all over his trembling hands from perversely sniffing and tonguing down the dirtied gusset of your panties.

If there were times Choso thought he was being too noisy, he’d stuff them in his mouth entirely. Sucking out the sweet tang of your cunt from the fibers and imagining it was your actual pussy his mouth was full of instead. 

Being the considerate roomie he is though, Choso would always clean them. Your panties would be returned to you, washed and folded and placed in your drawer before you could notice them missing.

Near hyperventilating now, Choso’s face is saturated in tears. He's so scared of your reaction. Surely, even if you two were dating you’d still hate him for the huge violation of privacy.

But if he’d known you were dating before, he’d have at least asked you for permission! 

“...M-M-Mommy—are you mad?”

Mad? 

Well you were madly finger popping your pussy to his depraved as fuck confession, if that counted as mad.

By the end of his perverse admission of guilt, you had slid all the way down to the floor. Trying to bite back cries as you are two fingers deep into your cunt. Pumping your soaked digits in and out of your pussy. No longer able to hold back, you are moaning aloud. 

“AHH, FUHH!”

The steamy twisted visions in your mind replay over and over, imagining him in those stupidly sexy gray sweats stroking himself while munching your panties like a fiend. 

Truthfully, the fantasy is doing you in badly and trumped everything else for you.

You haven't been this wet in ages and if he was getting off to your panties, it’s only fair you got off to him owning up to it—right?

“Um, M-Mommy…are y-you okay?”

Choso’s brow furrows when you don’t respond. 

Turning back around, he listens intently for any reply. Head cocking to the side when Choso can only hear muffled cries and the messy sounds of something wet squelching behind the door.

Suddenly, a cold panic sets in for Choso—you said he was already home! 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Choso had been so focused on the whole boyfriend and dating reveal he’d completely overlooked that very important detail. He'd been with Yuji for the past week, so it couldn’t have been him, it had to be—a doppel.

You had let in a doppelganger?

Was he in there with you now?

Were you hurt? Is that why you weren’t answering him?

You didn’t sound hurt before but you certainly do now…well maybe not hurt exactly, but extremely distressed at the very least.

“MOMMY, ANSWER ME!!!”

Choso’s anxious cry did capture your attention but unfortunately only fueled the sense of urgency in your fingers thrusting messily into your sopping cunt.

Holy shit—and the wretchedly pathetic way he just called you ‘Mommy?’ 

You know you’re so fucked up for getting off on tormenting poor Choso like this, but his confession was so fucking hot and pretty fucked all on its own. 

There’s no way in hell you could stop now!

How long has it been even since you last orgasm? You couldn’t even remember, your head floating in the haze of a thick pleasurable fog. Regardless the actual length of time the answer was still that it had been too fucking long. 

“AH-AH—SHIIIIIIIT!” 

So close!

Your hand pulling at your nipples joins your other down your pants. The fingers not plunging in your tight slippery core are scrawling urgent cursive patterns over your sensitive nub, unconsciously spelling out Choso’s name on your clit over and over.

Your toes curl as you chew on your lip, the rope in your belly pulls taunt ready to snap when—

BAMMMMMM!!!

Choso barrels through the door and barrier—flowing red scale activated. 

The door itself barely hangs on its hinges as it ricochets back into place (yeah that was def coming out of your deposit for sure).

Scaring you half to death, orgasm thwarted, you can only stare at Choso as rage you’d never seen before is etched all over his face. Yet still his concern for you is evident in rapid fire questions he shoots at you faster than you can even process with your mind still swimming in your lingering arousal.

“ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“WHERE IS HE?!”“DID HE HURT YOU?!”

“HE HURT YOU—I’LL KILL ‘EM!”

Pacing around your apartment frantically, Choso abruptly comes to a stop once he senses that you are the only two in the apartment. 

There’s no doppelganger terrorizing you.

The both of you are panting—Choso from his battle-ready stance, blood congealing off the edges of the vivid crimson barbed arrows on his flustered cheeks—and you, panting from the shock of him bursting through the door, making your core to clench and pulse to the beat of your skyrocketing heart rate.

Stuck like a deer in headlights, you swallow thickly. You’re not sure how much time passes—it feels like hours, though it’s likely only been a few minutes. 

Regaining enough of your wits to remember the compromising position you are in, you slowly begin to pull your hands out of your shorts. The movement catches Choso’s eye, his vision narrowing in on your hands and fixes on the glimpse he receives of the large moist spot leaking through your cute yellow sleep shorts.

“W-W-Wait!”

Breath stuttering in a bit of a tizzy, Choso drops to his knees before you the second it clicks what you were doing. All thoughts of your obvious lies gone, the arousing perfume wafting off your cunt slaps him upside the head and severely cripples his ability to process the entire situation. 

It smells so-so much more sweet and potent than the stale remnants he’d get from your used panties!

You remain all the while still against the wall, his bigger form towers over you, effectively trapping you between the surface and his massive erection. The hard-on Choso sports proudly pokes through his baggy hakama pants. Yet he's so transfixed on the moisture glimmering on your soft thighs, he doesn’t realize he’s even showing it off to you—you do notice, however, quite a lot.

Fuck, you’d never seen him hard before he was so big!  

“C-can I see?” 

Choso’s voice meekly squeaks out, his tone becoming pitchy as he chews on his bottom lip and wipes his slick clammy palms off on his pants.

Oh shit, he’s so fucking cute you could eat him right the fuck up.

And unknowingly Choso was thinking the same thing about you—wishing you’d let him in sooner.

Why were you doing this without him? 

He was your boyfriend right? He could have been helping you with this.

Did you think he’d not want to do this with you? 

Did you not want to do it with him?

Yet Choso doesn’t get the opportunity to voice any of these concerns as his mind turns to goo when your pink tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. Nodding affirmatively, you gently shimmy your pj shorts down.

Your heart is beating so hard in your ears right now.

You know a conversation needs to be had and that you have to tell him the truth—fess up and come clean. 

Although all of that seemed so small and irrelevant compared to the very large cock thumping against Choso’s thigh and the pertinent fluttering of your pussy—she’s not letting you forget how badly you still want to cum for a second.

If anything you were just happy more than anything he was just as big, if not a bigger, sexually repressed degenerate as you are.  The fact that you both wanted each other would be good enough for now which was more than evident in Choso’s eyes—crazed with excitement and following your every move.

He most definitely keenly whines like an injured puppy. As if the sight of you spreading your thick thighs open to reveal the pretty pair of mesh and silk panties, with a sizable expanding wet spot over your core, pains him and he trembles. 

“Mmm, is it okay if I…?”

Neither you nor Choso is quite sure what he’s asking permission for but you give it to him regardless.

Your body jumps slightly when you feel his shaky grasp touch your warm skin just above your knees. Trying to calm himself proves futile the higher Choso’s palms stumble upwards to rest on your inner thighs. 

The audible puff Choso breathes out seeing with his own eyes the pretty shape and color of your glistening cunt through the wet mesh material.

Lowering his face closer to your core, Choso unabashedly takes the biggest whiff of your lewd aroma. His eyes roll back as he moans sensually. His warm breath and flicks of his drool gust over your quivering cunt which has your hips eagerly tipping forward to offer yourself up to him on a platter.

“Cho?”

The neediness is evident in your wanton tone and Choso’s eyes perk up toward you, expectantly, wide-eyed obedience like a hungry dog before it's rewarded with a tasty treat.

“What you said you did to my panties, Cho?—m’do it like that baby.”

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

“OHHH GAWD—F-FUCK!”

Choso’s iron hold spreads your doughy thighs apart as his face imposes itself deeper into the fabric covering your creamy cunt, not allowing you to wiggle yourself loose. 

When you told Choso to eat you like he did your panties you didn’t expect he’d actually keep them on you!

You’re discovering just how much Choso liked chewing on your panties—on or off you apparently. You’d tease him for the fetish if he’d ever pause to come up for air and give your poor lil’ puss a break from the carnal torrent of his feverish tongue. 

Head bobbing back and forth in a rhythm all of its own, Choso is quite literally crying into your pussy, deliriously whimpering unintelligible praises of her—with no sign of stopping. At his complete mercy, your hands hold on to pigtails like reigns, except no amount of pulling gets Choso to put heel to his rampage—in fact it does the opposite.

Choso is obsessed with the whole of you—every shiver, twitch or cry he elicits from you encourages him to draw out even more.

How could he not be? 

Especially with the delectable dish before him consisting of your translucent soggy panties gluing itself to the exact shape of your smooth inner folds and puffy clit. Completely saturated, a build up of slick, spit and tears suds atop the mesh creating sloppy spit bubbles in the wake of his mouth’s crazed motions. Bubbles which Choso eagerly slurps up again like a man who's been parched for days. 

And truly he is—not wanting to remove his head between your heavenly thighs for even a moment lest he wake and discover this all to be a hallucination. He didn’t want to ever go back to only imagining this kind of bliss.

“Soooo g-good..GOD—S-Such…AH—g-good boy, Cho.”

Lost in the sauce of your sweet pussy, Choso gleefully continues—languid in his exploration but purposeful, you feel every flex of his dexterous muscle quivering in your pussy as he licks you from your swollen outer lips and into the folds of your inner labia. 

Choso commits every groove of your cunt to his memory. 

Only once you tense enough, arching your back and digging your nails into his cranium to push him towards her will Choso finally pay attention to your clit— his thick spongy tongue flattens, ensuring its soft bump texture scrapes across each and every nerve in your sensitive fleshy bundle. He’s feverishly making out with your bud to the point of making your actual mouth jealous.

Fuck, he was eating you like a pro and you haven’t even properly kissed him yet!

His skills are a total 180 degree shift from how novice he was just an hour earlier.

Obviously inexperienced, Choso’s first inclination was to latch his entire mouth over your clothed cunt, sucking and licking aimlessly, which honestly tickled at first more than anything.

Yet being the fast-learning good boy he is, Choso takes your instructions as well as your nonverbal cues to heart. Checking in with you often, his eyes darted up to you with innocent coos of ‘How does it feel, Mommy?’ reverberating into your core. 

Not only does Choso take direction well, he proactively improvises. 

You weren’t expecting him to start humming on your clit when you instructed him to suck it directly. Playing you like a harmonica, shaking his head and alternating between sucking and blowing. The insane waves vibrated into your cunt to stimulate every single pleasure point. 

You’d never gotten eaten out so desperately before, let alone with your underwear still on!

More caring with your pleasure than his own, Choso has already pulled two mind-bending orgasms out of you. Dining on your savory cunt like it's his last meal, Choso’s greediness while drowning in your pussy is steadily taking you to number three. 

To say Choso is pussy-drunk at the moment would be a massive understatement. 

Choso is worshiping you like he had found God in your gooey lips and as far as he was concerned he has. Relentlessly grinding against the floor, shuddering and moaning into your cunt he’d gladly pray into your pussy as much as you’d let him, swirling his tongue as far as he could into your cute hole winking against your soggy panties. 

From the noises he makes you think he’s already found enough pleasure of his own to soil his pants.

And you’re absolutely right.

Frantically rubbing his dick against your shared apartment’s plush carpet, the absolute elation he feels to finally taste you after all this time combined with the scratchy friction of the fibers prove too much for his needy virgin cock to bear. 

Nevertheless, that doesn’t slow him, uncaring about the uncomfortable stickiness caking between his legs when his head is still very occupied between yours.

“Shiiiit, ah—fuh—W-waiiiit, baby…Chos—OH!”

Stomach clenching, eye rolling ecstasy takes over when his canine accidentally swiped over your overstimmed clit. The tension finally snaps and your legs jerk with the prickly pleasure of tingles running through them. Your lashes splash away the stream of tears filling your eyes from the third orgasm Choso has studiously pulled from you.  

Choso shows no sign of stopping and while you’d happily let your little eater go to town on you all night, your pussy is screaming at you—you needed him to fill her up.

It takes all your strength to pry Choso’s face out of your cunt. His flushed cheeks are drenched and he appears dazed, a dreamy gaze in his eyes before distress instantly etches his features upon realizing he wasn’t suffocating himself in your pussy any longer.

“Nooo, Mommy pleaaaasuh! She’s s’p-pretty n s’creamy—s’wet… l-let me go back, kay?”

His deranged affectionate whines spur you to tug on his hair harder, keeping his attention focused on your face as you pose to him the question that has him ready to cum in his pants all over again.

“I know Cho, your mouth is s’good at getting Mommy’s pussy messy. But baby, don’t you wanna wet your dick in your girlfriend’s pussy next?”

Dumbstruck, Choso never considered that an option. 

“Or are you just satisfied with stewing in your own cum filled pants?”

Truly, he would have been happy just setting up camp all night with his face lodged in your cunt. Yet you flipped the lights on in his mind again, reminding him of how much he’d wanted to feel you on his cock knowing it would be so much better than his calloused hands stroking him.

With a series of dopey headshakes, Choso is scrambling to remove his robes. 

“Sorry, m’sorry!”

You couldn’t laugh at Choso for nearly falling over himself enthusiastically trying to shed his clothes, not when you’re just as wound up. Buzzing with lust, you're openly drooling seeing the massive stain on Choso’s white hakama as he sits back on his knees. Pushing down his pants, Choso’s cock rebounds bobbing back towards his belly and leaving glimmering traces of the prior mess he’s made. 

You knew he was big but holy shit—he’s too fuckin baby girl to be carrying around such a deadly daddy weapon in his pants. It makes rock hard length all the more intimidating the way his mushroomy tip reddens as the pearly streams of his essence flow over the heavy vein swaying his cock forward.

“If you really mean it, then apologize to Mommy with your cock for wasting all her cum in those pants of yours.”

You’re way past the line of going too far already. 

You know you are playing with fire teasing him like this, especially since the thick lines of his ability still activated even if the barbs were no longer on his face. He’d literally split you in two if he went too fast—and yet?

A part of you wanted him to break you.

Hovering over your form, like you were a delicate object while helping you pull off your last remaining articles of clothing. There's a mixture of both of your fluids webbing to your cunt as your panties—now destroyed with little holes scattering them from Choso him furiously gnawing on them like a teething puppy— are gingerly peeled off your skin.

Seeing you completely naked, Choso is stunned stupid. 

Utterly stuck, he’s biting his inner cheek hard so he doesn’t cum just from the sight of you from your warmed cheeks, pert nipples, quivering belly and pussy glossy from leaking a steady stream of drool.

“Y-You’re perfect!”

Choso blurts out and you think you can feel the thumping in your pussy all the way up in your eardrums as you overload on his adorableness. 

Spreading your legs wider you allow him to settle between your thighs, your hips slightly strain from accommodating his large body that completely dwarfs yours as Choso presses ope your thighs again. 

His anticipation visible, Choso’s upper body is trembling, biting down on his lip as he cautiously runs his angry cockhead down your soaked slit.  

“Shiiiiiiit.”

Drawing back Choso hesitates, the feel of even your pearly gland against his tip is almost too much.

“Umm, Y-You know what you’re doing Cho? I can get on—”

“NO! Um, y-yeah… I mean, I’d want that it’s, uh—I-I wanna make you feel good first if that’s okay, Mommy?”

Choso mumbles shyly, a determined look behind his bashefulness—so fuckin cute!

Oh yeah, you couldn’t wait for your turn to eat him the fuck up.

You’d settle for his lips though, tasting yourself on them you share your first real kiss while Choso is sinking inside your gummy core. The kiss doesn’t last long, only faintly grazing your tongue against his own before Choso is choking into your mouth. Unable to savor the kiss as he can’t even control the movement of his lips, just sneaking the very tip inside you near paralyzes him with pleasure.

Too warm, too wet and the fit much too tight—so it’s no surprise that when his hips dare to venture only a tiniest bit forward he's immediately cumming inside you with broken wails and sobs. 

“M’sorry! M’sorry! M’sorry!”

Your mind is elsewhere, still delayed from your pussy getting stretched so wide from the mere girth of the cockhead just minutes after getting eaten like a last meal on death row—so you didn’t even consider how fast he would cum once he was inside you.

Telling him to pull out now would be pointless, especially considering how incredibly turned on you are by him shaking like a leaf from just putting his tip inside. Trying to thursy into you further has him collapsing down and crying nonsense into your neck. 

A small smile is on your lips as you soothe him, amused with your pussy being Choso’s personal kryptonite. Hooking your arms under his, you stroke his shoulder blades whispering assurances.

“Just breathe Cho”

You’re also relishing the break it also gave you time to adjust, you were so full just from taking half of him. Your walls are slowly learning to accommodate his girth and clench around him, sucking him further in causing him to keen pitchy little moans as the pool of slobber increases down your nape.

Shit. You’re craving more.

You didn’t want to rush him as you can tell how just the smallest crumb of pussy has him in shambles, but your insides might burn up entirely if he didn’t start moving soon. 

Your gentle touch slick with the sweat beading on his broad chiseled back, roams down until you reach his hips. Nails digging into the sides of his glutes for grip, you pull his pelvis forward and down. Teaching him just how to fuck you, you lead his twitching length deeper into your pussy before guiding his hips back up then down again. 

Frankly, you think Choso might bust again from the deep groan he sighs when his long cock knocks against your cervix, fully sheathed in you. But your good boy proves to be a quick study yet again and it only takes a few cycles of training his hips before Choso adapts to a steady consistent rhythm on his own.

His eyes are screwed shut though, knowing from the videos he watched you wouldn’t be satisfied unless he could last longer for you. Certainly Choso would nut if he caught a glimpse of how nicely the peaks of your stiff nipples were bouncing or the lewd splash of creamy fluids from your cunt edging up your churning tummy like a tide. 

It was almost too much on its own that Choso could still taste the sweet tang of your cunt on his lips knowing his cock was buried so deeply in her. Choso’s oral fixation getting the best of him, the desire to suck on all parts of you rose as he scoops you up slightly, arms wrapped around your back propping your chest up towards his mouth so he can suckle on your tiddies.

When Choso inevitably makes the mistake of opening his eyes. Your sweet face, twisted in rapture, eyes fluttering back in a way that nearly matches the fluttering of your cunt around him undoes him again.

Choso just loves you too much.

“G-Gonna cum, again—m’sorry Mommy! G-GUHHHHHHH. P-Pussy too good. Never wanna leave—never gonna leave your perfect pussy, Mommy. I’ll stay inside you like this.”

Deranged in ecstasy, head burrowed in the safe haven in your tits, Choso’s declarations feel more like threats. Mouth is still full of tiddy, Choso coos out more promises of loving you and your pretty pussy so good like you deserve and making up for the months he could have been doing this.

“C-Cho, baby, pull out if you’re g-gonna—”

Too late.

To his credit Choso, wasn't even doing it on purpose. His body is in auto mode. Your cunt crippling his brain too badly for him to have any real control and Choso fucking you more like a curse than a human in the moment.

You’d asked for it with your teasing though, you thought as another load of viscous warmth blooms into your guts. Initially you figured no harm since it was his first time, but you’re now  losing count of the many times Choso has battered your puffed pussy into another orgasm and in turn busted in you. 

Obscene sounds squelch out of your pretty pussy, his cum making it even easier for him to frantically buck his hips to slam against your g-spot with every thrust—growing wholly addicted to the feeling of sliding in and out of you. 

His desperation for you has Choso manhandling you into different positions, all which you have Yuji and Todo to thank for sending him all their fap material. You didn’t know that though and you didn’t have time to wonder either when Choso has zero regard for the flexibility some of these positions require, yet obediently it’s your body bends to his will. 

Your head is drowning in euphoria from getting fucked so savagely, it takes a while to realize that you’ve changed positions again. Now on your stomach, ass up and shoulder being held down as Choso is using your creamy pulverized cunt like his own personal fleshlight. 

Your limbs feel weak and you’re cumming so hard now it’s almost painful, Choso reaches around to strum your abused clit while biting into your neck.

“One more time, Mommy! Please let me fuck you, one more time!”

Unfortunately for your poor pummeled pussy, that one more time was 3 rounds ago and your new boyfriend hasn’t gone soft yet—likely thanks to his blood manipulating abilities.

But since you manipulated Choso and yourself into a 3 month relationship it’s only fair he manipulates his cock into staying hard—right?

Choso has to make up for an entire 3 months of not fucking you tonight.

Good luck with that!

......RESULT: INCONCLUSIVE. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜—𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 '𝙼𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚢'.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

i did not mean for it to be this long but got carried away as this the first time ive written virgin!choso.

comment and reblog! next up nanami, reworking it bit thats why I delayed it.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Monaco Experience | LN4

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and Lando, newly in a relationship, and Lando finally invites Y/N to Monaco to stay at his apartment.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ word count ━━━━━━━ 2.9k

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The first thing Y/n noticed as she stirred awake was the warmth. There was a steady, comforting heat radiating against her back, and something heavy draped over her waist. It took her foggy brain a moment to piece together where she was—and who she was with. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting against the soft morning light filtering through the blinds. She shifted slightly, only to feel the arm around her tighten ever so slightly, pulling her closer.

Lando.

Her heart skipped a beat as the memories of last night came flooding back. The teasing, the flirtation, the way his lips had brushed against her hair before they both drifted off. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep in his arms, but now that she was here, she couldn’t bring herself to move. His chest rose and fell steadily behind her, his breath warm against the back of her neck. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her, his body fitting perfectly against hers like they were made to be this close.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at her mouth. This is dangerous, she thought. Dangerous because she could get used to this far too easily. Dangerous because it felt so right, even though she’d spent so long convincing herself it wasn’t.

Carefully, she turned her head just enough to glance over her shoulder. Lando was still asleep, his face relaxed, his dark lashes fanning out against his cheeks. He looked softer like this, younger, without the usual smirk or playful glint in his eyes. She studied the curve of his jaw, the faint stubble shadowing his skin, and felt a strange ache in her chest. How does he manage to look this good even when he’s sleeping?

As if sensing her gaze, Lando stirred, his arm tightening around her again as he let out a low, sleepy murmur. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

Y/n froze for a moment, then quickly turned her face back to the pillow, hoping he wouldn’t notice how closely she’d been watching him. “Morning,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

There was a pause, and then she felt him shift behind her, his hand sliding up her side until it rested just below her ribs. His palm was warm against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. “Sleep well?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was something else there—something deeper, more intimate.

She nodded, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “Yeah. You?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in ages,” he admitted, his lips brushing against the back of her neck as he spoke. She sucked in a sharp breath, her heart pounding in her chest. Was he doing that on purpose? Or was it just an accident?

Either way, it was driving her crazy.

“You know,” she started, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to keep it steady, “you don’t have to stay. If you need to go… or whatever.”

Lando chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through her body. “Are you trying to kick me out already?”

“No!” she said quickly, then winced at how desperate she sounded. “I just mean… I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything. I know you’re busy, and—”

“Y/n,” he interrupted gently, his hand moving to her hip and turning her to face him. She blinked up at him, her breath catching as their eyes met. His gaze was soft, almost tender, and it made her stomach flip. “I’m exactly where I want to be. Trust me.”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. Trust him. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She wanted to trust him, more than anything, but letting someone in—letting herself be vulnerable—was terrifying. And yet, lying here in his arms, feeling the way he looked at her… it was getting harder and harder to keep those walls up.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible.

He smiled, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good.” He leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Instead, she found herself tilting her head up, her lips parting slightly in anticipation.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if they were both testing the waters. But then his hand slid into her hair, holding her gently as he deepened the kiss, and any thoughts of hesitation evaporated. She melted into him, her hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. It was intoxicating, the way he kissed her—like she was the only thing that mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together. “Wow,” she breathed, her voice shaky.

Lando grinned, his nose brushing against hers. “Wow indeed.”

She laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep inside her. “You’re such a dork.”

“Hey, I’m your dork,” he shot back, his tone teasing, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made her heart skip another beat.

“Is that so?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He nodded, his expression softening. “If you’ll have me.”

For a moment, she just stared at him, searching his face for any sign that he might be joking. But all she saw was sincerity—and something else, something that made her chest ache in the best possible way. Slowly, she reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I think I could live with that,” she said quietly.

His smile widened, and then he was kissing her again, his hands roaming over her body as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. It was overwhelming, the way he made her feel—like she was falling and flying all at once.

Eventually, they broke apart, both of them panting, their foreheads resting together once more. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Lando murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She felt her face flush, her heart swelling at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood before it got too serious.

He chuckled, pressing another quick kiss to her lips. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Good to know,” she replied, grinning up at him.

But before either of them could say anything else, his phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, shattering the peaceful moment. Lando groaned, reluctantly pulling away to grab it. “Sorry,” he muttered, glancing at the screen. “It’s work. I have to take this.”

She nodded, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment in her chest. “Of course. Go ahead.”

He gave her an apologetic smile before answering the call, his voice dropping into a more professional tone. Y/n took the opportunity to slip out of bed, grabbing one of his discarded shirts from the floor and pulling it on. It hung loosely on her frame, the fabric still carrying his scent, and she couldn’t help but smile as she padded toward the kitchen.

As she started making coffee, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hands had felt on her skin, the way his lips had tasted. What are you doing, Y/n? she scolded herself silently. You’re supposed to be keeping your distance.

But deep down, she knew it was too late for that. She was already in too deep, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Lando appeared a few minutes later, his phone tucked back into his pocket. “Sorry about that,” he said, leaning against the counter as he watched her pour two cups of coffee. “Duty calls.”

She handed him a mug, their fingers brushing briefly as he took it. “No worries. I get it.”

He sipped his coffee, his eyes never leaving hers. “So… what now?”

She hesitated, her grip tightening on her own mug. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He set his cup down and stepped closer, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “Where do we go from here?”

Her breath caught, her mind racing as she tried to come up with an answer. But before she could respond, he was kissing her again, slow and sweet, and all rational thought went out the window.

When they finally pulled apart, she looked up at him, her heart pounding. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “But… I want to figure it out. With you.”

His smile was brighter than the morning sun streaming through her windows. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

--

Lando’s fingers traced lazily along the rim of his coffee cup, his eyes never leaving Y/n’s as they sat across from each other in her cozy London flat. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on her face, and he couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly beautiful she looked, even with her hair slightly tousled from sleep.

“So,” he began, his voice casual but laced with something more—something that made her stomach flutter. “I’ve been thinking… you’ve never been to Monaco, have you?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smirk. “Are you asking me to come visit you, Lando?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his confidence radiating through every movement. “Maybe. What if I told you I wanted to show you around? Give you the full Monaco experience. You know, the beaches, the yachts, the glamour…” He paused, his grin turning mischievous. “And, of course, me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

“But you like it,” he countered, his tone dropping slightly, that teasing edge softening into something warmer, more sincere.

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her coffee, trying to hide the way his words made her heart race. “I don’t know… I mean, it’s a big trip. And we’ve only just—” She hesitated, gesturing vaguely between them. “This is still so new.”

Lando reached across the table, his hand covering hers, his touch firm yet gentle. “New doesn’t mean it’s not worth exploring. Come on, Y/n. Let me show you my world. Just for a weekend. What do you say?”

There was something about the way he said it—the earnestness in his voice, the way his thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles—that melted her reservations. She bit her lip, looking up at him, and found herself nodding before she could overthink it.

“Okay,” she said softly. “A weekend in Monaco.”

His face lit up, and he squeezed her hand. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

---

Three days later, Y/n stepped off the plane onto the tarmac of Nice Côte d’Azur Airport, squinting against the bright Mediterranean sun. She hadn’t even made it to baggage claim when she saw him, leaning casually against a sleek black car, sunglasses perched on his nose, looking every bit the F1 driver he was.

“Took you long enough,” he teased as she approached, pulling her into a tight hug. His scent—clean and masculine, with a hint of cologne—flooded her senses, and she felt a rush of warmth spread through her chest.

“Traffic on the M25,” she quipped, pulling back to look at him. “You wouldn’t believe how bad it gets.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” He took her suitcase from her, loading it into the trunk before opening the passenger door with a flourish. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips as she slid into the seat. The car smelled like him, and the leather was cool against her skin. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. This was Monaco. And she was spending it with him.

The drive along the coast was breathtaking, the sea glistening under the afternoon sun. They chatted easily, the conversation flowing as naturally as it always did between them. But there was something different this time—a tension that simmered beneath the surface, unspoken yet palpable.

When they finally pulled up to his apartment building, Y/n couldn’t help but gasp. It was everything she imagined—modern, luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering stunning views of the harbor.

“Welcome to Casa de Norris,” he said with a grin, grabbing her suitcase and leading her inside.

---

That evening, after a leisurely dinner at a seaside restaurant, they returned to his apartment. The city lights twinkled outside, and the air was warm, carrying the faint scent of salt and flowers. Lando poured them each a glass of wine, and they settled on the couch, the soft hum of music playing in the background.

Y/n sipped her wine, feeling the alcohol warming her veins. She glanced over at Lando, who was watching her with that same intense gaze that always seemed to see straight through her.

“What?” she asked, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

He shook his head slowly, setting his glass down. “Nothing. I just… I like seeing you like this. Relaxed. Happy.”

Her cheeks heated, and she looked down at her wine glass. “It’s hard not to be happy here. It’s… magical.”

“It’s not the place,” he said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “It’s you.”

Her breath caught, and she looked up at him, her heart pounding. There was something in his eyes—something serious, vulnerable—that made her stomach flip.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Tell me what you want, Y/n,” he murmured, his hand cupping her cheek. “Right now. Tell me.”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. But then, in that moment, all she could think about was how much she wanted him—how much she’d always wanted him.

“You,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I want you.”

His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, filled with pent-up longing. She melted into him, her hands curling into the fabric of his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that left her dizzy.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathing heavily, she looked up at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

She nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. “Yes.”

Without another word, he stood, pulling her to her feet and leading her toward the bedroom. The room was bathed in soft light, the bed impossibly large and inviting. He turned to her, his hands coming to rest on her waist as he kissed her again, tasting of wine and need.

Slowly, deliberately, he undressed her, his movements careful, reverent, as though she were something precious. When he pulled back to look at her, his gaze dark and hungry, she felt a shiver run down her spine.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. “So fucking beautiful.”

She reached for him then, her hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until it fell open, revealing the toned planes of his chest. Her fingers splayed over his skin, and he groaned, low and deep, pressing her back onto the bed.

As he kissed his way down her body, his lips trailing fire, she arched into him, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Every touch, every caress, was electric, lighting her up from the inside out. His lips were everywhere, leaving a trail of fire across her skin. He started at her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear, eliciting a soft moan from her. His hands roamed over her body, cupping her breasts as his mouth moved lower, teasing her nipples with his tongue until she was arching into him, desperate for more.

“Lando,” she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to worship her body with his mouth. He didn’t stop, his kisses growing hungrier as he moved down her stomach, his hands gripping her hips to keep her still. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, his breath hot against her most sensitive skin.

“You taste so good,” he murmured before his tongue flicked out, teasing her clit in slow, deliberate strokes. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as he worked her with his mouth, his fingers slipping inside her to match the rhythm of his tongue. The pleasure built quickly, coiling tight in her belly, and she was on the edge, so close to shattering—

But then he stopped, pulling away just as she was about to fall over the edge. She whimpered, her body trembling with need, but he didn’t give her time to protest. In one swift motion, he positioned himself between her legs, his cock pressing against her entrance.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. Her eyes met his, dark and intense, as he thrust into her in one smooth motion, filling her completely. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, each stroke driving her closer to the edge again.

He kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans as their bodies moved together, the tension building until it was unbearable. And when she finally came, her body convulsing around him, he followed her over the edge, his release spilling deep inside her. They clung to each other, their breaths mingling, as the world outside faded away.

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 | Jonathan Crane

NOTES -> Hello hello! im gonna be in uni full time again starting first week of september so uploads will be much slowerrrr im sorry. I’ll try to write as much as i can for u my little loves!

REQUEST -> Based off the prompt 15 from this list here

SUMMARY -> Your boss, Jonathan Crane, plans on isolating you away from your old life, consuming you whole until you become nothing but devoted to him...and you're too naive to see the mind games that the expert psychiatrist is playing.

WORD COUNT -> 3.3k

WARNINGS -> Smut, p in v, soft!dark Jonathan, doctor/nurse relationship, boss/employee relationship, creampie

MASTERLIST

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jonathan felt his chest tighten as he narrowed his blue eyes behind his glasses. His focus was locked on you and only you, along with the orderly speaking to you for the last few minutes.

You were a nurse at Arkham, young and bright-eyed, so full of energy — and that caught Jonathan’s attention. Your unusually cheerful demeanour and sweet aura drew him in, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was how you’d always give him a cute little wave every time he’d pass by you, or maybe it was how you’d smile at him when everyone else seemed to cower away from the stoic doctor. 

Or maybe it was because once he saw you leaving work in your everyday clothes instead of your usual scrubs, and when you seemingly bent over to pick up your keys which you dropped on the ground, he could see the lace of your pink panties poking out of your low-rise sweatpants — but I guess we’ll never know. 

See, that was the problem. You were so sweet, but you were like that with everyone you worked with; which made Jonathan feel inferior in many ways, but he promised himself that he’d have you eventually.

He didn’t want to hurt you by any means — oh god, no. He’d rather torture himself than watch you suffer through any anguish. However, he did want everyone around you to fall victim to a rather sinister fate if it meant they stayed away from you. 

Jonathan didn’t really consider himself a sadist, but watching those around you seemingly go missing and suddenly quit their jobs at Arkham (unwillingly, of course), derived an innate sense of pleasure within him. 

That was one of the perks of being the chief psychiatrist — he had all the power in the world to do whatever he pleased within the walls of Arkham, no matter who he hurt in the process. Jonathan would quietly fire many employees who he felt were “too friendly” with you, but he’d always tell you that they’d mysteriously quit or that they had changed jobs. 

“Perhaps they just didn’t have it in them to help the…unique patients we house here,” he’d say to you. “Not everyone is as dedicated and as kind as you are, you know?” 

Foolishly, you let his flattery get into your head; you let yourself fall for him without even realizing it.

You believed that the universe divinely guided you to him. You were sure of it — he was just so kind and understanding. You couldn’t believe the other staff of Arkham didn’t see him the way you did! How could they dislike him? Fear him? 

To Jonathan, you were like an angel that fell from above, capturing his cold, dead heart within your warm, beating, and very alive one. You were so kind to the patients, so gentle with them — and your patients only ever had good things to say about you. 

As you spoke to the orderly in front of you about what you did over the weekend, you noticed your boss looking rather tense from the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched slightly, and his expression unforgiving. He exhaled sharply before ushering you over toward him, causing you to excuse yourself from your current conversation. 

“Doctor Crane,” you greeted sweetly, “how are you?”

“I’m rather stressed today,” he answered softly, taking on that same gentle tone that he always seemed to take with you. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is fine, but I'm worried about you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to the side slightly as if to emphasize your confusion. 

“I think perhaps we should speak in my office about this,” he offered. “Come with me, please.” 

Your smile suddenly faltered slightly as anxiety and paranoia ran rampant through your veins.

Your paranoid thoughts had to be put on the back burner as you took a seat across from him in his office, watching him as he sat down at his desk. His suit was pristine as always — and today, he opted for a brown sweater vest underneath it.

You’d count every thread and stitch on his suit for him if he asked you to. 

“Doctor Crane—”

“Just Jonathan is fine,” he interrupted before clearing his throat. “I wanted to speak to you in private about a certain concern of mine.” 

“What is it?”

He sighed before he took off his glasses and meticulously placed them on his desk. He leaned forward slightly, and you stayed quiet as he hesitated for a moment before his smooth voice finally cut through the silence in his office between the two of you. 

“I’m worried that you may be overworking yourself,” he explained, looking at you with his tantalizing eyes. “I notice you pick up shifts and work overtime frequently, and I worry that you may be taking on more than you can handle. As your boss, I just want to make sure that you’re not burning yourself out as that can’t be good for you, and I believe in a healthy work-life balance.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, unsure as to what you could say to him — that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say to you. Perhaps you had been overworking yourself, but that was just a part of you. Having a strong work ethic was something you strongly believed in, but maybe he was right. You couldn’t care for your patients if you were too exhausted to, right? 

Now that he mentioned it, you were quite tired today. You started to think about it — as of recently, you’d been slamming coffees left right and center to stay awake at work, hadn’t you? You just wanted to help out since you were fairly new around here, but maybe it was doing you more damage than good.

Jonathan saw your usually cheerful demeanour deflate in his office, and he looked at you sympathetically, “I know this is not something you’d want to hear, especially from your boss of all people — but I just want to ensure that all my staff are doing well, you know?”

You bit your lip for a mere second, hesitating to speak before you let the words fall from your lips, “You know, Jonathan, sometimes I feel like you’re the only person here who actually…cares about me.” 

He internally applauded himself — in a moment of vulnerability, you sought out comfort in him. Just like he had planned. Just like he wanted.

“I think you’re an exceptional nurse,” he mused, “and truthfully, I do enjoy working alongside you. So yes, of course, I care about you. I remember when I first started working after finishing my residency, I would exhaust myself constantly. I’ve learned through many years that it’s just not good for you.” 

Jonathan’s plan was being executed perfectly — he wanted to isolate you. He wanted you to come running into his arms, far away from everyone else around you. He was on his worst behaviour today, but he believed you brought out the best in him. 

You weren’t overworking yourself, but with Jonathan’s quick wit, years of training in psychology, and exceptional gaslighting skills, you thought perhaps he was right. Maybe you should take some time off of work, you thought.

“Tell you what,” he said softly, “how about you and I have drinks tonight instead? Forget about work and such. I think you need it.”

His words caused your cheeks to heat up. He was your boss, and this was way out of line for a boss to ask an employee. However, it didn’t help that you were very attracted to him.

“Drinks?”

“My place at eight. I have a bottle of cabernet I think you’d enjoy — If I remember correctly, you said it was your favourite?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “It is.” 

“So I'll see you tonight at eight, then,” he smiled softly, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “I’ll text you my address.” 

You nodded, slightly starstruck. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Once you’d parked your car on the side of the neighbourhood street, you stepped out into the chilly night, your high heels clicking against the pavement of the ground loudly as you made your way onto his porch.

You gave three soft raps to his front door before you heard shuffling coming from inside the house. After a few moments, the front door swung open gently, and Jonathan stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Come inside,” he ushered you, “make yourself at home, darling.”

And so you did. 

You two talked over a few glasses of cabernet, bringing up the topic of work a few times here and there, but he mostly attempted to get to know the real you. What you did in your spare time, what your hobbies were, if you were seeing anyone…

“Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?” Jonathan asked you casually, but his voice dropped an octave as he looked directly at you, resting his hand on your thigh rather boldly. “I’m asking because I've seen the way you look at me…” 

“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, your cheeks feeling warmer and warmer by the second with the way his hand was now resting on your leg. You couldn’t deny it now. “I didn’t mean…um, I just — you’re always so kind to me…and I–”

He shushed you softly, creeping his hand up a little further. “I’m quite flattered, darling. Not to worry,” he purred. “I figured it wouldn’t be very appropriate of me to tell you how hard it is for me to not look at you when you’re at work, but after today, I just don’t think I can help myself anymore…” 

Suddenly, his lips brushed up against yours, and as if it was instinct, your hands came to wrap around his shoulders. He let you pull him in even closer, his hands now coming to rest on your hips as you two kissed feverishly on his couch.

You and him were like a chemical reaction — explosive, unpredictable, and potentially fatal.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his hold on your hips tightened slightly, his words causing your brain to short-circuit for a moment before you could think clearly again. 

“Jonathan, I–”

“Don’t speak, just give into it, my darling.”

You let yourself get lost in the constellation that was Jonathan Crane, letting him run his hands all over your body and kiss you with an insatiable hunger. Soft moans left your mouth as he peppered kisses down your jawline and neck, nipping at the delicate skin gently. 

You would’ve been worried about him leaving marks because you wouldn’t want your boss to see the next day at work — but you had to remind yourself that he was your boss. 

But none of that mattered when it felt so right; when his lips felt so good against your skin.

“Can I take this off?” he rasped, toying with the strap of your dress. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Please, Jonathan…”

Slowly, he took the dress off of your body, gently tossing the garment to the side as he looked at you in absolute awe. It was like looking at a priceless piece of art in a museum exhibit to him — nothing could compare. Even a picture wouldn’t do the sight in front of him justice. 

“Should we go upstairs?” you suddenly asked. 

Maybe it was the handful of wine you’d shared that evening, or maybe it was just sheer arousal; you weren’t sure which one, but all you knew was that you needed him to have his way with you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “Just up the stairs to the left — I think I'll let you lead the way, darling…”

The two of you got up from the couch, hand in hand, and Jonathan’s eyes roamed your body from behind as you made your way up the stairs together. 

Of course, you came prepared — you know, just in case things were to happen. Before you left, you threw on your sexiest, laciest, lingerie underneath your dress, and it was a good thing you did because that investment certainly paid off.

He watched your hips sway in your lingerie, along with the heels you were still wearing (because we simply can’t forget about those), and he could feel his cock straining against his pants. “Pretty girl,” he mumbled from behind you. “Your body is heavenly.” 

“Shush,” you giggled, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him close once you reached the bedroom. 

He looked down at you in the dim lighting of his bedroom, noticing the way your skin was glowing under it. Your hair was slightly messy from making out on the couch earlier, and you had a small smile tugging at your lips — you were perfection if he’d ever seen it. 

Jonathan kissed you rougher this time, his hands finding their way into your hair, tugging ever so gently against your scalp. He backed you up onto the bed, pushing you down onto it as he undid his tie, looming over your delicate body which was sprawled out on his king-sized bed. 

After taking his tie off, he threw off his suit jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. You hummed softly, running your heel against his leg as he rushed to get himself out of his clothes. The tent in his pants made it all the more obvious how desperate he truly was for you, but you stayed patient. 

Once he was on the bed with you, he helped you out of your bra and panties, causing your cheeks to heat up from how exposed you felt. “You’re cute when you blush,” he commented when he noticed your blush, making you all the more flustered while he undid his belt. 

After freeing himself, his thick, veiny cock caught your attention, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. He was big — you weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit, but right now you were so wet, you were almost certain your walls would stretch out around him with ease. 

He lined himself up with your dripping entrance, giving himself a few strokes before looking at you with his lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded feverishly. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

Your back was arched and you let out a filthy moan as he slid himself into your warm, sticky cunt with little resistance. The sheer size of him alone had you feeling so full, and he stilled as he bottomed out in you so that you could adjust to him. “Tell me when,” he said softly, his hand coming to brush up against your hips softly. 

“You can move now,” you breathlessly said, giving him the green light. Your breath got caught in your throat as he started to set a gentle but deep pace, the tip of his cock brushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust. 

“O-oh–” you moaned.

His hands found purchase on your hips, and his eyes trailed over your face as he fucked you sensually, but slowly, eventually going harder and faster as you got accumulated to him. “So fucking tight, Jesus—” he choked out. You’d never heard him curse before, and his smooth voice had you clenching around him, to which he let out another moan. “Fuck, darling — you feel so good.” 

“Mm-hmm!” you squeaked, taking his cock deeper and deeper into your soaked cunt with every stroke. “Jonathan, fuck—!”

“Right there, darling?” he cooed softly, slamming his cock into your hole much rougher now, causing you to see stars as he stretched you open on his thickness. “Feels good, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, yes — oh my god!” you chanted, grabbing onto his biceps as you felt his fat cock drilling you. You were letting out feverish moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you became increasingly more cock-drunk by the minute. 

Your moans were like music to Jonathan. Like the sound he would hear being played once he died and went to heaven — because to him, this was heaven. You’d come running into the arms of the man who was slowly isolating you, breaking you; cornering you into his heart. 

But there’s always something so right about something so inherently wrong, isn’t there? 

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he groaned, watching you with furrowed brows as he concentrated on your pleasure. “Are you close, darling? Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered breathlessly, moans being forced out of you with every delicious thrust he gave your cunt. “Gonna– oh, I’m gonna cum!” 

Jonathan watched in a mixture of pure bliss, awe, and satisfaction as you fell apart in his very hands. Yes — this is where he wanted you. He just wanted to love you, to show you how perfect he was for you, to take care of you and make you see that everyone else around you was just a waste of time. 

No more talking to orderlies who’d flirt with you, no more going out for after-work drinks with the other nurses. No, none of that. He was going to make sure that you’d work under him only, figuratively and literally.

“Gon’ cum,” he groaned, feeling his cock spurting ropes of cum into your warm, tight hole as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, not bothering to pull out. Your mind went blank as he filled you up wholly, stuffing you with his sticky, warm seed as you lay there fucked out from what just happened moments prior. “Why don’t you stay over tonight?”

You looked up at him groggily, mind still foggy from your orgasm. “What? I work tomorrow–”

“Take a paid day off,” he shrugged, pulling his softening cock out from your worn-out hole. “Use as many as you’d like darling, I won’t tell.” 

His teasing words caused you to throw your head back into the pillows blissfully with a sigh, genuinely believing that he only had your best interest at heart — he just didn’t want you to overwork yourself. It’s not like he was planning on totally locking you away from every living being in Gotham besides him or anything…

“I feel bad though,” you murmured sleepily. “I feel like I’m – I dunno – abusing my privileges.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty girl,” Jonathan assured you softly, turning off the lights so that only the moonlight was dimly shining into his bedroom. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled the covers over you both, cradling you in his arms like you were made of fine china. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

“You’re so lovely, Jon. You truly have such a kind soul.” 

“Surely nothing compared to yours, my darling,” he whispered against your hair as you closed your eyes. “Now, get some rest. We can talk about moving your things in here in the morning…”

Unfortunately, you had already dozed off in his embrace; too busy being washed away by sleep to hear his words. Jonathan smiled to himself — he’d never let you go now. You’d lost all control the moment you stepped into his house, unknowingly making yourself a hostage of some sort.  

In the end, as you clung to him, believing he was the saviour from your exhaustion, you failed to see that it was his “love” that had slowly consumed you whole, leaving you nothing but a hollow shell, devoured by the very hands that promised refuge.

Sometimes, the most dangerous traps are the ones we walk into willingly, thinking they’re the key to our freedom, as they say. But the cruel irony of it all is that we think we’re being saved from the jaws of this terrible world, only to be eaten alive by those who we call our saviours. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

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[violetrainbow412-blog]

A fair payment [W. W.]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

People who might be interested: @strugglingwriterwattpad @cattail5 [Timothée masterlist]

some minor Wonka spoilers I guess! If you like it, tell me in the comments, that will make me happy :)

“Can you mend it?” Willy asked, carefully holding his emerald green jacket that had the sleeve seam torn.

The boy had arrived a couple of weeks ago to turn the world of everyone present in the laundry upside down and, honestly, you were already beginning to enjoy his presence. You looked in the background at the blackboard that Noodle used at night to give him lessons in the hope that he would learn to read because, according to the girl's words, because of that he was almost eaten by a tiger. But in the man's words, what was important was the almost part. 

However, tonight he had asked you especially to go to his room, because he had a problem that he thought only you could solve.

“I think so, I just have to pass the needle a couple of times” you smiled.

Since your arrival Mrs. Scrubbit had used your sewing skills for her own benefit, because after all you had ended up in that mess trying to save a little to be able to buy the necessary materials to make a pretty dress that would be worth enough to advance in the business. Although, obviously, that had not been possible.

"Thank you! I'm afraid that's my only jacket."

“It will be ready in no time. I’ll just go to my room and come back, okay?” you said kindly, placing the garment in the boy's lap and earning a sweet smile from the aforementioned.

Just as Willy had his little briefcase for his chocolates, you had your own, full of threads, needles, and buttons, which you just had to grab from the floor to get everything you needed. When you arrived back you settled at the little table and he remained attentive to your every movement, pulling out a chair so he could observe what you were about to do.

“There was a boy on the ship who helped me with these things,” he began to tell you, keeping his curious nose on your shoulder “But I never thought about learning. You know, for when I had to be alone”

“Well, it's lucky you ended up here. We are a curious collection of workers,” you murmured ironically, referring to all the people gathered there against their will by the work of fate "What did you do on the ship?"

"Cook. Mostly sweet things, but I also know a couple of useful non-chocolate-related recipes. I was the chef,” he said, and you laughed at the exaggerated way he pronounced the last bit.

Willy began to tell you about some of the adventures he had had on the high seas and you listened attentively as the tip of the needle went in and out to join the fabric. It only took a few minutes to get his clothes looking like new, taking the liberty of repairing other places that also needed it.

“Put it on,” you asked, trying not to look at him too much when he did so or pay attention to the way the jacket fit him perfectly.

"It is perfect! You can't even tell it was torn, huh?” he said with emotion, feeling with his hands as much as he could. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“I insist,” the man murmured. His curly hair bounced across his cheeks as he sat next to you and he lifted his small briefcase off the floor, opening it to reveal all the little bottles of ingredients. “Your talent for mine. It's a fair exchange."

You had to admit that the chocolates you had eaten were a complete delicacy, but a part of you didn't want to get used to that luxury or you knew that when Willy was gone you would miss his sweetness. In the literal and figurative sense.

Locked in that laundry it was impossible to meet many people your age and Noodle was your greatest company, as if he were a little sister to you. But now that he was there, there was a certain happiness in chatting with him, much more now that his ingenious mind had devised a way to get you out of there even if it was just for a few hours to see the light of day and get coins from the sale of the chocolates to free you of the enormous debt to Mrs. Scrubbit.

“What flavor do you want to try today? Do you want me to add some unicorn skin glitter? Rays of sunlight from a twilight on the seashore? Tears of an African crocodile?”

“Just give me something you think I need,” you replied softly.

Willy thought about it for a moment, because it wasn't the kind of answer he would have expected. What was he supposed to give you that night? A little hope? Happiness? Nostalgia? It was difficult to decide.

Through his bright eyes you watched him reflect and just a second later his hands began to work. You noticed there was a hint of mischief in his smile as he poured milk, chocolate, and the contents of a couple of jars into the processor, glancing at you from the corner of his eye from time to time.

“What are you going to do when we get out of here?” he asked suddenly, not neglecting the tasks.

“Working in a sewing workshop, I guess.”

“Why don't you open your own fashion house?” Willy suggested carefreely, as if it were a very easy thing to do, “You are a great dressmaker.”

“And you are a great dreamer”

“It's my best quality,” he exclaimed, almost offended. You waited a moment before answering.

“I just don't think it's that simple. It requires effort, time, and a lot of money…”

“We will have everything,” he interrupted you, with that optimism that characterized him. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and one of his hands traveled to take yours. “When I open my factory, we will all be able to fulfill our dreams. And you are going to have a fashion house, I promise you.”

“You make a lot of promises,” you responded, blushing.

“And he planned to fulfill them all. I always do it"

Maybe there was something about the softness of his grip on your hand or perhaps the sparkle in his eyes that made you look away out of sheer nervousness. He seemed to be good and innocent, to the point that he probably didn't even realize how close he was to you or how inappropriate the position would be if Noodle ever walked in.

A tap interrupted your moment and then he abruptly pulled away, excited to show you the product he had just made. It was a pretty circular candy that was bright pink and seemed to be emanating smoke from the inside.

"What's that?"

“You'll have to try it to find out,” he murmured, as he extended the treat in your direction.

You had to admit that you were somewhat curious to discover what the man was offering you, so you took it between your fingers carefully, and even under his watchful gaze you took a bite.

At first it tasted like ordinary chocolate, but then it took on a strange tone, which made you feel a certain warmth in your chest that spread to your cheeks. It was a most pleasant feeling, like bubbly joy combined with the embarrassment of a hug.

You thought for a moment about what flavor that could be, without any success, until after a few seconds you realized that it wasn’t a flavor in itself, but a feeling, an experience... Was it love that Willy had given you?

“How does it taste?”

“Yummy,” you responded, covering your mouth so he wouldn’t see the wet chocolate on your tongue, but also to hide your smile “Delicious, actually. What does it contain?”

“A special and secret ingredient”

"Oh, come on! Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“I just want to know if I got it right,” he murmured and you frowned slightly, not understanding him “About what you asked for. Did I give you something you needed?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling again, your cheeks feeling hot from the simple fact that he was looking at you. You thought that this could even be a love potion that you had consumed without thinking about it, just because he was the one who was offering it to you.

“We could say yes”

“We're even, then,” he exclaimed as he waved the sleeve of his jacket and you nodded in amusement, eating the rest of the chocolate he had made for you.

A yawn leaving your lips made you aware of how exhausted you were and although you didn't love the idea, you knew it was time to leave.

“It's late, I should go to sleep before we wake anyone up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Willy said quickly, getting up from his seat to accompany you to the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Rest,” you said kindly, and, gathering courage, you leaned forward a little to say goodbye with a hug that he gladly returned.

As you walked down the hall to your shabby, damp room, you thought that it probably wouldn't have even taken a love potion to fall for the charms of the pleasant chocolatier. You just needed one of his smiles.